Peter The Great, of Orange. Usurper on the Throne. Sergey Soloviev

one of the riflemen, Zakhar Zaitsev.

      – Frol, our good man, and he looked back at Arseny and Timofey, who were carrying a stretcher with a wounded man.

      They had prepared them for the body of the Tsar, and now they were useful for the constable. The young riflemen tried to walk carefully, taking care of the wounded man. The last ones were Pyotr Shadrov and Vasily Pekhtin, also with their sabres drawn. – Weak to compete with swords, still unskilled… – Pyotr said quietly. – Well, you and I have been taught to handle weapons since we were five. And who are you? From the falconers, dog handlers and horse breeders… – Vasily agreed with his comrade’s words.

      – Lower the stretcher… – Frol whispered, – that’s it, I’ll stay here…

      – What are you talking about? We’ll take it home…

      – No, it will be bad.. I’ll lie down here, not far from the Tsar, – and Frol smiled weakly.

      The archers stopped and pulled their hats off their wild heads. Peter still had his hand on his sabre.

      – Go to the Don… – whispered the dying constable, – Tsykler didn’t lie, Peter lies dead there… Everything is true.

      – And we saw it, Frol Fomich… Everything, we’ll do everything, – Arseny added for himself and for his friend Timokha, who was still standing with his hand bandaged from a sword prick.

      The constable wanted to say something, raised his hand, groaned, and seemed to stretch out and no longer breathe.

      Vasily and Pyotr nodded, took crowbars, and began to remove stones from the side wall. Their comrades took turns replacing them. Finally, a niche appeared, into which they placed Ignatyev’s body, covered it with stones, so that it was not noticeable.

      – That’s how it turned out … – Vasily boomed.

      – So what are we doing? – asked Pyotr,

      – We’ll write a charter. To the Don, and to Azov. Everything as is. And you, Arseny and Timofey, will deliver, – said Vasily Pekhtin, who remained in charge, – we’ll collect treasury for the road. I’ll arrange a travel charter for you at the Prikaz. Everything will be as it should be…

      The Arrest of Tsykler

      The wind howled outside the window. The last snowstorm had definitely fallen on Moscow. Ivan Yeliseyevich looked at the bad weather through the stained glass and pulled his home coat tighter around him. He leaned his hands against the tiled stove to warm himself. It was a bit chilly in the house, although the stoker in the basement did not spare the firewood, he checked it himself.

      – Father, – Yelisey began to speak, – the guests have already gathered in the living room, and Alexei Prokofievich is here.

      – And Fyodor Pushkin?

      – The serf came running, said that the boyar would be here later…

      – Okay, let’s go…

      And the Duma nobleman followed his son into the room. Only five invited guests were sitting at the table with a rich treat. Candles were burning in Italian chandeliers, the room was as light as day.

      – I’m glad you came, dear friends! Help yourself, eat and drink! – Tsykler said cordially.

      And his men poured Hungarian wine into silver cups, and the eldest of them began to cut up the roast game and distribute it to the guests. Ivan Eliseevich had just picked up his two-pronged fork when he heard the clatter of boots on the stairs.Two sergeants of the Preobrazhensky Regiment burst into the room with partisans at the ready, and after them, Lev Kirillovich Naryshkin himself swam out in an expensive sable coat covered with silk.

      – I am glad to have an honored guest, – and Tsykler rose from the table, – and there will be a place for you, boyar!

      – No, Ivashka! – Naryshkin said menacingly, – now you will dine at the Preobrazhensky Prikaz! Iron it!

      The guests did not move from their places, Sokovnin stood up and turned to Naryshkin.

      – And what is Ivan Eliseevich’s crime? – he asked.

      – Treason against the great sovereign!

      – Where would treason come from, boyar! Lieutenant Colonel Tsykler is pure before Pyotr Alekseevich!

      Lev Kirillovich turned pale, he heard the hidden meaning in the words of the okolnichy. That Pyotr Alekseevich was dead. But the cunning boyar got out of it too:

      – He is a traitor to the Russian Tsardom and the sovereign’s cause! Drag the thief down, guys, don’t hesitate!

      The Preobrazhensky men, without further ado or respect, dragged the owner of the house up the stairs, then, in the yard, threw him tied up in a simple cart. And in the yard, for the sake of order, stood almost a whole company of the Preobrazhensky Regiment, with swords and muskets

      Then, this entire army with the arrested man marched through the streets of Moscow to the Preobrazhensky Prikaz.

      Search and cruel execution

      They were sitting on benches, the Golitsyns, Boris Andreevich and Andrei Alekseevich, the Romodanovskys, Fyodor Yuryevich and Mikhail Grigoryevich, Lev Kirillovich Naryshkin, Ivan Buturlin and Fyodor Lopukhin. All seven boyars, the Boyar Duma. The place was not exactly a palace, but a basement of almost a palace, And it was not particularly interesting to look at, but it was necessary…

      – My great sensible man Nikitushka, – Fyodor Yuryevich said affectionately. – A man of great intelligence and spiritual tact, and a hand like a bear’s paw, – the boyar boasted, – and what’s good is that he’s deaf and dumb to boot. A darling, not a man.

      And the boyar smiled at his serf, and he grinned in response. But he did not remove the whip from his hand.

      – You are a smart one, it was not for nothing that Pyotr Alekseevich favored you – Naryshkin praised, – you do everything sensibly.

      – But without you, without your intelligence and speed, Lev Kirillovich, we would all have perished. I am afraid to even think what would have happened in Moscow! Such a mess would have started, God forbid. Our heads would have been lying by the oak logs…

      – It’s okay, we caught the thief… And who was in the crypt of the Archangel Cathedral? Who fought with the Preobrazhenskys? Eight of the toy soldiers were killed and ten wounded! What kind of a gang was it? – Boris Andreevich Golitsyn spoke loudly, – what kind of people? Go on, ask him!

      – Don’t be silent, Ivan Eliseevich, – said Fyodor Yuryevich to the man on the rack, – confess, and you’ll feel better… And even if you die anyway, at least you won’t suffer…

      And Prince Romodanovsky made a sign to the executioner, and he jerked the Duma nobleman up so hard that the unfortunate man’s shoulders cracked and he groaned. Then the khat began to beat the prisoner with a whip, but he remained silent, only groaning.The hot iron was put to use, and the disgusting smell of burnt flesh hit the boyars’ noses.

      – It’s impossible to sit here! – Andrei Alekseevich Golitsyn jumped up indignantly.

      – Do you feel sorry for the thief? – Buturlin did not understand, – or do you want to go to Venice again?

      – It stinks… If Fyodor Yuryevich so wishes, then let him have fun without us… I don’t go to slaughterhouses…

      – And you, my prince, should take on this business yourself! – Fyodor Yuryevich was indignant, – when it comes to transporting the dead – so others, when it comes to uncovering a conspiracy – let someone else try, as long as his white hands are not soiled! And Andrei Alekseevich needs another hundred yards to feed himself…

      – And I helped