The Kitchen Boy

deliver it to those loyal to him. But this he could not do, for Komendant Yurovsky had so positioned himself to oversee and overhear everything.

And so this, unfortunately, was how the last note fell into my young hands.

15

The fifteenth, a Monday, was a cool, damp morning that slowly bloomed into a beautiful day. By noon all of Yekaterinburg was bathed in lovely summer sunshine. Other than that, there was nothing remarkable about the start of the day, nothing to make us suspicious. It was only after lunch, when four charwomen from the labor union were admitted to clean the floors, that events took a serious turn. These women began washing the floors in the Tsar’s bedchamber, and Yurovsky stood near them to make sure there was absolutely no conversation between them and the young grand duchesses, who were helping move the furniture and talking gaily amongst themselves. Laughing, the girls were. While this was taking place, the Tsar and Tsaritsa relocated to the living room, where Aleksandra rested on the couch and Nikolai sat in a chair in the far corner, a novel propped in his lap.

By word of Trupp, I was beckoned from the kitchen to the Tsar, who in a quiet voice, asked, “Leonka, was there no sign of Sister Antonina this morning?”

“She did come, Nikolai Aleksandrovich. She and her novice came shortly after breakfast, only they were not allowed to proceed as far as the kitchen. Komendant Yurovsky wouldn’t let them past the guard room, which is where I went to get the foodstuffs. I met them there.”

“And why weren’t they allowed any farther?”

“That wasn’t clear, but Yurovksy asked them a great many questions and looked at everything they carried.”

“I see. And what was it that they brought today?”

“A chetvert of milk, that was all. No eggs and no cream either. The komendant said there was to be no more cream. But… but…”

“But what?”

“He did ask them to bring a great many eggs tomorrow – no less than fifty.”

“Odd. Very odd.” Before continuing, the Tsar glanced across the room to make sure no guards had wandered in. “There was nothing else?”

“Nyet-s.” I whispered, “I checked the cork, but there was nothing.”

“I see.”

I quickly volunteered, “But I am to go to the Soviet cafeteria in an hour’s time. Cook Kharitonov has received permission for me to get more bread.”

“Molodets.” Excellent. “I have something I wish to send out.” And then, exactly according to our short tradition, the Tsar entrusted me with a note folded into a small envelope. “I wanted to pass this to Father Storozhev yesterday, but that, of course, proved impossible.”

I don’t know what the note said, for I never saw the actual words, but I’ve always assumed it was in French, just like the others. More of the contents of this note I cannot say, for it alone has been lost to time, undoubtedly because of my stupidity.

So I took the note from the Tsar and kept it carefully tucked in my underclothing until it was time to leave. In the meantime, I was careful not to do anything to attract attention, and when the others went out into the yard for their afternoon walk, I headed off to fetch six loaves of chyorny khleb – black bread – from the Soviet. By that time the last two of the charwomen, Maria Staradumova and Vassa Dryagina, had completed their tasks and were also on the way out. As I came through the hall and reached the top of the short staircase, I saw them stopped at the front door.

“There is a new policy,” explained Yurovsky, blocking their exit. “From now on, everyone coming into or departing from The House of Special Purpose will have to be thoroughly searched.” The komendant looked up at me. “I’ll get to you, young man, once I’ve finished with these women.”

I started shaking. This couldn’t be. I was to be searched? Panic shot through my body. Gospodi, what if they found the secret note I carried? Then what? Would I be thrown in prison? Shot? What would they do to me, to the Imperial Family? No, I couldn’t let down the Emperor. I couldn’t fail any of them. My task was far too important, too critical, too… I had to retreat, that was the only course. But where? I turned, started back to the kitchen. I could pull the note from my clothing, hide it somewhere in the house, then be on my way, and…

“Leonka!” shouted Yurovsky from the bottom of the stairs. “And just where do you think you’re going? You must be on your way – some of that bread is for us too, you realize!”

There was only one logical explanation, and in a timid voice, I replied, “I was just going to go to the toilet, Comrade Komendant. Since you will be a few minutes with these women, I thought, well, I…I…”

“Fine. Just come right back.”

Needing no other approval, I bolted. I ran from the front to the back hall, and finally into the small water closet with its toilet and wash sink. I all but slammed the door as I shut it and fastened the little eyehook, locking myself in. I turned, scanned the walls, which were covered with all those nasty pictures and words about the Tsar and Tsaritsa. There was, however, no little place to stash the note. No cabinet. No loose plank. What should I do, rip up the envelope and flush it down the drain? Tear it up and eat it?

Oh, if only I’d done one of those!

Instead my eyes fell upon a large pipe above the toilet itself. Convinced that I had no other choice, I pulled the note from my clothing, stood on the toilet seat, and tucked the note right back there, right behind the metal pipe. I jumped down and looked up, unable to see a thing. It would be safe there, at least until my return, and I unfastened the lock and pushed the door. Then stopped. Reaching back, I flushed the toilet, and was on my way again, confident I’d covered my tracks.

Before I left the house I was indeed searched, though not as thoroughly as I feared. In fact, had I still been carrying the note the komendant probably wouldn’t have discovered it at all. I did overhear Yurovsky say to one of the charwomen, Maria Staradumova, that a good number of things had been pilfered from the family, which was so very unrevolutionary. Perhaps that was why he was searching everyone. But I doubt it. I think Yurovsky wasn’t looking for little spoons or watches, skirts or leather boots, that kind of thing. No, I think he was looking for Romanov jewels. And I think that was why the Sister Antonina and Novice Marina chose not to come in that morning – they were afraid of being searched. Rather, they just left their goods. Who knows, maybe Sister Antonina was in fact transporting something more than a note, perhaps even a weapon. I have never found an answer to that question.

So I was searched and released without incident. I went directly to the Soviet, where of course I gathered the bread, three loaves for the guards and three for us. It was very tasty, nice and sour, though I knew the Empress wouldn’t eat any, for she felt black bread was much too dense and gave her headaches. Then again, had she consulted Komendant Yurovsky he probably would have gone on at length with his advice. He probably would have stated that her headaches came from malnutrition, which they very well might have since the Empress ate so very little.

Having gotten out of the house undiscovered, I was feeling very smart as I returned. Very clever, indeed. There’d been a terrible crisis, and I, Leonka Sednyov, the kitchen boy, had solved it. The dreaded komendant had been about to discover the Tsar’s secret dealings with his monarchist officers, and I’d saved the day entirely on my own. Yes, indeed. And a very fine officer I myself would make someday, of that I was sure. Once this revolution was over and once the Tsar was back in power again, I imagined that I was destined for great service, great reward, perhaps even great riches. Various members of the nobility, like Prince Orlov for example, had thus been so rewarded for their extraordinary services to their masters.

So I returned to The House of Special Purpose all but whistling. I delivered the three loaves to the guard room, whereupon Yurovsky quickly searched my body once again. Cleared, I proceeded up to the kitchen, where I