Elizabeth gave a scream of horror.
“They are forbidden to talk to each other. No prisoner may ever tell another why he has been deported. They merely work until they die!”
After this Natasha found that she could not bear to look at the treasures made from the stones that came from the Siberian mines.
How much misery had a lovely vase of lapis lazuli cost? How many strokes of a Cossack’s whip had produced the gleaming purple amethysts that circled a white neck?
She used to wish that she could walk about the Palace with her eyes closed, for every time she looked at the onyx and jade, the rose-quartz and the blue-john, she could no longer see their beauty but only the despair of the men who had quarried them and in whose eyes there was no longer any hope.
It was from learning about Ellico and trying to comfort a broken-hearted Elizabeth that she looked more closely into the whole structure of Russian everyday life.
She found out little because it was dangerous to learn too much about the Secret Police.
There were whispers of the terrible abuses to which they subjected a helpless and unhappy people.
But even to speak of them made even the most distinguished of Russians lower their voices and glance over their shoulders and soon Natasha found herself infected by the same insidious fear which ran like poison through every vein of Russian society.
It was one of the reasons why she had welcomed an invitation from Princess Anna Tchavtchavada, who was her Godmother, to go and stay with her in Georgia.
It was Natasha who had suggested that she should bring her young brother, Dimitri, with her, for, although he was happy, she thought that it would be good for him to get away for a short time from St. Petersburg.
She was well aware that Georgians were much freer and much happier than those who lived in the North.
It was fifty-four years earlier that the Kingdom of Georgia had been peacefully annexed to Russia. Its peoples were not really Russian but a mixture of many races. They were happy, gay and smiling and far enough from the North not to be overshadowed by the Secret Police or indeed the threat of Siberia.
Princess Anna had invited Natasha because she thought that she would be a pleasant companion for her niece, Nina.
But Natasha had found the young Princess uninteresting.
She seemed to be concerned only with her feminine attractions and not the least interested in politics or any of the social problems about which Natasha craved information as other girls might crave for sweetmeats.
Every day while she had been in St. Petersburg she had longed to be able to discuss what she saw and heard with her father.
Every night she had gone to bed wishing that there was someone she could speak frankly to and who would explain to her why such cruelties should continue unchecked.
Conversation in the Great Aôul had not been at all interesting or intelligent.
It had been impossible for them to think of anything beyond their physical sufferings, the lack of air and the difficulty of keeping out the cold with their inadequate clothing.
In any case, they could not converse coherently with so many people in one room, the screaming and whimpering of the children or, worse still, when they tried to play boisterously and above all the unceasing complaints of the servants.
When things went wrong, the servants just wailed and, while Princess Anna was unfailingly patient with them, finding their lack of control understandable, Natasha found herself extremely exasperated with them.
From the moment she had set off in her daring disguise under Lord Athelstan’s involuntary protection everything had changed.
There had been men to talk to, not only Lord Athelstan but also the Officers who had accompanied them, first to Vladikavkaz and then to Tiflis. And the Palace was full of men who reminded her of her father’s friends.
She listened while they discussed the new scientific discoveries, when they talked of war and what new tactics could be employed to defeat Shamyl.
They argued about Persia and the Shah, about the Crimea and the British, Afghanistan and what appeared to be an imminent outbreak of war on the Indian frontier.
To Natasha it was like breathing fresh air after having been incarcerated in a dark cellar for years on end.
She felt herself coming alive again.
She joined in the conversation, remembering with great difficulty to assume what she called her ‘Indian voice’ and knew that those who listened to her were astonished that a young Rajput Prince should be so knowledgeable.
It was like drinking champagne and she knew that, even with a ‘Sword of Damocles’ in the shape of the Sultan hanging over her head, she was happier than she had been for a long time.
What was more, although he undoubtedly was still annoyed with her, she was looking forward to travelling alone with Lord Athelstan to Constantinople.
*
The evening was gay and amusing and the conversation very stimulating. There were fifty people to dinner and an orchestra played in the great salon.
Then, as Natasha was thinking that it was time to retire to bed, she saw that Lord Athelstan was talking alone with the Baroness.
Wearing a gown that could only have come from Paris, she seemed to be pleading with him. Natasha fancied that she was asking him to visit her again, perhaps when everyone else was asleep.
A wave of fury swept over her. She could not tolerate the knowledge that he should be so interested in the woman who had said such horrible words about the hostages.
A moment later Lord Athelstan kissed the Baroness’s hand and came across the room.
“I think it time we retired,” he said courteously to Natasha.
She did not answer, sure that she knew the reason why he wished to leave the rest of the Viceroy’s guests.
Holding her chin high, her eyes dark and stormy, she preceded him up the magnificent carved staircase.
They reached their sitting room.
The candles in the huge chandeliers had been extinguished, but those in the gilt sconces were glittering low.
Natasha turned to face Lord Athelstan.
“Goodnight, my Lord,” she said coldly. “I hope you enjoy yourself with your slanderous friend.”
She saw him stiffen.
Then he replied icily,
“That remark is out of character. No genuine Rajput Prince would be so tactless, insensitive or ill-bred as to speak in such a manner!”
“So you think I exemplify those faults!”
“It is regrettably obvious!”
“I am, my Lord, armoured against your aspersions as I am against the injudicious tongue of the Baroness. I merely dislike having to be associated, even remotely, with such a woman.”
“And apparently with me!” Lord Athelstan added.
Natasha made an acquiescent movement with her hand.
“The remedy is quite simple,” Lord Athelstan said, his voice like a whiplash. “You can stop this masquerade or go on alone!”
With a start Natasha realised that she had walked into a trap.
It was her own fault. She had raged at Lord Athelstan impulsively, without thinking, driven by an emotional reaction she did not understand.
She turned away from him and stood for some seconds irresolute before a huge vase of lilies.
Then in a low, strangled tone she said,
“I – am – sorry – I apologise.”
Lord Athelstan did not answer and after a moment she went on,
“Please – let me – travel with you – ”
He was about to make a scathing reply when, looking at her thin figure and her proud head surmounted by the brilliant turban, he paused.
There was something inexpressibly gallant about her. She was so young, so vulnerable, yet she had embarked on this crazy adventure.
She also, and Lord Athelstan was certain that she had meant what she had said, was prepared to die at the end of it.
He suppressed the angry retort which had sprung to his
lips and instead, gently, in a voice he had not used before, he asked,
“Shall we forget this small skirmish?”
There was a pause before Natasha answered,
“Are you – generous enough – to do that?”
She waited until, as he did not answer, she turned round to face him. He was looking at her and there was an expression on his face she did not understand.
Then their eyes met.
Something strange and unaccountable passed between them. Natasha could not explain it. She only knew that she felt suddenly breathless, as if there was a constriction in her throat.
For what seemed a long time they both stood very still before Lord Athelstan said,
“Goodnight, Natasha!”
It was the first time he had ever used her Christian name.
Then he went to his own bedroom, leaving her alone.
*
The next day they started off very early in the morning.
Lord Athelstan’s servants, whom he had sent direct from the Persian border to Tiflis with his heavier luggage, together with those who had accompanied him to Dargo-Vedin, made up a cavalcade of some twenty-five.
Everything was carried on horseback so that they could move more quickly.
Most travellers of Lord Athelstan’s significance used carts and wagons and sometimes even camels to convey their luggage.
But Lord Athelstan insisted on packhorses and that all of them should be of a quality that would not cause him too much delay by going too slowly.
When they left the Palace behind, with its troops of crimson and white lackeys, Lord Athelstan said to Natasha with a smile,
“I think we would enjoy a gallop so that we can take the edge off our horses.”
This was good reasoning. He and Natasha were mounted on the Kabarda stallions that had been a present from the Imam.
Owing to inactivity yesterday when they had been kept in their stables, they were now fidgeting to be off, bucking and rearing, and only two really experienced riders would have been able to hold them.
Lord Athelstan saw by her expression that Natasha was delighted at the suggestion and a moment later they were riding ahead of the servants.
For Natasha it was a joy to know that she was astride a magnificent stallion. She had not ridden such a splendid animal since she had left Poland.
After galloping for about two miles, Lord Athelstan turned his horse back in the direction from which they had come. They only reined in when they were within sight again of the long file of riders and packhorses led by Hawkins.
Natasha gave a deep sigh.
“That was wonderful!” she said. “If you only knew how much I have missed riding both while I was in the mountains and when I was in St. Petersburg.”
“Did you not ride there?” Lord Athelstan asked in surprise.
“Oh, I rode,” she answered scornfully, “trit-totting primly with the other Ladies-in-Waiting. They really prefer to drive!”
She gave him a little smile.
“It is considered correct, because the Czar does so, to drive around the City in an open carriage or a sleigh, depending on the time of year. The trouble is I never did like Cities!”
“Neither do I!” Lord Athelstan agreed.
“You refused the Viceroy’s escort today,” Natasha said, looking at the baggage train.
“I thought we had seen enough of them,” Lord Athelstan replied frankly. “And you make me nervous in case you forget either your Indian accent or that you are supposed to be a boy!”
“You are not very complimentary! I thought my performance was faultless except for one little mistake.”
“It was a mistake that might have cost you dear!” Lord Athelstan said seriously.
“I have already – apologised,” Natasha answered.
He drew a deep breath.
“I feel as if I have been let out of school!”
She gave a little laugh.
“I suppose I should also apologise again for making you so apprehensive. What I found most difficult was not to reveal that I had been in the Palace before.”
“Well, on the whole you gave a very convincing performance,” Lord Athelstan said.
“Thank you, sir!” she cried mischievously. “I never expected to hear words of appreciation from your lips!”
“I see you have made me into an ogre!” Lord Athelstan remarked with a faint smile of amusement.
“How could you expect me to think of you in any other way?” Natasha asked. “Considering how angry you have been with me ever since we have known each other!”
“You must admit I have had some provocation!”
“Perhaps,” she agreed, “but I had expected you to have more sense of adventure. After all, a diplomat should also be a buccaneer if he is to be successful.”
“I have an idea that once again you are trying to needle me!” Lord Athelstan said. “You are a very persistent young woman, but, if it pleases you, I will make an effort to enjoy your adventure and, make no mistake, it is yours from now on!”
“I shall look forward to your effort,” Natasha smiled.
“Then let me tell you something,” Lord Athelstan said, “I have made arrangements for a messenger to bring us the latest bulletins concerning the exchange of hostages right up to the moment when we reach Constantinople.”
His voice was more serious as he went on,
“There will be no point in your making this horrible and unnatural sacrifice if there is no reason for it.”
“You mean – if the negotiations – broke down?” Natasha asked in a low voice. “Whatever I have to suffer – I could not bear that to happen.”
Lord Athelstan did not speak and after a moment she went on,
“For one thing I don’t think that Princess Anna would live long. At one moment during the winter we feared for her life. She had a terrible cough, her hair began to fall out and she was so exhausted that we had to do everything for her.”
“I can understand what you suffered,” Lord Athelstan said quietly.
He remembered the discomfort he had found in the Great Aôul, and, after all, he had been an honoured guest.
“What is more,” Natasha went on, “do you realise that a prisoner’s child, if orphaned, becomes by law what they call ‘Allah’s Own’ and is therefore brought up in the Moslem faith?”
“No, I did not know that,” Lord Athelstan answered.
“It would have meant that Princess Anna’s children would have been taken from us immediately on her death and we would never have seen them again.”
Natasha sighed.
“Princess Varvara often said she would wish to die so that she could be reunited with her husband, who had been killed in battle. But she had to live for her child’s sake.”
“I do understand what you have been through,” Lord Athelstan said gently, “but I am sure that the hostages will be exchanged. I only wish I could be as confident about your future.”
Later that evening when they had encamped for the night in the shelter of a wood, Natasha said to Lord Athelstan,
“I would like you to tell me about the Sultan’s palace in Constantinople. I feel you must have been there.”
“Yes, I have been received by the Sultan,” Lord Athelstan replied. “Do you really wish me to speak of what lies ahead of you?”
“I would rather be forearmed than surprised and frightened,” Natasha answered quite seriously.
They had talked of many things while they were being served by Hawkins with an excellent meal, Lord Athelstan finding for the first time how knowledgeable Natasha was on subjects he would not have expected any woman to be interested in.
It was a warm evening. The sun had disappeared from the sky, stars were coming out and there was a soft breeze to keep away the insects.
Hawkins had raised the sides of Lord Athelstan’s tent and they could look out into the darkness. Near them the rest of the men had erected their tents and were seated around a bright fire.
The horses had been unsaddled and were cropping the grass. It was very quiet and peaceful.
Lord Athelstan thought that it would destroy the beauty of the evening if they talked of what lay ahead, but Natasha had asked the question. He was determined to deflect her, if possible, from the course she was set on.
“Constantinople is the gateway to the East,” he said, “the Capital of the Ottoman Empire and the home of the Caliph of the Faithful, the Shadow of the Prophet upon earth – the Sultan Abdul Aziz.”
Natasha shivered.
“The seraglio or harem,” he went on, “has always remained a mystery and a legend. The word derived from the Arab ‘haram’ meaning ‘forbidden, unlawful’.”
He saw Natasha was listening intently and he continued,
“When the Sultan rides out in his Capital, he is surrounded by guards carrying large banners and pearl-fringed umbrellas and waving ostrich-feather plumes to screen him from curious eyes.”
He smiled as he went on,
“Foreign visitors like myself are given a magnificent robe before they approach the Sultan. When he received me, he was seated on what looked like a gigantic four-poster bed of silver and gilt encrusted with precious stones.”
Natasha could not help giving a little laugh.
“Were you impressed?” she asked.
“But of course,” he replied. “It would have been most undiplomatic to be anything else!”
“Go on,” she implored.
“Actually I saw very little apart from the main reception rooms. But I noticed the black eunuchs who were on duty.”
Again he thought Natasha shivered, but relentlessly he continued,
“The Chief Black Eunuch ranks with the Grand Vizier. His power is absolute. He alone has the right to speak directly to the Sultan.”
He drew in his breath as he added,
“It is the Chief Eunuch whom you will have to placate and who will decide your fate one way or another.”
“I understand,” Natasha said in a low voice.
“I have always been told,” Lord Athelstan continued, “that the seraglio is a kind of huge nunnery whose religion is sin and whose God is the Sultan.”
He added and his voice was cynical,
“But those who imagine it to be just a place of unbridled licence have obviously been reading too many novelettes. I imagine the worst enemy is boredom.”
As Eagles Fly Page 10