‘I’m so glad you agreed to come with me, Stefan,’ said Nina. ‘I do believe if you hadn’t, then Dr K might have tied me to a chair to prevent me from leaving the house.’
Quite naturally I linked arms with her and we wandered towards the university quarter. Snow had fallen during the night and cast a clean white covering over the smashed glass and debris that littered the streets. Lights blazed from the university buildings and the quadrangle was filled with students and academics debating various courses of action.
There was a likelihood that the army regiments who hadn’t joined the people would stage a counter-revolution, so students and academics were volunteering to enrol in a militia to hold the city. Fyodor was on his statue again, holding forth about the imminent arrival of Lenin.
‘The Bolsheviks will defend the workers to the death!’ he shouted above the din. ‘We are forming Soviet Committees from the workforce and the armed services. From now on the workers and the enlisted men will make the decisions, not the employers or the officers.’ He jumped down from his position and, catching Nina round the waist, lifted her up. ‘A glorious day!’ he cried. ‘Largely due to the women of the bread queue!’
She made him a curtsey and laughed as he was carried off on the shoulders of his supporters.
Fyodor’s enthusiasm was infectious. Everywhere in the streets people were congratulating each other.
‘A new beginning!’
‘The power of the people!’
But the power had yet to be wrested from those who clung onto it.
‘Is it true,’ I asked Dr K the next evening, ‘that the Tsar is on his way to Tsarskoe Selo from the Front and has sent an order suspending the Duma?’
‘He could have sent twenty orders with the same effect,’ he answered, ‘but no one is prepared to enforce them. His train was halted in a station while the Duma councillors held a meeting anyway and elected a committee to provide Provisional Government.’
‘The councillors of the Provisional Government have moved into the other wing of the Winter Palace,’ said Nina. ‘But another group of councillors has also moved in there – the Soviets of Workers and Soldiers Committee, to represent the armed forces and working men and women.’
‘What is the Provisional Government doing about that situation?’ I asked.
‘Alexander Kerensky is a member of both committees,’ Dr K told us, ‘and they have made a joint decision to arrest the Tsar’s Council of Ministers.’
‘The women of the bread queue say that some of the Imperial Government officials wanted to be arrested for their own safety,’ Galena told us.
‘They may need protection.’ Dr K watched Galena’s face as he spoke his next words. ‘A delegation from the new Provisional Government is going to meet the Tsar in his royal train. They will inform the Tsar that he must abdicate.’
‘Tsar Nicholas the Second is a proud man,’ said Galena. ‘He will refuse.’
‘Galena.’ Dr K spoke candidly. ‘Entire regiments have switched their allegiance to the Provisional Government. Some of the commanding officers are relatives of the Tsar. This means that they will no longer take orders from him. Nicholas Romanov hasn’t enough soldiers to support him. He will sign the abdication papers. He has no choice.’
Galena began to clear the table, smacking the dishes against each other as she did so. ‘Have you any other bad news for us?’ she snapped.
‘The Provisional Government has declared loyalty to the Allies and plans to launch a new offensive.’
‘But that’s crazy!’ I interrupted. ‘A million men have already gone to war, never to return. Poultry keepers, shepherds, farmers, harvesters – that’s why there is no food. Don’t they understand that?’
‘Kerensky believes it’s necessary for Russia’s international status and our national pride.’
‘Let me tell you what Eugene has written to me!’ I took a sheet of paper from my pocket. ‘Implore our new Provisional Government to make peace at any price. If they say the country’s pride will not allow us to surrender, tell them the pride of Russia has bled to death upon the battlefields.’
‘That is of no consequence,’ Dr K said sardonically. ‘Winter has passed, so the generals are obliged to make an attack somewhere. The hope is that one more splendid assault will drive the enemy from our borders, and Russia will win the war.’
Nina shook her head sadly. ‘No matter the outcome; in the Winter Palace and the City Hospital we will see the dire consequences of this decision.’
‘If this assault fails,’ I said, ‘the people will not stand for it. The Provisional Government will fall.’
By the time the Spring Offensive petered out, with another hideous toll of dead bodies, Lenin was in the city, promising bread, land, peace and freedom.
‘Isn’t he magnificent!’ Fyodor had persuaded Nina and me to go along to a Bolshevik Rally and he was intoxicated with the rhetoric.
‘Compelling, yes,’ I had to admit. Truthfully, Lenin wasn’t the best of orators: his voice had little resonance and his figure was dwarfed by the red flags on either side of the wooden platform. But what he lacked in physical attributes he made up for in passion. Here was a man who utterly believed in the righteousness of his cause.
‘Russia leads the way! The people have thrown off their yoke! The whole world is with us!’
‘Listen to him!’ Fyodor was almost dancing with glee. ‘We cannot fail with Lenin as our leader.’
‘Lenin the Leader!’ repeated an old man who was standing beside us. ‘My father was a serf. He was born with nothing. And he died with nothing. We lived like animals, scratching food from the soil with our bare hands. My own sons, who went into the factories, are no better off – the owners increase the hours and reduce the wages as they please. The Government made those workers army conscripts so they can be shot if they walk out. But now my children’s children will not live as I did. So I will follow a leader like Lenin.’
‘See how they admire him!’ Fyodor indicated the crowds who were listening avidly to every word. ‘Lenin is the rise of hope over despair. He is the dawn of new life to replace the darkness of the old.’
‘This war shows us that Capitalism is finished! Communism will triumph! We will give you Peace! We will give you Land! We will give you Bread!’
‘Lenin makes it seem so simple,’ I said.
‘That’s because it is simple,’ said Fyodor. ‘It’s all people want.’
‘I don’t think that’s all people want, Fyodor. Lenin acts as though these things are his gift to give. But it was us who risked our lives on the street to spark the revolt, and we want more.’
‘What else would you have him say?’
‘We want a liberated press. The right to openly criticize our leaders and bring them to task if necessary. Democratic elections, with any candidate, and voting rights for every citizen by secret ballot. That’s what freedom is. Do you lack the intellectual depth to see that?’
Fyodor’s face went red. Nina glanced from him to me and back again. ‘I know what I see,’ she said. ‘An urn of hot soup is being set up in that corner and I want to be there before a queue builds up.’ She linked her arm in Fyodor’s and guided him in the direction of the mobile soup kitchen.
I drove my fist into my hand. I hadn’t meant to be so rude to Fyodor, but it frustrated me that those besotted with Lenin the Leader and his comrades could not see that we must have an assurance of future democracy.
Chapter 39
After he signed the abdication papers the Tsar was allowed to return to his family. They, along with Dr Botkin and their closest servants, were placed under house arrest at the Alexander Palace. Nina spoke about her sorrow for the Imperial Family, and I heard Dr K saying to Galena that he was going to tell her not to visit them.
‘Such a wise and experienced doctor you are,’ Galena replied, ‘yet you know nothing of the female mind. Nina is not a girl you can order about. She must be spoken to in a more subtle way. I will deal with this
.’
I was curious to know what Galena would do. That evening I invented an excuse to be in the scullery when she and Nina were ironing and folding bed linen in the kitchen.
‘I’m relieved that our Tsar is reunited with his family and they have the opportunity to enjoy each other’s company.’ Galena began the conversation in a pleasant tone.
‘I am too,’ Nina replied. ‘Despite his faults I don’t think he is a bad man.’
‘Nor do I,’ said Galena. ‘So I hope he may have some privacy, with just his wife and children around him.’
Nina tilted her head and, smiling at Galena, said, ‘My job at the Winter Palace so occupies my time that I have no intention of visiting them … at the moment.’
The question of whether Nina would or would not visit the Alexander Palace was settled in August. With the Bolsheviks and other factions causing rising unrest in the city, for their own security the Tsar and his family were moved to Tobolsk in Siberia.
‘I’d like to see them safe,’ said Galena. ‘Going east means there might be a better escape route for them. Supporters of the Imperial Government are gathering beyond the Ural mountains.’
‘I do believe Kerensky would rejoice if they were rescued and removed from Russian soil,’ said Dr K. ‘He is stretched to the limit controlling rival factions and believes the army commanders who are still loyal to the Tsar might try to seize the city and hold the Provisional Government hostage in the Winter Palace.’
Of course Fyodor was aware of the movement of the Imperial Family, and Kerensky’s problems. ‘Kerensky knows that Lenin has been busy forming our Red Guard militia from the members of the Workers and Soldiers Soviets,’ he told me. ‘He is willing to arm the Soviets if they promise to help defend the city.’
‘Doesn’t Kerensky realize that the Soviets are becoming the military arm of the Bolsheviks? It’s the equivalent of a chicken handing an axe to a cook!’
‘The offer is made on condition that the military equipment is returned when the danger is over,’ Fyodor added.
‘But as far as the Bolsheviks are concerned,’ I said, ‘the danger will never be over until they hold complete authority.’
‘That might be what is best for Russia,’ said Fyodor with finality, and he walked away from me.
The threat to the city from the army commanders subsided. Lenin continued his rousing speeches promising Land, Bread and Peace while the Provisional Government continued to send men and supplies to the Front. Although the bakeries had reopened, people became disenchanted that there was no respite from the heavy losses and shortages – which could not now be blamed on the Tsar, his wife or his ministers.
Towards the end of October I was awakened by Galena shaking my shoulder. ‘I went to get our bread,’ she said, ‘but many of the streets are closed off by the Bolsheviks. The members of the Provisional Government are having a meeting and the Red Guard is set on deposing them. They are going to storm the Winter Palace!’
‘At least it will make Fyodor happy if Lenin finally takes charge.’ I sat up in bed. ‘Does Dr K know about this?’
‘When I returned he’d already left for the City Hospital.’
‘Please tell Nina,’ I said. ‘I know she is obstinate, but even she must see it’s wiser to stay at home today.’
‘Stefen’ – Galena’s voice throbbed with fear – ‘Nina went into work early this morning.’
I was out of the attic and taking the stairs three at a time to reach the kitchen. Galena had my outdoor clothes warming at the stove.
‘There’s food in the pockets!’ she shouted after me as I threw them on and ran out of the door.
Hordes of people were flocking towards the city centre. Their mood was one of anger, but it was hard to judge whether it was at the Provisional Government’s ineptitude or at the Bolsheviks’ attempt to oust them by force. They attempted to push through the blocked-off routes. Scuffles broke out between them and the Bolshevik supporters. I went by the lanes and wynds of the canals via passageways I’d known as a child, and came out close to the Neva where it flowed behind the Winter Palace. There was a biting wind coming in off the Baltic but it hadn’t deterred the rioters in the square. With strong ropes they had lassoed the protruding stonework of the great double-headed eagle – the emblem of the hated Romanov dynasty – and were straining on these with all their might.
A foolhardy soul climbed the front of the building and proceeded to hammer off chunks of masonry, which tumbled down to smash into smithereens on the frozen ground. The crowd howled their approval and began to sing out a tune in the manner of an old sea shanty, as if they were sailors hauling ropes on a ship:
‘Hey! Hey!’
Bang!
Whoops of triumph while lumps of plaster fell to earth.
‘Hey! Hey! Hey!’
And then they scattered as the entire edifice cracked apart and toppled at their feet.
My own heart soared when I saw the symbol of the Romanov dynasty lying in ruins. They were gone – never to return to rule Russia.
We were free!
Chapter 40
The defenders of the Winter Palace had erected barricades of wood and furniture to hold off the mass of Red Guards and citizens who were mobilizing before the entrance gates.
And here was revealed Kerensky’s foolishness in arming the Soviets – for obviously they’d refused to give up their weapons once the threat from the Tsarist supporters was over. And so the Red Guard carried Government-issued rifles loaded with Government-issued bullets – which they were shooting at the windows of the building, where the members of the Government sheltered.
The Winter Palace soldiers’ answering volley found their mark among the ranks of the Bolsheviks.
‘This isn’t worth the deaths of our comrades!’ someone shouted.
‘Let’s leave them to rot in there!’ another chimed in.
‘No!’ declared a voice I recognized. Fyodor had become a member of the Military Revolutionary Committee and was now in command of a section of the Red Guard. ‘It is symbolic to take the Winter Palace and we must capture the councillors of the Provisional Government. In the face of their rifle fire let us go forward together!’
‘We didn’t get rid of stupid Tsarist officers to take orders from a stupid Bolshevik one!’ someone heckled in response.
‘Seize the man who said those words!’ Fyodor yelled. ‘He is a traitor to the people! He is a traitor to Russia!’
Sickened by the sight of the militia converging on this unfortunate fellow, I withdrew. I went to the side entrance on the river, where I used to come and go when I was a medical student. The soldier on duty there looked terrified.
‘What’s happening?’ he asked me.
‘The Red Guard militia – with citizens and deserters from the army – are in the square,’ I said, ‘with the intention of arresting the Provisional Government and establishing the Bolsheviks as the ruling party. They’re dithering over whether to launch a frontal attack, while snipers inside pick them off as they argue.’
‘Only cadet units and some royal staff are holding the palace,’ he told me. ‘They will be easily overcome.’
‘The Red Guard don’t know that though, so I have time to find the person I’m looking for.’
‘I heard the Bolsheviks supplied shells for the cannon of the ship moored in the river. They will blow the walls apart if the Provisional Government doesn’t surrender.’
No sooner had he said this when there was an almighty thunderclap, and part of the side wall on the embankment collapsed into the river.
The soldier leaped in the air and a let loose a series of swear words. ‘That’s coming from the fortress at Saints Peter and Paul! They have trained their artillery on the palace!’ He threw his rifle on the ground and scooted off.
I went inside. I wasn’t especially worried about Nina’s safety. The Winter Palace was enormous and the military hospital a good distance from the Malachite Room where the Provisional Government held t
heir meetings. But I hurried along, for I couldn’t guarantee the accuracy of the aim of the gunners – on either side.
For once the Matron was sympathetic to me. She’d heard the ruckus outside and, assuming it was a riot, was occupied in keeping staff and patients away from the windows. She told me that Alexander Kerensky had come by yesterday and asked for a casualty report, which she’d prepared and given to Nina to take to him this morning.
‘Where did Kerensky say he would be?’ I asked, experiencing a dropping feeling in my gut.
‘In the other wing of the palace,’ said the Matron. ‘He said to deliver it to the Malachite Room.’
It was my turn to let loose some swear words. And as the Matron started to rebuke me I shouted at her, ‘That’s the part they’re shelling! It’s where the Bolsheviks are trying to break in!’ I left her open-mouthed and ran for the staircase which overlooked the square.
From my vantage point I could see a wave of armed men rush forward to climb the gates. Sporadic fire hailed down upon them, but most got over. The sentry must have been right – the few hundred of the palace garrison were not sufficient to drive back the people who advanced now, without pause. Heaving against the gates, they broke them open. Under the archway they went, red flags flying.
‘Nina!’ I ran as fast as my legs would carry me along corridors, through room after room, shouting her name.
The Malachite Room was empty. The council table was jumbled with papers – signs that the meeting had been hastily abandoned. Some councillors had taken refuge in an adjacent chamber. There was no sign of Alexander Kerensky.
‘Kerensky is gone,’ they told me. ‘He said he would try to rally forces sympathetic to the Provisional Government.’
Which way would Kerensky go? Would he have taken Nina with him? Had she even delivered the report?
The Rasputin Dagger Page 19
