"Please don't kill me!" Matvei had hoped that those words would never have to pass his lips again, but as usual fate had other plans.
"If I was going to kill you, you would already be dead." Semyon pinned the luckless noble to the stone wall, one of his massive hands around the traitor's throat. Matvei struggled helplessly in the soldier's powerful grip, thrashing like a freshly landed fish.
"You will talk to me and I will decide if I like what you have to say." The Marshall's other hand held a dagger, its blade gleaming in the dim light of the castle hallway.
Under orders from Lidiia, Matvei had been shadowing the Militarist during his time outside of Moscow. He had thought that his cover as a local noble was perfect and that Semyon suspected nothing. His present predicament argued otherwise.
"Start talking or I will break your neck like a chicken!" Matvei let out a moan as the meaty hand flexed around his neck. Semyon's crazed eyes seemed to glow in the torchlight.
"Lidiia sent me!" He knew this betrayal would have consequences, but the danger of a crazed muscle bound monster was more immediate. "I was just watching you for her, nothing more! I swear it!"
"Lidiia..." The grip loosened somewhat as a thoughtful look spread across the soldier's scarred face.
The penniless noble saw an opening. "I have no loyalty to her! I merely obeyed because I owe money!"
Semyon slowly released his grip, the huge hand gently patting Matvei on the shoulder.
"You and I are going to walk and talk. I think we may find a common purpose." The smile seemed very out of place on the warrior's marred face, especially with madness still visible in his eyes.
Matvei could only obey and hope for the best. It was becoming the story of his life.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Andrei, the third son of Ivan, loved his books. During the absence of his brothers they had become a comfort in his life. He found that the more he learned, the greater his appetite for knowledge became.
"You're going to ruin your eyes with this nonsense!" The booming voice of Ivan II pulled his younger brother from the chronicle he had been reading. Andrei was still somewhat surprised to hear Ivan speaking with the voice of a man. It wasn't so long ago when the two had been carefree children.
Now they were the future of Moscow.
"This is a very valuable chronicle, Dragonslayer." Andrei was one of the few people close enough to Ivan II to call him by the old nickname. "It relates a battle between Kiev-Rus and the Tartar. I think we can improve our tactics from some of the lessons in this work."
The Dragonslayer laughed. "A few hundred years from now people will read of my heroism and try to draw lessons from it!"
Andrei smiled at his older brother. "So far you have only slain a few men in a war where we paid for peace." It was a friendly jab, without malice.
Ivan II was thoughtful for just a moment before laughing again. "People only remember the glory, never the dull details."
Andrei laughed, but quickly became serious. "The details are what leads to the glory, more often than not. The next time we ride to war I will be at your side. Then you will see my worth."
The Dragonslayer considered the idea. "We will see what value all these words on paper truly have, then."
The younger brother nodded. "I think you might be surprised."
Andrei completes his education.
--------------------------------------------------------------
"We have reports of a fresh outbreak of plague in Mordva." Chancellor Anastasia delivered the news without emotion, her cold eyes fixed on the Grand Duke.
Ivan frowned. "We have been very fortunate, all things considered. The winter seems to slow the spread. I've heard things are far worse in the south."
"By all accounts they are, but it is too early to think we will be spared. I suspect we will be hit hard." If she was concerned about this coming doom, her face did not show it.
Anastasia was certain the judgment of God was descending on Moscow and she completely agreed with it. The sins had grown so great that they demanded an answer from a just God. Everywhere she looked she saw the cancer of evil devouring Moscow. It had to be cut out.
She especially hoped the wrath would fall on Semyon. While the Pagans openly practiced their abominations Moscow's greatest soldier, the man who should have led God's armies against the servants of the Devil, instead defiled himself with the whore of Babylon.
There could be no forgiveness for this.
"I will pray against it." Ivan thought about the promise. Rogneda had given him a third child, Makar, over the winter. His debt to God continued to grow, but he was prepared to pay.
"You are wise to do so, My Lord." The Chancellor bowed and took her leave.
Perhaps Ivan would be spared in the wrath to come, she thought.
Perhaps not.
