Chapter 7
Tanya reined in her horse and stared with narrowed eyes across the blinding snow-covered expanse that spread to all sides of her. The snow was hard packed under the horse’s hooves, and the air was so dry and cold, it hurt the lungs to breathe it. Tanya, however, took great gulps and closed her eyes, letting the wind stir the tendrils of hair escaping from her hat. She felt the great, empty spaces all around her, and threw her head back towards the pale watery sun, savouring the freedom, and felt a little peace steal into her heart.
She glanced over her shoulder at the small, miserable band huddled together at a respectful distance from her and shrugged. She knew that the servants were convinced that she was quite mad and only humoured her for their master’s sake, and the fact that she was a foreigner.
Ever since the last of the rains had passed, and the thick, slimy mud that was Russia’s roads during the autumn had frozen hard, she had ventured outside the city gates at every opportunity. Admittedly, it was not often that she was able to ride out, for it was the season for quick, blinding blizzards, and treacherous snow drifts were a great hazard. But today the sky was clear, and Tanya had decided on the spur of the moment that she wanted to get away from the city, away from the pampered yet miserable existence that was hers.
It was almost two years since she had first set eyes on Moscow, and the bright-eyed young innocent that she had been then seemed far, far away. Much had happened during those months; it seemed to her, for although she had lost her innocence to one man, she had lost her heart to another.
The face that gazed out over the landscape was, if possible, even more beautiful than before. It was a more mature face that had about it an ethereal quality that demanded a second look. The clear, emerald eyes seemed to be searching far horizons beyond the gaze of ordinary mortals, and the white, flawless skin had the luminous look of a fine pearl. Yes, they had been easy months for Tanya, months that had seen the death of both Lefort and General Patrick Gordon, and the declaration of war against the land of her birth, Sweden. The war had begun with a crushing defeat for the Tsar at Narva, formerly called Rugodiv by the Russians, a large town standing on the left bank of the Narova River. News of the defeat had but recently been received, with the Russian losses reported as in the region of 8,000 men. Tanya hardly knew whether to be glad or sorry, as she had long since swallowed the old bitterness she had felt towards all Russians. The Tsar, Erik, and many of his commanders and officers had returned safely to Moscow, although many more were either dead or prisoners of the Swedish. Tanya had made it her business to find out if a certain Count Ivan Dostoyevskiy had been amongst them and had learnt with a sense of overwhelming relief that he was quite safe. Just thinking of him now caused a fierce upsurge of longing that flooded her whole being. Sometimes she longed for him so much she was tempted to just leave everything and set off there and then in search of him. But then, she would remember the contempt that had been in his eyes when last they rested on her, and pride and fear of rejection would stop her.
Sometimes she wondered how much Erik really knew, if he guessed that her incessant, restless searching for any new pleasure, any new jewel or costume, stemmed not from an actual desire for such things, but from the forlorn effort to stifle the dull ache that was her unrequited love. At the thought of her husband, her eyes hardened, and she shifted restlessly in the saddle. The passing months had not improved the marriage that had begun on such shaky foundations as abduction, blackmail, and lust. The violent jealous phases had grown longer, the pleas for forgiveness, the protestations of love, more and more scarce. Since he had returned from the war, the Prince had been a changed man, at least in his manner towards his wife, for he hardly spoke to her on anything other than trivial matters and confided in her not at all. Lately, he had been even more withdrawn, and new, harsh lines were etched on his face. Tanya believed that it had something to do with the plot against the Tsar but had never tried to find out, for she had no desire to know. Sometimes she had the feeling that storm clouds were piling up on the horizon, and that one day, they would break over her head, without warning, without mercy. His jealousy also had grown with his absence, and she was denied even the solace of being alone, for Erik seemed to be firmly convinced that she was only waiting for the first opportunity to run off with some fictional lover. The fact that had she had the chance, she would have gone with Ivan without hesitation counted for little, for she would never have the chance. Although she was constantly hemmed around by servants – she often referred to them as guards, for that was their real function – she knew she would have found a way to escape, had Ivan wanted her. But the bitter truth remained that far from wanting her, he appeared to hate and despise her. Despite herself, hot tears welled up in her eyes and she blinked them back furiously, wondering how she could have so much, yet be so terribly unhappy. All through the rains, she had thought she would go mad if she could not sometimes be alone. The nights were even more unbearable than the days, for then Erik came to her, to take and subdue her body in a kind of mindless frenzy that was far from those first weeks when, at least, their bodies were attuned, and desire, mutual. Yet had it not been for that chance meeting with Ivan, she might have been happy, might even have learnt to love her husband in a way. But every time he took her in his arms, she would shrink away a little, try as she would to stop herself, and Erik had noticed, she was sure, for it was since that fateful night at the Kremlin that their relationship had deteriorated. Perhaps the image of Ivan would have faded just a little after that first unsatisfactory meeting, for she had seen nothing of him since. But then, a few months ago, they had met again. Every detail of that meeting was etched in Tanya’s mind, she could remember every minute vividly. It had been at one of the Tsar’s parties when he had commanded that all who attended must be dressed in a fancy-dress costume and remain masked until midnight, when a grand unmasking would take place. He had seen such a function when visiting Europe and had been greatly taken with the idea. Tanya had not wanted to attend, but the Tsar’s invitation was more in the form of a command, for the court did not see enough of ‘Moscow’s most beautiful lady’. So reluctantly Tanya had had a costume made of white satin, hooped over broad panniers, and encrusted all over with diamonds. She had a matching mask and powdered her hair white too. ‘I will go as winter, for I love the snow,’ she had said. Her husband, in contrast, had dressed from head to foot in black, with only a few twinkling diamonds to alleviate the costume. He had announced himself as Night, and the striking couple had drawn many eyes. Of course, practically everyone knew who everyone else was, but the fun was supposed to be in pretending not to know. The party soon erupted into the wild, crude horseplay that the Russians so delighted in, which Tanya deplored, and which would have caused their European counterparts to shudder in horror. The Tsar was in the fore, instantly discernible by his great height and booming laugh, dressed as he liked to dress whenever possible in the rough garb of a common sailor, his mask pushed back whilst he kissed the small, white-skinned figure at his side, improperly dressed as a Turkish houri, and already half naked.
Tanya had become separated from Erik in the press and was feeling hot and stifled. She had already had to hold off the Tsar several times, for he had drunk an enormous amount of brandy and seemed determined to tell the whole room, in a voice he fondly imagined to be for Tanya alone, that she was the most beautiful lady in the room, and it was such a pity that she was married to that rascal Mensherikovsky, and damn, if he had seen her first, he would have married her himself. Tanya had finally managed to escape and had fought her way through the throng until she found a door and let herself into a tall vaulted chamber, lit very dimly after the glaring ballroom by a few smoking lamps. She had leant against the wall with a sigh, pressing her hot, aching head against the cool stone. She had nearly jumped out of her skin when a deep, caressing voice had spoken in her ear.
‘What, all alone, fair lady? How can this be? Or are you, perhaps, awaiting some other fortunate fellow?’
She had gasped and spun round, her eyes flying to the tall, unmistakeable figure of Ivan Dostoyevskiy! She would have recognised him anywhere. He was dressed in a costume of russet and brown, and he had pushed his mask back on to his fair hair. His eyes were dancing with laughter, his whole face lit up with amusement. He looked so young and carefree, so different from the stiff, formal man she had met before that her heart turned over in her breast. She couldn’t speak, but just stood quite still, her eyes devouring him. He threw his hands up in mock dismay.
‘What, not speaking to me? I am surely not mistaken in thinking that you are portraying winter, and my costume is undeniably autumn; it seems you must follow me, for does not winter always follow autumn?’ He held out his hand, and she had placed her own in his before she could stop herself. She felt drawn to him irresistibly, magnetically.
‘Well, sir, then it seems I must follow you,’ she had answered, her voice low and faltering. He had laughed gaily and led her through into another even smaller and darker chamber. That he had no idea of her identity she was quite certain, for he would never have acted this way with her. He obviously thought he was stealing her away from some secret assignation and was light-heartedly flirting. They had sat down on a bench in a dimly lit corner and talked of silly, trivial things, both of them laughing at nothing. Then, in the middle of some light remark, Tanya had remembered Erik, with a sickening certainty that he would be searching for her. She had sprung to her feet, exclaiming that she must return to the ballroom. He had risen with her and laughingly claimed a kiss. He had leant forward to lightly touch her lips, and Tanya had felt as though a flame had seared its way to the very core of her being. With a gasp, she melted against him, and the light kiss had suddenly become a long, passionate embrace. Tanya had felt as if her very soul was passing through her lips and into his, and all sense of time stopped. When he released her, she staggered and almost fell and had to lean back against the wall to steady her shaking legs. He had taken a step back and looked down at her, his eyes full of wonder and . . . something else?
‘Who are you?’ he had asked, and reaching out his hand, pulled away her mask before she could stop him. With the dawning recognition the warm blue eyes had become hard and cold, and he had recoiled. Tanya had read the contempt there clearly, that contempt was burned for ever in her soul.
At last he had spoken, harshly, cruelly.
‘Why, Your Highness, how is it I did not recognise you? Now, from whom have I stolen you away, who could it have been that you were waiting for? Surely not your husband? No, of course not – but it seems to me you are not particular, and give your kisses as readily to one as another.’
She had wanted to scream and cry out that it was not true, none of it was true. She wanted to tell him that she had kissed him like that because she loved him, had loved him from the first moment she saw him, that there had never been anyone else before, and would never be anyone else again. But only a low moan had come from her lips, all she could do was hold out her hands, shaking, pleading hands. But he had spurned her, and the contempt had remained in his eyes. With a curt bow, he had turned on his heel and left her there, alone. Tanya had stood as if turned to stone, unable to move, hands still outstretched. Then slowly, like one awakening from a dream, her hands had fallen to her sides, and the hot scalding tears had squeezed out from under her eyelids, running silently down her face. She stood as if in a trance, until as though from a long way away she heard her name being called and realised it was her husband’s voice. With a tremendous effort, she pulled herself together, scrubbing frantically at her cheeks with her handkerchief and replacing her mask, then she moved forward, automatically towards the sound of the voice. She heard her own voice, lightly explaining that she had felt hot and faint, had left the ballroom, and lost her way. She even heard herself laughing at her foolishness, and a small detached part of herself marvelled that she could sound so unconcerned. She noted the hard, suspicious way her husband stared at her flushed cheeks and was sure that then was the moment that had sowed the seeds of distrust. From that day, things had gradually become worse and worse between Erik and her. Luckily before matters could come to a head, Mensherikovsky had been called away to accompany the Tsar on the campaign against her countrymen, and since he had returned, he had been busy on some mysterious business of his own, and she had seen little of him. She spent more and more time in church, partly because it was expected of Russian women and partly because it was peaceful there. Her husband now seemed more and more a stranger, and they had drifted further apart; that he had left strict instructions concerning her was obvious however, for she was never alone for a moment, and even at night, Nita slept in a truckle bed by her door. Apart from Veda, who was quite loyal to her, and of course, her trusty Nicholas, she felt she could trust no one and that everyone was there to spy on her. However, his prolonged absences at least meant that she was spared the nights when she would lie awake and tense, waiting for the footsteps that would stop outside her door, for the hard words and recriminations that would be flung at her in between bouts of violent lovemaking. Once she had tried locking her door, but he had broken it down and had ranted and raved so much she feared for his reason and had never tried to lock it again. Gone for ever was the cold, controlled man that she had married. It seemed that the seeds of jealousy, once planted, had become an obsession, out of his control, and had it not been for the story that Nita had told her of his childhood and the final tragedy of his youth, she would have hated him with all her heart and soul. As it was, she felt merely a sad sort of pity which made her gentler than she would have been.
Unfortunately, this seemed to provoke him even more, and although he had never used violence again, had he not been called away when he was, Tanya was sure it would have come to it eventually. Also, he had been blaming her for her failure to bear him a son to carry on his line, although Tanya was secretly glad of her apparent barrenness, for she had no wish to bear his child.
As far as she was aware, last night had been one of the many when he had not returned home at all. Usually, he would come home as the household was rising, looking tired and strained. This morning, Tanya had somehow felt quite unequal to facing him and, as the weather was clear and bright, had taken the opportunity to get out into the fresh open spaces to try to cleanse herself somehow by breathing the untainted air of the countryside, to get away from the stifling, cloying existence that was hers. She shivered suddenly, awakened from her memories by the intense biting cold that had been gradually seeping through her thick furs. She sighed and reluctantly turned her horse’s head towards home. From the white, miserable faces of her followers, they too were cold, for a bitter wind was beginning to stir the stunted trees, probably a forecast of the snow to come. She spurred her horse and headed back towards the city gates.
Once inside, Tanya passed through the poorer outskirts holding a handkerchief to her nose, for despite the biting cold, the inevitable stink that was Moscow still penetrated from the gutters. The streets were crowded, and her servants often had to beat back beggars who whined for alms, many showing repulsive sores and deformities. At last, they were through into the more fashionable quarter where everything seemed more quiet than usual. Very few people were about, and when they turned into their street, there was no one to be seen at all, although Tanya saw a couple of doors furtively close, and the bolts shoot home. Puzzled, she spurred her horse onward towards the house, but before she could reach the doors, a tall figure appeared out of an alley way and caught hold of her bridle. Tanya lifted her whip to strike out, then gasped. It was Nicholas! He had been looking after a mare in foal, so had not accompanied her that day, and she could think of no reason for him to have left the horse, which was a favourite of hers. She frowned, wondering what he was doing.
‘Nicholas, what is it? Why are you looking like that? What has happened?’
‘I beg you, Tanya, step down from your horse. There is great trouble here.’ His honest face was creased with worry, and at his insistence, she dismounted and handed the reins to a servant.
‘Nicholas, what is it? Tell me immediately,’ she commanded.
‘Take a look at the front door,’ he hissed, and she turned her head to follow his pointing finger. Some sort of proclamation was nailed to the panels.
‘Yes, yes, I see it, but what does it say?’ she exclaimed irritably, and started to go forward, intending to read it, but an urgent hand stopped her.
‘No, stay here. It is the Royal seal of the Tsar. Your palace and all in it have been put under seal, and your husband has been arrested. We must leave here immediately, or you will suffer the same fate.’
There was a gasp and scuffling behind her, and Tanya whirled to see the band of servants galloping away down the road, to disappear.
‘They must have overheard,’ growled Nicholas. ‘Lily-livered skunks.’ He spat insultingly, then grabbed her arm. ‘Come, my lady, we must make all haste. I will explain fully when we reach some place of safety.’
Tanya allowed herself to be led away, her mind a whirl of confusion. She felt quite numb and followed unresisting as Nicholas led her through a maze of back streets and alleys. Then she caught sight of a small figure carrying a very large bundle waiting on a corner and, with a glad cry, ran forward to embrace her. It was Veda! Without a word, Nicholas led them up to a small tavern, where he quickly arranged the hire of a back room and ordered a hot punch. Then he led them up to the fire, to warm their numbed hands. Tanya gave herself a mental shake, trying to snap out of the shock. She seated herself by the fire and raised her eyes to Nicholas.
‘Tell me all,’ she commanded.
‘It was not long after you left,’ he began. ‘You had told Veda to check on the mare’s progress as you are so fond of her, and she had just come down to the stable to see how it was.’
‘Yes, yes,’ interrupted Tanya impatiently. ‘Get on with it.’
Nicholas gave her a reproachful look. ‘You asked me to tell you all, and I am doing so. To continue. We had just begun to talk, when there was a tremendous hammering on the doors of the house – we even heard it in the stable. There was a great deal of panic and running around, then we caught sight of a troop of the Tsar’s own bodyguard. One was reading something from a piece of paper, shouting in a loud voice that the Prince had been arrested for high treason and that all the house and belongings, including all the serfs were now the property of the Tsar to deal with as he saw fit. Everyone was to remain in the house and to carry on as usual until contrary orders were received, then he asked for you. When he was told that you were not at home and that all that was known was that you had left the city, he seemed very taken aback and obviously at a loss. When he discovered that you were due back soon, however, he said he would wait, and that must be what he is still doing. If the dull clod had thought to send to the city gates for you to be apprehended there, I should never have been able to save you. Thank the Holy Virgin I was able to do so.’
He crossed himself fervently. ‘We hid in the stables until things had settled down a bit,’ he continued, ‘and then Veda was able to sneak to her room to gather a bundle together, and a few coins, and then we went over the wall. We were not missed, I don’t think. And here we are,’ he finished simply.
Tanya’s eyes filled with tears. ‘My dear loyal friends,’ she said, taking a hand of each. ‘How can I ever thank you for what you have done for me? Without you I should be a prisoner now, under the same charge, no doubt.’
‘But you are not guilty of high treason, surely?’ cried Nicholas. ‘The Prince, perhaps, but not you.’
‘No, not really I suppose,’ admitted Tanya. ‘But I am guilty of keeping quiet when I knew that Erik was engaged in underhand plotting against the Tsar and doing nothing about it. Anyway, as far as anyone else is concerned, I should be as guilty as he. Why, I spent my very honeymoon in a nest of intrigue at the Sudzal Convent, and I had to convince the plotters I was with them, or they might well have killed me. So my case would be slim indeed, I am condemned without a hearing.’ She spoke bitterly as yet again she remembered the open contempt in Count Dostoyevskiy’s eyes.
‘Then heaven be praised we were able to get you away, my lady,’ cried Veda, clasping her hands together fervently, ‘though where we are to go, and what we will do, I do not know. I couldn’t reach your room, my lady, for it was guarded, so I could get no money or jewels. I have only my few paltry kopeks, though they are yours.’
‘Bless you, Veda,’ answered Tanya. ‘Luckily, however, we shall not starve, at least for a while. I have quite a fat purse with me, as I never go out without one. Praise God I did today,’ she added fervently. ‘I also have this emerald brooch and hat pin, and these rings. We will manage somehow. We will hire a room here.’
Just then the landlord entered with the drinks, and he looked at them very suspiciously, although he mellowed considerably when Tanya tipped him lavishly. She was about to ask him for rooms when she caught Nicholas’s eye, and he shook his head warningly. When the man had left, she looked at him indignantly. ‘Why can’t we stay here? It’s as good a place as any.’
‘No, no, Tanya, we cannot stay at an inn, they will all be searched. The best place for you and Veda will be a convent. I can find lodgings nearby, no one is looking for me, but your appearance is so striking, they would find you much too easily. Veda has some more suitable clothes for you in the bundle. You had best change into them, then we will find you shelter for the night.’
Tanya’s chin lifted haughtily at the peremptory tone of his voice. ‘Are you giving me orders, Nicholas?’ she asked sweetly.
‘Yes,’ he answered bluntly. ‘And either you will do as you are told, or you must fend for yourself.’
Ignoring Veda’s gasp of horror at such effrontery, the two faced one another like fighting cocks. Then Tanya’s shoulders drooped a little.
‘Yes, yes, my friend, I suppose you are right. We are back to the beginning again, are we not? I will place my trust in you and follow you. Now go outside and guard the door, whilst I change my clothes. Well, go on, don’t stand there gawping.’
Nicholas, his pride slightly dented, hurried outside the door, and soon Tanya had changed into the plain, serviceable dress that Veda nervously helped her into.
‘It’s my Sunday best, Your Highness, I’m so sorry it’s not grander,’ she whispered.
Touched, Tanya laughed and shook her head.
‘No, no, my dear, that would quite foil our little plan. It’s a very nice dress.’ She then donned a plain black cloak with a hood that pulled well over her head, and together, they bundled up her fine habit into the bundle.
‘I am ready,’ she said quietly. They left as unobtrusively as possible, and it wasn’t until she was following Nicholas through the cold, cheerless streets that her thoughts turned reluctantly to her husband. She had deliberately not thought of him at all since the initial shock, and now she began to cautiously sound out her own feelings. To her intense dismay and self-contempt, her main thought was one of relief – that she would never again have to submit to his brutal embraces, never again hear him ranting of her supposed infidelities. When she thought of him as he had been when she first knew him, she felt stirrings of regret and finally a sense of sadness. What an unhappy life this man she had married had lived! It seemed that he was unlucky in whatever he did. Unlucky in his childhood, tragic in adolescence, a bitter manhood, and a marriage that was doomed from the start! Now his search for power, that search which she was sure overrode every other desire he had ever had, had led him to arrest. What would happen to him? What sentence would he receive from an unforgiving and hard master? She dared not think.
She returned to the present with a start, as Nicholas stopped before the gates of a small and seedy-looking establishment, surrounded by high walls.
‘This is a convent, believe it or not,’ he informed them. ‘Apparently, it is famous for its lack of hospitality, but at this moment, that is exactly what we want. It has a reputation for turning people away, but I am sure that when they see the colour of your gold, they will be eager enough to open the gates.’ As he spoke, he pealed on the great bell, and they heard its tones echoing around the courtyard.
‘It seems pretty deserted,’ she whispered. ‘Are you sure it’s inhabited? I don’t like the look of it much, it gives me the creeps. Couldn’t we go to a tavern of some sort?’
‘No,’ answered Nicholas firmly. ‘It’s much safer here. Trust me, Tanya, I’ll look after you.’
‘Yes, but you won’t be able to, if we stay in a convent,’ argued Tanya. ‘I’d much rather we all stuck together.’
‘Just trust me,’ he repeated tersely and hammered on the door. After another interminable wait, a small panel was suddenly pulled open in the door and a face peered through. It was a singularly unprepossessing visage that presented itself to the trio, and Tanya saw Veda surreptitiously cross herself and spit. The face was framed by the wimple of a nun, but the skin was grey and sagging, and her mouth pulled down at one side. Even Nicholas seemed a little taken aback but touched his hat politely.
‘Forgive me, sister, but these two ladies here are my relatives, and have just arrived in the city. Would you be so gracious as to let them stay here for a few days, until I can find accommodation for them?’
The negative was already forming on the woman’s lips. When Nicholas produced several of their precious gold pieces and held them up, greed shone in her eyes, and she ran her tongue over her lips.
‘Wait,’ she croaked, then the panel was slammed shut. Tanya looked at Nicholas and raised her brows. ‘Are you still sure this is the best place we can go?’ she enquired.
‘No harm can come to you in a house of God,’ he replied testily. Tanya had her own reservations about that but held her peace. After a few minutes, the door began to creak open. The nun held out a claw-like hand and snatched the money from Nicholas.
‘Come.’ She opened the door enough for the two women to squeeze through.
‘I will get lodgings nearby and come for you as soon as I decide the best way to get you out of the city,’ whispered Nicholas quickly, then found himself facing a shut door. He frowned at it for a moment, then with a shrug, turned and set off into the dusk.
Tanya and Veda followed the strange little nun, unconsciously sticking closely together. They were ushered into a narrow cell, which was dank and cold. The walls were beaded with moisture, and the blankets on the only bed were dirty and, doubtless, vermin infested. She put out her hand and stopped the nun as she was about to leave. Her voice was quiet, but full of authority.
‘We paid good gold for this room, sister. I think it just that you have a fire kindled and bring us some clean blankets and some food. We are cold, hungry, and very tired.’
The nun looked surprised at Tanya’s cultured voice and unmistakeable note of command, but she nodded her head and hurried away. After a short while, two more nuns entered with firewood, and soon a cheerful blaze was burning in the hearth. They took away the old bedcovers and returned with clean, if rather threadbare, substitutes. Still without a word they left, then their original acquaintance returned with two bowls of steaming cabbage soup and black bread. It was a long, long time since Tanya had had such plain fare, but she had hardly eaten all day and found herself gulping it down with relish. Two more nuns carried a truckle bed in and silently took away the empty bowls, shutting the door behind them.
Tanya looked at Veda and grimaced.
‘Cheerful place, isn’t it?’ she said ruefully. ‘I don’t think I want to stay here very long. But still, it will suffice until we know what is to happen to us.’
They took off their dresses and shared out the blankets, although Veda would have given Tanya all of them. Tanya wrapped up her purse and jewels in her bundle of clothes and put them next to her bed.
‘Nonsense, Veda, you will freeze to death when that paltry fire goes out. They haven’t even left any wood so that we can make it up.’
They lay down under the thin blankets in their shifts, with their cloaks wrapped around them for further warmth. Tanya blew out the single candle, and soon Veda was snoring gently. Tanya, however, lay awake for a long time, staring up into the blackness. How far away this morning seemed when she had awoken with nothing more on her mind than which dress to wear! So much had happened since then, her whole life had changed in these few short hours. She was still wondering what the future held for her when she drifted off into an uneasy slumber. In the midst of her troubled sleep, she seemed to have a str