by E. P. Clark
She was just thinking that she might be able to slip away from the table and return to her room, which would be boring but at least would get her away from the endless arguing that surrounded Olga’s family, when a serving woman sidled hesitantly into the room and, after several bows and apologies for disturbing them while they were at the table, said that the old princess was calling for her daughters.
“She’s awake?” cried Olga. “I thought she was headed straight for the grave!”
“Oh, Olya, how can you say such things…” said Vasilisa Vasilisovna.
“Because I prefer the truth to honey-covered lies, and it would be no great loss for her to go, anyway,” said Olga, giving her sister a contemptuous look. Slava was afraid she was going to have to intervene, but luckily the serving woman mumbled something about “very urgent,” and Olga and Vasilisa Vasilisovna were able to come to their senses long enough to agree that they needed to go to their mother’s room immediately.
“Do you think she’ll want to see me?” Vladislava whispered to Slava uncertainly. “I want to go see her, but I don’t know…”
“Perhaps we should go there, just in case,” Slava suggested. “She might be very weak, you know, but if she’s strong enough, I’m sure she’ll want to see you.” She glanced over in Lisochka’s direction, and saw how she was hunched up again in sullen misery. “She will want to see both her granddaughters, if she is strong enough, I am sure,” said Slava more loudly. “Let us all go up together.”
“Father too!” said Lisochka, trying to leap out of her seat in order not to be left behind while not appearing too eager to join the others.
“Of course,” said Slava. “I’m sure you will be of great solace to each other in these trying times.” She gave Andrey Vladislavovich a firm look, and was pleased to see that he rose with alacrity. They all set off together towards the old princess’s chambers.
Chapter Ten
The princess’s healer was sitting in the sitting room outside the bedchamber. Vladislava rushed over to her and threw her arms around her as soon as she entered the room.
“Is she really awake, Baba Vlastya?” she cried. “Really? She woke up?”
“Shhh, little princess,” said Baba Vlastya. “Yes, she woke up.”
“For good?” demanded Vladislava.
“Who can tell, little princess? Perhaps. Sometimes the gods are kind.”
“I’m sure they’ll be kind to her!” said Vladislava. Slava could see from the way Baba Vlastya’s face twisted at those words that she did not share Vladislava’s certainty, but couldn’t find the words to say so.
“Do you think she’ll let me see her?” continued Vladislava. “And Lisochka,” she added as an afterthought. “She should see both of us.”
“Perhaps, little princess,” said Baba Vlastya. “But now we must wait and see what the gods send. Let Vasilisa Vasilisovna and Olga Vasilisovna go first.”
Vasilisa Vasilisovna and Olga disappeared into the old princess’s bedchamber while the rest of them sat in the dark and stuffy outer room, today lit only by a single candle and a fire that threw off too much heat and not enough light, for what seemed like a very long time, although when Slava watched the progress of the single candle, she saw that time was merely moving very slowly in her mind.
Eventually, though, their patience was rewarded, for Vasilisa Vasilisovna came out of the bedchamber and said, “She wants to see you. All of you. You especially, Tsarinovna.”
Vasilisa Vasilisovna didn’t look very happy about that, and neither, Slava saw when she glanced at the faces of her companions, did Andrey Vladislavovich or Lisochka, but she went in the room with them anyway. Olga and Vasilisa Vasilisovna, after seeing them in, left the room, both with drawn faces.
It was also dark and close in the bedchamber, and smelled horribly of a sick body, but when Slava saw that Princess Severnolesnaya was sitting propped up on pillows and watching her intently with her dark, glittering eyes, she forced herself not to wrinkle her nose or purse her lips—as much as she could control such things—as she made her way to the bedside.
“Andrey,” said Princess Severnolesnaya hoarsely, as soon as they had arranged themselves around her bed. “I hear you’ve been making trouble over that red-headed singer girl.”
Andrey Vladislavovich shuffled his feet and looked foolish, but before he could summon up a response to that, Princess Severnolesnaya smiled and said, “Good for you. You should cause more trouble in your life, Andryusha. It will make a man of you.”
“But she left!” he burst out. “She ran away!”
“Plenty more where she came from,” said Princess Severnolesnaya. She closed her eyes for a moment, and then, opening them, said, “And your home is always here, you know.”
Andrey Vladislavovich bowed.
“Now go,” Princess Severnolesnaya told him. “Make trouble.” She tried to smile and wave him off with her hand, but she was too weak. Andrey Vladislavovich stood there for a moment in indecision, but then she glared at him and he, bowing again, beat a hasty retreat.
“I always wanted a son,” said Princess Severnolesnaya when he was gone. “Someone to coddle and fuss over. I got my wish. A fine son I have now. Needs lots of coddling. And fussing. But no matter. Lisochka.” Princess Severnolesnaya closed her eyes again and took several deep breaths before continuing. “Still sulking, girl?” she asked.
“I don’t sulk!” cried Lisochka.
“You’re sulking now,” Princess Severnolesnaya observed, correctly. “Stop it. You’d be a pretty girl if you didn’t sulk so much. You might even be a clever one. But not if you sulk. Some advice from your grandmother. Your mother is never going to love you, you know, and your father is never going to be more than half a man. Best if you just stop worrying about it. Take a lover or something. Take several. It will be good for you. Make you stop thinking about your troubles so much. Lesnograd may need you, Lisochka, even if your parents don’t. Because your parents don’t. So stop sulking.”
This only made Lisochka sulk more. Slava couldn’t help but notice that when someone else was advised to take a lover in order to take her mind off her troubles, she instantly saw the sense in it, while when she herself was given that advice, she always saw all the flaws in that plan and argued against it. Even in such serious circumstances, standing at the bedside of a dying woman, she had to fight to suppress her smile at that thought, but not, apparently, with complete success, because it seemed to her that the old princess gave her a measuring glance before dismissing Lisochka just as she had Andrey Vladislavovich.
“My first-born granddaughter,” she said, once Lisochka was out of the room. “A treasure, is she not? She never should have been born.” Princess Severnolesnaya stopped and breathed heavily for a moment, her eyes closed. When she began speaking again, the words seemed to pour out of her as if she had long kept them pent up inside, until they were determined to find release, even if it meant taking the last of her strength with them.
“The greatest mistake of my life was in forcing Olga to have her,” she said, staring up at the ceiling. “She fought the marriage, and afterwards fought having a child, so I gave her a potion. I told her it would stop the child from taking root inside her, but instead it did just the opposite. By the time she discovered my lie, it was too late to do anything about it. So she ran and jumped out of the hayloft, but the only thing she broke was her arm. The baby inside her remained intact. At the time I was so relieved. I was a fool. I locked her in her room and kept her under guard until the child was born. I was so desperate for a granddaughter, you see. But what I got was Lisochka. Sometimes we cast curses on ourselves, without even realizing it. She never should have been born, I see that now. I cast a curse on my daughter through my own good intentions, and doomed my granddaughter to a life of suffering. I am so sorry.”
“Did you tell her that?” Slava asked. “Did you tell that to Olga?”
“Just now,” said Princess Severnolesnaya. Now that her confession h
ad wrenched itself free of her, she was visibly weaker. “Just now I told her that she had been right and I had been wrong, and that I was sorry. But I fear it has only given her more reason to loathe her daughter. Lisochka was a terrible mistake on all our parts, and now we must all suffer for it. Olga ran away as soon as she could rise from childbed, and she’s been running ever since. She’ll never stop, and she’ll never forgive me. Nor should she. A mistake I can never undo.”
Vladislava opened her mouth, probably to argue against such a harsh judgment, and then closed it without speaking, both because Princess Severnolesnaya was too feeble to argue, and because, Slava was afraid, she was probably right. Slava, however, found herself saying, “Oh no, surely not…” before she could stop herself.
“Don’t be a fool, Tsarinovna,” said Princess Severnolesnaya. “Lisochka was cursed before she took her first breath, and none of us will ever be able to save her.”
“But…” said Slava, knowing that arguing was futile, but unable to condemn Lisochka nonetheless.
“But nothing. The only thing you can do, Tsarinovna,” said Princess Severnolesnaya, giving Slava a long measuring glance, “is to ensure that your own daughter has a better fate.”
Slava opened her mouth to exclaim something, realized that she had nothing to say, and shut her mouth without speaking. Princess Severnolesnaya gave Slava another measuring glance, as if she wanted to add something, but then turned away from her to Vladislava.
“Vladislava,” she said instead, and for the first time there was a note of tenderness in her voice. “My little princess. Are you being brave?”
“I’m trying, grandmother,” said Vladislava, her voice wavering. “But it’s very hard. I wish you’d stay awake all the time, so you could make them behave.”
“I wish so too, little princess,” said Princess Severnolesnaya. She reached out and stroked Vladislava’s hair with a frail claw that had once been a large strong hand. “And I wish I could stand by you, to prevent you from making mistakes that will haunt you on your deathbed. But the gods have other plans for me.”
“They’re mean gods!” cried Vladislava angrily. “Their plans are bad!”
“Well,” said Princess Severnolesnaya. “There’s nothing we can do about that. Most of us, anyway.” She gave Slava another sidelong glance, and then turned back to Vladislava. After gathering her strength for a moment, she said, “I hear you’re leaving for Krasnograd soon.”
“Yes!”
“Are you happy about that?”
“Yes! Only…I wish I didn’t have to leave you, now that you’ve woken up.”
“I doubt I will be awake for long, little princess. I, too, you see, am setting off on a great journey. The sleigh is already loaded and waiting for me, my little princess, and the driver is calling. I will be stepping into that sleigh and taking off very soon, my little princess, and I won’t be coming back.”
“You can’t go off on a journey now!” cried Vladislava. “You’re much too ill! You have to get your strength back first.”
Princess Severnolesnaya closed her eyes again, and this time it seemed to Slava it was to suppress tears. When she opened them, her eyes were even brighter than before.
“Are you ready to rule, my little princess?” she asked.
“Yes!” said Vladislava fiercely.
“Well then. I can be proud of that, at least. Can I be proud of you, little princess?”
“Yes!” said Vladislava, even more fiercely.
“My life has not been in vain, then,” said Princess Severnolesnaya, gazing up at the ceiling for a moment. “One granddaughter to take pride in, amongst all my failures…Many women can boast of less…Kiss my cheek, little princess.”
Vladislava bent over and pressed a kiss on the old princess’s sunken cheek. She tried to throw her arms around her shoulders as well, but the old princess stopped her.
“I’m too weak for that,” she said. “And you’re much too strong for me now. Now go, little princess. Go to Krasnograd and show all those Southern princesses what it means to be a Severnolesnaya. And come back and rule Lesnograd. It will need you.” She tried to wave Vladislava away, and after much hesitation and many backward glances, Vladislava left the room.
After she was gone, Princess Severnolesnaya lay there for some time with her eyes closed. Slava was about to leave herself, when the old princess suddenly opened her eyes and stared directly into Slava’s own.
“Tsarinovna,” she said. “Still here?”
“Yes,” said Slava.
“I have been asleep for some time, you know.”
“Yes,” said Slava.
“Do you know what sleepers do, Tsarinovna?”
“What, Princess?”
“Dream.”
“True,” said Slava.
“Do you know what I dreamed, Tsarinovna?”
“What?” asked Slava.
“I dreamed of you.” Princess Severnolesnaya closed her eyes again and said, “Not of my troublesome daughters, so ill-suited for the burden I will lay upon them. My poor daughters. Sometimes the gods are very cruel indeed. I thought when I gave birth I would be giving birth to something in my own image, only more perfect. I was wrong. Perhaps they would have done well in some other life, but in the life that I gave them, they have done very poorly. Olga at least is good for a laugh, if I could have allowed it of her, but Vasilisa…My poor Vasilisa, my namesake. Good for nothing.”
“That’s not true!” cried Slava.
“Is it not?” Princess Severnolesnaya opened her eyes again and fixed Slava with an even more piercing gaze than before. “Is it not, Tsarinovna? Tell me, Tsarinovna, what is Vasilisa good for?”
Slava cast her mind back on all her interactions with Vasilisa Vasilisovna, and, as she had known she would, she had to admit that she could not come up with a single example of her being of any use…Princess Severnolesnaya was, bitter as it was to think that of someone, right…right except for…
“She has always stood by your side,” said Slava. “Even when others would not. And she gave you Vladislava.”
“True enough, Tsarinovna, true enough. And I suppose I should be grateful that she could give me even that much. Many other daughters have given less. And so, Tsarinovna, my dreams. When I lay sleeping, I dreamed not of my all my plans and schemes, not even of my dear granddaughter, the brightest flame of my life. No, Tsarinovna, my last days have been spent dreaming of you. Unjust, is it not?”
“The gods care little for the justice of women,” said Slava. “I am sorry, but it is so. You yourself have just admitted to that fact.”
“True.” Princess Severnolesnaya opened her eyes and looked at Slava again. “For now, that is. You may change that, you know.”
“I?” said Slava.
“Yes, Tsarinovna, you. I saw you, you know, in my dreams. You and my dear husband.”
“Oh,” said Slava, blushing hotly.
“Are you blushing?” asked Princess Severnolesnaya, trying to smile through her weakness. “I am glad. Glad because I am jealous, and because I envy you, and because it is good to know that I may pass, but love remains.”
“I don’t know if it could be called love…” Slava began.
“Many things can be called love,” Princess Severnolesnaya interrupted her. “Believe me, Tsarinovna, I have sampled most of them.” This time something that was almost a smile flitted across her ruined face, and Slava could see the ghost of a tall proud woman who had had two husbands and more lovers than she could count kneel at her feet. “And I am glad that you have sampled some of them, too,” Princess Severnolesnaya continued. “And you may have more such delights in your future, you know.”
“Oh,” said Slava, not sure what to say to that. For a moment she could feel how and she and this dying wreck of what once had been a woman were linked like sisters through having taken Oleg as a lover and—if the gods willed it so for her—getting a child off him. His blood and theirs had been joined, and thus their blood had been
joined after a fashion as well. It was a very queer thought, and not a very comfortable one.
“You may smile, you know,” said Princess Severnolesnaya, trying to smile herself again. “There’s nothing wrong with that. And it will be good for your daughter to see her mother smile from time to time. The gods know my daughters could have used a few more of my smiles.”
“True,” said Slava. Suddenly she felt very tender towards this woman with whom she had shared a lover. There were worse ways of getting a sister, after all.
“I saw her too, you know. Your possible daughter-to-be. I hope you like fiery children, Tsarinovna, for your daughter will have plenty of fire, should she have the good fortune to be born.”
“Good,” said Slava.
“Good,” echoed Princess Severnolesnaya. “Plenty of fire, just like her father. My dear, long-lost, unloved husband. Do you know Oleg’s story, Tsarinovna?”
“Only what happened…after.”
“After.” Princess Severnolesnaya closed her eyes and rested for a little while. “After. But not before. He was just a peasant lad, you know, before he married me. I hope you don’t mind a little peasant blood.”
“My family rarely does,” said Slava.
“True. You have a taste for it, don’t you? And who doesn’t? Well. He was just a peasant lad who came and begged for a place in my guard. A runaway, you know, who was making his way in the world, if such a wretched existence could be called that, as a hunter. He was handy enough in the woods, of course, but he was still only a boy, and the winters up here are cruel, and so one snowy night he came stumbling into Lesnograd and begged to serve till spring. Anyone could see that he was too young, and that even when he reached the age of manhood he wouldn’t make much of a guard. Guards have to stick to their posts, and that was something our Oleg never was much good at. But no one had the heart to cast him back out into the snow with the animals he was stalking, much less send him home. He was so charming, you know, and his home was so bad. Did you see the scars on his back?”