The Crown's Fate
Page 76
The officer nodded and “kindly” escorted the paper-pusher to an adjoining room, where he would be tied to a post or otherwise secured so he could not run ahead to warn the tsesarevich.
Most of the other officers joined Volkonsky in the front of the room.
“Our brothers await us in Peter’s Square,” Volkonsky said so all could hear. “And we march now to protect our loved ones and to change the course of Russia’s fate. Come with me, or face punishment for disobeying your commander.”
He would have to see who, and how many, would follow. But it was now or never.
CHAPTER SEVENTY
Yuliana let herself into Pasha’s antechamber. He turned from where he stood before the mirror, tugging on the sleeves of his uniform. It was the jacket originally commissioned for his coronation, the blue one he’d hated with the high black collar, gold epaulets, and red sash across the chest. “I’m surprised to see you wearing that,” she said.
He turned back to the mirror and twisted his mouth at his reflection. “It looks all right, doesn’t it? I figured if there were a time to look like the next tsar, today might be it.”
Yuliana came up next to him and adjusted the way the sash fell over the gold buttons. “It looks grand, Pasha. And you don’t just look like the next tsar. You are the next tsar.”
He laughed, though a tremble accompanied it. “Right.”
“Believe it, and it will come true.” Yuliana kept her smiles in reserve, for the rarer something was, the higher its value. But she gave one to Pasha now.
He smiled back as best he could.
Yuliana straightened Pasha’s collar. It was terribly stiff and went all the way up to his chin. “No wonder you complained about it before.”
“It’s actually all right. You know, Father once had a jacket like this.”
“I know. That’s why I asked the tailor to design this one.”
Pasha really did smile now. “Of course you thought of that. Every last detail.”
She fussed with his collar a little more, then stepped back. Yes, now it looked right.
Yuliana took a deep breath. “I came to tell you that the Decembrists are marching,” she said.
Pasha froze. “Already?”
“Don’t worry. They’ll be surprised that we’re ready for them. And you have me and Vika by your side. That helps, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does.” Pasha stood taller.
Yuliana looked at her brother in the mirror. And hoped the confidence she inspired was deserved.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
Nikolai made his way to the edge of Peter’s Square, where the majestic statue of Peter the Great presided again. Flags flapped in the breeze. Soldiers’ drums beat in rhythm. And the grand Neva River provided the backdrop on the far edge of the square. How fitting that it would all end here, in this square where Nikolai’s challenge to Pasha had begun. However, the square, according to the Decembrists’ plan, was supposed to overflow with soldiers who had refused to swear their oaths of allegiance to Pasha. But “overflow” was not at all the right word. Nikolai scanned the square and did a rough count. By his estimate, there were only three thousand or so soldiers standing before the statue of Peter the Great. Nowhere close to the twenty thousand that the Decembrists had claimed.
Please say more are coming. He’d staked everything on this revolt. They had to win, and quickly, or he’d end up in a prolonged battle with Vika, which was the last thing Nikolai wanted.
He needed to find Trubetskoy, Obolensky, or Volkonsky. Someone who was in charge. Nikolai wove through the loosely formed regiments. The first of the three men he found was Volkonsky.
“What’s happening?” Nikolai asked. “Where are all your men?”
Volkonsky startled but quickly composed himself. “Your Imperial Highness,” he said, quietly enough that his men nearby did not hear, but loudly enough to pay his respects.
“I thought you claimed you could carry twenty thousand soldiers.” Nikolai tried to mask his anxiety by making his tone disappointed. Imperious. Like an heir to the throne. “This is but a fraction of that number.”
Volkonsky stood tall. “There was some confusion at the garrison when the oath of allegiance was given. Not everyone refused to swear loyalty. But we are still strong. This is enough to force a coup d’état.”
“Where are Trubetskoy and Obolensky and their men?”
“Obolensky is over there.” Volkonsky pointed to the soldiers in formation to the right. “Trubetskoy . . .”
“Trubetskoy what?”
“He, er, cannot be found. But Ilya is looking for him, and he’s the best at tracking people.”
“Your fearless leader is still doing something ‘important’ for his wife or Lebzeltern?” Nikolai did not hide the sarcasm.
Volkonsky checked over his shoulders, as if afraid the soldiers were listening. They were not. They milled about and chatted casually among themselves, surreptitiously passing flasks to warm themselves against the morning chill. “I know this doesn’t look promising, Your Imperial Highness, but I swear, even without Trubetskoy, this will work. We shall prevail.”
Nikolai clenched and unclenched his fists. All his life, he’d had to rely on himself. Had he erred now in counting on the Decembrists?
“Get your men in order,” he snapped at Volkonsky.
“Yes, Your Imperial Highness.” He saluted Nikolai.
Nikolai nodded to dismiss him, and Volkonsky gave a quick bow and marched off.
Not long after, he saw Ilya speaking with Obolensky. Trubetskoy had not returned. Damn it.
But then a shout resounded across Peter’s Square. “Attention!” A collective stomp answered the call. What had seemed to be only a mass of men a moment ago now filed in unison into straight lines and proud regiments.
Nikolai couldn’t help that his mouth dropped open. The precision of the troops was glorious. What had been a milling mess was suddenly neat rows of uniforms and weapons. All chatter among the men ceased. The drums beating in the background gained a magnificent ferocity. They certainly were impressive, and Nikolai could see now how men like these had defeated Napoleon. Perhaps we have a chance after all.
Obolensky stood below the statue of Peter the Great, at the Thunder Stone. With Trubetskoy absent, he must have assumed the lead. “Loyal soldiers of the Imperial Russian Empire,” he called out. “Today is a momentous day. Today is the day we give Russia back to the people to whom it belongs. Today is the day we fight for our liberty and human dignity.
Most of the other officers joined Volkonsky in the front of the room.
“Our brothers await us in Peter’s Square,” Volkonsky said so all could hear. “And we march now to protect our loved ones and to change the course of Russia’s fate. Come with me, or face punishment for disobeying your commander.”
He would have to see who, and how many, would follow. But it was now or never.
CHAPTER SEVENTY
Yuliana let herself into Pasha’s antechamber. He turned from where he stood before the mirror, tugging on the sleeves of his uniform. It was the jacket originally commissioned for his coronation, the blue one he’d hated with the high black collar, gold epaulets, and red sash across the chest. “I’m surprised to see you wearing that,” she said.
He turned back to the mirror and twisted his mouth at his reflection. “It looks all right, doesn’t it? I figured if there were a time to look like the next tsar, today might be it.”
Yuliana came up next to him and adjusted the way the sash fell over the gold buttons. “It looks grand, Pasha. And you don’t just look like the next tsar. You are the next tsar.”
He laughed, though a tremble accompanied it. “Right.”
“Believe it, and it will come true.” Yuliana kept her smiles in reserve, for the rarer something was, the higher its value. But she gave one to Pasha now.
He smiled back as best he could.
Yuliana straightened Pasha’s collar. It was terribly stiff and went all the way up to his chin. “No wonder you complained about it before.”
“It’s actually all right. You know, Father once had a jacket like this.”
“I know. That’s why I asked the tailor to design this one.”
Pasha really did smile now. “Of course you thought of that. Every last detail.”
She fussed with his collar a little more, then stepped back. Yes, now it looked right.
Yuliana took a deep breath. “I came to tell you that the Decembrists are marching,” she said.
Pasha froze. “Already?”
“Don’t worry. They’ll be surprised that we’re ready for them. And you have me and Vika by your side. That helps, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does.” Pasha stood taller.
Yuliana looked at her brother in the mirror. And hoped the confidence she inspired was deserved.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
Nikolai made his way to the edge of Peter’s Square, where the majestic statue of Peter the Great presided again. Flags flapped in the breeze. Soldiers’ drums beat in rhythm. And the grand Neva River provided the backdrop on the far edge of the square. How fitting that it would all end here, in this square where Nikolai’s challenge to Pasha had begun. However, the square, according to the Decembrists’ plan, was supposed to overflow with soldiers who had refused to swear their oaths of allegiance to Pasha. But “overflow” was not at all the right word. Nikolai scanned the square and did a rough count. By his estimate, there were only three thousand or so soldiers standing before the statue of Peter the Great. Nowhere close to the twenty thousand that the Decembrists had claimed.
Please say more are coming. He’d staked everything on this revolt. They had to win, and quickly, or he’d end up in a prolonged battle with Vika, which was the last thing Nikolai wanted.
He needed to find Trubetskoy, Obolensky, or Volkonsky. Someone who was in charge. Nikolai wove through the loosely formed regiments. The first of the three men he found was Volkonsky.
“What’s happening?” Nikolai asked. “Where are all your men?”
Volkonsky startled but quickly composed himself. “Your Imperial Highness,” he said, quietly enough that his men nearby did not hear, but loudly enough to pay his respects.
“I thought you claimed you could carry twenty thousand soldiers.” Nikolai tried to mask his anxiety by making his tone disappointed. Imperious. Like an heir to the throne. “This is but a fraction of that number.”
Volkonsky stood tall. “There was some confusion at the garrison when the oath of allegiance was given. Not everyone refused to swear loyalty. But we are still strong. This is enough to force a coup d’état.”
“Where are Trubetskoy and Obolensky and their men?”
“Obolensky is over there.” Volkonsky pointed to the soldiers in formation to the right. “Trubetskoy . . .”
“Trubetskoy what?”
“He, er, cannot be found. But Ilya is looking for him, and he’s the best at tracking people.”
“Your fearless leader is still doing something ‘important’ for his wife or Lebzeltern?” Nikolai did not hide the sarcasm.
Volkonsky checked over his shoulders, as if afraid the soldiers were listening. They were not. They milled about and chatted casually among themselves, surreptitiously passing flasks to warm themselves against the morning chill. “I know this doesn’t look promising, Your Imperial Highness, but I swear, even without Trubetskoy, this will work. We shall prevail.”
Nikolai clenched and unclenched his fists. All his life, he’d had to rely on himself. Had he erred now in counting on the Decembrists?
“Get your men in order,” he snapped at Volkonsky.
“Yes, Your Imperial Highness.” He saluted Nikolai.
Nikolai nodded to dismiss him, and Volkonsky gave a quick bow and marched off.
Not long after, he saw Ilya speaking with Obolensky. Trubetskoy had not returned. Damn it.
But then a shout resounded across Peter’s Square. “Attention!” A collective stomp answered the call. What had seemed to be only a mass of men a moment ago now filed in unison into straight lines and proud regiments.
Nikolai couldn’t help that his mouth dropped open. The precision of the troops was glorious. What had been a milling mess was suddenly neat rows of uniforms and weapons. All chatter among the men ceased. The drums beating in the background gained a magnificent ferocity. They certainly were impressive, and Nikolai could see now how men like these had defeated Napoleon. Perhaps we have a chance after all.
Obolensky stood below the statue of Peter the Great, at the Thunder Stone. With Trubetskoy absent, he must have assumed the lead. “Loyal soldiers of the Imperial Russian Empire,” he called out. “Today is a momentous day. Today is the day we give Russia back to the people to whom it belongs. Today is the day we fight for our liberty and human dignity.
