Russka - Edward Rutherfurd [181]
At last she turned. Her face was very calm; but she started when she saw him and, when he did not speak but only looked at her, she blushed a little.
‘I did not hear you come in.’
‘I know.’
Had she made love to him? He looked for some tell-tale sign: a faint glow about her, perhaps; some disarrangement in her dress or in the room. He could not see anything.
He stared at her.
‘You love him.’
He said it very quietly, not as a question but as a statement – as though it were something they were both quite agreed upon. Then he watched her.
She blushed deeply now, swallowed hard, looked miserably confused.
‘No. Not as a man. As a priest.’
‘Is he not a man?’
‘Of course. He is a fine man. A pious man,’ she protested.
‘Who makes love to you.’
‘No. Never.’
He stared at her. Did he believe her?
‘Liar.’
‘Never!’
She had said never. She could have used other words. She might have denied that she even wished it. But she had said: ‘Never.’ That meant she had desired it. As to whether she had or not … who knew? His reason told him she probably had not, but he was too proud to trust her, in case he was deceived.
Had he not wanted her to be unfaithful so that he could divorce her? Suddenly all that was forgotten as he looked at this modest, rather ordinary woman he had married, and who had committed these crimes against his pride.
She was pale now. She was trembling, afraid.
‘Never! You insult me.’
Very well. It might be so. But then he saw in her eyes, a little look that he had never seen before: a flash of contempt, of anger.
He would show her. He stepped forward suddenly, swung his hand and struck her with the open palm across the face. Her head jerked violently; she cried out, gasped. Turned back to him in rage and terror. He struck her with the other hand.
‘Bully!’ she screamed suddenly. ‘Murderer.’
It was enough.
He struck her. Again and again. Then he raped her.
He left for Moscow the next morning.
In September 1569 Tsar Ivan’s second wife died. The next month his cousin Prince Vladimir, still a possible successor to the throne, was accused of conspiracy and made to drink poison. The unlucky prince’s family were then killed, including his elderly mother, who lived in a convent.
But these events were followed by something far more terrible. For late in the year Ivan discovered another conspiracy: the cities of Novgorod and Pskov were planning to break away.
There may, in fact, have been some truth in it. To this day, the details are not quite clear. These once independent centres, near to the Baltic ports, may well have been tempted to escape the increasing taxation and tyranny of Muscovy by joining the newly united and formidable Commonwealth of Poland-Lithuania. They had always been closer to the busy Baltic shores than to the slow, deep heartland of Moscow.
Whatever the facts of the case, at the end of 1569, and accompanied by a large force of Oprichniki, Ivan the Terrible set out in great secrecy for Novgorod. He did not want the city to know he was coming. Even the commander of the advance guard did not know where they were going. Any passing traveller they met was immediately killed, so that no news of the advance would travel.
In January Novgorod was punished.
Exactly how many died in the torture, burning and executions that followed is not clear. They certainly numbered thousands. The city of Novgorod, so valuable to Russia over the previous centuries, was so utterly devastated that it never recovered. Having already killed most of its more important citizens on the road, Ivan only executed forty people at Pskov and burned a few priests at the stake. Then he returned to Alexandrovskaya Sloboda.
It was just after this that two small events of interest took place at Russka.
The first was the birth to Elena of a baby son. Boris had still not returned from the Novgorod campaign and so she and Stephen the priest had to choose a name. They chose Feodor, and so Stephen baptized him. That same