Against a Crimson Sky

by James Conroyd Martin

  The man harumphed. “Do I understand you correctly, Lady Stelnicka, are you threatening—?”

  “Oh, Captain Spinek, I’m the last person to engage in threats. I merely want to have my son—Tadek’s brother—enrolled here. It’s that simple.”

  The captain pulled his large frame to his feet, tipping over his chair behind him. He put on a false smile. “Very well, Lady Stelnicka. It will be done.”

  Anna left the castle-like structure, her head dizzy with victory. Her heart was still racing. She had done it! Jan Michał would be so pleased to hear the news.

  “Anna! Anna!” someone called.

  Anna looked up to see a carriage drawing to a halt. Zofia was at the window. “Anna!” her cousin called. “What are you doing in Warsaw?”

  “I came to see Tadeusz.”

  “Your son is here? At the academy? My God, he’s only—what? Six!”

  “Not quite.” Anna affected a smile. “Never too many soldiers, they say.”

  “So they say.—Shame on you, Anna! You had no intention of stopping while you’re here in the city?—Well, now that I’ve caught you, you’re coming home with me!”

  “I need to return to Sochaczew soon.”

  “And so you will—but I won’t take no for an answer. I really won’t. We’ll have supper together, just you and me.”

  Anna didn’t have it in her to argue. “What about Iza?”

  “Oh, Izabel usually eats earlier than I—with her governess. You know the house well enough. Come directly.”

  Upon arriving home, Zofia rushed to her bedchamber and stood before her full-length mirror. She gauged herself from a few paces away first, her dark eyes moving up and down over her figure. The silver-pink gown did her justice. Then she drew in very close to the glass, examining every shade and nuance of her face. Was there some new blemish, the beginning of just the tiniest new wrinkle?

  Anna had looked so fresh and lovely, her green eyes sparkling in the sunlight. Zofia’s cousin was only a year younger than she—twenty-seven now. And yet she looked as if she had not aged at all in the last five or six years! Could it be that, like a crab, Anna was going backward while Zofia advanced in time?

  Am I showing my age? There were those little lines at her eyes. What could be done about those? A wide smile worsened them, so Zofia affected a more moderate smile before the mirror. Better. Zofia decided, all in all, she was holding up well. There were years left to be spent—like gold ducats, as she used to say.

  She pinched her cheeks, drawing up the color, and went down to welcome Anna.

  “So you came to visit Tadeusz and enroll your other son?” Zofia asked at table, raising a glass of wine in a toast. Then you and Barbara will be all alone at Sochaczew.”

  “We’ll hardly be that,” Anna said, sipping at her wine.

  “Oh, I know you have the Szrabers and your support staff. What I meant was that of your family of five, there would only be you and your daughter.”

  Anna smiled weakly.

  “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

  “I’m not sad. It’s a temporary situation.”

  Conversation lagged for a while as the meal continued. Zofia talked of other things, but her mind kept returning to Anna’s “temporary situation.” It was over dessert that the conversation took a dramatic turn. “Anna!” Zofia blurted.

  When Anna looked up from her plum pudding, Zofia cried, “Come live here!”

  Anna set down her spoon. The green eyes blinked in surprise. “Here? Zofia, I couldn’t possibly.”

  “Of course, you could! It would do you and your daughter good to be in the city. Barbara is only two years younger than Izabel. They’re cousins! It’s only right that they should get to know each other and become friends, too, just as you and I did.” Some dark glint in Anna’s eyes brought Zofia up short. “Oh, I know I didn’t always behave like a friend, Anna. I’m sorry for that. I came between you and Jan.” Zofia fixed her eyes on Anna’s. “Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

  “You saved my life, Zofia. How can I not?”

  Zofia smiled. “All’s well that ends well, yes?”

  “Zofia, this is not your house. It’s Paweł’s and I would feel— ”

  “It’s as good as mine!” Zofia interrupted. “Paweł wants what makes me happy. And I’d like for you to come and stay. Really!”

  Anna shook her head.

  Zofia noticed again a darkness in her eyes. “My life is not what it was when we lived in Praga, Anna, if that’s what you’re thinking. I am not nearly so reckless. The scandal-mongers will starve these days for any juicy tidbits from Zofia Grońska. Why, I shouldn’t be surprised to find myself married by thirty!”

  “To Paweł?”

  “No. Paweł is very dear to me, the tried and true type, you know, but—well, I’m looking for someone to lift me off my feet. Your eyes are laughing at me. Oh, will you come live here, Anna? The whole second floor will be given over to you as a separate household. Let me make up for my past indiscretions. Let us become friends once again!”

  “We are friends, Zofia. But I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “Give me but one reason.”

  Anna paused for a moment. “Jan Michał has given his dog Borys over into Barbara’s care. She wouldn’t leave him behind.”

  “And she doesn’t have to. A dog would liven things up around here. Izabel would love it! If that’s the biggest of your concerns— ”

  “Big? The dog is huge, Zofia!”

  “So?”

  “And there’s Jan.” Anna gave a valiant smile. “He’ll be coming home soon.”

  “For good?”

  The smile proved fugacious. “I hope so.”

  “You are too hopeful, I fear. He is not so different from Paweł. Do you know what Paweł told me?”

  “What?”

  “That he would put up his sword when Poland is Poland again. Can you imagine? This century will be ground to dust before that happens.”

  Anna stood now. She had gone white as a nun’s bib. “Zofia, I appreciate your offer. It means much to me. Really. But I can’t accept. I should be going now.”

  Zofia rose. “I’m sorry, I put you on the spot. Just do one thing for me, Anna. Just go home and think about it. There’s so much life here in the city, so much more for Barbara to do and to learn. And you’ll be a stone’s throw from your boys should you wish to visit, or should they need you. Just tell me you’ll think about it.”

  Anna sighed and gave a smile meant to mask her heartache.

  Part Three

  Two Suns Cannot Shine

  In one Sphere.

  —Polish Proverb

  18

  October 1805

  Before the mirror, Anna adjusted the amber combs in her upswept auburn hair.

  “Anna!” Zofia called from below. “The carriage is waiting! What’s keeping you?”

  “Coming!” Anna called, frowning at her reflection, then smoothing the folds of her slate blue gown. She pulled on a wrap and made for the stairs. Once inside the coach, she made her confession. “I wish you didn’t insist I come to the Potocki party, Zofia.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly.”

  “I’m not capable of being civil to the Prussian commandant. Prussia is no friend to Poland.”

  “One has to be pragmatic, darling. All right, then, you don’t have to speak with General Kalkreuth. But it wouldn’t hurt. You may need a favor sometime, and he’s in charge of all of Warsaw.”

  “I don’t care! You should have brought your friend Charlotte to this reception instead.”

  “Charlotte! My God, no! She’s French! And she’d be sure to say the wrong thing and have us all arrested. She can be a rattlebrain at times.”

  Anna laughed, settling back for the drive to the fashionable Willanów district where Zofia’s friend Countess Anusia Potocka lived out the winter months with her husband Aleksandr and his parents. Anna had deferred to come along because Zofia had treated her with great war
mth and generosity since she and Barbara had come to live in Warsaw. That was four years ago, she realized with a start. Four years! And in that time she had seen Jan only once. Once! Her heart and feelings—held at bay most of the time—began to stir at the thought.

  Four years. Ten years of marriage in all. But so few days spent with Jan. Marriage was not what she had dreamed of, hoped and prayed for. A guest at her wedding had said that husband and wife are two windows, each letting light into a home, light that seemlessly blends, brightening and sanctifying the marriage. But for years now, there had been but one lone window. And every day the worry that Jan would be wounded or killed preyed upon her, the worry that a letter would arrive saying he would not be coming home at all.

  She had received a letter from Jan a fortnight before. “Both Jan and Paweł are well and off on a new assignment,” she had told Zofia, who received fewer letters from Paweł these days. “Once a soldier,” Zofia clucked, “always a soldier,” failing to inquire as to the nature of the assignment. It had become her stock phrase, and its stinging effect on Anna never lost potency. Zofia seemed not to miss Paweł and did little commiserating with Anna on Jan’s absence.

  Nonetheless, coming to Warsaw had been the right thing to do. Here Anna was able to see her sons more frequently and provide a life for her daughter that was more varied and rich. Barbara and Izabel had become like sisters. If only it had been like that for her and Zofia years before . . .

  “What are you thinking about, Anna?”

  “Me? I was thinking I should thank you—for bringing me to Warsaw.”

  Zofia’s eyes fixed on Anna’s. “My judgments are not always so very wrong. Anusia is a Tyszkiewicz and niece to the former king, as you know. Look! We’re coming to their drive now.—You should have seen her wedding, Ania! It was splendid. Did I tell you that a gypsy once predicted she would marry a Potocki?—And who would have believed, she did!—Now you are to enjoy yourself today!”

  “Thank God you’re here at last, Zofia!” Lady Anusia Potocki called as Zofia and Anna alighted from the coach. “Hello, Anna! Come in, come in!”

  The house was warm and alive with music, conversation, and delicious aromas. Anna had met the Countess Potocka on two or three occasions, but only now was introduced to her in-laws and her uncle, Prince Stanisław Poniatowski, namesake and nephew of the late king. She could see the resemblance—although the prince was much more masculine and handsome. His sister—Anusia’s aunt—Lady Constance Tyszkiewicz, arrived later.

  Twenty guests were scattered about the huge reception hall, talking in little clusters. General Hans Kalkrueth sat ensconced in a cushioned high back chair, speaking in low tones with several other Prussian officials—sycophants—standing nearby. Anna thought he hardly seemed a military man. Were it not for a strong nose, his fleshy face and simple smile would remind one of an elderly aunt. Anna could not fathom why he and his companions had been invited. After all, Lady Anusia Potocka’s father had supported the Constitution, and the whole household favored a free Poland.

  Seated in a chair at the east end of the room—opposite to the Prussians—was a man in Russian uniform. He seemed to be staring at Anna. “Who is that, Zofia?”

  Zofia, not always one to lower her voice, did so. “That’s General Beningsen.—one of the five assassins who murdered Tsar Paul.”

  “Tsar Paul!” Anna blurted. The assassination of the Russian Tsar—rumored to have been at the hands of officers bribed by British agents—had shocked the continent in 1801.

  “Shush! You’ll be heard.”

  He had looked away, affording Anna closer observation. He had glittering, deep-set eyes and a protruding chin. His gray hair was drawn and tied at the back of his head. He seemed genteel enough. “It was a British-instigated assassination, wasn’t it?” Anna asked, holding her fan to her face.

  “Yes, and he’ll talk freely of it, too, if you bring it up. The tsar fought off the five with more valor than they expected. As for Beningsen, he’s quite proud of his part in the murder. Considers himself a modern Brutus. You know what they say,” Zofia intoned, giving a flick of her hand, “‘the doorstep of the palace is slippery.’ Our own Stanisław also learned that little lesson.”

  Zofia’s comment was said in passing, but the proverb haunted Anna every time she thought of the Brotherhood’s scheme to make Tadeusz king.

  The meal was delayed and delayed again. It soon became apparent that other guests were expected. “Who are we waiting for, Zofia?” Anna asked at last.

  “Prince Adam Czartoryski.”

  “Oh?”

  “And a surprise visitor.”

  “Who?—Tell me!”

  “You’ll see.” Zofia pulled one of her smug faces.

  Anna didn’t have to wait long. Within half an hour, a young, handsome man in a shimmering Russian uniform, tightly tailored, entered the Potocki home, followed by Prince Czartoryski and others. Everyone’s obeisance to the Russian made it clear that he was no mere officer. He was Russia’s Tsar Aleksandr!

  Anna felt a heat come into her face. Zofia had played her a dirty trick. Her cousin had certainly known that Anna would not have attended had she known the Russian Tsar was to be entertained. Despite the passage of years, her memories of Catherine and of Russians in Warsaw were still raw.

  Anusia’s father-in-law, Count Stanisław Potocki, introduced the tsar to his guests, eventually directing him to where Anna and Zofia stood. Anna attempted to wipe her face of any emotion as she curtsied before him. Zofia smiled, her eyelids sinking seductively. “I am honored to meet you, Your Highness.”

  Tsar Aleksandr’s own eyes widened slightly. He mumbled like a schoolboy and moved on.

  At the earliest opportunity, Anna pulled Zofia aside. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because you wouldn’t have come! Isn’t that so?”

  “Yes. But it should have been my decision to make. I’m leaving now!”

  Zofia grasped Anna by the arm. “You can’t, Anna!” she hissed. “Anusia has you seated at his table. It would be an insult.”

  “And what was it when Catherine sent her legions down on Praga massacring everyone—and I might add, burning your home to the ground? Did that not rise to the level of insult?”

  “It was, Anna. I agree. But one must think about today.”

  “Just what’s going on here, Zofia?” Anna disengaged herself from her cousin. “The Prussian commandant—and now the Russian emperor—under the same roof?”

  Zofia smiled. “Aleksandr is rather good looking, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, in a doll-like sort of way. But what is he doing here?”

  “It’s as I told you earlier, cousin. Pragmatism is the best course. You see, while we have Polish legions fighting with the French against a coalition of our longtime enemies, Adam Czartoryski has worked his way in at the Russian court. Aleksandr is said to be about to give us our country back—but with himself as King of Poland.”

  Anna shrugged. “I’ve heard the rumors to that effect. The thought does not thrill me. Now that hardly explains Kalkreuth’s presence here.”

  “It’s a precautionary measure on the part of the Prussians. They’re not allowing Aleksandr to pass through the city unescorted because they’re afraid the people would become too enthusiastic for the idea of him as king. They fear a coup. Kalkreuth and his detachment are here to see him safely through the Prussian cordon.”

  “Is that what some of the Russians are snickering about?”

  Zofia nodded. “Of course, the Prussians don’t think it’s too funny, what with this little enterprise coming at the same time as Napoléon’s threats from the west. But they need Aleksandr as an ally.”

  The late afternoon meal commenced. To her amazement Anna was seated next to the tsar. He seemed irritated that too much room was left on either side of his place at the table, so he moved his armchair a pace to the right—next to Anna’s chair.

  “I have no communicable diseases, my dear,” he said, �
�and I don’t bite.”

  Anna affected a smile. It was enough to make her heart race with an ambivalent mixture of emotions. She held in her heart deep bitterness for Russia’s past treatment of Poland—and yet fought off a sense of awe at sitting next to the Tsar of all the Russias. His handsomeness and off-hand attitude were disarming. In fact, he seemed rather ordinary in speech and manner, with no sense of hubris about him. One could easily forget that he was an emperor. And he talked like a magpie—in stentorian tones because he himself had poor hearing.

  Most of the talk was in French, a language Anna learned as a child and one widely used by the nobility across Europe. How odd it was that Poles, Prussians, and Russians sat at table, and their language in common was the same as that of a little French general who was moving—even at that moment—toward Poland and the East.

  “Have you been to Russia?” the emperor asked, turning to Anna.

  “I have not,” Anna said. “However, my husband’s estate was not so very far west of your borders, near Halicz. But it fell behind the Austrian cordon when Poland was carved up. The same fate befell my cousin’s estate.”

  Anna saw Zofia—who sat directly across the table—wince at the boldness of the comment, but Aleksandr seemed not to take in the meaning, or chose not to.

  “Have you no wish to travel the steppes?” the tsar asked.

  “Should I?”

  As the tsar rambled on in a litany of Russia’s strengths and sights, Anna glanced down the table and realized that General Beningsen’s hooded eyes were fastened on her, a slight smile playing on his lips. She turned back to the tsar.

  He made no mention of the plight of the Russian peasant, and Anna thought she might play devil’s advocate by bringing up the Polish proverb that people behaved “in Russia as one must, in Poland as one will.” But then she realized that Zofia was still closely following her little tête à tête with the tsar. Almost as if her cousin could read her mind, Zofia tossed her a glance that cautioned her to be more affable.