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.
As soon as they parted, he hurried to send a telegram to Malevich saying that the cargo they had discussed would be arriving in Omsk before the end of the month and asking if he could deal with its onward dispatch. Suddenly, rescuing the Romanovs seemed a real possibility. From Omsk, they could be spirited by automobile to Crimea and taken by boat to Constantinople without having to pass through Bolshevik-held territory. It was a perfect location.
His heart sang and he longed to tell Tatiana, but it was too dangerous to risk putting it in a letter. The less she knew, the safer she would be.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Tobolsk, Siberia, April 1918
Dearest Malama,
We had a visit yesterday evening from the very charming Commander Yakovlev. Papa trusts him and I hope he is right to do so. He tells us that we are to be moved but yet again he will not say where, although he hinted we would go north and west. The trouble is that Alexei is not well enough for the journey. He has a haemorrhage in his groin, which has been causing excruciating pain. Papa explained this and Yakovlev tried to overrule him but after seeing Alexei with his own eyes he reluctantly agreed that some of us may stay behind to nurse him. Mama was torn: should she go with her husband or stay with her sick son? Eventually she decided that Papa needs her most, so Olga, Anastasia and I will remain behind with Alexei, until he is sufficiently recovered.
Dmitri gasped with horror – ‘No!’ She should have told him Alexei was ill. Why had she not? He supposed she was trying to spare him from worry, just as he had spared her by not telling her of his father’s death, but it ruined his plans. He snatched up his pen to reply:
My love, I beg you to reconsider. It is essential that your family stick together at a time like this. Believe me when I tell you I have reasons that I cannot share in a letter. Please do not be alarmed but consider whether it might be possible to make Alexei comfortable enough to travel with cushions spread all around him. Any comforts that would help, you can rely on me to find. Please do this for me, Tatiana. Please keep the family together.
She replied that she was alarmed by the tone of his note but maintained that it would be impossible to move her brother. Dmitri clutched his head in despair. If only he could see her face to face for just one minute, he could explain this was their only hope of rescue. But it was impossible.
He quickly sent a telegram to Malevich, who had already arrived in Omsk, telling him that the cargo they had discussed was being sent in two batches. Would there be any way to keep the first batch safe until the second arrived in a month or two? Malevich replied that it would be difficult but he would endeavour to do as he was asked.
Dmitri had planned to travel close behind the Romanovs and to help with the operation to smuggle them out of Omsk and overseas. Once they were on board ship, he hoped to have time to visit his mother and sisters and to arrange their escape as well. But now all his plans would have to be changed. A car came to pick up the Tsar and Tsarina along with their middle daughter, Maria, leaving the remaining children inside the Governor’s House with their guards.
‘I am reading to Alexei from Tales of Shakespeare,’ Tatiana wrote immediately after the departure.