"Russia land many influences and intrigues. True
history the Russian people inextricable from suppression by aristocrats, czars,
despoiled emperors, empresses, foreigners
from other lands ignoring desires of peasants. They announce rule our people name
of God, may He be Blessed. They not hesitate twist commandments to own methods.
Ivan Terrible - he destroy who, what he
loved more than Peter called Great.
“My
own story begins before Ivan Vasilyevich Grozny-The Terrible, became emperor. Russia in the 1500s was at the start of an
expansion program, a country being colonized. By 1700, it had grown to several
million square miles of officially claimed land. Ivan III and son, Vasili III
Ivanovich - gatherers of lands, populations. But gentle Vasili’s son, Ivan IV,
born 1530 with horrible fate already sealed. Father’s first wife could not
produce male heir, was disposed of. Marriage to second wife denounced by Russian
monk who declared male heir “pure evil. “
Upon saying this, Moskovitz produced a thin
piece of paper, folded and tucked into a small brown pouch. He offered it to Levene
who was already entranced. He unrolled the small bit of linen. It was written
in Russian, but Levene committed it to memory as Moskovitz translated for him.
“If
you should do this evil thing, you shall have an evil son. Your
nation shall become prey to terrors and tears. Rivers of blood will flow, the heads
of the mighty will fall, and your cities will be devoured by flames.”
“Yes, those words were truth,” Levene
said. “He was raised with little but
cruelty and violence in childhood. Do you think his behavior as a tyrant was a
result of mental instability?”
“No doubt”, Moskovitz replied. Father die
several years later. Ivan, new ruler Russian kingdom assumes control Boyar
class Russian nobility. All hate teenaged king, plot kill him. His mother
poisoned when Ivan eight. Major powers torture, executed each other - struggle for power. Ivan reach adulthood very suspicious
of confidants, councils. Began show signs of - what you call “paranoia” –
defined life. My story begin with Ivan Vasiliyevich Grosny but more complicated.”
Moskovitz now produced another small folder and
laid it open before Levene. He proceeded with his story in heavily accepted
Russian.
“Here is
record his eight marriages. First three wives met untimely ends. First wife, Anastasia
Romanovna - six children, was
poisoned, perhaps mercury. Second wife he loved, Maria Temryukovna. Became
mean, spiteful - eventually untimely end. Was murdered by Ivan? Wife three, Marfa Sobakina
died same way. Ivan desperate for male heir, greater political control. He
again propose to marry.
In 1572 chooses Anna Koltovskaya,
daughter of courtesan. Ivan never ask Russian Orthodox Church for blessing. After
not two years without a male heir, Ivan send her convent near Belarusian
border, then called Vedenski-Tikhvinski, near northwestern city of Vitebsk, belonged to Lithuania. Under
laws at time, he was barred from re-entering Russia. Ivan dispose of her, as one
throws waste in barrel.”
“Why did he send her so far away from Muscovy?
She was no threat to him, certainly.”
“True, but
Church’s refusal to grant fourth marriage great embarrassment. They wrote: man’s
first marriage law; second, extraordinary concession, third marriage, violation
of law. If fourth, impiety, state similar to animals.”
At
this, Moskovitz threw his head back and laughed. “That angered Ivan, you can imagine? Yet he
married four more times!”
Levene
sat back and contemplated the things he’d learned. He still wondered where his
services would begin to be evident. But the other man suddenly packed his
papers back into his briefcase. He stood to put on his heavy coat.
“Mr.
Levene, excellent reputation for investigation precedes you. Day spoken for, still
much to explain before asking your services. Great amount good comes from investigations.”
The
men shook hands. “I’m sorry you’re
leaving so soon, Mr. Moskovitz. When can we resume?”
They
made an appointment for the next day in Levene’s apartment. Moskovitz left
quickly through the rear door of the library, looking all around himself as he
did so. He and his precious briefcase were soon out of sight.
******************
Levene
reached his apartment late in the afternoon with his deli sandwich smelling
strongly through the paper. It intoxicated him. Mrs. Greenleaf hailed him as he
walked though the wide entrance. Her door was usually open so she could see who
came and went. From a table near her door she handed him a glassful of reddish
green liquid. He stared at it suspiciously. This was a favorite pastime of
hers.
"Vos is los? What is this?"
"Just
what you need to relax from a busy day of thinking, a glass of happiness!" She smiled coyly and looked at him.
Levene
stared at the witch’s brew. He wanted to vomit. Smell of beet juice spiked with
grass. Was she trying to poison him
because he was Jewish?
"Really,
Mrs. Greenleaf, I don't think you should --"
But
she just winked at him and tilted her head in a coy manner. He sighed and tipped his cap at her, blushing
with embarrassment as he hurried away.
When
the elevator stopped at his floor, Levene hustled out, thinking of his many
cases that awaited solution. The lobby was wide and well lit. Mrs. Deutsch was
on her knees scrubbing at the tiles along one side of the hall. Mr. Deutsch was
scrubbing tiles along the other side. She and her husband were the building's
caretakers. They always fastidiously cleaned each of the nine floors during
each week, beginning Mondays with floor number one, then proceeding to the
second and third floors each Tuesday. Wednesdays found them earnestly scrubbing
walls and windows on four and five, while the sixth floor, where several dogs
were in residence, weathered the meticulous Deutsch detail on Thursdays.
The
seventh and eighth floors were on taps for Friday scrubbing. Finally the German
couple appeared on Levene’s floor every Saturday morning at 9 a.m. to the
minute, never leaving before 6 p.m. They never varied from their weekly
routine. There were staircases, public washrooms, several common rooms with
small kitchens, refrigerators, chairs, condiments, and more. The pungent,
nose-exploding smell of Lysol reached into every corner of every foot of space.
It drowned out the meaty fragrance of Levene’s corned beef and pastrami and
made him gag. Sometimes the stink was so bad Levene took to the stairs in
defense, but after the third set of steps he was bushed and had to eat his
sandwich there in the stairwell until he had enough strength to tackle the
remaining 42 steps to the ninth floor lobby. He acquired the habit of never
leaving his apartment on a Saturday unless necessary, and holding his breath
whenever he entered the building, not exhaling again until his key met its lock
at his apartment door.
Only
on Sundays were the tenants free of their captors’ presence. Strangely, Mr. and
Mrs. Deutsch were never seen leaving their apartment. A “No Disturb” placard in German and English always hung on their
doorknob. They never attended a church nor were seen by tenants on the
boulevard, alone or together. They were never sick nor did they vacation from their work. They were never
heard to laugh, shout, cough or wipe a brow. They exhibited all the efficiency
of their race. No one could find fault with their work, or dare try. Levene
sometimes felt a shudder when he passed their lobby.
