have to be a little more specific than that, you know. You have more than one half-brother. Two of them are grand dukes.’
Mihail knew that he was being teased, but he noted the small number of grand dukes. It was common knowledge that Konstantin had sired four legitimate sons – along with God knew how many other bastards – but the youngest of them had died a few years before, aged just sixteen. The eldest, Nikolai Konstantinovich, was still alive, but had been banished to some distant corner of the empire after a scandal. Technically he was still a grand duke, but in his father’s mind he had evidently been stripped of the title, if not of existence itself.
‘I meant on my mother’s side,’ replied Mihail. ‘He’s called Luka; Luka Miroslavich Novikov.’
‘I know. I know,’ said Konstantin soothingly, sensing his attempt to play the fool had been misplaced. ‘Your mother told me of him. I hoped to keep a watchful eye over him, but I’m afraid I failed.’
‘He’s dead?’ It would be a surprise, given what Iuda and Dmitry had said.
‘No. No.’ Konstantin reached into his pocket and brought out a folded piece of paper. ‘As soon as I saw you yesterday, I thought you’d ask. Here’s his address.’
Mihail looked at the paper. He did not know Petersburg well enough for it to mean anything to him, but he would easily find it.
‘I don’t suppose you even know what he looks like,’ said Konstantin.
Mihail shook his head. Konstantin reached into his pocket again and handed over a photograph. Mihail could not see much of himself in Luka, but recognized a little of Tamara. The man was in his thirties, his hair longer than was popular at the time, but well kempt. He had a moustache, but no beard. He was handsome. The real oddity was that Konstantin should have a photograph of him – but the style and pose of the picture gave away its origin. It was taken from the files of the Ohrana.
‘He’s a criminal?’ asked Mihail.
‘A suspect – nothing has ever been proved.’
‘Suspected of what?’
‘Have you heard of the People’s Will?’
Mihail nodded.
‘It was they who tried to blow up my brother’s train; they who exploded a bomb at the Winter Palace.’ Konstantin’s voice rose with suppressed anger. ‘A dozen guardsmen died; ordinary men – the very people they’re supposed to be fighting for.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Mihail quietly.
‘They want us to react, but we won’t. We’ll give them liberty – we have done already – but we won’t let them take it.’
‘And Luka’s one of them?’
‘He knows people who are – the police aren’t sure about him.’
‘I’m guessing you don’t want me to see him.’
‘He’s your brother,’ said Konstantin. ‘I wouldn’t stop you. But be circumspect. They have as many spies as we do – even in here.’ He glanced around with an air that hinted of paranoia.
‘Here?’
Konstantin nodded gravely. ‘Just yesterday they arrested one – a clerk named Kletochnikov. No wonder we’d made so few arrests; he’d been warning them, just in time.’
‘There are others?’
‘Who knows? Perhaps your brother can tell you.’ He paused for a moment, then changed the subject. ‘Why did she go so suddenly?’
It was obvious he meant Tamara. ‘It was nothing to do with you,’ Mihail explained. ‘Family stuff.’
‘Did she ever find her parents?’ Konstantin asked. ‘She told me she was looking.’
‘She did.’ Mihail felt warm just to speak of it, to be reminded of his mother’s happiness, however short-lived it had been, however tragic the circumstances. ‘Though she didn’t know them for long.’
‘And that’s why she went away?’
Mihail nodded. It was time to test the water regarding another matter on which Konstantin might have information. ‘I mentioned earlier my name isn’t really Lukin,’ he said. ‘I get my true name from my grandfather. It’s Danilov. He was Aleksei Ivanovich Danilov.’ Konstantin looked blank. ‘He was a colonel under Aleksandr Pavlovich.’
‘Against Bonaparte?’
‘And later. But then he was exiled – after 14 December.’
‘Ah! And then he came back after my brother’s pardon. That would explain it.’
‘You’ve not heard of him?’
Konstantin shook his head. ‘I’m sorry.’
Mihail felt anger welling inside him. After everything his grandfather had done to protect the Romanovs, with all the secrets he could have revealed to save himself from exile, still he’d remained loyal. At the time it had been necessary, but now, so many years on, he was forgotten, regarded as no different from any of the others who had genuinely stood against Nikolai. It was a disgrace, but Mihail