Chapter 14: June 20th, 1693

The town of Irkutsk, Russia, was relatively new. Its fort was recently established roughly twenty years ago, not far from the nation that would be called Mongolia or what it’s currently part of as Northern China, and placed right at the Angara River. This outpost would help serve as a trading hub for the Russians and the Chinese and serve as a protection point for Russia and Siberia.

It was a beautiful day for many as the sun shone brightly, keeping the place friendly and warm in a typically cold area during the winters like much of Russia. Not far from the outpost lie a series of farming communities. All was well and peaceful in this little-known area.

Five miles from the outpost lay the newly made grain farm of Ivan Bambuk, an immigrant from Northern China who wanted to move to greener lands. He recently moved not far from his lands to this new location that was closer to the fort. He had one son named Feliks Bambuk that was native-born of the environment.

Feliks was the only child born in the family. At the age of thirteen, he was just at the edge of having skills at taking care of the farm while still learning at the same time. His mother was born further north in Siberia. He was a typical boy of his age with black hair and a slightly darker skin complexion than most boys his age. He grew up in multiple homes before Ivan and Feliks built a new home and settled in this countryside area. A small grain farm was established to help feed the local population and themselves while Irkutsk was still being built.

Ivan and Feliks were not rich at all. They were the typical poor family of the time period bordering on serfdom working for a lord. It was near the end of the Middle Ages. After all, Russia was long behind Europe when it came to technology and keeping up with the time period. They wore the typical clothing of the period, which consisted of linen with a tunic wrapped around the head. The tunics would typically travel down to the thighs. The headpiece was cut out to allow the head to be shown. All this clothing in the combination of the leather boots that they both wore. Ivan carried a flask of ale and a pouch on his belt to keep himself hydrated.

The log cabin sat in a green grass pasture with the grain farm right next to the farm. A fenced-in area next to the cabin held the livestock while Feliks sat outside the cabin, looking at the surrounding area. The area was flat with some trees in the far distance of the farm. He heard his father call to him.

“Feliks! Idi syuda seychas. Ya nuzhdayus’ ... you to check something!” yelled Ivan as he beckoned his son to come back in.

Little Bambuk turned his head to his father, that stood at the door frame of the cabin. He did not look angry but wanted his son to come inside immediately. He stood by their chicken coup when he heard his father.

“Coming, father!” Feliks yelled as he darted towards the home.

Feliks stopped and looked at the home as he stepped inside. It was a small log cabin with enough room to hold two people. It really consisted of just a main room and two rooms for the beds; his and his father’s. The main room consisted of a stove, a pantry, a couple of chairs, a fireplace, a table to eat, cabinets by the open window, and a small carpet next to the wooden flooring. The cabin itself stood up a foot from the ground on a set of four wooden struts that kept the house from moving around and remain stable. The wooden logs lined the walls, at it led to a thatched roof overtop. Outside the door was one step that led to the grass and dirt. It was a typical home of a peasant, nothing luxurious but survivable nonetheless.

“I hear it again...” his father said. “I hear that occasional bang sound from the edge of the cabin. Feliks, I need you to put your ear down by the window. Your hearing is better than mine. I need you to listen carefully to that sound.”

“Of course, father,” little Bambuk said as he ran up next to his father. He leaned down to the ground as he pressed his ear to the wooden floor. He listened closely to any sounds that could be made. His hearing was well enough for a child of his age that he could hear any slight disturbances inside the home. He listened for at least ten seconds before he finally lifted his head and looked at his dad before he shook his head.

“I don’t hear anything, father.”

His father shrugged. “I swear I heard it. I would hear a banging come from beneath. I think we have animals down there. I will have to build a door to get down there or dig underneath the cabin so we can flush them out. They got in there somewhere, and I will have to take care of it.”

“I still don’t hear anything down there, dad,” the boy responded to him.

“You got to keep your ear down there on the floor, boy. I know I hear something down there. I know it.”

Despite keeping his ear planted on the wooden panels, he heard nothing. If there was something down there, it isn’t making any noise now.

Ivan shrugged as he bent the knee to be closer to his son. “Fine ... well, we need to keep up with our choirs for today. How are the chickens doing today, son?”

They both stood up as they turned to look at each other. “Doing better, father. Olga is laying eggs again.”

Ivan smiled and patted his son’s shoulder. “That is good to hear. She stopped laying for a couple of days. I was worried we were going to lose another chicken. We need those eggs more than ever now.”

“How are you doing, father?” Feliks asked with some concern on his face.

“I am doing alright. Still have that cough, but it comes and goes. I can’t let it slow me down now. We need to keep harvesting our winter wheat. We are getting close to being done.”

“How are you doing, boy?” he asked.

“I am alright. I took care of the broken section of the fence that the pigs knocked down. They almost ran out of the pen when I showed up.”

“Smart, aren’t they? It’s like they wanted to get out. They knew that they were going to be up next for our dinner for the next week.”

“Our tools are starting to break, father,” Feliks commented. “The shovel I used to clean the pig pens is cracking at the midpoint of the handle. If I use it again, I think it will snap.”

“Then I will show you how to make a new shovel. It is simple on how to do son. Before you know it, you will know how to take care of this farm...”

Ivan was unable to finish up his sentences as he started to cough violently. Feliks backed away as he watched his father coughed and hacked. After less than a minute, he stopped and breathed heavily. He leaned on the table to brace himself.

“Father ... please lay down. You are still sick.”

He waved the boy off. “I am alright, son. I will get better. I always do.”

Feliks looked at his father and then at his hand. He looked at his father’s right hand that was already missing a pointer finger due to accidentally cutting it off when he was a lad long ago. Feliks’s father had always proven to be sturdy of a man even after losing his wife and mother of their child a year ago.