The Jewel of St Petersburg

Thirteen

THE COUNTESS’S SON WAS FEARLESS. JENS COULD NOT DENY that. He bobbed over every obstacle Jens set him to. He was not a talkative child, but as he spent his days incarcerated with a dry stick of a tutor, who could blame him for keeping his words locked inside his head? But he would release great whoops of childish joy when his stubby little pony took off in sudden darts of energy, the boy’s heels drumming its fat sides. A trickle of sun flashed through the trees, sending arcs of light bounding across the trails.

“Alexei,” Jens called over his shoulder, “let’s head down to the stream.”

“Can I jump it?” the boy yelled.

“You fell off last time.”

“It didn’t hurt.”

His mother had complained that her son’s shoulder was black for a fortnight and had forbidden them to jump the stream again till he was older.

He grinned at Jens. “I won’t fall.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Keep your heels down, boy.”

They barged through the undergrowth to where the stream carved a path through the black earth. The boy’s cheeks were red. Jens watched his small hands tighten on the reins; a quick kick and the pony gathered itself for the jump, but at the last moment Alexei yanked hard on the reins, forcing the pony to skid to a halt. The small figure leapt out of the saddle and dropped to his knees in the freezing water.

“Get out,” Jens ordered.

But the boy was holding a dog. Or rather, a dog’s head. The large brown body lay under the water, but Alexei had lifted its head above the ice to allow the animal to breathe. He was stroking its wet muzzle, pulling weeds from its eyes.

“Alexei, leave it. It’s dead.”

“No.”

“Come out of the water. You’ll freeze to death.”

“No.”

Alexei had never defied him before. Jens swung from his saddle and heaved the lifeless animal out of the water. It was a large hound with rough black fur and white young teeth. It lay limp in his arms, soaking his clothes, and with Alexei still hanging on to one of its dripping ears, they waded back onto dry land.

“I want to bring it home,” Alexei said.

“Why?”

The boy clutched the sodden head to his chest. “If I die in a river, I want someone to bury me.”

Jens couldn’t argue with that. He strapped the dog onto the pony’s back with his belt, then lifted Alexei onto Hero and swung up behind. He wrapped the shivering boy in the folds of his coat and rode fast.

“Uncle Jens, did you ever have a dog?”

“Yes. When I was a boy, a strong sled dog. All heart and teeth, he was. Gave me a few scars to remember him by. Every boy should have a dog.”

The small head nodded, then swiveled around, and eager eyes gazed up at him.

Jens sighed. “I’ll speak to your mother.”