Russka (19 page)

The meeting was in the hall of the prince’s palace. The windows were small and set high in the thick walls, so that the place had the feeling of a church.

The young prince was standing at the far end as Ivanushka entered with his father. There were half a dozen nobles standing respectfully on either side of him. Vladimir was wearing a long
cloak trimmed with sable. It reached almost to his feet and was encrusted with gems so that, even in the dimness, it shone softly. Upon his head was a cap trimmed with ermine. His hands were at his sides.

From his Greek mother, no doubt, came the handsome face with its long, straight nose and large, dark eyes, which stared before him calmly. He awaited their approach like a priest before an altar, motionless, as if his dignity came not from himself but from an authority securely lodged in the other world.

Father and son bowed low before him, advanced a few paces, bowed again. He is like a painting in a church, thought Ivanushka, as he stole a glance up at the motionless black eyes. When he reached him, Ivanushka went down upon his knees and kissed the jewelled shoes.

‘Welcome, Ivan Igorevich,’ the young prince said solemnly.

The courts in the land of Rus were not like those of western Europe. The Russian princes did not seek, like the rulers of Bohemia and Poland, to join the elaborate feudal network of Europe; nor were they interested in its manners or the new ideas of knightly chivalry. Their models, rather, came from the orient. For had not all the rulers of these vast lands come from the east?

From the ancient Scythians and Alans who could still be found in their
druzhina
, from the once vanished Avars and Huns, from the mighty Khazars, the rulers of the borderlands had always been godlike despots from far away. And what power in that quarter of the world was more ancient and civilized than the Christian empire of the Greeks in Constantinople?

So it was that Russian princes were learning oriental luxury, and to copy the jewelled, hieratic formality of the eastern imperial court. Monomakh knew how to do so from birth.

But now, to Ivanushka’s surprise, the prince smiled pleasantly.

‘I hear that you have travelled widely.’ At this there was a laugh from the courtiers and Igor blushed. They had all heard of this foolish Ivanushka’s wanderings.

‘Do not laugh,’ Vladimir corrected them. ‘If he has observed well in his travels, our friend may know more about the land of Rus than I do.’ By this simple sentence, the prince secured the eternal loyalty of his man; and Ivanushka witnessed the grace that made Monomakh loved as well as feared.

With that, Monomakh waved Igor and the other nobles away
and drew Ivanushka to one side. Sensing Ivanushka’s nervousness he began to talk to him quietly and easily until the young man was ready to speak for himself. Vladimir asked him about his travels, and Ivanushka answered very honestly so that, though Vladimir once or twice looked at him in astonishment, he seemed well pleased.

And strangely, the young prince reminded Ivanushka of his own father. There was a stern self-discipline about him that was impressive. It soon became clear that he spent long hours in prayer, four or five times a day, and this he spoke of with a calm grimness very like Igor’s. But when he mentioned one subject, his whole face changed and he became quite boyish.

‘Do you like to hunt?’

Ivanushka told him he did.

‘That is good.’ He grinned. ‘Before I die I mean to hunt every wood in the whole land of Rus. Tomorrow,’ he added happily, ‘you shall come and see my hawks.’

Before their conversation ended, however, the prince became serious once again. ‘You are new here,’ he said quietly, ‘and there are others who have been here before you.’ He paused. ‘Including your brother.’ It was a warning. But though Ivanushka looked at him carefully, Monomakh’s expression was quite impassive, giving nothing away. ‘Go about your business quietly therefore,’ he instructed. ‘I shall judge you by your deeds alone.’

The interview was over. Ivanushka bowed gratefully. Vladimir turned back to his courtiers.

It was at this moment that Ivanushka saw her.

She came in directly behind her mistress. She was no longer a girl, but a young woman; both she and her mistress were so fair they seemed almost unearthly, and he remembered at once how he had seen them before, two years ago, riding through the forest with his father and the court while he hid behind a tree.

‘Who are they?’ he asked the nobleman beside him.

‘Don’t you know? The elder is Monomakh’s wife. The other is her maidservant.’

‘Where do they come from?’

‘Why, from England. Gytha is the daughter of the Saxon king, Harold, whom the Normans killed at Hastings ten years ago. The girl’s called Emma. She’s an orphaned nobleman’s daughter the princess brought with her.’

Ivanushka knew that there had been many exiles from England after it was conquered by William of Normandy in the terrible year of the red star. Some Saxon warriors had travelled all the way to Constantinople and joined the elite guard of norsemen who served the Emperor. Others had wandered eastern Europe. And this princess and her companion, with their ethereal looks, had somehow arrived in Kiev and thereby joined the blood of the Saxon King of England to that of the ruling house of Rus.

Ivanushka stared.

The noble smiled. ‘Of Gytha we say: “She came from a crystal pool and her father was the sunlight!”’

Ivanushka nodded slowly.

‘And of the girl?’

‘The same. She is not yet betrothed,’ the man added casually.

It was on a bright morning five days later that, having finished his prayers, Igor summoned his sons to him at breakfast.

They found him alone. He looked cheerful, yet Ivanushka could see from a certain faintly troubled look in his eyes that he had been deep in thought.

‘I have decided,’ he announced, ‘that it is time you each received the income fitting to a nobleman.’ Some of the greatest boyars of Kiev even kept small courts of their own. The honour of the family dictated that the sons of Igor should live, at least, in comfortable style.

‘As you know,’ Igor went on, ‘the Prince of Pereiaslav has rewarded my services well. I am by no means poor.’ He paused. ‘But when I left the service of the Prince of Kiev, I suffered several financial reverses. As a result, we are not as rich as I might have hoped, and the cost of maintaining one’s state seems to increase with every year.

‘Sviatopolk, you already have your household. Ivanushka, soon you will no doubt marry and require a household too.’ He paused gravely. ‘With this in mind, I am making the following disposition.’

The two brothers listened attentively.

‘Of the income from the estates the prince has given me, I retain half for myself. The income from the other half is for my sons.’ He sighed. ‘Normally, of course, the greater portion should go to Sviatopolk and a lesser portion to Ivanushka. But since Sviatopolk already has a good income from Prince Vladimir, whereas
Ivanushka as yet has almost nothing – and since the income I have to give you is limited – I am allotting the two of you equal shares.’ He stopped, as if tired after making a hard decision.

Ivanushka stared before him, hardly able to believe his good fortune. Sviatopolk was silent, but when at last he spoke, it was with icy coldness.

‘My father, I thank you, and I bow to your will,’ he said quietly. ‘I have served my prince, and I have served this family. But is it right, I ask, that Ivanushka who has done nothing except bring dishonour upon us, and whose debts we have just paid, should receive exactly the same?’

Igor did not answer, but Ivanushka guessed that the same thought had been troubling him.

He hung his head. What Sviatopolk said was true. He did not deserve it. And he could understand his elder brother’s anger. Until he had appeared – from the dead as it were – all Igor’s limited fortune would have passed to Sviatopolk. Now he was to be denied half his expectations, and all for a stupid wastrel.

‘I have decided,’ Igor said abruptly, and the interview was over.

As they left, Sviatopolk gave Ivanushka a single look. There could be no mistaking its meaning. It said: Death.

It was not until the following day, when he was sitting in the corner of the market place, that Ivanushka reached his decision.

The meeting the day before and the look on Sviatopolk’s face had shocked him. Can he really hate me so much, just because of money? he wondered. And it reminded him, with force, of a conclusion he had reached during his slow convalescence. For when I was wandering in the world, stealing from others and enduring those terrible winters, he had considered, I had nothing. In the end, I was ready to take my own life. Only when I returned and found the love of my family did I once again desire to live. It is true, therefore, what the preachers say: The world is good for nothing without love. And gradually in his mind a new belief had taken shape: Life itself is love; death is lack of love. That is all there is to it.

That day, therefore, as he considered the situation with Sviatopolk, he finally concluded: What use is my good fortune to me if it only creates hatred in my family? I’d sooner be without. So I think, he had decided, that I should give up my inheritance.
Let Sviatopolk have it. God will provide. And satisfied that this was the only sensible thing to do, he was about to move across the market.

It was just then that he felt a tug at his sleeve, and to his surprise saw a sturdy peasant grinning beside him.

‘Why, you’re the fellow I gave the money to,’ he smiled.

‘That’s right,’ Shchek replied cheerfully. ‘And, if I may ask, what are you so down in the mouth about, my lord?’

Shchek had reason to be content. Not only had he regained his freedom but, thanks to his secret treasure house, he expected to put some money in his pocket too. He was glad to see the strange young man again, if only to thank him. And since there was already a bond between them, and he had no one else to talk to, Ivanushka told him the whole story.

What a good fellow this noble is, Shchek thought as he listened. He has a warm heart. And besides, he reminded himself, as he heard the final details, I owe him my liberty after all.

So when Ivanushka had finished, the sturdy peasant saw what he should do.

‘Don’t give up everything, lord,’ he advised. ‘Your father, however, possesses the Russka estate, which is poor. But I think I know a way to make it rich. If you want to, give up the share he proposed then ask your father for only the village of Russka – together with the wood to the north of it,’ he added.

Ivanushka nodded. He liked Russka. It didn’t seem a bad idea.

When, that very evening, Sviatopolk heard what Ivanushka had to say to himself and his father, he could hardly believe his ears.

‘Russka?’ Igor said. ‘You want only the income from that miserable little village? How will you live?’

‘I’ll manage,’ Ivanushka said cheerfully.

‘As you wish,’ Igor sighed. ‘God knows what is to be done with you.’

Praise the Lord, Sviatopolk thought. My brother
is
a fool.

And with a tender smile, he went forward and kissed Ivanushka on the cheek.

It was two days after this that Ivanushka astonished his father with a bold request.

‘Go to Prince Vladimir, Father, and ask on my behalf for the
hand of the Saxon girl, his wife’s handmaiden. He is her guardian.’

Igor stared at him. What could he say? The boy had renounced most of his income and he knew very well that young Monomakh, who took a fatherly interest in this Saxon girl, would hardly give her to a poor man. But even if it were not for that … ‘My poor boy,’ he replied sadly, ‘don’t you know that Sviatopolk asked for her himself yesterday?’

Ivanushka’s face fell. Then he looked thoughtful.

‘Ask all the same,’ he said finally.

‘Very well,’ Igor replied. But after Ivanushka had gone, he sighed to himself, ‘I’m afraid there’s no denying it: the boy’s a fool.’

The reply from Monomakh was given within two days. As usual, it was both kind and sensible.

‘The girl will be betrothed at Christmas. She may choose herself, at that time, from amongst any suitors I approve. I hereby approve both the sons of my father’s loyal boyar, Igor. However,’ the prince had very properly added, ‘any suitor who cannot come forward with proof that he is free of debts, and has an income of thirty silver
grivnas
a year, will be disqualified.’

Sviatopolk smiled when he heard it. His income was over fifty
grivnas
: Ivanushka’s could not possibly be more than twenty.

Ivanushka said nothing.

It was two days later that Ivanushka, its new lord, rode into the village of Russka.

Spring was everywhere in the air. There was a warm glow coming from the ground. The cherry blossom was already making a first, shy appearance and as he rode towards the river crossing, he heard his first bee.

As it happened, Shchek had gone downriver that day, so Ivanushka ordered the elder to give him a thorough tour of the village. The main income he could expect came from the taxes paid by each household. A third went to the prince; he could keep two-thirds; but there were expenses at the fort which he had to meet. True, if he could afford to hire labourers or buy slaves, he could develop unused land in the area but that would take time as well as money, and he had neither. Even with luck, he could not
see how his income would reach more than twenty
grivnas
that year.

That damned peasant’s probably made a fool of me, he thought as he returned that afternoon to the fort. And when Shchek appeared a few hours later, he was ready to be angry with him. But the peasant promised him: ‘We go out at dawn tomorrow.’ And so he waited one more night.

Then, while the sun was still low in the sky the next morning, Ivanushka discovered the secret treasure of Russka.

All that spring and summer, Ivanushka was busy.

He served Vladimir, as required; but because there was always a slight friction in the air whenever Ivanushka and Sviatopolk were at court together, the prince often let Ivanushka know that he was free to go to Russka to inspect his estates where, it was said at court, the eccentric young man had even been seen working with the peasants in the fields.