Darker Jewels (17 page)

Rakoczy remained on his knees; he felt dangerously exposed, as if he were running naked on a battlefield. “Great Czar—” he began.

The mace slammed down on the inlaid floor, missing Rakoczy by less than a handsbreadth. “Say nothing!” thundered Ivan.
“Nothing!”

Hrabia Zary almost lurched to his feet.

“Hold,” Rakoczy ordered, his voice low. He did not turn; his eyes continued on Czar Ivan.

The Guards standing behind the pillar lifted their pikes.

Czar Ivan lolled back against the ivory, his shaking turning now to convulsive spasms. His eyes rolled and froth appeared at the comer of his mouth.

Then Czareivich Feodor came running forward, his moon-face creased with anxiety. He rushed up to his father and flung himself on Ivan, calling to Ivan and God; his tall hat fell from his head, rolling toward Rakoczy. Feodor took hold of Ivan’s beard and tugged as if pulling a bell rope.

The Czarina was crying openly, her tears marring the heavy cosmetics she wore; several of the women clustered around her, a few of them weeping in dread and sympathy. Their Guards moved to screen the terrible sight, for it was known that witnessing tragic events could render women barren.

From their seats along the wall both Boris Godunov and Nikita Romanov sprang up and hurried forward, Nikita reaching for Feodor, Boris for Ivan. Not far from Nikita, Vasilli Shuisky settled back to watch, his dark eyes thoughtful. The Court buzzed with urgent whispers and a few of the other boyars took a chance and stood, prepared to assist if an opportunity presented itself. Anas- tasi Shuisky gave blind Piotr a running account of what was transpiring.

The Guards moved nearer but did not attempt to impede pulse in his neck, nodding once as it began to slow. He motioned the Guard to move aside so that he could return to his place on his knees.

Czar Ivan shuddered twice, then coughed, bringing his arm up to wipe his mouth afterward. His movements were as clumsy as a child’s, but he was no longer shrieking and his limbs were not rigid. “God protect me,” he muttered.

There were new whispers in the reception hall of the Palace of Facets, and those boyars who had stood now sat down again, a few in genuine amazement.

Czareivich Feodor looked up from contemplating Rakoczy’s coronet and suddenly smiled. He pointed to his father, observing to Nikita, “Look, Uncle, the Czar is awake. He is awake.”

Boris stepped back from the throne, a puzzled frown marking his brow. He looked over at Rakoczy, then back to Czar Ivan. “Little Father?”

Czar Ivan yawned hugely and stretched. “My sweet soul. I did not think— What has come over me?” he asked sleepily. “My head aches. My sinews hurt.” He sat up, adjusting his kaftan and loosening the hold he had on the tiger’s eye. “A potent jewel. A very potent jewel. It plumbs the soul. No wonder it is Saint Mikhail’s Sword. You have spoken truth.” He directed his attention suddenly and intently at Rakoczy.

“It is an honor to serve you, Czar,” said Rakoczy.

Boris stared at him while he signaled the Guards to return to their posts.

“It is great service.” Czar Ivan’s voice rose. “This man has done what none of the rest of you have. He has brought clarity to me when the devils are raging. This jewel is most powerful. Therefore let all men respect him and show him die regard due a boyar.” He looked direcdy at Rakoczy again. “I vow that I will reward you, Rakoczy, for the magnificence of your gift, and I will relate fully to King Istvan your achievements.”

“You are gracious to a stranger, Czar,” said Rakoczy with care.

Ivan struggled to his feet, hefting his mace at the same time. It was impossible to believe he had been locked in a fit only minutes before. A motion of his hand brought the huge room to complete silence. “You are deserving of honor, Rakoczy. You will be rewarded, when I have thought of what is suitable to give you.”

This time Rakoczy only bowed his head while thinking in sudden desperation how he might avoid the Czar’s favor. He caught sight of Boris and read apprehension in his black eyes.

“The jewel is the heart of all treasure,” Ivan declared, then sank back onto the throne. He signaled to Boris. “Pick up the box for me, Boris Feodorovich. I myself will place the jewel in its case.”

As Boris did as he was ordered, he gave Rakoczy an inquisitive glance, then prostrated himself before handing the box to Ivan.

Ivan caressed the box before returning the tiger’s eye to it. “You will have a great reward, a great reward,” he promised again, very softly.

Rakoczy, still on his knees, stopped himself from protesting the Czar’s promise. He made himself incline his head and say, “Such favor is not necessary, Czar. To serve you and King Istvan at once is all the reward I could want.”

There was satisfaction in Ivan’s face, a satisfaction that bordered on gloating. “What man would not wish for so diligent a servant as you are?” He caught sight of Czareivich Feodor, still playing with Rakoczy’s coronet. “That will be returned to you.”

Rakoczy answered quickly. “It is unnecessary. He may keep it as my gift.” But even as he said it he realized that Czar Ivan was not listening.

Text of a letter from Anastasi Sergeivich Shuisky to Father Pogner, written in Greek and delivered by mute servant.

To the revered Jesuit who leads the Polish embassy in Moscovy, sincerest greetings from one who proposes a pact to our mutual benefit.

Certainly I cannot doubt that you share my sentiments regarding the alchemist Rakoczy who has come in your company to Moscovy, for I have seen the distress you cannot conceal at the flagrant behavior of the Transylvanian exile. What man of character could not be deeply shocked by what has transpired?
/
am appalled that the Czar, no matter how decrepit he has become, has been taken in by this man and his endless tricks.

This most recent outrage—bringing on a fit through presenting the Czar a poisoned gem and then offering the antidote as
either Godunov or Romanov. Their leader seemed anxious to be relieved of his position; he did not want to be the target of the Czar’s favor at a time like this. He held his pike with the point down and signaled his men to do the same.

Rakoczy remained on his knees, unmoving. He made no attempt to speak to anyone.

As Nikita drew Czareivich Feodor away, the Czar’s heir reached out and pulled the coronet from Rakoczy’s brow, crowing with delight at his trophy. He permitted himself to be led away while Boris tended to Ivan.

At last Rakoczy broke his silence. “If I may?” he said to Boris. “I have some experience with . . . disorders of the mind. If you would permit me?”

“God and the Archangels, if you can do anything—” Boris declared with feeling as he struggled to hold Ivan on his throne.

Rakoczy rose, coming the last few steps toward Ivan. He reached into the wallet hanging from his dolman’s belt, and drew out a small bottle of clear liquid. “This is a composer,” he said to Boris. “It will help relieve him.”

Boris glowered at him, all his Russian distrust of foreigners reasserting itself as he stared at the vial. “If it is anything but what you say, you will not leave this room alive.”

“Rest assured,” said Rakoczy with a faint, ironic smile, “I will leave this place as alive as I am now.” He removed the camelian stopper. “If you will help me? I must tip this into his mouth.”

“He’ll choke,” said Boris, panting a little as Ivan attempted to thrash free of him. His face was shining with sweat.

“No, he will not,” said Rakoczy. “I have done this before, Boris Feodorovich. I will not fail now.” He waited, showing no distress as Ivan began to wail and spit.

Boris relented. “Very well, Rakoczy. But if there is any—”

“Hold his jaw open, will you?” said Rakoczy, unwilling to listen to more threats. He braced himself against die throne, then slipped the open end of the vial between Ivan’s lips, letting the liquid run out very slowly. When the vial was empty, he stepped back. “Here,” he said, offering the vial to Boris.

The Guards now surrounded Rakoczy, but he paid no attention to them.

“I can’t hold him,” Boris protested, still restraining the Czar.

“He will be calmer shortly.” He watched Ivan, looking for the
the means of displaying his so-called powers—no doubt causes the severest shame to one of your calling and dedication; that this man is an embarrassment to your embassy is beyond question. You, in your sacred calling, are compromised because of the tricks a clever deceiver commits in the shadow of your worthiness. I believe that your indignation has been earned by this man’s chicanery, and for that reason I address you in this manner, to offer what assistance I can to aid you in revealing the fraudulent activities of this Rakoczy.

You must appreciate how delicate our positions are while Rakoczy enjoys the Czar’s favor and attention. Ivan will not look kindly on those who seek to discredit a man he has decided to approve, at least for the time he approves; he has sworn that if any man attempts to harm Rakoczy he will be knouted to death. It is necessary that we ivork in complete secrecy if we are to circumvent the Czar’s iU-deserved favor. Therefore I will not yet reveal my identity to you until you indicate you wish to know it, so that you may have some protection if the Czar questions you in this regard. You will have no name to offer; your ignorance will protect you, far more than your Jesuit’s vows will.

I have heard some rumors of the reward Ivan is contemplating, but I cannot be convinced that even now Ivan is capable of so great an outrage. Lamentably, the Czar is afflicted in his reason, and for that we pray to God for his deliverance and the return of his former greatness. He is determined to shower greater honor on Rakoczy, but in his demented state he is not capable of distinguishing what is appropriate. Yet even now, I cannot think he could contemplate so egregious a thing as I have heard whispered he intends to do, for it would not be a reward but the severest punishment, and would reflect adversely on him as well as bring calamity to others. It would also serve to add to your disgrace, which imposition, when so much has been heaped upon you through the faults of Rakoczy, must surety be intolerable.

Butperhaps that punishment would serve your purpose, good Jesuit, and perhaps it would serve mine as well. To compel Rakoczy to serve two masters would put his head twice in danger, and that can be turned to advantage. We will know in time, if the thing comes to pass.

In the meantime, let me advise you to prepare to celebrate the

Nativity with grandeur, for such courtesy would be viewed favorably by the Czar and by most boyars; you have little over a month to arrange a suitable feast. Such a show of joyous respect and religious zeal wiU earn the good opinion of those who disapprove of the antics of Rakoczy.

From one who shares your concerns.

9

Their horses were protected from the cold by winter tack, which included a saddle pad that wrapped around the horses’ bellies, held in place by the girths, and a breastplate that was two-hands wide and lined with lamb’s wool. Rakoczy rode one of the black Furiosos he had brought from Hungary, a fine, strengthy mare with a long trot and mettle. Beside him, Benedict Lovell rode a square-headed dun gelding he had purchased in Moscovy several months ago. The third member of their company, Anastasi Shuisky, was mounted on a prized red roan with a fine arched neck; it was he who had suggested the outing.

“So these oprichniks are not newly created nobility?” Lovell asked Anastasi in his excellent, English-accented Russian. “I had thought they were.”

“So had I,” said Rakoczy. “Until recently.”

“Nothing like that, not as boyars and Princes are,” said Anastasi as they neared the southern gate of Moscovy. “They were a special force, very fierce, sworn to uphold the rule of the Czar. They went about the country, carrying brooms and the heads of dogs for their talismans, rooting out evil and corruption as the Czarwished. Or so they claimed.” He wiped at his beard to brush away the first flakes of snow. “They exceeded their position, and eventually had themselves to be stopped from evil and corruption.”

Lovell nodded. “A lesson most are slow to learn,” he observed, drawing his Russian shuba more tightly around him. “So they are gone now?”

“Most of them; there were many executions. But a few were loyal and have advanced, and they are now very powerful, those few,” said Anastasi darkly. They had almost reached the gate, and the crush of traffic slowed them to a walk. The narrow streets in this southern quarter of the city were filled with people going to the last horse market of the season.

Rakoczy was aware that they were on very unsteady footing with these questions, and so he said, “Czar Ivan is fortunate indeed. Many a ruler has been brought down by the very guards he has trusted to protect him.” He drew in his mare to let the others go ahead of him through the massive wooden gate.

Anastasi, taking the lead, made sure to cross himself beneath the massive ikon of Saint Alexander before he gave the Guard his name and the names of his companions.

“I do not like this idolatry, all these painted-and-gilded saints. It’s worse than Popish display,” said Lovell very softly to Rakoczy in English as he turned in the saddle to face the Transylvanian. “You cannot go in or out of a door without endless rituals in front of these endless ikons. It is a practice that we English could not accept.”

“Cross yourself anyway,” Rakoczy advised as he blessed himself and the ikon. “These are not my saints, but I will honor them while I am in this country.”

Lovell shrugged once as he copied Rakoczy. “All their worship is graven images,” he protested softly.

Rakoczy nudged his mare after Lovell. “Think of it as you might think of a relic,” he suggested, for he saw little difference between them.

“More idolatry, done by those who bow to the Pope of Rome,” said Lovell with feeling, inadvertently raising his voice with the emotion he felt. “It is not what is done in England.”

“It used to be,” said Rakoczy sardonically. “Never mind the ikons now: we’re here for horses. We can talk about gilded saints later, and attract less attention.” He nodded in the direction of the Great Field where the horse market was conducted. Although it was late in the year there were huge herds brought to this place. There were horses tied and tethered everywhere there was room on the field.