Page 197 of Atlas: The Story of Pa Salt

The journey to Tobolsk was predictably horrendous. The five individuals wrapped themselves in layers of blankets, and Lapetus had managed to fashion a makeshift sling for Atlas, whom he carried beneath his fur coat on the front of his body. Cronus led the mother goat, too, who was milked several times to keep the baby fed. As for the male and the kids, they had been regrettably sacrificed to provide food for the others during the journey. After a punishing week of walking through the snow, the weary travellers arrived on the outskirts of the settlement, just as the sun was beginning to set.

‘Look for the houses with no light from within,’ Lapetus advised.

After hours of searching and scouting, they came across a small shack of a building which was decidedly unoccupied. To say it was in a state of disrepair would be an understatement. It suffered from smashed windows, crumbling brickwork and a door that had been battered in.

But it would do.

During the next few weeks, the men made gradual improvements, boarding up the windows and fixing the door. Then they turned their heads to finances. After Lapetus and Cronus had bickered over who to approach in the town for over an hour, Rhea suggested an alternative.

‘You know that I have a talent for bone carving. We could try and sell my work at the market,’ she suggested. ‘Although I doubt that walrus tusks will be easy to come by.’

‘No,’ Lapetus conceded. ‘Can you work on the leg bones of musk deer? The woods are filled with them.’

‘And raccoon dogs,’ Cronus added. ‘Would the skulls suffice?’

Rhea nodded, and the trio took a moment to wonder how they had gone from the Throne Room at Alexander Palace to scavenging for animal bones to survive.

And so, Cronus and Lapetus would hunt for animals for Rhea to work from, which had the twofold benefit of providing sustenance for the household. Once a collection of pieces had built up, the makeshift family would descend on Tobolsk’s weekend market to sell their wares. On one such weekend, a fiddler was playing in the middle of the square. Lapetus watched him for an hour or so, and yearned keenly for his former life. The man was talented, but his positioning was awry, and it irked the former tutor in him. In a moment of boldness, Lapetus approached the lone fiddler.

‘Excuse me, sir,’ he said. ‘You are highly skilled. But if you improved the angle of your elbow, you would find it far easier to reach the difficult notes. May I?’

The musician cautiously allowed Lapetus to adjust his arm, before playing again. ‘Goodness, that is better. Thank you.’

‘My pleasure.’ Lapetus flashed him a smile, and turned back towards his stall.

‘Do you give lessons?’ the fiddler asked. ‘I’m not so arrogant as to assume my playing couldn’t be improved.’

‘I dare say it could, sir.’ Lapetus sighed. ‘I was a teacher once upon a time. But no longer.’

‘That’s a shame.’ The fiddler shrugged. ‘I’d have taken you up on some tutoring. I couldn’t pay much, but you’d be welcome to a third of what I make on market days.’ Lapetus broke out into the largest smile he had worn in many months.

A few weeks later, word of Lapetus’s skill had spread throughout Tobolsk. He had begun to provide music lessons to whomever would pay him. So together, the five were justabout able to scrape a living, and continued in this manner for no fewer than five years.

During that time, the Tanits and the Eszus did their very best to merge quietly into society. Uncertainty over who was in charge of the country – and therefore their safety – dominated their existence. Many times, plans to flee Russia were discussed, with the aim of being repatriated to their home countries – Switzerland for the Tanits and Prussia for the Eszus. However, any strategy which was concocted proved to be too dangerous, particularly with the two young boys to consider.

As young Atlas grew, his father spent many hours during the long, freezing winters teaching his young son to play a battered fiddle, which he had been given by a client. Atlas showed a quite unbelievable talent, and Lapetus would recurrently become emotional as he listened to his boy play.

‘My word, Rhea,’ Lapetus exclaimed after finishing a lesson. ‘I have never known a child so naturally gifted in all my years of tuition. He could be a virtuoso! Clymene would be so proud of him.’

Rhea sniffed. ‘He’d be better going out with Cronus and Kreeg learning to hunt.That’sa skill which will prove useful to us all.’

Atlas tried not to take Rhea’s comment to heart. ‘You know, I’d be happy to teach Kreeg. After all, Atlas receives language tuition from Cronus. Perhaps we merely need to findhisinstrument...’ Rhea rolled her eyes.

Indeed, despite Lapetus’s best efforts, Kreeg showed little interest in musicianship, or learning a language from his father. Lapetus thought it rather sad. He recognised the glint in Cronus’s eyes as he sat with Atlas and taught him the basics of French, English and German. It was a small slice of their former existence. Instead, the only father–son activity Kreeg seemed to be engaged by was, as Rhea had stated, hunting.

Almost as soon as he could formulate sentences, Atlas began to ask about his mother, and where she was. It was a moment Lapetus had been dreading, but was well prepared for. He took his son in his arms and carried him outside, to look up at the glistening night sky.

‘She is up amongst the stars, Atlas.’

‘Why?’ he asked.

‘Because that’s where people go when they leave their bodies. They become... stardust.’

His son stared at the vast heavens, eyes wide with wonder. ‘Can I see Mummy?’

‘Maybe, if you look very hard.’ Lapetus pointed upwards. ‘I think you might see her among the Seven Sisters of the Pleiades.’

‘Seven Sisters?’ Atlas asked.