'And the dogs! It's so wonderful to have Joy, Jimmy, and Ortipo here too!' Maria exclaimed. 'It's been so quiet here.'
That evening, Alexey slipped and twisted his knee while getting into bed, and spent the night in extreme pain, Mama once again by his side all night doing what she could to ease him.
'He's lost so much weight in these last few weeks,' she whispered to Olga. 'I am so worried about him.'
'He was desolate at Tobolsk after you and Papa left, and he hardly ate. We did everything we could to tempt him, telling him that he needed to eat to get well and regain his strength, but he did not seem to get better at all. Tatiana and I had grave concerns about him making the trip here so soon, we felt he was still far too unwell.' Olga replied.
'I agree with you, my dear, he was far too unwell to travel, but I am so glad that you are all here. These last three weeks without you have been unbearable.'
It was hot, stuffy and cramped in the house, and they were not able to see anything of the outside world from their windows; the tall wooden palisade hid all but a glimpse of the blue sky from their view, and the windows had been painted over with whitewash, which meant they had no idea of what the day was like outside. It gave the inside of the house an eerie aura.
Once again, the four sisters shared a bedroom, and until their furniture, including the army camp beds arrived, happily slept on blankets and coats piled onto the floor. It was enough that they were together again, their first night reunion filled with laughter and tears,
'I like this room,' declared Anastasia. 'Compared to the others in this house which are just plain dreary, it's sunny and bright. The flowers on the wallpaper even remind me of our garden at Tsarskoe Selo. I think we'll be fine here!'
'Once the rest of our things get here, we will be able to fill it up quite nicely and make it homely, there is plenty of room on the walls for all of our pictures and photographs.' Tatiana agreed, looking around optimistically.
After the excitement of their arrival, they soon settled into a routine, Olga quickly discovering that life here was far more restrictive and tedious than it had ever been before, and while initially, she found that her mood was much improved, she knew it was because they were all together again and that she felt the familiar sense of security being in her parent's care provided. But as the weeks slowly ground into months, and she became more and more aware of the reality of their situation, she found herself once more retreating into the blackness. Their position was much worse here than it had been in Tobolsk, they were prisoners here and, she could not see any means of escape.
They endured rather than lived; everyone's health started to suffer, Olga noticing with sad resignation that her parents began to rely more and more on their supply of morphine and other opiates to try and manage their increasing aches and pains. Papa, who had always been a heavy smoker, now chain-smoked incessantly, and Mama's reliance on tobacco also increased.
And now they were just eleven.
Alexey had not fully recovered from the injury to his knee that he had sustained in April and was now crippled, unable to walk. Despite their best efforts, he refused to eat and soon became thin and wasted. They could not avoid hearing his moans of pain day and night; they echoed through the three small rooms they inhabited in the house.
'Why did they have to take Nagorny and Leonid away?' he cried. 'What did I do wrong?'
'You did nothing wrong, Baby.' Olga tried to comfort him. 'Perhaps they thought that there were just too many of us living here.'
'But I had so much fun playing tin soldiers with Leonid when I was feeling well,' he cried. 'I liked it when he used to push me around in Mama's wheelchair!'
He was disconsolate, and there was nothing Olga could do to cheer him up except hold him as tightly as she was able without hurting him further, murmuring silly endearments and kissing the top of his head.
'Why can't Mr. Gibbes and M. Galliard come and give me my lessons?' Alexey asked almost daily. 'I hated doing my lessons most of the time before, but I do miss them too, and wish that I could see them again.'
'So do I.' Olga replied wearily. 'Would you like me to do some lessons with you today? We could do whichever subjects you choose.'
'No. I want proper lessons, Olga!'
He was acting petulantly, she knew that. His constant pain, coupled with his boredom at being cooped up in the house, seeing no-one but each other day after day was making him fractious, and his usually sunny nature was fast disappearing.
Olga didn't know which was worse; the days where he was like this and asked question after question; why are we here, why can't we leave, why isn't Papa Tsar anymore, who is the Tsar then, over and over. She had no answers for him; she had none for herself. Or the days when he just lay in bed, eyes focused on the ceiling, staring at nothing, not talking or eating, and no-one, not even Mama could rouse him. These were the times that Mama would start to scream and moan, fearing that Alexey was dying, and Dr. Botkin would have to sedate her. Olga would leave Tatiana to help the doctor, and she would hide, in their room, on the bed, her eyes squeezed shut, sobbing uncontrollably until Tatiana came and lay with her, holding her tightly, whispering that everything was going to be alright. But it wasn't, because tomorrow was always the same.
'If you are feeling better this afternoon, perhaps Papa or Maria could carry you downstairs, and you could sit outside in the sun on the steps with me? Or even better, I could wheel you around the yard in the wheelchair. I probably won't drive you as fast or as dangerously as Leonid used to, but we could see!'
She had finally managed to make him laugh, which was a victory, even if it was only for a while.
After a meagre breakfast of tea, coffee, and bread, they usually spent the morning reading, until they were allowed out into the yard for their exercise, and these were the times that Olga loved the most. It was so lovely to be able to get out in the fresh air after being cooped up in the hot, stifling house.
This morning, she walked with Papa, arm in arm, while Tatiana stayed inside with Mama taking care of the medicine.
Maria and Anastasia raced on ahead to the swing that one of the friendlier guards had erected for them, playfully tussling with each other as to who would get to use it first. The dogs were barking furiously and jumping around which, only added to the chaos.
Olga was pleased to see Papa smile at the silliness of the girls and the dogs, as he had been grumpy ever since the guards had stopped bringing him the newspaper. He loved to catch up on everything, even though they were always hopelessly out of date, and the news stale. But that did 't seem to bother him, as he still spent hours poring over it, reading every word, cover to cover, often three or four times over.
To make things even worse, the guards had also stopped giving them any letters that may have arrived, and they also refused to take and post any that they had written. The occasional gifts of coffee and chocolate they had received from their friends and supporters outside of the house had also stopped
The lack of communication made them feel as though they were utterly cut off from everyone as if nobody else existed in the whole universe apart from them and the guards whom they saw every day. It was a horrible feeling.
Tatiana and Maria begged the guards for the return of their cameras, taken from them on their arrival.
'We are so bored, and it would really help to pass the time if we were able to take some photographs when we are outside, or even just of ourselves. Please?' Tatiana asked Yurovsky, but he just stared through her until she had grown frightened and ran from his office in tears.
'It's ridiculous,' said Mama crossly. 'Whatever harm would there be in taking a few photographs for goodness sake?' She was still angry at the way the guards had entered their rooms earlier that morning to conduct a search, something they did with regularity. This time, they had insisted that all money be handed over, including the few coins that Alexey had in his piggy bank, and they had also tried to physically remove the gold bracelets from Mama's wrists. She s
creamed in pain at having her wrists pulled so violently and at the outrage of being handled in such a way, shouting at the guards that her bracelets had been on her wrists since she was a child, and they could only be cut off.
'Leave her alone,' Papa had implored. 'The bracelets are all she has left.'
The guards eventually gave up but warned that sooner or later, the jewellery, they wore, including the bracelets also worn by Olga and her sisters, would have to be removed and handed over.
'They do this only to humiliate us.' Mama opined. 'I will not yield to such thuggery.'
June had always been a happy month for birthdays, Mama's first on the sixth when she turned forty-six, then Tatiana's on the eleventh. She was twenty-one. Olga had nothing for her; there were no gifts to be given. She just held her and told her over and over again how much she loved her. Anastasia turned seventeen on the eighteenth, but again, there was no celebration, their time was spent in helping Anna out with the laundry and learning new skills such as bread-making from Mr. Kharitonov. Maria's nineteenth birthday on the twenty-seventh rounded off the month, and again, it was just another day, until Yurovsky suddenly burst into the room, demanding to know where Maria was.
'Maria?' asked Papa in bemusement, looking around the room, expecting to see her, before comprehending that she was not there. 'It's her birthday today…..I am not sure where she is, perhaps in her room?'
'She is not.' Yurovsky retorted furiously. 'And one of my guards is also missing.'
'What are you saying?' Mama asked sharply, as she and Papa hurriedly followed Yurovsky from the room.
Olga exchanged a worried look with Tatiana, but they did not follow, staying behind with Anastasia and Alexey. Judging by the shocked, guilty look on Anastasia's face, she preferred not to be there when Maria was found.
Maria and one of the young guards, Ivan, had eventually been found by Yurovsky in one of the smaller rooms in the house, alone, and in a compromising position. Ivan was dismissed on the spot, and Maria brought back to face Mama's wrath.
'We did nothing,' she stated defiantly. 'Ivan was just giving me a cake he had brought for me for my birthday, and that is all. I promise Mama!'
But to everyone's dismay, Maria was from that point on in deep disgrace. Mama was so very angry with her that she decided Maria could no longer be trusted and was to be watched constantly so that she could not form any further liaisons with the guards.
Olga emphasised with Maria; while she personally hated the guards, keeping her distance and having nothing to do with them, she could appreciate that Maria, having been at the house longer than the rest of them, had come to know them a lot more, and had formed friendships, albeit inappropriate ones. Olga thought that perhaps Mama was acting a bit harshly, however, deferred to her authority as always.
That night, as they lay in bed, Olga heard Maria admit to Anastasia that she had indeed kissed Ivan and that she was in love with him. Olga heard her crying at her loss and thought again about how unfair it all was.
'Can you smell that? Papa asked, breaking into her thoughts and bringing her back to the present. He stood stock-still, his head thrown back, eyes closed, a broad smile on his face.
'Yes,' she replied. 'Flowers from someone's garden. It must be close to us; the scent is so strong. I wish I could see it….' Olga stopped, suddenly, aware that her words might have been hurtful.
'Olga, my love…..'
'No, Papa, it's alright. Really. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said - '
'Absolutely not, my dear, you had every right. You have every right to wish to see gardens and flowers, and mountains and cities, and anything else that you can't see now.' He spoke angrily, and Olga was shocked, he so rarely showed anger.
He turned and took her hands. 'I am so sorry, my darling for all of this,' he inclined his head sharply towards the house, 'and for the situation you find yourself in. It is all my fault.'
'No….'
'It is, and you know it. You are not stupid, Olga, you know the details. I failed in my duty as the ruler of Russia. I let my people down, and I have failed in my duty to keep you all, as my family safe. I had the opportunity to send you away to safety, and I didn't do it. Now we are prisoners in this abominable place, and the sole responsibility for it lies with me.'
She looked up at him and saw the despair etched into the lines of his face. She wondered when he had got so old and why she had never noticed it before until today. She wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder and felt his frailness through his fraying and threadbare khaki uniform.
'Oh, Papa.'
'You should be married by now, and I should be a grandfather.'
'But not to a King or a Prince Papa, as I did not fancy any of them.' Olga laughed shakily, trying to jolly him out of his sombre mood.
'No, most likely it would have been to a certain young handsome officer of the Life Grenadiers Regiment, I think?' he teasingly asked.
She blushed. 'Papa! How did you know?'
'Oh, your Mama is pretty sharp as you are aware, there's not a lot that she misses.' He took her arm, and they resumed strolling along the path, having to quickly step to one side to avoid the three dogs who came running past them, tongues lolling, chasing something unseen. They laughingly watched them race to the end of the garden, rolling around together in a heap of fur.
'I still hope that there will be a chance for you and your sisters to have the lives that you deserve one day Olga,' he said softly. 'I pray for that every day.'
'And for you and Mama and Alexey too Papa,' she protested.
'I don't think that I will ever leave Russia Olga, not alive anyway, and as you know, your Mama will not leave me.' He paused, smiling wryly at the thought. 'And as for Alexey, you know how unwell he is. I think you understand that he will not get better. Your Mama and I have known this since he was just a few days old.'
Olga knew it was the truth, there was no point trying to deny it or argue with him, so she just squeezed his arm tightly and hoped that would bring him some comfort.
The guards were beginning to rouse themselves, looking at them pointedly.
'I think it's almost time for us to go in,' he said. 'Besides, I have the most awful toothache again. I need to get back in and take something for it. I probably shouldn't have avoided the dentist all those years. Let's sit. Join me in a cigarette before we have to go back into that hateful place.'
He lit a cigarette and offered her one, which she took, as she was want to do at times, and they sat on the step in the bright sunshine smoking together in companionable silence. Olga enjoyed the sharp tang of nicotine as she inhaled. Papa complained all the time that the cigarettes the guards gave him were not the same high quality as those he had enjoyed before the war; then he had always smoked only the very best Benson and Hedges, but of course he had exhausted his supply of those a long time ago, and now relied on what the guards could get him which was the horrible coarse local tobacco. He had tried to give up but found it impossible.
When they had finished, he replaced his engraved cigarette case back into his pocket and stood up.
'Thank you for being my wonderful daughter,' he said softly, laying his hand on the top of her head as if in benediction. 'I have loved you since the day you were born and will continue to do so until the end of my days.'
She felt as though he was saying goodbye to her and lifted her head to question him, but he had already turned and entered the house. She could hear his footsteps treading slowly up the staircase towards their rooms upstairs.
'Come on dreamy, time to go back in before these guards shoot us.' Anastasia joked as she came up behind Olga, and together, the three sisters walked out of the sunlit garden and back into their dark and gloomy prison.
Fifteen
Ekaterinburg Railway Station, Russia
May to July 1918
Pierre Gilliard watched the droshkies carrying the children away in abject despair, stunned that he had been prevented from going with them
. The expression on the face of his colleague, Charles Gibbes, echoed his. The two men disliked each other, but their mutual concern for the Romanov children ensured a not easily ignored mutual respect. They sat wondering what their fate would be as their train was shunted backward and forwards across the railway lines before finally coming to a halt.
'Trupp, Volkov, the boy Sednev and Kharitonov are to come with us,' ordered a guard, and the four who had been called stood uncertainly.
'Where are you taking them?' Pierre asked.
'They are to go to the Ipatiev House to join the family.' He replied. The three men and young boy, Leonid, exchanged relieved looks before bidding the rest of the company farewell and climbing into the waiting droshkies.
'That's a good sign.' Charles said when they had gone. 'Perhaps they are taking us all there in small groups once they have determined whether we are needed.'
'I hope so.' Pierre responded, but he was not so confident.
The guards returned, this time calling for Ilya Tatischchev, Nastenka Hendrikova, and Trina Schneider. They, too, were being taken to the house to be reunited with the family, Pierre was told.
'Doctor Vladimir Derevenko.' The guard announced next, and he too rose, shrugging helplessly as he followed the guard out of the train.
'That's different.' Pierre commented, watching out of the window. 'They're taking him away in an official-looking car, rather than a droshky like the others.'
'They will have to take him to Alexey surely?' asked Sophie von Buxhoeveden, Alexandra's former lady in waiting, 'the boy is ill, and needs care.'
They sat waiting for something else to happen for the rest of that day, speculating on what might have happened to the others, but it was just a distraction, forced conversation made in an attempt to relieve their boredom and apprehension.
An official from the Ural Cheka finally arrived, informing them that they were now free to go.
'To the Ipatiev House?' Pierre asked, eagerly.
'No. You are not permitted to join the prisoners there. You are to remain here until the appropriate permits have been obtained. Then you will be ordered to leave Ekaterinburg.'
The Girl With the Crystal Soul Page 14