Russka - Edward Rutherfurd [77]
But the Prince of Kiev was corrupt and cynical. The abuses continued.
And then, on April 16 1113, he died.
The next day, an almost unheard of event occurred.
Years before, after the troubles of 1068, the Prince of Kiev had moved the meeting place of the veche from the podol to the square by the palace, where he could keep an eye on it. Nor did the veche meet unless summoned by the Metropolitan of the Church, or the boyars. But these safeguards did nothing for the ruling powers now. Without consulting anyone, the veche of the people met of its own accord. And their meeting was both stormy and determined.
‘They make slaves of free men!’ they rightly protested. ‘They conspire to ruin the people,’ they said of the cartels.
‘Let us return,’ many demanded, ‘to the laws of Yaroslav.’ Although in fact the Russkaya Pravda – the Russian Law – which had been collated by Yaroslav the Wise and his sons was chiefly concerned with the payments due for harming the prince’s servants and boyars, it did contain a provision protecting the zakup from being made into a slave.
‘Let us return,’ they cried, ‘to another just prince who will maintain the law.’
There was only one such man in the land of Rus; and so it was that the veche of Kiev, in the year 1113, offered the throne of Kiev to Vladimir Monomakh.
‘Praise the Lord!’
It seemed to Ivanushka that at last there would be order in the land of Rus. He had been in Pereiaslav when the news of the Prince of Kiev’s death had come, and without even waiting to summon his sons from the estates, had ridden hard to the capital.
He had long been disgusted by the old prince’s rule. At Russka, and on his estates in the north-east, things were well run and the laws were obeyed. But he knew this was an exception. For the reigning prince’s brothers he had no great regard, and it was good judgement as well as personal loyalty, he believed, that made him declare: ‘Only Monomakh can put things right.’
With admirable good sense, he discovered on his arrival in Kiev, the people’s veche had decided the same thing.
Before even going to his brother’s house, he sent one of his grooms with all speed to Monomakh with the message: ‘Ivan Igorevich awaits you in Kiev. Come, take what the veche rightly offers you.’
So he was saddened, as he strode into their childhood home, to find his older brother in a gloomy mood, shaking his head.
‘It can’t work,’ Sviatopolk told him.
Since the campaign against the Cumans they had developed a quiet relationship that suited them both. They were not friends, but Sviatopolk’s hatred, having smouldered all his life, had burned itself out. He felt old and tired. Thanks to Ivanushka, he was well provided for. He lived entirely alone. His sons were serving in other cities, but he preferred to remain in Kiev, enjoying the respect due to him as a boyar and a reputation – alas undeserved – as a successful man of affairs. In general, on most subjects, he was pessimistic. ‘And I tell you,’ he reiterated, ‘Monomakh cannot become Grand Prince.’
Two days later, it appeared he was right. For word arrived in Kiev that Monomakh had refused.
In a way, he had no option. By the rules of succession he was not the next in line – there were senior branches of the family who should precede him. And had he not, all his life, striven to preserve an orderly succession and keep the peace? Why should he throw away his principles now, especially at the bidding of the lower classes whom, as a prince, he knew must be kept in their place? He did not come.
And then the revolution started.
Ivanushka had gone riding in the woods, that fateful morning, across to the Monastery of the Caves and back. He had no idea that anything was amiss until, coming in sight of the podol, he suddenly saw a dozen columns of smoke starting to rise over the city. He spurred forward. A few moments later he met a merchant in a cart. The fellow was sweating profusely and whipping his horses along for all he was worth.
‘What are they doing?