brought as willing hostage to Moscow after the Tsar’s victory over the Tartar stronghold of Kazan. She met too the wives of the princes, who soon visited her and were visited in their turn. But most of Güzel’s time, from then onwards, was divided between the house she controlled and the palace.
Whether the Voevoda knew what was happening, and what place, indeed, he had in this intriguing establishment, was something that the curious ladies of the Terems were unable to discover. That the two were unmarried was ascertained at the beginning. So also was the certainty, though from what source no one knew, that it was Güzel who had brought to the Tsar this inestimable band of Western trained soldiers, and that it was her resources which had furnished both the journey and the splendours of the residence which he shared.
The princes and boyars attached to the court, hearing the tale with a certain brooding interest from their wives, felt more than a spice of envy for the endowments which could call forth such favours. They were further gripped by what their wives could relay to them of Güzel’s experiences in the seraglio of the Sultan Suleiman, and all she had learnt there and from Dragut her lover, of the Turkish army and naval command.
Güzel knew a great deal, and it was not hard to persuade her, now and then, to tell what she knew, about the Spahis and the Janissaries, and their numbers and leadership; about their weapons and practices; about the Sultan’s advisers, and his policy towards the Tartars on Russia’s borders and towards Russia herself.
From Güzel, indirectly, the Boyar Council learned as much, in a few weeks, as the princes learned about western customs direct from her favourite Crawford of Lymond, the foreigner they called Voevoda Frangike. But to questions about Güzel, the Voevoda had proved politely uncooperative, proceeding thence smoothly to intolerance: whether the Voevoda was thus defending his mistress, his vanity or merely his right to possess a personal life was not entirely clear, either to his victims or to the men who were following him.
These, as it turned out, had little enough leisure to ponder it. Foiled over the house in the Kremlin, Lancelot Plummer exercised his talents as engineer and architect in designing a suitable home forhimself and his fellow officers in Kitaigorod, the merchant quarter of Moscow adjoining the swallowtail walls of the Kremlin, and walled itself in identical white-veined red brick. He made the building of brick: spacious and utilitarian, with room for their equipment and a disposition this time of steps, doors and windows which would make outside assault a very difficult proposition indeed. A chaste line of dog-tooth white stonework and a minor embellishment of the principal doorways was all he permitted of flourish.
The third building he made for St Mary’s was at Vorobiovo, the country suburb south of the river, and had no flourishes within or without. It was here that their training ground was laid out, and where he and the others would work and live beside the rough wooden huts of the Streltsi, Ivan’s only trained standing force, until the groundwork was done, and they had created the fighting arm which Russia needed.
Once it had begun, the swiftness of it surprised all of them; even those who remembered the start of the band of mercenaries known to Western Europe as St Mary’s. Some of it was directly due to the change, now unequivocally clear, in Lymond himself. The cleverness, the far-sightedness; the broadly imaginative grasp of basic essentials were there and identified, with mounting enjoyment, by Danny Hislop’s bright watching eyes. But the remembered other side, so shrewdly guessed at by Danny, had disappeared as damascening melts in the heat, leaving only the iron. They were led, as was their due, by an active and distinguished commander. But any warmth, any cameraderie, any cultivation of trifling pursuits and sharing of friendships
Whether the Voevoda knew what was happening, and what place, indeed, he had in this intriguing establishment, was something that the curious ladies of the Terems were unable to discover. That the two were unmarried was ascertained at the beginning. So also was the certainty, though from what source no one knew, that it was Güzel who had brought to the Tsar this inestimable band of Western trained soldiers, and that it was her resources which had furnished both the journey and the splendours of the residence which he shared.
The princes and boyars attached to the court, hearing the tale with a certain brooding interest from their wives, felt more than a spice of envy for the endowments which could call forth such favours. They were further gripped by what their wives could relay to them of Güzel’s experiences in the seraglio of the Sultan Suleiman, and all she had learnt there and from Dragut her lover, of the Turkish army and naval command.
Güzel knew a great deal, and it was not hard to persuade her, now and then, to tell what she knew, about the Spahis and the Janissaries, and their numbers and leadership; about their weapons and practices; about the Sultan’s advisers, and his policy towards the Tartars on Russia’s borders and towards Russia herself.
From Güzel, indirectly, the Boyar Council learned as much, in a few weeks, as the princes learned about western customs direct from her favourite Crawford of Lymond, the foreigner they called Voevoda Frangike. But to questions about Güzel, the Voevoda had proved politely uncooperative, proceeding thence smoothly to intolerance: whether the Voevoda was thus defending his mistress, his vanity or merely his right to possess a personal life was not entirely clear, either to his victims or to the men who were following him.
These, as it turned out, had little enough leisure to ponder it. Foiled over the house in the Kremlin, Lancelot Plummer exercised his talents as engineer and architect in designing a suitable home forhimself and his fellow officers in Kitaigorod, the merchant quarter of Moscow adjoining the swallowtail walls of the Kremlin, and walled itself in identical white-veined red brick. He made the building of brick: spacious and utilitarian, with room for their equipment and a disposition this time of steps, doors and windows which would make outside assault a very difficult proposition indeed. A chaste line of dog-tooth white stonework and a minor embellishment of the principal doorways was all he permitted of flourish.
The third building he made for St Mary’s was at Vorobiovo, the country suburb south of the river, and had no flourishes within or without. It was here that their training ground was laid out, and where he and the others would work and live beside the rough wooden huts of the Streltsi, Ivan’s only trained standing force, until the groundwork was done, and they had created the fighting arm which Russia needed.
Once it had begun, the swiftness of it surprised all of them; even those who remembered the start of the band of mercenaries known to Western Europe as St Mary’s. Some of it was directly due to the change, now unequivocally clear, in Lymond himself. The cleverness, the far-sightedness; the broadly imaginative grasp of basic essentials were there and identified, with mounting enjoyment, by Danny Hislop’s bright watching eyes. But the remembered other side, so shrewdly guessed at by Danny, had disappeared as damascening melts in the heat, leaving only the iron. They were led, as was their due, by an active and distinguished commander. But any warmth, any cameraderie, any cultivation of trifling pursuits and sharing of friendships
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