The Seeds of Power Read online

  ‘But this is my post, Your Excellency,’ he protested.

  ‘I am telling you to go away,’ Alexandra said in her most imperious tones. The footman hesitated, then bowed and left the corridor. Alexandra ran down the stairs, where David was waiting anxiously. Dagmar glared at them both, her eyes seeming almost about to pop out of her head. ‘Get dressed,’ Alexandra told David. She stood in front of her sister. ‘You will give yourself a seizure, if you keep that up,’ she said. ‘You should count your blessings. I told him he could do whatever he liked with you, and he refused even to touch you.’ Dagmar hissed through her nostrils. ‘Well,’ Alexandra said, ‘I suppose someone will be down here eventually. But not for a while. Goodbye.’

  Dagmar tried to kick at her, but was hampered by her skirt. David was now dressed, looking decidedly baggy, but he would be warm; that was the main thing. ‘Drink this.’ Alexandra held out the vodka bottle. ‘It will give you strength.’ David gulped at the drink, and Alexandra led him to the stairs. ‘Pull your hat well down over your eyes,’ she said. And leave the talking to me.’

  She led him up the stairs and marched towards the porch, beckoning David to follow her. Two of Vorontsov’s policemen sat in the porch. Both stood to attention as they saw the Countess. ‘Good afternoon,’ Alexandra said. The men looked at her, and then at David. ‘Well,’ Alexandra said. ‘Open the door.’

  One of the policemen immediately opened the door. The other remained at attention, but he spoke. ‘The Princess Bolugayevska gave us instructions that no one was to leave the house, Your Excellency.’

  ‘Well, she has given me permission to leave,’ Alexandra said. ‘You may ask her, when next you see her.’ She went down the steps, David at her shoulder.

  ‘Your Excellency,’ he muttered. ‘This will not work.’

  ‘It is working,’ she told him. ‘Just stay at my shoulder.’ He followed her round the building to the stables, where there was only one groom on duty. No one was expected to be going out on a winter’s afternoon; it would be dark in half an hour. ‘Saddle my horse,’ Alexandra commanded. ‘And Countess Anna’s.’ They were the two best, she knew. The man goggled at her. ‘Hurry up,’ Alexandra snapped. ‘Or I shall have you whipped.’

  ‘I was told...’

  ‘I am telling you,’ Alexandra said, twitching her crop.

  He hurried off, and Alexandra stamped up and down.

  ‘Where are we going?’ David asked.

  ‘In the first instance, Poltava. Then we will ride south, for Sevastopol. From there we will take ship for America.’

  ‘America?’

  ‘My husband is there. I am going to my husband.’ She stood against him and touched his cheek. ‘And you will come with me.’

  ‘Your Excellency...’

  ‘You may call me Alix, if you wish.’

  ‘Alix.’ He spoke the word as if it was the key to great happiness.

  ‘You may kiss me, if you wish.’ He hesitated, looking down on her face, then slowly lowered his face to hers. They did no more than brush their lips together, before the groom cleared his throat. ‘Thank you, Olaf.’

  He gave her a leg up, and she settled into the saddle. David mounted beside her. She touched her horse with her heel, and he walked out of the stable into the gloom of the late afternoon...and faced Sergeant Bogatyrchuk, marching across the snow towards them, accompanied by the third of his constables. ‘Good evening, Sergeant,’ Alexandra said courteously.

  ‘Your Excellency! May I ask where you are going?’ Like everyone else, he frowned at David, trying to decide whether this well-dressed man was indeed the prisoner brought from St Petersburg.

  ‘For a ride.’ She touched her horse again, but as the animal moved forward, Bogatyrchuk caught the bridle. ‘Whatever are you doing?’ she snapped.

  ‘With respect, Your Excellency, but the Princess Bolugayevska gave me instructions that no one was to leave the grounds.’

  ‘Well, she has given me permission,’ Alexandra declared. ‘Stand aside.’

  ‘With respect, Your Excellency...’

  ‘Stand aside, or I shall ride you down,’ Alexandra shouted, again kicking her animal. But the sergeant, a big man, retained his hold on the bridle so that the horse slewed round and Alexandra was all but unseated. ‘David!’ she screamed.

  David urged his horse forward, and its shoulder struck Bogatyrchuk on the back. The sergeant fell to his hands and knees. ‘David, is it?’ Bogatyrchuk gasped.

  ‘Ride,’ Alexandra shouted, and David urged his horse out of the yard.

  ‘David, by God!’ Bogatyrchuk said, getting to his feet, and drawing his revolver to level it at David.

  ‘Never!’ Alexandra cried, drawing her own revolver, and firing it. She had never used a hand gun before, and was amazed at how easy it was. At a range of only a few feet she could not miss. Bogatyrchuk uttered a shriek as the green of his greatcoat became stained with red, and fell forward on to his face. The policeman drew his own weapon, and Alexandra sent two shots in his direction. She did not know whether she had hit him or not, but he tumbled over, and then she too was out of the yard and spurring for the gate.

  David wheeled his horse as she rode towards him. He saw Sergeant Bogatyrchuk sprawled on the ground, and realised that Alexandra had probably killed him. He saw the policeman slowly rising to his knees. Then he saw a flash of light. The man was firing at him. ‘Ride!’ Alexandra screamed. ‘For God’s sake, ride.’

  Her own mount was charging out of the yard, hardly under control. He kicked his horse and galloped behind her. They clattered on to the drive and a few moments later were through the gates. ‘Free!’ Alexandra shouted. ‘Free!’

  She turned her horse on to the road towards Poltava. To either side the snow was thick on the fields, but the road itself was reasonably clear. David urged his horse forward to reach her side. ‘Your Excellency,’ he gasped. ‘Alix! We cannot gallop, all the way to Poltava.’

  She drew rein. ‘They will follow,’ she panted.

  ‘Not for a while. We have a good start.’

  She glanced at him, then walked her horse up the road. He stayed at her shoulder. ‘Listen,’ she said. ‘In my satchel there is money and jewels. Enough to take you to America.’

  ‘You mean, to take us.’

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘not me. You.’ She tumbled from the saddle.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN - THE WILL OF THE PEOPLE

  It was already dark by the time Charles, accompanied by Silas, Anatole and Yevrentko, left Poltava. Charles was in no hurry. His blood still boiled at the thought of what had happened to Anna, and might be happening to her at that very moment. He meant to rescue her, but to do that he needed to catch the rest of Bolugayen unawares, and that was best done after they had all gone to bed. Thus it was past ten when they reached the estate boundary. Here they drew rein, to take a swig of vodka each—it was bitterly cold—and to listen, and prepare. ‘Check your weapons,’ Charles said.

  Once everything was found to be in good order, they moved forward again. There was not a sound to break the stillness of the night, until two horses appeared out of the darkness, their hooves unheard because of the snow. But only one had a rider, who had now seen them, and promptly levelled his right arm. ‘Stand aside, or I shoot!’

  Charles frowned as he recognised the voice. ‘David Fine?’ he asked. ‘I am Charles Cromb.’

  ‘Monsieur Cromb!’ David urged the horses forward. ‘Oh, Monsieur Cromb!’

  ‘I heard you were on the run from the police,’ Charles said.

  ‘Monsieur Cromb!’ David’s voice had become a wail. ‘The Countess!’

  He was now very close, and for the first time Charles realised there was something draped across the saddle of the second horse. ‘The Countess!’ He slid from the saddle and ran forward to raise the head which drooped against the horse’s flank. ‘Oh, my God!’ At the same time knowing an unspeakable surge of relief that it was not, as he had feared, Anna.

  He dragged his wife
from the saddle, and laid her on the ground. The other men had all dismounted, and now stood around. But no one was going to bring Alexandra back to life: the entire lower half of her habit was soaked in blood. ‘What happened?’ Charles asked in a low voice.

  ‘She was helping me escape,’ David said, ‘The police tried to stop us, so she shot two of them. Then one of them fired at us. I did not know she was hit. She did not say anything. She just fell from the saddle. They did not follow. I do not know why.’

  Silas knelt beside the dead woman. ‘She sure looks like a countess,’ he said reverently.

  ‘She was my wife, Silas,’ Charles said. Silas gulped. ‘Put her back across the saddle,’ Charles said. ‘And tie her there securely.’

  ‘You are going on, Your Excellency?’ Anatole asked.

  ‘Of course I am going on, Anatole. If I cannot save, I can at least avenge. You, David, what of the Countess Anna?’

  ‘I do not know, Your Excellency. I believe she is locked up somewhere in the mansion.’

  ‘And the Princess Dagmar?’

  David licked his lips and hastily drew his sleeve across them to prevent the saliva from freezing. ‘We left her tied up in the cellar.’

  ‘You did, by God. Well, we had better get down there before she frees herself.’

  ‘You mean to go back to the house?’ David asked.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘There is nothing but death down there.’

  ‘And I aim to do a little more in that line,’ Charles said. ‘You don’t have to come.’

  David hesitated, then turned his horse beside Charles’s. ‘I loved her, Mr Cromb. I wish the bullet could have struck me, instead.’

  ‘I believe you, David,’ Charles said. ‘Let’s get the fellow who fired it.’

  *

  Igor Bondarevski looked up from his cup of tea in irritation. He was not on duty until six, and it was only four. ‘What are you saying?’ he demanded.

  ‘It is simply this, Igor. The Countess Alexandra and the man Fine have left the house,’ said Paul, the footman.

  ‘Eh? You mean the Princess has sent them away?’

  ‘That is what I do not understand,’ Paul repeated. ‘The Princess went down to see the man Fine at three o’clock. I was on duty in the hall then, and she spoke to me. But the Countess Alexandra was with her.’ Igor frowned. ‘Then she came up alone,’ Paul explained.

  ‘The Princess?’

  ‘No, the Countess. She told me the Princess was not to be disturbed. She sent me away.’

  ‘Why did you not tell me this then?’ Igor demanded.

  ‘I wished to discover what was happening. So I waited, and watched. And the Countess went back into the cellar, with clothes and bags, and a few minutes later she returned, with the man Fine, and they left the house.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘Not five minutes ago.’

  Igor scratched his head, and wondered where his wife was: he felt sadly in need of advice. He had, indeed, been in a state of constant confusion ever since the return of Dagmar. Then he heard shouts, and shots.

  ‘Quickly!’

  They ran outside, while servants appeared from everywhere. ‘The Countess!’ Olaf bellowed from the stable. ‘She has gone mad! She has shot the sergeant!’

  ‘She has shot me too,’ the constable protested. He was lying on the ground. ‘But I think I shot her back.’

  ‘You did what?’ Igor’s mind was reeling.

  The other two policemen had also appeared. ‘We must go after her.’

  ‘Yes,’ Igor said. ‘No...’ he chewed his lip in indecision. If she had shot the sergeant, it was a criminal business, and no amount of foreign nationality was going to save her from the gallows. His Alexandra! He had always considered her so. But if she had been hit on the other hand, he had only this lout’s word for it. ‘I must speak with the Princess,’ he decided.

  The policemen exchanged glances; they had been in Bolugayen long enough, even if it had been less than a fortnight, to understand how afraid of the Princess woman the servants were. ‘Then make haste,’ one of them said.

  The other bent over his stricken comrade. ‘Are you all right, Feodor?’

  ‘I am hit,’ Feodor said. ‘I am bleeding.’

  ‘Bring him into the house,’ Igor said, and led the way.

  In the porch he met the female servants, led by Madame Rospowa. ‘What is happening?’ Eudoxia Bondarevska demanded.

  ‘I wish I knew,’ Igor grumbled. ‘But the Countess Alexandra is in bad trouble.’

  And the Countess Anna is upstairs, ringing her bell and calling to be let out.’

  ‘Where is the Princess?’ Madame Rospowa inquired.

  ‘I will find her,’ Igor decided. ‘Where is Dr Fine?’

  ‘Do you not remember? He went over to the Jewish village.’

  Igor had forgotten. ‘Then may God have mercy on his soul,’ he muttered. ‘Send to the town. Get Monsieur Smyslov, and Father Alexei. We have big trouble on our hands.’

  He went to the head of the cellar stairs, and hesitated. He could hear the thumps of Anna attempting to summon attention, but as long as Dagmar lived, she was the one to fear. He lit a candle from one of the wall sconces, went down the steps, and opened the door to the meat cellar. He held the candle above his head to peer at his mistress. Dagmar stamped on the floor. Her eyes were bloodshot with rage. ‘Mmmmmm!’ she shrilled at him from behind the gag, pulling on her arms; her wrists were chafed from her desperate attempts to get free.

  Igor stared at her. He had it in his power to end it now. He could cut her throat, or drive a knife deep into her belly and watch her die. And then...but then! Alexandra was gone, a fugitive murderess. And that devil Dubaclov was coming back. There would only be Anna. She might have sworn to kill her sister herself—but would she be able to forgive a servant who had done it for her...and this particular servant?

  Better the devil he knew than the devil he feared. He reached up and released the gag, put his fingers into Dagmar’s mouth to pull out the rolled silk. ‘Water,’ Dagmar gasped. ‘For the love of God, water.’ Igor went to the butt and held the ladle to her lips. She gulped at it. Now get me down.’

  He licked his lips. ‘It will be necessary to lift you from the floor, Your Highness.’

  ‘Then do it, fool.’

  Igor took a deep breath, and stood against her. He put his arms round her waist, hugged her and lifted. Her cheek was against his. ‘The cord is only looped over the hook. If you could move your arms upwards, Your Highness,’ he gasped.

  ‘Then lift me higher, fool,’ Dagmar snapped.

  Igor clasped his arms under Dagmar’s buttocks; his chin scraped her breasts as her silk-clad body seemed to slide up his. She gave a convulsive jerk, and her hands came free. Igor overbalanced, but as he fell back he retained his grip on her so that he was underneath to break the force of her fall. Dagmar rolled over and sat up. ‘Free my hands,’ she commanded. Igor obeyed.

  ‘When I catch hold of that little bitch…’

  ‘She has gone, Your Highness.’

  ‘Gone? Did not the policemen stop her?’

  ‘They tried, Your Highness, and the Countess shot two of them. Sergeant Bogatyrchuk is dead, and one of the constables wounded. Then she and the man Fine rode off.’ He decided against telling her that Alexandra might have been hit.

  Dagmar was staring at him. ‘Alix did that?’ she asked.

  ‘I am afraid so, Your Highness. The policeman and Olaf both saw her.’

  Dagmar tried to get up, and overbalanced. Hastily Igor caught her and held her up. ‘It is all going round and round,’ she muttered. ‘Why did you not send after her?’

  Igor had considered his reply to that question. ‘I did not know where she had gone in the dark. Besides, Your Highness, I considered it more important to find you.’

  ‘You are a faithful fellow, Igor,’ she said. ‘Help me up the stairs.’ Igor put his arm round her waist and assisted the Prince
ss up the steps. ‘What is that banging?’ she asked.

  ‘It is the Countess Anna. She will have heard the shots. She wishes to be let out.’

  ‘I will see to her later,’ Dagmar said.

  ‘I have sent for Monsieur Smyslov,’ Igor said brightly. ‘And Father Alexei.’

  Dagmar snorted. She wasn’t sure she wanted outsiders, and especially the priest, in the house until she had decided what to do about Alexandra. She strode into the hall and gazed at the policeman Feodor, and the anxious faces about him. ‘He is very badly hurt, Your Highness,’ Eudoxia Bondarevska said, her expression registering her amazement at the sight of her mistress: never had she seen Dagmar Bolugayevska so dishevelled.

  ‘Have you stopped the bleeding?’

  ‘We have bandaged him up, Your Highness. But the bullet is still in there, and he is still bleeding. He needs a doctor, but Dr Fine is not here.’

  ‘Dr Fine will never be here again,’ Dagmar told her. ‘This man will have to manage for tonight. Tomorrow we will send into Poltava for a doctor. And more police.’

  ‘I hit her,’ Feodor muttered. ‘I know I hit her.’

  ‘What did he say?’ Dagmar looked at Igor.

  He bit his lip. ‘He thinks one of his bullets struck the Countess Alexandra, Your Highness.’

  ‘My sister?!’ Dagmar’s voice rose an octave. ‘And you did not send after her?’

  ‘The Countess Alexandra is guilty of the death of a policeman, Your Highness. I felt the decision should be yours.’

  They gazed at each other. Then Dagmar’s face hardened. ‘I wish a search commenced, tomorrow morning at first light,’ she said.

  ‘Your Highness, that is twelve hours away. If the Countess is wounded, in the snow, with temperatures below freezing...’

  ‘Yes,’ Dagmar said.

  *

  Dagmar had a leisurely dinner. Dubaclov should be back tomorrow. She smiled into her brandy as she sat by the fire after the meal. She looked forward to Dubaclov being back. He was, as Anna had said, out of the gutter—but he was such an earthy man. ‘Your Highness.’ The footman Paul stood by her chair. ‘There are horsemen approaching.’