infinite wisdom of God, I find that I am desperate to get outside to void my bowels."
Father Lukas waved him out. "By all means, go, go."
Sergei rushed away.
Outside, he looked around. Where could he possibly hide the manuscripts? He thought of hurrying home to his mother's house, but no, his mother, the poor trusting soul, had apparently befriended Baba Yaga unawares. She could hardly be relied on to keep such a secret as this - she'd confess it first thing to Father Lukas himself.
Is there time to bury it?
There was no place where Sergei had any privacy, no place where he could conceal something and hope that it would remain undisturbed. Should he leave the parchments under a rock in the woods and hope they would still be there when he had a chance to get back to them? He might as well have really put the parchments in the fire as to leave them exposed to the elements like that.
This was all Ivan's fault, thinking of this mad project in the first place Now Sergei was going to go to hell for another man's sin.
Be honest, he told himself. You thought it was crazy but you went along with it. And once you started writing, you warmed to it right enough. It's not for Ivan's sake anymore that you want to keep these parchments safe. It's because you love the way you wrote the stories on them.
Could there be a clearer case of loving your own sins?
Still, Ivan started it. Sergei might have no place to call his own, but Ivan was the husband of the princess. Let him deal with it.
Sergei headed back inside the king's house. In the corridor, he could hear the voices of Father Lukas and the king; they were still inside Ivan's old room. If they came out, Sergei would be right back where he started.
The revelers were still chanting and singing and laughing outside the house, but there was no one in the corridor. If Sergei knocked loudly enough to be heard over the noise outside the window, Father Lukas and the king would also hear, and would no doubt come out into the corridor to see who was knocking.
Sergei had no choice. He reached down, pulled the latch of the door, and slipped inside the bridal chamber, closing the door silently after himself. He was careful to keep his eyes to the wall as he fumbled inside his robe to pull out the parchments.
He had half-expected a screech from the startled bride or an exclamation from Ivan, but there was not a sound. Then he heard a chuckle from Katerina.
"Look what God has sent us," she said.
"You can turn around," said Ivan.
There stood the princess, fully clothed. And Ivan, in his linen tunic. Nobody naked, thank God. They were standing side by side, looking at him, the princess with amusement, Ivan with consternation.
"Sorry to interrupt," said Sergei. He held out the parchments.
Ivan strode to him, took them. "This isn't the moment I would have chosen."
"I didn't choose the moment," said Sergei. "The king has given Father Lukas the room you were using. Since you won't need it now."
"What sort of conspiracy is this?" asked the princess. "I thought these parchments burned."
Ivan unrolled them and showed her the back of one. He knew that she was literate; she had studied for her baptism far more rigorously than he had. In the ninth century it was not yet shocking for a woman to read - it was shocking for anyone to read.
She scanned Sergei's writing quickly, just a few sentences. "The story of I-Know-Not-What? Why would you write this down?" Then she shook her head. "It was for this that you wanted parchment, Ivan?"
"These stories have all been changed in my time. No one understands how old they are, and how they used to be."
"But they're just stories." Katerina shook her head. "Never mind. I have no hope of understanding you. I feel sorry for the trouble you'll get Sergei in, when this comes out."
"Why would it come out?" asked Ivan, looking her in the eye.
"I see," she said. "All right, I'll keep these in my room. The secret won't come out."
"Thank you," said Sergei. He laid his hand upon the latch, ready to leave again. But Katerina's voice stopped him.
"Not so fast," she said. "I need something from you in return."
"What?" asked Sergei. "Anything."
"I need you to go fetch Father Lukas. Tell him that I wish him to come into this room, just