Fate & Fortune

by Michaels, Fern

  Breakfast was a somber affair. Strong, bitter black coffee, pungent goat cheese, and round, flat bread spread with honey were offered to her by the Khan, whose face was a study in blankness. Katerina wondered if he was already regretting his bargain. She remained quiet, her thoughts on Banyen and the long trek back to the mountains. She suddenly felt uneasy. It wasn’t the thought of taking the prisoners, shackled as they were, nor the fifty men from the Khan’s army with her, it was Banyen. Her uneasiness increased with each mouthful of food she swallowed. Her eyes fell to the sable carpet, and automatically she withdrew her booted foot till it rested on the plank floor of the yurt.

  * * *

  Prince Banyen led first one prisoner and then another from the stockade. He himself saw to their manacles and brought each man toward the wagons with a terse order to remain quiet and be still. Low-voiced murmurs reached his ears as the men conversed and speculated in low whispers. It was Kostya who voiced the question aloud to one of the others.

  “There’s more to this venture than the woman told us. After she trains us to be Cossacks, what is it we’re to do? That, my fellow prisoners, is the fly in the honey pot. Still, she’s given us back our lives. How many of us do you think would survive the first cold spell and snowstorm in this stockade? For that we should offer thanks.”

  “She’s a woman, and we number a hundred and fifty men,” a prisoner named Dmitri said in a low whisper.

  Rokal grinned, showing short, stubby teeth. “Look over your shoulder, my friend, and tell me what you see.”

  “There will be no chance for any of us to escape,” Kostya said softly. “And why should we? The woman promised us food and money to do as she asked. I for one have no wish to die in the snows. Let us agree among ourselves that we will give this venture a chance.”

  “I vote with Kostya,” Rokal said softly. One by one the others by the wagon agreed.

  The man called Dmitri, his eyes nearly closed against the brightness of the day, watched as Banyen’s men readied themselves for the trip. Kostya is right, he decided. Later, when the snows melted in the spring and he had good food in his belly, along with gold in his pocket, would be time enough to get free. For now he would agree. Beyond that, he would make no promises, to the woman or his fellow prisoners.

  The sun beat down upon the tiny crystals of silica, heating them, making the temperature rise to a hot, uncomfortable degree. Everyone felt the effects of the heat, including the animals. The wagons stood like sentinels, waiting for the horses to be harnessed to them. The prisoners stood shackled together on the hot sand, waiting. The Mongol soldiers who comprised the guard were busy preparing their horses and wiping away the perspiration that ran freely down their bodies. The remainder of the soldiers fastened the last of the ropes, securing supplies and foodstuffs aboard two wagons. A caravan of ten wagons, two hundred men, Prince Banyen, and one woman waited, poised on the brink of success or failure.

  The Khan, with Banyen and Katerina, watched the final preparations from under a canopy, escaping the onslaught of the hot sun. “Katerina, one would think from the feel of this heat that you should have the usual ride through the Urals. Banyen and I know, however, that this is not the case. The Urals are tricky and treacherous this time of year. You feel the sleighs unnecessary trouble at this time, but I assure you, once into the Urals you’ll thank me for my foresight. Word reached me several days ago that the northern ridge is deep in snow, and your only chance is the southern ridge, even if it is longer. You still might have a chance to bypass the worst of the accumulation. The men are almost finished, so if there is anything else you need tell me now,” Afstar said, concerned for her well-being. He knew her journey would be a difficult one.

  Katerina’s heart pounded as she looked at the caravan, and a momentary panic gripped her. Was she capable of the task that lay before her? Could she handle two hundred men and Prince Banyen? Were Mikhailo and the Khan right? Could she accomplish what she intended? Then, as a Mongol soldier brought up her horse, the Cosars and Volin flashed before her. No matter what, nothing would ever stop her from avenging the demise of her people and returning the Cosars to their rightful home. The image she had of her father lying dead with the others, the huts burned to the ground, was all she ever needed as a source from which to draw her strength. Each time the scene flashed before her, unbounded power soared through her body, energizing her very being with unparalleled confidence. She knew she could do anything.

  Reaching for the reins of the horse, she turned to her uncle. “I can’t think of anything else that’s needed, everything has been checked. If we’ve overlooked anything, it won’t matter once we’re on our way. I thank you, Uncle, for all you have done for me, and for all you have given me. Most of all, I wish to thank you for believing in me and what I must do. My mother would bless you many times over if she were here. She would be very proud of her brother.” Putting her arms around the Khan, she embraced him tenderly and kissed him on the cheek. Once again she looked him in the eye, and said, “With all my heart, my people, who are no more, and I thank you.”

  Katerina mounted her horse, her seat relaxed, her cat eyes sleepy and lynx-like as she waited for Banyen’s signal to start the small caravan. A patrol of twenty soldiers was to lead the way on horseback. The remainder of the soldiers would ride in the wagons behind the prisoners, Katerina would ride behind Banyen. “Are you ready?” she asked him.

  Banyen’s stallion stood before him, waiting. The prince reached out his hand to the Khan. “I’ll not give speeches of thanks. I merely wish to say I’ll be back in the spring. When I return, I wish to hear news of preparations for our attack. I need say no more. Farewell, my friend.” He released his hand from the Khan’s and leaped onto his horse.

  Afstar looked up at both of them with worry in his eyes. “You embark on a difficult journey. You’ll need all your strength and will. Katerina, you especially have a long journey, as yours doesn’t end with the Urals. Good fortune to you both.”

  “We’ll succeed, Uncle, never fear. There is much to do, and it will be done,” she said, with such confidence that even Banyen almost believed her. “Give the command to move,” Katerina ordered Banyen, “for we must make the Ural River by nightfall. Once again I bid you farewell, Uncle. Banyen will bring news of my progress to you in the spring.” Katerina dug her heels deep into the horse’s flanks, the animal responding immediately, with Banyen close behind.

  He looked at Katerina’s easy, relaxed position in the saddle and felt desire rise in him. The tight, confining shirt she wore was open at the throat, revealing a deep cleavage as her breasts rose and fell rhythmically with her steady breathing. He let his gaze linger on the slight spread of her thigh in the form-fitting trousers. Long and supple. His heart pounded in his chest when he thought how she would feel next to him, her flesh as naked as his.

  Katerina felt his appraisal of her and stared pointedly into indigo eyes. She allowed a small smile to tug at her lips as she returned his bold look. She motioned him with her finger to come closer. Suspecting a trick, Banyen held his whip loosely in his hand, ready to strike out if necessary. Katerina leaned closer till she was barely inches from his sun-darkened face. “I know how to kill just as you do. I can do it quickly and silently and not shed a drop of blood, or I can arrange to have your blood flow like a river . . . Remember what I said, Mongol, this is no game we’re playing. When this is over, there will not be a prize for the winner.”

  Dark eyes scoffed at her words, confusing Katerina, throwing her off balance. She had threatened to kill him and he accepted it lightly. Suddenly she felt vulnerable and weak beneath his gaze.

  “Do my ears deceive me, are you threatening me? Never mind, I know a threat when I hear one. Answer one question for me, woman, why do you have such . . . an unreasonable dislike for me? I had to tie you to the horse when I brought you to camp. If I had set you upright, you would have fallen and possibly killed yourself. If you recall, you were in a greatly weakened condition. I
see no resentment in your eyes for these . . . scum,” he said, pointing to the prisoners, “nor do I see anything but fondness in your eyes for the Khan. I and I alone am the recipient of your dislike. Why?”

  Katerina stared deeply into the indigo eyes for barely a moment, willing him to remember. She saw only blankness. “You really don’t know, do you. A pity,” she said, straightening her slim body on the horse. “One day possibly the answer will come to you. When it does,” she said, wagging a finger playfully at him, “it will be too late.”

  Banyen’s face filled with rage. What kind of riddle was that? Damn fool woman! Did she think he was a mind reader? Why couldn’t she just tell him whatever it was? Oh no, beat the bush, go around it but never through it. He squared his broad shoulders, gave her a last scorching look, and rode to the front of the twenty-man patrol. With a brisk wave of his hand, the small caravan began to move.

  The prince rode silently ahead of his men, his anger driving his thoughts back in time to the rage he had felt as a boy of six. He lay face down in the dirt, left for dead, as Ivan and his troops stormed Kazan.

  Scared, every muscle in his body still, he dared to move his eyes. When the cannons had finished, and the village had been leveled, he watched the soldiers ride in and slaughter every last person, including his mother and father. He watched as Ivan and his men feasted on goats and sheep afterward, and for sport used the bodies of children for target practice. Banyen’s anger turned to revenge as he thought of Ivan. The sound of a voice startled him.

  Katerina turned in the saddle and waved to Afstar. “My promise, Uncle, when the first wildflower sprouts on the frozen banks of the Dnieper, a new breed of Cossack will be born!” With a last wave of her hand, she spurred the horse forward and raced to take her place behind Banyen.

  The Khan patted his ample girth, a smile on his lips. He had lost count of the times he had seen the wildflowers poke through mounds of snow, only to darken and die within hours. His dark eyes became hooded as he recalled a lone sprout that had survived long after the others were nothing more than brown specks in the smooth, unblemished snow.

  Chapter 9

  Halya Zhuk paced her luxurious bedchamber, a furious look in her eyes. Something must have happened to Yuri, he was weeks overdue. Angrily she thrust out a satin-slippered foot and kicked at the dressing table. Bottles and jars teetered precariously as she continued to jab the table. It was Ivan’s fault. Each time she questioned him he grew angry and hostile. And yesterday, in one of his insane rages, he had said Yuri was dead and it was no great loss. He acted as if he knew something he wasn’t telling her. Yuri couldn’t be dead, not her baby brother.

  She flung herself on the high bed, scalding tears seeping into the rich brocade of the coverlet. If Yuri was dead then nothing mattered. She would go back to Moldavia to be with her aging parents, if they were still alive. And that’s another thing, she thought as she sat up in the bed. How many times had she asked Ivan to send a messenger to her home to find out the condition of her parents? He promised, then did nothing. What if she returned only to find them dead? Another attack of weeping seized her. What should she do? “I don’t want to become Czarina, not anymore. I just want to leave here and go where people are sane and normal. I don’t want to sit next to him. He’s ugly, fat, and disgusting.” She hiccuped. “I can’t bear to have his cold, flabby flesh next to mine, and I can’t bear to . . . to . . . I hate him!” she cried passionately.

  The week before, when Ivan had returned from Alexandrov, he had been stranger than ever. The great palace buzzed about his bizarre behavior. One of the boyars said Ivan ordered a sleigh with seventeen hundred gold plates to be driven to Alexandrov. Afterward, he immured himself in a ramshackle hut. On his return to Moscow he insisted on the right to judge and punish traitors, and also to form a state within a state, if the people wanted him to stay.

  The Prince of Moscow, as he rendered himself, now paid homage to a Tatar called Simeon Bekbulatovich.

  Halya had seen Ivan only once since his return, and had been shocked at his appearance. His clothes hung on his slovenly body, which reeked of wine and sweat. She gagged when he gathered her in his arms, murmuring insane things. In desperation, Halya filled him with liquor till he fell unconscious, then crept from the room, her ears burning with his decadent words. He was crazy, and she had to leave now, before he took it into his head to kill her.

  Halya looked around her elegant room, and at the rows of elaborate gowns that had been sewn for her when Ivan claimed her for his next wife. Every jewel imaginable had been added to her coffers to enhance her beauty. Anything she fancied was given to her upon a simple request. Can I give up all this richness? she wondered, looking around at the magnificent tapestries that adorned the walls, and the thick, colorful carpets that covered the marble floor. The elaborately brocaded silken drapery on the high windows and bed were such as she had imagined existed only in fairy tales. Coffers for her rings, pendants, and bracelets rested on finely made tables. All the boxes were of solid gold and lined with rich, thick velvet. Sometimes, when Halya had nothing else to do, she amused herself by the hour playing with the gems, lining them up on the bed. They were hers for her willingness to do whatever Ivan asked. When she left she would take them with her—nothing else, just the gems. Jewels could buy anything and were an acceptable bribe when one was needed. They had been earned by the use of her body. Yes, they belonged to her, and she would never part with them.

  Halya left the bed and stood on a small carved stool to peer out the small window. Dusk. She hated this time of day, for as night fell Ivan began to grow restless and make demands on her. His day at an end, and his belly satisfied, he would begin to think of the ache in his loins. A bellow would go up, heard all over the palace, and within minutes two of his trusted guards would be at her door, informing her that the Czar demanded her presence in his chambers. Please, not tonight! she prayed silently. Please, not tonight!

  Her slender shoulders shook and heaved with her unchecked sobs as she stepped down from the easement. In her heart she knew there wouldn’t be a reprieve for her this evening, as it had been over ten days since he had summoned her to his rooms. She didn’t know which was worse, the acts she was forced to perform or the dread of anticipation.

  Shortly after sunset, the moment she dreaded arrived. A knock sounded on her door. “The Czar desires your company this evening,” a guard said imperiously.

  The moment the door closed, Halya threw the bolt and tore through her room, plucking first at one gown and then another from the deep recesses of the wardrobe. Finally she settled on a sea-green silk, cut low over her breasts, adding a string of emeralds around her neck as she preened before the glass. She looked beautiful and Ivan would appreciate her, she was sure of it. Carefully, Halya arranged her hair into deep swirls, allowing one long curl to drape her shoulder. When she remembered how Ivan liked to wind his fingers around the curl and force her head down between his legs, she shuddered. Tossing the lock of hair over her shoulder, she gagged and swore never to do that again, never, never again! After tonight she would do as she saw fit, and would answer to no one. She would start a new life, but only after she had found out about Yuri.

  Slowly she walked to Ivan’s bedchamber. Inside the room, she found him completely nude, dancing obscenely in the center of a ring of naked women. She gasped at the sight, afraid to make a sound.

  “Would you care to join us, Halya?” He drooled as his grotesque body was eagerly caressed by the laughing females.

  “Perhaps another time, dear Ivan,” she said hesitatingly. She prayed that he would not ask her to disrobe and perform humiliating acts in front of the other women.

  “Yes, another time,” he said threateningly. “I have other plans for you tonight.” A sadistic sneer formed on his twisted mouth as his mad, glazed eyes rolled in his head. Halya trembled at his words.

  With a vague wave of his bejeweled fingers, the women were gone. Gathering a robe around him, he picked up
a rolled parchment from a nearby table. “I have news for you of your brother, Yuri.” An evil grin quivered on his lips, the madness still lingering in his eyes. “I have word of the hero you call your brother, the boy I called a man. You were right—he was a boy. I must tell you the results of his journey.”

  Ivan played with Halya, watching her every expression, delighting in the intensity of her anticipation. “This message has been in my bedchamber for several days now . . . no, not several days, but two weeks . . . no, a month. Yes, that seems more like it. A month ago my personal courier brought this missive to me.” Ivan waved the crackly parchment in her face, taunting her with its contents.

  Desperately trying to control herself, Halya asked calmly, “Has my brother served you well, my Czar?”

  A roar of mad laughter split the tense air, sending icy shivers down Halya’s spine. “Oh, yes, my lovely one, he has served me well.” Knowing this was the moment to inflict the most pain, Ivan seized it. “He served me so well that he died for me.” The twisted mouth in his demented face spewed forth an evil, demonic laugh, wrought from the center of the earth.

  Halya fell back in shock at the sight of Ivan’s face and the sound that emanated from it. A moment later she lay faint on the floor.

  The sight of her body, collapsed, threw the Czar into a dance of delight, and another heinous laugh gurgled out of his throat. Sitting down beside the princess, he stared at her unconscious form. A variety of noises and movements befell him, as though he were possessed by a demon.

  Halya stirred. She sat up, supporting herself on one arm, and beheld the transformed face of Ivan before her. Controlling her instinct to run, she fought the urge to vomit. Never had she seen such madness as that which played on the face of Ivan. Trembling fearfully, she rose to her feet.

  “Go to your room now and change for my banquet. Within minutes I want you at my side in the common hall. I want everyone to see my whore sitting next to me.”