29. Traitors

Chapter twenty-nine

Traitors

Han

S evken.

I eyed the castle as it appeared on the horizon, dark against the snowy landscape. We'd received word that Borislav had taken it without bloodshed. How had he managed that? Were the servants still so loyal to him? Or had the steward Miroslav placed over it surrendered once he saw the army camped outside the walls?

The Drakra would join Borislav's army at Sevken once they had gathered their own troops. Yakov, Lada, and I had agreed to return ahead of them, to inform the tsar of the successful negotiations and to prepare for the arrival of the second army.

The sleigh skidded along the icy road, the castle drawing nearer by the second. Lada drove, giving me the freedom to observe the tsar's home.

Something hung above the castle gates. I frowned, trying to make out the details. They swayed lightly in the wind, too heavy to be banners.

Revulsion coursed through me as they came into focus. Bodies.

Yakov had noticed them, too. "Did Miroslav take back the castle?"

"No," Lada said. "Look." She pointed at the banners waving next to the figures. Borislav's standard, a white hawk on a field of red. Miroslav's hawk was black.

They hadn't been dead long. I recognized the bodies as we rode up. Six men. I'd assigned each of them to units myself.

Igorovich. The name clanged through my head. Nikolai Igorovich, the recruit who had mistaken me for the prince, now hung above the tsar's gate. By the Blood, what had happened?

Fyodor Yakovlevich met us in the courtyard. "I'm glad you're back." His expression was grave.

"What's happened?" I gestured behind us at the grim scene above the gate.

"Didn't the tsar send word?" The captain shook his head. "Miroslav sent an order through the country. He's demanding the slaughter of the families of anyone supporting Tsar Borislav. We've had a rash of desertions. Things are bad."

Yakov and I shared a horrified look. Was Anna safe? I had sisters, as well—we hadn't spoken in years, but that wasn't likely to bother Miroslav.

"What does that have to do with them?" I asked, jerking my head at the bodies.

"They were deserters."

Yakov swore. "They were killed for leaving after that?"

Fyodor nodded once. "Hanged, on the tsar's direct order."

"I need to see him," I said. Why would the tsar execute men who were trying to protect their families? That sort of cruelty was why we were fighting against Miroslav. Borislav had to be better. "Where is he?"

Fyodor's face grew stormier. "In the cells. He—" He broke off. "We received word from the capital that one of the captains was spying for Miroslav. There was an investigation, and Matvey Il'ich was caught with a letter detailing our plans. It was in his own hand, so there's no question about it. He's a traitor."

What? Matvey Il'ich was—had been—a loyal supporter of the tsar. He'd been in the first rebellion, as had a small number of the army, members of a unit that hadn't arrived in time to take the field at Barbezht. His counsel to the tsar, in the few months I had known him, had been good. How had he become a traitor?

"Is my father there as well?" Lada asked.

The captain nodded. "They've been with him all day, trying to determine how much information he fed to Miroslav."

"Take me to them, please," I said. I had to do something about all of this.

Fyodor cast a questioning look at Yakov and Lada. The latter shook her head.

"I'd like to get settled in. I'll find someone who can tell me where I'm staying. When my father's finished, I'll speak with him."

Yakov shoved his hand in his pocket, staring at the ground. "I'd like to get settled in, too, if you don't mind if I join you."

I gave them a distracted wave. "I'll see you two later."

Fyodor Yakovlvevich led me to a small building near the back wall of the castle fortifications. He stopped at the door. "I'd rather not go in, if it's all the same to you."

They'd been close, I remembered. Yakovlevich and Il'ich. The betrayal had to feel personal. "Thank you, captain."

The air inside was musty and dank, and I heard the steady drip of water. At the end of the hall, torchlight flickered over Tsar Borislav and Prince Radomir, who stood together outside a closed cell door.

"Han." The tsar looked up at my approach. "Welcome back. Your journey was successful?"

I bowed. "They'll be here within the month, your majesty. Yakov Aleksandrovich and Lada Radamirovna can join me in making a full report."

The tsar waved a hand. "Later. We have more pressing matters."

"I assume you've been informed on the circumstances," the prince said, "since you found us here."

"Fyodor Yakovlevich told me." My mouth was dry, despite the damp. I swallowed. "Did he say why?"

Borislav's face held a mixture of fury and disgust. "No. Not that there's anything he could say to justify treason."

"May I speak with him?"

The tsar raised a brow. "If you wish. He's told us all I need to know. He'll be executed tomorrow. The guards aren't far—you probably saw them as you came in. Return the key to them when you're finished, and meet me in my quarters to make your report." Handing the key to me, he turned to Radomir. "I expect your daughter is waiting to see you, cousin."

The door creaked as I opened it. Outside, I heard the retreating footsteps of the tsar and the prince.

"Han Antonovich." Matvey's voice was hoarse, raspy. Chains held him to the wall. Surely the man wasn't such a danger as to merit chains. Who had given that order? And why had the tsar allowed it?

Then again, considering the rage I'd seen in the tsar's face, Il'ich was lucky only his hands were chained.

"Captain."

A brief expression of surprise flickered across his face, followed by sadness. "Not anymore, I'm afraid." A coughing fit overtook him. "You'll have to excuse me," he rasped. "Circumstances, you understand."

The cell held no drinking vessel, and even if it had, he wouldn't have been able to access it, chained as he was. I pulled out my water skin and offered it.

He drank deeply. "My thanks." His skin was gray and pallid in the torchlight.

"How long have you been here?"

"A few days. Maybe a week," he said without emotion.

"Why did you do it?"

He looked up at me. "You know, they asked me that, but you're the first person I believe has had any real interest in my answer."

I remained silent, waiting.

"My sons," he said after a moment.

"I didn't know you had children."

"Two of them. They're young, just ten and twelve. Miroslav—" He choked on his words. "They were taken prisoner after I left to join the tsar."

He still called Borislav the tsar. His reasons weren't political, whatever else they might be.

"I received word of their arrest, along with a threat: report the tsar's movements to Miroslav, or they'd be tortured and killed." He coughed again.

"Why didn't you tell someone? We could have helped you."

He shook his head, the chains on his arms clinking slightly. "What could anyone do? The tsar wasn't going to waste men trying to rescue my sons. And they said they'd send my eldest to me bit by bit if I disobeyed a single order. Not the younger, of course," he said bitterly. "They needed to keep one alive to ensure my cooperation."

My gut rolled. I could imagine what I'd do if someone had threatened the same against Mila. Or Yakov, or Anna. Any of my family. "But after you were caught, why didn't you tell the tsar?"

He shrugged, the movement somewhat hampered by his shackles. "Who would care? I betrayed him. I put everyone's lives at risk." He looked at me, considering. "But I think you care. Thank you for that."

"I'll talk to the tsar." If I could convince Borislav, somehow, there had to be something we could do. The tsar could commute the sentence, release him, save the boys.

"I can't stop you, I know, but there's really no use. I'm to be drawn and quartered at dawn." His expression was nonchalant, but fear lay behind his eyes.

A chill ran through me. Beheading, I had expected. Hanging wouldn't have been a surprise. But the brutal death of drawing and quartering…

"I don't want you to interfere on my behalf, but if you could find it in yourself to help my sons—"

"I'll talk to the tsar," I said again. "Is there anything else I can do for you? Anything you need?" If I couldn't convince the tsar to stay the execution.

He shook his head. "My sons are all I have left. I don't know what Miroslav will do to them when I'm gone. I just need to know they'll be safe."

I knew better than to promise anything. "I'll do my best."

*****

I found the tsar's rooms with ease. Borislav. Prince Radomir, and Lada sat alone around the giant table.

"Lada was telling the details of our arrangement with the Drakra," the tsar said as I entered. "Well done, Han."

The prince scowled at his cousin. "The land was one thing. The trade, the economic compensation. But slaves? ‘Men came from the loins of Otets himself, birthed into this world and bearing His Blood. Therefore over all the earth-dwellers men will have dominion.'"

"Sending traitors to serve the Drakra for eight years as punishment is not sacrificing the human dominion over the earth-dwellers, cousin. Traitors must be dealt with firmly and fiercely."

I tapped my fingers on my leg. I didn't disagree with the tsar, but Borislav's definition of treason was excessive. The executed deserters had joined of their own free will, out of a desire to see the rightful tsar on the throne, but they had deserted out of a desire to protect their families. Had they really deserved death for that, their bodies left exposed to the elements, food for the crows?

Were the thousands of men fighting for Miroslav traitors as well? They were fighting for what they believed in. They were willing to die for their cause. Did that mean that they deserved to be sold off as slaves for years? It was too late to change things now; the agreement had been made, but the thought of possibly hundreds of men being forced away from their homes and loved ones for the crime of fighting for their tsar… It curdled my stomach.

And Matvey Il'ich, was he a traitor? His actions were treasonous and merited punishment, no doubt, but his motives were pure. Traitor didn't seem to be the right word for him. Certainly he didn't merit the gruesome death the tsar had ordered for him.

Was Borislav's treatment of those who opposed him any better than Miroslav's?

"Something on your mind, Han?" the tsar asked.

I jolted from my reverie to find the other three occupants of the room looking at me. If I'd been hoping to speak with the tsar about my concerns, now would be the time.

"There is, in fact, your majesty. Matvey Il'ich."

His eyes narrowed. "As I said, traitors must be dealt with firmly and fiercely."

"He told me why he did it. It doesn't excuse his actions, of course, but I thought you would like to know his explanation."

His brow cocked, Borislav gestured for me to continue.

"His sons were taken prisoner by your brother's men, your majesty. They've been held hostage, threatened, to ensure his cooperation."

Lada made a sound of disgust in her throat.

"That's a truly despicable action by Miroslav," Radomir said. "If it's true."

"I believe him," I said. "He's prepared to die. I saw it in his eyes; this wasn't an attempt to avoid his fate. But if we could look into it, maybe find his sons for him. If he is telling the truth, doesn't he deserve mercy?"

The tsar opened his mouth, but Radomir spoke first. "He put thousands of lives at risk for the sake of a few. Regardless of his motives, his life is forfeit."

"I understand that he has to be punished—" I began.

"His life is forfeit." Borislav's voice was steel as he repeated his cousin's words.

Radomir stroked his beard. "Perhaps, cousin, we could reconsider commuting the sentence. Not from execution," he said at the flash of fury in Borislav's eyes, "but from being drawn and quartered to a milder death, provided his story proves true. Beheading or hanging. Something cleaner. Showing mercy would endear you to the men after the…difficulty following the desertions."

"I cannot afford the luxury of being seen as weak." Borislav's voice still bore steel. "Il'ich betrayed me, and he betrayed every man who serves me. He will receive the full sentence, and we'll send a message to anyone else contemplating treason."

My heart sank. "And his sons?"

"Once my brother realizes I have executed his spy, he'll have no need for them. He'll most likely free them, as their continued captivity would serve no purpose, but if they remain imprisoned, I will find and free them once the throne is indisputably mine. Assuming they exist at all."

His tone would brook no argument. In the ensuing silence, Lada cleared her throat. "What was the difficulty after the desertions?"

Borislav's nostrils flared, but it was Radomir who answered. "Some of the men felt the executions were unnecessary, or at least the display of the bodies. There was a small riot over it."

"The men involved were whipped," the tsar said, "but they should have been hanged."

Radomir sighed. "We can't execute the entire army. If you kill everyone who disagrees with you, you won't have anyone left."

This was clearly not the first time they'd had this discussion.

"If I executed everyone who disagrees with me, you wouldn't be here. I don't want to kill everyone, just those who stir up dissent among my subjects."

The prince shook his head. "That's a dangerous road, cousin. If you follow it all the way down, you'll end up alone."

I didn't disagree.