‘Anna, it isn’t a matter of–’

‘It’s no good! If you don’t take me with you, I shall follow Lolya’s example, and come after you. Better to have me under your eye, isn’t it?’ He opened his mouth to protest, but she shook her head. ‘She’s my responsibility, don’t you see? Yes, there are Rose and the baby, but Lolya came before them. Rose is safe with Shoora and Vsevka; the new baby can take care of itself; but Lolya is in danger she doesn’t even perceive, and it’s partly my fault. I knew about her and Duvierge, and I did nothing to prevent it. If I had warned you, warned her aunt and uncle – spoken more forcefully to Lolya herself–’

He saw the truth of her arguments, but could not bring himself to accept them. He put his head in his hands, and she touched his shoulder comfortingly. ‘Let us be together, my heart. It’s all I care about now. We’ll find Lolya and bring her back together.’

They started for Medyn the next day. It was mid-morning before they set off, for whatever his desire for haste, Kirov knew that this journey was not one to undertake lightly. In a few days it would be November. Already the nights were bitter with frost, and the snow could start at any moment, and they must be prepared for it. Moreover the horses Vsevka had lent were not suitable for the hard journeying they might have to face: Adonis was sent out to buy four Cossack ponies, and one of Surin’s footmen was despatched down to the mill to buy a sack of oats for their feed.

Varvara, still not fully understanding the seriousness of the situation, was nevertheless good-naturedly willing to lend Anne whatever clothing and furs she might need. She was shocked and thrilled to learn that Anne meant to ride cross-saddle, and therefore required not a smart riding-habit with Hussar frogging on the jacket and a full skirt of bleu royale velvet, but a pair of baggy Cossack trousers and a thick, loose woollen tunic, under which she could wear several layers of underclothing.

‘What an adventure! I almost wish I were coming with you!’ she said, rummaging in a drawer for warm stockings. ‘But how will you manage without your maid? Who will dress your hair for you?’

Anne assured her solemnly that she had learned to plait it for herself while staying in the Caucasus, and that she wouldn’t mind not having her front hair curled, as it was an emergency. A young footman who was about the same height as Anne provided, with many blushes, the peasant tunic and trousers required; Varvara provided the furs, hat and gloves and boots.

The fourth pony was loaded with food, arms and blankets, and extra clothing in case Lolya hadn’t thought about the oncoming winter. The Surins saw them off, waving from the doorway, Varvara all smiles, as though they were going on a picnic, Vanya looking grave.

‘Good luck,’ he called. ‘I hope you find her soon.’ The tone of his voice revealed all too clearly his doubts on the subject.

The road to Medyn was little more than a series of farm tracks. The deep ruts of September had been frozen by the frosts of October into a series of icy ridges, like miniature mountain chains. Now and then the tracks petered out altogether, and they had to ride across fields, guessing the direction from the sun, or asking the way from the peasants who were still working in the fields, pulling the last cabbages and potatoes. The ponies were sure-footed and intelligent, however, and picked their own way nimbly over the rough ground.

They reached Medyn with about an hour of daylight left. Kirov was for pushing on, but Adonis argued against it. It was dark of the moon, and they had no idea what accommodation, if any, there would be along the road to Ghzatsk. They did not want to have to sleep out unless they had to. Better to stay here, get a good night, and start off at first light the next day.

Anne sympathised with his impatience. They had come across no trace of Lolya so far, though she had hardly expected it: the peasants had too much to do at this time of year to be noticing passing horsemen – or even horsewomen. But she agreed with Adonis. To sleep in Medyn, at an inn, would allow them to preserve their supplies for later, when, possibly travelling over barren land picked clean by the army, they would need them.

Kirov yielded to common sense, but the evening passed very slowly. He had no desire to talk, and yet there was nothing else to do. After a period of watching him pace about the room and answer her comments with a snap, she suggested he went down to the coffee-room and talked to the local people, and found out what they knew of the military situation.

He returned late, smelling of pipe smoke, and told her that after the battle at Maloyaroslavets, which had resulted, like Borodino, in heavy casualties and no clear victory for either side, the two armies had marched off in opposite directions, the Russians southwards down the road towards Kaluga, and the French north-west towards the junction at Mozhaisk with the Smolensk-Moscow High Road.

‘Why on earth didn’t our army pursue them?’ Anne asked.

Kirov shrugged. ‘I suppose Kutuzov thought they were going to press on towards Kaluga, and he was retreating to make sure the route was covered. Why Napoleon turned northwards, instead of taking the south road to Smolensk I’ve no idea. But at any rate, Kutuzov must have realised later what happened, because he retraced his steps, and he’s taken the south road. So now he’s marching parallel with the French: I suppose hoping to intercept them at Viasma.’

Fie was calmer now that he had had something to think about, and a little while later they went to bed, in order to be able to leave at first light the next day, at about half past six. In bed, he kissed her and turned on his side away from her without speaking, and she lay for a long time staring upwards into the dark, thinking about Loiya. The thing that exercised her most was wondering whether Duvierge had actually invited Lolya to come with him, or whether it had been Lolya’s idea from first to last. If the former, it suggested that he cared more for her than Anne had believed. She hoped it was so – in that case he would take care of her, and they need not worry about Lolya’s safety, only her virtue.

She thought Nikolai was long asleep; but suddenly he said out of the darkness, ‘I’m glad you came with me Anna. I don’t think I could bear my thoughts if I were alone.’

She reached out and touched him, and he caught her hand and pulled it round him; she turned over and tucked herself against his back, spoonwise, and they slept.

It was fifty miles from Medyn to Ghzatsk, and the road was narrow and unfrequented. For part of the way it paralleled the river Lutza, and in several places the river had overflowed its banks, and the road disappeared. They had to take to the fields then, and pick their way through near-marsh. Once they passed beyond the head of the river onto higher ground, the road ran through pine forest, dense and gloomy, and unnaturally quiet; but the surface underfoot was hard and dry, and they were able to pick up speed.

It was beginning to grow dark, and they were all wondering silently where they would be able to spend the night, and whether they would have to sleep out, when suddenly a party of Cossacks sprang out from the trees and blocked the road in front of them. The ponies started and jostled about; Kirov reached automatically for his pistol, and then realised that several guns were already pointed at him, and lowered his hand reluctantly.

‘And who might you be, and where are you going?’ the leader asked with an insolent grin. ‘Mighty well covered up, aren’t you? What’s on the baggage horse? Loot stolen from Moscow?’

‘Steady your men,’ Kirov said sternly. ‘We’re not French refugees. I’m a Russian officer.’ Moving his hand slowly and keeping it well in sight, he unbuttoned the collar of his fur-lined cloak and pulled it open to show his uniform. The guns were lowered, and the Cossacks pressed their horses forward curiously, wanting to know what they were doing and why they had a woman along with them.

‘One of the French officers has stolen my daughter,’ the Count said succinctly. ‘My wife and my servant and I are going after them, to bring her back.’

There was an approving clamour.

‘Why, good for you, Colonel! And Madame Colonel!’

‘Dirty French scum! You ought to cut his balls off when you catch him!’

‘You’ve missed ’em by two days, Colonel, but you’ll catch up with ’em!’

‘We’ve seen off fifty or more in the last few days. We pick ’em off as soon as they drop out of line.’

‘When we catch ’em, we give ’em to the peasants,’ the leader explained with relish. ‘They make it last a good, long time!’ Anne shuddered to think what would have happened to them if the Cossacks hadn’t believed Nikolai.

‘The French have passed this way, then?’ he was asking now. The leader nodded, and waved a hand backwards over his shoulder. ‘They came along the highway, and passed through Ghzatsk two days since. They thought they’d find supplies there – a supply train all the way from France – but we got to it first. We killed the drivers and drove it off before they’d got a sniff of it! We took all the food and fodder – all they found was some fancy French wine, and much good may that do ’em!’

‘So Ghzatsk is empty now? How far are we from it?’

‘Five or six versts.’ The leader shook his head. ‘But you wouldn’t want to stay there, Colonel. Full of corpses and sick men. Stragglers still coming in, too. Besides, the French pretty well destroyed it the first time through, on the way to Moscow. There’s nothing much there now but ruins and canals choked with dead horses.’