‘Not until now,’ said Aleksei. ‘But I fought with his brother-in-law, Sergei Grigorovich, at Silistria.’
Aleksandr noticed, and noted, how he rubbed his left hand, which lacked the last two fingers, as he spoke, but he chose not to comment upon it. ‘Under Prince Bagration?’ he asked instead.
Aleksei nodded. ‘I was very pleased to meet Dr Wylie at last,’ he volunteered, shifting deftly to a different hero of Borodino.
‘More so than Prince Volkonsky?’ asked Aleksandr. Aleksei nodded cautiously. Aleksandr was not surprised. ‘Many old soldiers feel the same. But don’t underestimate Pyotr Mihailovich.’
‘I won’t, Your Majesty,’ said Aleksei.
‘And what brings you here?’ asked Aleksandr, having poured his own tea and sat down again. It was best to play the innocent, for now at least. ‘There has been a turn of events concerning our friends in the north, I take it. For good or ill?’
‘It’s not quite as straightforward as that. I’m here because of a quite different threat… possible threat.’
The words chilled Aleksandr, but still he retained his sangfroid. ‘I’m not sure what could be greater than half my army preparing to overthrow me.’
‘I think “half” is an exaggeration, Your Majesty.’ Aleksandr knew very well it was an exaggeration, but even if it had been half a dozen, it still would not lessen the horror of his being turned upon by officers who had sworn allegiance to him – just as their fathers had sworn allegiance to his.
‘Do you know any more of what they want?’
Aleksei appeared surprised at the tsar’s question, as well he might be. However much he might once have concurred with them, Aleksandr would be a fool to concede to any of their demands. It would be too much of a blow to his authority. Indeed, by laying down any policy, the reformers ensured that it was unlikely ever to be enacted, however much the tsar might agree with it.
‘You’ve read the Green Book?’ the colonel asked, although it was a matter they had already discussed.
‘Of course. And you know as well as I it’s not a true declaration of their intentions – just a veneer to make them appear less bloodthirsty. Don’t forget, I’ve read Russkaya Pravda as well, which I think is less intended for public consumption.’
‘The best of them share your understanding of the problems,’ said Aleksei, ‘but not your pessimism as to whether a solution can be found.’
Aleksandr nodded slowly, sadly. Danilov was more fooled than the revolutionaries. Both admired his earlier desire for reform, but it was Danilov who was mistaken to think that his current reticence was born of pragmatism. He had truly changed his mind, and with the best of reasons. ‘Do you know how many of them there are – in total?’
The colonel nodded. ‘I have a list,’ he said.
‘Show it to me,’ said Aleksandr curtly.
‘You’ll honour your promise to me?’ asked Aleksei. ‘That you will not move against them until there is no other way?’
Aleksandr mustered his iciest hauteur. ‘It’s a brave man who asks a promise of the tsar,’ he said. ‘It’s an ill-mannered one who questions whether he will keep it.’ He could have had the list ripped from Danilov’s dead fingers, but he was no fool. Dead fingers would no longer be able to steal what the tsar required.
Aleksei slipped his hand into an inside pocket and pulled out a sheaf of folded papers. He handed them to the tsar. Aleksandr scanned through. Most names he knew – and knew would be on the list – but there were still many that angered him; a few that saddened him. It was one close to the beginning that he commented on first.
‘We were just talking of Sergei Grigorovich,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ said Aleksei. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘At least Pyotr Mihailovich is not listed.’
‘You thought he would be?’ asked Aleksei.
Aleksandr considered. ‘I would have let them win if he had been,’ he said at length, instantly shocked by his own sentimentality – shocked by the truth of what he said. He looked on through the list. ‘I see your name is here, Colonel Danilov.’
The colonel seemed to pause just momentarily, as if tripping over an unseen paving stone, before replying. ‘I should hope so. I wouldn’t be much use to you if I wasn’t a member.’
‘Even so – not a pleasant list to be named on, should things not go the way you hope.’
‘I’m sure I’ll have you to vouch for me, Your Majesty.’
‘Oh, absolutely,’ said Aleksandr. ‘Absolutely.’
‘Could we discuss my other business?’ asked Aleksei.
Was this the moment? If it was, Aleksandr would be foolish to ignore it. Even so, he felt afraid. He nodded. ‘Go ahead.’
Aleksei paused, considering how to start. ‘Why did you come here, to Taganrog?’
‘Why do you ask?’ replied Aleksandr.
‘Let’s just accept that I did ask.’
It was more the statement of an interrogator to his captive than of a subject to his tsar, though Aleksandr knew he needed a man of such effrontery. But it was still too early to reveal his hand.
‘Many reasons,’ he replied, ‘but chiefly to do with the climate; partly for my own benefit – but mostly for my dear Yelizaveta Alekseevna.’
‘The climate? Doesn’t the sea here freeze over in November?’
‘Later than it does in Petersburg.’
‘Why not Greece or Italy?’
Aleksandr longed to confide in someone, but his anger and pride won through. ‘I am tsar of all the Russias,’ he asserted. ‘I may go where I please. And Russia is the place where I should and do wish to go.’
Aleksei nodded. ‘Very well,’ he said. He clearly did not accept the answer, but accepted it was all he was going to get.
‘Is there anything more you need to discuss?’ asked Aleksandr. He avoided making it sound like the plea it was. He knew he had to be open with Danilov, but could conceive of no effective way to breach the barrier between monarch and subject.
‘Not at the moment, Your Majesty.’
‘Then you may go. But don’t go far. I may need you.’
That would be better. It was Danilov who had instigated this meeting – he could not be allowed to come away the beneficiary. Next time, Aleksandr would be in charge. The colonel stood and walked to the door, but before exiting, he turned.
‘Just one last question, Your Majesty.’
‘Yes?’
‘Did you ever hear of a man named Cain – Richard Cain? An Englishman.’
The tsar felt a coldness, as though the blood had suddenly vanished from his body, but he pulled an expression of thoughtful puzzlement before replying. ‘No. No, I can’t say I have. Is it important?’
‘I don’t know.’ With that, Aleksei was gone.
Aleksandr stood and walked over to the window. He gazed out to sea, but still the only thing that broke the shallow curve of the horizon was that one yacht. He heard the door open behind him and feared for a moment that Danilov had returned, but on looking he saw that it was only Volkonsky, who said nothing, waiting first to be spoken to. Aleksandr looked back out across the water.
It was an odd combination of trust and fear that Aleksandr felt for Danilov – and not just Danilov; there were others of his profession who produced the same feeling. The trust was in the absolute sense that such men would neither harm him nor let him be harmed. The fear was in the risk that they would perceive too much; would catch out the tsar in one of his petty misdemeanours. It was the same ambiguity a son might feel towards his father – though not so much in Aleksandr’s case. For him, it was a little more like the way he had felt about his grandmother.
It was a comparison he did not want to take too far; the old empress had always been able to catch Aleksandr out in a lie, and he felt that Colonel Danilov shared exactly the same perceptive skills.
Which was unfortunate, because that afternoon Aleksandr had prevaricated with him once and twice told outright lies.