Zoya (8 page)

“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.

“Come quickly!” Feodor was urging them, and with a swift move the old Countess swept Sava up off the floor, pushed her into Zoya's arms, and hurried her out the door to the waiting troika.

CHAPTER
5

As the troika began to move, Zoya turned to see the flames leaping above the trees, devouring what had once been her home and was now only the shell of her former life. But within moments, Feodor guided them expertly into the back streets as the two women huddled together, their bags at their feet, filled with the clothes they had taken with them, their jewels concealed in the linings, and little Sava trembling in the cold as Zoya held her. There were soldiers in the streets, but no one tried to stop them as they wended their way through the back streets toward the outskirts of the city. It was Thursday, March 15, and far away in Pskov, Nicholas was reading the telegrams sent to him by his generals, telling him that he must abdicate. His face was deathly pale, as he saw treason around him everywhere, but he was no paler than Zoya, as she watched St. Petersburg shrink behind them. It was more than two hours before they were on the back roads, on the way to Tsarskoe Selo, and it was a long time before they got there. They had no news as they moved along, and
no clearer understanding of what had happened. All Zoya could think about was the vision of her mother, her robe in flames as she leapt to her death from the upstairs windows … and her brother as he must have been, as the flames enveloped him, lying dead in the room where she had so often visited him when she was a child … Nicolai … “stupid Nicolai” she had called him. She wondered if she would ever forgive herself … only yesterday … only yesterday when everything was all right and life was normal.

Her head was wrapped in an old shawl, and her ears ached from the cold, it made her think of Olga and Tatiana with their earaches from the measles. Such simple disasters had been their lot only days before … such small, stupid things like fevers, and earaches and measles. She could barely think as her grandmother held tightly to her hand, and they both silently wondered what they would find in Tsarskoe Selo. The village came into sight in the afternoon, and Feodor circled expertly around it. Wandering soldiers stopped him twice, and Feodor thought only for a moment about pressing the troika through. But he knew instinctively they might all be shot if he did, so he slowed carefully and said that he was carrying a sick old crone and her idiot granddaughter. Both women stared emptily at the men, as though they had nothing to hide, and the old Countess was grateful that Feodor had thought to take their oldest sled, with chipped paint but still useful runners. It was one they hadn't used in years, and although it had been handsome once, it no longer was. Only the extraordinarily fine horses he used suggested that they had great means, and the second group of soldiers laughingly
relieved them of two of Konstantin's best black horses. They reached the gates of Tsarskoe Selo with only one horse prancing nervously as he pulled the old troika. The Cossack Guards were nowhere in sight, there were no guards anywhere, only a few uneasy-looking soldiers.

“Identify yourselves,” one man shouted at them roughly and Zoya was terrified, but as Feodor began his tale, Evgenia stood up in the back of the troika. She was simply dressed, and, like Zoya, with only an old wool shawl covering her hair, but she was imperious as she stared him down, and pushed Zoya behind her.

“Evgenia Peterovna Ossupov. I am an old woman and a cousin of the Tsar. Do you wish to shoot me?” They had killed her grandson and her son, if they wished to shoot her now, they were welcome to it. But she was prepared to kill them first if they laid a hand on Zoya. Zoya was unaware of it, but her grandmother had a small pearl-handled pistol concealed in her sleeve and she was willing and ready to use it.

“There is no Tsar,” he said fiercely, a red armband suddenly seeming more ominous than it had before, as the old woman's heart pounded and Zoya was seized with terror. What did he mean? Had they killed him? It was four o'clock in the afternoon … four o'clock and their entire world had come to an end … but Nicholas … had they killed him too? … like Konstantin and Nicolai …

“I must see my cousin Alexandra.” Evgenia was imperious to the very tips of her fingers, as she stood staring at the soldier. “And her children.” Or had they killed them too? Zoya's heart was racing as she sat frozen behind her grandmother's skirts, frightened
to her very core, as Feodor stood tensed and silently watching. There was an endless pause as the soldier considered them and then suddenly stepped back, calling over his shoulder to his compatriots.

“Let them through. But remember, old woman,” he turned to her with harsh words, “there is no more Tsar. He abdicated an hour ago, in Pskov. This is a new Russia.” And with that he stepped aside, and hoping he had cut off his toes, Feodor whipped the troika past him. A new Russia … an end to an old life … all of the old and the new blending in terrifying confusion, as Evgenia sat white-faced beside her granddaughter. Zoya whispered to her as they passed the Feodorovsky Church, unable to believe what she had heard. Uncle Nicholas wouldn't do it….

“Grandmama, do you think it's true?”

“Perhaps. Alix will tell us what has happened.”

But the front doors to the Alexander Palace were strangely silent, there were no guards, no protection, no one anywhere, and as Feodor knocked loudly at the huge palace door, two nervous servants appeared and let them in. The halls seemed terrifyingly empty.

“Where is everyone?” the old Countess asked, and one of them pointed to the doorway Zoya knew so well, leading upstairs to the private apartments. There were tears on the woman's face as she wiped them away with her apron and finally answered.

“The Empress is upstairs with the children.”

“And the Tsar?” Evgenia's eyes shot green fire at the woman crying helplessly.

“You've not heard?”

Oh, God, no … Zoya prayed …

“They say he has abdicated in favor of his brother.
The soldiers came to tell us an hour ago. Her Highness doesn't believe it.”

“But he's alive then?” Evgenia felt relief flood her body like new life.

“We believe so.”

“Thank God.” She swept her skirts around her, and glanced sharply at Zoya. “Tell Feodor to bring everything inside.” She didn't want the soldiers touching their clothes with the jewels sewn into the linings. And as Zoya returned to her a moment later with Feodor at her side, her grandmother ordered the maid to take them upstairs to the Tsarina.

“I know the way, Grandmama. I will take you.” And quietly she walked the halls she knew so well, the halls she had walked with her friend only days before.

The Alexander Palace was eerily quiet as she led her grandmother upstairs, and knocked gently on Marie's door, but there was no one there. She had been moved to one of her mother's sitting rooms, to be nursed with Anna Vyrubova and her sisters. Quietly, they moved along the hall, knocking on doors, until finally they heard voices. Zoya waited until someone bid them to come in, and slowly the door opened to reveal Alexandra, standing tall and thin, holding out a glass of tea to her two youngest daughters. Anastasia had tears on her cheeks as she turned to the door and Marie sat up in bed and began to cry when she saw Zoya.

Zoya was too overcome to speak as she rushed across the room and threw her arms about her friend, as Evgenia went to embrace her exhausted cousin.

“My God, Cousin Evgenia, how did you get here? Are you all right?”
Even the old woman had difficulty speaking, as she embraced the tall, elegant woman who looked so desperately tired. Her pale gray eyes seemed to be filled with a lifetime of sadness. “We came to help you, Alix. And we could not stay in St. Petersburg any longer. They set fire to the house this morning as we left. We left very quickly.”

“I cannot believe it. …” Alexandra sank slowly into a chair. “And Konstantin?”

The old woman's face went pale and she could feel her heart pound beneath her heavy dress. She suddenly felt the weight of all she had lost and feared she would swoon at the younger woman's feet, but she would not allow herself that in the face of all Alix had to bear. “He is dead, Alix….” Her voice cracked but she did not cry. “And Nicolai too … on Sunday … Natalya was killed as the house burned this morning.” She did not tell her that her daughter-in-law had gone mad before leaping in flames from the window. “Is it true … about Nicky?” She was afraid to ask, but she had to. They had to know. It was so difficult to understand what had happened.

“About the abdication? It cannot be. They are saying it to frighten us … but I have heard nothing from Nicholas today.” She glanced at her two daughters embracing Zoya as the three girls cried. Zoya had just told them about Nicolai, and she sobbed openly as Marie held her. Even sick as she was, she offered solace to her friend, and none of them seemed to notice the two older women. “All our soldiers have deserted us … even …” The Empress seemed almost unable to say the words. “Even Derevenko has abandoned Baby.” He was one of the two soldiers who had been with the Tsarevich since
he was born. He had left them at dawn that morning without a word, or a look back over his shoulder. The other, Nagorny, had sworn to stay at Alexis's side until they killed him, and he was with him now in the next room, with Dr. Fedorov. Dr. Botkin had gone to try and find more medicines for the girls with Gibbes, one of their two tutors. “It is impossible to understand … our sailors … I can't believe it. If only Nicholas were here. …”

“He will come, Alix. We must remain calm. How are the children?”

“They are all ill. … I couldn't tell them at first, but they know now … there was no way I could conceal it from them any longer.” She sighed and then added, “Count Benckendorff is here, he has vowed to protect us, and the Baroness Buxhoeveden arrived yesterday morning. Will you stay, Evgenia Peterovna?”

“If we may. We cannot go back to St. Petersburg now…” She did not add “if ever.” Surely the world would be set to rights again. Surely when Nicholas returned … surely the news of his abdication was a lie, spread by revolutionaries and traitors, to frighten and control them.

“You may have Mashka's room, if you like. And Zoya …”

“We shall sleep together. Now, what may I do to help you, Alix? Where are the others?” The Empress smiled gratefully as her husband's elderly cousin tossed off her cloak, and carefully turned back the cuffs of the simple dress she had worn.

“Go and rest. Zoya can keep the girls company while I see to the others.”

“I'll come with you.” And the old woman steadfastly
followed her throughout the day, pouring tea, soothing fevered brows, and even helping Alix to change Alexis's sheets while Nagorny stood faithfully by. Like Alix, Evgenia found it difficult to believe that Derevenko had actually left him.

It was almost midnight that night, when Zoya and her grandmother slipped into their beds in Marie and Anastasia's room, and Zoya lay awake for hours, listening to her grandmother snore softly. It seemed impossible that less than three weeks ago she had visited Marie in this very room, and Marie had given her a bottle of her favorite perfume, long gone now, as everything lay shattered around them. She had realized also that none of the girls fully understood what had happened. She wasn't sure she understood it herself, even after seeing all she had in St. Petersburg. But they had been so ill, and they were so far removed from the disorder in the streets, the frantic riots, the murders, the looting. The vision of her home in flames never seemed to dim … nor the sight of her brother bleeding to death on the marble floor of the Fontanka Palace only four days before. It was morning before Zoya fell asleep, as a fresh blizzard raged outside and she wondered when the Tsar would come home and if life would ever return to normal.

But at five o'clock that afternoon, the possibility of that seemed even more unlikely. Grand Duke Paul, Nicholas's uncle, came to Tsarskoe Selo and gave Alexandra the news. Nicholas had abdicated the day before, passing the power on to his brother, Grand Duke Michael, who had been completely stunned and unprepared to take the throne. Only Alix and Dr. Fedorov truly understood why Nicholas had not
abdicated in favor of his son, but rather his brother. The extent of Alexis's illness was a well-guarded secret. A Provisional Government was being formed as Alexandra heard the news in silence and desperately wished that she could talk to her husband.

Nicholas himself arrived at headquarters in Mogilev the following morning to say good-bye to his troops, and from there was finally able to call his wife. The call came as Alexandra was helping Dr. Botkin tend to Anastasia, and she flew from the room to talk to him, praying that he would tell her none of it was true, but at the sound of his voice she knew instantly that it was, beyond any hope. Their life and their dreams, along with his dynasty, were shattered. He promised to return as soon as possible, and as always, inquired lovingly about the children. And the following night, Sunday, General Kornilov came from St. Petersburg to see if she needed anything, medicines, or food, and her first thoughts were for the soldiers. She begged him to help supply the hospitals with medicine and food. After caring for them for so long, she could not forget them now even though they were no longer “her” soldiers. He assured her that he would, and something about his visit suggested to her that there was worse to come. She warned Nagorny that night not to leave Baby's side, and she sat with her daughters long into the night. It was after midnight when she finally went to her own room, and the old Countess knocked softly at her door and brought her a glass of tea. She saw that there were tears in the younger woman's eyes and gently patted her shoulder. “Is there anything I can do for you, Alix?” She shook her head, still proud, still austere, and
thanked her with her eyes. “I only wish he would come home. Suddenly … I'm afraid for the children here.” Evgenia was too, but she didn't want to admit it to her young cousin.