Princess Irina and Her Serf Slaves

— Where are my serf men, where are my slaves?! I ordered all the serfs to be gathered. I want to look at them," rang out the clear voice of the estate's mistress.

— Right away, my lady, messengers have been sent throughout the estate, some are in the field, some at other tasks. You yourself ordered, ma'am, to give no slack, so that your serfs, my lady, would work from dawn till dusk," reported Nikita, the 50-year-old serf steward, to his mistress timidly and obsequiously, bowing his head low.

The lady-mistress, Princess Irina—a maiden of eighteen years, after the death of her only parent, Prince Pavel Petrovich Rakitksy (her mother had passed away during childbirth)—from the ancient,

wealthy and renowned family of the Rakitksy princes, entered her inheritance, receiving a vast estate with ten thousand serf souls and capital, they say, of over a million rubles. The guardian until the young princess's majority was appointed by the deceased's will as the young beauty's uncle, her mother's brother, Count Zefirov, an old libertine, who, by and large, cared nothing for the upbringing of the young aristocrat nor for managing her affairs.

The young ruler was at that tender age when she is no longer a little girl but not yet a woman. Slender, even somewhat thin, of no more than average height, a pale face with elegant, fine, noble features in which her breeding was visible to the naked eye, bright blue, intelligent eyes with a radiant gaze, in which, nevertheless, a certain coldness and imperiousness could be read, flaxen curls of hair falling onto thin little shoulders, a chest that had only just appeared, small, firm, and already sharply defined, plus thousands of serf slaves and a million-ruble fortune—all this promised the young charmer good prospects in life.

— What is this, Nikita?

— It's an official paper, ma'am, they are requesting a conscription levy, a decision is needed, mistress. They demand ten male souls from you, mistress, for 25 years of service, ma'am.

— Well, and why are you, fool, shoving this at me?!" the young beauty asked coldly. "Or did you yourself want to serve the Tsar-Father?" she asked with a slight smirk.

— God forbid, my lady, and I'm not of the right age anymore," replied the submissive slave to his still very young mistress, smiling ingratiatingly.

— Well, we'll see about that, whether you're suitable or not," suddenly angered, declared the young mistress to the stunned servant. "Write yourself down as the first one, you brute.

— Have mercy, mistress!" The adult, healthy, sturdy man, slightly touched with gray, in fear and trembling, prostrated himself at the feet of the eighteen-year-old girl, his mistress, owner, and ruler, who was given the right to completely decide the fate of him and ten thousand others like him, powerless slaves. Who could simply, for amusement, tear a man who had, in essence, lived his life, away from his family, and even had the right to decide whether this person lived or died. "Have mercy, my lady, five little children, a wife wasting away with consumption, any moment she might die, the children are still small, they'll be left orphans, they have absolutely no one, spare me, mistress, I beg you by Christ God, by the memory of your late father, do not destroy the children! I will be your slave forever...

— What?!?" the young mistress cried out again, even more angrily. "You blockhead, you are already my slave forever, what nonsense are you spouting?!

— I am at fault, my lady, I blurted out in the heat of the moment, truly I am your slave, forever I am, was, and will be, mistress, do not destroy me!" And Nikita began to kiss the shoes of his young ruler fiercely and frantically.

— How many more recruits are needed, read the paper, you brute, instead of spraying my feet with your slobber.

— I obey, mistress," the slave mumbled, wiping away tears. "Ten souls, they demand, ma'am," Nikita croaked, still not rising from his knees. "So they ask Your Grace to decide by tomorrow, ma'am, whom to appoint. Aged from 17 to (here Nikita hesitated) to... 50 years old, strong in health and sound of mind, ma'am.

— Well, write yourself down as the first one, I want it that way, simply I want it THAT way—and that's final!" the young charmer shouted shrilly, lifting her dress slightly, baring her white, tender, slender legs, stamping her little heel loudly, and bursting into infectious, ringing laughter...

— My lady!!!" Nikita cried out in despair, fully prostrated at the small, neat, beautiful feet of his ruler! "Little children, a wife on her deathbed... my lady, mistress, do not destroy me!!!

— Ivan!" Stamping her heel menacingly again, the young mistress called her coachman, who was nearby.

— Ivan, take this..."—the mistress nodded haughtily towards the steward lying on the ground...—"to the stables and give him twenty... wait... twenty-five lashes of the whip, one lash for each year of future service, and give the brute a good steaming, so he knows how to contradict his mistress, lock him up there until morning, in the morning the recruiters will come—hand him over as a soldier. Sell his wife and children together, you can do it cheaply, don't haggle too much, she's of little use, she's sickly, the children will be a burden to me. Offer her to the neighboring landowner Kirill Andreevich, or better yet to some distant province, so they're completely out of sight. If you can't sell her, leave her in the cellar overnight, she'll go faster that way.

Don't stand on ceremony too much. And also, line up all the male serfs from 17 to 50, whomever I point to—hand that one over to the recruiters along with Nikitka. I don't want to hear anything about them or from them, simply whomever I point to—that one will go as a soldier for 25 years. You, brainless brute, I appoint as my steward instead of this disobedient one.

— I hear, my lady," Ivan thudded to his knees before the young but mature-beyond-her-years charmer. And immediately, with one hand, he grabbed Nikitka by the hair and dragged him off to the stables to be flogged, carrying out his mistress's command. "Stop!" his young mistress, the young Princess Irina, called out to him. "First kiss my little heel, and mind you don't slobber on it like this one, or I'll send you after Nikitka."—the mistress again slightly lifted her dress, baring a lovely little leg—"And also, I heard you want to get married?

— Yes, my lady," Ivan noticeably paled.

— Who is she? One of my slave girls?" the young beauty inquired haughtily.

— Exactly so, mistress, from your cooks, ma'am, her name is Agrafena, ma'am," the strapping man answered in a trembling voice.

— Bring her to me, I'll look at her first, the wife of my steward must be a stately wench, she must be suitable. If I don't like her—I myself will point out whom you are to take.

— I obey, mistress"—Ivan again fell to his knees and kissed the young princess's heel, she disdainfully withdrew her foot.

Nikita, unable to bear the cruel beating and the fate prepared for him by his young mistress, gave up the ghost on the 24th lash from the new steward, who knew his business well. His wife together with the children was sold to a landowner of N-province; they say she soon died, and the children—some died, some became beggars. Ivan was strictly forbidden to marry, and not because the bride didn't suit the mistress's taste, but in general, just because, simply because the young mistress wanted it THAT way.

And with her serfs, her most loyal slaves, this young girl was free to act at Her discretion. The would-be bride Agrafena, on the young princess's order, was first flogged by Ivan, then harnessed to the cart in which the young princess rode, laughing and bubbling with her girlish laughter, then, on the mistress's order, he placed his beloved in a specially dug pit, where she, on the mistress's order, after being in the cold without food or drink, passed away on the fifth day, and was buried there by Ivan, like a dog. He himself was ordered to castrate himself, and thus he served as a eunuch to his young goddess, Princess Irina.

Author's e-mail: rаkitsky.sеrеgа@yаndеx.ru