Russka - Edward Rutherfurd [150]
But something about her, it seemed, disappointed him, and he would not let her close enough to discover what he wanted. She was not sure if he knew himself.
And then he was waiting for disaster too – for things to go badly at Dirty Place, or for some trickery from the monastery, or some other trouble. True, when things went well, he would return home elated, full of great plans for the future, confident of the Tsar’s favour. But then hours later, he would be expecting ruin or betrayal again. It was as though the spectre of his father kept rising up before him – encouraging him one moment, then exhibiting his own slow ruin the next.
Some time after mid-winter, disturbing news had come from the east. The city of Kazan had been left with too small a garrison and now all the territory around the conquered Tatar city was in a state of revolt. ‘Tsar Ivan has called the boyar duma together, but they won’t act,’ a merchant from the capital had told Boris. ‘Half of them never wanted to take Kazan in the first place.’
It was this event that had caused the first friction between Boris and his wife.
‘Those damned boyars,’ he had cursed. ‘Those magnates. I wish the Tsar would crush them all.’
‘But not all the boyars are bad,’ she had protested. Her father had friends and patrons in those circles. Indeed Dimitri Ivanov himself did not altogether approve of the vigorous young Tsar, and had taught his daughters to be cautious of him too.
‘Yes, they are,’ Boris had snapped defiantly. ‘And we’ll teach them their place one day.’ He knew there was a covert insult to her father in these words, but he could not help himself, and when Elena looked down at the ground sadly, it only irritated him.
After this however, several weeks had passed with no definite news and she supposed the incident had passed from his mind. And now only one question obsessed her: how much longer before they returned to Moscow?
It was strange that, despite her understanding his financial position fairly well, she did not realize that the real reason he delayed was expense. He never told her, because he did not want to discuss his finances with her; and for her part, living in her father’s comfortable house in Moscow, she had never realized what a burden the social life of the capital might be to a man of modest means like Boris. As January ended and February began, she knew only one thing: that she was still at Russka and that she was lonely.
Which was why she had sent the message to her parents.
It had been quite easy. Anna had taken the message, and given it to a merchant travelling to Vladimir. He in turn had given it to a friend of his who was going to Moscow. The two women had not even needed to tell Stephen about this arrangement. The message itself was quite simple: Elena had not complained of being unhappy, but just let them know that she was by herself. Could they not send her someone – she had suggested a certain poor female relation – for company?
So it was with a cry, first of joy, and then astonishment, that she saw on the grey February day of Lev’s visit, not one but two sleds draw up by the house and realized that they contained not her poor relation, but her mother and sister!
They stayed a week.
It was not that they behaved unkindly. Elena’s mother was a tall, imposing woman, but she treated Boris with a friendly politeness; her sister, a stout married woman with children of her own, was full of laughter, seemed delighted with everything she saw and paid two visits to the monastery, making flattering remarks about its church, the icon by Rublev, and the other benefactions from his family, each time.
Of course, there were the extra expenses of providing wine for them, and extra fodder for six horses. A week of entertaining