Kitabı oku: «Peter The Great, of Orange. Usurper on the Throne», sayfa 5

The Grand Embassy

The Tsar Leaves Moscow

A tradesman, Khariton Bezukhov, was dragging a cart with goods to the shop, when the Tsar’s messengers, with coats of arms on their caftans, galloped past him along the street. Only the spring mud flew from under the hooves of good horses.

– What is this? What happened again? – Khariton shouted to his neighbor, Kapiton Rozhkov.

– I don’t understand myself… What kind of war has Pyotr Alekseevich started again…

– Yes, what is going on? They just executed the thieves on Bolotnaya Square, Tsykler and Sokovnin, and the Tsar is already leaving?

– Well, the Tsar-father knows better…

– Of course…

– Or maybe he is going on a pilgrimage?

– With the messengers, and they were sent at a gallop, too? – Kapiton cut his friend off.

– Let the Great Sovereign pass! – shouted one of the messengers, and blew his horn.

People poured out onto the side of the road to watch the rare spectacle. The grand exit of the Tsar himself! Only sighs and gasps accompanied the riders on rich horses, the luxurious carriages and the courtiers of the Tsar!

The fourteenth of March 1697 was remembered by the townspeople of Moscow for a very long time. And there was a reason for it. A huge train of many carriages, carts and vans was leaving the Kremlin. In front followed the residents of Moscow in white caftans with white wings, and behind them rode the Streltsy of the Strelets Regiment on good horses.

– What is this? Some kind of holiday? – Khariton Bezukhov could not restrain himself.

Bezukhov was unsightly in appearance, his beard was unnoticeable, barely growing on his sharp chin. He’s of average height, he’ll pass by in a crowd and be immediately forgotten, but if you meet him again, it’ll seem like you’ve seen him for the first time. – Pyotr Alekseevich is going to foreign countries! – shouted the runner, – he will not return soon, the affairs of the sovereign!

– Look at you! – Khariton whispered sadly to his wife Marya, – we will perish now, without the tsar… The boyars will plunder the entire treasury while the tsar is away…

And his wife Marya, a woman more lively than her husband, managed to put on a rich scarf, velvet, from her maiden dowry. And then, she needs to show herself.

The merchant looked back at his wife, shook his head, and rolled his cart into the yard, waiting for the street to clear. Then he could take the goods away…

– Oh, nothing, everything will work out, – Kapiton could not resist, – everything will be fine!

And he put the strap of the tray full of freshly baked pies over his head. As he knew, he was prepared for this morning. Such a day, lots of people on the street, the best trade. And the pieman began to sing his tune:

– Hey, fresh pies and snacks, buy, Orthodox people! Here are some with meat, and here are some without!

– Well, give me a couple, or what, – and the clerk from the office held out a small coin.

– And for me too, with honey and poppy seeds!

– Here, take it, Muscovite people! – Kapiton answered in a satisfied voice, dashingly tilting his cap to the back of his head, – I brought it just for you! Hey, archers, try my pies!

– Give me those that are more puffy! – the pieman turned out to be picky.

And indeed, it turned out to be a fine day for trade, the townspeople are in a good mood, ready to spend extra money, and pamper themselves! So thought Kapiton, hiding the money in a cunning purse from evil people.

The Orderly Without a Tsar

Alexander Menshikov kept looking out the glass window of the rich carriage, looking at the houses standing very close. The same as the houses.mostly not very rich, though mostly built on two floors. The tsar’s orderly had seen these buildings, Haans Loop showed what they were like. They were beautiful on the outside, whitewashed. And so – the frame of a wooden beam stands, and so, everything is made of reeds, coated with clay and whitewashed. That’s how everything looks here – beautiful on the outside, but inside everything is made of shit… The food here was much more expensive. In Moscow, everything is not for free, and everything is five times cheaper than here. He listened, it seemed that one of the horses had lost a horseshoe, was limping. Menshikov did not remain silent, and opened the door and shouted:

– Vanka, damn it! The horse lost a horseshoe, and are you sleeping or something? Watch out, or you’ll taste the whips!

– Yes, Alexander Danilovich! Benefactor! Yes, I see!

– Then get to the forge, you scoundrel! Get moving! Then watch out, the wheel horse will suffer, I’ll whip him myself!

– God save you! Here comes the forge…

The carriage stopped, and, sighing and yawning, Alexashka climbed out onto the ground. Menshikov himself, knowing Dutch, went to talk to the merchant. Their guide, Hans Loop, remained on the box, curiously watching the actions of his recent acquaintance. The guy seemed lively and efficient to him, but he also needed to make sure that his words were true.

– Good day, master, – Menshikov began politely, – will you shoe the horse, blacksmith?

– Why not?

But then he asked such a price that Alexander Danilovich started to sweat. Well, he had seen all sorts of things, of course, but this? They didn’t haggle for long, only about half an hour, and finally the blacksmith walked leisurely toward the unharnessed horse. He straightened the hoof with a large file and calmly and confidently nailed on a new horseshoe. Menshikov stood nearby and looked around the Dutch village. So, it seemed to be okay, and there was a sour smell, finally the groom understood what was going on… They heat with peat, firewood is expensive here, and you can’t find any branches. In general, it was bad… But he liked the horses, rich… Tall, strong and well-built… He got used to them when he lived with his father, on the estate…

Danila Menshikov, like many boyar children, came to Moscow to serve after the Great Smolensk Campaign of Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich. Then they managed to recapture the city, and many Polish nobles went over to the service of the great Russian sovereign, among them was Danilo Menshikov. And he began to serve under Porfiry Sokovnin, also from a foreign family. Only the Sokovnins had left Livonia for Rus’ during the reign of Ivan the Terrible. And Alexey Porfiryevich Sokovnin got him a job at the court of Peter Alexeevich… And then it happened! Could Sokovnin have written anything bad against the sovereign? Of course not, Menshikov was absolutely sure of that. And Tsykler, too. After all, he was a relative of Alexey Porfiryevich… A dark story has come out, we will have to find out everything in Moscow, as Menshikov promised himself.

– Everything is ready, Alexander Danilovich! We can go! – shouted the coachman.

The sovereign’s orderly slowly returned to the carriage and settled down comfortably inside. Ivan slapped the reins, and a pair of large horses slowly pulled the carriage. The horseshoes clattered on the large stones of the road, the wheels sometimes bounced on the unevenness.

– We’ll be there soon, – Hans Luup reassured.

– There… – grumbled the dissatisfied Menshikov.

He, the son of the assistant to the head of the royal stables, recalled how he and the bombardier Pyotr Mikhailov went to see the Elector of Brandenburg.

***

The ship, a small vessel, rented by their Dutch guide, finally moored in Königsberg. The five of them were sitting in the captain’s cabin, in the company of three bottles of wine. And there were four more, empty, on the floor.

– Rhine, what kind of nastiness is this? Is there any Hungarian? – Golovin muttered discontentedly, turning over a glass. The tablecloth absorbed the white wine without changing color much. Voznesen jumped up from his seat, turning purple with rage.

– So I’ll write to the Tsar! – he shouted, – you’ll answer to the sovereign for your buffoonery! Or even with your head!

The boyar laughed like a horse. But a burly man in a bombardier’s caftan grabbed the drunk Fyodor Alekseevich and shook him by the hem of his clothes.

– What are you doing, boyar! Have you forgotten how Fyodor Yuryevich gave us directions on the road? – the officer raised his voice.

Here Golovin completely sobered up. The intoxication immediately left his head, as the boyar recalled Romodanovsky’s stern rebuke:

“As I said, so do! Or else you’ll lose all your heads!”

– So we’re now going to the palace of the Elector of Brandenburg? – Menshikov asked again, still not believing it. – I invited him myself. Look, – and Mikhailov showed the document, – “I invite Pyotr Mikhailov, bombardier lieutenant, to the palace.” It is written in the purest German.And did we tell anyone or promise anyone that the Tsar is here with us?

– Lord… – and Voznesensky covered his face with his hands.

– Yes, they think that it is you – Pyotr Alekseyevmch, – Golovin said wearily.

– So here I am, Pyotr Mikhailov. And I have never called myself a Tsar. And I will not!

A carriage with the coat of arms of Brandenburg met the important guests from Russia. The escort officer saluted the bombardier Mikhailov with his sword. Two footmen opened the carriage doors, and the six horses pulled the cart together.

– It will be a shame, a shame, the unfortunate clerk Voznesensky kept lamenting, – but the Tsar has long been in Holland!

Menshikov turned away and began to look at the street of the German city. It was unbearable to hear the clerk, and the Tsar’s orderly could not say any unnecessary words. And there was no shame. On the contrary. Pyotr Mikhailov with his bearing, politeness and even a certain courtesy created a furor among the ladies-in-waiting of the Elector of Brandenburg. They got what they expected – such an almost tame Russian bear, scary on the outside and kind on the inside.

Then Elector Friedrich spoke with Peter Mikhailov about politics, about trade, and kept insisting on a military alliance against Sweden.

The Russian bombardier looked and listened to this man, who elusively and clearly combined the rigidity hidden in his icy eyes and the sophistication of his silk attire. Yes, that was all of Europe, its incomparable style.

– I would also like to study artillery science, – the bombardier lieutenant asked.

– Well, a truly royal hobby… The park is at your service, my brother… – the Elector assessed Peter Mikhailov’s answer.

And indeed, for about a week, before Lefort arrived with a caravan of carriages, the Russian bombardier studied cannon art, and even then received a patent as a bombardier captain.

***

Now they went on a barge. Well, how they went… Only the Dutch guide, Haans Loop, and Alexander Danilovich Menshikov himself remained with them. The embassy left for Amsterdam, and the tsar’s orderly, instead of seeing the beauty of the city, went to the shipyard, to break his hands and wear out his calluses.

– Yes, I was taken to Amsterdam, but arrived in Saardam, – Menshikov sang out a sad verse.

– You are simply full of talent, Alexander, – Haans laughed, puffing on his pipe, – I dare to assure you, this is not a bad yeshchko at all…

Aleksashka felt completely sad, and he looked at the canal bank again. As he noticed, all of Holland was dug up, like a thrifty owner’s vegetable garden. And their boat was pulled by four heavy draft horses along the river bank. He had seen something like this, only in Russia barge haulers, that is, people, pulled barges. It’s more true… A horse is a tender animal, it can die, but a human being, nothing, will endure… Houses with tiled roofs ran slowly past the canal.Nearby, peasants were working leisurely in clogs or klomps. Wooden shoes, basically. In Russia, peasants used bast shoes to protect their boots, and they carry these blocks on their feet. Aleksashka shuddered. He imagined what it was like to have wooden blocks on his feet… They probably rub, and he just shook his head.

– Haans, how do they carry these on their feet? – he asked, unable to resist.

– That’s just the way it is. A European custom.

Menshikov just spat into the water in disgust and turned away.

“And so it is in everything. They teach us life, but they themselves live in shit and warm themselves with peat. Just recently, we spent the night, and out of greed they slept in closets. Where did they come …”

Alexander Danilovich became very sad. At home, it is much better. Well, to tell the truth, there was some funny stuff. Mills where, how many stood in the fields and banks.

– These are machines. They grind correctly, raise water, and do many good things, – explained Luup.

And he liked the flowers. Tulips, which he had seen enough of in the Don steppes near Azov.

– And these are tulips. Very expensive flowers, they are bought by sophisticated people. Many have become rich growing them, – Haans said with pleasure.

– That’s what we call them azure. Come to us on the Don, there is a lot of such goodness growing in the steppes, and you won’t have to pay!

With these words, the unrefined Menshikov drove the unfortunate Dutchman into a stupor, and he fell silent for a long time. There was definitely an embarrassment with the flowers here… And again there was a merciless stench of burnt peat..

The new Tsar and Grand Duke of All Rus’

– This is where you will live, – and Haans pointed to a quite decent house, by local standards.

The porters carried four chests from the barge, Menshikov carried his bag on his shoulder.

– Well… I will pay for everything and keep track of the expenses. There is nothing to worry about. The person you are expecting has been here for about a week. Goodbye, Alexander!

And Haans shook hands with his new comrade in farewell. The Dutchman quickly climbed onto the barge and waved goodbye to the Russian, and the team of horses pulled the little vessel along the canal.

– Well, as for me, I will do the job as I promised, – Alexashka whispered quietly.

He pulled his hat down lower, almost to his ears, and bravely pulled the handle of the front door.

– Whose is it? – he heard in Dutch.

A tall man, probably a head taller than Pyotr Alexeevich, stood with his back to him. Black hair down to his shoulders, a slender figure, and tobacco smoke rose from a wooden pipe. He turned, and Menshikov peered inquisitively into the stranger’s face. Round, cat-like, black eyes. Similar, of course. But no noticeable birthmark, and the skin looks like it’s slightly pockmarked.

– You are Aleksahka?

– That’s right. Alexander Danilovich Menshikov, your royal majesty.

– No. Piter. Herr Piter. Call me only that.

– Maybe I can call you Min hertz? (my heart)

The giant laughed gutturally, throwing his head back a little, and grabbed Menshikov tightly by the shoulders. This Pyotr was strong, very strong, and the orderly felt it himself.

– You will help me, and I will help you. I swear, you will not go wrong! – Pyotr immediately declared.

– We need to study a lot, min hertz. And you need to learn Russian, read and write, remember the faces of dozens of people. Pyotr Alekseevich knew Latin very well, he was very well read.

– And I love to read. You forgot, Aleksashka, that Pyotr Alekseevich is me!

The first lesson dragged on until the evening. Menshikov took out the Book of Degrees and began to read it aloud in Dutch. Piter listened very attentively, did not interrupt. Then he looked at the drawings. It was obvious that the Dutchman was interested in the orderly’s story.

– And you, Aleksashka. a nobleman?

– I am listed as a boyar’s son, on my father’s side. He is an assistant to the head of the Tsar’s stables.

The giant nodded. Of course, the title comes sacri stabuli has been known since the times of Ancient Rome.

– And what, for example, do they drink in Russia?

– Kvass, mead, beer, sbiten, berry uzvar, all kinds of kissels. Well, vodka, of course

Here Piter smiled again and poured himself a glass of juniper.

– What strange clothes, – the Dutchman finally said.

– So min hertz, such is the custom. Nothing can be done. The Tsar is many responsibilities. The people must see the sovereign’s strength and his specialness.

– Okay, when I come to Moscow, I will forbid everyone to wear beards. It’s savage, – Piter said sternly.

Menshikov did not believe such words. Well, who knows what people say… It’s one thing to say, and another to do.***

– Well, Christian, it seems everything has settled down? – said the elderly important gentleman, sitting in a high carved chair, quietly.

Van Ruyt was an important gentleman, not the least among the owners of the West India Company. Considerable capital became the basis of his family’s power. And he had to take care of the company’s prosperity and prospects. Trading operations in Russia promised huge profits, and they could not be lost. And the fact that he and his people provided a new tsar for Russia was not an adventure, but a necessity. What could little Holland do without Russian iron and potash, Persian goods? Fools thought that it was about furs or caviar… Yes, fish glue gave much more profit than these pleasant, but completely unnecessary things! What should a carpenter do without excellent glue? And the furniture and much, much more… But in front of him sat his two trusted men, who had done important but secret things for him more than once… His faithful Christian and Albert… Van Ruyt smiled at them favorably and repeated again:

– Christian, so what do we have in Saardam?

The man sat in the chair opposite, and in turn applied himself to a cup of coffee. This man of extremely broad views did not like gin or vodka at all, but this invigorating drink. Today he looked like an ordinary merchant from Amsterdam. A dark gray caftan, a modest collar, no lace, especially not Brabant lace. Christian knew how to become invisible.

– Peter is learning. Quite capable. We have chosen the right man, Mr. Van Ruyt. It seems that everything is done.

– Here is your money, gentlemen, – and a thick purse plopped down on the table, clanking dully.metal, – but now it is important not to spoil this business… Think about it… After all, the Tsar should be recognized here, in Holland. Someone has been to Russia, to Moscow.

– Very reasonable, Mr. Van Ruyt. We will find people, and we will be able to spread rumors that Tsar Peter is in Saardam, and is working at the shipyard. Those who recognize him are on our hook, and will not blab too much.

– It is possible to somehow liven it all up… So to speak, to show Peter Alexeevich more lenient, or something… A couple of funny incidents would be quite appropriate. Well, it is up to you…

– Oh, how kind you are… I swear, you will like it! – Albert laughed too.

– I am counting on you, gentlemen!

***

In the morning, as usual, Peter and Alexashka, with wheelbarrows full of carpentry tools, headed to the shipyard of Nicholas Weirms. The wooden wheels bounced on the uneven road, trampled by dozens of feet. To be honest, both new workers were quite counting on not being recognized here. They had just approached the slipway when three Dutchmen suddenly approached Peter. Menshikov noticed how his new charge tensed up and shrank. The giant’s hands clenched into fists, and his round eyes seemed frozen on his strong-willed face.

– Your Royal Majesty, – the stranger suddenly said, – I worked at the shipyard in Voronezh, Jan Roost, always ready to serve you! – and the man bowed.

The other two only listened, and then whispered for a long time with Roost. Then they too awkwardly bowed their heads and went off to their own little places, but turned around a couple of times, as if trying to remember the new wonder at the shipyard.

– Now we will have no peace, – whispered Peter, – let’s go, Aleksashka. The master is waiting for us.

An elderly smiling man in a dark robe and a knitted cap was waiting for them. They were put to work, to trim the beams. To be honest, Menshikov had never seen anything like this. Well, Voronezh is a different matter, where are those slipways compared to the order that reigned in Saardam.

The skeletons of the ships stood on wooden blocks. They seemed to be overgrown with planks of the hull and deck by themselves. Heavy giuzes were raised by means of a whole system of ingenious blocks. The sound of hammers in frequency resembled the chirping of grasshoppers in a field in summer. Nearby stood the hull of a ship, already launched, tied, like a spider’s web, with a whole heap of ropes. And there on the deck, joiners and carpenters were bustling about.

Aleksashka slowly continued to wield the planer, and finally, waited for the long-awaited praise of his mentor, Gus Schreiber:

– Well done, boy! Soon you will become a real master!

To tell the truth, the words were very pleasant for the tsar’s orderly, as if he had just received an award from the sovereign.

Meanwhile, Herr Peter, as Menshikov had already begun to call himself, dashingly flew aboard the brig under construction, clinging to the pulley cable. It happened so quickly, as if it were a bird sitting on a branch, and not a man, one-two and it was done.Alexashka only sighed enviously, he certainly couldn’t do that. All the masters received the Tsar well, patted him on the shoulder, and he plunged into his work with expertise. His red jacket flashed here and there. And then, something completely unexpected happened – Herr Peter deftly jumped onto the shrouds, and almost ran up to the yard of the foremast. This man was completely unaware of fear of heights, and his dexterity was absolutely incredible. The mast was about ten fathoms high, as the orderly estimated by eye, almost not believing himself. And then he adjusted the sail with extraordinary skill, and it finally straightened out completely.

– What is this! And how he will kill himself! – the frightened orderly shouted.

– Oh, this Russian guy is a real sailor! Such people do not die! – the master, also watching what was happening, grinned, remarked, – Skillful and does not know fear. Just like a real Dutchman! Alexashka just glanced, thinking at that moment how right the shipyard master was, and even though he didn’t know the most important thing, who this Herr Peter was.

The day of shipyard masters ended in a tavern, in a building with a frying pan on the sign. Such a thing looked amazing, especially for those who were hungry. People, after a hard day, wanted to eat well and drink even better. Confident and strong people entered through the wide open door, sat down at the tables, talked loudly and cheerfully. Herr Peter ordered for two.

– We’ll have fried selley, bread and a mug of beer, beauty. And for starters – a shot of juniper! – and at the same time he winked very charmingly at the waitress, from which she instantly blushed. – It’s just great here, Aleksashka, – added the giant,

It seemed to the orderly that he wanted to say: “With us”, but he restrained himself in time. But now it was clear that this Peter was one of the real captains, the foamers of the seas. The girl brought food and beer in deep clay bowls. Here Herr Peter whispered something to the girl’s pink ear, she laughed and looked at Menshikov, which made him blush.

– It’s okay, mon liber Aleksashka. Today, ladies will come to us. And a real sailor should not avoid the fair sex!

But then a stranger approached and looked too closely at Peter. This unknown person, judging by his caftan and headdress, was himself a man not alien to the sea. And Herr Peter, judging by his face, recognized the stranger, jumped up from his place, and hit him in the face, then once more. The tavern began to buzz and bang their mugs on the table, approving of all this. The first to shout was the shipyard master:

– Corneille! Rejoice, now you’ve been knighted!

All the shipwrights burst into laughter, and this Corneille, as if scalded, flew out the door.

– Who is this, mynheer?

– The devil knows, Aleksashka. Some ignoramus… – Peter tried to hide his irritation.

But it was clear that he was pleased. And he became even happier when he saw how the Dutch were receiving him. He smiled, and with visible pleasure finished his fish, and drained his drink in a flash.

– More beer, mistress! – he shouted.

And he slammed his mug on the table,, earning another round of applause.

***

Piter sat at the helm of a sailboat. A walk on the water always improved his mood, especially since the day was clear and warm, after all, it was August. Nearby stood a basket with bottles of Moselle, smoked sausage and bread. Aleksashka was preparing food. Still, it seemed to work out, and the people, the Dutch, took him for a slightly quarrelsome Tzar Vseya Rusi. The language was not so difficult for him, after all, he had studied at school to be a navigator. True, signing letters was unusual for him. The one he replaced put the signature Petrus, but he, Piter.

And his servant, or orderly, as the Russians said, was also full of surprises. Smart, well-read. And if he, a former pirate, had an excellent understanding of navigation and seamanship, then Aleksashka had an excellent understanding of horses, and sat in the saddle better than any French guard.

He had read a lot himself, especially about Dmitry the Pretender. He swore to himself not to make his mistakes. But all these Russian clothes, and the custom of wearing a borola – it seemed to him a savage custom. But judging by his orderly – they were quite good people, and no worse than others.

The wind changed again, and the former pirate turned the ship’s yard again, and it ran even faster.

– Min hertz, the barge again! And more spectators than before!

Yes, a rumor spread through the local towns that a big eccentric was visiting here, this Russian tsar, and was working at the shipyard. Hundreds of gapers gathered to watch such an incredible thing. And Madeleine, the owner of the tavern, began to sell beer for free, because the number of visitors increased fivefold. And in bed she became much more affectionate with him.Aleksashka, the red-haired devil, the darling of fortune, was pleasing her younger sister, Annabel. And they gave her money generously, so he bought himself a boat…

But then shrill cries were heard from the barge, and the vessel tried to get closer, so much so that it almost hit his boat with its starboard side.

– Aleksashka. Give me an empty bottle! – demanded Peter, flushed with anger.

Thick green glass, just what was supposed to cheer up the helmsman. And he threw the bottle at this ignoramus, who did not know how to handle his barge well.

Strangely enough, the ship’s crew shouted enthusiastically, apparently counting on something similar. And this incident only pleased the idle onlookers. Peter leaned on the wheel, the rigging creaked, the sail flapped, the boat turned and headed for the shore.

CHAPTER 4 Stadtholder of the Netherlands William the Third, King of England

It was Christmas time, in the corner of honor the spruce tree sparkled with tinsel and apples, which Herr Peter personally decorated. It was a little unusual for Menshikov, how joyfully and sincerely this Dutchman indulged in the holiday, even giving money for the fireworks in Saardam.

The festive treat was rich – roast goose, wine with spices, and not just a pleasant dinner with Moselle wine and smoked eels. At the table sat Peter, Alexashka and mistresses Madeleine and Annabel.

Madeleine sat on the lap of her tall gentleman, Peter raised a glass with golden wine. – To our lovely ladies!

– Oh, how sweet, Piter! – Annabelle admired, – you and Madeleine look like you came out of a Rubens painting!

Menshikov didn’t understand a damn thing, what kind of a parsuna was that? But, Herr Piter liked the innkeeper’s remark, he appreciated it, and kissed the woman’s hand. Tzar knew how to be polite, although he could be madly hot-tempered, and even more so than Pyotr Alekseevich…

Then there was a knock at the door, and a dusty messenger burst into the house.

– A letter to Pyotr Alekseevich! – the man reported, and gave the letter to the Tsar.

Piter was obviously still reading with difficulty, but he figured out what was going on. He hid the message in his caftan pocket and bowed to the ladies.

– We’re leaving in the evening, forgive me, state affairs!

– Oh, Piter. you are so young… But already the ruler of a huge country! – and Madeleine pressed her hands to the bodice of her dress, expressing complete delight.

Alexashka began to prepare the chests, pack things, soon a barge was supposed to come for them, on which they needed to get to Amsterdam. Anabel helped her dear friend. The girl very carefully sorted out the waistcoats and shirts, she did it simply beautifully.

Everything was unusually restless. Wilhelm, Stadtholder of Holland and the King of Britain wished to see the Russian Tsar.

Winter has begun here too. Well, what winter, there was no snow in these places, but the chill dampness penetrated to the bones. Menshikov wrapped himself in a cloak, longingly recalling his wolfskin coat and the charms of Annabelle.

– Min Hertz, but it was possible to grab girls, – he noted with some hope.

– There is a lot of this stuff in Amsterdam and London. We will find more there. I need to behave correctly with William of Orange, without losing my royal dignity. So as not to lose the honor of the state.

– Yes, he knows everything about you… You have to be impudent, and not show it. Order a portrait from an artist. So that everyone understands that you are the real Sovereign.

– I decided to open a School for Navigators in Moscow. To bring students here, how expensive it will be. Money will be needed for other things too. And about the portrait, it is smart. So we will do it.

But at night Peter suddenly began to have a fever. The Dutchman was shaking under thick blankets, and then lay in his underwear, languishing from the heat. His forehead was covered in sweat. Aleksashka put a rag soaked in cold water on the patient’s forehead, prepared new underwear. He had already started rummaging in the medicine cabinet, looking for the necessary herbal mixtures. Peter raised himself and said with difficulty:

– Juniper, Aleksashka… It’s the only one that helps with this affliction…

Menshikov took out a decanter of vodka, sniffed it, checking if he got it, and thoughtfully poured it into a silver spoon.