Diary of a Wimpy Czarovitch
Page 20
Was Papa as homesick as I was?"
31 October 1914, 13 October 1914 - (All Saints Day or the Day of the Dead in Mexico.) I carved a huge pumpkin wearing a ghoulish grin and horrific eyes with my pocketknife. Using wadded up newspaper, I stuffed a German officers uniform. I topped the monster with a German soldier's military cap for a finishing touch. After christening the pumpkin head Kaiser Wilhelm, several soldiers and officers made wages to see which one of us would cause the most damage to our bizarre fiend? Then Papa aimed his pistol and shot the head into smithereens and I made a shot into the center of the heart which was pinned on the chest of the dummy. Bull's eye. Papa toasted me with shots of vodka, but still refused to let me have a sip saying: "Your Mama would never forgive me."
"But Papa, Mama is far away." I begged.
"Xandro lets Nickolai have sips," I beseeched.
"But Xandro is not married to your Mama." I stopped arguing knowing exactly what he meant. Then we feasted on hot soup with meat balls and dumplings.
The fighting has ceased because of the snow except for a few determined regiments. The Snow Queen is now fighting Russia's battle for us with her minions of snowflakes and blizzards.
We received word from the palace that we must return immediately. Mama's dear friend, Sonia Oberliani, is dying and she wants us to come back to attend her funeral. The woman has been dying for years, but apparently now she really is about to give up the ghost.
Papa and I will return immediately. We just needed a good excuse to go home and this provides Papa and I with an excellent one. How good it will be to see our loved ones again, even our fat cow, Auntie Annya. Papa says that he has even missed her and her love sick cow eye eyes that she makes at him. I asked him if her ministrations and toadying irritated him as much as they did me.
"Alexei, we are the only men in Auntie Annya's life and we are better gentlemen for her efforts. Such commitment to such an unworthy cause should be valued, not mocked. There will be more women in heaven than men and we'll all be trailing behind Auntie Annya in her glory. The Virgin Mary loves virgins and those who do the mothering. Who knows, because of her love for us, we degenerates may actually be allowed in?
Perhaps Papa is right; now I look at Auntie in a new light. I must stop slurping my soup and eating with only my knife before we enter her presence again. Some of the soldiers use their sleeves to wipe their noses as well as their mouths instead of handkerchiefs. Papa told me that's why metal buttons were added to the uniforms in order to curb their slovenly habits. These additions serves a purpose and was not purely decorative. Auntie Annya and my Grandmama would certainly be disgusted, but I have enjoyed the respite. Is a pickle fork really necessary in the overall scheme of life?
1 November 1914 - 14 October 1914 - My nose is bleeding. It began with a sneezing fit from a dusty unused room I entered in the mansion which had been covered in dust covers. Joy ran in helter skelter thinking I was chasing her before hiding under a small covered pianoforte and I climbed under to pull her out. Blood began to flow from my nostrils. I ran to Nagorny who packed it with rolled cloths and made me lie flat on the floor. Would I die from a simple nosebleed?
That afternoon we boarded the train. Still the blood flowed. Later Papa knelt by my bed on the train and prayed and pleaded to God on my behalf. The military doctor cauterized my nose in a painful procedure, but still the bleeding would not stop. The train rolls on towards Tsar Koe Selo, but will I bleed to death before I arrive home? Papa is fasting on my behalf and never leaves my side.
2 November 1914, 15 November 1914 - I am still bleeding and getting weaker. I can no longer lift my head and must lay back against the propped up pillows. I can hardly speak but I do not cry out in pain because now I am a man. I have been in military service. With a touch of satire, poor Papa does the crying for me. Tears fill his eyes as he pleads for my recovery on his knees as a parent. In the past, Mama has waited by my side as my constant nursemaid until she's so tired that she drops or Auntie Annya insists that she go to bed and relieves her. This is the first time that I've had one of my bad spells without her near. I need my Mama and my healer. Nagorny and Demerov take turns spelling off Papa. Papa was so mad at Rasputin's interference in the war, but now humble Papa would do anything to bring the muzhik here to me. I long for his healing presence. Papa telegraphed Mama and hopefully, she has notified the staretz. Perhaps he already senses that I need him. I touch his small picture which is hanging around my neck and try to visualize him near me, hoping that the blood flow will stop on its own.
2 November 1914, 15 November 1914 – I am still bleeding and getting weaker. I can no longer lift my head and must lay back against the propped up pillows. I can hardly speak, but I do not cry out in pain, because now I’m a man. Papa does the crying for me. In the past, Mama has waited by my side as my constant nursemaid until she’s so tired that she drops. This is the first time that I’ve had one of my bad spells without her. I need my Mama and my healer. Nagorny and Demerov take turns spelling off Papa.
Papa was so mad at Rasputin’s interference in the war, but now my Papa has been brought low; he would give a king's ransom to have the muzhik here at my side with his bizarre gazes which are so hypnotic. The salty taste of blood I swallowed sickens me, and I vomit up more blood. My doctors whisper together suggesting new remedies.
3 November 1914, 16 November 1914 – An herb concoction has been given me to drink. It tastes of pine needles, but that is a pleasant relief from the taste of blood. I feel like a vampire from one of the legends of Transylvania which Mama forbids me to read, but Anastasia and I read during a picnic at our island one pleasant summer day. Papa and Demerov hold my hands and wipe my brow. The army surgeon tried cauterizing my nose again. Will the soreness and bleeding never stop? I long to die to ease my suffering; why must I endure this agony? I lay one of Mama’s icons in front of me and pray continuously to the Lord Jesus and the holy virgin and now pray that I will become unconscious so that the pain will end. Nothing is working.
Towards evening I awaken and my nursemaid Nagorny feeds me chicken broth and ice water so that I don’t become dehydrated. My head spins because I’m so dizzy from loss of blood and Nagorny makes me use a chamber pot and lay still instead of using Papa’s toilet. Papa has gone to his room to get some sleep. Soon we’ll be at the Alexander palace, if I live.
4 November 1914, 17 November 1914 – I lay on the backseat of Papa’s Rolls Royce and we speed to the palace. Mama rushes out to greet me and my large, black sentinel, Jim who guards the doors, carries me into the palace. My concerned sisters hover over me crying, even Anastasia who considers tears shameful is crying. Anna Vyrubov took one look at my ghostly pale face and burst into tears. I wouldn’t be attending Sonia’s funeral. I just hope that I won't be attending my own.
Mama immediately sent one of Papa's Rolls Royces for Father Grigory when she saw my pitifully weakened condition. I tried counting slowly in French as I counted down the minutes until he came praying that I'd soon lose consciousness, but then dear Marie took pity on me and read me a detective story by a former British nobleman who'd been a practicing doctor, but preferred being a writer in order to take my mind off of my misery. The detective Sherlock Holmes could discern between ash from various cigarette brands as well as cigar brands. The cunning detective can tell much about a person's handedness, bad habits, class, etc., just from looking at you. Mama loves Sir Conan Doyle's Books and has read all of them. Brilliant Mama would have made a good detective had she not been required to be the Czarina. More than a few times she has known exactly which of her five children has "borrowed" her jewelry, lace gloves, or imported chocolates. I've often wondered if she had eyes in the back of her head after I'd helped myself to her sweet box.
The staretz entered the room and I smelt him before I saw him. His greasy hair hadn’t been washed since I last saw him, but I didn’t care. He was wearing Mama’s gold cross and embroidered shirt and looked down into my chalk white face and m
ade the sign of the cross above my head before touching my face. Almost immediately I felt better and was able to relax.
“Don’t be alarmed. Nothing will happen." he whispered to my Mama and then he left. The bandages remained white. My nosebleeds have stopped. Even Papa who had been skeptical before about my muzik’s powers was no longer doubtful. Cynical Doctor Botkin and Dr. Derevenko even acknowledged his amazing powers. There was no accounting for it other than a miracle had occurred. When the doctors said that it might have been due to the potion of pine needles and the oranges that I’d been given on the train, not one soul believed them. Gratefully, I slept through the night at peace once more and so did my Papa. I really doubt that he will ever disparage Father Grigory or his powers again. Auntie Annya made certain that her social club in Russia heard about what Rasputin had done. Papa Czar told everyone to be silent about what had happened, but to no avail. After all women loved to gossip, with the exception of Mama, and would continue to tittle-tattle until someone threatened to cut out their tongues.
6 November 1914, 19 November 1914 – Papa returned to Mogilev without me after seeing