Darker Jewels by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro Read Free Book Online

out to me in their need for the Blood of Redemption. We know from the earlier attempt at reunification that there are many Rus who are anxious to embrace the True Church, but who have been deprived of the salvation they seek through the connivance of the Orthodox Patriarch and the Metropolitan ofMoscovy. The might of Constantinople is gone, and the city is in the hands of those who follow the Prophet of Islam. The people of Russia know that without Rome they are as lost as Constantinople is, and they desire to turn to us, to become part of the Church and, through the Church, the servants of Christ. This time we will not fail in our task, but will emerge with Russia once again part of the Catholic Christian community, allied to Rome, and all declared against the Sultans and the forces of Islam.
    We will travel in the escort of a company of lancers. There will be fifty armed men to guard us to Moscovy, not so much against the Rus, but against the bandits and other outlaws who prey on travelers. We are being permitted servants for our service as embassy.
    There is a Hrabia, or Comte or Graf or Prinz—I have heard him called by all those titles—-from Transylvania, a countryman of King Istvan’s, who accompanies us. It is said that he is an alchemist, but in what little contact I have had with the man, I see nothing of the devil about him. It is the King’s wish that this man influence the Czar by presenting him with gifts. It would be incorrectfor priests to do such things, and so this exiled Transylvanian ivill serve King Istvan in this way.
    Though it is wrong of me to confess this, I must tell you that I cannot help but hope that if my actions meet ivith the approval of King Istvan I might be given advancement within the Church. There is so much I could do if I had a more influential position. I have humbly accepted my place within the Church, but with this venture, I have allowed myself greater scope of intention.
    Until now I thought it would be my lot to remain a mere priest. I was content to serve God in that capacity. But now lam aware that there might be benefits resulting from the task that has been given to me, and I pray that I will show myself worthy of higher position within the Church, to which my experiences will surely entitle me. No, I look no higher than Bishop, but I cannot see why such advancement is impossible if I comport myself well in Moscovy. I have accepted the rebuke of my Confessor for my pride, but I cannot yet dismiss my hopes as unreasonable and prideful.
    May God bless you and your family, dear sister, and may you all thrive in His favor until I return to you. Know that you are always in my prayers, and that as soon as it is possible, I will send word to you. In the meantime, I ask for your remembrance while I am gone.
    With the deep affections of a brother, Father Wojciech. Kovnovski By my own hand, on the Feast of Saint John Chrysostom, January 27, 1583 At Saint Jerzy of Armenia Church.
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    February was bitter, with blowing drifts of snow that made traveling all but impossible. Istvan Bathory had moved the Court to winter quarters as near the Russian border as seemed wise, and now had his hands full of impatient younger sons and gathering priests who were ready to advance to the east, into the heart of Russia, and were made prisoners by the terrible cold.
    “It’s bad for the horses, all this waiting. They chew the wood in their stalls and their legs swell,” insisted Hrabia Dariusz Zary as he paced the length of the soldiers’ hall, relentless as a caged tiger. “They’re getting stale, having nothing to do day after day.”
    “They cannot be taken out in a blizzard,” said Istvan testily. He was aching from the cold and had not slept well. “If you want to sweep out the old armory, they may be ridden there."
    “Hah!” scoffed Zary with an impatient toss of his head. “'What good is it to tide a horse around a room? It bores you and it bores the horse.” He folded his arms