5
Unusually, Tsar Nicholas did not receive his son Alexandr in the throne room, but in the more withdrawn writing room; together with them was General Gorčakov, leading commander of the Imperial army, other than personal advisor and right-hand man of the monarch.
The prince, once inside, was very careful to verify that nobody was around, before closing the door, and the very Tsar gave sharp orders not to let anybody all along the corridor.
"Welcome back, son." he began, when they were certain to be alone and with no ears listening in.
"Thank you, father."
Neither of them, except very rare circumstances, could be defined a champion of expansiveness and cheerfulness, but that day the tone of their conversation was, if possible, even darker and impersonal than usual.
"So? Is it true what you wrote me in your last letter? Is the situation so critical?"
"Unfortunately it is, father. The British have received reinforcements. Last week three ships have unloaded onto the beach a hundred brand new heavy guns and two thousand men, in addition to foodstuff and equipment. They already have full control of the coast near Malachov and have cut it off, while starting to bombard it."
"How are our numbers right now?"
"For the moment we are about thirty-five thousand, between trained soldiers, militia and sappers. To these, we must add the crews of the fleet commanded by Admiral Nachimov."
"What of the status of the fleet?"
"As of now they are able to defend the harbour with no great issue. The Admiral insisted on an attack to try and cut the supply lines of the enemy, but I convinced to concentrate on defensive duties."
"You did the right thing. We can't afford any suicidal heroism at this moment."
"However, the general situation doesn't change. And with just my forces, we surely don't have the strenght or the numbers to relieve by ourselves the siege that they are holding around the city."
The Tsar as usual ran his hand through his moustaches, taking a few erratic steps in the room with a worried expression, while his son and the general looked on silently.
"Can we send more troops?"
"Unfortunately, Your Imperial Majesty" answered Gorčakov, "right now most of our army is deployed along the northern and western borders of the Empire. We await at any moment a naval attack in Finland or at the Solovetskij, while weakening our border defenses in the west could entice Austria to enter the alliance and attack us herself."
"What about the Caspian division?"
"We can mobilize and send it towards Sevastopol, but it will take time."
"How much?"
"Four months." was the almost mortified answer of the general.
The Tsar again disturbed his moustache, letting all his nervousness get through.
"Do you believe that your units can hold on till then?"
"In nighttime we patch up the damage suffered in daytime, but the situation is becoming more and more precarious. And even though we are still able to get through, it's just a matter of few weeks, then Sevastopol will be truly under siege."
"And that's why I wish for you to remain here, Alexandr. Nachimov and the others will be more than enough to defend the city until the reinforcements come."
"Father, those are my men. I can't abandon them like this."
"You are my son, and my heir. Your mother would die for sure knowing that you were there, with the knowledge that you might not come back."
"They have faith in me, father. They await for me to come back to lead them. I humbly beg you."
If there was one thing that Alexandr had taken after his father, was his stubbornness, as well as his ability to worry for the life and the well-being of his soldiers.
So, he was forced to give in.
"Alright, boy. But for God's sake, be careful, and don't take pointless risks. The last thing I wish to do is to tell your mother that the next time she'll see you again will be inside a coffin."
"I won't, father. You have my word."
The Tsesarevich at that point left the room, leaving the Tsar and his general alone.
"Now, realistically, how long to send troops to Sevastopol?"
"Six months, I'm afraid, Your Majesty."
"You have three." the sovereign snapped at him with red-blood eyes. "And if he dies, I will bury you with him."
Katyusha had fervently hoped to be able to pass some time with her beloved brother, and for that it was incredibly painful to see him leave after just a day's stay.
The worried glance with which Olishka bid farewell from Alexandr told her that something really serious was brewing, but as a teenager, little more than a child, she did not fully understand what her siblings and father were hiding from her.
Sure, she knew that her country was at war with Europe's mightiest powers, but the political and military issues were hardly things that those in the know found proper to talk about with a little girl. Perhaps that was why she was so desperate to know about war and its rules: to get a grip on her own destiny, and to know what could await her and her family in the years to come.
As the time passed on, she realized more and more how the most part of the Russian officers at the service of her family were, generously speaking, allergic to the tactical and forward-looking notions that instead were all the rage in the rest of Europe. The good ol' times of her ancestors Piotr and Ekaterina in her eyes were long gone, and the Great Russia, from a nation able to impose its power and prestige in the eyes of the whole world, was turning into the pale shadow of itself.
As if that were not enough, less than a week after Alexandr left, the Tsar opted to prematurely end the summer stay, ordering the family and the whole court back to the Winter Palace, and from there, in a few days' time, to Moscow, obviously not counting Katiusha herself, her tutor and a handful of guardians and servants.
And so it was that, all of a sudden, Katyusha ended up alone, so to speak, with no other company except that of Nonna, Nina and a few other handmaids.
And of course there was padre Ansaldi with his lessons; at first Katyusha had entertained the idea that, with her father absent, the lessons would know a drop, but any hope about that was dashed by the knowledge that, in any case, the Tsar would be au courant in any case.
Therefore, at least for her, everything kept going like it had always gone, with just the three weekly hours of war didactics helping her with the frustration of those summer days that Katyusha was forced to let go before her nose without being able to enjoy them.
Two such weeks passed.
At least the end of August was upon them, and in a short while Katyusha herself would likely have to relocate, if not in Moscow, at least in the more comfortable Winter Palace.
Even the nights were beginning to get longer, and the isolation of the palace contributed to the complete silence that, when the sun set, often fell upon it.
One evening, the first that she was allowed to spend dining in the main dining room together, at least, with her subjects, instead of being relegated in the loneliness of her room, Katyusha got up enough courage and, carefully avoiding to be seen, snuck in her father's library, beginning her candlelight search for any books relating to war.
She found a lot of them, more than she could read in a lifetime, and after collecting those that looked more intriguing to her, she brought them in her old bedroom, back when she was a child, beginning to avidly read them.
She was sure that nobody would come and look for her there, in a place long forgotten even in the collective mind of the servants; but she hadn't thought about her personal watchdog.
"Grand Duchess." said Nonna, opening the door. "I thought you were in bed already. The servants are looking everywhere for you. Please come with me."
"C'mon, Nonna!" she protested, clutching the book she was reading. "Just a few more pages!"
"You know the rules. Light off by eleven."
"I beg you."
The huge, blue eyes of the princess were, as usual, a devastating weapon, against which no defense could hold; especially if they lingered onto you, full of a lovable plea, like those of a puppy looking for a bit of love.
"Very well. But just one more hour, then, bedtime."
"Thanks!" exclaimed Katyusha, smiling.
Nonna would have liked to stay with her, but she knew that Katyusha would have taken that as a lack of trust in her; besides, as the new chief of the staff directly appointed by the Tsar, there were a lot of things requiring her attention, before she herself could go to bed.
"I'm going to do a few chores." she told Nina after she closed the door. "You make sure that she gets to bed in an hour."
"Are you sure that she'll listen to me? When she's lost into something she likes she barely listens to you."
"Don't worry, she'll obey. She may be a bit of a tomboy, but Her Highness is just a child, in the end."
"Easy for you to say. Surely you would not be sent before a firing squad of mounted Cossacks."
Two hours later, with the palace and the surrounding countryside filled with silence, some curious shadows emerged from the nearby river.
Quietly, five figures in black cloaks jumped over the tall fence, and thoroughly hidden by the patrols going around in the garden made for the palace, managing to get inside through a window of the salon unwisely left open.
Almost skipping over the floor, helped by the carpets to further cushion their steps, they made their way up the stairs, or rather, they jumped over them with almost superhuman acrobatics, getting in the wing of the private rooms of the Tsar's children.
A couple of soldiers was guarding the doors to the rooms of Grand Duchess Katyusha. Two of the intruders were upon them like angels of death, shutting them up and cutting their throats before they could realize anything. The assassins first hid the bodies behind some heavy bronze vases, then they signaled to their companions, that slithered out of the shadows and came closer.
The five exchanged a reciprocal nod before passing the door, with the two assassins remaining outside, ready to silence once and for all any potential undesirable witness.
Once in the antechamber, the other tree took a quick look around, then as the others seathed their swords, grabbing some ropes and blindfolds instead, the third one silently brought his hand on the bedroom door, opening it without making any noise.