A secret messenger came in the middle of the night to tell Peter about his removal. He was outraged by his estranged wife’s actions, claiming her cowardice had stabbed him in the back.
The Chancellor watched as Peter walked back and forth in a fit of rage, screaming profanities and curses. Peter’s pockmarked, hunched-back mistress stood in a corner, goading her lover with vulgarities and complaints. The Chancellor shook his head at the sight, believing the two to be a weak match.
“You must march on the city,” urged the Chancellor.
Peter was all bark and no bite. Although the coward enjoyed drilling his soldiers and marching about in Prussian uniform, he quaked in his boots at the mention of battle. The Chancellor would not be surprised if the disposed Emperor wet himself.
“No! No. I-I cannot fight. I cannot go up against her,” said Peter.
“You must. What other choice do you have if you wish to keep your throne?” asked the Chancellor.
“There must be another way,” said Elizabeth.
Ignoring the ugly mistress, the Chancellor pointed out, “Your people will see you as weak if you do not crush this threat. March on St. Petersburg and thwart this little rebellion.”
Peter shook his head, acting like a willful child. “I said no. Find another solution, one where I will not have to face her on the battlefield.”
The Chancellor sighed, despising the fact that he had to serve such a weak man. “There are soldiers in Kronstadt. If we can reach the island the men can be rallied against Catherine.”
Peter nodded his head eagerly, like a puppy agreeing with its master. “Yes. Yes. That is very good. We shall depart immediately.”
Abandoning the city of Peterhof, Peter and his entourage left for Kronstadt. The deposed Emperor was hopeful of rallying the soldiers at the naval base of Kronstadt. He was certain these men would fight for their sovereign, the true ruler of Russia. He was certain that they would choose him over a foreigner. Little did Peter know, Kronstadt’s soldiers already belonged to Catherine.