person threatened knew it was their last chance. There was a bowl of cream-cheese on the table in front of his sisters and they looked it, then at him, in a way that made Ivan move the bowl a diplomatic distance away. “Oh, don’t do that,” said Liza. “I think you’d look very fetching with it in your hat.”
“And ornamented with some of these almonds,” added Katya, pouring a dozen of them from one hand to the other. Never mind the ornamentation, she could do more damage just by throwing them.
“Then I can take it that there’s no chance of Sergey Stepanovich becoming a part of the family?” he said, sounding relieved.
“God forbid!” said Liza. “Unless you know something about him that we don’t?”
“Probably I do. And probably you don’t want to hear about it.”
“Whatever in the world makes you think that, little brother?” Katya had set the almonds aside and was propping her chin on her hands, smiling the demure smile of a lady in the mood for a bit of juicy salacious gossip. “Tell us all about dear Sergey. Or perhaps you really do feel like a dip in the lake later today…?”
“He boasts,” said Ivan hastily. His sisters blinked, looked at one another, and then stared hard at him.
“Is that all?” said Katya.
“What about?” said Liza.
“Keep talking, or go swimming,” said Lena.
“About drinking. About how much he can drink.”
“Not much of a boast,” said Katya. “We could probably drink as much.”
“And about other skills.” Ivan turned a little and watched as Sergey, Nikolai and Pavel started on yet another bottle of wine.
“Do tell,” said Liza. “I presume it has to do with how well he can hold his liquor.”
“Not quite. When he’s really overstepped the mark we have to do that for him.” The three Tsarevnas stared even harder, and he could see the beginnings of a horrible suspicion grow in their eyes.
“No,” said Lena.
“Yes,” said Ivan. “In his hat.”
“Ugh,” said his sisters in chorus, and lost any interest they might have had in the cream-cheese.
“From nearly five feet away,” Ivan concluded inexorably. “And twice – as if to prove the first time had been skill, not an accident.” A huge grin spread across his face at their expressions, and he bowed low before making his escape. “If you’re interested, I’ll tell you about Nikolai and Pavel some other time…”
*
“Ivan, my son, just exactly what are you trying to do? Make certain your sisters never marry at all?” Tsar Aleksandr turned from the window and came back towards his throne, stalking stiff-backed with anger along the same route he had paced more than a hundred times since summoning Ivan to his private chambers on that cold Ash Wednesday morning. The Tsarevich said nothing; he felt fairly certain that despite the questions, he wasn’t expected to give an answer. He was right.
“Have you any idea, young man, of the cost to Khorlov’s exchequer of that little party during the last two days? Have you? I think not! Four and a half poodiy of silver! One hundred and sixty pounds of treasure we can ill afford! That’s your own well-nourished weight, and an acceptable dowry to accompany any one of your sisters to her husband’s home if it hadn’t just been spent on a total waste of time. Thank you, Ivan Aleksandrovich. Thank you very much indeed, for nothing.”
“My lord…” The Tsar had resumed his pacing, and either didn’t hear, or didn’t want to hear. Ivan tried again. “Papa…?” The pacing stopped abruptly, and Tsar Aleksandr’s silver lion’s head came up from staring at the floor to glare at his son.
“Until this matter has been settled, Prince Ivan, you will not address me in that familiar fashion. You made all of us look foolish in many several ways, and don’t presume it will soon be forgotten.”
“I…” Ivan’s tongue had gone abruptly dry inside his mouth, so that the words refused to leave it. He was remembering how Tsars
“And ornamented with some of these almonds,” added Katya, pouring a dozen of them from one hand to the other. Never mind the ornamentation, she could do more damage just by throwing them.
“Then I can take it that there’s no chance of Sergey Stepanovich becoming a part of the family?” he said, sounding relieved.
“God forbid!” said Liza. “Unless you know something about him that we don’t?”
“Probably I do. And probably you don’t want to hear about it.”
“Whatever in the world makes you think that, little brother?” Katya had set the almonds aside and was propping her chin on her hands, smiling the demure smile of a lady in the mood for a bit of juicy salacious gossip. “Tell us all about dear Sergey. Or perhaps you really do feel like a dip in the lake later today…?”
“He boasts,” said Ivan hastily. His sisters blinked, looked at one another, and then stared hard at him.
“Is that all?” said Katya.
“What about?” said Liza.
“Keep talking, or go swimming,” said Lena.
“About drinking. About how much he can drink.”
“Not much of a boast,” said Katya. “We could probably drink as much.”
“And about other skills.” Ivan turned a little and watched as Sergey, Nikolai and Pavel started on yet another bottle of wine.
“Do tell,” said Liza. “I presume it has to do with how well he can hold his liquor.”
“Not quite. When he’s really overstepped the mark we have to do that for him.” The three Tsarevnas stared even harder, and he could see the beginnings of a horrible suspicion grow in their eyes.
“No,” said Lena.
“Yes,” said Ivan. “In his hat.”
“Ugh,” said his sisters in chorus, and lost any interest they might have had in the cream-cheese.
“From nearly five feet away,” Ivan concluded inexorably. “And twice – as if to prove the first time had been skill, not an accident.” A huge grin spread across his face at their expressions, and he bowed low before making his escape. “If you’re interested, I’ll tell you about Nikolai and Pavel some other time…”
*
“Ivan, my son, just exactly what are you trying to do? Make certain your sisters never marry at all?” Tsar Aleksandr turned from the window and came back towards his throne, stalking stiff-backed with anger along the same route he had paced more than a hundred times since summoning Ivan to his private chambers on that cold Ash Wednesday morning. The Tsarevich said nothing; he felt fairly certain that despite the questions, he wasn’t expected to give an answer. He was right.
“Have you any idea, young man, of the cost to Khorlov’s exchequer of that little party during the last two days? Have you? I think not! Four and a half poodiy of silver! One hundred and sixty pounds of treasure we can ill afford! That’s your own well-nourished weight, and an acceptable dowry to accompany any one of your sisters to her husband’s home if it hadn’t just been spent on a total waste of time. Thank you, Ivan Aleksandrovich. Thank you very much indeed, for nothing.”
“My lord…” The Tsar had resumed his pacing, and either didn’t hear, or didn’t want to hear. Ivan tried again. “Papa…?” The pacing stopped abruptly, and Tsar Aleksandr’s silver lion’s head came up from staring at the floor to glare at his son.
“Until this matter has been settled, Prince Ivan, you will not address me in that familiar fashion. You made all of us look foolish in many several ways, and don’t presume it will soon be forgotten.”
“I…” Ivan’s tongue had gone abruptly dry inside his mouth, so that the words refused to leave it. He was remembering how Tsars
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