The Shadow of Tyburn Tree

by Dennis Wheatley

  He said, ‘I find myself quite unable to express an opinion whether this new development is likely to have a favourable or adverse effect on your prospects; and I should be serving you ill if I did not warn you that this signal honour is due to no more than curiosity.’ Smiling a little wryly he added: ‘The truth is that in Petersburg you are now accounted a monster, and Her Majesty, ever eager for new sensations, is desirous of having another look at you.’

  With this cold comfort Roger had to be content till afternoon, when Dr. Drenke came to see him, bringing more cheerful tidings. Zaria was now pronounced out of danger and had made a statement to the police. She confirmed all that Roger had said of his instructions to her, and had disclosed that her attacker had been a lady of quality whom she had seen once before but whom she did not know by name.

  Roger was much relieved to hear that his little serf was on the way to recovery; but he rather doubted if, in Russia, any great weight would be attached to the testimony of a young girl-slave, who was known to be devoted to him. However, her corroboration of his statement was very much better than nothing, and once again, Natalia Andreovna had escaped implication, which was a mercy, as any charge against her would have seriously impaired her influence when the time came for her to make her plea for him to the Empress.

  During the forty-eight hours that followed he received no fresh news at all of his affair, and hardly knew whether to count that a misfortune or a blessing. The food he was given, while by no means luxurious, was plentiful and varied, and he had been allowed to send in to St. Petersburg for his clothes and money, so he was living in quite reasonable comfort. Yet, while he realised that any change in his situation might prove very much for the worse, uncertainty as to his eventual fate kept him in a state of nervous tension, and he was beginning to be afraid that the Empress had forgotten him.

  That she had not, became apparent on the afternoon of Wednesday, the 5th of September, when two handsome young men of her Chevalier Guard were shown in to his room. After greeting him civilly they asked him to prepare himself to be taken before Her Majesty. He changed into his best suit, scented and powdered himself as if he were going to a ball, then accompanied them down to the echoing entrance-hall of the fortress. A shuttered carriage similar to that in which he had been brought to Schlüsselburg was waiting outside. The two young men mounted their horses, Roger, his heart beating considerably faster than usual, was locked into the carriage, and it started on its long drive via St. Petersburg to the Peterhof.

  They had set out at three o’clock, and with halts for changing horses, it was nearly eight by the time they arrived at the Imperial Palace. Roger was conducted to the inner guardroom and left to wait there for over an hour; then the two officers returned, drew their swords, and placing themselves one on either side of him, marched him across the vast hall and up a great marble staircase. Some way down a corridor six more glittering members of the Chevalier Guard were drawn up before a pair of tall, ornate double doors. A chamberlain tapped upon the doors with an ivory-headed staff, two footmen threw them open, and drawing himself up, Roger walked forward into the presence of the Empress.

  Seated behind a great carved desk she seemed even smaller than he had first thought her, but no less regal. As he advanced he saw that the dark, sly-faced old Katerina Ivanovna, who was both the Empress’s personal confidant and the head of her household, was seated just behind her, that her favourite Momonof, looking very bored, was in one corner of the room playing with a spaniel, and that two young ladies-in-waiting, working on some embroidery, occupied another.

  As the guards halted, six paces from the table, Roger went down on one knee.

  ‘Stand up,’ commanded the Empress sharply. ‘And give us your account of this heinous crime, which brands you the most abominable of murderers.’

  ‘August Majesty,’ he began. ‘With your own fine mind, great heart and able hand, you gave a new code of laws to Russia. Throughout all the world you are revered for your sense of justice. I pray you, therefore, suspend judgment as to the degree of my guilt until you have heard the stroke of ill-fortune which renders me now a suppliant for mercy at your feet.’

  Her blue eyes were hard and her little curved nose imperious, as she replied: ‘You sound a plausible rogue; but think not to curry favour with us by idle flattery. The governance of an Empire leaves us little time for such as you; so be brief and to the point.’

  Roger had intended to give a full description of the affair from his first meeting with Yagerhorn in Stockholm, but he now promptly changed his tactics. In a few brief sentences he described how, having a quarrel with the Count, he had used a pretext to get him to his apartment, then set upon him, and how, owing to an entirely unforeseen sequel, Yagerhorn had been left there to die instead of being released the following morning.

  ‘If this be true,’ said the Empress coldly, ‘you are not quite the monster that you have been represented; yet you are bandit enough to have attacked an unsuspecting man, and the fact that your serf failed to carry out your orders in no way relieves you of the responsibility for Count Yagerhorn’s death.’

  ‘Nay, your Majesty,’ Roger replied with sudden boldness. ‘That I admit, and a bandit I may be; but, vast as the gulf is that lies between us, we have at least two things in common; and ’tis on this similarity of our natures that I rely in pleading for your clemency.’

  ‘Such insolence merits the knout,’ muttered the Empress and her thin mouth hardened. But Roger ignored the danger signal. He knew that it was now or never, and he hurried on:

  ‘I beg you, Madame, hear what led me to this deed and tell me then if, placed in similar circumstances, you would not have done as I did.’

  She nodded. ‘Speak then. But if you fail to prove your words your punishment shall be the more severe.’

  Roger took a pace forward. One of his most fortunate gifts was the ability to put his thoughts with ease and grace into either writing or speech; and he was making his plea in French, the second language of himself and Catherine, which both of them spoke as fluently as their own.

  ‘Gracious Majesty,’ he began. ‘The two things which we have in common are courage and a love of gallantry. The devastation that your eyes have wrought in innumerable hearts and your amiability to those who are fortunate enough to find favour with you, are too well-known for me to need to dwell upon them. As for your courage, all the world knows that no male ruler has ever taken braver decisions than yourself. Yet there is one example of it that I would recall, for it made me think you braver than any fabled knight or classic hero.’

  At last the Empress’s glance softened a little, and she inquired: ‘What deed of ours is it that you have in mind?’

  ‘ ’Twas when the small-pox was raging in Petersburg, and even striking down people of your Majesty’s court,’ replied Roger promptly. ‘Fearing that your little son, His Highness the Grand Duke, might fall a victim to the fell disease you determined rather on submitting him to the risks of inoculation, a precautionary treatment then entirely untried in Russia. You sent to England for Dr. Dinsdale, and refusing to allow him to experiment first, as he wished, on any of your Majesty’s subjects, insisted on his inoculating you with the deadly virus in secret, before he did so to your son and others.’

  The Empress shrugged her plump shoulders, but she she smiled.

  ‘Only a sovereign unfitted to rule would submit a helpless child or a subject to a risk that they were unwilling to face themselves. But if this be courage and we have a natural leaning towards romance, tell us now how these qualities led you to your present pass?’

  Without naming Natalia Andreovna, Roger told Catherine then of his love-affair in Stockholm, and of the way in which Yagerhorn had ambushed him. He stoutly maintained that his plan to be revenged had been fully justified, and claimed that he had proved his courage by spurning the thought of hiring ruffians to waylay his enemy in the street at night. Instead, although the Count was far more heavily built, he had armed himself with only
a whip, faced him man to man, and overcome him.

  When the tale was done the Empress regarded Roger thoughtfully for a moment, then she said: ‘We will allow that you have some provocation for your act and that you gave Count Yagerhorn the opportunity to defend himself with his superior strength, which was more than he had any right to expect. Yet the fact remains that you deprived him of his life. It is our pleasure that you should remain in the palace while we deliberate upon the matter further. In due course we will have conveyed to you our will.’

  Sinking again to one knee Roger threw in his last reserves. ‘May it please your Majesty. Should you decide that my fault merits a major penalty I pray you let me die like a gentleman rather than live like a slave; and should death be the portion you decree for me I have one boon to crave.’

  ‘What would you?’ asked the Empress a trifle impatiently.

  Roger rose to his feet and smiled. ‘ ’Tis that, before I am led out to die, I may kiss the hand that sends me to my premature fate, in token of my respect for the august Princess who has done more for her people than any other ruler.’

  He had taken a terrible gamble in saying that he would prefer death to a long imprisonment, but it was the only means that enabled him to follow up with his theatrical request, which, if she agreed to it, would ensure him a further, eleventh-hour, chance to plead for mercy.

  It was all or nothing now; but, as she signed to his guards to take him away, he felt sure that he saw her bridle slightly at the compliment, and she murmured: ‘Your request is granted.’

  Instead of turning to be marched out like a prisoner, he played the well-trained courtier, and made her three perfect bows while backing unerringly towards the doors. He was then taken down to the guardroom, given some supper and provided with a truckle-bed on which to spend the night.

  The following day passed uneventfully. The guards treated him courteously and he had no reason for complaint, but with nothing to do he found it terribly difficult to stifle the anxiety he was feeling. He felt sure that he had made a good impression on the Empress, but she prided herself so greatly on her sense of justice that he did not believe for one moment that she would let him go scot-free. She had vowed that she would suppress crimes of violence in her capital, and there was no half-way house between imprisonment and death, so she well might take him up on his quixotic gesture.

  When, at seven o’clock in the evening, two guards appeared to fetch him, his first sensation was one of relief, at the thought that, in a few moments now, he would know the worst. But as he accompanied them up the grand staircase it dawned upon him that the Empress would send for him again only to do him the favour he had asked in the event of her decreeing his death. His mouth suddenly grew dry and strive as he would, he could not think of a single new argument which might incline her to mercy. He had had all day to do so, yet somehow, he had never thought that it would come to this, and had frittered the hours away in idle speculation.

  While these thoughts were occupying his agitated mind he was taken down the opposite corridor to that which he had entered the previous night. There were no sable-cloaked officers, chamberlains and footmen on duty here. One of his companions knocked upon a door, and a sharp voice called ‘Entrez.’ Next moment he found himself ushered into a small salon, and seated in it was old black-eyed Katerina Ivanovna.

  As he automatically made a leg to the skinny, sallow-featured old woman, she beckoned him forward to a chair opposite her and said; ‘Monsieur, Her Majesty was not altogether unimpressed by the figure you cut before her last night; but before she pronounces sentence upon you she desires to know if you are nought but an adventurer gifted with a silver tongue or if you are, as you appear to be, a somewhat more worthy subject for her benevolent consideration. She has charged me to develop your acquaintance with a view to reporting to her on this matter; and as I am entertaining a few friends to supper tonight I felt that the best means of executing my commission was to bid you join us.’

  With mingled surprise and relief Roger made the old witch another bow and declared himself to be enchanted by the honour. At that moment the entrance of an officer and two ladies gave him a brief respite, while he was introduced to them, to gather his wits and prepare himself for this new ordeal upon which his life and freedom hung. Then he set about charming old Katerina Ivanovna with a greater assiduity than he would have displayed had she been half a century younger and the loveliest young woman of the Court.

  Within a dozen minutes they were a party of ten, then the door opened again, and without the least formality, the Empress walked in.

  Instantly they fell silent; the men bowed deeply, the women curtseyed to the ground. As Katerina Ivanovna rose she exclaimed: ‘Oh, your Majesty! How gracious of you! What a joyous surprise! I had no idea that you intended to honour me tonight. Permit me to have the table re-set.’ And after curtseying again she glided off into another room.

  The Empress accepted a glass of wine, and with a few brief sentences, put the company at their ease. Katerina Ivanovna returned, and, shortly afterwards, supper was announced. Fat little Catherine led the way alone and, with a glance, Katerina Ivanovna signed to Roger to give her his arm. As they brought up the rear she whispered: ‘There has been no time to change the general seating. I should have been at the head of the table and had placed you on my left, but now Her Majesty takes my place and you will be next to her. For good or ill your destiny now lies in your own hands.’

  As he took his seat the Empress greeted him civilly, and gave no sign that she regarded him as in any way different to the other guests. To each in turn she asked some question calculated to lead to a general discussion and Roger was filled with admiration at the way in which she dominated the party yet made it pleasant for everyone present. It was soon clear to him that at this intimate gathering she did not wish to be treated as a sovereign, to whom people spoke only when they were addressed, but simply as a distinguished guest, to whom good manners dictate a certain deference without servility. She even permitted some of those present to rally her gently on her acknowledged idiosyncrasies and joined freely in the laughter.

  Once Roger had gauged the atmosphere, he worked like a demon to make himself pleasant, and he was wise enough to give an almost equal share of his attention to anyone who happened to be holding the table as he did to Catherine when she was speaking. He knew that he was fighting now with his wits and ready laugh for his life and freedom, every bit as much as if he had been sword in hand opposed to a troop of enemy horsemen in a battle. When the dessert was put on the table, knowing the Empress’s love for French culture, he led the conversation in that direction, and with becoming modesty, displayed his knowledge of it. He had always despised Rousseau as a windy visionary and adored the brilliant cynicism of Voltaire. As the Empress was also entirely of that mind she openly applauded his witticisms and beamed approval on him.

  At ten o’clock she stood up to retire. Everyone rose with her, and to Roger’s sudden consternation, she held out her hand for him to kiss.

  White as a sheet he bowed over it and touched it with his lips. He hoped that she had done him this honour as a sign of forgiveness, but, knowing the cruelty, treachery, and cynicism that permeated the whole Russian court, he could not be certain that the same plump hand had not signed his death-warrant a few hours earlier, and that she thought it amusing to honour her promise to him in this way.

  The incident brought him back with a horrid jerk to the realisation that for the past two hours he had not really been a welcome guest at a jolly supper-party, but a prisoner with one foot on the scaffold. It was all he could do to regain his composure sufficiently to bid a polite good-night to the other guests, who shortly afterwards took their leave.

  Finding himself once more alone with Katerina Ivanovna, he said: ‘Madame, if I knew this definitely to be my last night on earth I could not conceivably have wished for a more pleasant one; and I am more grateful than I can say for your charming entertainment. May I now spare you
the trouble of calling the guard and ask you to accept my word that I will find my own way back to the guardroom?’

  She shook her bony old head. ‘Nay, you are in my charge now, Chevalier, and I wish to be able to converse with you at my pleasure. Come with me.’

  He followed her out into the corridor and along it for fifty paces, then she opened a door and showed him into a well-furnished bedroom. When he thanked her the only reply she made was to wish him good-night, and after a formal curtsey to which he bowed gravely, she left him.

  On finding himself alone his first thought was to escape. He had not been asked for his parole and this seemed a heavensent chance to do so. Running to the window he opened it and peered out. Below him was a broad paved terrace, that gave on to the gardens. It was a twenty-foot drop, but, undaunted by that, he looked swiftly round for means to get down to it. As he did so he caught the mutter of voices below him; two figures moved out of the shadows and began to pace up and down. He knew then that it was no good. His bonds might have been changed from iron to silk, but they were still there. It was only that a less obtrusive watch was being kept upon him, and even if he could overcome the two sentries on the terrace, he was alone and almost friendless in Russia. How could he possibly hope to remain uncaught long enough to get out of the country? Reluctantly he undressed himself and made the best of the comfortable bed.

  Next morning a footman came to draw back his curtains, then brought him an appetising breakfast. Having eaten it he got up and dressed himself to be in readiness should he be sent for. At nine o’clock there came a knock on the door and a fat, serious-looking man presented himself, announcing in German that he was a doctor and had been ordered to ascertain the state of Roger’s health.

  At first Roger thought that there must be some mistake, and said so, but his visitor replied thickly: ‘If you are the Chevalier de Breuc there is no mistake. It is the usual procedure, and you will oblige me by undressing.’