Dennis Wheatley - The Shadow of Tyburn Tree

For this he was given ample opportunity, as half a dozen invitations reached him on his second day in the capital from Doctor Drenke's friends in the College of Foreign Affairs, and each party he attended produced a shower of others. True, many of them were from adven­turers and scallywags whose only object was to lighten his purse, but forewarned by Mr. Tooke and Admiral Greig, he succeeded in protect­ing himself from all but minor losses and, in the meantime, ate freely and well in the best taverns, several of the Embassies, and the houses of nobles and rich merchants.

In his role of a Frenchman he naturally took an early opportunity of paying his respects at the French Embassy. He had already learned that the Ambassador was the Comte de Segur and the son of the old Marshal of that name whom he had known as Minister of War during his time in Paris. The acquaintance, slight as it was, but backed up by his more recent ones with the Baron la Houze and the Marquis de Pons, would, he felt sure, be sufficient to secure the Comte's agree­ment to presenting him at the Russian Court. But here he met with a disappointment as de Segur was temporarily absent from St. Peters­burg on a fishing expedition to Lake Ladoga.

Natalia Andreovna came masked to his lodging every afternoon, and towards the end of the week, announced that the Empress had appointed her one of her ladies-in-waiting. Roger was delighted at this news as, despite his physical attachment to her, he had no inten­tion of allowing any scruples to prevent him from using her to further his mission; and since she was to be situated so close to the Empress he hoped to learn from her all the inner gossip of the Court. Moreover, in view of the French Ambassador's absence, it offered another avenue to a speedy presentation; so he asked her if she could arrange some means by which he could make his bow to the Empress.

"Oh, nothing could be easier," Natalia replied, stretching out a supple arm to reach for a bon-bon from a box that lay beside the divan. "She prides herself on being accessible to all, and takes especial de­light in receiving foreigners. You must come to the entertainment that Alexis Orlof is giving for her on Monday evening, and I will present you to her myself."

"Can you get me an invitation?" Roger asked.

"Indeed I can. You could walk in if you wished, as half the town will be there and the more people that attend the better pleased the High Admiral will be. But as you are a stranger I will ask him to send you a card. He is an old friend of mine. In fact, I am inclined to believe that he is the father of my daughter, for the child is growing monstrous like him."

Roger turned over and stared at her in surprise. She was lying on her back contentedly munching the large, sticky sweet, and evidently did not consider that there was anything particularly startling about her announcement, as she went on quite casually: "Since One-Eye is at the wars Alexis is back in favour again; though I doubt whether he cares much one way or the other these days, and he leaves it to Bezborodko to advise the Empress on most affairs of State."

"Whom do you mean by One-eye?" Roger asked.

It was she who now looked surprised. "You are monstrous slow not to recognise it as the nickname of Prince Potemkin."

"How should I, when I have never seen him?"

"Ah, forgive me, dear one! I had forgot that your arrival here is so recent and that it is quite a while since he left the Residence to command the armies that are fighting the Turk. He lost his eye when the Empress first took him into favour. Until then Gregory Orlof had the ordering of everything and remained Catherine's chief confidant, as those who succeeded him in her bed were little more than hand­some puppets. But so puffed up with pride did Potemkin become that, one night while playing a game of billiards, he boasted of his power to dispose of all offices about the Court. Gregory's brother, Alexis, was present and promptly put out the new favourite's eye with a billiard cue. That was fourteen years ago, and 'tis the reason why he has ever since carried his head on one side with the look of a knowing parrot."

"He has performed no small feat in retaining for so long his influence over so fickle a woman as the Empress."

"The Orlofs have retained theirs for near double that time. 'Tis all but twenty-six years since by the coup d'etat they raised her to the throne."

"But Gregory is dead now, is he not?"

"Yes. He died some four years ago. 'Twas a curious coincidence that Catherine should have lost both him and Count Panin, the other ringleader in the conspiracy, who was her principal minister for so long, within a month of one another. Prince Gregory spent much of his later life travelling in great magnificence, and towards the end he became near unhinged from the premature death in Switzerland of his beauti­ful young niece."

"Was he so devoted to her?"

"He positively worshipped her, and had married her but a short time previously."

Roger raised his eyebrows. It was borne in upon him more strongly every day that these Russians were, beyond all prediction, unprin­cipled; and that his lot was now cast in a veritable hell's kitchen. But Natalia was going on with complete unconcern. "Yet the family influence never waned, as Count Alexis had been Catherine's lover, like his brother, and he is still a power to be reckoned with."

"Have none of the other favourites been men of mark?" Roger inquired.

Natalia considered for a moment. "Nay, none of them; except perhaps Lanskoi. Now he was a true Prince Charming; so good-looking that as a girl I lost my heart to him completely, and of so sweet a dis­position that, having not a single enemy of his own, he would even go out of his way to render services to those of his patron, Prince Potemkin. Eighty-four was a bad year for Her Majesty; since, in it, she lost not only Gregory Orlof and Nikita Panin, but Lanskoi also. She utterly adored him, and so distraught with grief was she that she refused all food for several days and remained for three months shut up in her palace at Tzarskoi-selo refusing all consolation."

" 'Tis quite a revelation that the modern Messalina is, after all, possessed of a heart and capable of such deep feeling," smiled Roger cynically.

Jerking herself up Natalia clapped a hand over his mouth and cast a frightened glance towards the door.

"Speak not so of the Empress, Rojé Christorovitch, I implore you," she whispered. "By comparison with her predecessors, she is an angel of clemency; yet, outside the circle of her intimates, she will not tolerate the faintest disrespect. Were the appellation you have given her to reach her ears she would despatch you straight-way to Siberia."

With a muffled laugh Roger playfully bit the slim fingers that were pressing on his lips; then taking his beautiful mistress in his arms he soothed her fears and made love to her again.

He was too young, confident and carefree, to take the warning seriously. He did not know his Russia yet.

CHAPTER XIV

THE ORDER OF DEATH

0 Nthe evening of Monday, the 2nd of July, Roger duly attended the reception at the Orlof Palace. It was not quite as vast as the Tavritscheskoi Palace, which the Empress had built for Prince Potemkin, but equally richly furnished, and was now the scene of a magnificent spectacle. From every window hung rich oriental rugs, and in front of it a huge carpet had been spread half-way across the street, so that the Empress might not soil her shoes when she stepped from her coach.

A great concourse of people entirely blocked the roadway; guests were constantly arriving in every type of vehicle, including great numbers of sedan-chairs; footmen in liveries of every hue were making way for them, and on the broad steps sweeping up to the front entrance a solid jam of people elbowed their way towards the door.