The Rasputin Dagger

by Theresa Breslin

  ‘Nina calmed her son and the boy liked her’ – Galena rummaged her hair with her fingers – ‘but must we allow her to go there alone? It could be dangerous’ – she paused – ‘for more than one reason.’

  ‘Possibly more dangerous to refuse.’ Dr K began to pace the floor.

  ‘This is exactly what I mean,’ Stefan railed. ‘We have no rights over our own persons. A Romanov issues a summons and we are obliged to obey! They think they can acquire whatever they desire and regard us as their possessions. We should flout their commands. Nina must remain here.’

  ‘Excuse me!’ I shouted, furious that Dr K and Galena, and indeed Stefan, knew what was written on the invitation. ‘You are discussing me as if I don’t exist. I am here in this room – not some object to be despatched or disposed of. And I will decide what I will do!’

  My outburst shocked Galena and Dr K – and Stefan too, I was pleased to note.

  ‘We only wish what is best for you,’ said Dr K.

  ‘You have read correspondence which was addressed to me!’ The embossed card trembled in my hand as I held it up. ‘Before even I saw it! Have I no right to privacy?’

  ‘But …’ Galena tried to explain. ‘When he handed the card to me the coachman told me what it said.’

  ‘I am very grateful that you have taken me in and provided for me in my need. But you must not make me feel so beholden to you that I have no control over my own actions.’

  ‘Of course, of course,’ Dr K said in a placating tone. ‘It was remiss of us. I’m sorry to have intruded.’

  ‘So am I,’ said Galena.

  Stefan’s lips were thin. He had no intention of apologizing. I told myself that I didn’t care. In future I’d steel my soul against him and his opinion would be of no consequence to me. Yet … there was a spark of something in his eyes. Admiration? Perhaps not. More like surprise at the change in meek Nina. I was glad that he’d witnessed my temper, for whereas up until now I’d been accommodating with his moods, henceforth I’d assert myself more strongly with this young man.

  ‘I am not a “straw” to be grasped at,’ I went on in angry determination. ‘Nor do I intend to “play” at being a nursemaid. I will remain in the Alexander Palace for as long as it takes to finish the story.’

  ‘Would it be an idea to give the coachman the booklet which contains the story?’ Galena suggested. ‘Then you would not have to actually go there. His mother or one of his four sisters could read the tale to the boy.’

  I shook my head in frustration. ‘You are charitable people. I see that by your actions towards the needy who come regularly to the back gate, and also how you received me into this house. But’ – I gave Stefan a look so that he’d realize my next barb was aimed at him – ‘but, as has been recently pointed out to me, you are medical professionals. Of course I’m a mere auxiliary but, like you, am bound to help the sick no matter what their station in life. I have seen it happen in the hospital where, on occasion, a German soldier is treated by a Russian doctor.’

  ‘That is so,’ Dr K said reasonably. ‘However, these circumstances—’

  ‘The boy needs help,’ I broke in, too far into my rant to be mannerly. ‘I may be a simple nursemaid, but they think I can fulfil that role. Would you prevent me from going to help a sick child?’ I stared at them in turn.

  Stefan would not meet my gaze. He stood by the stove, isolated in his pride, his fingers balled into tight fists.

  ‘Nina.’ Dr K glanced at the door and lowered his voice to barely a whisper. ‘For … several reasons I would rather you were not parted from us for too long. The political situation is extremely volatile. The whole of Russia, and in particular our city, is a like a huge barrel of gunpowder surrounded by desperate souls brandishing lighted tapers. You know’ – he appealed to Stefan for confirmation – ‘there are those who would welcome bloodshed as the way to achieve democracy.’

  Stefan nodded curtly. ‘One of my university friends has that outlook.’

  He means Fyodor, I thought. And I agreed with Stefan on this. Fyodor’s Bolshevik Party seemed to relish the idea of an armed rising.

  ‘Any innocents who are damaged or die will be deemed expendable,’ said Dr K harshly.

  ‘And yet’ – Stefan stared at the floor as he spoke – ‘I am beginning to empathize with the militant faction. Daily I tend the broken bodies and minds of the men the Imperial Family send to fight a war to preserve their power. I am moved to believe the only way Russia will be free is to destroy the dynasty of the Romanovs. They are a malignance: selfish and uncaring. Everyone with the name of Romanov must be swept away.’

  ‘Ah, no!’ Galena wrung her hands together. ‘Beloved boy, do not speak such words of hate.’

  Stefan gave his head a shake, as if trying to rid himself of the storm of emotion that had taken hold of him. My heart contracted at the anguish apparent on his face.

  ‘This rage will pass.’ Dr K touched Galena’s shoulder in reassurance. ‘Stefan is an angry youth,’ he said. ‘With a right to be angry. As have all young people’ – he glanced at me – ‘who see their future prospects being squandered by an older generation.’

  ‘I will go to Tsarskoe Selo tonight,’ I said in a conciliatory tone. ‘If I don’t, then it might bring trouble to your door. I’ll return when the boy recovers or when their friend, the monk, returns.’

  Galena and Dr K exchanged a helpless look.

  ‘Nina,’ Dr K said seriously, ‘it is very likely that you will meet this pseudo-monk in person. When you do, try not to be alone with him. With regard to women, Rasputin has a certain … unsavoury … reputation.’ A furrow of worry appeared on his brow. Normally confident when speaking, Dr K was ill at ease as he fumbled for the words to tell me to protect my virtue. ‘Bawdy cartoons circulate indicating that he and the Tsarina are more intimate … than … than is proper.’

  ‘I am aware of how I should behave with regard to my person. Dmitri, my father’s steward, gave me a similar lecture before I left home.’

  ‘I have other concerns …’ Dr K looked once more at Galena. He drew in a deep breath. ‘There is the Imperial Family themselves. Please try not to become attached to them. Their glamour could become beguiling. They might draw you into their circle, and – and …’

  Suddenly Galena clicked her fingers. ‘If she goes dressed as a nurse …?’ Then, realizing her error, she turned quickly to me. ‘Nina. I am sorry, I should have asked you this directly. If you wear your overall, apron and cap, they will see that you are a professional person. May I help you change and pack a bag?’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, tears prickling behind my eyelids as I went with her.

  Galena didn’t speak again until she was fixing the white cap firmly to my head. ‘That’s better.’ She surveyed me critically. ‘Much better. This gives you the appearance of a nurse and less like … yourself.’ She took both my hands in hers and was forthright in her advice to me. ‘Nina, you were born and reared in the country, but are old enough to know certain practical facts of how life begins. You are young but have lived long enough to be aware that there are some men who desire to possess women, their soul and their body. They have no interest in your mind or your happiness. For them it is about dominance and control.’

  ‘You forget that I suffered the attentions of my father’s lawyer, who had no interest in my personal welfare,’ I reminded her.

  ‘It is said that Rasputin can hypnotize people with his voice or even by gazing into their eyes.’

  ‘Well then, I will not look into his eyes.’

  Galena nodded and then impulsively hugged me. ‘I would not have you harmed.’

  The coachman sighed in relief when I came downstairs. Galena handed him my bag to put in the carriage. Dr K came from the study to say goodbye, with Stefan hovering in the background.

  The doctor kissed me on both cheeks and embraced me. ‘Don’t stay too long,’ he said. ‘Things are changing rapidly, and for love of my friend, your father, and also
for love of you yourself, Nina, I beg you to return soon. In all sorts of ways you will be safer with us.’

  Stefan made no formal farewell to me, merely murmured, ‘Stay safe, my … friend.’

  I allowed him a small smile, and he added lightly, ‘At least you won’t have to queue at the bakery in the early morning in order to bring bread to their table.’ Then he turned on his heel and ran upstairs to his rooms.

  Dr K and Galena stood at the front door to wave me off. As the carriage pulled away I glanced upwards at the attic windows of the house – just in time to see the curtain fall back into place.

  Chapter 17

  There were soldiers marching ahead of us on the road to Tsarskoe Selo.

  The coachman stopped the carriage and came to speak to me. ‘Pay attention to me, young lady,’ he said, ‘for I, Sergei Pavlovich, am old enough to be your grandfather.’ He closed the window blinds of the carriage. ‘Don’t peek out,’ he advised. ‘And hold on tight, for when we set off again I’ll be going at full gallop.’

  ‘Why?’ I wondered at his caution. ‘Aren’t these our own troops?’

  ‘This lot are men from the unit based at the fortress of Saints Peter and Paul. Low-life irregulars,’ he said scornfully, ‘recruited because of shortages at the Front. Cut your throat as soon as look at you.’

  Of course I slid the blind aside as we drove past at speed. The soldiers didn’t seem threatening – they were thin and bedraggled, with patched-up uniforms, and mostly carrying long sticks rather than actual rifles.

  It was different when we arrived at the gates of the royal estate of Tsarskoe Selo. The men on duty there were the famous Imperial Guard: the elite of the army, with an unwavering loyalty to the Government and a personal pledge to defend the Tsar and his family. Their Commander took the Tsarina’s invitation and studied it. Then he opened the carriage door and demanded that I step out while he searched inside. He picked up my travel bag. For one agonizing second I thought he was going to ask me to open it. He would find the dagger – I would be regarded as a would-be assassin! There was no reasonable explanation for carrying a weapon with me into the presence of the Tsarina and her children. I should have listened to Galena and Dr K, and sent the story booklets rather than coming here myself.

  In a stark moment of recollection my father’s voice sounded in my head like a knell of doom: Do not ever leave our family home, Nina. If you do, then your life will be in peril! An unshakeable conviction swept over me. Papa must have had a vision, a dreadful precognition of my fate. This terrifying realization caused me to turn pale. In a semi-faint I leaned against the carriage.

  ‘Don’t be afraid, young lady.’ The Commander of the Imperial Guard misunderstood the reason for my frightened look. ‘The Tsarina is not as severe as people say she is. I expect she wants you to help with our Tsarevich.’

  Acknowledging my nursing outfit, he returned the invitation card, replaced my travel bag, and allowed us into the estate.

  I had not thought what to expect of the interior of the Alexander Palace but was surprised to find that the private apartments occupied by the Imperial Family were furnished somewhat like the house of Dr K. The furniture was grander and more expensive, but the general mode was of a family home. The rooms had comfortable armchairs, plain drapes at the windows, and dotted about were many family photographs.

  I was ushered into a sitting room, the walls of which were covered with holy images of every shape and size: depictions of the Lord God, Jesus Christ, His Blessed Mother, and a cluster of saints. Votive lamps burned on shelves with prayer cards set beside them. Supported by cushions, the Tsarina lay upon a long couch, with her son cuddled close and his four sisters standing around her.

  ‘Nina!’ On seeing me, the boy, Alexei, feebly tried to squirm upright.

  ‘Lie still, Baby.’ His mother restrained him. ‘Nurse Nina will come and sit by us and finish the story for you.’

  I waited for her command to approach. The Tsarina did not speak. Six pairs of eyes stared at me expectantly and I realized that they wanted me to take the initiative.

  I brought a chair closer to the couch and sat down. There was a tangible tension in the room and, as I looked in my travel bag to find the story booklet, I became aware that its source was the Tsarina. Although half prone, she held herself in an awkward position of stiffness; I’d seen similar cases in the hospital, where men, fresh from the Front and suffering mental trauma, had coiled their muscles into a rigor that they were unable to release. The military doctors described it as a type of ‘shell shock’.

  ‘We find that the Tsarevich Alexei is unable to fall asleep tonight.’ Her voice vibrated with anxiety. ‘The bruise from his recent fall is aching and his mind is bothered with unwanted thoughts.’

  I was to learn that the Tsarina had a habit of talking about her son in his presence as if he wasn’t there. It was as if she thought he couldn’t hear her or was not sensible to these remarks. And so I, who’d just lost my temper at similar treatment an hour or so previously, was in full empathy with this child.

  I switched my gaze to the boy to address him. ‘Would you like me to tell you the remainder of the story?’

  He nodded listlessly.

  I winked in an obvious manner, leaned over and whispered loudly, ‘This story is for you, Alexei. Should we let others be present while I tell you what happens when Masha meets the Bear?’

  He regarded me with puzzlement.

  ‘What do you think?’ I said. ‘It’s your decision. The storyteller must abide by your rules. If you choose, you may dismiss these people and have a private audience.’

  He gasped at the enormity of my impertinence. My own heartbeat had increased. It was an all-or-nothing throw of the dice. Alexei’s eyes went to his mother’s face.

  Alexei’s sisters glanced at their mama in consternation. Their hands fluttered to join up and interlock fingers as they sought to support each other. The eldest one reached out and patted her mother’s shoulder. And in an instant I understood something about this family relationship. The girls were concerned for their mother as much as for their brother. The Tsarina was strained to the point of breaking. And the young boy was bearing two burdens – that of his own illness plus the effect that it had upon his mama.

  The Tsarina gave a nervous twitch. Then she laughed. It was a merry sound, and immediately the atmosphere in the room lightened. ‘Of course, my baby son! You shall have whatever you desire, Alexei.’

  ‘Please may we stay?’ the girls begged their brother.

  ‘You may.’ Alexei’s eyes were more alert than they’d been a few minutes previously.

  ‘Perhaps you should introduce me to your sisters?’ I suggested.

  ‘They may introduce themselves.’ Alexei wriggled away from his mother to be free of her constricting hug.

  And so I met the four daughters of Tsar Nicholas and his wife, Tsarina Alexandra: the eldest, Olga, straining to fulfil the role of mother to her own mother; Tatiana, dainty and decorous; Maria of the mischievous smile; and the youngest, Anastasia.

  They listened attentively as I continued with the story of Masha and the Bear of the Forest.

  ‘Well, as you know, Masha made a pie for the Bear and hoped she might escape while he was eating it. But the Bear locked the door of his very high house and told Masha that she must stay and look after him. He decided that each morning he would go and gather berries in the wood, and at night Masha would make delicious pies for dinner.

  ‘Masha saw that, in order to escape, she would have to think of a more cunning plan. One night, in addition to making a large pie for the Bear, she made lots of little ones too. “We have been taught that we should share our extra food with those less fortunate than ourselves,” she told the Bear. “I would like to take these small pies to a poor man and woman who live by the edge of the forest.”

  ‘Although he was fierce, the Bear had a kind heart. He said, “Then let us share what we have.”

  ‘But’ – I paused a
nd raised my eyebrows – ‘despite having a kind heart the Bear was not stupid. He realized that when Masha left his high house she might not return. And so he also said, “Put the pies in my tall pannier basket and I will take them to the couple who live at the edge of the forest.”’

  The youngest girl, Anastasia, put her hand to her mouth. ‘Masha will never escape from the Bear!’

  ‘Masha had guessed the Bear might do this’ – I spoke reassuringly – ‘and so, after she made the Bear promise that he would not eat any of the pies, she jumped into the pannier basket and hid herself among them.

  ‘The Bear strapped the tall pannier basket onto his back and set off for the edge of the forest. After a little while the Bear stopped, for he dearly wanted to eat one of the pies. He began to undo the straps to take the basket from his back. And as he did so he said:

  “I’m so far from Masha, she will not spy

  If I sit down and eat a pie!”

  ‘Masha heard this, and, popping her head up above that of the Bear’s, she called out:

  “I can see you, for I have climbed so high!

  Bear of the Forest, you must not sit down and eat a pie.”

  ‘“Oh! Oh!” the Bear cried out. “;If Masha can see me she must have climbed onto the red roof of my tall house.”

  ‘He quickly refastened the straps of the pannier basket and went on his way. After a long while the Bear stopped again, for he dearly wanted to eat one of the pies. He began to undo the straps to take the pannier basket from his back. And as he did so he said:

  “I’m so far from Masha, she will not spy

  If I sit down and eat a pie!”

  ‘Masha heard this, and, popping her head up above that of the Bear, she called out:

  “I can see you, for I have climbed so high!