Bernie, the czar and the czarina talked as Bernie drove them slowly over the rough roads, fields, and trails back to Murom. And by the time they got there, the czar had decided.
Well, the way Bernie figured it, the czarina decided and the czar went along. Mikhail Romanov didn’t strike Bernie as the forceful type. The decision was that the czar, czarina and the children would go to Bor, take possession of the dirigible Czarina Evdokia, and then decide where to take it.
Bernie thought about arguing for Grantville, but decided not to. The truth was, Grantville and its USE were now more of a foreign country to him than Russia was. To the extent that Bernie Zeppi felt he had a king—not much—that king was Mikhail Romanov, not Gustav Adolf.
Chapter 79
They drove up to the palace at Murom, fat and happy, totally unaware of the changes that had taken place while they were off rescuing the king of the country and his family. The guards waved them through the city gate, then others waved them through the gates of the palace compound.
Not until Bernie stepped out of the car did the guns appear.
* * *
“Oh, crap,” Tim heard the up-timer say. “This couldn’t just be simple.”
Captain Ivan Borisovich Lebedev sneered at him. “You are all under arrest in the name of the czar.”
Then Tim saw the other door of the dodge open and Czar Mikhail stepped out. Much to Tim’s surprise.
“Really?” Czar Mikhail said. “I wasn’t aware that I gave an order for this man’s arrest.”
Cousin Ivan Borisovich gaped at him. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at the hunting lodge.”
“I got tired of hunting,” Czar Mikhail said, though Tim knew very well that he hadn’t been hunting.
The up-timer started grinning. Cousin Ivan looked back and forth between the up-timer and the czar. The guardsmen and Streltzi who had performed this ambush started looking at each other, trying to figure out what to do. Tim couldn’t help but sympathize with them. The day had been a whipsaw, the Sheremetev clan in control of the city then the Gorchakov clan, then the Sheremetev again. Then, when the Gorchakovs came back and were arrested by the Sheremetev in the name of the czar, out pops the czar himself to countermand the order. Of course, most of these men had never seen the czar, but Cousin Ivan had confirmed his identity. For that matter, Tim was starting to feel a bit whipsawed himself. He was a loyal member of his clan, but his oath was sworn to Czar Mikhail. Who was standing right here, denying that he’d ordered the arrest of the up-timer. Tim was fully aware that many of the orders that were given in the czar’s name were actually given by the Boyar Duma, but presumably the Boyar Duma was acting for the czar.
“You are under arrest by order of the duma!” Cousin Ivan shouted. For once in his life, Ivan Borisovich Lebedev had made a quick decision. And it had to be one of the worst decisions that Tim had ever heard.
All of which left Tim with nothing to do but make a quick decision of his own. Who did Tim serve? The family or the czar? Clan or kingdom? And the answer surprised Tim as much as it did his cousin when Tim pulled his pistol out, stuck it in his cousin’s back and said, “I don’t think so.”
In a strange way, the up-timers really were a corrupting influence on Russia. Before the up-timers, Russia had been, in Tim’s eyes, anyway, an amalgamation of feuding clans. Now it was a nation. Becoming one, anyway. And it was that nation that Tim decided to give his loyalty to.
“Be careful, Cousin,” he continued. “If you say the wrong thing here and now, you will die with my bullet in your back. You do not arrest the czar of Mother Russia. To attempt to do so is treason. I am not a traitor.”
Cousin Ivan went back to not making decisions. Probably for the best.
* * *
“What do we do now, Your Majesty?” Tim asked, once all the armed troops had declared for the czar and Cousin Ivan was on his way back to the cell.
“There is a dirigible in Bor. We will take possession.”
“As you command, Your Majesty,” Tim said “And go where?”
“That’s a more difficult question,” Czar Mikhail said. “I don’t want to abandon my people. And the political consequences of my leaving Russia would be extreme.”
Tim nodded in understanding. Russia, in its way, was a very insular nation. Were the czar to move into exile in some other state, it would be awfully hard for him to ever come back.
“Well, that just leaves east,” Filip said. “Far enough east that it will be difficult for the Sheremetev faction to get their hands on you, but not so far that you can’t return when the time comes.”