The Secret Wife(41)

Yakovlev rose from behind his desk to shake Dmitri’s hand but was suspicious in his greeting. ‘What on earth brings you to this part of the world, Malama?’

Dmitri sat down. He had a story prepared. ‘I am planning to make excursions into the surrounding countryside and test for minerals. And you?’

Yakovlev smiled, clearly not believing him for a second, and answered: ‘I am in command of the Tobolsk Red Guard.’



‘How odd. Why do they need someone of your seniority in such a small town?’ Dmitri asked, all innocence. ‘Is it because the Romanovs are imprisoned here?’

‘I expect that’s the case,’ Yakovlev replied, and they exchanged a look.

There was a moment’s silence before Dmitri asked, ‘What do you think will become of them?’

Yakovlev narrowed his eyes. ‘I have heard Citizen Romanov will stand trial on charges of treason, and his wife will join him if her correspondence with Rasputin proves incriminating. Investigators are combing through letters found in his lodgings and collecting evidence that they colluded with the Germans.’

Dmitri nodded, as if in approval. ‘And the children?’

‘I don’t think it has been decided …’ He gave Dmitri a sharp look. ‘I suppose you must know them from your time in the imperial guard.’

‘Hardly at all.’ Dmitri shook his head quickly. ‘They wouldn’t talk to the likes of me.’

Yakovlev nodded, slowly. ‘And yet you are here.’

‘By coincidence. Still, I am glad that a man of your sensibilities is in charge and that their fate is not left to the mob.’

‘Indeed.’ They looked at each other and Dmitri thought the beginnings of an understanding flashed between them.

He rose. ‘I must let you do your work, Yakovlev, but I hope we can talk again soon. If there is anything I can do to help you in your work, you need only ask.’

He left the building feeling slightly reassured. A man who read books, who enjoyed theatre – surely such a man had a compassionate soul? And even if the Tsar and Tsarina were tried for treason, even if they were found guilty, there could be no such charges against their children, against Tatiana. She and Olga were the White Sisters of the War; Tatiana’s had been the most popular picture postcard. The public wouldn’t stand for any harm coming to them.



Two days later, Yakovlev sought Dmitri at his lodgings and asked if he would like to take a stroll along the Tobol River. Dmitri grabbed his coat and hat and came straight away. The ground was marshy underfoot, the trees black and leafless, the river high and fast-flowing with snow melt from the mountains. The roar of the water forced them to raise their voices as at first they talked of their families. Dmitri felt choked when Yakovlev expressed his sympathies on the death of his father.

Once they had passed the edge of town and there was no one in sight they began to talk of the Revolution, and Yakovlev told him that aristocrats across the country had lost their lands and possessions. There had been fierce resistance in Moscow, and both Ukraine and Estonia had declared themselves independent republics, but elsewhere local soviets were exerting their influence and crushing opposition.

‘Why do you work for them?’ Dmitri asked.

‘I am an army officer; this is my life. Besides, I hope to be able to exert some influence to moderate the extremists.’

‘I hope that may be the case but what I hear makes me gloomy.’

They were silent for a while, each with their own thoughts, when Yakovlev mentioned, almost casually, ‘There is a reason why I was sent here at this time. The Romanovs are to be moved soon to a secret destination and I am to supervise their transfer.’

Dmitri’s chest tightened. ‘Will they be safe in this destination, wherever it is?’

‘I am not convinced they would be safe in the place that has been suggested,’ Yakovlev continued carefully, ‘so I am considering taking them to Omsk instead. Do you know Omsk? A very pleasant town.’ He walked with his eyes downcast, not meeting Dmitri’s surprised glance. He knew that Omsk was not under Bolshevik control and wondered at Yakovlev’s motives in telling him this.

‘When must they leave?’ he asked.

‘Ah, that is a secret,’ Yakovlev continued, ‘but it will be soon. Later this month, probably. That should give time for plans to be put in place.’ His tone was strange. He would not state his intentions outright but it was clear he hoped Dmitri would pick up on his subtext.



‘I should think plans could be made in that time,’ he agreed, and Yakovlev nodded and murmured, ‘Good. I hope so. Perhaps it would be doing our new leaders a favour if circumstances prevented them from showing their worst face to the watching world.’

It couldn’t be clearer, Dmitri thought. He was asking him to arrange a rescue from Omsk.

‘How is your mineral hunting, my friend?’ Yakovlev continued in a brighter tone.

‘Very fruitful,’ Dmitri agreed. ‘I am certainly glad I came.’

They chatted about old acquaintances from wartime, about the peace treaty that had surrendered the Baltic states to Germany, and about the slow rise in temperature as spring arrived in Siberia. They acted for all the world as if this were an innocent meeting between two old army comrades but Dmitri knew there was an underlying agenda in which each would play a role.