‘When?’ asked Aleksei.
‘July,’ said the tsar. ‘Read it.’
Aleksei read. The text was in French.
My Dear Aleksandr Pavlovich,
How have you been? Myself, I’ve had my ups and downs, but I’ve been patient. You and I are both newcomers to this affair, but I’m sure you know the details of the Romanov Betrayal as well as I do, perhaps better. Betrayal must always be avenged, sooner or later. For you, the day of vengeance is close at hand.
You will be leaving Petersburg soon to winter in a more pleasant climate. Make sure that you do not leave the country. Why not visit the Sea of Azov? My suggestion would be Taganrog, but I will easily find you wherever you choose to stay. Even if you choose not to stay in Russia, I will find you. Or if not I, then the person I represent. I’m sure you understand that it is better to face your fears.
It will take time for you to prepare for your journey, and I imagine that you will want to invent some excuse for your unexpected destination; rather that than have them all hear the truth. I will expect your arrival by the end of September.
Your devoted friend,
Cain
Aleksei read the letter twice, though the second reading was more to allow him to collect his thoughts than to garner any new information. He took only a moment to note that the letter was in the same hand as Cain’s notebook, regardless of the differences between French and English. It was no surprise that there was a connection between Cain and Aleksandr, but it shocked him to discover that His Majesty was already fully aware of it.
The tsar was sitting forward in eager expectation of Aleksei’s opinion, his head almost imperceptibly tilted to the left. Aleksei was well aware of Aleksandr’s deafness but, like everyone else close to His Majesty, he had never made any mention of it.
‘And you obeyed,’ he said, stating the obvious.
The tsar nodded.
‘Why?’
‘He gave me no choice.’
‘I don’t see any overt threats in there,’ said Aleksei. ‘What’s the “Romanov Betrayal”?’
‘A family legend.’
‘Concerning?’
‘I can’t say.’
‘And this “person” he represents?’ asked Aleksei.
‘I can’t say.’
Aleksei paused for a moment, looking for another angle of attack. This whole encounter was an astonishing breakthrough. He didn’t intend to spoil it by pressing in areas that Aleksandr was clearly reluctant to discuss. ‘Why do you give the letter any credence?’ he asked at last.
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s so vague. Anyone could have heard of this Romanov Betrayal, or could even have some petty squabble of their own that just happened to bring that phrase to their pen.’
Aleksandr looked pale. ‘No one outside the closest of the family knew. The tsaritsa never even told my father – she didn’t trust him.’
‘The tsaritsa?’ asked Aleksei – he hoped the implication of ‘Which tsaritsa?’ was clear.
‘Yekaterina Alekseevna – my grandmother. She told me someone would come.’
‘And when did he come?’ said Aleksei. ‘The first time?’
It was no great insight. The letter implied that Cain and the tsar were not strangers to each other. ‘Years ago,’ Aleksandr replied.
‘Why did you believe him then?’
‘He knew all about it. Everything the tsaritsa had told me.’
‘And what was that?’ asked Aleksei.
The tsar’s confidence seemed to return a little. He looked Aleksei in the eye. ‘There’s no need for you to know.’
Aleksei felt the urge to shout at the man, to grab him by the shoulders and shake into him some sense of his own vulnerability, but the idea of treating the tsar in such a manner was laughable. Again he changed tack.
‘Why did you not tell me this the other day?’ he asked.
Aleksandr took a deep breath, but then failed to speak.
‘To put it another way,’ Aleksei continued, ‘why have you decided to tell me now? Did Dr Wylie speak to you?’
‘Wylie? No, certainly not.’ The tsar paused again. ‘The reason I called you here was this.’ He reached over to his desk and handed Aleksei another sheet of paper. It was more of a note than a letter. The language was again French; the handwriting the same.
‘I received it today,’ said the tsar.
Aleksandr Pavlovich,
Apologies for my tardiness in contacting you. I was pleased to hear of your prompt arrival in Taganrog, and I thought it only polite to give you a little while to settle down and ensure your wife’s comfort.
It is common knowledge that you intend soon to leave Taganrog. Do not worry; that fits completely with our plans. You will be touring the Crimean Peninsula, as would be expected from a visiting monarch. Have you considered taking in the town of Bakhchisaray? It will be advantageous to us all.
Once there, you will know what to do.
Your devoted friend,
C
‘Did anyone see who delivered it?’ asked Aleksei.
Aleksandr shook his head. ‘It was the same as before.’
‘And were you planning to go to the Crimea?’
‘Of course. Anyone could have known that. Anyone could have guessed.’
‘You don’t think there’s an informant amongst your staff?’ asked Aleksei.
‘There’s no need for one.’ It was an interesting answer, which Maks would have appreciated; not reasoning against the conclusion, but against the thought process which arrived at it.
‘What do you know of Bakhchisaray?’
‘Very little, until today. I’ve not sat idly since I received that letter.’ He reached to his desk for a book, where he had marked a page. He summarized, rather than reading.
‘It’s in the south of the peninsula, between Sevastopol and Simferopol, on the Churuk Su river. It was the capital of the Crimean Khanate, ruled by the Tatars. We took it over in 1783.’
‘Has the Romanov Betrayal got anything to do with the Tatars?’
‘No,’ said the tsar. ‘I can assure you of that much. Do you know of the town?’
‘Pushkin has written a poem about it,’ said Aleksei.
‘Has he? His name did not appear on your little list, I noticed.’ Now that Aleksandr had unburdened himself, his manner was once again sharp and precise.
‘No,’ said Aleksei. If the name had been there, Aleksei would have removed it too. ‘Will you go?’ he asked.
‘I have to.’
‘Because of the Romanov Betrayal?’
Aleksandr nodded.
The two men sat in silence. Aleksei considered what the tsar had told him, and what he hadn’t. There was far more of the latter than the former, but he could think of no avenues of enquiry which the tsar had not already closed off to him. Eventually he realized the question the tsar wanted him to ask.
‘What do you want me to do, Your Majesty?’
‘Come with me,’ said the tsar.
‘To Bakhchisaray?’
‘And beyond.’
Aleksei read the second letter again. It took only moments. ‘He says you’ll know what to do once you’re there. Do you know now?’
Aleksandr shook his head. ‘Perhaps I’ll see something.’
‘Perhaps he’ll intercept you before you even get there.’
The tsar leaned forward with sudden animation. ‘Exactly. I mean… not necessarily that, but that’s the kind of thinking I need. You can think like Cain, outwit him.’ Cain fears you, Kyesha had said. ‘You can protect me.’
There was nothing for Aleksei to consider. ‘When do we depart?’ he asked.
‘Tomorrow,’ replied the tsar.
‘Utterly incredible.’
Wylie was waiting as Aleksei stepped out of the tsar’s study. Aleksei glanced around the anteroom, but saw that they were alone.
‘Incredible?’ Aleksei replied. ‘So you don’t believe it?’
‘I wouldn’t have done – had it not been for what you showed me.’
‘Even so…’
‘Don’t argue against your own case, Colonel Danilov,’ said Wylie. ‘That strange leather was enough to convince you of the book’s veracity.’