He would return.

To Elena, it seemed that Boris had slowly grown another skin, on top of his own.

That, at least, was how she came to think of it.

Sometimes she had the impression that he was still moving about, rather uncomfortably, inside this carapace; that if she could find a way to break through, she would still find him within. At other times, it would be as if this new, ever thicker layer were stuck fast, glued on to his own skin and all of one piece with it. Then, even when he came to her intimately, it felt as if she had in her hands a strange animal with a thick hide, whose mind she did not know.

Not that, in the succeeding years, she saw him very often.

For three years the armies of Russia, led by Kurbsky and others, smashed the Tatar revolts around Kazan. They went further, across the eastern Volga into the land of the Nogays; even the distant Tatar Khan of West Siberia, beyond the Urals, acknowledged Ivan as his overlord. Twice, huge fleets went south down the mighty Volga, through the steppe to the desert lands of Astrakhan and took that city too.

Tsar of Kazan, Tsar of Astrakhan: how exotic Ivan's new titles proclaimed him to be. Huge new chronicles were prepared, glorifying the Tsar and his family, and where necessary rewriting history so that the sacred mission of the Russian royal house should be clearly understood. All references that even hinted at former cooperation of the Russian princes with their Tatar overlords were removed.

It was now that, at one end of Moscow's Red Square, the Metropolitan ordered the building of that fantastic collection of exotic towers apparently grafted together to make a new Russian life form. Unlike any other, the building later became famous in history as St Basil's Cathedral.

Ivan would have liked, next, to defeat the mighty Khan of the Crimea as well; but for the present, that was too tough a nut to crack.

So it was that Tsar Ivan, trying to open the doors of his landlocked prison, turned northwards to threaten his neighbours those rich Livonian ports he needed so much on the shores of the Baltic.

At first it seemed he might succeed.

No wonder, then, that Elena saw little of her husband. The life of the servitor was hard. Often there was little to eat. Blistering heat or tremendous cold: these were his lot. Before leaving for the north Boris had returned from Astrakhan with some modest plunder a few roubles' worth, that paid off some of his debts and a hardened man.

His relationship with her father, never warm, now became distant. This was not a personal matter indeed, Dimitri was pleased with his son-in-law's career it was a question of politics.

The trouble had begun when Boris had returned from Astrakhan. Beneath the new harsh exterior, Elena sensed a kind of elation in him. For while his armies had been subduing the steppe and desert by the Volga, Ivan and his inner counsellors had been pressing through another kind of victory at home: the reform of the realm.

Once again, in common with all the centralizing rulers of the era, it was the magnates and their clients that he was determined to crush. The old rewards for service, though they were not what they had once been, were curtailed. Instead of a boyar or serving prince being given a city to feed off, local men, chosen by the gentry and merchants, were to administer each locality. But most important of all, it was now decreed that all holders of estates whether the service pomestie pomestie or the privately inherited or the privately inherited votchina votchina must give the Tsar military service when summoned. must give the Tsar military service when summoned.

'That will teach those lazy devils who is master,' Boris grimly remarked in front of his father-in-law. 'Do you know that half the estate holders in Tver were giving no service to anyone?'

'Then tell me,' Dimitri Ivanov asked acidly, 'exactly what is the difference now between your estate, which you inherited, and a mere pomestie pomestie? Since the Tsar usually allows the son to carry on after the father on the service estates.'

Boris considered.

'There's a legal difference, technically; but in practice you're right. There's no difference. If you don't serve, the Tsar will take your estate away.'

'And you are happy with that?'

'Yes. Why should I not want to serve the Tsar? Don't you want to?'

It was a wicked question for he knew very well that his wife's family held several estates and that, at present, none of them was actually serving.

Dimitri said nothing, but passed his hand over his bald head with obvious irritation.

'If a man doesn't want to serve the Tsar,' Boris went on coolly, 'I personally would have to conclude that he must be the Tsar's enemy.'

'You should conclude no such thing, young man,' Dimitri thundered.

'I am glad to hear it,' Boris answered drily.

Elena's mother had managed to separate the two men after that. But the damage had been done.

Nor was it just a dispute between two men. Elena knew very well that the bad feeling between her husband and her father represented a growing divide between those who were behind the reforming Tsar, and the members of the old ruling classes, great and small, who disliked the whole tone of his rule.

Indeed, there were whispers in her father's house now things said that she would never have told Boris about but which made her wonder if the young Tsar would last.

And so their life had proceeded, with brief visits from Boris, and an increasing hint of suspicion in the air around them.

If only he were not so distant when he came. If only she could break through his armour of reserve.

There was only one way to do so only one way to make her husband happy. If only she could give him a son! Why was it denied her?

There had been a boy, David, who had died when he was a week old, while Boris was away on the first campaign in the north. And after that, try as she might, nothing.

Perhaps if they could win a great victory in the north. If Russia signed a peace treaty and Boris returned home for a longer period: perhaps then there would be a son. She was still young. She prayed for sunnier days.

But after some early successes, things started to go badly in the north. The Baltic cities looked for protection from Sweden, Lithuania, Denmark. It seemed the conflict might go on forever.

Then, in August 1560, Anastasia, the Tsar's beloved wife, the light of his life, died.

And when she heard this, Elena's heart sank. For she had a woman's premonition that a time of greater darkness was ahead.

1566.

October. A cold, dank, windswept day at the little town of Russka; the vaporous clouds so low that sometimes their skirts seem almost to touch the tent roof of the watchtower.

A single figure is approaching, riding slowly up to the gates. His horse is black; on the front of its saddle are two little emblems: a dog's head, because the rider is watchful, and a broom, because he will sweep away his master's enemies.

The rider, too, is dressed in black. He looks carelessly from side to side, because he is master of all in this region. A monk by the monastery gates, seeing him, ducks out of sight nervously. Even the abbot is awkward in his presence. In the town, and in nearby Dirty Place, they are terrified of him.

It is over a year since he took his vows. They were biblical in tone, for he swore to love his master more than mother or father, son or daughter. He also swore to inform, instantly, upon anyone he suspects of disloyalty to his master, the Tsar.

The figure in black is powerful, and feared. It is true, as his wife knows, that he is not happy. But it has never occurred to him to be so.

It is his wife, now, that this grim figure has come to visit: for this is his home. His name is Boris Bobrov.

For at last Ivan had struck at all his enemies. The blow was devastating and took them completely by surprise.

In December 1564, without a word of explanation, he had left the city of Moscow with a huge baggage train and by St Nicholas's Day had turned up at a fortified hunting lodge known as Alexandrovskaya Sloboda some forty miles north-east of the capital. No one knew what this evacuation meant.

Then in January, word came: he had abdicated.

Was it just a ruse?

'In my opinion,' Elena's father told her, 'the Tsar hasn't been quite right in the head since Anastasia died. He's decided the boyars poisoned her and he wants to get back at them. All the same,' he added grimly, 'there's a kind of cunning in this business.'

There was. The boyars, fearing the people, had to ask him back. And when he came, it was on his own terms.

They were astounding. No ruler, perhaps, in all the world, had ever done such a thing. For after receiving a solemn oath from the boyars and the Church that he was free to rule exactly as he pleased and punish whom he would, Tsar Ivan split his realm in two. The greater part he left to be ruled in his name by boyars he trusted. But the smaller part he turned into a vast private estate, under his personal rule and peopled by his own handpicked servants.

This personal fief he called, with dark irony, the Oprichnina Oprichnina which meant the widow's portion, the land a widow received for her upkeep after the husband died. His servitors were called which meant the widow's portion, the land a widow received for her upkeep after the husband died. His servitors were called Oprichniki Oprichniki; they formed a closed order, like the old Livonian and Teutonic orders of German knights, and they dressed in black.

It was a state within a state. It was a police state. The Oprichniki Oprichniki could only be tried by their own courts in effect, they were above the law. Part of Moscow was included; so was Suzdal and pockets of land above the Oka and south-west of Moscow. Most of the could only be tried by their own courts in effect, they were above the law. Part of Moscow was included; so was Suzdal and pockets of land above the Oka and south-west of Moscow. Most of the Oprichnina Oprichnina, however, lay up in the north, in the huge forest lands that spread above the loop of the Volga up to the distant northern port where the English mariners had landed. It was away from the old princely towns, a land of icebound monasteries, furs, huge salt beds, and rich northern traders. The mighty Stroganov family, those former peasants turned merchant princes, immediately petitioned the Tsar to be included in his state within a state.

And only those loyal to Ivan might live there. At every estate, the Tsar's inquisitors held court. If the landlord were loyal, he might remain; but if he had any connection with a magnate or one of the many princely families, he would almost certainly be thrown out, and given a poorer estate, if he were lucky, outside the Oprichnina Oprichnina instead. instead.

In this manner, the Oprichniki Oprichniki could be given the vacant estates for their upkeep, which they held, naturally, as service could be given the vacant estates for their upkeep, which they held, naturally, as service pomestie pomestie.

The town of Russka was included in the Oprichnina Oprichnina; and so it was that inquisitors had come to interview the young landlord of Dirty Place.

It was exactly what Boris wanted.

'I serve the Tsar,' he told them, 'in all his wars. Let me, I beg you, be one of the Oprichniki Oprichniki. What could I desire more?' And as he saw them make a note of this he added: 'The Tsar himself may remember me. Let him know that he spoke with me, at dawn one morning, when we were returning from Kazan.'

At this the inquisitor smiled grimly.

'If that is so, Boris Davidov, the Tsar will remember you. The Tsar forgets nothing.'

They continued to examine him carefully. They found no fault with his family. Though old, it boasted no great connections that might make it suspect. But there was one problem.

'What of your wife's family?' they now asked him. 'Your father-in-law has friends in quarters whose loyalty we are not sure of. What can you tell us about him?'

And now Boris considered carefully. He did not, however, have to consider for long.

'What,' he asked quietly, 'would you like to know?'

A week later Boris was summoned to Moscow and after a brief interview was told he could keep the estate on service tenure and that he was accepted into the Oprichniki Oprichniki.

'The Tsar remembered you,' they said.

Soon afterwards, though she did not know why, Elena heard that her father was deeply worried.

The wind had dropped and the afternoon was already drawing to its close when Boris was served his meal.

As soon as he sat down, the old serving man placed before him a plate of rye bread and a little jug of vodka. Staring straight in front of him, Boris steadily poured himself three small cups, throwing back his head as he downed each at a single draught. Elena said nothing. To her it seemed a rather vulgar habit which, no doubt, he had picked up from the other Oprichniki Oprichniki.

He ate, for the most part, in silence. Elena sat at the other side of the heavy table and picked lightly at a few vegetables. It appeared that neither quite had the courage to start the conversation.

It was not surprising. For the matter they would have to discuss was, if the rumours from Moscow were true, too terrible to speak about.

The silence continued. Occasionally Boris, a little guardedly, allowed his eyes to rest on her, as though he were mulling over some abstract calculation of which she might, or might not, be a part. Once he turned to her and quietly asked after the health of Lev the merchant. On hearing that he was well he nodded his head, but said nothing. Lev was in charge of the collection of local taxes now and was therefore a fellow servant of the Oprichnina Oprichnina with Boris. They acted together in all official matters. with Boris. They acted together in all official matters.

'And our daughter?' she asked him at length.

The girl had been given in marriage to a young noble at the start of the year; he did not live within the Oprichnina Oprichnina, but he was modestly well-off and Boris had satisfied himself of the family's loyalty. Elena suspected that he had been glad to get the girl who was only twelve out of his house and into that of her in-laws. Though he was always kind to his daughter, Elena knew that Boris had never really accepted her existence in place of the son he should have had.

'She is well,' he answered briefly. 'I spoke to her father-in-law.' It was not much; but she did not pursue the subject. From time to time, Boris glanced at her.

Elena seldom went to Moscow now. Despite the fact that her family were there, she did not care to, nor did Boris encourage her to do so.

Since the Oprichnina Oprichnina began, the atmosphere in the capital had been tense and often frightening. Right from the start there had been disappearances and word of executions. From the old princely cities came news of wholesale confiscations, great princes and magnates losing all their lands and being sent to miserable little farms on the distant frontiers of Kazan. 'The whole business is disgusting,' Elena's father told her on one of her few visits to the city. 'Half the people being executed have done nothing at all.' She had heard that, the other day, one brave fellow called Gorbachev, following his father to the block, had picked up his father's head and told the people watching: 'I thank God we both die innocent.' began, the atmosphere in the capital had been tense and often frightening. Right from the start there had been disappearances and word of executions. From the old princely cities came news of wholesale confiscations, great princes and magnates losing all their lands and being sent to miserable little farms on the distant frontiers of Kazan. 'The whole business is disgusting,' Elena's father told her on one of her few visits to the city. 'Half the people being executed have done nothing at all.' She had heard that, the other day, one brave fellow called Gorbachev, following his father to the block, had picked up his father's head and told the people watching: 'I thank God we both die innocent.'

'You know what's most frightening?' her father had continued. 'People think he's kicking these people out to make room for his henchmen, these cursed Oprichniki Oprichniki! Forgive me, I know your Boris is one. But look carefully and you'll see that's not what he's doing. Most of these confiscations haven't been in Oprichnina Oprichnina lands at all. The lands at all. The Oprichnina Oprichnina is full of his supporters. He's actually destroying the opposition outside; then he'll turn these black-shirts loose upon all the rest of us. It's a plot to destroy us all.' is full of his supporters. He's actually destroying the opposition outside; then he'll turn these black-shirts loose upon all the rest of us. It's a plot to destroy us all.'

She had found the Oprichniki Oprichniki terrifying. Some were nobles and gentry but many were little more than peasants. 'Some are even foreigners just common mercenaries,' her mother exclaimed in disgust. 'They have no ties, nothing.' terrifying. Some were nobles and gentry but many were little more than peasants. 'Some are even foreigners just common mercenaries,' her mother exclaimed in disgust. 'They have no ties, nothing.'

Indeed, in their black uniforms and cloaks they looked to Elena like some strangely vicious order of monks.

There was something else her father told her, too.

'Do you know what the latest orders from the Tsar have been? That if any foreigner asks about what's happening, we are to deny that the Oprichnina Oprichnina exists. Can you imagine it? I was in a magnate's house the other day, and an envoy from Lithuania was there. "What about this exists. Can you imagine it? I was in a magnate's house the other day, and an envoy from Lithuania was there. "What about this Oprichnina Oprichnina?" he asks our host. "Never heard of it," says he. "But the Tsar's holed up in a fort outside the city," the fellow protests. "And what about those fellows in black shirts?" "Oh," says the magnate, "that's just a summer residence, and those are some of his servants, a sort of new regiment." There were thirty of us in that room and none of us knew which way to look. But we all kept mum, of course.'

That spring there had been a reprieve for a few of the exiles. But two Metropolitans had resigned, or been forced out, because they couldn't stomach this new terror state.

And now had come this latest, appalling news.

As he looked at Elena, Boris tried to analyze what he saw. She was still the same girl he had married: quiet, a little nervous, anxious to please, yet at the same time capable of taking refuge from him in the web of family and women's relationships from which he felt himself excluded. But there was something else now: suffering had given her a certain quiet dignity, a self-sufficiency that sometimes made him admire her and sometimes made him angry. Was her dignity a reproach to him; was it, even, a sign of scorn?

Only when Boris had finished eating, only when to delay the question any longer would have been absurd, did she finally ask, very quietly: 'So what really happened in Moscow?'

What indeed? It had been Ivan's own idea to call the great council of the people the Zemsky Sobor Zemsky Sobor. And to Boris and everyone else, it had seemed a good idea. Not of course that it was representative in any true sense. They had just collected together nearly four hundred of the gentry, clergy and some leading merchants into an assembly. But even so, that such a body existed at all was a remarkable concession to the people.

For the war in the north had not been successful. Russia needed those Baltic towns, the Poles were opposing them, and the Tsar needed money. The idea of the Zemsky Sobor Zemsky Sobor was to get approval for the war, and the tough new taxes needed, and to show the enemy that the whole country was behind it. The great assembly had met that July. They had agreed to all the Tsar proposed. was to get approval for the war, and the tough new taxes needed, and to show the enemy that the whole country was behind it. The great assembly had met that July. They had agreed to all the Tsar proposed.

There was just one problem. The impertinent assemblymen, supported by the new Metropolitan, petitioned Ivan to give up the Oprichnina Oprichnina. The Tsar was furious. And then ...

Elena watched her husband thoughtfully. It seemed to her that he hesitated. Did he feel guilty? Was he uncomfortable inside his protective skin?

'They were traitors. The Tsar treated them like traitors,' he said gruffly. 'There are still many traitors, many Kurbskys to be rooted out.'

Ah yes, she thought: Kurbsky. Of all the things that had turned the mind of Ivan on its present, dark path, perhaps nothing at least since the death of Anastasia was more important than the desertion of Prince Kurbsky. For in 1564 this commander, who had been one of those Boris had followed to Kazan, had suddenly defected to Lithuania.

It was not that Kurbsky was so important in military terms: he wasn't. But he had been a friend of Ivan's since childhood. It was a desertion that had struck him to the heart.

Historians have since studied a lengthy correspondence between Tsar Ivan and this exiled prince. It has been the centrepiece of several biographies. Recent scholarship reveals that this correspondence, like that other great classic of early Russian Literature, The Lay of Igor's Host The Lay of Igor's Host, may be a later forgery; but forgery or not, it is significant that the terror of Ivan began only months after the departure of this minor prince.

'Is it true that the Tsar locked up the whole assembly?' she asked quietly.

'Only for six days.'

'How many were executed?'

'Only three.'