Chapter XX: Morning of the 16th September

When Bernikoff appeared with his group of officers, Charlie Balgonie perceived that there were spots of blood upon his long, white leather gauntlets, that his sabre blade was broken off within six inches of the hilt, and that a terrible expression of ferocity clouded his features and those of all around him, the glare of the uplifted torches now paling as the light of day stole in, adding to the sinister significance of their faces.

At that moment the drummer of the summoners beat a _chamade_ for the third time, and Bernikoff, advancing to the klinket, or wicket, in the palisades of the second inner gate, opened it, and, with a great sternness of manner, demanded what they required.

"The release of His Imperial Majesty Ivan IV.," replied Basil Mierowitz, in a firm voice, while courteously saluting Bernikoff, in recognition of his superior rank.

"If I refuse----"

"You do so at your own peril," replied Basil, as sternly and as proudly as if, instead of a few discontented deserters and enthusiasts, the whole armies of Russia were at his back.

"You cannot be mad enough, Basil Mierowitz, to think of assaulting us?"

"That may or may not be, Excellency, according to circumstances," was the reply.

"What troops are these under your orders?"

"A guard of honour for the Emperor, if you peacefully comply--the first portion of an investing force, if you refuse," replied Mierowitz; but a sinister gleam of triumph flashed in the malicious eyes of Bernikoff, who gathered more of his real weakness from this evasive reply, than the rash young noble intended.

"Listen, Colonel Bernikoff," he continued, while drawing from his breast a long paper of official aspect, to which several green and scarlet seals were attached: "Her Majesty Catharine II.--for a time of all the Russias--having come to the conclusion of resigning the imperial crown (convinced at last that she has no claim, thereto), and of replacing it on the head of the Emperor Ivan (son of Anthony Ulric, Duke of Wolfenbuttel), whom she now feels herself compelled to acknowledge as her lawful sovereign, though basely deposed in infancy by her predecessors, the Empress Elizabeth, and the Emperor Peter III.; therefore she hereby commands you, Colonel Bernikoff, Governor of her Castle of Schlusselburg, to set the Prince at liberty, with all speed and honour."

For a document and summons of this artful and remarkable nature, Bernikoff was altogether unprepared. For a moment he grew deadly pale, but for a moment only, and glanced at the startled faces of those around him. Had he been too precipitate in bloodshed?

"Where is Her Majesty just now?" he asked.

"In the palace of the Czars, at Novgorod."

"Was Novgorod so empty of all the great nobles and officers of Russia, that a document of such a nature was entrusted to a mere Lieutenant of Infantry--a deserter from Livonia?" said Bernikoff, with sudden rage. "'Tis an imposture--a forgery; there is but one God in Heaven--one monarch on earth, the Empress Catharine; and you, Mierowitz, and all who league with you, are but base dogs and traitors!"

"Forward!" cried Basil, brandishing his sabre; "storm the gate--bayonet all who oppose us!"

"Long live Ivan Antonovitch--long live the Emperor!" exclaimed his soldiers, rushing forward. But the klinket in the palisades was at once closed, and secured against them by an enormous transverse beam of wood; and though a confused volley of musketry was exchanged between them and the main guard, no one was struck, save Bernikoff, who staggered back into the arms of Vlasfief, having been bayoneted in the breast by the deserter Jagouski, who drove his weapon between the palisades, nearly finishing what Basil had begun by the blow of a musket but, which crushed the Colonel's hat, and nearly fractured his skull.

"Ah! dogs and Asiatics, you have struck me!" shouted Bernikoff, whose voice was hoarse with rage and pain. "Dost know the penalty of wounding an officer--of striking a soldier who wears a decoration?"

"Accursed Tartar, I neither know nor care. I revenge my brother's death at Zorndorf, my own wrongs, and the murder of Peter III.!" replied the exulting Cossack, with a bitter laugh.

"May my right hand wither, and my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, when most I need them both, if I have not a terrible vengeance for all this work!" cried Bernikoff. "Vlasfief, Tschekin, show them their Prince!"

While the undaunted Basil and his friend Usakoff, with their soldiers, proceeded to wheel round a cannon of the outworks, a 32-pounder, for the purpose of blowing open the klinket of the inner barrier; and while Balgonie, a silent but excited and sick-hearted spectator of the whole affair, lingered close by, heedless whether the round-shot and grape, with which they were charging the gun, came his way, or not,--a window in the first story of the keep was dashed open, and while every torch and every eye were uplifted to the place, a terrible spectacle, which hushed all into momentary silence, was exhibited.

It was the dead body of the young and handsome Ivan, suspended by the neck, at the end of a rope, stripped even of his night-dress, cold and white as the marble of Paros, and gashed with ten gaping wounds; for, as we are told in the newspapers of the period, "the unfortunate prince had struggled some time for his life, and even broke the Governor's sword in the conflict; but assistance was called for, and another bloody assassin (Vlasfief) appeared, who finished the horrid work."

An exclamation of dismay and grief escaped Balgonie, on beholding this appalling spectacle; the weird and ghastly horror of which was enhanced by the uncertain light in which it was exhibited, and which imparted a wavering and almost life-like action to the corpse, as with its long hair floating, head and arms pendent, it swayed to and fro in the morning wind against the castle wall.

"_Hospodi pomilui! Hospodi pomilui!_"* cried Basil Mierowitz, covering his face with his hands, and permitting the musket with which he had armed himself to fall to the ground with a clash, which, together with his most mournful exclamation, alone broke the silence.

* Lord have mercy upon us!

"'Behold,' said Bernikoff, in cruel triumph, while blasphemously using the words of Ezekiel--"'behold, I take away from thee the desire of thine eyes with a stroke!' Glory to God and to the Empress! This is your Emperor--now let him head your troops. Doubtless he will make a fine figure on the Imperial throne."

"Oh! Bernikoff," exclaimed Basil, "you are like Judas, as we may see him at the Kazan church--one hand on the mouth denoting treachery, and the other on a bag of money."

"Thou liest, Lieutenant! my fingers know more of the grip of steel than of gold," said the other furiously, as he hurled the hilt of his broken sabre at the speaker.

"So--so--this has been your work and decision?"

"Yes--how do you like it?" was the mocking reply.

"Thou art a cruel judge; but remember the law of Peter the Great----"

"Which makes the judge answerable for his decision?"

"Yes."

"Then shall I content me, traitor, and be answerable for my decision as well as for its execution. I have done my duty to the Czarina."

"You have done a deed for which hell must blush and angels weep," was the forcible reply of Mierowitz, who seemed so overcome by grief and horror as to lose all self-possession; for he now ordered his men to disperse to the woods--to seek safety in flight; and then calmly taking off his sword-belt and sash, he threw them on the ground saying--

"Since my Imperial master is dead, further resistance would be vain in me."

He was almost immediately afterwards struck to the earth, and made prisoner by Lieutenant Tschekin, who, with a party of dismounted Cossacks, had stolen through the casemates and galleries to a postern opening on the rear of the drawbridge, and these, after firing a confused volley with their pistols and musketoons, fell with their sharp crooked sabres upon the now thoroughly disheartened adherents of Mierowitz. Lieutenant Usakoff and Jagouski alone made any vigorous resistance, resolving not to be taken alive.

Fighting desperately, almost back to back, the former armed with the sabre of Mazeppa, and the latter with a musket, and both bleeding from many wounds, they were driven through the outer barrier towards the town. On the pathway Jagouski stumbled over a comrade, and was taken; but Apollo Usakoff, with a shout in which triumph and despair were mingled, leaped into the Neva, the waters of which swept him away, and he was seen no more by his pursuers.

When Tschekin's Cossacks joined in the _mêlée_ with the fugitives, Balgonie sprang through the klinket, sword in hand, resolved to succour his friend at all hazards, and fortunately arrived just in time to save him (when struck down and trod under foot) from the bulky giant Nicholas Paulovitch, who, with a clubbed musket, was about to give him a blow that must inevitably have proved fatal.

Paulovitch he ran through the heart--or at least the place where his heart might be supposed to have been--and spurning him off the blade with his foot, hurled the snorting ruffian to the ground, and raised his friend, with the assistance of a soldier and Lieutenant Tschekin.

"Made prisoner, and by you too, Carl!" said Basil, reproachfully and in a low voice, for he was faint with wounds and bruises.

"By me, but to save you."

"Seek rather to save Natalie, if you can," he whispered; "she is, she is--"

"Where, _where_?" said Balgonie, impetuously and imploringly.

But there was no reply. Basil had fainted, and was borne into the Castle of Schlusselburg, a prisoner of State.

Balgonie never saw the face of his friend again!

So ended, for a time, a scheme, the importance of which was only equalled by its bold recklessness--the scheme of two subaltern officers to revolutionise the vast empire of Russia, and to subvert the firm dominion of Catharine II., one of the most powerful and popular, though licentious, monarchs that ever sat on the barbarous throne of the Czars; and such was the terrible sequel to the _Secret Dispatch_ of Balgonie.

Day had completely broken when he was summoned by Bernikoff. Shuddering as he passed through the court of the Castle and under the very window where the corpse was yet swaying mournfully to and fro in the morning breeze that swept from the broad waters of the vast lake, whose ripples were shining like gold in the first beams of the autumnal sun, Charlie sought the presence of this detestable personage, the thunder of whose wrath he feared was about to descend upon himself.

He found the Colonel in his shirt sleeves, and almost covered with blood, which was flowing from a wound in his breast and another on the head, from whence it was trickling to the ends of his long and snaky grey mustaches. To both of these cuts the barber was about to apply dressings, while the patient solaced himself by scheming out some dreadful punishment for Jagouski, who, with several others, had fallen into his gentle hands, and by uttering deep oaths, and imbibing deep draughts from a great wooden bowl of quass, dashed with fiery vodka.

Balgonie, whose thoughts ran chiefly upon how to discover and succour Natalie, was roused to attention by Bernikoff saying grimly--

"Carl Ivanovitch Balgonie, for aiding in the capture of the rebel Mierowitz, I thank you; suspicions I had, but they are gone. You are now, perhaps, to rejoin the Regiment of Smolensko, and shall bear a dispatch from me to Lieutenant-General Weymarn and Lieutenant-Colonel Caschkin (who are both in St. Petersburg), relating the affair of the last twelve hours. Vlasfief shall prepare it, and I will sign it. Place a feather in the seal, lest the Captain lingers as he did at Louga! Here, Carl Ivanovitch, taste the quass; 'tis the _trisna_ of Ivan the Unknown Person!"

There was something so horrible in this levity and impiety to the Cossacks, that even they exchanged uneasy glances, for the trisna at funeral feasts is a mixture of rum, beer, and wine, and is an ancient Sclavonian beverage. When it is handed round, all stand up uncovered, the clergy recite a solemn prayer, and at its close the trisna is drunk to the health of the departed Christian soul; so Balgonie shuddered, as he thought of the gashed and dishonoured corpse that swung by the neck without the castle wall.

This emotion did not escape the fierce eyes of Bernikoff, though his wounds were most severe, and his mind was wandering.

"Nay, look not at me thus, Scot," said the genuine old Russian fatalist; "God willed it that Prince Ivan should be put in my charge; and the devil, together with my duty to the Empress, inspired me to destroy him. What is done, is done, and is the will of God; and you know, or ought to know, our Muscovite proverb--the Czar is high, and God is everywhere!"

"Three times has this old reprobate mentioned that terrible Name, and each time bowing his sinful head!" thought Charlie, with disgust and wonder.

"Hah!" resumed Bernikoff, pursuing his own thoughts, and clenching his teeth in rage and pain, "did that suckling of a Lieutenant think to deceive me--I, who have been forty years in the Russian army, and have to deal with the most cunning scoundrels between the Black Sea and the Baltic! Jagouski, too, I'll fill his mouth with gunpowder, put a fuse between his teeth, and blow his head off. By St. Sergius, I will! But, holy Saint, alleviate these pangs, by ever so little, and this night six pounds of the finest white wax shall burn before thee." He gnashed his teeth with pain, and added, "Be ready to ride in an hour, Captain; till then, leave me."