Darker Jewels (23 page)

Read Darker Jewels Online

Authors: Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

“Most certainly,” said Ivan. “A Russian woman is a treasure, even a skinny one.” He made an impatient gesture to the Guard. “You must wait in the hall. I do not need you in this place. I will summon you if you are needed.”

The four Guards bent double at the waist and left immediately, exchanging uncertain glances as they went.

A high shout went up from the courtyard, and Ivan at once rushed to the window, staring hungrily out. “They know something,” he whispered. “They know something. Something. Something.” He remained there in silence for several minutes, then looked around, fixing Rakoczy with his gaze. “And you will tell me if they are revealing what they know.”

“P” Rakoczy asked, taken aback. “Great Czar, surely there are those at Court who are more learned in the ways of these people. One of them will be able to report far more than I.”

But Ivan would not be put off. “You have humility, and that is a wise gift in an exile, who must rely on the good-will of others. But you have the secret of the jewels and through them you can read the human heart.” He looked away. “I was able to do it, before Ivan Ivanovich died. I could have discovered for myself, in my jewels, the truth of these witches.”

A thousand years before Rakoczy might have challenged this assertion, but now he only said, “I am not worthy to do this, Great Czar.”

“True, yes, it is true,” said Ivan. “But you are the only one I trust, Rakoczy. You are the one who will hear what these Lapps say, and you will inform me if they speak the truth.”

Rakoczy offered Ivan an Italian bow and set his objections aside for the moment, not wanting to anger Ivan. “If it is your wish that I do this, I will try to please you to the best of my ability. But I warn you, Czar, that the ways of these witches are not my ways, and I may err through my lack of understanding.” There were few other responses Ivan might accept; Rakoczy hoped that the Lapps would be sufficiently obscure in their predictions that he would not have to verify much in order to please Ivan.

“They will return here,” said Ivan darkly. “They will come and tell me what I must know. It is their task.”

“May God send them true sight,” said Rakoczy, as much for himself as for the Lapps.

Ivan crossed himself several times. “I do not sleep, you know. If I do not drink until I am in a stupor, I do not sleep.”

“Sleep is a blessing, Great Czar,” said Rakoczy, who had rarely slept more than two hours every night for well over three thousand years.

“Sleep comes from the angels, and my angels have deserted me for my sins,” said Ivan mournfully. “Death is the sleep of angels, so the Metropolitan has said, and if he is right, I will sleep before the year is gone. When I know God’s will, then I will find my angel again, and perhaps then I will sleep.” He looked down in the courtyard. “They are putting the fire out.”

“Then they—” Rakoczy began.

“They will come and tell me what they have learned, and you will inform me if they are lying,” said Ivan, filled with renewed energy.

“I will do my poor best, Great Czar,” said Rakoczy uneasily.

The sharp orders of the Guard announced the witches before the formal request for admission to the Czar’s presence. He was very nervous and revealed it by speaking too quickly and at a high pitch.

Ivan signaled to Rakoczy to open the door to the Golden Chamber. “Move aside. Stand where they will not notice you. Give them plenty of room. They must not be crowded. It is unwise to crowd witches.”

Rakoczy did not respond to this except to do as Ivan required.

The senior witch prostrated himself before Ivan’s throne as the

Czar took his place upon it. Ivan smiled with satisfaction, but Rakoczy, seeing this, knew it meant very bad news.

“We have divined, Czar,” said the senior witch, not rising from his place.

“Yes. And tell me what your oracles have revealed to you.” It was a blunt statement, but Ivan was growing impatient. “Tell me at once.”

The senior witch cowered. “We could find no answer but this, Czar: that God will take you to Him on the eighteenth day of March.”

The Golden Chamber was very silent. All the witches seemed to have stopped breathing, and the Czar might have been carved in ice. Finally he looked directly at the prostrate senior witch.

“Are you certain?” He asked it very quiedy, and then pointed to Rakoczy. “What do you say, foreigner?”

Rakoczy shook his head once. “I do not know if what he says is true prophecy, but I know that the man is honest. He may not have a true vision, but he has told you what he has seen. He does not lie, Great Czar.” He held up his cabochon sapphire pectoral, aware that he needed to add to his credibility. “By the power of this dark jewel, I say this.”

Ivan accepted this endorsement with a blessing, lowering his head in apparent submission. “It must be done again, so that there will be no error.” He leveled his right hand at the witches. “You will have another bonfire, and you will reveal your auguries to me.”

The senior witch lifted his head from his hands. “Czar, if we implore our gods again, they may be angry.”

“Nonetheless, you will do it,” said Ivan, accepting no dispute. “You will do it, and I will hear what you say again.” He clapped his hands, summoning his Guard. “You will build up another bonfire. At once.”

The Guard officers faltered for only a moment, then left the Golden Chamber and set about following the Czar’s orders.

“And you,” Ivan continued, staring at Rakoczy. “You will go down to the courtyard and watch them. You will observe all that they do, so there is no taint of Satan in it.”

There was no point in questioning Ivan, and Rakoczy did not bother. “If that is what you want, Great Czar,” he said, wishing he had been permitted to leave. He was certain there was noth-

ing the witches could tell Ivan that he would be satisfied to hear.

“It is what I demand of you, foreigner,” said Ivan. “It is my wish that you protect me from any wiles of Satan. If God will speak through these witches, then I will know my fate is sealed.” He raised his hand to block whatever sight had come upon him. “It was sealed when Ivan Ivanovich fell. I gave him his death, and he will have mine.”

The senior witch had risen to his knees, and as Ivan collapsed in convulsive sobs, he regarded Rakoczy with frightened eyes. “You are to watch us at the fire?”

“It is what Czar Ivan has ordered me to do,” said Rakoczy quietly.

The senior witch looked back at Ivan. “It is a very difficult thing, reading the signs for this man. There is too much around him.”

“I do not doubt it,” said Rakoczy. He moved closer to Ivan, who now buried his head in the crook of his arm, refusing to raise his head when Rakoczy spoke his name.

“He is there, my son is there.” He shuddered and brought his hand to his lips. He bit at his nail, tearing it off below the quick and letting it bleed. “He watches me and he rejoices in my suffering. He does not heed my prayers. I have begged him, begged him, begged him to show compassion, but he only stands before me, his face red with his blood, the side of his head cracked so I can see his brains, and his eyes like burning embers. He waits for my death, to throw me into Hell.”

The senior witch made a series of gestures. “This is to banish evil spirits, Czar,” he explained as he repeated the gestures.

Ivan motioned the Lapp to stop. “My son is not an evil spirit, and you will not be able to banish him. He has never been far from me since the hour I struck him and only God Himself can call him away.” He rose slowly, as if carrying a yearling colt on his shouldets. “Nothing I have done has moved God to spare me.”

“We will pray for you,” said one of the witches. “Perhaps our gods will—”

"No!”
bellowed Ivan. “None of your prayers. No. No. No, you will noti” He took two hasty steps toward the witch, then stopped. “I will not have Ivan Ivanovich taken away from God and His peace. It is my sin that keeps him here, and God will take full measure from me to ransom my son’s death. He will be in Paradise while I am in Hell. You will not change that.”

The senior witch intervened, soothing and apologetic. “No, we will not. None of us want to harm your son, and we do not want to take him from your God. We do not seek to try that, Czar. We seek to serve you, to answer your questions if our skills are great enough. None of us wish any harm to Ivan Ivanovich. We speak his name in our rituals. We ask the spirits we serve to protect him.”

“The angels of God protect him,” said Ivan sullenly.

Rakoczy had brought some of the composing liquid with him; he felt the vial tucked in his belt where most Russians carried their forks and spoons. He was about to draw it out and offer it to Ivan when the senior witch approached him.

“I do speak the truth, do I not?” he asked of Rakoczy, leaning close to him to add, “What does the man want of us?”

“What none can give him, I fear,” Rakoczy answered softly, then made a point of studying the Lapp’s face. “He speaks the truth, Czar. As he understands it. He intends no harm to you or your son.”

Ivan nodded several times. “Just as well, just as well,” he muttered as he wandered toward the window. “The fire is burning.”

The senior witch bowed deeply and wearily. “We will consult the fire again.”

“And you will tell me everything it reveals to you. I will not accept less than the complete revelation.” Ivan was quite erect now, and his face had the stem command that had earned him the appellation Grosny, for he was awe-inspiring as he stood before the Lappish witches and charged them with their task.

The witches offered him reverences before they left.

“Wait,” said Ivan as Rakoczy turned to follow them. “I want to speak privately with you, foreigner.”

“Very well,” said Rakoczy, his manner circumspect. These lightning shifts of temperament Ivan displayed made dealing with him difficult. “I am at your service, Great Czar.”

“I do not believe that these Lapps will lie to me, but they could work their magic on me, put enchantments or curses on my head. I want you to watch for such tricks, and inform me of them. If any of them, witches or not, shoulc do such a thing, I will have them knouted to death on the Savior Gate.” He glared at the window. “If they have no better answer for me, they will have to consult the flames again. I will not tolerate such inadequate answers.” He made a gesture of dismissal, then added, “If you see Godunov, tell him that Feodor Ivanovich is not to be allowed to know of this. His mind is not stalwart: these witches could—” He had no way to describe what the witches might do to his mild, childlike heir.

“As you wish, Great Czar,” said Rakoczy with another Italian bow. “I will watch for malign actions.” There had been many times in his long, long life when he had encountered the sort of magical craft Ivan so feared, but there was no trace of that destructive obsession in any of the Lapps; he doubted Ivan would believe him if he tried to convince the Czar of this. He backed out of the Golden Chamber and was escorted by two Guard officers down to the courtyard where the second fire was quickly turning the banked snow to muddy slush.

The witches were again moving around die flames, repeating the ritual they had already performed. Rakoczy took up a position in the shadow of the Terem Palace where the watery, oppressive sunlight would not leach his strength any more than necessary.

All through the afternoon and into the evening there were fires lit and the Lappish witches strove to give Czar Ivan some message other than the one that the flames had provided at the first: that Ivan would die on the eighteenth day of March.

Text of a letter from Boris Godunov to Sir Jerome Horsey, English Ambassador, written in Latin.

To the most honorable servant of Elizabeth of England, her ambassador in Moscovy, my greetings.

Sadly, I must agree with your observations of yesterday and inform you that I share your concerns. It is true that Czareivich Feodor is not likely to perform the duties of the Czar very well when his father is no longer able to. As deeply as we pray for the returning health, in body and mind, for Ivan, he is now fifty- three and no longer possesses the strength of his youth. To place our hopes in Czareivich Feodor would be folly. Isay this without any treasonous intent; rather I renew my loyalty to Russia by stating that Czareivich Feodor will need the guidance and care of others if he is to survive at all. He is my brother-in-law, and I hope that for my sister’s sake he will permit me to assist him. Ivan has indicated that he intends Nikita Romanov to be guardian to Czareivich Feodor, and so you may rest assured that there will be two dedicated nobles to watch over Feodor.

About the incident with the Guard officers: Feodor Ivanovich is still more a child than a man, and he has a child’s curiosity. He did not intend to commit any sin when he asked to inspect the nakedness of the officers. He sought only to see in what way they resembled him. Had he the sin you describe, he would be walled up in a monastery for it, no matter who his father might be. The Orthodox Church is very strict in this regard, and sins of the flesh as you describe are punished ivith death. I understand that this is true in some of the Catholic countries as well. But those who are as simple in their souls as Czareivich Feodor are not prey to these sins. Indeed, he takes more pleasure in ringing bells than in the flesh, either his own or my sister’s. For Feodor Ivanovich the duties of his rank are arduous and alarming, and never more than when he is with Irina. The Metropolitan himself has declared that the Czareivich is as untainted by fleshly desires as any haloed saint.

It is true that continuing our trade ivith England is essential to our progress. Through your industry and determination we have achieved some success that must be strengthened and enlarged upon if Russia is to receive the full benefit of the trade. This is not to say that England cannot profit as well. You have remarked yourself that Russian furs are considered to be among the finest in the world. To be able to provide these furs in exchange for access to your market cities brings profit to you as well as to us, both for carrying our goods andfor what you can sell here. Doubtless we can come to some understanding that will make it possible for us to enlarge the scope of our mutual enterprises.

Other books

The Ex Who Wouldn't Die by Sally Berneathy
Twice Dying by Neil McMahon
Allison Lane by A Bird in Hand
Murder Most Fowl by Edith Maxwell
Tatterhood by Margrete Lamond
Pound of Flesh by Lolita Lopez
Air Ticket by Susan Barrie