Swords From the Sea (34 page)

II

When the net is invisible the fish thinks the water is clear. That is how the fish is caught.

For a time that day I watched John Paul, to see how he would bear himself. Ekh, he was at home in the saddle, that chap, and he forced the pace faster than the Englishman, Edwards, wanted to press on. Because it was the season of the rasputitsa, the flood during the spring thaw, the roads were no better than fords across the treacherous swamps. The carriage would slip from the crown of the road and sink into the mire up to the hubs.

After John Paul had dismounted once and put logs under the wheels, to force the carriage back to the road, I made the postilions change places with the Tatars. I was angry because we had to drag along the tarantass, but if I had known what evil was stored up for us within it, I would have unhitched the horses and left it like a stranded ship in the great pools of the flooded country.

If it had not been for John Paul we should not have reached the first of the zamoras-the post stations along the highroad to Moscow-that night. The sun had gone down behind a cloud bank when we drew up at the inn and a score of slouching rogues came out to stare at us. They showed their teeth but nothing more when I elbowed them aside and shouted to the pig of a tavern keeper to make ready a leg of mutton and brandy spirits and bread for their excellencies, the officers, who had chosen to quarter themselves in the carriage after looking once at the inn.

They sat on the shaft and ate the dinner when it was brought, but I went to the stables before eating to make certain that the Tatars had watered the horses and given them oats. I found all as it should be, the beasts bedded down and the Tatars not yet drunk on chirkhir, and I was turning away to seek out my dinner when one of them touched my knee.

"Horses!" he said, and after a moment, "Nine riders on the road, Ivak Khan."

Now Tatars have ears like weasels, and it was quite a while before I heard the hoofbeats coming nearer. The Tatar who had spoken peered up at me and pulled his forefinger across his throat, then touched the hilt of my saber. He meant that men were around who would cut my throat, and warned me to be on guard.

Just as he did so a screaming began in front of the inn, a shrill screaming that was horrible to hear. I took off my kalpak and crossed myself, for it sounded like a woman vampire calling from the forest, but the cries were coming from the wagon.

"Aid-Aid! Who will hear the prayer of a Christian maid?"

John Paul and the Englishman were on their feet, staring at the tarantass in astonishment, because all the day that wagon had given out no cries and now there was either a woman or a vampire inside it.

A body of horsemen came clattering up to the fire, and the leader dismounted and strode over to the wagon. He was an ensign of the Guards with a long mustache and a long saber and a red face. The six troopers with him kept to their saddles and worked their horses around so as to hem us in.

"Let us see what is boiling in this pot!" growled the ensign, jerking open the doors.

He began to haul at something and presently pulled out-for he was a strong man-a girl who was bound with belts at the wrists and ankles. She was slender, with tangled dark hair, and she wore a silk cloak lined with hare's fur.

All the time the ensign was unbuckling the straps she leaned on his shoulder and wept, chattering like a squirrel. Servants of the American, she said, had overtaken her in the street of Petersburg and had gagged her. Then she had been carried to John Paul's house and placed in the wagon. She said-and this was quite true-that she had had nothing to eat all day, and had been shaken up and down like wheat at threshing.

The ensign, whose name was Borol, asked her if she was not Anna Mikhalovna, and she assented eagerly. Then he frowned and turned to Edwards, explaining how complaint had been made that morning at the quarters of the Guard by this girl's mother. An order had been issued that he should follow the American, find the girl, and request John Paul to return to Petersburg.

When Borol pointed at the American, John Paul spoke one word to Edwards, who turned to the ensign-

"Salute the rear admiral."

Borol chewed his mustache and clicked his lips; then drew his heels together and saluted sullenly. It was plainly to be seen that John Paul was not in such high favor now. He took Edwards's arm and the two paced up and down while the aide-de-camp explained about the accusation and the order to return.

Meanwhile Borol made a great show of warming Anna Mikhalovna at the fire and ordering brandy for her to drink, and I went closer to stare at her. She was the girl who had called at John Paul's door the evening before with the old crone.

Ekh, the whole thing was clear in my mind, all at once. The girl had not been in the tarantass when it was first driven up from the palace. Some time before dawn she had been placed in it, bound, most likely. Then John Paul's enemies in Petersburg had spread a story that the American had carried off the girl, and now he would be recalled to explain the matter to a court of men who hated him. It meant that he would be kept waiting at the Muscovite palace instead of joining his command, even if nothing worse happened. In my mind was the picture of the foreign prince with the Hessian boots, and I wondered how much the English had to do with the plot. They had no love for John Paul, and made no secret of it.

The story of Anna Mikhalovna could not be true. Why had she kept quiet in the wagon all day, only to cry out like a bugle when the troopers came up? And as for John Paul's servants carrying her off, he had no servants. Besides, she had tried to enter his house last evening, and when she had been turned away this new plot had been made against him.

Probably his enemies had counted on a scene in his courtyard when we started off; but he had chosen a horse instead of the carriage and the girl had not been seen, because no one had looked inside when the packs were thrust through the door.

It was a plot that men who spend their lives at court would hatch-a small and skillful plot, the kind that ties up a man as with silk cords. What could John Paul do but go back? He belonged to the world of the court, and according to his code it would be necessary to clear his name before he could accept his new mission.

Edwards looked like a man who has come to a fork in the road, puzzled, yet a little pleased. But John Paul had grown pale and his eyes were dark as coals.

Just a few words he said to the ensign, Borol-Edwards interpreting-but they were like sword pricks. The American had seen through the plot, and the wish of his enemies to disgrace him.

"I came to Russia in an open shallop, through ice on the sea, because the Empress summoned me, and when I offered my sword to her, Count Besborodko, the minister of state, was instructed to do everything possible to make the situation of the Chevalier Paul Jones pleasant and to furnish him with all possible occasions on which he might display his skill and valor. Besborodko-" the American handed back the order which was signed by the minister-"has misunderstood his instructions. He has taken pains to afford me the chance of displaying the talents of a lawyer, not a soldier."

Edwards smiled as he translated, and I thought that John Paul was a man who would not be led by others. But his pride was hurt and his muscular face was drawn. He had a hard path to follow in Russia, because he did not know the ways of the great Russian lords, who looked on all soldiers as slaves.

Borol shrugged and said it was none of his affair-such a disgraceful matter it was, carrying off a young girl. He was a graf of Hessia-what- ever that might be-and the mission touched upon his honor-whatever that was. And he pushed up the ends of his mustache, clanking his scabbard as he did so.

Now I had been seeking for some word to say, because I would rather have lost my scalp lock than return to Petersburg. Something about the graf reminded me of the prince in the silver coat: they were like two cups, and if neither was an Englishman, then the English at the palace might not have hatched the plot. I smacked my thigh and whispered in Edward's ear.

"Your Honor's pardon, but that girl is the one who tried to get into John Paul's lodging last evening. An old crone was with her, and the American gave them money to go away. Somebody must have given them more money-the pretty sparrows!"

This surprised the Englishman, and he looked as if he did not know which fork of the road to take.

"The deuce!" He took snuff and added carelessly to Borol. "This Anna Mikhalovna-I think I've seen her. A friend of Besborodko's perhaps?"

"Not at all, Lieutenant. She's a farmer's daughter-lodged with a priest near the cathedral last night."

"Ah." Edwards glanced at the silk cloak. "Then she couldn't have come begging at the rear admiral's quarters late in the evening."

"Impossible."

I stepped forward.

"She was there, only dressed differently."

Borol shook his head impatiently and ordered some of his men to escort Anna to the inn. Edwards needed no more words to show whether I had told the truth.

"Ensign," he remarked, "this is not a flash in the pan, it is -- serious. The American entered the Russian service on the Empress's pledge that he would have a free hand and sole command of the Black Sea Fleet. He is a Chevalier of France and a friend of Lafayette. Who stirred up this hornets' nest at his heels?"

Now those who had sent Borol had picked a man with a good sword arm but a sluggish brain. He chewed his mustache and barked out:

take it! You English have cooked up the whole thing."

Edwards started as if he had been touched with a whip.

"What a knowing fellow, egad!" he drawled. "Upon my word, Count Borol, you must know us better than we know ourselves. Deuced quaint, I swear, to fancy that because we do not count Admiral Jones among our friends we would think up a foul plot and bait it with a farmer's daughter. Unfortunate, very-that it should be necessary to prove to you by example that the English strike in the open."

And his eyes glittered, just like the time when he had caught me smiling at him. Quite happy, he was, because the ensign had given him offense. A strange folk!

"I thought-" Borol was beginning to be sorry he had talked so much, but he was in for it now.

"Indeed! It may be necessary for you to think twice. A man of your high intuition, Count Borol, must realize that by accusing the English officers of Petersburg of a blackguardly intrigue, you cast some slight aspersion upon me." He bowed, very elegant. "Of course you will give satisfaction at once, and as the challenged party, the choice of weapons is yours. Do you prefer swords or shall we say pistols. Necessity compels us to dispense with seconds."

It was clear to me that the Englishman's temper would brew trouble for us. If there was a duel, and someone was sliced, the enemies of Paul Jones would have good reason for calling him to account, since dueling was forbidden. To make matters worse, the American, when he learned what Edwards was about, insisted on meeting Borol himself. And, knowing of the plot against John Paul, I could see that Borol was well content; if he wounded the admiral, high influences in Petersburg would free him from blame; if John Paul cut him up, the American would be made to suffer for it. A plan came into my head and I stepped forward.

"Borol," I said, "God has given you a long arm but a short wit. A while ago you would not believe my word that the girl had come begging of the admiral. Now I say that you lie."

And I added other plain words for the soldiers to hear, so that their leader's ears began to burn.

"Dog of a Cossack!" Borol was beside himself with rage. "I'll have you strung up by the thumbs and your hide cut up for whips."

"Oho," I thought, "when the cock crows loud he is in his own barnyard."

Carefully this time I counted over the troopers and found there were seven with the ensign included. But my Tatars had heard nine horses, and if two others had come with the company they must be in hiding in the trees beyond the firelight-spies, without a doubt, or perhaps Strelsky, or even the prince of the silver coat.

"First," I told Borol, "I will teach you a lesson if you are not afraid to challenge a man whose arm is as long as yours."

"Draw your steel, you hedgehog!"

"Ivak! " Edwards turned on me angrily. "My affair with the ensign does not require the aid of a clown. Back to your place!"

"Pardon," I pointed out, "but my quarrel with Borol takes precedence of your Honor's affair. He made light of my word in the first place."

The American and Edwards stood about as high as my chin, but they were crossing steel with the ensign, who was a giant. Edwards began to explain impatiently that, although Borol's military rank was equal with mine, the man was a count, or some such thing.

"You do not know, Excellency," I assured him, "that in my country the Cossacks hold me to a prince. Aye, my grandsire was hetman, having to his order ten thousand sabers. Is not that rank enough?"

Borol, who was foaming at the mouth, tossed his cloak to a trooper and began to roll up his right sleeve, crying that I might be emperor of a million pigs, but he would have satisfaction all the same.

"One moment," I said. "You have challenged me and so I have choice of weapons. Is it not so, Lieutenant Edwards?"

He nodded, staring at me curiously. Borol grinned, knowing that a Cossack would chose sabers, which suited him very well.

"We will fight with pitchforks," I said.

So amazed were they that the crackling of the fire could be heard in the silence, when I walked to the manure heap by the inn door and picked up two forks with iron prongs. My ears were pricked and I heard the stamp of a horse close by in the darkness, where someone watched, unseen. Eh, the trap was set and ready to be sprung if the American or those with him showed fight. I yearned to take on Borol with sabers and teach him a thing or two, for among the Don Cossacks few were a match for me with the blades.

But it was not to be. I cleaned the iron prongs in the earth and held out the two forks to Borol, offering him choice of weapon. How his eyes stuck out!