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

hid his smile under a scented handkerchief, and Golovin proudly leaned on his cane. Apparently, the boyar appreciated the skill and dexterity of the new tsar.

      – I am here to greet my brother Wilhelm, the king and stadtholder…

      Voznitsyn translated Peter’s deliberately tricky speech. It was said that the tsar wanted to hire masters and mathematicians for the navigation school in Moscow. Wilhelm did not look at the Russian ruler with such impudence any more.

      Then a dinner and a ball were given in honor of the Russian tsar. The ladies of the court were surprised that the guest from the North was not averse to gallant amusements.

      Peter approached Lefort, the general bowed again, demonstrating all possible devotion.

      – I am glad to see your royal majesty again… – he said.

      – At small receptions and balls, call me simply – Herr Peter, – said the Tsar.

      – As your grace pleases… We need to visit Vienna, the court of Emperor Leopold. But that happened later.

      Alarm in Moscow

      Boyarin Romodanovsky sat at a table of Italian work. Not simple, special, but made for important matters. This miracle was created by the Venetian master Nikolaus Crespi, as the clerk of the Ambassadorial Prikaz, who ordered such a pleasant thing, told Fyodor Yuryevich. The boyar sat at a carved board, could not rejoice enough. On each side there were three good boxes, in the middle – another large box, locked with a key. The table’s exterior was covered with elegant carving. The boyar pulled the bronze handle of one drawer and took out a sheet of paper, and the other one took out a goose quill and put it aside.

      He was reading a letter written by Menshikov on behalf of the Tsar. Yes, the Great Embassy in Europe has been traveling around the capitals for almost a year now. And the Tsar is now in place, learning Russian… He just learned it, so better… There was a slight chill and dampness coming from the street, and Romodanovsky, who was famous for his corpulence, covered himself with a huge thick fur coat and wrapped himself up tighter.

      – They all lie that the obese don’t freeze, – he whispered, – how chilly it is!

      He poured himself some vodka into a silver glass and drank it with pleasure. Well, it seems to have gotten warmer, the boyar thought with pleasure. There was a knock on the door, answering from work. Romodanovsky hid the instruments and said sternly:

      – Who’s going on there, at this hour of the night!

      But all the same, they rustled and creaked.The clerk Fomenko, a cheerful lad from the settlement, dropped in. And he serves well, devotedly, and is quick-witted, sensible…

      – Father, here is a letter from the boyar Troekurov, Ivan Borisovich.

      – Give it here, quickly!

      And his plump fingers, covered with rings, reached for the message. He pulled a candlestick with three burning candles towards him. He quickly tore off the seal and unfolded the paper sheet. As usual, he omitted the doxology and began to read only from the practical and important:

      “… The elected archers from Velikiye Luki came to Moscow. They cursed me profanely, demanded salary and bread. They say that the convoys with the tsar’s salary never came to Novgorod, and they are in a bad way. So we must look for silver…”

      – Have you seen the archers yourself?

      – Yes, I have. They came to the Prikaz, cursed everyone shamefully… It’s good that the clerks weren’t beaten. Especially Vasily, nicknamed Darkness. He was too insolent…

      – I’ll write to the Prikaz of the Great Treasury so that they give the strelets their salaries. Prozorovsky will do everything right. And verbally, so that Ivan Borisovich would tell the strelets that the grain was delayed due to the muddy season, and we’ll deliver the feed soon.

      – Thank you, our father, – and the messenger bowed low, but his hat fell off from his zeal.

      However, the clerk immediately picked it up and carefully stepped forward, afraid to dirty the woven rugs on the floor.

      – Well, go, don’t dawdle. I have business to attend to, – and the boyar threw the petitioner out.

      He sat at the table, thought, and rang the bell. He waited quickly, so that no strangers would be listening. A trusted serf, his bedchamber attendant, Senka, arrived. He was a smart man, efficient and loyal, and the boyar took care of the servants.The gentleman of the bedchamber was dressed quite decently, in a good gray cloth caftan, wide trousers, yuft boots, a hat with a squirrel trim.

      – Is Vaska busy, with Foma? – the prince-caesar asked the gentleman of the bedchamber.

      – So you can always find business, father… Whatever it is, there is always some!

      – Don’t beat around the bush in front of me! – and the boyar slapped his hand on the table.

      But he didn’t slap it hard, graciously. For the sake of order, so that Semyon wouldn’t forget himself, and wouldn’t take on too much.

      – Here, both of them, and quickly…

      The gentleman of the bedchamber nodded and quickly went to do the job. The boyar took out a small purse, poured in about twenty kopecks. He thought for a moment, and put in a couple more altyns.

      And soon two little people appeared before the boyar’s menacing eyes. Such, you look at them and forget them the same day. Thin, fidgety, with sunken cheekbones, barely covered by short beards.

      – Hello, father, for many years! – one of them started singing.

      – And we did nothing bad, don’t be angry, – and the second bowed low.

      – Vaska, Fomka! – Fyodor Yuryevich began as sternly as possible, – we need to follow Keshka Tvorogov, Dimka Tropinin and Frol Razhny in the Streletskaya Sloboda. And for your expenses, – and he threw his purse on the table,

      And the byarin himself began to read the charter from the Ambassadorial Prikaz. There was another matter to attend to. The Tsar was going to open a Navigation School in Moscow, and was already sending instruments from Amsterdam. Well, and the serfs stood in front of them, shifted from one foot to the other and kept looking inquisitively. They were still waiting for something… Romodanovsky continued to speak:

      – So… I know, you are both clever and resourceful, follow and find out with whom the Streletskaya will meet, and what conversations to conduct. Do everything wisely, but you also need to hurry. Is it clear now or should I repeat it again?

      – So, Fyodor Yuryevich… It’s not an easy matter… We’ll lose our heads! The bastards will drown us, if not in the Neglinnaya or Yauza, then in the Moscow River for sure, – Vasily said quietly.

      – The main thing is that it’s not in a ditch or the Poganye Ponds. You can suffocate from the stench there. That’s it, it’s a done deal! Carry it out!

      – But to do it right, as you, father, decided, we need to become sbitenshiks. Or kvassniks. And for that we need… – and the sly man raised his head, studying the grassy pattern in the chambers.

      – Well, what did you see there? Was it the Prophet Elijah? Or maybe St. Nicholas the Saint? – the boyar clarified.

      The serf bent his fingers for a long time, whispered, rubbed his eyes, in general, tested the boyar’s patience for a long time. And the boyar did not have this quality at all.

      – Well, should I throw you to Yashka the bear? So that my thoughts can come to order?

      – Well, that’s it… It comes out to six rubles eighty-three kopecks, no less! – and the serf stared at the prince-caesar.Vaska was a real rogue, but he knew how to entertain Romodanovsky. The boyar silently ran his hand over his mustache, thought for a moment, and took out the treasured