The Shadow of Tyburn Tree (56 page)

‘Monsieur Diderot held much the same language to me when he visited my Court,' she remarked with a shake of her grey head, ‘And I said of him afterwards that, though he was a hundred years old in some respects in others he was no more than ten. You, too, are a child in these matters, Rojé Christorovitch, and my long experience of the ways of nations makes me think very differently. Such idealism is well enough to talk of in an idle hour, but my first interest must always be the security and wellbeing of my own people; and, as long as I live, they shall have their wars, that they may practise their
valour and afterwards rest easy in the comforting knowledge of their own strength.'

It had been far from Roger's expectations to gain so swiftly such a full and definite expression of the Empress's general convictions, which must certainly have an overriding influence on all her future policies. It was clear now that the chance of persuading her to join in a pact for the maintenance of a permanent peace was extremely remote; so he had his answer for Mr. Pitt, and there seemed no alternative but for the British Prime Minister to take such measures as he could to curb the ever-growing power of Russia. But as Roger thought of that, he also wondered with considerable misgivings if he would ever be in a position to pass on this extremely valuable information to Whitehall.

Meanwhile Catherine had risen and gone again to the chiffonier. From it she began to take several dishes, and as Roger hurried over to help her, he saw that they had been resting on a special arrangement of burners which had kept them hot during the past ten minutes' conversation. Together they carried the dishes and plates to a small table which was laid for two, then sat down to sup.

During the meal the Empress's active mind flitted from subject to subject with extraordinary agility and Roger had all his work cut out to keep up with her; but evidently she was pleased with him, as while they were eating their dessert, she congratulated him on his conversation, remarking that he had an exceptionally wide knowledge of affairs for so young a man.

For his part Roger found her easy, vivacious and extraordinarily interesting to talk to; and he caught himself thinking that, had she been nearer his own age he could easily have fallen in love with her. But, as it was, a gulf of nearly forty years separated them, and each time he looked at her sagging, heavily-painted face, redeemed only by the marvellous blue eyes, he felt a shiver run down his spine.

Ever since a night five years earlier, when, as a boy of fifteen, he had been taken to a brothel in Le Havre and had run from it in disgust, he had had a horror of making love to any woman who did not attract him; and more recently, there had been numerous occasions on which he had felt sickened at the advances of voluptuous ladies past their prime. Only the memory of the dungeon at Schlüsselburg kept him from throwing down his napkin and rushing from the room. He knew that later, somehow or other, he would have to bring himself to caress her and, mentally, he shuddered at the thought; but she gave him little time to think of that, and for longish periods he forgot it altogether, only to recall it again with amazement at the
fact that she had so bewitched him with her brilliant personality that he had actually been enjoying himself. Again it entered his mind that if he could only get through this first night with her he might yet endure the physical relationship for the sake of the great place in the world it would bring him.

When they rose from table she went to a secretaire and produced two parchments, which she handed to him, as she said:

‘The one is your official pardon for the Yagerhorn affair. I cannot find it in myself to blame you for taking your revenge upon him, and, even had I not taken a liking to you, I should have let you off with a severe reprimand.'

He gave a nervous laugh. ‘The night I was arrested I fully believed that I should end by paying for that business with my life. Doubtless I would have, too, had not you chanced to learn of my case, and believing me a monster, became curious as to my appearance.'

‘Nay, 'twas not chance,' she said quickly, ‘for I should have learned of the matter in any event. I allow no person in my realm to be condemned to death without first having had full information of the circumstances laid before me; and in nine cases out of ten I commute the punishment to imprisonment. The other paper will compensate you somewhat for your fright. 'Tis the title-deed to an estate, carrying three hundred and fifty serfs, in the province of Tula.'

As he began to stammer his thanks she took the black and red ribbon from round her neck, and reaching up, passed it over his head, exclaiming as the shining star fell on the lace frills of his shirt: ‘I make you, too, a Knight of my Order of St. Vladimir, for I would think but meanly of myself did I keep a friend long landless and undecorated in my company.'

Roger felt horribly embarrassed by this generous payment in advance for a service that he was still uncertain that he could bring himself to render. But the volatile Empress did not notice his confusion, as she half turned away and, indicating a door partially concealed by a curtain, went on: ‘Now, before we give ourselves up to the pleasure of the night, let us take a turn or two in the winter garden, for the good of our digestions.'

Heaving an inaudible sigh of relief at this respite Roger accompanied her through the door, and on glancing round, was amazed to find himself in a veritable paradise. The place they had entered was a conservatory of such vast dimensions that he could not see its ends and could only vaguely discern its roof. There were no pots or wooden stages, and, except for being enclosed, it had all the appearance of a richly-stocked tropical garden in the open. Gravel walks wound between gay flower-borders and banks of flowering shrubs scented the air
with a heady perfume; there were fountains, trees twenty feet in height, and open spaces with shaved grass lawns. Chains of fairy-lamps illuminated the whole, and as they moved, scores of parakeets and other brightly-coloured birds fluttered away to seek fresh cover among more distant foliage.

Catherine told him that she had built this wonder on a great row of arches in each of which big furnaces were kept going day and night; so that the temperature never altered, and even in the depths of the Russian winter it provided her with grapes, pineapples, hyacinths and roses.

But as they walked sedately between the palms and oleanders, her hand resting lightly on his arm, Roger's thoughts were whirling again. It suddenly struck him as grimly humorous that, within a fortnight, he should have been the recipient of two Orders of Chivalry for such fantastically divergent reasons. What would she do, he wondered, if he told her that in the filthy straw on the floor of a dungeon in her castle of Schlüsselburg he had buried the Star and yellow ribbon of a Swedish decoration, and how he had earned it. Send him to take what joy of it he could there for the rest of his life, seemed the almost certain answer. But the thought prompted him to express his admiration for the fearlessness she had shown when first attacked by Gustavus, and the way in which she had despatched the few troops that she could muster to oppose his greatly superior army on her frontiers.

She smiled at him. ‘The Romans never asked after the number of their enemies, but where they were, in order to fight them; and I am of their mind.'

When he asked her if she thought that the Swedish army in Finland would disintegrate before winter, she replied with a chuckle. ‘I care not, now that its sting has been drawn from it. Realising his army to be a broken reed, the insolent Gustavus has abandoned it to its fate. My spies report that he fled from his camp by night, with a few intimates, a fortnight back. I fear that by now 'tis as good as certain that he has succeeded in eluding Admiral Grieg's blockade; but his homecoming will be far from a triumph, and his position will soon be rendered desperate by a pretty little surprise I have in store for him.'

In a low voice she went on to tell Roger of the secret clause she had inserted in the treaty of 1773, by which she had ceded Holstein to the Danes, and how they had now agreed to honour their bond by launching a surprise attack on Sweden.

Already being aware of this deep secret his mind began to wander again to what lay ahead of him; but it was brought back with a jerk by her adding: ‘When Gustavus hears the news that a Danish army has invaded his western provinces
from Norway he will naturally expect it to march direct on Stockholm, and devote all his energies to preparing the defences of his capital. But instead, 'tis the Danes' intention to overrun the south and seize undefended Gothenburg.'

As in a dream, Roger realised that, without effort on his part, he had come into possession of the Danish plan of campaign. If he could get it to Gustavus in time, counter-measures might be taken and the tables turned. In view of Catherine's statement before supper it had become more than ever important to aid Sweden in her fight against Russia, and thus delay further Muscovite penetration into Europe. But how could he conceivably escape from his present situation; let alone, as a fugitive pursued by the police of a bitterly insulted Empress, reach Stockholm?

No further time was given him even to consider means by which he might secure a flying start next day. They had returned to the hidden door leading into Catherine's boudoir. She pressed a spring and it swung open. Damp under the collar now, he followed her inside.

Giving him an arch glance from her big blue eyes, she said, ‘So far I have found your company most stimulating, dear Rojé Christorovitch. In one short evening I have come to know you well enough to look forward with most pleasurable anticipation to your giving me more intimate proof of your regard. I will leave you now, but I will not keep you waiting long. In five minutes you may rejoin me.'

As she turned away towards the bedroom he swallowed hard, staggered, and clutched at the table.

Swinging round she looked at him in quick alarm, and cried: ‘What ails thee?'

‘ 'Tis nought, Catherina Alexeyevna,' he stammered. ‘Nought but over-excitement. A glass of wine will put me right. I shall be myself again by the time you—you are ready to receive me.'

Reassured she walked into her bedroom and closed the door behind her.

In an agony of indecision and distress he looked wildly round him. He knew now that he could not possibly make love to that lecherous old woman who was undressing beyond the carved and gilded door. No, not for all the riches or power in the world. Not even to save Europe from a cataclysm. He had got to get away from her. But how? How? How?

His mind had gone blank and refused to work. Vaguely he looked at the rail that guarded the spiral staircase. He could dash down it. But if he did, what was he to do then? She would call him in another few minutes, and if he did not appear, she would send her guards after him. They would catch him before
he had even got out of the palace, and, despite all her natural clemency, Messalina baulked of her pleasure would exact a dire vengeance. To break in upon her now and tell her to her aged, painted face, that he could not go through with it, would serve him little better. The cheated nymphomaniac would smother the kindly woman in her, and he would be dragged off to that ghastly dungeon at Schüsselburg to repent his momentary assertion of his rights as a man during months of incarceration in a living tomb.

Suddenly his despairing glance fell upon the vinegar-bottle on the table. He loathed vinegar, and even a dash of it in a sauce was enough to make his mouth dry up and the perspiration break out on his forehead. Grabbing the bottle, he tilted it to his mouth. In two, frightful, choking gulps he swallowed its whole contents.

His eyes bulged from his head, his stomach heaved with nausea. Fighting it down he lurched to the door and threw it open. Catherine had just got into bed, and she drew aside the curtain to smile a welcome. Only a nightlight was now burning in the room but its steady glow was sufficient for her to see his condition.

Leaning against the doorpost for support, he gasped out: ‘Succour me I beg! I am faint, dizzy, near collapse! My stomach burns! I think I have been poisoned!'

In a moment she had thrown aside the bedclothes and came hurrying towards him.

Through her thin nightdress he glimpsed her squat repulsive body. Her legs and thighs were swollen to such a size that it seemed a miracle that her little feet could still carry her. As she reached him the sweat was pouring down his face and the tears streaming from his eyes. He retched, staggered out into the boudoir and collapsed upon a chair.

Seizing the silver soup-tureen she held it for him while he vomited. When he got back his breath he panted. ‘Your—your pardon, Madame. Someone must have known of your—your intent to honour me. And—and out of jealousy put poison in the claret you—you refused at supper—knowing that you never drink it. I—I beg you to allow me to retire—and to send your doctor to me.'

Without a word she hurried back to her room and picking up a handbell rang it vigorously. As he was being sick again she returned with a chamber-robe now pulled over her nightdress, to hold his head, and, a moment later, two of her ladies-in-waiting ran in.

Concealing her annoyance, she now spoke kindly to him, smoothing his hair and soothing him like a mother, as she
begged him not to distress himself on her account. With quiet efficiency she gave brief orders to her women. They assisted him down the staircase to his room, helped him to undress to his shirt, and tucked him up in bed.

They had hardly done so when the old German who had given him his medical examination arrived upon the scene. He looked at Roger's tongue, felt his pulse, gave him an emetic, and waited by the bedside until he was sick again. After examining the nauseous mess the doctor told the two women that they might return to Her Majesty and report that the patient was in no grave danger. He intended to give him a sleeping-draught and had good hopes that he would be recovered by the morning.

The ladies-in-waiting tiptoed away and, much against his will, Roger was compelled to swallow the draught. The doctor then lit a nightlight, blew out the candles that the women had lighted, and softly left the room.