The Wanton Princess

by Dennis Wheatley

  ‘Your description implies that the Czar already fears that the people may revolt against him.’

  ‘I imagine so; why otherwise these defences he has caused to be erected round his palace? One thing is certain. Fearing the same fate that befell his father may overtake him, he is now suspicious of everyone—even of his wife and sons.’

  ‘Think you, sir, that they might be glad to see him put where he can do no further harm, and so be inclined to assist us?’

  ‘I greatly doubt it. The Czarina Maria has suffered much. While at Gatshina he used to keep her sitting for hours upon a horse, often in pouring rain, upon a hill-top, simply as a marker of the place he wished his Marines to attack in some mock battle. She is one of the most lovely women at the Court of St. Petersburg, but he pays her scant attention. Nevertheless, she is of a faithful disposition and I think it unlikely that she would ever participate in a conspiracy against him. As for his sons, the Czarevitch is a charming young man. He could become an admirable ruler, but he is of such an upright nature that I feel sure he would not lend himself to deposing his father. His brother, the Grand Duke Constantine, I urge you to beware of. He is a fool and a loudmouthed braggart, so all the odds are that by some indiscretion he would betray you.’

  ‘What of Mademoiselle Niledoff?’ Roger asked. ‘I have heard it said that after having been the Czar’s mistress for many years she has recently been displaced by a Mademoiselle Lopukhina. Out of jealousy, might she not perhaps give us her aid?’

  ‘Have you ever met her?’ the Count enquired with a smile.

  ‘No, sir. I was little more than a youth when last in St. Petersburg, and that was near thirteen years ago.’

  ‘You have lost nothing then. She is ugly and diminutive; squints, spits while she is talking and swears like a trooper. Apparently such conduct appeals to our military-minded master and after a day’s manoeuvres they often get drunk together. But despite the Czar’s new fancy for the Lopukhina, the Niledoff still has a hold on him; and without him she would be nothing, so it would be ill-advised to approach her.’

  ‘Has he men favourites as well as women?’

  ‘Indeed, yes. Apparently it gives him pleasure to raise up low-born servants and watch them being insolent to their betters. There is one in particular, his Turkish barber, a man named Ivan Pavlovitch. The fellow was a slave brought up in his house but now the Czar will do nothing that does not meet with this creature’s approval, and has actually made him a Privy Councillor.’

  ‘What of his Ministers, sir? Do you believe them to be loyal to him?’

  ‘They would be as mad as he is did they not wish for a change of master. When in his presence the unpredictability of his mind keeps them in a state of constant fear. On being received in audience, should they fail to kiss his hand so fervidly that the smack of their lips on it is heard throughout the chamber he may impute to them a secret reluctance to pay him proper homage, fly into one of his violent rages and instantly deprive them of their fortunes. During this past year he has sent not a few but hundreds of officials into exile.’

  ‘That being so there must be much suitable material to our hand.’

  Vorontzoff shook his head, ‘Perhaps to yours, Mr. Brook; but not to “ours”. You must not count on my aid in this, because my circumstances are peculiar. Under the Emperor Peter I was a Minister and served him faithfully. I played no part in the coup d’etat which led to his death, neither did I support his wife Catherine’s usurpation. For that she never forgave me; so during her reign I lived in retirement. Upon the present Czar’s coming to the throne, he recalled my loyalty to his father and on that account behaved most handsomely to my house, showering both myself and my brother with rich gifts.’

  ‘My brother’s situation is somewhat different from mine. Having lived for fifteen years in England he has become much enamoured of your country and has made the cause of Britain his own. As long as Russia continued to be at war with France he was entirely happy; but then, as we must in fairness admit, the Czar had some grounds for becoming dissatisfied with his ally. As the elected Grand Prior of the Knights of Malta, to become sovereign of that island meant a great deal to him; but your country refused him that satisfaction. There was then the matter of the Russian force sent to Holland and its shocking mishandling by the Duke of York. Those, too, who succeeded in getting away with such English as escaped were sent to the Channel Islands and have since been treated as little better than prisoners. On that head I may mention that Bonaparte acted very differently. The Russians captured by the French in Holland were, in truth, prisoners of war; yet the First Consul not only sent them home without requiring an exchange, but had every man furnished with a new uniform before doing so.’

  Roger smiled, ‘Such a gesture was typical of both the generosity General Bonaparte displays at times and of his cunning. Agreeing, though, that the Emperor Paul had some grounds for dissatisfaction with Britain, and has now become so bewitched by the First Consul that he is determined to join him in his war against us, that has no bearing upon the facts, admitted by yourself, that the Czar is no longer competent to govern and has become a menace to his people.’

  ‘There I agree. I was pointing out only that whereas my brother’s love of England has overcome his gratitude for the benefits his master has bestowed upon him, so that he has at least tacitly encouraged you to undertake your present mission, I still consider myself bound by the benefits I have received from His Imperial Majesty to keep aloof from any attempt to bring about his ruin.’

  ‘I appreciate your scruples, sir,’ Roger replied quietly. Then, feeling that in the circumstances it would not be right to ask the Count for the names of any highly-placed men who might aid him, much disappointed, he shortly afterwards took his leave.

  The next day being Sunday, he borrowed a pair of skates and went down to the Neva where a considerable number of people were skating on their own or propelling ladies in sledges swiftly over the ice. He had not been there long before he ran into a Captain Muriavieff, whom he had met the previous day when breakfasting with Vorontzoff. When they had talked for a while as they glided over the ice side by side, the Captain invited him to a stag party that he was giving that evening, and Roger gladly accepted.

  On his arrival at Muriavieff’s apartment he found a dozen or more men assembled there, most of whom were officers of the Semenourki Guards. The Punch was mixed and they gaily set about an evening’s drinking. By eleven o’clock they were on their fifth bowl of Punch, singing lustily and already slightly tipsy. It was then that a newcomer entered and, as he came into the room, a sudden embarrassed silence fell. Wondering at its cause, Roger looked at the tall, pale-faced young man, who was obviously very drunk indeed, and saw that although he was wearing the uniform of an officer it lacked both sash and epaulettes.

  Advancing unsteadily on Muriavieff, the young man burst into a tirade of abuse against the Czar. From it Roger gathered that on the previous day the Semenourki regiment had been on guard duty at the Palace and when Paul had made his usual two hour-long inspection, examining minutely every man in the regiment, he had noticed that one of the men had a slight stain on his breeches. This had driven him into a furious rage and he had promptly reduced both the man’s Company Commander and Platoon Commander to the ranks.

  It was the outraged Company Commander who was now giving vent to his indignation, and he bawled at Muriavieff, ‘How long are we to lie down under such vile treatment? The “Little Father” is no longer a father to us but a crazy imbecile. He treats us, scions of the noblest families in Mother Russia, as though we were no better than serfs. Why do you not speak to your Uncle and urge upon him that it is his duty to remonstrate with the madman? As First Minister Count Pahlen has his ear. Go to him, Muriavieff. You have always said you were my friend. Go to him and urge him to get me back my commission.’

  At the name of Count Pahlen Roger pricked up his ears. Among the letters of introduction that Count Simon Vorontzoff had given him was one for th
e Minister. Knowing that at every morning levee his anteroom would be crowded with people submitting petitions to him, Roger had been wondering how, without making himself conspicuous, he could present his letter and secure a private audience. That Muriavieff should be the great man’s nephew offered just the opening he had been seeking.

  Clearly everyone sympathised with the degraded Captain, and joined in abusing the Czar. For half an hour the indignation meeting continued, everyone talking at once. Meanwhile, the Czar’s victim was given several helpings of Punch and, being already drunk, at the end of that time fell flat on his face on the floor.

  When he had been carried off to a bedroom and the clamour had subsided, Roger got Muriavieff aside, said that he had an introduction to his uncle and asked if he could arrange for him to meet him more or less in private.

  Muriavieff, swaying slightly but not too drunk to register what was being said to him, replied, ‘Nothing easier, my friend. Imperial Highness Alexander giving big reception two nights hence. We’re his own regiment, you know. All invited. My uncle sure to be there. Take you with me.’

  9

  The Conspiracy

  Two nights later, concealing his excitement at the promised meeting with Count Pahlen, which he felt might prove the key to his mission, Roger accompanied Muriavieff to the Palace of the Heir Apparent and was presented to him. He found, as he had been told, that the Prince was a delightful young man: handsome, well-made and of a most amiable disposition. For a man of twenty-four he seemed somewhat shy, but he had dignity and gave his wife a charming smile as Roger was about to make his bow to her. She had been Princess Louise of Baden and they had married when he was only sixteen, his grandmother having been anxious to see the succession secured before she died. In that Catherine had been disappointed; for Elizabeth Feodorovna, as Louise had been rechristened on taking the Russian Faith, had had no children. But she was a beautiful girl and the young couple had fallen in love at first sight.

  An hour later Roger, who had been keeping a watchful eye on Muriavieff, saw him detach a tall, broad-shouldered man with a rugged, forceful face from a small group and lead him a few paces towards the embrasure of a window. The Captain then beckoned Roger who moved quickly over to them and the presentation was made.

  Roger at once spoke of his letter from Count Simon and was about to produce it, but the Minister said quickly, ‘I will take it as read, Mr. Brook, and send you a card for some entertainment within a few days; but many affairs call for my attention and my nephew tells me that you wanted a word in private. Now is your time.’

  ‘It was to give Your Excellency a sight of this,’ Roger replied quickly, as he took from his waistcoat pocket a slip of paper. It had on it only three lines, which read:

  ‘Mr. Roger Brook is a confidential agent of the British Government. He is proceeding to Russia in the hope of bringing about better relations with the Government of His Imperial Majesty.’ And it was signed by Lord Grenville.

  Having given the Lettre de Marque a swift glance, Count Pahlen handed it back with a dubious smile as he said, ‘I fear you have set yourself a difficult task, Mr. Brook. My Imperial Master feels himself to have been most ill-treated by his late allies and is now firmly set upon entering the war against them.’

  ‘Of that I am aware,’ Roger replied in a low voice. ‘But it cannot have escaped Your Excellency that his rule has made him many enemies among his own people. Should God in His wisdom decree a change of government here, I might be able to carry back to my Lord Grenville a very different answer.’

  Having no official position Roger could not claim diplomatic immunity, so it was a most dangerous suggestion to have made. But, after the Czar, Count Pahlen was the most powerful man in Russia, and Roger had decided that this was his one big chance of getting to grips with his mission.

  The minister’s smile left his face and, after a moment, he said, ‘You are a bold man, Mr. Brook. In this country even to voice such a thought could be accounted a crime.’

  Keeping his deep blue eyes fixed unwaveringly on those of the Count, Roger replied, ‘I am confident that Your Excellency, too, would run great risks in the interests of your country and for the chance of restoring happiness to a vast number of people. I pray you at least to afford me an opportunity to put before you certain possibilities.’

  ‘Do you speak German or French?’ asked the Count.

  ‘German well enough and French fluently.’

  ‘Very well, then. German would be better. Be at my residence one hour after midnight and enquire for Alexis in that language. He-will bring you to me and I will listen to what you have to say.’

  Roger murmured his thanks, they exchanged bows and the minister moved away.

  For the remainder of the evening Roger continued to circulate among the guests, renewing an old acquaintance here and there and, through them, making a number of new ones. Moving slowly about the large, lofty rooms there were several hundred people and at the buffets the supplies of food and drink were ample; but the guests did not appear to be enjoying themselves. There was little laughter and an air of uneasy restraint seemed to afflict the whole company; so Roger found himself comparing the scene with those he had witnessed at the Winter Palace and the Hermitage in the days of the great Catherine.

  The uniforms of her reign had been much more varied and brilliant, and the fêtes she and her favourites gave spectacles to marvel at. Lofty apartments were turned into Indian temples and indoor gardens, where tropical fish swam in great glass vases. Thousands of candles in huge crystal chandeliers had lit the scene. After the formal dances, led by the Empress herself, there were wonderful ballets each costing a fortune, parades of Kalmucks, Tartars, Circassians and all the other peoples of her Empire in their colourful tribal costumes. Then jugglers and acrobats performed their feats and Cossacks danced the Trepak to the wild music of gipsy bands. The long tables groaned under their weight of fantastic culinary creations on dishes of gold and silver, and the champagne flowed like water. At midnight the common people were let in by the hundred, given food and wine and presents of money, household articles and clothes. After the Empress retired the party became one vast drunken orgy, but it was not without reason that her people cried, ‘Czarina, live for ever.’

  Yet most of the time Roger’s thoughts were on his coming interview with Count Pahlen, and he wondered with considerable anxiety whether he would emerge from it a free man.

  At one o’clock in the morning he roused the sleepy night porter at the Count’s palace, asked in German for Herr Alexis and, after a short wait, a lanky, grey-haired man showed him into the Minister’s cabinet. Pahlen had discarded his stiff Court dress and put on a loose chamber robe. Waving Roger to a chair, he said at once:

  ‘Now, Mr. Brook, let me hear what your Government has to offer that might induce Russia to change her policy.’

  ‘A considerable modification of the measures that now seriously interfere with Russia’s commerce on the high seas, Your Excellency,’ Roger replied, ‘and the return in good shape of the Russian troops now detained in the Channel Islands.’

  ‘That is not much,’ shrugged the Count, ‘and would not weigh a straw with my present master.’

  ‘Ah!’ exclaimed Roger boldly. ‘Your Excellency has brought us to the crux of the whole matter. You will surely not contest that the Czar Paul is rapidly leading Russia to ruin? Nine-tenths of your trade is already at a standstill. The fascination that General Bonaparte exercises on him may well prove disastrous. As allies, any troops he may send into western Europe must mingle with the French. Whatever change may have taken place in the First Consul’s own views, his army is still imbued with the doctrines of the Revolution: “Liberty, Equality, Fraternity”. You may depend upon it that your troops will be infected by their views and on return to their own country stage revolts which must end in the destruction of your system, under which by far the greater part of the Russian people lives in a state of serfdom.’

  Count Pahlen nodded, ‘I
n that being a danger, I agree with you.’

  ‘Yet it is not that alone which must be a matter of great concern to you,’ Roger hurried on. ‘There is the parlous state to which the Russian nobility has been reduced. I learn that within the past few years, not scores but hundreds of them have been sent to exile in Siberia.’ He then related the scene he had witnessed two nights before in Captain Muriavieff’s apartments and continued, ‘Such arbitrary dismissals must immensely weaken your army when it is brought into battle, and by them the whole hierarchy under which Russia has grown great is systematically being destroyed. In this I tell Your Excellency nothing that you do not already know, and must surely feel calls for swift redress.’

  With a grim little smile the Minister asked, ‘What remedy for this, Mr. Brook, do you propose?’

  ‘I’ll make no bones about it,’ Roger replied firmly. ‘You should depose the Emperor and install the Grand Duke Alexander as Czar in his place.’

  ‘Your proposal has no novelty,’ the Count said with a heavy sigh. ‘Your last Ambassador, Lord Whitworth, urged such a step upon me before his departure, and numerous other people have done so in secret. But a coup d’état of this kind is fraught with difficulties and dangers. The Grand Duke Alexander has no reason to love his father. In character the two bear no resemblance. On that account the Czar has always disliked and distrusted his son. The more so as he is aware that, but for the Empress Catherine’s last illness having taken her off somewhat suddenly, Alexander would have succeeded in his place. Her Majesty had already had documents drafted to set aside her son and install her grandson on the throne. Alexander was aware of this but, being a youth of high integrity, refused to lend himself to supplanting his father. That is still his attitude. I have already sounded him on the subject several times, but he remains adamant in his resistance to proposals that we should depose his father and make him Czar. And, without his consent, such an act could lead to the death of all concerned in it.’