7
Padre Ansaldi brought Nonna in a secluded spot of the palace gardens, and from his worried look the girl immediately realized that the priest had not quite shared everything he thought in the previous meeting.
Reaching a small clearing among the trees, Ansaldi looked around once more, almost to be sure not to have been sure.
"So, do you want to tell me what's the problem?"
"You are the person whom the Grand Duchess trusts more." he said with unusual seriousness. "I heard that you are almost a sister for her."
"And what could this mean?" she replied, in an offended tone.
"Calm yourself, and please try not to misunderstand me. I guess you know well almost everyone who associates with her."
"I think so." Nonna answered, in a calmer and more conciliatory tone. "What of it?"
"Before His Excellency left for Petersburg, I casually overheard a conversation with General Gorčakov. It looks like the Tsar had received knowledge about a member of his family being targeted by enemy agents."
At that, Nonna's eyes widened out of consternation.
"What?!"
"At first I thought it was merely a worried father's paranoia for his children. But it does look like that his fears were justified."
But then, a rather peculiar thought went through the mind of the young maid.
"As far as I know His Imperial Majesty, I can say one thing for sure. He does not allow prying ears to snoop into his private conversations that easily." she said, almost smirking. "If said ears did not belong to somebody so shrewd to elude his suspicions.
I am beginning to wonder who you truly are. Are you a true priest?"
"If needed." he smiled. "Today I am a holy man, yesterday I was a valet. As for tomorrow, who knows."
"Then?"
"My name is not Ansaldi. Captain Giuseppe Govone, secret agent of His Majesty Vittorio Emanuele II of Savoy."
"A Piedmontese agent?!"
Nonna looked like she was one second away from calling for the guards at the top of her lungs, but the good-natured, almost sly gaze of the alleged priest stopped her.
"What is a spy of the Savoys doing here in Russia?"
"Not a spy. At least, not completely. Simply put, I am a bodyguard."
"What?!"
"The Grand Duchess Ekaterina is promised to our Prince Amedeo. His Majesty Vittorio Emanuele sent me here in secret to guarantee her safety."
"Promised?!"
"My task is to keep her safe until the Tsar will send her to Turin to marry our prince. I thought that a priest and a tutor could easily gain her father's trust, and I could always remain close."
"So, that Uigur in the woods..."
"No, that was not my doing. I am a spy, not a soldier. My weapons are information. And that's why I chose to reveal myself to you."
"I am afraid I cannot follow."
"Right now you and me are the closest persons to the Grand Duchess. If we cooperate, sharing what we know, it will be easier to protect her, especially in light of this situation."
"What do you mean?"
"It's very simple." said Padre Ansaldi, or rather Captain Govone, looking grim and worried. "Outside the Tsar's court and the people here now, nobody knew that the Grand Duchess was still here at Peterhof. The Tsar does not like rumors and gossip about his family's issues, so he gave severe orders not to talk to anyone about this. And you know well what happens to those who disobey his orders."
At that point, it was easy for Nonna to do the math.
"You mean..."
"Exactly." Ansaldi replied, turning to look at the palace. "There's a mole in this place."
As predicted, the courier returned to Peterhof even before the sun rose.
The Tsar must have received quite the scare, because the peremptory order for Katyusha and his entourage was to immediately get back to Petersburg, just in time to reunite with the rest of the family in the return voyage to Moscow.
That very afternoon, protected by an impressive escort worthy of the monarch himself, the coach with the Grand Duchess, her trusted maid and her tutor left the summer residence of the Romanov bound for Petersburg, closely followed by the non-essential staff.
The whole way, Katyusha did not utter a single word, still far too shaken from that night's happenings. The sight of that body had had a tremendous impact on her, but at the same time it had lit something inside of her: something that looked a lot like awareness.
In wartime, people died; she had never thought about that little fact during the time spent reading on battles and generals, at least thought with a bit of intensity or mindfulness.
She had made a conscious effort to look at just the "romantic" side of that topic that had enraptured her so much, the side made of stalwart generals, masterful decisions and triumphant campaigns, forgetting that, however, behind those grand victories and disastrous defeats there were men and soldiers dead by the thousand.
To acknowledge and accept that consideration was the duty, but at the same time the burden, of each leader of men, and it was something that she herself would have to learn to accept if she wished to become, one day, an authority on the topic.
All these thoughts kept her quiet the whole way, until the voyage ended in the gateway of the Winter Palace.
Exceptionally, the Tsar and his consort had come out to welcome back their youngest daughter, and even before the Grand Duchess had climbed down the coach, her mother ran to her, hugging her sweetly with teary eyes.
"My daughter! My little kitty! May God be thanked!"
"Alexandra, please." her husband reproached her, as cold and unflappable as ever. "Not here, before the servants."
But this time she completely ignored him, keeping Katyusha firmly between her arms under the relieved and almost happy gazes of Nonna and Padre Ansaldi, that met for a brief instant. And just after that, to her mother's hug was added even that of her sister Olishka, come running and still informally dressed, eager more than ever to grab onto her little sister.
"I am happy to see that you are safe and sound, Ekaterina." said her father, when mother and sister finally let her go. "I believe it was a terrible night for you. You may go and rest. I must speak about a few things with your tutor."
Katyusha did not wait for him to repeat himself, and after a relaxing bath, a light meal – unusually spent together with her sister and her young brothers Nicolaj and Mikhail – she immediately went to bed, overcome in a few minutes by an invincible tiredness.
The transfer to Moscow came sooner than predicted.
No later than three days from Katyusha's arrival at the Winter Palace, the personal train of the Imperial Family had left Petersburg with the whole Romanov family, the most trusted servants and a few members of the entourage on it, preceded and followed closely by the more modest vehicles that transported respectively the other staff and the other members of the court.
Many considered unusual the transfer of the Tsar and his family to Moscow in such an inopportune season: the summer was by then dying out, and it wouldn't be much longer before the unforgiving climate of the old capital would force Nicholas to abruptly order to backtrack.
As nobody outside a very few chosen ones had any idea of what had gone down at Peterhof, the common theory held that the Tsar wanted to move a bit closer to the heart of the Empire, where it would have been easier to administrate the various scenarios caused by the conflict with the Ottomans and their European allies. Others instead believed that even Petersburg was no longer safe by then, with the British fleets that kept growing bolder and bolder in their sweeps of the Gulf of Finland and the Baltic Sea.
But all this beliefs and ideas on the more active participation of the Tsar to the ongoing conflict turned to dust when, upon its arrival, the Imperial Family shut itself up inside the Kremlin; the scarce visits in the city became even more sparse, almost to the point of being discontinued, and the garrison, imposing by itself, was even reinforced. Even the members of the government and the counsellors were forbidden to leave, turning that enormous fortress almost into a state within a state, entry upon whom was forbidden to anyone.
Roughly, ten days had passed from the arrival in Moscow, when Katyusha was summoned by her father in the throne room.
Alone, this time.
She showed up as she always did, performing a respectful curtsey, immediately noticing however that her parent's gaze was softer and less irritated than usual.
"Padre Ansaldi was full of praise for you. It seems that you have at least decided to seriously engage in your studies."
"He is a great teacher, Father. I owe him much."
"I don't want to know how he managed to get into your head the ability to study, I don't care about it. What matters is that I can finally see within you a Romanov worthy of this name, and for now it's enough."
"I thank you for your words." said the young girl, her mind however filled with something else.
"Now, I believe it would be unjust on my part not to reward your efforts.
From now on, the constraints placed upon you are lifted. You can take walks and move freely inside the palace and within the walls, moreover you will be allowed to dine with the whole family. The lone remaining obligation are the five hours per day that you will dedicate to studying."
"Thank you, Father."
"But let me be clear, there won't be any indulgence. If the results were to drop again, everything will return as it was. Is that understood?"
"By all means, Father. I shall not disappoint you."
"Very well. You may go."
The Grand Duchess at that point curtsied again and went for the door, but just before crossing the doorstep two words rolled out of her tongue: words that until a few moments before she had never dreamed to spell, and never towards her father.
"Arrogant bastard." she whispered through her teeth.
She was cold.
She felt her mouth dry and open, as if a tube were shoved into it, not allowing her to close her mouth; the nose itched so much as well, but she couldn't touch it.
Really, she couldn't do anything. It was as if she was chained down and gagged in a dark room.
The only thing that she got was that she was laying on his back, and under it she felt something soft and hard at the same time; like a leather mattress.
She felt alone and powerless. She wanted to scream, to struggle, to try and escape: but it was all pointless.
But then, trying her best to focus, she thought she could feel something, like far away figures, whose voices towered over a sequence of sounds and noises that she had never heard before.
"What now, Doctor?" said the voice of a young girl, oddly familiar.
"I won't lie to you, young lady." said another voice, a male one this time, likewise not completely foreign however. "The situation is very bad. The internal injuries are by now beginning to heal, but the cerebral hemorrhage turned out to be worse than we thought. Her well developed physique and her young age are on her side, but as of now there is roughly a chance in twenty that she will wake up. Even less, perhaps."
There was a brief respite, then the male voice spoke again.
"Right now, all that we manage to get is a very small cerebral activity. And, to be completely honest, it is the only thing that prevents us to recommend to her family to pull the plug."
"You don't know her still, doctor. She is a warrior. She won't give up."
"You seem to have a lot of faith in your Commander. I hope with all my heart that you aren't overestimating her."
Again, another pause, during which however she heard the barely noticeable sobs of the female voice, almost a crying fit that the mysterious yet familiar figure was trying her best to suppress, echoing in the room.
"They say that the patients in a coma have the ability to travel through time and space. We can only hope that, wherever she is, her mind finds a reason to wish to come back."
And then, the voices disappeared, and she found herself alone once more, drowning in that endless darkness.
"Your Highness? Your Highness? Are you listening to me?"
Katyusha opened her eyes, not without difficulty, gently reproached by the voice of Padre Ansaldi.
"I understand that Italian is far from an enrapturing subject, but if you could, please do not fall asleep on your books."
Confused, she looked around, trying to find her bearings.
The red walls of the fortress towered outside the window, while inside the room Nonna was almost finished cleaning up.
"Please do not get angry, Padre." said the girl. "Her Highness is made this way."
"Who is getting angry?" replied the man with a big smile. "I am yet to find a pupil that doesn't end up, sooner or later, asleep during one of my lessons."
In a few minutes, Nonna completed her task, and after exchanging a strange gesture with the holy man, left the room, leaving tutor and pupil alone once more.
"Now, your Highness. Just two more exercises, then we will switch to something less boring."
Katyusha tried to continue from where she had stopped, but as hard as she tried, she just couldn't manage to focus.
She had other things swirling in her head, and Padre Ansaldi took no more than a few moments to notice that.
"Padre Ansaldi?" she asked, without lifting her gaze from the page.
"Yes?"
"I wish to ask you a question."
"Just tell me."
"However, I wish for you to answer me as a person, rather than a man of the cloth."
"I learned that at times splitting the two is difficult for me, but I will try. What is it?"
The small girl took a moment, as the hand that was grabbing the pen began to shake.
"Do you believe... in reincarnation?"