Day of the Oprichnik

“Master, lord and father, Andrei Danilovich!”

I open my eyes. The night-light illuminates Anastasia’s tear-stained face. She’s holding an ampoule of smelling salts and sticking it up my nose. I push it away, frown, and sneeze:

“Ah, go to…”

She looks at me:

“What are you doing to yourself? Why don’t you take care of yourself?”

I toss and turn, but don’t have the strength to sit up. I remember: she did something bad to me. I can’t remember…what…I’m thirsty:

“Drink!”

She brings a pitcher of white kvass. I drain it. Totally exhausted, I lie back on the pillow. Now the most important thing is to belch. I belch. I feel better immediately:

“What time is it?”

“Four thirty.”

“In the morning?”

“In the morning, Andrei Danilovich.”

“So, I haven’t gone to bed yet?”

“They brought you here unconscious.”

“Where’s Fedka?”

“I’m here, Andrei Danilovich.”

Fedka’s gloomy face appears near the bed.

“Did anyone call?”

“No one called.”

“What’s going on in the house?”

“Nanny got food poisoning from farmer’s cheese—she vomited bile. Tanka is asking for Wednesday off to go home for a baptism. The shower is leaking again; I already put a call out on the network. And you need to approve the dog’s head for tomorrow, Andrei Danilovich. On account of the one we got now the crows picked to pieces. I have two: a Caucasian sheepdog, fresh, and a Bordeaux Great Dane, frozen, from White Cold. Shall I bring them?”

“Tomorrow. Get out of here.”

Fedka disappears. Anastasia turns out the night-light, undresses in the dark, crosses herself, mutters a prayer for the coming night, and lies down with me under the blanket. She nestles her warm body against me, and takes the gold bell out of my earlobe, placing it on the nightstand:

“Will you allow me to love you gently?”

“Tomorrow,” I mumble, closing my leaden eyelids.

“As you command, master…” she sighs into my ear, caressing my forehead.

She did do something to me, I’m sure of it…something not very nice. Something in secret…But what? Someone told me today. Where was I today? At Batya’s. At the Good Fellows. At Her Highness’s. Who else? I forgot.

“Listen, you didn’t steal anything from me, did you?”

“Lord almighty…What are you saying, Andrei Danilovich?! Lordy!” She sniffles.

“Nastya, where was I today?”

“How should I know, sir? You probably planted your seed in some city missus, and that’s why you don’t want me anymore. There ain’t no need to take it out on an honest girl…”

She sobs.

Barely able to turn my leaden arm, I embrace her:

“Now, now, silly girl, I was doing government work, risking my life.”

“May you live a hundred years…” she mumbles, sobbing in the darkness, her feelings hurt.

Maybe not a hundred, but I’ll live awhile longer. We’ll live, we’ll live. And we’ll let others live as well. A passionate, heroic, government life. Important. We have to serve the great ideal. We must live to spite the bastards, to rejoice in Russia…My white stallion, wait…don’t run away…where are you going my beloved…where, my white-maned…my sugar stallion…we’re alive…oh yes, we’re alive…stallions are alive, people alive…all alive till now…everyone…the entire oprichnina…our entire kindred oprichnina. And as long as the oprichniks are alive, Russia will be alive.

And thank God.