A BATTLE AGAINST ODDS.
The experience of two months ago, when he had last been called upon
to defend his life against some of these very men, had not been lost
upon Boris. He had then realized that he was but a poor swordsman, and
that he was indebted more to his superior agility and strength than
to his skill for his safety on that occasion. True, his antagonists
had shown that their knowledge of the science was not greater than his
own; but nevertheless Boris had made a mental note of his incapacity,
and had registered at the same time a vow to make the science of the
sword his principal study until he should have gained at least a fair
degree of proficiency. He had not failed to put this good resolution
into practice, and had assiduously worked at his fencing daily with
an exponent of the art, a German named Schmidt, under whose skilful
tuition, and with his natural aptitude for every kind of manly
exercise, Boris had quickly acquired no little skill in the use of his
somewhat clumsy but formidable Russian weapon.
At the first onset, the Tsar was surprised and delighted to observe
that Boris was more than a match for his opponent. Before the swords
had been crossed for two minutes, Zaitzoff was disabled and disarmed.
The Tsar bade him give up his sword and retire to the opposite wall,
where he might watch the fun with as much comfort as was possible with
a hole through his sword-arm and a deepish cut in the shoulder as well.
Then Ulanof came to take his place.
Ulanof was a big and heavy man, determined and very powerful, but
lacking skill. He made so furious an onslaught upon his antagonist,
cutting and slashing and thrusting at him with extreme rapidity though
quite without method, that for some moments Boris was fully occupied
in defending his own person without attempting to carry the fight into
the enemy's camp--in fact he actually lost ground, being surprised into
stepping backwards by the unexpectedly furious character of Ulanof's
attack upon him. But as soon as the Tsar whispered encouragingly,
"Steady, my Bear-eater!" Boris quickly recovered his position, and
pulling himself together delivered an equally furious but a more
scientific counter-attack upon Ulanof, whose exertions had already
deprived him of much breath.
Still fiercely battling, and contesting every inch of ground, Ulanof
was now driven backwards yard by yard until he stood at bay with his
back to the wall of the house opposite. To that wall Boris speedily
spitted him, his sword passing through Ulanof's body and into the
wooden side of the house, whence Boris with difficulty drew it forth.
As he did so, Ulanof fell with a gasp at his feet, and the officers'
list of the Streltsi regiment was shorter by one name.
"Bravo, bravo, my good Boris!" cried the Tsar; "it was well and
scientifically done, and after the German method, I perceive. We shall
see you sticking bears in the Prussian fashion on our next trip.--Now,
gentlemen, how many more of you? Four, is it not?--Now, what say you,
Boris, to taking them two at a time? This single process grows tedious.
I shall see fair play--is it agreed?"
"With all my heart, your Majesty, if you desire it," said Boris, eying
his still untried foes as though to estimate his chances against them,
two swords to one.
After a short whispered consultation, these officers, however, stepped
forward and informed the Tsar that their honour was satisfied--there
was no need for the fight to continue.
But the Tsar would not hear of it. The matter rested with Boris
Ivanitch, he declared; and, if Boris so desired it, every one of them
should meet him until _his_ honour had obtained ample satisfaction.
"As for _your_ honour, gentlemen, you left it at home when you sallied
forth this evening like common midnight assassins to fall upon him
unawares and murder him. No, officers of the Streltsi, you are here to
fight, and fight you shall. If any man shirks, I too have a sword, and
with my sword I shall write 'coward' on his body for all men to see!"
Then the two, Katkoff and Shurin, fell upon the one, and the fight
recommenced; and a good fight it was. Katkoff was a good swordsman,
Shurin was strong and active, and the battle was at first sight
unequal. The Tsar would not suffer the pair to separate. If either
attempted to edge to one side and take Boris in the flank, the Tsar
angrily bade him return to line. The battle was to be fought fair,
this much was plainly evident; it behoved Shurin and his partner,
therefore, to be careful and watch, and to take the first advantage
that offered.
Boris fought like a lion, or like one of his own bears at bay. In
vain Katkoff slashed and Shurin thrust; his sword was always there to
intercept, and even to aim an answering blow before the pair were able
to repeat the attack. Once a thrust from Shurin touched his cheek and
made the blood spirt. Shurin cheered, and redoubled his exertions, well
backed up by Katkoff. Then Boris, like an enraged tiger, fell upon the
pair so fiercely, raining his blows upon them like hailstones in June,
that they gave ground both together. Pursuing his advantage quickly
Boris drove them round by the wall, the two whole men and the wounded
one moving out of their way as they went, Peter close at their heels
to see fair play. One tripped over dead Ulanof and nearly fell, but
recovered himself and fought on. Then Boris in his turn tripped and
fell on his knee. In an instant the two were upon him, and Shurin's
thrust pierced through his left arm, while he just saved his head from
the downward blow of Katkoff's weapon. But before Shurin could withdraw
his sword, Boris aimed a cut at the arm that held it with such terrible
force that it was severed at the wrist. Shurin caught at the kaftan
of Boris to pull him over; while Katkoff, seeing that now, if ever,
he must make his effort and end this struggle, rained his blows from
above. Then Boris, in guarding his shoulder, nevertheless contrived at
the same time to administer to Shurin a backhander which laid him flat
beside Ulanof, and rising from his kneeling position he so furiously
fell upon Katkoff that in a moment the latter was disarmed, his sword
flying through the air with a whistle, and alighting point-down upon
the low wooden roof of an adjoining house, where it stuck, vibrating
with the force of its flight.
[Illustration: "In an instant the two were upon him."
_Page 124._ ]
But this was Boris's final effort--tired nature could do no more. He
turned, as though to return to Peter's side, but slipped and fell
fainting into the Tsar's strong embrace.
Peter looked darkly around at the remains of the party which had been
so roughly handled by Boris. "Go!" he said, "get you gone, you that can
walk. Leave your swords. You shall hear of me to-morrow. Meanwhile, you
that have escaped, be thankful that I am not tempted myself to finish
what Boris Ivanitch has left undone. I should know well how to treat
midnight assassins. Leave your swords, I say. Now go!"
As the party of discomfited warriors limped and slunk away in the
darkness, leaving Shurin and Ulanof behind them, the Tsar tenderly
picked up the still unconscious Boris in his great arms, and carried
him like a child to the nearest house. Thither he sent his own doctor,
a Scotsman of much skill, under whose care Boris very quickly came
round, and, his arm being carefully bandaged and treated, he was able
to return on foot to the palace, to the delight of his master.
But though Boris was able to make his own way home, he was not
destined to come through this matter quite so easily as he had at
first believed. His wound proved somewhat obstinate, and the poor
hunter tossed for many days upon his plain camp-bed, racked with pain
and fever, during which time he longed incessantly for the fresh air,
and the forest, and the delights of his old open-air life. All that
could be done to relieve his pain and hasten his recovery was done by
Macintyre, the Tsar's own doctor, who tended him assiduously, having
taken a great liking to this fine specimen of a Russian peasant.
The Tsar himself frequently stole an hour from his various pressing
duties in order to sit by his favourite servant and chat over what had
been and what was yet to be--fighting over again their battles with
bear and wolf, which, to the joy of Boris, Peter solemnly promised
should be repeated at the earliest opportunity; and discussing many
projects at that time in the brain of the Tsar--such as the development
of a standing army, which idea was already beginning to take practical
form; the organization of a navy; the building of a capital which
should be a seaport; the necessity for recommencing that which Ivan
the Terrible had so nearly accomplished, but in which that monarch had
eventually failed--namely, the wresting from their lieges of those
ports in the Baltic which were absolutely necessary for the development
of the empire; and, lastly, Eastern conquest--overland trade with
India, and many other dazzling projects upon which the heart of Peter
was set.
From the Tsar, also, Boris learned that the banishment of the
Streltsi regiment to which the wounded hunter was attached was now an
accomplished fact. After the disgraceful conduct of the officers at
the corner of the Uspensky, Peter had determined that the regiment
should not remain another hour in the capital, but be marched out of
it as early as possible on the following morning. The Tsar therefore
himself attended the early parade of the regiment, when he read aloud
a revised list of officers, in which the names of the six midnight
assailants of Boris had no place. In their stead were substituted those
of six privates, men who had shown aptitude for military service, and
whose good conduct had entitled them to recognition. Then Peter read
the names of six officers who, he said, in consequence of conduct
which disqualified them for ever from associating with men of their
own position in the service, were degraded to the ranks. These men
were directed to step out in order to be deprived of their insignia
of officer's rank, when Peter himself tore from their shoulders the
epaulets of their order. It was observed that but four men appeared
instead of six, and that one of these wore his arm in a sling, while
another limped as he walked.
After this ceremony, the Tsar bade the commanding officer pass the
regiment in review, when Peter himself uttered several words of
command; finally in stentorian tones giving the order,--
"Gentlemen of the Streltsi, form in marching order! Right about face!
Quick march! to the Ukraine!"
As the Tsar uttered these words, the consternation and surprise of the
regiment, men and officers, was indescribable. None had expected this
sudden change of date; no one was ready; final arrangements for the
winding up or transfer of business had been left by many to the last
moment, and were still in abeyance; farewells to families and lovers
were still unsaid; many of the men were but half dressed, their long
kaftans serving to conceal the shortcomings of the unseen portion
of their costume. But none dared disobey the personal ookaz of the
masterful young giant whose stern lips had uttered it.
Sobbing and whining the regiment marched slowly through the streets
of Moscow, followed by troops of women and children, who sobbed and
whined also. The officers strode along looking pale and gloomy, many
with tears streaming down their faces. The word had soon passed from
street to street, and from house to house, and as the woful procession
approached the gates of the city the ranks of the weeping crowd of
friends and relatives became largely increased, until, when the
regiment had reached the open country, the colonel, who doubtless
had matters of his own to attend to, called a halt in order that the
unfortunate men might at least take a last farewell of their wives and
families ere they marched out into an exile the duration of which none
could foretell.
Then ensued a remarkable scene. Most of the men were married, and most
of the wives and a great host of children of all ages had heard the
news of the sudden departure of their lords, and had hastened after
them to get a last glimpse of them, and if possible a last word. No
sooner had the ranks obeyed the order to halt, than the lines were
instantly invaded by swarms of sobbing women and children, each
seeking her own, and calling his name aloud. The confusion became
indescribable, the din deafening. Frantic women, unable to find their
husbands or lovers, rushed shrieking from line to line, imploring
sergeants and soldiers to tell them where to seek their lords. Others,
having found their belongings, clung about their necks, while the
children clasped the knees of their fathers and cried aloud. For a
full hour the scene of woe and noise was prolonged, and then at last
the word was given to resume the march, the women and children being
forbidden to follow further. Many young wives and girls, however,
refused to obey the colonel's command, and followed or accompanied the
troops for many miles, wailing and crying and shouting last words of
love and farewell to their friends in the ranks.
Thus did Peter rid himself, in a characteristic manner, of a regiment
which he knew to be rotten at the core. And thus it happened that Boris
remained behind while the rest went into exile.