The Secret Wife(28)
She wrote that Anastasia and Maria fought more than ever, sometimes wrestling on the floor pulling each other’s hair and having to be separated by force. She wrote that her mother was taking increasing doses of Veronal for her many ailments, which made her so sleepy that Tatiana invariably had to attend the tedious refugee committee meetings on her own. And always she wrote with concern for Dmitri’s safety, begging him to keep warm and stay out of harm’s way.
While she was anxious about him, he was becoming increasingly alarmed about the safety of the Romanovs. Now he was back amongst soldiers, he realised many were saying openly that the royal family had to be overthrown. Nicholas no longer had the support of a large number of his men, who were fed up being sent on suicide missions against a better-equipped, better-managed opponent. The territorial gains made by General Brusilov’s advance had already been reversed by the Austro-German Ninth Army and there seemed little hope of victory on that front. Meanwhile the letters the men received from their families back home told of dire food shortages and dread of the starvation winter would bring. Even the army survived on what they could hunt in lieu of regular rations. And now that Nicholas was at the front and Alexandra was in charge in St Petersburg, there were louder rumblings that she was too much influenced in her decisions by Rasputin.
‘I reckon they are German spies who send Russian military secrets to the enemy; that explains why the Germans are always one step ahead,’ Dmitri heard a soldier telling his friends. He wished Alexandra had a wider circle of advisors, but she had always remained aloof from the St Petersburg aristocracy and trusted no one except her husband and Rasputin, laying them open to all sorts of allegations.
On the 18th of December, Malevich came to Dmitri’s tent with alarming news from the city: Rasputin had disappeared and foul play was suspected. Instantly Dmitri was worried for Tatiana’s sake, knowing how distressed she would be, and quickly sent off a letter expressing his sympathies. He had never met the man: an opportunity had not arisen for Tatiana to introduce them. Despite his instinctive mistrust, he understood how strongly the family felt they needed him and knew the loss would hit them hard.
The following day a letter came by messenger from Tatiana telling him the horrific news:
Uncle Grigory has been murdered, hideously murdered, and it seems it happened at the home of Prince Felix Yusupov, who is married to my cousin. I can hardly bear to write the words, but perhaps you know already because it is all over the newspapers the men were reading in the hospital this morning. One of them even showed a gruesome photograph of his corpse with an eye gouged out. His poor eye! Dmitri, they say he was poisoned, stabbed, shot and still he did not die until they drowned him in the Malaya Nevka River, where his body was discovered beneath the ice. What has happened to our country? Why would anyone do this to a holy man? I simply don’t understand …
Dmitri guessed Yusupov might have done it in an attempt to protect the family from the insidious rumours about the holy man. If only it would stop the rot, it would be worthwhile, but he couldn’t say this to Tatiana so he sent back a note repeating how sorry he was and how much he wished he could be there to comfort her in person.
The following day another letter came, only slightly calmer than the last:
I am comforting myself by looking through a notebook I have kept over the years in which I wrote down his wisest teachings. One day I will show it to you, Dmitri, so you understand his true goodness. Mama is inconsolable at the loss. She says Uncle Grigory is a martyr who deserves to be sanctified, and begged that he should have a state funeral. Papa, who has returned from the front, disagreed and this morning he arranged a simple service at which we all paid our respects. Mama laid an icon on Uncle Grigory’s chest before the coffin was sealed and we dropped white flowers in his grave as we said our desolate farewells … I just don’t understand a world in which such a thing can happen. I wish you could explain why …
Dmitri hoped word of this funeral did not become public. Tatiana had no idea about the mood of the populace, which turned uglier by the day. The common soldier was jubilant about Rasputin’s murder, while in the streets of St Petersburg he heard they lit candles in celebration and chanted ‘A dog’s death for a dog’.
Dmitri dreaded what this might portend for the royal family. If men dared to murder someone their sovereigns held dear, it meant that the last vestiges of respect for the monarchy were ebbing away. But if it was overthrown, what would take its place? A republic, as in France? What would that mean for the Russian people? Who would uphold the traditions of their great nation? And, more urgently, what would happen to the Romanovs?
If only Dmitri were close enough to protect his new wife! He felt impotent to be stuck hundreds of miles south. It was unbearable to think of her coming face to face with a stone-throwing mob, such as were said to be attacking public buildings in St Petersburg. The Alexander Palace had no regiment to defend it – merely a few under-qualified guards.
Unable to contain his anxiety, he wrote an impassioned letter to Tsar Nicholas, saying that in such inflamed times there should be plenty of loyal retainers stationed in Tsarskoe Selo to watch over the Tsarina and the grand duchesses. The old imperial guardsmen with whom he had trained would have laid down their lives to protect the family, but they had all been sent to war and the current royal escort was composed of raw recruits with less dedication and training. He begged Nicholas to recall him to the palace to do what he could to keep them safe.