Chapter 620: Palace Intrigue in Petersburg
The "overseer" holding the pipe shook his head:
"The 'Dignity Movement' people have received military training, but they're only focused on pushing for a ban on the transatlantic slave trade. They'd never cooperate with Black people."
Major Auriol said:
"If they had a higher goal, they'd be willing to unite with any force they could cooperate with."
The "overseers" all looked at him in confusion: "A higher goal?"
"Yes," Auriol nodded, "for instance, pushing for Jamaican independence."
"But... how is that possible? The British could send an expeditionary force at any moment, and even the 'Dignity Movement' people would be no match for them!"
Auriol, however, appeared full of confidence:
"If it were just Jamaica, of course it would be impossible. But if we can get the support of Santo Domingo, and even all the islands in the Caribbean Sea, we can defeat anyone."
"I still think we shouldn't act so hastily. Those soldiers need at least three more months of training..."
"No, Mr. Bryan, please trust me, we will achieve victory. The uprising must be launched on the 15th."
Seeing his certainty, the others said nothing more. At present, Santo Domingo was an abolitionist "beacon" in the Caribbean. As Santo Domingo's representative, Auriol's words carried absolute authority. At most, it would be another failure; after all, slave uprisings occurred every few years. Everyone thought this way, believing that for the enslaved people on the island, dying in battle might be better than suffering torment in the plantations day in and day out.
Only Auriol knew, however, that on the 4th of this month—three days from now—the French Expeditionary Force would land in Santo Domingo, and on the 9th, it would be "defeated" by Ogé's army. Then, spurred by this great victory, slave uprisings would erupt simultaneously on the 15th in Jamaica, the Bahamas, and the West Indies. Santo Domingo's Black rebel army would also provide reinforcements as needed.
The entire Caribbean region would be set ablaze!
...
Petersburg.
In an office at the British Embassy in Russia, Lord Whitworth, the ambassador to Russia, listened to his subordinate's report, frowning and shaking his head:
"We must admit, the King of Poland is a considerable nuisance.
"He not only influences the Tsar, but now he can even interfere with the actions of the pro-war faction regarding Poland."
"It is rather tricky," his assistant Jose admitted, looking troubled. "But the Tsar clearly dotes on him. This matter of Poland establishing a constitution—he explained it as 'to facilitate the Tsar's administration of Poland,' and the Tsar actually accepted that explanation."
"Can we find a way to make him return to Warsaw?"
"That... may not be easy."
Lord Whitworth recalled his assistant's recent report about Stanisław II—they had long since planted informants in the Winter Palace and could observe every move of those around the Tsar in detail. He suddenly thought of something and looked at his assistant: "That pretty boy, oh, Zubov, why does he tolerate another man being so close to the Tsar?"
"Well, Your Lordship, he seems to believe the King of Poland is merely a 'musician' and hasn't challenged his position."
"A musician?"
"Yes, the Tsar usually only listens to Stanisław II sing and chats with him, but doesn't spend the night with him."
Lord Whitworth's eyes lit up. "Then let's find a way to make his status as a lover more official."
"You mean?"
"Contact our person in the Winter Palace immediately. Have her do this... and then..."
Three days later.
Catherine II leaned back in her chaise lounge, eyes half-closed, comfortably listening as her Stasya finished singing "Amours Interdits." She applauded him in appreciation, then let out a long yawn. She glanced at the clock; it was already nine in the evening. She motioned to the maid standing by the door: "Bring me my coat."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The maid brought the mink coat and helped the Tsar put it on.
The Tsar then casually asked her lady-in-waiting: "Zina, is Platon in the bedroom?"
According to custom, she was about to go to her "young man" for the night.
The lady-in-waiting hesitated for a moment, but then immediately remembered the five thousand rubles. She gritted her teeth and lowered her head, saying:
"Your Majesty, General Zubov is not in your bedroom. He mentioned he was a bit tired this afternoon and seemed to have returned to his own room to rest."
She had received a large sum of money from Lord Whitworth a few days prior, and these words were spoken as per his instructions. She wasn't worried about being discovered by the Tsar, as she could simply claim, 'General Zubov might have gone to the washroom at the time, which is why he wasn't in the bedroom; I must have misunderstood.' At most, the Tsar would scold her a few times; there would be no real danger.
Catherine II frowned slightly, then leaned back onto her chaise lounge, gesturing to Stanisław II:
"Stasya, let's chat for a while longer then."
Seeing this, Zina, the lady-in-waiting, quickly instructed the maids to stoke the fireplace higher, while she discreetly lit the incense that had already been placed nearby.
Stanisław II then began showering her with sweet nothings, occasionally slipping in a few "private goods" related to politics.
Meanwhile, Catherine II began to feel increasingly warm, shedding her outermost garments, her gaze at the King of Poland gradually becoming hazy.
Stanisław II's heart stirred. Recalling Zina's comment about the Tsar being in a good mood today, he leaned closer to her.
Catherine II suddenly reached out, pulling him into her embrace, and whispered softly: "Stasya, hold me close."
"Oh, oh, alright..."
Zina immediately motioned for the servants to withdraw. After she closed the door, alluring sounds emanated from the room, and the candlelight flickered rhythmically.
Eleven o'clock at night.
Platon Zubov paced anxiously in Catherine II's bedroom, finally unable to resist waving to his attendant again:
"Go check on the situation again."
"Yes, master."
A moment later, the attendant returned, his head bowed very low, and whispered:
"Master, the maid says Her Majesty is in that old man's room, and... the lights are already out."
"That damned man!"
Zubov's face turned terrifyingly dark. He slammed a fist against the wall, murmuring repeatedly:
'No, I must do something, something...'
His identity, status, and wealth all stemmed from Catherine II's exclusive favor. Even Potemkin, the Tsar's foremost lover, could no longer shake his position in the Tsar's bed. And that damned old Polish man—it was one thing when he merely sang, but today he dared to spend the night with Her Imperial Majesty!
His gaze suddenly sharpened. He turned and returned to his room, picking up a pen to write a letter to Potemkin.
A few days later, Potemkin, who was in Iasi, read the letter from Petersburg and frowned instantly.
The letter clearly stated: 'The King of Poland, while in bed with the Tsar, offered Poland's willingness to send thirty thousand troops to assist Prince Potemkin in attacking Silistra.'
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