The Empire of Time (26 page)

I turn to Ernst and hold his arm a moment. ‘Go on back,’ I say. ‘There’s something I need to do.’

‘Otto?’

‘I’ll be all right,’ I say. ‘An hour at most.’

He nods reluctantly, then reaches out and holds my upper arm. ‘Take care, Otto. This is a dangerous Age.’

Yes, and quite wonderful
, I think. And I turn away and in less than twenty paces I am lost to his sight.

But then you know where I am headed. To Razumovsky’s.

I reach there as the man himself is about to set out.

‘Otto,’ he says, ‘what can I do for you, my friend?’

‘It’s Kravchuk.’

‘Kravchuk? What of the man?’

‘I’m sorry to impose like this. I mean, I know the man is to become your son-in-law, but …’

Razumovsky stares at me oddly. ‘But what?’

‘It’s just that I’ve heard things. In the taverns. And Ernst and I were about to do some business with him, and I thought …’

‘What have you heard?’

I sigh heavily, as if I hate saying what I’m about to say, then launch in. ‘I’m told he’s dissolute.’

Razumovsky laughs. ‘Aren’t all young men? But when he’s married …’

‘I’m told he keeps a mistress. A Turkish woman. And that he beats her.’

Razumovsky’s mouth opens then closes again. He quickly walks across and closes the door that leads out to the passageway, then comes back, standing closer to me. When he speaks again his voice is quieter than before.

‘What he does is his own business. But I thank you, dear friend, for bringing it to my attention. It cannot have been easy for you.’

‘I was in two minds …’

‘Yes, yes, I’m sure.’

‘And so I went to the priest at St Sophia’s and I told him what I knew, and he told me that if it troubled my soul so much I ought to come and see you, Mikhail.’

He nods solemnly, my mention of the priest enough to convince him now that what I’ve done is right.

‘Well,’ he says, after a moment. ‘What a business, eh?’

‘Only I thought you might have known …’

He looks at me a moment, just the slightest flush of anger in his face, then shakes his head. ‘You think I would have let her marry him if I’d known? What kind of man do you think I am?’

‘Then what’s to do?’

He sighs, then sits, putting his hands in his head, and I truly feel sorry for doing this to him.

Only it
is
true, in a way.

Kravchuk
will
be a bad husband to his daughter and he
is
dissolute.

It’s just hidden by the years.

But I hate having to lie, even if it’s for a good cause.

Razumovsky looks up at me, bleary-eyed. ‘God help me, Otto. If this is true …’ And he stands and paces the room a moment before stopping and looking to me again.

‘I guess I could buy him off, only … well, a promise is a promise.’

‘And what does she think?’

‘
She?
’ He laughs, then sits again. ‘She’s not been well. Not since the other evening. She stays in her room all the while, pacing back and forth. The only time I’ve seen her is when she came to church with us this morning.’

I almost smile, but that would give the game away. Instead I spin another lie.

‘Maybe I can help.’

‘Help? In what way, my friend?’

‘I was a healer once. Back in Lubeck.’

Razumovsky stares at me, then shrugs. ‘I don’t know, Otto. It’s just, well, what am I to do about Kravchuk? If I had known …’

‘Confront him,’ I say. ‘Give him a chance to clear his name. I’d say that was the fairest course, wouldn’t you?’

His eyes light at that, and he stands and slaps my back. ‘I shall. And I’ll do it right away. Oh, and Otto – will you be here when he comes?’

‘Do you think that’s wise, Mikhail?’

‘Who knows what’s wise when it comes to such matters. But I know something. I would welcome one impartial observer at that meeting.’

And so it is, that evening, much to Ernst’s surprise, we are at Razumovsky’s again, waiting for Kravchuk to appear. Razumovsky has given him no notice of why he’s summoned him, and he clearly has no idea, for when he comes he’s rather too cocky, thinking himself the certain master of this house. Which is something that, in all of this, I had forgotten. When Razumovsky dies, Kravchuk will inherit. So it is in this society. And Katerina would have no say.

I watch the little bantam enter the room, see his surprise to find me there. Ernst is in one of the back rooms, drinking wine while this matter is sorted out.

Kravchuk greets me cautiously, then turns to wait for Razumovsky, staring towards the door, ignoring me.

‘So what is it you do?’

He almost twitches. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘I am curious. You seem a prosperous man.’

He half turns, but does not quite deign to look at me. ‘I do well enough,’ he says.

‘So I see by your furs. Silver fox, is it not?’

He smiles this time and nods. ‘I have several, actually. But this, yes, this is a fine fur.’

And expensive
, I think. So what
does
he do? Something he doesn’t want the world to know about, perhaps?

But I do not get to question him much more, for Razumovsky appears.

‘Mikhail!’ Kravchuk says, going to embrace him, but Razumovsky raises a hand, and Kravchuk steps back, confused.

‘Mikhail?’

‘There have been rumours, Oleg Alekseevich.’

‘Rumours?’ And now he turns and glares at me, as if he knows whence they’ve come. ‘Rumours of what?’

‘I thought you might explain yourself. About the woman you are said to keep.’

Kravchuk looks astonished.

‘Well?’ Razumovsky says, his dark eyes watching the smaller man. ‘Will you not deny it?’

But it seems that Kravchuk’s lost his tongue. He stands there staring at Razumovsky, and I realise with a start that it’s true – it’s actually true! My wild surmise was right. He
has
a woman that he keeps!

I laugh and both men look to me.

‘Who is this fellow?’ Kravchuk asks.

‘A friend,’ Razumovsky says. He’s watching Kravchuk closely now. ‘But you’ve not answered me. Or perhaps you have.’

Kravchuk laughs, but it’s so lacking in sincerity it falters before the sound has died. His eyes move restlessly between Razumovsky and the floor. ‘You know how it is, Mikhail. A man has needs.’

But it’s a poor excuse, and not one Razumovsky is about to accept. This is his daughter’s honour we are talking of, and if this news gets out and she still marries him, then he, Razumovsky, will be a laughing stock. Besides, he loves his daughter. He would not let her suffer the humiliation.

‘You shit! You fucking little shit!’

And, without warning, Razumovsky swings his arm and smacks the little bastard straight across the chops with his open hand. It’s a stinging blow, and Kravchuk cries out and buckles instantly, clutching his face.

‘The wedding’s off! I’d rather you married my neighbour’s pig than had a sniff of my daughter!’

But Kravchuk is backing away. ‘You cunt,’ he mumbles. ‘I’ll get you, see if I don’t …’

But Razumovsky is not listening. He aims a kick at Kravchuk’s departing backside, then picks up a chair and throws it after him, even as he runs across the courtyard towards the gate.

‘And don’t think of coming back, you little toad!’

But Kravchuk is not coming back, and inside I feel a joy that’s inexpressible. He’s gone! The little bastard has gone!

Only he hasn’t. Kravchuk
is
a weasel, after all. And, what’s more, he has friends in high places. The
posadnik
for one. And when Ernst and I visit the
posadnik
the next morning, Kravchuk is there, standing beside his chair, and I know that we’re in trouble.

‘Are these the ones?’ the
posadnik
asks.

‘They are, my lord.’

‘Then I shall leave this matter to you.’

And with that, the
posadnik
stands and leaves the room. Kravchuk stares at us a moment, then grins and takes the old man’s seat.

‘Well, well,’ he says. ‘Fancy us meeting again so soon.’

I’m about to walk away, when Ernst brings my attention to the letter in Kravchuk’s right hand. He holds it casually, as if it’s of no moment, but we both know what it is. It has the
posadnik
’s seal upon it, after all.

‘And how is your friend this morning?’ he asks, after a moment’s silence.

‘My friend?’ I ask, seeing that he’s addressing me.

‘Yes. That loser Razumovsky. I thought, maybe, he’d have a change of mind. Send me an apology. But the man appears to have no manners.’

I stare back at him, astonished by the words, but he’s not finished yet.

‘I’d try and reason with him, only such a man scarcely knows what’s in his best interests.’

‘Best interests!’ But before I can say another word, Ernst grabs my wrist in an iron grip and glares at me. I fall silent, but I cannot help but show my hatred for the little creep as I meet his eyes again.

‘I see you have something we want,’ Ernst says with an icy calm. ‘So tell us what you want for it, and we’ll tell you if you have a deal.’

Kravchuk smiles. This is more his language. In his world, anything can be bought.

‘That’s good,’ he says, waving the letter at Ernst. ‘But I warn you, this doesn’t come cheap. I had to pay my old friend the
posadnik
dearly for this privilege. However, there is one unbreakable condition …’

‘Go on,’ Ernst says, his expression set.

‘I want Razumovsky’s daughter for my wife.’

‘Never!’ I say, but Ernst rounds on me.

‘Shut up, Otto! You’ve no say in this! Understand?’

And when I go to say something more, Ernst slaps his hand across my mouth, then roughly pushes me back.

Kravchuk looks from one of us to the other and then smiles. ‘I’d say your friend was sweet on the girl, Herr Kollwitz.’

Ernst turns and faces him again. ‘I assure you, nothing is further from the truth. My friend will do his best to help you
reconcile
things with her father …’

‘I’m glad to hear that. I thought perhaps there would be
difficulties
.’

Too fucking true
, I think, but I keep my face a mask. I want to kill the bastard more than ever, but that’s becoming more difficult by the moment. Ernst wants that letter of protection. Without it he can’t get to Nevsky, and without getting to Nevsky his scheme will never work. I know that and ought to be working hard to help him, only I’m in the grip of a jealous rage that threatens to unhinge me. The thought of going back to her father and supplicating for this arsehole fills me with horror. Ernst will have to do it. And even then …

My mind races, trying to think of ways out of this, but I can’t think of a damn thing. Kravchuk has the letter, and he has his condition. If we don’t play his game, we’ll find ourselves stuck here in Novgorod.

Oh, I know what you’re thinking. We could jump direct to Vladimir, and fake the letter, but in the longer term that would cause more problems than it would solve. Vladmir is four hundred miles inland, beyond Moscow, and we can’t just walk out of the forest. In Novgorod it’s not a problem, but in Vladimir we must be known. That letter of protection is essential. Without it, we would be cast into a pit and left to rot.

And so I hold my peace and leave it to Ernst, even as I rage inside. Kravchuk will
never
have her! But can I prevent it? Not without ruining Ernst’s plans.

I groan and Kravchuk looks to me.

‘Eaten something bad, my friend?’

He laughs, and I swear to myself that I will kill the man.

Back in my room, Ernst slams the door and faces me.

‘Just what do you think you’re doing, Otto? Why are you being so bloody-minded?’

I look down, wanting to tell him just what I’m suffering, but I know I can’t, because then I
would
be out.

‘I’m sorry, Ernst. There’s just something about the man.’

‘I know. But it’s not like you to let it get to you.’ He pauses, then laughs, more at ease for seeing me so contrite. ‘For a moment there …’

‘Go on …’

‘Well, just for a moment, I thought, well, that maybe Kravchuk might have been right. That you have a, well, a
thing
about the girl.’

His hesitations are telling. He’s trying now to make a joke of it, but I sense he’s half-convinced that Kravchuk’s right. And he has every reason to think so. But now’s the perfect time to allay those fears of his.

‘That’s nonsense, Ernst. Why, I’ve met her only twice and both times were in a crowded room, remember? I doubt she even noticed me.’

‘Then why …?’

I look a query at him, but he just shrugs. I know what he’s alluding to, however. If there’s nothing between us, then why did she say what she did in Kravchuk’s house, six years down the line? And why, if she meant nothing to me, was I so shaken up by her death?

I have to make a gesture. To prove she means nothing.

‘I’ll go,’ I say. ‘I’ll talk to Razumovsky. Persuade him to have Kravchuk back as his son-in-law.’

‘You’ll do it now?’

I swallow. It was not what I had in mind, but I nod.

‘Good. But spin him some tale, Otto. Something that will convince him that it was all a misunderstanding. Tell him you’ve new information. You know the kind of thing.’

I do. Yet I am loath to use my verbal skills in Kravchuk’s service, especially when it means handing my soul itself into his hands.

And that’s the hardest part of this. For there’s really no decision to be made here. If I do what Kravchuk says, I might just as well take a knife and slit my own throat. Not to have her – for her
not
to be mine – oh, my soul, that would be hell itself.

Razumovsky is pulling on his furs when I get there, a black look on his face.

‘What is it?’ I ask, and he almost growls his answer.

‘It’s Kravchuk. I don’t know what’s he’s done or said, but that little fucker’s meddling in my business. I’ve lost more trade in a morning than I could drum up in a month!’

That fills me with foreboding. Especially as I’ve the task of pleading for the man.