We watched the small party go in their horse-drawn carts, not knowing where, not anticipating just how horrible their journey would be, and how Yakovlev’s intention of taking them all the way to Moscow would be undone by the Ural Soviet.
CHAPTER 31
After two tense days, a telegram arrived for us. Tatiana opened it and read it aloud.
“Arrived safely in Tyumen, all is well. Boarding the train tomorrow.”
“Still no word about where they’re going.” Olga sighed. “We must write to them and hope they can receive our letters.”
“Alexei seems a little better today, so that is some cheering news we could send, once we know where to send it,” Tatiana said.
The house felt utterly empty without Mama, Papa, and Mashka, as well as the prince, Dr. Botkin, and the three servants who went with them. Even though Nastinka and General Tatischev were still with us, I had not realized how much it mattered for us all to be together. And I was nearly as desolate without Mashka as I was at the idea that Sasha—who had maintained his distance recently—would abandon me.
But although he was distant, he was still there, which seemed a miracle. Almost all of the Tsarskoe Composites had been sent away, replaced with unpleasant Bolshevik guards. Only one or two familiar faces remained. I caught sight of Sasha occasionally, leaving the guardhouse to stand outside the palings of our prison. Once, he looked at me, and I thought I saw him nod, as if to reassure me that he had not forgotten. Yet what would happen?
Two more days passed before we had any further word from Mama, Papa, and Mashka. Apparently they had gone in the direction of Omsk at first, but had turned back and stopped at Yekaterinburg. I shuddered when I heard. Papa had said once that Yekaterinburg was the one place he would not want to go, knowing how extreme the Bolsheviks were in that city full of factories. Mama’s letter said that they were taken off the train, and the three of them, Dr. Botkin, and the servants had been installed in a merchant’s house, much smaller than the Governor’s House in Tobolsk, and quite filthy. She didn’t want to worry us, but they weren’t certain how long they would remain there, and Prince Dolgorukov had been taken to the local prison.
“To prison!” Olga turned pale.
“We have all been prisoners for more than a year now,” I reminded her.
“Yes, but it is different. In a house, we can walk from room to room. There are no bars on the windows. A prison is—a prison! Think of poor Anya, and all she suffered at Peter and Paul.”
I couldn’t contradict her. Everything was confusing and out of our control. That was the moment I decided that I had to talk to Sasha, however I managed it. Since he appeared to have some position of power among the guards, inexplicable though that was, I thought I was within my rights to request that he come and explain what was happening, or that I have a meeting with him.
A meeting. How different it sounded in this context than it had before. We didn’t “have meetings,” we met. We were together. We joined one another, physically and emotionally. This meeting must be neither of those; I must engage only my mental faculties, get answers, find out. And it was not just for me, it was for all of us.
“I shall speak to the head guard and ask him what we can expect,” I said.
“Nastya! It shouldn’t be you,” Tatiana said.
“Why not? Knowing will be better, make everyone more cheerful, and wasn’t that my job? My noble task? To keep everyone’s spirits up? Because I, as the baby girl, am not capable of anything more?” Tatiana and Olga stared at me. I suppose I was rather angry at being dismissed all the time, like an extra sock, having everyone assume I didn’t know what was going on when it was clear to anyone with eyes and a brain that the situation was desperate.
“I need to check on Alexei,” Tatiana said.
“I’ll see about the day’s meals,” Olga said.
I put on my light coat and let myself out into the small yard that adjoined the guard’s house. Before I had a chance to lose my courage, I rapped sharply on the door. After a moment, a guard in an unbuttoned jacket and with a crumpled, hand-rolled cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth opened the door. “What is it, Comrade?” he asked, not unkindly.
“I wish to speak to someone in charge. That fellow with the patch over his eye seems to be the one.” I lifted my chin and stared him down. I would not be denied this.
He closed the door and left me standing there. The weather was much milder now that it was April, but the snow and ice had melted, leaving the yard and the alley a sea of mud. My shoes were already clogged up, and would take a long time to clean.
I concentrated on that fact so that I wouldn’t become too nervous waiting for Sasha to appear. When he at last opened the door, I thought I would be perfectly calm. But at the sound of his voice, I began to tremble.
“Can I help you, Comrade Romanova?” he said, not really looking directly at me, more over my shoulder.
I cleared my throat, trying to control my voice so it would not shake. “We—my sisters, brother, and I—would like to know what is going to happen. Why have the rest of my family been stopped in Yekaterinburg, and when will we join them?”
The mention of Yekaterinburg made the pupils of his eyes widen and his face pale almost imperceptibly. “Come in out of the mud where we can talk without interruption,” he said.
The guardhouse was familiar to me from those earlier times when we would visit during the bad weather and play draughts and cards with the Tsarskoe guards. We now realized they had been the embodiment of kindness and leniency compared to the Bolsheviks, who spit on the ground in front of us and sometimes even called out rude epithets when they saw us in the yard. Sasha led me past the common area, where a few off-duty guards lounged and smoked, and into a small room that had a desk and two metal chairs. He closed the door behind us, then grasped me so quickly I hardly had time to realize what he was doing. He whispered hurriedly in my ear, “Listen very carefully. Yekaterinburg is in the control of ultra-red Bolsheviks. They have stopped your parents and their party there, but they were supposed to go to Moscow. I doubt they will ever reach Moscow now.”
“Will they let them stay in Yekaterinburg then? When will we go to join them?” Sasha’s tone frightened me. If they didn’t get to Moscow, where would they go?
“You had much better wish that you never see them again. But there are plans to send you, your sisters, and brother in a month or so, as soon as Alexei is well enough to travel, I believe, and as soon as permission can be secured from Moscow. If you do as I say, you will be safe. You must not leave Tobolsk!”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Sasha opened his mouth to tell me, but we were interrupted by a sharp rap on the door.
“Comrade Galliapin! The Commissar wishes to see you immediately.”
“Yes, Medvedev,” Sasha called out. “Tell him I will come right away.” And then he turned to me and spoke in a loud voice, “I am afraid, Comrade Romanova, that you may have no extra rations of milk for your brother. He has no rights beyond any of us.”
“But he is ill!” I shouted, taking the cue from Sasha.
“Nonetheless, that is my final word.” He opened the door as he said this. The fellow called Medvedev was immediately outside the door, and there were also one or two others who had gathered as well, probably curious or suspicious about what I was doing alone with their superior. I suddenly hoped that my actions had not endangered Sasha.
“See that this girl gets safely back to the house, and next time, don’t let her in!” Sasha brushed past me. I had no trouble acting indignant. How dare he treat me like that, even if he was a Bolshevik guard!
As I sat cleaning my shoes before going in to talk to my sisters, I thought over what little I had gleaned from Sasha. Everything I had thought about Yekaterinburg was true. The extreme elements were in control there, and they now had the ex-tsar and tsaritsa in their hands. Sasha said it would be better if I didn’t go to join them, but how could I not? How could I l
eave Mama and Papa and Mashka to face whatever it was alone? We belonged together. If nothing else, this forced separation, our first ever aside from when Papa was at the front with Alexei, had taught me that. Surely as a family we had more claim to the Bolsheviks’ sympathy than Mama and Papa alone?
I decided to tell Olga and Tatiana only that we might be going to join the rest of our family at Yekaterinburg in a month, once Alexei was better.
“Thank heavens!” said Olga. Yes, there was comfort in that, whatever else lay ahead.
Alexei’s health waxed and waned. At times he seemed quite well, at others his fever would rise again and we would be very anxious about him. Tatiana was the best nurse of all of us, seeming to have a sense for what would soothe and nurture him. He took comfort from her presence, and we did what we could to make him comfortable.
But there was more than Alexei’s illness to make us anxious. With Kobylinsky gone, now Yakovlev’s deputy, Rodionov, had become commander. He was a horrid man. He came in every morning, and we all had to stand at attention in front of him.
“Are you Olga Nicholaevna?” he would say.
“Yes,” Olga would respond.
“And you,” he would say, moving a step along to where Tatiana stood. “You are Tatiana Nicholaevna?”
She always bristled, but bit back her words. “Yes, Comrade Rodionov.”
Then he would come to me. “That leaves only Anastasie Nicholaevna. Is that you?”
“Yes.” I could not bring myself to say anything else.
“There are so many of you, I have to be certain none of you have fled away.” And then he would start on what was left of the suite. We also had to leave all the doors open, day and night, so that we wouldn’t be able to plot and scheme. Zhilik argued about this, pleading that it was unsafe for young women to be exposed to possible insult, but was told he would be shot if he did not comply.
And then, worst of all, the soldiers who had taken Mama, Papa, and Mashka to Yekaterinburg came back to Tobolsk, bringing news of their condition and how they were being treated. Yakovlev’s guards, still not the worst of the lot and linked to much more moderate Bolsheviks, had apparently been imprisoned for a while themselves before being released to return to their homes.
“They don’t even trust their own,” Olga said as we sat knitting in what had been Mama’s dressing room.
General Tatischev, who looked as though he had aged ten years since we arrived in Tobolsk, had yet more information. “It seems your family has been allowed only three rooms in the Ipatiev house. The doors have been taken off the hinges, and they follow everyone right to the toilet, even. Their meals are brought in from a local restaurant and arrive at odd hours, after the guards have had what they want of them.”
“Mama eats little enough as it is. She must be starving,” I said.
“Shh!” said Tatiana. “You’ve upset Olga.”
Olga was the one who could become sad at the smallest things, and when I looked over at her, she had buried her face in her hands and I could see the tears seeping out from under them.
Nastinka approached her with a lace handkerchief. “There now, Olga, dear, perhaps the soldiers exaggerate. Soldiers do sometimes, you know.”
Soon after that day, we began to have sentries posted inside with us, so that no conversation could be private. We had to speak Russian all the time: no more English or French. Even our prayers in the makeshift chapel were listened to. I always made a point of adding a supplication for the guards, who committed the sin of trying to come between us and God by interfering in our worship. This usually made them at least back away a little. Olga became more and more agitated by the constant presence of the guards, while Tatiana was still too busy caring for Alexei to notice it much. I kept hoping that Sasha would be one of the sentries to watch over us, but that didn’t happen, at least not at first.
Although I had wished for it, I was terribly unnerved the first time I saw Sasha inside the Governor’s House in the middle of the day. He tried very hard not to look at any of us, and had to join in the occasional snide comments the guards usually made, just so he didn’t seem to be showing us any favor. I caught his eye every so often, and I could tell that he was trying to convey a mute apology.
CHAPTER 32
It was Alexei, in the end, who determined what was to happen to us next.
“Alyosha wants to sit up for a while. His fever is down. Do you think it wise if I let him?”
Tatiana rarely consulted Olga or me about Alexei’s care, but we were all so unsettled by the way things had changed since the others had left, that I could understand her doubt.
“What does Dr. Derevenko say?” I asked.
“He says it would not hurt for him to sit up for a little while, but that he is still very weak. The commissar said that as soon as he could sit up, he would be moved, and the doctor does not think he should be.”
I looked around and through the doors. Sasha was the sentry that day, and he was by the front door. It seemed safe enough. “Perhaps for just a little while, if it would cheer him and make him feel better.”
We quickly went to Alexei’s room and prepared a chair for him to sit in. Then Dr. Derevenko lifted him gently out of his bed and placed him in the chair. He smiled. I hadn’t seen him smile for such a long time. But he was so thin! And pale. Always, after a bleeding episode, he was extremely pale from loss of blood. “I feel so much better,” he said. “Soon we will be playing our balalaikas together again, Nastya!” he said.
“You’ll have to practice hard to catch up with how good I am now,” I said, ready to resume teasing him. We were all so thrilled with his improvement that none of us heard the footsteps behind us. Even Joy, who was usually so watchful over her master, calmly wagged her tail and licked the hand he let hang down just for that purpose.
“So! Alexei Nicholaevich is well now. Good! The ice is gone from the river, and the Rus has arrived. You leave tomorrow.”
It was Rodionov. What had made him come just then? For an instant, I had a horrible notion that Sasha had gone to get him. Why would he do such a thing?
“I cannot allow my patient to travel! You see how weak he is?” The good doctor risked much to stand up to Rodionov.
“Hah! He is sitting! I see him. Tomorrow it is.”
“Please—a word with you in private, Comrade Commissar,” Dr. Derevenko said. Rodionov nodded and the two of them went into the next room.
After that scene, Alexei was so pallid that, rather than wait for the doctor’s return, Tatiana and I lifted him ourselves and put him back in bed. He felt as light as a snowflake, lighter than the hunting dogs Papa used to have. I felt as if he could melt away, as if there was nothing I could do to keep him with us.
The doctor came back after a few moments. “He will give us one more day, that is all.”
“One more day, and we will be on our way to join Mama and Papa and Mashka!” Olga said, stroking Alexei’s hair away from his forehead. “Don’t worry, Alyosha. We’ll all take care of you. Won’t we?”
“Of course,” said Tatiana and the doctor. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t add my voice to theirs. I didn’t know how to take care of such a fragile creature as my brother.
“It’s all because of the guard with the patch, isn’t it!” Alexei turned his accusing eyes on me.
“Don’t be silly!” I answered. “It was Yakovlev who came from Moscow who made all this happen, and instructed them about you and us.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say to take the attention away from Sasha.
“He’s evil! I hate that man! He’s bewitched you!” Alexei started to cough, and then the tears came. The doctor rushed to his side and took his pulse.
“You’d better go,” Dr. Derevenko said to me. I looked to Olga and Tatiana for help, but they stood in shocked immobility, staring at me as if I were a stranger who had just been dropped in their midst.
I left slowly and quietly. Olga and Tatiana remained behind to comfort Alexei. I wondered wh
at else he might tell them. He had seen so much, and I never realized it. Or at least, what little he’d seen was enough for him to draw conclusions that were all too close to the truth.
Because of the constant presence of the guards we couldn’t talk to each other about the scene in Alyosha’s room for the rest of the day, but I felt my sisters’ eyes on me wherever I went. We would have to talk later, somehow.
I went into my room in the afternoon to fetch the book I was reading, and I wasn’t completely surprised to find a message from Sasha waiting for me tucked beneath my pillow. I didn’t know how he got it there, but he must have written it as soon as he found out what was to happen.
Be ready tomorrow night before you are to sail. Bring only the barest necessities. A boat will take you up the river to a small town, where a band of loyal Whites can ensure that you get across the border safely.
What did he mean? Just me or all of us? And how could we go without our parents and Mashka?
And what would happen to the others in the suite if the four of us managed to escape the night before we were going away? Would they still travel to Yekaterinburg, or would they be punished? Perhaps shot? And was the danger for us in escaping really any less than the danger of going to Yekaterinburg?
The four of us. How could we care for Alexei and flee in secret? He could barely sit up, let alone walk.
The time had come, I realized, to be honest with my sisters. Our only time to talk without guards listening in would be after we had gone to bed. Tatiana still slept in our room, even though she spent most of her time with Alexei. During the night, the doctor kept watch over Alexei in case he became ill again.
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