Ivan Moshkin, ataman Katorzhnoy. Under the auspices of the Roman Pope

Ivan kept in the saddle quite decently, and what? Didn’t you ride a horse? And my father had a horse, and not one. So the young man knew how to ride as it should. Another thing is that he did not know how to act in equestrian formation, especially Cossack. Therefore, slowly shaking on the road, and the distance to show considered a stupid idea… We drove for a long time, Stepan Trofimovich was not going to give rest, traveled around the line of carts, encouraged the drivers. People only managed to drink water from their flasks, and put a couple of crackers in their mouths.

But now, we met a Cossack detour, a dozen stanitsa with peaks and sabers drove up closer, checking who was walking along a dead road.

— Ah, Stepan! We’ve been waiting for you for a long time! We spend! ‘one of the Cossacks said after recognising the elder from the caravan.

— And hello to you, Demyan Zinovievich! As the governor promised, we are going with grain and flour!

— Is there any cereal?

— And there is cereal! And we bring salt! Everything is there now.

— Well, thank God! And then we just sit on the fish!

Soon, as if a prison fell from the sky, protected by a tall rampart and a deep and wide moat. Ivan looked curiously at the place of his new service. The shaft was solid, in three human statures, although overgrown with short often mowed grass, though only knocked out of the ground. Above the tightly knocked down ground stood low wooden walls, log cabins made of huge logs. A decent rain canopy was made over the wall. There was also an observant high turret, so that the sentinels would see everything from afar.

The bridge on chains over the moat was lowered, and here stood four archers with squeaks. Seeing carts and Cossacks, the more sedentary of them called out to Stepan.

— Be healthy. They came well on time, otherwise the Crimeans are mischievous. Again there was a shootout. Stop by, do not hesitate — and he waved his hand expressively.

Creaking carts stretched across the bridge. But either the driver was inexperienced, or the horse was frightened, but the wheel of the last wagon fell to the very edge of the tightly knocked boards, and hit the wooden axis. The wagon began to fall sideways, leaning dangerously against the moat. The horse laughed wildly, crouching on its hind legs, Moshkin did not hesitate, jumped off the saddle, grabbed the goblet lying nearby, and forged the cart like a lever. He screamed, the muscles of his arms and back seemed to be rushing outward, but the cart began to straighten. Two Cossacks ran up to the archer, and the three of them were able to save the cart and the precious cargo. The wheel again stood on the bridge, the cart settled, but now everything was fine. Ivan exhaled, removing his hands from the wag, the Cossacks patted the new comrade on the shoulder.

— You are healthy, brother, — Stepan Trofimovich was surprised, — and the whole itself. You are careful, otherwise you will break, this is the case. Let’s go, we’ll take off the bags from the cart.

Already on hand, grain and flour were transferred from the cart directly to the warehouse. The cargo was taken by the elder. Who will call the governor the main one in the small prison? And not a fortress after all. Meanwhile, the teamsters were dropping bags from their carts. The warehouse was kind, with pallets on the wooden floor so that the bread would not get damp. And so well everything was done — both dry and tightly.

— Zinovy Dmitrievich? Moshkin asked the elder in streletsky clothes.

— Exactly. Zinovy Dmitrievich Khvorostov, foreman. And you, right, Moshkin Ivan? I know your father, Semyon Petrovich.

— For you and a letter from Tikhon Ilyich Trubchev, the head of our order, — and the young man held out a message.

Zinovy scratched his beard, broke his seal and quickly read what was written, sometimes looking for order at the young archer, and finally hid the paper by the belt.

“I see, Ivan. Strength, I see, you are big, as the loaded cart managed not to fall! And you are a craftsman with us, then. Well, you have enough to do here, you won’t get bored, our forge is yours now. And then, maybe, and the watch is sweet to us? ‘the foreman joked.

— If I could… There is no one to learn from. Such masters, it is known, live in Moscow. After all, the mechanics are complicated, — Vanya started talking, and began to show on his fingers, — on one axis there are two gears — one for the clockwise direction, the other for the minute. And the minute should rotate sixty times faster than the hour. Well, on the main axis, the watchmaker must lift the chain every day, and the load of that chain gives the rotation of the axis of the clock, and moreover, uniform. AND…

— Got that. I realized that you know the job. Get out of the way. You, as a craftsman, will spend the night in prison. The place is good, almost holy, next to the chapel. Pop we have Father Cyril…

— I would like to go to Tula… — suddenly escaped from Moshkin, — I am for a day… I’ll turn around quickly. I will swear on the holy icons.

— Can’t brother, service. We are all needed here. I, here, wrote to the governor, I remember by heart:

“I wish to absolve myself of sins, I need to visit holy places. The murdered tortured me completely, they don’t let me sleep, especially on Sundays. Let go on a pilgrimage”

And do you know what Prince Pozharsky ordered me to answer?

“Nooo,” muttered the Sagittarius, and simply did not believe his ears. Pozharsky! Oneself!

“Your service is sacred for the Russian state, and, therefore, there are no sins on you. Well, I wrote to your priest that I would impose penance on you according to your strength, that I would not look for sins where it is not necessary”

“So they put me on bread and water,” said the foreman.

— To the dungeon? — Vanya was afraid for the elderly archer.

“I dreamed. In the spring, the service is here, and no one has to sleep. Either secrets, then chases, then you can’t close your eyes on the walls, you stare at everything — where are the smoke of Tatar fires. Tick line. So I could not sleep in the dungeon. I ate only a week later. But, I’ll tell you, it helped! — he laughed, stroking his beard, — the dead, that I no longer see my own enemies of the dead in a dream. So, Sagittarius, penance is a big deal, however, it helps — and he sighed more calmly. — Take your armor, come on, show your place to sleep, forge and everything you need for your art.

Ivan corrected his caftan, buttoned two, raised his weapon and let the bag go after the foreman. Zinovy Dmitrievich walked quickly, although he limped a little, but did not rely on his staff, but carried it rather for beauty, for honor, and that the archers would respect more.

— Leg? — he saw Vanya’s slanting glances, — this is our military business. For a long time Tatar Sulitsa hit the leg. Well, at least from the pistol missed. So would…

They passed the chapel. The doors of the wooden unwise church were open, and a prayer was heard, which Father Cyril read in a loud voice, and did not even look into the liturgical book. Sensible was father. There was also a bathhouse nearby. So there was everything here for cleansing the souls and bodies of Orthodox soldiers.

“Do you sing songs?” the foreman asked.

— It happens, of course, — Ivan did not refuse, — there is a holiday, or Paska. Our church is stone, Roman Prokhorovich Kanyushkin, father of Fyodor Romanovich, erected it with his joy. So it happened, sang on the choir.

— You see! Well, we have everything for the correct service. Well, we came.

The house, the tower is not a tower, but the house is chopped wooden, large. Some windows with rich platbands, others are much poorer. There were no carvings at all, such orphans with wealthy relatives. But it looked, of course, fun.

— This is Patrikey, all the art will not finish in any way, — explained the foreman, — He took it, but he will not finish the matter. Some platbands have embellished, others will not do anything. And, interestingly, every time the reason finds, but such that you do not dig.

— The work is not bad, — praised Moshkin such beauty of work on wood, — craftsman Patrikey.

— Well, let’s go, — and he opened the door to the room, — here, settle down. A trunk for things, a bed, a table and two benches. There are also family ones here, so don’t be surprised.

Ivan looked at his room. There is not a lot of space, but even in a small window the sunset sun shines, it seems that it is not so bad here either…

“Well, rest, tomorrow will be a new day,” said the foreman, closing the door behind him.

Ivan looked around — there is a shop, a mattress full of hay is also available, and the pillow lies at the head. Sagittarius remembered the service, you always need to take care of your weapon. He put the squeak in a corner, the saber took its place on the hook in the wall, hung the cartridge bag on a wooden nail, carefully driven next to the hook. The cloth blanket lay nearby, he ran his hand over it. The young man just sighed, remembering his home, yet he was unusual here. He straightened the caftan, dusted it off from the dirt on the sleeve, and folded it on the bench. In the corner there was a lamp under the icon, Ivan prayed for the night, remembering his family, and Elena… With Father Barsanuphius it turned out stupid, but with Elena… And how Elena sobbed, screamed, shook straight when her father dragged her home by the arms. And he could not do anything, because Father. And Ivan grabbed himself by the head, and only swung from side to side, covered his face in exhaustion with his hands. All this stood before my eyes. When in the service, it seems to be released, but how to go to bed — so everything is again. Okay, you still need to sleep…

***

They raised everyone, as soon as the sun rose, in the German manner, with the sound of a trumpet. But, so, with a Russian bias. They were not buzzing very loud and strong. Sagittarius went out quite quickly, did not be lazy, and sporingly stood in two ranks. There were no Cossacks yet, everyone was visible on the road and in secrets.

The foreman bypassed the formation of four dozen of his dares. But, each of the soldiers was with weapons, this was not spoiled here, the danger was all the time nearby. Ivan saw the sentries at the gate, and the sagittarius walked on the tower while beeping.

“Is everything in place?” — shouted Zinovy Dmitrievich Khvorostov, — well, what is there?

— That’s right, Zinovy Dmitrievich! On the spot, no one left!

— Okay, do business. Ivan, let’s go to the guns!

Moshkin already dreamed of seeing the huge guns that he heard about from his father. That would be right with cunning casting all over the trunk, inscriptions there, carving in bronze. But dreams do not often coincide with reality, and a couple of guns did not impress the young craftsman too much. Caliber on the strength of one and a half pounds, however, with a cunning lock. I have never seen this before — the vingrad had a lock that locked the bore and a lever that closed the bolt. The gun was rifled, and, apparently, could only shoot “cunning cores.” It will be necessary to find out if Hvorostov has such in the cellar. And I saw that the trunnion jumped out of the castle.

— Blimey! — Ivan admired, — sliced squeak! The shutter is not easy, Zinovy Dmitrievich. And the question is this. Do you have cores for this gun?

“Does she shoot a shot?”

“That’s not what she’s for. There should be lead cores in the prison, for a gun with a caliber of one and a half pounds. And not round, but such, — and he made a mysterious gesture in the air, — Then let’s try to shoot.

— We have to watch… And cast iron?

— It is possible, but the accuracy and range of the shooting will be less. The cast-iron core will not enter the rifling, but will break the barrel. So, you need to take a smaller one. Lead — it will go straight through the rifling, and the firing accuracy will be twice as much and the range will be greater.

— Well, work, master. Your forge. And the tool is yours. Gunpowder is stored in our cellar, in the underground, Only I have keys from it.

Moshkin, nodded that they say, understood. He took the pattern, measured the bore of the gun, and, putting the tool in the basket, went to the gun hut. Yes, actually, it was not a hut, but a large dugout with a gable earthen roof. The door was also locked, and Ivan went to the guards.

— good afternoon. Open the lock of the armory.

“Now, I’ll ask Zinovy Dmitrich,” the Sagittarius replied, and went to the foreman’s chambers.

The craftsman put a basket with patterns and a ruler on the ground. It was necessary to wait for the return of the guard. But finally, rattling the keys, they began to remove the locks with the iron upholstered in the door. Ivan went inside with a lit lantern. There were twenty squeakers near the walls, sabers wrapped in burlap, dozens of copies and protazans complemented the picture. Nearby were baskets with buckshot, cores. On top lay cast iron, two-pound. The craftsman began to lay out the cores, measuring each, shifting already in calibers.

— Here, — the young man was delighted, — finally found…

He laid out gray lead nuclei, distinguished by their weight. There were as many as twenty pieces! And for sure… These oblong shells were like plums, but more. It was possible to please Zinovy Dmitrievich! While it was necessary to deal with the shutters of the guns. Sagittarius brought two guns to the forge, and Ivan set to work.

There was no need to get bored, the difficult work took almost two weeks, but everything was ready. The shutters now worked perfectly, with the force of the lever, the wedge locking the bore opened the chamber for charging. Everything worked.

All the warriors of the prison gathered, and a whisper was heard, everyone looked at Moshkin, who was standing next to the cannon craftsmen Evgraf Isakov and Andrei Zotov. They had already prepared their baths and cleanings, put on aprons and mittens, stood and buckets with water to cool the guns.

“Well, craftsman, show me,” Zinovy Dmitrievich, pleased with himself, said loudly.

Ivan did all the tricks with the shutter of the guns. Old cannon masters Evgraf Isakov and Andrei Zotov repeated behind him. The warriors were simply delighted, and welcomed their foreman and Ivan Moshkin.

— Yes it would be necessary to try at least one, — the foreman Alexey Chelobanov whispered, — otherwise fight will happen, and we without guns? Look, the foreman, — he tried to speak convincingly, — and the gunners need to get used to shooting from the repairmen. And then they have only one gaufnitsa left.

— Okay, — Khvorostov reluctantly agreed, and called Ivan to him:

— That’s what, it would be necessary to shoot once. Well, it’s better three times out of each. Not here, of course. You take the gun, but blurt it out. Find only lead nuclei, we will transfer them. Will be old new… And then every shot will become golden.

— Let’s do it, — Moshkin simply answered, — and we need two shields, from those on which archers from squeaks are fired.

— Exactly! It is only necessary to fill the earthen shaft behind the shields. Alexey Ermolaevich! — called Khvorostov a foreman, — stop looking here, pour a shaft on the shooting range behind the shields, but drown it. Do it hard, conscientiously. And in front of the shaft, put two old logs so that I do not lose cores and bullets. Lead is expensive, oh expensive…

— And they bring little gunpowder. Only ten times a year to shoot.

— Talk again… They will bring. Promised.. Here, and the handmasters brought…

— We heard about Ivanov’s exploits… — Chelobanov smiled, — yes, the fire is a guy. It’s good that my daughters are all married, — he joked, — We’ll manage in two hours, not earlier, — I finished seriously.

Zinovy Dmitrievich nodded, and went to the gunners. The young craftsman showed the elderly how the bolt works, how to clean the barrel after a shot. Although the guns were already fifty years old, and everything was like new, only the carriages were changed five years ago.

— After twenty shots it will be necessary to clean the rifling in the barrel, — and Moshkin showed the rifling in the cannon with his finger. — lead will remain on them.

— And with a cast-iron core if blurted out?

“The barrel will burst. What pressure…

— And if the core right with the cuts is cast? — suggested Andrey Zotov, as more sensible.

— Well invented, Andrey Prokopyevich. Sensible, — Ivan smiled.

— And the core is necessary, not round, but oval — said Evgraf Isakov, — and drew with a stick on the ground, cutting then three, so that it entered all the rifling of the trunk. Yes, I think so, Ivan Semenovich, — respectfully, with the meaning said the gunner, — no one fired from her. And the cores were made at random. The barrel enters — and thank God. There and charge on the contrary — first a shell, then a wad, and then a cap with gunpowder. Give me a shell. Semenych…

He tried, but the lead shell was cast expressively in the size of the chamber, not the barrel, and had to enter the rifling and fly after the shot, as it should. But, I must say, it was not the core, but the shell was more like a large plum. Not spherical, but oval in shape, oblong such.

— You see, Evgraf Fomich, everything is not bad, — Ivan sighed with relief, already frightened that he had not watched the cores, — It will definitely go into four cuts.

So two hours passed. Three gunners have already harnessed the horses into teams and put the guns on the front.

— Everything is ready. You can start! — the messenger from Chelobanov shouted to Hvorostov.

— let’s go! ‘the foreman ordered.

Zinovy Dmitrievich climbed onto the front of one of the guns, an sagittarius climbed onto the other. The cannon masters also took their places, and Evgraf Fomich, who was sitting on the front of the front gun, waved his reins, and the horses moved in steps.

Ivan sat with his fingers clinging to the front cover, and inside there were cores and gunpowder. It was hard to sit, and it shook mercilessly, however, everything was not on foot.

— What, Wan? Heavy? Zotov laughed at him. — here, gunners, like this. And then, they will turn you to us, from archers.

Moshkin was silent. Who knows what will happen… How is Elena? Mother and father, brothers?

Svatya Fedor Romanovich and Semyon Petrovich

— Hello, Fedor Romanovich! — and Semyon bowed low, taking off his hat.

— Good for you, sit down come on. Here, drink wine. Hungarian — and poured into a glass glass.

Then the door creaked, and the senile face of Grandma Lukerya seemed. A cat slipped through the door, immediately raising its tail high, and began to rub against the owner’s leg and purr desperately.

— Lukerya! What is there?

— Yes, I thought, Fedorushka, what do you need? Or do you want to eat? Completely emaciated after all.

— Fish salted. Shomgi want.

— You can’t fish with wine, — answered restless, — indecent. And the wine is red, not white.

— Then bring smoked meat.

“I’ll bring it now,” Lukerya replied with a satisfied tone.

Fedor jumped up, listened until he could wait for the shuffling steps to subside.

— Gone… Faster it is necessary. Well, the case is Semyon, I will not pull. All this is matchmaking, but the fact that Ivan and Elena tried to get married themselves is not the point.

“None of it,” agreed Moshkin, the elder.

— Yes, I have one daughter, and I wish her happiness.

“That’s right.

— Here, I drew up the paper, then we will enter our contract into the book, — and handed the sheet to Semyon.

He read slowly, repeating wise words to himself. and looked at the merchant.

— So???

— Well, yes, in the summer we will marry the young. Honor by honor when this conversation with Father Barsanuphius settles… Screams, screams, oh my God!

— This is of course — and Ivan’s father remembered what happened next to the church, and again grabbed his head.

— Well, in general, your Ivan of considerable courage… And Emel — the clerk was not afraid, and my dogs…

— Elena Fyodorovna is clever and beautiful, — Moshkin expressed himself as biased as possible, — Ivan could not hit her face in front of her.

— Very horny, yes, character in me, — said the father with undisguised pride, — Well, your son was not afraid, it means that they will live happily. But it is necessary that they would not see each other before the summer, otherwise such a shame, for the whole city…

— The head of the Streltsy order can send him to prison. There the mind will gain. And in the summer Ivan will return to Tula. It will be possible to get them married.

— God forbid that everything would be sweet… And then, after all, Elena in the tower roars endlessly, does not eat or drink, and he suddenly spoke deliberately loudly, and mowed his eyes at the gap between the door and the jamb.

Semyon also noticed that Lukerya was eavesdropping again, because he was cleverly attached!

— Yes, in the summer and marry Ivan and Elena! — continued the speech Fedor Romanovich, speaking even louder.

— So after all, we will prepare for the wedding as it should. I’ll put a new hut, there is a place, — agreed, and Semyon Petrovich spoke just as loudly.

Fedor touched his lips with his finger, asked the interlocutor to be silent. and listened. And, for sure, I heard light retreating steps, and then a little in the house the stairs creaked.

— We bet, on your castle, that now my daughter will come here?

— Well, if the girl finally calms down, — the guest did not get into family disputes.

“Will you have any more wine?” the merchant asked, taking out another glass Italian decanter also with red wine.

Semyon only estimated the amount of capacity, but did not think to refuse, and the owner put two clean glasses on the table.

— So, something to chew? Fedor thought.

He began to open the drawers and shelves of the desk, which could not be called a table. A real work of art, with a retractable countertop, artsy carvings. The owner did not lose heart, and again filled the glasses. They drank more wine, however, from the food there was only one gingerbread in such a beautiful merchant’s table. Fedor sighed sadly, and next to the lamps at the icons in the red corner lit three candles, baptized for a long time and bowed.

— More wine? ‘he asked after a future relative’s prayer.

They managed to drink only two cups, then they knocked on the door, and Elena came in with a tray on which there were two plates, silver two-toothed forks, a dish with finely chopped meat and bread. Semyon quickly looked at the girl’s face, but she was smart and very difficult — little was noticeable on her white face, only her eyes were red.

— Have a meal, what to drink wine without charcuterie, — the girl was noticeably bored in the nose, put everything on the table and left importantly.

The men just looked at each other, Fedor made an expressive gesture, leaning his hand in the form of a tube against his ear. Semyon nodded, agreeing with the obvious.

— Exactly. Grandma Lukerya hears everything and manages everywhere.