by Jules Verne
The third Tartar column—the one which came up the valley of the Yenisei on the 24th of September—appeared in sight of Irkutsk. It immediately occupied the deserted suburbs, every building in which had been destroyed so as not to impede the fire of the Grand Duke’s guns, unfortunately but few in number and of small calibre.
The Tartar troops as they arrived organised a camp on the bank of the Angara, whilst waiting the arrival of the two other columns, commanded by the Emir and his allies.
The junction of these different bodies was effected on the 25th of September, in the Angara camp, and the whole of the invading army, except the garrisons left in the principal conquered towns, was concentrated under the command of Feofar-Khan.
The passage of the Angara in front of Irkutsk having been regarded by Ogareff as impracticable, a strong body of troops crossed, several versts up the river, by means of bridges formed with boats.
The Grand Duke did not attempt to oppose the enemy in their passage. He could only impede, not prevent it, having no field-artillery at his disposal, and he therefore remained in Irkutsk.
The Tartars now occupied the right bank of the river; then, advancing towards the town, they burnt, in passing, the summer-house of the governor-general, and at last having entirely invested Irkutsk, took up their positions for the siege.
Ivan Ogareff, who was a clever engineer, was perfectly competent to direct a regular siege; but he did not possess the materials for operating rapidly. He was disappointed too in the chief object of all his efforts—the surprise of Irkutsk.
Things had turned out differently to what his calculations had led him to expect First, the march of the Tartar army was delayed by the battle of Tomsk; and secondly, the preparations for the defence were made far more rapidly than he had supposed would be the case; these two things had been enough to balk his plans. He was now under the necessity of instituting a regular siege of the town.
However, by his suggestion, the Emir twice attempted the capture of the place, at the cost of a large sacrifice of men. He threw soldiers on the earth-works which presented any weak point; but these two assaults were repulsed with the greatest courage. The Grand Duke and his officers did not spare themselves on this occasion. They appeared in person; they led the civil population to the ramparts. Citizens and peasants both did their duty.
At the second attack, the Tartars managed to force one of the gates. A fight took place at the head of Bolchaia Street, two versts long, which abuts on the banks of the Angara. But the Cossacks, the police, the citizens, united in so fierce a resistance that the Tartars were compelled to withdraw.
Ivan Ogareff then thought of obtaining by stratagem what he could not gain by force.
We have said that his plan was to penetrate into the town, to make his way to the Grand Duke, to gain his confidence, and, when the time came, to give up the gates to the besiegers; and, that done, to wreak his vengeance on the brother of the Czar.
The Tsigane Sangarre, who had, accompanied him to the Angara camp, urged him to put this plan in execution.
Indeed, it was necessary to act without delay.
The Russian troops from the government of Yakutsk were advancing towards Irkutsk. They had concentrated on the upper course of the Lena, and were marching up its valley. In six days they would arrive. Therefore, before six days had passed, Irkutsk must be betrayed.
Ivan Ogareff hesitated no longer.
One evening, the 2nd of October, a council of war was held in the grand saloon of the palace of the governor-general. It was there the Grand Duke resided.
This palace, standing at the end of Bolchaia Street, overlooked the river for some distance. From the windows of its principal façade could be seen the camp of the Tartars, and had they possessed guns of a wider range than those they had brought with them, they would have rendered the palace uninhabitable.
The Grand Duke, General Voranzoff, the governor of the town, and the chief of the merchants, with several officers, had collected to determine upon various proposals.
“Gentlemen,” said the Grand Duke, “you know our situation exactly. I have the firm hope that we shall be able to hold out until the arrival of the Yakutsk troops. We shall then be able to drive off these barbarian hordes, and it will not be my fault if they do not pay dearly for this invasion of the Muscovite territory.”
“Your Highness knows that all the population of Irkutsk may be relied on,” said General Voranzoff.
“Yes, general,” replied the Grand Duke, “and I do justice to their patriotism. Thanks to God, they have not yet been subjected to the horrors of epidemic and famine, and I have reason to hope that they will escape them; but I cannot admire their courage on the ramparts enough. You hear my words, Sir Merchant, and I beg you to repeat such to them.”
“I thank your Highness in the name of the town,” answered the merchant chief. “May I ask you what is the most distant date when we may expect the relieving army?”
“Six days at most, sir,” replied the Grand Duke.” A brave and clever messenger managed this morning to get into the town, and he told me that fifty thousand Russians under General Kisselef, are advancing by forced marches. Two days ago, they were on the banks of the Lena, at Kirensk, and now, neither frost nor snow will keep them back. Fifty thousand good men, taking the Tartars on the flank, will soon set us free.”
“I will add,” said the chief of the merchants,” that we shall be ready to execute your orders, any day that your Highness may command a sortie.”
“Good, sir,” replied the Grand Duke. “Wait till the heads of the relieving columns appear on the heights, and we will speedily crush these invaders.”
Then turning to General Voranzoff—
“To-morrow,” said he, “we will visit the works on the right bank. Ice is drifting down the Angara, which will not be long in freezing, and in that case the Tartars might perhaps cross.”
“Will your Highness allow me to make an observation?” said the chief of the merchants.
“Do so, sir.”
“I have more than once seen the temperature fall to thirty and forty degrees below zero, and the Angara has still carried down drifting ice without entirely freezing. This is no doubt owing to the swiftness of its current If therefore the Tartars have no other means of crossing the river, I can assure your Highness that they will not enter Irkutsk in that way,”
The governor-general confirmed this assertion.
“It is a fortunate circumstance,” responded the Grand Duke. “Nevertheless, we must hold ourselves ready for any emergency.”
He then, turning towards the head of the police, asked, “Have you nothing to say to me, sir?”
“I have to make known to your Highness,” answered the head of police, “a petition which is addressed to you through me.”
“Addressed by . . . ?”
“By the Siberian exiles, whom, as your Highness knows, are in the town to the number of five hundred.”
The political exiles, distributed over the province, had been collected in Irkutsk from the beginning of the invasion. They had obeyed the order to rally in the town, and leave the villages where they exercised their different professions, some doctors, some professors, either at the Gymnasium, or at the Japanese School, or at the School of Navigation. The Grand Duke, trusting like the Czar in their patriotism, had armed them, and they had thoroughly proved their bravery.
“What do the exiles ask?” said the Grand Duke.
“They ask the consent of your Highness,” answered the head of police, “to their forming a special corps and being placed in the front of the first sortie.”
“Yes,” replied the Grand Duke with an emotion which he did not seek to hide, “these exiles are Russians, and it is their right to fight for their country!”
“I believe I may assure your Highness,” said the governor-general, “that you will not have any better soldiers.”
“But they must have a chief,” said the Grand Duke, “who will he be?”
“They wish to recommend to your Highness,” said the head of police, “one of their number, who has distinguished himself on several occasions.”
“Is he a Russian?”
“Yes, a Russian from the Baltic provinces.”
“His name. . . . ?”
“Is Wassili Fedor.”
This exile was Nadia’s father.
Wassili Fedor, as we have already said, followed his profession of a medical man in Irkutsk. He was clever and charitable, and also possessed the greatest courage and most sincere patriotism. All the time which he did not devote to the sick he employed in organising the defence. It was he who had united his companions in exile in the common cause. The exiles, till then mingled with the population, had behaved in such a way as to draw on themselves the attention of the Grand Duke. In several sorties, they had paid with their blood their debt to holy Russia—holy as they believe, and adored by her children! Wassili Fedor had behaved heroically; his name had been mentioned several times, but he never asked either thanks or favours, and when the exiles of Irkutsk thought of forming themselves into a special corps, he was ignorant of their having any intention of choosing him for their captain.
When the head of police mentioned this name, the Grand Duke answered that it was not unknown to him.
“Indeed,” remarked General Voranzoff, “Wassili Fedor is a man of worth and courage. His influence over his companions has always been very great”
“How long has he been at Irkutsk?” asked the Grand Duke.
“For two years.”
“And his conduct. . . . ?”
“His conduct,” answered the head of police, “is that of a man obedient to the special laws which govern him.”
“General,” said the Grand Duke, “General, be good enough to present him to me immediately.”
The orders of the Grand Duke were obeyed, and before half an hour had passed, Wassili Fedor was introduced into his presence.
He was a man of forty years or more, tall, of a stern and sad countenance. One felt that his whole life was summed up in one single word—strife—and that he had striven and suffered. His features bore a marked resemblance to those of his daughter, Nadia Fedor.
This Tartar invasion had severely wounded him in his tenderest affections, and ruined the hope of the father, exiled eight thousand versts from his native town. A letter had apprised him of the death of his wife, and at the same time of the departure of his daughter, who had obtained from the government an authorisation to join him at Irkutsk.
Nadia must have left Riga on the 10th of July. The invasion had begun on the 15th of July; if at that time Nadia had passed the frontier, what could have become of her in the midst of the invaders? The anxiety of the unhappy father may be supposed when, from that time, he had no further news of his daughter.
Wassili Fedor entered the presence of the Grand Duke, bowed, and waited to be questioned.
“Wassili Fedor,” said the Grand Duke, “your companions in exile have asked to be allowed to form a select corps. They are not ignorant that in this corps they must make up their minds to be killed to the last man?”
“They are not ignorant of it,” replied Fedor.
“They wish to have you for their captain.”
“I, your Highness?”
“Do you consent to be placed at their head?”
“Yes, if it is for the good of Russia.”
“Captain Fedor,” said the Grand Duke, “you are no longer an exile.”
“Thanks, your Highness, but can I command those who are so still?”
“They are so no longer!”
The brother of the Czar had granted a pardon to all his companions in exile, now his companions in arms!
Wassili Fedor wrung, with emotion, the hand which the Grand Duke held out to him, and retired.
The latter, then turning to his officers—
“The Czar will not refuse to ratify that pardon,” said he, smiling; “we need heroes to defend the capital of Siberia, and I have just made some.”
This pardon, so generously accorded to the exiles of Irkutsk, was indeed an act of real justice and sound policy.
It was now night. Through the windows of the palace burned the fires of the Tartar camp, flickering beyond the Angara. Down the river drifted numerous blocks of ice, some of which stuck on the piles of the old bridges; others were swept along by the current with great rapidity. It was evident, as the merchant had observed, that it would be very difficult for the Angara to freeze all over. The defenders of Irkutsk had not to dread being attacked on that side.
Ten o’clock had just struck. The Grand Duke was about to dismiss his officers and retire to his own apartments, when a tumult was heard outside the palace.
Almost immediately the door was thrown open, an aide-de-camp appeared, and advancing towards the Grand Duke—
“Your Highness,” said he, “a courier from the Czar!”
CHAPTER XIII.
THE CZAR’S COURIER.
ALL the members of the council simultaneously started forward. A courier from the Czar arrived in Irkutsk! Had these officers for a moment considered the improbability of this fact, they would certainly not have credited what they heard.
The Grand Duke advanced quickly to his aide-decamp.
“This courier!” he exclaimed.
A man entered. He appeared exhausted with fatigue. He wore the dress of a Siberian peasant, worn into tatters, and exhibiting several shot-holes. A Muscovite cap was on his head. His face was disfigured by a recently-healed scar. The man had evidently had a long and painful journey; his shoes being in a state which showed that he had been obliged to make part of it on foot.
“His Highness the Grand Duke?” he said as he entered.
The Grand Duke went up to him.
“You are a courier from the Czar?” he asked.
“Yes, your Highness.”
“You come. . . ?”
“From Moscow.”
“You left Moscow. . . ?”
“On the 15th of July.”
“Your name?”
“Michael Strogoff.”
It was Ivan Ogareff. He had taken the designation of the man whom he believed that he had rendered powerless. Neither the Grand Duke nor anyone knew him in Irkutsk, and he had not even to disguise his features. As he was in a position to prove his pretended identity, no one could have any reason for doubting him. He came, therefore, sustained by his iron will, to hasten by treason and assassination the great object of the invasion.
After Ogareff had replied, the Grand Duke signed to all his officers to withdraw.
He and the false Michael Strogoff remained alone in the saloon.
The Grand Duke looked at Ivan Ogareff for some moments with extreme attention. Then said he, “On the 15th of July you were at Moscow?”
“Yes, your Highness; and on the night of the 14th I saw His Majesty the Czar at the New Palace.”
“Have you a letter from the Czar?”
“Here it is.”
And Ivan Ogareff handed to the Grand Duke the Imperial letter, reduced to almost microscopic dimensions.
“Was the letter given you in this state?” asked the Grand Duke.
“No, your Highness, but I was obliged to tear the envelope, the better to hide it from the Emir’s soldiers.”
“Were you taken prisoner by the Tartars?”
“Yes, your Highness, I was their prisoner for several days,” answered Ogareff. “Such was the reason that, having left Moscow on the 15th of July, as the date of that letter shows, I only reached Irkutsk on the 2nd of October, after travelling seventy-nine days.”
The Grand Duke took the letter. He unfolded it and recognized the Czar’s signature, preceded by the decisive formula, written by his brother’s hand. There was no possible doubt of the authenticity of this letter, nor of the identity of the courier. Though Ogareff’s countenance had at first inspired the Grand Duke with some distrust, he let nothing of it appear, and it soon vanis
hed.
The Grand Duke remained for a few minutes without speaking. He read the letter slowly, so as to take in its meaning fully.
“Michael Strogoff, do you know the contents of this letter?” he asked.
“Yes, your Highness. I might have been obliged to destroy it, to prevent its falling into the hands of the Tartars, and should such have been the case, I wished to be able to bring the contents of it to your Highness.”
“You know that this letter enjoins us all to die, rather than give up the town?”
“I know it.”
“You know also that it informs me of the movements of the troops which have combined to stop the invasion?”
“Yes, your Highness, but these movements have not succeeded.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that Ichim, Omsk, Tomsk, to speak only of the more important towns of the two Siberias, have been successively occupied by the soldiers of Feofar-Khan.”
“But there has been fighting? Have not our Cossacks met the Tartars?”
“Several times, your Highness.”
“And they were repulsed?”
“They were not in sufficient force to oppose the enemy.”
“Where did the encounters of which you speak take place?”
“At Kolyvan, at Tomsk. . . .”
Until now, Ogareff had only spoken the truth, but, in the hope of troubling the defenders of Irkutsk by exaggerating the advantages gained by the Emir’s troops, he added—
“And a third time before Krasnoiarsk.”
“And what of this last engagement . . . ?” asked the Grand Duke, through whose compressed lips the words could scarcely pass.
“It was more than an engagement, your Highness,” answered Ogareff; “it was a battle.”
“A battle?”
“Twenty thousand Russians, from the frontier provinces and the government of Tobolsk, engaged with a hundred and fifty thousand Tartars, and, notwithstanding their courage, were overwhelmed.”