The House of Special Purpose

by John Boyne

  Making my way back along the road, I hesitated outside the walls of the Ipatiev house and looked towards the upper windows, but could hear no voices inside. Passing by the front gate, however, I noticed a young soldier changing the tyre of a car and approached him cautiously.

  ‘Comrade,’ I said, nodding in his direction.

  He glanced up, shielding his eyes from the sunlight as he looked me up and down with barely concealed disdain. ‘Who are you?’ he asked quickly. ‘What do you want here, boy?’

  ‘A few roubles, if you have it,’ I said. ‘I haven’t eaten in days. Anything you can spare would be most appreciated.’

  ‘Go beg somewhere else,’ he replied, waving me away. ‘What do you think this is, anyway?’

  ‘Please, comrade,’ I said. ‘I might starve.’

  ‘Look,’ he said, standing up and wiping his hand across his forehead, leaving a long, dark oil stain streaked above his eyes. ‘I’ve told you—’

  ‘I could do that for you, if you like,’ I said. ‘I can change a tyre.’

  He hesitated and looked down at the ground for a moment as he considered it. I suspected that he had been trying to complete this job for some time and was getting nowhere with it. A jack and a wheel wrench were lying beside the car, but the wheel nuts had not even been removed yet. ‘You can do this?’ he asked.

  ‘For the price of a lunch,’ I said.

  ‘You do it right and I’ll give you enough for a plate of borscht,’ he said. ‘Be quick about it, though. We may need this car later on.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ I said, watching as he marched away and left me alone in the driveway.

  I crouched down and examined the mess that he had made of the job so far, picking up the jack and propping it under the frame to lift the car. Unaccustomed to such mental stimulation I quickly became engrossed in my work. Indeed, so lost was I in my thoughts that I didn’t even hear the footsteps as they approached me. And then, when my name was uttered in an awed whisper, I jumped in surprise, the wrench slipping between my fingers and grazing the knuckles of my left hand. I cursed and looked up, and the furious expression on my face immediately dissipated.

  ‘Alexei,’ I said.

  ‘Georgy,’ he replied, looking back towards the house now to make sure that he was not being observed. ‘You came to see me.’

  ‘Yes, my friend,’ I said, and this time it was I who could feel tears behind my eyes. I had not realized quite how much I cared for this boy until he was no longer part of my life. ‘Can you believe I’m here?’

  ‘You have a beard,’ he said.

  ‘It’s not much of one, though, is it?’ I asked, rubbing the stubble irritably with my hand. ‘Certainly not as impressive as your father’s.’

  ‘You look different.’

  ‘Older, probably.’

  ‘Skinnier,’ he said. ‘And paler. You don’t look well.’

  I laughed and shook my head. ‘Thank you, Alexei,’ I said. ‘I could always rely on you to make me feel better about myself.’

  He stared at me for a moment as if trying to decipher what I meant by this, but then his face broke into a wide smile as he realized that I was only teasing him. ‘Sorry,’ he said.

  ‘How are you?’ I asked. ‘Are you holding up all right? I saw your sister yesterday, you know.’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘Marie.’

  ‘Pffft,’ he said, blowing an unpleasant noise through his lips and shaking his head. ‘I hate my sisters.’

  ‘Alexei, don’t say that, please.’

  ‘But it’s true. They never leave me alone.’

  ‘Still, they love you very much.’

  ‘Can I help you change the tyre?’ he asked, looking down at the half-completed job before me.

  ‘You can watch,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you sit over there?’

  ‘Can’t I help?’

  ‘You can be in charge,’ I told him. ‘You can be my supervisor.’

  He nodded, satisfied, and took a seat on a large boulder that stood behind him, just the right height for him to sit and talk to me as I worked. It occurred to me that he didn’t seem particularly surprised to find me there, working like this. He didn’t even question it. It was simply another part of his day.

  ‘You’re bleeding, Georgy,’ he said, pointing at my hand.

  I looked down and, sure enough, there was a thin line of blood clotting above my knuckles from where the wrench had injured me. ‘That was your fault,’ I said, grinning at him. ‘You surprised me.’

  ‘And you said a bad word.’

  ‘I did,’ I admitted. ‘We won’t speak of it again.’

  ‘You said—’

  ‘Alexei,’ I said, frowning.

  I picked up the spanner and continued to work on the tyre in silence for a moment, anxious to talk to him but wary of asking my questions too quickly in case he ran back inside to tell the others of his discovery.

  ‘Your family,’ I said finally. ‘They are all in the house?’

  ‘They’re upstairs,’ he said. ‘Father is writing letters. Olga is reading some silly novel. Mother is giving my other sisters their lessons.’

  ‘And you?’ I asked. ‘Why aren’t you at your lessons too?’

  ‘I am the Tsarevich,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I chose not to partake.’

  I smiled at him and nodded, feeling a sudden wave of sorrow for his predicament. The boy didn’t even realize that he was the Tsarevich no longer, that he was just Alexei Nicolaievich Romanov, a boy with as little money or influence as me.

  ‘I’m glad you’re all well,’ I said. ‘I miss our days at the Winter Palace.’

  ‘I miss the Standart,’ he said, for the Imperial yacht had always been his favourite of all the royal residences. ‘And I miss my toys and my books. We have so few here.’

  ‘But you have been well since you came to Yekaterinburg?’ I asked. ‘You haven’t suffered any injuries?’

  ‘None,’ he said, shuddering a little at the thought of it. ‘Mother doesn’t let me out often. Dr Federov is here too, just in case, but I’ve been quite well, thank you.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  ‘And you, Georgy Daniilovich, how have you been? Do you know that I am thirteen years old now?’

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘I remembered your birthday last August.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘I lit a candle for you,’ I replied, recalling the day when I had walked for almost eight hours in order to find a church where I might mark the Tsarevich’s birth. ‘I lit a candle and prayed that you were well and uninjured and that God would keep you safe from harm.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, smiling. ‘It’s my fourteenth birthday next month. Will you do the same thing then?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ I said. ‘Every year on August the twelfth I will do it. For as long as I live.’

  Alexei nodded and looked around the courtyard. He seemed lost in thought and I said nothing to disturb him, simply got on with my work.

  ‘Will you be able to stay here, Georgy?’ he asked finally.

  I looked across at him and shook my head. ‘I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘One of the soldiers said that he would give me a few roubles if I changed this tyre.’

  ‘And what will you do with them?’

  ‘Eat.’

  ‘Will you come back afterwards? We don’t have anyone to protect us, you know.’

  ‘The soldiers protect you now,’ I said. ‘That’s what they’re here for, isn’t it?’

  ‘That’s what they tell us, yes,’ he replied, his brow furrowing a little as he considered it. ‘But I don’t believe them. I don’t think they like us at all. I know I don’t like them. I hear them saying terrible things all the time. About Mother. About my sisters. They show us no respect. They forget their place.’

  ‘But you must listen to them, Alexei,’ I said, anxious for his safety. ‘If you are good, then they will treat you well.’

  ‘You call me Alexei now?’ />
  ‘I apologize, sir,’ I said, bowing my head. ‘I meant Your Highness.’

  He shrugged his shoulders as if it didn’t matter, not really, but I could tell that he was utterly confused by his new status.

  ‘You have sisters too, don’t you Georgy?’ he asked me.

  ‘I did have,’ I said. ‘I had three. But I don’t know what’s become of them. I haven’t seen them in a long time.’

  ‘So between us we have seven sisters and no brothers.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Strange, isn’t it?’ he asked.

  ‘A little bit,’ I said.

  ‘I always wanted a brother,’ he said quietly, looking down at the stony ground. He picked up a few pebbles from the driveway and tossed them back and forth between his hands.

  ‘You never told me that,’ I said, surprised to hear him say such a thing.

  ‘Well, it’s true. I always thought it would be nice to have an older brother. Someone to look out for me.’

  ‘Then he would have been the Tsarevich, not you.’

  ‘I know,’ he said. ‘It would have been wonderful.’

  I frowned, surprised to hear him say that.

  ‘And you, Georgy, did you ever want one?’

  ‘Not really,’ I said. ‘I never thought about it. I had a friend once, Kolek Boryavich – we grew up together. He was like a brother to me.’

  ‘And where is he now? Is he fighting in the war?’

  ‘No,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘No, he died.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear it.’

  ‘Yes, well, it was a long time ago.’

  ‘How long?’

  ‘More than three years.’

  ‘That’s not so very long.’

  ‘It seems like a lifetime,’ I said. ‘Anyway, you have no brother, Kolek Boryavich is dead, but you and I are alive. Perhaps I could be like an older brother to you, Alexei. What would you think of that?’

  He stared at me and frowned. ‘But it’s impossible,’ he said, standing up now. ‘You’re just a moujik, after all. I am the son of a Tsar.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, smiling. He didn’t mean to hurt me, poor boy. It was simply the way that he had been brought up. ‘Yes, it’s impossible.’

  ‘But we can be friends,’ he said quickly, sounding as if he knew that he had said something he shouldn’t have and regretted it. ‘We’ll always be friends, Georgy, won’t we?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ I said. ‘And when you leave here, we will remain great friends for ever. I promise it.’

  He smiled at me again and shook his head. ‘But we’ll never leave here, Georgy Daniilovich,’ he said in a calm, measured tone. ‘Don’t you know that?’

  I hesitated, quite unsettled by the certainty in his voice, and tried to think of something I could say to reassure him, but as I opened my mouth I glanced towards the house once again and could see Marie walking quickly towards us.

  ‘Alexei,’ she said, taking him by the arm, ‘there you are. I was looking for you.’

  ‘Marie, look, it’s Georgy Daniilovich.’

  ‘I can see that,’ she replied, looking me directly in the eyes for a moment before turning back to her brother. ‘Go indoors,’ she said. ‘Father is asking for you. And don’t tell him who you were talking to, do you understand me?’

  ‘But why not?’ asked Alexei. ‘He will want to know.’

  ‘We can tell him later, just not now. We’ll save it as a special surprise. Trust me, can’t you?’

  ‘All right,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders. ‘Goodbye then, Georgy,’ he said, thrusting his hand out in the formal manner that I had seen him extend to generals and princes; I grasped it tightly and shook it, smiling at him.

  ‘Goodbye, Alexei,’ I said. ‘I’ll see you later, I’m sure.’

  He nodded and ran back indoors.

  When he was gone, Marie turned back to me. ‘I’m sorry, Georgy,’ she said. ‘I told her. And she wanted to come, of course. But the soldiers were playing cards all night. She couldn’t come downstairs.’

  ‘And where is she now?’ I asked.

  ‘She’s with Mother. She’s desperate to see you. I was able to get out. I was coming to the cedars to find you. She said to tell you that she’ll come tonight. Very late. She promises that no matter what happens, she’ll come tonight.’

  I nodded. To wait another half a day seemed like torture, but then I had waited this long, more than eighteen months. I could wait just a little longer.

  ‘All right,’ I said. ‘Over there.’ I pointed towards the clump of trees where we had talked the previous evening. ‘I’ll wait there from midnight and—’

  ‘No, later than that,’ she said. ‘Come around two o’clock tomorrow morning. Everyone will be asleep by then. She’ll come to you, I promise.’

  ‘Thank you, Marie,’ I said.

  ‘Now you should leave here,’ she insisted, looking around anxiously. ‘If Mother and Father see you … well, it’s best that as few people as possible know that you’re here.’

  ‘I’ll go,’ I said, ignoring the fact that I hadn’t yet finished tightening the wheel nuts on the new tyre. ‘And thank you again.’

  She reached forward and kissed my cheeks before returning to the house. I watched her leave, feeling terribly grateful to her. I had never known her all that well while I served her family but she had been kind to me, and Sergei Stasyovich had loved her. I looked around and considered waiting for the soldier to return and pay me my roubles, but there was no sign of him and I suddenly felt a great desire to be away from that place.

  I turned to leave and was exiting the gates when I heard the sound of feet running quickly along the gravel behind me. I turned and saw Alexei, who showed no sign of slowing down, so I opened my arms and he ran into them, embracing me tightly, his arms wrapped around my neck as I lifted him off the ground.

  ‘I wanted you to know,’ he said, his voice choked up as if he was trying to stop himself from crying, ‘I wanted you to know that you can be my brother if you like. As long as you let me be yours.’

  He separated himself from me then and looked me directly in the eye, and I smiled and nodded. I opened my mouth to say yes, that I would be proud to be his brother, but my assent was all he needed; within a moment he had turned around and disappeared back into the house, into the heart of his family.

  Every minute dragged.

  I had no watch, so stepped inside a small café in the village to ask the time. Ten past two. A half a day to wait. It seemed impossible. I paced up and down the streets, growing more and more anxious and emotional with every second. I spent what seemed like hours wandering the streets aimlessly, before going back to the café to check the time once again.

  ‘What do you think I am, boy, a clock?’ shouted the man behind the counter. ‘Go bother someone else with your questions.’

  ‘Please,’ I said. ‘Can’t you just—’

  ‘It’s almost three o’clock,’ he snapped. ‘Now get out of here and don’t come back.’

  Three o’clock! Not even an hour had passed.

  It seemed as if God was smiling on me a few moments later, however, because just as I turned the corner my eyes caught a glint of something sparkling at my feet. I narrowed my eyes to try to see what it was, but try as I might, I couldn’t locate it again and so retraced my steps until I caught the sparkle once more. Following it carefully, I pulled a clip from the dirt, and attached to it was a handful of banknotes – not many, but more than I had seen in a long time. Some unfortunate villager must have lost them in the dirt; it might have been only a few minutes before, it might have been weeks, there was no way of knowing. I looked around to see whether anyone had seen me, but no one was looking in my direction so I stuffed the money into my pocket, thrilled by my good fortune. I could have handed it to a soldier, of course; I could have found the town council and allowed it to be returned to its rightful owner, but I did neither of those things. I did what anyone in my impoverished and starvi
ng position would have done: I kept it.

  ‘It’s a quarter past three,’ roared the café owner when I stepped inside again. This time, I held a bank note in the air to make sure he knew that I was not simply there to bother him. ‘Ah,’ he said, smiling, ‘that makes all the difference.’

  I sat down, ordered a meal and something to drink and tried not to watch the minutes go by on the clock. Now that my eighteen-month journey was at an end, now that Anastasia and I were finally to be reunited, a single question loomed in my mind: what would I do when we were together again?

  It wasn’t as if the Bolsheviks were just going to allow her to leave the Ipatiev house and come with me. Even if they did, where would we go? No, we might be reunited for only a few minutes, an hour if we were lucky, and then she would have to return to her family. And what would I do after that, return every night to see her? Plan one clandestine meeting after another? No, there had to be a more sensible solution.

  Perhaps I could save them, I thought. Perhaps I could find a way to get the entire family out, to smuggle them across Russia and northwards to Finland, where they could make their escape for England. There were bound to be sympathizers along the way who would protect the Imperial Family, who would lie for them, who would die for them if necessary. And if I was successful, surely the Tsar could not refuse me his daughter’s hand, despite the difference in our ranks. The idea seemed a brave one, but for the life of me, I could think of no way to accomplish it. The soldiers were all armed with rifles, while all I had to my name were a few banknotes found in the street. The Bolsheviks and the new People’s Government were hardly likely to let their most prized assets simply flee the country to create a Russian court in exile. No, they would hold on to them for ever, they would keep them in seclusion, hide them away from the world. The Tsar and Tsaritsa would have no court any more, they would spend the rest of their lives under guard in Yekaterinburg. Their son and daughters would grow old here. They would be kept hidden for the rest of their lives, never allowed to marry or bear children, and the Romanov dynasty would come to a natural end. Another fifty, perhaps sixty years and they would be gone.