Lost Face · Part 2

Subienkow finally managed to calm down.

A moment of silence followed and, to stop thinking about what was waiting for him, he turned his thoughts to his past.

He remembered his father and mother, then the little spotted pony he used to ride as a child. He also remembered his French teacher, who had taught him to dance and who, one day, in anger, had snatched an old book by Voltaire from his hands.

In his memory, the great cities of Europe passed before his eyes: Paris, Rome, sad London and cheerful Vienna. He thought of his young Polish friends, with whom he had dreamed of a free Poland and a Polish king on the throne in Warsaw.

That was where it had all begun.

Of all his friends, he had been the only survivor, and he thought of each of them. Two had been executed, another had been beaten to death by his guard, and, on the long road to Siberia, a fourth had fallen from exhaustion and never got up again. The others had died in the mines, from disease or beatings.

Two companions had tried to escape with him, but they had died in the fight against the Cossacks.

He alone had survived.

He had managed to reach the far east of Russia using money and papers stolen from a traveller whom he had left to die in the snow.

Violence followed him everywhere and was always present, even in places of learning or pleasure. He had seen people killed around him, and he had killed people himself. On the same day, he had fought two Russian officers in duels and, to get a passport and save his own life, he had killed an innocent man.

Going back was impossible. The only solution was to keep going, to cross the freezing sea, pass through the strait and enter Alaska.

To do this, he had joined a group of fur traders. With them, he had tried three times to cross to the east. Three times, the expedition had failed, and the group had returned to its starting point.

The fourth attempt had finally succeeded.

He had been one of the first Europeans to walk on remote islands in the north. But he had not gone back to make his fortune like the others, because his goal was not money. His goal was Europe.

To get there, he would have to cross the whole of America.

He had stayed in that dangerous region of the freezing sea and sailed with other adventurers: Russians, Mongols and Siberians. Everywhere, the group had demanded a heavy tax in furs. Those who refused had been massacred, and sometimes the native people had attacked in return.

And so the violence had never stopped.

They had finally reached Alaska, but the coast was dangerous, with its cliffs, storms and reefs. Wherever they could land, tribes had appeared in their canoes, shouting, and the fighting had been fierce.

Despite everything, the group had continued south. There was talk of a Spanish settlement further along the coast, and Subienkow dreamed of finding it. With the help of the people there, he could reach California or Mexico, then return to Europe.

But they had never found the settlement, so the leader had decided to return north.

The years had passed.

Subienkow had helped build a fort, and every summer he traded with the Indians. They exchanged skins, ivory and objects from faraway places.

He questioned every traveller because he wanted to learn about the unknown territories. People spoke of dangers, huge mountains and endless forests. There were also stories of white men with blue eyes living far to the east.

No one had seen them, but everyone talked about them.

At last, he had heard of a great river in the east, the Yukon, an enormous river that led towards other white men.

He had tried to reach this river on an expedition, but without success.

The leader had decided to build a fort there, on the land of a local tribe.

Subienkow had wanted to continue east, but winter was coming, and he had been forced to wait.

The building of the fort had been terrible. The Indians had been forced to work, and those who tried to escape had been punished in front of the others. Some had died, and the survivors had learned to obey.

Winter had arrived before the work was finished.

Then the fur season had begun. The group had captured women and children and demanded furs in exchange for their freedom.

And so the seeds of hatred had been planted.

Now the time for harvest was approaching.