Darker Jewels (31 page)

“He has
not...
he has told me very little of himself, but that he comes from the mountains of Transylvania.” Her voice was low, unintrusive.

“Surely he has revealed more than that,” said Anastasi, deciding to try reasonable persuasion first. “You are not to hold things back from me, Xenya. You are under obligation to me, my girl, and it is suitable that you render service for all I have done. Remember that I sheltered you when many another would have turned you into the streets. I did everything in my power to protect your name and the memory of your father. I arranged for you to marry, which all of us had lost hope of happening. I had not anticipated you would be a wife, but since you are, you will not forget what you owe to your family for all they have done for you. And your mother.” He examined the back of his right hand. “She sends you her blessings and prays that you will bear a child by Christmas.”

Xenya looked away from Anastasi, confusion in her eyes. “Tell her I thank her, and bless her, and I pray, too.”

“Yes, you must do,” said Anastasi with sham approval. “Your prayers for a child will drown out your mother’s, doubtless. Every woman longs for her children. You more than most, with a foreigner for a husband.” He sat back a little, but continued the intimidating hunch of his shoulders. “But you must also wish to serve your husband, as you serve your family.”

“I do, Anastasi Seigeivich,” she said in an undervoice. “I wish—”

“Wishing is not sufficient,” Anastasi said with force. “Wishes are scraps of linen in the wind.” He raised one admonitory finger. “You cannot think of yourself as other women, but you must forget what is past and give yourself to your husband as if you knew no other men, and sought only his seed, and his children. At least you were spared that—you bore no Mongol young. No one could have guarded you against that. And your foreign husband would never have given you a coin in the street, had that happened. We must be glad you were too young.” He coughed for emphasis. “You will want to be certain that he never knows what degradation you have suffered, or he will have to deny the marriage. If I am kept informed of everything you know about him, there will be no cause for concern. You will be safe.”

“He will not be safe.” Xenya had risen, and now stood trembling. “I have no wish to dishonor him. He has—” She stopped, unwilling to confide more. It was so tempting to shout “He knows! I told him! He doesn’t care!” but she held back, sensing that this knowledge was her one bastion against her cousin. As long as Anastasi thought Rakoczy ignorant of her past, she could not be compelled to act against her husband.

“Made complaints of you?” suggested Anastasi, his expression darkening.

“No,” she said, trying to steady herself. “He is foreign, as you warned me from the first and continue to warn me, and his ways are ... are strange to me. I do not understand him, Cousin.” The last was the truth.

“Then you must learn,” said Anastasi, permitting her no leeway. “You must ready yourself to study him, and discover everything that you can about him. I cannot permit you to remain here if you will not do as you are told. You are charged with the task of discovering his secrets, and so you shall. It is necessary for us, for Shuisky! to know this man. If he is harsh, steel yourself. You have known worse.”

She pressed her lips firmly together, her hands clenched; she shivered as if she were standing in the snow. Finally she was able to say, “He has not been harsh with me.” She could not reveal that he had never used her body, for such failure would expose her to every disaster she had sought for so long to avoid: without doubt Anastasi would repudiate her marriage and the truth of her disgrace would follow.

The door opened and Rothger came into the withdrawing room bearing a tray laden with a variety of fancy breads, two plates of peaches covered in honey, a dish of almonds, and an opened bottle of Hungarian wine beside two golden cups. “With the compliments of my master,” he said, his Russian falling in Latin cadences. The odors of cinnamon, ginger, and pepper were strong as incense.

“Very satisfactory,” Anastasi approved, looking over the food offered. “It is very welcome.” He moved forward in his chair so

that he could reach the tray as Rothger set it on the central table.

“I will convey your acceptance,” said Rothger with a reverence, and backed out of the room.

“He is a good host, I will say that for Rakoczy,” Anastasi observed. He reached out for one of the fried buns stuffed with sweetmeats. He held this in his fingers, sniffing it. “He allows his cook a free hand with spices. You must enjoy that, Xenya.”

Xenya remained standing, rigid so that she would not shake. “He treats me well,” she said, once again speaking the truth.

Anastasi devoured the bun in two large bites, chewing vigorously as he poured a generous amount of wine. “The Hungarians pride themselves on this,” he said, the words muffled by food. He drank deeply, swallowing the bun with the wine. He wiped wine and sweat from his upper lip when he lowered the cup. “Does he give you meats every day, Xenya? You are so thin. You must eat, become beautiful. How can you expect to have a child when you fast all the time?”

“I am fed well, cousin,” she said, unmoving.

“You should eat more then. Have some of this. These breads are filled with cream. Have one, have more. You hardly need my invitation; you are in your husband’s house.” Anastasi smiled nastily and took more wine. “For now,” he added as he refilled the cup.

“It would not be proper,” said Xenya. “With my husband gone from the room.”

“Perhaps I will summon him,” said Anastasi, beginning to enjoy himself; he often found indulging envy exhilarating. “First I want you to discover for me—and I want you to discover it within a few days, not months—what the Poles would do if the Czar breaks off dealings with the Patriarch of Jerusalem and makes the Metropolitan Patriarch of the Orthodox Church in Russia.”

“You are not serious.” Xenya studied Anastasi, trying to anticipate when he would attack, and for what reason. “I know nothing of these things, only to say my prayers and to do acts of charity for the expiation of sin.”

“Well said,” approved Anastasi. “But it changes nothing. I must know these things, and quickly, if I am to secure my place in the Czar’s favor.”

“Dear God,” whispered Xenya, crossing herself.

“By all means pray for me, Xenya Evgeneivna. The advancement of Shuisky ought to have your whole loyalty, for my kindnesses to you. Therefore you will do the things I ask of you, and you will do them with a thankful heart. I meant what I said, Xenya. If you fail in the tasks I set you, I will not be able to continue to protect you. Married as you are to a foreigner, you will not find many well disposed to you if it is learned you were despoiled.” He finished the bun. “And what is visited upon you will also touch your children.”

“But I have no reason to learn about the Roman Church, or the King of Poland. If I should ask about either, he will suspect that I am doing so at your order. You could learn more from others. Speak to the Polish priests, for they must know something. What can I learn from my husband that you cannot find out for yourself, with less difficulty?” She knew it was folly to challenge him, but once she began, she did not have the will to stop. “How am I to do this? You set me impossible tasks, Anastasi Sergeivich, for the satisfaction of having me fail.”

His eyes narrowed and the smugness left his lips. “If that were so, you would still be obliged to me. Never forget that.” He had a bit more of the wine, pointedly offering none to her. “Your behavior is very poor.”

“That is for my husband to say,” she countered, feeling giddy with terror.

“Your husband is an exile who knows nothing. You say he treats you well, and you reward him with stubbornness. You pretend to be loyal to him so that you need not serve your family. Is that the ways of his people? We Rus know better. We Rus do not tolerate obstinacy in our women.” He made a movement with his hand as if he were swinging a belt. “We realize that the devil must be driven out of women’s flesh.”

Xenya stared at him, her fear increasing as she listened. “How could you expect me to learn such things from him? Even if you beat me, I have no right to question him.”

“I leave it to you,” said Anastasi with a wave of his hand as he reached for another little bread. “Just find it out.”

“But why should he know this? And why should he tell me?” Her voice had risen and she lowered it once more, not wanting to let Anastasi see how badly he had frightened her.

“A man tells his wife many things, many things. You have only to find an occasion when he is in good humor and ask him to speculate. You know nothing of the Roman Church, as you admit. You might begin there.” He smacked his lips as he drank, then set the cup aside. “It is important to me to know this, Xenya Evgeneivna. I will require it.”

Although she was still afraid, she found the courage to defy him. “I will not compromise him, Anastasi Sergeivich.”

Surprised, Anastasi looked up direcdy at her. “What is this, little Cousin?” he asked sweedy. He smoothed his beard as he watched her, knowing that his measuring stare would trouble her. “What have you said to me?”

She found it difficult to answer, apprehension gripping her. “I will not compromise my husband.”

“You will not oppose me,” Anastasi corrected her. “You have no right to oppose me, Xenya Evgeneivna, on the honor of your dead father.”

Her teeth were chattering, but she said, “No. You will have to use another of your spies to ruin him.” She moved a step backward. “I will tell you what he tells me, but I will not lure him into danger.”

“Surely you do not intend to expose yourself to
...”
He let the words trail off and occupied himself in choosing another litde bread, this one studded with currants and coated in honey. “Even a foreigner would be disgraced if it were ever known what happened.”

“It would shame you as well,” Xenya declared.

“True. The dishonor would be felt throughout the family. And your mother would have to withdraw to a convent in order to be rid of the stigma of your sin. Who knows what your husband would have to do, but I could not permit you to return to my house, and I am not certain that the nuns would welcome you, not given your crimes.” He nibbled at the bread in sharp, precise bites. “You might have to beg your bread on the streets, go to the houses-with-no-names, become one of the unfortunates you now provide with charity.”

“Stop it,” she said, but without force. “You cannot—”

“I cannot what?” he went on in the same mellifluous tone. “Do you tell me I have no authority over you? You will find you are wrong, with an exile for a husband. If you had married a boyar, I might have to be content to allow him to school you. But

Rakoczy is not Rus, he is Transylvanian.” His laughter was low.

“He is of an ancient house,” said Xenya with more feeling, able to defend Rakoczy better than herself. “He told me his blood is very, very old.”

“No doubt,” said Anastasi flatly, “and no doubt before the Turks over-ran his land he dined off gold platters every day, and sat on a throne with two hundred diamonds in it, and held a sceptre topped with pearls the size of a pigeon’s egg, and kept an army of ten thousand, all armed and horsed from his purse.” He poured another measure of wine. “But here, he has this house and the things in it, his jewels, a few horses, and you. That is the extent of his wealth in Russia.”

Xenya could not stop twisting her hands. “You should not demand this of me,” she said quietly.

“Because you dislike it? Because you have forgotten to whom you owe fealty?” He lifted his right hand to reprimand her. “Do you
think
this ploy will work, my girl? Do you suppose that your husband will approve your betrayal of us because you wish him to believe you do it for his benefit? He will know that you are nothing more than a perfidious whore, prepared to sell the appearance of good faith for favor?” He slapped the arms of the chair and almost tipped over his wine. “What foolishness is this, that you embrace it? You are not a child fresh from the terem, you have done charity in the churches and you have seen what life is for women who do not serve the bidding of their families.”

This time Xenya was able to say nothing. She could not bring herself to meet Anastasi’s eyes. As much as she wanted to scream defiance and scratch at his eyes, her terror of him kept her cold and trembling.

Anastasi reveled in her fear. He shoved himself out of the chair, grabbed the wine, and took a turn about the withdrawing room. “Look around you, Xenya. You are in a foreign country. That painting”—he gestured toward the Botticelli—“should make it clear to you. What decent Rus would have such a painting where an ikon ought to hang? What foreigner can stand against the Court? If you are disgraced, his disgrace will be greater, no matter how much the Czar enjoys topazes. Do you think this exile would intervene for you, if the Court allowed him to speak? He will be too busy trying to salvage his position to devote any time to the futility of guarding you. And he will not have the ear of the Court.
I will.
And you will answer to me, Xenya Evgeneivna, as we all will answer to God.” He drank the wine and tilled his cup again; the bottle was more than half empty.

“Cousin—” she began, and her throat grew tight. She was determined not to cry, to let him have the satisfaction of seeing her weep.

“What is it, Xenya?” he asked with false concern. “You really ought to have a taste of wine. It will enhearten you.” He paused to pour a little of the dark red wine into the second gold cup. He held it out to her. “Take it, Xenya. Drink.”

Much as she hated to take anything from Anastasi, Xenya reluctandy accepted the cup. She muttered something that might have been thanks before she lifted the cup to her lips.

“There. It will help you master your passions, little Cousin. You must certainly wish to do that.” His smile flashed once more. He saw that her hands shook and his smile broadened into a grin. “The Roman Church, little Cousin, that is what is most pressing. We must know what the Pope in Rome will say if we elevate the Metropolitan. Those Roman heretics could start another Crusade, and this time we cannot hope that Saint Alexandr will rise from his tomb and defeat them once more.”