Diary of a Wimpy Czarovitch

by JG Hampton

demonstrations when I become czar. One used fog horns, loud blaring noises, water balloons, and tear gas. I also thought that thowing rotten eggs into a crowd disperse it quickly. A little noxious sulphuric smell would send Joy running away with her tail between her legs. Anastasia suggested that her collection of worms might be used if she mentioned they'd been taken from living victims. She just might have something there.

  It's rumored that the majority of people are living on thin cabbage soup and moldy crusts of bread. How do people have the energy to demonstrate I asked Mama. After living on some of the rations that Mama insisted we eat I could not publicly protest by marching. I'm positively weak after our meatless day.

  30 September 1916 - 12 October 1916 -- Signs fill the street. Mama, my sisters and M. Gilliard, went into town in our car to watch the parades with women marchers. I asked my sisters what they thought about equality for women when they returned. They said simply: "We know who really wears the pants in our family. Don't you?" Wisely I said nothing, but in Papa's defense I then said: "The czar always has the final word and makes the final decision even if Mama has her say."

  1 October 1916 - 13 October 1916 - I think of the time I spent with Papa at military headquarters as October approaches. What fun we shared together. If only I could join him once more. I am sick and tired of being surrounded only by women. I need my Papa.

  2 October 1916 - 15 October 1916 - Uncle Paul drives over in his car and Mama and I go for a drive with him and then spend afternoon tea in his palace in order to lift both of our spirits. He tells me of games that he and his brothers played with Papa when they were boys at the Annitchkov Palace. One day they rigged a bucket of water over a door knowing that their Papa would soon be walking through it. He did and was drenched completely, but he did not discipline his sons for the trick. This made me wish that I had known this fun loving Grandpapa.

  15 October 1916 - 28 October 1916 - Anastasia has decided to go on strike so that Mama will stock better provisions. I agree with her so I go on strike too. Uncle Paul and all our relatives eat better than we do. What's a growing boy to do? Protest! If only Papa would return and this war would end.

  3 November 1916 - 16 November 1916 We are going to the ballet with Auntie Olga, but first we are going to eat blinis and jam at her townhouse. Afterwards, she shows us the mansion that Papa and his pretty ballerina lived in before he married Mama. What did Olga think of that I asked her?

  "Mama forgave him for his weakness so I do too."

  "That's stuff and nonsense. According to Anastasia, Grandmama and her husband did not want Papa to marry Mama and so they set the obstacle of a pretty ballerina in his path, but their plan still went awry.

  "Why don't Mama and Papa manipulate things that way for you Olga?"

  "They did but apparently, I'm headstrong like my forebears and everyone else in the family." Laughter echoed throughout the townhouse.

  15 December 1916 - 28 December 1916 - We're back at Alexander Palace preparing for the holiday season. Has another year flown so quickly? Anastasia and I begin making our angel Christmas cards since we have decided to make this our special tradition. I have decided not to send one to King George this year.

  30 December 1916 - I'm too upset to count the days on my calendar to determine the other date. Father Grigory is missing! His daughter called Auntie Annya and said that he never returned home to their apartment. Where could he be? I fear the worst.

  A brown boot was found on the Great Petrovsky Bridge by our secret police which his daughter identified as belonging to her father along with reddish brown stains. Shots were heard fired at the Yousoppouv palace the night before.

  Did Cousin Irina's husband Felix kill my healer? He is denying everything and so is my cousin Dmitry, but Father Grigory was seen going into the Y's palace in Petrograd. Heaven help his soul and mine if he did. Mama says that I mustn't jump to conclusions, but I should pray for Grigory's safe return. I sense that he is no longer living and the feeling will not leave. Mama has collapsed and is most distraught. What ever will I do without Father Grigory? I am desolate.

  1 January 1917 - 14 January 1917 - Mama has telegraphed Papa and told him the news and her sources at the Yaught club have verified that the young Grand Dukes are very pleased. The rumor must be true. Even though Felix denies the deed, Cousin Dmitry's paleness and aloofness says more than a thousand words. Mama's forbidden entrance to any of the Grand Dukes in our palace. She's moved Annya Vyrubovna into our palace and changed the locks on her rooms. She thinks that her best friend and our honorary auntie will be their next target.

  Mama has ordered an all night mass to be held at the church and we are all fasting for Papa Grigory -even the servants. Mama has commanded them. Papa is on his way home. Why hadn't our secret police protected Father Grigory? Are we all in danger?

  Word has arrived that Father Grigory's frozen, mutilated body has been found in the river. His private parts were cut off. An autopsy revealed that he'd been poisoned and shot, but that he'd been alive when he was thrown in the river. Water was found in his lungs. My poor Father Grigory drowned His worst nightmare had been realized. He hadn't escaped his fate, like he had as a youth after all.

  My heart skipped a beat as I listened to the telephone call. Poison and gun shot wounds hadn't killed him, but the water had. In a way, my prayers had protected him for a time: he had not succumbed from the poison, or the bullets, but I'd never dreamed that water was a danger to him. He'd been found below the bridge at Kretovsky Island. My tears will not stop and I am inconsolable. I'm crying just like a baby, but can't help myself. I'm so frightened. Father Grigory didn't deserve to die in this atrocious manner. No one did. Russia and all who live here are lost.

  2 January 1917 - 15 January 1917 - Mama has ordered that everything found on Father Grigory must be sent to her as well as his body. She and those who loved him would bury him. She's ordered a grave to be dug nearby on land owned by Annya V.

  His bloodstained torn shirt and Mama's platinum bracelet along with the small golden cross that she'd had engraved with the words "Save and Protect" that she'd given to my staretz were returned to Mama. She will keep them as relics along with his letters.

  I picked them up and lovingly examined all of them. The small golden cross had ceased to protect him; his time was up. I hoped these relics of Father Grigory would help me in my times of need. Perhaps they still have power to cure me. I was thirteen years old now and only had to make it a few more years until I was seventeen and cured, but that had been before my healer had been murdered. Now things had changed. According to Father Grigory's prophecy nobles would now cease to exist on the land, brothers would kill brothers. Would the czar cease to exist? Was not Papa of noble birth? What about me, the czarovitch? My blood ran cold and shivers cascaded down my spine. I did not dare ask Mama, but kept my thoughts to myself.

  Mama began writing a letter to Father Grigory to be buried with him and told me that I could include my thoughts and love for Father Grigory with hers. I wrote the last paragraph on the crème paper. It read: Father Grigory. I am so sorry, but now you're a martyr and a saint. Please continue to watch over us, especially me. I'll never forget you. I loved and trusted you. Sleep in peace. Alexei.

  3 January 1917 - 16 January 1917 - Mama gave the letter to Sister Akulina, who had loved Father Grigory and who was bathing and dressing his body. I'd read Mama's words: "Give me thy blessing, that it may follow me always on this sad and dreary path I have yet to traverse here below. And remember us from on high in your holy prayers!" Sister Akulina was given the direction to place the letter in his coffin unopened. Mama really believes that her life is a sad and dreary path. I only feel this way during my bad times. Most of the time I rejoice in my life as does my sister Anastasia.

  I was not allowed to see Father Grigory nor was his daughter or others that he loved after the autopsy was performed. It is just as well; I already have trouble sleeping and his appearance in life was disturbing; what must he look l
ike in death? Mama had forbidden anyone besides the attendant and Sister Akulina to see the martyr; perhaps this was selfish of Mama. Didn't his daughter have a right to see her Papa one last time in order to say her goodbyes? But then again, perhaps it was kinder this way. After all, his spirit was no longer in his earthly shell, but had gone elsewhere.

  My family drove out to the burial sight in Papa's Rolls Royce and a simple graveside service was performed for my staretz whose coffin had already been placed in the ground. Our confessor and a monk performed the requiem mass. Everything was done simply, in the manner Father Grigory would have preferred and then the dirt was thrown over the coffin. The service was done secretly because we feared that his body would be stolen and desecrated. Our secret service watched the proceedings distantly so that we would not be harmed. I looked around and noticed them hiding in the trees. I uttered a prayer of protection. Who for? Father Grigory no longer had need of it. What had happened to his manhood? Would his murderer be displaying it in Moscow or Petrograd? How vile. Of course, this was something I could not ask Mama, but I would ask my father before he returned to Mogiliev. Why would anyone want to display such a trophy unless they