July 26th, 1918.
Olga Nikolaevna Romanova.
Sergei wakes us up just before midnight as he said he would.
"I am sorry to wake you up, Your Imperial Highnesses, but it is time to get off", he informs us. "We will stay at a hotel just a couple of blocks away from here for the night. You can continue sleeping there." He then turns to my brother. "I hope Your Imperial Highness is feeling much better."
"Yes, thank you Sergei", Alexei sits up. I really hope he meant that 'yes', my precious, golden-hearted baby brother.
I didnʼt leave his side after singing to him. Instead, I managed to make myself comfortable lying by his side.
I stroked Alexei's hair until he fell asleep. Delighted by this, he would time and time again shower me with affection in return. I think he feels sorry for me, which doesnʼt really offend me, as I also feel sorry for him.
I had dared hope some miracle would exempt him from another hemophilia attack, but how? That evil man kicked him most brutally.
I kiss Alexeiʼs cheeks over and over again until he becomes visibly annoyed. Then I stand up.
I genuinely thought I was losing him. I was preparing myself for his death. I think this has been his nastiest attack ever, and sadly, I know from experience that the worst is yet to come. The swelling is still there, on his legs and knees, probably growing, and his cold is not getting better.
But God did not allow him to die, He never does, and that is enough for now. I am so grateful for your mercy, God.
Seeing myself through my brother's innocent eyes renewed my love of life, at least for a moment, but the poor dear thinks I have not pondered over all of the compliments he gave me. I have. I just feel wary of taking them too seriously. He loves me way too much and knows little about life. Love can cloud a person's judgment.
Poor Sergei. As he leaves, I remember the kind and fatherly way in which he reacted to my brotherʼs ailment, the nature of which few people outside our family circle know about. Yesterday, Sergei became one of those few. Alexei looks scared of him for some reason though.
"He was very distressed to see you like that last night", I whisper to him, referring to Sergei. "He told me he understands now more than ever that you are still a child who needs protection, and he apologized to me for pressuring you yesterday."
Alexei nods, appearing a bit calmer.
I had never dealt with any of my brotherʼs attacks on my own. Yesterday, all I wished was for Tatiana to be there to comfort me as if she were my older sister. We would have handled the difficult situation better together. I was a sobbing mess half of the time, embarrassing myself shamefully. Tanya would have comforted me, taken the lead, and helped Anastasia and Valeriy better than I could have.
I barely did anything to help Alyosha. I just explained to the Kirilovs everything I knew about his illness and stayed by his side, praying for him, holding his hand, and kissing his dear face for what could have been the last time. I spent every instant possible doing so. I thought he was dying and was not going to waste my last moments with him.
Anastasia and Valeriy did the actual work. They came up with ideas on how to treat him. Tatiana would not have been as passive.
Thinking of Tanya makes me miss her so much. I have so much to tell her. She must have so much to tell me. I am so tired of my life being a Greek tragedy. I long to laugh and talk about trivial everyday stuff with my favorite sister. I want to sunbathe with her.
I don't care whether we are going to spend most of our time together discussing important topics or pure silliness, all I want is to feel as if we could read each other's thoughts.
I pray we will soon be together again in Crimea. The thought of how long that moment will take to arrive is almost painful.
Oo
Anastasia and I follow Valeriy and Sergei as they walk carrying my brother on the stretcher. We step out of the train to find several soldiers making their way through the station, which frightens me.
"Donʼt worry, those are just regular soldiers coming from the front", Valeriy explains to me. "They are not looking for us."
He was right. We walk out of the train station and onto the street without trouble.
I look back at the building we left, a beautiful white edifice similar to Livadia. I daydream about seeing my godmother again. Olga must be worried sick after weeks without news from us. I also hope my grandmother is in good health.
A few red guards start walking parallel to us. I find their lack of consistent uniforms amusing. Only their red arm brassards and the rifles hanging over their shoulders make them stand out as soldiers. What has Russia come to? I feel relatively confident until an individual from a group of three red guards points his finger straight at my brother. He looks young, around my age.
"Stop", he blocks our way, raising his arm and showing us the palm of his hand. His hair is brown, and his eyes are green. "We need you to come with us", he tells us.
Now I am genuinely afraid. The two other red guards approach us.
"Wait!" Sergei yells, giving Anastasia his side of the stretcher to carry. "What is this about? We have done nothing wrong."
"I am just following orders", the red guard says. "Come with us please."
"We are loyal comrades on a quest to stir up the spirits of the proletariat against their oppressors, do you see this young red guard?" Sergei looks at Alexei and then back at the man. "He was wounded in battle fighting against counterrevolutionaries while being little more than a child, and yet here you are, old enough to be at the front and instead interfering with our genuine attempts to lift up the workers' morale without even explaining why."
The former Okhrana agent speaks with a melodramatic tone of voice so ridiculous it would have made me laugh out loud in different circumstances. He sounds as if he were giving a speech. I can't believe these are the same theatrics that saved our lives hours ago.
I remember I am supposed to be acting, so I glare at the red guards, trying to appear as collected as Anastasia and Valeriy. Alexei has a stupid grin on his face. He clearly finds this fun and exciting.
An old and ugly fat guard with dark eyes, hair, and beard whispers something in the ear of the man next to him, a redhead. They are both observing me and my brother with great interest. I get the urge to cross myself, but that would only give us away.
"You have nothing to fear if you have nothing to hide", the guard who stopped us says. "I do admire this young man if you are indeed speaking the truth, it will only be a few minutes." His green eyes travel between me and my brother, making my heart skip a beat.
I struggle to keep my composure. What if Sergei, Valeriy, or Anastasia have compromising letters? What if they recognize my brother? It would not be that hard. Our pictures have always circulated abundantly throughout the Empire. Sergeiʼs act worked very well last time, but those red guards appeared to be from lower ranks. This man seems much more confident in his authority.
Perhaps Alexei has grown tall enough for them to overlook him. None of his official pictures show how tall he is now, although he definitely hasn't grown tall enough to be confused for anything other than a child, which is what they are looking for. I start having trouble breathing again, as I did when I stabbed the bandit. I hate it when this happens.
Wanting to make sure my brother is fine, I move closer to him and grab his hand. He squeezes mine and smiles at me reassuringly as I try to steady my breathing. I instantly regret my actions though. There is no way they are going to believe I am really trying to join the reds now. My brother grows worried when he detects my fear. I have made things worse.
"I have nothing to hide", Sergei replies. "I was political prisoner in Siberia back when you were still in diapers, what have you done for the revolution?"
"Nothing as great", the young guard sounds annoyed now. "But the way you brag about your contributions makes me doubt your intentions, a true revolutionary is humble."
"I am from the All Russian Extraordinary Commission, comrade", Sergei states in a firm and serious tone, showing the man the same badge he showed the previous red guards. It must definitely be a fake badge or one he acquired working for the British intelligence. "If there is anyone whose intentions must be questioned, that is you", he continues, making the green-eyed man look scared for the first time. "I wasn't aware getting off a train was a good reason to arrest someone. I have never considered it so."
I relax and start thinking of a way to help Sergei by playing my part. I am a young woman in my twenties. I already passionately believed in the revolutionary cause before the foreign counterrevolutionaries attacked me, which only strengthened my stance. I am going to become a soldier to take revenge, something rare in a woman, which means I think little of men who do not fight when it is them who should be crowding the trains for the front. How would I react to this situation?
I think of Felix Yusupov, one of Grigori Rasputinʼs murderers and Cousin Irinaʼs husband. He belonged to the wealthiest family of the nation. The Yusupovs were even richer than my father, the actual Emperor. Felix was a healthy man, but he never fought. He sat idle during most of the war. I still think little of him.
"I am sorry", the guard before us speaks with caution, still observing us with suspicion. "But I have been ordered to investigate every young lad lying on a stretcher I see traveling with a woman… with a face like that." The man gestures towards me and my brother, but his eyes remain on Sergei. "My apologies, but I can't see why she would be traveling in this pitiful state, and the fact she is doing so with that boy is too much of a coincidence."
"Not everyone has been lucky enough to experience a pain-free life, comrade," I snap at the guard in a harsh tone. "Perhaps the relative simplicity of your position has made you forget what the revolution really is. It is paid in blood, not hours."
"I will just search you quickly", he approaches us.
"We insist that we have nothing to hide, comrade!" Sergei exclaims. "We are going to be late for our meeting, and this young woman over here was attacked by counterrevolutionaries and foreign invaders, the people you should be searching for. She is joining the Red Army, and if I may say so, she will be fighting at the front, not doing menial tasks. She is not the woman you are looking for, and neither is this brave lad, but I wish you luck finding them."
I look at the guard with pride in my eyes. My brother does the same.
"Ugh, I canʼt wait to get out of here", I say after a few seconds when I see that he doesnʼt plan to back down.
"I know you are probably not the people I am searching for", the man continues, "but I really need to take all of the possibilities into consideration."
"We have already explained to you who we are and why we are here. We have shown you proof we are not the people you are searching for", Sergei gives him a deadly stare. "If you continue bothering us and wasting our time, I will be forced to open an investigation regarding your real motives."
"You are completely mistaken!" The red guard exclaims, sounding more fearful than offended. "I am indeed doing my job! I have orders!"
"Really?!" Sergeiʼs tone is accusatory. He raises his eyebrows in disbelief. "Oh, I am sorry then, you must obviously be telling the truth, you are definitely not a saboteur. You just curiously use the same tactics I have seen them use before."
"I am not!" The man yells defensively.
"I am going to need evidence for that", Sergei takes out a notebook and a pencil from his suitcase. "Who do you receive orders from?"
I cannot believe my eyes and ears. Sergei is the one questioning the red guard now.
I look over to Alexei. Despite his coughing fit, my brother is trying not to smile, so I give him a stern look.
"Comrade Igor Pyotrovich Turov", the red guard nervously answers, leaning over to see what our friend is writing, and when he sees that Sergei is still staring at him with suspicion, he continues revealing valuable information: "And he received orders to take charge of the entire investigation straight from Sverdlov, who acted with the permission of Lenin."
Sergei writes everything down. "Have you ever met Sverdlov in person?" He asks.
"No, no, but I am sure of it."
"How can you be sure of it if you have never seen him? This does not add up, Sverdlov is too busy to be ordering such a petty investigation, do you even have their signatures? What is the investigation even about? Answer!"
The way Sergei barks the questions and orders frightens the red guard.
"I am not supposed to reveal this information to anyone!" He cries, sweat running down his forehead. "Not even the Cheka! Please come with us! It is an order!"
But Sergei keeps on arguing confidently. "The Cheka has the same authority", he says, "you can't order me to do anything."
I lay down my guard just as the redhead and the ugly man begin moving closer to me. They stare at my face, so I pretend that this offends me and turn my head around, praying that they did not recognize me.
"I am not sure about her, but I am sure it is him", I hear the black-haired man whisper to the redhead. My heart starts beating fast. Please God, don't let these two men convince the other one that we are indeed the people they are searching for.
I see the black-haired man move out of the corner of my eye. He grabs my brother by the arms and removes him from the stretcher so quickly that it takes a few seconds for either Anastasia or Valeriy to react. My baby brother starts screaming. The fear rushes throughout my entire body just a little too late, and all I manage to do is take hold of his hand a mere instant before he is out of my grasp. Anastasia tries to grab him back, but the black-haired man doesn't let go. He grabs his rifle with one hand and hits her on the shoulder and outer thigh so hard that she collapses on the floor.
I feel the redhead grab me by the waist in order to force me to let go of my brotherʼs hand, but I grasp Alyosha even tighter. With all of my strength. With all of my soul. I yell for help, trying to use my free arm to hit the man with my elbow. I fail. Valeriy tries to help me, but he is met with a punch to the face, and Sergeiʼs attempts to aid us are foiled by the green-eyed guard who first stopped us. The two of them are soon caught up in a brawl.
The redheadʼs strength becomes too much, and with one great pull, I am forced to let go of Alyoshaʼs hand.
I start crying out in terror. This can't be happening. I blink repeatedly, struggling to wake up, but this is real. This isn't a nightmare. The dark-haired man carrying my brother is grabbing him by the waist with only one arm, leaving Alexeiʼs limbs free to struggle fiercely but uselessly.
My mind fills with anguish. Alyosha and I scream frantically, desperately reaching out for each other, but the distance between us only widens when the man takes off running.
The redhead must have hit Valeriy hard. Doctor Kirilov is lying on the ground, holding his bleeding nose, but he stands up and approaches Anastasia to see if she is alright.
I burst into a rage. I move and struggle frantically against the man grabbing me. I hit him over and over again. He reacts by pushing me to the ground and kicking me in the stomach more than once, leaving me without air. Disturbing memories invade my mind, and the sound of Alexei screaming my name in terror makes everything all the more reminiscent of my shame. I become a sobbing mess.
The man picks me up again and pulls out a revolver from his waistband.
"No!" I hear Alyosha cry. "Leave her!" I want to yell at him to use his own revolver, but I genuinely can't speak. I barely have enough air to sob.
I remember the knife under my shirt and try to grab it, but the horrifying sound of a gunshot stops me. It startles me. It makes my heart skip a beat. I hate that sound. I hate it. I don't want to listen to it ever again.
I canʼt see my brother any longer. He is undoubtedly further away than ever, and yet his screams sound louder. He must think I am the one who was shot, but the red-haired man has plunged to the floor, and he is the one whose stomach is bleeding.
The shooter is Sergei, who moves on to chase after the man who took my brother. I am hopeful for a second, but then the green-eyed guard pulls out his revolver and shoots Sergei before he can take more than a few steps forward.
Blood pours out of our loyal savior's chest, but I refuse to believe my eyes. Not him, God, why? I scream even louder. Why is this happening?!
As soon as Sergeiʼs body collapses, Anastasia clasps my arm tightly and tries to yank me away from the shooting, but I resist her pull.
I can still see Valeriy, who stays still, paralyzed by fear as the guard who stopped us goes over to check on the injured redhead. Looking awfully scared, the doctor breathes in and out deeply several times before picking up Sergeiʼs gun and running in the direction of the man who took my brother.
I move to follow him, but Kirilovaʼs unyielding grasp stops me. I hate Anastasia Kirilova so much right now that I scare myself.
"We meet at the hotel, my love!" Valeriy yells to his wife. He then starts running even faster, probably fearing the green-eyed man will go after him. Hearing the physician yell, the guards raises his head.
"Come on! My husband will save him!" Anastasia endeavors to pull me back to the train station.
"No!" I scream, struggling against her. My baby brother is being taken away from me and this woman does not seem to care! I hate her! I hate her so much!
I see the young guard turn his attention to us. This forces me to listen to Anastasia.
We run inside the train station aimlessly for minutes until we are sure no one is following us. It is only when we slow down and hide amidst the crowd that I notice the people around us have been running and shouting, fearful of the gunshots.
This didn't happen. This didn't just happen. A lump forms in my throat, and the entire world goes black before I hit the ground.
Oo
I wake up lying on the floor, surrounded by curious onlookers. Anastasia is right next to me, supporting my head with her hand. I refuse to accept this just happened.
"Breathe in, breathe out", she coaxes me. This barely helps me breathe. I do not need her comfort. I am annoyed by it. I need my brother back. It is too horrible to describe. I can't protect him now. Anything bad could happen to him.
"She is alright", Anastasia assures the people still standing around me, and most of them walk away. She then helps me stand up.
Everything I have suffered for this not to happen was for nothing. He may die alone after all. With no one to comfort him.
I scream loudly, tears rolling down my cheeks.
My mind has finally accepted it. My brother has been taken, and now I have to start thinking of ways to get him back instead of daydreaming about how great it will be when the five of us are finally together in Crimea again.
I scream again, even louder, bending over my stomach.
"Shh! Shh!" Anastasia puts her index finger on her lips whilst keeping her other hand on my back. She wants me to be quiet. This makes me more furious than ever.
I stop screaming abruptly, but then I use my palms to hit her twice on the shoulders, hard, something I instantly regret when I see her rubbing them. I have hurt her.
I stay still for a second, shocked by my own actions. I turn around, put a hand on my forehead, and continue weeping.
"I am just as horrified as you are, I can't believe this just happened", Anastasia says.
"No, you are not!" I yell, facing her again. "I doubt you are even capable of feeling compassion for children", I point a finger at her.
She seems hurt by my statement, but I do not care.
"You are being unfair, your pain is blinding you", she mutters. "Don't forget my husband is also in danger."
"Which wouldn't be the case if you hadn't let that man take Alexei!" I cry.
I am still angry with her. I am angry with Valeriy, with Sergei, with myself for not doing enough to protect him. I am even angry with my brother for yet again refusing to use his damn revolver. Stupid boy.
God is the only one who escapes my rage because I know I am not supposed be mad at Him, which in turn makes me angrier at everything and anything, at things that have nothing to do with what just happened. The people passing by, the trains, the clock hanging over us…
Some of the people walking or standing nearby are observing us, curious about my screaming and subsequent argument with Anastasia. I feel ashamed of my outburst, ashamed of my rage, of talking nonsense. I am especially ashamed of being angry with Sergei when he died to save me.
God, please forgive me, help me be better. I cross myself. Mama always cautioned me against my outbursts of anger. She used to say they were unladylike. I largely stopped answering back to her after I turned 21.
I thought I had left most of my bad temper behind. I cross myself again. Then I let out a loud sob. Kirilova hugs me, and I hug her back, but this doesn't help at all. My anger has merely been transformed into soul-crushing fear.
"I am sorry", I apologize. "I didn't mean any of that."
"It is alright", she answers, but I can tell she is restraining herself from arguing. I completely understand why. I may not like what she does, but what I said has no basis on truth. I witnessed the way she helped me take care of Alexei tirelessly. I know she held his hand as dutifully as any Sister of Mercy would have whenever I was too tired to stay awake.
"What are we going to do now?" I ask her in a small, raspy voice, wiping my tears.
"I think we lost the guard who stopped us, if he even followed us at all", she replies. "First we need to see if we can take hold of Sergei's suitcase before one of the red guards patrolling the station does. There is important information inside. After that, if it makes you feel better, we can go looking for your brother and my husband instead of waiting for them at the hotel."
"How?"
"I remember the direction the man took. Perhaps my husband stopped him, don't lose hope."
I nod, refusing to acknowledge there is even a possibility Valeriy may fail to save my brother. My eyes slowly dry as I choose to have hope. I start praying for Valeriy to succeed and for God to forgive me for my shameful behavior.
Oo
Sergeiʼs body is surrounded by dozens of nosy people, but Anastasia and I have arrived on time. She takes his suitcase, which I can hardly believe no one stole while we were away.
"Shouldn't we take his body to his family?" I ask Anastasia. My mind is filled with anguish for this poor man. I hate seeing his body. It just makes everything all the more real.
"We can't Olga, I am sorry", she answers in a murmur. "How would we travel with it? We do not even have enough money for the casket, or to pay someone to embalm him, not when we have to travel and pay for hotels. We have his pictures and letters here. That is all we can give to his family."
"But what is going to happen to his body then?"
"I am afraid he will end up in a common grave."
Oo
I follow Kirilova as she walks ahead of me carrying the suitcase. If I am not anguishing over my brother, I am thinking of Sergei. He deserved better than this, a proper burial.
I remember my parents. They didn't have a proper burial either. That man who taunted Maria said they were going to throw acid at their corpses. I am disgusted. A sudden rush of grief for my parents washes over me at the thought of not having even been able to say goodbye to their bodies. I was taken out of the murder room too fast.
We walk and walk in the direction the man who took my brother went and Valeriy apparently followed. We find nothing.
Oo
"Yes, I did see a man carrying a boy, he was walking backwards", one man finally testifies after we have asked tens of people if they were witnesses of my brotherʼs kidnapping. "I saw him from the balcony of my house, he shot a woman passing by."
I am shocked by those news. That brute. I hope my brother is alright.
"Do you have any idea where they went?" Anastasia asks.
"They went straight two blocks, and then they turned left", the man answers.
"Thank you."
We find neither Alexei nor the man who took him when we arrive at the location the man indicated, but we do find Alexei's empty revolver on the way. This makes me assume the worst.
We walk a block further.
"Valeriy!" Anastasia suddenly shrieks as she bolts towards her husband, who lies on the side of the street moaning. She locates the source of the bleeding and applies pressure on the wound with her hands.
As I rush to help Anastasia, I notice a body lying close to Valeriy belonging to the green-eyed guard who stopped us at the train station. I suspect that Valeriy killed him, but he must have failed to kill the man who took Alexei. My heart starts beating really fast. My anxiety increases. I am even sweating. A stroke. I may be having a stroke, is that possible?!
I restrain myself from asking Valeriy what happened or where in Godʼs name my brother is. Poor Valeriy can't even talk right now. This situation is too terrible to bear. It is clear that he did not succeed, but I refuse to believe it.
I breathe in and out deeply several times and focus instead on helping Anastasia apply pressure on the wound as she takes out a couple of bandages from her bag.
I keep my mind on the task at hand, trying to get over my inherent dislike of blood, trying not to think of my parentsʼ blood staining my clothes that night, of blood flying out of papa, of blood running down my thighs, pouring out of my brother's ear… trying not to die of worry.
The wound is on the lower side of Valeriyʼs torso. He may live.
"I am here", Anastasia whispers to her husband, putting a hand on his cheek. "I am here." She is already crying, and for some ridiculous reason, that surprises me.
A white-bearded doctor and a blonde woman in her thirties arrive at the scene bringing a suitcase and a stretcher.
"There he is", says the woman. "I told you, Dr. Mikhailov, the whole neighborhood heard the shooting."
Oo
Anastasia, the woman, the doctor, and I make sure the bleeding is under control before taking Valeriy to the local infirmary on the stretcher.
The nurses of the clinic do not allow Anastasia to help with the surgery.
"She would be too scared for her husband to be of any use", one of them says.
Kirilova and I wait outside the operating room, sitting in a small living room next to the patient beds. Most of the ailing and injured here are soldiers, but there are also patients quarantined due to various illnesseses in different rooms.
Anastasia has already taken her veil off for comfort. The doctor and nurses fight to save Valeriyʼs life as she sobs, rubbing her arms up and down. This stains her white nursing uniform with blood, the sight of which is even more unbearable now than it was when I worked as a nurse.
I care so little about the fact Valeriyʼs life is in danger that I hate myself. I feel ungrateful and guilty, but I am just worried sick about my brother. I do not tell this to Anastasia though. It would be insensitive, and I am not yet a monster. She is absolutely devastated already, and there is nothing she can do for my brother right now.
The only thing I can do is pray for both Valeriy and Alexei.
Oo
I wonder what will happen to my brother now. Will they execute him immediately for escaping? Will he stay a prisoner for years under solitary confinement like Ivan VI until he loses his mind?
My mind diverts to Ivan VI, who was just a baby when he was made Emperor. Empress Elizabeth took the throne soon after that though, and Ivan was separated from his family, imprisoned for what remained of his life. My ancestress Catherine the Great then ordered him to be murdered if anyone ever attempted to release him. He was killed when he was 23.
I think of an even earlier tragic figure. Tsarevich Ivan Dmitriyevich, the son of one of the fake Dimitris during the Time of Troubles, was hanged like a thief when he was only three years old for no crime other than being related to an impostor. The first Romanov Tsar, Michael I, was sovereign at the time.
The Romanov dynasty began with the murder of an innocent child. I can't bear to think of what that means for my brother. Legend even says that the mother of this martyred toddler cursed the dynasty before dying.
Perhaps this is divine retribution for the way our ancestors treated those innocent boys. If I ever shared these thoughts with Tatiana, she would say that our suffering might indeed be the product of a curse. She has always been very superstitious. Or perhaps God has sent me all of these trials to help me acknowledge ugly things about my family I never truly contemplated before. I simply thought that people were much better than they had been in the past.
I used to admire Catherine the Great. I thought her lovers were the most sinful and scandalous aspect of her life, and the fate of Ivan VI was just some tragic afterthought for me. He was not my brother. Now my family is the afterthought of the new regime. We are just a means to an end, a potential threat to their power just like those children were.
I still can't accept this though. My brother does not deserve this. My siblings do not deserve this, or even my parents. We are not our ancestors.
I am his older sister, so I may be biased, but never have I ever met a more conscientious child than Alexei. Never have I encountered a child as concerned about other people's troubles. I remember with nostalgia the time he defended a cook who had been refused a position. This happened before the revolution. My brother argued with our parents all day long until the cook was indeed taken back. Papa told me all about the amusing incident later with a huge grin on his face, clearly proud of his sonʼs early signs of a strong will. Alyosha stood up for all of his own. I am filled with grief when I think of my father and how much I miss our talks.
God, I am going to miss them both so much!
Oo
The shock dissipates. Anastasiaʼs tears eventually move me. Since I met her, our relationship has been awkward and formal, like that of a nurse and a one-time patient.
I have never seen her looking so fragile. She must love Valeriy the way mama loved papa. For the first time, the fact Valeriy tried to save my brother sinks in. What a good man. I truly hope he survives.
The worst part is that all of this could have been avoided. I am so fretful and disillusioned I might burst. I do not follow the same advice I gave Alyosha. I simply can't stop thinking about what ifs.
"My stupid brother didn't do the simplest thing again!" I suddenly grumble.
"What?" Anastasia wipes away her tears, clearly startled by the way I spoke about my brother.
"I am so sorry about all of this. It was my fault", I lament. "If my brother had used the revolver in order to scare the men away, your husband would not have been shot. I was the one who put the gun inside Alexei's pocket. It is simply what I was used to, but I have pockets in this new sweater you gave me. I should have kept the gun."
"No, no, don't say that", Kirilova touches my shoulder lightly. "They took us completely by surprise. Our act worked so well last time that we were not prepared for it not to. Those other two guards just went ahead and grabbed you and your brother, they didn't listen to anything we had to say. I doubt a gun would have helped much, they were also armed."
"This was indeed all my fault for being careless", I insist. "I really thought the worst part was over and lowered my guard. I had my head in the clouds and did not even think or consider anything and now Sergei is dead and both my brother and your husband could die at any minute, this is all my fault."
By the time I finish talking, I am crying again. I lay my elbow on the arm of the sofa and rest my head on the palm of my hand, covering my face.
"If it is anyoneʼs fault it is everyone's", Kirilova says. "We should all have been more careful."
We remain in awkward silence for a while. I cry for my brother. Anastasia cries for her husband.
I can't stop moving my legs. I start biting my nails. I weep silently whenever I am not choking with sobs, and I have trouble breathing all the time, even when it looks like I don't. Anastasia becomes aware of this, and she breathes in and out deeply before speaking again.
"I understand how terrible the uncertainty is", Kirilova tells me with tears in her eyes. "I would be lying if I told you we have a plan for this, we don't, but we have Sergeiʼs notebook, where he wrote about the man searching for your brother, and the British intelligence must have connections here in Moscow as well. I promise we won't stop searching for him."
"Yes please!" I sob. "You can't give up on my brother!"
I know how unlikely it is that they will find him, but my mind is comforted by the fact something will be done. This is not the end. I haven't abandoned him, I haven't let Tatiana down. My breathing improves, but my legs refuse to cease moving.
Oo
July 27th, 1918.
"Your husband was very brave to follow that man", I point out gratefully after a few minutes, hoping to cheer Kirilova up. "And I am sorry I didn't say this before, but I am very grateful for everything you two have done, Sergei as well. I have prayed a lot for your husband to get better."
"I appreciate that", Anastasia gives me a tearful smile. "I hope God listens, and believe me, I am just as surprised by what Valeriy did as you are. If you knew him better, you would see why. He once told me he had decided to study medicine so that if a war ever broke out, he wouldn't have to fight", Anastasia makes a short chuckling sound and then cleans her face with a handkerchief. "He never served at the front as a medic either. He and I worked at a military hospital far away from all of the fighting, which is where we met."
"Really?" I ask. "Did you work together?" I put my hand under my chin and look at her with noticeable interest, hoping she will continue the story. Anastasia smiles and nods.
"At first, the only thing he did was boss me around more than necessary, asking me to help him with surgeries more often than he asked the other nurses", she begins. "One day, I started answering 'no' to everything he asked me to do because he was beginning to drive me crazy. I always ended up helping him anyway, of course. I sometimes performed my assignments while saying no. It later became an inside joke for us, and it just… started to grow from there."
She smiles, looking down at her hands shyly while telling the story. I can't help but think of how ridiculous it is that we are talking about this considering how sick with worry I am. My legs haven't stopped moving, and my head is starting to hurt as well. I am still glad to hear about it though.
That is how I would have met my husband if I were a normal girl and not a Grand Duchess, while working as a nurse at a hospital. I feel a twinge of jealousy. None of those horrible things would have happened to me if I were a commoner. My brother and sisters would be safe in my arms, and my parents too. Those thoughts make me sad, just more what ifs. I hope God helps me accept His will.
"It is strange that your husband ended up working for the British intelligence in times like these then", I joke, wiping away my tears.
"I suggested it", Anastasia reveals with a smile, looking as if she were recalling good memories. "I have always been way more adventurous, but he was most disturbed by what happened last October. He hopes our allies will do something to help us once the Great War is over. That is what made him accept."
"I really hope the allies do help our motherland", I say, feeling more confident to talk to her after all she has revealed about herself. "You have no idea of how lucky you are."
Anastasia cocks her head in confusion.
"I don't mean now, forgive me", I chuckle, and she nods in understanding. "I mean that you are lucky nothing could stop you from marrying him. He is a good man."
"Talking from experience?" She asks, and I nod.
"It was a soldier I nursed… Mitya." 'My darling Mitya', that is how I call him to myself. I last saw him about two years ago, before the revolution, and I have not gotten news from him in months.
"You were in love with him?" Anastasiaʼs eyes spark.
"I think so", I answer shyly. It just occurred to me how little I actually know about love compared to women like Anastasia, or my own cousin Irina. And they are both just slightly older than me! It feels strange to me now, with everything that has happened, to know about the things they do… with their husbands, I suppose. I start telling Anastasia my story:
"I can't know for sure if my girlish crush on him could be considered love, but we loved talking, especially on the balcony while I knitted. I was always so glad to see him, the hours felt like seconds, and when he was away, I often sent him letters. On one occasion, when I received a letter from him, I threw all of my things and jumped around. I asked a friend if it was possible to have a stroke at twenty. I genuinely thought I was having one."
Just like I felt an hour ago, but for an extremely painful reason.
"That sounds like love indeed", Anastasia says. "Did he ever tell you he felt the same way?"
"Not really, but he showed me in other ways, by how he looked at me…" I blush. I can't believe I am talking about this right now. "I don't think I am supposed to tell you this. Not even my mother knew. She definitely would have stopped liking him as much if she had. Mitya offered to kill Rasputin for me if he ever offended me."
"Definitely nothing like my Lyalya then", Anastasia chuckles.
"No, I don't think so", I smile. "Mitya was wounded more than once during the war. The first time he was discharged from the hospital, he said that he would return either with a St. George cross or on a stretcher. He eventually returned with both, even more seriously wounded. But he was delightfully nice and cheerful most of the time, like your Valeriy. He also got along with my family. He was often invited to the Alexander Palace for tea. I remember he gave Masha a birthday card once, and he frequently talked with my brother on the telephone. Alexei liked to hear Mitya's war stories."
As soon as I mention my brother, my lip starts trembling, my voice breaks, and the tears come back to my eyes. I choke down a sob, and Anastasia gives me a sad smile.
"Poor thing", she sympathizes. "I don't have any younger siblings, but I understand it must be painful, he was such a sweetheart."
I don't like the way she spoke of him in past tense.
Oo
Suddenly, one of the nurses exits the room where Valeriy was being operated on.
"He will recover", she announces. Anastasia cries from relief.
Thank you, God, please do not forsake my brother now.
"He is resting now", the nurse continues. She then turns to Anastasia. "You can see him, but try not to disturb him."
Oo
We decide to spend the rest of the night at the infirmary. The woman who found Valeriy invited us to her house, but Anastasia did not want to leave her husband, and I would not have been able to sleep either way.
Anastasia sleeps on the living roomʼs sofa, but I stay up the rest of the night praying in silence for Alexei with tears in my eyes. Please God, be with him.
Oo
Early in the morning, Anastasia and I have breakfast at a local cafeteria.
Upon returning to the clinic, Anastasia sits on Valeriyʼs bed and holds his hand. I sit on a chair close to them and try not to despair. Wait for him to get better, I tell myself, just wait, don't be impatient.
A nurse brings Valeriy breakfast when he wakes up, but Kirilova is the one who helps him eat. I feel like I am interrupting an intimate moment watching her feed her husband. They stop every now and then to say things in each other's ears and even kiss once. I turn my head around when that happens.
My own emotions surprise me. I still want that.
I wish I could experience what they have, but without everything it entails. I told my brother no one would ever want to marry me, but the truth is that I know there are some genuinely good men willing to overlook what happened to me. Uncle Michael married a twice-divorced woman after all, much to papa's displeasure.
The full reason I probably won't marry is not something I wanted to share with my brother. The thought of doing what wives are supposed to do makes me feel sick now. I didn't give it a second thought before. It was just another fact of life I had no reason to worry about.
Now I have trouble believing many women subject themselves to that on their own free will. I have trouble believing mama clearly did at least five times.
"I am so sorry Olga", Valeriy apologizes as soon as he is done eating. His gaze is downcast, as if he were afraid of talking to me. "I tried, but I should have tried harder."
"Don't say that", I tell him. "You did everything you could, I am grateful."
"You should be proud of your brother, he fought like a wolf", Valeriy gives me a sad smile.
"I can imagine", tears flood my eyes. "Pity he forgot to use the revolver though, that would have made a difference, but I guess he was too scared to think straight. We all were."
"Oh, but he tried", Valeriy recalls, and I open my eyes widely. "He did pull out the revolver from his pocket, but the man quickly snatched it away from him."
This revelation makes me emotional. We never stood a chance. Never.
I start weeping. I am not even angry anymore. I am just completely heartbroken.
"He also bit the man in the arm", Valeriy adds. "He saved my life doing so."
And he will never know how proud of him I am for that. I make a weird sound, half sob, half chuckle.
"I don't want, to go, to the Crimea, anymore", I cry out between sobs. Valeriy stares at me with concern. "I want to stay, here, and look for him, and if I don't find him, I would rather go, back to Perm, to help the British, with the rescue, of my sisters, I can't lose them too."
I am panting by the time I finish speaking.
"Darling, that is not necessary", Anastasia objects. "Once we are sure you are safe with your relatives, we will go back to Perm, meet Charles, and give him all of the information we have on where we lost your brother. He can use his contacts to find him and rescue him."
That sounds so stupid and complicated. Moscow is one of the biggest cities of the country, and they could be keeping him anywhere. It will probably take weeks. My brother may be dead by the time they find him, or have been mistreated.
Anastasia knows they won't rescue him. She even spoke of him in past tense. She simply does not want to admit this to me directly.
I think I have accepted his death. I have accepted that my agonizing suffering was for nothing, that I have failed to protect him. I have accepted Godʼs will. There is a point where one's suffering can't become worse than it already is. There has to be a limit. I think I have reached it.
All I can do now is pray for God to comfort my brother on whatever path He has planned for him. All I can do is refuse to give up on him by running away to Crimea. All I can do is pray for God to comfort me, for I do not think I will ever recover from this.
"We should try, but I don't think it will work", Valeriy foretells in a low tone of voice, as if reading my thoughts. "I don't think it is the Bolsheviks who have Alexei. This will make the investigation harder."
"What do you mean?" Anastasia asks. "The men who took him were red guards, and you killed one of them, right?"
"I didn't", he discloses. "The dead man you found did shoot me, but he was murdered by the man who grabbed Alexei, the fat man. He drove away on a truck with the boy."
I almost faint. I do not know what this means for my brother.
"So, what did that guy want?" I ask. "Why did he do that?!"
"I am not sure", Valeriy answers. "He probably belongs to a different party, unloyal to the new government. I am sorry I can't tell you more, I don't know who they are."
"Could they be monarchists?"
Valeriy sighs, as if not wanting to destroy whatever is left of my hope.
"The man who took your brother tried to shoot me", he explains, "and I doubt he thought he was saving the heir from me. I can assure you Alexei made it clear enough that he considered me a friend, wouldn't he have negotiated with us if he were indeed a monarchist?"
I nod. No more hope then.
"I stand by what I said earlier", I wipe my tears. "I want to stay and look for my brother."
The Kirilovs give me a sad look. Valeriy looks at Anastasia and then back at me.
"It will be hard to do without help", he admits. "And we are not involved with the higher ranks of the British intelligence, so we can't find their help here. Our only contact was Charles."
"Can't we send a telegram to their Perm headquarters?" I ask. "Or a letter?"
"With the location where we lost him and the name of the man tasked with finding Alexei? I fear it could be intercepted, which would mean serious trouble", Valeriy answers. "I am afraid you two will have to go back to Perm to contact Charles and explain the situation. That way, he may get help from agents active in Moscow. He knows more about secret codes and has experience with similar quests", he explains, and seeing that his wife is shaking her head, he speaks directly to her. "Don't worry about me, you can give Charles the address of the hotel I am staying at, and we will continue communicating through letters, there is nothing suspicious about a married couple writing to each other." He tries to hold her hand, smiling.
"I can't leave you here alone!" Anastasia stands up and raises her hands, refusing to accept Valeriyʼs touch. "You just got shot! And we can still find some information on our own. I was considering requesting the woman who found you to help me ask all of her neighbors where the truck went. You already know the direction it initially took. We can investigate from there."
"That is a good idea my love, but there is no guarantee you will find enough bystanders", Valeriy asserts, "and what are we going to do when we find him? Look what happened to me. We need experts, we are a doctor and a nurse, we weren't trained for these kinds of investigati…"
"I won't leave you here!" Anastasia cries. "Are you crazy? What if the Bolsheviks are informed of what occurred today and blame you for the murder of one of theirs?"
I pity both of them, and it hits me now how helpless we are in this situation. I have looked up to them for protection these past few days, but there is literally nothing they can do for my brother without help.
"Dear", Valeriy insists, "if we want to have even an insignificant chance of saving that boy, we are going to need help from speciali…"
"You should do it, you should both stay here and investigate", I argue, and then I look at Valeriy. "I really don't want to separate you from your wife in this state." I pause for a few seconds, sigh, and then, looking at both of them, continue. "You are going to need each other to get as much information as possible. Once I get in touch with Charles, we will find a way to transfer all of the information you may be able to gather without raising eyebrows. I will ask him how, and we will be in touch through letters to and from the hotel. We can think of a temporary code right here. My sisters and I have already used one to write about the jewels we sewed under our clothes so that the reds didn't steal them. I admit it was not a remarkably clever code and that the guards in Ekaterinburg somehow figured it out, but I have learned from the experience. We can make this one harder."
I finish talking really, really quickly, as I was afraid they would make me change my mind before I could fully explain myself. I just don't want us to stay stuck here without a plausible plan.
"Olga, it is really dangerous to go alone", Anastasia cautions me. "You would be carrying with you Sergeiʼs suitcase. It contains all sorts of damning information. They could execute you even if you are not recognized as a Grand Duchess."
"It would be dangerous even if we went together", I digress. "I just need the address and some money. I will be alright."