The Firebird

Gordon was still in high favour with Catherine, that much was made plain, but her mourning was deep, and she showed little interest in meeting with anyone.

Vice Admiral Gordon tried once more that week, going all on his own to Prince Menshikov’s palace to make his petition, but when Anna, making her way to the College of War with a letter for Lacy, and Edmund again as her escort, came over the river, she found the vice admiral just leaving the palace, and frowning.

‘She’s in there,’ he told them. ‘She’s in there right now, but he says she’ll not see me.’

‘You cannot just send in the letter alone?’ Edmund asked.

Gordon withered him with a look Anna knew well, for it meant the vice admiral was nearing the end of his patience. ‘This letter,’ he said, speaking low, ‘does come straight from the hand of King James. Captain Hay has risked much to come north, for this purpose alone, and the King does depend upon us, upon me, to fulfill his request and deliver it into the hands of the Empress. The fate of a nation does ride on these words, and the way they’re received. So no, sir, I cannot “just send in the letter alone”.’ Drawing breath, he collected his temper and lowered his head, with his hands on his hips in a posture of utter disgust.

Anna looked at him for a long moment. And then she said, ‘Give it to me, then.’

The vice admiral lifted his head. ‘What?’

‘I’ll take it. The Empress is mourning the loss of a husband and child,’ was her reasoning. ‘Men and their matters of politics may not hold interest for her, but I’m no man. She’ll see me, I think, if I ask.’

Edmund nodded, when Gordon looked doubtful. ‘’Tis possible, sir, for I’ve seen Empress Catherine speak privately with Mistress Jamieson, and she paid little heed then to Prince Menshikov’s counsel.’

The vice admiral stood for a moment, and looked down at Anna with much the same look he had given her those years ago in Calais. Then he nodded, and gave her the letter. ‘Take Mr O’Connor as escort,’ he told her. ‘As far as I know, Captain Deane has no spies in Prince Menshikov’s house. But if you do encounter one,’ he said to Edmund, ‘I trust you will know how to serve him.’

Edmund gave a nod of understanding, but already Anna was a step ahead of him, and heading for the great doors of the palace, and the guards who stood outside it.

CHAPTER FORTY

Rob stood behind me, his hands in his pockets, not pushing me.

‘Rob, I just can’t.’ I looked up at the brilliant dark yellow façade of the Menshikov Palace, restored to perfection, the multiple panes of its old wooden windows reflecting the clouds drifting over the Admiralty dome on the opposite side of the river. The palace, which had in its time been the finest in all of St Petersburg, stretched like a great sleeping lion along the south shore of the island, with two grand wings lying like paws to each side of the three-storeyed, most ancient part at its centre, its pediments topped by imperial crowns.

We were standing in front of the four massive pillars supporting the porticoed front entrance, while traffic raced at our backs up and down the long road that now ran between us and the water, and women clicked by in high heels on the pavement.

‘I can’t,’ I repeated.

He said, ‘It’s your choice. Seems a waste, though. We know Catherine’s in there, and every time Anna meets Catherine it might be the time.’

‘Yes, I know.’ I looked up at the deep yellow walls and felt something of Gordon’s frustration. ‘I know, but I can’t do it now. I’m supposed to meet Yuri and Wendy Van Hoek here at three. That’s in barely an hour. And besides, there are people inside, Rob. It isn’t like walking around on the pavements, or sitting outdoors on a bench, this is …’ Helplessly, I shook my head. ‘This is different.’

He gave me no argument. Only repeated, ‘It’s your choice.’

I sighed. ‘Maybe we could come back here tomorrow …’ But even as I spoke the words, I could hear the futility of them, for even tomorrow this palace would still be a public museum, with people inside it, and with or without the time pressure that I felt today, my core problem would still be the same.

‘I’m not saying I will,’ I said slowly, ‘but if I did want to, could you pull us out before Yuri and Wendy arrive?’

‘Aye.’

‘You’re sure of it?’

‘Aye.’

I bit down on my lower lip, thinking. I tried to remember the layout, inside, of the Menshikov Palace, to think of a place where we might sit or stand without anyone noticing. ‘Maybe,’ I said, ‘if we stayed in the entrance hall, under the stairs. There are big columns there, and we wouldn’t be quite so conspicuous. What do you think?’

‘It’s your choice.’

‘Will you stop saying that, please?’

‘Well, what would ye wish me to say? Aye, it’s worth the small risk you’d be taking?’ he offered, in level tones. ‘Aye, you should stop wasting time and go in?’

‘That’s exactly what I wish you’d say. Thank you.’

‘Happy to help,’ was his final reply, as he followed me round to the actual entrance.

We paid the full fee, both because I had never liked freeloading on my position, and because I wasn’t too keen to announce my arrival to anyone upstairs who might know my name, or know Yuri Stepanovich might be expecting me.