Boris Akunin - The Coronation

Erast Petrovich sighed dejectedly.

‘Howcould I have miscalculated so badly? It never entered my head that there were two carriages, and not just one. But of course Lind had prepared two carriages, because he intended to abduct the girl and the boy, and then take them to separate hiding places. That was why Blizna only seized the grand princess. The second carriage was intended for the grand duke. That is probably where Lind was all the time, which really makes my blood boil. The governess unwittingly made their task easier when she carried the child to the very spot where the second group of kidnappers was lying in wait. Their plan only half-succeeded, but that does not change very much. Lind has still taken Russia by the throat . . .’

At these words His Majesty began gazing around with an expression of extreme unease, for some reason peering into the corners of the drawing room. I took a slight step forward, trying to guess what the emperor wanted, but my imagination was inadequate to the task.

‘Tell me, Uncle Georgie, do you have an icon anywhere here?’ the monarch asked.

Georgii Alexandrovich gave his nephew a glance of amazement and shrugged.

‘Ah, Nicky, for God’s sake!’ Kirill Alexandrovich exclaimed with a frown. ‘Let’s manage without the anointed of God business. You haven’t been anointed yet in any case, and if the coronation is disrupted, you never will be.’

His Majesty replied with an air of profound sincerity: ‘I do not see what can help here apart from prayer. All of us are in the hands of the Almighty. He has decided to arrange this trial for me, a weak and unworthy monarch, and so there must be some great meaning to it. We must trust in His will, and He will grant us deliverance.’

I recalled that I had seen a smoky little old icon, dark from age, in His Highness’s study. Walking without making a sound, I went out for a minute and brought the sovereign the icon – after first having wiped it with a napkin.

While the emperor recited thewords of a prayer with genuine fervour and even with tears in his eyes, the grand dukes waited patiently, except for Simeon Alexandrovich, who yawned as he polished his already impeccable nails with a piece of velvet braid.

‘Canwe continue, Nicky?’ Kirill Alexandrovich enquiredwhen the sovereign crossed himself for the last time and handed the icon back to me. ‘Very well, let us sum up this lamentable situation. Mika has been abducted by a cruel and cunning criminal who threatens not only to kill the boy, but also to scupper the entire coronation. What else can we do apart from trust in the help of the Almighty?’

Karnovich rose to his feet and whispered from his corner: ‘Find His Highness and free him from captivity.’

‘Excellent,’ said Kirill Alexandrovich, turning towards the chief of the court police. ‘Then look for him, Colonel. Lind has given you until midday. You have an hour and a half at your disposal.’

Karnovich sat back down on his chair.

At this point Pavel Georgievich spoke for the first time. With his face contorted and still wet from tears, he said in a trembling voice: ‘Perhaps we ought to give him it? After all, Mika is alive, and when all’s said and done, the Orlov is only a stone . . .’

The eternal enemies Kirill Alexandrovich and Simeon Alexandrovich cried in a single voice: ‘No! Never!’

The sovereign looked at his cousin with compassion and said gently: ‘Pauly, Mr Fandorin has explained quite convincingly that handing over the diamond still will not save our Mika . . .’

Pavel Georgievich sobbed and wiped his cheek with his sleeve in an awkward gesture.

‘Leave us, Pauly,’ his father said sternly. ‘Wait for me in your room. You make me feel ashamed.’

Pavel Georgievich jumped abruptly to his feet and ran out of the door. Even I had difficulty in maintaining an imperturbable expression, although of course no one even thought of looking at me.

Poor Pavel Georgievich, he found the burden of royal responsibility hard to bear. In the education of the grand dukes and princesses the greatest emphasis is placed on self-control, the ability to keep oneself in hand under any circumstances. Since early childhood Their Highnesses are taught to sit through long, exhausting gala dinners, and they are deliberately seated beside the least intelligent and most insufferable guests. They have to listen attentively to what the grown-ups say without showing that their company is boring or unpleasant and laugh at their jokes – the more stupid the witticism, the more sincere the laughter must be. And what about the Easter triple kiss for the officers and lower ranks of their affiliated regiments! Sometimes they have to perform the ritual kiss more than a thousand times in the course of two hours! And God forbid that they should show any signs of tiredness or revulsion. But Pavel Georgievich was always such a lively and spontaneous boy. He was not good at the exercises for developing self-control and even now, although His Highness has come of age, there is a lot that he still needs to learn.

After the door slammed shut behind the grand duke, there was a long, gloomy silence. Everyone started when the clock struck a quarter to eleven.

‘However, if we do not let this Lind have the Orlov,’ His Majesty said, ‘then he will kill Mika, and tomorrow he will leave the body on Red Square or at the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour. And that will put me, the tsar, to shame in front of the entire civilised world!’

‘And the entire house of Romanov with you,’ Simeon Alexandrovich remarked.

Kirill Alexandrovich added gloomily: ‘And the whole of Russia.’

‘As God is my witness,’ the sovereign sighed woefully, ‘I never wanted the crown, but clearly it is my cross. It was no accident that I appeared in this world on the day of St Job the Long-Suffering. O Lord, teach me, enlighten me. What am I to do?’

God’s answer was given by Fandorin, who enunciated a single brief phrase very clearly: ‘Rent the stone.’

‘What?’ asked His Majesty, raising his eyebrows in amazement.

I also thought that I had misheard.

‘We have to rent the stone from Lind until the end of the coronation.’

Simeon Alexandrovich shook his head.

‘He’s raving!’

However, the eldest of the grand dukes narrowed his eyes in thoughtful concentration, trying to penetrate the meaning of this bizarre suggestion. Having failed, he asked: ‘How do you mean, “rent” it?’

Fandorin explained dispassionately.

‘We have to tell Lind that his terms have been accepted, but for obvious reasons they cannot be met before the coronation. And therefore, for each day of delay he will receive a certain sum of money, amost substantialone – as ifwe are renting the Orlov from him. There is aweek still to go until the coronation, is there not?’

‘But what will that give us?’ asked Georgii Alexandrovich, clutching his magnificent moustache.

‘What do you mean, Georgie – time!’ explained Kirill Alexandrovich. ‘A whole week of time!’

‘And a better chance of saving the child,’ Fandorin added. ‘Our terms will be as follows: the payments are made daily, and at each handover we must have unequivocal proof that the boy is alive. That is seven extra d-days of life for His Highness. And seven chances to pick up a thread that will lead us to the doctor. Lind may be extremely cunning, but he can make a mistake. I shall be on the alert.’

Georgii Alexandrovich jumped to his feet and drew himself up to his full impressive height. ‘Yes, now I see that it is an excellent idea!’

The idea really did seem most felicitous – not even Simeon Alexandrovich could find any objections to make against it.

‘And I will assign my most capable agent as an intermediary,’ Karnovich suggested.