Chapter III
"Count Braginski. Count Braginski!"
Ivan stirred from an uncomfortable sleep, made all the more so by the rattling, and bouncing carriage over the country road. He sat himself upright to look groggily at Catherine, who was sitting across from him.
"I hate to disturb you sir," began the old woman, "but I've been informed by the driver that a heavy rain storm has started up and we shall have to stop for the night."
The young man rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and looked wearily out at the darkening sky.
"Da Catherine, I agree. We shall have to send a wire to St. Petersburg tomorrow, explaining my being late."
"Very good sir."
The two then stared out of their respective windows, watching the countryside go by. Ivan couldn't care less. It was all so typically...Russian, he thought. The large wheat fields, the peasants and occasional shacks that passed for houses. The young man released a slight sigh of contempt. He had really let himself go!
About an hour later they arrived at a small, but quant village. Catherine was going about organizing servants and seeing to the luggage, while Ivan walked down the narrow, muddy strips of earth that passed for roads here. He was about to turn back when something caught his eye.
A man, thin as a rake and adorned in a black robe was walking intently towards him. Something was very unsettling about him, and Ivan could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
The man was tall, and very thin. He appeared to be clad like a priest and had a scraggily, greasy beard to match. His hair was long, and unkempt sticking this way and that. And his eyes! They were dark, almost hypnotic like a cat's. He was like some ghoul from a fairy tail, or a wildman from some long age past.
The man must have caught Ivan's staring for he stopped and stared back, his deep black eyes defiantly meeting Ivan's violet. They stood that way for some time, almost as if they were having a conversation without words. Finally the man spoke, giving a crooked grin. "Interesting…Very interesting."
He then slowly walked past Ivan, and it was all the young man to do to keep himself from gagging. The man smelled of alcohol and death!
Ivan quickly pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and cover his nose. He watched the man vanish up the street, feeling like he had just seen the Grim Reaper. Suddenly, a sharp tap on the shoulder nearly made him jump out of his skin. He spun around quickly to see Catherine, looking sternly up at him.
"Count Braginski, whatever is the matter?"
"I-" began Ivan, looking back where the man had went.
Catherine looked past Ivan, then back up at him. "What is it?"
"I'm not sure, but-" he trailed off.
Catherine pursed her lips and said, "Come now sir. The village governor has been wanting to see you. Honestly, I don't know what posses you to wander like this. Sir? Can you hear me?"
Ivan blinked a few times and looked back at the maid.
"Yes. Yes of course, how silly of me. Take me to him."
The maid led him back to the Inn , muttering, "I know I am but a feeble servant, but honestly my Count I do not know what gets into you sometimes."
Ivan simply nodded and followed her. His mind still going back to the strange priest and the smell.