‘What did you think I’d be doing while you were in Yuryev-Polsky hiding from the French?’
Aleksei was about to point out that it had not been the French he had been hiding from but Iuda and the other Oprichniki, but he decided it would do him little benefit.
‘So it’s been going on all that time,’ he said instead.
Before Iuda could reply, a call came from the bedroom. ‘Vasya!’ Aleksei could detect a timbre of repressed panic in his wife’s voice. Iuda went back inside, returning almost immediately.
‘Your wife would like to get dressed, Lyosha,’ he said. ‘Perhaps we should retire.’ He picked up a robe – Aleksei’s robe – and put it on, then opened the door and invited Aleksei to step through it first. Aleksei was being made a guest in his own house, but now that he was in front of Iuda, at least he could decide where they would go. He led the way downstairs and chose the salon. Dmitry’s harpsichord had been pushed to one corner of the room. Where it had stood there was now a pianoforte – the instrument Aleksei had ordered as a gift for his son before they had left. It had not yet been fully removed from the wooden crate it had come in. Even in the present circumstances, Aleksei found time to hope his son would be pleased with it. He sat down in an armchair. Iuda seated himself opposite.
‘Since 1812,’ said Aleksei, picking up where he had left off.
‘Not as lovers, but as friends, at first.’
‘How did you find her?’
‘Oh that was no problem. The wife of Captain Danilov? They were all proud of their soldiers back then. I introduced myself as a friend of yours – at the time I still may have been, I can’t recall.’
‘You weren’t,’ growled Aleksei.
‘I’ll bow to your opinion on that. She was very friendly – not in any untoward way, I assure you – and by the time I left, I’d only dropped the fewest, lightest hints that you might have a lover in Moscow. But I presume it was enough to ensure she never mentioned me to you.’
He paused, waiting for Aleksei to confirm his side of the story. It was true enough, Marfa had not mentioned meeting Vasiliy, or any friend of his from Moscow, but he wasn’t going to give Iuda the pleasure of hearing him say so.
‘Then, of course, events intervened,’ Iuda continued. ‘I almost died in the Berezina – I really did – but I was washed up on the far bank, and some kind French soldat dragged me to my feet and forced me to march on with them. I was in Warsaw before I could get away.’
‘But you came back,’ said Aleksei.
Iuda nodded. ‘It was over a year before I managed to. By then you were marching across Europe in the opposite direction, and poor Marfa was all alone. She asked me directly whether you had a lover and – well, if you’d looked into that poor, confused woman’s eyes, you’d have had to tell the truth – I told her about this pretty young thing in Moscow called Dominique. I told the story backwards really. First how you’d set her up in a small home, then how you’d met her at a brothel and how she’d been working there since really just a child, then how you’d spent your free hours wandering in and out of such establishments and how I thought it was probably a good thing you’d settled down with just one whore rather than flitting to a different one every night. She teased it out of me, Lyosha.’
‘And you were there to help her find… restitution?’
‘Not then, Lyosha, no. That wasn’t until 1818, I think. She knew I was your friend – still your friend, even knowing what you were – and so it would be inappropriate for me, however much she begged.’
‘What changed?’
‘I don’t suppose you even noticed. It was 4 June. Mean anything to you?’
‘Marfa’s name day,’ said Aleksei.
‘And do you know where you were?’ Aleksei could guess, but he said nothing. ‘You had an “urgent appointment in Moscow” apparently. All three of us know what that meant. It was pure chance I was in Petersburg, and I finally took pity on her.’
‘Seven years of screwing my wife – just for this moment?’
‘This moment?’ asked Iuda.
‘The moment I would find out.’
‘Oh, you do have a high opinion of yourself, Lyosha – and of my foresightedness. I had no idea how I was going to use our relationship when we first formed it. I will admit that the thought of you discovering us was – throughout – an added excitement, though not, I think, so much for Marfa. Not at first. Early on, I imagined the possibility of you rushing in on us and smothering her in some jealous rage, like that Moor, and then you would go to prison for it, but I quickly realized you don’t have that kind of mettle.’
‘I might have killed you,’ said Aleksei, with the intended implication that he still might.
‘Then you would still have been convicted as a murderer. But that is why I’ve obtained a little protection.’ He tapped his chest lightly with the flat of his hand, but Aleksei did not understand what he meant by the gesture. ‘It seemed that was unlikely too though, so I’ve been forced to live merely in the hope of the sense of betrayal you would feel on your discovery.’
Aleksei smiled. He didn’t feel so betrayed. ‘You must be disappointed,’ he said.
‘Time will tell.’
Aleksei might have dismissed the comment as bravura, but he knew Iuda well enough to fear there might be more behind it.
‘So what do you plan to do with Marfa now?’ he asked. ‘Kill her?’
Iuda laughed. ‘Why should I?’ He leaned forward and spoke confidentially. ‘You and I are both fortunate, Lyosha. Men of our age seldom get the chance to enjoy the body of a beautiful, sensual woman. I would be a fool to put an end to it.’
He stood up, seemingly impatient, and walked over to the piano. He sat down and began to play. Aleksei did not recognize the piece, nor did he like it, but there was no doubting Iuda’s talent. He noticed for the first time a scar on Iuda’s neck – almost healed. He felt his heart jolt as he wondered briefly if Iuda had at last become a voordalak. But the fact he could see the wound proved no such transformation had occurred. If Iuda were a vampire, his flesh would have healed. Besides, his reflection was clear in the mirror that hung on the wall behind the piano, as it had been in the bedroom mirror. Iuda was as human as he had ever been, but clearly he’d had some kind of falling-out with a vampire – perhaps even Zmyeevich. Aleksei began to formulate a question on the matter, trying to find the words that would most rile Iuda. At the very least it would interrupt him from playing that strange, discomforting music.
But before he could say anything the door opened. It was Marfa. She had dressed, but not formally. Her cleavage was deliberately obvious, as were her ankles and calves. She walked over to Iuda and placed her hands on his shoulders. She looked more alluring than Aleksei had seen her since they were first married. She was just turned forty, and getting a little plump, but not excessively. That evening, her skin seemed to glow. That was thanks to Iuda. Aleksei pushed the thought from his mind.
‘That’s beautiful, Vasya,’ she said. Her voice still sounded nervous, but she hid it well – not as well as Iuda, but he was practised at extemporization. As much as they both might try to appear confident, Aleksei guessed his arrival had taken them by surprise, though Iuda at least had known it would happen one day.
‘Thank you, my dear,’ Iuda replied. He stopped playing and reached for her hand, placing it against his lips.
‘I’m not sorry, Aleksei,’ said Marfa, turning to her husband. ‘There’s no reason I should be. I’m not even angry any more.’