CHAPTER 6

1891-1893 TOVARICH

 

Immediately on his return to St Petersburg by way of a Russian steam packet, Max was ordered to present himself to Tsar Alexander at the Winter Palace. It was a bright, sunny day, and the Cossack Guards' red tunics and horses' silver tacking were stunning in their grandeur. Max was not even given time to visit his father before going to the Palace, so imperative was the Tsar s summons.

Max, dressed in his Hussar Guard's uniform at the Tsar's request, strode quickly along the corridors alive with guards and servants, all in their respective uniforms which denoted their rank and place in the organisation and running of the Palace. The Cavalier Guards snapped to attention as he passed by.

In the receiving hall, Max's name was called and he entered, saluting his monarch. The Empress was in attendance by the Tsar' s side, but Tsarevich Nicholas had continued on the long cruise to India and Japan with his younger brother, George.

"Ah, Max Ilich Maltzev." the Tsar's voice boomed. "Approach me, sir. You are fully recovered from your injuries, I trust?"

"Yes, Sire, fully recovered." Max replied crisply.

"Good, good. You have served me supremely well, Max. Nicky telegraphed to tell me that, not only have you disposed of a cell of traitors, but also you have helped to prevent a coup d'etat in Abysinnia, organised by the same men as killed my father. You saved my son's life during the attack, receiving severe injuries in doing so. You, sir, are a hero of Mother Russia." Max's head rose in pride. "I promised you a handsome reward if you carried out your duties well. You have surpassed that goal in every way. You are now Captain of the Guard of my Hussars." The Tsar stepped down and attached the epaulettes of rank onto Max's uniform, then touched cheeks twice in congratulation. "After he returns from the cruise, you will be permanently responsible for Nicky's welfare on his trips outwith this country. You will no longer be required for duties with the Ochrana." The Tsar paused and drew a deep breath. "On that subject, I fear I have to be the bringer of the saddest news, Captain."

"Sire?"

"I regret to inform you that your father has been murdered whilst you were away. He was shot down by these damned Revolutionaries as he left his home one morning two weeks ago."

Max swayed where he stood, his face drained of all colour.

"I seem to recall that I stripped you of all claim to your father's inheritance after that little - occurrence - with Colonel Mippipopolous. I now withdraw that edict. From now on you will be addressed as 'Count Maltzev, Captain of the Hussar Guard."

"I may not again use my father's name, Sire?"

"No. For the purpose of society, you will be the - ah - new tenant of your father's estate in the Crimea. It is better that Leonid Ulakov-Holstein be considered dead. Your servants on the estate will, of course, know your true identity, but you will command them not to reveal it to anyone. The Imperial Purse will ensure that you never want for money. Now, Count, I order you to take two months' leave to take over your father's responsibilities. On his return, Nicky will be staying in St Petersburg for a while - by then he'll have had quite enough adventure to be going on with." The Tsar smiled. "Oh, and, incidentally," the Tsar resumed. "The courier of Emperor Menelik who accompanied you on your return journey gave me this to present to you ..." he opened a drawer and produced a golden box, tricked with jewels and embossed with the Abysinnian Emperor's personal mark. "Go on, open it!" urged Tsar Alexander.

Max took the box and flipped open the lid, to reveal a small Italian stiletto knife, six inches in length, with the hilt covered in lapis lazuli and the thin blade honed to perfection. "It is Menelik's gift to you for your action during attack. A rare and beautiful item, if I may say."

"Thank you, Sire. Sire - may I have permission to speak?"

"Yes, of course, Count. What is it you wish to ask?"

"Sire, when I was court-martialled, the other officer who was with me at the time was Officer Krov Igorovich Orlovsky. The Court sentenced him to banishment to Siberia but, Sire, he had nothing to do with the crime. We were all just a little - ah, inebriated, at the time." He paused to see what effect his speech was having.

"Go on, Count." urged the Tsar.

"Sire, could you find it in the goodness of your heart to pardon him and return him to society? I feel sure that I would be able to find him of assistance to Your Majesty in the future."

The Tsar huffed into his beard, and looked towards the Empress, who nodded her assent. "Very well, then, Count. You saved the life of my son, whilst placing your own life in extreme danger. For that I am grateful. You have also expedited a good political relationship with Emperor Menelik. For all these reasons, I will sign the papers for the return of your friend. Dismissed."

---oo0oo---

When Tsarevich Nicholas returned to St Petersburg the Count was rarely far from him. He watched in the shadows whilst Nicholas had secret assignations with the ballet dancer Mathilde Kschessinska, accompanied by his young cousins the Grand Dukes Serge, George and Alexander Mlikhailovich. He accompanied the Tsarevich to London in 1893 to attend his cousin George, Duke of York's wedding to Princess Mary of Teck. George and Nicholas looked almost like twins when pictured together at Cowes, in the Isle of Wight; but all the time, the Count stayed well away from the snapping photographers. He travelled to Biarritz, Venice, Cannes and Monte Carlo, as well as to Moscow and Siberia. He went with Nicholas to the Imperial Ballet and the Opera. Often Nicholas went backstage and many of the young chorus girls, unable to attract the Tsarevich, tried to catch the eye of the tall, dark man in the immaculate black evening suit who always stood beside Nicholas, but Max never seemed to see them; he always seemed to be looking for someone else who was never there ...

---oo0oo---

Before the Count travelled to his estate, Krov Igorovich Orlovsky returned to St Petersburg station one chilly, late October day, exhausted after his long, tedious journey, accompanied by a Palace Guard who had brought him out of exile.

"Where to, now?" he asked the Guard, with whom he had kept up a conversation during the long hours on the train.

"My orders were to wait here, sir." replied the Guard.

Soon they were approached by a well-dressed man who bowed subserviently. Addressing Krov, he said "Sir, I am the servant of Count Max Maltzev, Captain of the Hussar Guard, who has instructed me to accompany you to his apartments. Officer, you may go." He made to lift Krov's luggage, but Krov restrained him.

"Wait a minute - I don't know a Count Max Maltzev - are you sure you have the right person?"

"Krov Igorovich Orlovsky?" enquired the servant.

"Yes."

"Very well, sir, please come with me." and, mystified, Krov entered the carriage, which was driven by the servant.

On arrival at the Count's spacious apartments, Krov was shown to a bedroom, then was led to the living room. Krov saw a dark man, immaculately dressed in a black suit, sitting with his back towards him. On being announced, the man laid down his paper and stood, turning slowly to face his guest.

"You!" exploded Krov.

"Yes, me. Did you not realise?" Max's eyebrow was raised in an interrogative, a thin smile on his lips.

"When did you change your name?"

"Immediately after I was - ah - 'shot' for a traitor on killing Mippipopolous. The Tsar in his wisdom thought I would be of more use to him alive than dead, and so ..." he waved his arm to encompass the house and his lifestyle. "Drink?"

"Ah, yes, thank you. But why have I now been pardoned?" persisted Krov.

"I - requested it." He handed the neat vodka to Krov, who drank it down in one gulp. To Krov's unspoken question, he replied "I never drink now, after that night. I prefer to keep my brain clear. What happened that night was not your fault - I could see no good reason why you should be punished for my crime. I was recently in the fortunate position of being granted a boon from His Majesty. You are my comrade and tovarich, my friend. I need your help, Krov. The Tsar has enemies at court, and he has required me to - ah - exorcise as many of them as possible to ensure the smooth running of the monarchy."

Suddenly turning away from his benefactor, Krov gave an ironic grunt. Spinning back round to face Max, he exploded angrily "Did it never occur to you Leonid, Max, or whatever you want to be called, that I may not want to return to St Petersburg?"

Nonplussed by the seeming ingratitude of his friend's attitude, Max waved his hand in an expansive gesture, then, composing himself, he sat elegantly in a comfortable chair and pointed at another opposite. Krov sat. "Now, will you please explain to me why you don't want to be here?"

Settling himself, Krov replied "I - made friends when I was in Siberia - good friends, with whom I share much. There is also - a lady..."

"Ohhh..." Max chuckled knowingly. Krov did not like the sound. "But, as you have been summoned by the Tsar, you will stay in St Petersburg in his service." It was a statement.

"No." Krov replied flatly, averting his glance from Max's dark gaze.

Max's eyes flashed sudden anger and he said, very smoothly "But you have no option, tovarich. The Tsar has commanded it, and you will obey."

"I cannot." said Krov and, rising, made to go out the door.

With catlike speed and agility, Max was in front of him, barring his exit. "You will not leave, Krov, if you will not serve the Tsar."

Krov was conscious of a knife in Max's hand and his reactions were swift. Krov raised his knee and Max doubled up in agony, then he followed through with a booted uppercut which sent Max sailing through the air. With a sickening thud his head caught the side of a table, and he collapsed, unconscious. Krov knew he had little time. He searched through Max's pockets, found a wallet bulging with money, took it and escaped the way he had come. Max's servant, hearing the commotion, ran upstairs from the kitchen, passing Krov on his way down. The servant found his master lying on his back, a deep gash oozing blood on his temple. He ran to find water and a towel and returned as Max came to. He sat up, holding his head, then he looked round. "Ohhh... Orlovsky?" he asked his servant.

"Gone, sir. Shall I try to catch him?" He held Max's arm as he stood unsteadily.

The Count's eyes were coal-black with anger as he replied "No. No. One day, when the time is right, I will have my vengeance - one day ...

---oo0oo---

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