1636:The Kremlin games rof-14 Read online

  Chapter 61

  “Lieutenant, you are to report to the general’s quarters.”

  Two weeks after the battle, things had stabilized. Rzhev was surrounded by three walls, one inside the other. The Rzhev wall that had been built in a somewhat haphazard manner by the Poles and the two layers of golay golrod together constituted a fairly formidable defensive network. Starving the victorious Russians out would take time. Meanwhile, the walls were bolstered by sand bags and firing platforms. Neither Tim nor General Izmailov had yet had occasion to mention Tim’s orders to the volley guns, given in the general’s name. Tim had been starting to hope-against his better judgment-that the general was going to let the whole thing pass.

  “What am I going to do with you, Lieutenant?” General Izmailov sighed rather theatrically. “I have been reading a translation of an up-time book on a French general who had an elegant solution for this situation. He was dealing with a general, not a lieutenant, who acted on his own authority. At their base, the situations are quite similar. Bonaparte’s elegant solution was to give the general a medal to acknowledge his achievement.” There was a short pause but Tim knew he was far from out of the woods.

  General Izmailov continued, “Then, to maintain good order and discipline in the army, he had the man shot for disobeying orders.” General Izmailov paused again and waited. Tim remained silent.

  “What do you think of Bonaparte’s solution, Lieutenant? I could have you a medal by sunset.”

  Tim hesitated, looking for the right words. “I can’t say it appeals to me, sir. But I grant that the solution has a certain, ah, symmetry.” He stopped. Tim really wanted, right then, to bring up the political consequences to the general should he find it necessary to execute a member of a family of such political prominence, even a minor member of a cadet branch. He didn’t, though, partly because it would sound like a threat-probably not a good tactics against someone like Izmailov-but mostly because Tim understood that while what he had done was the right thing for that battle, it was the wrong thing for the army. He had sat in Testbed and watched as Colonel Khilkov used his family position to destroy a couple of Russian cavalry regiments. He knew as well as General Izmailov that if word got out, his example would be used to justify every harebrained glory-hound for the next hundred years. Who knew how many people that would kill? Tim had known when he was doing it that it would cost him, but not how much.

  “For political reasons I can’t use Bonaparte’s elegant symmetry. You will get neither the medal nor the firing squad. Those political reasons are only partly to do with your family.” General Izmailov gave Tim a sardonic smile. “I will take the credit for your brilliant move and it may save my life when I must explain to the Boyar Duma my acquiescence to Colonel Khilkov’s less-than-brilliant actions. We will say that it was a contingency plan. You will get a promotion, then you will receive the worst jobs I can come up with for some time to come. You will accept those jobs without complaint! Understand me, Lieutenant. You deserve the medal you will never get, but you also deserve the firing squad that you won’t face this time. Don’t make the same mistake again.”

  Tim was still doing latrine duty when Moscow finally decided to send reinforcements. At that point the ranking Polish officer withdrew his army. The Lithuanian magnate’s campaign had not been sanctioned by either King Wladyslaw or the Sejm. Such private adventures by the great magnates of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth were not particularly unusual-and if successful, got after-the-fact backing. But if they failed disastrously, the magnate could face severe repercussions. If nothing else, he’d be in such a weakened state that other great magnates-they all maintained large private armies-would be tempted to attack him.

  As for Third Lieutenant Boris Timofeyevich Lebedev, he continued to receive unpleasant assignments for the next six months, much to the irritation of his father. But Tim never complained.

  Chapter 62

  September 1634

  “So how was the wedding, Colonel?” Boyar Fedor Ivanovich Sheremetev asked.

  “I found it quite interesting, sir,” said Colonel Leontii Shuvalov. “Though I will admit I was a bit disappointed to find that the Poles had held a war while I was gone and I wasn’t invited.”

  “Rzhev made things much more difficult,” Sheremetev said. “Filaret is making noise about invading Poland again. And without Shein, we probably couldn’t hold him back. Shein figures we are getting stronger, faster, so time is on our side for now. But he will switch back as soon as he figures we’re ready.” Sheremetev shook his head in disgust. “None of them can see that Poland is not the real enemy. The real enemy is Gustav Adolf and his new USE. So tell me about the USE, Leontii.”

  Leontii made his report. That the USE was rich and powerful and becoming more so every day was beyond question. He had seen several different kinds of airplanes. The largest of which was dwarfed by Testbed, but the slowest of which made the balloon seem a snail by comparison. But the real danger was the factories, which turned out hundreds of items in the time it would take a craftsman to make just one.

  Yet Russia had factories, too. “While we are behind, we aren’t that far behind. I took a steamer from Rybinsk, one of the ones that they were using to resupply Rzhev. I was amazed by the factories along the Volga.”

  Sheremetev grunted. “As new items come out of the Dacha, Princess Natalia doles them out to her friends at court. And they start hiring workmen and setting up ‘factories,’ as they call them. They are merely workshops.”

  Leontii looked at his patron questioningly and Sheremetev grunted again. “Granted, they have a lot of serfs working in them except during planting and harvest. And I’ll even grant that the czar’s paper money has increased trade. But I don’t trust it. All these changes. It’s too much, too fast.”

  “As you say, my lord,” Leontii said. “But it’s nothing compared to what they are doing in Germany.” Leontii went on to acknowledge the corrupting influence of the up-timers, but pointed out that Vladimir and the Dacha were proving incredibly valuable and were probably essential. “Sooner or later-not even Poles are that dumb-King Wladyslaw or some of the magnates will recruit up-timers of their own. By the way, how are they taking the events at Rzhev?”

  “The Sejm seems very upset at the outcome. More upset than cautioned, unfortunately. It must be our fault and we must have somehow cheated, they think.” Sheremetev shrugged, acknowledging that they might have a point. “Made a deal with the devil, something, anything, other than that they attacked us and we outfought them. They seem especially worried that we had such things as breech-loading cannon and that the walking forts proved so effective.

  “It hasn’t made things any easier on the diplomatic front. About the only thing keeping them from a full-scale invasion is Gustav Adolf’s presence on their western border. The Truce of Altmark expires next year, and the way that Sweden and the USE have been going, Poland simply can’t afford to be involved in a war with us when Gustav Adolf gets around to them. What concerns me is I don’t see any particular reason for the Swede to stop at the Russian border.”

  Through the fall and winter of 1634, the Boyar Duma debated. And talks with the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth went nowhere. In the winter of 1634, Patriarch Filaret became ill and much of the heart went out of the faction that advocated an attack on Poland. Meanwhile more factories came on line. most of them using forced peasant labor. This upset the peasants because winter was their traditional light time. It also upset the great families because they couldn’t hire the peasants without their landlords’ permission.

  Since the Ring of Fire, the anti-serfdom movement in Russia had slowly grown from two directions, top down and bottom up, with the service nobility caught in the middle. The top down part was a mix of morality and self-interest. It was fairly small, because the top of the Russian pyramid was small. There were fourteen to twenty great families, depending on how you counted, and a similar number of really large monasteries. A few hundred people in the great
families and no more than a few thousand in the monasteries. Still, they were the most powerful people in Russia.

  On the other hand, there were over thirty thousand members of the service, or bureaucratic, nobility-people whose livelihood depended on serf labor. And they were the people holding down the vital mid-level military and civilian posts. They were the tax collectors, the construction supervisors and the managers. In the Russian army, they were the captains and the colonels, but rarely the generals. It was the service nobility, bureaucrats and soldiers alike, that had kept Russia from collapsing into chaos during the Time of Troubles. They had stayed on the job and mostly out of politics, serving whichever czar was in power, and kept the wheels from coming completely off. They were generally nonpolitical, but threatening to take away their serfs would change that in a hurry. As had been shown in 1605, the last year when peasants leaving the land hadn’t been forbidden.

  Then there were the serfs themselves, by far the largest proportion of the Russian population. While many, perhaps most, resented their status as serfs, few of them objected to the institution as such. It wasn’t that they found the social order objectionable-just their place in it. They ran to the wild east, they ran south to the Cossack lands, they even ran west into Poland, hoping for a better deal. What they didn’t do was stand where they were and say “This is wrong!”

  It was a subtle but important distinction. There was no Harriet Tubman sneaking back into the Moscow province to smuggle other serfs out to the Cossack territories where they could be free. No Russian Frederick Douglass standing proudly and articulately to decry not just his serfdom, but all serfdom. At least, they hadn’t done so before the Ring of Fire.

  The Ring of Fire was changing all that, though it took a while for the change to take root. But… but not that long a while. Rumors fly on the wings of eagles, they say. They fly even faster on wings made of mimeographed paper, and the more radically inclined of the boyar class could afford lots of paper. Russia might not have had its own Tom Paine, at least at first. But the writings of the original made their way into Russia and into Russian. And they resonated. Resonated like jungle drums, like liberty bells. Soon enough, Committees of Correspondence sprang up in a number of the larger cities and towns. Small ones, true, but they were able to begin articulating the rebellious thoughts and anger of Russian serfs.

  Russia was still not a country anyone would describe as a powder keg. The population was mostly illiterate and mostly rural-and diffuse, at that. And while some elements of the upper classes were becoming radicalized, no one wanted a return to the Time of Troubles. No one wanted Polish troops flooding into Moscow again.

  Then there was Rzhev. In military terms, Rzhev wasn’t very significant at all. But in emotional terms it was. In Rzhev Russia defeated the Poles. And the army that did it had a good number of serfs in it, with a lot of them involved in the fighting. In Rzhev, the Russians showed themselves to be technologically superior to the Poles. Rzhev brought a new feeling of confidence to Russia, and a great deal of political capital to the czar.

  Patriarch Filaret wanted to spend that capital invading Poland and retaking Smolensk. But Czar Mikhail Fedorovich was beginning to consider other ideas. He’d now had three years to read about the history of what would become the Russia of the Romanov dynasty in another universe. Three fairly easy years, too. Despite his formal prestige, no one really demanded much of the czar, not even his father, so he had plenty of time to think about what he’d learned.

  By the end of the year 1634, he’d come to accept the condemnation spoken so many times and so harshly in the speeches of Mike Stearns, the USE’s prime minister. Serfdom had to go. Or, sooner or later, just as it had in another world, it would bring down the Romanov dynasty. Czar Mikhail had no desire to see himself-or even one of his descendants a century or two from now-being shot along with his whole family in a cellar somewhere.

  In that other universe, one of his descendants-Czar Alexander II-had attempted to reform serfdom. Had even succeeded, to a degree. Not enough and certainly not soon enough-but that was no excuse for inaction on Mikhail’s part. Alexander’s attempt had happened in 1861, almost a quarter of a millennium in the future.

  Two centuries and twenty-seven years was a long time. Still, it was best to get started. Not even Mikhail Romanov was that much of a procrastinator.

  Part Five

  The year 1635

  Chapter 63

  February 1635

  Fedor read the newsletter again, his jaws tight.

  In an unprecedented move, today Czar Mikhail decreed that “Forbidden Years” are now limited, with some qualifications. Anyone who wants to buy out and leave his current lord may do so, provided he is willing to move to Siberia and look for gold or other metals and resources that are now known to exist.

  Treasure Maps For Sale Here! Up-time sources used! Mine for GOLD, SILVER, COPPER! Find OIL!

  Angrily, he shoved the paper back at Stepen. “And what are we going to use for labor now, Stepen? The czar has betrayed us!”

  “Shhh!” Stepen hissed. “You want to get us killed!”

  “I’m as loyal as any man,” Fedor insisted, though more quietly. “But that doesn’t get the crops in. Without our serfs my family will starve… and so will yours.”

  Stepen thought that was overstating the case, but it was true that members of the service nobility like himself and Fedor, needed their serfs. There was never enough labor. “They claim that the new machines will take care of the labor problem,” Stepen said, still trying to calm his friend.

  “They claim! If we could get them. You know how long the waiting list is and you know the boyars will all have them before we even see one. Which is probably a good thing, because who knows if they will work?”

  Stepen considered bringing up the increase in pay, but he was very much afraid that Fedor would start yelling again. Fedor had already made his opinions on the new paper money quite clear, many times. And honestly, Stepen tended to agree with him. How could a piece of paper with printing on it have value? It just didn’t make sense. Whenever he could, Stepen spent the paper as quickly as he could and saved the silver. He wasn’t the only one. By this time a silver ruble, which nominally had the same value as a paper ruble, was buying three times as much. It didn’t occur to Stepen that the new paper rubles were worth three-quarters as much as the silver rubles had been before the paper rubles were introduced. Silver rubles were disappearing into holes and hidden compartments all over Russia, in a classic example of Gresham’s Law.

  Stepen and Fedor had recently been transferred to Moscow to appointments within the Bureau of Roads, because the Bureau of Roads was expanding with the introduction of the Dacha scrapers. They had both gotten raises, but those raises hadn’t been in the form of more lands as had been usual. The raise had been more of the new paper money.

  They didn’t see Pavel Borisovich sitting in the next cubical with a friend.

  “Papa, have you heard about the new proclamation?” Pavel asked Boris. “I was having lunch with Petr Ivanovich over at the bureau of roads and a couple of the new hires were talking. They seemed pretty upset.”

  “Yes. I imagine they were.”

  “How bad is it?” Pavel asked.

  “It probably won’t be too bad for us. We have new plows, a seeder, a reaper and a thresher. But it will ruin a lot of the lower nobility. How many are ruined depends on how many of the serfs can buy out and how many decide now is a good time to run.” Serfs running away had been a major problem for years. They were often aided and abetted by the boyars and the church, who always needed more labor.

  Russia had had a well-developed bureaucracy for many years. What Russia hadn’t had when it was developing that bureaucracy, though, was the money to pay the bureaucrats. So whether it was a clerk in Nizhny Novgorodi, a manager in the bureau of roads, the Konyushenny Prikaz, or a cavalry trooper, most of the pay for his service was in the form of land granted on a semi-permanent basis by the czar.<
br />
  Even at this late date the knots of law and custom that turned a free man into a serf weren’t quite absolute. If you could escape and stay gone for five years, you were free. And the government wouldn’t hunt you; that was up to the person who held the land you were tied to. Also, in theory, there were times when you could buy your way out of your chains. In theory. The last thirty or so years had been “Forbidden Years,” during which even if you could come up with the cash, you weren’t allowed to change your status.

  Boris continued. “Politically, it’s hard to say. The czar may gain enough from the high families and with the general population to offset what he’s going to lose with the dvoryane and deti boyars. ” Czar Mikhail had been, at least on the surface, quite clever in how he had implemented the new “Limited Year,” but Boris wasn’t at all sure he had been clever enough.

  “It’s a big step forward,” Bernie Zeppi said. “A really big step.”

  “It’s a disaster,” said Filip Pavlovich, Bernie’s sometime tutor. “The czar’s gone mad. Labor, Bernie. There’s not enough. There’s never been enough. Look, Bernie. I know that serfdom is wrong. You’ve convinced me. You and Anya. But the service nobility will not stand for this.”

  “Freedom, Filip,” Bernie said back. “Why don’t people get that people will work harder and produce more if they’re doing it for themselves?”

  “Because it isn’t true,” Filip told him bluntly. “Oh. People probably will work harder if they’re paid. But not enough harder to make up for the cost of paying them. Besides, what is the service nobility going to pay them with?”