The Tsarina's Daughter Read online

  ‘If we turn around now, nobody will ever know we left. We would be back for dinner,’ Anoushka suggested.

  ‘No. Look at the clearing over there,’ I said, my voice sounding small despite my best efforts to seem confident. ‘That must be the sacred oak grove. The Golosov Ravine is right behind it.’ I felt her hesitate and added: ‘You do not want to turn back, now that we have come so far?’

  She shook her head and we walked on until we stood in the oak grove. Mottled rays of late sunshine slipped through the branches and leaves, shading the moss in hues of gold, amber and rust. While many of the trees had fallen and lay tossed about as if part of a giants’ game, some were still standing. I arched my neck, trying to see their tops, but the light blinded me. Their trunks were thick enough to carve out an entire cradle.

  ‘Let us take a break here.’ I leaned against a wide stump. Each ring in a felled tree’s trunk marked a year in the passage of time; the span in between was a trace determined by seasons of precipitation or drought, just like wrinkles mirrored years of ease or concern in a human face. There were too many rings to count. My finger stopped tracing them: strange, dark red glistening stains blurred the rings, like blood oozing from the wood. I suddenly understood: these trees had been felled! The destruction of this formerly peaceful spot had been man’s work. The Domovoi ought to be furious, however many pancakes Illinchaya left for him.

  The leaf fall of countless autumns crunched beneath my feet, releasing a musty scent. Elsewhere the meadows were full of clover, daisies, bluebells, and buttercups, but here no young shoots pushed through. The wind turned chilly and Anoushka stood looking undecided. I said: ‘Let us press on. Even drunk, Illinchaya will notice if we are not back for supper and d’Acosta will raise the alarm. That would worry Mother out of her mind.’

  As we left, it felt as if myriad eyes followed our every move.

  A couple of steps further on the ground fell away sharply beneath our feet. The birds, which had been singing before, happy about the longer twilight, had fallen silent. Large trees drooped over the ravine’s edge, roofing the gulf with their dark canopies, overgrown branches gnarled and twisted. Weeping willows cascaded down the slope and holly bushes reared up to meet them, thorny and thick, their leaves a dark waxy green. Boulders broke through the thick undergrowth like the teeth of an old wolf. Deep down in the ravine, water gushed.

  ‘Here we go. The Golosov Ravine. Are you ready?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes. Well. Kind of. You?’

  ‘Sure.’ I shrugged. ‘I shall ask about my betrothal to the King of France. And you?’

  ‘I want to know if I will have children. Best would be a whole tribe of them, boys, and girls. A big, loving family.’

  ‘Don’t tell me. Save it for whoever we meet down there.’ I winked at her.

  ‘Oh, God. I wish I were at home, curled up next to the oven, reading.’ Anoushka cast a doubtful glance at the thicket ahead of us.

  ‘Do you really prefer a book over life? Are we truly sisters, or is one of us a changeling from the German Quarter?’

  ‘All right.’ She half-heartedly hitched up her skirt. ‘How do we get down there?’

  ‘Like this, Tsarevna,’ I replied, and twisted my dress hem into a big knot around my knees. ‘Come. Nobody will ever know,’ I assured her, and grabbed a branch for support, carefully placing my feet at the start of the steep descent into the ravine.

  7

  We slid on the wet, muddy ground, grazing our hands and knees; tearing and sullying our wide-skirted housedresses, smearing our faces with mud and scratching our cheeks and foreheads. At first, I laughed when I fell, even pulling Anoushka along for a tumble. Soon enough, though, we were both panting and gasping when we scrambled up again, our legs and arms trembling from exhaustion.

  ‘Enough now, Lizenka,’ she scolded, catching her breath, just as we arrived at the bottom of the ravine. We stepped out of the thicket. Wet black sand and gravel formed a shoreline of sorts. Water roared: about twenty arshin away from us a waterfall cascaded down the cliff-face, foaming in a pool before it raced towards us, the speed of its passing filling our ears. It was impossible to tell how deep it ran as slate darkened the river bottom. I pointed downstream, mouthing: ‘This way.’ We held hands; the sharp gravel cut through the soles of our slippers and the spray soaked us, drawing patterns on my muddied sleeves. My sister almost barged into me as I stopped in my tracks: ‘Look, Anoushka.’ My voice was clipped with fear. Ahead of us, a woman crouched in the sand – or it seemed like a woman, until I took a closer look.

  ‘What is this?’ I whispered, clutching Anoushka’s hand.

  ‘It’s an evil spirit. A Leshy. Illinchaya did not lie,’ my sister answered, terrified.

  A Leshy spirit. Illinchaya had warned us about these forest dwellers who were mischievous at best, abusing their power of prophecy, deliberately leading people astray.

  The Leshy looked as much a part of this landscape as the leaves, the gravel and the river, and was shrouded in furs. A fire smouldered in front of its den, which was built of woven branches and mud. The flames gave off a dense smoke; the wood must be too green and wet. The being rose. At its feet, rock pools swirled as though filled with hot water, the vapour from them reeking like the Devil’s wind. It closed its eyes, breathing with flared nostrils as if to take in our scent. We were on its territory.

  The being suddenly opened its eyes wide, revealing their brightness. We stood petrified while it advanced and I realised that the Leshy wore no covering at all: only the spirit’s own thick, long hair spilled over its body, like mottled grey and white fur with leaves and dirt clinging to it. What was this creature living off? Ribs poked at its hide and long bones showed through the flesh of the upper arms and shanks. The Leshy spirit smiled, revealing a set of gleaming fangs.

  Anoushka wanted to hold me back, but I urged: ‘Leshy or not, we have not come here for nothing, have we?’

  The Leshy beckoned, as if it sensed our hesitation. ‘Welcome, Tsarevny,’ it growled.

  ‘How do you know who we are?’ I dared another step forward but froze when the Leshy started to chuckle, her mirth rising to laughter. It sounded like a howl and showered us in tiny flecks of spittle. Then the creature fell silent, its gaze gleaming. ‘I also know what you want to know,’ it said. I noticed its probing eyes were a strange shade of mustard, like a stale apple.

  ‘Go on, Tsarevny. Ask me what you want to know. You first.’ The spirit pointed at Anoushka before rattling some little bones in the hollow of its cupped hands. My sister’s curiosity got the better of her.

  ‘All right then,’ she said, licking her dry lips. ‘Will I marry? And will I bear an heir, a strong son?’

  The Leshy cowered low on its haunches and sucked in the rising steam, nostrils wide. Its eyes rolled up, showing their whites, as the creature tossed the bones high in the air. Its body went rigid; then, as the bones fell in a random pattern, it slackened.

  ‘Yes,’ the Leshy said thoughtfully while studying them.

  Anoushka clenched her fists triumphantly. ‘Yes! I will give life.’

  ‘A life you will give indeed,’ the Leshy repeated, then looked at me. ‘Your turn, Wolverine.’

  The name caught me off guard. ‘Wolverine?’

  ‘That is what you are, born feet first, under the December stars. The worst signs for a woman. Let us hope you make the best of them. You have a flair for drama, haven’t you, beautiful Tsarevna?’

  ‘How do you know all that?’ I asked.

  ‘How should I not know?’ the Leshy retorted. ‘Kolomenskoye is my land.’

  I cleared my throat. ‘All right then. Will I be a mother, too?’

  The creature’s eyes locked with mine. ‘As ever putting the cart in front of the horse, young Elizabeth,’ it said, sounding surly. ‘A mother, yes, but you will have no child. Ever.’

  I frowned. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘I only answer. I don’t explain.’

  ‘Will I marry a
king and rule together with my husband?’ The words tumbled from my mouth. Suddenly I, too, did not wish to spend a minute longer than necessary down here, in this sickening stench, encountering the unknown. The Leshy sucked in the geyser’s stench, eyes dulling and lids fluttering. Its whole body swayed. I jumped as the spirit spoke again: its voice sounded as deep as a bronze bell.

  ‘Better rule marriage out,’ it slurred.

  ‘Nonsense,’ I said. ‘I am about to be engaged to the King of France. I will have a husband who reigns.’

  ‘A husband to rein you in,’ the creature chuckled. On the geyser’s surface, a bubble burst. The rising fumes made the Leshy tremble and its claws clenched the little bones.

  ‘Lizenka,’ Anoushka cried out as the Leshy’s lips began to foam and spew out words, making a prediction. ‘In your end lies your beginning. No man shall disappoint you as woman will. An angel will speak to you. The lightest load will be your greatest burden.’ It reared up and then turned rigid before collapsing, heaving. Its silver hair parted, showing bald patches of raw-looking skin.

  Anoushka seized my hand, wide-eyed with dread: ‘Come!’ We turned to run away but the Leshy lunged, grabbing hold of my skirt. It wrapped the fabric twice around its fists and pulled with all its might. Its eyes were lit with fury. The Leshy bared its fangs, looking ready to slash my skin and drink my blood, just like the Caucasus bats Illinchaya had told us about. ‘What about my reward?’ it snarled.

  Anoushka patted the sides of her skirt, but in vain. ‘I am sorry.’ We never carry any money – what on earth for? The Leshy hissed and reeled me in further. Its fury reeked, blending with the sulphur smell. ‘Ah! The fine young Tsarevny. Never carry roubles, eh? What is ours is yours, as it ever was, and in the end we all pay for your mischief. But you are mistaken.’ The spirit tugged my dress sharply, almost making me stumble. ‘Very well, Tsarevny. You shall give me something else.’

  ‘Just tell me what it is. I’ll give it to you,’ I screamed, beside myself with fear, digging my feet into the shoreline. The Leshy tore at my skirt while Anoushka yanked at my arm, screaming as well: it hurt so much, I thought they would rip me apart.

  ‘I want your soul,’ the spirit howled. ‘That is my just reward.’ The strength in its skeletal hands was shocking. My feet slid further and further towards it. ‘No, please, don’t,’ I begged. One more breath and I would be in its claws – forever.

  ‘Lizenka!’ Anoushka wailed.

  Her fear gave me a jolt of unexpected strength: I had made her come here; I was responsible for bringing her home unscathed. I half turned to swing a punch, raised one leg and kicked the Leshy sideways. It shouted as it tumbled over. I kicked it wherever I could reach while the beast sprawled at my feet: on the chin, in the teeth, its hollow chest, the stark ribs – even the concave stomach beneath. I kicked and kicked as hard as I could until the Leshy howled with pain and rage, writhing in the gravel that grazed its sallow skin, finally letting go of me.

  ‘Run, Anoushka!’ I panted, grabbing my sister’s hand. We darted off, the sharp gravel tearing into our soles. I turned to look back while running; the Leshy stumbled to its feet, shaking its fists at us. ‘Curse the Romanovs!’ it screamed. ‘Your sons shall bleed.’ At least it was not pursuing us but instead sank back, slumping in the sand, tears and snot streaming down its face. Then the water’s thunder swallowed up its cries. We had reached the spot where we had stepped onto the shore. I grabbed whatever branch I could get hold of, not caring if it were thorny, and pulled myself up, sensing Anoushka close behind me, coughing and gasping for breath.

  When we stood at the edge of the sacred oak grove, the branches closed behind us, cutting off any sign of the ravine as if we had never been there. The evening chill fell and the clearing was shrouded by a hazy, purple dusk. Every bone in my body hurt, as if battered against the ravine’s boulders; my spirit felt shredded. I almost choked on sobs while looking around.

  8

  How much time had passed? According to Illinchaya, the Tatar troop had wandered about for more than a century. I knew better than to doubt her stories any longer. A dull twilight reigned in the forest, heralding the approach of the White Nights. The sky was mauve, like a bruise, as the shadows of the sacred oak grove drew closer. Anoushka sank to the ground, hunching down next to a stump. Darkness rose like a wave. I raised my arms in vain. It enclosed me like a fly caught beneath a cup. I was terrified. What if the Leshy had kept my soul after all?

  ‘What now?’ Anoushka sounded exhausted. ‘Do you know the way back?’

  I sat down next to her, leaning against the same thick tree trunk, burying my head in my arms. It still rang with the Leshy’s spiteful words: You will be a mother, but you will have no child. Better rule marriage out. A husband to rein you in. And then her prophecy: In your end lies your beginning. No man shall disappoint you as woman will. An angel will speak to you. The lightest load will be your greatest burden.

  What had I been thinking, seeking her out?

  ‘I don’t know the way back,’ I admitted.

  This was all my fault. We clung to each other, forsaken amidst the towering trees. The daylight dimmed further but even when night fell at last, we stayed awake, shivering and trying to keep each other warm. Anoushka rested her head on my shoulder. I kissed her forehead. When Kolomenskoye would miss us was anyone’s guess. I prepared to look the last minutes of my life straight in the eye.

  *

  My limbs were stiff from the cold, and finally an uncomfortable slumber, when torchlight fell upon the forest. Flames tore into the inky blackness and a man’s voice shouted, ragged with relief: ‘There they are!’ It was Evgeni the falconer. Behind him, more and more people stepped into the clearing. They whistled, clapped and cheered; hunting horns were blown in a signal that was passed back to the palace. Anoushka stumbled to her feet and I followed. We both cried with relief, embracing each other.

  ‘We have found the Tsarevny!’ Evgeni rushed towards us, wrapping us in blankets. D’Acosta followed him and hot chai laced with honey and vodka was forced down my throat. I had been lifted onto a mule – a tufty reindeer skin made the wooden saddle more comfortable – when Illinchaya crashed through the thicket like a mother bear looking for her cubs, shouting: ‘Lizenka! Anoushka! Your Highnesses! My little sunshine Tsarevny!’ She smothered us in her fat arms and tears spouted from her pale eyes. ‘My doves! Never do that again. You frightened me to death. Oh, my God, this is all my fault.’

  ‘Are you still awake?’ Anoushka whispered when finally we lay in our beds, bellies filled with hot kasha made as each of us preferred it – mine sweetened with honey and berries while Anoushka’s was savoury with added bacon pieces.

  ‘How could I not be?’ I said and sat up, pulling my knees beneath my chin. ‘I don’t dare close my eyes. Come over here. Please.’ I folded back my blanket.

  Anoushka tiptoed over the wooden floor and climbed into my high bedstead. We snuggled up close beneath the blankets and furs; legs, feet and fingers in a tangle, glad of each other’s warmth. All candles were carefully snuffed every evening – a fire would roar through the building’s maze of wooden corridors as through a chimney, and in every room several buckets of sand and water stood at the ready. Anoushka breathed evenly, wide awake.

  Finally, I dared to ask: ‘How do you think it feels if someone takes your soul?’

  ‘At worst, as if someone is tearing you in a thousand pieces,’ she guessed after a while.

  ‘And at best?’

  I sensed her chewing her lip: ‘Lonely?’

  ‘We will never be lonely,’ I said, pressing myself against her bony body, delighted when she embraced me back. Then she sat up. ‘But what if the Leshy has done it – taken our souls – and we haven’t noticed yet?’ Anoushka’s dark hair fell straight over the delicate broderie anglaise of her nightshirt. ‘It’s too horrible. We must never tell Mother or Father what happened today,’ she decided after thinking for a moment. ‘Never. Father would be furious. Wh
o knows how he would punish us for our disobedience? Think what happened to Alexey. And Mother… ’ Her voice trailed off.

  ’You are right.’ While I felt that I could weather Father’s fury, in this case, Mother could not bear another tragedy.

  Anoushka continued: ‘And we’d best not mention it to each other either. As Mother says: least said, soonest mended.’ She lay back down, seemingly relieved. I wished I could do the same. What if Father had given the Leshy his soul; would we do so as well, in due course? Lonely at best. For as long as I had lived, someone had always been by my side: Anoushka, of course, and our aunt Pasha while Mother followed Father wherever he went, and in more recent years, our parents. I stared into the dark room. One in a field is not a warrior, my father would sigh when overwhelmed by the task before him.

  ‘Schastye,’ I murmured: the Russian word for ‘happiness’ implied being undivided, part of something bigger.

  ‘Mmh? What?’ Anoushka asked drowsily, but a moment later I heard her deep, steady breathing. How could she sleep? I crossed my hands and soundlessly prayed to my patron saint, Elizabeth. Still, sleep would not come for long hours. Finally, as the first light crept into our room, the milky hue of the morning light dappling the wall, I, too, fell into an exhausted slumber.

  Yet if Mother never learned of our encounter with the Leshy, someone else certainly did.

  9

  A good two weeks later I heard the stable door opening shortly before dawn. Who was there, a horse-thief? I should catch the knave! I rolled from my bedstead and tiptoed over to the big window overlooking the garden, the stables and the forest beyond. Where horizon and heavens met lay the Golosov Ravine. I averted my eyes and looked down into the garden and inner courtyard instead.