by Ann Swinfen
Despite the comfort of the bed, I was restive and could not sleep. My new thoughts about what might lie behind Rocksley’s disappearance went round and round in my mind. They made the prospect of finding him even more unlikely. My nerves were strung tight at the prospect of what I must do, so when I heard a noise at the window, I sat up abruptly in alarm. I parted the bed curtains cautiously and peered toward the window. I had not closed the shutters and a weak moonlight shone through the horn. There was movement against the light. I saw that it was snowing heavily, great clusters of flakes thrown at the window by a rising wind. A blizzard was rising.
While we were taking breakfast the next morning, I noticed the Pyotr was nowhere to be seen. He had not eaten with us the previous evening either.
‘What has become of Pyotr?’ I asked generally, reaching out for more bread. It was made from some sort of mixed grain, but it was not unpalatable.
‘He has gone to visit his family,’ John said. ‘He left while you were upstairs before dinner yesterday. I expect he has been kept away by the storm.’
‘He has family here then?’ I said cautiously. It had been mentioned before, but I remembered Pyotr telling me that his mother had died when he was fifteen and he had subsequently lived with his father’s new family in England. I supposed there might be cousins or other distant kin still in the town.
‘His grandfather is still alive,’ Christopher said. ‘I spoke to Edmond Leget here about the family this morning.’ He nodded toward our host, the agent in charge of the Kolmogory house.
‘Aye,’ Edmond Leget said. ‘It seems his mother was very young when Pyotr was born, around sixteen, so his grandfather is not an ancient even now, a man perhaps in his sixties. He was a leading merchant in this town before we came here, and we have traded with him ever since. His is one of the important families in this part of Muscovy. Relations were strained for a time when the Company refused to recognise his daughter’s marriage, but he is a practical man and knew it would do his business no favour to quarrel with us permanently.’
‘I am not surprised that the family should be deeply offended,’ I said. ‘It was an insult both to the family and to their faith.’
‘Very true,’ Christopher said. ‘Though I suspect John Aubery was not greatly troubled. He married again soon after returning to England. A woman he had formerly been betrothed to.’
‘He does not sound very honourable.’
‘Probably not,’ Christopher said. ‘But these marriages across nations and faiths can often be troublesome.’
‘Cruel to Pyotr’s mother,’ I said. ‘She was the one left with the baby and the shame.’
‘It did not end so badly,’ Edmond Leget said. ‘The church absolved her of any guilt, and annulled the Orthodox marriage, so that she was free to marry again. Which she did.’
I was astonished. The impression Pyotr had given me was that he was left without family after his mother died.
‘So he has a Muscovite step father?’ I said cautiously.
‘Aye, and three brothers and a sister from this second marriage. Some of them married, with children.’
I suppose I should have been glad for Pyotr, but I found it oddly disturbing that he had been at pains to give me a quite different impression.
‘This is no weather to show you the town,’ Edmond Leget said when we had finished eating, ‘but perhaps you would like to see our rope-works? It is but a step across the courtyard, and we are proud of it.’
I must confess I was not much enamoured of venturing out in a blizzard in order to see rope being made, but there was little else to occupy us here, and the invitation was clearly meant as a courtesy.
In fact it proved more interesting than I had expected. Rope must be made in a very long building, called a ‘rope walk’, in order to stretch out the full length of the cordage. I had never seriously examined rope before, and did not realise that it was built up of strands which were twisted in alternate directions, layer upon layer, until the desired thickness was reached. The men used a simple winding mechanism, but there was clearly skill in ensuring that the twist was kept even and there was no weakness at any stage in the process. The workers moved back and forth along the rope walk in a kind of coordinated dance which was quite mesmerising.
We returned to the house after about an hour, stamping the snow from our boots on the threshold, our cheeks and noses red from the cold. I was curious to see a sleigh in the courtyard, draw by creatures quite unknown to me. They resembled a large, heavy type of deer, with thick coats of wavy hair, and their antlers were very different from those of any deer I had ever seen, ending in splayed-out formations, like spread hands. Their heads also were large and bony. The breath of these beasts made great clouds as they stood in the cold air of the courtyard, but they seemed untroubled by the snow which fell inexorably, settling on their backs. These must be the so-called reindeer I had heard of, used by the Sami people. I wondered what they were doing here.
When I asked, Master Leget nodded. ‘Aye, there is a Sami settlement over in that direction.’ He waved vaguely toward the north west, though nothing could be made out beyond the perimeter wall through the curtain of driven snow. ‘In better weather we can see it from the upper windows. Hardly a village, in truth. Just a crude settlement which they set up here in winter. In summer they will move on again. If the snow clears you will be able to see their pagan images.’
He led the way indoors.
‘Images?’ I said.
‘Carved figures of wood. Crude, naked, humanlike totems. I do not know whether they are gods or devils or memorials to the dead. It is best not to ask.’
‘They are not Christian?’
‘Nay.’ He laughed. ‘They are not.’
‘Why is the sleigh here, then?’
‘Oh, they will be looking for work. They hire themselves out as sleigh drivers. Or they may be selling their carvings. They make very fine carving of morse ivory. Little boxes, ornaments. To tell the truth, it is very fine work.’
‘I have never heard of morse ivory. I thought ivory came from Africa, the teeth of oliphants.’
‘The morse is a sea creature, somewhat like a seal, but much larger. Very fierce, I am told. They have these great tusks of ivory. The Muscovites hunt them and so do the Sami, for their hides and their oil, and for their ivory tusks.’
We found the rest of the company in the hall, where two men bundled in furs from their boots to the tops of their heads were setting out some delicate objects on the table. I thought it astonishing that men who worshipped wooden totems, and looked clumsy as bears in their crude clothing, could make anything so exquisite.
The two stipendiaries had heard of the ivory carvings but never seen them. Christopher remembered them from his former time in Muscovy. And I believe we were all entranced by the work. The haggling began. The two Sami men spoke a little thickly accented Russian. I could barely understand it, and all the others apart from Master Leget were little better than I, but he acted as our go-between. In the end, I secured a lidded box about three inches in diameter and two inches high, carved all over with twining leaves and flowers. In the centre of the lid there was a tiny bird, his beak open to sing.
I looked up from my purchase, which had cost no more than a handful of ribbons in Cheapside, to see Pyotr standing in the doorway, with a curious smile on his face. When the Sami men had gone, he said, ‘You could have bought those things cheaper from people here in Kolmogory. There was no need to buy from those heathens.’
‘They make these ivory carvings too?’ I said.
‘They do.’
‘But surely there are none of these creatures, these morse, around here? Do the Sami not hunt for them in the north? They are found in the sea, I understand, not here in the Dvina.’
‘Anyone may buy the tusks from the Sami. There are poor craftsmen here in Kolmogory who would be glad to sell you their carvings.’
I could sense that he was angry with us.
‘You shal
l tell us where to find these craftsmen,’ Christopher said calmly, ‘or send them here. I should be glad to buy more of this fine work. Now, tell us, how did you find your family?’
‘Well enough.’ Pyotr seemed to relax after that and peace was restored.
We waited two weeks in Kolmogory, and I spent my time improving my Russian, with growing confidence in my ability to speak on simple matters. It seemed that a messenger had been despatched from St Nicholas before we had left the port, to ride to Moscow and request permission for us to travel on to the capital via Vologda and Yaroslavl. How long the journey would take him, no one could be sure, for much would depend on the state of the roads.
‘The first part of his journey would be slow,’ Christopher said. ‘The roads south of St Nicholas were deep in mire when we set out, but as the ground has hardened, he would make better progress. Then he would certainly be kept kicking his heels in Moscow until the right official agreed to see him. Who would it be now, Master Leget?
‘Probably Vasilii Shchelkalov. Unless he was required to go to Boris Godunov himself. Then he would be held up by the blizzard coming north again.’
Eventually the blizzard abated and finally the Company messenger returned and presented a leather satchel to Christopher, who opened it and drew out several rolled parchments, from which dangled enormous seals.
‘They look like the sort of documents which seal treaties between nations,’ I said.
He laughed. ‘The Muscovites take these matters seriously. You might say that this amounts to a treaty between nations.’
He unrolled the parchments on the table. They were written both in the Cyrillic script of Russian and in English in a neat secretary hand. Someone in the Russian court was learned in both English language and handwriting. There was one permit each for our travel from Kolmogory to Vologda, from Vologda to Yaroslavl, and from Yaroslavl to Moscow. Christopher Holme, Robert Farindon and I were all named individually, so that the permits could not be used for anyone else. John had already taken up his duties in Kolmogory. We were also permitted a retinue of eight Company men for our protection on the journey. It seemed that after several years of bad harvests and the imposition of cruel taxation, there were bands of landless men roaming the country, preying on travellers.
‘Excellent,’ Christopher said, rolling up the permits and returning them for safety to the satchel. ‘Tomorrow we will arrange the hiring of sleighs and drivers. The day after, we leave for Vologda.’
Chapter Seven
Two days later, we were ready to leave, by land, for Vologda. While we had been restricted to Kolmogory, the cargo had arrived from St Nicholas and been despatched onwards in huge transport sleds along the same route as we would follow. There was no restriction on the movement of the Company’s goods. Indeed, it was essential that they should reach the capital as quickly as possible, for it was the Tsar’s prerogative to choose whatever he wanted from each shipment, and likewise to pay whatever he chose for them, payment which might be made months or even years in arrears, and was generally inadequate.
‘It is the penalty of trading with this country,’ Christopher said, with a grim smile. ‘At any moment the Tsar could withdraw all our privileges on a whim – force us to pay monstrous taxes, allow other countries to compete with us, or ban us from Muscovy altogether. We must bow to his demands and pretend to like it.’
‘I thought this Tsar was not very powerful.’ I was still finding the politics of Muscovy confusing.
‘When it comes to personal greed, he is as powerful as any other ruler. When it comes to the skills of kingship, he is sadly lacking. And that is why we must also bow to the demands of Godunov. He too will make his selection from amongst our goods. After him, the most eminent nobles in the court. Who those nobles may be alters with every shift in the political wind. Only after all the men in power are satisfied can we begin our normal trading with the Muscovy merchants.’
‘It seems the cargo will surely reach Moscow before us,’ I said.
‘Aye. And no bad thing. Austin Foulkes will remain in Moscow until I arrive, so he will oversee the unloading of the merchandise and the viewing by the court. I hope all that may be finished by the time we arrive.’
‘He will leave with next summer’s fleet?’
‘Aye. It is best if he waits for us to reach Moscow, so that he can explain everything I need to know before I take his place. We will make a brief stop in Vologda, a longer one in Yaroslavl, and should reach Moscow in time for Christmas.’
It was hard to believe so much of the year had already wasted away while we travelled by barge and then lingered in Kolmogory. We had seen nothing of the bargemen since we had reached the town, for they had vanished at once into the poorer district around the docks, with never a backward glance. If Christopher was right, that the steersman had been set to watch us, then someone else would take over from him as we journeyed further. When I mentioned this to Christopher, he nodded,
‘Probably one of the drivers. We merely have to pretend that we suspect no one of spying, and at the same time do nothing that might appear suspicious.’
Master Leget had arranged for me to be fitted out with clothes suitable for travel in a Russian winter, and I now donned these before joining the others in the courtyard. There was a pair of baggy trousers, similar to those worn by the bargemen, but made of fine English broadcloth, which is close woven, then fulled to render it partly resistant to the wet as well as windproof. I pulled these trousers on over my hose, and tucked them into my boots. These were my normal outdoor boots brought from England, but one of the Company servants had coated them with bear grease, rubbing it well in. The treatment had given them a certain aroma, but I was assured it would make them more waterproof.
I still wore Goodwife Maynard’s knitted garment over my doublet, but Master Leget had also provided me with a long robe to wear over all, which reached my ankles. My cloak was declared too thin, so I bundled it up into my knapsack. In its place I had a cloak far grander than I would have been permitted to wear in England, for it would have flouted the sumptuary laws. Again made of broadcloth, it was lined with the pieced skins of martens, and around the neck it was trimmed with that precious fur, beloved of royalty, sable. Probably the garment most essential to survival was my fur hat with its double brim and ear flaps. As soon as I put it on I could feel the warmth of my whole body increasing. The whole was finished off with mittens of wolf skin.
Thus clad, and doubtless looking twice my normal size, I descended the stairs and walked – or rather waddled – out to the courtyard, which was crowded with men, animals, and sleighs. Three of the sleighs were driven by Sami and drawn by reindeer, the remaining ones, seven in all, were horse drawn. The six sleighs for passengers were much more elaborate than the one I had seen in the courtyard before. Although the driver was exposed to the weather, except for a kind of wooden apron which curved up to his waist, the part for the passengers was enclosed like a small cabin, all but the front. There was a deep padded seat with cushions and fur rugs, and behind the seat a space for our personal luggage. The roof overhead would protect us from most of the snow, though it was still possible for it to fly in our faces.
I was relieved to see that I was to travel with Christopher in one of the Sami sleighs, while Robert and Pyotr occupied another, for the Sami sleighs looked more robust than the Muscovite ones. The men acting as our guards were allotted two to each of another four sleighs, while the remaining sleighs had no seats but were piled up with luggage, over which covers of oiled canvas had been roped. I was glad that I had learned to travel with little luggage, for my knapsack and medicine satchel stayed with me, fitting easily into the back of our sleigh, along with a satchel of Christopher’s, in which he carried the permits, for we would be required to show them if we were stopped by government officials.
Servants from the Company house brought out hot stones to place at our feet, then buckled a leather sheet across the front of the passenger seat, protecting us from
the waist down. Master Leget himself saw to the distribution of earthenware flagons of spiced wine and cups to each sleigh.
‘Best drink some now,’ he said, ‘while it is hot. It will stay warm for a while if you keep the flagon well wrapped in fur.’
I drank the wine Christopher poured out, although I had to remove one of my fur mittens in order to grasp the cup. To tell the truth, in my thick clothes, bundled in furs, and with my feet on a hot stone, I was beginning to sweat, even though it was barely past dawn on a freezing winter morning. These Russian winter days were so short, it was essential that we should make the most of the limited hours of daylight and set out early. One of the guards’ sleighs led the way out of the compound followed by a second one. We were next, calling our farewells and thanks to Master Leget. The other sleighs filed in behind us, with the last two guards’ sleighs at the rear, after the luggage.
I had never ridden in a sleigh before, nor been drawn by reindeer, and through the streets of the town, where the snow had frozen into hard-packed ridges, the ride was bumpy and uncomfortable.
‘You should put your mitten on again,’ Christopher said.
‘I’m quite hot,’ I said, taking off my hat and wiping my forehead with the glove.
He shook his head. ‘Put them on. You will soon see why.’
I did as I was told, for he knew more about this country than I could ever hope to do. Once we were outside the town we were running over soft snow that had fallen during the night and the ride was much smoother.
‘This is remarkably comfortable,’ I said, leaning back into the nest of cushions.
