“I don’t know how many times I’ve heard, ‘Spare the rod, spoil the child.’ And, ‘Children must be seen and not heard.’ Many of our American friends think little Katrina is an absolute tyrant and Zenia totally incorrigible.”
“All American children are sedate and well-behaved?” asked Katya, astonished.
“Hardly!” laughed Mariana. “It’s all just talk.”
Anna was pleased to see how well Mariana and Katya were hitting it off. They had many similarities—both strong, modern women. But Anna hoped some of Mariana’s deep faith could be transferred to Katya. In many ways, Katya was very spiritual, and especially since her engagement and marriage, she had indicated a deep desire to please God. Each time she and Anna saw each other, Katya was full of questions about faith. But because of their age difference, it was sometimes hard for Anna to relate to Katya. Anna had grown up in a simpler time, with simpler questions.
Mariana, on the other hand, seemed naturally suited for this role in Katya’s life. Mariana was fourteen years older, but she understood the complexities of modern life.
Unfortunately, Mariana’s friendship with Katya didn’t have a chance to grow. Shortly after the New Year, Mariana went to Moscow to spend some time with her father, Dmitri, and his family. Anna would just have to trust God to work in her daughter-in-law’s life.
February of 1915 closed with a freezing snowstorm. The short days were growing dreary and depressing. Katya tried to cheer herself by shopping, but the war was making it difficult for the new fashions to make it to Petrograd, and decent maternity clothes were even harder to find. She was starting to show now and wanted more than ever to look stylish, not fat and frumpy. If she couldn’t find things for herself, the least she could do was buy clothes for Irina and a layette for the new baby. One day, when it had warmed up a bit—to ten degrees!—she went out with Teddie and Irina. The sun was trying to shed some light in the pale winter sky.
As Katya climbed into the motorcar, she felt a small stitch in her side, but she ignored it and proceeded with the shopping excursion. A hour later, she was seated in a salon that specialized in children’s clothing when the pain began stabbing at her once more. Now it was sharper and came in regular throbs.
“Princess Katya, is something wrong?” asked Teddie.
“I . . . I’m not sure. Some pains in my stomach. Perhaps I need something to eat.”
“What kind of pains?”
“I don’t know—sharp, throbbing—”
“Regular throbs?”
“I guess so.”
“I think we best go home.”
“I’ll be fine,” Katya protested, but another pain gripped her at that moment, far worse than the others.
They managed to get home—to Katya’s grandmother’s house, where she and Irina now lived all the time. But as she started up the stairs she collapsed, and a manservant had to carry her up to her bed. Hold on, Katya kept telling herself. Hold on.
But a few minutes later, she lost the baby.
“Oh, Teddie!” she wept when it was over. “Why did this happen now that I want a baby?”
“I don’t know, dearie, but don’t fret over it. You need to get some rest.”
“I was so happy, Teddie. I forgot to ask God to protect my baby. How could I be so selfish!”
“God was protecting your baby long before you knew you were with child.”
“Then, why did I lose it?”
“I don’t understand God’s ways, Katya, dear. There must have been some reason.”
“How can I bear it, Teddie?”
“Katichka, why don’t I call your mother-in-law?”
Katya nodded weakly. “Anna always knows the right thing to say. Maybe she can help.” But deep down, Katya doubted that even Anna could make this situation all right.
Anna had spent several hours with Katya, but Katya was too despondent to get any benefit from the visit, especially after the doctor arrived and made his grim pronouncement.
“It may be best for you not to have any other children, Princess Fedorcenko. It may not endanger your life, but I cannot guarantee there would not be another miscarriage.”
It was simply too horrible to consider that she and Yuri would have no children of their own. Katya had so hoped to repay Yuri’s loving acceptance of Irina by giving him children. But her despair went far deeper than that. Since she first realized she was expecting, Katya had believed that this child was God’s way of once and for all absolving her of her previous sin.
Now what was she to think? Was it possible that even God could not forgive her?
When her friend Olga came the next day to console her, Katya almost refused to see her. She was in no mood for visits. But she had so few friends her own age—so few friends at all—that she could not turn away such a gesture of friendship.
Olga had recently married and had a child of her own, so she had some understanding of what Katya was experiencing—though she couldn’t, of course, comprehend her grief. She was truly saddened when Katya confided what the doctor had told her.
“Oh, Katya! How awful! But doctors don’t know everything—that is, some doctors . . . I mean, of course, your Yuri is different . . .”
“I don’t know what I’d do if he was really right.”
“So, you don’t fully accept his prognosis?”
“I don’t know . . . I desperately want to have a baby for Yuri.”
“Katya, have you spoken to Father Grigori?”
“No . . .”
“Didn’t he help you once before? You mentioned that you had some problems and he prayed for you and such.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“He can help now, Katya! I’m sure of it. Why don’t you call him?”
“Olga, my husband doesn’t want me to have anything to do with him.”
“I thought you were more liberated than that! Anyway, Yuri is far away at war. What can he do to stop you? Besides, I don’t know Yuri well, but from what I do know, I think he would give you anything you wanted.”
“I’d still feel like I was betraying him.”
“Would you feel better never having children?”
The question lingered in Katya’s mind long after Olga left. What if Father Grigori could help her bear children? Wouldn’t Yuri understand her dilemma and forgive her? He might even applaud her. Grigori was a healer. Katya had heard many stories of his miraculous powers. Perhaps she could be one of those stories.
Katya was still debating her moral quandary when a servant came to her door and announced the arrival of Rasputin. Apparently Olga didn’t trust Katya to make the right decision and had taken the matter into her own hands . . . unless the starets had prophetically deduced Katya’s need.
Anna arrived at Katya’s home as soon after she received Teddie’s call as possible. She had never much liked having that telephone in her house, but Yuri had needed it for his work. Now, she saw its definite advantages.
“I didn’t know what else to do!” Teddie fretted, wringing her hands together. “I could not stand to have that priest here, and Countess Elizabeth was also at a loss at what to do about it.” Teddie spoke the word “priest” with revulsion. “If only her husband could be here. Curse this war!”
“Can I see her, Teddie?”
“He’s with her now.”
At that moment, Katya’s grandmother appeared. “Princess Fedorcenko, how good of you to come.” She held out her hand, and Anna took it with a thin smile. “I fear it will start all over again,” the countess murmured.
“What’s that, Countess?”
“Before, when—you know all about Irina, don’t you?” When Anna nodded, the countess continued. “Katya nearly took her own life because of her shame. Then Rasputin came. Maybe he did help her. I suppose it was he who prevented her from that terrible act. But I never felt he could be trusted. I worried terribly each time she went to see him. In those few weeks she was involved with him, she began to change. She became almost too
mystical, too spiritual. I believe I have a deep faith in God, Anna, but I could never be entirely settled about the changes in Katya. I couldn’t quite identify what disturbed me, however—except the involvement of Rasputin. I thanked God when she went away to the convent to have the baby. When she returned, she seemed more interested in worldly pursuits than in the mystical. I am ashamed to admit it, but I was somewhat relieved by that. I’ve always felt so inadequate because I couldn’t help her in a more—how shall I put it?—conventional faith.”
“If you failed, Countess Elizabeth, I don’t know what I can do.”
“I know she thinks highly of you. Perhaps she couldn’t hear from me because of her natural inclination to rebel against an authority figure, as I was forced to be in her life.”
“May I see her?”
“Of course. But that Mad Monk is there now.”
“Perhaps we can just be nearby offering the presence of some balance, if nothing else,” suggested Anna.
“I tried to go in a few minutes ago, but he chased me out—imagine the gall! Chasing me out of my own house. But he can practically get away with anything these days, now that he has the full blessing of the tsar. Nevertheless, Anna, you are welcome to try. Teddie, please take Princess Anna up to Katya’s room.”
“Yes, madam!” The nurse spoke with enthusiasm. Teddie seemed to have more faith in Anna than Anna herself did.
Nevertheless, Anna followed the nurse upstairs. When they reached the door, Teddie knocked, then stepped aside. There was no response. Undeterred, Anna boldly opened the door. Katya could throw her out, but she had to make the attempt. The starets could bully her, and she had to admit to a little fear of the man, but she reminded herself that he could not really hurt her. She had faced up to worse enemies than he in her lifetime.
Actually, no one noticed her quiet entry. Rasputin, boldly sitting right on the bed, was talking, and Katya, grasping his hand, was focused only on his face.
“Only humility brings salvation, little Katya,” Rasputin was saying. “Turn from your prideful ways! Rejoice in simple things. Don’t you know pride goes before a fall? It is the greatest sin of all. Cover your head and bow humbly before the Lord. Only then will He look upon you and bless you and open your womb. You must—” He stopped suddenly. Anna had taken a step farther into the room, and a board creaked beneath her foot. Rasputin turned sharply, glaring at her. “What do you want?”
“I’ve come to see my daughter-in-law,” Anna replied, trying to infuse grit into her tone.
“Go away—!” Then as an afterthought, he added, “Wait! She is your daughter-in-law? You are his mother, then.”
“If you mean, am I Prince Yuri Fedorcenko’s mother? The answer is yes.”
“He’ll bring ruin on her yet.”
“What on earth do you mean?”
“Because of him she is in this prideful state. I knew no good would come of such a union.”
Briefly Anna wondered why he had come to the wedding. If his consumption of food and champagne was a measure of his approval, he certainly hadn’t indicated any opposition then. But this wasn’t the time to voice such thoughts, instead Anna said, “What’s done is done . . . Father—” She didn’t quite know how to address the man and felt awkward using a term of holy respect. “Now, we must love Katya and support her, not lay recriminations upon her.”
“Love? What do you know of love?” He turned his gaze back to Katya. “You know I love you, don’t you, Katya?”
“Yes, Father . . .”
Then, to Anna, he said, “Who told you to come here? I am a busy man. I can’t be wasting my time repairing the damage of such misplaced good intentions. You see, I give you that much—that your intentions are good—”
“And I’ll do the same for you, Father,” said Anna curtly.
He laughed. “A sharp-tongued woman! You need some humility yourself. Don’t you know the tongue is an unruly, evil instrument, full of deadly venom. It defiles the whole body. It can’t be tamed, especially a woman’s tongue. Only by the purifying fires of God can there be redemption. Trust me, woman, and I will pray for you and petition God to show His mercy upon you. But not now—I am too exhausted. I need some wine. Go fetch me some wine.”
“You will have to ask a servant to do that, sir.” Anna heard the pride in her voice but she made no apologies.
“He that is great among you must become a servant—ah, well, I am spent, I must go, anyway. I will return, Katichka. Rest now. God be with you!” He rose and bent over Katya and kissed her forehead and both cheeks, then he made the sign of the cross over her. He turned and strode from the room, passing very close to Anna. Their eyes met briefly and a chill coursed through Anna. It was as if they both read each other quite thoroughly, neither much liking what they saw.
“Do you feel up to another visitor?” Anna asked Katya when they were alone.
“Yes. I feel stronger now, like I can go on. Oh, Mama Anna! It is so terrible! I lost Yuri’s baby. I wanted it so bad. Why can’t I do anything right? It’s because I lived such a wicked life before—”
“No, no . . . dear,” Anna cooed assuringly. “Father Grigori didn’t tell you that, did he?”
“He said to have faith, to humble myself before God. I want so much to please God. I could never please my own father, so I hoped maybe I might do better with God. I just didn’t try soon enough, I suppose, with my awful, wild ways. But I was afraid . . . afraid if I did truly try, I would botch it as I have everything else. Since I met Yuri, I wanted to do better—I’ve tried! But look, I’ve still messed it up. Why is it the thing I want most, I can’t have? Pleasing God . . . babies . . . maybe I’ll even lose Yuri if I can’t be better. Maybe I’ll never be good enough!”
“Katya, you mustn’t speak so. God looks at your heart, not at what you do. He knows we can never be perfect, not here on earth, anyway.”
“Then, why did He take my baby?”
“God didn’t take—”
“I have to try harder. I have to be humble. My pride killed my baby—Yuri’s baby . . .”
Anna realized then that Katya was not in a place to hear her answers—if indeed she had any answers at all for the young woman’s anguish. And she wasn’t about to badger her in her present state—Rasputin had done enough of that. Anna just sat quietly and held Katya’s hand, praying silently that God would let His truth prevail in the girl’s heart. It was all she could do—but, as Anna’s papa used to say, it was also the most and the best she could do.
45
Tsar Nicholas loved the atmosphere found at Stavka, the Russian command post located in a Polish forest. The camaraderie of men, the regimented rigors of the military life—a hard cot to sleep on, no-nonsense meals, marching and drilling and plotting strategy. He loved his Alix, but the air around Alexander Palace could be so cloying with perfume and flowers and that hideous mauve everywhere. It was decidedly a woman’s world, with Alix and four daughters and all their ladies-in-waiting and such. Not to mention the opulent furnishings and the fine china and . . .
Not so here. The air was fresh and clean, with a fine hint of gunpowder to make it complete. He was going to have to bring Alexis here soon—it would be good for the boy, also, to get away from the influence of women.
Nicholas visited the camp as often as possible, yet he was careful not to interfere with his cousin’s command. That wasn’t always easy, because he still deeply desired to be commander in chief himself. He never voiced it, but he was jealous of the man. Who wouldn’t be? The Grand Duke Nicholas Nicholavich, at six feet six inches tall, towered over the tsar. He looked like a real warrior. And the men all but worshiped him. There were rumors that Nicholas Nicholavich, or Nicholasha, as the tsar referred to him, had said he would one day reign as Nicholas the Third. The tsar chose not to believe the nasty rumors.
Such minor disturbances could not possibly interfere with the tsar’s enjoyment. Nevertheless, he was less than pleased when he saw a copy of a telegram sent by the grand d
uke to Rasputin. Apparently the starets had telegrammed the grand duke offering to come to the Front to speak a blessing to the troops. The grand duke had replied in his impetuous, bombastic way: “Yes, by all means, come. I will hang you!”
That took gall, even for the commander in chief, and as much as the tsar hated to do it, he had to confront the man over the issue. Alix, of course, had been livid when Rasputin showed her the message and had immediately wired the tsar. Now Nicholas wouldn’t hear the end of it if he didn’t say something to his cousin. He requested that the grand duke come to his private railway car, and as soon as the man arrived, the tsar handed him the copy of the telegram.
Nicholasha quickly scanned the brief sentences, then lifted his eyes to squarely meet the tsar’s. “I cannot have some fake priest underfoot at the Front,” he said bluntly. “We have enough problems, don’t we?”
“Grigori Rasputin is an Imperial friend,” the tsar protested. “I cannot have him spoken of in such a manner. If it were not for him—”
“I think we’d all be a lot better off!” the grand duke interrupted.
The tsar winced slightly at such cheek—no one interrupted His Imperial Highness! “Nicholasha, tread lightly on this matter. If I recall, it was you who recommended Grigori to us in the first place.”
“An act I will never cease to regret.”
“Even you cannot deny what he has done for the tsarevich.”
“I make no comment on matters of spiritual content. I am only concerned about the military. And I say it would not be beneficial for our army to have that man here. You aren’t going to override me on this, are you, Nicky?”
“I don’t think it would be appropriate for him to be here either, but for different reasons altogether.” The last thing the tsar wanted was to have his delightful military world intruded upon by anything to do with the Imperial Court back in Petrograd, especially Rasputin. At the very least the man was . . . a necessary evil. Still, the tsar tried very hard to see the monk with Alix’s eyes. There must be good in the man for her to adore him so.
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