As it seemed most unlikely that convicted criminals had to undergo a medical examination before they were taken to execution, Roger could only assume that this was a regulation measure adopted with everyone who came to reside in the palace, as a precaution against infectious and contagious diseases being carried into it. In his own case it seemed a little belated, but he thought that was probably owing to the unorthodox means by which he had become a resident there.
When Roger had stripped as requested the doctor made a most careful examination of every part of his body, and at length, pronouncing himself satisfied, packed up his little black bag and departed.
Half an hour later the footman came in again, carrying a pile of books. After presenting Madame Katerina Ivanovna’s compliments, he said that, as she had an exceptionally heavy day, she begged that Roger would entertain himself as well as he could with the books and excuse her until the evening.
Having no choice, Roger returned his thanks, browsed among the books, ate the good dinner that was sent to him, and spent a few hours dozing. Soon after seven o’clock the door opened and Katerina Ivanovna appeared framed in it. She did not enter the room but beckoned to him to join her outside.
When he did so she led him along several corridors, then down a long arched passageway with windows on either side of it through which the gardens could be seen dimly in the fast-failing light. He knew then that she was taking him across to the Empress’s own private retreat, the Hermitage, and he assumed that he was on his way to learn his fate from Her Majesty’s own lips.
On entering the smaller palace they went downstairs to the ground floor. Katerina Ivanovna then opened a door and took him into a long suite of private apartments consisting of two ante-rooms, a library, a reception-room, a dining-room and a bedroom; all of which had beautifully painted ceilings and were furnished with great splendour.
In one corner of the bedroom a spiral staircase, elaborately carved from rare woods, led up to a small circular opening in the high ceiling above. Pointing at the staircase Katerina Ivanovna said with her crooked smile: ‘In ten minutes’ time you are to go up those stairs and perform the duties for which you have been selected.’
‘Duties!’ repeated Roger. ‘To what duties do you refer, Madame?’
She gave him a pitying look. ‘I thought you keener-witted. These are the apartments of the official favourite. Those of Her Majesty are immediately overhead. I received orders to clear that fool Momonof out this morning.’
Suddenly the old harridan sank to the floor in a flurry of black lace and, bowing her head before him, cried:
‘Live long, Rojé Christorovitch! These rooms are yours! You are the favourite now! Live long; and while you share the Empress’s bed forget not last night, and those who smoothed the path for you to become the most powerful man in All the Russias.’
18
Her Majesty’s Pleasure
Roger’s heart missed a beat and his mind baulked for a second, refusing to accept the extraordinary vision that Katerina Ivanovna’s words had conjured up. It was fantastic, impossible; a dream from which he would soon wake with a start. It simply could not be true. The old witch was seeking to make a fool of him; or perhaps he had not heard her aright.
Then as he stared at her, still sunk in her curtsey at his feet, he knew that she was not making a mock of him, but had hailed him as the new Imperial consort in sober earnest.
Into his racing mind came all that Natalia Andreovna had told him of the making and unmaking of the favourites. When the Empress tired of one she never quarrelled with him or warned him that he was about to be dismissed. She began to look round for another; and shrewd Potemkin, to whom her mind was an open book on such matters, put a few likely young men in her way, taking care to select only those whom he felt had not sufficiently strong personalities to undermine his own position as her chief counsellor. When she found one of Potemkin’s lusty young protégés pleasing to her, old Katerina Ivanovna was called in to give a party. Without knowing himself to be a candidate for the Empress’s favour the young man was invited, and she attended as a private guest, so that she could talk to him informally without giving cause for gossip in her court. If, on closer acquaintance, she still found him to her liking, he was given a thorough medical examination. Then, without warning, the old favourite was presented with a big sum of money and told to travel, and the new one was installed in his place.
For many years past this had become an accepted ritual, and in a flash, Roger realised that he had been through it, with the only exception that, Potemkin being away at the wars, in this case the change of favourites was being made without his knowledge.
Raising Katerina Ivanovna to her feet, he said, a little breathlessly: ‘It is then to you, Madame, that I owe this sudden elevation?’
She leered at him. ‘I knew Her Majesty to be wearied of Momonof, and saw the moment that you were brought before her that she was taken with you. I have been her confidant for so long that I know her every mood. I had but to drop a word in her ear and arrange for suitable people to be at last night’s supper party, and the result was a foregone conclusion.’
As he did not reply, she went on: ‘For many years past the favourites have been no more than puppets dancing to Prince One-Eye’s tune. But unless I have lost the art of judging men you will prove different. Her Majesty still leans greatly on his advice, but there are times when she resents his dictatorial manner to the point of vowing that she will be rid of him. You are handsome enough to become another Lanskoi; but you can become greater than he. If you can establish yourself firmly with the Empress during Potemkin’s absence, with my help it should not prove beyond you to unseat him on his return. Then you and I will rule Katinka and Russia between us. Now, what say you to my proposition?’
Roger had been thinking swiftly, and he was quick to realise that it would be madness to antagonise this evil, ambitious woman, so he replied: ‘I like it well, Madame, and I shall rely upon your guidance in all things.’
‘You are a youth of sense,’ she cackled. ‘We will talk more anon, but now I must leave you. Not more than five minutes remain for you to prepare yourself; then go you up the stairs to reap an Empire.’
She curtseyed again, glided to the door and slipped through it with barely a rustle of her laces, leaving him to his wildly whirling thoughts.
The prospect she had offered him was so tremendous that he found it difficult to grasp. Potemkin’s drunken, dissolute life had aged him shockingly, and everyone said that he was far from being the man he had been when he first became the Empress’s lover. Roger had enormous confidence in his own abilities and believed that, if he could protect himself from assassination, and retain the goodwill of Katerina Ivanovna, between them they would prove more than a match for the one-eyed prince. She evidently believed that too, and she had far better grounds for forming an accurate judgment of the situation than he had. If the intrigue proved successful he would, within a few months, find himself virtually seated on the throne of the greatest Empire in the world.
In such a position his power would be almost limitless. He could change the face of Europe if he would, but better, he could serve his own country infinitely more effectively than his wildest imaginings had ever led him to hope, by making Russia the keystone in a Grand Alliance for the permanent preservation of the peace of Europe. That was the one certain way of saving Britain’s substance from being wasted away by future wars. With Russia’s might upon the land and England’s on the seas, in firm alliance to curb the ambitions of other powers, young Mr. Pitt’s great dream of peace and prosperity for all could be made to come true.
But there was a price to be paid for all this. His thoughts reverted to the stocky, elderly woman from whom his power would be derived. She was very far from being evil, and the scope of her mind was infinitely greater than that of any other living ruler. She was courteous, gentle and beneficent by nature. As a girl she had come to a country which was still considered to be outside Eur
ope and peopled almost entirely by savages. In a quarter of a century she had brought it permanently within the family of nations which composed the civilised world, and launched vast educational schemes which had now brought a degree of literacy to the whole of her nobility and more prosperous subjects. She had subdued the wild tribes of Asia and established a Pax Romana among them. At her instigation costly missions of exploration, headed by able scientists, had been sent to China, Persia, and the Arctic. On learning that great tracts of her fertile lands were unpeopled, she had financed whole tribes of industrious Germans and Magyars to migrate and colonise them. Under her sway religious toleration had been established with a completeness unknown to any other country in the world. She had abolished torture and the terrible ‘crying of the word,’ which, before her time, had made every Russian go in constant fear that an enemy might denounce him for some crime he had not committed, and that, although innocent, the rack and thumbscrews would be applied with the object of wringing a confession from him. She had fought smallpox with inoculation even in the remote villages of the Steppes, and while other rules hypocritically endeavoured to ignore venereal disease she had established clinics where sufferers could be treated without the shame of having to acknowledge their ailment publicly …
She was great, brave, cultured and generous, and, if he would, he could take his stand beside her, help her further to improve the lot of her thirty million subjects, and guide her future foreign relations to a point where he could initiate the lifting of the scourge of war for ever from suffering humanity.
But there was a price to pay—a price to pay; and it was he who must pay it.
Suddenly, at the thought of that fat jelly-bag of a body pressed against his own, his healthy young flesh revolted. He could not do it—no, not even if it was to bring about the reign of Heaven on Earth.
Frantically now, he cast round for the means to escape. He felt sure that Katerina Ivanovna had not locked the door behind her, and it was unthinkable that guards would have been placed to keep the new favourite a prisoner in his own apartments. He was a free man again and could walk out when he wished; but he had neither money nor weapons, and he knew that it would be impossible for him to get very far without either. Unless he could hold up someone for their money, or had the means already, with which to bribe a nearby cottager to hide him for the next few days, the soldiers whom the Empress was certain to send in pursuit of him would run him down in no time.
The long suite of lofty rooms was hung with priceless tapestries and fine paintings; the chests, cabinets and tables furnishing them were of rich lacquer, rare marbles and ebony inlaid with ivory; a ton of precious embroidered silks draped the windows and fauteuils, the parquet floors were covered with carpets and rugs of the most costly close-woven designs. One tenth of their price would have kept him in affluence for a life-time; yet there seemed nothing there that he could seize upon which was readily convertible into cash.
As he moved round the foot of the big four-poster bed his eyes suddenly fell on a small pile of luggage, topped by a long sword. Instantly he recognised them as his sword, his money-chest, his travelling trunks, and realised that they must have been brought that day from Schlüsselburg for him.
Running to them he snatched up the sword. He was just about to buckle it on when he heard a footfall at the top of the spiral staircase, and a soft voice called: ‘Chevalier, why do you tarry?’
The voice was that of the Empress. Roger hesitated only a moment. It was too late to fly now. If he attempted it he would be a prisoner again within five minutes, and she would send him back to Schlüsselburg. Worse, stung to the quick by the insult he had offered her, it would not be to the comfortable room he had occupied there, but to that ghastly dungeon.
‘Pray pardon me, Madame,’ he called up. ‘I hesitated to join your Majesty only from bashfulness.’
As he recrossed the room to mount the stairs his wits were working fast again. He thanked his stars now that she had called him when she had. It would have been madness to attempt to escape at the very moment she had given an order for him to present himself. He must choose a time when he could be reasonably certain of a few hours clear start before his absence was discovered. Perhaps later tonight.
But tonight, yes—tonight he would be…. He swallowed and, as he mounted the staircase, strove to force himself to face the facts. If he refused her she might yet have him executed for Yagerhorn’s murder. One unpalatable amorous encounter seemed a small price to pay to gain the time to make a favourable bid for life and freedom. It looked as though he must screw himself up to go through with it. The pleasuring of her might not prove as nauseating as he expected. If so he might perhaps succeed in blindfolding his mind to it in future, and even yet sway the destinies of millions from a chair beside her throne.
She was standing at the top of the stairway dressed in a loose robe and underskirt of flowered silk. The robe was cut very full so as to conceal her heavy figure, and its sleeves were short, ending in wide-mouthed ruffles which enabled her to display her plump, and still pretty, forearms to advantage. On her hair was set a jaunty little lace cap. The only jewel she wore was a star with eight points, alternatively of gold and silver, which dangled from her neck on a black ribbon with a red stripe down its centre.
As she held out both her hands to him he took them at once and kissed them one after the other, delcaring it impossible to express the depth of his feelings at the supreme honour that she intended him. He knew she would expect that; and if he was to play either for time or for the permanent power that she could bestow upon him, he must throw himself wholeheartedly into the part of a young man who was utterly amazed by the turn in his fortunes but overwhelmed with delight.
After accepting his protestations graciously, she said with commendable frankness that he might think it strange that a woman of her years still indulged in gallantry; but the ordering of a great Empire was a mighty and unceasing labour; she had found that the pleasures of love were the one thing which could take her mind off the innumerable problems she was constantly called on to face, and refresh her sufficiently to endure her toil yet another day.
On glancing round he saw that her apartments were arranged differently from those below. They were in a boudoir, handsomely furnished, but with a homely atmosphere, everything in it showing signs of constant use. Beyond it, through an open door, he could see the bedroom; a circular chamber with fluted pillars framing the painted panels of its walls, and in one segment of it, a big round bed, entirely draped in brocaded curtains which hung from a circular frame surmounted by a huge tuft of ostrich feathers.
Having made Roger sit down in a comfortable chair near the fire Catherine went over to a chiffonier, poured out a glass of wine and brought it back to him. The gesture was made so naturally that he felt no embarrassment at her waiting on him, and settling herself on the opposite side of the fire she at once began to tell him of her routine.
‘I vow,’ she declared, dropping the royal ‘we,’ ’that I am the hardest worked woman in my Empire. I rise at six, or often earlier; and, as I much dislike servants fussing about in my private apartments, I prepare my own breakfast in a kitchenette I have had fitted up here. While my ladies dress me I have such documents as are awaiting my attention read aloud, and while my hair is being dressed I sign them. From eight till eleven I either preside at my council or work in my cabinet. From eleven to twelve I attend chapel; from twelve to half-past one I give audience to such of my ministers as request to see me. A half-hour generally suffices me for dinner and by two I am at work again on my correspondence. I count it a lucky day if I can get in more than an hour’s walk or drive in the park before six, at which time I am due to appear in my theatre; and between the acts of whatever is performed I am beseiged by the ambassadors and others. Sundays and Saint’s days are holidays for most people, but not for me; since I must then hold a Court, sup in public, and afterwards take a hand at cards, often with people for whom I do not particularly care, but
feel that I should invite to join me from diplomacy. So you see I get little leisure, and after my normal working day of fourteen hours I feel well justified in supping with a friend in private.’
Roger heartily agreed with her and added: ‘Before I left Paris, Madame, I was for some time confidential secretary to Monsieur le Marquis de Rochambeau, who advised Queen Marie Antoinette privately on Foreign Affairs. If I could lighten your burden a little by assisting you with your less important correspondence, it would give me the happiness of feeling that in some small measure I was repaying your graciousness to me.’
‘Indeed!’ she exclaimed, her big blue eyes brightening. ‘Then, in acquiring a gallant with whom I can discuss foreign business, I have chosen better than I knew. But when we are alone together I wish you to call me Catherina Alexeyevna. Tell me, Rojé Christorovitch, what think you of the new Triple Alliance that England, Prussia and the United Provinces have recently entered into?’
‘That it appears to be aimed at my beloved France, but may not necessarily be so,’ he replied promptly. ‘I have an English godmother and on my visits to her have come to know something of the English. When I was last in London I discussed the matter with several gentlemen who are near to Mr. Pitt. ’Twas their opinion that he is a man of peace, and has entered into this Alliance only as a counterpoise to the Bourbon Family Compact; so that the likelihood of a new war may be rendered more remote.’
‘Think you so?’ she said doubtfully. ‘Should you be right the fear of war suggests that the English are becoming weak and decadent. War in itself is a brutal business and begets much misery, yet only by experiencing it can nations maintain their full health and vigour. Long periods of peace have always been followed by a decline in national power.’
The Shadow of Tyburn Tree Page 42