by JG Hampton
Sonia's remains locked in her family vault. An emergency situation had occurred requiring his presence. Was it an attempted coup from the old guard? Uncle Nickolasha didn't like being put out to pasture even though he had been replaced by the Czar of all the Russias. Grandmama and my tall uncle have no faith in his military abilities. But isn't God directing Papa?
Anastasia actually asked Mama if she might not cut her hair and pretend to be a boy to replace me. Mama and auntie laughed and hoped that she wasn’t serious, but knowing Anastasia, she wasn’t kidding in the slightest. How on earth did she, a lowly female, and a short one with an obnoxious personality, think that she would be able to replace me in Papa's eyes? Needless to say, Papa enjoyed a good laugh and so will I eventually when my sense of humor returns.
It is good to be home and heavenly to soak in Papa’s silver tub. Mama filled it with her scented perfume and bath salts and I relaxed and scrubbed off a layer of filth. I soaped and lathered my hair and the water was positively black when I left the tub. My sisters gave Joy a long overdue bath in the kitchen trimming her fur of all its tangles and cockleburs. I’m sure that she didn’t relish it as much as I did.
My sisters refused to bathe after me and Papa until the tub had been scrubbed and sterilized with boiling water. Were they afraid that they might catch something vile? I’d left all of the bed bugs at camp so that Papa might have something to remember me by. I know that he's lonely without me. How I loathe this illness which prevents me from living to my full capacity as a czarovitch.
7 November 1914 – 20 November 1914 – Now that I’m made to stay in bed, I begin knitting once more. I am knitting a long striped scarf for a soldier on the front. Think how surprised he'll be to have a personal present from the czarovitch. Auntie Annya says that she’ll embroider my initials on it and perhaps auction it off for more money at her religious group at their next meeting since it was hand knit by the czarovitch. That's an excellent idea. I had no idea that Annya was so mercenary, but Mama's ways have rubbed off on her. My auntie has her wealthy connections since she's become a special friend with my staretz who often comes to her meetings. Women can't escape his spell and apparently he's become the talk of all Russia, especially among the nobility. Grandmama is incensed so she's left to visit her sister in England.
Olga requested that Grandmama see if she could purloin a needlepoint pillow made by David as a souvenir. She longs to see if his stitches are as fine as Mama's or is there an ulterior motive? Just think what that cushion could be auctioned off for amongst the nobility? That must be it.
Mama sits at the top of her flowered chaise longue where I lay covered in afghans and pats my head and kisses me stitching away and Auntie Annya lets me eat her most select chocolates. I have missed this cosseting and won’t tire of it for at least a week. I can even stomach Auntie Annya these days because I actually missed her while I was away and now appreciate her. It is a positive thing to see the good in people rather than their flaws. Papa is right, the world becomes a better place immediately.
On Thursdays, the gypsies come into the palace and serenade us with their violins and I love to hear their heart rending music and watch Anastasia dance melodramatically through the palace with Tatiana's lap dog in her arms. I’ve missed her hilarious tangos and now that my nose has stopped bleeding, I dare laugh again. It was a very close call. If I was not actually dying, I was at death’s doorstep knocking. My sisters are so happy that I've recovered again. I can see it in their countenances. I know that they really do love me. My trip to Mogilev was invaluable in many ways.
8 November 1914 – 21 November 1914 – Mama has aged considerably; is it the opium she takes in the Veronal to ease her stomach pains which is changing her so much or is it the stress of knowing that I have a fatal illness? I know that she blames herself for giving me the dreaded disease. Her hair has streaks of gray in it, but I still think she is the most beautiful Mama in the world. She and Papa both are using opium to ease their pains and help them sleep. Dr. Botkin has mentioned to me that I must not rely on either one of the drugs so I do not. All I need to sleep is Joy’s soft comforting body laying by my side and her wet dog kisses on my face in order to sleep.
9 November 1914 – 22 November 1914- Mama writes to Papa and encloses a pink rosebud in her envelope and hopes that he is not too lonely, but under the circumstances he knows that I won’t be seeing him for a long time. Why did I have to botch things up? At least Mama, Auntie, and Olga have the time to spend with me now that they are no longer going to the Catherine Palace to nurse wounded soldiers. I went to the cemetery with Mama to place some flowers on Sonia's vault. I was most relieved that I am still among the living. Did I write down that I no longer am afraid to die since my last bleeding episode? When I fainted, I had a glimpse of a field of flowers of every variety and color which we do not have here. The air was humming and everything was so peaceful. I felt absolutely no pain or fear. A boy who looked as if he might be related to me was coming to greet me, but then I came to again and was Mama was slapping my cheeks. I have told no one of my dream or was it an out of body experience?
10 November 1914 – 23 November 1914 – My knitting is much improved. I rarely drop stitches any more and I decide to make a scarf for Rasputin. It is of black yarn which will not show the dirt. At the very least he can make use of it to brag about his close connections to the czar’s family. That is at least honest notoriety. Other than the rumors Anastasia hears when she visits Auntie Annya's cottage with Mama pretending to learn how to crochet lace motifs for a pair of gloves for Grandmama which will never be finished. I will be able to give him something back for the energy that my illness drains from him. Besides doing something good for others helps me feel good.
Mama and my sisters are beginning to wrap and collect presents for the Christmas season to send to our far flung distant relations. Petrograd is much subdued because of the war and everyone is sad because of the deaths in their families. Black wreaths adorn the doors of many a mansion. Many of my boy cousins have been drafted and Papa and Mama worry that they’ll be killed, but not nearly as much as Grandmama. She’s positively a nervous wreck concerning their military duty and has nightmares about their deaths. Does this mean she loves all of her grandchildren? She is not demonstrative so how are we to know?
Once when I was eavesdropping on one of my mother’s telephone conversations, I heard her say that Grandmama was trying to usurp my Papa’s authority. Does this make my grandmother a traitor to Russia, or just to my Papa? Papa and Imperial Russia are one and the same. What are Papa and Mama to do? Can one lock up one's Mama? Would Papa dare?
11 November 1914 – 24 November 1914 – I start my schooling again. I can’t say that I’ve missed the school room, but I have missed M. Gilliard and M. Petrov as well as their wit and supposed wisdom. I wrote a three page essay on what it was like being a sentinel for Papa and how I discovered a spy when I was at the front since I speak and understand so many languages. For M. Petrov, I wrote an essay on modern day weapons in comparison to those used by Peter the Great. My instructors say that now my essays were interesting and were relieved that I had new material to write about other than my sisters and our pets. I even read the essays in Russian to Anastasia and she was enthralled at my adventures and was absolutely green with envy. She admitted that she missed me although it was hard for her to admit any weakness. Often she'd thought about the hole I left in her life while I was gone. What if I were dead? No one, but her little brother appreciated her quirky jokes. No one but me would get in trouble with her. Our other sisters are far too altruistic and conscience stricken.
She'd actually braided me a watch fob of her hair which I am always to carry on my person. She's now saving up her allowance to buy a small pocket watch which she'll present to me in the future. I don't know whether to be charmed or alarmed?
12 November 1914 – 25 November 1914 – Anastasia and I pulled peppermint salt water taffy while Olga and Tatiana read us a bo
ok about the American south and its slaves which Jim had recommended called: "Uncle Tom’s Cabin" by Harriet Beecher Stowe. According to Abraham Lincoln, it was this book that started the civil altercation. The sixteenth president refused to call it a war even though it was one of the bloodiest wars in history. Its author says that it was dictated to her by God. My sisters cried throughout the book and so did Auntie Annya. My eyes only began watering when little Eva died because she was so much like my three oldest sisters. We all cheered when Eliza was escaping across the river and fervently hoped she'd succeed to freedom. Slavery must have been horrible, but Russia is not immune from the disorder. Great Grandpapa was right to give the serfs their freedom and a small plot of land. Mama says that was the real beginning of Romanov troubles. Give an inch and they demand more and more. The book by a woman gave us wealthy Romanovs much to think about and we were sorry that Papa was not here to listen to the story with us. His input would have been interesting since now he was trying to take back some of his power that he’d relinquished to the duma.
13 November 1914