Russka - Edward Rutherfurd [172]
‘I, too,’ the Tsar confessed. He paused.
Boris felt himself tremble, and a wave of almost choking emotion ran from his gorge down to his chest. Tsar Ivan remembered their words. Once more, he and the sovereign were sharing the religious destiny of mighty Russia.
‘And tell me, Boris Davidov,’ the Tsar went on quietly, ‘do you still believe now what you said then, about our destiny?’
‘Oh, yes, lord.’
Yes, for all the terrible times of recent years, for all the treachery, the violence – he passionately desired to believe it. Without that holy destiny, then what was he? An empty husk, dressed in black.
Ivan gazed at him thoughtfully, sadly it seemed, as though perhaps in Boris he was remembering something in himself.
‘The path to Russia’s destiny is hard,’ he murmured. ‘The straight and narrow way is hemmed in by thorns. Sharp thorns. We who travel that noble path, Boris, must suffer. There must be shedding of blood. We must not shrink from it. Is it not so?’
Boris nodded.
‘The duties of the Oprichniki are often stern.’ He looked at Boris carefully. ‘Your wife does not like my Oprichniki,’ he remarked softly.
It was said as a statement, yet clearly, since Ivan was now silent and watchful, Boris was being given an opportunity to deny it. He had an instant urge to do so and yet, at the same moment, a little warning voice told him to say nothing.
Ivan waited in silence. Could it be that, far from being a friendly conversation, this meeting had been arranged so that the Tsar could make his accusation in person: was this the end? Boris waited.
Then Ivan gave him a slight nod.
‘Good. Never lie to me, Boris Davidov,’ he said quietly. He turned, went to gaze at the icon in the corner and, without turning round, went on in a deep, melancholy tone: ‘She is right. Do you think, Boris Davidov, that the Tsar is unaware of what kind of servants he has? Some of these men are dogs.’ Now he turned back. ‘But dogs can catch and kill a wolf. And there are many wolves to be destroyed.’
Boris nodded again. He understood.
‘It is not for the servants of the Tsar to think, Boris Davidov,’ Ivan reminded him quietly. ‘It is not for them to say – “I wish this”, or “I will not”. It is for them to obey. Do not forget,’ he concluded, ‘that the Tsar is set to rule over you by the grace of God, not by the changeable will of men.’
Since Ivan said no more, it seemed that the interview was at an end. His eyes were wandering back towards the icon. Boris realized he should go.
But before he left, there was one thing he wanted to ask.
‘May I stay here, Gosudar?’ he enquired. ‘Until the next campaign?’
To be here, with the Tsar, and at such a time, was what he wanted more than anything.
Ivan looked back at him once more. The interview being at an end his eyes had begun to glaze over as he entered some other world of his own. How quickly, Boris thought, the great man could bring down a curtain that separated him from the rest of the world. It was something which, in another man, he might have taken for caution or awkwardness: as though there were things he did not wish Boris to see.
‘No,’ he said quietly, ‘things are quiet here today but … this is not the place for you.’
A little sadly, Boris withdrew.
That afternoon the Tsar went riding. In the evening there were more prayers. Then, the next morning, the same summons to church before dawn. By mid-morning, some prisoners were brought into the fort and led quickly away to a stout building at the far end of the enclosure. Soon after this, Boris left.
As he had made his way back to Moscow he had experienced a wonderful lifting of the spirits, as if his whole being and his commitment to the cause had been renewed.
It was in Moscow, on a clear September day, that Boris came upon the Englishman. They met near the Kremlin wall.
He was a thin fellow, with narrow-set eyes, and when Boris saw him, he was standing by the Neglinaia River gazing curiously across it.
The sight that greeted George Wilson