The Coronation (32 page)

‘Badly, very badly!’ Endlung exclaimed and threw himself on our rescuer’s neck. I suspect that such impetuousness demonstrated by a sweaty gentleman wearing nothing but his drawers can hardly have beenmuch to Foma Anikeevich’s liking.

‘This is our court’s gentleman of the bedchamber, Filipp Nikolaevich Endlung,’ I said. ‘And this is Foma Anikeevich Savostianov, butler to His Highness the governor general of Moscow.’ Then, with the necessary formalities concluded, I quickly asked about the most important thing: ‘What has happened to Mikhail Georgievich? Has he been freed?’

Foma Anikeevich shrugged. ‘I know nothing about that. We have our own misfortune. Prince Glinsky has shot himself. A terrible disaster.’

‘How do you mean, shot himself?’ I asked, astonished. ‘Did he not fight a duel with Lord Banville?’

‘As I said, he shot himself. He was found in the Petrovsko-Razumovsky Park with a gunshot wound in the heart.’

‘So the little cornet was unlucky,’ said Endlung, starting to pull on his dress. ‘The Englishman didn’t miss. He was a grand lad, even if he was a queer.’

15 May

‘. . . and also the assistant pantry man broke the dish for game from the Sèvres service. I have already ordered him to be fined half a month’s pay; anything further is at your discretion. And then there is Her Highness’s maid Petrishcheva. The footman Kriuchkov reported that she had been seen in the bushes with Mr Fandorin’s valet in a quite unambiguous position. I did not take any measures, since I do not know how you usually deal with behaviour of that sort . . .’

‘The first time, a reprimand,’ I said, looking up from the plate to explain to Somov. ‘The second time, out on her ear. If she has served the time, severance pay. We’re very strict with that sort of thing.’

It was just getting light outside, and the lamp was lit in the kitchen. I ate some reheated soup with great gusto and then applied myself to some cutlets. More than twenty-four hours without a single bite to eat is certainly no joke.

After Foma Anikeevich released Endlung and me from our incarceration, the lieutenant’s path and mine had parted. He went to the Variety Theatre to change his clothes. He had invited me too, saying that the girls slept in rooms at the theatre. They would give us food and drink, and show us a bit of affection.

But I had more important business to deal with.

And, moreover, this business did not include household concerns, so I listened to my assistant rather inattentively.

‘How did the coronation go?’ I asked, trying to work out if Somov might know something about the previous day’s operation. He ought not to, but he was far from stupid; in fact he seemed quite shrewd to me. But in any case he did not ask a single question about the reasons for my absence. Perhaps I could simply ask casuallywhether Mikhail Georgievich had been brought back from Ilyinsk?

‘Absolutely magnificent. But –’ Somov lowered his voice ‘– some of our people are saying there were bad omens . . .’

That put me on my guard. Bad omens on such a day, that is no trivial matter. A coronation is an exceptional event, every minor detail is significant. Among the court servants there are fortune-tellers who will lay out cards for the entire course of the ceremonies, hour by hour, in order to determine how the reign will proceed and when during its course convulsions can be expected. This we can call superstition, but there are other signs that cannot simply be dismissed. For instance, during the coronation of Alexander the Liberator a bottle of champagne suddenly burst for no reason at all on a table at the evening reception – it was like a bomb exploding. At that time, 1856, bombers had still not been heard of, and so no one knew how to interpret the incident. Its significance only became clear much later, after a quarter of a century. And at the last coronation the sovereign placed the crown on his head before he was supposed to, and our people whispered that his reign would not be a long one. And it was not.

‘First of all,’ Somov began, with a glance at the door, ‘when the hairdresser was arranging Her Majesty’s crown on her coiffure, he was so excited that he pushed too hard on one hairpin, and the empress cried out. He pricked her so badly that there was blood. And then, when the procession had already begun, the chain of His Majesty’s Order of St Andrew broke, and it fell on the ground! Only our people know about the hairpin, but many people noticed the incident with the order.’

Yes, that is not good, I thought. However, it could have been worse. The main thing was that the crowning of the tsar had taken place, and Doctor Lind had not disrupted this supremely solemn festivity after all.

‘What about the Englishmen?’ I enquired vaguely, unsure whether anyone at the Hermitage knewanything about the duel.

‘Lord Banville has left. Yesterday at noon. He did not even attend the coronation. He simply left a note for His Highness and moved out. He looked very pale and angry, as if he was offended about something or unwell. But he left extremely generous gratuities for all the senior personnel. For you, Afanasii Stepanovich, a gold guinea.’

‘Change it into roubles and share it equally between Lipps and the two coachmen, from me. They have all worked very well,’ I said, deciding that I did not want any gratuity from that murderer. ‘And what of Mr Carr?’

‘He is still here. His Lordship even left his butler with Mr Carr – he left alone.’

‘And is Mademoiselle Declique missing her pupil very badly?’ I asked with feigned nonchalance, finally broaching the most important subject.

Therewere quiet footsteps in the corridor. I looked round and saw Fandorin. He was wearing a Hungarian housecoat with decorative cording; he had a net on his hair and felt slippers on his feet. A smooth creature, stepping gently through the half-light with a glitter in his eyes – a real tomcat.

‘The night d-doorman informed me that you had returned. But where is Endlung?’ he asked, without a greeting of any kind.

From the question about Endlung I assumed that Pavel Georgievich had told Fandorin about our expedition. Despite the intense dislike that this man provoked in me, I was impatient to talk to him.

‘You may go, Kornei Selifanovich,’ I said to my assistant, and the intelligent man left immediately. ‘The gentleman of the bedchamber is all right,’ I replied curtly, and in order to prevent any further disagreeable questions, I added: ‘Unfortunately, it was simply a waste of our time.’

‘Things are not going sowell here either,’ said Fandorin, taking a seat. ‘You d-disappeared yesterday evening, before Emilie had come back. She managed her assignment perfectly andwe determined the precise location of Lind’s secret hideaway. It turned out that he is hiding the child in the tomb of the Princess Bakhmetova, which stands close to the wall of the Novodevichy Convent. The princess took her own life because of an unhappy love a hundred years ago and they would not allow her to be buried inside the convent, so her disconsolate parents built a sort of mausoleum for her. The Bakhmetov line has since become extinct, so the tomb is dilapidated and the lock on the door is rusty. However, that is merely a facade. Mademoiselle tells me that every time she was led into the cold interior with her eyes blindfolded, she heard the sound of well-oiled hinges. We have not been able to obtain an accurate architectural plan of the chapel; all we know is that the tomb itself is located underground in the v-vault.’

Erast Petrovich began drawing on the table with his finger.

‘We made ready yesterday at dawn. This (he put down the breadbin) is the monastery. Here (he positioned the salt cellar beside it) we have the tomb. There is wasteland all around, and there is a pond here. (He splashed a little tea onto the oilcloth.) In short, there is noway to approach unnoticed. We have positioned men in disguise around the spot at a considerable distance but not made any attempt to go inside.’

‘Why not?’ I asked.

‘The point is, Ziukin, that since the Time of Troubles all the ground around the Novodevichy Convent has been riddled with underground passages. It was besieged by the Poles and then the False Dmitry, and later the Streltsy dug under it to free theTsarina Sophia from captivity. I am sure that Lind, being the highly prudent and cautious individual that he is, chose this spot for a good reason. There must be a line of retreat – that is always his tactic. And so I decided to take a different approach.’

He knitted his brows and sighed.

‘The delivery of the stone was set for five o’clock yesterday, since the coronation was due to conclude at two. Immediately after the ceremony the Orlov was removed from the sceptre—’

‘Permission was given for the exchange?’ I exclaimed. ‘So she was wrong, and they decided to save Mikhail Georgievich after all!’

‘Who is
she
?’ Fandorin asked, but he could see from my face that therewould be no answer, and he continued: ‘Iwas entrusted with the Orlov on one condition. I gave a guarantee that Lind would not keep the stone under any circumstances. Not under
any
circumstances,’ he repeated significantly.

I nodded. ‘That is, if a choice has to be made between the life of His Highness and the diamond . . .’

‘Precisely so.’

‘But how can we be sure that the doctor will not manage to keep the Orlov? Howwill Mademoiselle Declique be able to stop him? And then, you said yourself that there are underground passages . . .’

‘I set one condition for Lind, which Emilie communicated to him the day before yesterday. Since we are not dealing with any ordinary jewel here but a holy relic, the d-diamond cannot be entrusted to a weak woman. The governess was to be accompanied by an escort. One man, unarmed, so that Lind need not fear an attack . . .’

‘And who was this escort?’

‘I was,’ Fandorin said ruefully. ‘It was good idea, don’t you think?’

‘And what happened?’

‘It didn’t work. I disguised myself as an old stooped footman but clearly not carefully enough. Emilie and I waited for more than an hour in the cathedral. No one approached us. And yet the day before yesterday, when she was alone, there were no difficulties: another note, a closed carriage in one of the side streets nearby and so on. Yesterday we waited until a quarter past six and came back with nothing for our pains.’

‘Surely Lind could not have abandoned the exchange?’ I asked in a dismal voice.

‘Indeed not. Therewas a letterwaiting for us at the Hermitage, delivered in the same manner as before, by the postman but without any stamp. Here, read it, especially since it concerns you directly.’

I cautiously took the sheet of paper, which gave off a faint aroma of scent.

‘The Earl of Essex?’ I asked.

‘In person. B-but read it, read it.’

‘I have decided to make the Romanov dynasty a generous gift on the occasion of the coronation . . .’ I read the first sentence in French and everything began swimming in front of my eyes. Could it really be?

But no, my joy was premature. I batted my eyelids to disperse the haze and read the note through to the end:

I have decided to make the Romanov dynasty a generous gift on the occasion of the coronation. A gift that is worth a million, for that is the sum agreed as one day’s payment for the Orlov, which I have kindly loaned to the Russian monarchy. And so you may keep the stone for one more day, entirely without charge. After all, it would be impolite of me, to say the least, to cast a shadow over your day of celebration.

We will complete our little transaction tomorrow. The governess must be in the cathedral at seven o’clock in the evening. I understand your reluctance to entrust such a valuable treasure to this woman, and I have no objections to a single escort. However, it must be someone I know, that is Monsieur Doggy Sideburns.

Yours sincerely
,

Doctor Lind

My heart began beating faster and faster.

‘So this is why you are telling me all this?’

‘Yes,’ said Fandorin, looking into my eyes. ‘Afanasii Stepanovich, I need to ask you to take part in this dangerous business. You are not a police agent or a member of the armed services; you are not obliged to risk your life to p-protect the interests of the state, but circumstances have determined that without your help—’

‘I agree,’ I said, interrupting him.

At that moment I did not feel afraid at all. I was thinking of only one thing: Emilie and I would be together. I think it was the first time that I had thought of Mademoiselle by her first name.

There was a brief pause, and then Erast Petrovich got to his feet.

‘Then get some rest, you look tired. Be in the d-drawing room at ten o’clock. I’ll give you and Emilie a briefing.’

The late sun had warmed the velvet curtains, and there was a distinct smell of dust in the shaded drawing room. Velvet is always a problem – it is in the nature of the material: if it is left hanging for years without being washed regularly, as it had been here in the Hermitage, you simply cannot completely get rid of the dust that has eaten into it. I made a mental note to have the curtains changed that very day. Provided, of course, that I came back from the operation alive.

The success of the proposed undertaking appeared highly doubtful to me. At this last meeting – I had to assume that it was indeed the very last – only those directly involved in the operation were present: Mademoiselle and I, Mr Fandorin and the two colonels, Karnovich and Lasovsky, who were as meek as lambs and as quiet as mice, and listened to Erast Petrovich with emphatic respect, which may have been genuine or false, I do not know.

The plan of the area between the Novodevichy Convent and the Novodevichy Embankment that was laid out on the table had been carefully drawn, not like that morning’s demonstration on the oilcloth. Cross-hatched circles marked the positions of the secret sentries who surrounded the wasteland on all sides: the senior agent (Fandorin gave his name – Kuzyakin) in a hollow in an old oak tree on the corner of Vselensky Square; six ‘attendants’ in the dormitory of the children’s clinic that had windows overlooking the pond; eleven ‘monks’ on the wall of the convent; seven ‘boatmen’ and ‘buoy keepers’ on the river; one man disguised as a female street trader on the turn-off from Pogodinskaya Street; three ‘beggars’ at the gates of the convent; two ‘fishermen’ by the pond, the closest of all. The total number of agents in the first ring of the cordon was thirty-one.