‘Nowhere,’ he replied reluctantly. ‘I took a turn around the grounds, that’s all. A walk down towards the Catherine Palace.’
‘You should have told me you were going,’ I said, disappointed that he had not invited me to accompany him, for he was the closest thing I had to a friend and there were moments when I thought I might be able to confide some of my secrets in him. ‘I would have joined you. Did you go alone?’
‘Yes. No,’ he added a moment later, correcting himself. ‘I mean yes, I was alone. What does it matter anyway?’
‘It doesn’t matter at all,’ I said, surprised by his behaviour. ‘I only wondered—’
‘You’re lucky to have this room,’ he said, changing the subject.
‘Lucky? I think it must have been a broom closet in the past, it’s that small.’
‘Small?’ he asked, laughing quickly. ‘Don’t complain about it. There are twenty of us stuck together in one of the great dormitories on the second floor. You try getting a night’s rest when they’re all coughing and farting and crying out for their sweethearts in their sleep.’
I smiled and shrugged at him, pleased that I was not forced to join the guards in such surroundings. This room could barely contain a bunk and a small table for a jug and wash basin, but Alexei and I had grown close and he liked me to be near by, and the Tsar decreed that it should be so and therefore it was so.
The Tsaritsa, Alexandra, seemed less happy with the arrangement. Ever since the incident at Mogilev when Alexei had fallen from the tree and injured himself, I had been out of favour with the Empress. She passed me in the corridors without a word, even as I bowed low and humbled myself before her. When she entered a room where her son and I were together, she ignored me completely and directed all her remarks towards him. This in itself was not unusual – she stared through most of those who were neither blood relatives nor members of an illustrious family – but it was the manner in which her lip curled slightly when I was near by that made me realize the extent of her contempt. I believe she would have been happy to have seen me dismissed from the Royal Family’s service entirely and sent home to Kashin – or further, perhaps, into a Siberian exile – but the Tsar remained a supporter of mine and so I managed to retain my place. Had it not been for his faith in me, my life might have followed an entirely different direction.
It was three nights later before I had company in my room again, but this time my visitor was not quite as welcome as Sergei Stasyovich. I was preparing for sleep when a tap came at my door, so quiet that I failed to hear it at first. When the knock sounded again, I frowned, wondering who could possibly require me at this late hour. It could not be Alexei, for he never bothered to knock. Perhaps… I could hardly breathe for thinking that it might be Anastasia. I sat up, swallowed nervously, and went to the door, opening it only a fraction and peering into the darkness of the corridor beyond.
At first, it seemed as if my ears had deceived me and there was no one out there. But then, just as I was about to close the door again, a man stepped forward out of the shadows, his long dark hair and black robes blending into the gloom of the hall so that for a moment only the whites of his eyes were visible.
‘Good evening, Georgy Daniilovich,’ he said in a clear voice, opening his mouth to reveal a set of yellow teeth in an approximation of a smile.
‘Father Gregory,’ I replied, for although I had never spoken to him before, I had seen him on many occasions, passing in and out of the Tsaritsa’s suite of rooms. I had first laid eyes on him on my very first night at the Winter Palace, of course, when I had disturbed him while he incanted a blessing over the Empress’s head and he had looked across at me and caught me in the terror of his glance.
‘I hope it’s not too late to call on you,’ he said.
‘I was in bed,’ I replied, suddenly conscious that I had opened the door wearing only the loose-fitting vest and shorts that constituted my night-clothes. ‘Perhaps this can wait until tomorrow?’
‘But I don’t think it can,’ he said, smiling wider as if this was a tremendous joke and stepping forward, not so much pushing me out of the way as simply continuing into the room until I had no choice but to step aside. He stood with his back to me, remaining perfectly still while staring down at my bed, before turning his gaze to the narrow window that overlooked the courtyard and standing there as if he had been turned to stone. Only when I had closed the door again and lit a candle did he turn around, but the flickering light of the single flame was so weak that it did little to improve my view of him.
‘I’m surprised to see you,’ I said, determined not to appear intimidated by him, despite the fact that I found him to be a menacing presence. ‘Is there a message from the Tsarevich?’
‘No, and if there was do you think I would bring it?’ he asked, looking me up and down slowly. I began to feel self-conscious in my underwear and reached for my trousers, which I pulled on even as he watched me, never once turning his gaze away. ‘We have so much in common, you and I, and yet we never speak to each other. It’s terribly sad, don’t you think? When we could be such friends.’
‘I can’t think why,’ I replied. ‘In truth, Father Gregory, I have never been a spiritual man.’
‘But the spirit is inside all of us.’
‘I’m not so sure.’
‘Why not?’
‘I grew up without the benefit of education,’ I explained. ‘We had to work hard, my sisters and I. We didn’t have time to worship icons or say prayers.’
‘And yet you call me Father Gregory,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘You respect my position.’
‘Of course.’
‘You know what others call me, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ I replied immediately, determined to show no emotion, neither fear nor admiration. ‘They call you the starets.’
‘They do,’ he replied, nodding his head and smiling a little. ‘A venerated teacher. One who lives a wholly honourable life. Do you find the name appropriate, Georgy Daniilovich?’
‘I’m not sure,’ I said, swallowing nervously. ‘I don’t know you.’
‘Would you care to?’
I had no answer to this and simply remained where I was, unable to move, wanting to separate myself from his presence but feeling that my legs were great weights, pinning me to the floor.
‘They have another name for me,’ he said, after a long silence had lingered between us, and now his voice was low and deep. ‘You have heard that name too, I imagine.’
‘Rasputin,’ I said, the word catching in my throat as I said it.
‘That is it. And do you know what it means?’
‘It means a man of no virtue,’ I replied, struggling now to keep my voice steady, for those dark, unblinking eyes of his were staring directly into my own and causing me to feel entirely unsettled. ‘A man who makes himself familiar with many.’
‘How polite you are, Georgy Daniilovich,’ he said, smiling a little. ‘Makes himself familiar with many. A very quaint phrase. What they mean is that I have relations with every woman I meet.’
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘My enemies claim that I have ravished half the population of St Petersburg, do they not?’
‘I have heard that.’
‘And not just the women, but the young girls too. And the boys. They say I take my pleasures wherever I can find them.’ I swallowed nervously and looked away. ‘There are those who even have the temerity to suggest that I have taken the Tsaritsa to my bed. And that I have penetrated each of the Grand Duchesses in turn, like a rutting bull. What do you think of that, Georgy Daniilovich?’
I looked back at him now, my lip curling in distaste. I felt an urge to strike him, to turn him from my room, but I was powerless beneath that dark gaze of his. A chill ran through my body and I considered running towards the door, flinging it open and fleeing along the corridor, anything to be away from this man. And yet I could not make that step. Despite how much his words disgusted me, I felt captivated by him, as if my legs would not obey me even if I commanded them to run. A silence lay between us for a minute, perhaps more, and he seemed to enjoy my discomfort, for he smiled to himself and laughed very low while he shook his head.