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Authors: Sandra Lake
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never seen one serving wench mauled and harassed in her father’s keeps. Not one female would ever be treated as degradingly as she and Tosha had been since arriving in Rus territory a week ago.
On the outside, the pristine white palace of Prince Andrei Bogolyubsky had appeared to be a civilized, holy structure. The domelike construction had been built in opulent Byzantine style. Prince Andrei, who professed to be God’s earthly arm of righteous justice, clearly had his heart set on competing with King Frederick of Germany to be the seat of the Holy Roman Empire. Yet the interior of the palace, or more specifically, the occupants inside, reduced the palace to nothing more than a hunting lodge full of unwashed, foul-breathed men.
The kitchens served stew days past its prime—tasteless the first few days, sour by the end of the week. The buttery maids were ordered to water down the ale, sending the men to seek out more potent drink earlier on in the evening. The more intoxicating grain wine would then quickly send the men into loud, violent revelry. The fact that this was tolerated behavior by a monarch was telling of Prince Andrei’s character. He must feel at home among the undisciplined crowd of infrequently bathed men.
“Stay away from the fat ogre on the end.” Tosha had appeared out of a dark hallway and now whispered into her ear, “He is already drunk and clawing more than usual.” A strong note of fear carried in her tone.
Katia nodded.
As the feasting progressed, Katia stuck closer to Tosha’s side. For the last few days, Katia had seriously questioned the merits of her plan. Her original intentions had been good, but she was beginning to feel that the execution of her plan may be lacking.
While summering in Finland with her grandmother, Katia had received a terrifying report from Otso, a trusted family friend. Prince Andrei was amassing a great army to invade Sweden while the country was divided over the two rival houses that were once again hurdling Sweden into chaos.
Overnight, she had formed a plan with Tosha to seek passage aboard a fishing boat destined for Rus lands in order to spy on Sweden’s threat, gather vital information, and seize the opportunity to truly make something of her life. With great luck and fair weather, they had arrived in Kiev territory less than a month later.
Spies had been delivering reports to her father over the evening meal for years and Katia had always paid the utmost attention. However, the amount of labor that a serving wench was required to perform each day, on top of having little sleep and shattered nerves, had not been the conditions Katia had imagined when she decided to set out on this adventure. Serious doubts had begun to undermine her confidence. Tosha was a smart girl, familiar with the discreet dance needed to keep out of grubby hands, but if one time she couldn’t, if someone hurt her . . . Katia would never forgive herself if something happened to Tosh.
“I think we should speed up the plan,” Katia whispered to Tosh as they returned to the kitchen, arms full of empty pitchers. “I will take a tray of refreshments up to Andrei’s chamber tonight. His guard will think I am coming up to . . . you know.” She gestured, sticking her finger down her throat, and made a vomiting expression. “And then I will get the chart and map I saw a few days ago. I will have all the proof I need.” Katia had memorized long lists of names and troop positions, as well as inventories of weaponry and supplies that Andrei was compiling for his invasion. Yet to truly have a report that would be taken seriously at the Swedish court, she needed hard evidence. Prince Andrei held too much power with the Holy Church in Rome. His false claims of peace had to be exposed.
“Kat.” Tosha refilled her pitcher with ale and then handed the jug to her. “I’m scared. What if—”
“We have come too far to turn back now. I’ll get the charts and tonight we can hide
On the outside, the pristine white palace of Prince Andrei Bogolyubsky had appeared to be a civilized, holy structure. The domelike construction had been built in opulent Byzantine style. Prince Andrei, who professed to be God’s earthly arm of righteous justice, clearly had his heart set on competing with King Frederick of Germany to be the seat of the Holy Roman Empire. Yet the interior of the palace, or more specifically, the occupants inside, reduced the palace to nothing more than a hunting lodge full of unwashed, foul-breathed men.
The kitchens served stew days past its prime—tasteless the first few days, sour by the end of the week. The buttery maids were ordered to water down the ale, sending the men to seek out more potent drink earlier on in the evening. The more intoxicating grain wine would then quickly send the men into loud, violent revelry. The fact that this was tolerated behavior by a monarch was telling of Prince Andrei’s character. He must feel at home among the undisciplined crowd of infrequently bathed men.
“Stay away from the fat ogre on the end.” Tosha had appeared out of a dark hallway and now whispered into her ear, “He is already drunk and clawing more than usual.” A strong note of fear carried in her tone.
Katia nodded.
As the feasting progressed, Katia stuck closer to Tosha’s side. For the last few days, Katia had seriously questioned the merits of her plan. Her original intentions had been good, but she was beginning to feel that the execution of her plan may be lacking.
While summering in Finland with her grandmother, Katia had received a terrifying report from Otso, a trusted family friend. Prince Andrei was amassing a great army to invade Sweden while the country was divided over the two rival houses that were once again hurdling Sweden into chaos.
Overnight, she had formed a plan with Tosha to seek passage aboard a fishing boat destined for Rus lands in order to spy on Sweden’s threat, gather vital information, and seize the opportunity to truly make something of her life. With great luck and fair weather, they had arrived in Kiev territory less than a month later.
Spies had been delivering reports to her father over the evening meal for years and Katia had always paid the utmost attention. However, the amount of labor that a serving wench was required to perform each day, on top of having little sleep and shattered nerves, had not been the conditions Katia had imagined when she decided to set out on this adventure. Serious doubts had begun to undermine her confidence. Tosha was a smart girl, familiar with the discreet dance needed to keep out of grubby hands, but if one time she couldn’t, if someone hurt her . . . Katia would never forgive herself if something happened to Tosh.
“I think we should speed up the plan,” Katia whispered to Tosh as they returned to the kitchen, arms full of empty pitchers. “I will take a tray of refreshments up to Andrei’s chamber tonight. His guard will think I am coming up to . . . you know.” She gestured, sticking her finger down her throat, and made a vomiting expression. “And then I will get the chart and map I saw a few days ago. I will have all the proof I need.” Katia had memorized long lists of names and troop positions, as well as inventories of weaponry and supplies that Andrei was compiling for his invasion. Yet to truly have a report that would be taken seriously at the Swedish court, she needed hard evidence. Prince Andrei held too much power with the Holy Church in Rome. His false claims of peace had to be exposed.
“Kat.” Tosha refilled her pitcher with ale and then handed the jug to her. “I’m scared. What if—”
“We have come too far to turn back now. I’ll get the charts and tonight we can hide
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