Kitabı oku: «Peter The Great, of Orange. Usurper on the Throne», sayfa 8

5. Not to take away from the gentry the life, property and honor without a trial,

6. not to grant patrimonies and villages,

7. not to produce in court ranks, both foreigners and Russians,

8. not to use state revenues for expenses, and to maintain all our subjects in mercy, and if I do not fulfill anything according to this promise, then I will be deprived of the Russian crown.”

– That’s clever, – and he slowly signed with the pen handed to him.

He left the regulations on the table, and he himself walked, rather than marched, around the chamber, with his hands behind his back, like a huge raven.

– Tsarina Evdokia has gone to a monastery. So she won’t bother you, father, – said Fyodor Lopukhin.

And the new tsar understood this. So that no more heirs to the throne would appear from his blood. – Call me Herr Peter, or Pyotr Alekseevich, – the new tsar ordered harshly. On the road he read and thought a lot. He knew what the boyars’ power was based on – the old way of life and service people. There, in the dormeze, on the road between Revel and Novgorod, he thought of this, which burst out of him like an avalanche:

– I order a search to be conducted among those archers. The one who called me a German wanted to destroy you, the boyars. Tsar Leopold told me about this and reproached me severely. And issue a decree – to take those archers to Preobrazhenskoye and torture them, to find out who else was involved in this theft.

– Why? There was no conspiracy, that’s for sure. No forgery, nothing was found! – answered the prince-caesar.

– They searched poorly… And, my order to you, Boris Alekseevich – to recruit ten dragoon regiments. And the archers have nothing to do in Moscow.

– And the Stremenny? – Lev Kirillovich spoke up.

– They will sit in Azov, become quieter. It will be more reliable that way.

Peter recalled what he read Dmitry Ivanovich… He sat on the throne, and then flew off with the archers’ wish. And he even flew out of a cannon, like a cannonball, even after death. He didn’t need that… And it was uncomfortable to sit in Moscow, unkindly… He had to build his own, his own…

– So… Bring the Streltsy from the monasteries to Preobrazhenskoye. I’ll ask myself, since they didn’t tell you. It’s okay, I won’t get dirty. And I’m not afraid of blood, boyars.

And he laughed a strange, unfamiliar and evil laugh. From which even Mikhail Grigorievich Romodanovsky, who had been in more than one battle, felt everything inside him turn over. The seasoned warrior only thought:

“Well, they’ve found a way to ruin their lives… Now we’ll cry. We wanted the best, but it turned out worse than ever…”.

But he didn’t open his mouth either. And how could he open it? This foreigner is now the Tsar and Grand Duke of all Rus’, a true autocrat. And he has the right to execute and pardon everyone.

Others, as if straining themselves, grabbed their staffs, as if they wanted to put them to use. Peter did not take up his sword, the hilt was at the giant’s hip.It was necessary to cheer up the nobles with words:

– And here’s what, boyars… My Life Guards have acknowledged that I am the true Tsar. They, my real children, are standing and waiting for me. As if their dear father, without them… So, your paper, these Conditions, are of no use, – and he tore the document into pieces and threw it on the floor.

Here the boyars realized that they wanted to catch a fat Dutch goose, which is good to eat with sauerkraut and green wine, but they caught, perhaps, a lion. And he himself can devour them. And even without crispy cabbage.

Anna Mons

Pyotr Alekseevich visited the bathhouse on his way back, where he happily lay on the shelf. And Aleksashka quickly beat him with a broom. Now the orderly was sweating much more than the tsar. And not so much from the heat of the stove, but from excitement. Otherwise, if he doesn’t like it, he’ll get angry…

– Well, that’s it, my dear. Now we can rest… Let’s sit in the dressing room.

– I wish I had something to drink…

– Well, drink some kvass.

Pyotr tried it, nodded his head approvingly. He sipped a few different ones. He liked the blackcurrant one the most.

– Great… I haven’t had a drink in a long time, – he drawled, draining the clay mug to the last drop, – We need to go to Kukuy. To Annushka.

– That’s true, my dear… It’s the best thing after the bathhouse! – and Menshikov smiled knowingly.

– Shut up. I’ll knock your teeth out!

Pyotr said these words, generally good-naturedly, and poured himself another full glass. He drank and looked at Alexashka with his round eyes over the edge of the mug.

Soon a modest carriage with a pair of horses was carrying Peter, accompanied by Menshikov. Well, and also a small convoy of six dragoons. It was completely stupid to travel through the city when you were afraid that you would be stabbed or poisoned.

The house where Peter’s favorite now lived was built of stone, with eight windows. And next to it in the yard were a couple of sheds, a barn and a stable. A worker brought hay for the horses of the owner’s team, and another swept the ground clean of straw and dirt. Everything was as always, clean and tidy.

– Well, here we are, – Menshikov whispered and quickly opened the carriage door.

Peter pursed his lips, stood up abruptly on the ground, shook out the hem of his caftan, and, squinting slightly, looked at the house.It was unclear whether he liked all this or not, and Alexashka did not want to pester the tsar with questions. Then, as if having made up his mind, he opened the front door, and the doorman almost flew out into the street.

Peter laughed contentedly and slapped the footman on the shoulder in a friendly manner.

– What, should I wait for you? – he shouted to Menshikov.

– I’m already running, min hertz!

They went up to the second floor to the living room. The room looked Dutch. Rafters under the roof, the walls were decorated with white and blue tiles, in the corners there were cupboards with dishes and books, next to a solidly laid table, and carved chairs.

On the threshold stood a sharp-nosed, slightly plump girl in a beautiful, but not luxurious dress with elbow-length sleeves, decorated with lace. Her hair was slightly covered by an openwork cap, in the new fashion. In her hands was a tray with a glass of vodka and a pie, traditional Russian style.

– Welcome back, Peter, – the lady said with a slightly charming accent.

Peter drank the vodka in one gulp, immediately ate the pie, and kissed Anna roughly and harshly, causing her to scream.

– And I’m glad I came back to you. Well, feed me, or what…

With a doomed look, the German woman led the guests to the table. The food was there, in the German style – baked ham, fried sausages, potatoes. Everything was so nice and clean.

Peter ate quickly and sharply, throwing greedy glances at the hostess, as if she were another dish of this dinner.

– Well, have you eaten? – the tsar asked Menshikov, – go to Preobrazhenskoye, and wait for me there… Aleksashka quickly stood up, bowed and quickly left, not wanting to disturb the sovereign. He undoubtedly had important business to attend to here.

A New Custom

In the morning Peter was unusually cheerful, immediately called the barber. Shaving was a pleasure for him. Then he filled his pipe and lit up.

– Well, Liber Alexashka. Today is an important day. Either they will kill me, or everything in Russia will be my way.

– So maybe it’s not worth it, my dear? Why immediately on the blackamoor?

– Little by little is not allowed here, it doesn’t work, – and thoughtfully he blew a cloud of smoke to the ceiling.

On the benches the sovereign’s dwarves were bustling about and fighting for fun and royal awards. They looked funny in their long boyar fur coats, high hats and with crookedly glued-on beards that reached all the way to the floor.

Then he ordered that a caftan of the Preobrazhensky Regiment be brought to him, he meticulously examined himself in the mirror, and seemed to be satisfied.

– Set the tables, – commanded Pyotr, – and put out more vodka, more. And aniseed, and galangal. And good snacks. Pork ham, mushrooms… Aleksashka, have the masters arrived from the German Quarter?

– Yes, they are waiting, but they really don’t understand why they were all called?

– No matter, they will soon become proud of their craft. I am creating an opportunity for these people to earn money too! – and he laughed his wooden laugh again.

– Oh, my God! It seems that the first ones have already arrived…

Boyar carriages, covered carriages of Duma nobles and other service people began to accumulate in the courtyard. They all came to show off in front of each other, smartly dressed and important.

– Aleksashka, go and set guards so that no one is let out… Otherwise, the devils will run away…

– Got it, my God! – Menshikov answered, laughing, and ran off to carry out the tsar’s order. The stewards, very young boyar children, began to open the gates.The nobles went first to bow to the Tsar-father, to fall on their knees before their own father..

As soon as they entered the chamber, there was an empty throne, and next to it a man similar in face to the Tsar was walking from wall to wall, only in foreign, evil clothes.

– Greetings to you boyars, Duma clerks and nobles! I look at you, and my heart bleeds!

– But why, father? We serve you faithfully and truly! – muttered Prince Dolgoruky.

The courtier approached the Tsar. He looked at the prince, put his strong hands on his shoulders. And suddenly he laughed deafeningly.

– Where did you lose your beard, Prince? – and again he feigned laughter.

Dolgoruky grabbed his face in fear, and sure enough – his beard was cut off! And under the bench sits a dwarf, and, the scoundrel, glues a princely beard to his snout. Dolgoruky poked him with a stick, and he squealed!

– For Christ’s sake, forgive him, stupid and narrow-minded… – and the tsar looked at the nobleman, smiling, – here is the barber, he will tidy you up, shave your face… And you drink to my health! – and he himself, personally, brought the glass.

Dolgoruky even burst into tears from such treatment, and drank it all. And they sat him down at the table, poured him more, and put mushrooms and pickles on him.

And so the day spun around… All the nobles were left without beards, with bare faces, without masculine beauty. – It’s been a hard day for me, Alexashka… – Peter said tiredly but proudly, – now they won’t look at me askance, they say, I’m a tsar, but without a beard. And they don’t have beards now!

The Danes’ Visit to Preobrazhenskoye. Torture and Blood

– Yes, it’s an important matter… We must see Tsar Peter, – said Secretary Alex Dietrichs, leafing through the papers

– I heard about what’s going on in Preobrazhenskoye. It would be very interesting to see it…

Friedrik Jansen was a good clerk and knew Russian and Latin very well. He skillfully corrected letters and kept the embassy archives in order. He was also a nice conversationalist and played cards well.

Of course, Moscow was a bit boring, there were no balls, receptions and there were no theaters, but Tsar Peter obviously decided to replace all this

– I don’t advise it, Friedrik. You will be guaranteed a bad night’s sleep and a bad appetite. And the guards of the Russian monarch blocked all the roads there.

– They say that hundreds of Streltsy have already been driven into this hellish prison.

– Peter wants to surpass the English king Henry in his bloodthirstiness.

– He did not torture the military. This is a bad idea, a bad motive, and a bad occupation, – the Danish ambassador said meaningfully, shaking the ashes from his smoked pipe, – others will notice this, remember, and draw conclusions. Then one should not complain about betrayal.

– Constantine the Great dispersed the Praetorians in Rome.

– True, he dispersed, but did not execute. With whom, with what army is Peter going to fight the Turks or the Swedes? This is madness…

– I heard that they are going to enroll the datka peasants in the soldier regiments… There are many of them, and they will gather many new regiments.

Here the ambassador laughed merrily, and with a sly squint looked at his assistant.

– Streltsy are accustomed to shooting from guns from an early age, they masterfully wield a saber.And what about yesterday’s peasant? Doesn’t know left from right, hasn’t been taught to read or write, and is unaccustomed to shooting. Recruits need to be trained for at least a year if there are experienced soldiers in the company. And three years if no one knows how to do anything. I don’t think highly of Peter’s skills. He is too cruel, and will ruin everything anyway. Remember the two sieges of Azov. And, you don’t know, but I read in old columns how the Cossacks took the Azov fortress in 1632. And there were only five thousand of them. Then they lay siege for three years, fighting off the merciless Turks. That’s the difference between peasants dressed in military caftans and true warriors. Such a soldier is more of a burden than a real fighter.

– Well, tell this to the Tsar? He is an ally of our king.

– Peter is quarrelsome and angry. Such a child who got carried away in his play, who still doesn’t understand what is good and what is bad. Life itself must punish him. Without it, any words are meaningless. Well, okay, – he said, looking out the window, – the horses are ready, the servants too. Let’s go, otherwise it’s getting dark quickly at this time.

Both of them, having pulled their cloaks so that their faces were not visible, went out into the yard.

– Andreas, – the ambassador turned to his orderly, – you and Vitus will stay with the horses. Be smart and careful.

– We’ll do everything!

– Well, then, with God!

The four horsemen galloped down the street at a light trot. The soldiers standing guard at the gates of Kitai-gorod let the Danes through, showing letters of commissariat from the Ambassadorial Prikaz.

– I told you it would be simple.

– Everything will be simple when we return to our estate. And we’ll go to sleep in our warm beds, with hot water bottles under the featherbeds. We rode for another hour, and it was already getting dark. The horses, good and thoroughbred, were not tired, and confidently carried their riders. – I’ve been here before, – muttered the assistant, – this torture huu… It was dark, and a couple of lanterns on the corners of the zay did not dispel the gloom at all. Then the wind picked up, and as if on purpose, slammed the shutters against the wall. The rumble echoed not only in the ears of the Danes, but also, perhaps, in the stomachs and knees of the two heroes. Jansen sat down and began to look around in fear.

– The wind is frightening us, here Jansen. There is no one nearby, there is nothing to fear. Let’s go… It seems that the door is open, – Alex whispered.

Both Danes crept to the entrance. Inside, a bright light burned from torches and oil lanterns. They heard loud voices, and then a heartbreaking scream, from which Jansen shuddered and retreated. But Dietrichs overcame himself, and looked inside.

Under the ceiling, on a rope thrown over a pulley, hung a naked and bearded man, whom the executioner was burning with a burning broom. But, from another, the secretary of the embassy was covered in sweat. Peter himself stood nearby, in simple Dutch clothes, with an apron. He rolled up his shirt so that his muscular forearms stuck out.

– Speak, Styopka… You will get relief, – said the tsar, – write, do not miss anything, – he ordered the clerk.

This familiar voice, Peter’s, was terrible in its imperturbability. As if the tsar was sitting at a consultation among the boyars, and not next to the executioner and the unfortunate tortured man.

– There is no guilt on me, – wheezed the strelets.

– Never mind, now I will make you a date with Fedora Koluzhina, the servant of Princess Marfa Alekseyevna. Come on, bring this woman here!

The executioners brought the woman here. The Tsar sat down on a stool, and the flames of the torches seemed to burn in his eyes, reflected in his pupils dilated to the limit, sweat was visible on his forehead, his strong hands clenched restlessly.

– Well, Fedora… Did you bring letters from Princess Marfa to the Streltsy?

– So where from… There was no such thing!

– But you’re lying… Conduct the interrogation, Styopka… If she doesn’t talk, then hang her on the rack!

– Well, Tsar-father, she’s in a condition… You can’t hang her on your temples…

– No way! Damned liar! She’ll talk right away! We’ll find out who was muddying the waters!

– The clerk sat down at the table, with a spare quill behind his left ear, in an old and filthy caftan. He prepared a sheet of paper and put a candle in front of him.

– Well? Fedora… Do you see where this is all heading? Did Princess Marfa tell you to pass on letters to the Streltsy? – No, that was not the case. I only served Marfa Alekseyevna in the thirties, and I did not go to the Streltsy settlements. – You are denying in vain, – and the scribe squeaked with his pen, – put her on the rack!

The assistants quickly undressed the unfortunate woman, and it was obvious that she was not idle. But this did not disturb the enraged Peter. They twisted Fedora’s hands behind her back, tied them, and raised the block of the rack.

The woman screamed in pain. Then again and again. The tortured woman began to have contractions, and she gave birth right there…

Jansen and Friedrichs did not look at all this, at this hellish horror. Tsar Peter in these reflections of the torchlight was simply like the devil, a demon who had risen from the depths of hell to torture people. Alex’s snuffbox fell out of his pocket and rolled down the steps with a crash at the feet of the Tsar himself.

– Who’s there? Come on, catch her! – the Tsar shouted, – quickly!

The Danes did not wait long to be caught. And they did not intend to keep the unfortunates hanging on the rack company in principle. Therefore, they did not consider it shameful for themselves to run a little, to the horsemen. Andreas and Vitus, despite the shouts, carried out the order. Alex and Friedrick climbed into the saddles with the help of servants, and sent the horses into a gallop.

The race was bright, as they say. But one of the Russian officers caught up with them. The Danes watched as the stranger handled the horse, as if it were an extension of the rider’s legs and arms. The officer, it was wine on a scarf. wound around his waist, approached them and announced in a commanding voice:

– Gentlemen, Pyotr Alekseevich invites you to dinner.

– I would prefer to refuse, I am tired, – answered Dietrichs, – we need to rest. Sincere apologies from us to His Majesty. – You don’t refuse a king, – and the stranger smiled wickedly, and the whitefish is waiting for dinner. Finger-licking good… Yes, the offer was tempting, but both Danes remembered the figure of Peter in the dungeon, the blood on the earthen floor and the terrible screams. It was too strong a sensation for them, to dine in the presence of the executioner.

– A modest meal is already waiting for us.

– We are the ambassadors of the Danish king – and we respect his honor. No one dares to force ambassadors, – declared Jansen

– I am Alexander Danilovich Menshikov, lieutenant of the Preobrazhensky Regiment, and I certainly dare!

Then Friedrichs presented the letter given to him at the Ambassadorial Prikaz. Menshikov read for a long time, then reluctantly handed over the paper and left the Danes, who were scared half to death.

CHAPTER 7 The Feat of Patriarch Adrian

Preparations were underway in the white-stone chambers of the patriarch, under the vaulted ceilings. The servants were preparing banners and icons for the solemn procession. The patriarch himself was sitting in a chair, with a staff in his hand, his head lowered to the floor, immersed in deep thought…

“I must find the right words for the Tsar of the Russian Land, stop the death of people… Bishop Ambrose of Milan did not allow Caesar Theodosius the Great to come until he repented of the blood he had shed in vain. So what should we do? Threaten Peter with excommunication from the Holy Gifts, or simply admonish the young Tsar? If we excommunicate and publicly curse him for shedding Christian blood, then the guil and the Time of Troubles will again become inevitable… I will try to instruct Peter, to dissuade him from this grave sin.”.

And having made up his mind, the patriarch called the servants for the ceremonial vestment. The appearance of the priest should inspire respect for the Church of Christ. This is the meaning of the precious vestments, and not at all in heavy pride. After all, both the gold and the precious stones did not belong to Adrian, but only to the Church.

– Everything is ready, – the servant said quietly, bowing low, – they are only waiting for you, father…

– God bless you, son…

Adrian rose impulsively, went down the steep white-stone stairs of his chambers. On the slabs of the Patriarch’s courtyard, the clergy and priests of the procession stood, waiting for him. Banners with embroidered images of saints and the Mother of God fluttered above the servants of the church. The patriarch took in his hands the icon of the Mother of God in a rich frame, and walked ahead, without looking back.

People on the streets crossed themselves, and bowed low to the patriarch.In Moscow churches the bells rang out, welcoming Adrian and the other priests of this procession. Others, ordinary citizens, also joined the procession. Well, at Prebrazhensky village this mass of people melted away like ice, frightened by the blazing sun.

The gates of the royal palace were closed, the guard was made up of soldiers of the Prebrazhensky regiment, the Patriarch stood with the icon, not blessing these warriors. And what can I say? Russians or not, who can figure them out. What are they doing – just like evil non-Russians…

Adrian waited a long time until the Tsar came out of the gate. And what can I say? Tsar or not? Who knows? It seemed like he looked like him, as it seemed to the Patriarch. But… Peter did not come up for the blessing.

– And with what have you come? – the Russian autocrat finally said.

– In honor of the Feast of the Nativity of the Mother of God, I ask you to spare the archers. Enough executions, it’s time to show mercy.

– It’s none of your business, father… Here, the icons are with you, you pray. And I was appointed to rule the kingdom by God himself.

– But it is said, “that the merciful will be forgiven…” And you, Tsar, will ask for God’s mercy, may he hear you? If he himself is not merciful?

– As he pleases, so it happens. And I will pray for my sins. Go with God, father!

– You decided for yourself, so the Lord will reward you, – and Adrian crossed himself.

The procession turned around and began to return to Moscow. The Tsar looked at the Orthodox priests and their banners until they disappeared into the distance. An unpleasant feeling began to suck in Peter’s pit of his stomach, but he had never been afraid of anything. Or maybe he missed something?

– Listen, mon liber Alexashka. But Adrian is old, and it is hard for him to bear his cross, isn’t it?

– It is not easy, my dear, it is not easy…

– So find a smart priest, and place the patriarch in a monastery, just not in the Kremlin, and not in Moscow…

– There is such a monastery… The Perervinsky Monastery. Next to Belokamennaya, that monastery, he will rest there… Moreover, he often lives there in the summer…

– Well, let him sit there, he has no reason to hang around Moscow. You put him under guard there, reliable…

But the tsar respected the patriarch. Kremne turned out to be a man. But, the autocrat decided to himself that there would be no more patriarchs in Russia!