Nikolai Gogol

The year is 1503. Russia has not yet recovered from the Mongol yoke, but it is growing stronger under the rule of Grand Prince Ivan III of Moscow, the collector of Russian lands. Moscow is growing, the white stone walls of the Kremlin are already standing, and messengers from Novgorod, Pskov, and Lithuania are constantly riding along the roads. Wars with the Tatars are ongoing, but life in the remote villages near Moscow is peaceful, albeit not without its share of worries. The Cossacks, free warriors, serve the prince and then go to the Wild Field, where there are no boyars or laws except their own.

The village of Sushchevo is a quiet but restless place. Here, old pagan beliefs and the new Christian faith have blended together. In the dark huts, people still whisper spells, and in the church of St. Nicholas, they light candles. People believe in God, as well as in goblins and house spirits. The night of Ivan Kupala is especially revered, when girls weave wreaths and float them on the river, and boys jump over bonfires. It is said that witches emerge on this night, and herbs gain magical powers.

The houses in Sushchevo were sturdy log cabins covered with straw, and the rich ones were covered with planks. The streets were unpaved, and in the spring and autumn, the mud was up to their knees. However, in the summer, the fields were golden with rye, the forests were full of mushrooms and berries, and the Neglinnaya River was teeming with fish. The houses, covered with dark planks, were tightly packed together, as if they were afraid of falling apart. Above them stood the old wooden Church of the Intercession of the Holy Virgin, blackened by time but as strong as the faith of the local men. On Sundays, the bell rang, and people flocked to the service.

The market in Sushchevo is not just a marketplace, but a whole world. Here you will find peasants carrying sacks of grain, merchants in expensive caftans selling exotic goods, and buffoons performing amusing skits. The air is filled with the scent of fresh bread, smoke from the stoves, horse tack, and fragrant herbs. On the stalls, you can find honey in birch bark containers, wax, flax, clay pots, and wooden toys, and in some places, even exotic spices brought by merchants from distant lands.

Nikolai's father, Vasily Gogol, was a Zaporozhian Cossack, but he settled near Moscow after being wounded in a skirmish with the Tatars. His mother, Maria, was from a noble family, but she married a Cossack against her father's wishes (there was a story that Vasily literally stole her from a palace when she was being betrothed to an old prince's clerk).

Mikolka himself is a stately young man, though thin, but wiry and hardy – the Cossack blood is making itself felt. His hair is unusual: ash-grey, as if dusted with road dust, long, most often braided in a side-braid – a sign of freedom (Cossacks did not cut their hair – hair was considered a symbol of strength). His eyes are sharp, keen – in the steppe without this is impossible. The eyes are not the same, heterochromia, one is warm like the autumn sun, the other is cold like river water. It's as if the right eye sees the world clearly, while the left eye gazes into the otherworld.

The family was not rich, but they were not poor either. They had a sturdy house with carved window frames, and they had a horse in the yard, and not just one, because a Cossack without a horse is not a Cossack. Vasily taught his son how to ride a horse and how to use a saber, while Maria taught him how to read and pray. Nikolai was a strong but quiet boy, who preferred to listen rather than talk.

At the very edge of the village, behind an old willow tree, stood a tall mansion, where a boyar family had recently moved. It was said that the girl's father was in the prince's favor, but something had gone wrong, either because they had fallen out of favor or because they had decided to escape the court intrigues.

But most of the talk was about his daughter. She was a beautiful girl: her skin was as white as snow, her cheeks were like the color of a poppy, and her eyes were dark and deep, like the night before Midsummer. She wore a silver cross on her chest, but it was not just any cross; it had a blacksmith's mark and mysterious inscriptions. People whispered that she had a connection with the supernatural, and that she could use herbs to heal people or use water to predict the future.

They were afraid of her, but they also reached out: some for help, some out of curiosity. Some said she was a witch, others a saint. And she herself walked around the village quietly, like a shadow, rarely smiled, but if she looked at someone, heart sank.

Nikolai heard these conversations and was amazed. And one day Nikolka went to the river to fish. He sees: sitting on the shore, in a white dress, barefoot, feet in the water. And in her hands is a bunch of grass, and she is humming something over it.

He wanted to leave, but the wind carried his footsteps to her. She turned around. And took a look.