Rahab Bk. 04 Ch. 01: Discoveries

We left Tilbury on a dank autumnal morning. I felt a strange pull. It was, of course, parting from my beloved Bess, the great Virgin Queen. What I had felt for her I had only felt before once, for my Ana. My heart ached. Was it my lot, I wondered, to serve the Empire, but never know real happiness myself? A tear came to my eye as England vanished on the far horizon. I felt as though this was familiar. Maybe feeling homesick at leaving a great love is always this way, though I have not found it so -- save for one occasion.

England had felt strangely familiar in ways I did not wholly comprehend. Although it was so different from anything I had known, it seemed somehow not a foreign land, and the leaving of it gave me a special pang. I wept a little as it vanished from view for the last time.

The sea-sickness put an end to my weeping, and gave a new reason for my moaning. I thanked God that we were to break our journey in the kingdom of the Danes. King Frederick II was sympathetic to the Great Queen, but insisted on his neutrality. I had despatches for him, and so travelled to his new great fortress at Elsinore.

The strange feeling that I had felt on leaving England persisted here. I felt a sense of having known this place, and the fields around Elsinore, looking out to the grey sea were, so it seemed to my fancy, not new to me.

The King was welcoming, and asked for news of Elizabeth, for whom clearly, he nursed a fancy. He delighted in my stories of her, and asked how she fared and whether her beauty was as great as her portraits suggested. I noticed he had a portrait of her in his private chambers where he first received me. He was curious about my Sultan and asked what I had been doing in London, and why I was bound for the cold of Muscovy.

There was no bar to the telling of my story. My Master wanted, I told him, to encompass an alliance with the Protestant States and the Orthodox against the encroachments of the Catholic Pope, and if that could be achieved, then there would, finally, be set a limit to the ambitions of the Emperor of the Spanish and his Austrian allies. Frederick listened, understood, but explained to me that the wars early in his reign had cost him much, and that now, in his declining years, he would stay at peace although always, he smiled, siding in spirit with Elizabeth.

He was a convivial man, and explained much to me about Russia.

He told me of Ivan the Formidable, the last Tsar, who had united Russia, conquered the far western lands and fought my own Empire. He had been, Frederick explained, a man of iron will who had not hesitated to kill his own son and heir when he thought he had been conspiring against him. Muscovy was, he added, a State controlled by the fear people had of the Tsar's spies. The new Tsar, Feodor, a younger son of the great Ivan, was a pale shadow of his father. A pious man, he was much influenced by his wife Irina, and her formidable brother, Boris Godunov who was, I was told, the real power in the land.

All of that was most useful when I got to Moscow.

The final leg of the journey was long and tedious, involving a long coach ride over bad roads. Say what you like about the Romans, but their legacy of roads is one thing that we should thank them for. Up in those northern reaches, where they had never ventured, one felt the loss. But still, it was better than the sea, and for that I was grateful.

At Elsinore I had been given a despatch from London, which explained, among other things, that there would be help from the Sultan awaiting me in Moscow. I looked forward to that. I had grown used to my own company, and liked it, but there had been moments on the odyssey when I had missed my Jess. I thought of her often, hoping that she and Ayesha were happy. I longed to be back in Constantinople, though goodness knows, I thought, what I should find there.

My arrival at the Kremlin was expected; there are advantages in being in a State so tightly policed, and I was met by the great Godunov himself.

The first thing I noticed was how like the Tatars of the Crimea he was; that was clearly his ancestry. His robes were of the finest silk, interwoven with golden thread; his very presence spoke of wealth and power. That he had deigned to see me, personally, on my arrival was a coup, a sign of the seriousness with which he took my mission.

'It is, little Vizier, a pleasure to make your acquaintance; from Svetlana's father I have heard much of you.'

So, I thought, that was the link that my lover, Svetlana had forged, and it went to the highest in the land; how right I have been to advise the Sultan to listen to her.

'We have common interests, my Lord,' I smiled, bowing from the neck.

He bade me sit, and we spoke for an hour.

By a curious quirk of fate, I have the account of that conversation in my records here in Beirut, and it brings back memories of a special time.

He was, the record shows, pleased that I had encouraged the English to make treaties and to trade with Russia, and he agreed with me that his government should resist any attempts to ally with the Catholics to oppose the Sultan.

'I assume that you want a defensive rather than an offensive alliance?'

He was as direct as my Sultan himself. His eyes, which in that light looked jet black, seemed to drill into me, but I held his stare until, smiling, he bade me continue.

I confirmed that we had no aggressive designs, adding that we would welcome his help in the Caucasus region, where the Armenian Christians were looking to the Ottomans for help against the Persians.

'It is an odd thing, little Vizier, that so many Christians should look to your Sultan. How do you explain it?'

He was testing me. Was I simply the mouthpiece of the Sultan, or did I understand the complex politics of my own Empire?

Outlining what had happened in the Lebanon and Damascus, where we had divided and ruled, and where the real danger had been the Islamic puritans, I explained that in such a world the Ottoman Empire was the least worst option.

'And will remain so always, my lady?'

There was a quizzical tone to that question.

'Christians there would, I think rather cleave to the heirs of Byzantium.'

His eyes lit up, as I had known they would.

'And since your Master made Moscow the leading Orthodox Patriarchate, who can tell, the day may come when, once more, the Cross and not the Crescent stands atop the Hagia Sophia?'

That brought a deep smile to his lips.

'And would that grieve you, my lady?'

'Me, highness?' I parried. 'As a Jewess, I have no dog in this fight.'

He put his fingers together, pressing them like a pyramid, looking at me through them.

'I heard that you that you got your people permission to worship once more in Jerusalem, your name is famous among those who know of your achievement, indeed, our own Rabbi Samuels wishes to meet you on the morrow to thank you personally. What do you know of the Marble King?'

The ease and speed with which he had shifted to the deepest secret I knew might once have startled me, but used as I was to men of power, I parried his thrust.

'No more than you, Highness. The legend is that the last Emperor of Constantinople was turned into a marble statue by an Angel and will rise again when Constantinople is restored to the true Faith. It is a legend.'

'But one many believe my lady; are you among them?'

'It has its uses, Highness, as I am sure you know.

We fenced awhile, but he saw I would not yield ground, and so he changed the topic.

'As your Mission here is for a defensive and a trade alliance, I can prepare that in days, but let us not hurry, you must be tired after your journey, and my Tsar would like to meet you, as would Rabbi Samuels. Your return party is two day's ride from here, and they will want to rest a while, so perhaps you will stay the week? I have provided you with servants, and know you will wish to bathe. There is also, should you have need, a woman to provide you with company. I know of your tastes, and can assure you she has been carefully selected.'

I thanked him, blushing, saying that after such a long journey, it might, indeed be nice to bathe.

Bowing, he had a servant show me to my palatial quarters in the east wing of the Kremlin, near the great cathedral of St Basil.

There I was met by two maids, Ludmilla and Irina, who brought me my supper, and some wine. It was good to taste the fruit of the vine again after so many months of English ale. With a fire blazing in the grate, I relaxed, feeling that as I was obviously under surveillance, I could afford to do so. No danger here of assassination, Godunov's spies would have any such malefactor before he could strike.

Then, as I was relaxing, luxuriating in being able to strip to my muslin underclothes, she came in.

Her skin was pale, her hair red, she was tall, nearly six foot I judged. She was dressed only in a long, white linen robe. She looked at me.

'You are?' I asked.

'A chicken is not a bird, a woman is not a person, as the saying here goes, so does it matter? Call me what you will, Highness.'

Her eyes were greenish brown, and her smile warm, and inviting.

I looked at her.

'I am familiar with the saying, and can only say that I find you attractive, but would find you even more so if you sat, took some of this fine wine with me, and told me about yourself. Men like whores, and they like to fuck and go. I am no man, and you are no whore, so if we are to be lovers, let us start where lovers start.'

She laughed.

'Oh, so willingly, Highness, it will be my pleasure. I am Anna, daughter of one of the Boyars, and I was asked to be your companion here, given my own specialised tastes. They have plenty of whores for visiting dignitaries, and even young men for their wives, but for you, Highness, it appears that there is only me.'

'I cannot say I would want a whore, and I can say I would not want a man, but tell me about yourself, Anna.'

Her family, she told me, were friends of Sveltlana's family, and she asked to be remembered to Svetlana. They owned their origin to the Vangarians, those Anglo-Saxons who had come to Kievan Rus with King Harold's daughter, Gytha. They had fled north in the face of Polish aggression, and found refuge, and prosperity under the Rurik dynasty, which itself, claimed Viking roots. That, she told me, explained her colouring, which did, indeed, remind me of Svetlana.

I told her something about myself.

'Your name, Highness, it is unusual, no?'

I understood her Russian enough to know that was not an idle question.

'It is, why do you ask?'

'Your ancestry as you described it is from Spain. Is that as your mother or your father reckons it?'

'My mother,' I replied, 'my father's family hailed from the Wallachian borderlands, where they had migrated from somewhere further north, although the oral records do not say where, though there is a legend it was from somewhere in Rus.'

'And your father's family, how far back can you reckon?'

She knew that we Jews keep our genealogies intact.

'Only back ten generations.'

'Your name, does it appear in the records of your kin?

'No,' I said. 'my sister and I are the first women born into our family in all that time, and my mother insisted she be called Rachel, after her mother, but left the naming of me to my father, who said that Rahab was a name his family had in records lost during the trials of the wars which caused the downfall of the Kievan dynasty. We hail, the legend says, from those parts, though my father says that we may have connections with England whence I have just come.'

'You say it is a name which runs in your family, and yet it has not been used?'

Anna seemed most interested in the topic, which piqued my curiosity.

'As I say, for ten generations, at least, there has been no female born on my father's side. But why the interest?'

'It is simply I look for kinship, as in our family there is a record of a Rahab, who lived in Kiev, and whose family fled to the south when the Poles came. It is why I wanted to be here, though I have to say now I see you, I would have volunteered anyway.'

I smiled back at her.

'I should love to know more.'

'We can talk to Father Vlad tomorrow, he knows more -- but for now, perhaps we may be together?

She looked at me, and her shift slipped from her shoulders.

Her breasts were firm and full, her nipples deep red and erect.

As her shift pooled around her ankles, her trimmed red bush was visible. She was looking at me, smiling.

'Do you like what you see?'

I nodded. She was still smiling. Her fingers began to play with her nipples. She pulled them. Her full lips, rouged for me, opened as she began to lick them, still pulling on her nipples.Her hips undulated as she swayed.

Looking at her, I wanted her so much. I slipped my own shift off.

'You look so sexy,' she told me, which, whether true or not, was what I needed to hear.

She opened her legs and began to use her fingers on herself. This seemed a waste of good fingers.

I crawled over to her, and gripping her ass, I put my mouth to her cunt and began to lick. She was honey-sweet and wet. As my tongue pressed on her clit, she gasped.

'Oh fuck!'

I knew I had her.

My tongue luxuriated in her taste, its tip dipping into her sweetness, lapping her nectar, as my fingers played around her entrance, teasing her until she whimpered. She was, I could feel, still pulling her nipples, so I began to tug at her clit with my lips, massaging her there, flicking her, feather-light. She was pushing down so firmly that she pushed my thrust fingers deep into her; she moaned loudly.

'Oh, fuck, fuck!'

On an instinct, I took one of my wet fingers and began to rub and press her dark star hole with it. She jerked even more passionately, her whimpers now high-pitched, turning into moans, getting louder the more she rode my fingers and my lips kissed her clit. She was beginning to tense. My wet finger pressed into her arsehole.

She exploded.

Only Lady Emma could rival Anna for wetness, and like my beloved Emm, Anna came like a fountain, drenching my face. She shuddered, and then laughed as I kept licking.

'Oh God, no, no, give this poor girl a rest!'

I looked up, smiling.

'God, you look sexy like that.'

'So do you,' I replied.

And so, coming to rest with her, we snuggled and loved. Whatever this had started as, it finished the night as two women loving each other for the sheer pleasure of it. As she said:

'Whatever I am paid, I'd have paid more for this.'

Money, again, but once more, it was not everything. We drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.