Travail and Triumph (The Russians Book #3)

Michael Phillips, Judith Pella

Description

From Siberia to St. Petersburg, tsarist Russia continues to crumble. The noble house of Fedorcenko, however, has much to rejoice in: the marriage of Princess Katrina, the anticipation of a new baby, and the return of Prince Sergei. But even as they celebrate, rebel forces are at work to overthrow the tsar--and the house of Fedorcenko as well.

Informations

• Publié par: Baker Publishing Group
• Date de parution: 13 octobre 2015
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781441229762
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
© 1992 by Michael Phillips and Judith Pella
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
www.bakerpublishinggroup.com
Ebook edition created 2015
Ebook corrections 09.20.2017
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4412-2976-2
This book is a work of fiction. With the exception of historical personages, all characters are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to living persons, past or present, is coincidental.
Cover design by Melinda Schumacher
Judith Pella is represented by The Steve Laube Agency.
Dedication
To Janet Ann Phillips Stanberry
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
A Cast of Characters
Prologue: Brief Interlude of Hope
1
2
Part I: Conflict and Parting
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
Part II: Adjustments of a New Life
11
12
13
14
15
Part III: A Soldier’s Disgrace
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
Part IV: A Nation’s Travail
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
Part V: Aftermath of Death
38
39
40
41
42
43
Part VI: Down the Dark Road
44
45
46
47
48
Part VII: Brothers in Exile
49
50
51
52
53
Part VIII: Vengeance Unleashed
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
Part IX: Travail and Farewell
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
Part X: Triumph and New Life
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
Epilogue
About the Authors
Fiction by Michael Phillips
Books by Judith Pella
Back Cover
A Cast of Characters
Anna Yevnovna Burenin
Princess Katrina Viktorovna (Fedorcenko) Remizov
Count Dmitri Gregorovich Remizov
Prince Sergei Viktorovich Fedorcenko
Lt. Mikhail Igorovich Grigorov (Misha)
In St. Petersburg
Prince Viktor Makhailovich Fedorcenko
Princess Natalia Vasilyovna Fedorcenko
Count Cyril Vlasenko—Chief of Third Section, the Secret Police
Tsar Alexander II Rominov
General Michael Loris-Melikov
Alexander Alexandrovich Rominov (Tsar Alexander III)
Pobedonostev—Alexander III’s tutor
Fedorcenko and Remizov Households
Eugenia Pavlovna Remizov—Dmitri’s mother
Mrs. Remington
Leo Moskalev
Nina Chomsky
Polya
Peter
Ivan
In Katyk
Yevno Pavlovich Burenin
Sophia Ilyanovna Burenin
Tanya
Vera
Ilya
Mariana Natalia Dmitrievna Remizov
Father Corygov
Revolutionaries and Friends
Paul Yevnovich Burenin (Pavlikov)
Basil Pyotrovich Anickin
Andrei Zhelyabov
Sophia Perovskaya
Stepniak
Ivan Remiga
Dr. Bobov
Evie
In the Army and in Siberia
Captain Rustaveli—Caspian Sea
General Skobelev—Caspian Sea
Lt. Plaksa—Dmitri’s friend
Kaplan—Sergei’s friend
Robbie Taggart—China
Prologue: Brief Interlude of Hope
1
Anna traced over the handwritten signature on the title page for the eighth time that day:
S-E-R-G-E-I V-I-K-T-O-R-O-V-I-C- H F-E-D-O-R-C-E-N-K- O
Her fingers carefully followed the words he had written to her only a few hours earlier. As she sat alone in her room at last, after the afternoon’s succession of receptions, she stared at the words of the title, the author’s name, and the inscription written underneath them. Every time she actually tried to read the prized volume, the fictional Bagraev’s story paled alongside the pulsing reality of the words on the title page.
To my Anna Yevnovna, the familiar hand had written, with the deepest of my heart’s love and affection, and with great hope for our future together.
“ My Anna,” she whispered. “My Anna!”
Slowly she closed the book and clasped it to her bosom, tenderly caressing the soft leather of its cover. This would be one of her treasured possessions, along with the Bible and gold cross of her father’s. She would keep it with her forever. She would treasure it forty years from now, even when it was old and ragged and she had read it a dozen times! She would show it to their children, and tell them that this was the first and most special of all their father’s many books. Although his name was famous throughout all of Russia, throughout all of Europe, this chosen volume, now ragged with years, was the first anyone in all of Moscow had been given. And he had given it to her —Anna Yevnovna, a mere servant girl!
Anna opened the volume again, and once more tried to read the story that had sprung from her beloved Sergei’s creative mind.
From the nobility came a youth of the Motherland, full of the optimism of his tender years. In his bosom beat a heart full of love for his country and all he thought it stood for. He came still half a boy, full of hope. When he returned, he would be a man whose hope was gone.
His name was Bagraev. This is his saga. He left his beloved St. Petersburg in the season of . . .
Anna could read no more.
Again she turned the pages back to the title page, gazing at the words—some printed by machine, some written by hand. She would read Sergei’s book. She would read it twice . . . three times! But tonight she was tired, and she would merely bask in the glow of seeing her name on its title page.
To my Anna Yevnovna.
2
The second half of 1880 brought several months of welcome peace to the Motherland of Russia.
Foreign battlefields were, if not quiet, at least not so noisy as to echo their din all the way northward to St. Petersburg. Scattered fighting was always in progress along the distant borders of an empire so enormous, particularly in southern Asia to the southeast of the Black Sea. But with the army returned from the Balkan War, most citizens paid these scattered outbreaks little heed.
At home the terrible bombing of the Winter Palace in February had precipitated such a crisis that good seemed at last to have resulted from it in the end. The close attempt on his life had finally induced Alexander II, tsar of Russia, to heed the clamoring voices crying for moderation and change.
Summoning to the capital the governor of Kharkov, General Michael Loris-Melikov, the tsar had given the general sweeping powers, made him head of the newly formed Supreme Executive Commission, and set into motion a detailed study of the most outlandish of Melikov’s proposals—granting the people of Russia a constitution, and changing the form of government to a constitutional monarchy.
Not all Alexander’s advisors were happy about the turn of events. Though cautious, moderates within the court were generally optimistic, both as to Melikov’s reasonable personality and with regard to his plan. Monarchists and conservatives, most notably Alexander’s own son, the tsarevich, doomed Melikov to failure in their own minds immediately. It could not be disputed, in any case, that Melikov had the tsar’s attention and sympathy—for now, at least. Alexander had a long history of double-mindedness, which was largely at the root of the country’s present difficulties, and which all of his advisors had to weigh within their minds when assessing their own personal loyalties.
Neither could it be disputed that initially Melikov’s leadership had squelched the rebellious fervor throughout the land. His immediate successes in rooting out and punishing terrorists had driven the movement sufficiently underground so as to make the streets of St. Petersburg safe again. How long such calm would last . . . one could only hope. But in this land it was unwise to make too many predictions. And it was prudent to keep one’s own counsel.
Whether the tsar would continue to favor the idea of constitutional reform was anyone’s guess.
In the meantime, aristocrats and noblemen, imperial ministers and advisors alike all found their own futures cloudy and uncertain. Russia was moving toward change, that much was evident.
Which direction it would take was not so clear.
Nor could anyone predict which direction the winds of personal fortune might be blowing a year from now. It was best to walk warily, watch one’s words, and not say too much that could be misconstrued at some later unpredictable moment.
Part I: Conflict and Parting
1
Cyril Vlasenko, one-time boyarin over serfs, former magistrate and chief in Akulin and Pskov, and now police chief of the mighty Third Section in St. Petersburg, was not at all happy with the recent turn of events.
His long-coveted position in the government, which he had plotted and schemed and manipulated his hated cousin Viktor to obtain for him, had suddenly become tenuous at best. Loris-Melikov’s successful arrests of terrorists and rebel activists were making a fool of the police chief. It was gradually dawning on Vlasenko that Melikov fully intended to subjugate the power of the Third Section under the Ministry of Internal Affairs, usurping police powers himself, and thus bringing about the swift demise of the current chief.
But Vlasenko had bowed and scraped and groveled too long to attain his position to accept defeat without a fight!
Unfortunately, Melikov had become an imperial darling. All of St. Petersburg bowed to him. He was, for the time being, untouchable. Even if Vlasenko had some devilish stratagem up his sleeve—which in all candor he did not—it would be a dangerous game to try it now, especially against Melikov directly. The loathsome liberals had suddenly gained court favor and were making disturbing encroachments into the status quo. And at the root of it all was Melikov’s increasing pressure on the Crown to approve a constitutional government. The fool would make the Motherland into another weak-kneed milks