The Betrothed Sister (23 page)

In March just as snows melted into slush, on her return from the church by the garden wall, Thea could not resist looking behind the woody empty vine. She felt around, her hand numbed by the cold, her glove in the other. There was something there. It was wrapped in oiled sheepskin. She withdrew the small package.
At last, at long last
. She glanced about the snow-dripping garden and thrust it into the purse that hung from her belt.

On entering the terem workroom she sat amongst the other women for a moment, and then, with pretended urgency, she said, ‘I must excuse myself today, Lady Olga. I am unwell.'

‘Unwell, Thea? You don't look poorly. What ails you?'

‘My menses have come, I think.' She gripped her stomach. ‘Early, as it happens.' Lady Olga knew everything and she knew when Thea needed rags.

‘Umm, you must rest today. I shall send you my maids and a posset.'

‘No need, Lady Olga.' Thea summoned Gudrun and Katya to her side and hurried them down from the sewing room to her chamber. Gudrun made a mistake. In her haste to follow her mistress she forgot to bring the sewing box with its precious needles and threads with her.

When Thea confided in her two friends, Katya became anxious, wondering how the prince had managed to get the letter into the garden.

‘Never mind how, Katya. He has sent me word. Gudrun, stay by the door and keep watch while I read it. It would not surprise me if Olga sends her maid down to my chamber.' She opened the parcel and withdrew a piece of parchment. ‘Look, Katya, it is in Russian.'

Nervously, her hands shaking, Katya took the tiny piece of parchment. ‘Princess he has folded it into a bird.'

‘I know. I can see that. Just read it to me.'

Katya unfolded the minute parchment bird and read it aloud.
Meet me at noon on Saturday in the Church of St Nicholias. A priest will escort you there from the Church of the Holy Virgin. Wait for him by the icon of Mary Magdalene. Wear simple clothing and a warm mantle. Your maid will accompany you.

Thea could hardly contain her excitement. ‘Katya, just write
yes
. Hurry. Then take it to the niche behind the vine in the garden. Be quick.'

‘But, my lady …'

‘No buts, just do it.'

Katya just wrote the word
Da,
yes, on the message. She had just folded it back into the bird shape when the door was pushed open, knocking Gudrun off her feet.

‘Careless servant,' Olga began to say. Thea saw that Lady Olga was carrying her sewing box.

Gudrun started to apologise. Olga ignored her. She looked critically at Thea and back to Gudrun. ‘And why is your mistress still on her feet? If her time is come, girl, fetch linen paddings from the laundry. Find her a belt and ties.'

Olga turned to Katya. ‘Unlace your lady's gown and help her into her bed. Draw the curtains.' She glared at Thea, ‘You, Princess, are lax with your servants.'

‘My servants are mine to command, my lady. Please leave us.'

‘This sewing box was left carelessly in the work room.' Olga marched past Gudrun and went into the small side cupboard of a room, intending to set the sewing box packed with precious threads on its shelf, beside Thea's sewing bag.

Katya took the moment to slip Gudrun the note. Gudrun folded her hands around it and bowed her head humbly. She pushed the note into her sleeve and ran off down the stairs. Katya tried to help Thea to the bed.

Thea shook Katya off. She hissed through her teeth, ‘I shall deal with that person once and for all.'

She stood tall as a crane, her head high on her long neck, summoned up her courage and said to Lady Olga as she exited the cupboard, ‘Leave us, Olga. My maids are concerned for me enough as it is without you entering my chamber because of a sewing basket which I intended to send for as soon I was comfortable. Go away. You add to my discomfort.'

Olga's eyebrows seemed to cross in her narrow forehead. ‘I hope you never speak to the prince in this manner. His father will provide him with the birch rod on his wedding day,' she said unpleasantly. ‘You are clearly unprepared to marry one of our most important princes.' She looked pointedly at the silvery wolfskin that covered Thea's bed. ‘That is a primitive and unsuitable cover,' she added nastily.

Thea gasped at Olga's appalling threat. She glared at the noblewoman. ‘I am well prepared to greet my future husband on my wedding day. I am trained in music, dance, language, deportment, religion and in the running of a terem household,' she said archly. ‘Know this, Lady Olga, when I am married I shall have my own household. It will have noblewomen of my choosing. And there are many young and pleasant faces to choose from.' She waved her hand towards the door. ‘Now, go, my lady. I shall take my meals in my chamber today.' She waited for a moment while Olga stood rooted to the floor. ‘I do not want to see your servants in my chamber again, ever.'

‘We shall see what Princess Anya has to say about your rudeness.' Lady Olga set her back and marched out of the chamber muttering incoherently.

‘Lady Olga will be your enemy now. If you go to the church of St Nicholias you will be discovered,' Katya fretted as she fussed around Thea.

‘She never was my friend. She won't find out if I'm very careful. Besides, I am meeting my betrothed, not just any man.' Thea reached out and took Katya's hands. ‘We can escape the terem for one afternoon and return by Vespers without Lady Olga discovering us.'

‘In that case we must make a careful plan and let us pray that we are not discovered,' Katya said thoughtfully.

‘And, I do feel that I must lie down after all.'

Thea lay on top of her wolfskin bedcovering, stroking the silver fur, her thoughts on Saturday.

18

As the day began to lose light, concealed in heavy cloaks, Thea and Katya slipped into the Church of the Virgin, the smaller church that opened into the garden and was often used by ladies of the kremlin. Priests were lighting sconces. Women came and went from the terem. Thea glanced at them as they passed her by. Thankfully, no one took notice of the two heavily veiled women praying before the paintings on the iconostasis screens.

It was not unusual for Thea to spend chill winter afternoons in the church dedicated to the Virgin. To Thea the iconostasis was mysterious. Three doors led into the sanctum: the beautiful gates which were shut when offices were not observed. To either side of the beautiful gates, the north and south doors, the entrance and the exit for the deacons. Her favourite was the door beside which she knelt, the north door where she imagined the Archangel Gabriel might exit while she knelt in prayer. She often studied the depictions of the Archangels Michael and Gabriel as bells rang out time's passage, as Vespers merged into Compline or until Lady Olga sent a servant to disturb her and fetch her back to the terem for supper.

Today it was important that she was not fetched back to the terem. As she waited for Vladimir's priest, it was as if the small dove she saw in the frescoes depicting Noah's flood had entered her heart and fluttered in an attempt to escape. The second bell after midday passed, the third, and finally after this, they were alone with icons and statues. If the messenger did not come soon the office of Vespers would creep up on them. Olga might appear with her watching eyes everywhere and escape through any door other than that into the garden would be impossible. Her head throbbed. She closed her eyes.

‘My lady.' Thea started. She glanced up. A priest was standing beside them. For a short moment she thought he was the angel. He was holding a lantern. The smell of fish oil from it assaulted her nostrils as he approached. This priest belonged to the world of men. He was indeed a worldly priest. He had slipped into the Nave through the iconostasis' north door when her eyes had momentarily closed.

He bowed his head. ‘I am your guide. Keep close and follow me.' As he smiled into the gloom, the lantern lit up his features. He was young and his face was kindly. ‘My name is Sebastian, a martyr's name.
I
am no martyr. Hurry before we are discovered. I would not wish to see the inside of the fortress cells as a punishment for this deceit.'

Thea did not give Katya the opportunity to change her mind but nodded, scrambled to her feet and stepped ahead of her maid. She followed Sebastian out through the front door of the church hoping that Katya was behind her. They walked across the busy, icy courtyard and paused by the postern gate. Father Sebastian asked them to allow the passage into the street beyond. The guards smiled at Father Sebastian. One called jokingly, ‘Chaperoning the ladies now, are you?'

‘Escorting two maidens who must select a prayer cloth for Lady Sabrina.'

‘I hope their boots are strong and their cloaks thick. There is a freeze going on up there.' The guard who spoke glanced up at the heavens. ‘It'll be a chilly walk back.'

‘I shall have them back before the sun sinks.'

‘What sun?' The guard shrugged his shoulders and stamped his feet as they passed through the low postern gateway. They entered a street that led by the river route towards the town square. Father Sebastian remarked they need not walk far.

Katya looked nervous so Thea whispered, ‘Never fear.' Clearly, Katya did fear for she looked uneasy as they walked close to the river. Merchants' houses rose up on either side, some with yards that sloped down the hill on their right to the bank. Thea could glimpse the gleaming cupolas of St Sophia visited on important saints' days by everyone from the kremlin and which lay to the other side of the fortress, peeping to her left up beyond the high kremlin walls. She watched the wide, fast-flowing river where melting ice-flows drifted by. Though a thaw was beginning spring had not arrived.

‘Watch your steps.' The priest said, glancing up at the sky. ‘It's darkening already.' He tapped his lantern. ‘This slush may yet freeze over. We have this.'

It was only a short walk to the Church of St Nicholias. Thea had forgotten what it was like in the world beyond the terem. If only she could linger to watch boats unload cargos by the wharfs. If only she had time to explore the streets and the many shops that surrounded the kremlin castle.

Father Sebastian led them down a side street into a tiny square, gliding ahead of them, his robes sweeping over the icy slush. The Church of St Nicholias rose up in front of them and as they caught him up, the priest led them forward, unlocked a low door and ushered them into the nave. Thea's heart leapt as her eyes adjusted to the shadowy interior. He was kneeling by the altar to St Nicholas. A candle flicker later and he turned around and saw her.

‘You are here.' He scrambled to his feet and opened his arms wide. ‘And you did not forget me all those months. You looked out for my message.'

Thea nodded. ‘My lord, I received your message and left your answer.'

The priest set his lantern down on the ground and turned to Thea. ‘I have closed the door. You have until Vespers. Your servant and I will wait here in the nave. I can hear her confession too should she so wish to confess.' He glanced at the curtained confessional to the side of the nave.

Thea felt herself smiling. Nothing ever happened in Katya's life. Thea wondered what her maid could possibly confess – her thoughts perhaps. Gudrun, who was staying behind to guard her chamber, well, that would be different, she mused, the smile hovering about her lips. Gudrun longed for Padar's company always. Thea suspected they had seen each other secretly before Padar had gone north that winter to trade for furs. He was expected home any day now.

‘We shall pray while you and Prince Vladimir profess to each other.' Father Sebastian laughed mischievously at his own jest.

Vladimir waved him away. He drew Thea out of sight behind a pillar, placed his mantle on the floor against the wall and bade her sit. The cloak was of dark wool and lined with sheepskin. Sinking into its softness, she immediately felt comfortable in his presence. She had chosen not to wear a veil but had carefully concealed her hair under a wimple in case she was recognised as they passed through the kremlin courtyard. Today, her disguise rendered her more like a servant than a noble lady.

Vladimir touched her face gently and said, ‘Well concealed, my lady, but at least I can see your green eyes.'

‘They are really grey but evidently change depending on the light. No, I'm told grey with flecks of green.'

‘Who said?'

‘My mother, and she and my sister Gunnhild really do have green eyes, completely so, like cats' eyes and their hair is fair, not at all like mine, though both are tall in stature.' Thea involuntarily raised her hand to where her wimple concealed her hairline.

‘We consider red hair fortunate and I am fortunate to know you, my princess.' He leaned back against the wall. ‘How has your life been since last summer?'

‘My life has been tedious.' She told him how she had passed her Christmastide and how she had many friends amongst the women in the terem. When she told him about the storytelling competition to choose her wedding attendants he said, ‘You must think of a story to tell me. You must set a standard. It can be a story you will tell me on our first wedding night.' He shuffled closer to her. ‘You do know that you have to wear a veil until our third night?' He put his head in his hands and moaned. ‘How shall I wait? I suppose I must.' He lifted his eyes and with mischief playing in them said, ‘
Silent is my garment when I touch the ground, when I tread the earth …'

Thea interrupted, ‘
or dwell in towns or stir the waters
.'

He added, ‘
Sometimes my trappings lift me over the habitations of heroes and this high air, and might of the welkin bears me afar above mankind
. You know the riddle?' he exclaimed. ‘You
are
as beautiful as that swan.'

She rolled her eyes. ‘Well perhaps, we shall see, my lord.' She looked at his dark glossy hair. As quick as a turn of an hour glass she said, ‘Since we speak in riddles, I have a riddle for you.'