The Shadow of Tyburn Tree (39 page)

Suddenly it came to him that, for these next few moments, he must forget that she was a woman, and deal with her as he would a drunken sailor who attempted to knife him in a brawl. So far he had merely slapped her; but now he must hit her in good earnest as the only means of preventing her from giving him an ugly wound.

As he clenched his fists and raised them her eyes widened with astonished dismay. His left shot out straight for her face and she flung herself back against the desk in an attempt to escape the blow. But it was only a feint and did not even touch her. Before she could recover her balance his right landed with a thud in the middle of her stomach.

Her mouth gaped open as the breath was driven from her body. A spasm of pain shot across her features, and dropping the knife, she clutched wildly at the place where his blow had landed, doubled up, then slid gasping to the floor.

Roger kicked the knife away well out of her reach, picked her up and threw her on the bed. For a minute he stood watching her as she writhed there, but he knew that he had only winded her and the moment she got her breath back she would be cursing and threatening him again; so he decided that now was the time to go through with the distasteful task he had set himself.

Striding across the room to a cloak-rack near, the door he took from it the stoutest of Natalia Andreovna's three long parasols. By the time he got back to the bed her writhing had
ceased; she was lying there panting heavily and staring up at him with a strange expression in her eyes. Ignoring her glance he grabbed the hair on the top of her head with his left hand.; Instantly she clawed at it with her long nails in an effort to free herself, but she could do no more than scratch him, and twisting her head round sideways he forced her over on to her face. Then he set about belabouring her bottom with the parasol in no half-hearted manner.

For a few moments she bore her beating stoically, alternatively gritting her teeth and snarling curses at him. Then she began to shout for help, but he forced her face down into the pillow, half-muffling her cries. Next she started to beg for mercy, but he ignored her pleas and continued to belabour her. At last she ceased to curse, struggle and plead, went suddenly limp beneath his grip and burst into a flood of tears.

Only then did he stop, and, throwing the parasol on the floor, stood back from her, panting as a result of his exertions.

She did not move but continued to lie there with her face buried in the pillows, sobbing as though her heart would break.

But, as he laid his hand upon her shoulder she turned over of her own accord, smiled up at him from tear dimmed eyes and, choking back her sobs, murmured:

‘Oh, Rojé Christorovitch, how deeply you must love me, to beat me so.'

‘Indeed I love you,' he replied; and looking down on her thus he almost believed he meant it as he went on: ‘Surely you do not think that I would have left Sweden at a moment's notice for the sole purpose of paying you out by giving you a beating. You are a wicked child, and it seems that like a fond parent I needs must be stern with you for your own betterment.
But I determined at once to sail in this ship because I could not bear to be parted from you.'

‘Yet you have found the way to my heart' she sighed contentedly. ‘Rojé Christorovitch, you are now my master and I your slave. Lie down here while I kneel at your feet and you, my lord, shall tell me how best I may pleasure you this night.'

Roger knew then that he had achieved a victory beyond his wildest dreams. Their reconciliation was in keeping with the violence of their previous feelings and when, at last, their emotions were spent Natalia Andreovna wept again; but this time from sheer joy, and in the small hours she sobbed herself happily to sleep in Roger's arms.

From then on everything about the four-day voyage went as merry as a marriage-bell. Roger came out into the open as Natalia's cavalier, and henceforth took his meals with her, the Captain, and two Secretaries of the Embassy, whom King Gustavus had compelled Count Razumofsky to send home. One, Vladimir Paulovitch Lepekhin, was a tall, dark, amusing young man and the other, Dr. Drenke, was a fat, kindly, blue-eyed German of middle age, who had spent many years in the Russian service. Roger had, of course, already met both of them on numerous occasions, and together they formed a merry party.

The weather was excellent and the sea like a mill-pond. On the evening of Sunday, the 24th of June, they ploughed their way steadily up the Gulf of Finland, and late that night, dropped anchor in Cronstadt Bay. The following morning the Russian authorities came aboard and gave the Swedish frigate permission to proceed up the channel to St. Petersburg for greater convenience in landing Natalia Andreovna and her party. As a member of it Roger went ashore with the others, and by eleven o'clock, found himself at last in the Imperial city where lay the focus of his secret mission.

Natalia was in duty bound to take up her residence in the palace of her grandfather, Count Cyril Razumofsky. The Empress Elizabeth, whose lover he had been, had made him Hetmán of the Cossacks, and later he had played a leading part in the
coup d'etat
that had placed Catherine on the
throne. But he was now old, crotchety and abhorred strangers; so, although it had at first been mooted that Roger should be her guest there, they decided that it would be wiser for him to take lodgings in the city.

Naturally he refrained from saying so, but this suited him much better, as he was far from wishing to place himself in a situation where he would have to account to his beautiful mistress for all his comings and goings.

In the matter of a suitable lodging Dr. Drenke offered his assistance. He retained two rooms on the third floor of a house in a turning off the Nevsky, and thought that his landlord would be able to find Roger accommodation either in the same house or nearby. In consequence, having arranged with Natalia that she should let him hear from her through the Doctor, he took affectionate leave of her, and set off from the wharf in a
droshky
with the amiable German.

Roger knew that St. Petersburg was still less than a hundred years old; that it had been built with immense labour, and at the cost of thousands of lives, on countless piles driven deep into the boggy marshes at the mouth of the Neva; and that this extraordinarily unsuitable site had been chosen for the city solely because Peter the Great had desired a capital in which he could supervise the building of his beloved Navy, He was, therefore, all the more astounded at its size and magnificence.

The only remaining traces of the marshes were the numerous canals and rivulets intersecting the city, and these were spanned at frequent intervals by stout wooden bridges gaily painted in different colours. Such narrow, twisting streets and noisome alleys as composed almost the whole of London, Paris and Stockholm were entirely absent, and even the open modern Danish capital was a mere model village compared to this splendid metropolis.

The main thoroughfares had been laid out with a prodigal disregard of space and were grand boulevards on a scale that he had never even imagined. On either side of them were raised footways, so that pedestrians could traverse the town dry-shod during the autumn floods. The majority of the smaller houses were made of the native timber, but on every side there arose vast palaces of stone which housed the Government departments and the families of the aristocracy.

When they arrived at the doctor's lodging they found that the first-floor suite, consisting of a bedroom and sitting-room, was free, and the landlord, a Courlander named Ostermann, agreed to let it to Roger for three roubles a week, which, as the rouble was then the equivalent of four shillings, he considered very cheap; but he was soon to learn that living in St. Petersburg
was far less expensive than in London or Paris. He could have his meals sent in from a nearby pastrycook's and would provide his own servant, but Ostermann undertook to find one for him by that evening.

Roger knew that German was the language most frequently spoken in St. Petersburg, and he had already mastered it sufficiently to understand beyond chance of mistake when Ostermann asked him: ‘By what military rank shall I address your nobleness?'

He was about to reply ‘None,' when Dr. Drenke intervened, and explained. ‘Since Russia is an autocracy every Russian is given a military grade. For example, the Empress's chief cook and chief coachman are both colonels. Since you are of noble birth you will automatically be classed as an officer, and you must get yourself an officer's cockade to wear in your hat, as you will find that all the common people pay great respect to that symbol. The usual practice with foreigners is to grade them on their income; so, tell me please how much you are worth a year?'

Since it was essential to his mission to cut a good figure at the court, Roger thought it well to rate himself as a thousand-a-year man; so he replied, ‘Five thousand roubles.'

‘You are wealthy then,' the doctor smiled, ‘and with such an income cannot be ranked as less than a Major-General.' While Ostermann, obviously much impressed, made his new lodger a deep obeisance, then hurried away to carry up his baggage.

The doctor then invited Roger to dine with him, and they adjourned to the pastrycook's along the street. Roger had eaten caviare on a few occasions with Georgina, as a rare delicacy, but only the pressed variety which, packed in ice, was the kind then exported; but now he was given a plateful of the large grained grey
ikra
which comes from the Ural river, and he tucked into it most heartily. This rich
hors d'œuvre
was followed by a hare, baked whole. While they made a skeleton of it the Doctor sent out to have some money changed for him, and when it came back, explained the values of the Russian currency.

A gold Imperial, their two-pound piece, was worth ten roubles, and a half-Imperial, five. The silver consisted of roubles, half-roubles, quarter roubles and twenty, fifteen and ten cent coins; the copper of five, two, one, a half, and even a quarter, kopecks; so there seemed to be a coin suitable to every possible requirement.

Doctor Drenke then went on to speak of the Russians and some of their customs. ‘So great a respect have they for St.
Nicholas,' he remarked, ‘that they never pray to God except through him; and in the living-room of every house there is an
ikon
of the Saint, to which visitors are always expected to bow before greeting their host. On the other hand they are far from being a religious people in the western sense. They observe the celebrations of their church with much pomp, but do not give to their clergy, except for the higher dignitaries, the status of gentry. In the main they are drunken, untrustworthy, and extremely immoral. You will find a certain attraction about their childish, inconsequent gaiety, and they will tell you the most barefaced falsehoods in their eagerness to make a good impression on you; yet they will cheat you at every turn if they possibly can. The only way to earn their respect is by curses, kicks and blows, lavishly administered to men and women alike.'

I have already gathered that,' Roger nodded. ‘I am told that Peter the Great used even to beat his Generals.'

The Doctor laughed. ‘ 'Tis true enough. And the Generals beat the Colonels, the Colonels the Majors, and so on down the line. The whole nation expects such treatment, and given it willingly work long hours for small reward. Thus, if properly disciplined, they make excellent servants; and, despite the fundamental dishonesty of the Russian character, they are not given to thieving where money is concerned. It is to get something for nothing by the exercise of their wits that delights them, and they would leave a drawer of silver untouched while going to great pains to swindle you out of a few coppers.'

As a great pancake bursting with cherry jam was placed on the table, the Doctor went on: ‘One thing greatly to their credit is the efficiency with which the police keep law and order here. You will neither be pestered by swarms of mendicants, such as infest all other large cities, nor be in danger of having your pocket picked. There is a
Ukase
forbidding begging, which is enforced most rigorously, and acts of robbery are almost unknown. The ‘Residence' as the city is termed, is divided into ten districts, each of which has a police-president who is answerable for the safety and well-being of everyone living within it. By law, the doors of his house may not be locked either night or day, so that anyone who has suffered an injury may have immediate access to him, and he can send his assistants to apprehend the wrongdoer without delay. Moreover, five hundred night-watchmen are always on duty in watch-houses placed at the junctions of all the main thoroughfares, so you may walk the streets unarmed at any hour with perfect safety, as a single shout would be enough to bring one or more of them running to your assistance.'

‘ 'Tis truly most admirably ordered.' Roger remarked. ‘And far in advance of any measures taken to protect the lives and property of the citizens in the great capitals of the west.'

The Doctor made a slight grimace, ‘Against it one must set the debit that, as the price of such security, the citizens of Petersburg have lost the freedom that most men count so dear. The vigilance of the police is so thorough that they know everybody's business. In fact it is the duty of the police-president of each district to be fully informed of the life and circumstances of every household, and for the purpose enormous numbers of police-spies are employed. Every innkeeper, and private person too, must give the police full particulars of all who come to lodge with them, and if a lodger stays out all night they must inform the police of it, at the latest on the third day of his absence, so that he can be traced up and come under police surveillance again.'

‘But that is monstrous,' protested Roger. ‘Provided one keeps within the law, what right has the Government to pry into one's private comings and goings?'

‘ 'Tis the law,' shrugged the Doctor, ‘and one must submit to it. The Empress is an autocrat in a sense which makes all other, so-called, autocratic monarchs mere puppets of their people. She is the legal owner of the entire country and everything in it. Even the greatest nobles only hold their lands, serfs and wealth by virtue of her pleasure. And she regards every one of her people as hers to dispose of as she sees fit; therefore she considers it not only her right but her duty, as the mother of them all, to have available at any time she may require it a full account of their most intimate affairs.'