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By Root 3465 0

of the great, cosmopolitan Russian aristocrats who were to impress even the grandees of Europe for the next two centuries. Had it been anyone else, Nikita might even have been shocked by Golitsyn. It was not just that he spoke Latin; nor even that he drank only moderately and that his palatial house contained western pictures, furniture, even Gobelin tapestries; but he would welcome foreigners to his house, including even – Nikita had heard with horror – the dreaded Jesuits. Yet no one could deny that Golitsyn was a true Russian. No family was nobler or more ancient. And besides all this, as he now came towards Nikita, the more modest noble was aware of the wonderful quality which God had given to nearly all members of the grandee’s family: an extraordinary charm.

Instead of a kaftan, Golitsyn wore a close-fitting Polish coat, with buttons down the front. His beard, instead of flowing broadly over his chest, was trimmed to a neat point. His calm, slightly Turkish face suggested a subtle, perhaps veiled, intelligence.

Gently he took Nikita by the arm and walked with him to one side of the large room. ‘You know, my dear friend, I had hoped to see you a provincial governor,’ he said quietly. Nikita’s heart missed a beat. What did he mean? Some other promotion? But seeing his agitation, Golitsyn only sighed. ‘I want you, my friend, for both our sakes, to be very calm,’ he murmured. ‘As I say, I had hoped. But, alas, it will not be possible. You see, our local administration in Russia is, as you know, less than perfect.’

Even in his nervousness, Nikita could not help a smile at this delicious understatement. The local administration was a bribe-ridden shambles.

‘Consequently,’ the prince went on, ‘we must place huge reliance on the governors. They’re all we have. And unfortunately, even the slightest shadow upon a candidate, in certain circles, makes an appointment impossible.’ He paused. ‘You’ll also know that one of the most urgent tasks at present is for each governor to help the Church stamp out these heretics, these Raskolniki. The Regent Sophia is adamant …’ He waited a moment to give Nikita time to reflect.

‘There are rumours – whether or not they are unfounded, I hardly need to tell you, my dear friend, is perfectly irrelevant – there are rumours in certain high quarters which suggest that,’ he let the words fall gently, ‘were you to prosecute the Raskolniki, you might possibly find yourself embarrassed. I’m sure you understand.’ He paused again, then gave Nikita a smile. ‘Do not despair, Nikita Mikhailovich, you may rise again tomorrow. And I myself might fall. But today, I can’t help you.’

Nikita swallowed. His throat felt very dry.

‘What can I do?’

‘Nothing.’

‘I shall always be ready to serve,’ Nikita said with what dignity he could muster.

Golitsyn was silent.

‘You may of course prefer to reside in Moscow,’ he said after a few seconds, ‘but you should feel free to visit your estates if you wish.’

So it was truly over. They didn’t want him in Moscow. For a second – he could not help it – he felt tears in his eyes; but he managed to blink them back.

‘Come, my dear fellow, let me escort you to the door,’ Golitsyn said kindly.

Only as they went back across the room did Nikita look up and realize that about thirty people were watching; at the same moment, he noticed that in one corner, with calm, expressionless faces, two of the Miloslavskys were also quietly watching. And beside them stood Peter Tolstoy.

Then he understood that it had been a public execution.

So it was that the distinguished ancestor of Russia’s great novelist dealt with Nikita Bobrov.

It was only human nature that, in the days which followed, it was not his known enemy but kindly Golitsyn whom Nikita came to resent. So he executed me to please Tolstoy and the Miloslavskys, he brooded. But then, that man would do anything for power. And in his mind he conjured up, in some detail, what he supposed might be the relations between Golitsyn and the Regent Sophia, dwelling in particular upon her known imperfections, and some others he imagined