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

the jug of wine and the goblet. But she stopped halfway, and her fingers began to drum on the tabletop. She remembered that you can’t mix wine and heavy herbal infusion, it will be bad… She closed her eyes, her head ached terribly.

      – Mother, here, I brought it, – and Palashka put a cup of Chinese porcelain on the table.

      And silver is bad for the potion, and clay is no good, as if it absorbs everything, both taste and smell. And the best of all is Venetian glass and porcelain. The servant tried the infusion, that was the custom, and only then did the princess drink it all to the bottom. It immediately became easier, the pain was washed away like a wave.

      – Pelageya… Which of the servants do you know Ivan Alekseevich Tsykler and the okolnichy Aleksey Prokofievich Sokovnin?

      – Sokovnin’s estate is not far from the Church of St. Nicholas the Red Bell in Kitai-gorod, and Ivan Alekseevich is nearby. I know many more, including the housekeeper Vasily…

      Sophia now had no doubts about what she had planned. Anger and rage rose to her heart. She sat down at the table, picked up the writing board, and began writing.

      Ivan Alekseevich, may you have many years of health!

      I have learned of a secret and evil matter, and I want to inform you of it.

      I know that you are devoted not to me, but to the entire Russian Land, and without you nothing can be done.Among the Streltsy you are strong and respected, and now their courage is needed. If you want to know what the need has arisen, come today to the monastery, to the secret gate. Pelageya will meet you. Princess Sophia.

      The woman sealed the message with her signet and handed it over to her messenger, the hay girl. What else could she do? There were no others.

      – Here is Pelageya, you are our only hope… – and she handed over the letter, – and money for the road… Dress warmly, it is still cold outside…

      – I will do everything, – whispered Palashka, hiding the message behind the collar of her clothes, – do not doubt it!

      Sophia closed her room for now, as soon as the hay girl left. It would be good if her letter became a bird and flew to Colonel Tsykler herself. And you don’t need any messengers or envoys, your soul wouldn’t hurt… And so, sit and wait for what will happen…

      Dumny nobleman Ivan Tsykler

      Ivan Eliseevich sat at the table, slowly studying the Russian map. And where was this very Verkhotursk, where he was appointed governor. What can I say? From a half-colonel, to a governor, an honorable place, although the Urals are not close. They called him to Moscow last year, they were supposed to send him to Azov and Taganrog, to build fortresses… Well, the Tsar-father ordered, so that’s how it should be. And then, forty-one years already, look, everything will work out and he will be able to become an okolnichy, and then, who knows, a general… But then all thoughts were interrupted by the cry of his son.

      – Father, you have a messenger, a guest! – the eldest son, Elisha, immediately said, entering the room. They named him after his grandfather, who died forty years ago near Riga. Ivan didn’t even remember his father, who left this earthly vale when he was barely a year old.That year, Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich besieged the city of Riga, and Colonel Yelisey Tsikler with his regiment was with the entire army, honestly fought the Swedes. Well, Yelisey Ivanovich had already been recruited for the Tsar’s service, about three years ago. In the dragoon regiment, and not on the stove, in some Prikaz.

      – And from whom?

      The son, a smart one, bent down and whispered in his father’s ear. Ivan Eleseevich immediately jumped up, approvingly patted the heir on the shoulder, and ran down the stairs of his father’s house. The building was solid, stone. The chambers were two stories high, with eight windows on each, and a noble ascent, carved from seasoned oak, led to the second, the master’s.

      – The gatehouse, father! – Yelisey shouted.

      Ivan appreciated it and quickly, his boots creaking on the stone-paved courtyard, entered the servants’ house. The serf Vasjatka stood at the door and led the master into a small nook. There sat a woman, one of the servants, in a sheepskin coat and her face wrapped in a shawl made of cheap cloth.

      – Close the door. And bring two mugs of apple broth.

      – I’ll do everything, – the serf quickly answered.

      Then a woman’s hand flew out from under the sheepskin coat like a snake across the table to Tsykler, and a small letter deftly jumped into the palm of the Duma nobleman. Ivan read the message in an instant.

      – I’ll be there, don’t doubt it, – Tsykler answered.

      The hay maid bowed, took the letter and burned it right in the flame of the candle standing on the table. Only ashes and melted wax from the princess’s seal remained.

      – I’ll go… – and the messenger rose from the bench.

      – Well, at least drink a little something sweet. They’ll bring it right away.

      – Good..

      They brought clay mugs, the woman drank the brew almost in one gulp, bowed and left the rich house of the Duma nobleman.

      ***

      Tsikler remembered the message almost by heart, to be honest, two plans were born in his head at once. Again, as in 1687 to inform the young tsar, to assure him of his devotion… Or… To go to Sophia, and then decide… But what’s the point in conspiracies, he reassured himself, Ivan Alekseevich had been dead for a year, and after Peter’s death the kingdom could only go to Alexei Petrovich, but certainly not to Sophia Alekseevna. She could only become the ruler until the tsar’s marriage, his coming of age

      Having thought so, Ivan Eliseevich calmed down. But, since he had promised, he had to go. He didn’t want to, he thought about it, kept turning over the pages of the Psalter, but then he made up his mind.

      – Nikishka! – he shouted to the serf, – get the horses ready, and you’ll go with me!

      After a short time, his man was standing in the yard with two saddled horses. Ivan Eliseevich easily mounted his favorite stallion, the serf rode a little behind. The weather for the month of February was not that good, the main thing was that there was no strong wind

      They reached the monastery in a little while or more. Tsikler dismounted, leaving Nikishka with the horses. The Duma nobleman himself went to the gatehouse. It was good that he at least dressed more simply, he was careful not to be seen by strangers.

      He met workers and pilgrims, but it seemed they did not recognize him. He finally turned into a gate, opened a simple, inconspicuous creaking door, and found himself in a modest cell. Here, at the oak table, in a fur coat covered with Persian damask and a velvet scarf, sat Sophia Alekseyevna, deigning to read a book.

      – So I have come, princess. At your word, – said Tsikler.

      – Sit down, Ivan Eliseevich! I know that you are faithful to Tsar Peter, and even more so to the oath to the Russian Kingdom. And that you decided so and chose so ten years ago. No offense, Peter has grown up, and a girl cannot sit on the throne… But your oath has passed, it has all gone, after all, the boyars betrayed, and killed first Ivan Alekseevich, and then Pyotr Alekseevich.

      – It can’t be! – Tsikler jumped up from the bench, – who would go for such a thing? And the sovereign is leaving abroad… Pyotr Alekseevich is alive!

      – I would not lie. Why? He lies in a stone coffin, in the Archangel Cathedral, in a secret crypt. Should I show you, or are you afraid?

      – No, I’m not afraid… – the Duma nobleman whispered quietly, – although it’s scary, I believe you, princess. But if that’s the case, loyal people must see that Tsar Peter is dead. Alone, I can’t do anything. And the