Enchantment (47 page)

And in the process, they began to get to know Ivan. He made it a point never to command anyone, but always to ask; nor did he teach imperiously, but rather couched everything in phrases like, “The way I was taught . . .” or “I think it might work better if . . .” And then he got along with the young men, never pretending to be one of them, but enjoying their humor and refusing to become impatient with their playfulness.

So when it was time to pour alcohol into brittle pots and put in the fuses, the young men already liked Ivan. He showed them how to light the fuses and then throw the pots into the chasm. They were impressed, of course. But Ivan pointed out that they wouldn’t be throwing them at rocks. “Imagine the old hag’s knights receiving a dose of this.”

The boys’ eyes widened. And for the first time they realized that with weapons like these, boys might bring down mounted warriors. “We
are
her druzhina,” said one of them. “I’d like to use this on Dimitri,” said another.

“No,” Ivan said. “Dimitri is one of our own.”

“Not after what he did to King Matfei.”

“Nevertheless, these weapons don’t replace swords. We need his strength on our side.”

Grudgingly they agreed. And then began to practice throwing stones of about the same weight as the Molotov cocktails, working on improving their aim.

Ivan had done a good job of learning the location of historically known mineral deposits in the area, and it took very little fumbling to get what he needed for gunpowder. Now that they had seen the Molotov cocktails, they took Ivan seriously when he warned them to handle the gunpowder carefully. Soon they were loading serious quantities of gunpowder into little bronze canisters with fuses. The smith couldn’t spare any iron, for Dimitri would have noticed if it went missing, but bronze grenades would do well enough, Ivan figured. What mattered was shrapnel, to turn them from cherry bombs into legitimate weapons.

Since the fuse material was different, they had to practice to get the timing right. Soon, though, the boys were learning to throw grenades as well as cocktails, though they only practiced with tiny charges of gunpowder that went off with no more than a pop, and didn’t damage the canisters. To everyone’s surprise, Sergei emerged as one of the better throwers, and on some days the best.

“Time to return to Taina,” Katerina announced, when their supply was adequate. “We must all return together, so let’s close down the still.” When the fires were out, they hid the unused gunpowder and the materials used to make it, then shouldered their bags of cocktails and grenades and made their way along Sergei’s path through the woods.

Sergei had been careful never to follow the same route twice, so he couldn’t easily be followed, but the boys had not been so careful. Clearly the only reason they had not been found was that some of the enchantment lingered, protecting their hiding place by the chasm. Now there would be no protection. And Ivan knew that Dimitri, having tasted power, would not surrender it easily. Especially if he feared that he would be punished for his treason. Katerina was still not fully persuaded that Dimitri should be pardoned, if he gave his word. “He has no honor now,” she insisted. “His word will mean nothing, to him or to the people or to me.”

“Maybe you’re right,” said Ivan. “But if he’s a good man, then he’ll take this opportunity to begin to restore his honor. And if he’s not, then no one can say you didn’t give him every chance.”

“Every chance to do what? To stab us in the back?”

“Yes,” said Ivan. “But we take that risk with anyone we trust.”

“I don’t trust Dimitri.”

“Then do as you will,” said Ivan. He could say that because he knew that she was still considering what he said. If she decided otherwise, he would never criticize her; if she agreed with him, it would be because she had come to believe he was right, and not because she wanted to please Ivan. She was the one whom the people followed, Ivan knew. It was not his place to tell her how to do her work. It was the career she was born for and trained for. He was a novice. And yet, novice or not, she listened to his counsel, which was all he could ask for, when it came to leading the kingdom.

At the edge of the wood, they contemplated stopping and waiting till morning, but Katerina decided against it. “The Widow knows we’re here. She’s probably warned him already. So we must go on.”

Ivan remembered well the first time he came with her into Taina. The people cheered her then, and only looked at Ivan with mild curiosity, as a naked stranger tagging along with their beloved Katerina. Now it was different. They were uncertain, and while a few people waved to her and called out her name, and all came out of their huts to watch, there was no cheering.

This was not good, and while Katerina could not ask for cheering, Ivan could. To the boys nearest him, he said, “Go into the crowd and raise a cheer for the princess, and then come back.” They understood at once—public relations is one of the inborn human skills—and within moments there were loud cries and cheers and clapping of hands for the princess. All it took was for a few to raise their voices, and then the others took courage and joined in.

Now it was a triumphal march through the village to the king’s house. But Dimitri was not there to greet them—nor was King Matfei. The house was empty.

“They’re at the fortress,” said Katerina. “It’s a good sign. Dimitri didn’t have confidence that the people would stay with him.”

Katerina and Ivan led the way, Father Lukas after them, and the young druzhinniks close behind. Sergei could not keep up, but he had given the match—a lanternlike container alight with slow-burning fuel—to one of the boys, so they’d be able to light their fuses, if the need arose.

Dimitri met them standing at the gate, with King Matfei held between two strong men. Other soldiers waited inside the gate of the fort.

“I have come,” Katerina said, “to report to the king my father and receive his instructions.”

Dimitri shook his head. “King Matfei has been struck dumb by the gods because he allowed Christians to interfere with the ways of the people.”

“If the gods have struck down my father the king, why do you need to keep him under guard?” asked Katerina. “The gods need no swords. Father Lukas carries none.”

“We face a terrible enemy,” said Dimitri. “Do you think Father Lukas can stand against the army of the witch?”

“I know that he would stand more bravely than one who strikes a cowardly blow against his own king,” said Katerina.

Ivan did not like the way things were shaping up. Words of defiance would lead to a showdown, not to reconciliation. It was for Katerina to decide, but Ivan did not like their chances against Baba Yaga, if blood were spilled here today. “Dimitri,” said Ivan.

“Ah,” said Dimitri. “My pupil. Apprentice swordsman.”

“And I’ll never be master of that weapon, as you are,” said Ivan. “I beseech you to turn your sword against the enemy, and stand beside your king as you have always done before.”

“I stood beside my king until the king’s daughter married a man who wears women’s clothing.” Some of the soldiers with Dimitri snickered at that.

“I have never dressed as a woman,” said Ivan. “But I tell you I would rather wear a hoose every day of my life than bear the shame of taking up arms against my king.”

A murmur from the crowd made it clear that Ivan’s words had struck a responsive chord.

“
You
will never be my king,” said Dimitri.

“But Dimitri,” said Katerina, “if you remove my father as king, then by law my husband
will
be king, and it will be you who gave the crown to him.”

“It’s not his if he can’t keep it,” said Dimitri.

“The crown,” said Katerina, “is only a symbol of the love and honor of the people. You can put it on, but it doesn’t mean the people will follow you.”

“When the Widow comes,” Dimitri said, “they will follow me because I will stand against her.”

“How long did you stand against her when she came to you with her lies? I can feel her magic on you, Dimitri. You already serve her will.” Katerina turned and addressed the people. “Whom does it serve, to have our kingdom divided like this? Only the Pretender. So whose servant is Dimitri, and the soldiers who stand with him? The Widow’s servants.”

“You lie!” said Dimitri.

Katerina whirled back to face him. But it was to the soldiers behind him that she spoke now. “You are men of Taina, aren’t you? Sworn to your king as his druzhina. I know that you meant only to serve the kingdom, and so I promise pardon to every man who lays down his sword, or puts it in my service now.”

“Any man who moves to obey her dies!” cried Dimitri.

“How will that strengthen Taina,” shouted Ivan, “if you begin to kill our soldiers!” It was Ivan’s turn to address the people. “You heard him! He threatened to kill your sons and husbands and brothers! And for what crime? For daring to obey the king they swore an oath to!”

“Enough of this!” said Dimitri. “Enough talk! Surrender now, and I keep your father alive until the war is over. Then I will return the crown to him. But that one”—he pointed at Ivan with his sword—“that one must leave! Go back to where he came from! Annul the marriage, and I’ll spare his life.”

Before Katerina could answer, Ivan sprang forward. “When I fought the bear and freed Katerina from her enchantment, where were you?”

“Ivan!” cried Katerina. “Come back!”

Ivan pointed at one, then another of the boys with Molotov cocktails. He made the handsign they had agreed on—light the fuses.

“Dimitri!” he shouted. “You stand alone! For Katerina’s true husband is the one who commands the gate of this fort!”

“You spoke truly!” said Dimitri. “The man who rules this gate is the one who should be Katerina’s husband!”

“Agreed!” shouted Ivan. “Set this
gate
ablaze with Katerina’s fire!” He gave the signal to throw. The boys had heard and understood. It was not at Dimitri that they threw the cocktails, but at the gate itself. Both pots flew true and broke against the lintel. Fire blazed all up and down the wooden gate.

“Pass through that gate if you dare!” cried Ivan.

“No man can!” Dimitri shouted back.

“I can!” Ivan cried, and he ran headlong at the gap between Dimitri and Matfei.

For a moment he feared that Dimitri would seize the opportunity to skewer him on his sword. But no—the fire had unnerved him, and he only watched as Ivan ran past him, past Matfei, straight into the flames.

He knew, of course, that the fire wouldn’t have time even to singe his hair; and because it was an alcohol fire, it would quickly die back to nothing. Once inside the gate, however, the real challenge came. He turned quickly, looking every soldier there in the eye, if they dared to meet his gaze. “I passed through fire for the princess Katerina. What will you do? Who stands with her? All loyal men, to the walls, and cry the name of Katerina!”

With no weapon other than his voice, his courage, and his love for the princess whom they also loved, Ivan faced them and prevailed. First one, then two, then a dozen, then all the soldiers ran to the wall, climbed it, and stood there with swords raised.

“Katerina!” they cried. And again, and again. “Katerina!”

Ivan could hear the chant being taken up by the people outside. He sauntered to the gate and passed through it, with only a few flames on the wooden posts to frame him.

“Katerina,” he shouted, out of the rhythm of the chant, so she could hear him. He raised his hands for silence, and the chant subsided. “Katerina, princess of Taina, I give this fort to you!”

The soldiers and the people erupted in cheers.

The action had played out the way Katerina and Ivan had hoped. Ivan now stood as the man who had taken the fort away from Dimitri, who had helplessly watched him do it.

But Dimitri still had his sword, and Katerina’s father, and the two soldiers who held the king between them. It was Katerina, now, who had to control the final scene of this dangerous play.

She stepped forward, putting herself almost within reach of a lunge from Dimitri’s sword. “This is your last chance,” said Katerina. “I only offer it to you because Ivan pleaded with me that we needed you beside us in the war against the witch. Command these last two soldiers to release my father, and then all three of you lay down your swords and pledge yourselves again to his service. Do this, and I will plead with my father to pardon you.”

Before Dimitri could begin to obey, the two soldiers, who were not fools, let go of Matfei, knelt, and laid down their swords at the king’s feet.

Dimitri was absolutely alone. He had his sword, and no doubt he could kill several, could kill the king himself, and Katerina, before other swords brought him down. But he would die if he did such a thing, for no one was likely to follow him now, still less if he had the blood of Matfei and Katerina on his hands.

He knelt. He laid his sword at Matfei’s feet.

Ivan walked around this tableau of kneeling men and took his place at Katerina’s side.

The face of King Matfei was filled with rage when he looked down at Dimitri kneeling at his feet. The king bent down and picked up Dimitri’s own sword. He raised it over his head.

“Father,” said Katerina. “I beseech you to spare the life of this man. His crime was grave indeed, and no one here has the power to restore the power of speech that he took away from you. He diminished you at a time when we needed you whole. And yet I plead with you—do not weaken Taina by one sword arm, not even his. Accept his vow of loyalty again, though he has broken that selfsame vow before. I beg you, Father, for the sake of your daughter, and of the grandchild that grows in your daughter’s womb.”

It was the first that Ivan had heard that Katerina might be pregnant. And even now he wasn’t sure, for she hadn’t actually said that she had conceived a child—she might have been speaking of a child that would someday grow within her.

But her words had the desired effect. Matfei’s rage turned to thoughts of his daughter, of his grandchild. What she asked for, he would give her.

For a moment Ivan felt a stab of regret. Things would be much simpler if Dimitri died right now.