The Rasputin Dagger

by Theresa Breslin

  ‘You are from the countryside, aren’t you?’ the one called Anton asked me. ‘Is it your first time in the city?’

  ‘Yes.’ I nodded. ‘No!’ I added quickly as I recalled Dmitri’s advice: If a stranger asks, always pretend that you know the city.

  ‘In that case,’ the first soldier said, ‘maybe you would be good enough to be our guide, for this is our first day in Petrograd.’

  ‘I cannot talk to you,’ I said, following Dmitri’s instructions as to how I should treat a stranger in the street, ‘for I am on my way to meet my husband.’

  ‘You are married?’ The first soldier clasped his hand across his chest in a dramatic gesture. ‘My heart is broken and it is not yet noon.’

  ‘Do not fret for him, my lady.’ Anton gave his friend a rough shove. ‘Pavel’s heart gets broken a dozen times a day. I am the one who needs your attention.’

  ‘May I at least have a smile?’ Pavel went on his knees before me. ‘We are being posted out tomorrow. To the war. But I could die happy on the battlefield if I had the memory of a smile from a beauty such as you.’

  I giggled. I couldn’t help myself.

  ‘Have pity on us,’ Anton chimed in. ‘We’ve just returned from the Front after fighting in mud and slime for weeks on end. Surely we deserve some reward?’

  Their uniform was far too clean for them to have been on active service. I opened my mouth to point this out, but again Dmitri’s voice was in my ear: If you are accosted by any young men, ignore them. Given the slightest encouragement they will follow you for the rest of the day. I ducked my head and pulled up my shawl to re-cover my hair. Then I walked away determinedly.

  ‘We are devastated!’ they called after me merrily. ‘You have crushed us completely!’

  I wondered what would have happened if I had accepted their offer to be their companion for the day. Inwardly I was pleased that they’d picked me out from among others in the square. Viktor Ilyich had indicated that he was offering me marriage as a favour – I’d no idea if I was pretty or not. Papa and Dmitri said I was, but then they’d hardly tell me if I was ugly, would they?

  Totally exhilarated by the encounter, I arrived at the address I sought with a light step and full of hope.

  Dr Konstantin did not live there!

  The owner of the house told me that the doctor had moved to another area of the city. She gave me the name of a particular street but did not have a number for the house. It took me over an hour to get to the place, crossing several bridges as I did so. It was a different city that I saw as I went deeper into the industrial quarter. Gone were the wide avenues of beautiful residences fronted with pretty pink plaster. Steelworks and sawmills, with many factories and family dwellings packed densely together, took up all available space, shutting out the daylight. The buildings hemmed me in and I was relieved when I finally reached my destination. I walked to the end of this long street, examining nameplates and making enquiries. No one knew of a Dr Konstantin or any doctor ever living there. By now it was late afternoon. I sat down by a fountain to think what to do next.

  In the purse pinned to my underclothes I had a return railway ticket to Yekaterinburg. Dmitri had insisted I buy one so that, in the event of not finding Dr Konstantin, I would be able to go home again. Although the ticket was valid for a week, Dmitri’s plan was that I should come home if I did not find the doctor within three days.

  I unfastened my food bag and began to eat a slice of the soft white bread that Dmitri himself had baked for me. The smell of it reminded me of our warm kitchen and tears rose into my eyes. The place where I found myself was so alien to my usual surroundings. Houses closely built with no trees or grass to be seen … I glanced around. A little girl stood a few paces off, watching me.

  ‘Hello.’ I smiled. ‘My name is Nina. How are you this afternoon?’

  I had a great liking for children and usually they took easily to me. But this child didn’t smile in reply. She continued to stare without speaking.

  Then I understood that she was not staring at me, but at the bread I held in my hand.

  ‘Oh!’ I said. And I was aware of her peaked face and scraggy body, with skinny legs poking out below the ragged skirt.

  I broke off a piece of the bread and held it out to her. She snatched it from me and darted off, swifter than a bird pecking a crumb from my hand in winter time.

  I could not, in good faith, eat any more in front of this starving child. I emptied the contents of my food bag onto the bench and walked away. When I glanced back it had disappeared. I’d decided that if I couldn’t find the doctor then I would find work, and make a new life for myself here. But as I went through the city streets I realized that there might be no employment to be had. Below the superficial appearance of a busy, affluent city the people’s clothes were worn and they looked lean.

  My steps were leading in the direction of the railway station and I stopped at a newspaper stand to read the headlines. The war was going badly, and the workers were striking. Evening came on, and groups of men and women gathered on street corners, discussing and arguing. Overheard conversations shocked me:

  ‘Death to the German-born Tsarina!’

  Growls of agreement came from the throats of the listeners.

  ‘She is a cousin of the Kaiser and a German spy!’

  ‘The Mad Monk Rasputin should be burned alive!’

  At the railway station, I went to the toilet where I counted my money. I reckoned that if I lived frugally it would last me one week. My face was reflected in the cracked mirror above the broken wash basin from whose taps no water issued.

  ‘Seven days, Nina,’ I said aloud, ‘that’s all the time you have.’ In my heart, however, I was prepared to be destitute rather than go home to marry Viktor Ilyich.

  Surveying the main concourse, I picked the oldest and kindest-looking porter I could see. In answer to my query he gave me directions to a cheap boarding house, which was still a suitable place for a respectable young woman to lodge.

  On my way there I passed what looked like the main hospital of the city and, on an impulse, I went inside and found the offices. Boldly I asked the clerk if there was any record of a Dr Konstantin. I showed her the last letter Papa and I had received from him. She became sympathetic when I explained that my father had died and I didn’t want to marry the older man who’d taken our house and estate.

  ‘Being in the city for a while could change your mind,’ she called to me as she riffled through a drawer of record cards. ‘Food prices are rising by the day and the workers’ hours have been increased, but not their pay. My body is aching for a decent meal and a warm fire.’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Got it!’ Laying a card on the counter, the clerk then brought a piece of paper and a pen for me to copy out the details. She wished me luck and winked as we parted, saying: ‘If you decide not to marry the lawyer, then stop by and give me his address so I can try my hand!’

  My spirits lifted as I set out from the hospital. I would neither starve in this city nor be forced to go back home. In my hand was the present address of my father’s closest friend, who would look after me. I was supremely confident that I would be safe for evermore.

  I’d forgotten my papa’s dying warning:

  Do not ever leave our family home, Nina. If you do, then your life will be in peril!

  Chapter 5

  Dusk was settling over the city when I eventually reached the house of Dr Konstantin.

  I was immensely tired, for I’d had little sleep over the last five days. My face and hands were grubby and my coat and dress travel-stained. The house loomed over me, narrow but high, consisting of two storeys, with attic rooms in the roof. Wearily I trudged up the front steps and sounded the bell.

  ‘What do you want?’ A young man asked the question as he opened the door. For a servant his manner was abrupt, but perhaps city customs differed from those of the country.

  ‘My name is Nina Ivanovna Izmailov,’ I said. ‘I ha
ve come to see Dr Konstantin.’

  ‘Dr K is a busy man, but he sees patients in his weekly clinic tomorrow morning from six until eight. The entrance is at the side of the house.’ He pointed to show me the way and made to close the door.

  ‘I don’t want to be his patient,’ I said. ‘I have—’

  ‘No money,’ he cut across me, finishing my sentence with what he thought I was going to say. He glanced at my clothes. ‘Dr K doesn’t charge factory workers.’

  ‘I’m not a factory worker!’ I said indignantly. ‘I am a lady!’

  ‘Are you indeed?’ he replied with an edge to his voice that I’d never before heard in any servant. ‘For your information, female factory workers are ladies too – by right of their own birth and body.’

  ‘I-I only meant—’ I stammered.

  ‘Whereas,’ he continued, ignoring my protest, ‘I doubt if a so-called “lady” could be a factory worker. They’d have neither the wit nor the will to be capable of the tasks involved.’

  This was the second time within a week that I had been dismissed by a man as having neither ‘wit’ nor ‘will’. I felt my temper rise in response.

  ‘I have both wit and will to know that you are exceptionally rude. And also to know that you are not Dr Konstantin. I wish to see him at once.’

  ‘Well, you can’t; he’s not at home.’

  ‘I will come in and wait.’

  ‘You will not,’ he retorted. ‘I am not here to be commanded by the likes of you. The days of masters issuing orders to servants and serfs are drawing to a close.’

  I swallowed my annoyance. ‘I am not giving you orders. My father was a friend of Dr Konstantin and I have come to visit him.’

  ‘How do I know that you are who you say you are?’ He scrutinized me. ‘Have you proof of this?’

  I hadn’t thought too much about what kind of reception I might expect at the home of Dr Konstantin, but I was unbearably disappointed with this reaction. The young man, who I now thought might be the doctor’s son rather than his servant, kept me standing on the outside step while I searched in my pocket and gave him the letter I carried with me.

  ‘Anyone can forge documents, and anyhow’ – he thrust it back at me – ‘your letter is many years old.’

  ‘I was told that Dr Konstantin stopped writing to my father because he knew his letters were being censored.’

  A look of alarm crossed the young man’s face. ‘That is a rash thing to say!’

  ‘It was your lack of manners that forced me to say it.’

  He studied me more closely. ‘You have come here to spy on us.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

  ‘If you are not a spy, then I’m guessing you’re looking for a free handout of some sort. Go to the back gate via the lane at the side of the house and ring the bell. The housekeeper will give you bread and soup.’

  I caught my breath. ‘We haven’t met for years but I can tell you enough about Dr Konstantin to convince you that he does know me,’ I said.

  ‘Ha!’ he said. ‘If you knew him as well as you pretend then you’d know that he’s never referred to as “Dr Konstantin”. Everyone calls him “Dr K”.’

  ‘My father used his full name when he visited us. Surely you can appreciate that would be the case with old friends?’

  He shrugged. ‘It wouldn’t take a lot of inquiry on your part to uncover suitable information. Until you can definitely prove who you are I cannot welcome you into this house.’

  ‘Then I will not stay where I am not welcome,’ I said stiffly. I fought away my tears. I would not give this arrogant person the satisfaction of seeing me break down. ‘I will trouble you no further.’

  I turned and bumped into a tall man who was coming up the steps with head bent, reading a leaflet he carried in his hand. ‘Ho!’ he said. ‘My pardon.’

  Clutching my bag, I brushed past him and walked on.

  ‘What did that girl want?’ I heard him ask the young man.

  ‘She claimed her father knew you. I sent her to the back door to get some food.’

  ‘Did she give a name?’

  ‘Nina … something or other. Probably another agent sent by the police to plant themselves amongst us. Although’ – he laughed – ‘she’s prettier than any of the others.’

  Face burning with humiliation, I increased my pace so as to avoid hearing his unkind remarks.

  I barely heard the tall man repeat my name. ‘Nina …?’

  Chapter 6

  ‘Nina!’

  Footsteps were running on the pavement behind me and someone caught at my sleeve.

  ‘Nina Ivanovna? Is it really you?’ The tall man who had bumped into me on the steps swung me round and looked into my face. Then he drew me to him and kissed me on each cheek. ‘Your mother’s eyes! Of deepest blue. I would know them anywhere on earth!’ Before I could speak he seized hold of my bag and tucked my arm through his. ‘Come in! Come inside the house!’

  The rude young man held the door open and then, without apology, he nodded and left us in the hallway.

  ‘Forgive that ignorant boy,’ Dr Konstantin said as he hung up my coat and led me through to a large kitchen. ‘Stefan is intelligent, therefore there’s not a drop of common sense inside his skull.’ He took tea glasses from their hooks to place upon the table. ‘Let us have tea and you can tell me what brings you to my door.’

  ‘It was complicated for me to discover where you live,’ I said. ‘I only had an old address …’

  ‘I’m sorry. I should have found a way of letting your father know where I was. But you look weary; please sit down.’

  ‘I am told that you are busy so I won’t stay long.’ I was not ready to forgive the hurt I felt at being so shabbily treated.

  ‘Not so busy that I cannot spend time with my own goddaughter whom I have not seen for many years.’ The doctor patted my hand. ‘I have missed you and your papa very much.’

  ‘It was you who lost touch with my family,’ I accused him.

  ‘Yes.’ The doctor nodded. ‘Quite deliberately. I became an adviser to the Duma Council and was told that the Okhrana, the Secret Police, would begin to keep me and the people I met under surveillance. I destroyed the letters your father sent me and advised him to destroy those he’d received from me. My breaking our contact was to prevent any harm coming to either of you. And yet’ – he smiled – ‘you managed to seek me out.’ He poured hot tea into the two glasses and sat down. ‘Is there a particular reason why you have come to St Petersbu—’ He corrected himself. ‘Or rather, as we must call our capital city now, “Petrograd”? How is your father?’

  I bent my head and stared at my tea, unable to say the words, unable to tell him that my papa had died.

  ‘My poor child! I’m so stupid!’ His own tea glass clattered onto the table. ‘I should have guessed that your father’s passing would be why you are visiting me. If he were alive he’d never have permitted you to come to this city.’

  ‘But he’s not alive!’ I raised my tearful face to his. ‘Couldn’t you have come to Yekaterinburg at least once in a while?’

  ‘We live in critical times, Nina. I did what I thought was best to keep you both safe and secure in your hiding place.’

  ‘Didn’t you know how much your visits meant to me? To us? Lately my father needed help, someone he could trust – but the friend of his youth abandoned him.’

  ‘I am sadder than you will ever know that I had to lose the companionship and correspondence of you both. Your papa was my truest friend.’ Tears formed in the doctor’s own eyes and he got up quickly and stood at the window with his back to me.

  And now I felt guilty that I had misjudged my godfather when he was so obviously upset at hearing of Papa’s death. I righted his glass and wiped up the spilled tea and then asked politely if I should pour him some more. He inclined his head and said he’d like to hear of my father’s last days and my present circumstances.

  And so I gave Dr Konstantin an account
of the stroke that had paralysed my papa and eventually killed him. I informed him of the debt owed by the estate, and told him about the actions of the lawyer Viktor Ilyich. I did not mention the carved oblong casket, nor the dagger it contained.

  ‘The truth of the matter is that I have no money. To pay off my father’s debt I will have to hand over everything I own: the estate, the house and the goods within it. I came here in the hope that you would be able to find me work to do, and that I might live modestly.’

  The doctor sat down beside me. Then he said, ‘You must stay for a few days at least to recover from your journey, Nina. But, honestly, I do not know if this is the best place for you to seek sanctuary on a long-term basis.’

  This was not the jolly friend of Papa’s that I recalled from my childhood. This man was far removed from the one who had hoisted me on his shoulders and carried me about our orchard so that I could pluck fruit from the trees.

  ‘I see you are disappointed and upset.’ He spoke kindly. ‘But you are old enough to be aware that the war is going badly for Russia, which affects those at the Front and those at home. Our Government is sliding into chaos and the people are ready to rise against them. This is a city of strikes and shortages and I am concerned for your well-being.’

  ‘There is another reason I came,’ I said. ‘I want to get to know the city where my mother and father lived and met each other – the St Petersburg of my parents.’

  ‘That St Petersburg is no more,’ he said. ‘Neither in name nor in nature. Its name was considered too German by the powers that be, and so it was changed. Its nature is considered too corrupt by the powers that hope to be, and so they are attempting to change that too.’

  I slumped in my chair. I believed that my father had educated me well but I lacked any real knowledge of politics. Of course Papa had told me of our war with the German Kaiser. We had noted the absence of young men on our travels through Siberia, and I was aware that Russia had allies in France and Britain who were also fighting to contain the German invaders – but I was ignorant of how the war was being conducted or how it affected the mass of the Russian people.