I rode straight to the monastery at Troitsa, hoping to find opportunity for serving the Tsar Peter with distinction. This, it seemed to me, might prove the hour of his destiny, unless indeed terror should have rendered him unfit to assert himself. But I found matters went strongly for Peter and against Sophia, for there flowed into Troitsa a constant stream of soldiers, some from Preobrajensky, others Streltsi deserters, some serf soldiers sent in hurriedly by the Boyars who were on Peter’s side, and even the newly-enrolled men of Gordon’s and Lefort’s regiments, upon whom the Regent had depended the most. There would be no fighting, and no opportunity for distinction, for the weight all tilted naturally to one side.

As for Tsar Peter, after hiding himself for a day or two in the forests, the prey of helpless terror, he found heart of grace and came to Troitsa, from which safe retreat he dictated terms to his sister the Regent, which terms were no terms, indeed, since she herself was now compelled to take the veil, while he possessed himself of the throne, whence from this time he reigned as undisputed Tsar, though Ivan, for a while, made a show of sitting conjointly with his brother upon the highest seat.

Now that Peter reigned I had great hopes to turn the tables upon Mazeppa. This time surely the luck was mine! for here was I in Moscow, driven hither, moreover, by Mazeppa himself, just in the nick of time! Destiny had dealt the good cards into my hands for once, and the old fox, Mazeppa, should be smoked out of his hole!

Meanwhile I went, not without anxiety, to see my Vera. Mazeppa’s words, even though I did not believe them, had been somewhat disquieting. Had the Tsar stolen her from me? Not her heart, indeed—I felt sure that that was my own—but her hand. If he should have announced his intention to choose her for his bride, what could she have done, with none to help her escape the undesired splendour of this betrothal?

I found the house of Boyar Kurbatof, like many another mansion in Moscow during these days, in trouble and disorder—the Boyar himself under arrest, Vera almost beside herself with helpless misery, knowing not what she should do or where she should go.

If I had had any doubt of her good faith towards me, her reception of me when I arrived unexpectedly would have dissipated such doubt. She flew to meet me with a scream of delight and lay for a moment locked in my arms, weeping tears of joy and relief.

‘Are you mine, Vera, are you mine?’ I murmured. ‘Tell me quickly!’

‘Oh, whose should I be?’ she whispered back. ‘Have I ever been other than yours, dear Chelminsky?’

‘Not the Tsar’s?’ I said. ‘It was told me that he would have none but you, and I feared—I know not what; for this Peter is not like that Ivan!’

‘I stood well with his Highness,’ Vera laughed, ‘for three months after you had gone. Then he wearied of me, and Olga Kostromsky was favourite. Then Avdotia Lapouchine appeared, and he is betrothed to her: have you not heard?’

The news relieved me greatly, though I did not tell Vera how much, lest she should think me lacking in the virtue of trustfulness.

‘And what of Mazeppa?’ I asked.

Then Vera told me that though Mazeppa, upon receiving his nomination as Hetman, had presumed to visit once again the home he had outraged, in order to resume his suit for Vera’s hand, the old Boyar her father had caused his servants to expel him from the house without deigning to speak to him or give him any answer to his insolent advances.

Mazeppa’s words to me had conveyed a very different meaning.

As for the Boyar’s arrest, her father had been so indignant, said Vera, over the conduct of Tsar Peter, who had seemed to choose Vera for his bride and had afterwards passed her over for another, that he had violently sided with the Regent so soon as differences arose, lending her money and serf-levies from his estates, which conduct brought about his arrest by Peter’s orders, as soon as the young Tsar heard of it.

Having thus made sure of my Vera, I hastened again to Troitsa in order to push my interest with Tsar Peter; but his Highness was so busy that I could not obtain his ear.

‘Wait,’ he said, ‘good Chelminsky; let us first see what I am; my sister’s sins still hang about my neck!’

Therefore I waited a week, and a second week, the Tsar being now in Moscow, and at the end of that time I obtained from Peter the saying that there might soon be reason for making a change in the office of Hetman, and that I should have the next nomination!

This was something, though not much.

Then suddenly, as I walked one day within the Kremlin walls, I met Mazeppa.

He greeted me friendly, as though there had never been a difference between us, thanking heaven that he had been able at our last meeting to allow me to escape from Batourin:

‘My captains were all dead against mercy,’ said he. ‘I had no easy matter, believe me, to bring them to an agreement concerning thee. Why didst thou rebel against me, Chelminsky? Canst thou not be happy unless thy head stands higher than my own?’

‘I shall conspire and rebel again, never fear!’ I laughed. ‘You have not yet quite done with me, Mazeppa! As for thy mercy, I think it was a lie: thou wouldst have had me shot or captured. Rather it was thy captains that stayed thy hand!’

‘Believe as you will,’ he replied angrily; ‘what is it to me? Only remember, the Ukraine is not safe for thee in future. Because of thy own foolishness there is no longer room in our country for Mazeppa and for Chelminsky also.’

‘Is Mazeppa among the prophets?’ I laughed. ‘Neither to me is it given to know the future, my friend, nor to thee. I may yet stand very high among the Cossacks!’

‘Think’st thou so? Hast thou spoken to his Highness as to this foolish ambition of thine? No? Then understand that I have been before thee in this matter, and that thou shalt henceforth whine and beg to him in vain, for nothing will come of thy entreaties!’

And indeed, when I at last obtained the Tsar’s ear, I found that Mazeppa had been before me, and that in his own mysterious fashion he had not only pleased the Tsar by his manner and bearing (he whom the Tsar had disliked up to now!), but also inspired confidence by his political arguments.

So that when I spoke to the Tsar on the subject of the Hetmanate, he put me somewhat brusquely aside, saying that the present Hetman’s attitude was correct and pleasing, and that it would be unnecessary to make any change.

‘But what of thy promises, Tsar?’ I said bitterly. ‘Instead of fulfilling them to my advantage, thou has exalted my enemy over my head!’

‘Not I, Chelminsky; thou art suffering, my man, for the deeds of my sister and Galitsin, which should be a glory to thee, seeing that I have suffered and am suffering the same. This Mazeppa has shown me, moreover, that he will make as good a Hetman as thou. His speech is the very incarnate genius of the Cossack race; learn from him awhile, my friend, and in time thou shalt take his place!’

I was bitterly disappointed by the Tsar’s conduct, and I doubt not my looks showed it, for he laughed and clapped me upon the shoulder. ‘Look not so mournful, man!’ he said. ‘On the whole I have done well by thee, for have I not left thee that wench of thine, Vera?’ The Tsar burst into a roar of laughter, in the midst of which I bowed myself out of his presence, hurt and indignant.

When I told Vera of my disappointment and of the Tsar’s boast that he had left her to me as an act of friendliness, she flushed and told me that he had left her, indeed, to me, but out of no friendliness. ‘Ask him what befell when he grew more familiar than was pleasing to me?’ she said. And though I did not ask his Highness, I know now that Vera actually boxed the Tsar’s ears on one occasion, thereby immensely raising his respect for her as well as his admiration, though not his affection, which had already begun to wane in favour of others. The Tsar Peter’s heart was ever of the butterfly nature, flitting from flower to flower and remaining longest there where most honey is obtainable.

To which respect and admiration of the Tsar Vera added much when presently she went with me to claim forgiveness for her father.

The Tsar grew angry when Vera proffered her request, but when he made a show of refusing it Vera grew angry also.

‘A worthy Tsar, thou!’ she exclaimed, ‘that beginnest thy reign by taking vengeance upon old men, and by breaking promises to those who have well served thee!’

‘What mean you by that, minx?’ exclaimed Peter angrily. ‘May I not punish those who have offended me? And as for promises, what promise have I made that I will not one day redeem?’

‘My father was loyal to the Regent while her Highness claimed the obedience of the Boyars. Is there offence in that? If thou hadst been reigning Tsar instead of a Tsar in leading-strings, and he had lent thee treasure and men, would that have been a crime? Up to the moment of thy proclamation the Boyars were her Highness’s men, not thine. To-day my father would serve thee, even as he served the Regent.’

‘Well, we shall see; it may be that I shall test his loyalty through his purse,’ said Peter, laughing. As to the broken promise—is this fellow Chelminsky thy husband, that thou shouldst speak thus boldly for him?’

‘As forever he has been husband of my heart, let woo who would!’ said Vera.

The Tsar flushed and looked for a moment as though he would reply passionately; but though his face worked and his head jerked round in the manner I have since learned to know as the forerunner of that cruel mood into which he too frequently relapses now in middle age, he recovered himself and laughed aloud.

‘By the Majesty of Saint Cyril, wench,’ he said, ‘thou art a bold one: darest thou marry such a minx, Chelminsky?’

‘I must marry her or die, Tsar,’ I said, ‘wherefore I dare less to marry.’

Vera laughed and pressed my arm. ‘Make him Hetman, Tsar,’ she said: ‘he will serve thee better than the fox thou hast set up.’

But in this matter the young Tsar was immovable.

‘Good Lord, girl,’ he said, ‘must all things go as thou wouldst have them? He shall be Hetman of all the Cossacks now in Moscow—does that satisfy thee?—with reversion at Batourin when Mazeppa shall have proved himself the fox you think him!’

And with this appointment, which was indeed an excellent one, I was obliged to remain content, hoping ever that Mazeppa must one day show himself for what I knew him to be. Yet though the Tsar received from far and near almost daily complaints of Mazeppa’s deceitfulness—how he misruled his Cossacks, coquetted with Pole, Swede and Tartar, and was faithless to every friend he possessed—yet Peter, in this one instance, mistook his man from first to last; believing his word, trusting him in face of overwhelming evidence, and standing his friend and ally through every attempt, whether political or private, to shake his faith in the Hetman. The Tsar was usually a better judge of character than he showed himself in Mazeppa’s case!

A fox among foxes, and certainly the most plausible liar the world has ever seen, was this fox Mazeppa, with whose cunning my poor feeble wits had lately essayed to cope. And will it be believed that the great and wise Tsar himself was perhaps the only human being who was blind to the real character of the man? Was he indeed blind? Rather men will say that if Mazeppa was a fox, Peter was no less; and that he saw his advantage in being served by such a Hetman!

Nevertheless there came a day, after many years, when at length the scales fell from Peter’s eyes. For Mazeppa himself—at the first great opportunity in his life when he must choose definitely a side—proved that he was but a dabbler in politics, and that he no more understood the greatness of his master than the rest of the world had then realised it.

That day was one of those stirring ones which preceded the battle of Pultowa.