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

and Voznesensky covered his face with his hands.

      – Yes, they think that it is you – Pyotr Alekseyevmch, – Golovin said wearily.

      – So here I am, Pyotr Mikhailov. And I have never called myself a Tsar. And I will not!

      A carriage with the coat of arms of Brandenburg met the important guests from Russia. The escort officer saluted the bombardier Mikhailov with his sword. Two footmen opened the carriage doors, and the six horses pulled the cart together.

      – It will be a shame, a shame, the unfortunate clerk Voznesensky kept lamenting, – but the Tsar has long been in Holland!

      Menshikov turned away and began to look at the street of the German city. It was unbearable to hear the clerk, and the Tsar’s orderly could not say any unnecessary words. And there was no shame. On the contrary. Pyotr Mikhailov with his bearing, politeness and even a certain courtesy created a furor among the ladies-in-waiting of the Elector of Brandenburg. They got what they expected – such an almost tame Russian bear, scary on the outside and kind on the inside.

      Then Elector Friedrich spoke with Peter Mikhailov about politics, about trade, and kept insisting on a military alliance against Sweden.

      The Russian bombardier looked and listened to this man, who elusively and clearly combined the rigidity hidden in his icy eyes and the sophistication of his silk attire. Yes, that was all of Europe, its incomparable style.

      – I would also like to study artillery science, – the bombardier lieutenant asked.

      – Well, a truly royal hobby… The park is at your service, my brother… – the Elector assessed Peter Mikhailov’s answer.

      And indeed, for about a week, before Lefort arrived with a caravan of carriages, the Russian bombardier studied cannon art, and even then received a patent as a bombardier captain.

      ***

      Now they went on a barge. Well, how they went… Only the Dutch guide, Haans Loop, and Alexander Danilovich Menshikov himself remained with them. The embassy left for Amsterdam, and the tsar’s orderly, instead of seeing the beauty of the city, went to the shipyard, to break his hands and wear out his calluses.

      – Yes, I was taken to Amsterdam, but arrived in Saardam, – Menshikov sang out a sad verse.

      – You are simply full of talent, Alexander, – Haans laughed, puffing on his pipe, – I dare to assure you, this is not a bad yeshchko at all…

      Aleksashka felt completely sad, and he looked at the canal bank again. As he noticed, all of Holland was dug up, like a thrifty owner’s vegetable garden. And their boat was pulled by four heavy draft horses along the river bank. He had seen something like this, only in Russia barge haulers, that is, people, pulled barges. It’s more true… A horse is a tender animal, it can die, but a human being, nothing, will endure… Houses with tiled roofs ran slowly past the canal.Nearby, peasants were working leisurely in clogs or klomps. Wooden shoes, basically. In Russia, peasants used bast shoes to protect their boots, and they carry these blocks on their feet. Aleksashka shuddered. He imagined what it was like to have wooden blocks on his feet… They probably rub, and he just shook his head.

      – Haans, how do they carry these on their feet? – he asked, unable to resist.

      – That’s just the way it is. A European custom.

      Menshikov just spat into the water in disgust and turned away.

      “And so it is in everything. They teach us life, but they themselves live in shit and warm themselves with peat. Just recently, we spent the night, and out of greed they slept in closets. Where did they come …”

      Alexander Danilovich became very sad. At home, it is much better. Well, to tell the truth, there was some funny stuff. Mills where, how many stood in the fields and banks.

      – These are machines. They grind correctly, raise water, and do many good things, – explained Luup.

      And he liked the flowers. Tulips, which he had seen enough of in the Don steppes near Azov.

      – And these are tulips. Very expensive flowers, they are bought by sophisticated people. Many have become rich growing them, – Haans said with pleasure.

      – That’s what we call them azure. Come to us on the Don, there is a lot of such goodness growing in the steppes, and you won’t have to pay!

      With these words, the unrefined Menshikov drove the unfortunate Dutchman into a stupor, and he fell silent for a long time. There was definitely an embarrassment with the flowers here… And again there was a merciless stench of burnt peat..

      The new Tsar and Grand Duke of All Rus’

      – This is where you will live, – and Haans pointed to a quite decent house, by local standards.

      The porters carried four chests from the barge, Menshikov carried his bag on his shoulder.

      – Well… I will pay for everything and keep track of the expenses. There is nothing to worry about. The person you are expecting has been here for about a week. Goodbye, Alexander!

      And Haans shook hands with his new comrade in farewell. The Dutchman quickly climbed onto the barge and waved goodbye to the Russian, and the team of horses pulled the little vessel along the canal.

      – Well, as for me, I will do the job as I promised, – Alexashka whispered quietly.

      He pulled his hat down lower, almost to his ears, and bravely pulled the handle of the front door.

      – Whose is it? – he heard in Dutch.

      A tall man, probably a head taller than Pyotr Alexeevich, stood with his back to him. Black hair down to his shoulders, a slender figure, and tobacco smoke rose from a wooden pipe. He turned, and Menshikov peered inquisitively into the stranger’s face. Round, cat-like, black eyes. Similar, of course. But no noticeable birthmark, and the skin looks like it’s slightly pockmarked.

      – You are Aleksahka?

      – That’s right. Alexander Danilovich Menshikov, your royal majesty.

      – No. Piter. Herr Piter. Call me only that.

      – Maybe I can call you Min hertz? (my heart)

      The giant laughed gutturally, throwing his head back a little, and grabbed Menshikov tightly by the shoulders. This Pyotr was strong, very strong, and the orderly felt it himself.

      – You will help me, and I will help you. I swear, you will not go wrong! – Pyotr immediately declared.

      – We need to study a lot, min hertz. And you need to learn Russian, read and write, remember the faces of dozens of people. Pyotr Alekseevich knew Latin very well, he was very well read.

      – And I love to read. You forgot, Aleksashka, that Pyotr Alekseevich is me!

      The first lesson dragged on until the evening. Menshikov took out the Book of Degrees and began to read it aloud in Dutch. Piter listened very attentively, did not interrupt. Then he looked at the drawings. It was obvious that the Dutchman was interested in the orderly’s story.

      – And you, Aleksashka. a nobleman?

      – I am listed as a boyar’s son, on my father’s side. He is an assistant to the head of the Tsar’s stables.

      The giant nodded. Of course, the title comes sacri stabuli has been known since the times of Ancient Rome.

      – And what, for example, do they drink in Russia?

      – Kvass, mead, beer, sbiten, berry uzvar, all kinds of kissels. Well, vodka, of course

      Here Piter smiled again and poured himself a glass of juniper.

      – What strange