The Red Tide

by Christopher Nicole

  Sonia’s head jerked. If she had a copy of Byron’s works in her library on Bolugayen, she had never expected to hear even his most famous lines quoted by a staretz from the steppes of Russia. She was surprised to hear herself speak. “You are a flatterer, Father Gregory.”

  “I speak the truth, Your Highness. Always the truth. Beauty such as yours is an experience, not a vision.”

  Nathalie gave a little snort. Patricia gazed at her with arched eyebrows; she was not used to being placed second.

  “I will leave now, Father Gregory,” the woman Aimee said. “May I come again?”

  Rasputin continued to stare into Sonia’s eyes. “Please do,” he said. “When next I can be of service.”

  Aimee gazed at his back for some seconds, then past him at Sonia, then turned and went through an inner doorway, obviously seeking a private way out of the house rather than face the mob in the waiting room. “What had you just done to her?” Sonia asked, desperately attempting to resist the hypnotic quality of his gaze.

  “I was granting her dearest wish,” Rasputin said. And smiled as she raised her eyebrows. “A commission for her son.”

  “For which she had to pay a forfeit.”

  “For which favour she wished to reward me,” Rasputin corrected. “Will you take a glass of Madeira? You may pour, Nathalie.” Once again he smiled at the astonishment on Sonia’s face that he should address a princess as if she were a servant. “We do not use titles in this room, Sonia,” he said.

  “Very democratic. But I do not think I will have a glass of wine,” Sonia said. “You see, Father Gregory, as I have no favour to ask of you, I can therefore have no desire to reward you. It is very good of you to receive us, but I think we will now leave.”

  “Come and sit down,” Rasputin said, taking her hand for the first time. She looked at Patricia, who raised her eyebrows. Obviously she was not leaving until she had experienced...whatever there was to be experienced. Sonia allowed herself to be drawn across the room to the settee, where she was seated, with Rasputin between Patricia and herself. When the staretz moved, close to her, she became aware of a powerful odour. Part of it was from the fact that she estimated that he had not bathed for several days, but there was more to the stench than stale sweat. My God, she thought: we have really descended into an animal’s lair. And he is on heat! Nathalie stood before them with the tray, and five glasses, for Dagmar, seated on Patricia’s other side, was also taking a drink. “Now tell me of this sin from which you desire me to absolve you,” Rasputin said.

  Sonia’s head jerked so hard that she almost spilled her wine. She looked past the staretz at Patricia, but Patricia was looking bewildered. Anyway, Patricia would never have betrayed her to Nathalie. “Sin?” she asked.

  “Of course. We all sin, Sonia. And we know it, however hard we try to conceal it. But God in His wisdom also knows it, and He conveys His knowledge to His chosen one. So now, confess it to me.”

  Sonia licked her lips. But he could not possibly know. Anyway... “I have not sinned,” she said.

  “Not even in your mind?” Sonia’s nostrils dilated as she stared at him. Rasputin smiled, and drew off her glove as he had done with Patricia. His fingers coursed over hers, and then stroked her palm. They were coarse fingers, and she had no doubt that were she to look at them she would find them repulsive, but their touch was almost as hypnotic as his eyes. “You are afraid,” he said gently. “Is it of confession itself, or of the anger of God? Be reassured, little Princess. God loves sinners, as long as they repent and seek forgiveness. Indeed, He loves sinners more than those upright prigs who swear they have never sinned. To be loved by God, one must first sin. The greater the sin, the better. Take Nathalie here. She sins constantly, so that she may be forgiven by God, and draw closer to Him. Is that not so, Nathalie?”

  “That is so, Father Gregory.”

  “So, Nathalie, illustrate my point to your sisters-in-law. Commit a sin.” Nathalie trembled. She took the tray to the table, placed it there, and returned to stand before the staretz. Both Patricia and Sonia gazed at her, uncertain what they were about to see. But Sonia observed that Dagmar was smiling, a secret, knowledgeable smile, quite out of place on the face of a thirteen-year-old girl. Nathalie took off her own hat and threw it on the floor to join the others, then she knelt before the staretz, raised his white blouse, and unbuckled his belt. Sonia thought she was going to choke as the Princess Dowager of Bolugayen then unbuttoned Rasputin’s breeches and lowered her head. She tried to rise, and found that Rasputin’s grip had suddenly become very strong, holding her hand and pressing down so firmly she could not move without hurting herself. She looked at Patricia, but Patricia apparently did not need restraining, just sat there, her lips parted. This freed Rasputin’s left hand, with which he stroked Nathalie’s hair, causing that too to come down in thick yellow strands, and then moving down her neck to release the buttons, and slide inside to caress her back, inside the material, and to one side, to stroke the side of her breast.

  The only sound in the room was their breathing. Then Rasputin said, “Enough, for the moment, Nathalie.” Nathalie raised her head, and knelt straight. Her face was crimson, and she did not look at either of the other woman. “Nathalie has sinned,” Rasputin said. “She has committed a great sin. Now, you see, I forgive her.” He laid his hands on Nathalie’s head and muttered a few prayers. “You saw those ladies outside,” he went on. “Most of them have come here to sin, like Nathalie, that they may be granted absolution, and thus draw nearer to God.”

  “And you assist them,” Sonia whispered. “My God! That is the foulest blasphemy I have ever heard.”

  “Sonia!” Nathalie was on her feet. “How dare you address the staretz in such terms.”

  Sonia also stood up. “Because he is everything I have been told of him. And worse.”

  Nathalie looked at Rasputin in terror, but he merely smiled. “When you are so vehement, your beauty is redoubled, Princess. Come back and sit down.”

  “I am leaving, now,” Sonia said.

  “But you have not yet sinned, and been absolved. If you do not wish to sin by touching me, I will touch you. Permitting me to do so, as you are a wife and a mother and a princess, will equally be a sin. Come to me, little Princess, that I may comfort you.”

  “If you touch me,” Sonia said. “I will kill you.”

  Rasputin gave a shout of laughter. “Kill me? How may a child like you kill me, little Princess? I am God’s instrument. I am indestructible. But I will not force you. If you wish to live in sin, then go. You will come back, when your burden is insupportable.”

  Sonia glared at him, then turned to Patricia, who had remained seated. “Are you not coming with me?”

  “I...I would like to speak further with the staretz,” Patricia said.

  “Are you out of your mind?” Sonia shouted. “If you stay here...”

  “She will be a much happier person,” Rasputin said. Sonia gave him another glare, then turned to the door. “I would not go out that way,” Nathalie said.

  “I will go out whichever way I choose,” Sonia snapped.

  The women almost bayed at her as she passed through them to gain the outer staircase. But they also jeered at her, as they could tell that she had not responded to the staretz. She stumbled down the stairs, commanded Nathalie’s driver to take her home, and there called for champagne. Aunt Anna’s recipe for everything, she thought. Well, it had kept Aunt Anna going for a very long time, and through some fairly murky experiences. But surely never one as murky as this. What would Aunt Anna have done? Probably enjoyed it, as she seemed to have enjoyed everything that she had experienced throughout her life. But then, Aunt Anna was unique. But Patricia was not unique.

  She took another glass of champagne, walked up and down. It was past five and already the October evening was drawing in. Where was Patricia?

  Deep inside her a voice was asking, over and over again, why didn’t you stay? If only to observe? But if she had
stayed, she wouldn’t have been allowed merely to observe. Rasputin wanted her, for whatever foul purpose most interested him. Never had she seen so much desire in a man’s eyes. Not even Korsakov’s. She had come here to escape from Korsakov, and instead nearly stumbled into a far deeper pit. She went downstairs to be with the children. “Where did you go this afternoon, Mama?” Colin asked.

  “We went to take tea with someone, darling.”

  “Madame Rykova said you went to see a holy man,” Joseph said.

  Sonia glanced at him, “Why, yes, so we did.”

  “Do holy men drink tea, Aunt Sonia?” Jennie asked.

  “Yes,” Sonia said, listening to the growl of the car engine in the drive. She ran to the window, but she could not see the front porch from the nursery window. Nor was she going to receive them on the grand staircase. She had to present a front of total indifference to their disgusting behaviour. She took another glass of champagne, and realised the bottle was all but empty. Had she drunk a whole bottle, all by herself? She sat down, then got up again and picked up the book from her bedside table. Poor old Tolstoy had just died, unhappy and bitter, estranged from the wife to whom, in a fit of absurd renunciation of worldly things, he had given all his wealth. Thus the greatest of Russian writers had died a pauper. Now there was a sad business.

  The door opened; neither Patricia nor Nathalie had ever adopted the uncharacteristic habit of knocking. But thankfully, Patricia was alone. If this was Patricia. She was hatless, her hair a tangled auburn mess, her cheeks pink. Her clothes were also disordered. Oh, my God! Sonia thought. But she kept her seat. “Did you have a good time, with the staretz?” she asked.

  Patricia walked across the room to the wall mirror, peered at herself for several seconds. Then she turned, and picked up the champagne bottle. “I’m afraid it is empty,” Sonia said. Patricia gazed at her. “Well,” Sonia said. “I was worried about you.” She pulled the bell rope. Patricia sat down. “Do you wish to tell me about it?” Sonia asked. There was a knock on the door. “Dmitri,” Sonia said. “Bring another bottle of champagne and some fresh glasses.” She had never been able to get into the family habit of smashing a glass as she had drained it, but she felt she might be able to do so tonight.

  “I wish you had stayed,” Patricia said.

  “I wish you had left with me,” Sonia countered. “We came here to stay out of that kind of trouble, not jump into it with both feet.” Patricia humped her shoulders. “Will you tell me what happened?”

  Patricia shrugged. “I sinned. And was absolved.”

  “You didn’t...” Sonia hit her lip as Dmitri knocked again before entering with the tray of glasses and the bottle. He filled two. “Leave it,” Sonia commanded. Dmitri bowed and withdrew, carefully closing the door.

  “No, I did not,” Patricia said. “It seems there are two kinds of sin, active and passive. Of course, Father Gregory prefers active sin from his acolytes.”

  “Father Gregory!”

  “That is his name,” Patricia said. “But he is quite happy with passive sin. I suppose he feels the one will inevitably lead to the other.”

  “And what was your passive sin?”

  Patricia licked her lips. “I...he fondled me.”

  Sonia could not believe her ears. “You let him touch you? You didn’t undress?” She looked at Patricia’s clothes. Of course she had undressed.

  Patricia drank some champagne, and hurled the glass at the fireplace. “It was what he wanted. Only from the waist up.” She got up, filled another glass. “One is really quite safe with him, you know. Nathalie has told me. He never sleeps with any of his admirers. He is a holy man.”

  “But he can do anything else. Oh, Trishka! How could you?”

  “It just sort of happened.” Patricia faced her. “And I’m glad it happened. It was an experience. To be touched by such a man...” She gave a little shudder.

  “Will you tell Duncan?”

  Patricia shot her a glance. “Of course not. And neither must you.”

  “And Nathalie?”

  “Well, she said she would not.”

  “And the servants?”

  “The servants know nothing of it.”

  “Don’t be absurd. The chauffeur drove us to Rasputin’s house. Do you not suppose he will tell the others? And did you not see the way Dmitri looked at you just now? He could tell you had undressed some time recently.”

  Patricia stood in front of the mirror again. “He will not dare speak of it. No one will.”

  “I hope you are right,” Sonia said. “I hope to God you are right.”

  Chapter Three - The Husband

  “You lovely boy,” Anna said, smiling at the handsome young captain seated beside her bed. “To travel all this way, with winter coming on, just to see me.”

  “I regard your health as of great importance, your excellency,” Korsakov said.

  “You say the sweetest things. That fool Geller says I must take no exercise until the bones are entirely knit. But do you know, I am inclined to disregard him.”

  “I really think it would be unwise for you to move around, Your Excellency. Even getting out of bed...”

  “I am not contemplating getting out of bed,” Anna pointed out, toying with the buttons of her peignoir. “But that does not rule out moving about, if you were to get in here with me.”

  Korsakov gulped. “I really think that would be unwise, Your Excellency.”

  “Meaning that you have no desire for a seventy-three year-old-woman?”

  “Your Excellency, you are still the most beautiful woman in Russia.”

  “From the waist down, at least,” Anna agreed. “Do not fret, Captain, I am not going to rape you...today, at any rate. But you must stay awhile. Now, tell me about your name, are you related to that ratbag composer?”

  “I am not aware of it, Your Excellency.”

  “Anna. I would rather have you call me Anna. Do you know my brother served in your regiment? He was killed defending Sevastopol. My God, that was fifty-six years ago.”

  “I wish I had been alive then.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “To defend Sevastopol?”

  “To have known you when you were seventeen, Anna.” She squeezed his hand. “You must stay a long while, Paul.”

  “Thank you. I am told the Princess is not in residence.”

  “She has gone off to Petersburg, with her sister-in-law Patricia. Have you met my son, Duncan?”

  “I look forward to it. He is presently out, I was told by your butler. And that both ladies are away. May I ask when they are returning?” Anna raised her eyebrows. Korsakov flushed. “I would like to meet the Princess again. And your niece.”

  “You are a rogue and a wretch,” Anna told him. “The Princess is very beautiful, is she not?”

  “Very,” Korsakov said, without thinking.

  “She is also totally chaste,” Anna said. “She is a Jewess, and their moral standards are somewhat different to ours. She is also very much in love, with her husband.”

  “I but wished to renew our acquaintance,” Korsakov protested.

  “Well, you will have to renew your acquaintance with the Prince, instead.”

  “Captain Korsakov! How good to see you.” Alexei shook Paul’s hand. “I would have you meet my brother-in-law, Mr Duncan Cromb.”

  Duncan also shook hands. “The Countess Anna is my mother, Captain. You have my eternal gratitude for your help.”

  “You’ll forgive my not being here when you arrived, but I had no idea you were coming to visit,” Alexei said, escorting Korsakov into one of the downstairs parlours, followed by Duncan and Gleb the butler with a tray of champagne.

  Korsakov had already worked out why Sonia had hurried off to Petersburg; he had pressed too hard too soon. “I happened to be in Poltava, your Highness, and I thought I should come out here to see the Countess Anna.”

  “Of course, as you so gallantly rescued her. You must stay awhile.”

  “I’m afraid
my duties require that I leave tomorrow, Your Highness.”

  “Oh, that is a shame,” Alexei said. “I know the Princess will be sorry to have missed you. She is in Petersburg, Christmas shopping.”

  “I am sorry to have missed her as well, Your Highness. She is a very lovely and gracious lady. But with your permission, I will call again when next I am in this district.”

  “The wretch,” Anna remarked.

  Alexei sat by her bed. “Well, Aunt Anna, I think it was very gallant of him to ride all this way to see you.”

  “To see me,” Anna said contemptuously. “He came here to see Sonia.”

  Alexei frowned. “Why should he wish to do that?”

  “Because he would like to make her his mistress.”

  Alexei’s frown deepened, and then cleared. “Anna, you are returning to the fantasies of your youth. Sonia? She is my wife.”

  “So?”

  “Well...the whole idea is preposterous. She is not like that.”

  “Like me, you mean,” Anna remarked. “I would have you know that I never once cheated on my husband, whatever I may have done before I met him, or since his death. We were in love.”

  “As Sonia is in love with me.”

  “It pleases every man to suppose that of his wife.” Alexei glared at her, and got up. “You are an extremely wicked old woman.”

  Anna smiled. “Everyone knows that, Alexei. I was an extremely wicked young woman, too.”

  “And you glory in that.” Alexei went to the door, but he hesitated with his hand on the knob.

  “Alexei,” Anna said. “I said that Korsakov would like to make Sonia his mistress. I did not say she would accept that. I do not believe she would. I think you are quite right in assuming that she is in love with you.”

  Alexei went outside. Anna was trying to mend fences while the horses were still galloping. “She is an extremely lovely and gracious lady,” Korsakov had said. “And with your permission I will visit you again.” But that simply could not be. Sonia did love him, and her children, too much ever to betray them. Besides, she owed him too much. Her very life! Still, it was not a situation he could ignore, certainly after Witte’s letter!