Darker Jewels (37 page)

It is my task to tell you that I cannot agree with Father Pogner’s belief that the Czar will be overthrown by rivals, or if it is to happen, it will not be soon. Father Pogner wishes to find a noble family with a reasonable claim to the Throne who will trade later advantage for Polish support at this time: I say that none of us can make such an offer without the direct order of King Istvan, and further, the king would be a fool to do it. There are those who are loyal to the memory of Czar Ivan and therefore will not act against his son until required to do so. It is not their devotion to Czar Ivan that inspires most of them, but fear of the consequences of failure. Those who challenge the Czar may expect their severed heads to be set up across the Square from the Savior Gate.

I have continued to meet with Ferenc Rakoczy in spite of Father Pogner’s orders not to have any contact with the Transylvanian. I believe that it is part of the purpose of this mission to gather opinions of all its members, including those not in current favor. I must tell you that Rakoczy shares my concerns in regard to the situation at Court. He sees no immediate resolution to the weakness of the Czar for he does not think that any of the powerful nobles are prepared for the destruction and blood of an uprising. Therefore the plots will continue in secret and the nobles will scheme among themselves to gain advancement without leading armies into the field.

I have spoken twice with Boris Godunov, who is the official given the task of dealing with foreigners on the Czar’s behalf. He does not wish to break his few ties with Europe and England, for he is convinced that for Russia the future is to the west, not the east. His opinion is shared by few in the Court, who stillfear the day the Mongols come again to ravage Moscovy, and therefore turn their faces toward Sarai. The last Mongol attack on the city was roughly twelve years ago and many here are certain they will return. Godunov has said now that Moscovy has reclaimed much Russian lands from the Mongols that the city is safe. He has given his support to Rakoczy because of the Transylvanian’s wide travels. There is also the matter of Rakoczy’s alchemical jewels, and while Czar Feodor does not have his father’s preoccupation with gems, Boris Godunov does not underestimate their value, neither to the treasury nor in regard to aesthetic worth; Godunov is a clever man and a capable one.

In my opinion, but not in the opinion of Father Pogner, it would be wise to support Godunov and encourage his enterprises that bring Russia more into the European world; the time is fast approaching when we will want their strength with us in the field against the Turk. We will not have Russian support then if we do not endorse Godunov now. To assume that because his mother was a Tartar that he himself is not wholly dedicated to the Czar and Russia is a great mistake that many of the Court make. In time I am certain they will realize their folly. Godunov is the mostforward-looking of the nobles, and I have found him to be reliable in ways many of the others are not. It is my conviction that Europe will find a staunch friend in Godunov if we will demonstrate our appreciation of him and his work.

let me apologize for giving opinions contrary to those of Father Pogner, but I would be failing in my duly if I did not inform you of my doubts and conclusions in these matters. You charged me with the task of informing you, and I must do this with a clear conscience, though it challenges the position taken by the leader of the embassy. I ask you to forgive my disobedience to Father Pogner; it comes from my evaluation of the circumstances here, and is not meant to deride or discredit Father Pogner’s opinions and leadership. My conclusions are not given to slight him, but to provide another perspective on what is taking place here in Moscovy; I pray you will regard everything I have said in this light and will respect that my dedication to this mission supersedes my deputy’s position. Father Pogner has been at pains to provide as complete an assessment as he is able, and has done it in all stringent humility. What am I to do but emulate him, and present to Your Excellency the observations I have made?

For the sake of our Church and the Kingdom of Poland, let me implore you to consider what I have reported here. I know that Rakoczy would tell you much the same as I have. Before you take Father Pogner’s part, I beg you will first reflect on what is in these pages, and include it in your deliberations.

With constant devotion to Your Excellency and the Church we both serve, and with honor to King Istvan, I sign this in the assurance that God knows all truth and gives the victory to His Son Jesus Christ and those who follow His Word.

Milan Krabbe, Society of Jesus November 14th, A. D. 1584, at Moscovy in the Goldsmiths’ Quarter

For the fourth time in a week, Father Pogner had been refused access to the Terem Palace; Czar Feodor Ivanovich did not wish to see him, or to speak with any of his priests. The old Jesuit fumed as he trod gingerly along die rutted, icy roads toward the Savior Gate, heaping abuse on his companion’s head because he

could not upbraid the boyars or the Czar for his embarrassment.

It had snowed the night before, then the morning sun had warmed enough to melt the snow for a few hours, but now, as high streamers of clouds raced along the sky, what had been snow became ice, dark as mud, treacherous.

Father Kovnovski trudged along beside Father Pogner, the short wolf-fur cape of his kontush turned up to protect his head from the icy wind slicing through Moscovy. “Truly, Father Pogner,” he said in his best mollifying manner, “these Russians are nothing more than barbarians. No proper ruler would treat the head of an embassy so disgracefully.”

“That Godunov is despicable! Telling me that he would deal through Rakoczy! Rakoczy! The man is a Russian puppet now, if he ever was anything more. And Godunov supposes that we do not know this. He pretends concern for Poland at the same time he foists Rakoczy on us!” He lowered his voice when he realized he had been attracting unwelcome attention; as an added precaution he switched from Polish to Latin. “What arrogant fools they are!”

“Truly, Father, they do not know your mettle,” said Father Kovnovski, his eyes lowered. He hated these times with Father Pogner but endured them, convinced that they would lead to favor and advancement when they returned to Poland.

“No, they do not,” Father Pogner agreed grimly. “How dare they place Rakoczy above us. It is the greatest insult of all.” He peered into the wind and gestured angry satisfaction. “In another week we will be trapped here for another winter.”

“King Istvan has not recalled us, in any case,” said Father Kovnovski, his manner more deprecating than before. “Until he does, we must strive to fulfill his mandate, for the victory of Poland and the glory of God.”

Father Pogner squinted up at the gold and silver onion domes visible over the wooden roofs of the palace of Vasilli Shuisky. “Yes,” he said, drawing out the word. “These Russians and their infernal Church! They call themselves the Third Rome. Hah!” He rounded on Father Kovnovski, his irritation exacerbated by Father Kovnovski’s conciliating manner. “Do not try to defend them, Father; they are condemned already by God.”

“It is their ignorance,” said Father Kovnovski, not exactly apologizing, but softening the appearance of the insult.

They passed the gateway into the courtyard of the Shuisky palace; Father Pogner shook his head in condemnation. “They are deceitful and malign, all of them.”

“They listen to their priests, who are misled,” said Father Kov- novski. “They follow teachings that are in error.”

“And their Princes,” added Father Pogner as he glared back at the Shuisky palace. “Imperious, egregious miscreants, every one. May God send confusion to all of them.”

“Amen,” said Father Kovnovski devoutly. In this he was wholly in agreement with Father Pogner. “They are without grace and without honor, these Princes and boyars and the rest.” “And for that God will give them scorpions to eat, and disturb their nights with the visions of the damned,” Father Pogner declared. “They will know want and shame ’til they repent.” He slipped on a patch of ice and would have fallen were it not for Father Kovnovski catching his elbow.

They floundered together, then righted themselves, both breathing harder and with little clouds of steam coming from their mouths. They pretended not to hear the laughter around them.

“That was a near thing,” said a voice from somewhere above them in acceptable Polish.

Father Kovnovski craned his neck and saw a blond, blocky man on a mincing strawberry roan, a Russian noble, judging by his beard and embroidered shuba. “It was,” he said grudgingly.

“I saw one of the Guards go down in just this place not an hour ago. He was badly injured by the fall. You may count yourselves fortunate,” the newcomer went on congenially. “I daresay you don’t remember me: we met when you were first presented at Court? It was more than a year ago.” He swung off his horse and approached the two Jesuits, making a slight reverence as he came. “I am Anastasi Sergeivich Shuisky.”

Father Pogner stared hostilely at Anastasi, but Father Kovnovski nodded slowly. “Yes. I do recall you. It was before we were taken to Czar Ivan. You were at the Palace of Facets. In the anteroom. It is ... an honor to renew our acquaintance, Prince Shui—”

“No, no,” Anastasi corrected. “My cousin”—he indicated the palace on his right—“is a Prince. I am a Duke; the cadet branch of the family.”

“Ah,” said Father Pogner as if he understood. “Very interesting.”

“It is often the fate of the junior branch to serve the senior one, and I am no exception,” Anastasi said, not quite concealing the rancor he felt. “When the senior calls, juniors must obey.” He offered the Jesuits an understanding smile. “Is it the same in Poland?”

“It is the same throughout the world,” said Father Kovnovski with a philosophical lift to his shoulders. “It is kind of you to speak with us. I had begun to fear that no one in Moscovy—” He broke off at a warning glance from Father Pogner.

“You should not blame Moscovy for the actions of a few ambitious boyars,” said Anastasi, sensing an opportunity he had not been aware of before. It was coming at precisely the right time, for not half an hour ago, Vasilli had told him that he was no longer in need of Anastasi’s skills as a translator; Anastasi was still furious at the cavalier dismissal he had been given and avidly curious to discover whom Vasilli had found to provide translations in his place. His mercurial smile came and went.

“They told us that Czar Feodor had spoken with the British earlier today—Horsey and Lovell—and could not see other foreigners; he was too tired,” said Father Pogner, deeply affronted. “And we have come every other day in the hope of being received.”

Anastasi shook his head, exuding sympathy. “It is inexcusable that you should be given such treatment. Still, do not blame poor Feodor Ivanovich. He does not choose his company: that is done for him; he is given no opportunity to protest, or if he does he is ignored. Nikita Romanovich would remove the Czar from Court altogether, but Boris Feodorovich insists that he remain here, the better to control the Court.” He saw the guarded fury in Father Pogner’s face and determined to take advantage of it. “It is a reprehensible development, this arbitrary favor Godunov displays.”

“Godunov,” said Father Pogner icily, “admitted Rakoczy yesterday but would not admit us today. He claims that Poland has been given an audience with Czar Feodor, and that our presence is not required.”

“There, you see,” said Anastasi, feeding Father Pogner’s indignation. “You know what these men are, ambitious creatures who seek to be Czar through Feodor Ivanovich, who cannot protect himself from them.” He gave Father Pogner his most cherubic smile. “I share your dismay, good Pole. I have tasted the same bitter dish myself.”

Father Pogner looked toward Anastasi in surprise. “You? You are a noble of high rank and excellent family. How could you be subjected to—”

“Ah, worthy Pole, you do not know what twisted purpose rules the Court.” He crossed himself. “It is a dreadful time to be at Court. Everyone is aware that the current situation is dangerous. There are so few men to be trusted,
and...”
He let his words trail away as Father Pogner nodded emphatically. “I have prayed for an end to the rivalries, and for the Czar to claim what is his, but God has been deaf to me.”

“God is not deaf,” Father Pogner said severely. “He listens and He judges, and we must bow to His Will.” He would have turned and walked away, but Father Kovnovski forestalled that.

“How have you fared at Court, then, good Duke?” he asked politely.

“I have hardly fared at all,” said Anastasi, his anger unconcealed for once. “My greater cousin has usurped all other Shuiskys, including his own brothers. He has his eyes on the Cap of Kazan, I fear. Now he is risen so high, he does not soil his hands with lesser flesh, but attends only to those whose rank equals or exceeds his own.” He folded his arms. “I fear he will act against the rest of the family to secure his own position, no matter what the cost to the rest of us. It is a dreadful thing to believe so terrible a motive in the man who leads my family; I realize my suspicions are sins if they are not true, yet I cannot be rid of them.”