Northern Exposure - 50. Chapter 50

March 26, 1801

The Winter Palace

St. Petersburg, Russia

 

Granger slid off the Tsar’s big cock and allowed himself to collapse on the bed next to this man who was proving to be a most excellent lover. They lay there, panting from their exertions for a few minutes, just enjoying the afterglow. Granger felt the Tsar tense up, so Granger moved over onto his side so he could smile at him, a gesture which the Tsar returned weakly. “You do not seem happy. You did not enjoy yourself?”

“I enjoyed myself,” he said.

“Good,” Granger replied. “So did I.”

“I never imagined that I would so enjoy being with another man,” he said. Granger sensed that this was bothering him, so he tried to throw him a psychological lifeline.

“I think sex between men is underrated,” he said. “It is much different than sex with a woman, and part of the excitement is that difference.”

“It is most odd that but for you, I really have no desire to be with another man,” the Tsar said.

“That is probably the most flattering thing anyone has said about me,” Granger said.

“I doubt that,” the Tsar said. “You have a seemingly limitless number of qualities.”

“You are speaking to me as if you are trying to get me into your bed, yet that is most odd since I am already there,” Granger joked, getting a laugh from Alexander. After he was done, he got more serious.

“Ruling Russia is a big task,” he said. “I hope I am up to the task.”

“I have had the honor of meeting many of the crowned heads of Europe,” Granger said. “You are the most capable of them all.”

“Even more capable than your own King?” the Tsar asked.

“Now you make me feel as if I am speaking treason,” Granger grumbled. “King George is a good man, and a bit of a father figure to me. He is also stubborn and lets the desires of the church sway him away from his best interests.”

“That happens in many countries,” the Tsar said, which was an understatement, in Granger’s opinion.

“He also has the occasional bout of madness, which is challenging,” Granger added sadly.

“He is not the only one,” Alexander said. “Both Sweden and Denmark have insane kings.”

“I have met the Crown Prince of Denmark, but not his father,” Granger said. “My impression of him was that he thought he was much smarter than he actually is.”

The Tsar laughed at that. “I think that is one of the most accurate summations of that prince I have yet heard. Such an attitude is not good to have when your country is at the mercy of virtually any other nation.”

“It is not,” Granger agreed. “The King of Sweden strikes me as being very impulsive and erratic. It made my time in Stockholm quite nerve-wracking. One never knew if one was going to be welcomed or sent to a dungeon.”

“Much as it was with my father,” Alexander noted sadly.

“Yes,” Granger agreed. “Hopefully you can see how dangerous that is for a country, to have a monarch like that.”

“Then how is it that your country does not suffer from the madness of your king?”

“I think it is because in Britain, the king does not have absolute power,” Granger observed. “He must work with Parliament, and that acts as a curb on his illness.”

“So when he takes leave of reality, Parliament steps in?” Alexander asked curiously.

“Rather, Parliament runs the country on an ongoing basis, so when the king takes leave, as you noted, it leaves a void but not one that is immediately dire,” Granger noted.

“How can one be a king if one is ruled by a parliament?” he asked. Granger knew that this young man was a child of the enlightenment, so this was definitely a leading question, probably an attempt to find out if Granger was a closet republican.

“The king has great influence on Parliament, so he is not ruled by it, rather he rules with it,” Granger corrected. “He can impact elections, he can appoint peers to the upper house, and he can dissolve the entire thing.”

“He elevated you to the peerage,” the Tsar observed. “Does that mean you are the king’s man?” Granger hid his annoyance at the implication that by making Granger a viscount, the king had bought him as if he were a whore.

“I was elevated to the peerage due to my achievements, although that was in no small part helped by my family’s birth and influence,” Granger said. “I am always the king’s man, because I am loyal, but I do not always agree with him.”

“In Russia, there is no distinction between the two,” he said. “I am not sure that is healthy.”

“It would seem that there would be no outlet for frustrations,” Granger said. Neither one of them said anything, but their minds both flashed to the horrific events of the French Revolution, and what could happen if a lid was sealed on a boiling pot for too long.

“What of your Tsarevich?” he asked, changing the subject.

“The Prince of Wales is, well…” Granger hesitated.

“A playboy who cares only for himself,” Alexander said, completing Granger’s thoughts.

“That would be a succinct way to put it,” Granger said, chuckling.

“You met the French king at Mitau?” he asked.

“I did,” Granger said with dread. “He was not an inspiring figure.”

“You mean because he is fat and dogmatic?” Alexander asked, making Granger chuckle.

“And once again you have summed things up perfectly,” Granger said. “I am almost more worried that he will regain his throne than that he will not.”

“And why is that?” the Tsar asked.

“Because the King and his followers will return to a France that is very different, and while France has changed, they have not,” Granger said. “I do not think the French will tolerate that for long.”

“They will if he has the army behind him,” the Tsar noted.

“That will help, although I am not convinced that he would have their support,” Granger said. “My time in France led me to believe that their experiences as a country have brought them to the point where they will not go back to the way things were. And having overthrown a king before, I think they will be willing to do so again if he institutes martial law.”

“That is the big fear,” the Tsar noted. “You give people a taste of freedom, and the next thing you have is anarchy.”

“It is a risk,” Granger agreed. “I have not met the King of Prussia and the Emperor of Austria, and I know little about them.”

“The Prussian king is weak, as is his state, while the Austrian emperor is brave, but the martial spirit has left his people,” the Tsar said.

“It continues to amaze me that the vaunted Austrian army is now almost a joke,” Granger grumbled in agreement.

“What of the Mediterranean Kings? What of Spain?” he asked.

“The King of Spain reminds me much of the King of France,” Granger said, after thinking about it.

“That is almost appropriate, since Spain is all but ruled by France,” Alexander said.

“There, things are traditional, and there is little change. That would perhaps not be a bad thing if they did not have a minister who accumulated all of the power onto himself,” Granger said.

“Godoy,” the Tsar said, getting a nod from Granger.

“I fear that the Prince of Peace will take care of himself and leave Spain in a difficult situation,” Granger said.

“You do not think his alliance with France was a good thing?” the Tsar asked, another leading question.

“Spain’s wealth comes from its colonies overseas,” Granger said. “An alliance with France puts Spain at war with Britain, and severely limits those trade routes.”

“And allows particularly enterprising British captains to acquire considerable fortunes,” the Tsar said with a smile.

“Indeed,” Granger agreed. “My friends in Spain tell me that the alliance with France was a forced marriage none of them wanted, but when one has a very powerful neighbor on its doorstep, one sometimes has little choice. Perhaps not unlike Poland?”

“Perhaps,” the Tsar said with a slight hint of annoyance, since Poland was a touchy subject at the Imperial Court. “What of Portugal and Naples?”

“Portugal has a mad queen and is ruled by Prince John, who seems like a nice enough fellow, but in my opinion, the corruption in that country and its empire is like a wound that will bleed it dry,” Granger said.

“Even here in Russia, we have heard of the chaos you caused with Portuguese colonial governors,” the Tsar said, surprising Granger. He didn’t realize that was an internationally known thing. Alexander was remarkably well-informed.

“They’re a rum lot,” Granger said, getting a laugh from the Tsar. “The King of Naples is really the Queen of Naples. She acts much as Godoy does in Spain.”

“To be ruled by a woman is dangerous,” the Tsar said.

“Perhaps,” Granger said. “In Russia, you have had some very formidable and successful Tsarinas, no?”

“We have indeed,” Alexander said. “But it is worth noting that such a woman is not compatible with a living Tsar.”

“Then I can now see how you would perceive them as dangerous,” Granger said, making them both laugh. “The entire Neapolitan Court resembles a carnival. I find that country makes the Portuguese look like a model society.”

The Tsar laughed again. “You are clearly not a fan of the Neapolitan royals.”

“That is mostly true, but I had a young midshipman on my ship who was the Queen’s cousin, and he was an impressive young man, so perhaps there is hope for them,” Granger said.

“I do not know why I feel like I can trust you with these conversations,” the Tsar said. “I instinctively let down my guard around you.”

“That you do that is incredibly flattering,” Granger said. “Maybe it is because you know that I am honorable and will not use our conversations to cause you harm. And maybe the fact that I am not one of your subjects, and that I have no particular agenda to push on you, makes me less risky as a confidante?”

“You have your own agenda, do you not?” he challenged.

“I apologize. You are correct,” Granger said. “I would like to see Russia and Britain working together as strong allies. So if you were to damn me with an ulterior motive, that is what it is.”

“That is hardly a damnable offence,” the Tsar said. “And when you return home, what will you tell them of me?”

“I will tell my government that Russia is now ruled by a strong and intelligent Tsar, one who is capable of being a steadfast ally, and worthy of all their support,” Granger said. He stared into the Tsar’s eyes as he said it, so Alexander would see his sincerity.

Alexander kissed Granger, then turned him around and pulled Granger to him. Granger felt the large Imperial cock probing him, then entering him, and let himself go as they went on yet another sexually blissful journey. When they were done, they ended up panting and satisfied, smiling at each other. “You will not tell them of this?”

He had asked that in a joking way, but Granger sensed that he had serious concerns about it. “I will not tell anyone of our coupling, and I will pledge that on my word of honor.”

“Thank you,” he said, and ran his fingers gently across Granger’s cheek in a loving way. “You did not have to say that.”

“If I did not mean it, I would not have said it,” Granger said. “It just saddens me that our time together is to be truncated.”

“Indeed? Where are you going?” the Tsar asked, confused.

“Count Panin explained to me that you were worried that my presence would raise concerns about your accession to the throne, and that it had been facilitated with British gold,” Granger said. “He said that I was to be banished from Russia within the next few days, and that this was in my best interest.”

“How would that be in your best interest?” the Tsar asked. Granger was extremely disturbed that the Tsar evidently knew nothing about this. He remembered Pavel’s warnings about how duplicitous Alexander could be, but was he doing that now?

“By being escorted from Russia by your guards, I would be able to leave quickly, and perhaps arrive in Denmark in time to prevent a major battle,” Granger said.

“Messengers were already dispatched yesterday to all the capitals in Europe, including your own,” the Tsar said. “I daresay it is unlikely you would reach Copenhagen faster than that.”

Granger blanched at that, at being rightfully accused of the sin of arrogance, of thinking that he was the only person who could reach Denmark in time to stop the coming conflagration. “I must apologize for inflating my own importance,” Granger said sincerely.

The Tsar smiled. “You have done a remarkably good job of fitting in here, but you are no less vulnerable to political intrigues than those who were born in this milieu.”

“You are not worried that by my being here, people will assume that I was involved in your accession to the throne?” Granger asked, confused.

“I am the Tsar of all the Russias,” Alexander said with a degree of pomp. “Who am I to be afraid of?”

Granger smiled. “You must forgive me yet again. I have applied English standards to a Russian situation.”

“A Tsar must always worry that a knife could find its way between his ribs, but such a thing usually happens for a reason,” he said philosophically. “One must be a bad Tsar, or there must be an alternate person claiming the throne for that to happen. I have not yet had time to be a bad Tsar, and there are no rival claimants to my power.”

“Except, perhaps, your mother,” Granger said.

“You were wise to caution me,” he said, and got a bit sad. “She tried all kinds of evil tricks to get me to crumble and become her puppet, but she finally realized it was not to be.”

“I am glad,” Granger said honestly.

“We have reached an understanding,” he said. “Besides, if you were to leave, then Lord Daventry would go with you, and that would not make my mother happy.”

Granger laughed at that. “Daventry said much the same thing, and I chided him for being overly confident in his skills.”

“They are useful, especially now,” the Tsar said.

“I completely misread this entire situation,” Granger said. He was truly upset about that, that his judgment had been so off.

“You were manipulated by Count Panin, who is a wily and experienced diplomat,” Alexander said. “He will come see me tomorrow and tell me that you requested this expulsion.”

“Why would he do that?” Granger asked.

“Count Panin has many English friends, including your Lord Whitworth, but that does not mean he has England’s interests at heart. He is a proponent of an alliance between Russia and France,” the Tsar concluded.

“And by getting rid of me and Daventry, it removes a potential foreign obstacle to that alliance,” Granger concluded.

“You see, you are quite intelligent,” the Tsar said.

“Does that not bother you, that he is working behind the scenes against you?” Granger asked.

“He is not working against me behind the scenes, he is working against England,” the Tsar said with a smile. “He is a useful servant, nothing more, nothing less.”

“I understand,” Granger said.

“In the future, if anyone should say something to you like this, you must come directly to me. If I were going to banish you from Russia, I would tell you myself,” the Tsar said.

“I will gladly do Your Imperial Majesty’s bidding,” Granger said in a coquettish way, one that earned him the privilege of taking the Tsar’s dick up his ass yet again. After that, the Tsar got up, which Granger took as his cue to leave. He quickly got dressed, while the Tsar put on a dressing gown.

“I will see you the day after tomorrow,” the Tsar commanded. “You will join me for supper, and I will show you my personal banya.”

“I have learned to fully enjoy banyas, so I must thank Your Imperial Majesty for the privilege of experiencing yours,” Granger said as he bowed. He left the Tsar’s bedroom and conveniently enough found a candlelit tableau and mirror. He took a few minutes to fully inspect his appearance and to make sure his wig was on correctly, then cautiously snuck out into the corridor. He managed to avoid being sighted by anyone until he was in the main area of the palace, then made his way to the gaming area. He found Daventry quite inebriated, playing a dice game that looked similar to hazard.

“George!” he said, slurring.

“Daventry,” Granger said, and put his arm around his friend. “I have come to ruin your evening by dragging you back home.”

“You are no fun,” he said, pouting. Granger playfully thought about suggesting that he ask the Tsar whether he was fun or not, even though he would never do such a thing.

“Nonetheless, we must be going,” Granger said. He helped Daventry up, then kept his arm around his fellow peer to steady him as they wound their way down the Jordan staircase and to the main entry. It took some time, as Daventry was most unstable, but they finally arrived at the door, which was smartly opened by a footman. Granger was surprised to find his vozok there waiting for them. The efficient palace staff must have noted that he was leaving and sent a footman to rush ahead and summon his vehicle. He pushed Daventry into the vozok, causing him to land on his ass on the floor.

“That was not very nice,” Daventry said, even as the vozok began to move.

“I was hoping it would make you more alert so I didn’t have to carry you upstairs when we get back to Stroganov palace,” Granger said.

“Someday, when you are this drunk, I will drop you on the floor of my vozok,” Daventry said, making both of them laugh.

“You should indeed plan to do just that,” Granger said. The walk out of the palace, the blisteringly cold wind that had hit them, and now their laughter seemed to sober Daventry up a bit.

“So where were you while I was losing my purse at hazard?” Daventry asked.

“I was meeting with His Imperial Majesty,” Granger said. Daventry raised an eyebrow at that.

“I thought I was the one with the most exalted connections here, but it seems that you have now eclipsed me,” Daventry said.

“That is true, although I do not have to fuck His Imperial Majesty,” Granger said. He rationalized that statement, since he hadn’t fucked the Tsar, the Tsar had fucked him.

“One must do what one must do,” Daventry said philosophically. “And did you find out when we are to be thrown out of Russia?”

“We are not,” Granger said.

“You didn’t find out?” Daventry asked, because he was still a bit inebriated.

“No, we aren’t being banished, at least not yet,” Granger said. “Panin is trying to get us out of the way because he wants to see Russia allied with France.”

“So the Tsar is not concerned that we will tarnish his reputation?” Daventry asked.

“No, he is much more interested in you continuing to satisfy his mother and keep her out of his way,” Granger said. Daventry frowned. “It seems that I significantly underestimated your usefulness in that regard.”

Daventry laughed. “It is probably the result of having so much practice.”

“Indeed,” Granger said, chuckling with him. “Messengers have already been dispatched to alert the world that there is a new Tsar, so my plan to hurry and save the day is now quite irrelevant.”

“That must be incredibly sad for you, not to be the white knight that the world is waiting for,” Daventry teased.

“I am annoyed that you would think I am not the white knight that the world is waiting for,” Granger replied, pretending to be piqued. “I am just not the one to save it from the unfolding crisis in Copenhagen.”

“Perhaps the fleet will take longer to get there, and the commanders will be dilatory,” Daventry said.

“Perhaps,” Granger said dubiously.

 

April 2, 1801

The Winter Palace

St. Petersburg, Russia

 

“This palace is truly beautiful,” Daventry said. He and Granger were standing at the top of the Jordan Staircase, where one could gaze upward at the stunning frescos, or down at the stairs with their gilted bronze railings.

“St. James’s Palace certainly isn’t like this,” Granger noted, referring to the King’s main residence in London.

“St. James’s is an outdated and unfashionable Tudor pile of bricks,” Daventry said callously.

“It certainly does not inspire awe,” Granger said. His peripheral vision spotted a chamberlain heading toward him, so he turned to greet the man.

“My lords,” he said, and actually appeared to be a bit breathless. “His Imperial Majesty bids you to call on him at once.”

“At once?” Daventry asked, raising an eyebrow. That kind of urgent message was almost unheard of in a palace, where niceties were paramount.

“I am sorry, my lord,” the chamberlain said. “Those were his words.”

“We will gladly follow you,” Granger said. He and Daventry had to pick up their pace considerably to keep up with him, which prompted them to look at each other with raised eyebrows. Granger had initially thought Alexander was sending just for him and smiled internally at how much fun he was having with the Tsar, but the footman’s urgency as well as Daventry’s presence convinced him it was something much more serious.

They were led past the Guards who kept the private quarters secure and up to the entrance to Alexander’s study. Two footmen opened the door smartly and the chamberlain walked in and bowed, then announced Granger and Daventry, who both entered and bowed gracefully. Granger felt his nerves tense when he saw that Panin was the only other person in the room. “Gentlemen, I am sorry to summon you so abruptly,” Alexander said smoothly.

“We are always at Your Imperial Majesty’s disposal,” Daventry replied for both of them.

“We have some information that I am sure you will find interesting, and we will convey it to you provided you will give us your evaluation,” Panin said.

“This is not a Turkish bazaar,” the Tsar snapped, annoyed that Panin had turned what the Tsar probably considered a gift into a quid pro quo.

“I am quite happy to share my thoughts with Your Imperial Majesty on whatever this is,” Granger said, to save Panin and to move the conversation along. He was now very curious about what they knew.

“Excellent,” Alexander said, then gestured to some chairs around a small dining table. “Please have a seat.”

No sooner had the four of them taken their seats than servants came out bearing food and wine. “We have received information that confirms a British fleet left Yarmouth on March 12, my lord” Panin said, clearly addressing Granger since it was a naval matter.

“How big was the fleet, Your Excellency?” Granger asked.

Panin glanced down at his papers. “At least twenty battleships, some which have three decks, and as many or more smaller craft, my lord.”

“Do you know who was in command, Your Excellency?” Granger asked, because it was vital information, and because he was curious as to how much intelligence the Russians had gotten from their spy network.

Panin looked nervously at the Tsar, because he was worried about revealing the depth of Russian espionage, but a frown from his master caused him to yield up the answer to Granger’s question. “Sir Hyde Parker supposedly commands, while his second in command is Lord Nelson, my lord.”

“An interesting match,” Granger mused to himself.

“How so?” the Tsar asked.

“Your Imperial Majesty, both are excellent naval officers, but they are quite different. Sir Hyde Parker is from a naval family, and the tradition of the service is very important to him. He is known to be fussy and finicky, always focused on following the rules. He is quite concerned about his own comfort, but he is also a good strategist and planner,” Granger said. “Lord Nelson is a good strategist, but that is the only trait they share.”

“Where is this fleet going?” he asked Granger, although they all knew the answer to that.

“That fleet is headed to the Baltic, and it will first neutralize Copenhagen, sir,” Granger said confidently.

“If they left on March 12, they surely wouldn’t be in a position to attack until a few weeks from now, my lord,” Panin noted.

“I would suggest, Your Excellency, that when the attack happens is largely dependent on who is making the decisions in the fleet,” Granger said. “If Sir Hyde forces his plan into being, your timetable may be correct.”

Daventry studied Granger carefully. “But you do not think that will happen,” he accused.

“I do not,” Granger said. “I think that Nelson, when faced with the opportunity for a battle, will do whatever it takes to convince Sir Hyde to follow his plan. And I would not be surprised if Sir Hyde agrees merely to stop Lord Nelson from calling on him two or three times a day to make his point.”

“And if Nelson is, in essence, in command?” the Tsar asked.

“Then, sir, I think that the battle has probably already been fought, and we have not yet heard the news,” Granger said. “Lord Nelson would not waste time. He will approach this with all the energy and drive one person can muster.”

“And you are convinced he can vanquish the Danes, my lord?” Panin asked skeptically.

“There is no question about it, Your Excellency,” Granger said. “I am willing to wager it is so, and you can name the amount.”

That neatly backed Panin into a corner. “Your words are quite persuasive, my lord,” he said.

“Once the battle is won, what will they do next?” the Tsar asked.

“Sir, please understand that I have told you my thoughts up to this point and I am almost certain I am right. What happens after that will require more guesswork,” Granger said modestly.

“We are not planning to hold you accountable for your views, we are merely interested in your thoughts,” the Tsar said firmly. He was such a commanding figure and so attractive that Granger was glad he was sitting down lest he end up with an erection thinking about having sex with him.

“Sir, if the fleet sustains a lot of damage, then Sir Hyde will be reluctant to enter the Baltic in force,” Granger predicted. “If it does not, he will still be cautious, but I think that he will once again be prodded into action by Lord Nelson. In that case, the fleet will first ensure that the Swedish fleet at Karlskrona is neutralized, and then they will sail to Reval. I would not be surprised if they were there by the end of April.”

“Reval is not as easy to defend as Kronstadt,” the Tsar noted. “Draft orders for the fleet to sail here as soon as possible.”

“As you wish, Your Imperial Majesty,” Panin said, even as he made a note on a piece of paper.

“Lord Granger, I thank you for your candor,” the Tsar said. “We have another thing to discuss.”

“As Your Imperial Majesty wishes,” Granger said.

“There is a new government in Britain, just as you both had predicted,” he said. “I would like to know who these new people are.”

“Begging your pardon, sir, but so would I,” Daventry said, making all of them chuckle.

“The new Prime Minister is Henry Addington,” Panin said.

“Who?” Granger asked, as he wracked his brain to remember who that was.

“Addington?” Daventry asked, stunned. “The Speaker of the House? The Doctor’s son? He’s the new Prime Minister?”

“That’s what this newspaper says,” Panin said, and handed Daventry a copy of the London Times.

“Addington,” Daventry mumbled, and shook his head.