Page 102 of The Crown's Fate
Volkonsky stood tall. “There was some confusion at the garrison when the oath of allegiance was given. Not everyone refused to swear loyalty. But we are still strong. This is enough to force a coup d’état.”
“Where are Trubetskoy and Obolensky and their men?”
“Obolensky is over there.” Volkonsky pointed to the soldiers in formation to the right. “Trubetskoy ...”
“Trubetskoy what?”
“He, er, cannot be found. But Ilya is looking for him, and he’s the best at tracking people.”
“Your fearless leader is still doing something ‘important’ for his wife or Lebzeltern?” Nikolai did not hide the sarcasm.
Volkonsky checked over his shoulders, as if afraid the soldiers were listening. They were not. They milled about and chatted casually among themselves, surreptitiously passing flasks to warm themselves against the morning chill. “I know this doesn’t look promising, Your Imperial Highness, but I swear, even without Trubetskoy, this will work. We shall prevail.”
Nikolai clenched and unclenched his fists. All his life, he’d had to rely on himself. Had he erred now in counting on the Decembrists?
“Get your men in order,” he snapped at Volkonsky.
“Yes, Your Imperial Highness.” He saluted Nikolai.
Nikolai nodded to dismiss him, and Volkonsky gave a quick bow and marched off.
Not long after, he saw Ilya speaking with Obolensky. Trubetskoy had not returned.Damn it.
But then a shout resounded across Peter’s Square. “Attention!” A collective stomp answered the call. What had seemed to be only a mass of men a moment ago now filed in unison into straight lines and proud regiments.
Nikolai couldn’t help that his mouth dropped open. The precision of the troops was glorious. What had been a milling mess was suddenly neat rows of uniforms and weapons. All chatter among the men ceased. The drums beating in the background gained a magnificent ferocity. They certainly were impressive, and Nikolai could see now how men like these had defeated Napoleon.Perhaps we have a chance after all.
Obolensky stood below the statue of Peter the Great, at the Thunder Stone. With Trubetskoy absent, he must have assumed the lead. “Loyal soldiers of the Imperial Russian Empire,” he called out. “Today is a momentous day. Today is the day we give Russia back to the people to whom it belongs. Today is the day we fight for our liberty and human dignity.
“Many of you fought bravely against Napoleon. On the battlefield, it mattered not whether you hailed from noble or peasant blood. We were all Russians together, and we brought glory to our empire.
“Now, however, without war to unite us, the monarchy has returned to its old ways, enslaving farmers to their lords. The imperial family has forgotten how serfs and nobles alike laid down their lives for our country. And we aim to remind them. To Karimov and a constitution!”
The soldiers pounded their boots and flagpoles on the ground and roared, “To Karimov and a constitution! To Karimov and a constitution!”
A smile spread across Nikolai’s face. These were his people. Royal blood or not, Nikolai had come from a tiny nomadic village on the steppe and spent his entire life fighting for respect. He’d been an errand boy for a tailor, and he’d polished shoes for a cobbler. He’d bartered for dance and sword-fighting lessons by trading his time and his services. So these men who stood before him, these ordinary soldiers, were his brethren.
But then the thundering of hooves drowned out the shouts of the Decembrists. The men in the square all turned away from Obolensky toward the sound.
“No,” Nikolai said.
It was not, as the Decembrists had hoped, reinforcements from other garrisons. It was Pasha’s cavalry and infantry. They were close to ten thousand strong.
They were still some distance away, but Nikolai felt as if their horses were already stampeding him.
Because the Decembrists were now outnumbered by more than three to one.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
Vika rode to Pasha’s left as he led the cavalry into Peter’s Square. Yuliana rode to his right, unwilling to accede to his requests to stay behind or at least ride behind the front line. Their horses had to tread carefully on the icy cobblestones.
The Decembrists were lined up in formation in front of the statue of Peter the Great.
The forces Pasha commanded were much more daunting.
“Infantry,” Pasha shouted, “surround the square, but maintain distance from the rebels, and do not fire unless ordered to.”
His commanders snapped to action, and their regiments marched to take strategic places around Peter’s Square.
