He is especially fond of Julius Caesar, in particular the murder scene. Why do boys relish violence?
I have a feeling from your letter that you know more than you are telling me about our parents’ destination and I wish you would share it with me. I wonder if they are headed for Sweden or Norway, since Yakovlev hinted they were to go north and west? But he also said the journey would take five days, so perhaps that is too far. I hope it is not to Moscow. This new government does not seem well-disposed towards us. Do tell me what you know, Malama, or else I will be fearful.
Dmitri was more than fearful: he was terrified that when the Bolshevik government realised Yakovlev had taken the royal couple to Omsk, outside the territory they controlled, they would take revenge on the remaining children. He replied to Tatiana’s letter, trying to calm her fears, but at the same time he bought several rifles and distributed them amongst monarchist sympathisers in the town in case it became necessary to storm the compound. He watched the house night and day for any change in routine that could signal trouble and he wrote to Tatiana suggesting that she stow her valuables securely in case a journey became necessary sooner than expected. If they could have spoken directly, he would have trusted her with all, but he could not risk writing anything that would give the game away should the guards decide to search Trina.
The poor communications between Tobolsk and the outside world were infuriating, especially when Dmitri received a telegram from Malevich saying that the expected cargo had not arrived in Omsk. What had gone wrong? Where were Tsar Nicholas and his wife?
Dmitri’s nerves were in tatters. If only Yakovlev would send him a telegram; but he supposed he would not dare, since all telegrams were routinely read by the local soviets.
A week after the royal couple’s departure from Tobolsk, Dmitri was walking along the street when he heard a news vendor crying out the day’s headline: ‘Tsar and Tsarina moved to Ekaterinburg.’
Ekaterinburg! There could be nowhere worse. It was a town in the country’s industrial heartland, home to the most militant workers, who were fiercely hostile to the monarchy. His heart sinking, he grabbed a paper to read the story: it said the royal party had arrived in the city two days earlier and had been jeered by crowds at the railway station. They were being accommodated in the merchant Ipatiev’s house, to be known henceforth as the ‘House of Special Purpose’. Everything about it sounded ominous.
Dmitri wondered what had happened to Yakovlev’s plan? It had obviously failed, because rather than taking the Romanovs to a city where they would be among supporters, they were now surrounded by fervent supporters of the Revolution. Dmitri punched a wall in frustration; the chance of rescue from there seemed remote.
Back at his lodgings he fingered one of the rifles he had bought. With a lover’s selfishness, he wondered whether it would be possible to rescue Tatiana on her own: to sneak in by night, rouse her from her bed on some pretext and spirit her away. But he knew she would never forgive him. She would be furious at being tricked and desperate to return to her family.
Was she safe inside the Governor’s House without her father’s protection? Would the guards treat her with respect? He wrote telling her where her parents and Maria were staying and asking if all went well for them. ‘If you have any concerns, I will immediately make my status known and offer my protection,’ he wrote pointedly.
Tatiana wrote back in the strongest of terms:
Do not even think of it, not for one second. I need you exactly where you are. Knowing you are there is the one thing that gives me strength. If ever we are threatened, Trina will let you know. For now we are treated well enough, although the food is poor and Alexei does not have all the medicines he needs. The warmer weather gives me hope that there are better times ahead. I miss you with a constant ache. I sometimes think it must be even harder to be you than it is to be me, because you are alone while I have my siblings. But this is how it must be for us. Only think how much sweeter it will be, having experienced this hardship, when we are finally together once more.
Dmitri hurled his boot across the room. It was unbearable for a man of action, a soldier, to be unable to help the women he loved most in the world. He was failing his mother and sisters because he dare not leave Tatiana, and he was failing Tatiana because he had not managed to rescue her family and get them out of Russia after more than a year of house arrest. Reluctantly he had to accept that this was how it had to be for now, but it made him feel like a failure as a husband, a son and a brother.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lake Akanabee, New York State, late August 2016
Dmitri Yakovlevich was never far from Kitty’s thoughts as she worked on the cabin or sat by the lakeshore, gazing out across the dazzling beauty of the wilderness. What had brought him to live here? Why was he alone? Had he found contentment in the tranquillity? She wondered yet again why her mother had never mentioned there was a writer in the family, even when Kitty had told her of her own ambitions to write. Surely she must have realised she would be interested? But then her mother had never encouraged her to write: it wasn’t a prestigious enough career for her only daughter.
She thought back to the suitcase full of family photos in her bedroom closet in London. Were there any of Dmitri? She had dipped into it when looking for pictures to reproduce on the order of service at her parents’ joint funeral but had never explored further. She knew there were albums stretching back through the twentieth century from both her mother’s and her father’s sides of the family and wished she had them there, to study. If only there were someone she trusted who would send that suitcase out to her without any questions asked. Someone who had a key to the house. Someone who wouldn’t tell Tom.
All of a sudden the answer came to her: their cleaner, Marion, was a dependable type. She would do it. The more she thought about it, the more compelling the idea became. Kitty leapt into her car and drove to the vacation park. While her mobile phone charged up, she opened her email account and sent a mail to the enquiries address at Random House publishers in New York, asking if there were any remaining members of staff who had known her great-grandfather. She explained that he had been published by them between the 1930s and 1970s. An automatic reply bounced back saying her enquiry would be dealt with shortly.
She switched on her mobile phone, ignoring all the bleeps indicating texts and voicemail messages, and dialled Marion’s number. It was early evening back in London and when she answered, Kitty could hear her children squabbling in the background. She had no idea how Tom had explained her absence to Marion and decided not to offer any more information than she had to.
‘I’m out in the States and need a case sent over by courier. Do you think you could do that? And would you mind not telling Tom? It’s a surprise.’ She held her breath.
‘Of course,’ Marion replied. She was a single mother whose husband had abandoned her and she did not have a high opinion of men in general. ‘Let me find a pen.’ There was a pause and a shuffling sound before her voice came back on the line. ‘Fire away!’
Kitty described the whereabouts of the suitcase. It was an old brown leather one but appeared sturdy enough and just had to be labelled with the address. There was a Fedex office locally and Kitty would call them to pay with her credit card. Marion would have to fill out the export forms and get a receipt.