Chapter 5
Tanya came to her senses to find herself still rocking and swaying in what she now realised was obviously a vehicle of some sort. From the fact that she was hot, rather than cold, she surmised she must be in a closed carriage. She was stifling and felt very sick. She didn’t dare to struggle, for she was terrified that she would suffocate if the cloth was wrapped any tighter round her face. She tried to ease the discomfort of her position, but it was quite impossible. How long she lay, bumped and shaken around, she had no idea, for she was only half conscious and occasionally passed out for short periods. Fear and despair swept over her, and she would have sobbed if she could, but she was beyond even that. Just as she felt that at any moment she would die, in fact, almost wanted to die, the mad swaying motion eased a little, then eventually stopped. A cold blast of air told her someone had opened the door; she was lifted up, then roughly deposited again. She vaguely heard an exclamation, then the cloak was pulled from her head, and her vision swam gradually into focus. She saw carriage lamps in a huge coach of some sort, and a dark face hovering over her.
‘Fools, dolts, did you have to half kill her?’ raged a familiar voice. ‘I told you to abduct her and bring her over the border, not to mistreat her. By God, I’ve half a mind to, . . . to, . . . go on, get out of my sight. My man will give you your money. Tanya, can you hear me? They weren’t supposed to hurt you, are you all right?’
Another sickening feeling of fear took control of her. So intent on her present suffering had she been that hardly a thought as to where she was being taken had entered her head. She had vaguely thought that perhaps it was some kind of revenge to do with Mathilda, but now the awful truth swept over her. She had been abducted by Prince Mensherikovsky and was now in Russia! She raged at herself for being such a gullible fool as to believe the Mathilda story and wondered how much Sonja had been paid for betraying her. She should have guessed that the Prince would never give up as easily as she had thought, and now she was helpless, in his power completely. The tears were now running down her cheeks, try as she would to stop them. Prince Mensherikovsky was busy untying her gag and bonds.
‘Water,’ he commanded imperiously over his shoulder, and someone unseen handed him a skin bag. He made her drink a little, then bathed her face gently. As her vision cleared, she saw that his usually hard features were softened into an expression of tenderness.
‘Here, drink this,’ he commanded and poured something fiery down her throat from the contents of another flask. She choked, but almost immediately felt better as its warmth flowed through her, somehow giving her strength. She gave a shudder and feebly tried to push him away, struggling to sit up. He put his arm round her shoulders and lifted her up, then laid her down on something soft. She realised that it was, in fact, a huge bed that took up almost all the interior of the coach. He smoothed back her hair from her forehead, then gave another curt command to someone outside. Almost immediately, the coach-sleigh began to move, and soon they were speeding along. Tanya found her voice.
‘Pig,’ she said furiously and tried to sit up again. ‘Let me go, let me go, you can’t do this.’
He smiled his old, hateful smile, and the hard look was back in his face.
‘Can’t, my dear Tanya, is not in my vocabulary,’ he said smoothly and held out his hand. ‘Come, come, my sweet, cannot you make the best of your situation? It is one that many young females would give their right arm for. Mathilda for one. Poor Mathilda.’ He shook his head sadly.
‘What . . . what do you mean, poor Mathilda?’ she asked shakily, trying to stop herself from trembling.
‘Why, she didn’t like my decision to leave her behind after I tired of her,’ he explained silkily. ‘I had to have her, er, punished. She tried to stab me, you see, when I called her what she was – a slut! Her back won’t look so pretty again for a long, long time. I had her whipped,’ he finished, looking at her from under his lashes.
‘Yes, that’s just the sort of thing you would do,’ said Tanya coldly, her lip curling to show her distaste. She knew she was being foolish, tempting fate perhaps, but with this man, she couldn’t help herself. How she hated him!
His expression darkened for a moment, then he laughed.
‘You will never change, will you, little Tanya? I think you’ll hate me as long as we live. But as long as you feel something, I don’t care if it is love or hate. In my experience, they are much the same thing.’
He looked as if he would take her in his arms there and then, and she gave a gasp and shrank back. He drew back immediately.
‘No, of course, I think you have had enough for one day,’ he agreed. ‘I’ve waited impatiently for what seems to me a very long time, and I can wait a little longer. But only a little!’
‘I’ll never let you touch me, I’ll kill myself first,’ snarled Tanya, her fingers curling like claws. ‘I hate you, yes, but it has nothing whatsoever to do with love. I would rather lie with the lowest peasant than you, my lord,’ she finished mockingly.
‘Oh, I think you will change your mind later, and I’m not going to quarrel with you now. Go to sleep, you will be surprised how much brighter the world will seem when you are not so tired. No, don’t argue and don’t say anything. You have my word of honour that I will not touch you – tonight at all events. So sleep sound. I am going to ride for a while.’ He banged on the roof and shouted an order. The coach came to a halt, and a surprised face appeared at the window. ‘Get my horse,’ rapped out the Prince, then he opened the door and was gone.
Tanya lay, her mind in a whirl for a little while; then her aching head, combined with all the excitement and fright she had just experienced took its toll, and she sank into a deep sleep. Once, she thought in a dream, someone came and laid a gentle hand on her forehead, and she thought she felt a light kiss on her lips, but her sleep was so interspersed with strange dreams that she discounted it. When she awoke, it was bright daylight, and a weak sun filtered in through the window. What she could see of the landscape was covered in snow, for it was well into winter now, but the sky was a pale watery blue. She raised herself up to peer cautiously out of the window and could make out several figures on horseback in the distance, and another sleigh following behind the one she occupied. She turned her attention to the interior of the coach and gazed round, wide eyed in spite of herself. The opulence of the furs, the cloth of gold hangings, and soft feather mattress gave her a feeling of unaccustomed luxury. There was a brazier fixed to the side of the coach, and it gave off a good heat, making it very warm and cosy inside the bed-coach, in strong contrast to the cold, bleak scene outside. She felt very annoyed with herself for noting these things, but she couldn’t help it. She noticed a hand mirror attached to a fitting above the bed and took it down. She gave an exclamation of horror at the reflection that looked back at her. Her face was pale, and she had a livid bruise on her temple. Her hair was tangled and lank, and her dress was in tatters. She had lost one of her shoes, and she felt absolutely filthy. Not that she wanted to look good for him, but she felt at a great disadvantage. She felt more anger than fear now, but not the hot anger she usually felt, that showed itself in a fit of temper, then passed away as quickly as it had come. No, this was a cold, calculating anger, that this man should take matters into his own hands, ruin her life at the snap of his fingers. She might feel safe here, in the snugness of the carriage, but the moment he stepped through that door, all the horror would start again. She just didn’t want to think of it, it made her afraid, and she needed to think clearly now.
She realised suddenly that she was absolutely starving, and her sense of humour almost got the better of her. It always made her want to laugh that in moments of stress, she always felt hungry. Now, the fact that she hadn’t eaten in many hours made her feel quite faint with hunger. She felt strongly tempted to bang on the adjoining door and ask the coachman to stop so she could get something to eat, but the thought that that would bring the Prince in deterred her. She tried to do something to improve her appearance, but without much success. She looked a veritable hussy! This was what annoyed her the most, for really, that was just what she was not. But how to get this man to believe her! Even if he did, she somehow couldn’t see it making much difference, but she was determined to try.
For an interminable time she sat, watching the bleak, uninteresting landscape speed by, until she really did feel quite faint with hunger, and was just steeling herself to knock on the partition when the pace began to slow, and soon the great coach came to a standstill. One of the horsemen detached himself from the group and galloped over to the coach. The Prince dismounted and handed his horse to one of the soldiers who ran up to him. He swung himself up into the coach and was about to order the coachman to continue when he was surprised by a haughty voice from the opposite corner.
‘I have no wish to be of any further trouble to Your Highness, but do you think it would be humanly possible for someone to furnish me with some form of sustenance, or I am afraid you will be conveying a corpse to wherever our ultimate destination may be.’
He swung round and looked at her through narrowed eyes.
‘Well, well, so you’re awake, are you? And where, may I ask, did a common servant girl learn such a wide vocabulary?’
‘As I have been trying to tell Your Highness, since we first met, I am no such thing,’ replied Tanya curtly, trying hard to keep her temper and remain cool and detached. She had decided that this would be the best way of dealing with him.
‘If you could arrange for me to have something to eat, and perhaps freshen myself up a little, I would like to converse further with Your Highness on this subject.’ She sat composedly, her hands folded demurely in her lap, but her eyes were watching him carefully to see what sort of effect her new approach was having. He certainly looked surprised, if nothing else.
‘Very well, my dear, I can arrange for the food. Unfortunately, I have no washing facilities on this coach. However, in a few days, we will be visiting a nunnery, which will be our only stop before we reach Moscow. I should imagine that you will find everything you could wish for there.’
So he was taking her to Moscow! She could hardly believe it. That was where the monster Tsar Peter had his court, and where all sorts of terrible plans were hatched for the destruction of the Tsar’s enemies. She had heard many tales of this fabulous city, most of which she discounted as superstitious rubbish, but she had certainly never, in her wildest dreams, thought she would visit it, – and definitely not in the company of a Russian Prince! Seeing that he was still regarding her rather sardonically, obviously awaiting some sort of reaction, she inclined her head graciously. ‘Thank you, Your Highness. Perhaps, if I could be provided with a comb or some such item, I may contrive until we reach the nunnery.’
‘I shall contrive more than a comb, I think,’ he replied gravely, still looking at her in that half-mocking, half-searching manner. She thought she could perhaps detect some change in his manner towards her, perhaps that he was revising his first estimation of her character. Or was it her imagination?
He descended again from the coach and began issuing orders in his sharp autocratic voice. She might hate him, but had to admire his manner and air. In a surprisingly short period of time, a servant entered the coach, bearing a huge tray, the contents of which almost made Tanya swoon, so hungry was she. She could only suppose that Prince Mensherikovsky took his cook with him wherever he went and that there was some sort of cooking facilities in the other coach, for the spread on the tray looked freshly cooked and quite delicious. Although at the time Tanya had no idea what she was eating, she could tell that it was of the finest, and never had she tasted anything like it. As she learnt afterwards, she had consumed hot egg pâté, cheese Blini-cakes, caviar on little squares of hot toast, sterlet fish in curdled cream, and scented nuts and fruit to finish. There was also a generous supply of a sweet-tasting liquid, which she drank liberally and later discovered was cherry vodka. It certainly made her feel reckless, and somehow, with a full stomach and the heady feeling induced by the spirit, matters seemed considerably less desperate than they had the night before. When the tray was whisked away, the Prince, who had been regarding her repast with amused eyes, eating sparingly himself but quaffing great drafts of the cherry vodka, pulled out a huge trunk from underneath the bed and flung open the lid with a flourish.
‘Take your pick, fair Tanya,’ he said with a mocking bow. ‘I will give you one hour, then I will return to continue our so delightful conversation.’
Tanya scarcely saw him go. She was staring down with wide eyes at the contents of the trunk. Fitted into the lid was a huge mirror, and around it, clipped into the lid, were dozens of cut glass bottles with gold lids, a gold-backed brush and comb, and several other items which Tanya did not recognise at all. But it was mainly the inside of the trunk that held her attention. It was filled with what to Tanya’s bemused eyes looked like hundreds of items of sumptuous clothing. Without a further thought for anything else, she delved inside. There were shifts, made of some sort of soft, clinging material, which she later learnt was Paduasoy silk, and long flowing sarafans embroidered with golden threads. There were gowns of velvet, brocade, and taffeta, and gold and silver bracelets to keep the billowing sleeves of the sarafans from covering the hands. If she had wanted, she could have worn the earrings and rings that were tossed into the corner of the trunk, but she would not take such jewels from this man. Every intimate item of ladies’ attire filled another section of the trunk, their varied colours dancing in front of her eyes.
With an effort, she tore herself away and brushed out her hair until it shone, wishing she could wash it. Somehow she felt that the more beautiful and regal she could make herself look, the more chance she would have of keeping the Prince at arm’s length. She braided her hair and pulled it back severely, although her finely chiselled features only showed to greater advantage. She twisted the braids on top of her head and fixed them into place with pins. The effect was most satisfactory, making her look older, yet more appealing. Since there was no way of having a bath, she stripped off all her old rags with a grimace of distaste and flung them away from her, with a silent vow never to wear their like again, whatever should happen to her. She cleansed herself with sweet smelling oils, then slipped on the cool, soft undergarments with a shiver of delight and anointed herself with some of the perfumes she found in the bottles. Then she chose a golden sarafan to wear over a gown of emerald green brocade, knowing with unerring taste that it brought out the delicate chestnut tones of her hair and made her skin look almost transparent in its whiteness. The dress had been made for a larger woman, but with the aid of a few pins, she managed to make it fit well enough. Although she couldn’t see the full effect in the mirror, she felt sure she could do little to improve upon it. She ignored the contents of the other jars, for she knew her skin was enough on its own, and the pots of red and white pastes and others which she had no idea what to do with would detract rather than add to her flawless skin. She was sure the hour must be nearly up, so closing the lid down, sat nervously on the corner of the bed, awaiting her fate. Ten minutes crawled by, and she was just thinking indignantly that it was typical of him to be late when she was feeling quite sick with nervousness, when the coach pulled up, the door opened, and he stepped in. No sooner was the door closed behind him than it started its wild, careering pace again.
‘Do you always travel this fast, Your Highness?’ asked Tanya, more to keep him away from her than a desire to know.
‘Always,’ he replied politely, his eyes devouring her. ‘My compliments, my dear. I don’t believe I have ever set eyes on a more beautiful woman and that you may take as a compliment of no mean order, for I have known many. Now, can you give me any reason why I should wait any longer? I really cannot think how or why I have waited this long, except that circumstances have been rather against me, and, of course, that you are so different somehow from any other woman. God, but you’re lovely!’
Seeing him about to move towards her, Tanya began to talk hastily, impetuously, thinking that anything was better than to have him take her in his arms here and now, in this swaying coach.
‘Wait, Your Highness. I believe you gave your word to listen to me first. Well, now I will give you several reasons why you should wait. In fact, why I shall never be your mistress, even if you do force me now, for if you do, I shall find the first opportunity I can to kill myself, I swear it on the bones of my father and mother. The first reason I can never be your mistress is that I could never dishonour my father’s name. He was of noble blood and was so proud of his heritage. His name was Jean de la Verrière, and he was the younger son of the Comte de la Verrière, a Frenchman whose blood goes back as far as yours. He married my mother, Matilda Svenson, the only daughter of a wealthy merchant when she was just seventeen. He gambled all their money away and was killed in a duel. My mother was left practically destitute, and France being beyond her means to reach, preferred to take the chance of making her own way in Sweden to going and throwing herself on the dubious mercy of my father’s relations. She took us two girls to a small farm owned by her uncle, who died soon after leaving it to us. We lived there for many years, and we were both given the best education possible. I would probably be living there still, were it not for . . .’ she broke off, and her expression hardened.
‘But I told you about your countrymen’s little, er, visit, did I not? I saw it all you see, I wasn’t even spared that. I nearly went out of my mind, and probably would have, had it not been for the intervention of one of the kindest, most dear men it has ever been my fortune to meet.’
‘Oh, and this, er, kind dear man, I suppose he received none of your favours?’ interrupted the Prince, his eyes kindling with jealousy.
‘Don’t be a fool,’ said Tanya sharply, not caring how she spoke to him, for she was staking everything on this plea for mercy and truly meant to kill herself at the first opportunity, should he force her to become his mistress.
‘He was almost seventy years old and a hermit. – I was still a child. He nursed me back to health, and I lived with him in a cave in the forest until he died, then because I knew I could not survive by myself, set off to where I knew not. I finished up at the inn where you met me. That is the story of my life.’ Her chin went up.
‘Why I should tell you this I don’t know, but I am still a virgin, my lord, and intend to remain so, if I can, and I swear to you on my father’s honour that I will fight to the last of my strength to keep you away from me. I’d kill you, even, if I had the chance.’
She clasped her hands together supplicatingly, hating the role she was enacting, but desperate enough to try anything.
‘I beg of you, Your Highness, do not stain my honour, for it is all I have in the world. I am not what you thought me, you must realise this now. Please let me go, I will do anything if you will only show mercy now.’
She looked at him wildly, for he had hardly moved a muscle throughout her impassioned speech; in fact, he scarcely seemed to be listening to her. She had not remained as calm as she had intended, but she was past caring, drained of all emotion now. Her shoulders slumped, and her lovely head drooped despairingly. There was a long pause, in which she dared not look at him but remained in her dejected position, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening. At last, he spoke.
‘I believe you,’ he said unemotionally. ‘It was obvious to me quite a while ago that you were no peasant girl, but I must admit I thought you were born, as they say, on the wrong side of the blanket. I see I was mistaken.’
Her heart lifted, and hope surged through her. She looked at him swiftly and saw he was regarding her strangely, almost mockingly still. ‘However, I am afraid I cannot let you go. It isn’t in me to see such a prize slip through my fingers.’
Tanya’s shoulders went back, and her head lifted proudly. ‘So be it, Your Highness. I consider myself already dead!’
‘But wait, my dear, you haven’t let me finish. I have, although you had no way of knowing it, spent a great part of my life in France, being the Tsar’s emissary on many matters of state. I have met one who would, I should imagine, be your uncle. He is the present Comte de la Verrière, and one fact stands out in my mind. He had flaming red hair and green eyes, an unusual colouring for a Frenchman. The coincidence is too great, therefore I believe you. You say you are a virgin. This also I believe, – in fact I had guessed it long ago. A man of my experience can always tell.’ He looked amused for a moment, then his expression returned to its usual immobility.
‘You say that you intend to remain a virgin. I presume that you mean until you marry.’
Tanya looked at him in surprise.
‘Well, of course, that’s what I meant. However, as I have no intention, in the near future, of . . .’
‘Pardon me, my dear, but may I continue?’ he broke in. ‘It is really a rather ridiculous situation, but believe it or not, I do think I am struggling to put into words a, – er, – proposal of marriage. In short, my sweet Tanya, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife? Your lack of dowry, under the circumstances, I am willing to overlook.’ This last was said with a mocking bow.
Tanya thought for a moment that she had heard him wrongly, then she realised that he really had said those words, and further that he was in earnest. Her brain refused to function, so unexpected was it. Nothing had been further from her mind when she had told him of her history. The idea had simply never entered her head. Apart from the fact that she would never have believed he could ever ask her to marry him, she didn’t want to. In the back of her mind had always been the thought that one day she would meet a charming young man who would sweep her off her feet and marry her in a truly romantic style; then they would live together quietly for the rest of their days, having children, happy just to be together. The idea that she might have to marry to save her virtue and to a man that she hated was quite alien to her. And yet . . . what else could she do? Her heart sank. Yes, truly, what other course of action was open to her? She couldn’t run away, not out here in the middle of this wild and barren country where one could hear the wolves howling outside every night and see their lean, dark forms slinking by through the trees. She wouldn’t live for long out there, and she most certainly didn’t want to die! True, she would unhesitatingly have taken her own life, even though she knew it was a grave sin, to save her honour, but she was not desperate enough to prefer death to marriage with a rich Russian prince who could offer her many of the things she had for so long dreamed of. Although she hated him, perhaps she could learn to at least tolerate him. Her skin shuddered at the thought, but what else could she do? Never had she thought to find herself in such a dilemma. A suave voice broke into her reverie.
‘I understand that your breath has been quite taken away, little Tanya, but do you think you could find it in yourself to give me an answer? You are the first, and I’m quite sure the last to receive such an offer from me, and I have much to offer. A few hearts in Moscow will no doubt be broken too.’
‘Not wishing to appear vain,’ agreed Tanya cordially, unable to help herself.
He threw back his head and gave a shout of laughter. ‘God, but life will never be boring with you, at all events. Well, your answer?’ His voice was sharper now, more insistent.
‘I . . . I must have time to think. You can’t expect me to . . . surely there is plenty of time,’ stammered Tanya, feeling like a trapped animal must feel as the snare closes around it.
‘No, not plenty at all. About, let me see, a week now, I believe.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Tanya in bewilderment.
‘We are making a small detour as I have business at the Pokrovsky Monastery at Suzdal, and I mean to marry you there. I know a priest who will be quite delighted to perform the ceremony, and what more fitting place?’
‘Oh, I must have more time,’ cried Tanya wildly. ‘My brain is in a whirl. And let us be honest, Your Highness, you do me the honour of asking for my hand in marriage, but truthfully, what alternative do I have? None, as far as I can see. You ask for my answer, but it can only be yes, am I not right?’
‘How well you know me already,’ he replied smoothly and crossed the carriage to sit at her side. He took her hand in his, and bending his head, kissed it lightly.
‘I shall take that as your answer and shall await with impatience, our arrival, when you will make me the happiest . . . yes, the happiest of men.’
His eyes ran over her, and he made a movement as though to embrace her, but when she shrank back with a shudder, he controlled himself.
‘By God, I wonder if I am a bigger fool than I thought,’ he murmured, almost to himself, then, with one last look at her averted face, he rose to his feet.
‘I shall leave you now, madam, for the present. I am afraid you will have to endure my company for some hours each day, the rest of the time I shall ride.’ With a mocking bow, he knocked on the partition and, as soon as the coach had stopped, was gone.
Tanya sat frozen, whilst the shadows lengthened and the runners swished over the hard-packed snow, covering mile after mile. She was still sitting there when the interior of the coach had become quite dark, and with a little shudder, she forced herself to stand up and light the lanterns. Then she lay down on the bed, as she was, and tried to sleep. However, she found it almost impossible and was still wide awake a few hours later as the cold, grey dawn lit the coach, dimming the lanterns. She sat there numbly, holding on to a strap to stop herself from being flung around, for the coach was going even faster than before. She had no doubts as to why! She looked listlessly out of the window, eyes drawn despite herself to the dark silhouette of man and horse etched against the snow. She had to admit to being more than a little surprised at the forbearance the Prince was showing in leaving her alone and could only hope it was a good omen for the future.
The next week passed all too quickly, although the monotony of the days almost drove Tanya to wish they would arrive at their destination. Whenever they stopped at a posting house to change the tired, steaming horses, two stalwart servants of the Prince stood at the doors of the coach, their blank, Slavic features expressionless, and she was never allowed to leave its confines. She saw little of the Prince although he would spend a few hours each night sitting and talking with her, of Moscow and life in that city, or merely leaning back in the corner, observing her through narrowed eyes.
Day after day they sped through the bleak snowy wastes, the coach becoming a little world of its own, providing a security that Tanya knew was all too precarious.
Late one evening, she noticed that the snowstorm was easing a little at last, the flakes drifting down rather than driving. Soon after, through the deepening gloom, she saw lights flickering, and buildings came into view. They were passing through a sizeable town which, with a sinking heart, she was sure must be Suzdal. Then she saw the high grey bastioned walls of a building looming up like a huge cliff, and her heart gave a lurch. She sat forward and peered out intently. The place looked more like a fortress than a holy place, and she was just thinking with relief that this could not be the convent, when the coach came to a halt before a great iron-studded gate. Tanya sat numbly, taking hardly any notice of the scurrying of feet and shouting of voices taking place outside. Then the door was pulled open.
‘We have arrived, madam,’ said a strange voice. ‘His Highness, Prince Mensherikovsky would be pleased if you will alight now and join him inside the convent walls.’
Tanya took the thick fur-lined cloak he held out t