by E. P. Clark
“I saved her son from the army,” Olga said shortly, seeing Slava’s look.
“Ah,” said Slava.
“And I’m not so kind as you,” continued Olga, still shortly.
Slava wanted to protest that she had implied nothing of the kind, but she knew that she had thought that that was no excuse for Olga to take advantage of the poor woman, and that even if she had managed to hide that thought, Olga was probably sensitive about her actions and, even if she hadn’t been able to guess Slava’s thought, would guess that Slava was thinking it…Slava made herself stop such circular thinking. And, while she might not have approved of Olga being so quick to take advantage of her rank and her hostess’s gratitude, she was grateful not to be spending the night in the stables, and was not about to offer to do so in lieu of one of the other guests. Although, when she thought about that thought, she realized that part of her reluctance to make the offer was the horrified protests she would receive if she made it…Luckily just then they were led by the station-mistress’s nervous daughter in to the front room and given beer and bread, which interrupted Slava’s thoughts for good.
It turned out that no one was going to have to spend the night in the stables anyway, as the only other people at the waystation were a merchant and her daughter and servants, who had spread themselves out over all the bedrooms, but were quickly collected and arranged into two rooms, leaving two free. Vladislava was, predictably, ecstatic at the thought of sharing a room at a waystation with Olga, Slava, and Dunya.
“It’s like we’re real travelers, isn’t it!” she cried.
“That’s because we are real travelers,” said Olga, smiling for the first time that day.
“Will we stay at waystations and inns every night?” asked Vladislava for possibly the hundredth time, writhing slightly in her seat at the excitement that thought provoked.
“Most nights,” Olga told her. “Sometimes we’ll stay with princesses, or in cabins in the woods.”
“Cabins!” cried Vladislava rapturously. “In the woods! Are they spooky? Do you think leshiye will come up to them in the middle of the night!?”
“Perhaps,” said Olga, giving Slava a sidelong glance.
“Oh, I hope so! Do you think we’ll see water spirits as well? Will we be traveling on the Krasna?”
“No,” Olga told her. “We’ll be traveling overland the whole way, especially as the ice might start to weaken soon. Here’s the Krasna”—she drew a vertical line with some spilled beer on the table—“and here’s Krasnograd”—she made a dot halfway down the vertical line—“and here’s Pristanograd, where the Krasna flows into the Sea of Ice”—she made a dot at the top of the vertical line—“and here’s Lesnograd”—she made a dot far off to the right of the line. “So we’ll be traveling like this”—she drew a diagonal line from Lesnograd down to Krasnograd—“like the long part of a triangle. If the water were open it might be quicker to take the Severnovostochnaya road to Vostochnoye Selo,” she made another dot above the vertical line, and a wavy North-South line along it to represent the seashore, “and then sail across the Sea of Ice to Pristanograd and then down the Krasna to Krasnograd, but the water isn’t open, so we’ll be taking the Krasnogradskaya road through the forest instead.”
“But then how will Dunya get home?” asked Vladislava, the thought apparently just occurring to her. “Naberezhnoye is in the opposite direction, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Olga, making another dot above the one representing Vostochnoye Selo. “But Dunya says she wants to see the South.”
“When the water does open, I will in fact sail up the Krasna to Pristanograd, and then across the Sea of Ice to Naberezhnoye,” Dunya put in. It was the first time, as far as Slava could recall, that she had spoken all day. Although she had not been in so foul a mood as Olga, or as nervous as she had been since they had arrived in Lesnograd, she still seemed less confident than she had when they were back in the woods and the tundra. Slava had wanted to speak with her privately, but in the sleighs there was no chance to do so.
Olga might have been in no mood for talking, and Dunya might have been even more quiet than her normal silent self, but Vladislava made up for that by talking incessantly all through supper and after they had all settled into their beds, until finally Olga told her rather sharply that true travelers sleep when they can, at which point Vladislava promptly fell silent and went to sleep.
***
She leapt out of bed well before dawn the next morning and fussed around the room impatiently until Olga said it was time to go to breakfast. She wanted to go say farewell to their old horses and see the new horses being harnessed, and was briefly crushed when Olga told her she’d just get in the stablehands’ way, but recovered her spirits as soon as the sleighs were brought round, and she could go and introduce herself to their new horses, and learn all their names. She spent the morning telling Slava—and Olga and Dunya, although they tended not to pay the necessary attention—lengthy and intricate stories about their new horses’ lives.
This activity, unfortunately, palled in the afternoon, which Vladislava spent fidgeting in her seat and asking how much longer they had to go before they reached their destination, both for the day and for the journey as a whole. Slava suggested that they continue Vladislava’s lessons, but Vladislava, despite her evident boredom, put up a forceful resistance to anything resembling education, even though she had been lamenting her lack of lessons back in Lesnograd.
“You said I’d have good tutors once we got to Krasnograd,” Vladislava pointed out to her. “Why would I want to waste my time taking lessons from you in the meantime?”
“If you’re going to be my ward, you will have to know all about the other noble families before you arrive in Krasnograd,” said Slava, struck by a sudden inspiration. “And the rules of courtly behavior, of course,” she added.
“What do you mean?” demanded Vladislava.
“How to behave like a princess,” explained Slava.
“I know how to behave like a princess! I am a princess!”
“Well reasoned,” said Slava with a smile, which she hoped was not too condescending, “but you see, Vladislava Vasilisovna, being a princess is more than just being a princess, at least in Krasnograd. You have to let everyone know you are a princess, without telling them directly, because telling them directly would mean not acting like a princess.”
“That’s just stupid!”
“Oh no, it’s very clever,” Slava told her. “Anyone can say she’s a princess, after all, but only someone who has practiced for years can show that she’s a princess.”
Vladislava mulled this over for a while and then agreed, although skeptically, that it might be true and that in that case, Slava should give her lessons on how to behave like a princess. This caused Olga to choke on suppressed laughter, which made Vladislava glare at her and say that maybe she needed lessons on how to be a princess too, at which point Dunya broke in and said that she thought the waystation lights were showing on the road up ahead, which allowed Slava to evade any need to respond to Vladislava’s extremely correct but very un-princessly remark.
***
The lessons on princessly behavior occupied them for the next several days of uneventful travel. Slava quickly realized that Vladislava’s training in this sphere had been entirely neglected, as her mother and grandmother had alternated between spoiling her dreadfully and subjecting her to cruel reproachs and humiliations, not to mention the constant hysterical scenes that filled the Lesnograd kremlin. This meant that Vladislava, while being (Slava liked to think) naturally inclined towards goodness, had no idea what constituted good behavior or even common decency, and, being much cleverer than any of her relations, tended to treat all her elders with well-deserved contempt. Slava therefore not only had to teach her how to behave, but convince her that behaving that way was necessary, and that it was not, for instance, acceptable to interrupt people in order to point out how stupid they were, especially if the pe
ople in question were older, and most especially if they actually were stupid, which was, tragically, so often the case. As most of Vladislava’s relatives were, as far as Slava could tell, deaf to any kind of reasoned argument, and impervious to kindness, Vladislava had learned to deal with them through a combination of bullying and indifference, and retraining her would be, Slava could see, an effort of many months. Her efforts would be hindered not only by Vladislava’s skepticism, but by her—entirely sensible—fear of adults, who until now had shown very few signs of trustworthiness. Vladislava seemed to trust Slava more than she did anyone else, but a lifetime—even such a short one as Vladislava’s—of mistreatment and betrayal had left its mark, and Slava feared it would not be an easy one to erase.
Slava’s efforts to school Vladislava in princessly behavior were also hindered by the presence of Olga in the sleigh, since Olga kept trying to alleviate her boredom by laughing at half the things Slava said. This afforded Vladislava many opportunities either to point out that Olga thought Slava’s suggestions were silly, or to ignore Slava’s suggestions by being rude to Olga. Slava supposed she should be grateful that this was her worst concern of the journey, but it did make maintaining her patience quite a challenge. Was, Slava asked herself, her impending motherhood going to be nothing but years and years of this? No, she told herself, because having seen Vasilisa Vasilisovna’s bad example, she would do a much better job of raising her own daughter. She was aware that those words were more in the way of self-encouragement than a statement of fact, but she repeated them to herself at least fifteen times a day anyway.
Five days out from Lesnograd they stopped for the night with Princess Malolesnaya. The Malolesniye, as their title suggested, had once ruled their own small province on the edge of the Severnolesnoye territory, but they had been swallowed up by the expanding Severnolesniye, and now the only thing left of their former glory, insignificant as it had been, was a small holding and the right to be called “princess” and sit on the Princess Council in Krasnograd. Princess Malolesnaya had not exercised that right in some years, preferring to send her eldest daughter in her stead. Slava knew that Princess Malolesnaya’s daughter was ashamed of her mother’s easy-going ways, and afraid that her casual generosity would leave nothing for her, the heir, to inherit. Although Slava felt sorry for the daughter, she hoped that her assessment and Slava’s own dim but fond memories of Princess Malolesnaya’s character were correct, as it would make their stay much more pleasant and also provide Vladislava with a good place to practice her newly acquired skills. If she had, in fact, acquired them: Slava had some misgivings on that score.
Many of the newer princesses liked to build what they called “kremlins” on their territory, and then inhabit them with their so-called armies. Malolesnograd’s kremlin, however, really was a kremlin, or had been at one point. Looking at it, Slava doubted whether the front gate had ever been closed during her lifetime, or whether it was even closable at all. If she remembered her history correctly, it was said to be the oldest kremlin still standing in the entire land, although—Slava thought as they drove past a wall leaning at a disturbing angle—“standing” was an optimistic assessment of its condition.
Princess Malolesnaya came running out to greet them herself, and was overjoyed when she discovered that Olga Vasilisovna and her retinue had arrived and that they were requesting hospitality for the night. Although the Malolesniye had no reason to love the Severnolesniye, and any other Malolesnaya would probably have taken full advantage of the opportunity to mistreat Princess Severnolesnaya’s younger daughter—daughters, especially younger daughters, being such good targets for the petty rage of a mother’s impotent enemies—Princess Malolesnaya showed no signs of such smallness of soul, but rather every indication of a native generosity of spirit that, Slava lamented to herself, was all too rare amongst her sister princesses. She was a large, kindly-faced woman who was passing from “motherly” to “grandmotherly,” which allowed her to pat Olga—whom she remembered as a little child—on the cheek and demand a kiss from Vladislava. Vladislava, Slava was proud to see, gave the kiss with fairly good grace, despite her obvious reservations.
When Slava was introduced to her, Princess Malolesnaya stopped short for a moment in shock, bowed down to her boot tops, and then recovered herself and asked Slava if she remembered going for a ride in the park behind the kremlin with Princess Malolesnaya on her last visit to Krasnograd.
“Yes, of course,” said Slava. That was not true at first, but then, as Princess Malolesnaya began reminiscing about the ride, the memories came back to her. It had been, she recalled, one of the jollier days of her childhood, made so largely by the presence of Princess Malolesnaya. Having dredged up this memory, Slava promptly shared it with the others, which touched Princess Malolesnaya so deeply that tears came to her eyes, and she begged permission to kiss Slava’s hand.
Still shedding tears of joy, she then led them inside the kremlin, which was small and full of narrow dark corridors, just as an ancient kremlin should be. Apologizing for the poorness of the lodgings she had to offer them, she led them each personally to their rooms, sending whatever servants she happened to encounter in the corridors (sprinkling her words heavily with endearments, of course) to gather their things from the sleighs and carry them to their rooms.
Slava’s room was small and dark, naturally, which caused Princess Malolesnaya a moment’s anxiety, but Slava quickly laid her fears to rest by telling her that it was much finer than anything she would ever find in a waystation, and furthermore that she considered it an honor to spend the night in the renowned ancient kremlin of Malolesnograd, which pleased Princess Malolesnaya so much Slava thought she might burst on the spot.
Princess Malolesnaya, practically quivering with pride and joy, then left Slava to her own devices in order to show the others to their rooms, but returned shortly after that with Vladislava and a troubled look on her face. It seemed that Princess Malolesnaya had assumed that “the little princess Vladislava,” who was clearly too young to be left in a strange room by herself for the night—she might have nightmares, poor thing!—would of course wish to stay with her dear Aunty Olga, only Aunty Olga had said, somewhat grumpily, that Vladislava should stay with the Tsarinovna instead. Princess Malolesnaya had found this lack of aunt-like feeling to be quite shocking, and also feared that the Tsarinovna would not wish to be bothered with a young girl like dear little Vladislava, which would hurt dear little Vladislava’s feelings, although the gods knew that Princess Malolesnaya would consider it both an honor and a delight to have dear little Vladislava spend the night in her chambers, but…
“Vladislava Vasilisovna should of course spend the night with me,” Slava managed to cut in. “She is coming to Krasnograd as my ward, and Olga Vasilisovna was right to send her to me. I was most remiss not to say something earlier.”
Although this provoked a tiresome round of denials that Slava could ever do anything wrong, it did smooth over the troubling situation most satisfactorily, and Vladislava was overjoyed at the prospect of spending the whole night alone with Slava. She filled Slava’s ears with everything she had observed since they had arrived at the kremlin, and was cut short only when a servant arrived to tell them that Princess Malolesnaya would be most obliged if they would deign to do her the honor of steaming in her bathhouse before supper, if they would not find it too fatiguing.
Vladislava greeted this invitation with rather more excitement than Slava would have supposed it warranted, until she discovered that Vladislava had never been in any bathhouse other than the one in the Lesnograd kremlin, and was hoping for something strange and exotic. Princess Malolesnaya’s extremely ordinary bathhouse proved to be a disappointment in that respect, but Vladislava recovered her spirits by throwing water onto the rocks until the bathhouse was filled with a choking cloud of steam that forced everyone else to lie facedown on the benches and hide their heads in their towels. Vladislava took advantage of this to beat them with steaming birch b
ranches until Slava began to worry that her skin had been steamed right off. Vladislava then went to pour more water on the rocks, since the bathhouse atmosphere had become unacceptably breathable, but Olga stopped her with a cranky, “That’s enough, Vladya!” Vladislava pouted a little, but when Olga told her it was time to go to supper, she stopped pouting in order to run out and roll in the snow and then run back in, dry off, and get dressed as if pouting were something that only happened to other people.
Servants were waiting in the dressing room with clean clothes, so they were able to dress themselves—or rather, let the servants dress them, much to the distress of Olga, who disliked that kind of thing, and Dunya, who was completely unaccustomed to it—and make their pink and glowing way to the supper table, where Princess Malolesnaya made good-natured remarks about how healthy they looked.
Although Slava had nothing but fond memories of Princess Malolesnaya from her childhood, she found as the evening wore on that dealing with her as an adult was more trying. Princess Malolesnaya was very kind, it was true, but she chattered on and on about all kinds of things, making cheerful remarks about them even when it would have been more appropriate to express sorrow or anger, or possibly say nothing at all. Although Slava envied her her sunny mood, she found Princess Malolesnaya’s complete disregard for the darker reality of events to be quite grating after a few hours.
During supper she quizzed them closely, although with no apparent motive other than benevolent curiosity, about their journey. Olga, who was still in a foul mood, answered as curtly as possible, except when describing their hardship and suffering. Princess Malolesnaya would then make some kind of comforting remark, which Olga would flatly contradict, until Slava began to fear that Princess Malolesnaya’s feelings would be hurt, if such a thing were possible (Slava was already harboring the uncharitable thought that Princess Malolesnaya must have no feelings at all, much as she knew that could not be the case), and took charge of the conversation herself. She asked Princess Malolesnaya if she had any news from Krasnograd, which prompted Princess Malolesnaya to send for a letter she had recently received from her daughter, which, she said, was full of interesting reports.