The stair brought them up. With every step the rumble fell away below, and the air changed: damp gave way to dryness, sweetness to ink. Down there lay the body of the treasury; here - its brain.
Alexander came out first. He went straight to the table and sat. The scribes lifted their eyes, but did not rise: only the quills slowed, ink dragging into an extra drop. Stanislav took his place at the side, the gridni closed in nearby.
Behind them climbed Radomir, the scribes, and the key-keeper. The treasurer paused a beat: the prince was seated in his place - and clearly was not going to move. The old man nodded to the key-keeper; at once the hatch was shut and sealed.
The scribes passed over tablets with notes on the store and the prince's orders. Radomir took them, skimmed quickly, kept one, returned the rest. Then he sat opposite - where he was not meant to sit, but where now there was nothing to do except listen to the prince.
Alexander raised his gaze:
- Good. Now we come to what I came for
Radomir lifted a brow a little. He caught the weight in the prince's words: what had passed was a tally; now the true account would begin.
- To what, then? - he asked.
Alexander ran his palm over a wax tablet, as if wanting to wipe all the separate lines and draw them into one. He waited a moment. Then said it flat:
- Bring me the book where all of this is written. Revenues. Expenses. All at once. I've checked the stores; now I want to check the numbers
He expected Radomir to rise and order a heavy leather-bound book brought - the one where everything came together. But the old man only frowned. The fingers on the staff twitched, barely.
- Prince… we have no such book. Nor was there one under Grand Prince Yaroslav
Alexander threw up his head sharply. His eyes narrowed.
- How is there - none? - surprise, almost anger, cut his voice. - The Romans have them. The Franks - have them. Even the Saracens keep account in books. Is it possible Rus' - does not?
For a heartbeat the hut went too quiet.
In the corner one of the scribes flicked up his eyes and with the slightest curl of lip almost smiled, as if to say "the prince does not know the simple." But the smile froze of itself - the fellow beside him coughed, jerked back an elbow, the sign clear: "Silence."
Radomir cast them a brief look. No words. And both dropped their heads at once, burying themselves in their tablets, as if they had written themselves into the expense column.
He went on evenly, as though he had noticed nothing. He slid a rubbed tablet toward the prince and laid a rolled strip of birchbark beside it.
- We keep account by a bundle. Rough work - on wax tablets. Receipts - on birchbark. Final writs - on parchment under seal. They're kept in Sophia and in the key cities
He touched the cord on the birchbark with a finger, as though underscoring the order.
- Every movement of value goes with a tag and a seal. Reckoning in silver is by weight; all else - by in-kind rolls. So it has always been
Alexander took the tablet and ran the stylus along old grooves. Ink did not live here, only a scratch and the trace of wax. His hand paused - and stilled. His look drew past the figures, farther than the tablet itself.
The scribes swallowed. Stanislav shifted his belt; the gridni leaned a little forward. But the prince did not see them - his thoughts had gone farther.
He turned the stylus in his fingers, peered into the grooves. The lines were separate, each by itself - like Rus' itself.
"They haven't had time yet on Rus'…" he understood. His father Yaroslav had built much: scribes, parchment, tablets, seals, scales. The offices too - tiuns, ognishchane, toll-men, fine-collectors. But everything pulled apart. No center. No single account.
It snagged not on iron or ink - but on men. On their discipline, on the boyars' willfulness. That is cured by only one thing: regulation, numbering, a cross-check of seals and scales. Rewards - and punishments.
- Prince, is something amiss? - Radomir broke the silence for the first time. In it there was not only worry for the treasury, but for his scribes, who might pay for another man's word.
Alexander lifted his eyes. He looked straight, calmly. The bewilderment was gone - only clarity and resolve remained.
- We will do as the Romans (Byzantium) do
Radomir did not blink. But his throat twitched. A cough rose - as from the dust of an old scroll. He clenched the staff, as if barring not air but words.
- What do you mean, prince?
- With them the treasury holds not on sacks and chests, but on books. Every household - on a list. How much land, how many cattle, how much he owes in silver. Tax goes by those books. Above them - one treasury that brings all revenue together. Beneath it - offices: stipends to the war-host, gifts to the churches, oversight of the market. Everything through entries and seals
He was quoting as if from memory. Like a man into whom it had once been hammered - and now it would not leave.
Stanislav frowned and gripped his sword-hilt as in battle when he hears an order he does not yet understand. The scribes glanced at each other; a quill cracked, the wax took an extra scratch. Everyone heard the sound.
The gridni did not grasp the words, but they felt the change: they stood more tense, as if the prince spoke not of accounts but of war.
- In Tsargrad even markets and craft are under oversight. Guilds, prices, tolls - all in a book. And the treasury watches over all
Radomir listened. There was doubt in his gaze - and cautious respect. He remembered Alexander as a boy, racing to the host and hating books. Now he spoke as if he held the Romans' treasury in his hands.
The old man caught the break - but did not probe it. Every ruler hides something: force or thought. To a treasurer it matters not where knowledge comes from, but what it turns into.
He could not hold and cut in:
- Prince… in broad strokes we know how it is with the Romans. But if your father could have repeated it - he would have already repeated it
- Then why did he not? - Alexander stilled, eyes narrowing as if to read the sense inside the words. - Rus' is vast as Rome. And there are resources
Radomir sighed. He gripped the staff with both hands, as if seeking a brace in the wood. For a blink something like weariness crossed his gaze: the prince spoke so surely of the Romans' treasury - and knew so little of his own.
- The Romans - tax in money. Therefore they need books: land, stock, plowland. We - collect tribute and levy in kind. Honey, wax, fur. If we're lucky - silver. A very different account
He nodded slightly to the scribe at the end of the table. The man set before the prince a tablet with the latest summaries: what came in, what went out, what remained.
- That's how we keep it. In lots. To keep descriptive books, you need hundreds of scribes, constant censuses. It costs more than the levy itself. Easier to reckon by lots: what was gathered, what went out, what remained
He fell silent. He looked at the prince evenly, without a challenge, but as if offering: if you want to argue - argue.
Silence settled in the hut. Only quills whispered over parchment - thin, measured, as if the treasury itself breathed by the count. The lamp snapped pitch, and the soot-scent lay over the ink. Even that steady scrape seemed to wait for an answer.
Alexander sat unmoving. His temples throbbed, his thoughts tangled. What had seemed a model - cracked at the first argument. His fingers tensed a moment - he wanted to strike the table with his fist and sweep away the tablets. He only ran his palm over his face.
A deep breath. As if he drew air through stone. The hum in his head ebbed. One thought remained: if you cannot copy - then you must build your own. Better.
He opened his eyes. His look went hard.
- I do not say to copy, - his voice was iron now. - I say to surpass
The rustle of quills ceased. The wax - uncut, the ink - a bead. The treasury stopped breathing.
The torch cracked - short, like a seal struck over his words.
Radomir raised a brow - and almost smiled: the youth stumbles on the simple, yet thinks farther than the grown.
His fingers moved through his beard - counting. He remembered how, with Yaroslav, he had reconciled the new with the familiar. Then they wrote Rus upon stone; now - upon a book. One "Book of the Treasury" would replace dozens of tablets and seals: no rummaging in chests, no weeks of reconciliation - all before the eyes.
He held his tongue, but the staff creaked in his grip: the thought is young - and dangerously simple.
Alexander saw it: the whole hut was listening.
- I propose we make a register. That means: make a book, one per year. The Book of the Treasury. Not hundreds of tablets, but one ledger. A clear structure. What is due - and what has come. Silver, honey, wax, furs. What has gone out - to the host, the court, the roads. All in one place
He leaned in. Just enough to make the air tighter.
- It lies straight atop Princess Olga's reforms. The polyudye has long been pressed out by the system of uroki and pogosts with their collectors. All that remains is to draw it into one
In that instant something jarred in the hut. One of the scribes - gray, his face cracked like old birchbark - dropped his pen. It fell dully, as if a beam had come down.
- Forgive me, prince… - his voice rasped as if a knife scraped a tendon. - I am Miroslav, twenty years I kept the rolls of Chernigov. In the old form. In honor. By your father's decree. There was order there…
He broke off. Alexander did not answer. He only looked. Without moving.
- If we rewrite… - the scribe breathed, barely, - then all we guarded…
- As if it had never been, - the prince said quietly.
- As if we had never been, - His voice shook, and he himself became like birchbark: brittle, ready to splinter from one stroke.
Silence fell - not empty, but breakable, like a split trunk.
Radomir did not stir for a long time. Then he rose and stepped closer. His hand touched the old man's shoulder - not a command, not comfort. Only a sign.
- Go, - he said.
Miroslav went. Slow, heavy. Like a scree when the stones are already down, but the dust still hangs in the air.
And in the hut something cracked. Not a pen, not a scroll. Habit itself.
Radomir watched the back of a comrade with whom he had begun under Yaroslav. He shook his head. He knew this fear of change: they had laughed at the Pravda - and now the courts cannot live without it.
They hadn't believed in Kyiv's walls - and the Golden Gates stand to this day. They had feared Sophia's book-learning - and now its scribes teach Novgorod. When Yaroslav set Ilarion as metropolitan - it had seemed the earth had flipped.
And he understood: each novelty first breaks, and then turns into stone. The Book of the Treasury would stand beside them.
All were silent. Even the flame in the lamp seemed to hush, following Miroslav's departing back.
- Stop, - Alexander said.
The word fell like a seal. Miroslav halted, looked back.
- You wrote rolls and tablets, - the prince spoke low, but every word rang. - Now the very same will be in a book. Your work is not abolished - it passes into a new form. What you kept is not lost. It will be our foundation
He rose and stepped nearer, holding the scribe with his gaze:
- Yesterday they were "sums and lots." Tomorrow - "The Book of the Treasury." The essence is the same. The name changes, not the deed
The lamp-flame trembled, lighting Miroslav's gray face.
- So I need your experience, - the prince said firmly. - So the old form lives in the new. I need you here
The old man quivered. His fingers, clenched a moment ago, uncurled. He bowed.
- Prince… if it is so - I will try
Alexander did not look away. His voice struck short, like a blow on metal:
- If you try and deceive me - then truly it will be as if you had never been
Miroslav froze, swallowed, then nodded. His bow was no longer weak - it was an oath.
Radomir watched him a long moment. Not with pity - with respect. He saw: his comrade had not been broken, but woven into the new. And he understood: this is not the end of the old school. It is its raising into stone.
Stanislav inclined his head a fraction. He had long known Alexander as a fighting man - now he saw something else in him. Not merely a reforming prince, but a sovereign. A strategist. One who rules not by fear, but by measure. Who can not only forge - but keep.
And when Miroslav returned to his place and took up a fresh tablet - his fingers trembled. But the scribes could see: the tremor was not from fear - it was from writing with them again.
He drew his line slower, with light pauses between words - as if learning to write anew. For a different Rus'.
The young scribes watched him by stealth. And they saw the sign: the old need not be thrown away, but can be recast.
Radomir lowered his eyes and nodded. He understood: the Prince does not smash. He builds on the broken. And that power is far more fearsome and firm. And far more needful.
Alexander lowered himself to the table, slowly.
The air in the counting hut had changed: it still smelled of wax and ink, but the heaviness was gone. As if a stone had slid - and set in a new place. What remained was gatheredness. Not fear - attention.
The scribes sat straighter; they looked to one another not in doubt but to check they had taken it the same. Stanislav stood motionless. The gridni said nothing, but it was plain: they had heard more than was meant for them.
Alexander no longer sounded like a herald, but the master of the work. Now he was the one who would lead them himself.
A log cracked in the hearth; pitch spat a spark, and smoke twined into the scent of wax. One scribe still bent his head over a tablet - scratching a line as if nothing had happened around him. That concentration pulled all back to the work.
Radomir delayed. Not from doubt - from respect for the moment. But a treasury does not tolerate long pauses. He let them breathe - and brought them back to business, dry as a stylus striking wax:
- A register, you say… - Radomir murmured. - What kind of word is that, prince?
He spun what he had heard through his head quickly: the thought was strong, but the detail thin.
Alexander took a wax tablet from the table, and beside it a strip of birchbark. He laid them together and pressed his palm over them:
- A register is not double-entry, but neat account. For each entry: from where, what exactly, how much by weight. Who delivered - who received. The balance below. And a carry to the next. All - in one book. Do you understand?
He tapped the tablet with the stylus - as if setting a period.
- Hm… - was all Radomir said.
The old man stroked his beard, as though rolling the thought between his fingers. He did not argue - but neither did he agree at once.
The pause opened a space for others. And in the quiet a voice rose from the senior scribe at the side. He leaned in, cautious:
- Forgive the word, prince… But for your register to work, we need a single weight of silver?
Alexander flicked his eyes up. Plainly - Radomir's pupil; and he had already caught the heart of it. The scribes along the bench looked at one another: the voice was not the oldest's, but a young man's. Radomir glanced at his own for a moment, but kept still.
- Your name? - the prince asked.
- Kirill, prince, - he answered, contained but firm.
Alexander nodded:
- Right. For the "single book" to live, we need a standard. The standard grivna. The Kyiv weight. Not new coin - but a common measure. Standard - conversion - discipline of scales - entry. Only thus - so the net of pogosts reconciles
Now the prince spoke, but he was looking not at the old man - at the one who would be after him. Radomir felt it, but said nothing. Kirill was already moving to the center of the gaze.
Kirill jotted notes on his tablet with a sure hand, then looked up. There was no fluster in his movements - only taut interest, as if the thought demanded to be set down at once. His stylus ran faster than usual, the wax giving a thin squeal under the pressure. A scratch stayed on the edge, as if haste had cut into the tablet itself.
- If we set in the line both the local weight and the conversion to the account one… it cures the mismatch. Novgorod's grivna is heavier than Kyiv's; Kyiv's - lighter. In the ledger all becomes comparable
He spoke clearly, quicker than was his habit; it sounded not like rashness, but like thought outrunning the measure of speech. No one checked him. On the contrary - the scribes leaned closer, as if the lines on their tablets were already waiting for this rule.
Even Radomir did not stop him - only the beard stirred, barely, betraying a thought: "this one will go farther than we." They had taught not for copies, but so that a pupil once would take a step the master had not dared. And there - the step was taken.
Alexander did not answer at once. He set a Novgorod grivna on the scales against a Kyiv one. The pan tipped and went down.
- You see? - he nodded. - The Novgorod one will take more silver. But in the books the two will stand side by side
He struck out the previous line on a tablet and scratched new ones:
"Novgorod's grivna is heavier than Kyiv's by a third. Write: one Novgorod grivna - one and a third Kyiv."
He turned the tablet for all to see:
- Always write a double quantity. First what was brought, then - what it means for the common treasury
He held the sentence, gave them time to take it in. The scribes leaned in as at a hearing, awaiting sentence.
- Thus every pogost will have its own weight. But in the account - one measure. Kyiv's
Kirill bowed and copied it cleanly. His lines came out tight, sure. Hands followed his already. Even the gridni edged a little nearer, as if they, too, had to see - not the word, but the measure itself.
Not all - and not with delight.
Beside him sat Mikula, Radomir's other pupil. Senior scribe, Kirill's equal in rank and years - but now in shadow. His hand moved slowly, pressing the stylus deeper than needed; the groove lay down in a heavy line, like a cutter in wood.
He had the thought already - but Kirill had spoken first. There was no surprise, only a heavy irritation: what should have sounded from him now belonged to another.
He had expected Radomir to clip Kirill's boldness and restore the order in which only elders spoke. But the old man kept silent. That silence stood like a stone: the master himself had stepped aside.
Kirill caught the driven line out of the corner of his eye, but went on writing with deliberate calm. Only the corner of his mouth twitched - not in mockery, but in an involuntary mark of a step forward.
Mikula dropped his eyes into the wax. The line ran crooked; he left it so - as a sign. What settled in his chest was not doubt, but a clarity: the place he had reached for was already taken.
He did not object. But his pen scraped a breath longer than the word required. "I've marked it. My hour will come."
Kirill wrote quickly and took a fresh tablet.
- Prince, is there a model for how to lay out the "Book of the Treasury" - the yearly volume?
Alexander nodded. He drew a clean wax tablet toward him and took up the stylus. He moved not hastily, but as if each motion were itself a rule.
- Of course. Here
He began to write. Strict, by the lines. In the middle his hand slipped - the stylus scraped sideways, leaving a stray groove. Alexander jerked his head, as if throwing the error off, and went on straight.
- First - the table of weight conversions. No dispute will slip past it. Then - the list of weights: where, whose set, under what number
He stopped; his breath leveled. He cut a new line:
- Then by months. Revenue and expense. Revenue - the uroki from the pogosts, the toll, the viry. Separately - fur, honey, wax. We do not convert into silver at once. Only in the month's summary we reckon it, so we don't breed disputed rates
The scribes looked at one another. They had not heard such a thing before.
Alexander leaned and set down an example:
"Year 6562, month of November. Pogost of Liubech. Urok - 6 standard grivnas, squirrel-fur sacks 2. Received: local grivnas N (reduced: 5 standard), fur 2. Arrears - 1 standard. Transit toll - 40 kun (conversion to standard - in the month's summary). Vira - 1 standard. Seal No. 1247, beresta No. 431; shard of seal - into the pouch with the same number. Received by tiun Gostiata, witnesses Ignat and Savva. Balance - 7 standard and 40 kun."
He lifted his head and raised the tablet higher - so all could see the lines. The lamp's light lay on the fresh scratches.
The scribes peered into them as into a mirror: for the first time they saw how in kind and in silver, sinner and witness, months and tags were set into one row without tilt.
For the first time the treasury stood not only in chests and furs - but in a word that could be checked and re-checked.
Kirill did not ask a question. He hurriedly took a clutch of tablets with prior levy entries and began copying them onto his own, following the prince. His shoulder was taut, his stylus moved fast, scratching - as if he feared to miss the measure itself.
Radomir watched not only the prince's model but Kirill as well: how the pupil tried to repeat a step taken before all. There was respect in it - and unease.
Alexander held his gaze on the row of juniors. He did not press Kirill - as if leaving room for someone else.
And in that moment a new voice cut in - not from the pair of rivals, but from a side no one expected.
He did not raise his eyes at once - as if he were gulping air and the words stuck in his throat. His fingers gripped the tablet too hard; the wax cracked along the edge. His voice went lower than Kirill's, but firmer than he had thought it would.
Until now he had always listened. Now - for the first time - he spoke, as if loosing an arrow knowing it might strike himself. But keeping silent was worse.
- Prince… if you permit. I am Foma. We can not only count - but recast the ingots ourselves. Buy "Novgorodkas" and uneven grivnas by weight and fineness. Recast them to the Kyiv standard. And stamp them with the prince's mark
The air pricked. Scribes did not speak like that. It sounded like a boyar's word, not a junior's. One of the younger scribes froze, his pen shook - the blot flew.
Beside him Lyutko jerked - as if to catch Foma's elbow, to pull him down: "sit, not your rank." But something else stung him: not fear for his neighbor - vexation at himself. Among the juniors, he had always been first. Eyes had always gone to him. Now his neighbor had surged - and the word could not be taken back.
Radomir's gray-bearded assistant drew breath between his teeth, but seeing the old man silent, dropped his gaze.
Foma felt it and faltered for a heartbeat; his fingers shook harder. He had expected mockery from above more than a princely answer. But Alexander looked straight - and that held him. Not like a judge, but like a smith at the fire: intent, ready to put it to use.
- By weight? Not "one for one"?
Foma swallowed, but held the gaze:
- Yes, prince. By weight and fineness. He who brings the heavier - receives by the pure silver. He who brings the lighter - less. But all will leave with one kind of grivna. With one measure
Radomir narrowed his eyes. His fingers slid through his beard. He saw the danger tucked inside: in Novgorod they might hear, "Kyiv shaves our grivnas." Count the unification violence, not order. The old man had already drawn breath to remind the prince of the risk.
But Alexander set his palm on the weight at the table's center. The metal's sound answered dully in the hut. He felt: today not only silver is melting. Men are melting too - and tomorrow he will have different ingots in his hands.
- Right. We do not touch the market. There - reckon as you please. But into the treasury - only by Kyiv's measure
He closed his fingers on the weight - and that was not discussion, but decision.
- Thus we ourselves will gather the mismatch and recast it into strength
Radomir let out breath. He understood: the prince had stepped past the blade himself - softly, without pressure. Like it or not, the road into the treasury still runs by Kyiv's measure.
The lamp over the benches trembled.
Mikula lifted his eyes - and saw Foma sit. The latter dropped his head, as if calling his breath back. But to Mikula's eyes it was no longer relief, but acknowledgment: the word had gone to the junior.
Foma lowered his eyes for good, his chest thudding hollowly: the prince had taken his word, and it was too late to fear. He sat; breath came back in jolts. The scribes were already scratching on their tablets the new order - not Kirill's, but his.
Looks still held on him - and only slowly drifted off.
It was this that Lyutko felt. He had always been first among the juniors. He wrote smoother, spoke louder, bore himself freer. Foma - beside him; Lyutko - in front. So it had always been. Even in silence the attention slid to him.
Now the lines were being laid by Foma's word.
Lyutko leaned closer, as if to support him, and whispered:
- You spoke clean. I'd not have thought it through. Well done
Foma flicked his eyes up and smiled gratefully.
- Thank you, brother, - he answered softly.
But Lyutko's hand gripped the stylus too tight; the wax cracked under the point. And his eyes held something else: "why he - and not I?"
Alexander saw it. He marked not only Foma's tremor, but Lyutko's hard hand. A treasury is built not only on scales and books - on people. And these people were already reaching forward: some with caution, others with hunger. The main thing was to guide.
A log snapped in the hearth, pitch spat a spark. Quills scraped wax slowly, as if stretching time. Someone coughed softly - and the sound rang louder than words.
The pause drew out. A word hung in the air but did not fall. Every rustle said: "you are silent."
And the prince did not intervene. He left this space on purpose.
In that weight it pressed down on Lyutko. Not anger rose in his chest, but a hollowness: if Foma could shoot, how is he worse? If he keeps silent - this too will be remembered. Not in ink, but in eyes.
He waited for attention to roll back to him - but it did not. The lamp's shadow lay slant- as if the hut itself had marked the other side.
Then he lunged. His elbow knocked the tablet, the ink spread along the edge like a stain of shame. His voice broke hoarse, snagging, as if it tore out of him:
- Prince… if you permit. I am Lyutko
The words hung like a snapped string. He understood - there was no going back.
Radomir set his shoulders and drew breath. To endure boldness a third time was no longer an exception, but a threat to order. One scribe - breakthrough. A second - extreme. But a third? That shattered the custom. By rank a junior had no right to raise his voice without a sign from elders. The old man lifted a hand to stop him.
But the prince's glance fell on him - short, icy, without words: "I do not forbid them. Then do not you dare."
Slowly the old man straightened. His fingers whitened on the staff, but he held his tongue.
Stanislav caught it and gave the slightest nod. He saw: the prince was deliberately giving them space, as in battle. The host tests itself on the field - the scribes here. Whoever stands - becomes part of the rank, even without a sword.
Alexander turned his head to the junior scribe. His voice was calm, but in that calm lay a permission on which a fate might hang:
- Speak
Lyutko dropped his eyes, as if diving into his own line:
- Prince, what if a seal cracks on the road? If a tag breaks of itself - and they accuse us of a breach? What if they say: we, the juniors, are to blame? Who will hear us?
- Then open it in witnesses' presence and write in the margin: "opened in the presence of such-and-such." A vidok and a poslukh - witness and attester - required
Alexander answered briefly - and fell silent. The silence stretched longer than the business needed. He drew it out on purpose - so that the youths' words would not remain merely the echo of his order, but sound with their own weight.
The scribes glanced to each other. They did not argue. But two noted his words in the margins. Without comment - but the word went in.
Lyutko sat down slowly, as if returning into his own line. Foma leaned closer, whispered encouragement - but Lyutko did not answer. Under the table his fist clenched so hard the knuckles went white.
He had managed it. Yet the taste of victory was bitter: the word burst out ragged, not clean - and even a friendly praise sounded like pity.
Kirill marked them. He did not see rivals in the juniors - companions more likely. If they rose, he would rise as well. His gaze slid along the row and stopped on his neighbor.
At that moment Mikula shut his eyes and drew in a breath so deep the hut seemed to sway with him. When he opened them there was neither defeat nor haste. There was only one thing: he waits. And when his hour comes - his blow will be the heaviest of all.
Silence pressed down as if the vault had dropped low.
Too many young voices had already spoken, and it seemed - one more lunge and the walls would not hold. Eyes slid of their own to Radomir: he remained the eldest, and if the silence dragged on, the rank would break.
Then he rose. Not with a sharp motion - slowly, as if out of the very heaviness of the hush. Till now he had sat silent, leaving room for the young. But he could not sit it out forever. The counting hut was his domain, and he remained its chief.
He looked at the prince - not defiant, but even. If earlier there had been respect and patience in his gaze for the youth's daring steps, now the very weight of experience stood up.
- Prince, - he said dryly. - The count is right. But bring it in by parts. Not all at once. Else there will be not order, but a break
Alexander gave the slightest nod. It was not to Radomir - it was to the whole hut. The old man had restored balance, and the prince saw: this was what was needed - not for his word, but for them all.
- We will not hurry
Alexander ran his palm over the scales and glanced at the little weights at the edge. He lifted one and set it at center. Then two more - laid them to either side.
- For now they differ. So we cast new ones. Three principal. Sophia - storage and check. The treasury - working. The warden of weights - checkweight. These are the chief weights; no one carries them out beyond the yard
Kirill at once entered the line: "Principal weights - 3."
Alexander raised them a little above the table so all could see. Then he took a pair of old weights, slipped them into a small leather pouch, and tied the cord. He lifted the pouch over the table, showed it to all, and handed it to Radomir - not in earnest, but as an example of issue against a signature.
- Thus we'll make "daughter" sets for the collection points, - he said. - Two pouches of weights with a stamp: the princely mark and a serial number. Issue - only under the signatures of the tiun and two witnesses. The set's number is entered into the register
Radomir took the pouch and set it on the table. The table jolted, dull and heavy, and at the sound Lyutko started; the pen in his hand left a blot. He covered it in haste with his palm, but the stain had already spread across the wax.
While the pupils wrote the words cleanly, Radomir narrowed his eyes: he saw where cheating would try to live.
- Prince. Any work with scales - only on a sealed kit. Scales and weights under a seal. If the seal is broken - an entry in the book: "scales opened in the presence of such-and-such." So we avoid deceit
- Yes, I had that in mind. And more - we need an exchange of foreign weights. All non-canonical toll-men and tiuns must surrender and receive new ones, the prince's. Upon exchange we write at once: the old kit's number, the new one's number
He lifted an old weight from the table, slid it under the bench, and in its place set another, stamped. The gesture was plain to all: the old went to earth, the new took the table. The gridni by the prince traded looks - they grasped it better than any words.
Stanislav cut in hard. He had listened long, in silence, but now he would not hold.
- We need checks, prince, - he said. His voice - hewn, like a stroke. - Once a week - spot checks: one revenue line and one expense line are traced all the way to the bale and the seal. In the page margin - a mark in the checker's hand. By the quarter of the year - verify every weight set against the principal at Sophia
Radomir tilted a brow: for a fighting man, the thought was too exact. Even he would not have said it better. Kirill noted the lines deftly, without breaking breath; across from him Mikula scored the wax deeper than he had meant.
Alexander nodded.
- So it will be
He set his palm on the tablet, as if fixing the word.
Silence pressed against the walls.
- And the last step, - Alexander went on, - fix the table of conversions once and for all for the chief nodes: Novgorod, Chernigov, Pereyaslavl. That table is written into the front of the Book of the Treasury and posted in the toll huts. In it - the local weight and its reduction to standard grivnas
He lifted the tablet with the sample conversion and set it to a scroll - as if showing how the "first leaf of the book" would live.
Silence pressed against the walls.
It pared off all excess. From here there was no room for flares and gestures - everything went into account. The treasury ceased to be talk and became carving in wax.
From now on the word sounded different: not as speech, but as rule. Not as thought, but as a line.
Radomir spoke first. Not now as keeper of memory, but as a carver. His voice did not bear down - it cut away the surplus. Each small thing became a rule, each fraction - a command.
They set it firm: revenue is rounded down to the nearest fraction of the standard grivna, expense - up. So as not to overstate the treasury by a line and not to "eat" a shortfall. Fractions are kept in small units (kuna, nogata, rezana), and at month's end they are summed into fractions of the standard grivna. The rounding rule was written on the first leaf.
They set refined working fractions of the standard grivna: half, quarter, eighth - counting units convenient for notes and checks. For smalls - reckon in kuna, but the reduced equivalent is always fixed in the margin: "in standard." Thus the scribes do not drown in fractions, and the book remains comparable.
They divided charge: Radomir - over all; the treasury's senior scribe - Kirill - keeps the book and trains the others; he also keeps the through-run of leaves and receipts. The weigher answers for the weight-sets and their seals - his signature is mandatory in every line with silver. The tiuns of the pogosts submit monthly "small sums" with attached birchbark receipts and seal numbers. The ognishchanin opens the store only together with the treasurer and in the presence of a scribe; in the book's margin a note is left: "by whose hand."
Alexander also marked time. Not "someday," but by weeks.
- In the first week - we fix the weight of the standard grivna. We cast the three principal weights and stamp them. We paste the node-conversion table at the front of the book. We copy the model spread and the line's form
- In the second week - we issue weight-sets to collection points against signature and number. We proclaim the rounding rule and the order of audits. We send to the pogosts the "small sum": urok, myto, vira. By month's end I expect the first packets of primary entries
- At month's end - we carry the "small sums" into the book, do spot checks: line - seal - weight. We set margin notes. We make a second scroll of the month's total and lodge it in the book-room at Sophia
- By late spring and early summer - the full sum. Totals for all sections. A general weight audit. Replacement of slipped weights. Update of the conversion table. We do not edit backwards
He spoke, and the scribes were writing not words now, but rules - lines that would run past their own lives. Radomir sat still, only setting his beard to rights now and again. Stanislav listened without a word, but his eyes said it: order in a treasury differs in nothing from a rank on the field.
The scribes looked at one another - for the first time in their hands was not mere reckoning, but the stone on which power is built. Ink trembled at the pen's tip and fell in drops, like blood that seals an oath.
- We have not had this, - Radomir said shortly. And fell silent.
Alexander lifted his eyes to him. His voice sounded dull, but even - as a step in an empty church:
- We will go ahead
Radomir turned his look to the candles. In the flame he saw Grand Prince Yaroslav - and the years when the reckoning was scatter, and the treasury held by memory and oath. But now - words fell not like speech, but like a weight onto the scales.
He smoothed his beard. For Radomir this was near to boldness - not to speak a number, but a right. Yet he resolved:
- Prince… if it is to be so - one book is not enough. Account without seal does not live. We need your ustav. Not a mere model, but a writ. So that every tiun and toll-man knows: this word is not the scribes', but yours
He said it quietly, but he himself understood - this was the first time he spoke not as treasurer, but as law-giver.
At that moment - from outside, from the yard - there came a single stroke of a bell.
Not alarm - a reminder, like a finger on iron.
The hut grew quieter. Even the scribes lifted their heads. Silence lay down as before an oath. No one had expected the old treasurer himself to say: "we must write a law."
Alexander raised his gaze. Not sharply - attentive, as if for the first time he looked not at the scroll but at the road that ran not from him, but toward him.
- There will be an ustav… - his voice rang like a blow on metal. - On the Book of the Treasury and the weights
All nodded. No one argued. To them it meant one thing: the prince had said it - then someday there would be an ustav. When they gathered men, when they weighed each article. Not today.
The scribes already reached for their tablets - to set down the prince's thought as a promise. Radomir ran his fingers through his beard as if trying on how it would set beside Yaroslav's Pravda.
And then Alexander did what no one expected.
He drew a clean tablet to himself, set his palm to the edge - and in an even hand wrote:
"Ustav of Alexander on the Book of the Treasury and the Weights."
He lifted his head - and only then added the first lines:
"Princely ustav, to be read to the tiuns, toll-men, and the ognishchanin; the second scroll - at Sophia. It adjoins the Pravda of Rus' of Grand Prince Yaroslav."
Radomir, sitting opposite, and Stanislav with the gridni behind the prince could plainly see what he wrote. The old man frowned, holding down his perplexity.
- Prince… you will write the draft of the ustav yourself? - he asked carefully.
- Yes. Is there a difficulty in that? - Alexander raised his eyes; his voice held not challenge, but unfeigned interest.
Radomir passed his palm along his beard. A draft and models of forms usually took weeks of work: gathering scribes, concords, cross-checks. But the prince wrote as if with full certainty where each word must lie. Youth or boldness? The old man did not know.
Alexander had already set the stylus to the clean tablet. He wrote unhurriedly, but as if the words had long stood in his mind.
- Article the first. On the standard grivna. The prince sets the Kyiv grivna as the measure of account. All silver in the book is written: "how much by the local weight" and "how much by the standard grivna."
The scribes raised their heads. Ustavy did not come to birth so quickly. For twenty years Radomir had sat at Yaroslav's side; he knew the price of each word of law - and still he was surprised: the prince did not grope, did not pick - he struck true at once.
- Article the second… - Alexander began.
But Stanislav broke in. His voice came hewn, like an axe on wood:
- Prince. The host holds not only by the rank, but by the lash. So with an ustav. We need not only rules, but teeth. Else the man who disobeys - will only shrug
Alexander lifted his eyes. He was silent a beat. Then nodded short:
- True. Every rule has a price. And a price - to each article
Radomir moved his beard a little. The wonder did not pass, but he did not gainsay it. It was the prince's right - to write the draft himself. Later would come the reworkings, the gathering, the emendations. But what struck now was another thing: the prince set at once both the norm and the measure for breaking it.
Alexander set the stylus again:
- Article the first. On the standard grivna: The prince sets the Kyiv grivna the measure of account; all silver to be written both by the local weight and in the standard grivna; and he who writes without reducing to the standard - to him one grivna prodae (fine); he who repeats - remove from office
The scribes' styluses rattled faster. They scraped the wax as if they were cutting stone.
Radomir sighed; he could not only sit and watch in silence while the prince alone ruled the lines of an ustav. He was the chief treasurer and a tutor.
- Prince… one remark. In the Pravda the penalties go by steps: first a fine, then loss of right, and if a man disobeys a third time - then the punishment as for a thief. To set your ustav beside the Pravda, we must keep the same step here
Alexander held his gaze a moment, weighed it, and nodded:
- True. Add: "He who breaks it a third time - reckon a thief. Ban and plunder by the prince's court."
The scribes froze. They had not expected the prince to take the old treasurer's words so quickly and lay them into the line as finished law.
Seeing they had added to the first article, Alexander went on.
- Article the second. On weights and scales. The prince's weights to be stamped and issued by list; the scales and box to be kept under seal; he who trades on foreign weights - triple difference to repay and a grivna prodae; he who swaps the weights - triple prodae and removal from office
Stanislav shifted a shoulder and set his sword to rights. In these dry lines he suddenly knew the ustav of the host: there - a rank; here - an article. There - the check of arms; here - weights and seals. And yet the same: an order that holds force.
Alexander wrote on; Radomir corrected at once, and the prince found the exact word on the instant. They did not argue - they forged.
Within an hour a draft of ten articles lay on the table. Each - with a penalty, as the Pravda required. It was enough to launch the reform at once and without hesitations.
But Alexander did not stop. He added six more binding articles: on roles and signatures, on audits, on entry into force (the transitional order), on dispute and appeal, on stamps and set numbers, on the order of amending.
Radomir nodded. He understood: the prince thought not only by rule, but by order. The draft was already fit for review and correction. Next - only the gathering: the prince, the boyars, the clergy, the tiuns. Without it - the law would be, but would not be accepted. With the gathering - it would take the strength of stone.
The prince could have confirmed the ustav by himself. But he knew: when you touch the purse and the market custom of all Rus', you need not only right, but assent. So they had done in Yaroslav's day as well.
They had filled every tablet. Ink shone in wet drops; the wax was cut deeper than usual - thus men write not lines but decision. Alexander left the last tablet on the table and rose slowly.
The hut grew quieter. The scribes rubbed their fingers; Radomir straightened; Stanislav set his belt.
Outside, evening was already leaning down. The lamps burned brighter than by day, smoke mixed with the scent of wax. No one had noticed how dinner slipped past. Time seemed to have burned with them - and only the book remained, born in this quiet.
Alexander stood looking at Radomir. Even, without pressure.
- You kept the account under my father. Now the account will go under me. It will be different. The error of a line - will be the error of the land
Radomir tried to rise at once - and the weight of years pressed him to the bench. He stood more slowly than he wished, leaning on the staff. His shoulders swayed, but his gaze stayed straight. He did not bow. He only inclined his head a little - a sign not of submission, but of consent to bear.
And in that nod there was more than consent: he acknowledged the ustav. As once - Yaroslav's Pravda.
Stanislav moved first toward the door. Alexander lingered, looked once more at the tablets, at the ink shining in drops. They were fresh - as a seal on an oath.
The scribes sat unmoving. Kirill held his tablet to his chest like a banner. Foma clenched his fingers and left a blot at the edge. Mikula looked into a crooked line in the wax - and saw himself in it. Lyutko held to an old entry stubbornly, not striking it through - as if he set his own stroke even if it did not align.
The smell of wax, smoke, and fresh ink hung in the air. In that smell was the future: still soft, still fluid, yet already taking in the blood and sweat of the day.
Radomir nodded again. In his chest rose a feeling old men do not expect: not longing for the past, but a heavy relief. A rank that had scattered was gathering again into a body. But no longer by themselves - by others.
Alexander stepped to the door. And at that instant the quiet was torn by a thin sound: a pen cracked on the wax's edge, and the ink ran, leaving a black stain.
All stilled.
The law had not come out clean. With a stain. With a crack. Which is to say - alive.
And all understood: from this minute Rus' had gone forward. As after Olga's pogosts, as after Yaroslav's Pravda. The prince's word had become the stone on which an age is built.
***
Thank you to everyone who read to the end.
I hope the thirteenth chapter spoke to you - and especially this, the fourteenth. It is not only about a reform. It is a chapter about how the new breaks the old yet knows how to weave it into itself; about how the new fights for the right to lead and to become the first.
I understand: in places the text may feel heavy with detail. But there is no "water" here, and so every small thing bears meaning. To help the reader recall who is who and where each line runs, I will keep leaving cue-words, situations, and signs in the text - markers that let you return to memory quickly.
And below - if you're curious - is that very ustav they enacted.
Ustav of Alexander on the Book of the Treasury and the Weights
Princely ustav, to be read to the tiuns, toll-men, and the ognishchanin, and kept in a second scroll at Sophia. It adjoins the Pravda of Rus' of Grand Prince Yaroslav.
Art. 1. On the standard grivna.
The prince sets the Kyiv grivna as the measure of account. All silver in the book is to be written both "how much by the local weight" and "how much by the standard grivna."
Penalty: for an entry without reduction to the standard - one grivna prodae (fine) from the scribe; for repetition - removal from office.
Art. 2. On weights and scales.
The prince's weights are to be stamped and issued by list; the scales and the weight-box kept under seal.
Penalty: for trading on "foreign" (non-princely) weights - triple restitution of the difference and one-grivna prodae; for swapping weights - triple prodae and removal from office.
Art. 3. On seals and tags.
Every sack/bundle of silver or goods is to be under a seal with a number; in the book, the line bears the seal-number and the tag.
Penalty: for opening without witnesses - one-grivna prodae; for loss of a seal without explanation - double restitution and removal.
Art. 4. On weekly and monthly sums.
On birchbark - a weekly note (with the signatures of the tiun and two witnesses); to Kyiv - a monthly "small sum of the pogost"; into the book - the monthly sum of the treasury.
Penalty: for failure to submit on time - half-grivna prodae; for repetition - one-grivna prodae and removal.
Art. 5. On the second scroll and the archive.
The month's total is to be copied fair twice; the second scroll laid at Sophia under seal.
Penalty: for absence of the second scroll - one-grivna prodae, split equally between scribe and tiun.
Art. 6. On witnesses and oath.
Every receipt and issue of silver is to be written "by whose hand," with a vidok (eyewitness) and a poslukh (attester/surety); disputes to be resolved by kissing the cross.
Penalty: for an entry without witnesses - half-grivna prodae; for false witness - as for theft, double restitution plus prodae.
Art. 7. On arrears and concealment.
Arrears are to be written in the book separately; concealment of intake ("obvod") equals theft.
Penalty: triple restitution and removal from office; if by collusion - the court to set a severer measure.
Art. 8. On in-kind measures.
Honey, wax, and furs are to be written separately without forced conversion to silver; price to be set only in the month's summary.
Penalty: for "playing the price" retroactively - one-grivna prodae.
Art. 9. On forbidding blank lines.
In the book, lines and leaves are to be numbered through; no blank lines left; notes are made in the margins.
Penalty: for omission/insertion - half-grivna prodae; for repetition - removal.
Art. 10. On loss of service.
He who twice breaks the ustav - remove; he who thrice - bar from the treasury service.
Appendix to the Ustav - "The Weight Ordinance"
Art. 11. On offices and signatures.
The senior scribe keeps the Book of the Treasury and the through-run of leaves; the weigher holds the weight-sets and seals; the tiun submits the "small sum" with birchbark receipts; the ognishchanin opens the store only with the treasurer and in the presence of a scribe; every line with silver is signed by scribe and weigher, and bears the tiun's mark. He who signs for another - one-grivna prodae; for repetition - removal.
Art. 12. On audit.
Once a week - a spot proof: one revenue line and one expense line are traced to the bale and the seal; in the book's margin - a note in the checker's hand. By the quarter of the year - every set to be verified against the principal weight at Sophia. He who hides from audit - half-grivna prodae; for a false sum - as for concealment.
Art. 13. On entry into force and terms.
In the first month - approval of the standard grivna and distribution of stamped weight-sets; in the second - dispatch of conversion tables and model lines; by the end of the third - the first general sum and spot checks by nodes. He who breaks a term - half-grivna prodae; for repetition - a grivna and removal.
Art. 14. On disputes and appeal.
A dispute over weight or line is to be heard at the treasury with vidok and poslukh; a suit over a seal - at Sophia under seals; appeal lies to the prince's court. He who disobeys the judgment - double prodae.
Art. 15. On stamps and set numbers.
The principal weights - at the treasury and at Sophia, not to be carried beyond the yard; "daughter" sets to be stamped with the prince's mark and number; upon exchange write the old and the new number. He who carries out the principal weights or tampers with a stamp - double prodae and removal.
Art. 16. On amendment and addendum.
The prince with the boyars may add to the ustav and to the conversion table; a new article is to be pasted to the front of the book and into the second scroll at Sophia; an old norm is not to be scraped away, but marked "repealed" - with date and seal. He who rewrites retroactively - as for theft.