Rasputin's Prodigy

by Michael Weinberger

  “That seems to be clear enough already.” Chris volunteered sarcastically.

  “True, but I'd really like to get the story from a local. It might reveal something that we hadn't considered.”

  Chris nodded, “Makes sense.” There was something else Chris wanted to say but he seemed hesitant to ask.

  “What?” I asked.

  Chris could see how shaken up I still was, but to his credit he asked, “Should we ask about our 'homeless hero’ too?”

  “Why?! What are we going to ask him? Have there been any lethal, homeless hypnotists plaguing the streets of Nazran lately?!” I hadn't expected to respond so sharply or defensively, and was immediately sorry for the outburst.

  For Chris' part, he couldn't have reacted less if I had whispered the whole thing. It was almost as if he had been expecting the outburst. Then, after the briefest of silences, and without otherwise missing a beat he calmly said, “We should probably phrase it differently than that, but basically yes.”

  Again I knew Chris was right, but I hated the fact that the question, not to mention my outburst, had brought the image of the homeless man to the front of my thoughts. My head was starting to throb and I felt like I really needed more sleep, so I just nodded my agreement, moved to one of the twin beds and dropped limply on the hard mattress.

  I was pretty much asleep as soon as my head came to rest on the pillow when I managed to hear Chris say in a flustered voice, “Oh no, please let me take first watch. I insist.”

  Chapter 11

  December 16, 1916. Moika Palace, Russia.

  Grigori Rasputin sat at a table in a guest room of Prince Felix Yusupov’s Moika Palace after the Prince had summoned him several days ago. Now he focused intensely on what he was writing, completely ignoring the fine pastries and wine that had been laid out for him.

  Everyone around him had noticed the change in Rasputin over the last few weeks. He had become jittery, was startled by the most benign events and was extremely impatient. He had not slept much for days on end; also, he had been drunk for the last two weeks, except for the last two days when he partook of no sustenance whatsoever.

  Quickly, he finished the letter he was writing and sealed it in an envelope before her took out a fresh piece of paper and stared blankly at the page for a few moments before he began writing once more. With the first stroke of the pen Rasputin’s body seemed to deflate. Muscles, which that had been cord tight, relaxed and his shoulders slumped forward as if a great weight was finally being lifted off his back.

  Tsarevich Alexei Nikolaevich,

  My boy, I fear I must leave you now, which is probably for the best, as I have nothing left to teach you. You have excelled at all of your lessons and have made them a part of who you are. As you go forward into the future, your experiences, your life, will be your new teacher, as you will learn more and more with each passing moment.

  But I cannot leave without at least warning you of the dangers that are coming. The terror that will run rampant over Russia will be the end of all you have known, but you must survive it. You will be tested most harshly, brutally and sadistically before the end and I greatly fear for you. My only advice would be to watch over yourself when the trials come, for if you futilely squander your abilities on others you will fail both them, yourself and, ultimately, all of Russia.

  Use what you have learned my dear Tsarevich and someday, when you have reached the full extent of your potential, may you also forgive me for what I have done to you. Forgive what a zealous man saw in your eyes on that first day and made a decision that he had no right to make. Know that my intentions were…

  A gentle knock came from the closed chamber door. Quickly, Rasputin folded the unfinished letter, placed it in an envelope and rose from his chair. Cautiously, he opened the door and saw a servant, bundled in burlap rags, standing outside his doorstep.

  Curiously Rasputin eyed the small man, and then his eyes went wide.

  “Alexei?!?”

  The bundle of rags didn’t speak but nodded and Rasputin hurried the boy inside.

  “Alexei! My God, what are you doing here?! I thought you were with your father in Mogilev?”

  Alexei began to unwind the various scraps of burlap from around his head and shoulders.

  “I was with my family in Mogilev, but I had another experience that made it necessary to come here. What I sensed felt very similar to that day when the woman attacked you over two years ago in Pokrovskoye. Only this time it was much, much larger and far more terrible.”

  Rasputin guided Alexei to the table and the two sat as Alexei continued.

  “After, I was overwhelmed by your image in my mind and I knew I had to come.”

  Rasputin held out his hand to clasp the boy’s shoulder but winced when he saw how badly his hand was shaking. Alexei noticed it as well and the fear he felt for his mentor increased tenfold.

  “Why are you shaking Father Grigori?”

  “Be calm my boy, be calm. It is only my having gone without food or drink for too long,” Rasputin lied. “As you can see all is well here as I am safe within a Romanov household.” Rasputin poured himself a glass of wine and picked up one of the many cakes that sat on a silver tray next to the wine bottle and took several bites of the pastry.

  Alexei sniffed the air, and then looked at the cake. “It smells as though the cook burned the almonds in your cake.”

  Rasputin froze, his hand trembling again far worse then before. He held the cake out in front of him and eyed it suspiciously. Alexei immediately saw the look of concern of his teacher’s face and, although he had no idea why, he braced himself for whatever was to follow.

  Alexei was not prepared for what he saw.

  Rasputin threw his head back and laughed. And laughed. And laughed. He laughed so hard that he began pounding his fist on the table as tears began to fall from his eyes. It took almost three minutes for the elder man to gather himself; however, when he did he quickly finished the cake and grabbed another. Alexei began to giggle at the sight of his teacher stuffing cakes to capacity into his mouth then drank wine directly from the bottle to wash them down. Rasputin ate heartily until only one cake remained.

  When Rasputin spoke it sounded as if he was still about to break into another raucous round of guffaws.

  “Now…ha heh heh… now my boy, you need to go back…heh ha…to your father.”

  Alexei couldn’t help but smile at the spectacle that was his teacher, despite the fact that he felt as though he desperately needed to stay. Alexei still felt that Rasputin was in grave danger and he had to be here to help protect him.

  Before Alexei could protest, Rasputin held up the two letters. He sealed the second envelope and held them up for Alexei to see.

  “Since you are here you can do me a great service. This letter is for your father, please see to it that he gets it immediately.” Rasputin placed the unfinished letter, which was actually written to Alexei, into Alexei’s hand.

  Alexei looked at the letter, then back to his teacher. Alexei knew that Rasputin was just trying to get him to leave and he wanted with all of his heart to protest.

  “That letter is of vital importance and your father must get it as fast as possible. Understood?”

  Alexei lowered his eyes, “Yes Father Grigori.”

  Rasputin nodded in satisfaction, “Good. I have one other task for you.” Alexei looked up earnestly as Rasputin raised the second letter into the air, “This…” Rasputin hesitated, “this will need to be placed in my secretary’s hand before the sun rises. She is in St. Petersburg at…oh, you know where she is, don’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good…Good. Can you do it? Can you get to her in time?”

  Alexei looked at the sky. The sun had just retreated behind the horizon and the last wisps of orange and red were quickly fading from the sunset.

  Alexei turned back to his teacher, “If I leave now I can be there in time.”

  Excellent! Then…” Rasputin�
��s words caught as he turned to his door.

  Something was very, very wrong.

  Alexei had “felt” it too and he knelt down on the floor. Placing the fingertips of his right hand on the floor, Alexei could feel a series of arhythmic vibrations getting stronger and stronger with each passing moment. Recognition of the vibrations came quickly as Alexei realized that men were climbing the stairs in a large group while making an effort to muffle the sound of their footfalls as they ascended.

  Rasputin apparently didn’t need to feel the floor to come to the same conclusions as Alexei had, “Quickly Alexei! Under the bed!”

  Alexei did not hesitate as he dove forward, slid past the bed linens and came to a halt under the mattress. He spun himself around and raised the bed skirt just enough that he would have a clear view of the room without being detected.

  A loud knock sounded on the door as Rasputin sat back in his chair, picked up his wine glass and called out for the person or persons to enter.

  The door opened and Prince Felix Yusupov sauntered into the room followed by several others. All of who looked confused and nervous as the Prince spoke.

  “Good evening Father Grigori. Please forgive the intrusion, but my associates and I were heading to the dining room and wondered if you might join us?”

  Rasputin smiled wickedly at the Prince. “Ah, the Prince is too kind, but I am feeling quite satisfied at the moment. After all you were so considerate to have these wonderful cakes sent to me upon my arrival and I fear that I have overindulged in them.”

  The Prince and all of his “associates” looked at the remaining cake as Rasputin lifted it and said, “They are quite delicious.”

  The Prince stammered as he agreed. “Yes I…I am…particularly fond of them.”

  Rasputin’s eyebrows lifted in what appeared to Alexei to be mock surprise.

  “Really? Well let me be considerate in return and present you with the last of the cakes.” Rasputin held out the pastry to the Prince…and saw the briefest flicker of apprehension flash across the Prince’s eyes.

  “Oh! No, no, no. I never partake of sweets before I have my supper. Although I thank you for your consideration.”

  Rasputin’s smile faded and he grew very serious. “As I thank you, my Prince.”

  The room fell into an uncomfortable silence as Alexei watched his Uncle and his teacher lock eyes.

  Finally, the Prince broke the spell. “Yes well, we are off to the dining hall then. Let any of the servants know if you are in need of anything.”

  “Again I thank you my Prince.” Rasputin rose to his feet and inclined his head as the Prince and his associates left the room.

  Closing the door behind them, Rasputin turned to the bed and beckoned Alexei to come out.

  Alexei slid out easily and quickly moved to his teacher. Rasputin grabbed the boy and shoved the second letter into the boy’s hand, “Alexei you must go now!”

  The look Alexei saw in his teacher’s eyes chilled him to the core and he didn’t resist as Rasputin began to hand Alexei the burlap fabric he had arrived in.

  “Hurry, assume your disguise and go!”

  Alexei dressed and was about to leave when Rasputin grabbed him by the shoulders. “My boy, I want you to know that I could not be more proud of you.” Alexei looked at his teacher confused and concerned. He would have said something but Rasputin knelt forward and kissed him on both cheeks then spun him around and pushed him away from the room. “Now go!”

  Alexei couldn’t think straight as he ran from the room and began to descend the stone steps toward the east entrance of the palace.

  Rasputin watched him go and whispered. “Go with God my student, my friend, my son. Go quickly before you are washed away by the blood that is about to flood this palace.”

  ***

  The Prince paced the floor as Grand Duke Nicholas Nickolaevich watched nervously. The two men were the culprits, along with the four noblemen who sat against the wall, who had lured Rasputin to the Moika palace and had poisoned the refreshments that the man had apparently consumed. Now they were reassessing their next move after witnessing Rasputin still whole and hearty despite having eaten the cakes and drunk the wine.

  “How is he not dead?” the Prince spoke anxiously to no one in particular. “He seems as though the poison had no effect on him at all, how can that be?!?”

  Nicholas turned to one of the nobles in the room. “Vasily, are you sure you that you used enough poison?”

  Vasily Maklakov had been holding his head in his hands when he looked up to the Grand Duke and nodded vigorously. “I put enough cyanide in his food to kill several men. I was not subtle and my only fear was that he would realize the poison was there before he consumed enough of the sweets.”

  Nicholas rose from his chair. “The sweets?!? You didn’t poison the wine? I told you to poison both!”

  Quickly the nobleman protested. “There was no way of knowing what vintage he would request from the wine cellar, so the cakes, being the only food available to him upon his arrival, seemed to be the better choice.”

  Prince Felix walked to the Grand Duke and placed a hand on his arm. “I watched Vasily poison the food and he is telling the truth about the massive dose he placed in the dough. It should have been more than enough to do him in.”

  Nicholas quieted his demeanor and turned away from the trembling nobleman. “What are we to do? Our opportunity to remove his body undetected during the changing of the staff is dwindling. If we don’t act now we will miss our chance.”

  Everyone in the room looked expectantly at the others but no one seemed willing to speak up. Then, finally, after almost a minute of uncomfortable silence the Prince removed his revolver from his belt and said, “I’ll finish him.”

  One of the noblemen was quick to speak out. “But the shot will be heard throughout the palace!”

  The Prince looked solemnly at each of the noblemen. “If anyone in my employ is still around to hear, then this is my home and my staff. They will follow my orders and cover any doubt cast upon us. It has to be me who does this deed.

  Every head, except for the Grand Duke, began to slowly nod in agreement as Nicholas held out his hand, “Let me see your weapon.”

  The Prince frowned as he handed the pistol over to his relative. The Grand Duke unloaded the weapon, held it up to the light and inspected the barrel and wheel, then reloaded the weapon and handed it back to the Prince. “You have taken excellent care of the revolver. It should fire true for you.”

  The Grand Duke embraced the Prince, who appeared bolstered by the act, and all the men in the room stood and nodded at their cohort. Then without another word the Prince removed his jacket and covered the hand holding the pistol and left the room.

  He made no attempt to conceal the sound of his boots as he quickly ascended the stone steps until he reached Rasputin’s room. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, the Prince laid one hand on the latch, pulled it free and burst into the room. Throwing his jacket off the revolver, he pointed at his target ahead of him with his finger resting on the trigger.

  Rasputin stood with his back to the door looking out the window over the countryside and the night sky. He made no attempt to turn and face the man who had just burst in and instead stood calmly with his arms at his sides as he spoke.

  “I don’t suppose you want that last cake now my Prince?” Rasputin’s fingertips glided effortlessly over each other and, if the Prince could see the man’s face, he would have seen that Rasputin’s eyes were closed in concentration.

  The Prince didn’t hesitate a moment more and he fired the weapon, point blank and at heart level, into Rasputin’s back. The force of the round torqued Rasputin’s torso as it collided and penetrated his body, accompanied by a spray of blood that covered the window frame as the bullet exited the man’s chest. Rasputin silently stumbled forward then tried to brace himself by grasping the window drapes without avail as he fell and pulled the fabric down on himself as his body gave out
.

  The Prince watched Rasputin fall then waited in order to determine whether the wound was sufficient to be fatal. When Rasputin had remained motionless for almost three minutes the Prince walked over and checked the body to see if the man was breathing.

  He wasn’t.

  The Prince hurried from the room and ran to join the rest of his group, “It is done,” he said as he entered the room and met the expectant looks of all inside. “How do we proceed?”

  Nicholas spoke quickly, “Now we must divide ourselves. Take two men to the stables and prepare a wagon, I will take the rest and get some bed linens from the laundry to wrap the body. Remember gentlemen, we should avoid all witnesses from this moment on. Ready your weapons as any who gaze upon us need be dealt with most severely.”

  The men all hurried from the room; however, the Prince was less than halfway to the stable when he remembered he had left his jacket in the room. Terrified with the thought that someone could possibly find the jacket before his group had returned to clean up the scene worried him. Ordering the noblemen to the stable to make the proper preparations the Prince ran back to the palace, raced up the stairs, and entered the room where he had done the deed. Initially, he averted his eyes from the spot where Rasputin had fallen and reached to pick up his jacket from the floor.

  His hand froze inches from the garment and his eyes shot wide as the breath caught in his chest. Slowly the Prince inclined his head to the spot on the floor that he had seen in his peripheral vision. The spot where Rasputin’s body had landed was now an empty space identified only by a small pool of blood.

  The Prince shot to a standing position and began to search the room but found no sign of Rasputin. Then he realized what must have happened…The window! Somehow Rasputin had survived the shot and had climbed out the window to escape. The Prince ran to the window, but as he tried to open it he found it securely locked.

  Confused he backed away from the window when, behind him, he heard the the sound of the door slamming shut, which caused his heart feel as though it would lurch from his chest. The Prince spun to see Rasputin making a show of securing the latch on the door, his eyes wild with rage and pain as he turned and pointed a bloody finger at him.