He felt compelled to keep close watch on Talia—motivated in no small part by the fact that his bear of a brother-in-law would crush him if he didn’t. However, seeing that she was handling things well, he left the tavern after a few minutes and went to the other establishment.
When he entered, he noted that the place was occupied mostly by a couple of dozen men of the Ural contingent, all drinking pretty heavily—not at all an unusual circumstance among Russian soldiers. Daniel ordered a beer. He had become pretty adept at the art of making a single drink last an entire evening while giving the appearance of consuming as much as his companions.
He squeezed up to the bar between two burly soldiers. “So, do you have any idea when the thaw will start?” Daniel asked. The weather was always a good ice-breaker.
“You aren’t from around here, are you, stranger?”
“No, I’m a fur trader from Vladivostok.”
“I thought you had a strange accent.”
“So, what do you know of the weather? I’m planning to leave in a couple of days and am afraid of getting caught.”
“The thaw will make the river impassable for several days.”
“I know. Perhaps I should forget the rest of my business and leave now.”
“Thas up to you, friend.” The man tossed back a shot of vodka. His voice was so slurred, Daniel had a difficult time understanding him. “We’re gonna leave soon ourselves if ya wanna tag along with us.”
“We . . . ? You mean the soldiers are leaving?”
“Soon as them Moscow blackguards try to move their prisoner. But when they do, we Urals are gonna make sure that cutthroat they got locked up don’t get far. Who knows? Mebbe I’ll be the lucky one to put an end to his miserabble existence! I’ll drink t’ that!” He banged his glass on the counter until the bartended refilled it, then he drank the contents in a single swallow.
“You’re not talking about the former tsar—?” Daniel began, then stopped suddenly and pretended to shudder. “Never mind, I don’t want to hear anymore.”
“Wha’? You got a weak stomach? Ha, ha!” He slapped Daniel on the back. “You need some courage. Hey, give my friend somethin’ besides that sissy brew.”
The bartender placed a glass of vodka in front of Daniel, who pushed it away. “Thanks, but I want to keep a clear head, especially if I am going to travel.”
“Well, mind yerself on the road,” offered the soldier, helping himself to the rejected vodka. “There’s gonna be trouble or us Red Urals aren’t worth our salt!”
An hour later, Daniel met Talia as she was leaving her tavern after her shift. They retreated to the shadows, and he told her what he had learned from the drunk soldier.
“Andrei will be in danger,” she said.
“He’s been in danger from the beginning,” Daniel replied. “I am concerned for him, but our entire mission may be in danger—that is, the object of our mission.”
“Yes, I see.”
“We must get word to Andrei so at least he can be on his guard more than usual.”
“It would be best if I contacted him,” Talia said eagerly. Then, embarrassed, added, “Well, it would be less suspicious if he was seen with a woman, wouldn’t it?”
“That’s what I was thinking. But I want you to remember that I don’t intend to trade the tsar’s life for yours.”
“Why not? The rest of you are risking your lives in this mission.”
“Yes, but Andrei won’t kill anyone if only Bruce or I are harmed.”
Talia smiled. “I think you underestimate how much you mean to him.”
“Nevertheless, be careful.”
The regiment from Moscow had “liberated” a local estate on their arrival in Tobolsk and was bivouacked there. Talia had little trouble finding it, but she had to be creative in finding a way in, especially at that hour of the night.
She found a basket and filled it with a loaf of bread, a cabbage, a few apples, and other food items she pilfered from the tavern. Then she walked by the estate gate as if on her way home from a hard day’s work. She supposed it wouldn’t matter if she was recognized from the tavern. When she was a few yards past the gate, she pretended to stumble—a perfectly plausible ruse, considering the numerous potholes in the road, not to mention the mud and patches of ice. She let out a cry as she crumbled to the ground.
“Miss, are you all right?” the guard asked as he jogged toward her. Her faith in Russian male chivalry had been rewarded.
“Oh, how clumsy of me,” she said.
He held out his hand. “Let me help you.”
“You are too kind, sir.”
She clasped his hand, but as he lifted her, she let out another cry and fell against him. “I am afraid my ankle is sprained, or perhaps even broken.”
“How far is it to your house?”
“Only a couple of versts.”
“You will never make it.”
“What shall I do?” She gave a shuddering sigh, as if very close to tears.
“I’ll take you into the estate house. Our commander might give you the loan of a horse, or even a cart. Perhaps we will have to find a doctor. There is one who serves the former tsar, we will make him come.”
“A doctor?” She shuddered again. “I can’t afford a doctor.”
“Don’t worry. This is a socialist state now. All people, especially good proletarian women, are taken care of by the state.”
He easily lifted her in his arms and carried her back to the estate house. The soldiers were camped in a barn and a stable on the grounds, but the officers, even in the socialist state, had commandeered the house for their quarters.
The residents of the estate were huddled in one corner of the large main room, and Talia felt sorry for them. They were by no means aristocrats but were definitely rich moujiks and were not used to being pushed around in this way. At the other end of the room, several officers were gathered around a table playing cards. Talia was very relieved to see Andrei among them.
“What have you got there?” asked one of the officers, noticing the guard’s entry.
“She fell and hurt herself in front of the gate.”
At that moment Andrei looked up and saw Talia. He made no attempt to hide his instant consternation but luckily the attention of the others was focused on Talia and the guard.
The guard laid Talia on a sofa and the other men came forward, with Andrei at the front.
“It’s my ankle,” Talia said weakly. How she wanted to allay Andrei’s worries, but she could say nothing, nor could she even make some silent gesture.
Andrei quickly knelt down beside her. “I know a little about these things,” he said by way of explanation, mostly to the other men. He lifted her left foot.
“It’s my right,” Talia said.
He palpated the right ankle. “It doesn’t appear to be broken.”
“She can’t walk,” offered the guard.
“Probably a sprain,” said Andrei.
“I must get home,” Talia said.
“I thought perhaps we could spare a horse,” said the guard.
“Yes, an excellent idea,” said Andrei. “I’ll see to it myself.”
The guard was obviously not happy about this. After all, he had discovered the prize. But even in a socialist army there was a chain of command.
“Don’t be too long about it, Christinin,” said one of the other officers. “We will depart in a couple of hours.”
Andrei carried Talia to the stable where the regiment horses were being kept. The guard followed along to help with saddling. In a few minutes Andrei and Talia were mounted on the chestnut mare Andrei had ridden from Tiumen, with Talia comfortably in front. It was pure joy for Talia to be so close to the man she loved.
When they were well away from the estate, she said, “My ankle really isn’t hurt, Andrei. I just had to get a message to you.”
“I thought as much,” he said stoically.
“Not at first from the look on your face. I feel so
bad about that.”
“I don’t know what I would do if anything should happen to you.” His arms held her tighter, and his lips gently brushed the back of her head. “I don’t like you taking these risks, playing the secret agent.”
“We’re not playing, Andrei.”
“I know. Why do you think I am so distressed?”
They rode for a while in the direction Talia indicated she had been going when she fell—ostensibly toward her “home”—because the guard was watching. Then Andrei circled back on an obscure muddy path he hoped would get them back to the village—it was going the right direction, at any rate.
“Do you want to hear my message?” Talia asked.
“Of course . . .” Pausing, he sighed. “I guess I was hoping we could just enjoy where we are for a while, as if dangers and rescues didn’t exist.”
“Ah, yes . . .” She snuggled closer.
After a couple more minutes, Andrei said, “Well, go ahead with it. Time is not ours at the moment.”
“It will be someday, Andrei.”
She turned in the saddle, facing him as best she could. The moonlight glowed off his handsome face, and the pale hair sticking out from under his fur hat framed his boyish visage and nearly took away her breath. She would never cease to marvel at what she had found in Andrei, her dear friend, and now her future husband. To make the moment perfect, he bent down and kissed her yearning lips. For a time they forgot all about their mission. The horse ambled to a stop in the middle of the moonlit path.
But as Andrei had said, time was not theirs, and it was marching with cruel determination toward an uncertain future.
With great effort, Andrei moved his lips away from Talia’s. “You . . . had a message . . . ?”
“What message . . . ?”
“I’m hoping you will tell me.”
Talia shook away the unreality of the magical moment they had shared. “Daniel learned something tonight from a drunk Ural soldier. Are you leaving tomorrow with the tsar?”
“Yes, in a few hours.”
“Well, it might be the Urals are planning to intercept you somewhere on the road in order to kill the tsar.”
“Then they know we are leaving in the morning?”
“From what Daniel said, it didn’t sound like they knew a specific time, but they are expecting it to be soon, before the real thaw starts.”
“That’s probably why Yakovlev has been so nervous tonight. He must suspect something. We’ll just have to be extra vigilant.”
“Andrei, do you know the destination yet?”
“No, but I am pretty certain it isn’t Moscow. It might be Ekaterinburg. Yakovlev isn’t happy about the orders he has and once accidentally admitted to me that the tsar would be in hostile surroundings in the new location.”
Andrei urged the horse back into motion, and they rode in silence for a few minutes, then he said, “I ought to know something by the time we reach Tiumen. I will leave some kind of signal for you.” He paused for a moment. “There are taverns by the waterfront. Daniel even mentioned going to one. I will start with the one nearest the train station until I find one I deem can be trusted.”
“Even then, would it be safe to leave a message with a stranger?”
“It won’t be a message, so to speak. I’ll leave a package for my sweetheart. I’ll give a sad tale of how I was to meet her there but was called to arms . . . no one can resist romance.”
“And what will be in my package—I assume I am the sweetheart?”
“You are indeed. What sort of personal items do you have in your luggage? A scarf, perhaps? If that were in the package, it would mean we are going to Ekaterinburg. Now, what else . . . ?”
“I have some spare gloves—”
“Oh no, if you lost your only gloves, your hands would freeze. Something less important. A book, perhaps?”
“You are very good at this, Andrei.”
“I learned all manner of ‘secret agent’ tricks when in exile—many from Lenin himself! So, you do have a book?” When she nodded he went on, “I will write in the flyleaf, ‘In memory of our wonderful week in _________.’And I will fill in the blank with the destination.”
All too quickly they reached the village and the hotel where Talia was staying. After Talia gave Andrei the book of poetry she had been reading, they said a reluctant good-bye, and as Talia watched him ride away, she said a silent but fervent prayer for his safety.
38
Commissar Yakovlev and his prisoners departed the house in Tobolsk at four in the morning. After hearing what Andrei had to say, he seemed more nervous than ever.
“Pashle! Pashle!” Yakovlev urged his charges in order to hurry them along.
Andrei knew that as soon as Zaslavsky and his bunch of Red Urals learned that the Moscow contingent had departed, he would be hot on their heels. Just the other evening, Zaslavsky had warned them, “When you move the debauched monarch, don’t sit next to him if you value your hide.” But they had to show some restraint so as not to arouse the royal family’s fears more than they naturally were. All in the family showed the emotional strain. Alexis was in his room crying, and the girls’ eyes were swollen from their recent tears.
Finally, however, the travelers were loaded into the carts. The group included Nicholas and Alexandra, their daughter Maria, Dr. Botkin, a valet, a maid, and a footman. There was an awkward moment when Nicholas started to get into his wife’s cart, and Yakovlev asked him to go instead to the second cart. It seemed best that they be separated in case there was trouble.
The journey was difficult at best. They barely made it across the two major rivers in their path, the Irtysh and the Tobol, hampered by breaking ice and slush all the way. They changed horses frequently, which helped them make better time. Once they even stopped in Pokrovskoe, Rasputin’s village, and the Monk’s widow watched them from the window of her izba. Alexandra made the sign of the cross, her cold demeanor revealing a flicker of pain.
In Tiumen, they met their first resistance. On the station platform two dozen armed troops confronted them. Andrei recognized several of them as the Red Urals they had seen in Tobolsk. Somehow they had managed to beat Yakovlev to the railroad.
“Stand down!” Yakovlev ordered.
“Never!” retorted the leader of the Urals, whose name Andrei did not know. “We have a duty to save the revolution!”
“I tell you, my orders come directly from the President of the Soviet,” Yakovlev reminded the man as half of his own troops spread out on the platform. “If you interfere with me, you betray the revolution. I want no blood spilled here. But I will shoot anyone who tries to harm my charges.”
“You are nothing but a monarchist dupe—”
“Then Sverdlov himself is a dupe. I only follow his orders.” After a tense moment, Yakovlev added, “I give you one more chance to disband.”
When nothing happened, the commissar nodded toward his troops and signaled them to prepare to fire. Only then did the Urals desist and, grumbling and cursing, begin to disband.
To Andrei, Yakovlev said, “I want a couple of prisoners to question.”
Andrei took two of his men and went after the retreating Urals, grabbing two of them.
“What’s this!” they protested. “We’re leaving like we were told.”
“And we are very happy about that,” said Andrei, “but my commander would like a word with you two. No harm will come to you.”
The interrogation did not take long. One of the Ural prisoners refused to talk, but the other was only too happy to spill all he knew.
“I didn’t like the business from the beginning,” he said. “We are not brigands who would kill our own comrades.”
“What was their intent against our party?” Andrei asked.
“You know well enough. They want to destroy the baggage you are carrying. And don’t think you’ve stopped them. They’ll try again.”
“Do you know when?”
“They’ll do it outside of Ek
aterinburg—that’s our country there and they’ll be able to marshal a larger force against you.”
After they let the man go, Yakovlev turned to Andrei. “I was afraid something like this would happen.”
“What are we going to do about it?” asked Andrei.
“I have my orders,” Yakovlev said, but rather lamely.
“And that is to go to Ekaterinburg?” Andrei asked, reasonably enough, considering the present situation.
“I suppose you have a right to know.”
“But,” Andrei said, “surely Sverdlov would not send the tsar into that kind of danger!”
“I’m going to telegraph him now and let him know about these new developments.”
“May I make a suggestion?” When Yakovlev nodded, Andrei continued, “Let’s take the tsar east to Omsk. If things cool down we will be in an ideal position from there to go back either to Ekaterinburg or Moscow—or anywhere we choose, for that matter.” Andrei carefully studied the commissar as he said his final words. There was neither shock nor rebuff in his eyes.
“Anywhere . . . ?” he said.
Andrei shrugged. “Who knows what might arise to change plans? Personally, I have my doubts that things will cool down. If they do, it will only be a temporary cooling. Now that the Ural men are roused, it won’t be easy to hold them back.”
“Which means the tsar will be in constant danger no matter where he is.”
“In Russia at least.”
“Andrei, are you suggesting what I think you are suggesting?”
“You said once that you would protect the tsar with your life. Wouldn’t it be easier to remove him from danger altogether?”
Yakovlev rose from where he had been sitting in the small room at the station they had commandeered for the interrogation. He began pacing in deep thought. Andrei was silent. He had already pushed it further than prudence suggested. But his gut told him Yakovlev was very much of like mind with him, and thus could easily be made into an ally.
“It is a moral dilemma, isn’t it?” Yakovlev said after several minutes. “Here is a man—the emperor—to whom I have been opposed all my life. And now his life is in my hands. To sacrifice myself for him is far easier than being placed in a position of betraying my comrades. Do you understand this, Andrei?”
The Russians Collection Page 261