Bear of the Forest, you must not sit down and eat a pie.”
‘“Oh! Oh!” the Bear cried out. “If Masha can see me she must have climbed to the chimney tops of the red roof of my tall house.”
‘He quickly refastened the straps of the pannier basket and went on his way. This time he did not stop until he reached the cottage at the edge of the forest. The Bear unstrapped the basket and dashed off. Whereupon Masha jumped out of the pannier basket, ran into her home, hugged her mother and father and promised never again to wander away.’
‘And the Bear?’ Olga, the eldest girl, asked. ‘What happened to the Bear?’
‘There is a legend,’ I said, ‘that the Bear loved Masha’s pies so much that he’d pile heaps of berries by the cottage door. Masha would make a pie with these and leave it outside for him to eat. And in exchange the Bear would protect Masha and her family and neighbours from the packs of wolves that roamed the land.’
We began to discuss the tale and whether Masha was meant to meet the Bear, and for what purpose.
‘Wolves prey on the weak and would devour them,’ Alexei said seriously. ‘Masha trained the Bear and mastered it to protect her family and her people.’
Alexei fell asleep. A few minutes later the Tsarina’s head lolled back. Lovingly the sisters rearranged the cushions and tucked the coverlets around their mama and brother.
‘I’ll summon Alexei’s nanny to watch over them now,’ Olga told me.
We waited while the curtains were closed, and then the sisters led me to the bedroom where I was to sleep. Despite their different personalities the girls formed a unique bond of sisterhood, living physically close and sharing strong emotional ties. They’d link fingers and converse with each other in undertones – slipping in and out of a secret language where they employed special words and phrases to exchange private messages.
‘I hope Father Grigory Rasputin stays away for a month,’ Anastasia whispered to me as we said goodnight.
Chapter 18
Several weeks passed before Rasputin reappeared at the Alexander Palace. In that time I discovered that the main preoccupation of the household was Alexei and his health. Of prime concern was what Alexei ate and drank, what he did, what he wore, and how he looked. Breakfast and supper were served to him privately, after which the family doctor took his temperature and surveyed his body for blemishes which might indicate a blood vessel had burst and was causing internal bleeding.
The mention of the word ‘doctor’ triggered an allergic reaction in Alexei, and he complained loudly when he had to undergo an examination. The family doctor was a dedicated physician. Frequently disrespected and on occasions insulted by the boy, Dr Botkin maintained a courteous manner. He supported the Tsarina as far as he was able, but she was a woman of absolute opinions, and when she set herself on a course of action she refused to be diverted from it. In the absence of Rasputin the doctor quietly persisted in trying to turn the Tsarina’s thoughts outwards to improve her frame of mind.
He did not openly decry the monk, but when she mentioned that Rasputin’s method of dealing with one of Alexei’s previous falls had been to ignore symptoms and effect a cure by prayer and the laying on of hands, Dr Botkin commented, ‘We must not mistake a well-meaning amateur for a professionally qualified medical specialist.’ He said this in such a way that the Tsarina did not bridle. But although she inclined her head to the doctor, it was plain that she had no intention of breaking her link with Father Grigory Rasputin.
Initially suspicious of me as another ‘well-meaning amateur’, Dr Botkin grew to trust me. We soon became friends and allies in keeping the emotional environment in the Alexander Palace as stable as possible.
While the weather stayed warm the girls went with their tutor into the extensive gardens to draw and paint. My papa had taught me to embrace difference and learn about the customs beyond our borders, but the daughters of the Tsar had no real knowledge of the wider world. Their pursuits were designed for them to be decorative, not useful, in their future life. Whereas I’d been free to browse as I pleased in my father’s library, the Tsarina controlled her daughters’ educational curriculum and censored their reading so that they’d no access to ‘unsuitable’ material.
What they did share with me was growing up within a household where they were kept ignorant of the real politics of Russia. But whereas I was now rapidly learning the truth, the Tsar and Tsarina deliberately kept their children apart from the real world. They existed inside a warm bubble of isolation. For me, living in my village near Yekaterinburg, it didn’t matter so much. For them, in their situation and station, this lack of knowledge was potentially ruinous. Even I could see that as members of the ruling family they should be aware, not only of the activities of their nobles, but also of the circumstances of the poorest of their subjects. Their parents’ attitude was that individuals were born into their life for a purpose, and must endure whatever that position brought them. None of them had any depth of appreciation of the effect of enduring abject poverty, and how rash and volatile their subjects might become. Crucially, they also had no depth of appreciation of the universal hostility towards Rasputin, or that this had extended to the Tsarina, with the stain also spreading over the children.
But their relatives and Ministers of State had seen the danger Rasputin posed and tried to warn them. With Rasputin absent and the Tsar stationed at the Front, the extended family came to visit the Alexander Palace. Uncles and cousins and members of the nobility arrived and left. The Tsar’s mother – and even the Tsarina’s own sister, who’d married another member of the Romanov family – urged her to break away from Father Grigory Rasputin.
The Tsarina would come from these encounters neurotic and exhausted. She took to locking herself in her sitting room for hours on end as she tried to dispel the migraines which plagued her. Then she’d emerge with an increasing resolve that she’d been too accommodating with the Ministers of the State and the representatives of the Duma. Her belief was that Russia needed a strong hand to rule it. The Romanovs were leaders and, like responsible parents, while they loved their subjects, a degree of strictness was required. Therefore the Tsarina wouldn’t listen to any talk of democracy. It was against the will of the Tsar, which meant that it was against the will of God. Any minister who demurred was sacked and replaced. As she made these pronouncements I could see her doctor shaking his head in despair.
To begin with I only spent the late evenings and nights at the Alexander Palace, travelling into Petrograd each morning to continue my work at the hospital in the Winter Palace.
Stefan was right when he said I wouldn’t have to get up so early each day. The coachman, Sergei Pavlovich, drove me on my journeys between the Winter Palace and Tsarskoe Selo – but I missed the camaraderie of the bread queue. The conversations there were so much less stilted than those of the Imperial Family. When I’d first taken a turn at waiting, some women had tried to elbow me out of my place, but Vera and Duscha and other friends of Galena took me under their wing. They teased me for my country accent, for the way I tied my shawl, for my ignorance of city politics, but there was no malice in their manner. I met Vera on the Prospekt one afternoon and she laughed in disbelief as I spoke wistfully of our times together outside the bakery.
Every evening I’d call in at Dr K’s house to share a meal or collect clean clothing. The weather was becoming cooler and Dmitri had sent a box of my personal property from Yekaterinburg, which included boots and a warm coat. He wrote that the harvest was excellent and the estate should have enough food and fuel for the winter. He also said that, most likely, he’d be unable to send me any more of my possessions as Viktor Ilyich, the lawyer, was making a detailed account of the contents of the house. Until he completed this inventory Dmitri was forbidden to enter any room apart from the kitchen.
‘Your father’s lawyer sounds as if he might be valuing the household goods in order to sell them,’ Dr K said when I mentioned this at dinner one night. ‘I have so
me savings, Nina, so if there were things of yours or your father’s that you wanted in particular I’d be happy to purchase them for you.’
‘There is nothing I want or need,’ I replied. ‘I have my mother’s photograph, my father’s story pamphlets, and a carved—’ I broke off to curb my loose tongue. ‘I lack for nothing in my present life,’ I added lamely.
‘I’m sure you don’t,’ Stefan said acidly. ‘It must be a trial for you to eat this.’ He spooned up a piece of the gristly meat that Galena had managed to secure to make a stew. ‘I’m guessing the Romanov table is buckling under the food laid upon it each day.’
‘They endure rationing,’ I responded coolly, to show Stefan that I was impervious to his jibes. ‘But I assure you that it is no trial for me to eat this food. Galena’s stew is infinitely better than any dish made by the royal cook.’
Stefan’s face coloured up – for I’d made it seem that he was criticizing Galena’s cooking. I had a reckless urge to stick my tongue out at him, and I wondered how he would react. Laughter bubbled up inside me.
Dr K looked from me to Stefan and back again. ‘How is the Imperial Family?’ he asked me in a bemused tone.
‘Despite their wealth, they are not carefree. But the children play well together – the girls especially are closely bonded.’ And I told him of their secret way of communicating by interlacing their fingers. ‘It’s as well that they look after each other, for they carry the weight of their brother’s condition and their mother’s indisposition too.’
‘What indisposition does the mother have?’ Galena was keen to hear of the Tsarina.
‘I suppose it’s a frailty of temperament. A form of acute anxiety … almost paranoia. The Tsarina believes everyone talks badly about her.’
‘She is right,’ said Stefan. ‘They do. And with good cause. She behaves badly – both as the leader of a nation and in her personal life.’
‘Certainly her liaison with Rasputin brings her name into disrepute,’ said Dr K. ‘But the monk has a point regarding the war. He wants the fighting to stop because the peasants are being slaughtered in their thousands. That’s something you have said, Stefan.’
‘Everyone wants the fighting to stop,’ said Stefan.
‘Yet none dare voice that opinion,’ sighed Dr K, ‘lest they are accused of treason.’
‘Have you met Rasputin yet?’ Galena asked me.
‘No,’ I answered her. ‘When he returns I will leave the Alexander Palace.’
‘Why would anyone leave such comfort?’ Stefan snorted in disbelief. He stood up from the table. ‘Please excuse me.’ And, lifting his dishes and cutlery, he left the room.
After the door closed behind him Galena said, ‘Stefan has passed his exams at the university.’
‘I am glad to hear that,’ I replied stiffly. Of course I knew that they’d all passed – Stefan, Tomas, Fyodor and Eugene. Tomas had given me the news when I met him on the wards of the Winter Palace. Later that same day I’d seen Stefan, dark hair flopping over his eyes, as he read a patient’s notes. I longed to go to him and congratulate him, but thought he might rebuff me with a cutting remark.
‘When two strong personalities meet,’ Galena said sadly, ‘stubborn pride can keep them apart.’
‘Indeed’ – Dr K spoke directly to her – ‘it’s a state of affairs I’m not unfamiliar with.’
To my surprise Galena blushed and looked down at her plate.
Chapter 19
When the Tsarina first asked me to stay on until Father Grigory Rasputin returned, it was on the understanding that I fulfilled my nursing duties each day in the city, coming in the evening to Tsarskoe Selo to sit with Alexei before he went to bed.
Usually the girls would join us to listen to my stories. Their mother was often otherwise engaged. The Tsarina was in extreme agitation with the problems of government and involved in constant arguments with the ministers, who she felt were deliberately thwarting her.
‘I am surrounded by enemies!’ she complained to Dr Botkin, who was having breakfast with us one morning.
‘Those who offer advice which conflicts with your opinion are not always your enemies,’ he replied.
‘Prince Yusupov has requested an audience tonight. I may refuse. Thinking about it has made my head ache already.’
‘You could listen to his point of view.’
‘I am already aware of Prince Yusupov’s point of view.’ The Tsarina plucked at her hair in distraction. ‘He and his coterie of admirers hate Father Grigory. With his devotees supporting him, the Prince will ooze superficial goodwill while urging me to banish Father Grigory from my court.’
‘That might be no bad thing. We’ve been managing without Grigory Rasputin this last week or so.’
‘How dare you!’
Olga put her hand to her mouth and her sisters drew close beside her as their mother tipped into hysteria.
‘How can you say that?’ Every moment of worry the Tsarina had suffered in the years since the birth of her son was visible on her face. ‘How can you even think such a thing? I have endured torture – do you hear me? Torture – trying to cope in his absence. My beloved husband is far away, doing his best to lead our armies to victory. My family rely on Father Grigory’s healing spirit and wise words to guide us. Without his presence near, I cannot function properly.’
‘You may have to.’
The Tsarina seemed unable to process the meaning of his words.
‘Our constitutional crisis deepens on all fronts.’ The doctor spoke cautiously. ‘Your reliance on that man makes you vulnerable. If you do not cast Rasputin off, there are others who may do it for you.’
‘There will be no more discussion on this matter, either now or at any time in the future,’ the Tsarina said with steely determination. ‘Either accept the situation or leave my employ.’
‘I would never abandon you, Alexandra Fedorovna,’ the doctor replied in weary resignation. ‘I will stay with you and your children, even unto death.’
At this the Tsarina’s eyes filled with tears and she stood up and grasped both his hands in her own. ‘Thank you. I know you mean well, but you must not criticize the prop that supports me and gives me strength. I will grant Prince Yusupov an audience and I will try to listen to him. Now I must bid “good morning” to my sweet baby, Alexei.’
She left the room without having spoken to her daughters. This was not unusual. It was as if every fibre of her being was concentrated on her son and she forgot the existence of his sisters. Their currency was of lesser value. By virtue of their gender they were relegated to an inferior status, dressed up and exhibited as ornaments, used for social exchange.
Sergei, the coachman, was waiting for me so I made to leave. Whereupon Olga laid her hand on my arm. ‘Is it possible that you might come earlier this evening? You could eat with us while Mama is having her meeting with Prince Yusupov.’
‘Yes, do please, Nina!’ said Maria; and Anastasia clapped her hands.
Olga and Tatiana stretched out to link fingers with their younger sisters in their special manner, and they formed a circle around me, laughing and teasing. ‘We won’t let you go until you say “yes”.’
The offer was tempting. Food prices kept rising and I’d noticed that during dinner Dr K and Galena took smaller amounts from the common dishes in order to leave enough for me and Stefan. There would be more for them to eat if I had my evening meal at the Alexander Palace.
On that occasion I consented.
And the arrangement became a habit …
Within a week Olga reminded me that she and Tatiana did nursing work in a hospital which had been set up in the village, adding: ‘Nina, it isn’t necessary for you to go into the city to be a nurse. You could join Tatiana and me on the days when we tend the wounded officers at the hospital here in Tsarskoe Selo.’
‘It won’t be for long,’ Tatiana coaxed me. ‘Father Grigory will be back soon.’
The girls were keen to be with me, and I, who’d
never had a sister, was appreciative of their company. I was still calling in on Dr K and Galena after my shift at the Winter Palace. They welcomed and fussed over me. But Stefan was seldom there when I visited. Galena confided in me that they were concerned he was working too hard – and spending most of his spare time at illegal political meetings.
Our paths rarely crossed in the house, but I did see Stefan regularly at the hospital, for he was often on the wards where I was stationed. Sometimes I’d think he was watching me, but whenever I glanced in his direction he’d be looking elsewhere or reading a set of patient’s notes.
I knew that initially he hadn’t expected me to sustain my voluntary work, for he’d been with me when I almost fainted upon first seeing the wards in the Winter Palace. The smug look on Stefan’s face that day made me hold my composure. He’d expected me to pass out or vomit so I had clamped my teeth together, dug my nails into my palms and kept walking. My senses were dazed before we’d reached the far doorway. But when he offered me his handkerchief I’d ignored him, for I knew he’d take it as a sign of weakness.
Although he still clashed with me, Stefan was popular with the hospital staff, and had such rapport with patients that he could acknowledge them by name. ‘Dr Stefan Petrovich!’ they called to him, and he’d give them a brief wave as he passed by.
The person who most lifted my spirits when I was tending men with broken bodies and shattered minds was Stefan’s friend Tomas. I looked forward to seeing him. He would ask how I was doing and make encouraging comments. His personality shone light into dark places and I found that we shared a sense of humour.
The Matron looked at me searchingly when I asked for a transfer to the military hospital at Tsarskoe Selo. ‘Are you sure that this is what you want to do?’
‘It’s temporary,’ I explained. ‘For a week or so.’
‘Hmmph! That’s what you say, but who knows where it could lead.’ She wasn’t convinced. ‘I’m not your parent or guardian,’ she said, ‘but you are a young volunteer who has been put in my charge, therefore I do feel I should give you some advice.’
The Rasputin Dagger Page 10
