Danielle Steel: Zoya

At Tsarskoe Selo, the Empress had her own hands full. The children were still feverish, with Marie the worst of all, and Anna was still sick too. The mutinous soldiers arrived in the village by late that afternoon, but fearing the palace guard, they satisfied themselves with looting in the village, and shooting anyone and everyone at random.

The children could hear the shots from the sickroom, and Alexandra told them repeatedly that it was only their own soldiers on maneuvers. But that night, she sent word to Nicholas, begging him to come home. Still not understanding how truly desperate they all were, he chose to return by the longest route, not wishing to interfere with the routes used by the troop trains. It was inconceivable to him then that he no longer had a loyal army. Both the Garde Equipage and the imperial guard, mostly composed of personal friends, whose mission had always been to guard the Tsar and Tsarina and their children, had left their posts. Even the soldiers from the garrison at Tsarskoe Selo had deserted and betrayed them. And St. Petersburg had fallen. It was Wednesday, March 14, and an entire world had changed overnight. It was almost impossible to conceive of the overall implications.

The ministers and generals were urging Nicholas to abdicate in favor of his son, keeping Grand Duke Michael as regent. But the frantic telegrams being sent to Nicholas on his way back from the front, explaining the situation to him, were getting no answer. And in the midst of his silence, Zoya and her grandmother were equally without news. Konstantin had not been home in two days and there was no way to get news of him. It was only when Feodor finally braved the streets, that he came home to tell them the dreadful news Evgenia had feared for days. Konstantin was dead. He had died at the Winter Palace with the last of the loyal troops, killed by his own men. There wasn't even a body to bring home to them. He had been disposed of along with countless others. Feodor returned with tears streaming down his face and sobbed openly as he told Evgenia what had happened to Konstantin. Zoya stared at him in horror, as they listened to him, and her grandmother spun around and ordered the maids to sew more quickly. All of her jewels had been hidden by then and Natalya's too, and the rest of it would have to be left behind, as she made another rapid decision. They were going to bury Nicolai in the garden. Evgenia and Feodor and three of the younger men went back to the main house, and stood silently in his room. He had been dead for three days and they could not wait any longer. Evgenia was solemn and dry-eyed as she stared at him, thinking of her own son now. It was too late for tears, she wanted to cry for all of them, but she had to think of Zoya now, and for Konstantin's sake, Natalya.

As they prepared to move the body, Natalya appeared like a ghost, drifting through the halls wearing a long white robe, with uncombed hair and mad eyes as she stared at them. “Where are you going with my baby?” She looked imperiously at her mother-in-law, and it was clear to all that she had lost her mind. She seemed not even to recognize Zoya. “What are you doing, you fool?” She reached out a clawlike hand to stop the men from taking him, but the old Countess held her back, and looked into her eyes.

“You must come with us, Natalya.”

“But where are you taking my baby?”

Evgenia refused to answer her, it would only confuse her more or make her hysterical again. She had always had a weak mind, and without Konstantin to indulge her and shield her from the truth, she could no longer cope. She was totally mad, and Zoya knew it as she watched her.

“Put on your clothes, Natalya. We are going out.”

“Where?”

Zoya was stunned when she heard the words. “To Tsarskoe Selo.”

“But we can't possibly go there. It's summertime, and everyone is at Livadia.”

“We'll go there eventually. But we must go to Tsarskoe Selo first. Now, we are going to get dressed, aren't we?” She grasped her firmly by the arm, and signaled to Zoya to take the other.

“Who are you?” She pulled her arm away from the frightened girl, and only her grandmother's sharp eyes on her kept Zoya from fleeing in terror from the woman who had once been her mother. “Who are you?” she asked again and again of both of them, and the old woman answered her calmly. In four days she had lost both her son and grandson to a revolution none of them fully understood. But there was no time to question it now. She knew they had to leave St. Petersburg before it was too late. And if nowhere else, she knew they would be safe at Tsarskoe Selo. But Natalya was refusing to cooperate with them. She insisted that she was staying, her husband would be home at any time, and they were giving a party.

“Your husband is waiting for you at Tsarskoe Selo,” Evgenia lied, and Zoya shuddered at all that was happening around them. With a force she never knew her grandmother had, she wrapped Natalya in a cloak and forced her down the stairs and out the back door into the garden, just as they heard a resounding crash. The looters had arrived, and were forcing their way into the Fontanka Palace. “Quickly,” Evgenia whispered to the girl who had only yesterday been a child. “Find Feodor. Tell him to get the horses ready … your father's old troika!” And then the old woman ran toward her pavilion, panting heavily and clutching Natalya's arm. She was shouting to her maids, telling them to gather up all the clothes in which the jewels were sewn, and throw them into bags. They had no time to pack anything. Everything they could take would have to go in the troika. And as she gave orders, she kept an eye on the palace across the garden. She knew it was only a matter of time before they would abandon the palace and come to the pavilion. But suddenly she realized that Natalya was no longer beside her and as she spun around she saw a white figure racing across the garden. She began to run after her daughter-in-law, but it was too late. Natalya had gone back into the palace. Almost at the same time, the old woman saw flames leaping from the upper windows and heard Zoya gasp behind her.

“Grandmama!” And then they both saw the figure in white racing from window to window. Natalya was darting between the flames screaming and laughing, and calling out as though to friends. It was a hideous sight, as suddenly Zoya bolted toward the door and her grandmother grabbed her.

“No! You cannot help her now! There are men in there with her. They will kill you, Zoya!”

“I can't let them kill her … I can't! … Grand-mama! Please!” She was sobbing and fighting with a strength her grandmother could barely control, but at the same moment Feodor ran into the hallway.

“The troika is ready … behind the hedges …” He had wisely chosen to ease the troika into the side street, so that the looters would not see them from the palace.

“Grandmama!” Zoya was still fighting her, and suddenly her grandmother slapped her.

“Stop it! She is already dead … we must leave now” There were no longer moments to spare. She had already seen a few faces looking out at the garden from the lower windows in the palace.

“I can't leave her there!” She was begging her grandmother to let her go, but the old woman wouldn't.

“You have to.” And then her voice softened as she pulled her close for an instant. But as she did, there was a terrible sound, like an explosion. The whole upper floor was now in flames, and as they turned to look, they saw Natalya leap, with her white robe on fire, from the upper window. It would have been impossible for her to live, between the flames and the fall, Natalya's life had clearly ended, and it was a blessing to her. Her mind would never return after the double blow of losing both husband and son, and her entire world lay in broken shards around her.