19
Fogs were flowing to Shlisselburg fortress. They were born above water, covered banks, stone castles, and fogs were very thick till midnight – lanterns on walls seemed to be only yellow dots with easy nimbuses through this grey viscid haze. A guard walked around with torches, but there was no point in doing that, nothing was seen in three steps, only calling of guard helped.
Second lieutenant Mirovich, who was watching as a guard officer, thought, “It’s just his time, just starlight time to begin a great matter. A nature even helps.”
He was bothering long and he got an appointment to Shlisselburg fortress at last at one moment and not without help. He, an ordinary second lieutenant Vasiliy Yakovlevich Mirovich, must perform great matter this night, two nations will thank him, he has to dismiss a heir to the Russian throne, Ivan Antonovich, who was an emperor from infancy, – he will be thanked from far great-grandfather land. A boat is prepared to bring heir to the safe place.
The clock said two at night, fog didn’t lift, became even thicker.
“To arms!” Mirovich’s voice was husky, whether with emotion or from the wet weather.
Stamping of soldiers’ feet, ghostly flashing of torches. He has very little at disposal, only thirty eight bayonets, but it’s enough for the brave.
“Charge!” – second lieutenant’s voice becomes firm.
Sleepy lieutenant colonel, commander of the prison guards, jumped out in his underwear.
“Who gave the right to declare an alarm?”
He is pushed so that he is flying upside down. Mirovich reads out a manifesto about the release quickly, sometimes slurring the words.
A prison guard woke up after a mess, firing back, but to no avail, you can not get in the fog.
Mirovich gives soldiers a new order, “Shoot over the heads!”
A prison guard resists, and then cannon is rolled, core and powder are brought quickly.
“Charge!”
But suddenly a cry from the side of a prison guard, “Don’t shoot! We give up!”
Silhouette of a captain Vlasev floats out of the mist, as out of muddy water, goes to Mirovich.
“Go with me, second lieutenant” – Mirovich goes after a captain.
“Can it be so simple?” – The recent excitement gave way to an incredible surprise in his soul – “can this great matter be solved so quickly? And no killed soldiers!”
Tramp of soldiers who went to the officers, silences their solid steps that echoed first, on the damp floor of the fortress. “Is it possible in the world – so simply?” – Mirovich’s body froze more than from the pre-dawn dampness – “and a boat with strong rowers, who are ready, will bring an innocent prisoner?”
Finally, Vlasev stopped near a rough door, covered with mold and fungus.
“Here,” he said, took out a candle and lighted.
Vlasev, Mirovich and one officer from a guard, Checkin, entered the cellar slowly.
There was nobody in the cell, only rags, which are called clothes, hung on the wall, on the table and bed, and on the bench…
“And where is … Ivan Antonovich?” – Mirovich looked at Vlasev slowly.
And here, in shimmering of purblind flame, he notices something on the floor, bends to see, catches captain’s hand with a candle, tilting it lower.
A man, lying on a stone floor, didn’t move his neck was in blood, and blooding pool was running, a squirmed man was lying: either he was defending before death or recent seizures reduced the body.
“You?” – Mirovich turned to Vlasev and Checkin – “are you murders?”
Second lieutenant Mirovich didn’t recognize his voice, which was calm now, even too ordinary.
Just a drop of moisture fell from the ceiling, slamming, in silence, which set in suddenly.
“We have an oath” – Chenckin sniffed like a schoolboy and backed – “we performed our duty.”
Now everything that happened in Mirovich’s head was in the same mist, which wrapped up the whole top of the fortress. Soldiers carried the body of the dead former emperor on the ground, lined up in silence.
It was daylight, the sun could not possibly get through the gloom, and only the contours of the casemates were outlined against the background of a light sky.
“Weapon to the guard!”
The rustle of clothing, movements, memorized to subconscious as of mechanical toys.
“Last respects to the Emperor – discharge!”
Shots were heard almost at the same time as a rolling thunder, that thunder was darting on the ground, it overcame a squeeze of the ground at last, broke away from a fortress and rolled over the river, hollows, and it was rolling and calling to one another.
“You are arrested” – commandant of the prison guards, dressed in a uniform, came up to Mirovich – “your arms, second lieutenant. And you, Vlasev and Checkin, you are arrested too. Handcuff them.”
20
Kosh Otaman’s mace returned to Kalnishevskiy’s hand unexpectedly – elections fell as a white snow on his white head.
“Kalnishevskiy must be Kosh Otaman!”
“He knows well, we agree!”
He began to exhort society, “Brothers, why shall we change one man into another one?”
There was nothing to prove: Cossacks were booming, crying out objections, cackling like disturbed geese.
Then he began to tell about more important reasons.
“One can’t do this without edict of the empress. It’s bad to quarrel for a mace. And time is not the best for it.”
“We can do without somebody’s guidance! Somebody foreign has been stringing us as blind beasts for a long time…”
“Be afraid of God, we can elect from ours!”
“Kalnysh! Peter, don’t neglect us!”
It would be better warm the bones, these bones deserved rest, they worked hard, but people were crying so loud that he agreed at last.
First years flashed as one day. And Kosh Otaman began the matter discussed with Matsievich, matter he got angry for and advised – for economy. Appletrees and pears raised in the gardens on new farms, bushed, animals were bleating in those backyards; eventually land was covered not only with hamlets but with whole settlements.
And when new clouds hung over Sich, he invited war clerk Glob and captain Golovatyy, because Christmas continued, mummers didn’t leave doosteps.
Kosh Otaman called Jura by a bell when they had dinner and drank a glass.
“Don’t let anybody!”
And then he took out paper, quill with ink, put it before Glob, “Write!”
Everything may happen in state matters, it doesn’t always look through calendars, that’s why he sat comfortable and dunked quill.
“Peter, what to write?”
“Write a report about me for the empress.”
Glob even bowed head and narrowed his lids as if he were going to pull the thread into a small eye of a needle.
“Peter, we’ve drunk only one glass.”
“Write, write. And if you think that I’m bored one in a report, add something about you, about Pavel for company.”
Glob was still looking, narrowing his lids as if he were aiming at that invisible needle and began to understand Kosh Otaman.
“Ivan, write a report that Kosh Otaman Kalnishevskiy together with the same villain war clerk Glob and captain Golovatyy are going to commit an evil deed. If in the nearest time the empress disobeys the Cossacks in dispute between Zaporozhian Kosh Otaman and Russia for borderlands, Kosh Otaman will be going to Crimean Khan with a deputation. They will choose nearly twenty people and will ask there to receive them under the patronage of Khan. And sign “Pavel Savitskiy”, I agreed with him yesterday.
Golovatyy only scratched behind his ear.
“Peter, isn’t it a bit thick? Siberian frost is stronger than ours” – he put his finger in the window glass with ornate pattern which flourished as fabulous ferns.