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Irina clung to her sister. “Don’t go, Vasya, don’t go. I will be good, I promise.”
“Look at me, Irinka,” said Vasya. “You are good. You are the best little girl I know. Much better than I am. But, little sister, you don’t think I am a witch. Others do.”
“That is true,” said Alyosha. He had also seen the villagers’ black stares, heard their whispers during the funeral.
Vasya said nothing.
“Unnatural thing,” said her brother, but he was sad more than angry. “Can you not be content? Men will forget about all this in time, and what you call cages is the lot of women.”
“It is not mine,” said Vasya. “I love you, Lyoshka. I love you both. But I cannot.”
Irina began to cry and clung closer.
“Don’t cry, Irinka,” added Alyosha. He was looking at his sister narrowly. “She will come back. Won’t you, Vasya?”
She nodded once. “One day. I swear it.”
“You will not be cold and hungry on the road, Vasya?”
Vasya thought of the house in the woods, of the treasures heaped there, waiting. Not a dowry now, but gems to barter, a cloak against the frost, boots…all she needed for journeying. “No,” she said. “I do not think so.”
Alyosha nodded reluctantly. Implacable purpose shone like wildfire in his sister’s face.
“Do not forget us, Vasya. Here.” He reached up and drew off a wooden object, hanging on a leather thong about his neck. He handed it to her. It was a little carven bird, with worn outspread wings.
“Father made it for mother,” said Alyosha. “Wear it, little sister, and remember.”
Vasya kissed them both. Her hand closed tight around the wooden thing. “I swear it,” she said again.
“Go,” said Alyosha. “Before I tie you to the oven and make you stay.” But his eyes too were wet.
Vasya slipped outside. Just as she touched the threshold, there came her brother’s voice again, “Go with God, little sister.”
Even when the kitchen door swung shut behind her, it was not enough to muffle the sound of Irina’s weeping.
SOLOVEY WAS WAITING FOR her just outside the palisade. “Come,” Vasya said. “Will you bear me to the ends of the earth, if the road will take us so far?” She was crying as she spoke, but the horse nuzzled away her tears.
His nostrils flared to catch the evening wind. Anywhere, Vasya. The world is wide, and the road will take us anywhere.
She swung onto the stallion’s back and he was away, swift and silent as a night-flying bird.
Soon enough, Vasya saw a fir-grove, and firelight glancing between the trees, spilling gold into the snow.
The door opened. “Come in, Vasya,” Morozko said. “It is cold.”
Students and speakers of Russian will surely note, and possibly deplore, my wildly unsystematic approach to transliteration.
I can almost hear the hand-wringing of readers, who will be asking, for example, by what possible method could I have gotten vodianoy from the Russian водÑной and then have turned around and gotten domovoi from the Russian домовой, a word with an identical ending?
The answer is that in transliterating, I had two aims.
First, I sought to render Russian words in such a way as to retain a bit of their exotic flavor. This is the reason I rendered Ð?онÑÑ?анÑ?ин as Konstantin rather than the more familiar Constantine, and Ð?миÑ?Ñ?ий as Dmitrii rather than Dmitri.
Second, and more important, I wanted these Russian words to be reasonably pronounceable and aesthetically pleasing to speakers of English.
I like the way vodianoy looks on the page, just as I like the look of the name Aleksei (ÐлекÑей) but preferred to render the name Соловей as Solovey.
I dropped any attempt to indicate hard and soft signs, with apostrophes or otherwise, as these have absolutely no meaning for the average English-speaking reader. The only exception is in the word Rus’, where the extensive use of that spelling with the apostrophe in historiography has made it the most familiar of any to English-speaking readers.
To students of Russian history, I can say only that I have tried to be as faithful as possible to a poorly documented time period. When I have taken liberties with the historical record—for example, in making Prince Vladimir Andreevich older than Dmitrii Ivanovich (he was actually a few years younger) and marrying him to a girl named Olga Petrovna—it was for dramatic purposes, and I hope my readers will indulge me.
BABA YAGA—An old witch who appears in many Russian fairy tales. She rides around on a mortar, steering with a pestle and sweeping her tracks away with a broom of birch. She lives in a hut that spins round and round on chicken legs.
BANNIK—“Bathhouse dweller,” the bathhouse guardian in Russian folklore.
BAST SHOES—Light shoes made of bast, the inner bark of a birch tree. They were easy to make, but not durable. Called lapti.
BATYUSHKA—Literally, “little father,” used as a respectful mode of address for Orthodox ecclesiastics.
BOGATYR—A legendary Slavic warrior, something like a Western European knight-errant.
BOLOTNIK—Swamp-dweller, swamp-demon.
BOYAR—A member of the Kievan or, later, the Muscovite aristocracy, second in rank only to a knyaz, or prince.
BURAN—Snowstorm.
BUYAN—A mysterious island in the ocean, credited in Slavic mythology with the ability to appear and disappear. It figures in several Russian folktales.
DEVOCHKA—Little girl.
DEVUSHKA—Young woman, maiden.
DOCHKA—Daughter.
DOMOVOI—In Russian folklore, the guardian of the household, the household-spirit.
DURAK—Fool; feminine form dura.
DVOR—Yard, or dooryard.
DVOROVOI—In Russian folklore, the guardian of the dvor, or yard. Also, the janitor in modern usage.
ECUMENICAL PATRIARCH—The supreme head of the Eastern Orthodox Church, based in Constantinople (modern Istanbul).
GOSPODIN—Form of respectful address to a male, more formal than the English “mister.” Might be translated as “lord.”
GOSUDAR—A term of address akin to “Your Majesty” or “Sovereign.”
GRAND PRINCE (VELIKIY KNYAZ)—The title of a ruler of a major principality, for example, Moscow, Tver, or Smolensk, in medieval Russia. The title tsar did not come into use until Ivan the Terrible was crowned in 1547.
HOLY FOOL—A yurodivy, or Fool in Christ, was one who gave up his worldly possessions and devoted himself to an ascetic life. Their madness (real or feigned) was believed to be divinely inspired, and often they would speak truths that others dared not voice.
ICONOSTASIS (ICON-SCREEN)—A wall of icons with a specific layout that separates the nave from the sanctuary in an Eastern Orthodox church.
IZBA—A peasant’s house, small and made of wood, often with carved embellishments. The plural is izby.
KASHA—Porridge. Can be made of buckwheat, wheat, rye, millet, or barley.
KOKOSHNIK—A Russian headdress. There are many styles of kokoshniki, depending on the locale and the era. Generally the word refers to the closed headdress worn by married women, though maidens also wore headdresses, open in back. The wearing of kokoshniki was limited to the nobility. The more common form of head covering for a medieval Russian woman was a headscarf or kerchief.
