Robert Alexander: The Romanov Bride

It was a very nice night. As soon as we stepped outside, the Grand Duchess looked up with a smile. The sky was beautiful, the stars so bright, and she stared up at the heavens for the longest while.

“What glory!” she gasped.

Yes, of course she knew.

“We have a cart out back for you,” I said, leading the way through the garden.

I led the way with Matushka, then Nun Varvara following me, and finally the guard Yuri behind us all. We passed through the rows of vegetables that Matushka and her compatriots had planted with their own hands. They had heard of the famine and cholera sweeping through Sankt Peterburg and Moscow, and so they had taken it upon themselves to plant carrots and cucumbers, even some potatoes. I was surprised by this-that they could think of the future when not even the next moment was certain-and I was surprised how much Matushka herself knew about such things. She oversaw the planting work and taught the Romanov men about working in the earth.

She now asked, “Pavel, do you think we’ll be back to eat from our garden?”

Of course I knew the answer. Of course it was no. But at first I didn’t know what to say, how to reply.

I managed only to mutter, “I… I don’t know.”

“Well, if not, make sure it goes to some needy family, will you?”

“Certainly.”

From the back of the garden we passed through a grove of apple trees, and there, just after that, we came to a small horse and cart. A comrade I’d never before seen stood there, holding the horse by its bridle. All was just as we had planned, and in the back of the cart I found two pieces of material and two pieces of rope.

“We’re taking you to a secret place so we need to cover your eyes,” I said kind of like it was nothing.

Neither of the women said anything. They were so docile. So accepting. Like lambs. They did nothing as Yuri and I took the cotton material and tied it around their eyes, blindfolding them. In fact, they even bowed their heads to make it easier for us. They did nothing, either, as we took the rope and tied their hands behind their backs.

“We are going to seat you in the back of this cart,” I said, explaining. “My comrade and I will sit up front.”

That was all I said, and calmly, easily, they let us help them up into the back of the small cart. I showed them the seat in the back, and Matushka and her Nun Varvara sat down. It was kind of awkward, and when Nun Varvara blindly stepped on the hem of her own robes, I helped her, I lifted up her garments to make it easier.

“Spasibo.” Thank you, she said in clear appreciation.

Yuri and I climbed up in the front of the cart, and the comrade who had been standing there released the horse and saluted us a farewell. Off we went into the darkness, following a narrow dirt lane that passed from the edge of town and into the fields. The old horse pulling us seemed to know the way. Once I looked back and saw Matushka raising her head.

“The air smells so delicious,” she said, delicately sniffing the air, “just like wild strawberries.”

And, yes, there was a sweetness wafting about us. I hadn’t noticed it.

“Wild mushrooms, too,” I added.

“Oh, yes… you’re quite right, Pavel. There’s such a soft, loamy smell,” said Matushka, carefully smelling the air. “We must be nearing a woods.”

“Just ahead.”

Within a few moments we reached a forest and there, in the trees, we waited for the others. It was decided that we would do this, leave town in small groups rather than one big one, and gather there in the woods. The hope was that this way we would be less noticeable. If all of us left together someone might notice and an alarm might be sounded.

“We will wait for the others here,” I said.

Sure enough, about ten minutes later the next cart arrived, carrying two of the Konstantini brothers-Prince Igor and Prince Konstantin. They too were blindfolded, and their hands were likewise tied behind their backs. Not too long after that came a third cart carrying two more, Prince Ioann and the young poet, Prince Vladimir. After them came the last of our prisoners, Grand Duke Sergei Mikhailovich and his servant Fyodor Remez. All of them were blindfolded and their hands bound behind their backs, but I noticed that the Grand Duke’s arm had been bound up with something.

“He hid behind one of the cupboards and wouldn’t come out,” whispered one of my comrades to me, “so we had to shoot him in the arm.”

Apparently the Grand Duke Sergei had put up quite a struggle, screaming that he knew we were going to kill them. Now, however, all of them were quiet. There was no crying, no screaming. And so we set off toward Sinyachika. Somewhere along the way Matushka started singing “Magnificat,” and Nun Varvara and several of the young princes joined in. Later they sang Sviete Tixhi, and their voices were soft and pleasant in the dark night.

We saw no one else, we passed no other carts. Along the way we crossed through a large pine wood and when a wind came up you could hear the needles whistling.

The trip took almost two hours.

Of course we didn’t take them all the way to the Upper Sinyachikhensky Works. That was just a story. Instead, our destination was the Nizhni Seliminski mine shaft, where they used to dig for coal or ore or something, but which had long been abandoned. The mine itself was just a big hole in the ground, and it was very deep, which was why we had chosen it as the perfect place.

Quite some time later, all according to plan, we came to a small clearing just off the side of the road, and we pulled the carts in there, one after the other. The night air had cooled pleasantly, and now it was I who looked up into the sky, searching for something but unable to see it, to find it. There was nothing there. Did that mean it was just as Marx said, that there was no god and religion was just the opiate of the people?

“We’ve reached our destination and will walk the rest of the way,” I said, trying to keep my voice from trembling.

Yuri and I climbed down from the front of our cart, went around and helped Matushka and Nun Varvara from the back. Meanwhile, two other guards went quickly ahead-they were supposed to wait for us there, on the edge.

“We have to walk about two hundred paces,” I said, taking Matushka by the arm. “I’ll guide you.”

“Spasibo,” said Matushka as I took her by the arm.

We were first, Matushka and I, and after us came Yuri guiding the short nun. Their eyes were still blindfolded and their hands still tied behind their backs, of course. The path was narrow and kind of rough, but I did my best to steer Matushka, warning her of a rock, a turn, a hole.

Almost halfway there, Matushka said, “Tell me, Pavel, is the night still clear? Can you still see the moon and the stars?”

“Yes, it’s perfectly clear,” I replied, even though the clouds were moving in.

“Good, then I’m happy.”

I had the sense we could have uncovered her eyes and untied her hands and she would not have protested or screamed out or tried to get away. I guessed that she would even have knelt for us. And I wanted to do this for her, give her the chance to see her fate, but of course we had long ago decided otherwise. I led her along the path, but as we walked I couldn’t help wondering why we were doing this? What had driven us to this point? I thought maybe I should run away, at least with her, Matushka, but it would have been impossible. They would come after us both.

So why were we doing this? Oh, yes.

As one of my comrades had explained it to me, “You cannot go after a king without killing him.”

I supposed that included all of his family too. We had to be positive there was no going back. That was the least I owed my dead wife and my unborn child, wasn’t it, to make sure there was no going back?