The Betrothed Sister (38 page)

Thea's eyes followed her husband's watchful glances.

‘No coronation,' Vladimir repeated. He lifted a poker and stirred a log into life, creating a myriad of sparks. ‘Sviatoslav's family will remain in Chernigov. It controls the Dnieper trade north, a bigger land than that surrounding Kiev. Just think of the taxes! My cousins will want to hold onto it. However … Katya's father, Dimitri, has been sent to Germany to bring Uncle Iziaslav back.' His eyes looked stern as he placed two long, manicured fingers on his lips. ‘Do not breathe a word of it, my love, not even to Katya who has no idea where her father has gone.'

‘Katya's father … go on,' she whispered, leaning forward with her feet now planted firmly on the tiled floor.

‘If my father brings Uncle Iziaslav back to Kiev and supports him, my father will get …'

Seeing what he was saying, she finished his sentence, ‘Chernigov. He will be next in line for Chernigov.'

‘Shush, Thea. Do not say it so loudly.'

She shook her head as she thought for a moment. ‘But if our noble father becomes grand prince after Iziaslav, it could be
you
who gets Chernigov.'

He smiled at her. ‘Exactly! You are quick, my sweet wife. Chernigov is a prize. But you see, it is not just about Chernigov. My father does not want to be grand prince. He believes that God would frown on him if he sat on Kiev's throne while the rightful grand prince lives in exile. He regretted supporting Sviatoslav in the end; backed the wrong brother.'

Sometimes Thea did not believe that God cared. He had not cared that Duke William had taken the throne of England. He had allowed the dispossessed English to suffer. Some said it had been her father's fault. In 1066, worried nobles had said that the long-tailed star that had shone in the Easter night sky had been proof of God's displeasure with the English for allowing Harold Godwinson to be crowned as their king. He had broken a promise to recognise Duke William as King of England, a promise made over relics. ‘I doubt God
would
be displeased if your father kept peace in the land and exercised fair rule and even-handed judgement over his people.'

A tall, cross-carrying priest passed close to their bench and bowed to them. ‘Best stop this conversation, my lady,' Vladimir said. ‘There may be ears in the walls.' He glanced across the room again. Again, she followed his watchful eyes. The women were assembling behind the widow.

‘You must go and join them,' Vladimir remarked.

Thea noticed Olga hovering beside Princess Oda. ‘Must I? Well, I suppose it is expected.' She was irritated that she must leave the comfort of the hearth. She felt resentful at being banished from male conversation.

‘You must, my sweet.' He turned to her and patted her hand. ‘And I must put on a semblance of sorrow for my deceased uncle, especially around my cousins.'

Boris, Gleb and Oleg were approaching their bench. They moved together as if one, same pace, same gait. Well, trouble brews there for us all, Thea mused. When they learn Vsevolod's plans for Kiev, they will be furious and, in a way, she could not help thinking, as one who had, herself, been dispossessed, one cannot blame them. Rus law decreed that Chernigov went to the second senior prince and if Iziaslav returned Vsevolod would without doubt take up that position and rule Russia's richest city after Kiev.

‘I shall find Katya and bring her with me,' she said quickly, standing up. ‘Though, my prince, I have no desire to be forced into conversation with those women.'

‘It is only one afternoon.' Vladimir sighed, and turned to speak to his cousins.

The widow's ladies began to exit the hall as if they were a pack of pups clinging to a protective mother bear. Except Oda was not protective; she was vulnerable. Her stepsons' wives were the she-wolves of the palace. Thea knew them to be greedy, silly and scheming.

As she made ready to find Katya and her warm mantle, Thea wondered what protection Oda of Germany would get, now that she was a widow. She would depend upon the goodwill of her stepsons. Thea quickly wove her way through the press of people and called to Katya, who stood amongst the female servants, to fetch her boots and her mantle. She bowed to Prince Vsevolod but her father-in-law was deep in conversation with one of his boyars and never noticed her. She was, after all, only a woman.

Feeling annoyed by his dismissive attitude, she reached the entrance where Katya was waiting with her boots and mantle. Katya helped Thea remove her slippers and replace these with her boots. By the time Thea had her mantle gathered around her shoulders and her brooch pin securing it closed, Princess Anya had already disappeared through the outer doorway with her ladies.
I expect she does not want to speak with them either today.

They climbed an outer staircase to the terem. Off came boots and on went the slippers again. The widow sat on the winged chair closest to the heat of a huge stove. The other women were seated on benches that were placed in a large circle close to the stove. Thea joined them after sending Katya to sit with the lesser ladies near the door.

They drank honeyed wine and ate cakes. At first the conversation was about the sadness of Sviatoslav's illness. Afterwards it turned to the funeral and how chill St Sophia had been. ‘My poor bones,' one elderly noblewoman remarked. ‘I cannot do it anymore,' she complained. ‘The cathedral is draughty.'

You could be next
, Thea considered, but did not say it of course.

A servant hurried over to the elderly lady with a hot brick wrapped in cloth to warm her feet. ‘I shall have chilblains,' she said by way of explanation.

The women close to her sympathised but as the wine loosened their tongues they forgot the old lady and were soon commenting on who was present that day and who was missing. Many nobles lived on estates in outlying districts from where only narrow snowy tracks led to Kiev. They had sent outriders ahead to say that they could not break through and had returned from whence they came.

Soon they ran out of comfortable conversation. It was apparent that all wondered about the succession, though because none spoke of it in Princess Anya's presence, they sat in silence.

Anya, herself, was first to break it by saying to Oda, the German widow, ‘What do you intend to do now?' As she spoke it felt as if a chill wind had entered the chamber. The widow looked through Anya as if she had not heard the question. Anya tried again. ‘I just mean, Oda, will you chose to dwell in Kiev or Chernigov?'

‘What a great question that is,' the widow said at last. She shifted her considerable bulk in her winged chair and grasped the arms.

‘I am sorry. It was insensitive of me to ask,' Anya said.

After a moment's pause Oda said in her thickly accented Russian, ‘No, it is best to speak about it.' Everyone's eyes were on her. Everyone was waiting for her to speak her mind. No one liked her stepdaughters. She took a breath and said, ‘Yaroslav, my child, is only ten years old. His three stepbrothers insist on keeping him with them. But, there is clearly no place for me here. I must return to my homeland.' It was obvious that she did not want to go back to Trier because tears welled up in her eyes.

Oda was Sviatoslav's second wife. Though she was very plump, she was young and handsome, particularly when she smiled her sad smile. It was likely that her important relation, the third Henry, the Holy Roman Emperor, would find her another husband soon enough.

The two young foolish wives of Oleg and Gleb looked at Oda from where they sat on the opposite bench. ‘Yaroslav will have two mothers now instead of one,' Oleg's wife ventured in a honeyed voice.

Thea doubted that the young woman cared for Oda's child one bit. It would be the boy's nurses and tutors who would care for him. She wondered how the poor, sad German widow really felt about the family's plans for her son. If those silly princesses tried to be mother to Harold, Thea knew that
she
would fight against them with freshly grown talons for the occasion.

‘Your son will no doubt visit you, Princess Oda,' she said in as gentle manner as she could manage.

‘Indeed, my dear, indeed, and that is a great comfort.' Princess Oda reached out to Lady Olga who was seated beside her during the exchange and clasped Olga's hand. ‘My loving Olga is to travel with me. She will remain by my side until I am settled.' The widow turned to Olga with pleading eyes. ‘Won't you, Olga?'

The widow was too trusting. Thea was sure that Olga only cared about herself.

Yet, to her surprise, Olga tenderly stroked Princess Oda's head. ‘Princess, it is agreed. I shall stay with you.'

Anya exchanged a glance with Thea as if to say ‘good riddance to Lady Olga,' before addressing Princess Oda again, ‘In a fair world your son should remain with you. If you like I shall speak with my husband on the matter. You will not be departing Rus lands before summer.'

Oda smiled. ‘You are kind, Anya.'

‘Princess Oda, tell us this, do your stepsons intend to remain in Chernigov until the succession is decided?' Anya ventured.

Thea saw frowns on the wives' faces as Anya spoke. Oda said, ‘My stepsons say that Chernigov is their principality. Until Gleb inherits Kiev after Vsevolod's death, they say, they have insisted that they shall remain there. In that event, Gleb will be the senior prince of his generation, will he not? As for Boris, he is a monk.'

Gleb's wife was nodding vehemently. ‘Absolutely, and when he has Kiev, our son will inherit Chernigov.'

Anya smiled serenely and said smoothly, ‘Not quite, my dear. Do not forget how their cousin, Sviatopolk, who is exiled with his father to the German Empire, is first in line of their generation, more senior than they. The boyars of Kiev have not yet decided which prince will succeed. Prince Iziaslav may yet return to Kiev.'

‘A returned much-hated prince. I think not.' Lady Olga leaned forward and spoke clearly as if it was all decided already. ‘No, Princess Anya, you will be the next grand princess here. The boyars will choose Prince Vsevolod. My husband has that on good authority.' She added rudely, ‘Just think how the Kiev nobles will love to have a Steppe Kipchak princess as their queen.'

‘I think they would like it very well, especially a princess as kind, beautiful and as educated as Princess Anya,' Thea ventured. She turned to Anya before Olga said another word. ‘My lady Anya, perhaps we should leave and return to my palace now. The hour is late. Some of these ladies have much to do before they depart for Chernigov in the morning.'

In that moment Thea was glad that Princess Anya had chosen to stay with her while Sviatoslav's widow, her stepnephews and their retainers occupied the princely Kiev palace.

Anya nodded, ‘Indeed, daughter, it is growing chillier here. My children have not seen their mother all day.'

She turned her head and clicking her fingers she called for her waiting women. Katya rushed forward to Thea surrounded by Princess Anya's ladies. They bundled Thea and Princess Anya into their mantles. The women of the Sviatoslavichi rose from their stools and politely bowed. Thea bowed back. She felt sorry for Princess Oda, unloved by that family and apparently dependent on Lady Olga. There were false smiles on the Sviatoslavichi women's faces as Anya and Thea departed for their waiting sleighs. Thea thought,
poor unwanted German Oda.

The Sviatoslavichi women were not Thea's friends. When Oleg's and Gleb's two wives found out that they were to leave wealthy Chernigov for nondescript principalities in the Rus hinterlands, their verbal swords would be bloodied and, as Thea confided to Anya, she hoped that her family would be out of the line of attack when the battle began.

30

February 1078

In February, there were ceaseless quarrels amongst the boyars and increased pressure on Vsevolod to rule. Vladimir and Thea argued because he told her to mind her own business when she gave him her kopekworth of advice. He stayed away from her and she ignored him as she walked boldly into the hall followed by Katya, sometimes with Gudrun, and greeted whomever she chose to greet. On crisp mornings she accompanied Gudrun out into market places wrapped in a concealing mantle with only a page to carry her parcels. That way she was able to find out the peoples' thoughts. She listened and she watched. They were afraid that when spring came the Sviatoslavichi brothers would burn their homes and destroy their trade and if they did not the Steppe tribes would burst through the gates and fire the city. Thea wondered what her silent husband's equally silent father intended to do about the complaints. They must talk. However there seemed to be no resolution to their own quarrel. They passed each other in the palace halls and only greeted each other briefly. He did not, as she had expected him to do, banish her to the terem.

At last Vladimir broke their impasse. To her great surprise, he joined her in her comfortable private chambers one chilly wintry afternoon. She greeted him coolly and carried on with her sewing as he attempted to make conversation, asking about the children and remarking on how he knew that she had been out into the markets with Gudrun. He asked her what she had heard. He looked worried, his brow furrowing as she answered him with concise sentences, saying how the people feared the Sviatoslavichi. Evidently her freedom was watched. He had her followed secretly by his armed bodyguards who were instructed to watch over her.

‘You had me what …' she protested.

‘The streets are unsafe and anyway, now, I am pleased that you are observant and can report back so succinctly.'

‘I am clearly not observant enough,' she said tersely thinking of the shadows whom she had
not
observed following her. He shrugged and seeing her angry look he smiled, lifted her hand and kissed it. She snatched it back.

‘How would you like to travel to Pereiaslavl, and I don't just mean the fortress, how would you like to stay on our estate close by?' he said.