–——
Early in the afternoon on a sweltering day Ilya set out to visit Anastasiya. After all, we’re brother and sister, and we’ve seen each other only once. And it seems that Father’s spirit is grieving over this. I feel that my own life may be coming to an end and before I die I want to meet with her and have a heart-to-heart talk. Well, that’s a bit ominous.

The headquarters of the Party for Revolutionary Rebirth was located on the second floor of a dilapidated building. The guards with shaved heads who stood at the entrance harshly demanded to see Ilya’s identity card. The reception room they took him to had sofas that had seen better days, and on the room’s dirty walls, which even lacked wallpaper, there hung a coat-of-arms with the two-headed eagle and a cheap portrait of Peter the Great.

Anastasiya came in with a tense and somewhat embarrassed expression. She coldly uttered a brief “hello, brother,” and sat down. There was an aura of helplessness around her.

“Nastya, hello. It’s been a long time. How are you?”

“All right. But in fact we did see each other quite recently. On the Moskva River bank. You’re fantastically popular, it seems.”

“You know, all of a sudden, I missed you and wanted to see you.”

“Thanks for the kind words. But what really brought you here? Father’s will? He didn’t leave anything. Not a blessed thing.”

“Nastya, forget about all that. I didn’t come here on account of that. We’ve had only one single conversation with each other. And we’re brother and sister, after all. We have the same father.”

“You say you’re not concerned about the inheritance? That’s how it should be. You’re an out-of-wedlock son, after all. Even though you and your mother always had a strong hold on Father’s heart. Mama often cried because of that.”

“Nastya, why bring all this up? I really was missing you. We have the same blood.”

“Father… But you didn’t care about him at all! You didn’t even deign to come to the funeral. I… I waited for you. Too late, he’s dead. And Mama died. Having lived a senseless life.”

“But she raised you, didn’t she?”

“I… I… Why did you come, Ilya? To spoil my mood again? To show off in all your glory? After all, you’re famous now.”

“Nastya, what are you saying! All of a sudden I simply wanted to see you and to remember Father.”

“Listen, brother. It’s already too late. You and I have long been at odds. And today we’re even further apart. We’re enemies. I only say what I think. I’m practicing what my father told me.”

“Nastya, we’re not enemies! Not at all. We’re brother and sister. The same father’s daughter and son. Father told me a lot about the free city of Novgorod and the spirit of freedom hovering over the Russian land. It was from him that I learned the name of that wind we breathe from very childhood.”

“Ilya, what are you trying to do? Are you going to reject Russian history? Reject the cause of our political party? Is that why you came? The freedom of Russia, the freedom of Russians… For us that means arbitrariness and total permissiveness. This country will break up into parts without a strong government. Father always maintained that idea. I know because I was always with him. With Father.”

“It was hard for Father. He loved Russia but he also dreamed about Europe. He was split in two.”

“I know that. And even so the state is more important than his spiritual dreams.”

“Nastya! Look at Moscow. It’s impossible to breathe there. We hoped that the totalitarian regime had collapsed forever, but no, we’ve got the same state back again. Only now it’s capitalist absolutism—the absolutism of money and lawlessness. We need to destroy the spirit of slavery—pull it out by its roots.”

Ilya banged his fist on the table. The teacups shot into the air. And, as if he’d been waiting for a sign, Ivan Nepomnyashchy entered the room. After looking at Ilya with open hostility, he addressed Anastasiya.

“Anastasiya Ivanovna, the meeting is beginning.”

“Ivan? Is that you? What are you doing here? How about that? Don’t you ever want to live independently and rely on yourself?” Ilya asked sarcastically. “You stick to others like a wet shirt.”

“It’s been a long time since we’ve met. I’ve gone downhill, and it’s your fault. But it seems you still haven’t figured out what this country represents. Never mind, soon you’ll understand. We’ll make you understand, get it?”

Ilya left. Alone in her office, Anastasiya broke into bitter tears. Her father, Ilya… How she loved and how she hated them! And yet she had the feeling that her father had finally acknowledged her for the first time. She felt as though her soul was relieved today of the weight that had oppressed her since childhood.

Back home, Ilya, still in an agitated state, opened the book that he took from the headquarters of the Party for Revolutionary Rebirth. It was Volkhov’s last book, which Ilya hadn’t managed to see before. It was titled The Tale of Ilya and Mariya: Love in Ancient Novgorod.

Ilya and Mariya? A strange coincidence.

The preface to the book stated that a birch-bark letter had sparked the famous scholar’s creative imagination. The letter was found in ancient Novgorod. Ilya was stunned even more by a quotation from the letter: “Ilya, Ilya, long did I wait for you, But our encounter came too late. I am steeped in sin and go to face God’s judgment.”

But that’s Aurora! Even though it was awkward to do so in Lyuba’s presence, Ilya began searching for the copy of Aurora’s farewell letter that Madame Miller had sent to him. Then with a bitter smile he remembered that he had torn it up and thrown it away.

With his characteristic scholarly precision Volkhov retold the story of the nun and soldier’s fate, but essentially his book was a hymn to Novgorod’s freedom and to love. In his heart Ilya felt that the ancient story of the star-crossed lovers was a bitter reminder for his father of Frosya’s death.

How strange that such a book was at the headquarters of the Party for Revolutionary Rebirth? Was it a sign that Anastasiya’s broken, aching heart was reaching out toward her father and Ilya?

As Ilya started to read, he became spellbound. He read to the place where Mariya threw herself into the Volkhov River, leaving a suicide note that ended with the words: “O earth, you are mother and father to me! I entrust my child to your care. Though conceived in sin, of the Russian earth he was born….” Ilya shuddered.

Is Aurora a reincarnation of Mariya? O Lord! That would mean that the soul of the warrior took root in me. That’s silly.

Yet Ilya couldn’t get rid of the feeling that Aurora’s fate had in part repeated that of the Novgorodian nun and that she was still alive somewhere in this world. [

Volkhov’s book ended with verses by Sergei Narovchatov that Ilya knew well. After reading the last line, he quietly placed the book on the table and went out to the balcony. In the dark sky the lights of the Ostankino TV tower were blinking as if alive.

Everywhere are lakes and rivers,
The essence of the earth is here,
The trade route from the Varangians to the Greeks,
An open road to sin.

Ancient Novgorod, a Hansa city,
Full of glory, might, and wealth.
My eternal Novgorod was once like that.