Chapter 13
A bitter north wind whipped Tanya’s skirts around her ankles and caused her to snuggle more deeply into her fur-lined cloak. A few snowflakes swirled through the air and snow crunched under their feet as Ivan and Tanya entered the small chapel at the border town of Tchernigov in Poland.
After a journey that had started with Tanya slipping away secretly to join Ivan, for fear of the King perhaps attempting to stop her, and that had taken much longer than anticipated due to the early snows and bad condition of the roads, they had finally arrived the day before at the little hamlet. Ivan had made enquiries straight away, and the priest, whose flock usually consisted of peasants and farmers, had eagerly agreed to marry them the following day.
That night, as they had lain in each other’s arms, he had talked to her of his estates just outside Moscow, of the old rambling house that had been in his family for generations, and of what their life would be like there together. Later, he had shown her a beautiful gold ring, set all round with tiny emeralds.
‘It belonged to my mother,’ he said softly. ‘It always goes to the bride of the family. Tomorrow I shall put it on your finger.’
Tanya had felt quite choked with emotion and longed to tell him of the child she carried within her then but knew that should she do so, he would never leave her now, so she must wait until he had seen the Tsar, and she was with him again as his wife. Although into her fifth month, she was still hardly showing and had had no problems with the pregnancy at all, she had just rounded out and somehow become more of a woman, less of the girl she had left behind.
And now here they were, together in the icy chapel. As if in a dream, Tanya heard Ivan’s voice uttering the responses, then her own clear tones echoed in the cold air. Next moment, Ivan was slipping the ring on her finger, and the priest was announcing them man and wife. As they signed their names, she could not help but compare this simple, quiet ceremony with the one that had taken place at the Sudzal Convent, when instead of the cheerful, homely face of the priest here she had been faced by the dreadful countenance of Father Stevanov, and the beloved hand she now held had been that of a man she both feared and distrusted. In what turmoil had her thoughts been that day – how different had been this day in comparison! The smiling faces of Peterkin and Yvette were behind them, witnessing their union, and how much more welcome a sight than the exalted company who had watched her previous nuptials. Her only deep regret, in a special place in her heart, was that Nicholas was not here with them.
With a start, she realised that the service was over, and with Ivan’s hand in hers, they left the church, to return to the small but comfortable inn that was to be Tanya’s home whilst Ivan was on his way to the Tsar. Her husband had taken over a whole floor, despite her protests, and it was there that the wedding breakfast was held.
It was whilst she was sitting, a glow of happiness pervading her whole being, Countess Dostoyevskiy, wife of her beloved, that she first felt the tiny fluttering stir of the fruit of their love. Her pregnancy was now in its fifth month, and her stomach was rounding out – she had been afraid that Ivan would notice, but it was as yet barely perceptible, and he had mentioned nothing. As the slight, feathery movement stirred within her, Tanya felt that her cup was flowing over, then the thought of Ivan’s impending departure swept over her like a cold shadow, and she had the sudden, frightening thought that she might never see him again. The very idea made her feel faint and ill.
Ivan’s voice brought her back to the present.
‘What is it, Tanya? You look so pale. Are you tired after such a gruelling journey, and so much excitement?’
She shook her head, forcing a laugh.
‘No, no,’ she disclaimed. ‘I was just wishing I was going with you tomorrow. Go quickly, my love, and come back to me, for I truly think I cannot live without you by my side.’
He raised her hand to his lips, gazing tenderly down at her. ‘I shall be back in no time at all, and we shall go together to our new home, and then perhaps I can make up to you for all that life has dealt you.’
The day was drawing to a close when, by unspoken consent, the young couple withdrew to their own apartments, and there in the warm cosy glow of the firelight, at last, Tanya told her husband the story of her life, from its tragic beginning with the death of her family to the start of their life together.
Ivan sat quietly, his eyes fixed on that beautiful, expressive face, listening in wonder to the tale she unfolded. He heard the sorrow in her voice as she spoke of the friends she had loved and lost, of Nicholas and poor little Veda, of Erik and the merchant, Olaf, who had given her back the will to live and made her a wealthy woman in her own right, all of them dead and lost in the mists of time. For the first time, she left nothing out, but opened her heart to this man whom she loved above all others. The candles were guttering in their sockets and her voice was hoarse when at last it trailed into silence. The silence remained for so many minutes that she raised her eyes to his face, half afraid at what she might see, but the eyes that held hers were tender and full of wonder as he rose to his feet and gathered her up into his arms.
‘It is good to know that one so beautiful has also the true beauty – of the soul,’ he murmured, and she seemed to hear another voice speaking those words – Sten’ka’s voice as she had heard him on the threshold of her other marriage. Then he had said that she would one day find true happiness. Well, now she had, and she was about to start a new life.
Their lovemaking that night was gentle, and neither slept much, for each hour that slipped away was precious, and it wasn’t until the grey light of dawn crept through the window that they finally sank into a deep slumber from which they were awakened all too soon by Peterkin, who informed them that the escort were saddling up and were impatient to be away on the first stage of their long journey.
The cold light of early morning cast a depressing shadow over Tanya’s heart, and, as if in a dream, the young couple ate breakfast and dressed, then all too soon were facing one another with that strange awkwardness that befalls before a parting. Wordlessly Ivan held her tightly, kissing her ruthlessly, and then turned to the door.
‘Stay here, my love, in this room where we have been so happy. I want to remember you in this setting. Take great care and know that although I am leaving you, my thoughts and love stay always with you. Farewell.’
For a moment, he looked searchingly at her, as though imprinting on his mind every contour of her face; then the door banged, and he was gone.
With an ache in her throat from holding back the tears that were now brimming over, Tanya stumbled to the window and watched Ivan mount his horse without a backward glance. The restless horses were given their heads, the Cossack guard close behind him, cutting off her view and the cavalcade swept around the bend and headed for the Russian frontier.
With Ivan’s departure, the outstanding good health that Tanya had been enjoying deserted her also. During the month that followed, her figure swelled as the child within her grew, until Peterkin and Yvette could hardly be unaware of her condition. She became listless, sickly, and unable to stomach her food. When she told Yvette that Ivan had left in ignorance of the existence of the coming child, the girl’s eyes widened, and she obviously thought that Tanya was mad not to have told her husband before he left, although she never mentioned the subject. That Yvette and Peterkin were in love was also obvious at this time, and the sight of their happiness was a torture to Tanya, although she knew it was selfish and wrong to be jealous of them; she knew, of course, that under different circumstances, she would have been delighted for them.
However, when they came to her and asked for her blessing on their marriage, she was thoroughly ashamed and, pulling herself together, wished them all the happiness that she herself had known.
The following week, she forced herself to rise from her bed for the wedding, for although she felt unable to face going back to the chapel where she had been married such a short time ago, she knew how deeply hurt the loyal youngsters would be if she failed to attend, so for the first time for weeks, she left her apartments, swathing her swollen figure in a large, warm cloak against the cold white world outside. It was snowing heavily, although a rising wind promised to clear the skies, and Tanya shivered all the way to the church.
The simple, poignant ceremony was soon over, and glowing with happiness, the young couple left the chapel. Tanya lingered for a moment, remembering her own wedding, and was just turning to leave when a shadow detached itself from the wall and glided towards her. She gave a start, but the figure spoke quickly.
‘Your pardon, Countess, but I have word from your husband. I cannot explain here, the message is both urgent and secret. I do not wish it known that I am here. Can you slip out later tonight and meet me here? I will then give you the message and tell you what your husband wishes to do.’
Her brain in a whirl, Tanya stared at the shadowy figure before her. She could not see the man’s face at all, but his voice sounded vaguely familiar, and she supposed him to be one of the Count’s escort.
‘But I do not understand,’ she cried. ‘Why must I meet you in secret? What . . . ?’
The figure interrupted her.
‘Hush. The Count is now out of favour, and the message and instructions are long. I cannot stay. If you love your husband, be here at midnight – alone. Tell no one.’
On this rather melodramatic note, the figure turned and slipped back into the shadows.
Tanya stood numbly, her heart beating fast, questions chasing each other through her mind, but it had all happened so quickly, and the messenger had already disappeared. So Ivan was out of favour with the Tsar! That could only mean one thing, that Peter had refused to have her back in Russia and most probably was angry with Ivan for marrying her. Her heart went cold. What would Ivan do when faced with such a situation? When he had been here with her, within easy reach of her arms, he would not have thought twice of that, she was sure. But how different would his feelings be far away in Moscow, surrounded by the Tsar’s power, by all his old comrades, and even old loves? Would the love he felt for her be strong enough to overcome such obstacles? If only she could be sure. For the first time, she found herself wishing she had told Ivan about their child. Surely, if one thing would bind him to her, it would be that!
She snapped herself out of her trance and shivered. Pulling her cloak more closely around her, she hurried out of the freezing church and made her way back to the inn. There was obviously only one way to find out the answers to all her questions. She must slip out and keep the assignation with the messenger. For a moment, she pondered on telling Peterkin and perhaps asking him to follow her at a distance, but she dismissed the idea almost immediately. First and foremost, the messenger must have had a reason for asking her to come alone, although she would, of course, have trusted Peterkin with anything, but the main reason was that she could hardly ask Peterkin and Yvette to forfeit their wedding night, and if she told Peterkin, she knew nothing would keep him from coming. They had done so much for her already, she would never ask them to give up their first, magic night of marriage.
By now, she had arrived at the room where the wedding breakfast was set out, and she was aware of the worried looks the young couple were casting at her pale face and wild eyes. With a superhuman effort, Tanya forced herself to smile and take her place at the table. She hardly touched her food, and the whole occasion passed in a kind of dream, but as she had not been eating well anyway, and her pregnancy had given her odd humours, of late, Peterkin and Yvette asked no questions.
At last, after a nightmarish time of gay conversation and toasts to the happy couple, Yvette and Peterkin departed for the room they were now to share, and she was left alone to her thoughts.
The rest of the afternoon seemed to drag on interminably, but at last the shadows lengthened. She made no attempt to undress, for although the hour was still early, she knew she would never sleep – indeed, she would be afraid to in case she slept too deeply and failed to wake. She sat in the chair by the fire and endeavoured to read a book, but when she became aware that she had read three pages without taking in a word, she sighed and put it down.
The only sound in the room was the crackle of flames and the soft ticking of the clock. Tanya had a tight feeling in the pit of her stomach and a cowardly desire to take to her bed and stay there. She chided herself at her unreasoning dread – not sure if it was because of what she feared to hear from her husband’s messenger or the sinister appearance of the man.
Almost without her knowledge, her eyelids grew heavy, and she fell into an uneasy doze. As had happened before in times of crisis in her life, she began to dream, and faces from the past appeared before her. They were all there, those she had loved – and still loved. But suddenly, around the edges of her vision, a dark mist began to form until it had obscured all – only Ivan remained, smiling and beckoning to her. She tried to go to him, but something held her back, then the grey cloud covered him too, and she grew aware of a chill of evil all around her, and she had the eerie feeling that someone was standing behind her. Slowly she began to turn, fearful of what she would see. She had almost turned the full circle when a log falling in the hearth jerked her back to consciousness, and she gave a gasp, leaning back in the chair, heart hammering. Her forehead was bathed in sweat, and she had, for a moment a feeling of frustration, as if she wished to know who – or what – had been threatening her from behind. Then her eyes fell on the clock, and she gave a start, all other considerations cast aside. The hands pointed at a quarter to twelve! She must have slept for a couple of hours, although it had only seemed like minutes. She rose and crossed to the window and stared out, hardly knowing what she was looking for. After the fury of the blizzard, all was quiet and still, and a full moon was sailing high in the sky, casting a silver light over the snow beneath. How pure and untouched it looked! Why must man struggle and die, hate and kill, when nature itself was so peaceful?
With an involuntary shiver, Tanya turned from the window and wrapped her cloak around her. Silently, she let herself out of the room and glided down the passageway. She faltered outside Peterkin’s room, strongly tempted to knock and at least tell him where she was going, but a low murmur from behind the door stayed her hand, and suddenly feeling very alone, she turned away.
She was soon outside in the biting cold, the snow crunching under her boots as she made her way towards the chapel. She would probably be a little early, but thought she would prefer to be there first, to calm herself down a little. At last, the dark walls of the church came into view, throwing a long, inky black shadow towards her. Her heart beating faster, Tanya drew near, then stepped through the doorway. It was pitch dark inside, the strips of moonlight from the narrow windows laying like ribbons of silver across the floor.
‘Is . . . is anyone there? Hullo.’
Her voice sounded unnaturally loud in the silence, and even as she spoke, she had a strong feeling that she should never have come here alone like this, that the whole business was quite unlike Ivan. Men like him do not employ methods such as these. If she had not been so overwrought, more herself, she would never have been taken in. A prickle of pure terror ran up her back, and with a moan, she turned to flee, but it was too late. Something struck her a stunning blow on the back of her head, and without a sound, she crumpled to the floor. Almost immediately, it seemed, she was back in her room, dozing in her chair. The dream was the same, and with the same crawling fear, she was turning around to face the unknown horror behind her. Only now, no welcome log falling awakened her, and she turned full circle to find herself staring into the dreadful deformed face of Father Stevanov! With a scream of terror she tried to move, but could not, and the terrible face came nearer and nearer, until it was looming over her, blotting out everything. She screamed again, and a hand came down brutally over her mouth. She struggled helplessly and became aware that the hand biting into her flesh was real, that the fearsome countenance glaring down at her was also real. Then she lost consciousness again.
How much later it was that she came to her senses Tanya had no idea, but she realised that she was in some sort of vehicle, travelling at high speed. She felt herself to be in the throes of some terrible nightmare, then it all came flooding back. With a sob, she struggled upright, cowering away in the corner from the dark figure seated opposite to her.
‘Welcome back to the world, my dear Princess – or I believe I should say Countess now, should I not?’
The hated voice was smooth and gloating, and Tanya wondered how she could possibly have failed to recognise it before, in the chapel. What a fool she had been! If only she had told someone of her assignation – if only she had been less overwrought, able to think more clearly. Once before she had been stupidly gullible, and was spirited away, but at least, in the end, that had been a good thing, or she might still be a servant and never have led the life she had, but had she learnt nothing? Her second sense had tried to warn her; if the log had not awakened her, would she have seen Father Stevanov? Would she have realised the terrible trap that awaited her? But it was no use repining. She was here, in his power. Why had he gone to such lengths to kidnap her – to what fate was she being taken?
Her head was throbbing with pain, where she had been struck, and her mouth was dry, but that inner something that had sustained her through so many trials throughout her life came to the fore again. She raised her chin, and in a cool, impersonal voice said, ‘Why, Father Stevanov. And I quite thought I should never have the pleasure of beholding your – er, charming face again.’
With a hiss of fury, he leaned forward and struck her a ringing blow across her face. Her head jerked back, and she cried out.
‘I’ll soon break your pride, you little bitch,’ he snarled venomously. ‘You speak like that to me again, and I’ll break your neck.’
Tanya shrank back, overcome by the hate in his voice.
‘Where are you taking me?’ she demanded. ‘What do you want of me? When my husband finds out what you have done, you are as good as dead.’
To her dismay, he laughed, and the evil sound sent shivers up and down her spine.
‘Your husband, my pretty, will never know what became of you. Even now he is galloping off to do battle for his master, the Tsar. He does not care what becomes of you – and he cares even less for the bastard you carry within you.’
Tanya’s heart went cold. ‘What are you saying, you devil,’ she cried. ‘The child is my husband’s and will be his heir.’
He laughed again. ‘He did not think so when he was informed his wife was well gone in pregnancy – a pregnancy he knew nothing about. He had been deceived, he cried. He called you a slut, a whore, and denounced you utterly. For, he reasoned, if the child was his, why did you not tell him of the happy event yourself, before you were married?’
‘You lie,’ screamed Tanya, but she fell back against the cushions, her whole being reeling under the worst blow she had ever had. It all sounded so true – how otherwise did this evil man know that she had never told Ivan of the child? She had thought that Ivan trusted her as she did him, but she could not help but think back on some of the cruel things he had said to her, or the bad things he had once believed about her. She could hear his voice now, naming her whore in the gardens at Versailles! Bitterly now she blamed herself for not telling him of the child; she had only been thinking of him in keeping silent. If only she could go to him, force him to listen to her, to make him understand that she loved only him, that he was her whole life. But now he would never know! She was in the clutches of this evil creature, and surely only death would release her from him. A tiny voice inside her whispered that now she had nothing to live for – if she just reached out a hand and undid the door, she could fling herself out of the fast-moving coach-sleigh, and so end the struggle for ever. But even as she thought, the child inside her moved, and she laid a protective hand on her belly. No, she could not, no matter what, condemn Ivan’s child to death before it had even seen the light of day. For whatever he thought, the child was his, the fruit of their love, a tiny piece of each of them woven together into one. Her baby must live, must be protected whatever the consequences to herself. She forced her voice to become humble and supplicating.
‘Please tell me what you want of me,’ she begged. ‘I am a rich woman – I will give you whatever you ask. Back at the inn, I have a fortune in jewels, they are yours if you will but set me free. I swear I will never tell anyone.’
‘That’s much better, Countess, I like to hear you plead. I should like to hear you plead some more, but must tell you that you are wasting your time. Here, look.’ At these words, Father Stevanov stretched out his hand and opened the lid of the large casket on the seat beside him. With a shock, Tanya realised it was hers, and she did not need to see him running his fingers through her jewels to know that her last chance of escape had gone.
With a sickening feeling of helplessness she sank back.
‘How did you get them?’ she asked in a hoarse voice.
‘Well, my dear, the spy that I set on you many months ago had her uses you know. It was really quite simple for her to take them from your room after you had left and slip them outside to me.’
‘Her?’ croaked Tanya. ‘Spy? Of whom do you speak?’
‘Why, Yvette of course,’ the hateful voice replied. ‘Quite amusing to think of her marrying Peterkin, eh? But it did keep him out of my hair, you know.’
‘Liar,’ cried Tanya, her universe reeling for the second time. Pretty, kind Yvette, always so loyal and dependable. Never! She would never believe it. Yet again, a small voice whispered, ‘How then did he get his hands on your jewels? Who else knew where you had them hidden?’
Oh God, but her spirit was being crushed, blow after blow had reduced her to unabated misery. She found herself scarcely caring what fate had in store for her, and fell into a state of lethargy, until she was roused by his voice cutting across her thoughts.
‘To return to your original questions, Where am I taking you and why.’ His voice sank to a venomous whisper and spittle flecked his lips. ‘You little bitch, you, from the moment you first crossed my path, have ruined my every scheme, thwarted every bid I made for power. How I have hated you! I have fed on that hatred over the past years since you finally robbed me of my goal and denounced the convent where I was gaining power, working towards ends you have no inkling of. First, there was the plot with the Tsarina. That would have made me the foremost priest in the land, giving me untold power. But too much depended on your fool of a husband. Oh, he was no fool before he met you, he had a clear head and quick brain. But you! You besotted him, ruined everything, until one night, in a drunken stupor, he mentioned the plot in front of one of Romodanovsky’s spies.’
Tanya drew a sharp breath. So it was Erik himself who had betrayed the secret, causing his own downfall. How unhappy he must have been, to have taken to drinking to such an extent! She felt a swift rush of shame and regret when she remembered him as he had been when she first saw him, proud and arrogant, then as he had been before his death, twisted and broken, calling her name. There, surely, was yet another man who would have been so much better off had he never met her. Yet she had not asked him to carry her off, she could surely not blame herself entirely.
Father Stevanov’s voice brought her back to the present with a jolt.
‘Not content with that,’ continued the priest, ‘not content with ruining that scheme, you then, by a stroke of providence, fell into my clutches again at the convent in Moscow. Ah, but I had a fine end prepared for you. You would have begged me to kill you before we had finished. My nuns were skilled at their work. You saw the results of such handiwork in your maidservant, did you not?’
Tanya suddenly felt sick as she remembered poor Veda. ‘You devil,’ she hissed between her teeth.
He laughed unpleasantly. ‘Oh, I hardly aspire to such heights, although I do not deny that he is my master. But, alas, I have no such skills myself, and all my nuns – my sister included – were arrested and banished from Russia. That is something else you will pay for. I have my own methods of torture that are much more subtle. When I have finished with you, I shall make you watch me sacrifice your son to my master, and afterwards you may, if you beg me hard enough, join him.’
These fearful words ground into Tanya’s skull, and she felt a scream rising inside her. Fighting it down, she thought that if her son was to die anyway, they should both die cleanly, here and now, in the open air. She flung herself forward and heaved at the latch on the door. It gave, the door swung open, and a blast of icy air hit her in the face. But even as she made to jump, the coach gave a violent lurch, and she was flung away from the door on to the floor. Father Stevanov leaned forward and slammed the door shut again, shooting the bolt, then he turned towards her.
‘You cannot escape me that easily, you know. I think it will be better if you go back to sleep for a while – yes, decidedly so.’
With these words, his fist came down in a blur of white and struck her, and without a sound, she sank down into deep and utter darkness.