Chapter Two
Tsesarevich Maxim Alexeevich of the Russian Empire considered himself a religious person. He attended church every Sunday and wore a cross around his neck every day without fail. He was faithful. But some days it was difficult to stay true to his faith. Maxim could still remember the cold spring day in Saint Petersburg when he followed his mother's coffin through the Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood. He cried and questioned why God would take away his mother so young if He was real. God did not answer him; only the eyes of the Apostles above and the comforting words of his younger cousin sent him any thoughts.
Many years had passed since his mother's death, but they were not peaceful years. Only Maxim and his father remained of their once numerous royal family, and both he and his father were growing older. In retrospect, Maxim should have expected the announcement sooner, but his father's decennial marked an important discussion of the future.
"I recommend three candidates from each federal district and one candidate from Capital City instead of two," suggested Advisor Obolensky, "twenty-five candidates in all. And for location." He brought out a list. "We have several options. The Grand Kremlin Palace, Peterhof, Gatchina, Tauride, or Tsarskoye Selo.
Maxim nodded, staying silent. He was not particularly loquacious, nor did he feel like discussing his selection. Although he was twenty-two, the young man readily allowed his father and his advisors to make most of the decisions regarding his life. When Tsar Alexei told him that he was to have a selection, which had not taken place for over three hundred years, Maxim immediately recognized the dire situation and agreed. Now he was to allow a mixture of twenty-five common and noblewomen to compete for his hand.
"It would be more suitable to our time and money constraints to hold the selection in Moscow than Saint Petersburg," said Tsar Alexei, bringing forth murmurs of agreement from the council. Maxim sighed with disappointment internally. His father never liked Saint Petersburg, Maxim's birthplace and the former capital; it was always something about the weather and the people that the Tsar couldn't stand. "The Grand Kremlin Palace is best suited to our needs and of the future Tsarina's."
The truth of the matter was that their empire had spent too many years without a Tsarina. Centuries of tradition insisted upon a trias politica structure of power—a legislature controlled by a state-elected Prime Minister and executive and judiciary branches controlled independently by either the Tsar or the Tsarina. Tsar Alexei controlled both the executive and judiciary branches for ten years now, which made more than a few persons and federal ministers in the country uncomfortable. But his father was a good leader, better than many on the council of ministers would like to admit.
"Do you agree, Maxim?" asked the Tsar expectantly.
Maxim froze, gripping his pencil. "Yes-yes, I agree. Our government is centered in Moscow, so it would only make sense to train the future Tsarina here."
Alexei smiled and nodded in approval, allowing a wave of relief to fall over Maxim. His father told him a few months ago that, to prepare him for commanding his own council meetings in the future, he would begin putting him on the spot to answer questions and make decisions. Although Maxim's first thought was that his father was purposely trying to give him a heart attack, he knew the Tsar only had the best intentions. But it didn't change the fact that Maxim didn't like surprises.
"To review the official decisions," said Prime Minister Konstantinov, who was a large, balding man and the only commoner among a council of nobles, "the location of the selection will be set in the Kremlin Palace. The selected candidates from each district shall be chosen by their federal minister. But what of the candidate from Capital City?"
"I will choose the Moscow candidate," decided Tsar Alexei firmly.
"Very well." Prime Minister Konstantinov made a note. "And we can confirm the announcement will be made at the end of the week?"
"Yes," the Tsar confirmed, "I will make the announcement to the people of Moscow on Sunday after the Divine Liturgy. The message will be spread through Russia throughout the following week. Applicants will be given the end of March to the first half of April to complete their application forms. The candidates will be announced on the last day of April and the selection will take place from May through August." He eyed his son. "Maxim, do you agree with the plan?"
This time, the Tsesarevich was more prepared. "Yes, I agree completely."
"And I have been narrowing down the list of applicants for the junior political advisor positions," Konstantinov informed the Tsar, "all they need is your stamp of approval, Your Majesty."
"Very well." The Tsar shuffled his papers and folders. "Send the applications to my office and I'll review them. Now, let's conclude this meeting here and we can meet again tomorrow at noon to discuss schedules and transportation details." A rumble of agreement came from the council members, who began their own private conversations that Maxim only picked up a few words from.
"Maxim," said his father in a quiet voice once all the advisers were distracted. "Come with me. I need to discuss something with you privately."
"Yes, father," obeyed Maxim.
Alexei led him out of the council room and they walked silently until they reached Andreyevsky Hall—the throne room. Like the rest of the Kremlin Palace and most palaces in Russia, it was grand, dramatic, and, most importantly, gold. Heavy, dark blue curtains rimmed with gold covered the huge windows that looked over the Moskva River. The room would've been shrouded in darkness if it wasn't for the eight golden chandeliers that hung between the Corinthian order columns that lined the hall. At the end of the hall rested only a single golden throne against an indigo wall and beneath a golden sun with the eye of God.
"Maxim," Alexei began, appearing uncharacteristically uncomfortable, "I know you must be wondering why I brought you here. The answer is that I was concerned about your well-being in the selection." And at that moment, Tsar Alexei changed from the ruler of the Russian Empire to a concerned father.
"It's alright, father," Maxim assured with a gentle smile, "I am prepared to accept my duty as the Tsesarevich. The country needs a Tsarina."
Alexei smiled, a rare action only a few ever witnessed. "You are a good, intelligent young man, Maxim. I trust that you will make the right decision." Maxim felt his heart beat with happiness. "But what I am concerned about is that you will choose a woman best for the country over that your heart may feel. There hasn't been a selection for over three hundred years, much less one involving common women, which means you have no adviser to help guide you during the experience."
"I have you, don't I?" Maxim asked, his eyebrows furrowed and his mind confused.
"You will," his father answered hesitantly, "but I don't want you to feel that I'm controlling your choices over who you choose to...love."
"Father, I promise that I will make the right choice and I won't disappoint you," Maxim reassured. The only thought in his mind was to prove to his father that he would be able to be a good leader and make all the correct decisions as his father did. Alexei smiled at his son, of fear, love, and pride it seemed to be. For the Tsar knew that if his cherished son knew the truth he would turn his back forever like Alexei once did for his own kin.
Tsar Alexei protected his only son and heir from all the troubles and tribulations in the world that he could. It wasn't until recent years that he allowed Maxim to listen to and participate in council meetings. Many of the council members once served on the old Tsar's council, which meant Alexei never had their entire respect and trust. Once he took rule, he had limited their allowed spending, increased taxes on both nobles and rich citizens, and ruled alongside the first non-noble Prime Minister in all of Russia's history. He even switched the capital of Russia from Saint Petersburg to Moscow. The consequences of his actions caused many of the most important noble families to turn away from his rule. Although he was getting older, Alexei was not eluded of their quiet whispers of disposing of him.
Alexei kept up his smile. "Good, now do me a favor and go to the kitchens. They are too understaffed for the upcoming celebrations and events. Ask for the estate manager and figure out the amount of staff we need to hire. Give the lists to Konstantinov and he'll make the new protégés he hired work out the details."
"Of course, father."
And with those words, Maxim left. Leaving Tsar Alexei Yuryevich all alone in the throne room. Alexei gazed up at the golden and indigo decorations and ornaments, suddenly feeling young again. Although it was over twenty-five years ago when he had met his own beloved, he always felt youthful when he recalled his adventures sneaking out of Peterhof on those hot summer nights to meet with his lower-ranking future wife. Alexei once traveled over three kilometers on foot to reach her family's summer villa, which her family had purposefully placed her in to keep them apart. He smiled soulfully to himself at the memory. Although he was heavily criticized, Alexei insisted upon a selection with both commoners and noblewomen. He had fallen in love with the poor daughter of a Baron, whose family might as well have been commoners if it wasn't for their hereditary title. Alexei wanted his son Maxim to grow up in a different world than the one he was raised in. A world where Maxim could marry whoever he loved without judgment or breaking the law.
After all, no one should be kept apart from those they love.
