When I laid down for slumber in an army tent that night, sleep stole me away from the waking world like a thief, so exhausted I was. Mists of thought began to unravel into a familiar place filled with familiar people.

It was a cloudless day, and there was a gentle breeze that carried our old chaika along the length of the Dnieper. Our fearless leader Captain Tokar stood on the bow of the boat, hands on his hips, like a majestic statue of an old Greek hero. The others, Yehor, Stefan, the Kirilenko brothers, and a dozen others rowed the boat while Misha and I kept watch with our muskets for any Tatars along the riverbanks. Misha gave me a yellow-toothed grin and asked me,

“What are you going to do with your share?”

“I know you want me to say that I would pay you back for my gambling debts,” I groaned, “but a man has needs.”

“Am I not a man? Do I not have needs as well?”

“Bread is a need, Misha. Water is a need. Whores and kvass are not. And you of all people should be thinking of bread to put meat on those bones. You may suckle a whore’s tits all you want, but you will gain no nourishment.”

We laughed for a moment, until an arrow struck him in the throat.

The sky became black with arrows. They pierced through my comrades, ripping them to shreds until there were only piles of flesh, arrows covering their cadavers like the quills of a hedgehog. The torrent of missiles tore through the boat in such a heavy downpour that arrows landed even the splinters that were thrown up from the destruction.

But I was untouched. I remained sitting on my piece of driftwood, silently floating through darkness on black water.

“Coward…” whispered a voice from the water beneath me. I looked into the murky depths to see the face of Captain Tokar. He had arrows in both eyes and the blood from his corpse clouded the water till it was a dark red.

“Traitor…” I looked to the other side to see Misha peering at me from the red water as well. “Does our brotherhood mean nothing to you?”

“You were like family!” I yelled back. “But what would you have me do, die with you?”

“We would have you stand and fight!” more faces emerged from the water. Yehor, Stefan, the Kirilenkos…

“You think only of yourself, your own life, your own freedom. We are ashamed to have bled by your side.”

I felt a warm wetness on my head. Blood. It began trickling down into my eyes and mouth. I could feel it coming through my nose.

“You lived for yourself, and you will die for yourself.”

The words echoed through my head as the darkness consumed me whole.

“Wake up.”

I opened my eyes to see Lieutenant Morozova standing over me. Sounds of clinking pans and marching started to fill my ears. The sun had not yet risen. I put my hands on my face, but felt no blood.

“You were muttering in your sleep. It’s time to rise anyway.”

“What time is it?” I groaned, pretending that the nightmare did not scare me.

“It should be about the witching hour,” she chuckled. “Were you having a nightmare? Never mind that, it’s time to rise. Your companion Andrei Vasilyevich is already up and about. Come on, get up. The regiment is preparing to supply themselves with breakfast.”

“Thank you, Your Nobility. Is there any chance you would care to join me?”

Without another word, she walked away to wake up the rest of her platoon. I shook my head and rolled out of my straw cot. The other soldiers who had been sleeping in the tent with me had since gathered their gear and left. I was thankful that I was not carrying anything they could steal while I slumbered.

Andrei came into the tent with a bowl of buckwheat kasha and a cup of water. He placed them before me and smiled.

“What is this?” I asked, making sure that he noted my suspicion.

“Breakfast, monsieur.”

“Misye?”

“It is the how the French address their…”

“Why are you calling me this?”

“During the night, while you were asleep, I was summoned by the czarina. She instructed me to care for you as a guest while you are in our company.”

“Ah,” I said. It was curious how the woman who had displaced my people did not seem to bear any hatred against me as an individual. “Thank you, Andrei Vasilyevich.”

“You are quite welcome, monsieur. Have you decided on what you will take for your boon?”

Although I longed for a life of freedom, my brothers would haunt me forever if I did not avenge them somehow. A life on the sea captaining my own fleet would be glorious, but I would first have to deliver steel to the enemy. Perhaps I could do both.

“I was thinking about asking her for a command of a vessel in Prince Potemkin’s Black Sea Fleet.”

Andrei pursed his lips and thought for a moment before saying, “But monsieur, do you have any sailing experience?”

“But of course! I have piloted a chaika up and down the Dnieper more times than I can count. Is not the ocean simply a very large lake with saltwater?”

Andrei cocked his head to the side in the same manner a dog does when confused.

“Monsieur, I feel that it is my responsibility to inform you that the ocean is far more dangerous than you think it is. There are things such as squalls, dangerous beasts, and pirates to consider.”

“I was one such pirate, Andrei Vasilyevich,” I said with a smile. “And I have weathered many storms before. I fail to see how this will be any different.”

Andrei shrugged, “Well, the decision is ultimately yours. I just thank God Almighty that I will not be along for that journey. Her Majesty rises from her bed at the seventh hour of the morning. It is currently the fourth hour. You have a little time left to decide on your decision. May all the saints guide you.”

With that, he gave me a courteous bow and left me to be alone with my kasha and water. I sat there, eating the warm buckwheat porridge and contemplating my decision. Originally, I had desired only to further my own wealth, conducting raids along seaports just as I did with my crew. The ghosts of my brothers would not allow my selfishness to reign over me. Vengeance would be wrought upon the Tatars.

As I stirred my kasha, deep in thought, I wondered if I would have to conduct my Tatar campaign under the flag of the Russians. If I did so, I would be bound to the czarina’s service for life, as the service traditionally required. It is true that I knelt before her, but I never kissed the cross — I never swore my fealty to this “Czarina Catherine,” despite her belief that I was her subject. I would avenge my brothers, but in swearing my service to her, I would be just another pawn on the czarina’s chessboard. My existence as a Cossack would lose its meaning, for we live beholden to no one, and when we die we are only beholden to God.

Once I finished my breakfast, I ventured outside my tent to wander about camp and ponder my dilemma. Many of the soldiers were already performing morning exercises: marching, bayonet training, and rifle drills. All except for the merry band of Black Sea Marines that I met yesterday. There they were, sitting around their own private campfire, joking and laughing and sharing more tankards of kvass. If I wanted an opinion on my possible service at sea, I reasoned that these were the men to ask about it. At the risk of getting into yet another fight, I approached them bearing a smile.

As I came nearer, they stopped laughing just as they had done before. The Silesian was once again the first to speak up.

“Hohol, you return,” he said with a smile. I tensed up my fist, ready for a brawl, but maintained my outward pleasant demeanor.

“Good morning, friends,” I said with a slight bow. “May I join you?”

The Silesian flashed a toothy grin and extended his hand.

“But of course! I am called Vojta Hanzak, very pleased to meet you.”

I shook his hand and looked around at the faces of all the marines-to-be. The tension that was there the day before had been replaced by jovial reception, and each man greeted me in turn. They were an assorted lot; among them were some Russians, but the others were Poles, Greeks, Latvians, and Moldovans. They each told me their names, but I found most of them impossible.

“I cannot help but wonder,” I said as I sat down, “Why are you being given such special treatment? I see the other greencoats training out there in the field, doing their marches and drills, but all of you sit here idling.”

“We are the specials, you see,” said Vojta, pouring me a glass of kvass. “The czarina, she needing able men to fight in new navy. We foreigners who far away from home have no place to run, no place we would like to die other than army of Russians. The admirals know we who have travelled from the far aways have hearts of volunteers, and our bravery means much to them. They tell us sit here and drink because we may travel for years on those boats. Away from grass, away from women, away from even animals. We toast our long voyage and the firm earth we stand upon.”

“You seem happy to be leaving. Do you long for the sea that much?”

Vojta laughed, “Pierunie, of course not! We are, as you say, ‘land rats,’ and I do not understand a boat’s up from a boat’s down, but,” he pointed to a formation marching in the distance. “Better to be marine at sea and have boat carry you, than be soldier on land and march thirty verst a day.”

I laughed. There was logic in Vojta’s broken Russian, and I agreed that it would indeed be easier to sail for a day than to ride or march nonstop through the steppe. Our conversation carried on until the sun rose, and I felt that the men had mixed feelings about their new assignment. A Russian private soldier named Toptunov complained that he would miss his woman and that she would be taken by another while they were out at sea. Another reassured him that on their voyages, they would find many women, and he would not be lonely. He did not take kindly to that remark. The Greek, Petrakis, said it had been too long since he had felt the spray of the ocean on his face and truly missed it.

I listened to the men with open ears and an open mind, and found myself nodding in agreement to most of what was said. It seemed that even under the czarina, a life on the sea might not be that bad. In the back of my mind though, I knew I was listening to a band of lads who had only been told what they were to expect, and most of them had never even set foot on a naval vessel before. The spirit of caution lingered, whispering in my ear that their words were not ironclad.

With the rising of the sun came the responsibility of choice. I decided that I would not idle by and wear out the czarina’s welcome. I bid the boys a hearty thanks and farewell and proceeded for the czarina’s royal pavilion. As I approached, I found Andrei, standing vigilantly, awaiting my arrival.

“Bonjour, Monsieur Kazansky,” he said with a bow. “Have you finally decided?”

“You are Russian,” I grumbled. “Speak Russian. And on that matter, yes, I have decided. I am ready to speak to Her Highness.”

Andrei raised an eyebrow in mock surprise and gave me a cheeky smirk before entering the tent. From behind the thin canvas flaps, I heard him say,

“Your Majesty, the Cossack who rescued your horse wishes an audience.”

After a moment, Andrei ushered me in. The czarina’s pavilion still had the same regal air as before. Most of the uniformed officers were absent, except the one in the golden uniform, whom I remembered had scolded me. Upon her throne sat Catherine, dressed comfortably in white furs and a simple ushanka. The czarina and her officer looked at me, and I remembered to bow low and avert my gaze.

“So, Cossack,” said the czarina, “we trust that you had ample time to decide on what recompense you might get for the noble act of retrieving our horse?”

“Yes, Your Highness.” I breathed in deep, making sure to choose my words with the utmost precision. “It is my belief that I stand to gain the most in service to you.”

The czarina steepled her fingers and leaned back in her throne.

“You already serve us, Cossack. For are you not a subject of our empire? Do you not reap the benefits of its wealth by our hand? For this, you are subject to our whims. Or is your czarina mistaken?”

“Of course not, Your Highness,” I said, swallowing my pride. The czarina held no real authority over Cossack lands, but I wanted to show no traces of insubordination. “I merely wish to serve you in a manner that would allow you to utilize all of my skills as a warrior and boatman.” Although my eyes were still downcast, I could hear the shuffling feet of the man with the golden coat. “If it pleases Your Highness, I wish for a captaincy in your new Black Sea Fleet, so that I may…”

“Outrageous!” cried the man in the golden coat.

“Prince Potemkin!” the czarina cried out, “You will not overrule my authority in my own court!”

I looked up for a moment. I had heard that the prince and the czarina were intimate, but to see it for myself, they seemed to me like husband and wife, quarreling over my remark as if it was some shared duty by a married couple.

“My twin soul, I apologize, but we cannot put this… peasant… in command of one of my ships!”

“I would thank you not to use such intimate language when we are conducting official business, Prince Potemkin,” said the czarina. Her tone was strong but measured. “I remind you that those are my ships in my navy. I will command them as I see fit and send them where I will.” Turning to me, she asked, “Cossack, to allay the good prince’s apprehensions, what experience do you have with sailing?”

“I have sailed many times up and down the Dnieper River, Your Highness. I have experience with both oars and sail.”

“On a damned chaika, of course,” muttered Potemkin, as he sat down beside the czarina.

She noticed his anxiety and said, “Is this an issue for you, then?”

“Indeed it is,” said the prince. He leaned forward in his chair and looked me straight in the eye, “Cossack, I will ask you a simple question. If you answer me correctly, you will have my full confidence. If you do not, I leave that in the hands of our czarina.”

I swallowed, but nodded in affirmation.

The prince spoke very slowly, “When your vessel is under duress in violent weather, and your helm is destroyed, what method would you use to regain control of her steerage?”

I froze. I had never once been out on the open ocean, and if I did not try to make myself look at least somewhat credible, I would lose a chance of getting anything at all. My mind raced as I tried to recall anything similar that might have happened to me on the Dnieper. There may have been a single time when we were caught in a thunderstorm, but that was ages ago.

“I believe I would first reef the sails and then drop anchor, Your Highness.”

Potemkin sighed and said, “You believe or you would?”

“I… would, Your Highness. It is important to make sure that the vessel is headed windward in… um…”

Potemkin groaned to the czarina, “Your Majesty, this man would be the ruin of any vessels he were to command and the death of any men that might serve under him. Might I suggest just giving him a bit of gold and sending him on his way instead?”

“Nonsense, Prince Potemkin. If this man wishes to serve his sovereign then let him serve us. I have an idea that might benefit ourselves as well as this him.”

I furrowed my brow. What could I possibly do now that I had self-sabotaged any chance of a captaincy in the Black Sea Fleet? Would I serve as an ordinary private soldier in the czarina’s army? Would I receive a horse and join the traitorous registered Cossacks in her cavalry to slay dissidents in times of unrest?

The czarina leaned closer to Potemkin and spoke in a low, serious tone that I could just barely hear. “You know as well as I do that there is an abundance of foreign ‘talent’ in Russia. That Scotsman Colonel Bruce is a stellar example. While I recognize and appreciate the value of foreign knowledge, I would very much like to see a Russian navy with Russian ships sailed by Russian captains within my lifetime.”

Potemkin looked at me, then back to the czarina. “Your Majesty, this man is a Cossack. He’s barely Russian at all.”

“And I was born a German, yet now I am Russia. If he speaks the language, lives within our domain under our protection, and follows the Orthodox faith, then he is Russian too.” She glanced at me and continued speaking to Potemkin, “I would rather have someone that speaks the language commanding my sailors than these Englishmen who refuse to learn and insist on barking to the men in a language they can barely grasp.”

“Matushka we already have a plethora of capable Russian captains and admirals. Take Ushakov, for instance.”

“Ushakov? Ah, yes. Excellent admiral that man. To think, the inception of his career was marked by his piloting of my yacht some years ago. A truly august fellow, but,” the czarina raised a finger, “He was not trained in Europe. I propose sending this man to the west, to learn all that he can from the masters of the open sea, just as we did with our officers before the so-called 'great powers' of Europe decided that we were in the wrong for taking the Crimea from those monstrous Turks.”

“Your Majesty, while the admiralty may have been amenable to such an arrangement in years past, I do not believe that the current political climate will see our rivals the Dutch, the French, the Spanish, or the English take too kindly to training one of our own in their maritime matters.”

Catherine smiled, “That is why he must travel incognito, as Peter did before him.”

A spy. The czarina would turn me into a spy to learn European sailing and return to her a seaman skilled in modern naval warfare.

“What say you, Cossack?” she asked.

“I live to serve, Your Highness.”