Writ in blood : a novel of Saint-Germain

by Yarbro, Chelsea Quinn, 1942-

  “Yes; I do.” He knew it was foolish to claim otherwise. He glanced at the walls and the shelves, his eyes lingering on a few pieces which possessed still-potent memories—a small painting of a jester done by Velasquez, a screen of translucent alabaster, a Chinese jade lion with one paw clouded by myriad cracks in the stone—until the Czar recalled them both to the purpose of his visit.

  With a single nod for emphasis Nikolai began, “Your reservations were well-based, and I appreciate your expressing them. Sadly, I fear you were closer the mark than I: there is no shared wish for the agreement we have discussed; it has been apparent to me for some time that my cousins have other... obligations that could interfere with this one. Austro-Hungary and France are the most troublesome. I have taken the advice of my ministers into account, but I do not think the cause is as hopeless as they do. Iam determined that the attempt must be made. So. About your ... trip to England ...” He hesitated while tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair.

  Without any apparent change in his outward demeanor, Ragoczy listened closely, attentive to every nuance of speech and manner. “I am prepared to leave as soon as you give the word, Czar.” He was almost relieved to know the mission would begin soon, for in the last year he had become aware of the increasing danger of war.

  Nikolai ducked his head. “Yes. And I am pleased to hear it. But you see, I have decided to extend your activities on my behalf, and to achieve the full measure of accord we will need. I want you to stop in Germany on your way back here. The Kaiser must be included in what we do, as much to convince him that this agreement is not an effort to undermine German interests, or to pay him in his own coin for that treaty he foisted on me ...” His brows drew inward at the recollection of his humiliation at the hands of his German cousin. Shaking off this unwanted memory, he said more briskly, “I assume that will present no difficulties for you? It will be useless if only Edward and I agree to limit the production and sale of arms in our countries; Germany must also support our efforts. Wilhelm will need to exercise the same constraints on his countrymen as we will on ours, or the efforts we make will be

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  for naught.” He managed a wan smile. “This may be the one time in my life when I regret that Franz Josef is not a cousin, as well.”

  “And France? Austro-Hungary? Italy? Spain? Turkey?” asked Ragoczy, his voice steady as he reminded the Czar of the nations that might be expected to engage in arms trade if Russia, Britain, and Germany did not. “What of the Americans, North and South? Or China? Or Japan? What of the Arabs? Arms are made in other places than Russia and Germany and Britain.”

  “The three of us can exert pressure on the rest; two cousins and an uncle ruling powerful empires,” said Nikolai with such conviction that Ragoczy was unable to think of a way to counter his resolve. “They will have to accommodate our demands, not only for reasons of diplomacy, but to protect themselves as well.” He clapped his hands together, locking the fingers. “If we lead the way, the rest must follow.”

  Ragoczy wished he could share the Czar s certainty, for his long, long years of experience had taught him how fragile peace could be. Yet no matter how difficult its maintenance was, he had spent centuries dedicated to its preservation and had yet to regret those attempts. That most of the work he had done had not kept war from coming, he had learned to buy time, which was what he hoped he would be able to do in his mission for the Czar. He kept his doubts to himself, and said, “I will do all that I can to bring it to pass. You have my Word on it.”

  “So you have said before,” Nikolai reminded him. He yawned suddenly, and looked a bit sheepishly at his host. “My wits will go wandering shortly if I ... I would like a glass of tea, if you will provide it.”

  “At once,” said Ragoczy, and picked up a small bell on the table beside his chair; the summons was answered promptly, and Ragoczy asked for tea and boiled eggs with caviar, lemon, and shaved onions to accompany it.

  “Vyelichyestvo.” Roger bowed to Nikolai and departed on his errand at once.

  “He is reliable, your manservant?” the Czar inquired carefully.

  “I have always found him so,” Ragoczy replied. “He has been with me a long time. I have had occasion to be thankful for his reliability.” That the time he had spent with Roger was measured in millennia he did not mention.

  “Good. Good,” said Nikolai. “That is important.” He stared down at his linked hands. “I would like to be able to rely on my servants so confidently.”

  “But, Czar, I am simply an exile. My native land is in the hands of conquerors—it has been for a long time. I have no position there any

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  longer.” This was not quite accurate; he knew that explanations could become awkward. “Who has anything to gain through me? Not the Hungarians in Transylvania, nor the Turks, nor the Greeks, nor the rest of them. My manservant comes from none of those places. You are the ruler of a huge country, and those around you cannot forget your state in the world; it makes them vulnerable.” He stretched out his legs to the hassock, crossing one over the other at the ankle as he propped them up. “And there are more crosscurrents in Russia than anywhere else I have traveled in recent years.”

  Nikolai laughed once, sadly. “Crosscurrents. An excellent euphemism. My own ministers would do well to use it.”

  ‘WTat word would you rather I use, Czar?” Ragoczy gestured to show he was not arguing with Nikolai. He received no response and expected none.

  “They are terrible men, some of those who advise me, but I would be a fool to fail to listen to them. They speak for many who are of the same mind as they, and without their endorsement, the agreement will not—” He held his hands out to the stove, as much to unlink them as to warm them. “What you have said is true; there are crosscurrents and many clandestine motives working in Russian government and among the aristocracy. I cannot deny it. I have given them the Jews to hate, but they want more.” He paused to be certain his next words were given special attention. “Which is why I want you rather than any other, to arrange this agreement for my cousins and me. I hope it will prove an example for the world to follow.”

  “It will be my honor,” said Ragoczy with feeling; he had lived long enough that the ferocity of the pogroms did not surprise him—he had seen the slaughter wrought by Attila and Jenghiz Khan first hand, and the terrorism of the Turkish invaders of Europe—but he still had the capacity to be appalled by it.

  “I trust you will say the same thing when all your duties are completed.” He turned his tired eyes on Ragoczy, looking for something in the foreigners countenance; he must have found it, for he nodded in satisfaction. “Five years ago, we saw what could happen in our own streets. Our case is not isolated. There are places in the world where there is as-much conflict as we have in Russia. If Europe does not help to stem the tide, I fear what all of us will face.”

  “Bloody Sunday at the Winter Palace?” Ragoczy wanted to be sure they were speaking of the same events.

  “I did not understand. They wanted my help. That’s what I’ve been told. I did not know it at the time. They were suffering and they came

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  to the Czar, to the Little Father to receive relief from that suffering. If I had listened to them, it might have been averted. If only the Guards had not shot.” He put his hands to his face. “I should not have given them permission to shoot, had I been there. I would like to think I would not have become so frightened. I never thought it would get out of hand as it did. I thought a few shots would scatter them all; the priest they followed was ready to martyr himself, but who would have expected the rest...” He stared at the draped windows, his eyes fixed on the events in his memory. “I thought the Guards had more sense.”

  “They were frightened, as you would have been,” said Ragoczy, not making it an excuse. “With all the political turmoil, they feared you would be killed. It was irresponsible, but it should have been e
xpected.” “It was worse in Moscow,” Nikolai said quietly. “But it could be nothing, if all Europe ignites, or England. Let that spark turn to fire and we may all perish in the flames.” He got up from his chair and began to pace. “Tell me that there is still time. Tell me that we are not acting in vain.”

  “I would certainly prefer not to think that,” said Ragoczy carefully. “But I know that agreement and compliance are two different matters, and it will take more than three signatures to bring about the thing you desire. I will not expect everyone in Europe to cooperate simply because they say they will. That would be rash.” He was not certain that even a show of support would be possible, but that he kept to himself; instead he asked a more awkward question. “How will your own army behave if you are able to limit arms sales in the world?”

  “I fear the army would like a war. The . . . upheavals of the last few years have given the officers a taste for it.”

  “They are not the only ones,” Ragoczy warned Czar Nikolai. “The Germans will not want to compromise their position, not with the unrest in the Balkans threatening everything they have sought to gain. If the Serbs and Croats continue their disputes, it could spill over into Hungary. Kaiser Wilhelm and Emperor Franz Josef know this better than any others. As much as that conflict could bring difficulties to you. Czar, in the Ukraine, it could bring far worse developments to Austro-Hungary and Germany.”

  “So I think, so I think,” said Nikolai. “And that is why we must have this agreement now, before events intervene that would make it impossible to achieve any control on the proliferation of arms.”

  Ragoczy said nothing for a short while, then observed, “There are those who will suspect you are self-serving in trying to achieve such an

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  agreement at this time. You have unrest in Russia, and they will claim that is your reason.”

  “So there are, and such men are not entirely wrong,” Nikolai said at once. “And they are probably right. I would not like to have another uprising like the one we had five years ago, and we will have if war comes to Europe, of that I am convinced. So. It is not in the interests of Russia to have war now, either on our own soil or close at hand. Since Nikolasha threatened to shoot himself unless we instituted the Duma, I’ve known that our country is at risk. My position may isolate me, but I am not so isolated that I do not understand this. We have become too much a tinderbox to withstand any upset of the order in Europe. If it should happen that we have to undertake to preserve our borders with the West, it would be more than—” He was about to go on when there was a discreet knock at the door and Roger came back into the study bearing a large silver tray of eighteenth-century French design on which stood several covered dishes and an English teapot next to a Russian tea glass. He placed this on the largest of the occasional tables and offered its contents to Czar Nikolai with an appropriate bow.

  “Please,” said Ragoczy. “The tea is very hot. You may want to eat something while it cools a little.”

  Nikolai had learned from youth how to change subjects without any sign of doing it. “What is most distressing about winter is the lack of exercise one can get easily. In the summer I ride my bicycle daily, and walk every morning, but with this”—-he waved his hand in the direction of the covered windows—“stepping outside is a monumental effort. I cannot wait for spring to return, so that I may once again be active.”

  “What you say is true, unless shivering counts as activity,” Ragoczy said, taking the Czars example.

  With a polite laugh, Nikolai spooned caviar onto half of a boiled egg, added a little of the shaved onion, and bit into the whole of it. He managed a look of approval as he chewed. “Excellent,” he said once he had swallowed and run a napkin under his mustache.

  “I am pleased you find it satisfactory,” said Ragoczy, who had never tasted it.

  “What else would it be? In this house,” said Nikolai. “I can see you have high standards. I know your hospitality.” He took his glass of tea in its porcelain holder and sipped carefully. “Another minute or two and it will be perfect.”

  “Thank you, Roger,” said Ragoczy to his manservant. “This is just what was wanted. I will ring for you when we are through here. Please see that the men who came with the Czar have food and drink, and that

  the coach horses do not stand in the cold.” He watched Roger bow once more and depart.

  “I am depending on you to plead the case of peace for all of Europe and Russia, Count,” said Nikolai as if there had been no interruption. “The English will listen to reason, I am confident of it. They are aware of how much could be lost if war comes, I think. You have only to show them that we are willing to share the responsibility for such an agreement, and they will be more than happy to give us their support, if for no other reason to preserve their position in the world.”

  Privately Ragoczy was not so sanguine as the Czar; he contemplated the far side of the room, saying, “Is that your faith in your family, or is it something more?”

  “Do you mean have I received any family communications from Uncle Bertie or Cousin Wilhelm that would make me confident that either will support this plan? No, I have not; not beyond the entente we have with England in regard to Persia, and that has little to do with arms sales. So. I have not broached this matter to him yet. The time has not been opportune.” Nikolai sipped his tea and nodded his approval, then set the glass aside to go on. “But I know the man, and his prudence is such that we may consider ourselves fortunate. You will find him receptive to sensible argument. He will see the need for this agreement at once, I am convinced of it. He will want some assurance; the Entente Cordiale has been a disappointment. If you will speak with him as you and I have spoken, he must comply with so rational a proposition.”

  “Very well,” said Ragoczy, who was not wholly convinced it would be so easy. “And if there should be difficulties?”

  “You will straighten them out, of course,” said the Czar as if there was nothing problematic in such a notion. “I know you are capable of doing this; I know all you have done for your workers in your factories, and I am aware of your dedication to your principles. This alone would inspire my confidence, but I know you will be willing to do as I ask to protect yourself.” He noticed Ragoczys narrowed, intense gaze and went on, “I can see you like beautiful things and a life of taste, neither of which are possible during war. Let this consideration guide you: that you will sacrifice these things if war comes. You will act for me to keep from giving up this life you have made for yourself.” His face clouded as he reached for his glass of tea. “And if you prove lax, or allow yourself to enter into the interests of others, you have businesses here in Russia that the Duma would not hesitate to confiscate if you embarrass us. If you work for the benefit of foreign governments, no matter

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  which governments they might be, more than your wealth will be forfeit.”

  As if he had not heard the threat Nikolai had made Ragoczy said, “I trust I will not earn your disapprobation, Czar.”

  “How very astute you are, Count,” said Nikolai, permitting himself a trace of amusement. “So long as your capacities do not falter, there should be no reason to fear for your holdings here.”

  “That is reassuring,” said Ragoczy with such irony that Nikolai looked sharply at him; he half-rose and bowed, saying, “Let me speak candidly: if you are not satisfied that I will do the tasks you assign me, then it would be better not to request my help. I do not want to be chosen because you wish someone other than a Russian to fail at this mission. It is not my intention to seek anything but peace in Europe. If that is insufficient, then accept my most contrite apologies now.” It was a risk to speak so forthrightly, and he knew it, but he was aware that the Czar would be dubious if such blatant pressure did not go unchallenged.

  Nikolai ran his finger under his mustache. “Such indignation, Count. Most commendable. Now, for Gods sake, sit down.�
�

  Ragoczy knew he had been right to speak. He did as the Czar bade him. “I am as eager to see peace maintained as you are, perhaps more eager, because I have seen what war can do.” Over the centuries he had learned to loathe battle; in the last fifty years, he had come to dread it. “I thought you accepted that.”

  “Oh, I do, and I accept your reason—that modem inventions have made killing too easy and too efficient; soldiers no longer have to see the enemy when they fight,” said Nikolai, taking up his tea glass again; he stared over the rim, his eyes seeing something other than the study where he sat. “But a man in my position is told many things, all with great conviction, and half of them are lies. The rest must be suspect.” He glanced at Ragoczy, wholly recalled to the place. “You are a very persuasive man, Count, which is a quality in you I admire, and one I hope to exploit for the world s benefit, but it is one I must not succumb to as readily as you may wish.” He drank the tea, finishing half the glass before he put it down.

  Concealing his annoyance, Ragoczy responded flatly, “I can think of nothing to say that will convince you of my—”

  “Honor?” Nikolai interrupted, and drank the last of his tea.

  Ragoczy nodded. “If you like.”

  “I have found that men who proclaim their honor usually have little to boast of.” Nikolai sighed heavily. “It is not a question of your honor. Count, but of your ability to persevere. In this instance you have the

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  advantage over many others: I know at least a dozen men whose honor is unimpeachable because nothing has ever tested it.” He selected another boiled egg and reached for the caviar spoon, then stopped. “As one who has lost much and traveled more, I am hoping you will not be put off by protocol and courtesy.”

  “I have survived thus far,” Ragoczy said with a quick smile. “Often in spite of protocol and courtesy.”