by K L Conger
"The Khan of Crimea dares to come here?” Ivan practically shrieked. “Where our person and our son dwells? This cannot be! My generals have failed me. We could be killed in the melee. We could be taken prisoner by our pitiless enemy."
Kiril watched Ivan with fascination. Rarely did the Tsar show signs of fear. Anger, yes. Violence? Often. But not actual panic. Now, sweat beaded on Ivan’s forehead. His eyes shifted back and forth. The Tsar looked terrified.
He stopped pacing and turned to the half-circle of oprichniki. "We and our son will leave this place and go to Alexandrovskaya Sloboda. Our faithful oprichniki will gather our treasure.”
"But what of Moscow, Your Grace?" Evgen asked. "Even if Your Grace flees, the Khan’s army still marches on the capital."
"It makes no difference!" Ivan screamed. "Moscow is sacrificed."
A chill meandered down Kiril's spine. Ivan made war upon Kiril's home city of Novgorod, massacring peaceful, unarmed people. Now the war came to the Tsar’s doorstep, and he would flee, letting the peaceful people of Moscow bear the brunt of this attack.
How could a man who claimed to be ordained by God do such things? Kiril knew he would be required to go to Alexandrovskaya Sloboda with Evgen. He supposed it was for the best. The people left behind in Moscow and Serpukhov would be slaughtered. Besides, Kiril preferred to remain as close to Ivan as he could manage.
INGA COULDN’T HELP the proud smile that spread across her face as she inspected Ekaterina’s work. The girl had finished cleaning the East Wing first thing this morning. It was afternoon now, and Inga was only now getting around to examining the results. The girl now worked in some other part of the palace while Inga did her inspection, but Ekaterina came along very well in her training. Inga felt a quiet satisfaction at having someone to mentor and...perhaps even mother.
She supposed Yehvah always felt the same thing in mothering Inga herself all these years.
The feeling of satisfaction proved fleeting, though. Inga had felt a restless foreboding in the pit of her stomach all day. She couldn’t have said why, specifically, it lingered. Moscow was under attack, and things got worse by the day, but that had been true all week. Somehow, Inga didn’t think that was the reason her stomach kept flipping over. She worried the feeling would prove an evil omen.
Inga refused to worry about things that hadn’t happened yet, though. She’d come from the courtyard to find Yehvah and had simply stopped on the way to inspect Ekaterina’s work. According to Yana, Yehvah was speaking with Bogdan. Inga hurried toward the kitchens.
She breezed in to find Yehvah and Bogdan conferring quietly. “The soldiers will be arriving soon, Yehvah. The courtyard awaits them,” Inga said, doing her best to pat her wind-blown hair back into place. What had begun as a refreshing breeze had turned into a violent gust. Much of her hair had come lose from the platok.
Yehvah turned from Bogdan. Her expression of worry smoothed out only an instant too late, and Inga saw it.
“What is it?” she asked.
Yehvah tossed her head dismissively. “Come with me, Inga. I’ll need your help.”
Throwing Bogdan a questioning look, Inga followed Yehvah from the kitchens. Bogdan looked more worried than Yehvah, but his expression gave no hint as to what they’d discussed.
Inga followed Yehvah through the corridors. They passed the major banquet halls and thoroughfares, the passages leading to the servants’ quarters, and even the major exits to the courtyards. Inga wondered where on earth Yehvah could be taking her when Nikolai and several contingents of soldiers were expected presently.
Yehvah continued on with purpose, obviously with some destination in mind, until she and Inga entered a cold, dark corridor in the nether reaches of the palace. No one had been in this wing for days. The sconces weren’t even lit.
“What’s going on, Yehvah?” Inga demanded.
Yehvah finally halted and turned, looking downright frightened. The expression sparked a mirror emotion in Inga’s chest. Yehvah rarely, if ever, looked like that.
Inga stepped forward and took her hand. “What is it? Tell me? And why have you brought me here?”
Yehvah hesitated before speaking. “I don’t want to worry anyone else, and there are two many extra ears roaming the palace corridors these days. Inga, Anne left the palace this morning for the market. To get supplies.”
Inga’s mouth dropped open. “She what?”
The Terem palace sat nestled in the heart of the city, and the Khan’s armies still battered on the outside of the city walls, but even so. They were actively trying to get in. No one was supposed to leave the palace.
“Why...” Inga sputtered. “Why would she...”
“We had to get supplies, Inga,” Yehvah’s voice sounded vaguely chiding. “No one has ventured outside the palace for days."
"And for good reason!" Inga took a deep breath and fought to moderate her voice. The howling of the wind outside the palace filled her ears. "We’re under attack. It's dangerous to be in the outskirts of the city. If the Tatars get inside the walls —"
"You’re right about the danger,” Yehvah said calmly. “But all of us starving to death won’t help matters. Normal life must keep going, even if the generals fight at the gates."
Inga stared at Yehvah. She supposed the argument held some wisdom. “At the very least, you should have sent me. Anne is—”
“Anne will be fine,” Yehvah said wearily. “She’s...less capable than you, I’ll admit. But she’s not a fool.”
“She’s also not back yet. It shouldn’t take all morning to go to the market and return. Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” Yehvah said quietly. “You asked what is wrong. This is what’s wrong. She should have been back hours ago. She isn’t.”
Inga stared at Yehvah. “What does that mean?”
Yehvah shook her head. “I don’t know.” She looked up at Inga with foreboding eyes. “One more thing.”
Inga’s heart pounded in her chest. Something about Yehvah’s tone said this ‘thing’ would be the worst she’d heard today.
“Ekaterina went with her.”
Inga’s mouth dropped open. Ekaterina? Gone? Inga fought to catch her breath. It evaporated in her lungs for no apparent reason. Panic tore through her belly. What if Ekaterina was in trouble? Injured? Taken prisoner somewhere. Inga imagined the worst, even knowing how illogical her thoughts were.
Yehvah gave her a sympathetic expression. She took Inga’s hand and led her to a cold wooden bench along the wall. Yehvah pushed on Inga’s shoulders and she sat down hard on the bench.
Along with the struggle to breathe, Inga registered vague surprise at the reaction. She hadn’t realized how much she’d come to care for the girl.
Telling herself to stay calm, she took several deep breaths. The faint scent of smoke assaulted her nose. Perhaps someone passed through this part of the castle with a lit candle or torch. Inga put the scent from her mind.
After several minutes of listening to the wind and taking deep, slow breaths, her breathing returned to normal. Inga stood, straightening her spine and rolling her shoulders back. “I’m going to find them.”
"No, Inga!” A deep fear crept into Yehvah’s face. “You'll never be able to. The city churns in chaos. The two of you might pass one another. Stay inside the Kremlin gates, where it's safe!"
Inga shook her head. “Ekaterina is my responsibility, and I’ve had a bad feeling all day. I'm going."
She hollered the last part over her shoulder as she rushed down the corridor. Yehvah’s protesting voice followed her. Inga quickly outstripped her. She practically sprinted through the halls, back into the warmer, well-lit part of the castle, until she reached the servants’ quarters. Once inside, she slipped her feet into outdoor clogs and snatched a thread-bare shawl from the peg.
She set about re-tying her hair into the platok, which took several minutes. Then she stepped back into the corridor to find Yehvah only just arriving. The older woman’s face was
red and she gasped for breath. “Inga,” she panted. “Listen to me—"
"Moscow burns!"
The firm, yet pleading tone in the familiar male voice sent chills down Inga’s spine. She whipped around to see Bodgan, striding down the narrow corridor toward them.
"What do you mean, man?" Yehvah demanded.
"Devlet-Guirey’s Tatar army set fire to the wooden houses on the outskirts. The wind encourages the blaze. Already, oceans of flame roll over the city.”
Inga raced out of the narrow corridor that led to the Servants’ quarters and into the main one, where windows were cut into the stone every few feet. No wonder she’d smelled smoke. Already the city glowed with firelight. Firelight that shouldn't be visible to her in the palace from so far away.
Inga remembered all too well the flames that ravaged Moscow some years ago. Nikolai and Taras ran through the streets, fighting it. They’d saved some, but not most. Moscow had disposed of the charred, stinking remains for days. Pounds and pounds of burnt human flesh were dumped into the Moskva. Inga didn't relish going through it again. And yet....
She whirled from the window, looking Yehvah straight in the eye. "I'm going to find Anne and Ekaterina,” she said firmly.
"The city is burning, Inga,” Yehvah pleaded. “If they can be saved, they’ll have to save themselves. If not, you’ll only die with them. Please, stay here!"
A familiar pang of fear lanced through Inga's chest. Strangely, it had no pull on her this time. She felt a distinct crumbling of her walls. Only this time, it didn’t happen because of something done to her, but rather, because of something she herself decided.
"No, Yehvah." Inga said firmly. "I have to go find Anne. Ekaterina, especially, is my responsibility. Finding her is more important right now than protecting myself."
“Inga—” Yehvah objected again.
“If it were me out there, Yehvah, especially when I’d only claimed seventeen winters, wouldn’t you go looking for me?”
Yehvah stared at Inga for a long time. Her face did not change. Pools of moisture gathered in her eyes. She gave a single bob of her head. "Go then. If you cannot find them, or the fire gets worse, come back. Inga, promise me you won't do anything foolish. If the fire is on the outskirts, the Tatars may be there as well. You know what soldiers will do if they get their hands on you."
Inga nodded, squashing the familiar fear in her gut that made her hands want to shake. "I know, Yehvah. I will take care." She hugged Yehvah briefly and nodded at Bogdan, who nodded back, still looking worried. Inga then hurried away, not daring to look back for fear of losing her nerve.
Exiting through the kitchens, Inga hurried into the courtyard. Soldiers amassed there. Inga darted around grooms, under tall horses, and through formations of soldiers, toward the gate. An urgency she couldn’t explain quickened her stride.
Three steps from the gate, a strong hand closed around her wrist, jerking her backward. She turned to find herself nose to nose with Nikolai.
A brief memory from long ago brought a pang of nostalgia to her chest. He’d grabbed her wrist and swung her around toward him in the exact same way the first time she'd ever spoken to him. It happened on the morning Ivan's mother had been found dead in her chambers. A tragic day. Ivan had only claimed eight winters at the time. A day that changed both Ivan’s and Russia's fates forever.
"Where are you going?" Nikolai demanded.
"Anne and Ekaterina are out in the city. I'm going to look for them."
Nikolai's face contorted in shock. "Are you mad? The Tatars are burning the city!"
"I know that, Nikolai,” Inga said firmly. “People I’m responsible for are out there. I must go find them and bring them to safety."
Nikolai shook his head. "You don't understand. The Tsar has ordered the gates to be barred. We’re getting ready to close them. If you leave, you won’t be able to get back in. Maybe not for a long while."
Inga frowned. She understood why the Tsar would want to bar the gates, even if she didn't agree. The Tsar may have fled, but his castle and all his fine possessions still resided here. He would want to keep the enemy out of the Kremlin, even if they breached the city. Still, she wished they would leave the gates open long enough for the people of Moscow to get inside.
"I must go, Nikolai, regardless of consequences."
His hand tightened around her wrist, his jaw jutting out stubbornly.
"Nikolai," Inga dropped her voice. “What if me or Yehvah were out in this?"
Nikolai's face softened, his eyes taking on a haunted look.
"After all we’ve been through together, you know me. I know how to be careful, how to dodge soldiers, and avoid the flames. I must try to bring them back into the Kremlin. If the gates are closed before I get back, I'll find a safe place to hide until the danger passes. I must do this, Nikolai. These are women I must protect."
Nikolai studied her face for several moments. All the tension went out of his shoulders and they slumped. Letting go of her wrist, he took her arm and turned her toward the gate. "Do what you must to find them. Keep in mind that all the wood of Moscow will burn, and quickly. The churches and cathedrals will be safer than most other places, but the smaller ones will still burn. Find a place made of stone and stay low to the ground. The smoke tends to rise."
Inga nodded. She stopped and turned to look up at him. He loosened his grip on her elbow and his hand slid down over her forearm to clasp her hand. "May God protect you, Inga. I hope you find them."
"And you, Nikolai. Thank you. Keep Yehvah safe."
He nodded. She turned and fled through the gates of the Kremlin, jogging down the street toward the flickering flames already engulfing the city. As she went, she heard the squealing of iron hinges as the gates of the Kremlin slammed closed behind her.
Chapter 10
Anne’s heart pounded wildly in her chest. "This way," she screamed, dragging Ekaterina forward by the arm. They wove desperately through the city, or rather around the outskirts of it.
Anne had finished at the market and began her trek back to the palace when the acrid smell of smoke first entered her nose. She hadn't met any Tatars up close yet, but she’d seen them from a distance. Each time she did, she turned down a side street or into an alley to avoid them. Houses close to the market went up quickly. The heat immediately licked at Anne and Ekaterina’s backs.
They couldn't leave the city because the Tatars clashed with the Tsar’s best generals beyond the walls, and what few soldiers remained under their command. Some of the Tatars must have sneaked past the Tsar’s army and into the city. They’d set the blaze.
Now apparently battalions of them roamed Moscow—according to other frightened Muscovites she’d talked to who’d seen more than she—setting more buildings aflame, looting, and terrorizing hard-working citizens. Anne and Ekaterina somehow ended up in the space between the roving Tatars and fire, which rushed continuously inward.
Anne desperately needed to find a way through the line of enemy Tatars and into the heart of the city to get back to the Terem palace. So far, she'd moved in a straight line, circumventing Moscow’s heart. She felt at a loss for what else to do. She couldn’t get closer to the palace without running into the Tatars. Rape and murder seemed likely possibilities. Anne hardly wished to die in such a horrible manner. At least she’d lived a long and sheltered life. Ekaterina was another issue entirely. The girl only claimed seventeen winters and deserved more than what she'd been handed thus far. Much more.
Anne propelled them forward, towing Ekaterina by her wrist. The girl had long since began to sob softly, allowing Anne to pull her through the streets. Anne attempted to keep the panic from her voice and face. She couldn’t hide the danger of the situation from Ekaterina, though. Not any longer. Not when strange Easterners with curved, wicked-looking swords lurked at every turn and fire sent black billows of smoke heavenward in every direction.
Turning down a narrow alley, Anne saw it stretched far into the distance. Perhaps it
would lead through the circle of Tatars and into the inner city. The fire blazed behind her. Its heat pushed through her clothes until she felt as though her back blistered. She feared it would singe the hairs on her head. Holding Ekaterina firmly, she ran forward. After what felt like miles, she reached the end of the alley. It intersected with another street, forcing Anne to turn left or right. She swung around to the right and collided with a dark figure.
Behind her, Ekaterina yelped.
Anne tried to stop at the last instant, when she registered the dark figure, but failed. She barely kept from falling flat on her face. When she found her balance again, she peered into the face of what turned out to be another woman.
"What are you doing, woman!" the other woman scolded, her eyes looking half-wild with panic. Her auburn hair, though tied back at the nape of her neck, had come loose in ribbons around her face. Her clothing named her a merchant, or perhaps the wife of a merchant, neither wealthy nor destitute. One who made a decent living.
"Apologies," Anne ducked her head. "Where have you come from? Do you know where is safe?"
The woman shook her head grimly. "Not for sure. They say the fire has not spread to the northern suburbs. We may find safety there."
Anne nodded. She turned in the opposite direction, toward the northern suburbs, and ran. The merchant woman stayed with her and Ekaterina as they went.
An hour later, they reached their destination. The woman’s words proved correct. The fire ravishing the city hadn’t spread to the northern suburbs. Not yet. This area proved wealthier. Stone, rather than wood, made up many of the structures.
They weren’t the only ones dashing into this part of the city, looking for safety. Other refugees from the fire poured in as well. Yet the vast majority of the Muscovites remained in the part of the city that did burn.
The three women came upon a small church. Other refugees were going in, and Anne thought it as good a place as any. She went inside, Ekaterina and the merchant woman right behind her. Others who’d come looking for shelter from the flames already packed it, wall-to-wall.
