Zakhar-the-Pouch (Solzhenitsyn)
Short summary
Russian countryside, presumably 1960s-70s. The narrator and a companion cycled to Kulikovo Field, site of the historic 1380 battle where Russians fought Mongol-Tartars.
They found a neglected monument and met Zakhar Dmitrich, the field's keeper.
Zakhar aggressively questioned visitors and carried a sack with empty bottles and bread, plus a special pouch sewn into his coat for the Comments Book. He earned only twenty-seven rubles monthly guarding the vandalized monument and church. The narrator learned locals had stolen metal from domes and floor slabs. Zakhar complained about lacking authority, wanting a gun instead of just his hatchet to stop vandals. They spent the night in Zakhar's shed while he went home. At dawn, they found him emerging from a haycock where he'd slept in the freezing cold.
Rising out of the haycock on that frosty morning, he was no longer the ridiculous Keeper but rather the Spirit of the Field, a kind of guardian angel who never left the place.
The narrator's mockery transformed to respect for this devoted guardian of Russian heritage.
Detailed summary
Division into chapters is editorial.
The journey to Kulikovo Field
The narrator recounted his cycling holiday from the previous summer, specifically the visit to Kulikovo Field. He and his companion had long intended to visit this historic battlefield, but it proved difficult to reach. No painted signs or signposts marked the way, and it appeared on no maps, despite the fact that this fourteenth-century battle had claimed more Russian lives than Borodino in the nineteenth century.
There has been only one such encounter for fifteen hundred years, not only in Russia but in all Europe. It was a battle not merely between principalities or nation-states, but between continents.
They chose a roundabout route through Epiphania, Kazanovka, and Monastirshchina. The lack of rain allowed them to ride rather than push their bicycles, and they crossed the Don and its tributary, the Nepriadva, on narrow two-plank footbridges. After a long trek, they spotted what appeared to be a needle pointing skyward from a distant hill.
First encounter with Zakhar-the-Pouch
The cyclists stopped at a well in the valley to quench their thirst and fill their water bottles. When they asked a peasant about Kulikovo Field, he corrected their pronunciation and stared at them as if they were idiots, explaining that the village of Kulikovka was next to the battlefield.
They traveled along deserted country lanes for several kilometers without meeting anyone until they reached the monument. The land was planted with crops as far as the eye could see - buckwheat, clover, sugar beet, rye, and peas - yet they encountered no one and passed through what seemed like the blessed calm of a reservation.
Nothing disturbed us from musing on the fate of those fair-haired warriors, nine out of every ten of whom lay seven feet beneath the present topsoil, and whose bones had now dissolved into the earth.
Near the monument, they discovered a literature teacher with two young boys writing in a large visitors' book. Suddenly a massive shadow blocked the sun - it was the Keeper of Kulikovo Field, a hot-tempered man who looked like a ruffian.
Exploring the monument and church
Zakhar immediately warned them not to damage the grass with their bicycles and demanded to know how they had arrived. He wore a long-skirted patched coat, a home-made striped shirt, and carried an ordinary peasant's sack. Inside his jacket was sewn a special pouch exactly sized for the visitors' book, along with a slot for the pencil he lent to visitors.
The monument itself was remarkable - a thirty-meter tower made of cast iron sections bolted so tightly together that no rivets or seams were visible. It rose from square platforms through a twelve-sided structure that became round, decorated with iron shields, swords, and helmets, topped by a gilded cross triumphing over a crescent. The church nearby had a mysterious appearance from afar.
The local inhabitants have ripped off the metal from all five domes for their own requirements, so the domes have become transparent; their delicate structure is still intact, except that it now consists of nothing but the framework.
Three young workers from Novomoskovsk arrived on motorbikes and examined the monument, impressed by its construction. The visitors discussed the historic battle, though exact details remained uncertain. The Russian forces had crossed the Don not by choice but to protect their rear from Prince Oleg of Ryazan, who had allied with the Tartars.
Learning about Zakhars role and personality
As the day progressed, Zakhar revealed more about himself and his circumstances. He had copied the monument's dedication from a plaque that had been stolen by a village rogue for his house. Zakhar complained bitterly about his lack of authority and inadequate equipment for protecting the site.
I don't have any authority. They won't give me a gun. I need a machine gun in a job like this... That's all I have for protection. They won't allow me anything else.
Zakhar's sack contained empty bottles and jam jars left by visitors, which he collected for their deposit value, along with his meager daily provisions of bread and water. He earned only twenty-seven rubles monthly and worked from morning to dusk without days off. His duties included noting car license numbers, though he admitted he did nothing with them afterward.
The church, dedicated to St. Sergei of Radonezh, had been stripped bare during the war. Local people had torn up floor slabs to pave their yards, and troops had used icon screens for dugouts and heating. Zakhar had made a list of who took the slabs, but could do nothing about it. He proudly claimed his limp was a souvenir from the war.
When evening came, Zakhar's friend arrived on a motorbike, and they sat in the bushes for an hour and a half. Afterward, Zakhar returned without his sack, talking more loudly and waving his arms more vigorously. He showed them his axe with a shortened handle, kept in loops sewn into his jacket - his only weapon for protection. He offered them shelter in his low sheep shed, then departed for his village to have supper, leaving them alone on the historic battlefield.
The night at Kulikovo Field
Left alone on Kulikovo Field, the visitors experienced the battlefield by moonlight. The monument tower and fortress-like church stood silhouetted against the full moon. No airplanes flew overhead, no cars rumbled by, no trains rattled in the distance. The pattern of nearby fields was no longer visible, and earth, grass, and moonlit solitude appeared as they had been in 1380. They reflected on the battle's complexity and its aftermath. After the victory, Russian warriors faded away, and Tokhtamysh replaced Mamai. Two years later, he crushed Muscovy's power, forcing Dmitry Donskoi to flee while Moscow was again destroyed and plundered.
Centuries pass and the devious path of history is simplified for the distant spectator until it looks as straight as a road drawn by a cartographer.
Morning departure and final encounter
The night turned bitterly cold, but they slept soundly in the shed. At dawn, as they prepared to leave, a loud bark came from a haycock. A shaggy grey dog ran out, followed by Zakhar himself, shaking off straw. He had spent the night in the haycock in the bone-chilling cold, either from anxiety or devotion to the place. Rising from the haycock on that frosty morning, he no longer seemed the ridiculous keeper but rather the Spirit of the Field, a guardian angel who never left the place. As they said goodbye warmly and pedaled away, he stood with his long arm raised, calling out his promise to go directly to Furtseva, the Minister of Culture herself.
And let it be said that we Russians would be very foolish to neglect that place.