“Why, yes.”
“A blond beard?”
“Exactly,” reluctantly confirmed Marina. “He had blond hair and a thin blond beard and was the youngest of them all, a lad of barely twenty, if that. Maybe only eighteen or nineteen, I don’t know. Everyone lied about everything back then – particularly boys whose fathers had died in war – but this Volodya was one of the original interior guards. And the Tsar and Tsaritsa so trusted his innocent face – why, from time to time your grandfather even entertained the Heir, even played chess with him – which was why the Bolsheviki used him.”
“What do you mean, used him?”
“The rescue letters – they were all fakes. In an attempt to trick the Romanovs into an escape attempt, the Bolsheviki wrote the notes themselves. They then used your grandfather to smuggle the notes in and out of The House of Special Purpose.”
“Oh, God.” Remembering what her grandfather had revealed in his tape recording, Kate said, “And that night… the night the Romanovs were murdered… he…”
“Exactly,” continued Marina. “One of the executioners, a Hungarian, backed out, saying he couldn’t shoot women and children. This was just an hour or two before the Romanovs were led to the cellar, and Volodya, drunk on ideology and desperate to prove himself not only a true man but a real revolutionary, volunteered. At first they said no, he was too young, but soon Yurovsky relented, for there was no one else at so late an hour. They just needed someone to pull a trigger.” The old woman shook her head. “Before this, Volodya had never killed… and I know in my heart of hearts that he repented every day since.”
No, he suffered, thought Kate. Every day of every week since then, he suffered. And as if some horrible bandage had been yanked away, there it was, now exposed, the festering wound in her grandfather’s soul, the very one he had never permitted to heal. With all her being, Kate didn’t want to believe this – her grandfather capable of murder? – yet at the same time she couldn’t help but know in her heart of hearts that it was in fact the truth. It just made too much unbelievable sense. Kate’s mind whooshed through it all, but unlike Tsaritsa Aleksandra, who had always found hope in the face of such undeniably dark logic, Kate saw it plainly before her. Here at last was the source, at last she had found it: the Artesian well of her grandfather’s self-hatred.
“Who was he assigned to kill?” asked Kate, her voice trembling.
“Why, Grand Duchess Maria, of course. His orders were to aim for the heart so as to make the kill quick and clean. When it all began, however, he panicked. He panicked but he did as ordered: he aimed and fired through the foul smoke at the young princess. But there was so much chaos. Truth be told, only God knows whose bullet struck whom in that mayhem. In any case, when your young grandfather wiped the smoke from his eyes, he saw Maria lying on the floor, completely still, completely dead.”
“Dear God…”
So he was there. So he’d killed. And so, thought Kate, recalling her grandfather’s thick gold watch, he’d looted.
“What happened?” pressed Kate, still unable to make sense of it all. “How did…”
“Just listen…” continued Marina. “About an hour later the truck loaded with the bodies set off with three men seated up front – a driver, a guard, and Yurovsky himself. Since there was no more room in the cab, Volodya – that is, your Dyedushka Misha – was ordered to the back, where he stood guard over the dead ones as the vehicle slowly made its way out of town on the road to the village of Koptyaki and the Four Brothers Mine. Later he told me that if he’d had a bullet he would have killed himself right then and there. Regardless, it was only when the truck passed the racetrack on the edge of town that they encountered the first of many problems. All month there had been heavy rain, and when one of the wheels sank into a muddy hole, the truck became stuck for the first time that night, and Volodya jumped off the back, he jumped onto the ground.”
And looking at the wheel he immediately saw the problem, and shouted to his tovarishi in the cab up front, “It’s not so bad, comrades. Let me give a push!”
The driver, Lyukhanov, put the lorry in reverse, rolled it back a bit, then jabbed it into first gear. Volodya leaned into the rear bumper and pushed with all his strength. In one great heave the vehicle rolled up and out and raced ahead. A few short moments later, however, the left rear tire struck a rock and the entire lorry bounced up. The force of the jolt in turn caused something to be thrown off the back and onto the dirt road. He couldn’t believe his eyes – one of the bodies! Terrified, he froze. Finally Volodya rushed to it, discovering the Heir Tsarevich Aleksei Nikolaevich. He was dead, half his head blown away. Volodya looked up and was about to call out to his comrades when suddenly another body fell to the ground. Hurrying to that one, he discovered that it was the body of Grand Duchess Maria Nikolaevna, the very one he’d been assigned to kill! Then as if she were a ghost come back to haunt him, she suddenly moved, rolling her head to the side and looking up at him.
“Help…” she gasped. “Please help me!”
From the truck Lyukhanov leaned his head half out the window, and called, “You okay back there, Volodya? You still with us?”
He stared at the young woman bleeding so horribly on the ground. He’d held the fate of her life in his aim once before… and here he held it once again.
“The Lord Almighty had seen to a miracle,” gushed Marina. “He was giving Volodya a second chance. A mere hour or so earlier he’d been this young woman’s murderer… and suddenly he had the chance to redeem himself – he could be her savior!”
Kate looked up. “You mean-”
“In the split of a second, actually…”
… actually without even thinking, he looked after the lorry, which was slowly motoring away, and called, “I’m still with you… just keep going!”
He made his decision just like that, just that quickly.
“I’ve got to hide you away!” he whispered to Maria.
She nodded but couldn’t get up, for she was so badly wounded and had lost far too much blood. And so he dragged her off into the wood, leaning her against a pine. He brought her brother too, lying him nearby.
“If I don’t go with them,” Volodya said, “they’ll come back for us both. Just wait here and stay calm – I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
And knowing that he had no other choice, he left her.
“Yes,” said Marina, “that’s exactly how it happened. So as to keep the truck from turning around and discovering what had happened, your grandfather ran through the night and rejoined his comrades – his tovarischi. He jumped on the back of the truck and stayed with them all the way to the Four Brothers Mine too. When Yurovsky finally discovered that two of the bodies were missing, it was this Volodya who quickly volunteered to take a horse and ride back to town to see what had happened. Instead the guard Volodya Subottin disappeared for all of time.”
“He rode directly to the Grand Duchess Maria and her brother?” Kate half-begged.
“Absolutely. He went straight to them. And once he had moved them to a better place of safety – in a hole beneath the roots of a fallen tree – he secretly made his way back into town, where he fetched Sister Antonina and me.”
The story that Misha had told her, realized Kate, had been so very close to the truth. In many ways it had been the truth, just deviously shaded and twisted here and there so as to deceive in the most subtle but ultimately profound ways.
“So the two of you went back and treated Maria, right?” asked Kate. “You cleaned and bandaged her wounds. But did Sister Antonina later return to town?”
“Yes,” confirmed May. “She went back for more medicine, for more bandages so that we could keep the girl’s wounds clean.”
“And there she ran into horrible trouble?”
“Horrible, horrible trouble. Unfortunately the Reds caught her, questioned and tortured her, and-”
“Drowned her?”
“Exactly.” Marina took a deep breath. “Fu
rthermore, the Grand Duchess soon came down with a horrid fever. Her wounds had become infected and there was nothing we could do. Volodya and I were with her the entire time. Actually, Volodya rarely left her side except to fetch fresh water or scurry off in search of food. There was not much we could do for her, not really, just make sure that she was comfortable. We needed to get her to a hospital, we needed to feed her medicaments, but all we could do was pray for a miracle, and the two of us knelt by her side.”
“You can’t leave us,” begged Volodya with tears in his eyes. “You can’t!”
Hour by hour Maria’s breathing had been getting more and more difficult. Hour by hour her temperature had been rising. For nearly thirty hours she’d taken nothing but water and a little bit of broth Volodya had managed to get from the closest peasant hut. By the fourth day she was lingering on the very edge of life itself.
“Volodichka,” Maria said, using the softest diminutive of his name, “thank you for helping me… for watching over me.”
“I’m evil!” he confessed. “I’m horribly evil!”
And with that he fell down upon his knees, bowing his head before the last of the Imperial Family. Did she not know, did she not see what role this Volodya had played not only in her end, but in that of her entire family? Had the shock of that night wiped her memory clean?
“You don’t understand, Maria Nikolaevna!” cried Volodya.
“I understand everything…”
“No… no, you don’t… Those notes I smuggled to your family were forgeries, nothing more than an attempt to bait your father!”
“In the end this too he understood.”
“With my help they were planning all along to kill him.”
“Father forgave you at the time… and I forgive you now.”
Convinced that she remembered nothing of what had happened down in that murderous cellar, he steeled himself. She had to know everything. She had to know it was he who deserved to die a thousand miserable deaths.
He blurted, “But I was down there as well – I was down in that room of death!”
“Yes, I saw you.”
“I was the one assigned to kill you!”
“Perhaps, but instead the Lord God sent you to save me… and this you have tried with all your heart.”
“No, Maria Nikolaevna! No, your Highness!” he pleaded before her, bowing his head over and over to her. “You do not understand!”
“I understand that your sin has been followed by immense suffering, and I can see with my eyes that you have repented for your sins, that you have repented with all your soul. Likewise can I foresee that your being will be all the purer for this, which in turn will deliver you yet closer unto God.”
“No, that’s impossible! Impossible!”
“I’m sure my grandfather wanted her to hate him,” said Kate. “I’m sure Misha wanted her to curse him to hell. And I wonder if this was why he did it, why he killed himself – to condemn his soul for all eternity.”
“Bozhe moi.” My God, gasped Marina, quickly crossing herself. “He took his own life? This I did not know.”
She nodded, reluctantly added, “He killed himself a few weeks after my grandmother died. I think he was determined not to be forgiven.”
“But he was. She forgave him way back then. I was there. I was right next to him praying the entire time. Yes, and he knelt by her side as she faded away. He clutched at her hand. He tried to tether her to this world. But she did not want to be kept here. Maria forgave your grandfather with all of her heart, and then she-”
“But…”
“Just wait, my child,” said Marina. “You see, their eyes met, Maria’s and Volodya’s, and held. He understood she was dying, and he fell upon her sobbing and begging, giving every bit of his energy to her. He inhaled her last breath… and then gave it back to her. You see, it was only through his strength and the power of our prayers to the Almighty Father that Volodya kept Maria tethered to this world.”
“You mean, of course, that…”
“Yes, certainly. He saved her. Maria passed through a horrible fever, which by some miracle did not kill her. And together your grandfather and I nursed Grand Duchess Maria back to a reasonable health, at least so that we could move her. I think they hid in the woods maybe another month, even after the Whites had overtaken Yekaterinburg, and it was during this time that your grandfather, full of remorse and sentiment, snuck back into the house one night, where he retrieved a few things he’d once caught Aleksei hiding away. Before they fled the motherland, we of course turned over the suitcase of gems, and the last I saw of them was their youthful figures dashing through the woods, this young couple, Grand Duchess Maria and-”
“My grandfather, the man who was both my grandmother’s executioner and her savior.”
“Exactly.”
So there it was: the final truth that a young princess entrusted her life to a young man who had tried to take it, and that very same young man pledged his life to the beautiful princess who had steered him from the path of evil. No wonder they had been so dedicated to one another.
“More tea, my child?”
Kate looked up at the old, shrunken face, and saw a smile that was as sweet as a spoon of honey yet as wrinkled as a dried apple. Yes, Kate herself had inherited the defective gene from her father, who’d gotten it from his own mother, May, who had in turn been passed it from her own mother, none other than…
No, thought Kate, you can’t ever go there. Just don’t. The time and place for that family is no more. You have a husband and children at home who need you, who need your protection.
“Sure, I’ll have a bit,” said Kate, clutching the gold bracelet on her wrist, the bracelet given to her grandmother at a time when she was young and her life so in danger.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
While this is a work of fiction, the indented passages, secret notes, and letters attributed to the Romanovs, their captors, and Rasputin are all accurate and can be found in various archives. Taking creative license, I’ve made changes to only one of the documents, Empress Aleksandra’s long letter, which appears midway through the book. That letter, written to Anna Vyrubova, is actually a compilation of two different letters that Aleksandra wrote and secretly smuggled out of their captivity. To see some of these documents, historical photos, and a complete bibliography, please visit www.thekitchenboy.com.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many thanks to many people, particularly to:
Lars, who’s been by my side since the start of all things Russian. Meri and Sasha, the dearest of friends who by chance and good fortune happen to be the best business partners. My writing pal, Ellen Hart, with whom I talk all the time but never enough. Katie Solomonson, my favorite reader. Dr. Don Houge and his vision. Susan Moody for her constant support. Olga for her help. James Rea for his innovative book trailer, www.thekitchenboy.com. Leslie Schnur and her brilliant insights. Jane von Mehren and Stephen Morrison at Viking for restoring my faith. And my particular gratitude to my agent, Marly Rusoff, who not only steered a steady course but made it wonderful.
Robert Alexander
***
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-4ce889-bfdd-ec4a-9581-4f86-1e49-c080f1
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 27.08.2010
Created using: Fiction Book Designer software
Document authors :
Source URLs :
About
This file was generated by Lord KiRon's FB2EPUB converter version 1.1.5.0.
(This book might contain copyrighted material, author of the converter bears no responsibility for it's usage)
Этот файл создан при помощи конвертера FB2EPUB версии 1.1.5.0 написанного Lord KiRon.
(Эта книга может содержать материал который защищен авторским правом, автор конвертера не несет ответственност�
� за его использование)
http://www.fb2epub.net
https://code.google.com/p/fb2epub/
The Kitchen Boy Page 23
