He stretched his hands towards Anya, palms up in a supplicant’s gesture. ‘Your own father, a Steppe khan who joined with us, understands this well. The battle for Pereiaslavl may not be ended for all time but, because of you both, it is over for now.’ He took Thea’s hands again, kissed her forehead. ‘In the morning there will be a defeated khan waiting to offer his surrender to you,’ he said. ‘You will both meet him with me. We shall accept his truce. Have either of you any terms in mind?’
For years Thea had wanted to help him rule his kingdom, or rather his father’s kingdom. Now, it seemed not so important. ‘I embrace the opportunity to show you that I am the daughter of the great King Harold of England, able to sit by your side and discuss matters of diplomacy with an enemy, though the cause saddens me.’
‘Then we shall do so.’ Vladimir’s eyes were twinkling as he stood. ‘I shall visit our children. I shall ride out to find Earl Connor. When I return with the Cuman khan, we shall tell him that he must pay us tribute.’ He slapped his fist into his hands. ‘Otherwise, his people will face destruction.’ Vladimir bowed to his wife and stepmother and walked to the doorway of the great receiving hall, his retainers opening up a space for him to pass through them into the hall.
Thea called after her husband, ‘The khan must free any of our women he has taken into slavery, those stolen from our villages.’
Vladimir looked back and nodded. ‘We shall also charge the Cumans much silver for the loss of Rus lives.’
‘Money will never replace husbands, brothers and fathers, but it will ease their lives.’
The sun rose in a burst of rose-coloured light when Vladimir rode back to the fortress in the company of Earl Connor and the khan. Padar was immediately hurried away by Gudrun who insisted that she tend to his wounded arm. The khan was placed under guard, comfortably, with food and drink, in an antechamber until Vladimir, Earl Connor and Edmund washed, rested and dined. The peace conference convened late in the afternoon.
It was held in the blue hall. Thea and Vladimir both wore crowns. The khan fell onto his knees before them. Vladimir nodded to her. For a moment her voice felt as if it was about to vanish but then, just as she felt a heartbeat of despair, her speech returned to her. She admonished the khan for waging war on Pereiaslavl. She then said that his women would not be molested when they removed their dead from the killing grounds. ‘We did not seek this conflict, Khan. You imposed it upon us. The fault is yours.’ She demanded that he compensate the widows of Pereiaslavl for their loss. At this, the khan pointed at Edmund. ‘He released the fire on my fighting men. That prince from the western lands is the messenger of the evil ones. One day, he shall reap what he has sown.’
‘Not so.’ Thea stood and moved to Edmund’s side. She could feel the khan’s eyes following her. ‘My brother did not plan the use of dragon fire. I gave the order for the fire to be released. Had I not, you would have destroyed our city, taken us as prisoners and hostages or massacred all of us. Accept our terms.’
The khan grunted and shuffled around on his knees so that he was facing Vladimir. ‘We shall pay tribute and sign your treaty.’
Later, during the negotiations, she saw the khan’s eyes descend to her belly. He said, ‘If your wife has a daughter I would have the princess wed to one of my sons. That would establish a lasting peace between our peoples.’
‘That, we may consider, but it is far in the future,’ Vladimir diplomatically replied. ‘You will free any Russians you have taken and grant us hostages.’ He smiled. ‘One of these must be the son of whom you speak. You will grant us the silver we ask. You will sign a treaty with us that for six months you will not seek access to the river trade. That is all.’ He touched Thea’s hand and stood after she stood, leaving the great khan humbled and on his knees before her chair.
The next day Vladimir and the khan signed a treaty document agreeing the hostages Vladimir demanded, freeing any Russian slaves the Cumans had taken from villages near Pereiaslavl and granting Vladimir two large sacks of Cuman silver, which he promised Thea would be used to help compensate the wives and families of Pereiaslavl’s fallen warriors.
36
Kiev, January 1079
Forty days had passed since she had given birth in the warmth of the bathhouse. It was long enough. The purification ritual had been held a few days previously. Her Danish birthing chair was removed and stored away. At last, she could enter the world again.
Tiny Elizaveta had slipped from her mother like a ball of silk. She had not suffered because of the terrible events in September. The baby came to the world crying lustily as early winter snow batted against chamber shutters and piled up in mounds outside in the courtyards. She possessed a great fortune because her hair was a fluffy halo of pale golden red and her eyes were the blue of summer cornflowers.
Thea held her baby daughter in her arms when Vladimir came into her chamber. He reached out and she carefully gave tiny swaddled Elizaveta to her adoring father.
The damp wool smell of Thea’s warrior husband mingled with that of cleansing herbs – thyme and rosemary. Amulets still hung about her bed. A mother could take childbed fever at any time during the first month following a birth. Thea reached up and touched an ivory-and-amber figurine of the Virgin. Smiling, she said, ‘The Lady Mary has kept me safe.’
‘She has protected us all.’
‘I promised her a monastery if we survived the battle for Pereiaslavl.’
‘You shall have it,’ Vladimir said, kissing Elizaveta’s soft head and placing his daughter back into her mother’s arms. ‘We shall speak with the patriarch and to my father and I think we can begin work once the springtime returns to Kiev. You saved Pereiaslavl, Thea. It is to be a mark of the respect in which I hold you, my thanks to you.’
‘And when it is built I should like to pass some months of every year there.’
‘That, I grant you.’
She tucked Elizaveta into her cradle. ‘There is another request.’
He smiled at her, his eyes filled with respect for her. ‘Today is the day for granting wishes.’
‘As you know, Edmund wishes to marry Katya. He says he will take her to Novgorod after their wedding. My brother intends to continue trading with Earl Connor.’
‘It shall be one of the most elegant weddings the royal house of Kiev has ever witnessed.’ Vladimir began to anxiously feel about his person, slapping his great hands here and there. ‘I have something that came for you during your lying in.’ He slid his hand into a slit in his triangular-shaped outer robe. ‘There has been a messenger from the English.’ He withdrew his hand and began fumbling about the voluminous cloak he had left on a bench. ‘Here it is.’ He withdrew a small, sealed package from the lining of the furred mantle. ‘I think you have waited a long time to hear news from England.’
‘Years.’ She tapped the cradle with her foot, setting it to rock. ‘Is it to do with Godwin?’
‘No, not Godwin. It is from your mother and it is a secret letter. She is still not permitted letters. What rebellions a nun could incite I do wonder. It was written back in the summer. Can you read it?’
‘My mother!’ she whispered. ‘Elditha?’ Thea’s hands were shaking as she reached for the package.
‘Take it,’ he said. ‘I shall leave you and return later. You will want to be on your own. And you should rest. You must be well enough to help Edmund and Katya plan their wedding.’ He winked. She smiled. As he took her hands, the letter with its plain seal fell to the floor between them. ‘You are my heaven, my moon and my stars and our children are my jewels, more precious than rubies and jade. A soothsayer predicted only last week that we would have many more boys – only boys, he said – so this little one will be our golden princess. She is indeed most precious of them all.’
‘You flatter me.’ She smiled. ‘I think it should ever be so. But a soothsayer …?’ she said, recollecting the Rus fear of wizards and sorcerers. ‘What would the patriarch say?’
‘I think th
e patriarch has consulted this one more than once himself. I hear that the same fortune teller promised him he would have a new nunnery for the city. Apparently, this will come to pass.’
‘I see.’ She released her hands and rescued her letter from the floor rug. She could not wait to break the seal. ‘Go,’ she said. ‘Return later. And when you return, bring the boys. They have not seen their sister yet.’
‘They will adore her. She is beautiful and most important of all she will be wise like her mother.’ He paused at the door. ‘We could dine together tonight, all of us, here in your chamber, without anyone to serve us. Would you like that? A family supper.’
‘It would bring me great pleasure, Vladimir. Afterwards I shall tell stories. I have a new book, one about a great khan whose wife was under sentence of death but delayed it for ever by telling him stories, one for each night. There are one thousand and one stories in all. This khan was so infatuated by her stories that his wife lived to be very old. I shall tell you one of her tales later. She was clever, patient and very wise.’
After Vladimir departed, Thea sank into her chair, her heart fluttering like the leaf that shivers from a branch in an October breeze. She cut the letter’s seal with her jewelled knife and unfolded this treasure that had travelled so far to reach her. She smoothed open the single page. As she read, she listened to the one voice from her past that she had for many years longed to hear. Savouring every word, she slowly devoured her beloved mother’s words.
My dearest daughter, Princess Gita of the Rus,
Greetings. May this letter find you in good health.
I am filled with happiness to hear from you. My life contains many moments of great joy. One such moment was when I learned that you are safe, that you, daughter, are married to a great Rus prince. By now you may even have a new child, your third, I am told by the messenger who brought me your letter in the spring. The Godwin christening robe, I understand, has travelled far and has been put to good use. Your father, King Harold, would be proud to have Russian princes and princesses to continue our noble line. You carry our future with you.
Godwin, so I am informed, will soon be married to an Irish nobleman’s daughter. Edmund, I hear, has travelled to the Rus lands. I hope that he remains with you. My sweet child Gunnhild has married the Count of Brittany, Count Alain, the King of England’s cousin. Unfortunately, as you know, he is one who has long wished to join with our family. It is not a union of which I approve. Least said in this letter the better. As for Ulf, my stolen child, I listen every day of my life for news of him. I pray that Ulf is well-cared for. His loss is a great ache in my heart. And I pray that one day he must return to me. Not so Magnus, for I shall not see him again in this world.
I wish I were able to travel to see my grandchildren. It is not to be. I have chosen my life in Canterbury. The plainsong chanted for the offices in the chapel cheers me when I am saddened by all my memories. Nunnery life is simple but it is comforting. My apartment is hung with tapestries. I have a warming fire in winter. I eat well. The nuns are kind. They hail from many countries – Denmark, Ireland, France, Normandy and England.
In the summer season I look after my bees and tend the herb gardens. I embroider and I stitch winter gowns for poor women – simple woollen gowns. On each one, I embroider a swan in pale linen thread. It is a good ending for a life which has observed much happiness as well as much loss.
The light is fading now so I shall finish. Autumn leaves rattle against my shutters. The trees are golden with fruit. The world passes through its seasons and it will still be here when we are long gone from it. To each of us there is granted a season. Mine was with your father. My dearest, your mother is at peace.
May God and all his saints protect you. Bells ring for Vespers. The sun’s last rays slant through my opened window. I think it will be a starry night. Up there, far above the heavens, your father, my great love, watches down on us all.
Edith of Canterbury, known as Elditha.
Epilogue
January 1079
That afternoon, Thea tries to remember her mother’s face. The candle burns down and winter darkness gathers. The wet nurse enters her chamber and tiptoes around her chair. She lifts the baby from her cradle, whisks her away and quietly feeds tiny Elizaveta by the fire. Thea sits on, not stirring, until she hears her boys’ chatter on the stairs and the tread of their father’s footsteps. Then Vladimir is calling to the maids to bring them supper.
Her mother’s treasure box lies on a mosaic table where on a blue background tiny tiles are fashioned into an angel. She opens the lid of the bone-plated silver casket and places her letter inside; she carefully places it on top of the Godwin christening gown which has so recently been used for Elizaveta’s christening in the Cathedral of St Sophia. She says a prayer to St Theodosia. She prays that in time Ulf will return home and that Elditha will see her stolen child once again.
‘Ah, my mother,’ she whispers as she gently drops the silver lid on the letter, ‘how wise you are and how fortunate I am to have a husband whom I love and who loves me back, the father of my father’s grandchildren.’ She sighs wistfully, and smiles to herself. ‘If there is one constant in our brief lives, it is change.’
Feeling joy in her heart, she steps to the window and opens it wide. It is a clear night though a few flakes of snow flutter into her chamber. She peers out. The stars are glowing in a great firmament above the courtyard. Out there, far above the pole star, her father is watching over them and smiling. She closes over the shutters. There is no desire for revenge in her heart any more. Her longing for it died as her happiness and her understanding of her place in her world increased.
She knows that their lives will go on. Her rushnyk lies unfinished by her chair but one day, she thinks, as she picks it up and studies it, one day this will tell my story from its beginning to its end.
The End
Glossary
Handfasting
a form of secular marriage which while legal was not a church wedding
Skald
a poet who has Scandinavian origins
Terem
the Russian equivalent of the bower or solar where the women lived
Rushnyk
an embroidery that follows a woman throughout her life and which contains events from her life in cross stitching and couch stitching for the most part.
Boyar
a Russian nobleman
Veche
a council
Grand Prince
the most important prince from the Riurikid dynasty. He was the most senior family member whose father had also been a Grand Prince. His seat was Kiev.
Steppe
the great plain of Russia through which runs the Dnieper river.
Cumans
a loose confederation of Steppe tribes. Some groups were friendly to the Rus princes. Others were their enemies. By the late eleventh century the Rus princes sometimes married Steppe princesses. Vsevolod’s second wife was Anya, a Cuman princess.
Kremlin
a Russian castle
Iconostasis
the screen before the altar in Orthodox churches
The Patriarch
a senior member of the Rus clergy, a little akin to an archbishop
Author’s Note
Thea’s story haunted me from the moment I read that she married a Russian prince of Kiev after she had travelled into exile with her grandmother and her brothers, ending up at Sweyn’s court in Denmark. Her Russian wedding took place in the early 1070s.
As women are the footnotes of history, Thea’s real story was not easy to excavate. I relied on what I could discover about a noblewoman’s life in medieval Russia and on the political events which are the background to this novel. I did not take the novel’s narrative through to the last days of Thea’s life although the prologue implies that by this much later date she had not long to live and that Thea tells her own story through her rushnyk. Finally, that she tells this narrative to incl
ude the voices of others, a creative license on my part.
It is a fact that although Thea is said to have had a good marriage she did, indeed, enter a convent during the final years of her life. I chose to end my story’s narrative twenty years before her death and focus on the early years of her betrothal and her brilliant marriage. I wanted to end this narrative at a point when she surely must have been very happy because her world within the context of the story’s narrative scope had been put to rights. Russia was an alien world and one she would have both enjoyed and disliked. It was, for women, an even more restrictive world than that of Western Europe. Yet, there were laws laid down to establish respect for women in Russia at this time. These were established by Vladimir’s grandfather.
I read Russian Studies at university and I have visited Russia on many occasions. The Slavonic Studies Department in Oxford had texts I could consult and for this I am grateful. It was there that I was able to consult the Russian Primary Chronicle which is a little akin to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle but with a greater amount of Church stories, all beautifully told in the vernacular. I read it in translation.
The Russian Primary Chronicle was my main source for the political events of the 1070s in Russia and for the atmosphere of the period, for the laws to protect women, the fear of wizards and the belief in miracles, the monasteries and the great churches, especially St Sophia in Novgorod and Kiev, built along the lines of that in Constantinople, today known as Istanbul.
Thea, who is referred to as Gita, only gets a brief mention in this Chronicle. Her marriage to Prince Vladimir, who was her exact age, is recorded in the Chronicle and her children get a mention too. Her death dates are confused and two dates are offered.
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