by CW Hawes
While the bottle went around the table and Mikhail and I stood there, my head buzzing from the liquor, he whispered to me, “I love you, Dru, and I shall make you my wife.”
I was stunned. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You, you do? You will?” I finally got out.
“I do and I will. You are my love. The one I’ve waited for.”
I started crying. I was so overwhelmed with emotion. He held me in his arms and whispered to me, “And that is not all. You will be Empress of all the Russias.”
“What did you say?”
“You and I, my love, we shall rule all of Russia when this is over.”
THIRTEEN
His Face Darkened
I am still in a daze. Mikhail and the others left after lunch and I returned to my rooms, ostensibly to type the article announcing our great victory over the Soviet army to the world. But I couldn’t focus. My mind kept dwelling on his words: “We shall rule all of Russia when this is over.” I thought of Dunyasha’s words: “Mikhail’s cause.” This was in truth Mikhail’s cause. He was building a force, a movement, loyal to himself and when the time came he was going to stiff arm Kirillovich, take the crown for himself, and put the final stake into the heart of the Romanov dynasty. And he wanted me by his side as his Czarina.
But was that what I wanted? To be Empress of all the Russias? He said he loved me. I know I am falling in love with him. And I want him. I want to be his wife. Mrs. Turbanev. I’m not sure I want to be an empress. Her Royal Highness? I was a commoner. Still am, actually. Born Drusilla Lessingbridge. I married a baronet and became a lady. Lady Drummond Hurley-Drummond. I am not nobility, let alone royalty, but in the beginning of time weren’t we all commoners? Wasn’t the right to rule originally granted to the strongest and the bravest? The ones who fought and earned the right? I suppose so. For Mikhail to toss aside Kirillovich is no different from Henry taking over from Richard.
Is this, though, what I want? Things would go back to how they were with my late husband. Rules to follow. Dos and don’ts. Mikhail is offering me what I want, but with a lot more. A lot more I don’t want. I’d be very happy being the wife of a former army captain. I’m very much uncertain I want to be Czarina.
But I believe no argument will change Mikhail’s mind. He faithfully fought for the Czar. But now there is no Czar and in truth no direct heir. Mikhail is not going to be satisfied putting his life on the line to topple Communists and then hand the crown to a pretender sitting in Paris letting others bleed for him. Mikhail is ambitious and he will take what he’s earned. And I don’t blame him.
I put a log on the fire. “Well, Dru, you wanted to get married and now you find a man who not only wants to marry you but wants to make you a queen.” The flames crackled merrily. Perhaps they were saying what a lucky girl you are Drusilla Drummond Hurley-Drummond.
There was a knock on my door. “Come in,” I said.
Dunyasha entered. I went to her and kissed her cheeks and she kissed mine. “You’re not typing?” she asked.
“I’ve been thinking,” I said.
“Thinking about how to write up our great victory?”
“No. Thinking about life. My life in particular.”
“Deep thinking. And what about your life has caused this contemplation?”
“How long have you known Mikhail?”
We walked to the divan and sat by the fire.
“I’m not sure, Dru, fifteen, maybe even twenty years. He is well-known amongst the Russian aristocracy in the diaspora.”
“How much do you know about his plans? About him?”
She took a cigarette from the box on the table and passed it to me and took one for herself. Got the fire tongs, picked up a coal, and from it we lit our cigarettes. She returned the coal and tongs. After inhaling and exhaling smoke, she said, “I’ve been a member of the movement for ten years. I replaced a man who was caught spying. I’m the leader of my own cell, in addition. I was Mikhail’s lover for seven years, but that ended about ten months ago now. I questioned one too many of his decisions. In front of the entire cell. We were meeting in Paris. He was furious. He threw his fountain pen, one I’d given him, across the room. It hit the wall, breaking, leaving an ink stain. He then told me to leave.”
“Did you?”
“I did. I went to my room, had a good cry, and was packing. He came to me and apologized. He asked me not to leave. Almost begged, except he never begs. I was too valuable, he said. He needed me. Fool that I am, I stayed.”
“We wouldn’t have met if you hadn’t.”
“True. Good comes out of bad. I stayed, but he never came to me again. Our relationship had changed. If you want him, Dru, you cannot cross him. Especially not in public.”
“He said he loves me.”
“He says that and he probably does.”
“He said he wants to make me his wife.”
“That he does not say. He told you this?”
“He whispered it at lunch.”
“Ah. I wondered what was going on.”
“He also said he will make me Empress of all the Russias.”
Dunyasha whistled. “I knew it. He told you this?”
I nodded.
“I suspected as much. He has risked everything. He has put his life on the line. If we succeed, I was thinking it is not like Mikhail to simply turn over everything to someone who has sat on his ass and expected everyone to fight his battle for him. Like Stalin, Mikhail has been building something of a cult of personality around himself. It all fits. It is why I told you this is Mikhail’s cause. And why it will go nowhere without him.”
She looked at me. For a fleeting moment I thought I saw tremendous sadness cross her face. Was she ruing what had happened between her and Mikhail? That I was in the place she should have been? Then brightly she said, “If you do become Czarina, please do not forget me.”
I hugged her. “Oh, Dunyasha I couldn’t forget you. But we are speaking far ahead of where we are at. None of this is anywhere near happening. To be honest, your little group of partisans captured and destroyed one small army depot. It is nothing.”
“You are right. We have a long way to go. We need foreign help. The Germans, the British, the Americans. Mikhail would especially like the Americans to help us. He distrusts the Germans and doesn’t think the British have enough interest to commit long term. None of them will send soldiers. Not after the civil war. But money and weapons would be a great help.”
She took a drag on her cigarette and exhaled a stream of smoke towards the ceiling. “I think you will be good for him, Dru. I hope he carries through.”
“You don’t think he will?”
“He’s a man. They think with their little head when a woman is around. When we’re not, they use their big head and sometimes, actually quite often, the two don’t work well together. Men don’t really need us. But we need them. For your sake, I hope his two heads are in harmony.”
“I’d best get started on that article.”
“Yes. We’ve heard rumors the Soviets are moving a company with a tank to the depot. There is sure to be more fighting, so we need to get your story out quickly while the momentum is ours.”
“I should have it done in a couple of hours.”
“Very good. I best leave. I have things to attend to. I shall see you later?”
“I hope so.”
We kissed and she left. I went to my typewriter, rolled in paper and carbons, and began hitting the keys.
Mikhail came to see me around seven. I’d just finished proofing the article.
“Tonight we are going to be a mosquito to the new Soviet company which has moved into the depot,” Mikhail said. “Why they want the depot I cannot understand. It is a burnt out ruin. We burnt it to the ground. Pride, I suppose. So we’ll make them pay for their pride.”
“Mikhail, did you have to kill those soldiers?”
“My dearest, you write and leave the military operation to me.”
&nb
sp; “But Mikhail, you are asking me to write about your military operations, to write about atrocities committed by the Soviets, and then you commit the same atrocities.”
His face darkened. “Drusilla, my love, I do not commit atrocities. I destroyed the servants of the monsters. These Communists aren’t worthy to be classed with slime molds. They are demons. The army and the secret police are their hell hounds. I benefit mankind with their destruction and you will write accordingly.”
“So now I must write to your guidelines?”
“You must write the truth and the truth is they are monsters. Now, my Dru, tonight you will watch the mosquito draw blood from the elephant. Make sure you are well rested. We will have a late night. I want my star journalist to witness how we deal with demons.”
FOURTEEN
Standing On The Blood Of The Innocent
I witnessed how we deal with demons. For six days and nights I traipsed across the Russian countryside with Mikhail and the partisans. Tuesday morning at three, a ten minute mortar barrage devastated the Russian company camped at the burnt out depot. Only the tank remained operational. And that we took out just before sunrise two hours later. Tuesday afternoon a supply convoy was ambushed. A dozen Soviet soldiers shot dead. Wednesday afternoon a bank robbery, which saw Mikhail and his partisans take two hundred and ninety-four thousand rubles and subsequently distribute most of the money to peasants. Thursday noon, an automobile packed with explosives, was detonated in front of a Moscow police station. Radio reports said forty-eight people were killed and many more injured. Thirty-seven of the dead were police officers. Thursday night, two captured MGB agents were decapitated and their heads left outside Lenin’s tomb. On Friday morning, the deputy police chief of Bronnitsy was shot dead by a Czarist sniper. Yesterday, Saturday, just before midnight, a bomb tore up twelve feet of railway track two kilometers south of Bronnitsy.
Today is Sunday and Mikhail declared a day of rest. But not before three captured MGB agents were tortured to death and their bodies dumped before the police station in Chekhov. Over the past week I saw little of Mikhail other than the two times I was with him on a raid. I interviewed those who conducted the other attacks. Count Neratoff was insistent I color the stories so they would present a collective picture of a large-scale revolution under way in order to draw western support.
“You want me to lie?” I said
Neratoff smiled. But his eyes remained cold and hard. “Lady Hurley-Drummond, for all you know there is a full-scale revolution under way. There are more cells active than just ours. In fact your friend, Baroness Bobrinsky, is, at this moment, conducting an operation one hundred fifty kilometers to the southeast of here.”
“But I’ve heard nothing on the state radio.”
“Of course. The Soviets will pretend none of this exists. But if you, being the future Czarina, wish to endear yourself to the Russian people, you will show the world their heart and soul.”
“Future Czarina?”
He laughed. “I know everything, Lady Hurley-Drummond. In fact, I suggested you.”
“You did?”
He bowed. “I did. Captain Turbanev is quite taken with you. You are famous. Your allegiance boosts our cause. You are beautiful. You, my dear lady, are perfect.”
That conversation occurred two days ago after I interviewed the sniper and Neratoff didn’t like what I wrote. Mikhail, I was told, was not available when I protested. I felt so alone and wished Dunyasha was with me. So alone in fact I was sitting by the fire and crying. There was a knock on my door. I wiped the tears away and said come in.
The door opened and in came a young woman. “Count Neratoff sent me to you, my lady. My name is Klara Klopov, my lady. I am to be your lady’s maid.”
“I see. Who made this decision?”
“I don’t know, my lady. I speak English and was offered the position by Count Neratoff. I arrived a couple of hours ago.”
“Very well, Miss Klopov. Sit and tell me about yourself.”
She sat next to me on the divan.
“I was born in 1927. When I was two, my family crossed the border into Lithuania to escape the Bolsheviks. From Lithuania, we traveled across Poland, Germany, France, and made our way to England. When I was eighteen, I went into service for Count Neratoff’s family. Because I know English, he sent for me. Now I serve you, my lady.”
“And you are to spy on me and inform the Count.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Oh, no, my lady. I am not a spy. Please do not say so. Count Neratoff is generous with my pay, but I am not a spy.”
“Maybe not outright, but he will ask you about me.”
“I do not know, my lady. He has said nothing. I know nothing.”
I looked at the young woman sitting next to me. Her face was rather plain, but not unattractively so. Her blond hair was cut in a somewhat old fashioned bob. A simple dress clothed her slender frame. Her blue eyes were sweet and honest. Nothing cunning or calculating there. Unless she was a good actress.
“Very well, Klopov. I will speak with the Count. If you are to be my maid, I will pay you. That way, if you betray me, I will feel free to terminate you.”
“I will not betray you, my lady.”
“No. I don’t think you will. I look forward to your service.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
“I don’t need anything now.”
“Very good, my lady.” She curtsied and departed.
And once again I was alone.
Mikhail came to my bed last night. Our lovemaking was ardent, filled with our mutual need, and when we were spent, we fell asleep in each other’s arms.
This morning, the Sunday sun shone brightly but the air was chill. I felt no cold for I was in my lover’s arms and he kept me warm. He kissed me and I kissed him back. His fingertips thrilled goose bumps on my skin. My hands pulled his body to me. I wanted to feel him against me. The hard muscles and soft skin. The gentle coarseness of his chest hair. His passion was hard and his tongue teased my nipples into hardness.
I breathed into his ear, “Make me yours, my love. I need you.”
Gently, he mounted me and my legs wrapped around him. I met his thrusts and we spiraled even higher until we reached the crescendo of our symphony of love and in the ecstasy of our pleasure we cried out each other’s name. Slowly we came to rest and I kissed him and held him.
“Don’t leave me, Mikhail.”
“I won’t my love. You are mine, forever. You have softened my heart.”
We lay together for some time and then he had to go. “I but part from your presence, my sweet Dru. For you live in my heart and are always with me.” He kissed me and then left.
I put on my neglige and bed jacket and sat by the fire where I lit a cigarette. There was a knock on my door.
“Come in,” I said.
The door opened. “Good morning, my lady.”
“Good morning, Klopov.”
“Would you like me to draw your bath, my lady?”
“Yes, Klopov, I’d like that.”
“Very good, my lady.” She left and I turned back to the fire.
To ensure Klopov’s loyalty, I told her I’d pay her twelve rubles a week. Her eyes grew to great big blue disks and she thanked me over and over. Neratoff was only paying her seven. Of course Neratoff could still conceivably buy her loyalty. Hopefully there was now less of a chance.
I breakfasted while in the bath and when finished with my bath, I went to work typing. Klopov brought lunch to me for I was in the white heat of creativity and did not wish for anyone to disturb me. However, in the late afternoon, Dunyasha paid a visit and I set aside my work to see her. We kissed one another and sat by the fire, holding hands.
“I’ve missed you,” I said.
“I’ve missed you as well. Instead of shopping, which we women are supposed to do, and holding tea parties and soirees, I’m out blowing up things. Quite often I wonder why I’m involved in all of this.”
“And the answer is Mikhai
l, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“Dunyasha, why did he have to torture and kill those MGB agents?”
“To strike terror into the hearts of the enemy. To sap their will to fight.”
“But isn’t that what Stalin did? To the entire country?”
“Yes. He did.”
“Then how is this showing the people we are different?”
She was thoughtful. “Dru, I don’t think it is different.”
“Then what is the point, Dunyasha?”
“The point I told you before: to replace the greater evil with the lesser evil.”
“But before, the lesser evil was Vladimir. Now it is Mikhail.”
“Yes, now we know the lesser evil is Mikhail.”
I stood and walked to the window. Dunyasha followed me. We looked at the woods and gardens of the dacha. “Dunyasha, I have to tell him this is wrong what he is doing.”
“He will not want to hear what you have to say.”
“No, he won’t. But if I am to be his wife I cannot sit idly by while he does monstrous things to people who are just following orders for the most part.”
“Dru, if you wish to be his wife you will say nothing.”
“I don’t think I can, Dunyasha. This is wrong. This killing and torture and destruction is wrong. The car which exploded in front of the Moscow police station didn’t kill only police officers. Innocent people, people who were victims of Stalin, died. They are now Mikhail’s victims. And because I am with him, they are mine as well.”
“Those people’s deaths was most unfortunate.”
“Most unfortunate? Most unfortunate? Dunyasha, how can you say that? They are your people!”
She walked over to the ever present samovar and poured tea. “Dru, I don’t like this any more than you do. War is messy. There is no clean way to conduct one. You cannot tell bullets and shrapnel which people to kill.”
“Maybe you don’t have to use bullets and shrapnel.”
Dunyasha chuckled. “The last prince of peace was crucified and didn’t see the fruits of his labors. Mikhail has no desire to be a Christ.” She poured another cup of tea and held it out to me.
