Zoya (9 page)

“We are all standing by you.” But the “all” was such a precious few, a handful of old women and loyal friends who could be counted on one hand. They had been deserted by everyone, the blow was almost too much to bear. But she knew she could not break now. She had to remain strong for her husband. “You must get some sleep now, Alix.”

Alexandra looked around her famous mauve bedroom nervously and then glanced sadly at the old woman. “I have some things I want to do … I must …” She could hardly bare to say it. “I want to burn my diaries tonight … and my letters … who knows if in some way they will use them against him.”

“Surely they can't …” But as Evgenia thought of it, she found that she agreed with Alexandra. “Would you like me to stay with you?” She didn't want to intrude, but the Empress looked so devastated and so lonely.

“I would like to be alone, if you don't mind.”

“I understand.” And she quietly left Alexandra to her unhappy task. She sat by the fire until morning, reading letters and journals, and burning even her letters from her grandmother Queen Victoria. She burned everything, except her correspondence with beloved Nicholas, and for two days she felt the pain of it, until Wednesday when General Kornilov returned and asked to speak with her alone. She met him downstairs in one of the rooms Nicholas often used. She stood tall and proud, and attempted to
conceal her shock and pain as she listened to what he said. She was being put under house arrest, along with her family and her servants and her children. She wanted not to believe his words, but it was inevitable now. The end had come, and they all had to face it. He explained carefully that anyone who wished to remain with them could, but if they chose to leave, they would not be allowed to return to Tsarskoe Selo. It was staggering news, and it took all of her strength not to swoon as she listened.

“And my husband, General?”

“We believe he will be here by morning.”

“And will you imprison him?” She felt physically ill as she asked, but she had to know now. She had to know all of it, what they could expect and what they were facing. And after the tales she had heard in the past few days, she supposed she should be grateful that they weren't all killed, but in the face of what was happening it was difficult to be grateful.

“Your husband will be under house arrest here at Tsarskoe Selo.”

“And then?” She looked deathly pale as she asked, but the response was not as terrifying as she had feared. All she could think of now was her husband and her children, their safety and their lives. She would gladly have sacrificed herself for them. She would have done anything, as General Kornilov watched her in silent admiration.

“The Provisional Government wishes to escort you and your husband and your family to Murmansk. You will be able to travel from there. We will send you by steamer to England, to King George.”

“I see. And when will that be?” Her face was as icy as granite.

“As soon as it can be arranged, madame.”

“Very well. I shall wait until my husband returns to tell the children.”

“And the others?”

“I shall tell everyone today that they are free to go, if they wish, but they cannot return. Is that right, General?”

“Exactly.”

“And you will not harm them as they leave, our family and loyal friends, few as they are now?”

“I give you my word, madame.” The word of a traitor, she wanted to spit at him, but she remained ladylike and calm as she watched him leave, and returned to tell the others. She told everyone that afternoon that they were free to go, and she urged them to do so if they wished to.

“We cannot expect you to stay here if you do not wish it. We shall be leaving for England in a few weeks, and it may be safer for you to leave us now …” perhaps even before Nicholas returned. She could not fully believe that they were being placed under house arrest for their own protection.

But the others refused to go, and the following day Nicholas finally returned, looking exhausted and pale on a freezing cold, dreary morning. He walked silently into the front hall and for a long moment he just stood there. The servants quickly brought word to Alix and she met him downstairs and faced him across the endless hall, her eyes filled with the words she could not say, her heart filled with compassion for the man she loved, and silently he came toward her and held her close to him. There was nothing left for either of them to say as they walked slowly upstairs to their children.

CHAPTER
6

The days following Nicholas's return were filled with fear and silent tension, and yet at the same time relief that he was safely home. He had lost everything, but at least they had not killed him. He sat quietly for hours with the Tsarevich, and Alexandra turned her attention to her daughters. It was Marie who was the sickest now, with pneumonia, which had resulted from the measles. She had a fearful cough that racked her body again and again, and a fever that would not seem to abate, as Zoya sat ever near her.

“Mashka … have a little drink … just for me …

“I can't … my throat hurts so much.” She could barely speak and her skin was hot and dry as Zoya touched her. She bathed her brow in lilac water, and spoke softly to her about their tennis games the previous summer at Livadia.

“Remember the silly picture your papa took of everyone hanging upside down. I brought it with me … Mashka, do you want to see it?”

“Later … my eyes hurt so much, Zoya … I feel awful.”

“Shh·. just try to sleep … I'll show you the picture when you wake up” She even brought little Sava in to cheer her, but Marie wasn't interested in anything. Zoya only hoped that she would be well enough to travel to Murmansk, and take the ship to England. They were leaving in three weeks, and Nicholas said everyone had to be well by then. He called it his final imperial order, which made everyone cry. He tried so hard to make everyone feel better about things, and keep the children happy. Both he and Alix looked more worn each day, but it was three days later that Zoya glimpsed him in the hall outside the mauve boudoir and his face was ghostly white. An hour later she knew why. His English cousin had refused to receive him, for reasons that were as yet unclear. But the imperial family would not be leaving for England. Originally he had asked Zoya and the old Countess to go with them, but now no one knew what would happen.

“What will happen, Grandmama?” Zoya asked her that night with terrified eyes. What if they were just going to keep them there at Tsarskoe Selo and then finally kill them.

“I don't know, little one. Nicholas will tell us when it is decided. They'll probably go to Livadia.”

“Do you think they'll kill us?”

“Don't be stupid.” But she feared the same thing. There were no easy answers now. Even the English had failed him. There was nowhere else for them to go, nowhere safe. The route to Livadia was perilous at best, she guessed. They were trapped now at Tsarskoe Selo. And Nicholas always seemed so calm, and
he urged everyone not to worry, but how could they not?

It was the next morning when Zoya tiptoed silently from the room and looked down from the window to see Nicholas and her grandmother walking slowly in the snow-filled garden. There seemed to be no one else around, and as she stared at them, he with his straight, proud shoulders, and her grandmother so tiny, a figure in a stark black cloak against the snow, she thought that she saw her grandmother crying, and then gently he embraced her and they disappeared around the corner of the palace.

Zoya went to the room they shared and a little while later her grandmother returned, her heart heavy, her eyes sad, as she sank slowly into a chair and looked at her lovely granddaughter. Only weeks before she had seemed to be a child, and now suddenly she seemed so wise and sad. She was thinner and seemed more delicate to the eye, but her grandmother knew that the horrors of the past weeks would only help to make her stronger. She would need her strength now. They all would.

“Zoya …” She didn't know how to tell her, but she knew that Nicholas was right. And she had to think of Zoya's safety. She had a long life ahead of her, and her grandmother would gladly have given her own to protect it.

“Grandmother, is something wrong?” In the light of what had happened in the past two weeks, it seemed a ridiculous question, but she sensed further disaster was impending.

“I have just spoken to Nicholas, Zoya Konstantinovna … he wants us to leave now … while we still can….”

Her eyes instantly filled with tears and she leapt to her feet in terror. “Why? We said we would stay here with them, and they will all be leaving soon … won't they, Grandmama? … won't they? …” The old woman didn't answer, she weighed the balance between truth and lie and truth won, as it always did with her.

“I don't know. With the English refusing to take them in, Nicholas fears that things may not go well for them. He feels that they will be imprisoned here, perhaps for a long time, or even taken somewhere else. We might all be separated eventually … and he cannot offer us his protection, he has none to give. And I cannot keep you safe here from these savages. He's right, we must go … now … while we still can.” She looked sadly at the girl who had only moments before been a child, but she was in no way prepared for the full measure of Zoya's fury.

“I won't go with you! I
won't!
I won't leave them!”

“You must! You could end in Siberia alone, you little fool … without them! We must leave in the next day or two. Nicholas fears that things could get much harsher. The revolutionaries don't want him around, and if the English won't take them in, who will? It is a very serious situation!”

“Then I'll die with them! You cannot make me go!”

“I can do anything I wish, and you must do as I say, Zoya. It is Nicholas's wish too. And you must not disobey his orders!” She was almost too tired to fight the girl, but she knew she had to use her last ounce of strength to convince her.

“I won't leave Marie here, Grandmama, she's so ill … and she's all I have left….” Zoya began to sob, and like a little girl she laid her head down on her
arms on the table. It was the same table where she had sat with Marie only a month before, as Marie had braided her hair and they giggled and chatted. Where had that world gone? What had happened to all of them? … and Nicolai … and her mother and father …

“You have me, little one….” Her grandmother gently stroked her hair as Marie had once done. “You must be strong. They expect it of you. You must, Zoya. We must do what we have to do now.”

“But where will we go?”

“I don't know yet. Nicholas says he will arrange it. Perhaps we can go to Finland. And to France or Switzerland from there.”

“But we don't know anyone there.” She looked horrified as she turned her tear-stained face to Evgenia.

“That is how it is sometimes, my dear. We must trust in God and go when Nicholas tells us.”

“Grandmama, I can't …” She wailed but her grandmother was firm. She was as strong as steel and twice as determined. And Zoya was no match for her, not yet in any case, and they both knew it.

“You can and you will, and you must not say anything to the children. They have their own worries just now. We must not burden them, it wouldn't be fair.”

“What will I say to Mashka?”

Tears filled the old woman's eyes as she looked at the girl she loved so very dearly, and when she spoke it was in a hoarse whisper filled with her own grief for those they had lost and the others they would lose now. “Only tell her how very much you love her.”

CHAPTER
7

Zoya tiptoed into the room where Marie slept, and stood for a long moment watching her. She hated to wake her up, but she couldn't leave without saying good-bye. She couldn't bear to leave her at all, but there was no turning back now. Her grandmother was waiting downstairs, and Nicholas had planned everything for them. They were to take the long Scandinavian route, through Finland and Sweden, and Denmark after that. He had given Evgenia the names of friends of his Danish aunt, and Feodor was coming with them to keep them safe. Everything had been decided. All that remained was a last farewell to her friend. She watched her stir feverishly beneath the sheets, and then Marie opened her eyes, and smiled at the familiar face, while Zoya tried valiantly not to cry.

“How do you feel?” she whispered in the silent room. Although Anastasia was sleeping in another room with her two sisters, all of them were slowly improving. Only Marie remained very ill, but Zoya tried not to think of it now. She could not think of
anything, couldn't allow herself to look back or even ahead, there was nothing to look forward to now. There was only this … one tiny last moment with her dearest friend as gently she reached out to her and touched her cheek. “Mashka …” Marie tried to sit up in bed and looked oddly at her friend.

“Is something wrong?”

“No … I … I'm going back to St. Petersburg with my grandmother.” She had promised Alix that she wouldn't tell her the truth, it would be too much for her just then. But Marie looked worried anyway. She had always had a sixth sense about her friend, as she did now. She reached out and took Zoya's hand and held it tightly in her own much too warm one.

“Is it safe?”

“Of course,” Zoya lied, and tossed back her red hair. “Your father wouldn't let us go if it weren't safe.” … please God, don't let me cry now … please … she handed her the water glass and Marie pushed it away, meeting her friend's eyes.

“Something's happening, isn't it? You're going somewhere.”

“Just home for a few days … I'll be back soon.” She leaned forward then and took Marie in her arms and held her close as tears filled her eyes. “You must get better now. You've been sick for far too long.” They held each other close, and she was smiling brightly as she pulled away, knowing that they were waiting for her.

“Will you write to me?”

“Of course.” She couldn't bring herself to leave, she just stood there staring at her, wanting to drink it all in, to hold on to all of it, the feel of her friend's hand, the smoothness of the sheets, the look in her
huge blue eyes. “I love you, Mashka.” Her words were whisper soft … “I love you so very much …”