beach and wash away everything we hate. And the Romanovs know this and are using this against us. As Caesar said, ‘Divide and Conquer.’ ”
“Divide and what? Who is this… this Caesar?” I asked.
“A tsar from another country who lived many, many years ago. And what that means for us is that if we are separated into small groups and not united, the Tsar and the capitalists can walk all over us and smash us like beetles, and everything we have worked so hard for will be ruined forever.”
I didn’t understand all of her educated words and ideas, but the peasant in me did understand one thing: Dora had a plan, and that plan involved me.
“So what is it you want me to do?”
Staring at me as seriously as a gravedigger, she quietly said, “This Christmas-in two months’ time-we want you to dress in disguise as a chorister.”
I laughed. “But, Dora, me? A chorister? Dear sister, I could never go in disguise as someone like that. Why, I have the ear of a toad!”
“Don’t worry, you won’t even get to the singing part. To make sure our great revolution is not broken apart but washes everything away, we want you to dress as a chorister… and send you with a group right into the heart of the beast, the Aleksander Palace.”
“You mean-”
“Yes, directly into the Tsar’s own home. We want you to carry a bomb beneath your robes, and when the Tsar himself comes into the room to hear the beautiful voices we want you to throw that bomb right between his feet. What do you think?”
This idea-right away it made me feel good. I glanced across the room and saw several bird traders-or were they police spies?-come in. After a moment, I took a sip from my glass, but more than just the tea warmed my insides.
“I think this is right,” I said calmly. “I think I will be happy to do this.”
“But, Pavel, it will most certainly mean the death of women and children, which you didn’t want to do before, remember?”
“That was, well… it was different before. Somehow it was different.”
“Yes, now we have awakened the masses and we are at war. Almost the entire country is on strike and the Tsar and his princes and capitalist warmongers are afraid, so they have sent his troops after us.” She took a long sip of the hot tea, wiped her mouth with her special serviette, and added, “Pavel, before you give a final answer you must think seriously about this. You must think long and hard, because if you throw the bomb it will most certainly mean your own death as well, either from the bomb or from hanging.”
Looking directly into her nightlike eyes, I said, “Don’t forget, I was the only one to see Kalyayev dangling there from the gallows, and I want that too. I want to face death with such bravery, just like him. Yes, I can tell you without hesitation: I would be happy to die for the Revolution, the sooner the better. And if this means killing others so that things get better for the collective, then why not?”
“Exactly,” replied Dora, reaching out and clutching my hand. “Our duty is to make sure things keep going forward, and by eliminating the Tsar we will make sure of one thing for certain: that there is no going back.”
Just then one of the tiny yellow canaries up front began whistling. But rather than chirping beauty and delight, it began singing “God Save the Tsar.”
“Ach,” I moaned. “What do you think, Dora, shall I go up and strangle that bird right this minute?”
“No, Pavel, just be patient. I’ve heard it said that it takes about a year and a half to train those things.” Smiling for the second time that afternoon, she said, “And I would wager you a gold ruble that within two years’ time all the birds around here will be singing the ‘Internationale.’ ”
Chapter 27 ELLA
I quite remember how my sister first lost the affection of the people, and she did so innocently and against all the force of her strong will too. Contrary to her great determination and prayers, she gave birth to Olga. And while Nicky and Alicky soothed their disappointments by telling each other that because their firstborn was a girl they wouldn’t have to give her up to the people, good society and the rest of the Empire were not entirely pleased with Alicky, not really. Nicky’s youngest sister had been born to a seated and anointed Emperor, of course, but an heir to the throne-which had to be male according to the Semi-Salic laws initiated by Emperor Paul-had not been born in the purple for, heavens, longer than anyone could remember, and we were all awaiting this glorious event as a heavenly sign of Russia’s future prosperity. But after Olga came beautiful Tatyana, and after Tatyana came Maria, and after Maria came Anastasiya. By that time of course Alicky had become so unpopular, not just in the highest court circles but among the common people as well, with many certain that she was a traitor to our nation for not producing a boy. Then finally and at long last came our dear, sweet Aleksei, and with the birth of the Heir Tsetsarevich, well, Alicky was in some ways redeemed, for the dynasty could go on.
I thought of this sad lesson often in the days after my venture beyond the Kremlin walls. I thought of it often due to the great disharmony I had seen on the streets and the fear that that poor wounded girl had expressed toward us members of the Ruling House. Alicky had only barely repaired her image and reputation, but I sensed Nicky’s present situation to be poor at best, and his future prospects dim.
Hoping to prove myself wrong, I forced the issue with the wounded officers at my hospital, begging them to overlook my high rank and speak truly, and I gathered word of the street from others as well, and as far as I could tell these things were passed to me without corruption. In short time it was perfectly clear that Nicky had lost completely the affection of his people, and this broke my heart. And while Alicky had in some ways improved her situation with the birth of the Heir Tsarevich, I knew only too well that love for an emperor once lost-worse yet, betrayed and shattered-was almost impossible to reclaim. And yet the power of Nicky’s Throne was based upon this, upon love of God and Tsar, and without this what would happen, what fate awaited us all? Without a tsar to keep this vast nation glued together, then what?
Among other things, whatever the future had in store for the Dynasty I sadly had to accept that Nicky and Alicky would never again be safe in the midst of their people. There would henceforth be a far greater fear of assassin’s bullet or bomb, and ultimately, one had to admit, there would likely be a bloody deed once again, for I knew only too well that our simple people could be sweet and kind one moment but so very cruel and violent the next. I had heard tell that there had been no fewer than ten attempts upon Nicky’s grandfather, Aleksander II, before that hideous success, and God only knew how many attempts had been made against my beloved Sergei before he too was taken.
Oh, I cried and I prayed as much for my dear sister and her huzzy as I did-no, I prayed even more-for my beloved adopted homeland. What path had we gone down? Were we forever lost? God help and guide us-that was my prayer morning, noon, and night. How had this hateful current sweeping across the country been awakened? Could prayer and love actually soothe its tempest, or were we doomed? No, I told myself over and over, God would not forsake this wonderful land.
Throughout all these dark days I heard regularly from my sister, who wrote me at length several times each and every day. Nicky and she dared not leave Tsarskoye, she told me, and so in essence they continued to be trapped there behind the great gates of the Palace. Simply unimaginable and what a disgrace! Alas, because of the disruptions I received her letters only with difficulty; they were brought to me not by post, which had ceased to function, but by one of my countesses, who somehow managed to travel back and forth between our two great cities, this despite the railway strikes and the many dangers en route.
From Alicky I learned that through all of those trying days, Nicky met constantly with Count Witte, whose past policies had encouraged the industrialization of Russia and brought such explosive economic growth. Too, Witte, a large, gruff man, had just been sent to America to negotiate the peace with Japan, and he had done such an admirable job that he made our defeat nearly tolerable. Because of these successes, Nicky had him fetched to the Palace each and every day to discuss and, God willing, find a solution to the quagmire in which Russia was now stuck. They met not in Nicky’s New Study, decorated in the Style Moderne, but in the Working Study just next door. Nicky, I knew since years, preferred meeting his ministers and councillors in this smaller room, with its dark-wood paneling and Nicky’s L-shaped desk, covered with family photos, appointment diaries, and folders. And Alicky,
