July 22th, 1918.
Moscow.
Only Yákov Sverdlov and the Chairman of the Council of People's Commissars of the Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic are currently inside the latterʼs office, and both of them are speechless.
Sverdlov is a 32-year-old man with abundant bushy black hair, short facial hair of the same color, a big nose, and dark brown eyes covered by a round pair of glasses.
Chairman Vladimir Lenin is more than a decade older and almost bald. The little hair he does have on the back of the head and his short beard are a dark shade of bright red, coincidentally the color representing his movement.
Vladimir is sitting behind his orderly red desk, which is covered in documents he has been working on, sharpened pencils, pens, and small bottles of ink. Also on his work surface are a lamp with a green shade and a telephone.
Behind the table and close to the wall stand a couple of relatively small but tall shelves filled with dozens of books, most of which he has read.
Lenin barely even reacts to the news, but Yákov Sverdlov, who sits on the couch before the desk, can tell that the escape of the former heir has bothered him, even if just slightly. The leader seems more puzzled and disappointed than either angry or scared though, which is, at least, relieving for Sverdlov.
Still, Yákov deeply regrets giving Lenin the last-minute idea of keeping the boy alive as a hostage until the end of the war, but truth be told, the possibility of an escape never even crossed his mind. Not when his survival was supposed to be a state secret, at least until he was being kept somewhere safe.
Sverdlov is one of Leninʼs smartest and most trusted associates. While not nearly among his most important achievements, Yákov is pleased to know he was one of the brains behind the execution of the former emperor and that of many of his relatives, including the former grand duke Michael and the former grand duchess Elizabeth, siblings of the former emperor and empress respectively.
Back when the Provisional Government was still in power and the Romanovs were not in any sort of danger yet, Sverdlov played a huge role in making sure the former imperial family was not allowed to go into exile. He knew, from the very beginning, that they would all end up dead.
Their demise is a historical and symbolic necessity, he still thinks, and Lenin wholeheartedly agrees. A way of telling everyone, their enemies in particular, that there is no going back, that they have won something even if they lose, and that they wonʼt allow any attempts to return to the nationʼs old ways. That is why, as contradictory as it may seem, keeping the Romanov children alive for a few more months for pragmatic reasons didnʼt seem like such a bad idea two days ago.
Sverdlov worked hard to sign a treaty with Germany as well. He knew very well that the chances of this former enemy further occupying Russia were slim, but he wasnʼt going to risk the relative stability the Brest-Litovsk treaty had achieved for anything, not even revolutionary justice, not when they had all the time in the world to make sure it was accomplished.
Maybe that is Yákovʼs problem. He thinks too much. He takes into account all of the possibilities, as unlikely as they may seem. He takes precautions. The issue is that with every new precaution taken comes a new risk. Or maybe, just maybe, he took their deaths for granted. Perhaps his first instinct to finish them all that night was correct and then he simply made a foolish mistake during an instant of self-doubt. It happens to the brightest of students during tests. That is for sure.
The problem is this is not just an exam.
"Was this some kind of plot?" Lenin finally asks after five full minutes of silence.
"No, at least there is no evidence for that yet, but I will make sure there is an investigation", Sverdlov answers. "Apparently, the guards got angry because the steamer they were traveling on malfunctioned, so they became excessively drunk during their stay at a village cabin and fell asleep. One of the Chekists seems to have almost died from alcohol poisoning, and a red guard from Perm fell down the stairs. He was gravely injured. The following morning, the former heir, as well as one of his sisters, were gone."
"Buffoons! What a disgrace!" Lenin exclaims. "They should be shot!"
"No, comrade Lenin, we should not get ahead of ourselves", his friend cautions. "They were honest enough to make sure the news reached us by sending a telegram to the commander of the guards of what was supposed to be the heirʼs new prison for what remained of his life. They are the only ones who know what happened, the location where the siblings disappeared. We need them to search for the missing Romanovs."
"All right, necessity has forced us to spare many other violent criminals, so I guess this is nothing new… but what about the heir? Do you think it is risky to let the boy live? What do you think we should do? I am not too worried, mind you, because it is unlikely that he and his sister will survive alone in Siberia anyway, and wouldnʼt it be poetic justice for them to be eaten by a pack of hungry wolves they forgot to feed?" Vladimir attempts to chuckle, but as soon as the first sound leaves his mouth, it becomes apparent that he wasn't in the mood to do so. "But thinking it through…" he continues, "if our enemies come across the true story of the former heirʼs unlikely escape, they may try to spark a revival of monarchist fervor in the White Army that could provide them with a unifying force, renewed purpose, or worse, support among the peasants. Although we could easily subdue the latter by force, of course, even more tough people would be needed but..."
"It is not about how risky it is or isnʼt, although I am not discounting the negligible possibility it may be", Sverdlov replies. "It is about what should be done in principle, and that boy shouldnʼt live. He represents the old regime, and it is the simplest of our revolutionary duties to make sure he is annihilated. We should send a special unit of about 300 to 500 red guards to look for him and his sister."
"Wouldnʼt that confirm to the world that the Romanovs are alive?" The chancellor asks.
"The unit should be under the supervision of selected investigators that will answer only to us two and maybe the few trusted individuals who already know the truth either way", Yákov clarifies. "Its existence, along with its real mission, should be kept secret from as many people as possible, even from those close to us. That is my recommendation."
"One of those individuals 'close to us' who should definitely not know about this is Trotsky, I suppose", Lenin does chuckle properly this time.
"That poor man probably doesnʼt even know yet that the former tsar is already dead", Sverdlov chuckles as well. "He is still daydreaming about having his show trial and being the center of attention."
"Donʼt you think it is possible that even with all of these precautions… the truth will come out? Maybe we should make their escape public, after all, pursuits can be hard, especially if you are not supposed to reveal to anyone what you are searching for."
Sverdlov touches his forehead with the tips of his fingers and thinks. After a minute, he adjusts his glasses and argues against Leninʼs suggestion:
"No, no... as you said, the news of the escape could prove to be more dangerous than the escape itself, and the truth wonʼt come out if the evidence for their deaths outweighs whatever slips from the small number of people who know they survived or the party searching for them."
"I am afraid many of the clueless in the council will grow extremely nosy about what happened", Lenin worries, but Yákov soothes him:
"We should tell the people who are aware of the survival of the former heir that he has been executed due to yet another sudden change of plans, and as for the ones who are unaware… well, no need to fear or make changes. The official story we agreed upon back when we ordered the elimination of the entire family will still work in the future. The wife and the children died during their evacuation to a safer place, an accident or otherwise. Maybe they were killed by the Ural Soviet without our authorization. All in all, nothing we know much about, nothing to do with us. That is what we need everyone to believe, and so far I donʼt see why they wouldnʼt."
"The living girls are for the German spies alone to behold in photographs", the chancellor smiles. "In the end, we will get rid of them all while publically maintaining our innocence."
"Exactly. The Czechoslovak legion will take Ekaterinburg soon, and inquiries will begin on the fate of the Romanovs. We have already initiated several campaigns of disinformation. We just need to plant as much evidence for the demise of the entire family as possible and make sure we execute any untrustworthy people that come to learn or suspect the truth. This way, we may be able to keep our search relatively secret, or at least secret enough that anything that comes to light about it appears to be just another rumor."
Lenin nods. "What about our other plans?" He then inquires. "I actually thought your idea had some merit. Keeping the boy as a hostage would have been useful not just militarily but also helpful for the Cheka as a tool to catch monarchists in our midst by luring them into a mousetrap. What could attract them more than false hopes of being able to rescue the former tsarevich? Will the search party shoot the boy on sight if they apprehend him now or should we continue with the previously designed protocols just as planned?"
"The situation has changed", Sverdlov explains. "His escape has proven that sparing his life, even for the purposes we had, was a dangerous decision. It was my mistake, for which I humbly apologize." After sighing, he adds: "I believe he should be shot on sight."
"I agree, the hypothetical benefits weren't worth the risk after all", the chancellor concedes. "What about the woman?"
"She should be returned to her sisters in Perm. We may still need the women to fool the Germans for a few months, just in case, but she should also be shot if she resists her arrest. As far as I know, the decision to allow her to accompany her brother was not approved by Moscow, just the Ural Soviet."
"I didn't sanction that decision at all", Lenin complains. "They clearly took liberties, and I will deal with the matter later."
"Good."
"I just hope the world revolution spreads fast, I am so tired of this charade… although, if you allow me to be frank comrade Sverdlov, some of the asylum offers from foreign countries are tempting. There are so many comrades arrested abroad that we could exchange for the Romanov women, and we could even use their exile as a propaganda tool to show the world our genero…"
"None of that!" Yákov Sverdlov cries out a little louder than intended, interrupting Lenin.
"Calm down, comrade Sverdlov", Lenin speaks in a soft tone. "I was joking, do you think I would ever consider sparing the grandchildren of the man who murdered my brother?"
"You would not", Yákov looks down.
"Negotiations are just beginning though. We should hear what they have to offer, and before we throw away a useful opportunity by killing the women as soon as the Germans are out of the equation, we have to consider all the options. Who knows? We may end up benefiting from fooling even more people than previously intended. And as for the search party, can you find the right person to make the necessary arrangements? I am far too busy to worry about some rogue children playing hide and seek. Make sure he is someone known for his discretion and loyalty to the revolutionary cause, and that he has adequate experience with investigative work."
"Donʼt worry. I know the right person, his name is Igor Pyotrovich Turov. But please comrade Lenin, donʼt be seduced by those foreigners when it comes to the former grand duchesses."
"Good", Lenin says. "Well, enough of the Romanov subject for today. Letʼs get on to the important stuff. Refresh my memory, what were we talking about before the news arrived?"
Oo
Perm.
Maria Nikolaevna Romanova.
Everything is slipping right out of my hands. It is like the little light that remained inside of us left when Olga and Alexei did. My sisters are heartbroken, and I am the glue tirelessly and uselessly trying to get the pieces of their hearts back together.
It could not be any other way. We called my brother 'ray of sunshine' for a reason. Whenever he was sick, our home became a dark and gloomy place, and then, when he recovered, it filled with sunshine. His personality could be best described as happy, and he always wanted to make everyone who was sad feel better. Alexei was the crowning jewel of our family, and now he only has Olga to take care of him. He is so fragile, my baby brother. How many times have I wished I could have a son like him? I wish I could be with him at all times to protect him.
My oldest sisterʼs absence also leaves a deep hole in my heart. People who know us superficially must think we are rigidly divided into the big pair and the little pair, but that has never been strictly true, especially not as we grew older. The four of us have become closer to each other regardless of age.
We were like four pieces of a puzzle. A four-leaf clover is what mama used to call us, but one that sadly didn't provide my parents with any luck.
I miss Olga more than I can describe. My big protective older sister. She can be as fun to be around as Nastya, a pure and loyal soul. I think she has always loved stronger than any of us, with passion. Of course she was going to go instead of Tatiana. Olga is completely devoted to her, to all of us.
Following our siblingsʼ departure, Tatiana, Anastasia, and I stayed close together, lying in bed. We wept and held each other for hours without eating for the rest of the day.
Anastasia spent the following day on the swing. Not swinging, just crying. She wanted to swing with Alyosha once he recovered. My little sister barely talks, and she doesnʼt smile anymore. I hate seeing her like that. I regret slowly becoming outraged at her admittedly inappropriate cheerful demeanor the days following our arrival at the Blue House instead of enjoying some of the last glimpses of her former self. I should have followed suit when she pathetically tried to start a war with me using the wet shirts. I should have swallowed my pain and done so for her.
Anastasia hasnʼt eaten today either, and nothing I tried to get her to do it worked. She hasn't eaten at all since our parents were shot. Tatiana and I are worried sick about this. Poor dear. We all love our brother dearly, but Nastasia is the one who most often treated him like a partner in crime rather than just the baby of the family.
Anastasia couldn't bear to return to the room she would have shared with our brother, so she is sleeping with us from now on. Not seeing Olga in our shared space also bothers her though. They both had a similar sense of humor, especially during happier times.
Nastya couldnʼt sleep last night, so I didnʼt either. I just lay with her.
"One day we will understand why God is making us go through this, you will see", I told Anastasia as we cuddled each other. Hearing my words of comfort only made her even more emotional. She started sobbing.
"I am just so… bored", she cried.
"What do you mean?" I asked her, caressing her hair. I thought her unconventional statement was yet another weak attempt at joking to cheer me up. I wish it had been.
"My family is my greatest source of joy and amusement", she replied, choking with sobs. "My family is being destroyed piece by piece." I started crying too.
"I am still here", I told her.
"I just want everything to be over."
I hugged her tightly when she said that. I could not bear to see her like that. Anastasia has always been so sure of herself and even controlling, as if she were older, but at that moment, she truly was my baby sister. She needed protection from those awful feelings.
We spent the night sobbing in each otherʼs arms, and I made myself a promise. I will make sure she goes back to her old self. I am going to act cheerful around her, distract myself in order to lead by example, and encourage whatever immature nonsense she does, if those things ever occur to her again that is…
I will make sure she never stops being Shvibzik. Tatiana confessed to me that Olga had asked her to do this before leaving, but I donʼt know if she will actually be able to fulfill that request.
Tatiana has taken it the hardest. She is so strong that she has so far managed to present herself as stoic, but I heard her crying in the shower this morning. She spent two hours in there, refusing to leave when the water stopped flowing. She barely speaks, only doing so to pray.
Tatiana was like a second mother to Alexei. Mama trusted her with him the most. Tanya knows more about being a mother than I do despite the fact that I yearn to have children more than any of my sisters. And what can I say about losing Olga? It must feel like half of her has been ripped away.
Out of the five of us, Olga and Tatiana are the closest in age. I have some idea of how Tanya must be feeling. I was also separated from my dear Shvibzik, but at least we had been promised we would meet again, so even apart from her and missing her like crazy, I had more than enough hope to carry me through the day.
We prayed last night and in the morning today for Olga and Alexeiʼs safety using the icon of the Theotokos, just like Olga asked us to. I am praying silently right now. Please God, keep them safe, let them have a peaceful journey, and donʼt let anything they may suffer tarnish their souls.
Tatiana, Anastasia, and I are knitting in the living room using materials the commander provided us with.
Initially, Tatiana didnʼt want to accept the commanderʼs gifts. She felt it was a cruel joke on his part to give us something to do in exchange for having taken our brother away, but I told Pavel to give the wool to me. We are all sad, heartbroken, and in serious need of something to occupy our minds with. At the very least we will have nice, handmade things to give each other when Christmas comes.
Galina has been so sweet. She sneaked pastries for us today after dinner, which isnʼt something we usually eat anymore, not with our soldier rations. Anastasia almost smiled. I did. We love sweet stuff.
"I am also praying for your sweet brother and your kind sister", Galina approaches us. It seems she has finished with her duties.
"Thank you darling", I answer. "I am sure they would be very grateful."
She sits next to us and starts knitting as well.
Oleg no longer talks to me. He just looks at us with pity whenever we pass him by. It was fun to talk to him. The first time we spoke properly after he approached me to give me the Bible, I was so afraid of him that I wanted to run, but that would have been rude. The fact he respected my personal space at all times set my mind at ease, and then he won me over with his witty jokes and sympathetic eyes.
In happier times, I might have even been swooning over him and telling mama all about how much it pains me to be far away from him. He is so handsome.
That thought makes me sad. I miss mama, and Olga was just as boy crazy as me before the revolution. We used to talk about our crushes all the time.
Maybe Oleg thinks I won't want to talk to him after what just happened, but that is not true. Any distraction would make me feel better. Although perhaps the problem is me. I haven't started any new conversations.
Oleg is guarding the front door right now. If I want to talk to him, this certainly seems like a good moment.
I stand up and approach him, leaving what I have been knitting behind on the couch.
"Hi", I greet him, raising my hand. He nods at me and smiles slightly. We stand next to each other awkwardly for a few seconds. Then my face becomes ugly and I start crying. This was a stupid idea.
Oleg looks at me with concern.
"I am sorry", I apologize. "I just needed some distraction, I donʼt know what else to do, my sisters are destroyed."
"There, there", he pats my back stiffly.
"My brother…" I weep.
"I understand", he sympathizes. "It must be hard, I also lost two brothers."
I already knew that. Galina told us, but it is still nice to hear him telling me something about himself.
"How do you get through it?" I ask him, and I realize, embarrassed, that I have a runny nose. I try to clean myself with my sweater.
"I donʼt", he says. "I am barely holding on myself, at least you have God to comfort you."
I feel sad and disappointed to hear him say that because it means he does not believe in God. I try not to judge him though.
"God can also comfort you", I tell him. "God loves all of His children."
"Believe me, I have tried, and then I gave the Bible to you when I gave up. I figured out you would have a better use for it."
I look at him with pity. I canʼt even begin to imagine what it would be like to lose Olga and Alexei while also thinking I am never going to see them again.
"Did you know this was my fatherʼs house?" Oleg suddenly blurts out. That actually surprises and interests me.
"Really?"
"Really", he repeats. "That is why there were no Bibles in the drawers, I had the only one. That slingshot, the one your brother used, my brother Anton and I used to play with it all the time. We would drive my grandmother insane."
"I assume she chose to stay here even after the reds took the house, didnʼt she?"
"Yes, my grandmother is very much attached to this house because she and my father became really close after my mother died."
"I am sorry about your father", I lament. He probably only has his grandmother and one brother left.
"It was a long time ago, before the war", Oleg explains. "He just became very sick."
"When did you lose your faith Oleg?" I ask him.
He raises his eyebrows as if startled by the question. Then he gives me a slightly condescending smile. I think he either feels sorry for me or doesnʼt take me very seriously, which doesnʼt anger me. I feel sorry for him as well. We donʼt take each other seriously.
"It wasnʼt one moment, it was a process," he eventually answers. "First comes the questions, then comes the experiences that pile up the questions. Sometimes it is not even your own experiences but the way things as a whole are in the world that makes you question. Things pile up slowly, and before you know it, one day you are praying and realize you don't believe it is going to help anymore."
We stay silent for a while. I really donʼt want to keep talking about this. It will only make me feel worse than I already do.
Our faith in Christ is the only thing we have left, and the horrible ways of the world donʼt change anything. We canʼt claim to understand Godʼs plan or the reason He allows horrible things to happen. "His will must be done", papa used to say, and he never complained to God about our situation. "If Christ suffered for us, then we should too", mama would say.
But perhaps talking about God with someone who doesnʼt believe in Him has made me feel slightly better, not worse. Things arenʼt as dark as they seem. I could have no faith, but I do. We will reunite with Olga and Alexei one way or another. I just pray Oleg comes to find the same solace.
"What are your brothersʼ names?" I inquire, trying to change the subject.
"Well, first comes Andrei, he is the one who is still alive, but we don't get along too well." I smile when I hear him say that in an apologetic tone. "He is already married and has two children, my nephews", he continues.
"Oh!" I beam. "How old are they? Do you have any pictures?"
"Yes, sure", he says, pulling out a couple of photographs from his pocket before offering them to me.
The first portrait shows a baby girl and a little boy. Oleg tells me that they are three and six years old respectively. The second image is the wedding picture of Olegʼs brother and his bride. She is really beautiful.
"But these are old", Oleg explains. "They must be a lot bigger now, especially the girl. Her name is Irina."
"Oh, my cousin Irina also has a baby girl named Irina!" I exclaim, and we both laugh.
"I guess your cousin Irina isn't very creative with names", he teases me.
"No, I guess not", I smile.
"My next brother is Yuri, he died in the war less than a year ago", he continues, and my expression becomes serious. "Then there was Anton and me, but Anton was killed as well."
That can only mean one thing. Her mother died giving birth to either him or his brother, but I donʼt feel confident enough to ask him about it yet.
"Were any of your other brothers married?" I inquire.
"Yuri had a fiancée", he answers. "I think he really loved her, because he didnʼt want to settle down before falling in love with her. When Yuri died, she joined a convent."