No matter how hard the tsar’s gossip tried to set up printing presses at breakneck speed, nothing ever came of it. And when was he supposed to deal with the newspaper business, if the tsar would drag him to a feast, and then the boyars would try to send him to the block?
What’s more, the tsar granted him the title of boyar and awarded him such wild lands that it was easy to end up with your head taken off there. And then, right on cue, the embassy from Shemakha showed up like snow on the head… and the holy Rus started to buzz. Well, how in such conditions can you take on serious matters? So the tsar’s gossip had to roll up his sleeves again—to get back to saving the Fatherland…