Halya flew from the room, relieved to be away from him. Running through the hallways, she sobbed uncontrollably as she thought of Yuri. Inside her chamber, she slammed the door and cried out with anguish, “Yuri, oh, Yuri! My brother dead! How? Why? Now I have no one!” she cried brokenheartedly, collapsing on her bed.
A knock at her door made her remember Ivan’s order. “My princess, Ivan is calling for you, you must come!” her maid begged, running into the room.
“Quickly, help me change my gown,” Halya said, motioning the girl to hurry. “Fetch me the black dress and slippers. Tonight is a sad night, and black fits my mood.” She felt dead, drained of all emotion, detached. Ivan would not bother her this night. A numbness settled in her, freeing her from everything but thoughts of Yuri and her hatred of the Czar. Dressed, she walked down the long corridors to the hall, vowing Ivan would find his death at her hands.
When Halya’s escorts seated her next to Ivan, she was stunned to see an unkempt, filthy man with a curled mustache sitting in the place of honor, on the Czar’s left. Her eyes widened at this strange behavior. It could only mean that Ivan was up to some dastardly thing that would bring harm to someone. Dear God, she prayed, please don’t let it be me. She forced a bright smile and spoke lovingly to Ivan, who looked at her as though he had never seen her before. Her stomach churned as she watched him pick at a stray thread on his elaborate crimson robe. The thread seemed to annoy him. Unexpectedly, he ordered one of the guards, standing behind his throne, to cut the sleeve from the robe immediately. The guard blinked, grasped a long-handled knife, and slit the rich fabric from shoulder to wrist. Ivan took the sleeve and tied it around the head of the man seated next to him. He laughed and sat back in his high gold throne, the saliva dribbling down his chin. The boyars sat mesmerized at his lack of manners and lowered their eyes to the gold plates in front of them. A few of the women smiled at his wicked display, immediately sobering at a well-placed kick under the table by a husband.
The man at Ivan’s left felt embarrassed and confused, for he knew he was the object of ridicule, but he was powerless to do anything about it. He suffered in silence, the offensive sleeve of scarlet tied rakishly to his head. He reached down and picked up a piece of meat, intent on bringing it to his mouth.
Ivan slapped the meat from his hand and stared at him. “Were you born in a stable, sir? I eat first, to be sure the food isn’t poisoned. After I have eaten, the boyars eat, and then you may, if there is anything left. I’m not ready to dine yet, so you’ll have to wait until I give you permission. I may not sup at all this night. I see nothing on the table that pleases me,” he said petulantly.
Halya watched nervously. No one ate, no one made a motion that could in any way be misconstrued by the Czar. When he said nothing tempted him, then nothing should tempt them. If there was one among them who was starving, he would starve. Halya looked at her own plate and closed her eyes. She knew if her life depended on it she couldn’t eat.
Suddenly Ivan stood up and bowed before his guests. “I called you all here today for a reason,” he announced. “I wish you to pay homage to this man,” he said, pointing to his left. “He’s here on a matter of business, business that could well mean that . . . Never mind, there’s not one among you that can be trusted with such important news. Rise,” he commanded, “and bow to my new envoy. Another day I’ll tell you his name and where he comes from.”
“From the look of him, he came from the nearest pig trough,” came a low, muttered response.
“Who is it that dares to speak when I’m talking, and dares to make such an offensive remark to my newly appointed envoy? Speak, or all of your heads will be severed. On the count of one, the man responsible had better step forward. One!”
Four boyars immediately stood and pushed forward a rotund man who was trying to pull away, his hand reaching for his wife.
“Remove his head and place it in the middle of the floor,” Ivan ordered. “I’m hungry now, I think I’ll have some meat.” He stretched his bare arm toward a heaping platter of lamb and withdrew a large chunk. His eyes focused on his bare arm, then moved to his new envoy’s head and the sleeve that was tied around it. He ripped it from the envoy’s head and stuck his arm into it. When the heavy silk slipped to his wrist in a bunch, he frowned and chewed on his meat. The envoy sat stunned, as did Halya, who feared her deep breathing would be the subject of Ivan’s next attack.
The large room was silent as a guard walked slowly to the center of the hall, a large domed platter in his hands. Quickly he set the platter down and stood back to await further orders. Ivan continued to chew, his vision cut off by the assembled boyars at various tables. “Is it ready?” he called, stretching his neck.
“Yes, my Czar, it is ready,” the man replied.
“Good. Remove the cover and let us feast our eyes. Did he bleed much?” he asked casually.
The guard knew the expected response by heart. “Like a pig, my Czar,” he said, as he lifted the lid and exposed the severed head. Gasps rang out through the hall.
“You may leave,” Ivan said imperiously.
The new envoy turned in his chair and closed his eyes. Halya clamped her teeth together and forced her hands to remain still in her lap. What would he do next?
Without warning, Ivan stood up and waved his arms, the fallen sleeve dangling over his long, thin fingers. “The dinner is over! Place your tax monies in the basket with your names and lot numbers. And no cheating,” he said, wagging his finger playfully in the air. “Take the food away,” he ordered the servants. “They don’t deserve fine food served on my priceless plates. Send it all to my quarters and I’ll feast by myself.”
Halya sat, hardly daring to breathe, waiting for Ivan to leave the room. Not till she was sure he was far down the corridor did she move, and then she ran as if the hounds of hell were on her heels. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that the slovenly dressed man with the curled mustache wore a deep, perplexed frown on his face. Who was he, and what was he doing here? What manner of envoy was he, dressed like a beggar with dirty, mud-caked boots and filthy, baggy trousers?
On and on she raced, till she came to her room. She skidded to a stop, almost losing her balance in her haste to enter and lock the door behind her. Quickly she slipped the cover from the thick, fluffy pillow and started to throw her jewels into it, helter-skelter. When the coffers were empty she tossed a few pieces of underclothing into the sack and tied the end into a stout knot. She then stripped off her gown and pulled out a pale lavender afternoon dress with simple lines and folds. In an instant she had it over her head and quickly grabbed a matching cape. She had all she needed; she was ready to leave.
Halya dropped to her knees at the side of her bed and bowed her head. With all her being she prayed for guidance and strength to do what she had to do.
While Halya prayed, Gregory Bohacky, the new envoy, exited the dining hall behind the grim-faced, muttering boyars. Carefully he avoided the severed head on the large gold platter. His stomach heaved as he made his way through the corridors in search of the room a guard said was to be his. He walked for what seemed a long time, till he came to familiar surroundings. A flash of scarlet and a loud bellow caused him to stop in his tracks.
“Enter, my envoy,” Ivan called in lordly fashion. “We have much to discuss. Let’s do it now so you can leave at dawn. Tell me, how did you like your first state dinner? Wasn’t it interesting? I find if one takes control of the situation one doesn’t get kicked from behind. Sit, and tell me of the Cosars and how we’ll do business. I see by the look on your face you were not successful in gaining the secret. It’s of no importance now, as long as you have the horses. The sum agreed upon was six chests of gold, I believe. Am I right?”
“No, Czar Ivan, you aren’t right. The horses are worth their weight in gold. There is now a price on my head, as well as that of every man in my tribe. That, and that alone, has made the price double,” he said bravely. “I had to slaughter the whole
village of Volin to get those damnable animals, and I expect to be well paid! If not, there are other buyers. Don’t be hasty and think you can kill me, for if you do, and I don’t return when expected, the horses will be moved. It was arranged before I journeyed here. If you agree to do business, then the Cosars will be delivered on schedule. Half the money now and the other half on delivery, as agreed two years ago.”
“That was two years ago, and this is today. My treasury is not as great now as it was then. We must renegotiate the terms.”
“There will be no bargaining. I have stated my price and it is the only price I’ll agree to. Take it or leave it.”
“You drive a hard deal. To think that after I made you my special envoy you have the audacity to try to cheat me. I’ll call my Oprichniks—yes, I’ll call them and have you beheaded.” He reached out and pulled a long velvet rope. The sound of a gong thundered in the room and into the outer corridors. A guard opened the door and waited expectantly. “Fetch your leader for me immediately,” Ivan ordered.
Gregory felt fear gnawing into his chest as his breathing became strained. Ivan was insane, incapable of being reasonable. He had to leave and get away from this lunatic whose spittle was drooling down his chin. He thought quickly, and his eyes narrowed as he looked deeply into the insane stare of the Czar. “How would you like to see the stallion Whitefire? I rode him here myself so you could be the first and only man to claim he saw the famous stallion.” He made his tone purposely light, almost cajoling, in the hopes of diverting Ivan from thoughts of his murder.
“Is what you say true?” Ivan asked excitedly. “But of course, my envoy, I wish to see the stallion. Where did you stable him?”
“If the Czar will stand on the balcony, I’ll get the stallion and ride him beneath the window. You’ll be able to boast what no man has ever boasted. If you like, I’ll let you ride him,” Gregory said enticingly.
“Yes, yes, that’s what I want to do! A night ride on Whitefire. How wonderful you are to suggest such a thing. I knew I made a wise choice when I appointed you my envoy,” the gullible Czar said happily, forgetting the order he had given a minute ago. “Go, ready the stallion, and I’ll change to suitable clothing. As we ride through Moscow, you shall go ahead of me and announce to one and all that I ride the stallion Whitefire. Agreed?”
Gregory nodded and immediately left the room, his throat dry and his head reeling with his near mishap. How much time did he have to ride away before the lunatic sent someone after him? Not long, he surmised. He vowed to ride like the wind.
Ivan set about changing his robes to clothing more befitting a ride through the streets at night. He carefully chose a tunic of lemon yellow, trimmed with black braid. He preened like a peacock in front of the mirror and then sat down to wait. What seemed like hours later, he called for one of his guards and ordered him to the stable to find Gregory and see what was causing the delay. When the guard returned a short while later, Ivan knew by the look on his face that Bohacky was gone. He cursed long and loud, to the discomfort of the guard, who feared for his life. In a rage-filled voice he ordered the guard out. “He shall pay with his life for his treachery!”
Irate, Ivan slammed the door and bolted it. His eyes full of madness and hate, he shouted to the guards outside, “No one nears my door tonight!”
Until dawn, unholy screams, low moans, and demonic laughter emanated from behind closed doors, ringing throughout the palace. Then all was silent.
Chapter 10
As the first day of their journey began, Katerina felt the need to assert her leadership of the caravan immediately or else her raw recruits would easily turn to a more powerful person to be their commander. While she and Banyen rode up ahead, Katerina turned to him, her eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun, and said, “I don’t care for this arrangement. Have your guards change the position of the wagons so the food and supplies come first. They must be where we can see them at all times. Place two wagons of prisoners next, then a wagon of soldiers, the prisoners, the soldiers again, the last wagon of prisoners, and then the sleighs. Put six guards on horses in the rear, five spread out on each side of the caravan, and another four behind the supply and food wagons. I hope the two soldiers in charge of each wagon are trustworthy and know how to handle the wagons. Do you approve? Before you answer, let me tell you, whether you like it or not, that’s the way it shall be!” she said with grim determination.
“Why do you bother to ask if you have no intention of changing anything?” he questioned, with a look of arrogance on his face.
“I owe you no explanations, I ask you out of courtesy, and to see if you agree with my methods,” she retorted, just as arrogantly.
“The arrangement will do,” he said sharply, not wanting her to know that he couldn’t have planned it better. She does have a brilliant mind, he thought. But it belonged in the body of a man, not a woman. If she were a man, she would be someone to reckon with, a leader among men. With a mind such as hers, bolstered with such zeal, there would be no stopping such a person. Without realizing it, Banyen stopped his horse as the thought struck full force: there’ll be no stopping her! His mouth hung open as he shook his head, his mind racing. I sit here and describe the qualities of a man among men, a leader among leaders—I sit here and describe a woman! He was thunderstruck. He muttered, “I can see my work is cut out for me. It should be an interesting winter.”
“Banyen!” Katerina shouted at him. “Why did you stop? What’s the matter? Is there a problem? Banyen, what is it?”
Her voice brought him to his senses. He spurred his stallion with a vengeance, the animal breaking into a gallop. In moments he was alongside Katerina. “There’s nothing wrong, I just got caught up in determining the best way over the mountains,” he lied. “We have four hours of light left, do you think we’ll make the river before then?”
“When I rode from the Urals to Sibir it took about that long, but with the wagons, I don’t know. If we reach the river after sunset, it won’t be too bad, the land ahead is all flat. Our problems begin when we try getting those confounded wagons up and over the mountains. Why I ever let my uncle talk me into using them I’ll never know. I still think horses would have been better. Even with shackles, the prisoners would have managed. If their leg irons were off, with enough chain between the wrist shackles, it would have worked. I think my uncle preferred to give me ten wagons rather than two hundred horses. Tell me, Banyen, does he even have that many horses?” she asked seriously.
“I never took an accurate count. A good source of strong men and fast horses is what he needs to rebuild his army and I have no doubt he’ll find them. He is a shrewd man, and an excellent trader backed with a wealth of gold and jewels. When I return in the spring, I know Sibir will be greatly changed. Enough of this talk,” he said suddenly, realizing there was much work to be done, “we have to get these wagons moving.” He broke away from Katerina and rode down the length of the caravan, shouting at the drivers to keep the wagons going as fast as they could.
The Kat rode her horse to the side of the road and stopped. She sat and watched as the wagons rolled by, trying to determine the pace, trying to estimate how much time would be needed to get from one place to another. The sun was sinking lower in the sky; only two hours of light were left. Her first calculation had been right—they would make the Ural River an hour after sundown. Not too bad, she thought. It will take an hour and a half to eat and bed down, giving all but the guards a good night’s sleep.
Banyen rode up to her, the men and wagons moving to his satisfaction.
The Kat turned to Banyen. “After we have eaten and all is secured, we must talk about getting the wagons over the mountains.”
“Do you have any ideas? If so, will you handle it like the wagon arrangement? Ask my opinion when you’ve already made up your mind?” he baited her, with a sneer on his lips.
“I have several suggestions, but I would like to hear your opinion, what you think best,” she said, contro
lling the anger in her voice. You sarcastic bastard, she thought. A man always has to act like a man, never like a human being, she told herself. Whacking her horse on the haunches with her hand, she sent him pounding ahead of the caravan, leaving Banyen behind. She rode the horse hard for a mile or two, trying to rid herself of the aggravation the Mongol stirred within her. Why did she let him get to her? The question kept returning. What would it be like to make love with him if he were tender and caring? No doubt he kept many women happy with his slim, muscular body, his good looks and willing mouth. Anger coursed through Katerina again. She had to stop thinking about him, there was a caravan to get through the mountains to the House of the Kat. A winter of training unruly prisoners, trying to make Cossacks out of them. This wasn’t the time to act like a woman; she had to be the Kat first, last, and always, until her people had been avenged and the Cosars returned.
As fast as she rode away from the caravan, she returned. The river was now in sight, and they would soon be at its banks. The darkness brought to a close the first day of their journey. Katerina trotted by Banyen’s side as they headed for the river, enjoying the warm night air, lavishing in it, knowing that, once into the mountains, heat would be a matter of clothing, not the season.
Once again she and Banyen rode the length of the wagons, making sure everything was in order. Satisfied, they ordered the men to make camp for the evening.
The banks of the Ural River glistened with the dancing flames of their bonfires. It reminded Katerina of fireflies dancing in the summer night. She watched as the soldiers made the prisoners line up in an orderly manner to receive their ration of food. If all else fails, Katerina thought, I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing I freed men from inevitable death and have given them the right to live, eat, and sleep like normal human beings. I’ll have given them an ample supply of food so that no man goes to sleep hungry, and blankets to protect them against the night air. Compared to the stockade, where conditions were hopeless, this camp and the comforts she could provide would bring no complaints.
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