The Rasputin Dagger

by Theresa Breslin

  ‘Oh! Oh, I thank you.’ Nina jumped up from her chair and kissed Dr K on his cheek. ‘That would be wonderful. Thank you so much – Godfather, my new uncle!’ She rushed off to collect her coat.

  ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea,’ I appealed to Dr K. ‘We are preparing for final exams and may have dissections today, or possibly a surgical session. And by late afternoon my year group often find themselves working in the wards of the Winter Palace.’

  I thought he hadn’t heard me for, as Nina left the room, he was looking after her like a fond father at a favourite child. But then he turned a piercing stare upon me and said: ‘Nina mentioned an interest in medical matters, and that should include her becoming acquainted with the gruesome side of the subject.’ He paused before continuing, ‘You believe it to be right that a person should know the truth of a situation and the times in which we live, don’t you, Stefan?’

  I saw that if I didn’t stop this at once, then I would have Nina with me all day. All day. I sought help from Galena. ‘If you think the city is unsafe and Nina might come to harm there,’ I said, ‘may I inform you that the university is even worse. There are constant demonstrations and rows, with running battles between the different political factions.’

  ‘Then you must stay close to Nina,’ Galena responded in her ‘this-argument-is-now-ended’ voice, ‘and protect her.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Here you are.’ She handed me and the girl – who had reappeared – a bag of food. ‘I have made each of you a lunch. I wish you a pleasant day.’

  ‘As do I,’ said Dr K. ‘And,’ he added, ‘we look forward to having dinner with both of you tonight so that we may hear every detail of it.’

  My gaze went from Galena to Dr K and back again. They smiled serenely at me and I saw that they had plotted this entrapment in tandem, and I was defeated.

  When we were out of sight of the house I lengthened my step so that Nina had to half jog to keep up. I decided that I too could make plans to have what I wanted. At the earliest opportunity I’d have a quiet word with my friends and tell them to ignore her, and also that they must, when we were together today, speak solely on subjects of which she would be ignorant, and at a level she couldn’t understand. I reckoned that she’d become bored, and tire of pursuing what was surely a feigned interest in medicine. In future she’d want to remain at home with Galena and not bother me again.

  I soon learned how traitorous friends can be. We had scarcely reached the university when Tomas, Eugene and Fyodor hailed me. These three were my closest companions. Having enrolled for medical studies on the same day, we’d gone in fellowship through our university years; falling out of taverns and into trouble and rescuing each other from awkward situations. Tomas was an amiable person who generally saw the humorous side of life, while Eugene increasingly kept to himself, poring over his textbooks in the hope that he might single-handedly cure the ills of the world. Fyodor was the one I clashed with most, for we ceaselessly argued politics. I thought of him as a lumbering hothead who wanted social change by any means, fair or foul. Upon seeing us, they bounded across the avenue to greet me and I was forced to introduce Nina. Within minutes she was laughing at a joke of Tomas’s and I felt myself edged aside as they engaged in animated conversation.

  This proved to be the pattern for the day. Everywhere we went she charmed those we met.

  As we were gathering up our notebooks at the end of the Anatomy lecture, the elderly Professor Kirichenko addressed her personally. ‘Would our visiting student like to ask a question?’

  Nina stood up from her bench. ‘I’d like to thank you for allowing me to attend.’

  ‘As long as you are a guest of Dr K’ – the professor beamed at her – ‘you may be here whenever you choose.’

  Please don’t say that, I thought to myself. Please do not say that.

  ‘You know, you remind me of someone’ – he peered into her face as she descended the steps towards the exit at the front of the lecture theatre – ‘but I cannot remember who, exactly. What is your name?’

  Too slowly I recalled Dr K’s instruction to me that I should always use his family name when introducing Nina. I opened my mouth to do this but she was already speaking.

  ‘Nina Ivanovna Izmailov,’ she replied.

  ‘Izmailov … Izmailov. Yes, that name. Of course! Was your father Ivan Sergeyevich Izmailov?’

  ‘He was indeed!’ she exclaimed. ‘Papa attended this university to obtain a degree in language and literature.’

  ‘I have the ability to detect similar bone structures in humans.’ The professor was pleased with himself. ‘The shape of a cranium, the set of the jaw.’ He nodded vigorously. ‘The skull has the framework of inherited genes.’

  ‘How is it that you knew my father if he was in a different faculty?’

  ‘Ivan Sergeyevich Izmailov was a noted brilliant student – graduated with distinction and began research for his Doctorate. Even though he wasn’t studying medicine, I was aware of him. However, I’d say that in soft tissue you favour your mother in looks, especially regarding your eyes.’

  ‘You knew my mother?’ Nina moved closer to Professor Kirichenko.

  ‘She was very beautiful. And gentle. Ivan had a promising career ahead of him. Such a shame that they—’ He stopped.

  ‘Please tell me more.’ She laid her hand on his arm. ‘I know practically nothing of my father’s youth and even less of my mother’s. My mama died when I was born, you see.’ Her face coloured slightly, as if she were embarrassed about something.

  ‘So, then, you have no knowledge of her early life …’ Professor Kirichenko’s voice tailed off.

  ‘Only what my father told me. He said Mama was like him, an orphan with no family, and that she came from a distant place and was a stranger in the city.’ Nina looked at the professor expectantly.

  ‘I shouldn’t say. Or rather, I couldn’t say.’ Suddenly Professor Kirichenko appeared stressed. He rubbed his forehead. ‘My dear, I am chattering like a gossip. I am getting old. I talk too much, things mix themselves up in my head. As you said, your father wasn’t one of my students, so I didn’t really know him. And if I did, my brain is shrinking with age. Most days I hardly remember where I laid down my hat.’ He gathered his papers and scuttled off.

  Here was a puzzle! Professor Kirichenko’s mind was sharper than any of his students’. He appeared to have knowledge of Nina’s mother but was not prepared to share it; it seemed that there was something untoward in her ladyship’s family background. Obviously Nina had drawn the same conclusion for, although she said nothing, she was biting her lip.

  I tried to find an unobtrusive spot to eat lunch but, despite my asking for their co-operation in ostracizing Nina, my supposed friends clustered around her, offering to share their food. I ground my teeth in frustration while she commandeered their attention. It became apparent that she’d been highly educated by her father, for she was ignorant of little within our conversation. She had a wide-ranging knowledge of world geography and history. It was merely in modern politics that she was lacking.

  ‘Didn’t your father tell you what was happening in Russia?’ asked Tomas, who, much to my annoyance, had appointed himself her personal mentor.

  ‘As you say that, I see that it is odd.’ She smiled at him and he smiled back and moved closer to her. ‘Neither did Papa ever bring newspapers to the house. Yet I know that he was aware of the latest news, for he visited the stationmaster at Yekaterinburg each week to play chess, and railway staff are always up to date.’ She puckered her brow as she thought about this. ‘I wonder why he never broached the subject or spoke of his time as a student. Considering St Petersburg was his home city, and this’ – she raised her long eyelashes and surveyed the buildings – ‘was the university he attended.’

  ‘Petrograd,’ Tomas corrected her. ‘Try to remember to call the city “Petrograd” in case someone accuses you of treason or being a German in disguise.’

  ‘My
country accent would let them know that I’m a Siberian Russian.’ Nina laughed. Tomas and Eugene, and even the normally grumpy Fyodor, laughed with her.

  But it was no laughing matter. Throughout the city the Okhrana – the Secret Police – had infiltrated the places of work and of learning. We joked that this year there were more Okhrana spies than students enrolled for courses in the university.

  And so it was not just because her presence irritated me that, after classes, I told Nina to wait in the refectory while I attended a political gathering. It was to take place in an old wine cellar below the kitchens. Such assemblies were banned by the State, so were held in out-of-the-way places. This meant I was genuinely following Galena’s instructions regarding Nina’s safety – and in any case I’d only been tasked with acquainting her with my medical studies. ‘You could go to the library with Eugene,’ I suggested. ‘It’s where he spends most of his free time, and he’d be pleased to introduce you to the staff.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of keeping him from his studies.’ Nina regarded me steadily.

  ‘Tomas will be in the refectory,’ I said. ‘You’d enjoy listening to one of his tall tales.’

  ‘He is amusing,’ she agreed, ‘but I’d like to come along with you.’

  ‘You can’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s – it’s it’s … not suitable.’

  ‘Why not? I think it’s eminently suitable,’ she replied. ‘Today it has been revealed that I’m appallingly ignorant of what is going on in my own country.’

  ‘I don’t think Dr K and Galena will approve of my taking you to a political husting. Inflammatory statements are made. Accusations and threats of murder are commonplace. They’d be cross with me when you relate this at dinner this evening.’

  ‘I will give them a report on the medical lectures I attended, nothing more.’ She faced me squarely. ‘I haven’t yet said anything that might cause them to be displeased with you. Have I?’

  Her meaning was clear and her dart struck home. ‘Well … I don’t want you getting into any bother.’ I flung the words over my shoulder as I walked away.

  ‘I won’t,’ she said meekly, following behind.

  She appeared compliant, so when we reached the meeting place I said, ‘You must wait outside. You’ll hear clearly enough. Most of the speakers shout loudly.’

  ‘Mmmm,’ she said, and walked straight past me into the cellar.

  Fyodor was handing out his Bolshevik propaganda. Nina took a leaflet and proceeded to engage him in discussion.

  ‘We need a social revolution!’ It took only a passing interest from someone to send Fyodor into one of his rants. ‘You should read the writings of Lenin,’ he told Nina. ‘He lives in exile but his thoughts are published and sent to us secretly. Lenin believes that the people must mobilize. Our aim is to have our own troops, for socialism will not be achieved without military action.’

  ‘Do you think that too, Stefan?’ Nina asked me.

  ‘It may be necessary,’ I said reluctantly.

  Fyodor was agitating on behalf of a group called the Bolsheviks and had taken to wearing the same red shirt as the factory workers to show his solidarity. I thought it pretentious, yet despite Dr K’s moderate outlook my own mind had moved away from the idea of gradual liberalization via the Duma. I now believed that the total overthrowing of the Tsar’s State Council was the best solution to Russia’s problems. Ordinary people needed to take control and set up a completely new form of government – to establish a democracy. But Fyodor was more extreme. He’d make joining his Bolshevik political party compulsory and shoot anyone who refused.

  ‘I’ll take these home with me to read later.’ Nina sat down beside me with a bundle of the leaflets she’d collected on her lap.

  ‘Not that one, you won’t,’ I said, extricating a scurrilous drawing of the Tsarina consorting with Rasputin. ‘Unless you want to give Galena a heart attack.’

  ‘Don’t you find it shocking,’ she said, ‘that people write such things about them?’

  ‘Are we not allowed to criticize the nobility or the Government?’ I retorted. ‘Don’t you believe we should have a free press?’

  She thought about that. ‘I believe in the ideal of a free press, but we must have restraints.’

  ‘Here is someone who would have no restraints whatsoever.’ I indicated Fyodor, who had got up to speak.

  ‘Lenin, our leader, is calling upon us to form civil brigades.’ Fyodor struck a pose in the middle of the room. ‘By arming ourselves we’ll be ready to fight in the glorious revolution.’

  ‘How can Lenin lead the Bolsheviks when he is in hiding?’ a member of the audience heckled loudly. ‘Lenin is a coward who expects others to do his dirty work for him.’

  ‘This won’t be a debate.’ I glanced around the room, which had filled up with unfamiliar faces. ‘I suspect there are supporters of other political factions here to cause trouble. We should go.’ I touched Nina’s arm.

  ‘No.’ She moved away from me. ‘I want to hear the debate.’

  ‘When the time is right Lenin will return,’ said Fyodor.

  ‘You are a liar!’ the heckler shouted and pulled a stick from under his coat.

  ‘And you are a spy!’ Fyodor leaped to grapple him by the throat.

  The next second a fight broke out. A bottle flew past my head to crash against the wall. I swore aloud. ‘Get down!’ I pushed Nina to the floor. Among the turmoil of overturning chairs and scuffling feet we crawled into a corner.

  ‘Will Fyodor be all right?’ Nina peeked out from our safe spot.

  A broken stool landed near, spraying us with splinters.

  ‘He’ll be fine,’ I snapped, peeved that while I protected her in the midst of this mayhem Nina’s concern was for someone else. Fyodor was roaring out some Bolshevik slogan while he and his political allies knocked their opponents’ heads together. ‘Let’s see if we can get out of here.’

  Hugging the wall, we slid round towards the door. A gap opened amongst the heaving bodies.

  ‘Now!’ I sprang up and turned to help Nina to her feet. But she’d been alert enough to see the opportunity, and was beside me. Shielding her as best I could I hustled her to the door – and this time she did not resist.

  ‘You don’t want to pay any attention to Fyodor,’ I told Nina on our way home.

  ‘Why not?’

  Her habit of doing this – responding to statements I made with constant questions – was taxing my brain. ‘You saw what happened,’ I said. ‘Fyodor preaches sedition, follows it up by trying to throttle someone, and a riot starts.’

  ‘Fyodor was about to be attacked. What was he meant to do?’

  ‘Not talk such arrant nonsense.’ I slowed my pace. Nina was removing a fragment of wood from her shawl. ‘Hold still,’ I said. ‘There is more scattered about your head.’

  It was the first time we’d ever been so physically close. Her hair was burnished gold like the leaves which fall by the River Neva in autumn. My fingers were unexpectedly clumsy as I picked out slivers from among her curls.

  ‘Let me return the favour.’ Nina stretched to brush debris off my shoulders, and I was looking down into her face, long lashes framing brilliant blue eyes … ‘That’s better.’ She stepped back. ‘So, tell me. Why do you think Fyodor’s beliefs are nonsense?’

  ‘Because … because Lenin wants the whole world to revolt. It’s an impossible proposition.’

  ‘But what makes it impossible?’

  ‘Oh,’ I cried in exasperation. ‘I can’t begin to explain how futile that would be.’

  ‘Why do you dismiss other people’s opinions so readily?’ She rounded on me. ‘Surely we should listen to everyone’s point of view?’

  And we continued along the street, arguing.

  Chapter 13

  As the days lengthened Nina often sat apart from me in classes and found her own company between lectures and at break times.

  Sometimes I saw h
er strolling with Tomas under the blossoming trees in the quadrangle – he, no doubt, entertaining her with his fund of funny jokes. And once, wearing a pretty floral patterned dress, she was sitting on the grass reading newspapers and political journals with Fyodor.

  ‘Watch out, Nina!’ I called. ‘My friend will convert you to his cause and soon the colour of your clothes will be Bolshevik red!’

  The sound of her laugh sparkled in the balmy air. I turned my head as I passed them and saw her gaze following me, her eyes a deeper blue than the summer sky.

  Then I noticed that Nina was skipping more and more lectures. One morning when we left the house, instead of starting in on her usual list of enquiries concerning politics, she asked, ‘Would you mind if I stopped attending classes with you?’

  ‘What?’ I was taken aback. To mask my confusion, I replied quickly, ‘I don’t mind at all!’

  ‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t mention our new arrangement to Galena and Dr K. Will you let me know the hours you intend to keep so that we can enter and leave the house about the same time each day?’

  ‘Uh. If that’s what you wish.’ I was glad Nina had said that, for Dr K and Galena might blame me for her defection from the university. They’d suppose that I’d been rude or offhand with her. ‘Where do you intend to go during the day, or the evening, for that matter?’

  ‘I’ve haven’t quite decided yet.’ She smiled, and we parted company at the corner of the street, with me feeling a strange sense of disappointment.

  It was the time of the ‘White Nights’, when because the city lies so far north towards the Arctic, for a week or so in high summer the sun barely sets. I was returning home late one evening, having stayed on at the university to work – and suddenly there was Nina ahead of me on the street. She was with two or three other women, chatting as they walked.

  ‘Oh!’ I heard her exclaim as a shaft of iridescent light turned the furrows of white cloud above us to glowing pink.

  The group stopped to look at the view. I didn’t especially want to meet them so I was forced to do likewise. The sky was cream and lilac, with the outline of the main bridges, which connect the two halves of the city like heavy lace fringing the horizons.