They considered him in stunned silence, unable to believe what they were hearing.
'Not permitted?' Charles challenged. 'Why not? We are the children's tutors and members of the Imperial household. They need us!'
The official sneered. 'They are no longer Imperial, and it is forbidden to call them that. Be careful that you don't end up in the City jail with talk like that!' He considered them carefully before continuing ominously. 'The prisoners have no need of tutors any longer.'
Pierre longed to ask why but thought better of it.
'Where do we stay while waiting for our permits?'
'Here, of course, on this very comfortable train.' He looked around mockingly. 'It won't be for long, a few days, maybe.'
'Are we permitted to walk into town?' Charles asked.
'Yes. But you must not approach the house or attempt to make any contact with the Romanovs or their household. You will be arrested if you do. Is this understood?'
They nodded their assent, and the official left, leaving them to stare at each other in horrified silence.
'Tomorrow we'll go and see the British Consul. He'll be able to tell us what's going on and may be able to help us.' Charles said forcefully, in an attempt to install some confidence in the others. Looking at their stricken faces, though, he didn't think he had achieved it.
Pierre knocked on the door of the residence of Thomas Preston early the following morning. With him were Charles and Sophie. They were admitted immediately, and tea ordered.
'I have been aware of the presence of Nicholas and members of his household here in Ekaterinburg for the last three weeks,' Thomas explained. 'I have made repeated requests to be allowed into the house to see them, to ascertain their circumstances, but have been denied every time.' He shook his head sadly. 'I can only continue to try, especially now that the children have arrived. How many people do you believe are currently in the house?'
'There will be the seven family members, plus twelve of the household.' Charles replied. 'That's if everyone who was taken there actually ended up at the house and are still there.'
Thomas wrote down the names of the household, promising that he would try and find out anything he could.
'Come back here tomorrow around this time, and I'll update you on whatever I have been able to find out.' He stood, ushering them out. 'If you are walking back to the railway station, you will pass the house. You can't miss it, but for God's sake, be careful! Don't take the threats of arrest and imprisonment lightly. The fact that you are not Russian may assist you in the short term, but don't rely on it.'
Preston was right Pierre thought dismally as they stood gazing at the Ipatiev House. It wasn't hard to miss. Surrounded by a high palisade fence, its windows blank whitewashed eyes, unable to see or be seen. The outside perimeter was heavily guarded, belligerent looking men carrying rifles sauntering up and down, seemingly uninterested in what was going on in the street. Pierre doubted that they missed anything, and so he, Charles and Sophie, did not linger, moving along quickly, not wanting to draw attention.
'Look!' Sophie exclaimed. 'It's Dr. Derevenko.'
He saw them and stopped to wait until they caught up, the men shaking hands, Sophie giving Vladimir a quick hug in greeting and relief to see him safe and well.
'What happened to you after they took you yesterday?' Pierre asked. 'We thought you might have been allowed in the house.'
'I have been inside and tended to Alexey, but they won't let me stay there permanently.' Vladimir responded. 'I have been allocated lodgings in a house just over there.' He indicated to a building across the street. 'I am on call apparently, and can see him when I am needed, but that is all.'
'How are they all in there?' Sophie asked urgently. 'It looks like such a terrible place.'
'It is, and far too small for them all. It wouldn't surprise me at all if they started moving people out soon. But what of you? Where are you staying?'
They appraised him of their situation and their meeting with Preston.
'I'll come with you tomorrow to see him. There may be something I can help with.'
They parted, Vladimir back to his lodgings, the others back to the dreary fourth-class railway carriage that had become their home.
The morning visits to Thomas Preston became a daily occurrence, Pierre, Charles and Sophie making the half-hour trek, pausing as long as they could in front of the house in the chance that they might catch a glimpse of anyone beyond the fence, but it was impenetrable, just as it had been designed to be, and each day brought bitter disappointment.
Vladimir often joined them on those visits, the four of them badgering Thomas relentlessly.
'You have to do something!' Charles raged. 'They're being held prisoners in that house under the most intolerable conditions, and something must be done to assist them!'
'I agree with you, Charles, and I am doing everything possible to gain access to them.' Thomas repeated in frustration. 'The Ural Regional Soviet have assured me they are all well, and there is nothing to worry about.'
'The Soviets said exactly the same thing to me when I made enquiries.' Charles answered dismally. 'I don't believe them.'
'I'll keep trying.' Thomas said in resignation. 'Come back again tomorrow.'
Passing the house on their way back, they were startled to see two carriages drawn up outside, surrounded by several guards.
'It's Ivan Sednev.' Pierre whispered in horror at the sight of the valet sitting in the first carriage between two armed guards. As they watched, they saw Alexey's minder, Klementy Nagorny walking toward the second carriage. Before stepping inside, he raised his head, and the three watching men saw that he too had seen them. He stared fixedly but made no indication that he recognised them at all, then took his seat. The carriage drove off, heading in the direction of the city jail.
'Oh my God.' Charles breathed.
Vladimir had been able to visit the house to tend to Alexey and gave them an update about who was still in the house.
'As we know, Nagorny and Sednev have gone, taken to the city jail, as have Nicholas's aides, Count Ilya Tatischev and Prince Vasily Dolgorukov. Now, I think Vasily is still in the city somewhere, but can't be sure. Nicholas relieved his valet, Terenty Chemodurov, a few days ago, as he is unwell and unable to carry out his duties. He's been taken to a hospital ward at the city prison.'
'What about Trina, Nastenka, and Volkov?' Sophie asked. 'Are they there?'
'No, they never made it to the house.' Vladimir responded. 'I have heard that they were sent from here to Perm and are imprisoned there.'
They were all silent for a long time, thinking about the possible fates of people whom they had known and worked with for many years.
'That means that the only members of staff left with the family are Dr. Botkin, Anna Demidova, Leonid Sednev, Alexey Trupp and Ivan Kharitonov, is that right?' Charles asked in dismay.
'And the eighteen of us left here waiting for our papers.' Pierre replied, angrily.
The days ground by slowly for the group stranded at the railway station, their daily visits to Thomas Preston continued, but despite his pleas and those of Pierre and Charles to the Ural Regional Soviet, they were unable to gain access to the house. Their suggestion to be allowed to voluntarily join Alexey was also ignored.
'What about an escape attempt?' Pierre asked one day in desperation. 'Can we consider how we might be able to break them out of there?'
It was quickly albeit reluctantly agreed that they did not have the manpower or resources to launch an attempt, and had to give up any hope that the English or German royal families or governments would intervene.
Their wait ended abruptly at the beginning of June with the arrival of a Soviet official, informing them that the railway lines had been repaired and they had twelve hours in which to leave the city and the province.
'Where are we supposed to go then?' Pierre asked him bitterly.
'To where you came from; Tobolsk.' was the surly reply.
Pierre, Charles, and Sophie between them managed to pool together enough money for all eighteen of them to pay for the fourth-class carriage back to Tyumen, leaving the following day, the sorrow and frustration at failing in their attempts to see anyone before they left evident.
'How I fear for them; the unfortunate family is now completely isolated.' Sophie cried as the train slowly made its way out of the station.
'The White Army will be here soon, and the city will fall. With luck, we won't be too far away when that happens and can come back. There may still be time to help them.' Charles stated optimistically, knowing that the others held out little hope.
Vladimir had watched them leave, he had, during his time in the city, formed a good relationship with the local officials, proving himself useful in assisting during the recent Spanish influenza outbreak. He was disappointed that the others had been forced to leave; while at the same time feeling safer without their presence. He maintained his lodgings in town and still had some, although limited access to Alexey, who continued to suffer miserably with his crippled leg.
'You are not permitted to enter today,' he was informed by a guard on his next visit to the house.
'Why not?' Vladimir asked civilly, not wanting to antagonise the man unnecessarily.
'The boy is well enough and doesn't need you. Off you go. If you're needed, you'll be called for.'
'Can you tell me what happened to the servants who were here?' Vladimir asked, offering him a cigarette. The guard looked around surreptitiously, to make sure no-one else was watching, and gladly accepted one of Thomas Preston's quality Virginia cigarettes.
'They're all still rotting in prison,' the guard replied in a somewhat friendlier tone after Vladimir had lit the cigarette for him. 'Not for much longer though if you know what I mean?' He laughed raucously, holding two fingers up to his head and making a shooting sound. Vladimir, maintaining the pretence laughed with him, offering him another cigarette.
'Hey! Come back again next week, and maybe I'll let you in. Bring some more of those cigarettes though! The guard laughed as Vladimir walked away.
He was relieved to hear that Sednev, Nagorny, Dolgorukov Tatischchev, and the old valet, Terenty Chemodurov were still alive, and tried to get into the prison to see them, but was refused. He didn't argue, not wanting to draw attention to himself, and so sauntered off, taking care to make sure that he was not followed back to his lodgings by anyone curious as to who he was.
He continued to meet with Thomas Preston; they had nothing new to discuss or information to share, but it helped both men to believe that they were doing something, no matter how insignificant.
'I have had word of Pierre, Charles, and the others.' Thomas said one day, shuffling through the papers on his desk until he found the right one. 'The advancing Czech forces have control of the Trans - Siberian railway and have severed the lines.....again. Their train sat for ten days before finally arriving in Tyumen. What a bloody disaster.'
'Where are they now?' Vladimir asked.
'I understand that most of the household took a boat back to Tobolsk, but Pierre and Charles are still in Tyumen.' Thomas replied.
'They're lucky to be out of it.' Vladimir said softly.
He returned to the house the following week and was relieved to see the same guard on duty. He gave him cigarettes, and the guard handed him a note.
'I'll get shot for this, but the boy wanted me to give you this. It's a letter to your son Kolya. He told me they used to be friends?'
'Yes, they were, a long time ago.' Vladimir replied, tucking the note into his pocket. 'Am I allowed in today?'
The guard shook his head ruefully.
'Try again next week, maybe.'
Back at his lodgings, he read Alexey's note. The boy's apparent attempt at cheerfulness and normality was heart-breaking. "I feel well myself. My head was aching all day, but now the pain has gone completely. I embrace you warmly. Greetings to the Botkins from all of us. Always yours, Alexey."
Vladimir visited the nuns from the local convent, who agreed to take fresh milk and eggs to the house every day for the prisoners. He knew they wouldn't be turned away because the guards would most likely take their share. But it made him feel as though he was providing Nicholas and his family some comfort, even though they would never know it came from him. He didn't care, hoping that the fresh food would help Alexey to get stronger.
Klementy Nagorny had been taking note of the days since he had been taken from the Ipatiev House, and today was July sixth. He knew it was the end when the guards came for him and Ivan Sednev. They looked at each other in resignation and shook hands. He didn't want to die; he was only thirty-one and had risen from a sailor in the Imperial Navy to dedicating his life as Alexey's dyadka, and was proud to die in his service. He just wished he could have done more, saved the boy and his family from what he now believed was their inevitable deaths. He knelt in the long. wet grass of the field he and Ivan had been taken to, and his last thoughts as the bullet entered his brain was of the boy and how much he loved him.
'They're all dead now.' The guard told Vladimir at his next visit. 'All of them that was in prison, except for the old guy; he's still in the prison hospital. That's what you get for backing the wrong horse!' he laughed, and Vladimir had to turn away to hide his horror.
'What's happening to the family, do you know?'
'They won't be leaving here alive.' The guard responded ominously.
Vladimir hurried to see Thomas and told him what he had heard from the guard. They both agreed that the situation was now critical, and their only hope in rescue for the family was that the White Army arrived quickly.
'Ekaterinburg was liberated by the Whites on July twenty-fifth.' Pierre told Charles, reading from a telegram he had just received.
'The family? Are they safe?'
Pierre continued reading, raising his eyes to meet Charles', his face stricken. 'It says here that Nicholas was executed on July seventeenth, and that Alexandra and the children have been sent to safety.'
'Where?' Charles demanded angrily.
'No-one knows.'
'We have to go there and find out.....now!'
Vladimir stood outside the Ipatiev House, one in a crowd of people gazing at the house, aghast at what had seemingly taken place within its walls. He had been inside and inspected the basement room and knew that more than one execution had taken place there. Everyone had died there on July seventeenth, not just Nicholas, regardless of what the official story was. He felt a hand on his arm and was surprised and delighted to see Terenty Chemodurov looking up at him, tears streaming down his face.
'I've just been released from prison and came straight here,' he sobbed. 'Is it true? They are all dead?'
Vladimir could only nod dumbly in assent; he could not find adequate words to speak to the old man.
The wooden palisades had been torn down, and people were coming and going from the house, the official investigation into what had happened underway. Vladimir had volunteered to help provide any information that might be useful, and he knew that Terenty and Pierre and Charles would too when they arrived from Tyumen.
He looked around the crowd and saw a man dressed in the tattered remains of a uniform. His hair was long, as was his unkempt, dirty beard. The man looked exhausted and utterly bereft.
He seemed so familiar to Vladimir, but try as he might, he could not place him.
'That man over there, Terenty, do you know him?' he asked the old man.
The soldier noticed them staring and slowly approached; as he got closer, Vladimir saw with a shock that it was Dmitri Shakh-Bagov, the officer whom the Grand Duchesses Olga and Tatiana had nursed so many years ago at Tsarskoe Selo. He remembered him from the hospital and the visits the officer had made to the Palace.
Dmitri acknowledged them with dumb haunted eyes, asking, 'Olga?'
Vladimir could only shake his head, and Dmitri broke their connection, finally looking away turning to stare at the house
again.
'I was too late. I tried so hard to get here sooner, but the fighting was so fierce, it took too long.' He paused, wiping a grimy sleeve across his eyes. 'I failed her. I promised I would come for her, and I failed her.'
'I'm sorry,' Vladimir stuttered. 'I had no idea that you and Olga Nikolaevna........'
'She was my love.' Dmitri responded bleakly. 'I have heard that maybe the women survived and were taken somewhere else?' he asked hopefully.
'I'm sorry.' Vladimir repeated. 'I've seen inside that house.'
Dmitri turned and looked at Vladimir again, his eyes empty and unfocused, before slowly turning from him and shuffling off into the crowd. Vladimir never saw him again.
Sixteen
Ipatiev House
Ekaterinburg, Russia
14 July 1918
Tell me about Mitya, did you love him?'
Olga and Tatiana were walking in the yard, Papa had gone ahead, and they were dawdling behind, slowly, arm in arm, heads together, whispering so as not to be overheard. Maria was swinging on the swing, and today it was Anastasia's turn to stay inside and keep Mama and Alexey company.
'Well, did you?' Tatiana persisted.
'You know that I did silly, you saw us together at the hospital. You were with us most of the time.' Olga quietly replied.
'Yes, but we flirted terribly with so many of our brave, handsome officers, didn't we? We had crushes on so many of them. Do you remember Nikolay and David? Oh, and of course, Malama, who gave me darling Ortipo? Anyway, there were many times when you and Mitya were alone or talked to each other on the phone, and I don't know about them, do I?'
Olga laughed.' I always thought that Anastasia was the clown in this family!'
'No, seriously, Olishka, I always thought that Mitya was your special one, but was never sure.'
'Why do you ask now?'
'I don't know. I just find myself spending so much of my time thinking back to our days at Tsarskoe Selo. I loved nursing.'
The Girl With the Crystal Soul Page 15