The Masters

by Christopher Nicole

  “Of course, Your Excellency.” Geller stood up. “May I speak, Your Excellency?”

  “You may.”

  “Well, sir, my father was doctor on Bolugayen before me, as you know. He took over when old Dr Fine died.”

  “He brought me into the world,” Alexei said.

  “Yes, sir. Therefore, I would hope that you will never have any doubt concerning the loyalty of myself.”

  “I do not, Geller.”

  “Then, Your Excellency, while I understand that you must do everything possible for your sister, no matter what the risk, I must question your decision to increase that risk.” Geller swallowed. “As I have said, Your Excellency, the Jewess cannot travel for another several weeks. But to keep her here, when she is a wanted felon and an absconded political prisoner...”

  “What do you suggest I do, Geller? Send into Poltava for the police? I would still have to explain how the Jewish woman came here, knew to come here for help, when we have never met, unless she came with someone who knew me.” Geller licked his lips. “Or are you suggesting that we merely bury her?” Alexei asked. “After my sister has left, of course.”

  “Your Excellency has but to make his wishes known.”

  Alexei stared at him. But whatever the doctor was suggesting it was entirely because he had the family, and only the family, in mind. And had he not already considered just such a step?

  “Thank you, Geller,” he said. “I will let you know what I decide. But until I make my decision, you will do everything in your power to return the Jewish lady to health, and you will say what I have told you to say.” Geller bowed.

  *

  Alexei went upstairs. Patricia was fully dressed now; Sonia was still in bed, and looked very embarrassed. “I apologise, Your Excellency,” she said. “But the doctor has bandaged up my feet.”

  “Did you not know you have very bad frostbite?”

  “I know they hurt, Your Excellency...” But the colour faded from her cheeks. “Am I crippled?”

  “For the moment. You will recover.”

  “What is going to happen?” Patricia asked.

  “The first thing is to get you out of the country,” Alexei said. “If you are taken by the Okhrana again, you will be shot or hanged.-

  “But where can we go?”

  “You will go, in the first instance, to England,” Alexei said. “You will travel to Sevastopol, veiled, and will tell no one who you are. I will give you a letter to our marine superintendent in the port, and he will place you on the first available ship sailing west and arrange for your ultimate passage to England. I will provide you with sufficient funds, and I will open a letter of credit for you with our London bankers. You will have absolutely nothing to worry about, once you are out of the country, and there is nothing to prevent you leaving the country, providing you do nothing, and say nothing, stupid between here and Sevastopol. Do you understand me?”

  Patricia’s head moved up and down, slowly. “How long will we have to stay in England?”

  “You,” Alexei said, adding emphasis, “will remain there until I have had a chance to discuss the situation with Peter and Aunt Anna. This may take a little while, as it will have to be done clandestinely.”

  “I understand. When do we leave.”

  “You will leave tomorrow morning. I’m afraid Sonia will have to remain here.”

  “Sonia!” Patricia looked at the bed. “You’re going to turn her in!” she shouted.

  “I am going to do nothing of the kind, as long as she behaves herself,” Alexei said. “She cannot travel. This has been made perfectly clear to me by Dr Geller. Alone, you have every chance of escaping, Patricia. You will simply be a woman travelling on her own. With a cripple as your companion, you will attract attention. Sonia has to remain here until she is fit enough to walk naturally. Then I will see what can be done for her.”

  “You said me!” Patricia clutched Joseph to her breast. “I will not go without my son.”

  Alexei hesitated. How he wished Anna were here, to take charge with her usual total decision. This child was the last male Bolugayevski. But he was both a bastard and half-Jewish. He could never become prince. “Very well,” he said. “You may take your son with you.”

  *

  That evening he entertained the two young women to dinner. On his instructions, Madame Xenia and Patricia between them draped Sonia in one of Patricia’s gowns, suitably pinned up and cut down where necessary. They had left her hair loose. Alexei lifted her in his arms and carried her down the stairs.

  The servants had all been dismissed. Undoubtedly speculation below stairs was rife, and no doubt a good deal of it was close to the mark — but it remained speculation. The meal was served by Gleb alone. “You are taking a great risk, Your Excellency,” Sonia ventured, fingering the silver, gazing around her at the magnificence of the dining-room, with huge dark eyes.

  “One takes a risk every time one rides a horse in the snow,” Alexei smiled, signalling Gleb to refill their wine glasses. The women had been drinking champagne before dinner, but did not seem unduly affected — he had gathered that they had consumed a good deal of vodka during their sojourn in Siberia, and even more during the trudge across the country.

  “Why can’t I go to the United States?” Patricia asked. “I’d be safer in the United States.”

  “I’m not sure you would,” Alexei said. “They have a somewhat tougher line with Communists in the United States than in England. You are a Communist, aren’t you?”

  “No,” Patricia said. “I’m an anarchist.” Alexei stared at her with his mouth open. “I am also dedicated to the downfall of the Tsarist regime,” Patricia went on.

  “And its replacement by anarchy,” Alexei suggested. “Its replacement by anything that does not have a secret police.”

  “Yes. Well, with sentiments like that, America is definitely out.”

  “Duncan told me that they hate the Tsar over there as much as we do.”

  “I’m sure they do. But they hate anarchy even more. If you got into trouble over there, and were to be deported, it would be straight back into the hands of the Okhrana. England is safest. Just let me know where you are, and I will see about getting you a pardon.”

  “I don’t want the Tsar’s pardon,” she snapped.

  “Say that again when you have it, and can return here to live, openly.” He turned to Sonia. “And are you, also, an anarchist, Mademoiselle Cohen?”

  “I am a Jew, Your Excellency.”

  *

  Patricia and baby Joseph left before dawn the following day. Alexei was sending Gleb himself with her, at least as far as Poltava, to see her on the train for Kharkov. “Now I have one last thing for you.” He gave her an envelope.

  “You have already given me sufficient money,” she said.

  “This is not money. It is the address of my personal agent in London. It also contains a letter to put him in the picture. I wish you to go to him the moment you land in England. You may trust this man absolutely.” He smiled at her. “And kindly do not open it.”

  She hesitated a moment, then held out her hand. Alexei caught it, and pulled her against him for an embrace. “It will all be over, one day,” she whispered in his ear. Then she embraced Sonia. “I will see you, in England, soon,” she said.

  “Soon,” Sonia promised.

  Xenia was also waiting for an embrace, then Patricia got into the troika and sat down, the baby in her arms. Gleb arranged the rugs around her, then sat on the driving seat and cracked his whip. “I feel so sorry for her. Your Excellency,” Xenia said.

  “Yes,” Alexei agreed. “But I am sure she will survive. My agent will see to that. Now we must consider our own situation. We cannot keep Mademoiselle Cohen’s presence here a secret indefinitely. Therefore we shall no longer attempt to keep it a secret. Mademoiselle is my mistress.” Xenia raised her eyebrows, and Sonia gave a little gasp.

  “I saw her in Poltava, liked what I saw, and have imported her as m
y woman,” Alexei said. “It will be necessary for her to have another name. We will keep Sonia, but we shall change her last name, to...Reshevski. As of now, you are Sonia Reshevski. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Your Excellency. But...”

  “It is a subterfuge, do you not realise that?”

  “Yes, Your Excellency.” Sonia licked her lips. “Now I will lift you up to bed,” Alexei said.

  *

  The Russian battleships each fired a salute as they filed their way through the Tiger’s Tail into Port Arthur. There were five of the big ships, twelve-thousand-ton monsters each with a crew of over six hundred men, and armed with four twelve-inch guns in addition to smaller weapons. No fleet like it had ever been seen in the Pacific Ocean. The Viceroy of Eastern Siberia, Admiral Alexius, had come down to Port Arthur to welcome the squadron, and he stood on the dockside with General Stoessel, who had been appointed governor of the port, and Prince Bolugayevski, who remained Russian minister in what was still, technically, a part of China.

  Their wives were gathered a discreet distance behind them, a cluster of broad-brimmed white hats and multicoloured parasols. All of them, as well as their husbands, were recent arrivals in Port Arthur, with the exception of the Bolugayevskis, and no one was quite sure how to treat either the Princess or the famous Countess Anna. The first thing Madame Stoessel had done on arriving was throw a reception, to which everyone who was anyone in the Port had been invited. The Princess had arrived drunk and had had to be carried out soon afterwards. That had caused a scandal, but since then there had been other rumours, principally concerning the reasons for the Princess being perpetually drunk. Yet the Countess Anna looked as serenely beautiful as ever; only those close to her could notice a slight frown as she watched the various dignitaries disembarking from the great ships and being ferried ashore. The frown deepened as she watched General Count Pobrebski saluting the governor and the viceroy, and then Prince Bolugayevski.

  In the launch behind the general came his entourage. He was not married, but had several servants. Amongst them was a young Chinese woman.

  *

  “There is a letter from Witte,” Peter said. The fleet had indeed brought a whole batch of mail.

  “Is there news of Patricia?” Anna asked. “Or is she dead?”

  “Patricia is not dead. This one is from Alexei.”

  Anna scanned it. It was several pages long. “My God,” she said. “And you think Witte knows this?”

  “He seems to.”

  “But then...Alexei...?”

  “It appears that the government does not intend to take action against Alexei. Obviously, a man cannot be condemned for helping his own sister leave the country, even if she is an absconded felon. Well, I suppose he could be, but it would represent the government in no good light. And it would appear that our tsar is desperate to be so considered. Witte writes that Nicholas is even contemplating abolishing the death penalty, as well as exile to Siberia. Now there is a terrorist’s charter, if you like.”

  “But you are to continue to receive punishment,” she said angrily.

  “And you,” he pointed out.

  “That is outrageous.”

  “We are the head of the family. Besides Witte, with the agreement of the Tsar and Tsaritsa, is working to a plan. Patricia, it appears, is a self-confessed anarchist. Whether or not she was one when convicted of it is neither here nor there; all the evidence he has obtained from Irkutsk indicates that she is most certainly one now. But are we connected with her beliefs? Now there is the question that bothers him.”

  “I have never heard such balderdash.”

  “They do not know it is balderdash. At the same time, to proceed against one of Russia’s oldest and most famous families is a serious business. If steps were taken against us they would have to be based on quite irrefutable evidence. Witte is therefore determined to keep us widely separated while he continues with his investigations. No word of exile has been mentioned. There is still a great deal of work to be done here, and the government officially regards me as the man to oversee it, just as they, unofficially, consider your role here as equally important. As far as anyone knows, what we are doing is despite the misbehaviour of Patricia, not because of it.”

  Anna shivered. “While they seek sufficient proof to bring us down.”

  “As there is no proof for them to find, we have nothing to fear.”

  She made a move. “I am not afraid, my darling. But I am so fed up with this place. I want to be on Bolugayen, with you. Then the world can do and say whatever it likes. And now, with that bastard Pobrebski here...”

  Peter grinned. “Pobrebski cannot harm you, even here. But as you have mentioned him, he wishes to carry out an inspection of the defences, tomorrow. And he has specifically asked that you accompany us.” Anna raised her eyebrows. “Well,” Peter said. “You were here during the Japanese assault. I imagine he wants to pick your brains.”

  *

  It was a crisp, warm summer’s day. Anna wore her pale blue habit, and rode her favourite mare. The men were in uniform, and they were accompanied by a body of guards as well as servants with their picnic hampers. The only problem was that Nathalie insisted on coming too. And Anna had to admit that the Georgian woman rode as if born on a horse, and with her flowing yellow hair created an irresistible picture. Pobrebski preferred to ride beside Anna, leaving Peter to accompany his wife. “Are you enjoying life in Port Arthur, Countess?” Pobrebski asked.

  “I enjoy life everywhere,” Anna riposted.

  “How strange to think that you could have been here as my wife.”

  “It is odd how things turn out,” she agreed. “Usually for the better, don’t you think?”

  He shot her a glare, and then rode off to inspect one of the forts on the top of the hill. “These are very strong positions,” he told them, as they proceeded on their way an hour later. “However, it would be a grave mistake to allow any enemy that close to the port; even if they could not carry the forts by storm, they could use howitzers to lob shells into the town and the installations, and render a defender’s business very difficult, if not impossible. They must be held further away.”

  “Of course,” Peter agreed. “There. Nanshan. They call it the Neck.” They sat on their horses and looked down on the narrow isthmus. “Now there is where the peninsula should be defended,” Peter said. “That is impassable.”

  Pobrebski gazed at the fort, then looked at Anna. “But the Japanese got across in 1894. Why was it not held?”

  “It was designed to be held,” Anna said. “But when the Japanese started to march across the isthmus, regardless of casualties, the Chinese panicked and ran away.”

  “Ha ha!” Pobrebski shouted. “What a farce. Well, that will not happen with Russian soldiers. Here is where we will concentrate all our efforts, Your Highness. We will redouble the number of guns mounted in that fort, and we will train every one on the Neck. If the Japanese ever attempt to cross it in force, even with an entire army, why, we will simply blow them to pieces. It will be great sport.”

  “I am quite sure you are right, Pobrebski,” Peter said. “And I would suggest that you carry out this plan with the greatest publicity, so that the Japanese know exactly what we are about.”

  “Oh, well, they will find out anyway,” Pobrebski said. “But I would hate to put them off. Ha ha! Let’s eat.”

  *

  “He actually wants there to be a war,” Anna muttered, as they watched the grooms laying out the contents of the hamper.

  “Well, I suppose we all do,” Peter agreed.

  “Men!”

  “It is necessary. And from our point of view, it would clear the air. If we fight Japan and beat her, well I mean, of course we would beat her, but if we do so in style, we shall all be heroes.” He winked at her. “And heroines.”

  Anna accepted a glass of champagne from one of the grooms. watched Nathalie leading Pohrebski through the trees to a vantage point from which to look
down on the sparkling sea. “Do you think she is going to tell him about us?”

  “Don’t you think he knows about us?”

  “And you have no regrets?”

  “I am the happiest man alive,” he assured her.

  *

  “I have been to Georgia,” Pobrebski said.

  “Have you really?” Nathalie leaned against a tree, and took off her hat to fan herself. “Did you enjoy it?”

  “Very much so. Very dramatic country. I was in command of my Cossack regiment.”

  “But you are not a Cossack.”

  “That does not mean I cannot command a Cossack regiment.”

  She gazed at him from beneath languid eyes. He had of course heard all the stories of her habitual drunkenness, but so far this morning she had taken only a single glass of champagne; even if she had been drinking with her breakfast, she would have sobered up by now. And she was a most voluptuous woman. He looked past her. He could see Peter and Anna, but they seemed deep in conversation, while the grooms were also busy. In any event, Nathalie was entirely hidden by her tree. Would she scream? She smiled at him. “Is it true that you were once betrothed to the Countess?”

  “Very briefly.”

  “Did you not find her, well...old?”

  “She is old,” he agreed.

  “I am eighteen,” Nathalie said.

  Pobrebski also stepped behind the tree. He placed his hands on her breasts, and then let them slide down to her hips. As he did so, he leaned forward to kiss her mouth. “I want you,” he said. “I have wanted you from the moment I first saw you.”

  “Then,” she said, “as we cannot do it here, we must make an arrangement.”

  CHAPTER 13 – WAR

  “A young lady sir,” Morgan said firmly.

  Duncan was just finishing his breakfast. “Did she not give her name?”

  “No, sir. She says she was recommended to visit you by a mutual friend.”

  “At eight o’clock in the morning?”