Russka - Edward Rutherfurd [63]
Ivanushka stared.
The noble smiled. ‘Of Gytha we say: “She came from a crystal pool and her father was the sunlight!”’
Ivanushka nodded slowly.
‘And of the girl?’
‘The same. She is not yet betrothed,’ the man added casually.
It was on a bright morning five days later that, having finished his prayers, Igor summoned his sons to him at breakfast.
They found him alone. He looked cheerful, yet Ivanushka could see from a certain faintly troubled look in his eyes that he had been deep in thought.
‘I have decided,’ he announced, ‘that it is time you each received the income fitting to a nobleman.’ Some of the greatest boyars of Kiev even kept small courts of their own. The honour of the family dictated that the sons of Igor should live, at least, in comfortable style.
‘As you know,’ Igor went on, ‘the Prince of Pereiaslav has rewarded my services well. I am by no means poor.’ He paused. ‘But when I left the service of the Prince of Kiev, I suffered several financial reverses. As a result, we are not as rich as I might have hoped, and the cost of maintaining one’s state seems to increase with every year.
‘Sviatopolk, you already have your household. Ivanushka, soon you will no doubt marry and require a household too.’ He paused gravely. ‘With this in mind, I am making the following disposition.’
The two brothers listened attentively.
‘Of the income from the estates the prince has given me, I retain half for myself. The income from the other half is for my sons.’ He sighed. ‘Normally, of course, the greater portion should go to Sviatopolk and a lesser portion to Ivanushka. But since Sviatopolk already has a good income from Prince Vladimir, whereas Ivanushka as yet has almost nothing – and since the income I have to give you is limited – I am allotting the two of you equal shares.’ He stopped, as if tired after making a hard decision.
Ivanushka stared before him, hardly able to believe his good fortune. Sviatopolk was silent, but when at last he spoke, it was with icy coldness.
‘My father, I thank you, and I bow to your will,’ he said quietly. ‘I have served my prince, and I have served this family. But is it right, I ask, that Ivanushka who has done nothing except bring dishonour upon us, and whose debts we have just paid, should receive exactly the same?’
Igor did not answer, but Ivanushka guessed that the same thought had been troubling him.
He hung his head. What Sviatopolk said was true. He did not deserve it. And he could understand his elder brother’s anger. Until he had appeared – from the dead as it were – all Igor’s limited fortune would have passed to Sviatopolk. Now he was to be denied half his expectations, and all for a stupid wastrel.
‘I have decided,’ Igor said abruptly, and the interview was over.
As they left, Sviatopolk gave Ivanushka a single look. There could be no mistaking its meaning. It said: Death.
It was not until the following day, when he was sitting in the corner of the market place, that Ivanushka reached his decision.
The meeting the day before and the look on Sviatopolk’s face had shocked him. Can he really hate me so much, just because of money? he wondered. And it reminded him, with force, of a conclusion he had reached during his slow convalescence. For when I was wandering in the world, stealing from others and enduring those terrible winters, he had considered, I had nothing. In the end, I was ready to take my own life. Only when I returned and found the love of my family did I once again desire to live. It is true, therefore, what the preachers say: The world is good for nothing without love. And gradually in his mind a new belief had taken shape: