Peter The Great, of Orange. Usurper on the Throne

The porters carried four chests from the barge, Menshikov carried his bag on his shoulder.

– Well… I will pay for everything and keep track of the expenses. There is nothing to worry about. The person you are expecting has been here for about a week. Goodbye, Alexander!

And Haans shook hands with his new comrade in farewell. The Dutchman quickly climbed onto the barge and waved goodbye to the Russian, and the team of horses pulled the little vessel along the canal.

– Well, as for me, I will do the job as I promised, – Alexashka whispered quietly.

He pulled his hat down lower, almost to his ears, and bravely pulled the handle of the front door.

– Whose is it? – he heard in Dutch.

A tall man, probably a head taller than Pyotr Alexeevich, stood with his back to him. Black hair down to his shoulders, a slender figure, and tobacco smoke rose from a wooden pipe. He turned, and Menshikov peered inquisitively into the stranger’s face. Round, cat-like, black eyes. Similar, of course. But no noticeable birthmark, and the skin looks like it’s slightly pockmarked.

– You are Aleksahka?

– That’s right. Alexander Danilovich Menshikov, your royal majesty.

– No. Piter. Herr Piter. Call me only that.

– Maybe I can call you Min hertz? (my heart)

The giant laughed gutturally, throwing his head back a little, and grabbed Menshikov tightly by the shoulders. This Pyotr was strong, very strong, and the orderly felt it himself.

– You will help me, and I will help you. I swear, you will not go wrong! – Pyotr immediately declared.

– We need to study a lot, min hertz. And you need to learn Russian, read and write, remember the faces of dozens of people. Pyotr Alekseevich knew Latin very well, he was very well read.

– And I love to read. You forgot, Aleksashka, that Pyotr Alekseevich is me!

The first lesson dragged on until the evening. Menshikov took out the Book of Degrees and began to read it aloud in Dutch. Piter listened very attentively, did not interrupt. Then he looked at the drawings. It was obvious that the Dutchman was interested in the orderly’s story.

– And you, Aleksashka. a nobleman?

– I am listed as a boyar’s son, on my father’s side. He is an assistant to the head of the Tsar’s stables.

The giant nodded. Of course, the title comes sacri stabuli has been known since the times of Ancient Rome.

– And what, for example, do they drink in Russia?

– Kvass, mead, beer, sbiten, berry uzvar, all kinds of kissels. Well, vodka, of course

Here Piter smiled again and poured himself a glass of juniper.

– What strange clothes, – the Dutchman finally said.

– So min hertz, such is the custom. Nothing can be done. The Tsar is many responsibilities. The people must see the sovereign’s strength and his specialness.

– Okay, when I come to Moscow, I will forbid everyone to wear beards. It’s savage, – Piter said sternly.

Menshikov did not believe such words. Well, who knows what people say… It’s one thing to say, and another to do.***

– Well, Christian, it seems everything has settled down? – said the elderly important gentleman, sitting in a high carved chair, quietly.

Van Ruyt was an important gentleman, not the least among the owners of the West India Company. Considerable capital became the basis of his family’s power. And he had to take care of the company’s prosperity and prospects. Trading operations in Russia promised huge profits, and they could not be lost. And the fact that he and his people provided a new tsar for Russia was not an adventure, but a necessity. What could little Holland do without Russian iron and potash, Persian goods? Fools thought that it was about furs or caviar… Yes, fish glue gave much more profit than these pleasant, but completely unnecessary things! What should a carpenter do without excellent glue? And the furniture and much, much more… But in front of him sat his two trusted men, who had done important but secret things for him more than once… His faithful Christian and Albert… Van Ruyt smiled at them favorably and repeated again:

– Christian, so what do we have in Saardam?

The man sat in the chair opposite, and in turn applied himself to a cup of coffee. This man of extremely broad views did not like gin or vodka at all, but this invigorating drink. Today he looked like an ordinary merchant from Amsterdam. A dark gray caftan, a modest collar, no lace, especially not Brabant lace. Christian knew how to become invisible.

– Peter is learning. Quite capable. We have chosen the right man, Mr. Van Ruyt. It seems that everything is done.

– Here is your money, gentlemen, – and a thick purse plopped down on the table, clanking dully.metal, – but now it is important not to spoil this business… Think about it… After all, the Tsar should be recognized here, in Holland. Someone has been to Russia, to Moscow.

– Very reasonable, Mr. Van Ruyt. We will find people, and we will be able to spread rumors that Tsar Peter is in Saardam, and is working at the shipyard. Those who recognize him are on our hook, and will not blab too much.

– It is possible to somehow liven it all up… So to speak, to show Peter Alexeevich more lenient, or something… A couple of funny incidents would be quite appropriate. Well, it is up to you…

– Oh, how kind you are… I swear, you will like it! – Albert laughed too.

– I am counting on you, gentlemen!

***

In the morning, as usual, Peter and Alexashka, with wheelbarrows full of carpentry tools, headed to the shipyard of Nicholas Weirms. The wooden wheels bounced on the uneven road, trampled by dozens of feet. To be honest, both new workers were quite counting on not being recognized here. They had just approached the slipway when three Dutchmen suddenly approached Peter. Menshikov noticed how his new charge tensed up and shrank. The giant’s hands clenched into fists, and his round eyes seemed frozen on his strong-willed face.

– Your Royal Majesty, – the stranger suddenly said, – I worked at the shipyard in Voronezh, Jan Roost, always ready to serve you! – and the man bowed.

The other two only listened, and then whispered for a long time with Roost. Then they too awkwardly bowed their heads and went off to their own little places, but turned around a couple of times, as if trying to remember the new wonder at the shipyard.

– Now we will have no peace, – whispered Peter, – let’s go, Aleksashka. The master is waiting for us.

An elderly smiling man in a dark robe and a knitted cap was waiting for them. They were put to work, to trim the beams. To be honest, Menshikov had never seen anything like this. Well, Voronezh is a different matter, where are those slipways compared to the order that reigned in Saardam.

The skeletons of the ships stood on wooden blocks. They seemed to be overgrown with planks of the hull and deck by themselves. Heavy giuzes were raised by means of a whole system of ingenious blocks. The sound of hammers in frequency resembled the chirping of grasshoppers in a field in summer. Nearby stood the hull of a ship, already launched, tied, like a spider’s web, with a whole heap of ropes. And there on the deck, joiners and carpenters were bustling about.

Aleksashka slowly continued to wield the planer, and finally, waited for the long-awaited praise of his mentor, Gus Schreiber:

– Well done, boy! Soon you will become a real master!

To tell the truth, the words were very pleasant for the tsar’s orderly, as if he had just received an award from the sovereign.

Meanwhile, Herr Peter, as Menshikov had already begun to call himself, dashingly flew aboard the brig under construction, clinging to the pulley cable. It happened so quickly, as if it were a bird sitting on a branch, and not a man, one-two and it was done.Alexashka only sighed enviously, he certainly couldn’t do that. All the masters received the Tsar well, patted him on the shoulder, and he plunged into his work with expertise. His red jacket flashed here and there. And then, something completely unexpected happened – Herr Peter deftly jumped onto the shrouds, and almost ran up to the yard of the foremast. This man was completely unaware of fear of heights, and his dexterity was absolutely incredible. The mast was about ten fathoms high, as the orderly estimated by eye, almost not believing himself. And then he adjusted the sail with extraordinary skill, and it finally straightened out completely.

– What is this! And how he will kill himself! – the frightened orderly shouted.

– Oh, this Russian guy is a real sailor! Such people do not die! – the master, also watching what was happening, grinned, remarked, – Skillful and does not know fear. Just like a real Dutchman! Alexashka just glanced, thinking at that moment how right the shipyard master was, and even though he didn’t know the most important thing, who this Herr Peter was.

The day of shipyard masters ended in a tavern, in a building with a frying pan on the sign. Such a thing looked amazing, especially for those who were hungry. People, after a hard day, wanted to eat well and drink even better. Confident and strong people entered through the wide open door, sat down at the tables, talked loudly and cheerfully. Herr Peter ordered for two.

– We’ll have fried selley, bread and a mug of beer, beauty. And for starters – a shot of juniper! – and at the same time he winked very charmingly at the waitress, from which she instantly blushed. – It’s just great here, Aleksashka, – added the giant,

It seemed to the orderly that he wanted to say: “With us”, but he restrained himself in time. But now it was clear that this Peter was one of the real captains, the foamers of the seas. The girl brought food and beer in deep clay bowls. Here Herr Peter whispered something to the girl’s pink ear, she laughed and looked at Menshikov, which made him blush.

– It’s okay, mon liber Aleksashka. Today, ladies will come to us. And a real sailor should not avoid the fair sex!

But then a stranger approached and looked too closely at Peter. This unknown person, judging by his caftan and headdress, was himself a man not alien to the sea. And Herr Peter, judging by his face, recognized the stranger, jumped up from his place, and hit him in the face, then once more. The tavern began to buzz and bang their mugs on the table, approving of all this. The first to shout was the shipyard master:

– Corneille! Rejoice, now you’ve been knighted!

All the shipwrights burst into laughter, and this Corneille, as if scalded, flew out the door.

– Who is this, mynheer?

– The devil knows, Aleksashka. Some ignoramus… – Peter tried to hide his irritation.

But it was clear that he was pleased. And he became even happier when he saw how the Dutch were receiving him. He smiled, and with visible pleasure finished his fish, and drained his drink in a flash.

– More beer, mistress! – he shouted.

And he slammed his mug on the table,, earning another round of applause.

***

Piter sat at the helm of a sailboat. A walk on the water always improved his mood, especially since the day was clear and warm, after all, it was August. Nearby stood a basket with bottles of Moselle, smoked sausage and bread. Aleksashka was preparing food. Still, it seemed to work out, and the people, the Dutch, took him for a slightly quarrelsome Tzar Vseya Rusi. The language was not so difficult for him, after all, he had studied at school to be a navigator. True, signing letters was unusual for him. The one he replaced put the signature Petrus, but he, Piter.

And his servant, or orderly, as the Russians said, was also full of surprises. Smart, well-read. And if he, a former pirate, had an excellent understanding of navigation and seamanship, then Aleksashka had an excellent understanding of horses, and sat in the saddle better than any French guard.

He had read a lot himself, especially about Dmitry the Pretender. He swore to himself not to make his mistakes. But all these Russian clothes, and the custom of wearing a borola – it seemed to him a savage custom. But judging by his orderly – they were quite good people, and no worse than others.

The wind changed again, and the former pirate turned the ship’s yard again, and it ran even faster.

– Min hertz, the barge again! And more spectators than before!

Yes, a rumor spread through the local towns that a big eccentric was visiting here, this Russian tsar, and was working at the shipyard. Hundreds of gapers gathered to watch such an incredible thing. And Madeleine, the owner of the tavern, began to sell beer for free, because the number of visitors increased fivefold. And in bed she became much more affectionate with him.Aleksashka, the red-haired devil, the darling of fortune, was pleasing her younger sister, Annabel. And they gave her money generously, so he bought himself a boat…

But then shrill cries were heard from the barge, and the vessel tried to get closer, so much so that it almost hit his boat with its starboard side.

– Aleksashka. Give me an empty bottle! – demanded Peter, flushed with anger.

Thick green glass, just what was supposed to cheer up the helmsman. And he threw the bottle at this ignoramus, who did not know how to handle his barge well.

Strangely enough, the ship’s crew shouted enthusiastically, apparently counting on something similar. And this incident only pleased the idle onlookers. Peter leaned on the wheel, the rigging creaked, the sail flapped, the boat turned and headed for the shore.

CHAPTER 4 Stadtholder of the Netherlands William the Third, King of England

It was Christmas time, in the corner of honor the spruce tree sparkled with tinsel and apples, which Herr Peter personally decorated. It was a little unusual for Menshikov, how joyfully and sincerely this Dutchman indulged in the holiday, even giving money for the fireworks in Saardam.

The festive treat was rich – roast goose, wine with spices, and not just a pleasant dinner with Moselle wine and smoked eels. At the table sat Peter, Alexashka and mistresses Madeleine and Annabel.

Madeleine sat on the lap of her tall gentleman, Peter raised a glass with golden wine. – To our lovely ladies!

– Oh, how sweet, Piter! – Annabelle admired, – you and Madeleine look like you came out of a Rubens painting!

Menshikov didn’t understand a damn thing, what kind of a parsuna was that? But, Herr Piter liked the innkeeper’s remark, he appreciated it, and kissed the woman’s hand. Tzar knew how to be polite, although he could be madly hot-tempered, and even more so than Pyotr Alekseevich…

Then there was a knock at the door, and a dusty messenger burst into the house.

– A letter to Pyotr Alekseevich! – the man reported, and gave the letter to the Tsar.

Piter was obviously still reading with difficulty, but he figured out what was going on. He hid the message in his caftan pocket and bowed to the ladies.

– We’re leaving in the evening, forgive me, state affairs!

– Oh, Piter. you are so young… But already the ruler of a huge country! – and Madeleine pressed her hands to the bodice of her dress, expressing complete delight.

Alexashka began to prepare the chests, pack things, soon a barge was supposed to come for them, on which they needed to get to Amsterdam. Anabel helped her dear friend. The girl very carefully sorted out the waistcoats and shirts, she did it simply beautifully.

Everything was unusually restless. Wilhelm, Stadtholder of Holland and the King of Britain wished to see the Russian Tsar.

Winter has begun here too. Well, what winter, there was no snow in these places, but the chill dampness penetrated to the bones. Menshikov wrapped himself in a cloak, longingly recalling his wolfskin coat and the charms of Annabelle.

– Min Hertz, but it was possible to grab girls, – he noted with some hope.

– There is a lot of this stuff in Amsterdam and London. We will find more there. I need to behave correctly with William of Orange, without losing my royal dignity. So as not to lose the honor of the state.

– Yes, he knows everything about you… You have to be impudent, and not show it. Order a portrait from an artist. So that everyone understands that you are the real Sovereign.

– I decided to open a School for Navigators in Moscow. To bring students here, how expensive it will be. Money will be needed for other things too. And about the portrait, it is smart. So we will do it.

But at night Peter suddenly began to have a fever. The Dutchman was shaking under thick blankets, and then lay in his underwear, languishing from the heat. His forehead was covered in sweat. Aleksashka put a rag soaked in cold water on the patient’s forehead, prepared new underwear. He had already started rummaging in the medicine cabinet, looking for the necessary herbal mixtures. Peter raised himself and said with difficulty:

– Juniper, Aleksashka… It’s the only one that helps with this affliction…

Menshikov took out a decanter of vodka, sniffed it, checking if he got it, and thoughtfully poured it into a silver spoon.

– No, you can’t do with a spoon here… Two full glasses!

The giant drained the offered drink in a flash, without even wincing. There was no need for a snack either.

“The jungles of Columbia,” he continued, “are a bad place, never go there…” he whispered and fell into a deep sleep.Menshikov looked attentively at the man who promised him power, while he himself was suffering from an incurable disease and was so weak and defenseless now. But. service is service, and he changed the new tsar’s clothes and covered him with a blanket.

And indeed. the next morning the tsar was healthy and cheerful. He went out onto the deck of the ship, not afraid of the wind and cold. Menshikov tried to portray something similar, but hastily threw on a sheepskin coat.

– Min hertz, it’s cold… You’ll catch a cold after all…

– Never mind. For a sailor, the best medicine is sea air, – and he laughed evilly again, – never mind, I’ll show Wilhelm too… I don’t give a damn about him… – he spoke in Russian now.

At the palace, Peter was received royally, there was a guard from the stadtholder’s guard, the Dutch ruler himself came out to meet the Tsar. – Oh, my beloved brother, – said Wilhelm, and looked intently at the Russian sovereign.

The Stadtholder of the Netherlands and the King of England looked like a very solid and strong man. A thin, strong-willed face, as if in captivity of a large raven wig, decorated with a well-groomed moustache. Judging by the health of the representative of the Orange dynasty, it was not very good, but Peter also knew that Wilhelm was desperately brave and smart, which he proved by overthrowing King James Stuart from the English throne.

Peter smiled slightly patronizingly, and from the look of this monarch he understood that he knew who he was. With his finger he beckoned to the clerk Voznitsyn, and in broken Russian he said:

– Translate…

Lefort, this Swiss sly and sneaky fellow. hid his smile under a scented handkerchief, and Golovin proudly leaned on his cane. Apparently, the boyar appreciated the skill and dexterity of the new tsar.

– I am here to greet my brother Wilhelm, the king and stadtholder…

Voznitsyn translated Peter’s deliberately tricky speech. It was said that the tsar wanted to hire masters and mathematicians for the navigation school in Moscow. Wilhelm did not look at the Russian ruler with such impudence any more.

Then a dinner and a ball were given in honor of the Russian tsar. The ladies of the court were surprised that the guest from the North was not averse to gallant amusements.

Peter approached Lefort, the general bowed again, demonstrating all possible devotion.

– I am glad to see your royal majesty again… – he said.

– At small receptions and balls, call me simply – Herr Peter, – said the Tsar.

– As your grace pleases… We need to visit Vienna, the court of Emperor Leopold. But that happened later.

Alarm in Moscow

Boyarin Romodanovsky sat at a table of Italian work. Not simple, special, but made for important matters. This miracle was created by the Venetian master Nikolaus Crespi, as the clerk of the Ambassadorial Prikaz, who ordered such a pleasant thing, told Fyodor Yuryevich. The boyar sat at a carved board, could not rejoice enough. On each side there were three good boxes, in the middle – another large box, locked with a key. The table’s exterior was covered with elegant carving. The boyar pulled the bronze handle of one drawer and took out a sheet of paper, and the other one took out a goose quill and put it aside.

He was reading a letter written by Menshikov on behalf of the Tsar. Yes, the Great Embassy in Europe has been traveling around the capitals for almost a year now. And the Tsar is now in place, learning Russian… He just learned it, so better… There was a slight chill and dampness coming from the street, and Romodanovsky, who was famous for his corpulence, covered himself with a huge thick fur coat and wrapped himself up tighter.

– They all lie that the obese don’t freeze, – he whispered, – how chilly it is!

He poured himself some vodka into a silver glass and drank it with pleasure. Well, it seems to have gotten warmer, the boyar thought with pleasure. There was a knock on the door, answering from work. Romodanovsky hid the instruments and said sternly:

– Who’s going on there, at this hour of the night!

But all the same, they rustled and creaked.The clerk Fomenko, a cheerful lad from the settlement, dropped in. And he serves well, devotedly, and is quick-witted, sensible…

– Father, here is a letter from the boyar Troekurov, Ivan Borisovich.

– Give it here, quickly!

And his plump fingers, covered with rings, reached for the message. He pulled a candlestick with three burning candles towards him. He quickly tore off the seal and unfolded the paper sheet. As usual, he omitted the doxology and began to read only from the practical and important:

“… The elected archers from Velikiye Luki came to Moscow. They cursed me profanely, demanded salary and bread. They say that the convoys with the tsar’s salary never came to Novgorod, and they are in a bad way. So we must look for silver…”

– Have you seen the archers yourself?

– Yes, I have. They came to the Prikaz, cursed everyone shamefully… It’s good that the clerks weren’t beaten. Especially Vasily, nicknamed Darkness. He was too insolent…

– I’ll write to the Prikaz of the Great Treasury so that they give the strelets their salaries. Prozorovsky will do everything right. And verbally, so that Ivan Borisovich would tell the strelets that the grain was delayed due to the muddy season, and we’ll deliver the feed soon.

– Thank you, our father, – and the messenger bowed low, but his hat fell off from his zeal.

However, the clerk immediately picked it up and carefully stepped forward, afraid to dirty the woven rugs on the floor.

– Well, go, don’t dawdle. I have business to attend to, – and the boyar threw the petitioner out.

He sat at the table, thought, and rang the bell. He waited quickly, so that no strangers would be listening. A trusted serf, his bedchamber attendant, Senka, arrived. He was a smart man, efficient and loyal, and the boyar took care of the servants.The gentleman of the bedchamber was dressed quite decently, in a good gray cloth caftan, wide trousers, yuft boots, a hat with a squirrel trim.

– Is Vaska busy, with Foma? – the prince-caesar asked the gentleman of the bedchamber.

– So you can always find business, father… Whatever it is, there is always some!

– Don’t beat around the bush in front of me! – and the boyar slapped his hand on the table.

But he didn’t slap it hard, graciously. For the sake of order, so that Semyon wouldn’t forget himself, and wouldn’t take on too much.

– Here, both of them, and quickly…

The gentleman of the bedchamber nodded and quickly went to do the job. The boyar took out a small purse, poured in about twenty kopecks. He thought for a moment, and put in a couple more altyns.

And soon two little people appeared before the boyar’s menacing eyes. Such, you look at them and forget them the same day. Thin, fidgety, with sunken cheekbones, barely covered by short beards.

– Hello, father, for many years! – one of them started singing.

– And we did nothing bad, don’t be angry, – and the second bowed low.

– Vaska, Fomka! – Fyodor Yuryevich began as sternly as possible, – we need to follow Keshka Tvorogov, Dimka Tropinin and Frol Razhny in the Streletskaya Sloboda. And for your expenses, – and he threw his purse on the table,