The Russian Tapestry

by Banafsheh Serov

  Leaning over, Alexei lightly touched her hand. Her fingers were soft and he longed to clasp them. ‘If I can be of any assistance –’ he began but was interrupted.

  ‘Your Excellency!’ A soldier with an eye patch rushed towards them. Reaching the table, he clicked his heels and saluted. ‘It’s a great pleasure to see you again, Your Excellency.’ Turning to the ladies, he bowed respectfully before turning back to Alexei.

  ‘At ease, soldier,’ Alexei said. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘You don’t remember me? I was in your battalion at the start of Tannenberg.’

  Alexei stared at the face of the man. Although his features were familiar, he still could not place him.

  ‘I was a gunner then,’ the young man prompted. ‘You saved me from a whipping when my gun failed to fire.’ Turning to Marie, he explained, ‘I was a nobody, a simple recruit. When my gun failed to fire at an enemy aeroplane, a sub-lieutenant threatened to make an example of me but the Colonel … Oh, I beg your pardon –’ he nodded at the epaulets on Alexei’s shoulder, ‘the Major General stood up for me.’

  ‘Did he?’ Marie looked at Alexei admiringly.

  ‘Oh, a hero!’ Darya clapped her hands.

  ‘I remember now,’ Alexei said, nodding. ‘What’s your name, soldier?’

  ‘Leshev, Your Excellency.’

  ‘And what are you doing here?’

  Leshev pointed to his eye. ‘The gun exploded, taking my eye with it.’

  ‘That’s awful!’ exclaimed Darya.

  ‘God gave. God took back.’ Leshev shrugged. ‘I’m no use at the front so they sent me here to help in the stables. And you, Excellency? I heard you were shot.’

  ‘I was. I survived it only to be invalided by a mortar shell,’ Alexei said briefly, not wishing to elaborate further.

  ‘May God look after you.’ Leshev looked over his shoulder towards the stables. ‘I should be going back. They’re about to start another race. I hope you did not mind me coming over, Excellency. I wanted to pay my respects and thank you.’ Saluting Alexei, he again turned and bowed deeply to Marie and Darya.

  ‘What a charming fellow,’ Marie said after Leshev had left.

  A loose curl escaping from under her hat fell across her face. Alexei reached over and tucked it behind her ear. Marie’s cheeks stained pink.

  ‘Mon Dieu!’ Darya exclaimed, checking her watch. ‘I must be going. I promised Mama I would accompany her to the theatre. Are you staying at Tsarskoe, Excellency? Would you be a dear and escort Marie? She’s due to start her shift at the officers’ hospital following the races.’

  ‘It will be my pleasure,’ Alexei said a little too eagerly. Rising to his feet, he kissed Darya’s gloved hand.

  Once she had left, Alexei turned to Marie. ‘I was not aware you are working in Tsarskoe.’

  ‘They’ve been short-staffed at Feodorovsky Gorodok hospital, so they asked some of the volunteers from Petrograd to help there. I’ve been working in both places since the beginning of summer.’

  Calling a waiter, Alexei asked for a pencil and paper. He wrote a quick note to Grigory informing him that he was taking the troika but would send it back for him and the other officers.

  ‘Shall we?’ He offered his arm to Marie and accompanied her to where the troika waited.

  ‘I must apologise,’ Marie said a little shyly as the coachman urged the horses forward. ‘It was wrong of Darya to impose on you like this.’

  ‘On the contrary, your cousin did me a great favour.’ He gave her a smile that made her blush.

  ‘I wish you would not speak like that, Major General.’

  ‘Why do you insist on calling me by my title?’

  ‘How else would I address you?’

  ‘Call me Alexei. Or, if you prefer, Alyosha.’

  ‘I like Alexei.’

  ‘Then Alexei it is.’ He moved closer, taking her hand. ‘I have not been able to stop thinking about you since we first met at Petrograd. Did you receive my letter?’

  She nodded. ‘Please, Alexei.’ She shifted away from him.

  ‘I know you have feelings for me.’ He gazed at her steadily. ‘It was in your eyes when you saw me today.’

  She felt the heat of a deeper flush staining her cheeks. ‘I insist you stop talking to me like this,’ she said sternly. ‘It makes me uncomfortable.’

  She tried to pull her hands away but he held on to them, tightening his grip. ‘You told me once we can be nothing but friends. Surely, you must realise now how impossible that is for me.’

  ‘Must I remind you that you are a married man? You have made a commitment to your wife.’

  He sighed. ‘My marriage has been dead a long time. We are only together for the sake of appearance.’

  Letting go of her hands, he touched her face.

  Her skin tingled from the heat coming off his fingertips.

  ‘Marie.’ The tone of his voice was serious. ‘I’ve never felt this way towards anyone before.’

  She closed her eyes, feeling a rush of emotions, wondering if it showed on her face. Part of her, touched by his words, ached to believe him, to surrender wholly to him. She was certain if he chose to kiss her at that moment, she would be powerless to resist.

  ‘Look at me, Marie.’

  She opened her eyes. ‘I’ve already given you my answer.’ Her voice sounded strange to her ears. ‘We can be nothing but friends.’

  He went rigid and withdrew his hand. ‘Is this your final word on the matter?’

  She said nothing. Dropping her eyes, she pulled absently at the fabric of her dress.

  ‘Tell me the truth, Marie. I need to know what is in your heart.’

  ‘I have told you.’ Her voice quivered and almost faltered. ‘I do not love you.’

  The next day, Alexei thought of little else, other than what Marie had said. The words had hurt. But he was sure he had heard some uncertainty in her tone, as if she were trying to convince herself as much as him. And that gave him hope.

  All day, he anticipated her arrival and could barely contain his disappointment when Emily appeared instead, having arrived that morning from Uglich.

  ‘Alyosha.’ She kissed him lightly on the cheek. ‘We were so worried for you. I’ve brought presents from the girls.’ She handed him a parcel. ‘They have been very busy knitting warm socks and writing letters to you.’

  Alexei opened the parcel, inspecting each item carefully. Then he read the letters, smiling at the girlish sentiments they contained. Emily, meanwhile, peeled off her gloves and unfastened the clutch on her stole, letting it fall softly to her lap.

  Alexei could sense her studying him as he read.

  ‘Since Warsaw, everyone has fled to the country,’ she began, her tone conversational. ‘Before that you would have never known there was a war on by the way the Petrograd society carried on.’ Emily wrinkled her nose with disapproval. ‘Every week I received invitations to ambassadors’ balls or the theatre. I came across Countess Natalya several times.’ She said the name with great distaste.

  ‘How is the countess?’ Alexei asked with little interest. He checked his watch. Surely if Marie was going to visit she would have been here by now.

  ‘Dripping in diamonds and laughing far too loud. She was hanging off the arm of a lieutenant who looked much too young for her.’

  Alexei only half listened as Emily continued to talk.

  He checked his watch again.

  ‘Are you expecting someone?’ She stared at him suspiciously. ‘You have checked your watch several times since I’ve arrived.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Alexei replied, defensively.

  Emily’s eyes hardened. ‘I must be going. I have a million things to do.’ She gathered her gloves and stole. ‘I shall visit you again tomorrow, Alexei. That is, unless you have made other arrangements.’

  ‘You are welcome at any hour.’ Alexei’s words sounded insincere even to his own ears. ‘I shall look forward to it.’

  She gave a col
d laugh and, leaning forward to kiss him, whispered, ‘I have been married to you a long time, Alexei. And I know when you are lying.’

  27

  Tsarskoe Selo, September 1915

  Marie did not visit him that day or the one after. He had almost lost hope when she arrived on the third evening, looking exhausted. His joy at seeing her instantly erased the anguish he had felt for the past three days. As she moved closer, he noticed the dark circles under her eyes.

  ‘You look tired.’ Nonetheless, he still thought her the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

  ‘The hospital train arrived today with more wounded. This is the first chance I’ve had for a while to sit down.’

  ‘Have you eaten?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m not hungry.’

  ‘Did you meet the train at the station?’ He was not interested in the train. What he wanted was to hear her speak, to continue looking at her.

  Untying her nurse’s veil, she took it off and folded it on her lap. ‘We help with transporting the wounded to hospitals. The grand duchess has asked if I would accompany her on the hospital train to the front.’

  ‘And what did you answer?’

  ‘That I wasn’t sure. I was too tired to think.’

  ‘You should go home.’ Even as he spoke the words, he hoped she would stay.

  She shook her head. ‘I need some fresh air.’

  ‘Then I suggest we go for a walk.’

  They walked alongside the lake. Masses of lilies-of-the-valley, growing around the Children’s Island, filled the air with a sweet scent.

  Alexei gazed at the water, but his thoughts were focused on Marie. He perceived a tension that stretched in the silences between them, and wished he could say or do something to break it.

  Crossing a bridge, their hands brushed briefly. As if touched by an electric bolt, she moved away abruptly.

  Alexei was first to break their silence. ‘I was afraid I would never see you again.’ He kept his eyes on the lake, fearful of what he might read in her expression. ‘What made you change your mind?’

  She looked down at her hands, as if weighing her answer. ‘I came to apologise.’

  He turned to face her. ‘Apologise for what?’

  ‘I may have misled you … as to my feelings.’

  His heart took a leap. ‘Marie –’

  ‘Please, Alexei, let me finish,’ she said, cutting him off. ‘I meant what I said the other day. I’m promised to another man.’

  She turned her head, her eyes flooding. ‘I have to believe he is still alive and will come back one day.’

  Taking a step towards her, Alexei touched her hand. ‘How long do you plan to wait for him?’

  She shook her head, covering her face with both hands. Moving closer, he pulled her into his arms. She did not resist, resting her face against his shoulder.

  He stroked her hair, wishing he could hold her like this forever.

  Breaking away, she wiped her face with her hands. ‘I’m becoming ridiculous.’

  He kissed the top of her head, pressing her a little closer to his chest.

  She started to pull away. ‘I must be heading back.’

  He let her go reluctantly. ‘Will I see you tomorrow?’

  She hesitated a moment, then nodded. ‘Yes.’

  Alexei woke in the morning excited at the prospect of seeing Marie again. He called in a barber to cut his hair and trim his moustache, waxing the ends into sharp points. Holding up a mirror, he agonised over his receding hairline, thinking it made him appear older. He tried to avoid looking at the protruding scar, but involuntarily his eyes kept returning to it. The wound was healing well and the skin around it had paled from purple to a sickly yellow. Touching the wound, his fingers probed around the edges till a sharp pain made him draw back. At least, he thought optimistically, his voice was coming back, though slowly.

  He waited for her on the verandah. Choosing a seat with a view of the entry, he paid scant attention to the conversations around him.

  She arrived in the late afternoon, wearing a loose-fitting coat with fur trim over her uniform. He watched her for a full minute before she saw him.

  ‘Good afternoon.’ She waved, smiling.

  There it was, he thought, that intoxicating smile.

  ‘Good afternoon.’ He kissed the tip of her fingers. ‘I heard today the Empress has kindly opened the library. I thought we could take our tea there.’

  ‘A marvellous idea.’ She checked her watch. ‘I have exactly one hour before my shift begins.’

  The room was lined on three sides with books, protected behind glass doors. Walking around the shelves, they read the names on the spines aloud to each other. Subjects ranged from travel, genealogy and history to biographies of famous people and novels, as well as almanacs and anthologies.

  ‘May I be of some assistance?’

  A slight man dressed in a three-piece suit regarded them from over his pince-nez. ‘I am the curator of the library.’

  ‘His Highness has an impressive collection,’ Marie remarked.

  ‘This is one of three libraries at the palace,’ the librarian informed them proudly. ‘His Highness also keeps a personal collection of editions embossed with the imperial eagle. They are very special. I can show them to you, if you like.’

  ‘Some other time perhaps,’ Alexei said and, cupping a hand under Marie’s elbow, led her to the other side of the room.

  ‘I think you may have hurt his feelings,’ Marie scolded him.

  ‘I did not want to spend the short time we have together listening to the librarian,’ he said irritably.

  A smile fluttered over her lips and she walked with him to a quiet corner away from the curator’s gaze, where they spent the remaining time reading favourite passages to each other, first from Pushkin, then Chekov.

  When the grandfather clock chimed the hour, Marie jumped to her feet.

  ‘I must be going.’

  Alexei helped Marie with her coat. She was almost at the door when he called after her. She turned back to face him, her eyes earnest and expectant.

  He wanted to say he could not wait to see her again; that tomorrow was too long away. He wanted her to know that he would be counting every hour, minute and second, but at the last moment his courage failed him.

  ‘Thank you for coming,’ he said instead, his words drying on his lips.

  The next day he again waited for her on the verandah and they spent an hour together in the library. In between reading, their conversation ranged widely, covering theatre and art and, inevitably, the war. At first he thought she would grow bored discussing military issues, but she remained interested throughout their conversation and expressed her opinions in a clear, concise manner.

  ‘Papa’s contacts in manufacturing hold the view that compared to our European counterparts the Russian factories are outdated and inefficient.’

  ‘Is your father not insulted by such statements?’

  ‘Not at all.’ Marie smiled, the tired creases deepening around her eyes. ‘He believes it explains why we are doing so badly against the Germans.’

  ‘I had imagined your family to be more patriotic.’

  ‘My family is patriotic, but we are also realists. If our factories and railways were as efficient as the Germans’, Russia would be in a far better position to defeat our enemies. With the toll the war is taking on our homeland, it will not be long before people’s patience reaches breaking point.’

  ‘The Russian character is synonymous with suffering,’ Alexei said, ‘and we understand that sacrifices are necessary.’

  ‘Russian families have already sacrificed enough.’

  Alexei heard the sadness in her voice and regretted his comment. Every fibre in his body wanted to reach out to her. Leaning forward, he folded his fingers over the hand resting on her lap. To his delight, she did not pull away.

  His eyes drank in her features. Travelling from her broad forehead, his gaze moved to her eyes, the dark
lashes, the narrow nose and finally rested on her full lips. What he would give to kiss those lips and have them return his kiss.

  Marie’s hand felt hot under Alexei’s palm. The quickening of her pulse made it hard to breathe. ‘Maybe we can read a little from Pushkin,’ she managed to say.

  ‘Of course.’ His hand fell away and the breath returned to her lungs.

  Moving closer to the lamp, Marie read from a volume of Pushkin’s poetry. Alexei, listening intently, sat so still Marie thought at one stage he had fallen asleep. Pausing to check, she lifted her eyes, and found herself momentarily lost when their eyes locked. Clearing her throat, she resumed reading.

  And where will fate send death to me?

  In battle, in my travels, or on the seas?

  Or will the neighbouring valley

  Receive my chilled ashes?

  She was aware of Alexei studying her in the dappled light. He was sitting so close that their knees were almost touching. His scent flooded her senses, and she repeatedly lost her place on the page.

  He shifted in his seat and, flustered, she dropped the book.

  ‘How clumsy of me.’ She bent to pick it up. Their hands reached the volume at the same time, their fingers touching. With one hand, he grabbed the book and with the other, he took her hand. Turning her palm up, he kissed the delicate skin at the base of her wrist.

  Her heart somersaulted wildly inside her chest. ‘Alexei.’ Her voice was hoarse.

  Lowering his face to hers, their lips brushed.

  ‘Alexei … please.’ She could barely breathe.

  His tongue, warm and moist, parted her lips. Unexpected heat spread across the surface of her skin. A soft moan left her lips when he pulled her into his arms. For a moment, she forgot everything as his kisses travelled across her face, landing like summer rain over her eyes, lashes and brows.