Episode XLVIII: Happy New Tver
Czarina Maria Rurikovich swept into her study in majestic fashion, the dark red cloak of the Princes of Tver wrapped around her powerful shoulders, an ornate sword clanking at her belt. Blonde and blue-eyed like her father, she was an intimidating presence – unless, of course, you were the man upon whom she was advancing.
‘Dobczyński.’
Mirin Janusz Dobczyński, half-Polish, half-Scottish and all Dobczyński, rose. He also stood up.
‘Czarina.’
‘What news of my beloved brother?’
‘He’ll be fine, Czarina.’
‘Damn. I mean, thank the Lord!’
‘Well, mostly fine.’
‘Meaning?’
‘He took a bit of a battering after he
fell down the stairs for no obvious reason having been talking to you a few seconds beforehand in very mysterious circumstances.’
‘Is there a chance that he won’t live? I mean...he will live, I pray?’
‘Oh, he’ll live, Czarina. But I fear that his...
faculties may not develop to their full potential.’
‘Maybe it would be kinder to...’
‘No, Czarina. It wouldn’t.’
‘No, no. Of course not. We will look after him. Protect him! I am a charitable monarch, after all!’
‘ [iVery[/i] charitable, Czarina.’
‘Kind?’
‘Impeccably.’
‘Big-hearted?’
‘Would explain the size of your
charities...’
‘So. Ready to begin my fencing lesson, Maestro Dobczyński?’
‘Certainly, Czarina.’ Dobczyński unsheathed his mighty sabre. He was well-versed in the art of most swords, but it was as a sabre fencer that he was best-known (in fencing terms, at least). Young aristocrats had crossed Europe to study swordsmanship under the famed Mijado, though they were usually surprised to find that he wasn’t Spanish. The Czarina had been his pupil for a long time, at the insistence of her father in spite of Dobczyński’s warnings – accurate warnings – that she might use such skills to gain the crown. Her father, though, had been a great believer in natural selection...
The lesson proceeded. The Czarina was as good as anyone Dobczyński had trained – though, as usual, it wasn’t easy to teach her the subtler arts of swordsmanship.
‘You’re gripping too hard, Czarina. Too rough. Be gentle.’
‘Sorry. But as I was saying, Dobczyński. I’m newly invested. The people, and the nobility, need to know what I am made of, what kind of ruler they are in for. As the great Mikhail III said, a prince must be firm...’
‘I agree.’
‘...but also loved. I have decided to demonstrate my generosity.’
‘Your garments do that very nicely.’
‘In memory of my beloved father, I will present a new Education Act to Parliament. Broaden compulsory education through the churches, expand access to our universities.’
‘ I’m sure that it will be popular, and effective.’
‘You don’t think it’ll face opposition?’
‘Leave it with me. I can be very persuasive.’ He flashed. A roguish grin. ‘And don’t get too close. Watch your distance.’
‘Sorry, maestro. Your prowess is magnetic.’
‘Talking of swords, the eastern colonies are rapidly increasing in size and wealth. ‘
‘What’s that got to do with swords?’
‘Berezov has fine iron deposits, which will come in useful later. Lots more trade income for Novgorod and Astrakhan.’
‘Good news. By the way, an opening has come up in the Privy Council.’
‘I heard. The tragic demise of Prime Minister Kamerov. Calling the ordinary people of Tver a bunch of “workshy scroungers” isn’t a good idea when you’re standing in a market square. Boosted local pitchfork sales, though.’
‘Gave a new meaning to “Military Drill”.’
‘Talking of Military Drill...’ Dobcyński nimbly sidestepped the Czarina’s heavy downward slash, and his blade flashed up to her throat.
‘Piercing my defences again, Dobczyński?’
‘Subtlety. I admire your strength, Czarina, but you’re too forceful. Heavy-handed. Maybe you Russians don’t have the...
refinement.’
‘You might be surprised...but on the Council. Could you keep them in order until I find a suitable long-term replacement?’
‘Councils aren’t really my thing. You might have to convince me.’
‘Gladly. Lacking in subtlety, you said?’
‘Afraid so.’
‘I need your opinion on my new perfume,
maestro.’
‘Perfume?’
'Just a quick sniff...indulge me.'
'If you insist...'
Dobczyński didn’t remember much else about that day – there was definitely furniture, rope and fruit involved, and minimal decision-making on his part - but he was most certainly...persuaded.
The following day brought further good news – a majority of the citizens of Kyiv were now, once again, following the Orthodox faith.
There were difficulties – an apprentice at the Guild of Cartographers accidentally spilled pink paint over their main map of the world. He was sentenced to six months unpaid work in the Tverian diplomatic corps.
To the east, the war with the Siberian Khanate has reached its climax, and their territories were fully under Imperial control. The Czarina had made subjugation a priority – as Dobczyński had discovered the previous evening – and extended this philosophy to relations with Sibir.
The Khanate’s territories were ruthlessly annexed and integrated into the Empire of Tver, stretching her eastern borders ever more bountifully. Free from serious military opposition on the eastern front, the Empire was expanding further towards the Pacific.
Such expansion had its drawbacks – the international community was becoming increasingly worried by Tver’s willingness to take over new territories, especially in light of their recent acquisitions at the expense of Hungary. The western powers cast worried glances towards the Empire, while the Islamic countries to the south and east quaked in fear of this ruthless new aggressor.
‘Do you think that it will be a problem, Dobczyński?’
‘It’s manageable, Czarina. People will stop bothering about it within a few years. And we’ve got Horde territory to colonise for the next wave of eastward expansion – nobody’s bothered about that.’
‘Except the Hordes.’
‘Well, you’re not asking your opinion.’
‘Much like I wasn’t asking yours yesterday?’
‘Well, indeed. And I didn’t complain.’
‘Could you have?’
‘It was a rather large apple...I think the point of the matter is, Czarina, that your comparative infamy isn’t a problem.’
‘Good. Bad girls have more fun anyway.’
Another profitable year had passed in the Empire of Tver. The western threat seemed to be reduced, for the moment at least, and colonisation of the east was proceeding well. As the snows closed in on the capital of Eurasia, Czarina Maria raised a glass with her retainer.
‘
Na zdrowie, Dobczyński.’
‘
Slainte mhar, Czarina. To another bountiful year.’
They stood in the courtyard of the cathedral, its great bell tower hovering above them, waiting for the moment.
‘By the way, Czarina, where’s your brother gone?’
‘Konnie? Don’t know. He was here a minute ago.’
The answer came from above. A single bell tolled, a muffled note, unclean, unclear. It rang again. And again.
Maria sighed. ‘Dobczyński, can you go up and get him? He’s starting to annoy me.’
‘You did throw him down the stairs two years ago, Czarina. He’s allowed to be a bit annoying.’
‘It was educational! Toughened him up! But he’s getting on my nerves.’
‘You’re his sister, Czarina. You don’t want to come with me?’
‘I’ve got better things to do than go charging up steps. Go on. He won’t bite you.’
‘He did last time.’
‘You got too close! He’s only ten! Go on, Dobczyński, get him down from there.’
‘There better be a reward for this.’
‘If I said there was more than one set of fireworks planned for this evening...’
‘Going.’
‘Good boy.’ The door slammed behind him. Maria smiled. ‘Ah, Dobczyński. A hero on the battlefield but afraid of an idiot child.’ She shook her head.
‘What could possibly go wrong?’