The Frost And The Flame

by Drusilla Campbell

  The predawn light seemed to have drawn the color from Oleg’s face, but Katia was grateful for his hand. They made their way to the luxurious sleigh that awaited. Aunt Nikki was inside already. She called out scoldingly when Katia and Oleg approached.

  “You’ve kept His Highness waiting, Katiana. After all the trouble he has gone to on our behalf, the least you can do is be punctual.”

  “Pray do not carry on so, Lady Natasha,” said Oleg smoothly, helping Katia into the sleigh as he spoke. “I have not been in the least inconvenienced. Besides, it is my greatest pleasure to see that you are comfortable, Mademoiselle. For that reason, I have caused the servants to refurbish my mother’s sleigh. For years it has been carefully stored here, and I find that despite its long disuse, it continues in fine condition. You will be comfortable, I hope.”

  The forest-green hooded sleigh with the golden Romanov crest on the door was so large that at first Katia felt dwarfed in its expansive and elegantly fashioned interior. The unabashed luxury actually took her breath away. Then she couldn’t stop herself from “oohing” and “ahing” like a visitor in a gallery.

  The exterior of the sleigh was green; but inside the hood, the color scheme was soothing browns and beiges, umbers and golds. It was fitted with two sleigh beds on either side, fashioned of dark polished wood as were the low cabinets that held the sleigh’s necessities: the samovar and zarf, an English silver service, crystal decanters and glasses of all sizes. There was more and more and more; and as he opened each of the cabinets for Katia’s inspection, Oleg seemed to enjoy the innocent pleasure she took from the fine things. He told her a maid, Tata, would travel with them. She would cook their meals en route, keep the sleigh clean, and see to all their needs.

  “I regret we cannot bring a ladies’ maid for you and your aunt, Katia; but we have neither the time nor the space for extra servants.”

  “You have been more than generous already, Your Highness. Pray do not apologize.” She looked around the sleigh again. The beds were piled high with furs and other, lighter comforters. Mirrors and ornamental fixtures covered the walls while silver filagree lanterns swung from the hood of the sleigh. Beside her bed there was a table, a rosewood mosaic; and on it was a golden caraffe, a crystal goblet and a tiny vial of the znakhara’s potion.

  “I won’t be needing that,” said Katia hastily.

  “Perhaps not,” answered Oleg as quickly. “But it is best to be prepared. The ride to St. Olaf's will take all day. I thought surely you would prefer to sleep.”

  “St, Olaf's, Your Highness?” Natasha Filippovna peered around the ample hips of the maid who was tucking furs about her legs. “That’s off the track, is it not? Why are we going out of our way?”

  Oleg looked irritated. “I had no idea you were so excellently schooled in navigation, Lady Natasha. When I need assistance, I will most certainly call upon you.”

  Nikki ducked away, effectively silenced.

  Katia watched the interchange and felt resentful of the Prince’s patronizing manner. So fast were the new impressions and motivations crowding into her conscious mind that she was half dizzy from it all. She was confused by her contradictory feelings toward Prince Oleg. His voice could be so hard, his eyes so cold.

  He helped her onto the sleigh bed, propping a half dozen pillows behind her back. When she thanked him, she could not look into his eyes. She knew, without seeing, that they were cold as death. But his hands were warm, and she felt the heat of him through her clothing.

  “I fear you are fatigued already, Katiana. Please reconsider the potion. For your own good.”

  “In the convent, I never spent a night in the infirmary, Prince Oleg. I slept in a room without heat and fasted more than one hundred days a year. Despite such a rigorous life, I was always in good health.” She pushed his hand away as a petulant child might. “All of which only proves that I do not need the znakhara’s potion. If I have pain, it is bearable.”

  It was the longest conversation she had ever had with Prince Oleg, and she was a little overcome by her own temerity. She blushed suddenly and stared at the floor.

  She did not look again at the cold blue eyes. Their expression would have troubled her, and she sensed this. Amused, sardonic: her little outburst had pleased Oleg Romanov. The insolent cold eyes sent a chill that crawled over her body. She felt it long after he had left her and the sleigh train had wound through and beyond the walls of the Romanov manor, far into the countryside.

  The heavy old oak sleigh, so carefully oiled and cared for over the years, moved across the snow with a smooth swing that soon cradled both Katia and her Aunt into a deep morning sleep. When Katia awoke, she felt surprisingly refreshed. Tata quickly prepared a cup of thickly creamed coffee laced with honey and spread fresh butter on a cake made with raisins and dates. Katia ate sitting up in the sleigh bed. She felt giddishly wicked and knew the nuns would call her slothful and a slut as well for eating in bed. But Katia didn’t care. All at once she was filled with a wonderful galloping excitement for life.

  Gingerly, she stretched and was delighted at the easing response of her injured torso. She felt better than she had in days! Gesturing Tata to silence, she slipped carefully, silently from the bed. Someone, probably Tata, had removed her boots while she slept. In place of the tightly laced boots she remembered, she wore high peasant-style shoes. Of richly embroidered sheepskin, they were clumsy but very warm. She was instantly thankful for them.

  Tata pointed at the boots and crossed herself. Pointed at a cupboard and crossed herself again. She seemed to be saying that the boots were part of the sleigh’s equipment.

  ‘So,’ thought Katia, ’these wonderful boots belonged to Princess Anna.’ What could be more thrilling than to step for a while in the place of a real princess?

  Behind the yantchik’s high seat over the luggage compartment, Katia discovered a deeply upholstered bench with leg rest and padded arms. The seat was constructed high and intended to provide both comfort and a panoramic view of the passing countryside on temperate days. On a midmorning in March it was too exposed; nevertheless, Katia—who found the interior of the sleigh confining and over warm—thought the seat was perfect. Muffled in her wool and sable cape, her hands buried deep in the fur-lined muff whose sky blue exactly matched that of her traveling costume, Katia curled on the wide, deeply cushioned seat. She requested more sweet coffee from Tata and was amused by the maid’s incredulous looks. She leaned back and sighed, content and yet impatient as well.

  Where was Prince Alexei? He would have to see her. He just had to!

  Near noon, a ridge of low densely forested hills came into view. At about the same time, Prince Oleg rode up to Katia’s sleigh and saluted her. In the cold his skin had a sickly blue cast, and he looked mean-tempered. But then, by that time she felt the same. Where was Alexei? Had he left? Was it true that he was in some terrible trouble? One thing she knew: she could not ask Prince Oleg. There was bad blood between them. Alexei did not trust Oleg and therefore neither would she. Well, not entirely. But she was immensely grateful to him for all his kindness.

  ‘Sometimes,’ she thought with a sigh, ‘it’s hard to know what to think!’ Life was so much more complicated than convent life had led her to believe. She wondered if she would ever feel truly at home in the world.

  “Mademoiselle,” Oleg said, “Your sigh disturbs me. I fear you may suffer some relapse of your former disability. I beg you, go inside were Tata can make you warm and comfortable. This is no day for touring.”

  “I enjoy the air, Your Highness. It is exhilarating after so many days in retirement.” She dipped her head politely, but inwardly she was quaking. It was one thing to aggravate a Troitza nun, but quite another to risk the Romanov temper again with her impudent contradictions. But the cold and Alexei’s mysterious disappearance had combined to make her cross with the world and out of sorts with anyone who disagreed with her. At such a time, she knew she might say anything.

  “Do you also enjoy
the sick bed, Mademoiselle?” To Katia it almost seemed he might be goading her.

  “I do not, Your Highness, but neither do I care to be pampered and coddled. I feel no pain, my Lord.” She smiled brightly up at Oleg. “None whatsoever.”

  “You lie prettily, my dear. And from the most laudable of motives: stoicism.” Katia thought she heard sarcasm in his voice. “However, if you feel well enough to lie…”

  Oleg’s words were interrupted by a noise on the track ahead. The lead driver reigned in his team of six and one by one those behind him did the same. There were shouts from outriders and the noise of yapping dogs. Sounds of an argument darted back to Katia’s sleigh. Leo, the bodyguard appeared, looking ruffled and uncomfortable. He leaned toward Oleg.

  “It’s one of those soothsayer women, My Lord. She and her animals are all over the track.”

  “Well, order her off, man!” bellowed Oleg. “Am I to be delayed by every vagrant?”

  “Sir, she is the zankhara from the home village of those two peasants. St.Olaf's. She says she has come to speak with you.”

  On gigantic snowshoes, the znakhara from St. Olaf's approached Oleg. She was an incredible sight. Strange and exotic enough to force Katia to turn away a moment to keep from smiling with childlike delight at the sight. The znakhara was short and skinny as a youth. From a distance she was more like a child than a woman, more like an elf than a child. But as she and her many dogs and her spotted long-haired goat came nearer, Katia saw her ancient face. It was a tracery of tiny lines like the dense intercrossing of threads through linen. She wore a pair of men’s breeches and high boots strapped to her legs with strips of multicolor cotton. Under an immense sheepskin garment, a kind of dress and coat in one, the tiny woman looked half buried.

  Oleg appeared to have been rendered speechless by the znakhara’s remarkable boldness. He watched in silence, his eyebrows raised in disbelief, and let the znakhara walk to within five feet of him. Before the Prince could speak, the elfin woman raised a mittened hand as if to shield her face from Oleg as she spoke to him.

  “I come from St. Olaf's, Oleg Ivanovich Romanov, Prince of all Russia.” Her voice was high and piping; and something in its music pleased Katia. Quickly, she bit her lip. A smile would definitely displease His Highness at this moment she was certain.

  Oleg was haughty and definitely not amused. “What is it to me where you come from, old liar-woman?”

  “Nothing to you, sir. Nothing. We all know that. But who are simple peasants to question or condemn the ways of royal personages? I come to tell you only that my gift is knowing.” She punctuated her words with the palsied bobbing of her head.

  Oleg laughed derisively. “Then you have come miles to no purpose. You znakharas are mad, all of you. The peasants believe you because they are afraid not to. I, on the other hand…”

  “Fear nothing,” inserted Prince Alexei with heavy sarcasm. On horseback, he had appeared beside the sleigh as if by magic.

  At the sound of his voice, Katia lost all interest in the znakhara and turned her head so quickly that she cried out from a sudden pain. But Alexei appeared not to notice. Couldn’t he hear her heart’s pounding?

  “Let the old woman speak,” he was saying to Oleg in a challenging tone. “You may be above soothsayers, Cousin. But for those of us who are not, it might be amusing to know what she has travelled so far to say.”

  ‘Why doesn’t he look at me?’ Katia cried silently. She had thought him the most upright and handsome man in the world, but now he was treating her with cruel disregard. Why? Had she done something to offend him? Did he think she was only an ignorant convent child, not worthy of his attentions? She longed to ask him these questions, but knew that by doing so, she would only make herself the greater simpleton in his eyes.

  “How can the words of a knowing woman harm you, Oleg Romanov?” the znakhara asked.

  Alexei laughed, and just the sound made Katia feel suddenly happy. Without thinking, she laughed with him. Suddenly, everyone was looking at her. She was blushing as the znakhara moved slowly toward her, never lowering her eyes from her face. And Katia could not look away either! A sense of magic and wonderment flowed from the elfin woman as if she were indeed some creature of the supernatural world. The quiet around her was complete, hallowed. Even the animals fell silent, sensing the strange wonder of the moment.

  “Very well,” said Oleg at last, “if you want to hear her blather her madness: so be it! But when you are finished, witch, begone with you. And be fast, or I will cut out your tongue and feed it to the swine.”

  “I have only come to say goodbye, Prince,” the znakhara croaked slyly.

  Oleg was obviously baffled. “This is your knowing?”

  “What I know is this: I bid you farewell because you will never return to the plains and woods of Muscovy. I saw you in a vision and a black crow rode your shoulder. She wore a silver anklet and her beak was bloody.”

  “Take the old whore!” Oleg cried, his pale face crimsoned with rage.

  “No!” The guards stopped. The commanding voice of the znakhara brought even Oleg to attention. She stared at Katia, her arms extended wide like a hawk’s wings. She almost sang her prophecy. “Beware your brother. Convent Angel. And brother, beware as well.”

  A strange threatening silence hung on the znakhara’s prophecy as a crazy thought filled Katia’s mind. ‘She knows who I am!’ But that was impossible, her reason argued. And yet…

  “Take her away,” Oleg ordered Leo. “Teach her to keep silent in the future.”

  “No!” cried Katia impetuously. She didn’t care what Oleg thought of her; it seemed most important suddenly that the znakhara’s life be preserved. “My Lord, surely it would serve no purpose to have this woman punished when she has done nothing to harm us. You said she was a fool, and her own words have proved you right. If she had the gift of prescience, she would have known that I am an orphan without family.” She looked to Alexei for support, but he had turned his horse away from the sleigh, as if the incident had grown tedious to him. He was leaving her without a word and there was nothing she could do to stop him! The znakhara continued to stare at her, the tiny eyes almost lost in the folds of wrinkled flesh. “Please, My Lord. Let her pass.”

  ‘Come back, Alexei,’ cried her heart, but already he was hurrying his horse through the snow toward the rear of the sleigh train.

  “Please, My Lord,” she said again, half to Oleg, half to Prince Alexei.

  “If you wish her free, so be it,” said Oleg. His voice had an oily smoothness, an insinuating quality that made Katia almost regret her outspoken support of the znakhara. As he gestured Leo to release her, Oleg said, “You are fortunate, old woman. Were it not for Mademoiselle Danova’s Christian sensibilities, you would be dead by now. Go your way, and do not trouble your betters again. Keep your superstitious ramblings for the peasants.”

  The znakhara’s eyes never left Katia’s face. She was grinning now, her thin lips drawn tight across toothless gums. She seemed unaware of the danger she was in. “God gave you ears to listen, Convent Angel, so heed my prophecy.” This time she pointed a honey finger at Katia. “Beware your brother. And brother, beware as well.”

  Chapter Ten

  It took all of Alexei’s resolve to keep from turning back and praising Katia for her courage, for the determined way in which she had insisted that the crazy old znakhara must live. It was mad, this schoolboy attraction he felt for her; but the more he tried to deny it, the more irresistible she became. That morning in the courtyard, it had been difficult to deny the spell she cast upon him as he watched her from afar. Descending the outside stairs in her smart European clothes, her color was high; and she walked with an almost regal dignity that surprised him. She had seemed older for a moment, as if her recent suffering had matured her while not taking from her innocence.

  Now, hours later, he and Jake rode far to the rear of Katia’s sleigh; but he kept a guardian’s eye on the dark green hood ahead. Alexei wa
s a man who did not deny himself pleasures. Why then did he avoid Katia when her company clearly lightened his heart? ‘What’s special about this girl?’ he asked himself again and again. When the old witch stared at her, she had seemed not only innocent but magic as well. Katia was like an enchanted princess in a Russian tale, awaiting her prince…

  “Good God!” he cried aloud. He must be losing his senses! What was he? A moon-struck youth, a love-besotted poet? Alexei shook himself roughly, and Alladin nickered in protest.

  ‘And what about that business with the znakhara?’ he thought a moment later. The messages were gibberish, nonsense. And yet…‘Damn!’ First poetic romance and now he was heeding fortune tellers. The girl had entirely beguiled him and won him away from reason. He had best be done with her before he did something he might regret.

  A sudden loud snap cut the air, and Alexei saw a supply sled careen off the track and into a snowdrift. The yantchik was thrown clear; and the team, perhaps thankful for the excuse after a long morning’s haul, stopped almost immediately. A tree limb hidden just below the snow had cracked a runner. Now the supply sled would have to be unloaded; the old runner removed and replaced. Such accidents were expected, and each sleigh carried its own spares. Though the delay would probably not exceed an hour or two, there was apt to be a lot of confusion. It occurred to Alexei that it was the perfect time to slip away from the party.

  But what of Katia? Somehow she had crept into his heart, and it was proving damnably hard to get her out.

  ‘Perhaps in another time, Katia,’ he thought wistfully. ‘In another land we might have a chance.’ For a moment too long he permitted himself to think of what it would be like to love her.

  He was halfway to her sleigh before he realized it. He saw her where she sat on the exposed seat at the head of the sleigh, enveloped in fur. Heavy strands of hair had. come loose and fell in waves about her pale and delicate face. He almost turned away from her then, before it was too late. But when she looked up at him, he had to speak.