‘Arkady.’ Va hesitated, his mouth poised over the bread. Then he tore into it, swallowing mouthful after mouthful.

Mikhaelov grabbed Va’s wrist. ‘There’s no way you could have got here in four days. You’re an impostor.’

‘I know Systema,’ said Va quietly. ‘I could take you any time I want, sword or no sword.’ He watched the captain’s face go through a series of contortions, but eventually the man released his grip. ‘I didn’t get here in four days. I did it in three, as the woman Elenya will testify. Now, are you going to take me to the patriarch, or am I going to have to kick the crap out of you, your men and anyone else who gets in the way?’

There was a commotion in the corridor outside the guardroom, and after a good deal of yelling and fighting, Elenya was thrust through the door with the same sort of ceremony as Va had been.

Mikhaelov backed away from the pair. ‘I suppose you’re an expert in Systema too?’ he asked.

Elenya brushed the loose straw off her robe. ‘No. Just him.’ There was blood on her lips, and one of the guards was cradling his hand to his chest.

‘Where did you come from?’

‘Arkady.’

‘How long ago?’

‘This is the night of the third day.’

‘You’re both bloody liars, but I’m going to get you off my hands as quick as I can. Kostya, get hold of a runner and tell him to go to the Danilov. Find someone who’ll come and collect this lunatic before he infects us all with his madness.’ Mikhaelov looked at his sword hilt, fingers twitching, but then thought better of it. ‘Boris, you arrested him, you can get him out of here. Lock them both in the storeroom – anything – I don’t care.’

‘But the Systema. We should all go to guard them.’ Boris was as shaken as his officer.

‘He doesn’t do that any more,’ said Elenya. ‘He won’t fight you or anyone else.’

Mikhaelov realized he’d been made to look a fool. He spat on the ground at Va’s naked feet. ‘If I ever see these two again, it’ll be too soon. Get them out of my sight.’

Boris motioned to the door with his spear, the point of which was noticeably trembling. Va tore the loaf he was holding in two and gave half to Elenya. ‘I told you I’d get to see the patriarch. You should have more faith. Or at least some faith.’

‘I’ve got every faith in you, Va. It’s God I have grave doubts about.’

‘Out!’ bellowed Mikhaelov.

They left, eating.

CHAPTER 7

AFTER THE GREAT mechanical clock of the Kremlin had slammed its hammer twelve times into the bell of Tsar Ivan and the echo of its final ringing had drifted away into the night air, the door to the storeroom was unlocked.

Va, asleep on a tabletop, woke instantly and dropped to the floor. Elenya had the ruder awakening. She had slid down against the door, and the door opened inwards.

‘They’ve barred the door,’ someone said from the other side, their voice rising with panic.

‘Don’t be so stupid,’ she growled. ‘Just let me get up and you can come in.’

They were still pushing as she rolled to one side, and the heavy door banged back against the wall. It made the gaggle of black-robed priests jump, and they had to reposition their tall hats before anyone noticed that they were awry.

The guards were staying well back. Va saw the truth of it: in the telling of Mikhaelov’s story, he had grown fiercer and Elenya more wild, until they had become two untamed and untameable beasts of the imagination. They had walked out of the taiga, yet it was the city dwellers who behaved like ignorant peasants.

The greyest of the priests stepped forward, unsure of what to expect. He had listened to the message; he had heard the guards’ talk. He was now confronted with a filthy, lice-ridden monk, more dirt than man, and a woman who looked nothing like Baba Yaga.

‘You’re the one they call Va?’ he said. ‘From Arkady?’

‘Brother Va of Saint Samuil, Arkady. Father, I have an urgent message for His Holiness the patriarch.’ Va thought his journey was almost over. In that moment of weakness he fell to the ground, his legs suddenly numb, his ears buzzing, his vision dark.

‘Get a proper light in here,’ he heard the priest call, and when he opened his eyes again, he saw the man’s bright blue eyes staring down at him. ‘Are you ill? Infected?’

‘No,’ said Va. ‘I’ve run a long way. It must be catching up with me.’

‘What’s this? Woman, I was told you came on a horse.’

‘Not him,’ said Elenya. ‘He didn’t want to lead me into temptation. And you can stop calling me woman, priest. I have a name and I was born a lady.’

‘The message, Brother? What’s the message?’

‘For the patriarch.’ Va was starting to lose his grip on the world.

‘Gospodova? Do you know what this message is?’

Elenya replied: ‘I can guess at most of it, though it’ll be as much of a riddle for you as it is for me. But it’s not my story to tell; it’s Va’s. Save him if you can. If he dies, then I’ll tell you what I know.’

‘This is intolerable. Why have you come here?’

Va tried to sit up, tried to stand. Even with the priest’s help, his knees kept on buckling.

‘What’s wrong with the man?’ It was all too strange for the priest, who turned on the guards himself. ‘Have you beaten him? Poisoned him? By Saint George, if this man doesn’t live to see the patriarch, I’ll have you all flogged and banished.’

Mikhaelov’s voice could be heard over the heads of his men. ‘We don’t serve the patriarch. We’re the tsar’s men. Take it up with him.’

‘And I will, you pigs. Brothers, lend a hand. We have to get him out of here.’

Va was surrounded by priests, who hauled him none too gently to his feet. His arms were looped around a pair of necks, and he was dragged from the room.

‘Sasha, he stinks like a latrine, and there’s more life outside him than inside.’

‘Then give your place to someone who doesn’t have such cares. Father Filip, get a cart ready.’

‘Father Aleksandr, where am I going to get a cart at this time of night?’

‘Use your God-given imagination, man. I don’t need a horse – a barrow will do.’

By the time they reached the gatehouse door, a handcart had been commandeered from the front of a nearby shop; whether or not the owner had given permission was a question not asked.

Va was hoisted onto the bare wooden boards and left there while there was an argument as to who was going to pull.

‘Get out of the way,’ said Elenya. She elbowed to the front and took the shafts under each arm. ‘Where am I supposed to be going?’

‘The Danilov,’ stuttered someone.

‘I’ve never been to Moskva, you idiot.’

‘That way,’ said Father Aleksandr. He took one of the shafts from her. ‘Are you younger ones shamed yet? Look, an old man and a woman – a lady, no less – doing your work for you.’

He started the cart rolling, and after a few steps both he and Elenya had been replaced. They walked behind, watching Va’s limp and almost lifeless body bounce around on the boards like he had the Vitus disease. Va, for his part, lay on his back, pummelled by the vibrations as the priests hurried him through the midnight streets of Moskva, and looking up at the slit of sky between the roofs of the houses.

He heard the senior priest Aleksandr and Elenya talking:

‘Did he really run all that way?’

‘Sunrise to sunset, without a rest. If there was a river to cross, he used ice when it was there, swam when it wasn’t. He slept where he fell, and he got up when it was light enough to see.’

‘And where do you fit in, Gospodova?’

‘I’m his shadow, an echo of a future that might have been had your God not got to him first.’

‘You sound bitter.’

‘That’s because I am, Father.’

And he submerged beneath a thick black blanket, and was almost smothered by it.