by The Countess
"What is it now, Major Krylenko?" Catherine pushed the telltale poster into a drawer and stared up at the new arrival with unconcealed dislike and made no move to proffer her hand.
"It is a delicate matter, Your Imperial Majesty."
"Then I will retire." Dmitri rose from his chair, but Catherine waved him to be seated again.
"Stay here, Colonel. No doubt the Major is only here to complain about my guards."
"Indeed, no, Madame. I have come to respectfully beg your attendance at an occasion of some importance - at least to me."
Respectfully, Catherine mused. Given the chance, he would be one of the first to volunteer to cut her throat.
"I have just left the Countess Romanova," Vladimir continued. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dmitri stiffen and he could hardly suppress a smile. He looked displeased now; just wait until he heard the rest of it. "I wanted to put her mind at rest as soon as possible."
Catherine's fingers began to beat an impatient tattoo on the top of the desk, but for once Major Krylenko was not intimidated.
"Is there a point to all this?" she demanded. "Why should you concern yourself with the Countess?"
"She is the sister of my poor, unfortunate wife. I am obliged to look after her," Vladimir said in an injured tone. "The Czar has graciously given his blessing to our marriage."
Dmitri leapt from his chair like an angry mountain lion. In two strides he had covered the space between them and his hands were about the other man's throat before Catherine's voice penetrated his shocked mind enough to stay the action.
"Save your brawling for the barrack room, Colonel Varanov. Release him and sit down, or leave the room," she commanded.
Vladimir knocked away Dmitri's hands. Far from being angered, he found pleasure in his enemy's attitude. Another false step like that one and Alexandreya would be well on the way to receiving his head as a wedding present despite their bargain. The fool was fond of her and she did not know it. Love - tenderness - gentleness, these were qualities beyond Vladimir's comprehension. He had never experienced love, and the others he considered signs of weakness in a man.
"Am I to understand that my husband has agreed to this match?" Catherine chose her words with care, her nimble brain already calculating the risks ahead should she keep Alexandreya under her protection. This was a trap, with a very clever bait.
"Yes, Madame, this morning."
"And you have informed the Countess, of course. What was her reaction?"
"She was surprised naturally, but she has accepted it. Shall I tell the Czar the marriage has your approval also?"
Catherine wanted to strike out at the smug face before her. God, Dmitri looked as if he was about to explode. Slowly she stood up, her face impassive, and remained for a few minutes contemplating the matter. There was only one answer and both men knew it.
"The Countess will make a fine wife," she said. She dared not look at the bleak-faced Cossack beside her, lest the contempt in his eyes made her hesitate. "When do you intend the wedding to take place?"
"Before the end of the month, with Your Imperial Majesty's most gracious permission. Does this mean you might attend the ceremony? I am sure it would please the Countess, she is most anxious to have your blessing."
"I shall be there." Catherine gave him her hand and dismissed him.
As the door closed behind him, Dmitri began to follow, his fingers tightly clutching the hilt of his sword.
"Not yet, Colonel, we have to talk. Come back, do you hear?" Catherine's voice, like a whiplash halted him half way across the room. "Are you blind? This is Peter's work. He wants you to rush off to rescue her, or for me to intervene."
"Your Highness will not be involved. I shall challenge him outside the palace for an entirely different reason -and kill him."
"You will not."
Dmitri turned pale. He stepped towards her disbelievingly.
"You are not suggesting I leave him alone - to marry the woman I love?" He did not care who knew it now that this crisis had arisen. The reason for Natasha's removal had become all too clear, and Madeleine de Veaux had known' it.
"One woman against an empire - are you in any doubt which to choose?" Catherine challenged. She had never imagined that he would act this way.
"I have no choice," Dmitri said bitterly. "Krylenko will not have her. I do not believe she has agreed, she hates him."
Catherine scowled at him and stamped her foot. It was an infantile gesture she had not left behind in childhood.
"No one, not even you will ruin my plans. Krylenko will marry the Countess and you will be at the wedding feast to drink their health, or else you will be in the fortress. I mean it - you are not to interfere. The time will come when you can settle with the Major for this and other past insults, and it will not be long in coming now, believe me and then you can take her back."
"In God's name don't ask me to do nothing," Dmitri cried hoarsely. "Hasn't she endured enough?"
Catherine drew herself up stiffly.
"Come here and give me your sword. Now kneel." She thrust the curved Cossack blade out before his face. "Swear, as God is your witness, you will obey me in this."
Dmitri did not speak. For once in his life he could find no words, not even those Catherine tried to put into his mouth.
"Swear it, or by heaven, I'll kill you on your knees." Catherine's fingers tightened over the weapon. Although not a lover, he was her favourite at court, yet she was prepared to plunge the blade into his heart.
"I swear."
Dmitri's voice was hardly audible. His lips touched the cold steel and he drew back with a shudder as if touched by the hand of death.
"Thank you, my Colonel." Catherine returned the sword and watched him fighting to control an outbreak of emotion. He would continue to serve her as before, perhaps even better, for she had now taken away his main reason for living, and for that she knew he would never forgive her, although his manner would never betray him.
"The Countess will have need of you," she said quietly. "Go to her, but be careful what you say. Do we understand each other, Dmitri?"
"Perfectly."
Dmitri strode from Catherine's presence in a black rage and almost struck the maid who tried to refuse him admittance to Alexandreya's apartments, with the excuse that she was indisposed. He fully expected to see a tearful face - or at least some sign of distress- but the woman who rose to greet him was perfectly composed. He had no idea of the supreme effort Alexandreya had made to force herself to appear so calm.
"I came the moment I heard," Dmitri said quietly.
"I did not expect Major Krylenko to speak to the Czarina so soon." Alexandreya moved away from him, panic-stricken. He knew already; it would not be long before the whole palace was buzzing with the news.
"I was with her when the Major had his audience. Don't worry, I'll stop him somehow. Catherine made me swear not to intervene, but even so I'll not allow him to lay his filthy hands on you."
When Alexandreya did not answer he turned on her curiously. At first he had thought her to be in a state of shock, now he was not too sure. There was no sign of tears, nothing to indicate that she was unduly worried at the plans being made to marry her to a man she hated.
"Have you nothing to say?" He bent his head, peering into her face. "He said you had agreed to the match, but I know that to be a he."
"You misunderstand the situation, Colonel Varanov.
Major Krylenko has made me realise that he has my welfare at heart, and he has done me a great honour by asking me to be his wife."
"Honour," Dmitri sneered. "That man has no conception of the word."
"I have agreed to be his wife and there is an end to it."
"You were upset, you could not have realised what you were saying," Dmitri replied and his voice had grown harsh. For a moment she had sounded and even looked like Elena. "I will come back when you are more composed and we can think out some plan."
"That will not be wise unde
r the circumstances," Alex-andreya said. "We have caused too much gossip in the past. Thank you for your concern, Colonel, but now you can see it was unnecessary."
Dmitri's face darkened and his brows drew together over eyes which blazed with fury.
"By heaven, you try my patience too far! You have had your joke, now tell me you are not going to marry him."
Alexandreya's courage almost failed her. How easy it would be to confess the hold Vladimir had over her - and just as easily she would be sending him to his death.
"I do not make jokes, you know me better than that."
"Do I know you at all?" Dmitri questioned.
"You have helped me over a very difficult time, and we are friends because of it. I hope that will never change." Alexandreya's composure was beginning to crack. Why didn't he go and leave her to cry in peace? She watched a familiar sardonic smile curve around his mouth.
"You led me to believe you wanted more than friendship," he scathed.
She stepped back in alarm. "I did not."
"Not in so many words, perhaps, but you will recall you had no objections to me holding you in my arms of late. Was it amusing to know I wanted you more each day?"
Alexandreya paled at the contempt in his voice, yet at the same time she welcomed it, knowing that she might weaken and confess everything if he was kind or tried to persuade her against the marriage. His anger was her only weapon. If he provoked her she would retaliate, as in the old days before she grew to love him. It was too late to turn back, she saw that in his eyes, and forced cruel, heartless words to her lips.
"Axe you annoyed because I played you at your own game, Colonel?" She even managed to sound amused. "Please go before you make it necessary to call the guards."
Something near hatred flashed across Dmitri's face.
"Not before you and I come to an understanding," he growled. "You couldn't have changed so much in the space of a few hours, and I'll prove it."
Alarm seized Alexandreya. The slightest touch would be enough to demolish her deceptive front. His fingers closed around her arm. She jerked herself free, simultaneously striking out. Her palm caught him a stinging blow across the face.
"Get out! I hate you, do you hear?"
"Yes, I hear you." Dmitri stepped away from her, a murderous look in his eyes that made her knees grow weak. "I should be grateful to the Major for taking you off my hands. I was a fool to think you were any different. A pity you do not have a household of servants you could call to come and throw me out."
"If I had them to call, I would." Alexandreya spoke the words she knew would break the last link between them. Wordlessly Dmitri turned on his heel and left her.
For the last days of the mourning period Alexandreya did not venture out of her apartments, and received no visitors. Dmitri did not come to see her again, and final proof of her convincing performance was supplied when his guards were replaced by soldiers from Vladimir Krylenko's regiment. She knew her future husband had placed them there not to protect her, but to ensure that she made no attempt to stray from her bargain.
At first she cried incessantly, making herself so weak that a doctor was called to bleed her. Now the tears were past, and in their place lurked a terrible loneliness. Escape never entered her head, for she knew to attempt it would immediately place Dmitri's head beneath the executioner's axe. She suspected that not only the guards, but also her servants were watching her every move and reporting back to Major Krylenko.
At the end of the week, Vladimir came to see her again. The apartments were full of the flowers he sent each day. He looked around him with a satisfied smile, his eyes coming to rest at last on the quiet, pale-faced woman seated on the couch.
"Why are you not wearing a more becoming gown?" he enquired, frowning at the high necked dress of dark silk. It increased her pallor and he did not like the way it hid her body.
"I was not expecting you," Alexandreya replied.
"Then you underestimate my affection for you, my dear. Tonight I intend to announce the wedding date. The Czar has asked us to dine with him. I sincerely hope you will wear something more becoming."
Alexandreya raised her head and looked up at him. Her poise surprised him. He had been prepared for a tearful scene or even an angry one. He was not aware that Alexandreya had accepted the situation fully for the first time that very morning, and had resigned herself to his domination. What did it matter, with Natasha dead and the man she loved believing her to be a liar and a cheat?
"I shall try to please you," she said.
"You do, my dear, I wish you would let me show you how much." He sat beside her and attempted to caress her breasts. Alexandreya did not move; she knew from past experience it was not wise to anger this man. Whatever he did she must endure it. Perhaps one day her chance to escape would come.
"Not now, I beg you, someone might come in. Give me a little more time," she added.
"I am glad you have decided to be sensible," Vladimir murmured. He kissed her roughly on the lips and then rose. "I will leave you to make preparations for tonight, and remember I want you to look your loveliest."
Late that same evening, while the rest of the palace slept, Catherine entertained a strange assortment of guests in her private chamber, among them the Archbishop of Novgorod and several Elders of the Church who had been secretly smuggled into the palace from outlying parts of the country. Prince Menshikov, an officer of the Preob-razhensky regiment, Gregory and Alexei Orloff and other officers of the army who had pledged unswerving devotion to Catherine. Dmitri stood beside her chair, listening intently while plans were made. In a week he had aged considerable, and there was a harshness in his face that close friends recognised and they pitied him in silence, not daring to mention Alexandreya by name or implication.
Catherine's plan was a simple one. She had the backing of the Church and the army, except for a few stragglers who could be eliminated should they cause trouble. It was her intention to draw her main support from the people -disillusioned and bitter from months of Peter's erratic rule. Their discontent - their hatred - was her lever. Used to the right advantage she could oust her husband from the throne with little or no bloodshed.
She did not want him killed, although the men present in the room with her, with the exception of the Church, were all for ending his worthless life - a gesture, she was assured, that the people would appreciate. With him dead, they argued, she would be accepted as Empress of Russia by everyone, from the lowest peasant to Peter's courtiers themselves. Catherine, however, was adamant. She did not want his death on her conscience and was quite content to make arrangements for him to be confined in a lonely, isolated house at Robshak, some miles from Peterhof.
"I will buy him a new regiment of toy soldiers," she said with a smile. "He will play with them and never miss his throne."
"What of Major Krylenko and his men?" Gregory Orloff asked.
Catherine glanced at the emotionless face beside her.
"You need have no fear on that score, gentlemen, Colonel Varanov and his Cossacks will deal with them. I have long promised him the satisfaction of slitting the Major's throat."
Dmitri felt several pairs of eyes move in his direction, and read the unspoken questions in them. It was a personal grudge, and they knew it and would not interfere. Afterwards he would deal with Alexandreya. He had sat almost opposite her at dinner that evening, watching her talking and smiling beside Vladimir Krylenko. Love and hate had suddenly merged until he was unable to distinguish between them.
Jewels had flashed at her throat and wrists. The pale blue gown she wore, cut low across her breasts, hardly confirmed the picture of virginal modesty she had tried to impress upon him for so long. Her attentiveness to her future husband infuriated him to danger point and more than once Catherine was forced to divert his attention elsewhere.
He had been one of the first to leave the supper room. In an upstairs corridor he had waited for Alexandreya to pass en route to her apartments,
deliberately choosing a place where he knew they would not be disturbed. She had not seen him until the last moment, and then it was too late to retreat. He blocked her path menacingly, a frightening figure in the shadowy light of the wall torches.
"Let me pass," Alexandreya said, and she saw his eyes gleam at the tremor in her voice.
She had undergone a terrible strain over the past hours, aware every minute that his gaze was centred on her. Everyone had congratulated her on the forthcoming wedding, Dmitri last of all, and his voice had proclaimed, by its scornful tone, exactly what he felt. She was thankful that Vladimir had been too engrossed in conversation to make anything of it.
"Let me pass," she repeated.
"You will hear me out. What I have to say will not take long." He seized her wrist, staring down into her upturned face with steely eyes. "Look at me, Countess. Take a good, long-look. Do you think I am the kind of man who would let you escape so easily?"
She had not answered, and he had told her then the truth about Natasha's death, of Madeleine de Veaux's involvement and how Andre Bruckner had not been confined to barracks as he had previously told her, but buried in an unmarked grave in the infamous prison fortress of St. Peter and St. Paul. The time was coming, he had assured her, when he would kill Vladimir Krylenko and repay her for all her lies and treachery. The next time he would have no scruples and she would discover just how crude a peasant could be.
He had let her go and watched her run along the corridor as if the devil himself was after her. Slowly he had wandered back to Catherine's apartments, Alexandreya forgotten. The evening had almost ended in disaster earlier when Catherine refused to drink a toast to Peter's mistress. She had stalked out of the room followed by Dmitri and the Orloff brothers, with Peter's shrill voice screaming after her, threatening first imprisonment, then death, not only for her, but her son Paul, whom he publicly disowned in no uncertain terms, much to the embarrassment of the remaining dinner guests.