The Ocean of Time (20 page)

‘Then … Hecht knows.’

‘I don’t know. He’s from the far future.’

‘How far?’

I shrug. The truth is, I didn’t ask. And that’s not like me. I guess it was the sheer unexpectedness of it that threw me.

‘He says Hecht died before he was born.’

She nods, but I can see how hard it is for her to take this in. Her imagination doesn’t work like ours. We’ve logic circuits in our brains that allow us to think in Time. But she …

‘Belikof is going to die,’ I say. ‘And we can’t stop it. He and his sons. But it’s for the good.’

She frowns. ‘Belikof is a good man, Otto. How
can
it be for the good?’

‘It can. Trust me.’

‘Sergei told you this?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you trust him?’

‘Yes. Don’t you?’

‘I’m not sure.’

That pulls me up sharp. In all those hours I was with him, I didn’t think to question him. Not at gut-instinct level, anyway. But I trust Katerina’s instincts better than my own, maybe
because
she’s outside the loop.

‘So what should I do?’

‘I think you should see Hecht,’ she says. ‘I think you should tell him about me.’

Only I don’t. Not yet.

Just as Sergei said it would, the summons comes late morning, and at noon I find myself entering the great house at the very top of the town, where, behind closed doors, the
veche
are in session.

Sergei’s briefing was very detailed, yet looking about me I see no sign of him and wonder for the first time just how he came to know so much about events. Even so, it follows what he said almost to the letter.

The boyars want to know how things are in Novgorod, and what their boyars are offering in trade.

I look to Belikof before answering, and note how he’s looking down and smiling, clearly the instigator of the enquiry.

I am prepared, of course, and, turning, snap my fingers. At once Lishka steps forward and throws samples of our goods – furs, jewellery, and cleverly painted wooden icons – down on to the surface of the council table. All around the table the boyars stand, craning to see, and the items are passed around and examined, even sniffed, before things settle.

‘I was heading for Moscow,’ I say, ‘but if we can strike a deal with Tver’, well, all the better!’

‘And your prices?’ Belikof asks, his shrewd eyes fixing on me.

I give them the figures Ernst and I worked out, and from the surprised whispers around the table, I know they’re interested.

Belikof grins. ‘I ought to haggle. To tell you that you’re robbing us. Only, both you and I know how things stand. Your prices are most reasonable,
Nemets
. I only wonder how you manage to keep them so low.’

It’s time to drop my bombshell.

‘Because I can afford to. Because … Novgorod has decided not to pay the
tamga
.’

There’s a collective intake of breath. Belikof stares at me aghast. ‘They’ve
what
?’

‘I’m surprised you hadn’t heard. The
veche
voted to throw out the Khan’s
baskaki
and they did so. He was bound hand and foot, then carried to a boat, and shipped back to his masters.’

There’s a great tumult around the table at this news. As it dies down, Belikof leans towards me. His eyes are burning now.

‘No word of this has come to us. And Prince Alexander, does he know?’

‘Not yet. At least, not as far as I know.’

Belikof looks about him. As he does, so a number of boyars rise and go to him, leaning in to exchange quiet, hurried words, while elsewhere about the table a dozen or more conversations go on.

It’s all a lie, of course. But if what Sergei said was true, it could – and should – prove the trigger to events. For these boyars hate the thought of giving a single piece of their hard-earned silver to the
baskaki
. For them the
tamgar
is one imposition too many and the majority of them can’t understand why the princes haven’t joined together to rid Kievan Rus’ of the hated Mongols.

So news of this kind from Novgorod is incendiary.

‘Remember,’ one says loudly, over the hubbub, ‘they burned Kiev. Left not a single building standing.’

‘True,’ another counters, ‘but Kiev is far to the south and much closer to the steppes. They would not
dare
bring their army this far north. Not with winter coming. Besides, without our tribute, how do they clothe and feed their men?’

It’s not true. The Mongols
would
dare. In fact, they do most of their fighting in the winter months when frozen rivers make it easy for their horses to cross the terrain.

But there’s a lot of sympathy for that view. Heads nod and beards wag. I have only now to push it one stage further. Yet even as I make to speak again – just as Sergei said he would – Belikof’s chief rival in the
veche,
Alexander Yakovlev, makes a great show of getting to his feet.

The whole room falls silent.

I nod to him, giving way before him.

‘Meister Behr,’ he begins, smiling at me, his voice heavy with a fake reasonableness, ‘is it true that you killed two men in Rzhev?’

I stare at him, astonished. This isn’t in the script. This isn’t what Sergei said would happen. I think on my feet and answer with a confidence I don’t feel.

‘
Killed
? What nonsense is this? You think I would dare show my face in Tver’ if it were so?’

Yakovlev stares at me coldly. ‘A certain kind of man would.’

The words are a challenge. They impugn me. Now I must fight him or admit to being a criminal.

Sergei has let me down badly. What’s more, I’m totally unarmed. If they wanted, they could seize me and chain me and there would be little I could do about it, not against this number of them.

Only Belikof isn’t having any of it. He stands, glaring across at Yakovlev. ‘Have you any evidence to support your accusation?’

Yakovlev nods. ‘Word came from Rzhev four days back. Of this
Nemets
and his woman. It seems, between them, they killed two of Rzhev’s leading citizens – Ilyushkin and Podnayin. What’s more, they committed violence against the person of the
posadnik
himself, Talyzin.’

Belikof slumps down in his chair, the wind taken from his sails. He looks to me. ‘Meister Behr, what have you to say?’

I decide that honesty would serve me best.

‘Okay. I killed them. But there was good reason. They invited me to Podnayin’s house, along with my wife, Katerina, and there they drugged me and tried to rape her – the daughter of a senior boyar in Novgorod. Talyzin had Katerina arrested and refused to hear my side of things. He sentenced my wife in my absence.’

‘So you claim that your actions were rightful vengeance.’

‘I do. And if there is a fine to be paid, I’ll gladly pay it. Only Rzhev is a corrupt place and the prince’s justice did not prevail. I denied the charge because I did not want us to fall into their hands again. Why, they even charged me for a new pass, even though I held the
tysiatskii
’s visa, paid for in good silver.’

There’s a long pause while a murmur of discussion passes back and forth about the table. Then Belikof stands.

‘Forgive me, Meister Behr, but I am left with no option. You must submit yourself to trial. You and your wife. But be assured. You will be heard. And here, not in Rzhev, if that allays your fears. But we must send to Rzhev for witnesses, and that might take some time.’

I bow my head submissively. ‘I understand, and thank the
veche
for the chance to clear my name.’

But when I look up again I see how Yakovlev is glaring at me, furious, and know it is far from over.

We are escorted back to our inn and a guard is posted. And there we wait, until gone dark. It’s only then that Sergei appears, looking a little sheepish.

I stand, confronting him. ‘What went wrong?’

‘Things are different,’ he says. ‘That business with Yakovlev and the news from Rzhev. That didn’t happen last time.’

‘It’s the Russians,’ I say. ‘The Russians have changed it.’

But Sergei laughs at that. ‘The Russians? We
are
the Russians.’

I sit there for a long time after he’s gone, shocked, not understanding. Is Sergei a member of a rebel faction, split off from Yastryeb? Or …?

Or what?
Because I can’t explain it. Can’t understand why a bunch of Russians are helping me, unless they’re renegades.

All I know for sure is that something’s happened up the line. Some twist that has thrown itself back in time. As it must, eventually, because here in this strange dimension nothing ever stays the same for long.

I tell Katerina, but she’s as much at a loss as me.

‘What will happen?’ she asks.

‘They’ll keep us here,’ I say, ‘under guard until they can bring witnesses from Rzhev. Then we’ll appear before them and state our case.’

‘And then?’

I look away. I don’t know, and I hate not knowing. I hate not being in control, especially when it places Katerina’s life at risk.

As this does. For short of jumping out of here, there’s really fuck all I can do about the situation. My guns are in the cart, which is in their compound. To get to it I would have to fight my way halfway across town.

Which might even work, only more than likely it wouldn’t.

I slump down, placing my head in my hands, trying to think, to come up with an answer.

‘I think you should see Hecht.
’

Katerina’s words echo in my head. It’s crazy, sure, but so is this whole situation, and it’s getting worse by the day.

Only … before I can do anything, I hear, distant yet unmistakable, shouts and cries, and then the screams. Awful screams. And then, equally distinctive, the strong, pungent scent of woodsmoke.

Going to the window, I see, at the top of the town, a flickering glow in the sky, growing brighter by the moment. Great clouds of smoke are billowing up into the moonlit sky, and I know, without being told, what it is.

So Sergei was right.

News comes an hour later. Belikof is dead, and all his sons and their wives and children. The whole clan gone. We overhear the guards talking and learn that many of them were cut down in the streets, naked, running from the flames, by Yakovlev’s men, and I wonder if they’ll come for us next. It seems the logical thing to do. Only no one comes, and soon the town falls quiet again, with only the awful burning smell in the air to remind us of what’s happened.

It puzzles me why they didn’t come and finish the job, but it’s not until the morning that we find out why. Yakovlev was drunk, celebrating his success. And we were overlooked. But now, as dawn breaks, he sends for us, and Katerina, Lishka and I are taken to him, hands bound behind our backs, up the hill and into the hall where, only yesterday, we were honoured guests.

Yakovlev, seated in Belikof’s chair, looks to have the mother of all hangovers. Even so, he’s in control, and makes us stand there waiting, while he gives orders to this minion and that. Finally he looks up at me and, coldly, his eyes like ice, asks me what I think he ought to do with me.

‘Try me,’ I answer. ‘Just as Belikof was going to. Let the
veche
decide.’

For a moment I think he’s going to say no. But then he gives the smallest nod, and I note, as he stands and walks away, that he’s smiling.

And why not? For he thinks he controls the
veche
now. And why take the further risk of being blamed for our deaths when the
veche
could legitimise them?

We are taken back, the guard doubled. No doubt they’ve heard what we did at Rzhev, so no chances are being taken. Only Sergei is allowed to visit us, and I wonder at that, at why Yakovlev would allow it.

Sergei has news. The witnesses from Rzhev are already here. They arrived last night, even as Belikof’s house was going up in flames.

‘And what of that?’ I ask. ‘Are the other boyars just going to let him get away with it?’

Sergei laughs. ‘They’ve been expecting it. Ever since Belikof insulted Yakovlev openly in council. It seems he called Yakovlev “the Great Khan’s dog … nestling at his feet.”’

‘Even so …’

‘They are proud men.’

‘And violent, too.’

‘Of course.’ Sergei grins, but then the grin fades and he lowers his voice. ‘But listen. I have a plan …’

Plans. What are plans except vague hopes? Walls of sand built against the incoming tide of chance?

Even so, Sergei’s is a beauty, even if he is a Russian.

I ask him about that, but he evades my questions, telling me that there will be time to explain everything once we are safe.

When Sergei’s gone, I discuss the matter with Katerina, and we decide to trust Sergei, only I’m not as sure as she is. I have begun to wonder if this isn’t an elaborate trap, a ploy to get me cornered in a cul-de-sac of time, and then snip me off –
time-dead
– and no way back.

So, when we are brought before the
veche
once again, I am not surprised to find Sergei among a small group of men I’ve not seen until that moment. Russians, by their beards and manner. But are they agents, too?

It turns out that they aren’t. In fact, they’re citizens of Rzhev, brought here by Sergei in anticipation of such a trial as this. Men who will speak up for us.

Which means he’s gone back in time and made an alteration. There’s no other explanation, because two days ago he didn’t know that Yakovlev would bring his witnesses.

The trial begins with Yakovlev making an empty speech about justice. He invokes the
Russkaia Pravda
– ‘Iaroslav’s code’, the written law of the land – and calls upon the
veche
to administer it ‘without prejudice or fear’. But everyone knows what a lie that is, and that certain members of the
veche
will not oppose him if he finds us guilty. That doesn’t mean that we’ve lost before we’ve begun, nor – even if we lose – that our lives will be forfeit. Article one of the code stipulates the financial penalties for homicide, and Yakovlev has little option but to abide by those. Only I have a feeling that Yakovlev doesn’t plan to keep us alive that long. He’s hoping we’ll try and make our escape, as we did from Rzhev, and then …