MORNING OF THE 16TH SEPTEMBER.
When Bernikoff appeared with his group of officers, Charlie Balgonie
perceived that there were spots of blood upon his long, white leather
gauntlets, that his sabre blade was broken off within six inches of
the hilt, and that a terrible expression of ferocity clouded his
features and those of all around him, the glare of the uplifted
torches now paling as the light of day stole in, adding to the
sinister significance of their faces.
At that moment the drummer of the summoners beat a _chamade_ for the
third time, and Bernikoff, advancing to the klinket, or wicket, in
the palisades of the second inner gate, opened it, and, with a great
sternness of manner, demanded what they required.
"The release of His Imperial Majesty Ivan IV.," replied Basil
Mierowitz, in a firm voice, while courteously saluting Bernikoff, in
recognition of his superior rank.
"If I refuse----"
"You do so at your own peril," replied Basil, as sternly and as
proudly as if, instead of a few discontented deserters and
enthusiasts, the whole armies of Russia were at his back.
"You cannot be mad enough, Basil Mierowitz, to think of assaulting
us?"
"That may or may not be, Excellency, according to circumstances," was
the reply.
"What troops are these under your orders?"
"A guard of honour for the Emperor, if you peacefully comply--the
first portion of an investing force, if you refuse," replied
Mierowitz; but a sinister gleam of triumph flashed in the malicious
eyes of Bernikoff, who gathered more of his real weakness from this
evasive reply, than the rash young noble intended.
"Listen, Colonel Bernikoff," he continued, while drawing from his
breast a long paper of official aspect, to which several green and
scarlet seals were attached: "Her Majesty Catharine II.--for a time
of all the Russias--having come to the conclusion of resigning the
imperial crown (convinced at last that she has no claim, thereto),
and of replacing it on the head of the Emperor Ivan (son of Anthony
Ulric, Duke of Wolfenbuttel), whom she now feels herself compelled to
acknowledge as her lawful sovereign, though basely deposed in infancy
by her predecessors, the Empress Elizabeth, and the Emperor Peter
III.; therefore she hereby commands you, Colonel Bernikoff, Governor
of her Castle of Schlusselburg, to set the Prince at liberty, with
all speed and honour."
For a document and summons of this artful and remarkable nature,
Bernikoff was altogether unprepared. For a moment he grew deadly
pale, but for a moment only, and glanced at the startled faces of
those around him. Had he been too precipitate in bloodshed?
"Where is Her Majesty just now?" he asked.
"In the palace of the Czars, at Novgorod."
"Was Novgorod so empty of all the great nobles and officers of
Russia, that a document of such a nature was entrusted to a mere
Lieutenant of Infantry--a deserter from Livonia?" said Bernikoff,
with sudden rage. "'Tis an imposture--a forgery; there is but one
God in Heaven--one monarch on earth, the Empress Catharine; and you,
Mierowitz, and all who league with you, are but base dogs and
traitors!"
"Forward!" cried Basil, brandishing his sabre; "storm the
gate--bayonet all who oppose us!"
"Long live Ivan Antonovitch--long live the Emperor!" exclaimed his
soldiers, rushing forward. But the klinket in the palisades was at
once closed, and secured against them by an enormous transverse beam
of wood; and though a confused volley of musketry was exchanged
between them and the main guard, no one was struck, save Bernikoff,
who staggered back into the arms of Vlasfief, having been bayoneted
in the breast by the deserter Jagouski, who drove his weapon between
the palisades, nearly finishing what Basil had begun by the blow of a
musket but, which crushed the Colonel's hat, and nearly fractured his
skull.
"Ah! dogs and Asiatics, you have struck me!" shouted Bernikoff, whose
voice was hoarse with rage and pain. "Dost know the penalty of
wounding an officer--of striking a soldier who wears a decoration?"
"Accursed Tartar, I neither know nor care. I revenge my brother's
death at Zorndorf, my own wrongs, and the murder of Peter III.!"
replied the exulting Cossack, with a bitter laugh.
"May my right hand wither, and my tongue cleave to the roof of my
mouth, when most I need them both, if I have not a terrible vengeance
for all this work!" cried Bernikoff. "Vlasfief, Tschekin, show them
their Prince!"
While the undaunted Basil and his friend Usakoff, with their
soldiers, proceeded to wheel round a cannon of the outworks, a
32-pounder, for the purpose of blowing open the klinket of the inner
barrier; and while Balgonie, a silent but excited and sick-hearted
spectator of the whole affair, lingered close by, heedless whether
the round-shot and grape, with which they were charging the gun, came
his way, or not,--a window in the first story of the keep was dashed
open, and while every torch and every eye were uplifted to the place,
a terrible spectacle, which hushed all into momentary silence, was
exhibited.
It was the dead body of the young and handsome Ivan, suspended by the
neck, at the end of a rope, stripped even of his night-dress, cold
and white as the marble of Paros, and gashed with ten gaping wounds;
for, as we are told in the newspapers of the period, "the unfortunate
prince had struggled some time for his life, and even broke the
Governor's sword in the conflict; but assistance was called for, and
another bloody assassin (Vlasfief) appeared, who finished the horrid
work."
An exclamation of dismay and grief escaped Balgonie, on beholding
this appalling spectacle; the weird and ghastly horror of which was
enhanced by the uncertain light in which it was exhibited, and which
imparted a wavering and almost life-like action to the corpse, as
with its long hair floating, head and arms pendent, it swayed to and
fro in the morning wind against the castle wall.
"_Hospodi pomilui! Hospodi pomilui!_"* cried Basil Mierowitz,
covering his face with his hands, and permitting the musket with
which he had armed himself to fall to the ground with a clash, which,
together with his most mournful exclamation, alone broke the silence.
* Lord have mercy upon us!
"'Behold,' said Bernikoff, in cruel triumph, while blasphemously
using the words of Ezekiel--"'behold, I take away from thee the
desire of thine eyes with a stroke!' Glory to God and to the
Empress! This is your Emperor--now let him head your troops.
Doubtless he will make a fine figure on the Imperial throne."
"Oh! Bernikoff," exclaimed Basil, "you are like Judas, as we may see
him at the Kazan church--one hand on the mouth denoting treachery,
and the other on a bag of money."
"Thou liest, Lieutenant! my fingers know more of the grip of steel
than of gold," said the other furiously, as he hurled the hilt of his
broken sabre at the speaker.
"So--so--this has been your work and decision?"
"Yes--how do you like it?" was the mocking reply.
"Thou art a cruel judge; but remember the law of Peter the Great----"
"Which makes the judge answerable for his decision?"
"Yes."
"Then shall I content me, traitor, and be answerable for my decision
as well as for its execution. I have done my duty to the Czarina."
"You have done a deed for which hell must blush and angels weep," was
the forcible reply of Mierowitz, who seemed so overcome by grief and
horror as to lose all self-possession; for he now ordered his men to
disperse to the woods--to seek safety in flight; and then calmly
taking off his sword-belt and sash, he threw them on the ground
saying--
"Since my Imperial master is dead, further resistance would be vain
in me."
He was almost immediately afterwards struck to the earth, and made
prisoner by Lieutenant Tschekin, who, with a party of dismounted
Cossacks, had stolen through the casemates and galleries to a postern
opening on the rear of the drawbridge, and these, after firing a
confused volley with their pistols and musketoons, fell with their
sharp crooked sabres upon the now thoroughly disheartened adherents
of Mierowitz. Lieutenant Usakoff and Jagouski alone made any
vigorous resistance, resolving not to be taken alive.
Fighting desperately, almost back to back, the former armed with the
sabre of Mazeppa, and the latter with a musket, and both bleeding
from many wounds, they were driven through the outer barrier towards
the town. On the pathway Jagouski stumbled over a comrade, and was
taken; but Apollo Usakoff, with a shout in which triumph and despair
were mingled, leaped into the Neva, the waters of which swept him
away, and he was seen no more by his pursuers.
When Tschekin's Cossacks joined in the _mêlée_ with the fugitives,
Balgonie sprang through the klinket, sword in hand, resolved to
succour his friend at all hazards, and fortunately arrived just in
time to save him (when struck down and trod under foot) from the
bulky giant Nicholas Paulovitch, who, with a clubbed musket, was
about to give him a blow that must inevitably have proved fatal.
Paulovitch he ran through the heart--or at least the place where his
heart might be supposed to have been--and spurning him off the blade
with his foot, hurled the snorting ruffian to the ground, and raised
his friend, with the assistance of a soldier and Lieutenant Tschekin.
"Made prisoner, and by you too, Carl!" said Basil, reproachfully and
in a low voice, for he was faint with wounds and bruises.
"By me, but to save you."
"Seek rather to save Natalie, if you can," he whispered; "she is, she
is--"
"Where, _where_?" said Balgonie, impetuously and imploringly.
But there was no reply. Basil had fainted, and was borne into the
Castle of Schlusselburg, a prisoner of State.
Balgonie never saw the face of his friend again!
So ended, for a time, a scheme, the importance of which was only
equalled by its bold recklessness--the scheme of two subaltern
officers to revolutionise the vast empire of Russia, and to subvert
the firm dominion of Catharine II., one of the most powerful and
popular, though licentious, monarchs that ever sat on the barbarous
throne of the Czars; and such was the terrible sequel to the _Secret
Dispatch_ of Balgonie.
Day had completely broken when he was summoned by Bernikoff.
Shuddering as he passed through the court of the Castle and under the
very window where the corpse was yet swaying mournfully to and fro in
the morning breeze that swept from the broad waters of the vast lake,
whose ripples were shining like gold in the first beams of the
autumnal sun, Charlie sought the presence of this detestable
personage, the thunder of whose wrath he feared was about to descend
upon himself.
He found the Colonel in his shirt sleeves, and almost covered with
blood, which was flowing from a wound in his breast and another on
the head, from whence it was trickling to the ends of his long and
snaky grey mustaches. To both of these cuts the barber was about to
apply dressings, while the patient solaced himself by scheming out
some dreadful punishment for Jagouski, who, with several others, had
fallen into his gentle hands, and by uttering deep oaths, and
imbibing deep draughts from a great wooden bowl of quass, dashed with
fiery vodka.
Balgonie, whose thoughts ran chiefly upon how to discover and succour
Natalie, was roused to attention by Bernikoff saying grimly--
"Carl Ivanovitch Balgonie, for aiding in the capture of the rebel
Mierowitz, I thank you; suspicions I had, but they are gone. You are
now, perhaps, to rejoin the Regiment of Smolensko, and shall bear a
dispatch from me to Lieutenant-General Weymarn and Lieutenant-Colonel
Caschkin (who are both in St. Petersburg), relating the affair of the
last twelve hours. Vlasfief shall prepare it, and I will sign it.
Place a feather in the seal, lest the Captain lingers as he did at
Louga! Here, Carl Ivanovitch, taste the quass; 'tis the _trisna_ of
Ivan the Unknown Person!"
There was something so horrible in this levity and impiety to the
Cossacks, that even they exchanged uneasy glances, for the trisna at
funeral feasts is a mixture of rum, beer, and wine, and is an ancient
Sclavonian beverage. When it is handed round, all stand up
uncovered, the clergy recite a solemn prayer, and at its close the
trisna is drunk to the health of the departed Christian soul; so
Balgonie shuddered, as he thought of the gashed and dishonoured
corpse that swung by the neck without the castle wall.
This emotion did not escape the fierce eyes of Bernikoff, though his
wounds were most severe, and his mind was wandering.
"Nay, look not at me thus, Scot," said the genuine old Russian
fatalist; "God willed it that Prince Ivan should be put in my charge;
and the devil, together with my duty to the Empress, inspired me to
destroy him. What is done, is done, and is the will of God; and you
know, or ought to know, our Muscovite proverb--the Czar is high, and
God is everywhere!"
"Three times has this old reprobate mentioned that terrible Name, and
each time bowing his sinful head!" thought Charlie, with disgust and
wonder.
"Hah!" resumed Bernikoff, pursuing his own thoughts, and clenching
his teeth in rage and pain, "did that suckling of a Lieutenant think
to deceive me--I, who have been forty years in the Russian army, and
have to deal with the most cunning scoundrels between the Black Sea
and the Baltic! Jagouski, too, I'll fill his mouth with gunpowder,
put a fuse between his teeth, and blow his head off. By St. Sergius,
I will! But, holy Saint, alleviate these pangs, by ever so little,
and this night six pounds of the finest white wax shall burn before
thee." He gnashed his teeth with pain, and added, "Be ready to ride
in an hour, Captain; till then, leave me."