by E. P. Clark
“We did, Valeriya Dariyevna, but in this heat we thought it might do more harm than good. Rest is what he needs, rest and a nice cooling mud poultice. Which I’ve brought for him.”
I stayed and helped apply the mud poultice and then, after assurances that she would return to supervise the turning out of our horses in the evening, Arina Svetlanovna and I strolled back towards the kremlin.
“Will you come and join us for a cup of tea, Valeriya Dariyevna?” she asked.
“Hot tea doesn’t really appeal in this weather,” I said, trying to fan myself with my hand but having little success cooling myself off.
“Well, cold tea then, or watered wine, if you please, Valeriya Dariyevna. I’m afraid this black earth stuff is no good compared to what we have back home, but we make do. I’ve been trying to brew some good stuff, and if it turns out well, I’ll send some up to you.”
“That would be nice, and I’d be happy to join you now, even if it’s just flat cold tea,” I said. “How is everyone settling in?”
As we made our way to the servants’ quarters where Arina Svetlanovna and the three others I had brought with me were housed, she filled me in on the adventures that Misha and Maks, the two guards/stable boys we had brought, had already encountered in Krasnograd, and on the fact that Alya, our cook and general errand-runner, was pining desperately for home, or rather, for the young man she had left there.
“Shall I speak with her?” I asked.
“Maybe later, Valeriya Dariyevna. At present it looks like they’ve all gone out. There’s not a lot for them to do here—the kremlin servants are so efficient, we’ve been left sitting on our hands.”
“I’m sure we can find things for you to do if you’re bored,” I said.
“As it pleases you, Valeriya Dariyevna.”
“But if everyone just wants to have a good time and enjoy the pleasures of Krasnograd, I have no objection as long as the horses are cared for.”
“I’m sure the others would welcome the chance to explore Krasnograd, Valeriya Dariyevna, and you need not fear for the horses.” We entered the rooms my people had been given, which were dark but pleasantly cool. “Are you pleased with your accommodations?” I asked.
“They are everything we could want, Valeriya Dariyevna. Cool tea?”
“Cool tea would be good,” I said. I looked around the room, which was a central chamber with bedchambers leading off from the sides. It was bare and poorly lit, but clean. No doubt in the winter it was chilly and dank, but right now it was cooler and more pleasant than my own chambers. I could see Arina Svetlanovna’s hand in the strict arrangement of all the gear and furniture in the room. Like any good stable mistress, she could not abide messiness, or anything that might leave potentially dangerous items lying around, waiting for her precious charges to injure themselves on. She showed me the vessel where she was attempting to brew our own steppe drink of sour fizzy tea, and then poured us two mugs of ordinary cold tea. As she did so, I noticed the lines between her eyes and the set of her mouth, and asked, “Is your head bothering you again?”
“A bit, Valeriya Dariyevna. You know how it is, especially in the heat, and being in these stuffy buildings.”
I nodded in understanding. Arina Svetlanovna had always been prone to headaches, especially since a nasty fall a few years back, and of late they had been so bad that sometimes she couldn’t even ride. I reached over and smoothed out the lines between her eyes and stroked her temples, and after a moment, her face eased and she said with a smile, “No one has the knack for that like you do, Valeriya Dariyevna. No one else can take away the pain like you do.”
“You just have to not be afraid to stick your hands into other people’s pain,” I told her. “Everyone else is probably just afraid to press down hard enough. But if it bothers you again, come get me right away, do you hear? I can’t have you lying on your bed in a darkened room when our horses need you.”
“As you will, Valeriya Dariyevna.” She handed me my tea. After a moment, she went on, “And how are you finding Krasnograd, if I may ask?”
“Well enough,” I said.
“And the little princess?”
“Rather better than I. It looks like she will have befriended the whole kremlin, and maybe the rest of the city as well, by the time we leave.”
Arina Svetlanovna smiled and shook her head. “I can’t say I’m surprised, Valeriya Dariyevna. She always has had a way with people.”
“I suppose.” There was a pause while we sipped our cool tea, which, despite being flat poor stuff compared with our own steppe brew, was deliciously refreshing.
“I heard the Empress has taken ill, Valeriya Dariyevna,” said Arina Svetlanovna cautiously, breaking the silence.
“A passing indisposition. No doubt brought on by the heat.”
“Is that so, Valeriya Dariyevna?” She gave me a sharp look.
“It’s what the kremlin and Krasnograd need to hear,” I said.
“Ah.” Arina Svetlanovna sipped her tea in silence for a little while longer. “And I heard about your training session this morning, Valeriya Dariyevna,” she said suddenly.
“I see.” I sipped my tea in silence too.
“Valeriya Dariyevna.” She put down her cup. “Let me to speak freely.”
“I don’t see how I can stop you,” I said.
She smiled a little at that. “I’m glad your temper hasn’t deserted you, Valeriya Dariyevna! But you know…you know you are like a daughter to me, Valeriya Dariyevna, so let me to show a mother’s concern for you, since your own mother is so far away.”
“As you will,” I said, shrugging stiffly.
“Valeriya Dariyevna, I heard about last night, and this morning too. So I must ask you plainly, my daughter: what are you thinking? What are you doing? Why would you…Why would you let yourself go down this bad path again, Valeriya Dariyevna? Was there not enough pain for you the first time? Afterwards, you went around…you were like a woman who had been burned so badly she no longer had any feeling left. And I’m not sure that you ever really recovered from it. Do you really want to revisit this old sorrow, reopen these old wounds? Do you have no care for yourself at all? And if not, could you not be persuaded to have at least a little care for those who care about you? I could not stand it, Valeriya Dariyevna, I could not stand to see you suffer again like that.” She stopped as abruptly as she had started, and picked up her cup again with jerky fingers.
“Arina Svetlanovna…” I had to swallow and start again. “The Tsarina wishes it,” I said. “What happened this morning…the Tsarina wishes it. But not a word to anyone else on this matter!”
“Could she not find some more suitable partner for you, Valeriya Dariyevna? Why would she ask you to spend time with…of all people, Valeriya Dariyevna! It is unkind, it is unbearably unkind!”
“Her need is great,” I said. “And I could not refuse her.”
Arina Svetlanovna’s gaze softened. “I see, Valeriya Dariyevna. And does it have anything to do with her…passing indisposition of today?”
“Perhaps,” I said. “But not a word about that either!”
“Of course, Valeriya Dariyevna. But I beg of you to have at least a little caution on your own behalf, while you are spending yourself on hers.”
“I’ll try, Arina Svetlanovna,” I said. “But you know how I am. I’ve always been one for jumping into the fire before I even checked to see if it was hot.”
“I know, Valeriya Dariyevna.” She gave a sad smile. “But you can only do that so much before you get burned away. Have a care, Valeriya Dariyevna, for all our sakes. For the sake of the steppe, if nothing else. And if there is anything you need of me…”
“I know, Arina Svetlanovna, and I thank you.” I looked out of the narrow window that let in only a few of the late-afternoon rays. “I am afraid our stay in Krasnograd may not be very pleasant, and may last much longer than we had hoped. And things may get worse, much worse, before they get better. I may have to…I may have
to step forward and…take my place here. And if that happens, or if there is even a rumor that it might happen, there are many who will be very unhappy about it. And so I beg of you, Arina Svetlanovna, to watch out for yourselves and the others. There are those who would probably stoop to attacking my servants, if they thought they couldn’t get to me.”
“Is it really likely to get that bad, Valeriya Dariyevna?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “But just in case, it would set my mind at ease if I knew you were watching out for yourselves.”
“Then we will, Valeriya Dariyevna, never fear. No Velikokrasnovy are going to get past us.”
“It may not be just the Velikokrasnovy,” I warned her. “You should watch out for all the black earth princesses, and anyone who seems friendly with them.”
“I see, Valeriya Dariyevna. Just like old times, then, is it?” She smiled, and I found myself smiling reluctantly in return. “It’s not that bad…yet,” I told her. “I’m not quite ready to flee the city in the dead of night to escape the wrath of outraged wives and mothers. And this time…I don’t think I can flee, even if I want to. But…if it starts to look really bad, Arina Svetlanovna, you should be prepared to smuggle Mirochka out of the city and back home.”
“Do you really think it will come to that, Valeriya Dariyevna?”
“I don’t. But if…it seems I am not well-loved here in Krasnograd, and if I should, the gods forbid, suddenly have to take the throne, there could be…unrest, shall we say. And Mirochka would be next in line, and there are those who would find it easier to remove a child from their path than a grown woman. So if, the gods forbid, that should come to pass, it would probably be best for everyone if she were to be taken out of the city before anyone could think to stop her passage. No doubt that will cause trouble of its own, but at least she will be safer than if she were to remain here.”
“Then it shall be done, Valeriya Dariyevna, if and when you deem it necessary.”
“Thank you.” I took a deep breath. “That is a great weight off my mind, Arina Svetlanovna. I have always known I could trust in you.”
“Of course, Valeriya Dariyevna. And…one question more, if I may?”
“Ask away,” I said, finishing off the tea, that seemed even more deliciously cool after the hot subject matter of our conversation. Just thinking about the need to take the throne while Mirochka was being smuggled out of the city and taken away from me made my palms and the back of my neck sweat.
“This young Velikokrasnov, Valeriya Dariyevna, Ivan Marinovich. What are your intentions regarding him?”
“The Tsarina wants an alliance.”
“So marriage, then.”
“Marriage,” I confirmed. “If at all possible.”
“And do you really think…do you really think, Valeriya Dariyevna, that he will make a good husband?”
“I’m sure he’ll make someone a good husband, Arina Svetlanovna; the question is whether I would make him or anyone else a good wife. But the Tsarina asked it of me, and I cannot refuse her, in this or anything else.”
“As you say, Valeriya Dariyevna. But please…I beg of you, if you think it will be a bad match, then please, Valeriya Dariyevna, persuade the Tsarina to choose you another partner.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You have great faith in my powers of persuasion, Arina Svetlanovna.”
“No, I have great faith in your stubbornness and hot temper, Valeriya Dariyevna. Forgive me for saying this, for you know I love you like the daughter I never had, but I’ve often thought that if you were to combine all the worst traits of a prize racehorse and an ill-tempered mule, you’d end up with someone rather like yourself.”
That made me laugh for the first time that afternoon, and I clapped her on the shoulder and said no doubt she was right, and that it was the nicest thing anyone had said of me for a while, and having extracted from her once again a promise to watch out for herself and the others, and to be ready to whisk Mirochka out of the city at a moment’s notice, I thanked her for the tea, and left.
Chapter Eleven
The next morning I received in answer to my inquiry the information that the Tsarina was greatly recovered from her indisposition of the previous day, but intended to spend the morning resting, and that she hoped I would continue the swordwork I had begun so auspiciously the day before. There was no response to my question as to whether or not the tsarinoviches had permission to be trained in steppe fighting, which I decided to take as consent. Accordingly, I suggested to Mirochka that she and her brothers train together with me in the afternoon.
“But what about him?” she demanded.
“Which ‘him’?” I asked.
“What’s his name—Ivan? The one we trained with yesterday. What about him?”
“He can train separately.”
“Won’t he feel left out?”
“Perhaps, but I doubt he will be very offended, and he might prefer to train with someone his own size—as might you.”
“I can train with grown-ups!”
“Yes, but it will be more helpful for you to practice with someone your own size, and if you and the tsarinoviches train together, there will be four of you, which will be very convenient.”
“Ruslan’s much bigger than me, and Valery’s much smaller!”
“Yes, but they’re still closer in size to you than Ivan Marinovich. If it doesn’t work out, we can always include him later. And you can continue to take lessons with your brothers.”
Mirochka was still doubtful of the wisdom of this course of action, but after a little more persuasion I was able to convince her that it was at least worth trying for one day, and so I dropped her off with the tsarinoviches for their morning lessons, and headed down to the training ground alone.
The sun was already high and noticeably hot as I made my way to the kremlin barracks, even though it was not yet mid-morning, with the premonition of a stifling heat later in the day. I almost regretted agreeing to take Mirochka and the tsarinoviches out for training in the afternoon, but in truth high summer was my favorite time of year, despite the heat. I supposed it was because I had been born then, or perhaps it was just my hot-blooded nature, but I felt the heat less than most, and I loved the sunsetless days, whose length and brightness seemed to promise an infinity of possibilities. I was not immune to the charms of spring and autumn, the seasons most Zemnians preferred, and I could, like any Zemnian, tolerate our long winters—but in my case it was a very close thing, and after the third or fourth month of snow I always began to pace around the house restlessly, snapping at anyone who crossed me and longing for summer like a love-sick boy for his sweetheart. It was unfortunate that at that point there were normally a good two more months of snow to live through, and I was never sure how I was going to survive them, but thus far I always had. If I had a husband, perhaps he could keep me occupied during the winter months…the cold was always best shared with a lover, or so people generally held…I was at the barracks training ground, and I needed to concentrate on that, not how I could in the future best pass the most boring part of the year.
Ivan had already arrived when I got there, and was warming up with a couple of the guards. They broke off from their sparring when I came over to them, and the guards, after bowing to me, scattered.
“Is Miroslava Valeriyevna not joining us, Valeriya Dariyevna?” Ivan asked, smiling. He seemed in better humor this morning than yesterday, probably because of the welcome the guards had given him.
“The tsarinoviches wished to train with her, so I told them I would work with them all together in the afternoon,” I said. “I thought it would be easier if we didn’t have four very imperious children demanding our attention as we sparred.”
“No doubt you’re right, Valeriya Dariyevna, although the little princess was certainly a spirited partner. I can’t say,” he smiled ruefully, “I’ll miss being put in my place by a girl of eight, though.”
“Imagine if her brothers joined us, then,” I said, which
made him laugh. He asked if I needed to warm up, but I said that I would warm up as I demonstrated some of the finer points of steppe fighting, and then we could spar together a little, if that suited him.
“As you wish, Valeriya Dariyevna,” he said, smiling cheerfully, and paid close attention as I showed him some of the feints I had used on him yesterday, and practiced with a frown of concentration on his face, which did nothing to dampen the good mood he was in. I wondered if it was because he was more at ease with me and the situation today, or if it was due to Mirochka’s absence, or if it had nothing to do with me at all. I wondered if he would be this cheerful all the time, if I brought him back to the steppe, or if he would pine, as so many did. Well, nothing I could do about that now.
After we had practiced enough to work up a fine sweat, I proposed that we spar in earnest, which he enthusiastically accepted. I could see that he thought he had learned from his mistakes yesterday and my lessons, and that this time he stood a much better chance of defeating me.
We circled around each other a few times, and he made some very creditable feints and attacks, and defended himself very well against my strikes and counter-strikes, and was feeling more and more pleased with himself, until I knocked his blade right out of his hand. He looked in surprise at it down on the ground, and then sighed and went to pick it up. We did the same thing a couple more times, until he managed not to lose his sword completely when I tried to disarm him, but only retreat in order to regain his grip, at which point I called a halt to the sparring.
“Were you going easy on me yesterday, Valeriya Dariyevna?” he asked when we were done, looking at me out of the corner of his eye.
“Why?”
“It just seemed like you were pressing me a lot harder today, that was all.”
“Yesterday I was tired and distracted, and today I’m not,” I told him.
