Episode X: Tvervolve Or Die
The group of riders, escorted by heavily armoured cavalry, arrived at the outskirts of the city of Tver, capital of the largest of the Russian principalities. They had ridden for several weeks from the northern edge of the country, the frozen wastes of Archangelsk, attending the erection of a great monument to the fallen King of Tver, Aleksandr II Rurikovich. The largest town in the region had been renamed Aleksandrograd in honour of the mighty warrior and statesman.
The new King, Aleksandr, rode in a great carriage near the front of the column. Aleksandr III did not share his father’s passion for riding, preferring the warmth of the carriage where he was able to read and converse in peace. The young man had the black hair of his mother, and wore a pair of spectacles perched on his nose, finely-cut glass designed to make up for his poor eyesight, a problem exacerbated by his insatiable appetite for reading and administration.
The days of Aleksandr the Bear were gone. The days of Aleksandr the Clerk had arrived.
They could not yet enter the city itself, however. Tver was surrounded by hordes of armed men shouting in unison, demanding the freedom of their country. The fact that their country, Ryazan, had lain around eighty kilometres east of the city they were currently besieging did not seem to bother them. A similar group, with similar demands, had surrounded the Tverian city of Kholm, further to the west. This had proven to be a common problem for Tver in recent decades: every Russian nationalist or patriot who rose against the Golden Horde seemed to become disoriented, weave his or her way into Tverian territory, and lay siege to her cities with great vigour, like a great aunt, well-marinated in medicinal spirits, crashing into her niece’s wedding and making enthusiastic advances on the groom.
Interesting news had reached the column from the northern frontier, and good news too: the war with the opportunistic Novgorod was over in rather unexpected fashion.
The young king rode in the carriage with two other men. One was Bronisław Dobczyński, his father’s chief advisor. The other was a man whom Dobczyński had met in Kraków upon the advice of the late Aleksandr II. His name was
Roman Vladimirov, a native of Tver who had achieved fame in Lithuania as a ruthless but effective banker, and in far-off Scotland as an optimistic patron of local sports.
Vladimirov had been taken on as Aleksandr’s chief financial advisor, as well as a man with a network of international contacts. In coming years, he could well prove to be a very useful man. He was possessed of a flamboyant manner which, Dobczyński thought, nicely complimented Aleksandr, who appeared to have had most of his social skills amputated in a botched circumcision.
Vladimirov’s first act had been to streamline the running of Tver’s treasury, and he was unafraid of allowing the Principality’s Mint to produce more currency, even at the risk of inflation, to deal with short-term necessities. The army needed to be rebuilt, recruitment overseen by Dobczyński. Vladimirov, though, had recommended a general.
‘Hire Aleksandr Dyabrinsky!’ he urged the young king. ‘He was trained by a very great Scottish general whom I met on my travels.’
Dyabrinsky was duly taken on, and the newly-appointed General led the freshly equipped Royal Army of Tver into battle against the rebels who had taken over Kholm.
‘What was his name, this great Scottish general?’ asked Dobczyński.
‘Livingston. David Livingston.’
‘I think I know the name. Isn’t he famous for...’
‘I stand corrected. It is like that time I tried to buy out the Central Bank of Riga using only a clever Archbishop’s disguise and a winning smile.’
‘They don’t know that you work for us now, do they?’
‘Oh, I’m sure they don’t.’
‘They’re getting confident’ mused Dobczyński, fidgeting with his sword. Aleksandr glared at him.
‘Must you?’
‘I always fidget with my sword on long journeys. Passes the time.’
‘In front of other people?’
‘You don’t?. Your father never minded. He used to play about with his sword as well.’
‘Well he is not here anymore and I am here and I am your new king and I will run this country and this carriage as I see fit do I make myself clear good.’
Dobczyński blinked, and ceased his fiddleage. Besides, his blade was in good condition. In need of a good firm polish, perhaps, but he could attend to that once they returned to Tver.
Eventually, a campaign to re-educate the Ryazanian Patriots convinced them that, being in the city of Tver, they were actually in the country of Tver as well. Diplomacy was triumphant.
Good news came from the southern territories, as Vladimirov’s administrative reforms had maximised local tax income in the Vyzama region. In addition, the people had finally accepted that being part of Tver was far preferable to the fate which lay just over the border in the lands controlled by the Golden Horde. Tver was a richer and more peaceful nation as a result. Vladimirov promised that Tver would be ‘champion nation of Europe’ within five years, and his maroon-clad supporters (maroon being one of the official colours of Tver, especially around its heart) eagerly awaited further developments.
Not all was well, though: merchants in Novgorod were angered by Vladimirov’s interference, and played on his long association with Lithuania to denounce his practises as Pagan and ungodly.
Further evidence of the madness created by modern trade practices could be observed to the west, as the King of Sweden decided to establish a major Centre of Trade to rival Antwerp and Venice in, as King Jan I of Poland described it, ‘the middle of flocking nowhere’.
Vladimirov was s friend of the King of Sweden, though, and the King sent Tver annual friendship gifts of reindeer which wore gold chains and loose-fitting clothing.
Tver continued to establish itself as the educational centre of Russia, as more exchange students came to the capital in search of their own country. In many cases, a single lesson was insufficient to convince them as to the whereabouts of their homeland.
Around a year later, Dobczyński approached the King’s study to make his report.
‘Sir?’
‘What is it?’
‘Interesting development to the south, sir. The Horde has taken over the Dagestan region.’
‘And?’
‘They’re now at war with the Ottoman Empire, sir. The first large, powerful opponent they have faced in decades.’
‘Excellent excellent good news very interesting I shall keep it in mind is there anything else?’
‘How do you feel about marriage, sir?’
‘A compact between two persons who wish to engage in a long-term relationship for reasons of mutual advantageousness and sometimes if they are lucky attraction why?’
‘The King of Sweden suggests that you marry his daughter.’
‘Should I?’
‘She’s pretty. And a good listener.’
‘Is she interested in administration?’
‘Bordering on the fetishistic, sir.’
‘Then we marry tomorrow.’
The marriage was to be a long and surprisingly happy one: Princess Catherine was beautiful, patient, and shared Aleksandr’s obsession with mathematics. The relationship soon bore fruit.
The King of Castille stopped by to join in the celebrations.
Aleksandr was largely uninterested in matters military, leaving the organisation of the army to Dobczyński and General Dyabrinsky, who was of great help to the Polish veteran: Dyabrinsky made suggestions, and Dobczyński did the opposite. Dobczyński continued the work of the king’s grandfather, Mikhael II: ‘more quality, less morons’ would continue to be a watchword for Tver, causing great discontent amongst the nobility, who mostly belonged in category two.
Aleksandr took a break from the harsh work of administering the kingdom by abolishing a country.
For weeks he slaved away at piles of documents, seeing only Dobczyński for updates and Vladimirov for advice on the economy. Even the Queen – and his young son, Konstantin – were to see him regularly. Eventually, overwork took its toll, and he was forced to rest.
Not trusting Tver’s newly-enriched merchant class, his First Minister instead delegated more power to the nobility, many of them scheming about the possibility that the king would not recover. While their hopes were to prove unfounded – Aleksandr returned from a three-week holiday in Aleksandrograd’s spas and saunas – the country was destabilised by uncertainty.
Upon returning, he was greeted by Dobczyński with some positive – though rather strange – news.
‘The Horde, sir. They’ve been defeated by the Ottomans.’
‘The war is over.’
‘Yes, sir, they have...’
‘That was a statement not a question Dobczyński which I thought would have been obvious although I realise that the circumstances are rather strange as I thought that the Horde refused to negotiate over territory and yet seem willing to cede Dagestan to the Ottomans very strange behaviour on their part.’
‘Yes, sir. Yes it is.’
‘You have brought me this report for a reason what is it?’
‘You’re a new king, sir. You’ve had a strong start to your reign but you need to cement your position.’
‘Cement unknown quantity presumably some form of adhesive and yes I understand your meaning you believe that we can defeat them even though we have a much smaller army than them and our only recognised general is as useful as a glass hammer.’
‘Sir, they are on the retreat. They haven’t known defeat before. Their people see the weakness of their leaders! More rebels rise up against them every day. We may not get a better chance for decades, and the truce is about to expire again.’
‘You believe that we can attack them soon while they are still recovering an interesting proposition although the last time this was attempted it led to the death of my father.’
‘The Horde were rampant, sir, advancing. Their army has been almost halved.’
‘It is still far larger than any force than we can raise and if we fail we could lose the entire kingdom.’
‘At least let me send a spy into their territory, sir.’
‘A logical move very well make sure that he is not discovered.’
‘Yes, sir. Mr Vladimirov recommended a man. Trained in Scotland at the school of the great Jimmy McBond.’
Dobczyński presented the king with the reports. The spy they had sent to Sarai had returned. Only second class postage – times were apparently even harder in the Horde lands than the reports suggested.
‘We’re raising new regiments, sir, the new armoury complex in Tver herself is complete.’
‘Instruct all future spies not to wear eyepatches.’
‘It’s a rules of war issue, sir. It’s like wearing the enemy’s uniform in battle.’
‘Tell the army to start wearing the enemy uniform in battle I do not work in the legal business Mr Dobczyński I work in the business of results do I not Mr Vladimirov?’
‘Yes, sir!’
‘Talking of which, Mr Vladimirov’, interjected Dobczyński, ‘will you make sure that our soldiers are actually paid this month?’
‘They are still complaining? Yes, yes, of course! I always keep my word. I want to stay rich.’
‘Very well then gentlemen the truce with the Horde is nearly expired and we are ready for battle Mr Dobczyński?’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘Sir?’
‘What would my father have done?’
‘Strode out in front of the assembled army, ripped off what little clothing he was wearing and given a baleful howl that shook the very foundations of the city, sir.’
‘I thought as much and while I will not do the same thing and we often disagreed I hope that I can succeed where he was less successful.’
‘God willing sir, we will.’ Dobczyński drew his sword. ‘General Dyabrinsky! Prepare your men!’