Katerina wondered vaguely what time of day it was. Here in the pass, with the low-slung pine trees, it was too dark to tell if it was evening or late afternoon. It really doesn’t matter, she told herself. It was just something to think about so that the damn Mongol wouldn’t invade her thoughts again.
The sound of the bells was clear, more distinct. The worst of the storm must be nearing an end. The lead horse seemed to be going faster. Did it mean he was almost through the pass, or was the snow less deep? No, the storm was abating. She could see the horse’s broad back in the flurry of whiteness. She could even see the bells strung across the evergreen trees. “Another hour,” she shouted, “and you shall have the warmest blanket and the biggest pail of oats I can find!” The horse whickered in pleasure at her words. The matched blacks snorted and strained, their glossy hides snow-covered, making them look spectral in the dim light. Katerina had done it. She hadn’t let the snow defeat her, or bury her beneath its blanket of coldness. Banyen had been wrong. He had said they would die and it would be her fault. Wrong again, Mongol!
* * *
Banyen seethed and smoldered with anger as he trudged through the knee-deep snow. He clutched at the second sleigh in line to keep from falling. He stumbled along as the sleigh half dragged him through the deep snow. His arms felt as if they were being pulled from their sockets. By God, he would kill her the first chance he got. Damn the Khan and his orders! But first he would torture her and taste her body, he promised himself.
The storm seemed to be letting up, and he noted that the sound of the bells was clearer, more distinct. It couldn’t be much farther. He cursed Katerina and all Cossacks for their bloodthirsty ways. They were as bad as Czar Ivan. Thoughts of the Czar and how he planned to kill him kept Banyen going. Hatred could make a man endure and survive anything. Vengeance was a balm to the soul, food for the heart. He prayed that when the day arrived for him to kill the Czar, Ivan would be lucid. There would be no pleasure in killing an insane man.
As he trudged forward, he forced his mind to think of Ivan and the atrocities he had committed. The vision of his parents’ savage slaughter floated before his eyes. It was true that he had been a child at the time of their death, but it was a sight that would stay with him for the rest of his life. As he grew older, the Czar and his activities had become an obsession with him. He would ferret out any and all tales of the mad Czar and relish what he would do in retaliation. How could a man, a Czar, cut the eyes and tongues from people’s heads and laugh? How could a man, a Czar, string small children up by their feet so the swordsmen could practice, using their bodies as targets?
Perhaps the Czar’s insanity stemmed from his boyhood, when, it was said, he was sequestered with a dimwitted brother and a monk who tutored them. The story was told that Ivan blamed the boyars for his parents’ death, and when he had himself crowned Czar he began waging his war against those boyars whose power equaled his own.
Banyen’s mind filled with hatred for the man he had sworn to kill. It would be an act of goodness, for he would rid the world of an insane, murderous madman, whose touch wreaked havoc on all nations within his reach.
Just let him meet me face to face so I can drive my saber through his heart. “God, grant me Ivan is sane when vengeance is mine,” he muttered as he slipped in the snow, his mind not willing his feet to do his bidding. Regaining his position by clutching the sleigh, he failed to see the huge walls of the fortress looming in the distance. Each step was made with hatred and vengeance, hatred for Ivan, and hatred for Afstar’s niece. “God grant me the will, the strength to do what has to be done,” he muttered over and over as he continued his trek.
* * *
The lead horse snorted to show they were approaching the huge fortress known as the House of the Kat.
Katerina sat up straight, her eyes searching the dimness around her. They were home! We made it through the snow! she thought happily. Soon she would look upon her aging grandfather for the first time since the raid on Volin. How would he look, and how would he feel? Would he blame her?
The heavy, monstrous doors swung open, and the crimson sleigh, followed by the others, entered the deep cavernous underground stable. The tinkling bells on the horses’ harness sounded merry and cheerful in the dim, cold expanse.
Katerina clambered from the sleigh and wrapped her arms around Mikhailo and Stepan, who stood waiting with raised lanterns.
“So you thought I wouldn’t make it! Thank you, Mikhailo, for stringing the bells.”
The old man looked at the young woman with respect in his eyes. “I knew the snows would come early, my bones felt it. I was worried, and so was Stepan, who helped me.”
When all the sleighs had been placed side by side, and the horses taken to their stalls, the heavy doors were closed against the swirling, biting snow.
Other lanterns were lit as Katerina, Mikhailo, and Stepan walked among the shackled prisoners. It was Katerina who spoke first, her eyes on Banyen. “Your shackles will be removed. Sleeping quarters have been provided and blankets await you. Food will be brought to you soon. You, Prince Banyen,” she said coldly, “will remain with the men.”
The thick ermine cape trailing behind her, Katerina entered the dank tunnel that led to the main part of the house, the eyes of all the men on her back. Kostya’s eyes were heavy, almost sleepy-looking; Banyen’s were narrowed and speculative. When he turned, he felt Kostya’s gaze on him. A grin tugged at Kostya’s mouth as he held out his hands for the shackles to be removed.
Upstairs, the old man sitting near the fire warming his brittle bones, a yellow cat in his lap, looked up with rheumy, watery eyes at his grandchild. He watched as she tossed her fur cape on the table, her coppery hair tumbling over her shoulders, the golden-flecked eyes like tapered candle flames in the dim, shadowy room.
The blazing fire in the hearth drew her to the dancing, flickering light as a moth to light. She rubbed her long, slender fingers as she stared at her grandfather, wanting to throw her arms around him and tell him how sorry she was. There were so many things she wanted to say to the old man, but she remained silent, waiting for him to acknowledge her in some way, to show he didn’t fault her for the slaughter in Volin.
Katmon’s head trembled as he stared at the slim girl, willing her to speak to him. When she remained quiet, he spoke, his voice thin and reedy.
“You’re not to blame, little one. What will be will be. Mikhailo told me of your trip to the Khanate. I applaud this action on your part. I pray in this frail old heart of mine that I’ll be here to see if you succeed in the spring.”
Katerina dropped to her knees. “Zedda, I was afraid to speak for fear I would see anger in your eyes, anger that I . . . I see no forgiveness in your eyes either, and that makes me happy, for I know truly in my heart that you don’t think me guilty in any way.” She laid her coppery head on her grandfather’s bony knee and felt tears sting her eyes. How wasted he was since she last saw him. How weak. His voice trembled like that of a frightened child. She felt the gnarled hands stroke her hair with tenderness. “I’ll make it come right, Zedda, you have my promise. I’ll get our horses back, every last one of them. My word as a Cossack, Grandfather.”
“I know that, my child. You’re Katlof’s daughter, and for that, and that alone, you’ll succeed. Now you must eat and sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning. Your room was readied by Stepan days ago, and a roaring fire has been going since then. Eat, Hanna made thick potato soup for your arrival. There is also fresh-baked bread and plenty of hot tea.”
“Well then, I’d better do as you say or Hanna will give me no rest.” Katerina sighed with amusement. “I believe that no matter how old I get, she will always nag me as though I were still a child.” Katerina patted the elderly man fondly on his arm and sat down near the fire to dine. From time to time she watched the aging man as his transparent lids quivered and then closed over the faded eyes. How sad he must feel in his heart, she thought, to lose his only son to marauders. Ho
w unbearable to know all the horses are gone from Volin. The first time in their history, the Cosars were stolen by murderers and thieves.
She finished her simple meal and looked around for Mikhailo or one of the others. Of course they were all with the prisoners, helping to get them settled. Zedda would be all right alone, dozing by the fire. She added another log and tucked in the lap robe a little tighter around his stick-thin legs. She kissed him lightly on the forehead and left the warmth of the kitchen.
Katerina shed her rough clothing and donned a warm woolen nightdress. She climbed into the high feather bed and was surprised to feel the heated rocks at the foot, where her feet rested. Dear Stepan, he thought of everything. She lay back, sleepy and contented. She had done well. There was respect in Mikhailo’s eyes, and the old man in the kitchen loved her. She knew her father couldn’t have done any better than she in bringing the wagons through the mountains and down through the pass. Yes, she had done well!
When Katerina woke, she had no idea of the time. The fire still blazed brightly in the silent room. Sometime shortly before dawn, she wondered if Zedda would be awake. If not, she would kiss him lightly on the cheek and he would open his eyes as always when she ran to him with a bad dream. He always made the villains in her nightmares disappear with a few carefully chosen words and a gentle smile. Perhaps his magic would work again even though she was grown.
Quickly she wrapped herself in the white-and-black fur and raced down the cold corridors till she came to the kitchen. Zedda was awake and staring into the flickering flames, his hand resting on the yellow cat’s head. Turning his head at her entrance, he motioned her to sit next to him. “A bad dream, Katerina? Tell your Zedda all about it.” He smiled.
“No nightmare this time, Zedda, I just couldn’t sleep. I think I’m too tired, if that’s possible. My stupidity on the ice torments me. Once I gave Father my promise that I would never fail again, but I did.”
“We’re all human and vulnerable—you’re no different from your father. Tell me now, when there is no one to hear us, how did my son allow the village to be raided? What was his mistake?”
“Mistake?” Katerina said, puzzled.
“Yes, your father did something that permitted the raid to take place. An error in judgment perhaps, just as you say you made on the ice. There isn’t a person on this earth who at one time or another doesn’t make a mistake. Unfortunately, this time it cost Katlof his life and his people’s. Now, tell me what he did.”
“The men were drinking the night before leaving for the fortress. On several occasions I noticed Father wasn’t able to consume the vast amounts of vodka he used to. He would reel drunkenly and sometimes fall asleep. If the men saw their hetman so, they naturally assumed they could do the same. Only two guards were posted along the camp. I haven’t any other explanation for you, Zedda.”
“It’s not for me that you must provide the answer. It’s for yourself. Your father was not perfect, and neither are you or I. It is to be hoped that we learn from our mistakes. Remember your father as he was and how he loved you.”
“He hated me in the end, Zedda. I can’t forget his words to me. I tried to tell him, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“Your words were heard, and they ate at his heart every hour and every minute of the day. I say this to you in truth, little one. You must believe me! Your father loved you with all his soul, no matter what you did or didn’t do. He was hurt and bewildered by what he didn’t understand. In time he would have come to his senses and made things right between you. Believe that.”
Katerina laid her head on the old man’s knees, tears trickling down her cheeks. “I want to believe it, but he’s gone. He never had reason to doubt me. I never lied to him, Zedda, just as I have never lied to you!”
“We’ll talk more later. My eyes grow heavy, child,” he said drowsily.
Katerina reached out her arms as her grandfather gathered her close to him, stroking the rich, coppery hair. “You must believe,” he said sadly. “Always believe in what you do.” The paper-thin eyelids closed as his bony hand dropped into his lap.
Quietly she got to her feet and walked back to her room, feeling better for having talked with him. Not once did he say a word about his grief over the loss of his son, she marveled. “His only concern was for me and my feelings,” she said out loud. Her step lightened as she entered her room and crawled beneath the downy comforter on the bed. For a little while she could sleep; maybe this time her dreams would be pleasant.
An hour before dawn, Katerina climbed from her warm nest in the high bed. As she scurried to the fire to dress she looked longingly at the heavy pedina that had covered her. She couldn’t afford to sleep another second, she had to dress and have her morning meal before the others were wakened. It would be a long, tiring day, the first of many in the coming winter months.
Katerina quickly donned a thick black body garment. Throwing the ermine cape around her shoulders, she descended the wide stone steps that led below.
Inside the cozy kitchen, she looked for her grandfather. She found him in the same position he was when she had left him during the night, only this time the big yellow cat purred contentedly in his lap. She smiled a greeting and immediately began to flex her arms and legs, the way Cossacks do when warming up for a saber drill.
“Have you spoken to Mikhailo, Zedda?” she asked.
“He and Stepan just left to see to the men and give them their morning meal. Mikhailo said you made wise choices of which he approved. For him to make a comment like that he must have been truly impressed. My old friend mentioned that there were a few among them who might give you trouble, but he felt sure you and the prince could handle it. Tell me, little one, how many men did you lose coming through the Urals?” He leaned back, the words costing him dearly. When he had his breathing under control he opened his eyes, waiting for her answer.
Katerina, alarmed at his ragged breathing, trembled and fought the urge to run to him and cradle the shaking white head to her breast. She knew how he hated open displays of emotion, so she remained seated, her breakfast untouched.
“I lost thirty-five of the prisoners and ten of the soldiers. It was my fault. I tried to rescue them, but it was a foolish thing to do—an impossible task. We worked doggedly to try to split the ice and rescue them, but they were already dead and washed away by the strong current. We lost two days because of the accident, that’s why we were late coming through the pass. I’m to blame, Zedda! Not Banyen.”
“Why do you dislike the prince?” the old man asked sharply, aware of her hostility at the mention of his name.
Katerina’s mind raced. “Because he’s arrogant and selfish. He mocks me every chance he gets with words, and with his eyes. My mistake on the ice convinced him I will fail. He hates me as much as I hate him.”
The old man sighed and shifted so the cat could snuggle deeper into the crook of his arm. Fire and ice, he thought, and they’ll be together for the entire winter.
“I’m the Kat now, Grandfather, and I won’t let him forget it, not for a moment, for a day, or a month. Never!”
The aged Cossack leaned forward, jostling the yellow cat from her comfortable position. “Such hatred for a man who is arrogant and selfish! You lie to me, Granddaughter, there’s more to it than you’re telling me.”
“I don’t wish to discuss it, Grandfather. For now, those are my reasons.”
“Be wary, child. If what Mikhailo tells me is true, this is a man who will bring you to your knees.”
“Not to my knees, Zedda, my back!” Katerina muttered quietly. “I’ll remember what you said.”
“Why weren’t you born a boy?” he grumbled. “Things would be so simple if you—”
The honey-colored eyes sparked, and Katerina’s full, sensual mouth tightened into a grim, hard line. “You haven’t said that to me in many long years. I’ve made one mistake, but I’ve done nothing wrong. I’ve trained as well as the men in Volin. I’ve managed to bring one hundre
d and fifty-five men through the Urals during winter, and you tell me he’s a man that can bring me to my knees! Hear me well, Grandfather, the day will never come when any man can conquer me.” Her voice was so quiet, so deadly, that the old man shuddered in his warm, cozy chair near the fire.
Katmon’s tone was petulant. “When are you going to start thinking about taking a man? I think you need someone to warm your bed at night. I wanted to see grandchildren before I die.”
“Then you’d better plan on living many long years,” Katerina said bitterly.
Whatever retort the old man was tempted to make went unsaid as he noted the narrowing of the catlike eyes. Whatever was bothering her wouldn’t last forever. Katerina finished her breakfast in silence.
“Zedda, would you like to come with me to the arena and watch?”
“Bah! I’ve no desire to see grown men cry with your wicked ways. Mikhailo and Stepan will give you all the help you need. I wish you well.”
Katerina advanced near the fire. “Your mouth tells me you wish me well, but your eyes say you hope I’ll fail. Speak the truth, Zedda.”
“Yes, that’s what I wish. To see you fail just once.”
The titian eyes were stormy as Katerina gazed at her grandfather. He was an old man; already he had lived more years than a man had a right to expect. She loved him dearly, and would gladly lay down her life for him if necessary, but he was wrong, and she wouldn’t fail—she couldn’t.
Chapter 12
Katerina wrapped herself in the white ermine and, with a last fond look at her aging grandfather, left the comfortable kitchen.
Fate & Fortune Page 40