Читать книгу Ivan the Serf - Austin C. Burdick - Страница 5

Table of Contents

NICHOLAS of Russia was in one of the rooms of the imperial palace. He had eaten his simple breakfast, and was now engaged in reading the correspondence of some of his ministers. His face was as firm and cold as ice, and his great brow was dark and heavy. Ever and anon he made notes upon the margins of the missives he read, and at such times there would come a slight change over his features, but whether the emotions which gave them birth were of satisfaction or dislike none could have told.

"By the hand of Saint Peter," he muttered to himself, as he moved aside the papers, "I must bring the Turk to his knees. The Euxine is mine, and why should the infidel Moslem hold its keys in his foul hand? Why should my ships have to take the favor of another? Why should not the forts of the Bosphorus wear the cross of Russia upon their flags? O, I hate that crescent. It is the bane of my life!"

The emperor clasped his hands as he spoke, and commenced pacing the room with long, heavy strides. There were towering, dark schemes in his mind. Away in the south lay the golden gate of the east, and the monarch of Russia would plant his power there. He was not content with the dominion of half of Europe. He was in this mood, when he was interrupted by the entrance of the Prince Menzikoff.

"Ah, what now?" the emperor asked, stopping in his walk. "What brings you out in such haste?"

"Bad news, sire," returned Menzikoff, trembling.

"Bad news? Don't come to me with bad news now. I've enough of such already. By my soul, Menzikoff, I've had enough this morning to make me mad. The world is turned upside down, and rank republicanism is running riot. Poor Francis Joseph wants my aid against the insurgent Hungarian, and the wave of rebellion is rolling on. But what came you to tell me?"

"Ruric has escaped."

"The Count Feodor?"

"Yes."

"But he was in prison—in chains—under guard—and you the sponsor?" uttered Nicholas, in quick, excited tones.

"I know it, sire; and I did all my duty; but this morning his cell was found empty. The doors were all locked as usual, but he had gone."

"Then he must be found, or there shall be suffering in his stead. Mark me, Menzikoff—there shall be suffering in his stead. It was you who first discovered his republicanism, and it is you who are responsible."

"But sire," urged the frightened noble—

"Don't stop to waste words, now," sternly interposed the emperor, "but go and find the fugitive. Has any vessel left the river?"

"One, sire, left sometime during the night."

"Then send our fleetest yacht after her, and send off scouts, too, on the roads. Ruric must be taken, for if rebellion rankles in the heart of our empire, it shall be plucked out, even though half the noble heads should fall. Find him, sir, dead or alive, and in the meantime other matters shall be looked to. I would know how he escaped—there must be treachery somewhere."

"I have been to the prison, sire, and I have made all the inquiry I could. The guard have been arrested, but I can learn nothing save that the prisoner has escaped."

"Well, go and find him, and I will visit the prison myself."

Menzikoff bowed and withdrew, and after he was gone the emperor commenced once more to pace the room.

"I don't know, Menzikoff, exactly what your character is worth," he muttered to himself, with a curious shake of the head. "At all events I shall look after you. I think you care more for my gold than you do for my authority."

Nicholas had begun to doubt the prince; and he had reason, too, to doubt many others; but he kept his own counsel. His eagle eye was open. He knew where his power rested—not in the hearts of his people, but in the iron rule of his own will.

It was in the afternoon that Menzikoff, faint and weary with fatigue and excitement, sat down in one of the apartments of his palace and sent for his serf Ivan. The serf came and asked his master's will. The prince gazed up into the face of his bondman, and a shudder ran through his frame. He almost always felt a strange, secret dread when he found himself in the presence of Ivan, but he could not tell whence it came. The serf had come to him, through a purchase, with an estate, about two years previous, and he was valuable on account of the various talents he possessed—talents which he professed to have gained from a friendly priest.

"Ivan," said the prince, "did you know that the Count Ruric was imprisoned yesterday?"

"Yes, my lord," returned the serf, showing no signs of perturbation.

"And did you know that during last night he escaped?"

"I heard he had escaped, but I hardly gave credit to the story."

"Well, it is true. He has escaped, and he must have had help. Two of the sentinels were found asleep upon their posts at two o'clock this morning, and under such circumstances as leave no doubt that they were drugged with some powerful sleeping potion. Do you not think that you could help me arrive at the mystery of the thing?"

The serf eyed his master most keenly, but he could discover no traces of suspicion in his countenance. His face exhibited only suspense and perplexity.

"I know not what I can do," Ivan replied. "I know nothing of such matters. The soldiers should be the ones to take the track."

"But the soldiers all loved the young fellow, and I hardly think they would catch him if they could. I am afraid he will fully escape, and in such case I know not how much of the emperor's wrath I shall receive. I have sent off two vessels down the gulf in pursuit, and scouts have gone out the other way; but after all, Ruric may be in the city. I think he must be, for he could not have got out so easily. What I want you to do is to look through the city. I know you are keen and witty, and I think you would stand a better chance of succeeding than any one else, for people will not mistrust such a mission in a serf, and consequently the alarm will not be so quickly taken. Ivan, if you will bring Feodor Ruric to me I will give you your liberty. What say you?"

There was a flush upon the face of the serf, and his nether lip trembled, and there was a bright spark in his black eye, too, but his master noticed not his emotion.

"I will look through the city," he said, "but I can have no hopes of success."

"Remember—you shall have your liberty, if you do succeed."

"I will try, though I am not for the present over-anxious about my liberty."

"Ah. I had thought that a person of your intellect would chafe under the restraint of serfdom."

"So perhaps I might were it not that I am well cared for where I am. You, in a measure, are as much the serf as I. You fear the emperor more than I fear you. I have seen it in some English book set down that that man is most wretched who hangs on princes' favors. Have you never found it so?"

Menzikoff looked up and found the serf gazing upon him most intensely, and again he trembled. There was something in the look that met his own that affected him he knew not how. He could not account for it—he could only know that it was so.

"There could be little use in arguing such a question," the prince at length said, with something of uneasiness in his manner; "though have no doubt that you are in every way qualified to support your side of the question. But go now and commence your search. Find him if you can. Find Ruric and bring him to me, and you shall be amply rewarded."

The serf left the apartment, but Menzikoff little dreamed of the real character of the man to whom he had given his mission.

"Upon my life," said the prince to himself, "there is something about that man that puzzles me. He seems trustworthy, and yet I tremble when I trust him. He is useful to me, but yet I would give him his liberty to be rid of him, for his presence makes me uneasy. If he brings me the count he shall be free whether he wishes it or not. I am determined to have him by me no more."

But Alexander Menzikoff was not to be rid of his serf so easily. He had several times previously made up his mind to the same effect, but his plan had never been carried out. He had found Ivan too valuable to be easily parted with, and he had tried to banish the strange fears that sometimes took possession of him; but he could not do that, though he sometimes fancied that they were all imaginary. But there were other things that sometimes troubled the Prince Menzikoff. He knew that people bowed to him on account of his wealth, but they hated him because of himself. No matter how hard the heart may be, nor how callous to humane emotions; but the soul cannot be thrown into that state where the hatred of good men will not produce a certain degree of misery. Menzikoff tried to live content upon the spirit of reckless disregard of all things that opposed him, but he could not make it work. Conscience would sometimes speak; and then there was one other thing that kept up a loud whispering in his ear—a companion of every tyrannizing coward—FEAR!—and there the serf had a place.