The Russian Tapestry

by Banafsheh Serov

  ‘What?’ Taking the letter, Pauline Kulbas read the few lines. ‘Who would write such a letter?’

  Herman Kulbas’s shoulders sagged. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Do you think we should take the warning seriously?’

  Herman stared at the ceiling as if looking for an answer. ‘Yes,’ he said finally. ‘I think it’s serious.’

  An hour later Alexei and Marie joined her parents in the parlour and Herman Kulbas showed them the letter. Marie read it first, then, trembling, she passed it to Alexei. ‘Who do you suppose has sent it?’ she asked.

  Her father shrugged. ‘There was no return address on the envelope.’

  ‘I was afraid this may happen,’ Alexei said in a low voice.

  ‘What should we do?’

  Alexei looked at them each in turn. ‘I must leave Tallinn,’ he said. ‘By staying here, I’m putting all your lives in danger.’

  Marie’s fingers folded over Alexei’s. ‘If you go, I will come too.’

  Aside from the family, the household staff and a few friends, the church was nearly empty. A hasty letter to the guests explained that, due to the uncertainties caused by the civil war, the wedding had been brought forward.

  Holding her father’s arm, Marie looked elegant in a white silk dress. The veil, a gauzy layer of embroidered lace held in place by a garland of flowers, fell in a long train behind her.

  Waiting for her at the altar, Alexei wore his full military uniform.

  His two younger daughters sat in the front pew. Emily had declined the invitation but had sent a delicately crafted Chinese porcelain bowl as a wedding gift.

  Alexei smiled at his bride. Radiant under her veil, a gentle smile played on her lips and her grey eyes were bright with happiness, showing, without a hint of reservation, how she felt.

  The ceremony was brief and simple. The small choir sang psalms and the priest read prayers blessing the couple.

  At the end, Alexei offered Marie his arm and led her out of the church.

  ‘I have never seen a bride as beautiful as you,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘Marriage becomes you.’

  Later that evening at Alexei’s apartment, Anna helped Marie as she prepared for her first night with him. Most of the room lay in shadow, with the only light coming from the candles on the nightstand and the large fire in the hearth. Marie’s heart raced so that she could barely breathe.

  Helping her undress, Anna offered her reassuring words, ‘All women are nervous on their wedding night. It is nothing unusual.’

  Taking the new satin and lace nightgown, Anna laid it on the bed.

  ‘I don’t know what to do,’ Marie cried desperately. ‘What if I behave all wrong?’ A new thought made her eyes grow large with alarm. ‘What if he is disappointed?’

  ‘Don’t talk nonsense. The general adores you.’

  Dabbing a little perfume on Marie’s neck and elbows, Anna then slipped the gown over her head. The light fabric clung to her curves, accentuating her figure.

  ‘This is far too revealing.’ Marie blushed at her reflection.

  Anna smiled. ‘You look beautiful.’

  There was a knock at the door and Anna moved forward to open it.

  Alexei stood on the threshold.

  ‘Good evening, Excellency.’ Anna stepped aside to let him in then, giving Marie a final reassuring look, slipped out, closing the door quietly behind her.

  They stood for what seemed a long time, looking awkwardly around the room, nervous about making eye contact.

  ‘Would you like a glass of port?’ Marie asked, going to the table holding the carafe and six small crystal glasses. Filling two glasses, she offered one to Alexei. ‘It’s a gift from Papa. He had it especially imported from Portugal.’

  Accepting the drink, Alexei took small sips, studying Marie over the rim of his glass. Her face grew hot as his eyes travelled down her neck to the tops of her breasts just visible above the neckline of her gown. Taking her unfinished drink, he placed both glasses on the table. Slipping one hand around her waist, he pulled her towards him and smiled at her sharp intake of breath as he closed his lips over hers.

  Pulling his head away, he kissed her face, laying soft tender kisses on her brow, eyelids and cheeks. Moving his lips down, he nuzzled the base of her throat.

  With every kiss, she felt the stirring of desire grow more urgent. His hands slid lower and the moment he slipped the nightdress over her shoulders, she moaned softly.

  Lowering her onto the bed, he whispered, ‘This might hurt a little. I’ll be as gentle as I can.’

  She stiffened, frightened and excited in equal measure. Caressing her breasts, he kissed between them, then licked at the pink tips until they were erect. A whimper rose in her throat as warm wetness swelled between her legs. Shivering, she parted her thighs as she threaded her fingers through his hair.

  When he entered her, the pain was excruciating. Biting hard on her lower lip, she stifled a scream. Shifting his hips, he guided himself deeper into her and, this time, she could not contain her cry.

  She could not believe anything so painful could ever be pleasurable.

  ‘Try to relax,’ he said, then moved deeper inside her.

  This time the pain was much less and she lifted her body off the bed to meet his rhythm. At first slow and tender, his thrusting gradually quickened. He moaned into her hair, cupping her buttocks with both hands. Reaching climax, he tensed and, with a final shudder, fell still.

  Breathless, they lay pressed against each other, listening to the drumming of one another’s hearts, the crisp sheets tangled between their legs. Unexpectedly a sob escaped from her lips and, pushing away his arms, she sat up and drew her knees to her chest. Soon her sobbing was so intense, her face was flooded with tears.

  Surprised, Alexei looked at her uncertainly. He made a move to gather her in his arms then hesitated.

  ‘What is it darling?’ he murmured, drawing her to him. ‘Why are you crying?’

  Confused by the sudden cascade of emotions, Marie shook her head, not sure how to answer him. Burying her face in his chest, her sobs eased.

  ‘Marie,’ Alexei said quietly, ‘speak to me. What have I done?’

  She shook her head.

  His chest was wet where her tears had been.

  ‘I don’t know. I can’t explain it.’

  ‘Hush now.’ Kissing the top of her head, Alexei tightened his embrace. ‘I’m here for you.’

  Comforted by the pair of arms folding around her, the pain she had carried locked in her chest receeded to a faint throb before disappearing altogether. She calmed, as if cleansed by her tears, and fell into an exhausted sleep.

  That night, Pyotr and Nikolai visited her in her dreams.

  Gazing on her with kind, understanding eyes, they spoke softly to her.

  ‘I’m glad you have found happiness,’ Pyotr told her.

  ‘You are not disappointed in me?’

  ‘Of course not.’ He was surrounded by a halo of brilliant light. ‘We are happy for you.’

  Before receding into the shadows, Pyotr turned and smiled at her. ‘I wish you a long and happy life, Marie.’

  In the morning, Marie gazed into Alexei’s sleeping face. She kissed his lips softly and felt joy at his smile.

  ‘Hmm,’ he moaned groggily, opening his eyes. ‘Don’t tell me you’re one of those women who wakes at the first hint of light.’

  ‘I am actually.’ She giggled. ‘But until now, I’ve always slept alone so I had no need to stay in bed for long.’

  ‘What are you suggesting, Madame Serova?’ He raised an eyebrow.

  She smiled shyly. ‘Well, let’s see if you can convince me it would be worth my while to stay in bed a little longer.’

  A week later, Marie stood before the mahogany bookcase in her parents’ study, the tips of her fingers brushing the spines of the books. She had her back to her mother, who sat on the couch, head bent over her needlework. Dropping her hand, Marie turned to the corner
of the room where more trunks were stacked ready to be loaded into the car to be transferred to Alexei’s apartment.

  ‘What’s troubling you, Marie?’ Pauline Kulbas asked without looking up.

  Marie sighed. ‘How can you tell?’

  Smiling, Pauline Kulbas lifted her gaze. ‘I’ve known you since I felt the first kicks of your tiny feet inside my body.’ She patted the space next to her on the couch. ‘Come, sit next to me.’

  Marie sat down beside her mother. ‘You know that Alexei and I must leave Tallinn soon.’

  ‘I do.’ Madame Kulbas took Marie’s hand.

  ‘I don’t want to leave you and Papa. I’m not sure when I will see you next.’

  ‘You are a married woman now, Marie,’ her mother reminded her. ‘Your place is by your husband.’

  ‘I never thought you liked Alexei.’

  ‘I had my reservations,’ Pauline Kulbas confessed. ‘And who could blame me? He is almost twice your age, with grown children and a reputation … These were not qualities I had hoped for in a son-in-law.’

  Marie opened her mouth to protest, but her mother lifted a finger to stop her. ‘Let me finish. On the positive side, Alexei is from a good family. But –’ she shrugged ‘– none of that matters if you are in an unhappy relationship.’

  ‘He loves me.’

  ‘I know he does.’

  ‘How can you tell?’

  ‘It’s in the way he looks at you, as if you are the most important person in the room. It’s in the tender way he brushes the hair off your face or holds your hand or leans close to whisper in your ear. He loves you deeply, and it is wonderful to behold.’

  Throwing her arms around her mother, Marie hugged her. ‘I’m going to miss you terribly.’

  ‘Child, the Lord blessed me with three children, each a jewel in my life.’ She stroked Marie’s dark hair. ‘My darling girl, you used to cry on my lap like this when you were a little girl and your brother teased you.’ Lifting Marie’s chin, she touched her cheek. ‘Do you love Alexei?’ she asked.

  ‘With all my heart.’

  Pauline Kulbas nodded as if confirming something to herself. ‘Then you must go with him. You have my blessing and, if it is God’s will, you’ll return to us some day.’

  Marie kissed her mother’s palm. ‘I promise it will not be forever.’

  Tallinn, December

  ‘Where’s Serov?’ Bogoleev snapped. Leaving the front two days earlier, Bogoleev had hastened across the country to Tallinn. ‘Why have you not been keeping me up to date?’

  ‘There has been little to report,’ Ivanov said, keeping his voice impassive. ‘I have been following him for weeks. His routine hardly changes.’

  Bogoleev narrowed his eyes. ‘Does he suspect he is being watched?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I have been especially careful.’

  ‘What about his circle of friends? Who does he socialise with?’

  ‘He regularly calls on Countess Golytsyn. She is a friend of his ex-wife’s.’

  ‘Does he have a mistress?’

  ‘There is a local girl, originally from Narva.’ Ivanov wiped his brow with his sleeve. ‘I have seen them together a few times.’

  ‘Who is she?’

  ‘Her father had a factory in Narva.’ Ivanov tried to keep the panic out of his voice. ‘She moved to Tallinn with her parents. She is of no importance.’

  ‘They are bourgeoisie?’

  ‘The father is well respected. They lost a son in the war.’

  Bogoleev stared at Ivanov through narrowed eyes. Ivanov kneaded his palms over his knuckles, suspecting that Bogoleev’s instincts told him he was hiding something from him. Placing an arm around Ivanov’s shoulder, his eyes remained cold.

  ‘You’ve been away from your family for a long time,’ he said. ‘Maybe you should take a break, return to Petrograd.’

  ‘What about Serov?’

  ‘Leave him to me,’ Bogoleev said flatly.

  Ivanov swallowed. A sharp pain tightened in his stomach. ‘And what do you plan to do with the girl and her family?’

  ‘They are not important.’ Bogoleev gave him a thin smile. ‘I’m only interested in Serov.’

  58

  Tallinn, December 1919

  Alexei and Marie stopped at a café on Pikk tanav, the long street that ran from the town hall all the way to the harbour. Choosing a table close to the window, they sat in silence for a while, watching the passing parade of well-dressed couples.

  ‘I’ve met someone who can help us secure tickets to Australia,’ Alexei said when the waitress had taken their order.

  ‘Is he trustworthy?’

  ‘I believe so. An acquaintance of Countess Golytsyn introduced him.’

  They paused when the waitress returned with their coffees and a selection of colourful marzipans.

  ‘He will provide us with false identity papers in case we are stopped by the Bolsheviks. We will travel to London where we’ll board the TSS Themistocles to Cape Town and then Australia.’ He reached for a sweet.

  ‘When do we leave?’

  ‘Tomorrow.’

  Marie’s mouth fell open. ‘So soon?’

  ‘Marie …’ leaning across the table, he lowered his voice. ‘This is our best chance. The Red Army has already crossed the border. If we are to escape, we must do so straight away.’

  She fell silent, staring into her cup.

  ‘You’re right. It’s too dangerous for you to stay in Tallinn,’ she said at last. ‘But why Australia? It’s so far away. Mama has never recovered from losing Nikolai. And for me to go to the other side of the world …’

  ‘Irena writes that the sun in Sydney is so bright, it makes the horizon shimmer,’ Alexei said. ‘She writes that the Pacific Ocean is the colour of turquoise, stretching as far as the eye can see.’ His eyes shone in wonder. ‘It must be a sight to behold.’

  ‘But it’s so far away,’ Marie repeated. ‘Why can’t we stay in Europe?’

  ‘We will not be safe anywhere in Europe,’ Alexei replied, his voice tight. ‘We need to get as far away from the Bolsheviks as possible.’ He took her hand. ‘I would never forgive myself if any harm came to you. We will be safe in Australia. Cheka cannot reach us there. I promise you, it will only be for a few years. And then we’ll return.’

  She stared at a spot on the table, unable to meet his eyes. ‘And what if the Bolsheviks win?’ she asked. ‘What if it’s never safe for us to come back?’

  ‘That will never happen,’ Alexei scoffed. ‘They will never win. Never!’ An elastic silence stretched around them. Alexei was first to break it. ‘Marie, I will not go without you.’

  Marie smiled, the sadness that had settled across her eyes clearing. ‘I know you won’t.’

  By the time they left the café, a light breeze had sprung up, fresh and fragrant.

  ‘Let’s take a walk by Kadriorg pond,’ Marie suggested.

  Entering the park, they found a bench by the icy pond and watched couples skating arm in arm.

  A few metres away, a man knelt to tie his shoelace.

  A tingling sensation on the back of Alexei’s neck made him give the man a second look. But having tied his laces the man stood and continued on his way.

  Marie moved closer, nestling against Alexei for warmth. ‘I wonder what it would be like waking up to a hot Christmas Day,’ she mused. Her fingers played absently with the gold cross at her throat.

  The couple on the bench hadn’t noticed the figure watching them from behind an ancient alder tree. In any case, Bogoleev was almost unrecognisable beneath his bushy beard. He had spent three days surveying the address Ivanov had given him, but had not seen Alexei. Gradually, the realisation had sunk in: Ivanov had betrayed him.

  It was only by chance that he had noticed the couple leaving the café. He had recognised Serov immediately.

  Rising from their bench, the couple began to walk towards the park gates. Bogoleev’s heart was racing. Should he do it now? No, he caution
ed himself. There were too many people about.

  Serov and the young woman crossed the street and hailed a cabriolet. Bogoleev quickly stepped into the next cabriolet and ordered the driver to follow them.

  He had the driver drop him at the top of the street where Alexei’s cabriolet had stopped. The sun had set behind the buildings and the street lamps’ faint glow grew stronger. Keeping to the shadows, Bogoleev moved to an alley opposite the building Alexei and his companion had entered.

  He looked down at his hands. They were shaking.

  He needed a drink.

  Touching his face, he felt pain throbbing in his skull. It was time to act. Pulling out his revolver, Bogoleev held it by his side.

  ‘Drop your gun.’

  Bogoleev’s throat went dry. ‘Who’s there?’

  Ivanov stepped out of the shadows.

  Bogoleev relaxed, ‘What are you doing here?’ Then he saw the gleam of metal in Ivanov’s hand. ‘What’s the meaning of this?’ His grip tightened around his revolver. ‘I can have you shot for pulling a gun on me.’

  ‘I don’t care any more.’ Ivanov’s voice shook. ‘I have stood by and watched too many people die at your hands.’

  ‘Each one of them was an enemy of the revolution.’

  ‘Not all of them. The women and children who were murdered. How were they the enemy?’

  ‘I’m not discussing this with you.’ Bogoleev’s skull felt ready to explode.

  ‘Let them go.’ The trembling in Ivanov’s voice was replaced by a strong, authoritative tone.

  ‘Who?’ Bogoleev coughed a laugh. ‘Serov? Are you mad? You know better than anyone how long I’ve been hunting him.’

  ‘I’m telling you again: let him go.’ Ivanov’s voice was steady.

  Bogoleev’s face turned dark. ‘Serov betrayed me.’

  ‘How did he betray you? You forced him to join the Red Army. You threatened his family in front of him.’

  ‘I SAVED HIS LIFE!’ Bogoleev’s head was pounding. Closing his eyes, he touched his scar. ‘I should have shot him myself, but I let him live and he escaped. The man is a traitor.’