The Way Of Vengeance

By William Spencer

In the midst of famine during a forgotten Stalinist genocide, DANYA KOMYSA is a proud Cossack Partisan, forced to witness the murder of his wife during the Soviet Purges and Famine of 1932. Despite his heroic defiance, against Stalin’s most notorious Chekist General, his lone crusade for retribution seems hopeless.

Now as Danya wrestles with his destiny he encounters a powerful resistance group and takes on a deadly challenge. He must chaperone NATALKA ZAKHAROV, once Stalin’s favourite adjutant, yet now Russia’s most wanted fugitive, to Kharkiv City as she flees from the same Chekist General who murdered his wife. As the notorious GENERAL VRATEK and his Cheka Secret Police pursue the pair across the nation, Danya and his Chekist adversary are drawn ever closer together. Relentless conflict, incarceration and rescue soon follow as the chase builds to a dramatic climax in Kharkiv City. Now love strikes deep into two open hearts as Danya and Natalka are bound by tribulation and the high emotion of unrelenting pursuit.

Finally, Danya settles an astonishing score from the past, delivering a fatal blow, deep into the heart of Stalin’s machinery of terror. Now Danya has fulfilled his destiny, as the tide of destruction that has brought his country to its knees draws to a premature close. Set against a backdrop of real historical events and richly laced with spiritual intrigue, The Way Of Vengeance is an unforgettable journey of passion, courage and survival.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Release date: Mar 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9781399920087

William Spencer

WILLIAM SPENCER is a freelance Copywriter and Novelist based in the North of England. He has been a full member of the Institute of Copywriting since 2006 and was employed by an Oxford based publishing house for a period of five years during the early nineties. His debut novel THE WAY OF VENGEANCE was inspired by his late mother-in-law, who was a childhood survivor of the Holodomor Terror Famine in the Ukraine.

Book preview

Chapter One

Poltava Oblast, Ukraine. Summer 1933

Danya was awakened by shafts of sunlight breaking through on the eastern side of the barn. He gazed at the children as they slept, overwhelmed with concern, particularly for Petros who had rarely spoken for most of the previous day, shunning all Danya’s attempts to comfort him.

The children’s pain just compounded his own; watching them suffer was unbearable. Luba’s incessant tears during the whole of the preceding evening had cut him to the heart. He knew what he must do before the children awoke, yet dreaded the task ahead. Most of his thoughts the night before had been focussed on the unthinkable ordeal of burying his bride.

Danya carried her body to the place she loved so much. He remembered the summer evenings she would spend walking through the acres of poppy fields which carpeted the steppes around the farm. He could think of no better place for her to rest.

He dug until he was exhausted. With every shovel full of earth, he vowed he would wreak vengeance upon those who had so mercilessly stolen away his bride. Finally he took Katerina in his arms, gently caressing her ice cold lips with one last kiss, before tenderly setting her down into the grave. It was an unforgettable image that burnt itself into his memory, an image that would haunt him for the rest of his days. He spent a few moments alone at the graveside, before walking back through the poppy fields towards the barn, grateful at least that the children had been spared such an unbearable ordeal.

Luba and Petros were still sleeping when he returned. Danya opened the door, flooding the barn with early morning sunlight.

It’s a beautiful day, time to wake up. He said quietly, bolstering his grief-stricken tone in an attempt to preserve the smallest remnants of normality. Then he remembered, as he did every morning, that there was nothing he could give them to eat.

The three of them made their way to the graveside in silence. Danya knelt beside the children, gripped with emotion once again as he observed the pain and sadness in Luba’s dark eyes.

We must thank God for your mother’s life. Danya said earnestly, before struggling desperately to pray, as he was suddenly confronted by the obstacle of his own anger. Holy Father, thank you for giving me the honour of taking care of your finest daughter. He began tearfully, choking at the sound of his own words. Luba gently took her father’s hand, giving him courage to carry on. She was so tender, so fragile, unfading in beauty, yet she fought with the heart of a tiger for the survival of her family. We pray that our anger would not destroy us and make us like the enemy, but would drive us forward on a path towards justice. Katerina, you’ll always be in my heart, I’ll never forget you. Goodbye my love. Danya concluded, his voice fading as he was unable to continue. There was nothing more to be said. The three of them sat in complete silence. No one wanted to move from that place. There was incredible pain, yet strangely there was also an incredible peace, and a renewed sense of hope where futility had reigned only a few hours earlier.

Yet the reality of their situation refused to go away. Danya knew that unless he was able to eat soon, he wouldn’t be around much longer for his family. The goal for now was to defeat the enemy of starvation, vengeance would have to wait, he thought, as they finally tore themselves away from the graveside, and made their way back towards the barn.

Powerful emotions were invading Danya’s soul. Time and time again he was crippled by paralysing anger as he replayed the terror of the previous day in his mind. He knew that the sheer intensity of feeling and emotional turmoil had the power to fragment his personality and destroy his soul. His reaction to events was waiting in the wings to destroy him, certainly to change him forever, defining his motives and actions for the rest of his life. Yet his immediate concern was for the children.

Listen to me, both of you. Danya said indignantly, as the strength and clarity returned to his voice. I believe with all my heart that your mother is with God; death is not the end for her. We must be grateful for the time we had together, no one can take those memories away. Whenever your heart aches and you miss her so badly, I want you to think of something to remember her by.

Ivan and the Great Bear! Luba replied thoughtfully, before raising an infectious smile.

That’s a great story! Your mother had so many bedtime stories, I lost count. Danya replied.

No papa, I didn’t mean the story, I just remember how I felt at story time: I always felt so safe, mummy’s clothes always smelt so nice, and it was so soft and cosy.

That’s good Little Luba, and what about you Petros? Danya asked warmly, coughing to hide his emotions, as he wrapped his arm around the shoulders of his son.

I remember she would never let me walk past her without grabbing me for a hug, and I always remember her eyes, they always looked so full of love. Petros replied after a long pause, his stony expression still fraught with pain.

I think that was a special look for you and your sister. Danya replied. You must hold on to these memories and never let them fade, then your mother will always be with you. He concluded, desperately aware of the inadequacy of his words, yet grateful at least that they had been able to talk.

The children gave their father a hug and then drifted off into the morning sunshine, leaving Danya to his thoughts. He knew this could so easily be another long day of frustration and hopelessness. The days on the farm had seemed endless since they had been stripped of grain, fuel and livestock. An internal passport system prevented them from moving around to find food, but Katerina’s death had changed everything. He was no longer bound by a duty of care to remain at the farm. Surely it would be better to die on a journey of hope, than to endure another bloody purge and the paralysis of malnourishment.

The physical symptoms of starvation were debilitating, but it was the listlessness which Danya feared the most. He had lost whole days languishing in the dull haze which so easily took hold. Without his wits they would be devoid of all hope. He rubbed his tired eyes, reaching into a water barrel. It had been at least a month since he had seen his image and what he saw now shocked him deeply. A gaunt, unfamiliar shadow of a man gazed back at him through the ripples; six weeks with virtually no food had taken their toll. Danya’s once strong features, broad cheekbones and long blue eyes, now resembled nothing more than a jaundiced skeleton.

Luba looked on from a distance, then approached him quietly from behind.

Don’t worry papa, I remember how handsome you are! How are you feeling? She asked in a brave and sympathetic tone, as she gazed up at her father with huge soulful eyes. Danya spun around and embraced his daughter.

How am I feeling? Danya gasped quietly, amused by her adult tone and overwhelmed by her selfless concern. Well Luba, my heart aches, my head hurts and my strength is gone, otherwise I’m just fine. What about you? Danya replied. Luba furrowed her brow, stepped backwards and sat cross-legged on the floor. She bowed her head, resting huge swirls of thick raven hair on the ground.

I feel mother is still with me. Luba replied, in an unflinching and serious tone far beyond her years.

She peered soulfully at her father through the thick strands of jet black hair. Most of all papa, I’m afraid you will die and leave us all alone. She continued, bursting into tears that rolled freely off her chin.

Dear Little Luba. Danya gasped, lifting her head gently, his voice rich with affectionate reassurance. Listen to me, I also have many feelings I don’t understand. I sit here like a skeleton, one minute weak, then thirsty, then hungry. When you look at my body, things don’t look good at all! But let me tell you a secret. He whispered. I am filled with this great hope: this is not the end for us Luba, it is just the beginning. I know this to be true, because I feel it in my heart.

Reassured by her father’s conviction she embraced him once again, this time kissing a wound on his forehead.

Hey, you can do that anytime. Danya responded, rewarding her with a broad smile.

There had always been a powerful bond between them, a clear channel of understanding. Even as a baby, Luba would hold his gaze in unashamed silence, content to search the depths of her father’s eyes in unspoken exchanges of love. Now her likeness to her mother would be a constant reminder of their reality — Katerina was gone forever. If he called her name, there would be no reply. Her warm embrace that he had taken for granted for so long, now seemed so precious, as he realized that their moments of intimacy had come to an end. Surely her presence had been too real, too tangible to vanish so suddenly. It was an irredeemable loss. Worst of all, her final moments had been desecrated, stolen forever. If only he could have shared in her agony, to reassure her, to affirm his love for her one last time before she was ushered into heaven for eternity.

Danya jolted himself out of self-pity as the listlessness threatened to take hold once again. It was a stark reminder that time was against them. Even today he must take some positive action. It was time to share his thoughts.

Luba, come, we must find your brother. Danya said decisively, as he took her by the hand and set off back towards the barn.

Petros was brooding thoughtfully over his own reflection as he gazed at himself in the flashing blade of his father’s Cossack sabre.

I've made a decision. Danya announced, as he entered the barn, his eyes now blazing with determination. I know this won’t be easy for either of you, but we must leave the farm today. Our only hope now is to move out from this place.

A few moments of silence followed. Petros was the first to respond.

Father. He said hesitantly. We have something to tell you, but first, you must promise you won’t be angry.

Angry? I think you can forget about ‘angry’ for a while, considering what you’ve both been through. Danya replied curiously, urging Petros to continue.

When Luba and I were hiding from the soldiers, there was a stallion tethered at the entrance of the barn. Petros continued, now faltering in confidence as he gazed at Danya’s expressionless face, knowing that horse stealing would surely carry serious punishment. So we untied him and hid him in the forest out of sight. I wanted to get mother to a doctor. Petros concluded, then gazed wide-eyed at his father, enduring the agony of a lengthy hesitation, as Danya considered his response.

What are we waiting for? He said finally, slapping Petros enthusiastically on the back, as he led the way towards the forest. The children ran on ahead, reaching the enclave in the woodland well ahead of their father, where the unsettled stallion began twitching his ears as they approached.

Good boy, steady now. Petros said gently, in an attempt to calm the animal down and gain his trust before they dared to untie him.

***

Meanwhile Danya came to a breathless halt in the forest, rooted to the spot by dizziness and nausea. He fell to his knees, as the strands of sunlight breaking through the forest canopy, cascaded into a blinding sea of light. Feelings of disorientation and detachment took hold as the hiss of the summer breeze echoed loudly through the forest. The atmosphere around him suddenly thickened, as he strangely broke free from the confines of his flesh. The grace and peace summoned to gently lead him out of this world were slowly wrapping themselves around him like a blanket.

He looked down upon the curious sight of his own image, resting peacefully amongst a luxurious carpet of grass and fern. Like a wounded animal, death had chosen his resting place. Then he turned, attracted by the dazzling imagery that lay ahead. Suddenly the most gentle of whispers rang around the forest canopy. He strained to decipher the words as again and again they came, each time a little sharper than the last:

To Kharkiv Danya, to Kharkiv. The mysterious voice whispered gently, but with great urgency and the awesome weight of a much higher authority.

It was not the message that impacted Danya so deeply, but the very essence of his encounter with the messenger. Waves of peace had washed over the very depths of his being. Somehow he was perched upon a precipice between life and death, yet his free will remained intact. He was being given a choice: he could move on now, leaving this mortal realm forever, or he could return in obedience to this mysterious call, and discharge the will of the messenger. Suddenly, more familiar voices rang through the forest.

Father! Father! Come! Hurry!

There was no hesitation. The very moment the decision was made Danya was back on the forest floor, walking with renewed strength and vigour and feeling much stronger. The children came into view as he crested the next rise.

Father where have you been? Petros said in frustration.

I’m sorry Petros, I was caught up in the beauty of the forest. He replied warmly, as his eyes then fell upon the stallion. He approached the mighty horse slowly, yet confidently from the front and held out his hand. This was no ordinary animal, the beast was in stunning condition, with plenty of bone and muscle, yet steady in character and good natured.

He’s impressive Petros, you’ve done well. Danya said with a pensive sigh, as he moved on in his thoughts to the impossible challenges that lay ahead. First we have breakfast, then we leave. Danya said with unflinching seriousness.

Breakfast father? Petros replied, a little bemused.

Soldiers without rations are useless to the army. Today we have the rare privilege of plundering the saddlebags of a Chekist. Danya said with great satisfaction, as he threw a canteen in Petros’ direction. From now on water is your responsibility.

Danya paused before revealing the next item.

Thank God for corned beef Luba! You’re the housekeeper now, how does two tins sound?

Sounds good papa, you must have them all to yourself! Luba replied earnestly, trying desperately to remember the last time she had watched her father eat.

Half a loaf of rye bread came next. Then the final item raised Danya’s eyebrows, but stayed where it was.

What is it papa? Luba asked curiously, crowding her father to see what was so interesting.

Looks like gun cotton. Danya replied after a moment of deliberation. The army use it for blowing things up.

Well that’s just great papa, three of us riding a horse that might blow up! That’s me walking then. Luba said in a plucky, determined tone.

Don’t be stupid Luba, Petros replied in disdain. Explosives need fuses and matches.

Danya had already moved on. He opened the first tin of corned beef with an army jackknife, before sharing it equally between them, along with a tiny piece of rye bread. All three portions were instantly and unceremoniously devoured. After so many long hours of hunger, the indescribable satisfaction of an easy meal would never be the same again. A long silence followed. Danya gazed at the faces of his precious children. Watching them eat was just another reminder that their next meal was down to him.

We still have eight hours of daylight — we leave in an hour. Danya said with focussed determination, as he untied the stallion and thrust his foot into the stirrup. My horsemanship is a little rusty. He gasped, as he struggled to find the strength to hoist himself up. Once in the saddle, he realized this was a very different experience to the pony at the farm. The riding position was high and commanding, the horse felt supple and relaxed. The ears of the young horse strained backwards as he listened hard for his orders in true military fashion. Clearly he was eager to please his new master. Even the slightest movement was rewarded with instant and enthusiastic compliance. The animal felt like an extension of his own body. I’ll see you back at the farm. Danya shouted as he turned and set off at a gentle canter.

Back in the saddle for the first time in months, Danya at last felt enabled to change their situation. So many simple things had been stolen from him: the livestock and basic tools with which he laboured to make an honest living, the seed which always contained the promise of a harvest, and the strength with which he lovingly provided for his family. The incessant procurement raids had left them with nothing: no material or physical resources, no options and no hope.

With cruel premeditation the Politburo had orchestrated the most evil oppression for the Ukrainian peasantry, designed to torture soul as well as body. But now at last Danya was back in control, awakened by a fresh zeal, feeling a little stronger, and empowered to shape his destiny once again.

He looked on in dismay as he approached the farm from a different perspective. The departing Russian soldiers had torched the farmhouse that contained so many memories, along with the whole of the eastern barn. Now only dying cinders, and half the western barn remained. He drew up alongside and peered thoughtfully into the charcoal embers. The simmering ashes blurred as General Bohdan Vratek’s perverse grin flashed through Danya’s mind. Suddenly he was gripped with ferocious anger once again, as he remembered his graveside vow: he would not rest until Vratek was brought to justice.

A square object caught his attention as it protruded from the ashes. Danya dismounted and flipped the steel box out of the embers with his boot. It was Katerina’s embroidery chest; its hammered steel casing had saved it from the flames. The chest fell open as it landed, revealing scissors, needles, cotton, embroidery hooks and a few yards of charred material.

Danya reached down and rescued a stray length of cloth from the charcoal. His hand struck a metallic object as he dusted off the fabric. It was Katerina’s wedding ring, carefully sewn onto their marriage rushnyk, an embroidered ceremonial cloth representing fertility and togetherness. In keeping with the richness of their culture, the cloth was an important symbol, and had bound their wrists together during their wedding vows. He guessed that since her fingers had become so terribly thin and wasted, she had sewn the ring there for safekeeping.

Suddenly he was crippled with fresh waves of emotion as memories of their wedding day came flooding back. As he touched her that day, she had melted in his arms in breathless submission, so trusting, so feminine, so beautiful. Luba tugged sensitively at her father’s sleeve, rescuing him from his thoughts.

Oh papa, your rushnyk. Luba gasped, her expression filled with concern for her father. Danya slowly shook his head.

Today is not a day for memories Luba, it is a day for action. He said with determination, as he hoisted his daughter onto the stallion, and offered her a handful of coarse golden mane. Pretty young ladies get the front seat! Hold on tight Luba.

Danya mounted and rode the horse to a nearby embankment. Petros followed on, then clambered up behind and wrapped his arms around his father’s waist. Danya gazed