The Kremlin Games(114)
The peasants who had been assigned to grow them had not been pleased. But with the government promising to buy the potatoes at a fixed price per pound, and threats about what would happen if they failed to follow instructions, they had grown them. The peasants were going to be displeased again. Fixed prices worked both ways.
Still, it wasn’t enough. Not with the number of peasants who had managed to buy out or simply run off. That move had delayed the harvest in a number of places and that delay had been crucial. It had destroyed millions of rubles worth of crops. The bureaucratic service nobility placed the blame for the disaster at the feet of the czar. And though they were unlikely to actually starve because of it, hundreds, perhaps thousands, of them had been ruined.
* * *
“There is grain aplenty in Poland. The storm missed them and they got their harvest in with little damage,” Patriarch Filaret said. The Little Duma, Privy Council, was meeting to discuss the response to the storm and its effect on the price of grain.
“We don’t have the money to buy Polish grain,” Fedor Ivanovich Sheremetev countered.
“After what they did to us during the Time of Troubles, they owe us a little grain and Rzhev showed we have the might to take it.”
Mikhail wished he could be somewhere else. The meeting had been going on for hours, mostly in a deadlock between his father and his cousin. Sheremetev wanted to stop the contributions to Gustav Adolf and try for a closer alliance with Poland. The patriarch wanted to keep relations with Sweden good and coordinate with them in attacking Poland from two fronts at once. Mikhail was leaning toward his father’s side, mostly, because he agreed with Sheremetev that Gustav Adolf was, in the long run, the greater danger. But to Mikhail that meant that Gustav Adolf was the one who needed to be wooed, not the one to attack.
Let the Swedish king rule western Europe. He’d earned it. Russia would expand to the east, into territory that they already tacitly owned. A transcontinental railroad from Moscow to the Pacific would give Russia half a continent of growing room. In spite of his respect for the charismatic Emperor Gustav Adolf, Mikhail thought he would prefer to be remembered as a builder rather than a conqueror.
“Given the effects of the storm, we will have to, at least for now, curtail the shipments of grain to the Swedes. But General Shein will prepare the army for the possibility of action between our realm and Poland.” Mikhail raised a hand as Sheremetev started to speak. “Just in case.”
If this were a story they would all shut up now that he had made his royal ruling. But, of course, they didn’t shut up. They kept right on arguing back and forth for another hour. Eventually, after they had forgotten who had suggested it, they agreed on Mikhail’s plan of action. Mikhail would have liked to be satisfied with that, but he wasn’t, His power over the boyars and church were both getting weaker, not stronger, as time went on. When the meeting finally broke up, he happened to see Sheremetev’s expression. It worried him.
* * *
This was a disaster, Sheremetev thought as he left the chamber where the Little Duma met. War with Poland would be a disaster for both countries, no matter who won. It would be a disaster for the Sheremetev lands and for both nations, leaving them open to the ravages of the Swede. Russia needed Poland as a buffer against the west. It needed a Poland strong enough to fight off the threats from central and western Europe. And the patriarch was going to destroy that buffer even if he won. There was no other choice. Filaret has to go.
* * *
“Natasha, you see Czarina Evdokia often, do you not?” Boris asked.
Natasha, hearing the tone of his voice, took a long look at him. Boris was always a bit pasty-faced, but these days he was dreadfully pale. And had dark circles under his eyes. Which, oddly for the current situation, almost made her laugh. He looked so much like Bernie’s cartoon. “Yes, I do, Boris. Why?”
“I’m worried,” Boris said. “I know there’s something going on. Something bad. But I’m excluded. The word is out that I’m too close to the Dacha to trust.” He sighed. “It’s to be expected, of course. Nevertheless, I do hear rumors. One is that the strelzi are angry, and are making alliances with a number of men in Moscow.”
“What do you want me to tell Evdokia?” Natasha asked.
“To be careful. Very careful. Even to get out of Moscow, if they can.”
Chapter 66
September 1635
“Zeppi seems to think so, but our research has shown that you spend much more in fuel for moving the same weight with heavier than air craft,” Gregorii Mikhailovich explained rather more fully than Colonel Shuvalov thought was really necessary.