Peter The Great, of Orange. Usurper on the Throne. Sergey Soloviev
worry, we’ll manage, – Pashka, who was the same age as his brother, supported him.
– Well, I’m only counting on you, – and he hugged his sons in turn.
The travel bag was ready, the strelets placed the fusil by the threshold, sat down on the bench.
– And then, we need to sit down for the road, – grandma Avdotya loudly agreed.
Then she took the icon and blessed her son for the long journey. He crossed himself, unlocked the door and went out into the yard. There were three Semyonovtsy with a sergeant, with fusils and swords.
– Go, hurry up, strelets, yours are gathering at the church, – the strelets muttered.
– Weren’t we with your soldiers at the Azov bastion under bullets? – he asked in response.
– It happened, – the brave mustachioed man grinned, – well, hurry up…
– Vasenka! – and the wife threw herself on her husband’s neck, – take care of this on the road, don’t catch a cold!
– Everything will be fine, Martha! It’s time for me to go… Keep an eye on the children! God help you all!
And Vasily T’ma walked down the street. Other Streltsy, comrades and friends, were gathering near the church, also with fuzes on their shoulders and with sacks on their backs. Well, the Semenovtsy, with attached baginets at the fuzes, stood ready, like a guard for convicts. On horseback, on horses, were General Aatomon Golovin and boyar Ivan Troekurov. Oh, there were rallies-radeshenki, that everything went without bloodshed, during Lent. Elected envoys of four regiments were leaving Belokamennaya.
Streltsy rebellion
Fyodor Yuryevich tried to do a lot in a new manner. The boyar knew that during the war with the Poles, the service people of Poland had seen a lot. The Tsar’s troops had been stationed in Vilnius for many years, and the Tsar’s troops had entered the Polish fortresses. And then the Russian nobles saw how they gave feasts in Europe, and they became familiar with noble customs. And with duels, theaters, and dances. And he had a couple of paintings, which his father had brought from Polotsk… It was shameful to look at these parsunas, honestly… He knew, however, that Golovin and the Golitsyns, the famous scoundrels, had such. The Patriarch shamed them, of course, but those admonitions were not public. And other things… They all began to think highly of themselves, saying, why is it that the Poniatowskis, Sapiehas, and Vishnevetskis can do everything, but they, the Golitsyns, Dolgorukys, and Sheremetevs, you see, cannot? Only Stenka Razin cheered up the impudent fellows, but not for long… True, they realized that without a strong royal hand and protection they would hang on stakes, but even here, they started a fight, but a secret one, in the dark. No matter how much they got carried away, and he, Fyodor Yuryevich, would not let the fools lose their shores.Thus, Romodanovsky indulged in his thoughts, standing on the porch, greeting distinguished guests. He stood in the old custom in a rich fur coat and hat, and on the left, already in the Polish custom, his dear wife, the world, was present. She treated the dear guests to Hungarian from her own hands.
Then the head clerk seated those who came according to nobility, knowing how not to offend anyone. In the corner, the serfs played, and in the Italian manner. Romodanovsky did not like these whistles and gusli. The violin seemed to him a much more refined instrument, capable of producing truly divine melodies.
– As always, you are wonderful, Fyodor Yuryevich! – Boris Alekseevich Golitsyn, who came with his wife, praised him.
– So it is an important matter, to gather noble people. An anxious time, difficult…
– Pyotr Alekseevich is not going to return from Amsterdam? – Not yet. He is visiting the Tsar in Vienna now… Things are not easy there, and Leopold is offering his relative as a wife for Tsarevich Alexei Petrovich. Princess Louise.
– He wants to become related? – and it was clear how happy Golitsyn was, – it means he values the Tsarevich’s family highly. And he will have an insurmountable support…
Romodanovsky nodded understandingly. Yes, Tsar Leopold obviously figured out something about their Dutch Peter, and hopes to keep his own plans for the Russian Kingdom… But then no one will dare to take the life of Alexei Petrovich, and encroach on his rights as heir. And that is very good.
– Write a letter to the chancellor, Boris Alexeevich, that all Russian nobles will stand firmly for Princess Louise. Such a wife…
– We will do everything, Fyodor Yuryevich… Enough of these intrigues, it could all end badly! Okay, Fyodor Lopukhin is looking at us, I’d better sit down at the table!
Fyodor Yuryevich looked at his sons, talking with Boris Alekseevich’s son. He had good and smart children. He was a demanding, but very caring father. And he did not let his sons go to the Great Embassy. And he wanted to send them both to Venice to study, to learn science. Although, of course, it would be best to Rome, to the Great City. He himself dreamed of visiting there, and loved to look at engravings with views of Rome.
The cupbearers poured wine into glasses, starting the feast. True, they served treats from Romodanovsky on silver, and Russian dishes. The prince-caesar did not accept unfamiliar foreign dishes. The feast lasted almost until evening, the guests were cheerful, well-fed and drunk. But no one talked about anything important, only about hunting with dogs. Fyodor Yuryevich kept hoping that at least someone would let slip about the conspiracy while drunk, who gave the strelets silver and sent all sorts of letters.
Romodanovsky reached for a salted milk mushroom with a silver fork, thoughtfully crunched on the tasty snack. But then the face of Senka the sleeping man appeared in the door. The scoundrel was making faces, attracting attention. He remembered that the boyar had promised to whip him if he, the devil’s soul, appeared at the feast under the eyes of the noble guests.
Fyodor Yuryevich reluctantly rose from his place and revealed himself to the serf.
– What, Senka, do you want a whip? Don’t you see, it’s important! – he thundered in his voice.
– It’s the most important thing, father, – the sleeping man said quietly, and he became shorter, – you said yourself that at any time of day or night…
– Well, what? – the boyar muttered, – only faster…
– So, quickly I… The Streltsy, a force of four regiments, approached the Novodevichy Convent…
– So… And who is leading this force?
– I don’t know, even if you kill me, – and the serf fervently crossed himself.
– Send someone to forestall Avtomon Golovin and Patrick Gordon. Let them raise our four regiments, the toy, Lefortovo and Butyrsky.
– I’ll do everything, don’t worry! The messenger will turn around in a jiffy.
– Stop, don’t be silly, Senka… Give me paper and ink!
Here Romodanovsky composed a letter, sealed it with his seal, and then equipped a messenger.
Everyone was getting ready to leave, but Fyodor Yuryevich nodded to Boris Alekseevich. He understood everything. Meanwhile, the owner of the house saw off the guests, and Golitsyn’s sleeping bag Senka led him to the small room, or, in the new version, to Romodanovsky’s study.
The guest looked with curiosity at the paintings and engravings on the walls, at the globe made by the Dutch master van Meer, at the bookcase with books in Latin.
– What, Boris Alekseevich, are you admiring my wealth? – Romodanovsky began the conversation right away.
– Not a bad, sensible library. Everything is in Latin.
– So, read in Russian, nothing has been published. We are not doing business with you.
– That’s