This last wounded Jamal Eddin so deeply that he replied in nearly the same tone, with anger and disdain.

“My father does not need me to fight you, Your Imperial Majesty. He has designated a successor more to his liking to command all his naïbs—my younger brother, who is much more capable of serving him than I.”

The czar frowned.

In the confusion of recent months, he had only glanced at his captains’ reports concerning Shamil. He vaguely recollected having read a few sentences about a transfer of power in Dagestan. It came back to him now. The “heir,” who would become the fourth imam, was said to be made of the same stern stuff as the father. An incomparably courageous djighit, a magnificent horseman and a formidable warrior, he was a fervent partisan of the holy war and as religious and violently anti-Russian as Shamil. The designation of this twenty-year-old chieftain, much loved and admired by the Montagnards, had complicated the czar’s projects for the Caucasus. Though the plan to install Lieutenant Shamil as the legitimate successor may not be totally nullified, it would be, at the very least, much more difficult to achieve.

The czar chose to dismiss this new annoyance.

“What are you talking about?” he said curtly.

“About my loyalty to Russia, Your Imperial Majesty!” Jamal Eddin answered passionately. “Nothing more stands in the way of my love for her. My father’s choice has freed me from”—he took a deep breath, searching for words to express what he had felt as a fundamental deliverance—“from the conflict that has been tearing me apart.”

He weighed his words carefully and repeated, “My father’s choice has released me from the duty of answering your kindness with hatred.”

A torrent of words followed.

Jamal Eddin confessed that, at last, he could love his country without reservation, that this sense of belonging was so real and so deep that he was asking his benefactor, to whom he owed everything, permission to adopt his faith, to convert and to marry a Russian.

The czar deciphered the meaning of his words instantly. Conversion, marriage. Why, the young man was in love! The empress’s fears, during all those summers that Jamal Eddin had spent at the cottage, had been confirmed. He was smitten with some lovely creature in his entourage. It was entirely predictable. La Potemkina had finally achieved her objective. Did that matchmaker have anything to do with this? Yes, quite probably. Baptism and marriage. Bravo!

The czar gave him a blank look, as though he had not heard or understood. His silence plunged Jamal Eddin into a state of anguish. Perhaps he hadn’t explained himself clearly enough. But how could he clarify himself now if His Majesty did not grant him permission to speak?

Impassively, the czar summoned the orderly officer and asked him to escort the other men out, dismissing him as well. The officers left the salon.

When the door had closed behind them, the czar leaned forward on his desk and said severely, “Is it up to me, Jamal Eddin Shamil, is it up to me to remind you of the meaning of apostasy for a Muslim?” He exploded in anger. “I was under the impression that I had provided you with a religious education from the mullahs! In Islam, apostasy means death! If you were to convert, it would be the duty of the first Montagnard who crossed your path to kill you.”

“As it would be to kill any Russian, Your Majesty.”

“No, Jamal Eddin, not any Russian, and not any giaour. A renegade! Do you understand the gravity of the act you are asking me to approve? You would be useless in any negotiations for peace. On the contrary, the worst possible interlocutor! You speak of serving me. Of what use is an intermediary who can only inspire hatred and mistrust among his own people? I could never send you back to the Caucasus!”

“Send me to the Caucasus, Your Majesty, and I will serve you. Send me to Turkey, and I will serve you. I am not afraid of death.”

“But you are afraid to live without love, is that it?”

“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty. I love a young woman.”

“Her name?”

“Elizaveta Petrovna Olenina.”

“Piotr Alexeyevitch’s daughter?”

“The same, Your Imperial Majesty. When I met Elizaveta Petrovna, when I fell in love with her, I thought of you and your family.” He lowered his gaze. “I thought of you and the empress.”

“Good God, what does that have to do with it?”

“Because of your example, Your Imperial Majesty. You taught me the meaning of happiness.”

Jamal Eddin went on to describe Lisa, her grace and her virtues, the kindness of her parents, and his own feelings. He confided in the czar, admitting everything. He said that Lisa was the wife God had chosen for him, and that with her by his side, he could accomplish his duty and face any trial.

The czar had professed nothing less, felt nothing less toward Mouffy, throughout their entire life together. In a startling flash of intuition, he had known she was his soul mate the very first time they had looked at each other.

And even now, when he felt alone and abandoned by all the kings of Christendom, he still found peace when he was with his wife, despite his liaisons with younger women. Without his wife, where would he be today? She had given him so much joy. With her, he had been content to be “Lord of the Cottage,” the title he had once used to travel incognito in England. It suited him better than “Emperor of Russia.” If God had not put him on the throne, he was sure he could have lived a simple bourgeois existence, as long as he had Mouffy and the children by his side. The children. The very thought of them amid all this chaos raining down on him made him sentimental. What kind of a world would he bequeath the czarevitch Alexander, a world where Christians allied with Muslims to fight Christians? Thank God his daughter Alexandra would never see this, his beloved lost daughter, who was in heaven now with the angels. The memory of Alexandra, Adini, who had not been able to live out her earthly existence, saddened him. Emotion began to color his reasoning. What right had he to rob Jamal Eddin of his happiness, to deprive him of salvation? What right had he to prevent him from saving his soul by being baptized?

The boy’s return to the Caucasus had become problematic. And if, moreover, he no longer wished to return—

The czar was not crazy enough to send him back to this father against his will. That would be a monumental wrong. Without the young man’s love for his people, he would be useless to Russia there. It was certain to be a disaster. The fact that he preferred civilization to barbarity could be seen as a triumph.

That today he should choose Russia, of his own free will—yes, it was a victory! And far more brilliant than any military victory.

Once the idea took root, it had obvious appeal, and the emperor began to see its advantages.

This much was clear: Jamal Eddin’s choice embodied the triumph of the Russians over the Chechens. The triumph of the czar over the imam. Nicholas’s personal triumph over Shamil.

The voluntary conversion of the imam’s son proved to these savages, and to the entire world, that no one could resist the Orthodox faith and the truth that was incarnate in Holy Russia.

The voluntary conversion of the imam’s son was proof of the triumph of light over the forces of evil.

It proclaimed to the whole world that Christ was King.

Jamal Eddin’s mind was characterized by such integrity and his heart had resisted for so long. Such a call could only come from God.

The czar renounced his earlier plans entirely. He accepted the fact that his protégé would never become an imam at his service.

But he was still worried, not about carrying out his plans, but about Jamal Eddin’s affections. The boy was so sincere—was he sure he wasn’t making a mistake? He knew Jamal Eddin was passionate by nature, his character and his actions wholehearted. He was probably the most passionate of lovers as well. Overcome with adoration for this young girl, he was perhaps blinded by love.

The czar sounded him out one last time.

“You understand that if you marry a Christian, you will never be able to go home to your father?”

“But you are my father!”

A cry from the heart.

The czar was so touched, tears welled up in his eyes.

Kings may have abandoned him, but this child remained loyal and loved him. He reacted by making a decision that was completely irrelevant to the matter at hand.

“You will be named an officer in my own Chevaliers-Gardes!”

“Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty,” Jamal Eddin stammered, this incongruous order jolting him back into the world of practical decisions. “But I cannot accept such an order—”

“Because you haven’t the means? Don’t worry about a thing, my lad. My treasury is now yours. In all the great changes your future holds, I will always be at your side. Come here, my son, come closer, Prince Jamal Eddin, so that I can embrace you.”

Deeply moved, Jamal Eddin stood up. The czar rose too.

“Come here, let me bless you.”

Jamal Eddin obeyed and walked around the desk.

Trembling with emotion, the two men looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment. Then they clasped each other in a heartfelt embrace.

As he had six years ago, sitting on his daughter Alexandra’s favorite bench at Peterhof, the czar was the first to pull away. His face was wet with tears.

“I want to be godfather at your baptism,” he said with infinite tenderness. “And I shall be best man at your wedding. Take this cross.”