On the red staircase

by Mary Imlay Taylor

Pierrot stood hesitating for a moment; I saw that he was by no means silenced, but pretended not to observe him while I fastened my belt with the pistols in it and adjusted my cloak, receiving very little assistance from him. I had turned to leave the room when he touched my sleeve. I stopped impatiently, but something in his eyes checked my anger.

“What is it now, you persistent knave?” I asked, conscious that my resolution was weakening before his obstinate devotion.

“M. le Vicomte,” he said gravely, “I have served you faithfully for many years; my father served yours, before me. I pray you, let me share your peril, if I may not avert it.”

I was deeply touched, but passed it off lightly. “Nonsense, man!” I said; “you make a mountain out of a molehill. I am in no danger; but since you are so obstinate, have your way, but we have the prospect of a hard ride, and little risk to vary the monotony.”

The foolish fellow thanked me as if I had conferred a great favor, and in a few moments we were in the saddle, and walking our horses down the narrow streets, which were dark enough to enforce a little caution. It was now late, and events had so crowded upon each other, that it seemed to me that it must be nearer morning than it really was. The city was not as quiet as usual at that hour; heavy sounds smote the ear, and the hum of some distant noise coming from the direction of the quarters of the Streltsi. We were riding through the Zemlianui-gorod towards the suburbs, where I was to find the house of the Boyar Urusof. The moon was entirely obscured now, and it was so dark that it required all my attention to guide my horse along the indifferent road,—Pierrot keeping close in my wake and, contrary to his custom, offering no suggestions about our journey, feeling perhaps that he accompanied me only on sufferance. As we traversed the narrow streets, I had ample time for reflection, and the more my mind dwelt on my errand, the less it pleased me. Up to this time, I had been able to keep clear of any entanglement with the court intrigues, thus maintaining pleasant relations at the palace; but now I was fairly committed to the Miloslavskys, for if the fact that I had accepted such a mission reached the ears of the Czarina Natalia, I could look for little toleration from her; and if the Naryshkin party maintained their supremacy, my place at court would not be tenable, and it would be impossible for me to reach Zénaïde Ramodanofsky. Yet I had been forced into my predicament, having no choice in the matter. My thoughts of the Czarevna Sophia were scarcely pleasant ones; but my only hope was that she would be victorious, and my errand would then be vindicated. I confess, too, to considerable curiosity about the packet that I carried. I could not doubt its importance, and wondered to what extent she had trusted me.

These reflections were interrupted by Pierrot, who asked which of two roads I intended to follow. I had already decided on the shorter one; but he objected, on the ground that he knew it to be in bad condition, and that our horses might meet with an accident. However, I was too anxious to be done with my distasteful errand to heed his precautions, and in a few moments we were riding on again, carefully, it is true, but yet at a fair rate of speed. We had advanced a considerable distance, when I thought that I heard a commotion of some kind in front, and, at the same time, there was the sound of a horse’s hoofs coming rapidly towards us. In the darkness, I could only discover an imperfect outline of a horse and rider as they approached me. I turned aside to make room, but the stranger reined in his horse as he came abreast of us. He uttered an exclamation in Russian which I did not catch, and I asked him what he had said.

“You cannot go on!” he exclaimed, in an excited tone; “there is a small riot on the road. Some of the Streltsi have got after one of their officers and taken him prisoner, and they will not let any one through the lines. I am going back to the city for help.”

“Will they murder him?” I asked, feeling that we ought to interfere.

“No; they are going to take him to their own quarters,” the stranger said, touching his horse with his spurs.

I called after him to know if there was any short cut to the other road, which I had despised. He replied that he did not know, but that there was a public house a few yards in front of me, where I could get all the information that I required. If it had not been for the czarevna’s packet, I should have been inclined to risk getting through the rioters; but I knew it would be a sorry matter to fall into their hands with that imperial missive on my person. I foresaw some difficulty and delay as it was, and cursing my luck, rode forward to the house indicated by the stranger. It was a long, low building surrounded by a high wall; there was no light at the front, but I saw one burning in the rear, inside the courtyard, and the gate was ajar. Tossing my reins to Pierrot, I dismounted, and approaching the gateway, looked into a large bare court, partially illumined by the light streaming from an open door opposite. I knocked with the hilt of my sword, but there was no sound but the restive plunge of one of my own horses; I looked back and saw Pierrot trying to quiet them. As there was no response, I pushed open the gate, which squeaked angrily, as if the hinges were rusted. Crossing the court, I was approaching the open door, when the light was suddenly extinguished. My surprise stayed my foot, for I was left in total darkness, and without having seen anyone in the place. In another moment I advanced to the doorway and struck the post with my fist. I heard the sound of feet moving within, and bending forward, strained my eyes to penetrate the darkness. As I did so, some one sprang on me from behind, and I was thrown heavily face downward on the step; before I could make any outcry, my head was muffled by my first assailant, while another person kept my arms pinioned. I made a violent effort to free myself, but was perfectly powerless in the hands of the ruffians, who did their work silently, although I thought that I could hear, even through my muffling, the sound of a number of feet. I remembered, at that moment, with regret that I had not heeded Pierrot’s cautions, and still hoped that he might take alarm and come to my assistance; but the height of the wall precluded all possibility of seeing into the court, even in the daylight, and in that pitch darkness only an owl could have discovered anything. My mysterious assailants evidently had some well-defined plan in their minds; for without consultation, or even speaking, they proceeded to lift me, none too gently, and carried me into the house. However, they did not stop there; but passing on, I heard a heavy door unbarred, and from the change of atmosphere, was sure that I was out of doors again. Then I became conscious of being lifted into a carriage, and could indistinctly hear the horses prancing as we started off at a rate that argued a better road than that by which I had approached the ill-fated spot. The cords which bound my arms and legs hurt not a little, and, muffled as I was, I found it even difficult to breathe. My thoughts were too confused to reason out the cause or probable results of my unfortunate predicament, but I was greatly alarmed for the safety of the czarevna’s packet. Even if their object was robbery alone, they would still be sure to discover the papers, and would doubtless make use of them; but from the first, I fancied that the packet was the cause of my trouble, and yet was at loss to understand how it could have been suspected that I was the bearer of Sophia’s messages. Suddenly I remembered Homyak at the door of the czarevna’s apartment, and knew myself for a blockhead. Von Gaden had openly expressed his antipathy to the miserable dwarf, and I knew him to be identified with Vladimir Ramodanofsky, an active adherent of the Naryshkins. My carelessness had been my own undoing, and I now suspected that the story of the riotous Streltsi on the road was a fable, and that I had been led into a snare as easily as the veriest simpleton in the world. Poor Pierrot! I fancied his distress, and only hoped that his fate might not be worse than my own. Meanwhile, the packet still remained upon my person, and I lay helpless in the bottom of the carriage. On, on, we sped! What could be our destination? The cords cut more and more about my limbs, and my breath came with an effort. I felt that a few moments more of this would strangle me. I endeavored to gain some liberty by contortions of my whole body; but after a few spasmodic movements, I received a sharp kick in the ribs from one of my captors, and found it expedient to lie still. The sensation of smothering was horrible, the oppression on the chest, the pain at the heart; and every movement was torture. Reaching at last the limit of endurance, I lost consciousness, and knew nothing more until I came to myself, on the floor of a small room, my eyes straining up at the low ceiling, and the morning light streaming in at a window opposite.