She managed a little laugh as she slipped her arms around him; she found his sturdiness and strength not only comforting but stimulating. "You ought to be warm enough, Hercegek." It was wonderful to be so frank with him, to speak what she had been feeling since he had first offered her his love a week ago.
"The bunk is more comfortable than the chair, or the floor." He let her rest her head on his shoulder. "You may want to let me loosen your lacings and your stays. You will be more comfortable without them."
"Thank you, but I can manage for myself," she said, and reached around over her shoulders to untie the lacings down the back of her dress. She performed a complex wriggle and the lacings grew slack. "If you would help me pull it over my head?"
"How do you manage this alone?" Saint-Germain asked.
"I have a dress-makers' tool--a long wooden double-hook that permits me to unfasten dresses and stays, and I have three wooden hooks on my bedstead that allow me to pull out of the dress without the help of a maid." She bent over slightly so that he could get a good hold on her corsage, then she stepped back, and the dress slid upwards. Working the snug, long sleeves, she peeled her arms out and stood straight, her petticoats and farthingale revealed, and her whale-boned corset. She remained still for a long moment, then asked, "Will you unfasten my stays for me?"
"Certainly," he said as he laid her dress over the back of his chair. "Turn around?"
She did, and felt his lips make a light excursion along her shoulder to the nape of her neck, all the while he undid the bow-knots that held the corset closed. The sudden release of pressure on her breasts and torso gave her a little unstableness; she leaned back against him as he whisked away her corset, and gathered her close to him. The pressure of the lacings of his long coat against her naked back was more exciting than anything she had believed possible, and she gasped with the intensity of the sensation. "I can manage my petticoats and farthinga--"
"If you would allow me," he offered, sliding his hand into the waist of her petticoats. "These first, then their frame, and then your under-clothes."
The suggestion sent another pleasurable quiver through her; where his hands touched her flesh, she felt such heightened awareness of him that she was surprised her skin did not begin to sizzle with the anticipation of what was to come. She hardly recognized her own voice when she answered, "Yes, yes. If you would."
Saint-Germain pulled the ties open and let the petticoats and farthingale drop to the floor. He turned her toward him, his hands grazing
her breasts before drawing her to him. "Let me wrap you in blankets so you will not be chilled."
"Chilled? That's not possible," she breathed.
He nuzzled her neck and bestowed more feather-light kisses on her throat and shoulders, then took a single step back so that they could walk the short distance to the bunk, where he threw back the quilts and sheet, bowing her into its warm interior. As she drew the covers around her, he removed his coat and put it down on the trestle-table, then came back to the bunk and reclined beside her. "What would you like of me, Ludmilla?"
She had no idea what she wanted, but could not bring herself to say so; she answered with as much nonchalance as she could summon up, "Begin as you began before."
"Very well," he said, and kissed her once more, this time aware of her ignited ardor, and responding to it with esurience, caressed her breasts until he felt her nipples harden against his palms; he bent to tantalize them with his lips and tongue.
Ludmilla arched back, her head sinking into the fragrant pillow. Now her whole body felt limned in marvelous fire that made her life more real by its presence. She felt his hands work the ties of her under-drawers, and she shivered in anticipation of what was to come. "Yes. Do that," she whispered as she raised her hips to allow him to remove her under-garment; the awareness that he had access to her very core gave her body a preparatory jolt of culmination. She felt a tightness at the apex of her thighs, a delicious tension that sought release.
He moved down to her belly, then maneuvered between her legs, all the while stroking her thighs, her hips, and the curly hair at the base of her abdomen. Each touch brought her a new and rapturous discovery; his fingers and his lips evoked an ecstatic panoply of sensations that were more than anything she had experienced before: not even her previous evening with him had been ecstasy wholly awakening. She delighted in the many ways he caressed her, and his increasing closeness as she neared her release; with a soft cry, she pulled him as near to her as she could, his lips brushing her neck as the first spasm expanded through her.
By the time the first of her spasms of fulfillment took her, she was already transported, the limits of her body seeming to have fallen away, her exaltation banishing her anxiety and exhaustion, filling her with an elation that seemed to extend as far as the stars. Finally her all-encompassing satisfaction began to fade and she felt his gentle, persuasive stroking that eased her from the heights of gratification to the comfort of his touch. Gradually her excitement abated, and she opened her eyes, whispering, "That was better than the first time. You've done glorious things to me."
"You were willing to achieve more for yourself," he told her, kissing the arch of her brow.
She snuggled against him, reluctant to break their closeness. "I suppose I shouldn't linger here."
"Probably not," said Saint-Germain, making no move to shift her from the bunk.
She lay still for several minutes, then summoned up her resolve, sitting up and patting him on the shoulder as a sign that he should move. "I'll need your help getting dressed," she said with unconvincing briskness.
"Of course," he said, rising and offering her his hand for support as she threw back the bedding and sat up.
"I'll need my under-drawers," she said, doing her best to be as pragmatic as she could. "Then the stays, then the petticoats and farthingale."
"I know," he said; while she stood up and stretched, he gathered up her garments and readied himself to assist her back into them, all the while aware of the strength of her passion giving way to her concern for the patients in her care.
Text of a proclamation from the Metropolitan Matvei Nikitich Golrugy of Sankt Piterburkh, to the residents of the Foreign Quarter.
To the many foreigners and their households, the blessings of God be upon you.
As the time of the Nativity is approaching, it is my duty and privilege to instruct you regarding the celebrations to come to mark the Birth of our Savior, since most of you are not of the Orthodox Church, and are far from the comforts of your usual religious traditions and have limited opportunity to practice your customary observations of the season.
For those of you who may wish to join your Russian hosts at the Cathedral for Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve, you would be welcome among us. The Mass is sung and lasts for over an hour, at the conclusion of which there will be a banquet at the master station of the Sankt Piterburkh Guard for all who have attended the Mass. For Epiphany, the Mass will be sung at dawn, and there will be a banquet sponsored by Marfa Skavronskaya at the new warehouses. Any Christian, man or woman, master or servant, will be received with Christian charity and fellowship.
For those who prefer to keep to their own rites, Thomas Bethune has offered his services at the English Residence to the Protestants, and Father Lothar Blaufeld will celebrate the Catholic Nativity Mass on Christmas Day, and the Epiphany Mass at the house of the Flemish Residence in the Residential chapel. Let no ungracious acrimony blemish this sacred time.
May the peace of the season brighten the dark of the year for you, and for Christians everywhere.
Matvei Nikitich Golrugy
Metropolitan of Sankt Piterburkh
December 10th, 1704
8
Nacreous sunlight cast its eerie lume over the frozen marshes, its anemic glow limning the approaching line of seventeen heavy wagons--some containing livestock, some containing men--an army escort of twenty soldiers, a remuda of twenty horses, and a dozen open carts piled high and covered with vast canvas tarpaulins: they seemed spectral, insubstantial in the wan afternoon; only the muffled sound of their advance made them real. For those residents of Sankt Piterburkh who were prepared to brave the furious cold of this short, dim day, it was a relief to watch the supply-train coming across the frozen river toward the city, Alexander Menshikov at its head, his shaggy horse swaddled in bear-skins for warmth, as were all the horses. They came on steadily through the pallid landscape, their progress marked by the bobbing lanterns on all the vehicles. As Menshikov urged his horse up the incline of the bank along the broad, icy swath that gave access to the sanded snow track on the dyke above, a growing cheer went up from all those who had come to the frozen river; the Captain of the Sankt Piterburkh Guard came out to greet him, nine of his men behind him to make a good showing, for the supply-train was earlier than it had been expected, and this was cause for celebration. "We will open a keg of brandy at once, for you and your men! Everyone will join in the celebration!" This announcement brought more cheers.
From his vantage-point near the fortress gate, Saint-Germain watched the long line of wagons and men; he turned to Yrjo Saari, who had insisted upon accompanying him to the office of the Clerk of the Archives to deliver a written account of the current state of supplies and aides at the care-house. "At least there will be food enough for a while." He did not join in the cheering, but he could feel the surcease of anxiety experienced by the residents of Sankt Piterburkh, and it brought him a sense of relief.
"Thank you, Captain Fet. It is satisfying to arrive. We've been pressing for ten days--eight hours on the road each day, almost four of those hours in darkness--for they say a bad storm is coming, and that might have kept us from traveling for more than a month while the roads were marked and cleared. I promised the Czar that we would be in Sankt Piterburkh for Christmas, and fortunately, that promise can be kept," Menshikov declared when the Captain completed his brief welcome. "It's taken a toll, but we are here with six days to spare." He nodded to the Captain of the Guard, and said, "Is the army garrison going to greet us, or only you Guards? I need some soldiers to deal with the convicts we have with us."
"Most of the officers are off supervising the work-gangs in the woods." Guard Captain Nikolai Evkareivich Fet pointed in a vaguely northeastern direction.
"Surely you don't have men trying to run at this time of year," Menshikov said. "Why waste soldiers on them? Won't Watchmen do?"
"Not fugitives." The Captain shook his head. "Wolves."
"Of course," said Menshikov. "But I need the soldiers here. Bring the work-gangs in for the time being. You don't want them caught in the storm in any case."
Captain Fet saluted. "We'll send a messenger at once."
"Do so," said Menshikov. "And make room in one of the barracks ready for the convicts. It doesn't have to be completely finished, just enough to get a roof over them and walls around them. You'll need to set the Guards to keep watch over them. We have about fifty of them from Moscow--we lost five of them on the journey, but we've added a dozen more whom we caught on the road two days ago. They made the mistake of attempting to rob us, unaware that our escorts are soldiers, not simple streltsy of a decade ago, and ready to deal with such scaff-and-raff as they. The soldiers quickly detained them. One of my officers thinks they may have come from here, since the Guard has driven many of the robber-bands away from the city, leaving them desperate for spoils." He swung down from his mount, his movements stiff from cold as much as from his long hours in the saddle. Steadying himself against his gelding's shoulder, he said, "Did the
Guards shoot any bears before they went to hibernate, or have the soldiers? Bears have fur and meat in abundance."
"Only one, and some of it is still in our Guards' larder. The soldiers have brought back pelts of a dozen wolves, and four white foxes."
"Disappointing," said Menshikov. "Still, there should be deer in the forest. We'll dispatch hunting parties in the next few days." He looked over the small contingent of Guards. "We're ready for journey's end."
Taking this as an order, the Captain motioned to one of his men to take the reins from Menshikov. "Get the horses to the Guards' stable and have them groomed, fed, and watered. Double up on stalls if you have to."
Snow crumpled and crunched underfoot and beneath wheels as the rest of the train came up the bank and halted, the army escort grouping around two large wagons, drawn by eight horses apiece, holding huddled men. The smaller wagons carried both men and supplies, and the coachmen kept to their driving-boxes while the postilions dismounted. The carts were still out on the river ice, bringing up the rear of the train.
"Is the bath-house ready? I need an hour in hot steam, and a large glass of hot buttered brandy," said Menshikov, nodding to Saint-Germain as he trudged toward the Guard station at the fortress gates. "Hercegek."
"Poteshnye," said Saint-Germain, returning the nod; he, along with a dozen other residents of the Foreign Quarter, had come to watch the arrival of the supply-train, keeping a little distance between themselves and the wagons so as not to rouse suspicions by the Guards, who were alert to pilfering. Saint-Germain walked a few steps forward until he was on the dyke-road, Saari not far behind; without being obvious about it, he was trying to calculate what the various equipages contained, hoping that some of the supplies were earmarked for the care-house. "You made good time. Did you leave Moscow early?"
