Written on the Wind (The Blackstone Legacy #2)(94)
“It’s over,” she said. “Nothing you can do will bring those people back from the dead. Why must you lay your head on a chopping block for them again? Stay here in our lovely valley. What happened in that barren wasteland should not be our concern. Why can’t you let sleeping dogs lie?”
He wished he could, but that day at the Amur had changed him forever, and it was impossible to return to the innocence of his past. “I have to go, Mama,” he said, reaching for her hand.
Her shoulders sagged. “I know you do.”
The anguish on her face haunted him the entire train ride to Tsarskoe Selo, a rural county dotted with imperial palaces south of Saint Petersburg. He didn’t think it was a trap but couldn’t be certain. That slim, niggling possibility that he was about to be betrayed put a sour feeling in his gut and made it hard to draw a complete breath.
Arriving before the czar on crutches was not ideal, but he had no choice, and he awkwardly shuffled out of the carriage and to the ground. The cast covered his entire foot, ankle, and lower leg. A chest cold had settled in his lungs from being dunked for so long in the icy water, but it couldn’t be helped. Everything in his life had led up to this moment, and he couldn’t permit an illness to interfere.
From a distance, the czar’s palace looked serene, with soothing yellow walls and an arcade of white Corinthian columns. The two wings of the palace stretched open like welcoming arms, looking both grand and calm in front of the backdrop of a deep forest.
Navigating up the front stairs was difficult and painful, an ache shooting up from Dimitri’s broken ankle with each difficult hop, but once on the landing, he fit the crutches beneath his arms and propelled himself toward the entrance.
Baron Freedericksz awaited him in the grand vestibule, wearing full military regalia. His voice was cold as he rapped out instructions.
“Do not make eye contact with his imperial majesty,” the baron warned. “You will be shown into the courtyard where the czar is handling his morning appointments. You will wait silently until he acknowledges you, if he chooses to do so at all. You are not to sit in his presence. If he approaches, you are to bow and express your gratitude.”
Dimitri nodded, his mouth dry. How many thousands of miles had he traveled to reach this time and place? Memories of the savage cold and brutal hunger crowded his mind. The scar on the back of his head tingled, and his ankle ached as he limped behind the baron through gilded staterooms and mirrored corridors. Every time they turned a corner there was another series of doors, each with servants stationed on either side who opened and closed them as they passed. Dimitri tried to memorize the maze of corridors should he need to escape, but soon put that effort aside. If he was walking into a trap, there would be no escape. Not in his crippled condition and with armed guards at every doorway throughout the palace.
At last he was shown into a courtyard. It was surrounded on two sides by the colonnaded wings of the palace, but straight ahead the land opened up to a lawn, then a small lake, and then forestland in the distance.
Dozens of people loitered in the courtyard. Men in cavalry uniforms mingled with army officers. Other men wore civilian garb and clustered in tight groups with attaché cases. Only one man seemed out of place and alone. The somber man looked like a college professor in his tweed jacket and scruffy beard.
And then there was the czar. With his trim form and neatly groomed beard, Nicholas II was easily recognizable, but today he was casually dressed, kneeling beside a young girl as he showed her how to aim a bow and arrow. She looked around five years old but wore the uniform of an archer. Half a dozen cavalry officers stood nearby, watching her take aim at a haystack target a few yards away.
“Everyone here is awaiting an audience with the czar,” Baron Freedericksz said. “He has decided to visit with his daughter for a while and is not to be disturbed, but perhaps you will be recognized soon.”
Dimitri blanched, trying not to show his surprise. How could the czar make the world wait while he frolicked with a child? And yet the men gathered in the courtyard pretended this was normal behavior as they stood in respectful groups, awaiting their turn.
On the far side of the courtyard, the czar positioned his daughter’s elbow, then prompted the girl to draw back her arm and shoot. She did. The arrow missed the target but found the haystack, clinging to the straw for a moment before falling harmlessly to the grass.
“Well done, Tatiana,” the czar boomed, and the officers and courtiers clapped. Dimitri followed suit. Only the bearded college professor remained stonily unmoved.
Dimitri relaxed a fraction. If he had walked into a trap, it was an odd one. Too many witnesses, including the czarina, who sat on the other side of the courtyard with a toddler crawling nearby.
A sense of unreality settled over Dimitri as he watched the czar fuss over his daughter. He had three daughters, and the czarina was heavily pregnant with another child. Surely it would be a boy this time, but the way the czar doted on Tatiana as she nocked another arrow into position was charming.
Over the next hour, Dimitri watched as the czar alternated his attention between his children and appointments with people who loitered in the courtyard, hoping for a few moments of his time. Dimitri’s good leg began to ache from standing on it so long, but he distracted himself by listening to the czar’s meetings. A cavalry officer requested the relocation of a barracks, which the czar approved, and the minister of finance asked for authorization to put the Russian ruble on the gold standard, which the czar refused.