for what hidden dangers they imagined, then the man himself strutted in. Richly dressed, overbearing, and much too old to be doing this. Even if he succeeded, the stupid man would die, probably within a few years, as the next Time of Troubles began.
“Where is Princess Natalia?” he growled.
“That’s none of your business,” Sofia answered calmly. “Princess Natalia is Great House. You have no authority over her.”
“I’m the Director-General. I speak for the Boyar Duma,” Sheremetev said.
“The Duma has no authority over Princess Natalia,” Sofia pointed out.
“The Duma speaks for the czar.”
“Let the czar speak for himself, then.”
Balked, Sheremetev stepped back and, somewhat more politely, asked, “What happened here?”
Sofia told him of the attempted rape and of Anya coming to Natasha’s defense.
“A household servant killed two of my men!” Sheremetev was outraged and deeply offended. More by the manner of his mens’ death, than the fact that they were dead. To die at the hands of a menial! It was desecration. He turned to one of his guards. “Find that woman and bring her here.”
Sofia tinkled a little laugh. “Be my guest. If you can find her.”
“Are you saying Princess Natalia took a murderess with her?”
“She took her servant with her, yes. We are loyal to those who are loyal to us,” Sofia said, “unlike some people.”
“Take her away,” Sheremetev told his guards. “I’ll decide what to do with her later. For the moment, take me to the radio room. I need to send a message.”
Sofia started laughing.
“What do you mean you can’t fix it?” Sheremetev demanded.
“We can fix it, sir,” the technician said. “But not quickly. We will have to make new parts, which will take a couple of days.”
Sheremetev was tempted to have the man punished, but the technician was the nephew of one of his supporters. He couldn’t have him beaten with a knout like a serf. Yet.
“Back to Moscow!” Sheremetev shouted. “That’s the closest radio.”
At last, and several hours later, Director-General Sheremetev strode into the radio room in the Kremlin and ordered that a demand for Princess Natalia’s arrest be sent to all stations. The message went out, but because of the many stations it would be transmitted through, it would take still more time.
Chapter 78
As Natasha, Bernie and the rescue team were driving away from the palace at Murom, a radio message came in.
PRINCESS NATALIA GORCHAKOVNA WANTED IN CONNECTION WITH DEATH OF TWO MEN AT ARMS AND THE SEVERE WOUNDING OF CASS LOWRY. REPORT SIGHTINGS TO MOSCOW AND DETAIN. BY ORDER OF THE BOYAR DUMA AND THE DIRECTOR-GENERAL FOR CZAR MIKHAIL. END MESSAGE.
The radio operator was one of Natasha’s loyal men. Alas, his boss wasn’t.
Partly out of fear, and partly out of greed, Petr Timofeyivich used the order from the Boyar Duma and the czar to release Captain Ivan Borisovich Lebedev and his men.
Control of Murom passed quickly-but not firmly-back into the hands of Sheremetev loyalists. This had very little effect on anything. Most of the people in Murom were keeping their heads down and staying just as far from politics as they could manage.
A radio message was sent to Moscow telling that the princess had been spotted, but had left before the message ordering her detention had arrived.
For the next several hours, things were very tense in the halls of government in Murom. Captain Lebedev didn’t even attempt to keep the lid on, raging around the palace. Lieutenant Lebedev, however, had made friends with the Streltzi and urged them to wait and remain calm.
The Dodge traveled slowly, pulling a down-time made trailer behind it. The trailer carried some twenty of Natasha’s men at arms led by Vladislav Vasl’yevich. In order to avoid jarring the men too much, Bernie kept the speed down to around twenty miles per hour, and often much less than that. The thirty-two mile trip to the hunting lodge took three hours. It was evening when they approached the hunting lodge.
“You need to warn me before we get there, Natasha,” Bernie said. “We need to stop the car a mile or so away from the lodge and let the boys in back out of the trailer.”
A few minutes later Natasha told Bernie to stop. “The path goes forward, then turns right. After the turn, you can see the lodge.”
Bernie consulted with the armsmen, including one of her huntsmen who was very familiar with this particular lodge. “How close can you get before you’re spotted?”
“It depends on who’s doing the spotting,” the huntsman said. “If it was you I could tap you on the shoulder before you knew I was there.”
“Maybe you better go scout for us then.”
“I can do that.”
The wait seemed to last forever, but it wasn’t really that long before the huntsman came up behind Bernie and said “Boo.” Bernie grinned and turned to face the man. He’d spotted him well before time. The huntsman grimaced. “So what did you see, Boo?” Bernie asked.
“About a hundred yards east of the lodge, there are several tents and a paddock with maybe twenty horses. Considering the size of the lodge, I don’t see how there can be more than thirty or so men, at most.”
“All right,” Bernie said. “You and the men infiltrate. Natasha and I will drive in just like we own the place.”
Vladislav Vasl’yevich started to object but was interrupted.
“I do own the place,” Natasha said.
“Fine. We’re the distraction, Natasha. Ride in like the queen of England, order them off your property. And while they’re arresting us, the rest of these guys will get the drop on them.” Bernie didn’t have to explain “get the drop on them.” He’d already done that. Many times.
And, in essence, that’s what they did.
Bernie drove up to the house, with the horn blaring. Most of the horses in the area panicked. Half a dozen men came out of the tents and one man came out of the house itself.
Natasha emerged from the car, using her most regal manner. “What are you people doing at my lodge? You’re trespassing. Get out at once!” Then, apparently seeing Czar Mikhail for the first time, she added, “Except, of course, for Your Majesty. You are always welcome on my lands.”
The czar was looking as shocked as anyone. But it wasn’t he who spoke. It was a man Natasha had never seen before, who was dressed in a black fur coat with a silver dog’s head clasp. Sixty years before, Ivan the Terrible had created a band of enforcers called the Oprichniki who were recognized by their black fur coats and the severed dog’s heads they carried. Later Ivan had outlawed them and made it a crime to even say the word Oprichniki.
This man and the six he had with him, also wearing the clasp, weren’t the same Oprichniki as Ivan had had. A silver dog’s head wasn’t the same as the severed head of a real dog. Still, the symbolism was unmistakable.
“You are under arrest!” the latter-day Oprichniki said.
Feeling more than a little pale herself, Natasha turned to the czar and waved at the man in black. “Did you
