Whitefire

by Fern Michaels

  Neither spoke. Katerina waited. Banyen waited. The men waited. A worm of fear found its way into Katerina’s stomach and worked its way up to her chest. She swallowed and looked at the tall man, who was staring at her with bold, arrogant, lustful eyes.

  White teeth glistened in the dimness of twilight as Banyen smiled. “Prince Banyen at your service,” he said, bowing low with a flourish. His tone was cool, mocking, as he walked over to her placid horse. Katerina dug her heels into Bluefire’s flanks, and the gelding slowly backed away from the advancing Mongol.

  Katerina nodded. “What are you doing here? This is Don Cossack land.”

  At the sound of the soft, melodious voice Banyen’s face registered shock. A woman! “This is Cossack land?” Banyen mocked her words, straining to get a glimpse of her face. “As long as I’m standing on this land, it belongs to me—unless, of course, you would like to fight me for it. I see no Cossacks protecting it. You’re a Cossack, aren’t you? No one save a Cossack rides pure whites, especially a horse such as yours. Well,” he said harshly, “will you challenge me for this ground I stand on?”

  “You can stand here till you take root for all I care,” Katerina snapped. “And, no, I have no wish to challenge you or your men. Others like the vicious Tereks will challenge you.”

  Banyen laughed, his head thrown back in merriment. “What others? There is no one on this godforsaken steppe except you, me, and my men,” he said, bowing again. “Come here, let me see what you look like,” he said, advancing. Nimbly, Bluefire again backed off a pace and then two more. “Please,” Banyen said, holding up his hand, “allow me to extend an invitation to dinner—roast rabbit, newly caught. I insist,” he said, lunging toward her. “Don’t make the mistake of refusing my generous offer.”

  “I’m not hungry. Thank you for the invitation, but I must ride on.”

  “Perhaps the cold has affected your hearing. I said don’t refuse my offer!”

  The clear amber eyes narrowed. “And I told you I’m not hungry!” Katerina’s foot came up and knocked his hand from her arm. Filled with panic, she lowered her head and grasped the gelding’s mane as her heels dug into the horse, spurring it on.

  A roar of outrage reached her ears as Bluefire raced through the snow. She knew in her heart she would be caught. The gelding was as tired as she was, but the Mongol prince and his stallion looked rested. Oh, God, what was she going to do? You were right, Father, you may yet find my frozen body, but it won’t be because of Stepan and Wildflower. Damn him to hell! Who did he think he was, ordering her to share his dinner? Cossack rabbits that were needed for her own people. As she urged the horse to do his best, she turned her head, and momentarily the noble animal was thrown off stride. The stallion was gaining on her. “O God, I don’t want to die!” she cried quietly to the shimmering stars.

  As she dug her heels into Bluefire’s flanks, she apologized to the galloping horse for the pain she was inflicting on him, then begged, “Please, please!”

  Out of the corner of her eye she watched the stallion advance, the man’s arm outflung to pull her from her seat. Katerina leaned precariously to the right and all but slipped from the animal beneath her. When she righted herself, she was pulled from Bluefire’s back and literally flung through the air. She came to rest against the side of the skittery horse, as it was trying to stop.

  “Let me go! Take your hands off me!” Katerina screeched.

  “And if I do that, what will you do?” Banyen laughed, delighted with this unexpected challenge.

  “Kill you, that’s what I’ll do! I’ll scratch your face till it’s nothing but a bloody pulp!”

  The stallion stood quietly as master and girl spat epithets at each other. “And what do you think I’ll be doing while you’re scratching my face to a bloody pulp?” Banyen laughed.

  “Bleeding!” Katerina snarled.

  “A she cat.”

  Katerina tried to free herself from her awkward position, one arm pinned against the horse and the other flailing in the air. Each time the man jerked her closer to the horse, her feet left the ground and her arm twisted painfully in his vise-like grip. She bit into her full bottom lip and felt the salty taste of her own blood. Her mind raced as she tried to figure how she could get away from him. Suddenly she relaxed, her muscles loose and flexible. Banyen leaned over to grasp her other arm and draw her atop his horse. Her small fist shot out and made direct contact with his eye. Stunned, he relaxed his hold. Seizing her opportunity to escape, Katerina was off and running instantly, the snow spurting up from her heels. On and on she ran, with no sense of direction. Her breathing was harsh and ragged as the cold, bracing air was forced into her lungs. With her long legs, Katerina could usually outrun most of the youths in the village, but the heavy accumulation of snow was hampering her now and she wondered how much longer she could last. She was so tired. A razor-sharp pain ripped across her chest and Katerina doubled over, falling to her knees. Before she could get to her feet, she found herself pinned to the ground, a lean hard body above her.

  Banyen fought to control his own labored breathing as he felt the hot softness of the girl beneath him. The anger he had felt moments before left him and was replaced with a ripe, full-blown passion. Straddling her, Banyen pinned Katerina’s arms above her head, then leaned over and brought his mouth down on hers. His head jerked upright as if a snake had bitten him. He felt blood trickle down his chin as he brought his hand up to his mouth. “Bitch!”

  “Bastard!”

  Banyen reached out a long arm and grasped her ankle as she tried to get away. He flung her back so hard that she felt her head snap. “Stupid Cossack woman, with your thick stockings and a man’s boots,” he said harshly as he again forced her to the ground.

  “Smelly Mongol pig!” Katerina hissed.

  “You belong with a farmer at the plow,” Banyen said raggedly. “What kind of clothes are these?” he demanded, releasing one of her arms so he could finger the thick material of her dress. “Even peasants wear better than this.”

  Katerina brought up her knee, and Banyen was thrust backward by the force of her blow. Madly, she scrambled out of his way as he bent over, his muscular hands clutching his groin.

  “I hope I kill you!” Katerina screamed as she got to her feet. “When they bury you, I’ll sing a dirge about the way you died.”

  “Bitch!” Banyen said through the mist that threatened to choke off his vision.

  “Bastard! Dirty, sneaky Mongol pig!” Katerina screamed as she plunged recklessly forward. Rough hands seized her and dragged her backward. The men from the campfire!

  “Here she is, Banyen! Do you still want her after what she did to you,” one of the leering men asked, “or will you be generous and allow the rest of us to have some sport with her?”

  “Bring her here!”

  The icy words sent a wave of fear down Katerina’s spine. She was flung to the ground and pulled by her long cascading hair to his side.

  “One more move out of you and you’ll be the first bald-headed Cossack woman on these plains.” He nodded curtly to his men, and they withdrew to the campfire.

  “I should kill you for what you just did to me,” Banyen said harshly.

  “I won’t make it easy for you, so be prepared. How many times can you survive what I just did to you? I’ll do it again and again, every chance I get. Let me go, you foul Mongol! I’ve been in stables that smelled better than you do!”

  “And I’ve smelled and seen better whores than you!” Banyen retaliated.

  “Then go find one and leave me alone! I’m warning you, I’ll do what I said. Let me go!”

  “Not till I see what you look like underneath all those blankets you wear. I’ll say one thing for you, you wear enough clothes to cover an army. I’m going to have you one way or another, so why don’t you save yourself all this anguish.”

  “Men are all alike,” Katerina said hoarsely as she felt his strong hands tear at her clothing. “Why do you have to take a
woman physically and degrade her? I’ll kill you for this, my word as a Cossack!”

  Mist escaped both their mouths as they struggled on his lush sable cape, which lay like a blanket on the hard-packed snow. The silvery moon, hidden behind dark clouds, made it impossible for Banyen to see the face of the young woman beneath him.

  “I’m not a cruel man—hard and demanding, perhaps, but women need to know they lie with a man. I’m not one to inflict pain,” he grunted as he tore apart the top of her coarse woolen shirt.

  His searching hands on her exposed flesh drove Katerina to near frenzy. By all rights, she should have been freezing to death from the biting pellets of snow that covered her tender skin, but his frantic movements atop her made her oblivious of them. When his scorching lips touched hers, Katerina relaxed every muscle in her body and allowed her lips to respond against his. She moved slightly and opened her mouth invitingly, her tongue seeking his. The moment he tilted his dark head and moved his arm slightly, to position himself better, she sank her teeth into his cheek, and felt the flesh tear when he tried to pull away from her. With one mighty shove, she sent him sprawling backward and was quickly on her hands and knees, crawling away, her clothing hanging in tatters. However, she couldn’t resist a parting comment as she scrambled to her feet. “You can mark that down to hearty peasant stock. I told you I wouldn’t make it easy for you, and I hope your blood floods this plain!”

  A bellow of anger ripped through the night. In two long-legged strides, Banyen had her imprisoned in his arms. Once again she felt her feet leave the ground as she was thrown onto the sable blanket. She resisted the raging Mongol with all the strength left in her, knowing all the while she was no match for him. She felt a reeling blow to the side of her head, and then Katerina knew no more.

  Banyen took her brutally, savagely, again and again.

  Spent, he staggered to his feet and stood looking down at the naked body of the young girl. A pity he couldn’t see what she really looked like in the ebony night. His own words rang in his ears: “I’m not a cruel man . . . I’m not one to inflict pain.” He shrugged. Every man was forced at one time or another to tell a lie. Why should he be any different?

  He leaned over the unconscious form and drew his burnoose over his head. Carelessly he tossed it over her bare flesh and walked away, his hand to his cheek, the cut stinging sharply against the palm of his hand. He stopped, the temptation to pick up the burnoose which covered the nude girl was so strong that he had to clench his hands and force himself to walk back to the campsite without it. She needed it more than he did.

  Katerina woke as Bluefire nuzzled her cheek. Her vision was blurred. Moaning softly, she rose to her feet uncertainly and looked around, the inky night cloaking her bruised and battered body as a mother shields her child from harm. There was no sound in the velvety darkness except Bluefire’s soft whickers.

  Her hands found the burnoose. Shock coursing through her, she dropped it to the snow the moment she realized what it was. Then, painfully, she bent to pick up the rich fur cape and wrapped it around her cold, numb flesh. Bile rose in her throat, and she gagged. She leaned weakly against the horse’s side and let the tears flow. To be taken like an animal was more than she could bear.

  Who would want her now? She had disgraced her father and her grandfather. She was no longer a virgin.

  The amber eyes lightened till they were the color of a ripe apricot. She was alive and that was all that mattered. It would be her secret, hers and the Mongol’s. Somewhere, somehow, she would meet him again and she would have the advantage. He would pay dearly. At least she knew what he looked like. He couldn’t say the same. At the campfire, she had been far enough away from the flames, and the hood had cast her face into shadow. No one would know. It would be her secret, and she would die by her own hand before she let another Cossack know she had ever come out second best.

  A violent fit of retching overtook her. When Katerina was finished, she grasped Bluefire’s mane and climbed onto his back. Trembling, she urged the horse forward, her neck buried in his soft hair. Bluefire picked his way gently over the snow as the girl sobbed heartbrokenly. Then she slept.

  It was the mute boy, Stepan, who first saw her and hurried to the road to lead the gelding to the summer stables. Shyly, his eyes full of love and trust, he helped Katerina dismount and led her shaking body to a stall at the end of the stable. He pointed to the alabaster mare, who was contentedly nibbling at some hay. His round head bobbed up and down happily as he kept pointing and grinning at the horse.

  “She’s safe, is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

  Stepan nodded, a smile on his face. The boy opened the stall and pointed to the horse’s broad belly and then to her hooves. He rubbed the horse’s snout fondly, and the mare rewarded him with a soft whinny of delight.

  Katerina would chastise him later, for all the good it would do. For now, all she wanted was a hot bath and some clean clothing. God, would she ever feel warm again? Would she ever be the same again?

  “Stepan, would you please build a fire in my father’s house and boil some water for me?” The youth grinned and waved his hands in the air. “You already did that when you saw me riding across the steppe. Thank you. Stepan,” she said wearily.

  Tenderly, she patted the boy on his arm, her eyes full of tears. “Stay with Wildflower and give her some hay and a few oats and then bed her down for the night. Do the same for Bluefire.” The boy smiled and entered the stall, careful to latch it behind him.

  Other women had been raped and had survived, and so would she. She would find her own way to live with it, and she would manage as the others had. She was alive, and that was all that mattered. Someday she would find a man who would love her despite her secret. She would watch his eyes when she told him. Eyes could tell a person more than words. She would not explain, and she would not apologize. Somewhere there was a lover who would understand. Until the time when they met, no one would know of the hateful truth.

  Katerina would have a week of living by herself, until the others came down from the Carpathians. In seven days one could school oneself to many things. Aside from the one change, she was well, and Wildflower was safe. That was all that mattered.

  Chapter 2

  The first scent of spring wafted in the air as the tenacious grip of winter held fast the last remnants of snow to the onion-domed towers of the Kremlin. As the snow began to ebb, the glory and magnificence of St. Basil’s Cathedral, just outside the Kremlin, slowly emerged to the wonderment of all. The nine soaring, bulbous domes, each different in color and design, struck a note of exquisite beauty for all of Russia to behold. Czar Ivan Vasilovich was justly proud of his creation.

  The Terem Palace, official residence of Czar Ivan IV, which stood within the walls of the Kremlin, stood with equal majesty. The Czar, like others before him, surrounded himself with the indigenous art of the Russian people. Everywhere the eye could see, the ornate frescoes, paintings, and motifs were embellished with gold overlay or blazoned with precious stones.

  Princess Halya Zhuk’s bearing was regal as she crossed the main floors of the palace, confident that her flaxen hair was arranged with care and precision to show off her delicate features to every advantage. As she began her ascent up the stone stairway to the Czar’s living quarters, she smoothed the sea-green gown, which reflected the emerald depths of her eyes. In these quiet moments when she was alone, she never ceased drinking in the splendor of the decorative walls and ceilings. A sensitivity that lay deep within her, a sensitivity that she kept completely hidden, stirred in her breast as she weakened and completely enjoyed her surroundings.

  Steps that once were filled with joy now became steps of anguish. Each encounter with Ivan was totally unpredictable. One minute he would be loving and forgiving, and a moment later, as though possessed, he would perform cruel and sadistic acts, terrorizing everyone in sight. She wondered fearfully what he would have in store for her today.

  Halya stood a m
oment before the carved door to Ivan’s receiving chamber, forcing herself to reach for the golden knob. She withdrew her hand and paused a second longer, finally deciding to knock.

  A voice boomed imperiously, “Whoever it is may enter my chambers.”

  Composing herself, Halya answered, “It is Halya, Ivan. I came as quickly as I could when I received your summons.”

  “I need the gentleness of your touch and the softness of your lips to quell my surging blood. As usual, my day has been nothing but problems, problems, and more problems. If I don’t do everything myself, nothing gets done,” he said petulantly. “I summoned you for another reason, Halya, not to listen to me complain. Come into my chamber, where we can speak privately.”

  Halya’s mind reeled with thoughts of what was to come. Months before, it had been a pleasure to be bedded by Ivan, for his body was hard and muscular, and his lovemaking was the same way, hard and demanding. In recent months, however, Ivan had neglected himself, so thoroughly he was now flabby. When he stood before her unclothed, the bulges and flabbiness were offensively apparent. She felt repulsed when her eyes noted the limp flesh that extended to his manhood. Her heart pounded with fright as she wondered what obscene acts he would ask her to perform to arouse him sexually.

  “Halya, many times you have expressed the desire to become my fifth wife, or is it my sixth? If that is still your wish, then you must continue to please me. As you know, my true and first love is being Czar of Russia; second is my devotion to the church. Third is deciding how I shall put to death a traitor. My last love, Halya, is a wild, uninhibited woman in my bed. That is the reason I have decided that one day soon you will be my wife. You are an excellent whore, and the thought of marrying you delights me. I’ll notify you when I decide to make it official,” he said, leering at her, his eyes glazed with lust.