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

the Great Sovereign pass! – shouted one of the messengers, and blew his horn.

      People poured out onto the side of the road to watch the rare spectacle. The grand exit of the Tsar himself! Only sighs and gasps accompanied the riders on rich horses, the luxurious carriages and the courtiers of the Tsar!

      The fourteenth of March 1697 was remembered by the townspeople of Moscow for a very long time. And there was a reason for it. A huge train of many carriages, carts and vans was leaving the Kremlin. In front followed the residents of Moscow in white caftans with white wings, and behind them rode the Streltsy of the Strelets Regiment on good horses.

      – What is this? Some kind of holiday? – Khariton Bezukhov could not restrain himself.

      Bezukhov was unsightly in appearance, his beard was unnoticeable, barely growing on his sharp chin. He’s of average height, he’ll pass by in a crowd and be immediately forgotten, but if you meet him again, it’ll seem like you’ve seen him for the first time. – Pyotr Alekseevich is going to foreign countries! – shouted the runner, – he will not return soon, the affairs of the sovereign!

      – Look at you! – Khariton whispered sadly to his wife Marya, – we will perish now, without the tsar… The boyars will plunder the entire treasury while the tsar is away…

      And his wife Marya, a woman more lively than her husband, managed to put on a rich scarf, velvet, from her maiden dowry. And then, she needs to show herself.

      The merchant looked back at his wife, shook his head, and rolled his cart into the yard, waiting for the street to clear. Then he could take the goods away…

      – Oh, nothing, everything will work out, – Kapiton could not resist, – everything will be fine!

      And he put the strap of the tray full of freshly baked pies over his head. As he knew, he was prepared for this morning. Such a day, lots of people on the street, the best trade. And the pieman began to sing his tune:

      – Hey, fresh pies and snacks, buy, Orthodox people! Here are some with meat, and here are some without!

      – Well, give me a couple, or what, – and the clerk from the office held out a small coin.

      – And for me too, with honey and poppy seeds!

      – Here, take it, Muscovite people! – Kapiton answered in a satisfied voice, dashingly tilting his cap to the back of his head, – I brought it just for you! Hey, archers, try my pies!

      – Give me those that are more puffy! – the pieman turned out to be picky.

      And indeed, it turned out to be a fine day for trade, the townspeople are in a good mood, ready to spend extra money, and pamper themselves! So thought Kapiton, hiding the money in a cunning purse from evil people.

      The Orderly Without a Tsar

      Alexander Menshikov kept looking out the glass window of the rich carriage, looking at the houses standing very close. The same as the houses.mostly not very rich, though mostly built on two floors. The tsar’s orderly had seen these buildings, Haans Loop showed what they were like. They were beautiful on the outside, whitewashed. And so – the frame of a wooden beam stands, and so, everything is made of reeds, coated with clay and whitewashed. That’s how everything looks here – beautiful on the outside, but inside everything is made of shit… The food here was much more expensive. In Moscow, everything is not for free, and everything is five times cheaper than here. He listened, it seemed that one of the horses had lost a horseshoe, was limping. Menshikov did not remain silent, and opened the door and shouted:

      – Vanka, damn it! The horse lost a horseshoe, and are you sleeping or something? Watch out, or you’ll taste the whips!

      – Yes, Alexander Danilovich! Benefactor! Yes, I see!

      – Then get to the forge, you scoundrel! Get moving! Then watch out, the wheel horse will suffer, I’ll whip him myself!

      – God save you! Here comes the forge…

      The carriage stopped, and, sighing and yawning, Alexashka climbed out onto the ground. Menshikov himself, knowing Dutch, went to talk to the merchant. Their guide, Hans Loop, remained on the box, curiously watching the actions of his recent acquaintance. The guy seemed lively and efficient to him, but he also needed to make sure that his words were true.

      – Good day, master, – Menshikov began politely, – will you shoe the horse, blacksmith?

      – Why not?

      But then he asked such a price that Alexander Danilovich started to sweat. Well, he had seen all sorts of things, of course, but this? They didn’t haggle for long, only about half an hour, and finally the blacksmith walked leisurely toward the unharnessed horse. He straightened the hoof with a large file and calmly and confidently nailed on a new horseshoe. Menshikov stood nearby and looked around the Dutch village. So, it seemed to be okay, and there was a sour smell, finally the groom understood what was going on… They heat with peat, firewood is expensive here, and you can’t find any branches. In general, it was bad… But he liked the horses, rich… Tall, strong and well-built… He got used to them when he lived with his father, on the estate…

      Danila Menshikov, like many boyar children, came to Moscow to serve after the Great Smolensk Campaign of Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich. Then they managed to recapture the city, and many Polish nobles went over to the service of the great Russian sovereign, among them was Danilo Menshikov. And he began to serve under Porfiry Sokovnin, also from a foreign family. Only the Sokovnins had left Livonia for Rus’ during the reign of Ivan the Terrible. And Alexey Porfiryevich Sokovnin got him a job at the court of Peter Alexeevich… And then it happened! Could Sokovnin have written anything bad against the sovereign? Of course not, Menshikov was absolutely sure of that. And Tsykler, too. After all, he was a relative of Alexey Porfiryevich… A dark story has come out, we will have to find out everything in Moscow, as Menshikov promised himself.

      – Everything is ready, Alexander Danilovich! We can go! – shouted the coachman.

      The sovereign’s orderly slowly returned to the carriage and settled down comfortably inside. Ivan slapped the reins, and a pair of large horses slowly pulled the carriage. The horseshoes clattered on the large stones of the road, the wheels sometimes bounced on the unevenness.

      – We’ll be there soon, – Hans Luup reassured.

      – There… – grumbled the dissatisfied Menshikov.

      He, the son of the assistant to the head of the royal stables, recalled how he and the bombardier Pyotr Mikhailov went to see the Elector of Brandenburg.

      ***

      The ship, a small vessel, rented by their Dutch guide, finally moored in Königsberg. The five of them were sitting in the captain’s cabin, in the company of three bottles of wine. And there were four more, empty, on the floor.

      – Rhine, what kind of nastiness is this? Is there any Hungarian? – Golovin muttered discontentedly, turning over a glass. The tablecloth absorbed the white wine without changing color much. Voznesen jumped up from his seat, turning purple with rage.

      – So I’ll write to the Tsar! – he shouted, – you’ll answer to the sovereign for your buffoonery! Or even with your head!

      The boyar laughed like a horse. But a burly man in a bombardier’s caftan grabbed the drunk Fyodor Alekseevich and shook him by the hem of his clothes.

      – What are you doing, boyar! Have you forgotten how Fyodor Yuryevich gave us directions on the road? – the officer raised his voice.

      Here Golovin completely sobered up. The intoxication immediately left his head, as the boyar recalled Romodanovsky’s stern rebuke:

      “As I said, so do! Or else you’ll lose all your heads!”

      – So we’re now going to the