The Shadow of Tyburn Tree (54 page)

He had taken a terrible gamble in saying that he would prefer death to a long imprisonment, but it was the only means that enabled him to follow up with his theatrical request, which, if she agreed to it, would ensure him a further, eleventh-hour, chance to plead for mercy.

It was all or nothing now; but, as she signed to his guards to take him away, he felt sure that he saw her bridle slightly at the compliment, and she murmured: ‘Your request is granted.'

Instead of turning to be marched out like a prisoner, he played the well-trained courtier, and made her three perfect bows while backing unerringly towards the doors. He was then taken down to the guardroom, given some supper and provided with a truckle-bed on which to spend the night.

The following day passed uneventfully. The guards treated him courteously and he had no reason for complaint, but with nothing to do he found it terribly difficult to stifle the anxiety he was feeling. He felt sure that he had made a good impression on the Empress, but she prided herself so greatly on her sense of justice that he did not believe for one moment that she would let him go scot-free. She had vowed that she would suppress crimes of violence in her capital, and there was no half-way house between imprisonment and death, so she well might take him up on his quixotic gesture.

When, at seven o'clock in the evening, two guards appeared to fetch him, his first sensation was one of relief, at the thought that, in a few moments now, he would know the worst. But as he accompanied them up the grand staircase it dawned upon him that the Empress would send for him again only to do him the favour he had asked in the event of her decreeing his death. His mouth suddenly grew dry and strive as he would, he could not think of a single new argument which might incline her to mercy. He had had all day to do so, yet somehow, he had never thought that it would come to this, and had frittered the hours away in idle speculation.

While these thoughts were occupying his agitated mind he was taken down the opposite corridor to that which he had entered the previous night. There were no sable-cloaked officers, chamberlains and footmen on duty here. One of his companions knocked upon a door, and a sharp voice called ‘
Entrez
.' Next moment he found himself ushered into a small salon, and seated in it was old black-eyed Katerina Ivanovna.

As he automatically made a leg to the skinny, sallow-featured old woman, she beckoned him forward to a chair opposite her and said; ‘Monsieur, Her Majesty was not altogether unimpressed by the figure you cut before her last night; but before she pronounces sentence upon you she desires to know if you are nought but an adventurer gifted with a silver tongue or if you are, as you appear to be, a somewhat more worthy subject for her benevolent consideration. She has charged me to develop your acquaintance with a view to reporting to her on this matter; and as I am entertaining a few friends to supper tonight I felt that the best means of executing my commission was to bid you join us.'

With mingled surprise and relief Roger made the old witch another bow and declared himself to be enchanted by the honour. At that moment the entrance of an officer and two ladies gave him a brief respite, while he was introduced to them, to gather his wits and prepare himself for this new ordeal upon which his life and freedom hung. Then he set about charming old Katerina Ivanovna with a greater assiduity than he would have displayed had she been half a century younger and the loveliest young woman of the Court.

Within a dozen minutes they were a party of ten, then the door opened again, and without the least formality, the Empress walked in.

Instantly they fell silent; the men bowed deeply, the women curtseyed to the ground. As Katerina Ivanovna rose she exclaimed: ‘Oh, your Majesty! How gracious of you! What a joyous surprise! I had no idea that you intended to honour
me tonight. Permit me to have the table re-set.' And after curtseying again she glided off into another room.

The Empress accepted a glass of wine, and with a few brief sentences, put the company at their ease. Katerina Ivanovna returned, and, shortly afterwards, supper was announced. Fat little Catherine led the way alone and, with a glance, Katerina Ivanovna signed to Roger to give her his arm. As they brought up the rear she whispered: ‘There has been no time to change the general seating. I should have been at the head of the table and had placed you on my left, but now Her Majesty takes my place and you will be next to her. For good or ill your destiny now lies in your own hands.'

As he took his seat the Empress greeted him civilly, and gave no sign that she regarded him as in any way different to the other guests. To each in turn she asked some question calculated to lead to a general discussion and Roger was filled with admiration at the way in which she dominated the party yet made it pleasant for everyone present. It was soon clear to him that at this intimate gathering she did not wish to be treated as a sovereign, to whom people spoke only when they were addressed, but simply as a distinguished guest, to whom good manners dictate a certain deference without servility. She even permitted some of those present to rally her gently on her acknowledged idiosyncrasies and joined freely in the laughter.

Once Roger had gauged the atmosphere, he worked like a demon to make himself pleasant, and he was wise enough to give an almost equal share of his attention to anyone who happened to be holding the table as he did to Catherine when she was speaking. He knew that he was fighting now with his wits and ready laugh for his life and freedom, every bit as much as if he had been sword in hand opposed to a troop of enemy horsemen in a battle. When the dessert was put on the table, knowing the Empress's love for French culture, he led the conversation in that direction, and with becoming modesty, displayed his knowledge of it. He had always despised Rousseau as a windy visionary and adored the brilliant cynicism of Voltaire. As the Empress was also entirely of that mind she openly applauded his witticisms and beamed approval on him.

At ten o'clock she stood up to retire. Everyone rose with her, and to Roger's sudden consternation, she held out her hand for him to kiss.

White as a sheet he bowed over it and touched it with his lips. He
hoped
that she had done him this honour as a sign of forgiveness, but, knowing the cruelty, treachery, and cynicism that permeated the whole Russian court, he could not be
certain that the same plump hand had not signed his death-warrant a few hours earlier, and that she thought it amusing to honour her promise to him in this way.

The incident brought him back with a horrid jerk to the realisation that for the past two hours he had not really been a welcome guest at a jolly supper-party, but a prisoner with one foot on the scaffold. It was all he could do to regain his composure sufficiently to bid a polite good-night to the other guests, who shortly afterwards took their leave.

Finding himself once more alone with Katerina Ivanovna, he said: ‘Madame, if I knew this definitely to be my last night on earth I could not conceivably have wished for a more pleasant one; and I am more grateful than I can say for your charming entertainment. May I now spare you the trouble of calling the guard and ask you to accept my word that I will find my own way back to the guardroom?'

She shook her bony old head. ‘Nay, you are in my charge now, Chevalier, and I wish to be able to converse with you at my pleasure. Come with me.'

He followed her out into the corridor and along it for fifty paces, then she opened a door and showed him into a well-furnished bedroom. When he thanked her the only reply she made was to wish him good-night, and after a formal curtsey to which he bowed gravely, she left him.

On finding himself alone his first thought was to escape. He had not been asked for his parole and this seemed a heavensent chance to do so. Running to the window he opened it and peered out. Below him was a broad paved terrace, that gave on to the gardens. It was a twenty-foot drop, but, undaunted by that, he looked swiftly round for means to get down to it. As he did so he caught the mutter of voices below him; two figures moved out of the shadows and began to pace up and down. He knew then that it was no good. His bonds might have been changed from iron to silk, but they were still there. It was only that a less obtrusive watch was being kept upon him, and even if he could overcome the two sentries on the terrace, he was alone and almost friendless in Russia. How could he possibly hope to remain uncaught long enough to get out of the country? Reluctantly he undressed himself and made the best of the comfortable bed.

Next morning a footman came to draw back his curtains, then brought him an appetising breakfast. Having eaten it he got up and dressed himself to be in readiness should he be sent for. At nine o'clock there came a knock on the door and a fat, serious-looking man presented himself, announcing in
German that he was a doctor and had been ordered to ascertain the state of Roger's health.

At first Roger thought that there must be some mistake, and said so, but his visitor replied thickly: ‘If you are the Chevalier de Breuc there is no mistake. It is the usual procedure, and you will oblige me by undressing.'

As it seemed most unlikely that convicted criminals had to undergo a medical examination before they were taken to execution, Roger could only assume that this was a regulation measure adopted with everyone who came to reside in the palace, as a precaution against infectious and contagious diseases being carried into it. In his own case it seemed a little belated, but he thought that was probably owing to the unorthodox means by which he had become a resident there.

When Roger had stripped as requested the doctor made a most careful examination of every part of his body, and at length, pronouncing himself satisfied, packed up his little black bag and departed.

Half an hour later the footman came in again, carrying a pile of books. After presenting Madame Katerina Ivanovna's compliments, he said that, as she had an exceptionally heavy day, she begged that Roger would entertain himself as well as he could with the books and excuse her until the evening.

Having no choice, Roger returned his thanks, browsed among the books, ate the good dinner that was sent to him, and spent a few hours dozing. Soon after seven o'clock the door opened and Katerina Ivanovna appeared framed in it. She did not enter the room but beckoned to him to join her outside.

When he did so she led him along several corridors, then down a long arched passageway with windows on either side of it through which the gardens could be seen dimly in the fast-failing light. He knew then that she was taking him across to the Empress's own private retreat, the Hermitage, and he assumed that he was on his way to learn his fate from Her Majesty's own lips.

On entering the smaller palace they went downstairs to the ground floor. Katerina Ivanovna then opened a door and took him into a long suite of private apartments consisting of two ante-rooms, a library, a reception-room, a dining-room and a bedroom; all of which had beautifully painted ceilings and were furnished with great splendour.

In one corner of the bedroom a spiral staircase, elaborately carved from rare woods, led up to a small circular opening in the high ceiling above. Pointing at the staircase Katerina Ivanovna said with her crooked smile: ‘In ten minutes' time
you are to go up those stairs and perform the duties for which you have been selected.'

‘Duties!' repeated Roger. ‘To what duties do you refer, Madame?'

She gave him a pitying look. ‘I thought you keener-witted. These are the apartments of the official favourite. Those of Her Majesty are immediately overhead. I received orders to clear that fool Momonof out this morning.'

Suddenly the old harridan sank to the floor in a flurry of black lace and, bowing her head before him, cried:

‘Live long, Rojé Christorovitch! These rooms are yours! You are the favourite now! Live long; and while you share the Empress's bed forget not last night, and those who smoothed the path for you to become the most powerful man in All the Russias.'

Roger's heart missed a beat and his mind baulked for a second, refusing to accept the extraordinary vision that Katerina Ivanovna's words had conjured up. It was fantastic, impossible; a dream from which he would soon wake with a start. It simply could not be true. The old witch was seeking to make a fool of him; or perhaps he had not heard her aright.

Then as he stared at her, still sunk in her curtsey at his feet, he knew that she was not making a mock of him, but had hailed him as the new Imperial consort in sober earnest.

Into his racing mind came all that Natalia Andreovna had told him of the making and unmaking of the favourites. When the Empress tired of one she never quarrelled with him or warned him that he was about to be dismissed. She began to look round for another; and shrewd Potemkin, to whom her mind was an open book on such matters, put a few likely young men in her way, taking care to select only those whom he felt had not sufficiently strong personalities to undermine his own position as her chief counsellor. When she found one of Potemkin's lusty young protégés pleasing to her, old Katerina Ivanovna was called in to give a party. Without knowing himself to be a candidate for the Empress's favour the young man was invited, and she attended as a private guest, so that she could talk to him informally without giving cause for gossip in her court. If, on closer acquaintance, she still found him to her liking, he was given a thorough medical examination. Then, without warning, the old favourite was presented with a big sum of money and told to travel, and the new one was installed in his place.

For many years past this had become an accepted ritual, and in a flash, Roger realised that he had been through it, with the only exception that, Potemkin being away at the wars, in this case the change of favourites was being made without his knowledge.

Raising Katerina Ivanovna to her feet, he said, a little breathlessly:
‘It is then to you, Madame, that I owe this sudden elevation?'