A NIGHT AMBUSH.
Contrary to his expectations, Boris found that his position in the
regiment after the _fracas_ described in the foregoing chapter was
in no respect more unpleasant than it had been before; indeed, it
appeared to him that his fellow-officers now treated him with greater
consideration. No reference whatever was made to the death of Zouboff,
or indeed to any circumstance in connection with the fight at the
restaurant. In those days the taking of life was little thought of,
and if an officer chose to brawl with others of his regiment, and lose
his life in the struggle, that was considered his own look-out, and
so much the worse for him. As for punishing those at whose hands he
met his death, no one thought of such a thing. Hence matters in the
regiment remained very much as they were before; the officers taking
care, however, to keep a discreet tongue in the presence of Boris, and
to maintain outwardly an appearance of respect for that dangerously
formidable young man. As for his late opponents, these glared at him
whenever they met on parade or elsewhere, and exchanged no word with
their late antagonist; but Boris was not anxious to enter into friendly
intercourse with men whom he had, as he considered, actually convicted
of treason to the Tsar, and he was glad enough of their coldness
towards him. Platonof, having no recollection of the circumstances of
that fatal afternoon, was not without a feeling of gratified surprise,
when informed of his indiscretion and its results, that he had been
permitted to depart alive and in peace, and was inclined to make
friendly advances towards the magnanimous young man who had neither dug
him between the ribs with a sword thrust--as he undoubtedly might have
done--nor delivered him alive and guilty into the hands of an enraged
Tsar. But Boris showed no disposition to respond to his advances, and
treated him with the same disregard which he showed towards the rest of
the party of avowed traitors to his master.
Meanwhile the Tsar had not as yet acceded to the urgent request of
Boris that the regiment might be sent out of the capital. Peter was
unwilling to make any concession to a feeling of unworthy anxiety for
his personal safety; but, at the same time, he now only awaited an
opportunity to banish the regiment upon some plausible pretext, for
reflection had quite convinced him that the presence of disaffected
Streltsi in Moscow was a needless standing danger to the peace of the
realm.
The opportunity he sought came in the course of a few months. It became
necessary to send troops into the south of Russia in preparation for
the contemplated siege of Azof, a fortress of the Mohammedans, and
one of the last still held in the country by the once all-conquering
Mussulman hosts. The Streltsi of Boris's regiment were ordered to
proceed to the Ukraine, where they were to hold themselves at the
disposal of the Cossack chieftain or hetman Mazeppa, who had begged of
the Tsar some support in order to enable him to maintain and strengthen
his lately-acquired position at the head of the warlike tribes he had
been called to govern. Peter at all times showed the most loyal regard
for this Mazeppa, who was destined in after years to ill repay him for
his generosity; and it was in his desire to accede to the Cossacks
request for temporary assistance, and at the same time to push on his
preparations for the intended Azof campaign, that the Tsar now found
an excellent opportunity for ridding Moscow of a dangerous element by
despatching this disaffected body of men far away from the seat of
government and out of the reach of any ill-advised interference on
their part.
The order for their departure--exile, as they termed it--was received
with a storm of rage and indignation by all ranks in the regiment. The
men had never before been called upon to leave Moscow for prolonged
service, though many others of the Streltsi regiments had not been
so fortunate. Many of them were married men with large families, and
were engaged in various profitable trades and professions, without the
exercise of which, they declared, they would be unable to support those
dependent upon them. Besides this, each man and officer had a thousand
ties and interests which bound him to the capital, and would bear it
ill to have these suddenly torn away and himself cast adrift into
unknown places and among strange people, and submitted to dangers and
discomforts to which he had not been trained, and which he feared to
encounter.
All sorts of reasons for the Tsar's sudden _ookaz_, or edict, were
suggested and considered by men and officers. Had he discovered
the disaffection of the regiment? If so, how? The affair of Boris
and Platonof and his party had not become generally known, at the
urgent request of Platonof, who was naturally anxious that his tipsy
indiscretion should not be spoken of. Those who were acquainted with
the details of the affair, however, had no doubt whatever of the cause
which had brought the displeasure of the Tsar upon the regiment:
Boris had revealed the whole story. But in that case why had the
Tsar's vengeance not been--as the vengeance of Peter was wont to
be--immediate and terrible? Why, in other words, were not Platonof and
his three friends dangling aloft far above the heads of the crowd, upon
improvised gibbets, as a warning to the treasonable and the conspiring?
Probably, these men concluded, because the Tsar was somewhat afraid of
the Streltsi, and was therefore unwilling to risk giving provocation
which might lead to a sudden rising.
Anyhow, it was not the fault of Boris that worse things had not
happened than this sufficiently annoying ookaz from the Tsar; and if
opportunity arose during the three days remaining to the regiment
in Moscow, Boris should be made to regret his position as spy and
tale-bearer-in-ordinary to the Tsar. So vowed Platonof and his friends,
and with them a few other choice spirits who were acquainted with
the state of affairs, and were not averse to a little night work at
street corners, provided the dangerous element was eliminated as far as
possible!
"Boris, my trusty one, eater of bears and render of wolves," said the
Tsar, on the second evening after the issue of the ookaz dismissing the
Streltsi from Moscow, "I feel inclined for an evening out. What say you
to a visit to Lefort and a taste of his French wine, and perhaps a game
or two at cards, to-night? If Lefort is asleep, so much the better;
we'll pull him out of bed, and bid him send for Gordon and the rest,
and we can order supper while he's dressing."
Lefort, one of Peter's prime favourites, as he well deserved to be
when his services to Russia and the Tsar are taken into consideration,
was the third of the trio selected by the monarch as his constant
companions and advisers, the remaining members of this trinity of
favour being Menshikoff and Patrick Gordon, once a Scotsman, and
related to some of the best and oldest Scottish families, now a
naturalized Russian and the ablest of Peter's generals, as well as his
most faithful and honoured servant. Menshikoff had not as yet come into
prominence; but Gordon and Lefort--the latter a Russianized foreigner
as Gordon was--were already the chosen advisers and friends of the
Tsar, both men after his own heart--capable, brave, hard workers, ready
at an instant's notice either to drink and fool with their master, to
command his armies or direct his fleets, to wrestle with him and engage
in any kind of athletic competition, to build boats with him, to make
love with him, or, in a word, share with the Tsar in any and every
occupation or duty which Peter might call upon them to perform.
It was no uncommon event for the young monarch to suddenly descend thus
upon his friends at any hour of the day or night, and General (Patrick)
Gordon has left it on record that occasionally these visits were made
at the dinner-hour, upon short notice, and sometimes with a retinue of
a hundred companions. Thus it was necessary for the friends of the Tsar
to keep in the house a constant stock of wine for the consumption of
Peter and his following, which might consist of one or two persons, or,
as I have said, of a hundred men.
"We will go incognito," Peter added. "Muffle yourself in this cloak,
and I will do the same; it is better not to be seen. I love to go among
my people in the streets and hear what they say about me."
Nothing loath, Boris took the Tsar's spare cloak, which was much too
big for him in spite of his seventy odd inches of bone and muscle,
and followed his master from the Kremlin. Through the streets of the
old city went the tall pair, pausing here and there in the darker
corners in order to listen to the conversation of the townsfolk as they
passed. This was a favourite pastime of Peter's, who loved to gather at
first-hand the opinions and wishes of his poorer subjects, with whom he
was ever the popular hero as well as the beloved sovereign, and from
whose lips there was therefore little risk of hearing anything about
himself which would sound unpleasant in his ears. On this occasion he
heard little of interest. A few remarks were made about the impending
departure of the Streltsi, which the people appeared to regret but
little. Presently, however, two young Streltsi officers came walking
down the street talking confidentially. Peter and Boris withdrew deeper
into the shadow and listened.
"Consequently," said one, "there's no doubt whatever about it--we have
to thank him and him only for the ookaz."
"What! do you suppose he told the Tsar about what that fool Platonof
said, and all that?" said the second officer, who apparently had just
been informed by his companion of the encounter between Boris and his
assailants.
"Undoubtedly he did, confound him!" said the first; "and that's why we
are all off the day after to-morrow."
"Well, why don't we get hold of the spying rascal and"--the officer
made a gesture as of a knife at his throat. The other laughed.
"That's just what's going on now, I hope," he said; "for Zaitzoff and
a few others have sworn to have him before we go. They watched all
last night; and to-night they are keeping guard at the corner of the
Uspensky, where he goes for his supper. I hope they kill him--hateful
spy!"
Peter almost danced with delight as the footsteps of the men died away
in the distance. "Bear-eater, my son, we are in luck!" he whispered
excitedly. "Come along quickly. Got your sword?"
Boris rattled his weapon for answer, but he looked grave and
preoccupied. "Go home, your Majesty, I entreat you," he said; "don't
run into needless danger. I can settle accounts with these men alone."
For a moment the Tsar looked as black as thunder. "_What!_" he cried;
"go home, and miss the play? Don't be a fool, man. Am I to be afraid
of my own officers? No, my Bear-eater. You may cut and run from an old
bear if you like, but not I from a Streletz, or any number of Streltsi.
Come on!" The Tsar ended with one of his loud laughs, and dragged after
him poor Boris, whose cheek was red by reason of Peter's allusion to
his escapade with the bear.
Through the wretchedly lighted streets they sped until they reached the
Uspensky, where, in the distance, they soon espied a group of figures
standing at the corner as though awaiting an arrival.
The two tall men, shrouded in their mantles as they were, approached
close up to the group of officers before they were recognized.
"It's the Tsar!" some one whispered at length. "Round the corner all,
and away--quick!"
Off went the party, scudding down the road like a pack of frightened
sheep; but the Tsar's loud voice of authority soon recalled them. They
crept back in a huddled, scared group.
"Good evening, Zaitzoff," said Peter. "How are you, Shurin? What,
Ulanof, is that you? Good evening, gentlemen all. You are waiting for
the pleasure of seeing my friend Boris Ivanitch, I believe. Well, here
he is."
No one spoke a word. The Tsar laughed. "Is it not so? Zaitzoff, speak!"
"It is true, your Majesty," said Zaitzoff at length. "We came to meet
the gentleman you name, with whom we have a quarrel."
"Oh, indeed!" said the Tsar, in affected surprise; "what, all of you?
Do you _all_ desire to quarrel with my friend? It is most flattering,
upon my word, gentlemen. And do you still wish to quarrel with Boris
Ivanitch, now he is here? Positively I was under the impression that I
observed you all racing down the road there, as though anxious to get
out of his way!"
"Our quarrel is a private one, your Majesty," said Ulanof; "and if your
Majesty will withdraw, we shall proceed with it."
"What!--withdraw? I, his second? No, my good Ulanof, that is
impossible; the quarrel must proceed. Boris Ivanitch is here to give
you every satisfaction, and I shall act as his second. Now then,
gentlemen, who is to lay on first? One would suppose that you had
contemplated a combined assault in the--ha! ha!--in the dark, were we
not acquainted with the strictly honourable traditions of the Streltsi
officers. Come, Zaitzoff, you seem to be the leader of the party;
you shall have the first opportunity of depriving the rest of their
prey.--Come, Boris, draw!"