Whitefire

Home > Romance > Whitefire > Page 31
Whitefire Page 31

by Fern Michaels


  Another week and he would leave this vast fortress. The feeling saddened him, and a light film settled over the agate eyes. What would he do without her? How would he get through the days, and what was he going to tell the Khan? The truth, of course. She would wait for him, she promised. She said there were things they both had to do, and until their lives were straightened out they must make the best of it. A vision of her lying dead on some endless plain rose to haunt him. What she intended was for men, not women; not his woman. He understood and knew there was nothing he could do to stop her. She had to do what she had to do, just as he did. She said she understood, and he could do no less. Would he ever see her again once he left? What would life be like without her? His stomach lurched, and he forced himself into a false calmness. It would work out, it had to. Rarely did one find happiness such as his, and when one did, one treasured it.

  A week. Seven days.

  His thoughts suddenly turned to the princess and his intention of seeking her out and talking with her about Ivan. Somehow he had become lax, his thoughts only of Katerina. He would do it the first chance he got. He needed all the information he could get on Czar Ivan. The princess was the only one he knew who had left Moscow recently. Her information, whatever it was, would be the most recent. Katerina had told him of Halya’s search and her love for Kostya. He was happy for the prisoner. Now he could understand what had kept him alive.

  With two days to go till Banyen’s departure, Katerina’s eyes took on a haunted look, and her body trembled and tears burned at her eyes. What was she to do without him? She wanted to run, seek him out, throw herself into his arms and tell him the horses didn’t matter, nothing mattered except being with him. She did nothing but look at him longingly and cry in his arms at what their parting would mean.

  Over and over Banyen promised his return and a full, happy life, telling her he wanted a dozen female children, all to look like her.

  On the eve of the departure of Banyen and his Mongols, Katerina instructed Hanna, the cook, to prepare a feast to be served in the arena. Mikhailo was to see to the tables and the music. She would be generous and allow the princess to attend and sit next to Kostya. They deserved this special occasion. Not once had either one of them complained of their separation, abiding by the bargain they had made.

  As the hour of the feast approached, Katerina raced to the kitchen, imploring Hanna to help her with her dress. “It hangs here and there,” she cried frantically. “You know I am all thumbs with a needle, you must do it for me now. The meat can cook itself.”

  Deftly Hanna pinned, tucked, and sewed, and an hour later she had the bronze-colored gown fitted on Katerina’s slim body. She shook her old head and wished she were fifty years younger. The girl was beautiful, and would turn more than one head. The old cook pursed her mouth and told Katerina she was more lovely than the princess would ever be.

  Katerina laughed delightedly as she poked her head into her wardrobe and withdrew the soft silken slippers that matched the gown. Was it only a year since she last wore the garments and shoes that rested in the depths of the cupboard? Momentarily tears glistened in her eyes as she remembered the formal evening meals in the great dining hall, where her father and grandfather dressed in traditional Cossack uniforms. What would Banyen think? He had never seen her in a gown before. Would he like her? She surveyed herself in the long mirror, turning slowly to see how the gown swirled around her feet. She knew she looked well, the low cut of the bodice showing off her tawny shoulders and the swell of her full, round breasts. The long, full sleeves, gathered together at mid-arm, fell in soft graceful folds at her wrists, accentuating her long, slender hands.

  “My hair, what should I do with my hair?” Katerina squealed. “I can’t let it just . . . hang. Hanna,” she pleaded, “do something.”

  Hanna sighed and worked industriously with the long-handled brush, swirling and pinning until she had the effect she wanted. Wispy fringes of the coppery hair framed Katerina’s face becomingly, while the wealth of her hair was set into deep curls, one cluster draped over her bare shoulder.

  “Pinch your cheeks for color,” Hanna gurgled, “and you will stir every man into a frenzy.” Katerina hugged the old cook, making her laugh as she struggled from the girl’s tight grip. Her iron-gray hair, pulled back into a tight knot, freed itself from its pins and tumbled down to her waist. Her bright gaze was merry as her round body shook with happiness for Katerina. She had never seen her so happy or so beautiful.

  “Wait, wait, tell me, what are you serving for our feast?” Katerina called excitedly.

  Hanna pretended forgetfulness. “Black bread and jam. Silly girl, I’m preparing just what you told me to prepare. Roast lamb and duck, three vegetables from the winter cellar, and fresh popovers with honey and jam. Boiled potatoes in butter with herbs and spices, seasoned the way you like it, and a soup—barley with carrots and cabbage. Rice pudding with raisins for a sweet. Wine and vodka till the jugs are empty. Does it meet with your approval?” She laughed.

  “But of course. Did you cook enough? Will there be enough for the men to eat as much as they want? Training is over, and this is a day I want them to remember.”

  “They can eat until the moon is high and still there will be food left for another feast. There is no cause for worry. Mikhailo tells me the men are bathing and dressing in their best, which was laundered by me days ago.”

  “Do I need a jewel?” Katerina shrugged. “What if I did, I have none,” she said, her eyes dancing. “I can barely contain myself, Hanna.”

  “I noticed,” the old woman said tartly. “Rest now, so that you are not tired when the feast begins. A little sleep,” she coaxed, “like when you were a child.”

  “Very well.” Katerina acquiesced for the old woman’s benefit, but she knew she would never be able to sleep. All she could think of was Banyen and the look in his eyes when he saw her in the bronze gown.

  The raucous shouts and the sounds of merrymaking ceased when Katerina and Halya made their entrance. For the first time in her life Katerina felt beautiful, and the men’s looks of approval proved it to her. Her eyes immediately sought out Banyen’s, and she felt a warm glow spread through her as his dark blue eyes softened and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. She wanted to run to him and throw herself into his arms, but instead she seated herself next to Mikhailo and Halya.

  “Katerina,” Halya whispered, “what is the matter with Kostya? He looks ill to me. Is something wrong, is there something you aren’t telling me? Even from here I can see the flush on his face, and it isn’t because I’m in the same room. He looks ill to me,” she said fearfully.

  Katerina stared across the room and felt frightened at Kostya’s reddened complexion. “Perhaps a small fever, he could have become chilled. I’ll have Mikhailo see to it,” she said. She beckoned Mikhailo and whispered in his ear, cautioning him to be discreet when he spoke with Kostya.

  “Do you have medicines here in this fortress?” Halya demanded harshly, her lips trembling, her eyes fearful.

  “Of course we have medicines here in the fortress. Mikhailo is as good as any physician. He can even pull teeth with little pain to the patient,” Katerina said confidently. “You must not show your alarm to the others. I’m sure it’s nothing more than a small temperature that will abate by morning. Kostya has been working hard, and I’m sure the reason is that with his strenuous work he could put you from his thoughts. It’s his way of making the days go faster. Nothing is going to happen to him, I give you my word.”

  The princess nodded, but the look of worry did not leave her face. She nibbled at her food and refused to take her eyes from Kostya.

  Mikhailo returned to the table and bent over to whisper in Katerina’s ear. “The man is ill. Not only does he have a raging fever, but chills also rack his body. He refuses to leave until the meal is over. He agreed to bed down in the kitchen, where it is warm. I told him I would tend him and that it was best he remove himself from the others so
he does not infect them with his illness. A day or two and he’ll be on the mend,” he said, a ring of confidence in his voice.

  “The best time for you to take him to the kitchen will be when Stepan begins playing his fiddle. By then the men will have much vodka in them and they won’t notice his departure. Tell Kostya that later the princess will come to sit by his side.”

  Halya nodded her thanks when Katerina explained what Mikhailo had said.

  Katerina pushed thoughts of Kostya and his illness from her mind. Nothing could spoil this last evening with Banyen. God alone knew when she would see him again. Impatiently she waited for the meal to be over with so she could sit next to Banyen when Stepan began to play. Her eyes sought out Banyen’s, and she smiled, her whole face alight with happiness at just knowing he was in the same room. Don’t let anything spoil this night, she prayed silently.

  As soon as Hanna and several of the elderly Cossacks who lived in the fortress cleared the table, Stepan, resplendent in his full Cossack uniform, walked to the center of the arena and brought his fiddle to his chin and began to play a rousing Cossack song. The men stomped and stamped their feet, their hands clapping wildly. Out of the corner of her eye Katerina watched Mikhailo and Kostya leave the room. A sigh of relief escaped her as she noticed that no one paid any attention to the two men’s departure, everyone busy singing and dancing in accompaniment with the music.

  Banyen excused himself to his men, who paid him no heed, and worked his way among the laughing, shouting men, who were demanding that Stepan play louder. He stood looking down at Katerina, who smiled into his eyes. He seated himself in Mikhailo’s chair and immediately searched for Katerina’s hand beneath the tablecloth. He leaned over slightly and spoke softly. “This night is ours. In all of Russia there is none more beautiful than you.”

  Katerina forced her voice to remain calm, but there was nothing she could do to still the trembling in her body. “You’ll be gone from here and from me by sun-up tomorrow. I don’t know when I’ll see you again.” Impulsively she tightened her grip on his hand and stared into his eyes. “Don’t go, Banyen. Please don’t go.”

  Banyen’s heart pounded in his chest. “I have to go to Sibir, you know that. There is nothing on this earth that could keep me from returning to you. I’ll come back to you, you have my promise. I couldn’t live without you,” he said tenderly.

  Tears misted in Katerina’s eyes. She had heard those same words once before, a long time ago. Yuri spoke them to her when he left Volin, and now he was dead. Dead by her hand. A deep shudder ripped through her body at the thought, and Banyen felt saddened. How he loved her. What else could he say to her? How could he prove to her that he would return? It always came down to words. Words he did not know how to string together. Surely she understood his feelings. Didn’t actions speak louder than words? “I love you, for now, for forever more,” he said huskily.

  Katerina’s amber eyes glistened with tears. “I know, I understand; it’s just that I’m acting like a female. You are my life,” she whispered.

  “If you don’t stop looking at me like that, I’ll drag you by the hair from this arena and then what will the men think?” he teased.

  Katerina shrugged. “Who cares? I only care about you. Tonight I don’t even care about the Cosars, just you.”

  “We must talk of other things or I’ll carry you from here. Tell me, what is wrong with Kostya? He looked sick to me when we entered the arena this evening. Where did your man take him?”

  Katerina frowned. “Mikhailo said he has a raging fever and his body is racked with chills. Mikhailo is ministering to him in the kitchen, where the heat from the fire is constant. We couldn’t take a chance of him infecting the others. Especially your men, as you leave tomorrow. You have a long ride ahead of you, and nothing must go wrong.”

  Banyen and Katerina sat watching Stepan as he fiddled away, his eyes merry and his fingers flying with the bow. Banyen leaned back on the rough chair and let his eyes travel to Halya. He had to talk with her before he left. What was wrong with him? For days he had promised himself that he would seek her out, but there hadn’t been time. He had to do it tonight, before he left, or he would never do it.

  Mikhailo walked back into the cavern and, with a nod to Katerina to show that Kostya was resting, strode to the center and took the fiddle from Stepan and began playing. The young Cossack raised his arms and started to dance. The faster Mikhailo played, the faster Stepan’s feet flew, up and down, up and down, his feet shooting out in front of him precariously. The men shouted encouragement as he continued with his wild dance.

  Katerina felt Halya rise rather than saw her move to make her way to join Kostya. Her eyes were on the dancing Stepan and Rokal, who suddenly entered the middle of the ring. Mikhailo’s fiddle stopped, and Stepan stood up and bowed low, a wild grin on his face.

  Rokal shouted to be heard over the wild clamors of “More, more!” “My mother used to call me a dancing fool!” He laughed. “What this Stepan can do, I can do. Play, Mikhailo!” he shouted imperiously. Full of vodka and good food, Rokal steadied himself and began to imitate Stepan’s movements, to the amusement of his comrades. Seeing that his legs were going in different directions, Rokal sat down in the middle of the floor, a look of defeat on his face. Suddenly he grinned and jumped up and raced to the table where Katerina sat. He pulled her to her feet. “You promised, back in the Urals, that you would dance for us again. Now is your chance. Music, loud music,” he ordered Mikhailo.

  Banyen grinned at the look on Katerina’s face. She had promised, and now she had to dance. Good. This was the perfect time for him to seek out Halya. She would be with Kostya. Katerina wouldn’t miss him, and he would be back by the time she was finished with her dancing.

  No one paid any heed to his leave-taking; all eyes were on Katerina and Mikhailo.

  Banyen crouched down in the kitchen and looked at Kostya’s flushed face. The man was lying on a sable carpet and covered to his chin by another length of fur. The princess sat next to him, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  She looked up at Banyen, despair written on her beautiful face. She stood up and brushed her hair from her forehead. “One moment he is lucid and the next he’s . . . he . . . It’s been so long, and now when I’ve found him, he . . . It’s so unjust. What if he dies?” she wailed.

  “He won’t,” Banyen said, quietly. “He’s survived worse than this. Mikhailo says the fever will abate by morning. Believe the old man. Katerina says he is well versed in herbs and medicines. You must believe and have hope. If you don’t, you can’t survive. Katerina told me of his search for you and you for him. He will survive.”

  “If I could only believe that,” Halya whimpered. “It can’t all be for nothing. I don’t want to live if he dies. I couldn’t bear to go through endless days knowing I would never see his face again. I just couldn’t.” Suddenly she threw herself into Banyen’s arms and sobbed brokenheartedly. Banyen was jolted backward as she flung herself at him. He reached out to grasp her waist in order to break his momentum, and Halya came to rest against his chest, his arms around her to still her shaking and trembling.

  Awkwardly he mouthed soothing words of comfort, and gradually felt her relax against him. His arms still around her, he gently pushed her a little away from him and looked down at her. “It will be all right. Nothing is going to happen to Kostya. He’s young and strong and if he could survive the winter here in the fortress, he can survive this illness. I’ve seen fevers such as his many times in the Mongol camps, and it’s a temporary illness. Believe me, he’ll survive,” he said, patting her on the cheek the way an indulgent father would pat a child.

  Halya smiled tremulously and reached up and kissed him lightly on the mouth.

  Banyen blushed and turned to see Katerina standing in the doorway. He blinked at the look on her face. She didn’t think, she couldn’t think . . . To his tortured eyes she resembled a tapered candle flame ready to spring to life. He watched as she swallowed
hard and ran from the room.

  “Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!” Katerina whimpered as she ran down first one corridor and then another till she came to her room. Panting, she raced inside, slamming the door behind her. Quickly she threw the heavy bolt and leaned against the stout door, her hands to her cheeks. Oh, God, he didn’t, he couldn’t. It was all a lie, a trick. A dirty, sneaky Mongol trick. Fool! her mind shrieked. Stupid, foolish Cossack woman! She had believed all his lies. “I knew I should never have trusted his damn slanted eyes,” she moaned as she slid to the floor, her back never leaving the door. She sat huddled there for what seemed like hours.

  Some time later, a knock sounded on the door. Katerina’s eyes flew open but she said nothing, her body stiff and rigid.

  “Katerina! It’s not what you think. Open the door so I can talk to you. I can’t leave you thinking what you’re thinking. I love you,” Banyen said harshly.

  “Liar!” Katerina whispered.

  “It’s not what you think. I’ll not apologize for something I didn’t do,” he called through the door in an agonized voice.

  “Bastard!” Katerina hissed between clenched teeth.

  “I’m asking you to let me in so that we can talk. We must clear this up before I leave. I won’t ask you again.”

  “Dirty, sneaky Mongol, I should have known better than to believe your lies. All men lie,” she muttered to herself, the tears streaming down her cheeks. “I believed you and you lied to me,” she whimpered as she crawled to a warm place near the fire. “It was the horses, it was always the Cosars. I saw the way you looked at the princess and I . . . I still thought, I still believed that you could love me. Liar!”

  Banyen, standing outside, refused to believe the silence that roared in his ears.

  “Katerina, I meant every word I said to you. I love you, I’ll love you for the rest of my life. You didn’t see me do anything except comfort the princess. Ask her yourself. It’s you that I love. Let me prove it to you.”

 

‹ Prev