by L.K. Hill
Chapter 4
A few weeks later, Inga and Natalya stood side by side in one of the palace corridors, fidgeting. The tension in the palace felt palpable, which made it hard to sit still, though Inga knew she must. Natalya looked perfectly serene. She gave Inga a reassuring smile.
Yehvah appeared farther down the corridor. Both girls jumped up eagerly, hoping they could be of some service. Yehvah did not acknowledge them; instead, she hurried by, two older girls in tow. They swept past, and silence covered the corridor again.
Yehvah had been more irritable than usual, no doubt because of the added pressure of preparing for the new baby’s arrival. Besides her work, which always kept her busy, she had to help the doctors, and things were not slowing down.
The grand princess’s pains had begun only hours before. The child—the second heir to the Russian throne—was coming. The grand prince put away his first wife because she could not produce an heir. After he married Elena, months passed and the people despaired, saying the wrath of God rested on the couple because the grand prince cloistered his first wife. People whispered that he'd asked the Church about his decision, and been told if he put away his wife, any child born by his second wife would be evil.
He did it anyway.
Finally, Elena’s belly began to swell. Ivan came. Now, a second child would arrive any moment.
Everyone face Inga looked into showed worry. Much could go wrong in a birth, especially a winter birth. Inga would know. Around the city, people flocked to churches, praying that both mother and child would survive. They prayed for a male child. Many children did not survive into adulthood. Two sons would ensure of the continuance of the royal line.
Inga wanted so much to help but knew she couldn’t. She was too small to do most of the tasks that needed doing; and if she bothered Yehvah for a job, she would only be in the way.
“What do you think?” she asked Natalya for the hundredth time.
Natalya smiled. “I think it will be fine, Inga. You’ll see. Try to relax; take a deep breath.”
Inga scowled at the floor. She breathed in. It helped a little, until she breathed out again.
“Girls!” Yehvah’s voice cracked like a whip through the corridor. Both girls instantly jumped to their feet. “I need your help. Natalya, we need more sheets. Go and get an armload from the supply closet near our chambers—as many as you can carry.”
Natalya’s “Yes, Yehvah” was lost as Yehvah turned to give Inga her instructions.
“Inga, I need ice.”
“Ice?”
“Yes. Go to the kitchen and get a bucket from Bogdan. Use the biggest one you can carry and go to the icehouse. It’s far out on the grounds. Can you make it?”
“Yes, Yehvah.”
“Good. Get as much as you can and hurry back. Bring everything to the anteroom,” she included Natalya in the statement. Then she strode from the room. Without stopping, she barked over her shoulder, “Run girls!”
With a glance at Natalya’s wide eyes, Inga spun on her toe and bolted for the kitchens. No wonder Natalya looked shocked. Inga was sure her own face mirrored the expression. The anteroom? It lay directly outside the grand prince’s private chambers. Maids, especially those as young as Inga, were never let anywhere near there. It frightened Inga.
She ran as fast as her short legs could take her. She pushed her legs so hard that, when she finally reached the kitchen, she couldn’t stop. The usual layer of beeswax Bogdan used to grease the spits and metal swing-arms covered the floor. The roaring fire made it glossy and ice-slick. Inga slid right past Bogdan. He didn’t notice.
“Bogdan,” she called as she slid out the opposite door. She grabbed the doorframe and slid back in.
“Yuri, keep that spit turning! The grand prince doesn’t like his boar too well done! Yes, what is it, Inga?” Bogdan’s hands never stopped moving as he spoke. He spun in a constant dance of work. Once the new prince arrived, if everything went as well as the country prayed it did, there would be much to celebrate. Russians could not celebrate without food.
“Yehvah sent me to get ice. Do you have a bucket I can borrow?”
Bogdan’s hands didn’t stop. He stared at her, eyebrows knitted down. “She sent you? To the ice house?”
“Yes. I think it’s for the grand princess. She said to be quick.”
“Well,” Bogdan looked around, “perhaps I could send . . .” But all his kitchen helpers were busy.
“Oh, please, Bogdan,” Inga pleaded, “let me do it. I’m going crazy with nothing to do. I know I’m little, but I can handle one of the smaller buckets. I’ll be fine.”
Bogdan looked perplexed. After a moment, he nodded and retrieved a small bucket from a cupboard in a far corner of the kitchen. The size of a large mixing bowl, it was made of wood. Inga swiped it from Bogdan and bounded for the door.
She went to the servants’ entrance near their quarters. From a short hook, she took a thick, wolf-skin wrap and slipped her softly shod feet into outdoor clogs. Then she hurried out the door and across the courtyard toward the icehouse.