Perspiring, trembling with fear, I collapsed on to the floor and buried my head in my hands. The starets knew everything, of course he did. But who would he tell? And when they found out, what would become of me then?
The lady who was in charge of all domestic staff in the Winter Palace was the Duchess Rajisa Afonovna, and she had been surprisingly friendly to me since our first meeting, the day after my arrival in the city. Our paths crossed from time to time in the family quarters as she was an intimate of the Tsaritsa’s, and when they did, she always greeted me cordially and stopped to converse, which many of her rank would never deign to do. So it was to her that I went the next morning to enquire on Asya’s behalf for employment.
She maintained a relatively small office on the first floor of the palace. I knocked and waited for her to answer, before poking my head around the door and greeting her.
‘Georgy Daniilovich,’ she said, breaking into a smile and beckoning me to enter. ‘This is a welcome surprise.’
‘Good morning, Your Grace,’ I replied, closing the door behind me and taking a seat where she indicated, next to her on a small sofa. I would have preferred the single armchair a few feet from there, but the chair indicated a position of superiority and I would not have dared. ‘I hope I’m not disturbing you.’
‘You’re not,’ she said, gathering up some papers before her and laying them carefully on a small table. ‘If anything, I welcome the distraction.’
I nodded, surprised again by how pleasantly she treated me, in marked contrast to her friend, the Tsaritsa Alexandra, who took no notice of me at all.
‘How are you anyway?’ she asked. ‘You are settling in well?’
‘Very well, Your Grace,’ I replied, nodding. ‘I believe I am starting to understand my duties.’
‘And your responsibilites too, I hope,’ she said. ‘For you have many of them. You have earned the trust of the Tsarevich, I hear.’
‘Indeed,’ I said, breaking into a fond smile at the mention of Alexei. ‘He keeps me busy, if I may say that.’
‘You may,’ she said, laughing. ‘He’s an energetic boy, that’s certain. He will be a great Tsar one day, all being well.’ I frowned, surprised by her choice of words, and for a moment I thought I saw the beginnings of a blush on her cheeks. ‘A great Tsar, most certainly,’ she said then, correcting herself. ‘But you must find it strange here, do you not?’
‘Strange?’ I asked, uncertain what she meant.
‘Being so far from home. From your family. My own son, Lev, I miss him every day.’
‘He doesn’t live in St Petersburg, then?’
‘Usually, yes,’ she said. ‘But he is…’ She sighed and shook her head. ‘He is a soldier, of course. He is fighting for his country.’
‘Yes,’ I said. It made sense. The Duchess was no more than forty years old; it made sense that she would have a son in the army.
‘He can’t be more than a couple of years older than you, actually,’ she said. ‘You remind me of him, in some ways.’
‘I do?’ I asked.
‘A little. You have his height. And his hair. And his build. Actually,’ she added, laughing a little, ‘you might be brothers.’
‘You must worry about him.’
‘From time to time I get a full night’s sleep,’ she said with a half-smile. ‘But not often.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, sensing that she might be getting upset. ‘I shouldn’t be discussing this with you.’
‘It’s all right,’ she said, shaking her head and smiling. ‘Sometimes I am scared for him, sometimes I am proud. And sometimes I am angry.’
‘Angry?’ I asked, surprised. ‘At what?’
She hesitated and looked away. She looked as if she was struggling to stop herself from saying what she wanted to say. ‘At the direction he takes us in,’ she said quietly, through gritted teeth. ‘At the madness of it all. At his utter incompetence in military matters. He’ll have us all killed before he’s done.’
‘Your son?’ I asked, her sentences making little sense to me.
‘No, not my son, Georgy. He is nothing more than a pawn. But I have said too much. You came to see me. How can I help you?’
I hesitated, unsure whether I should pursue the conversation we had been having, but decided against it. ‘I just wondered about the domestic help,’ I said. ‘Whether you needed another person on the staff.’
‘You’re not thinking of trading the Leib Guard for a set of apron strings, I trust?’
‘No,’ I said, laughing a little. ‘No, it’s my sister, Asya Daniilovna. She has ambitions towards service.’
‘Does she indeed?’ asked the Duchess, appearing interested. ‘She is a girl of good character, I assume?’
‘Irreproachable.’
‘Well, there are always places here for girls of irreproachable character,’ she said, smiling. ‘Is she here in St Petersburg, or back in… I’m sorry, Georgy, I forget where it is you are from?’
‘Kashin,’ I reminded her. ‘The Grand Duchy of Muscovy. And no, she’s not there, she’s already…’ I hesitated and corrected myself. ‘Forgive me,’ I said. ‘Yes, she’s still there. But she would like to leave.’
‘Well, I daresay she could be here in a few days if we send word to her. Write to her, Georgy, by all means. Invite her here and let me know when she arrives. I can most certainly find a position for her.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, standing up, uncertain why I had lied about Asya’s whereabouts. ‘You are too kind to me.’
‘It’s like I said—’ She smiled, picking up her papers once again. ‘You remind me of my son.’
‘I will light a candle for him,’ I said.
‘Thank you.’
I bowed deeply and left the room, standing in the corridor outside for a few moments. A portion of me was delighted that I could return to my sister with such news, that I could be a hero to her once again. Another part of me felt angry that she was entering this new world of mine, a world that I wanted only for myself.
‘You seem confused, Georgy Daniilovich,’ said the starets, Father Gregory, who appeared before me so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that I let out a cry of surprise. ‘Be at peace,’ he urged quietly, reaching a hand out and holding my shoulder, caressing it slightly.
‘I am late for Count Charnetsky,’ I said, trying to pull away from him.
‘An odious man,’ he said, smiling, displaying his yellow teeth. ‘Why go to him? Why not stay with me?’
And what unexpected, impossible-to-understand part of me felt a desire to say Yes, all right? I shrugged him off, however, and walked away without a word.
‘You’ll make the right decision in the end, Georgy,’ he called after me, his voice echoing along the stone walls and reverberating in my head. ‘You will put your own pleasures ahead of the desires of others. That is what makes you human.’
I broke into a run and within a moment the sound of my boots banging along the corridor drowned out what I knew was the truth behind his words.
Throughout the winter and early spring of 1916, I made it my business to ensure that the Tsarevich did not engage in any activities which might result in his receiving an injury; no easy task when confronted with a lively, eleven-year-old boy who saw no reason why he should be refused the same games and exercises that his sisters enjoyed. There were many occasions when he lost his temper with his minders, throwing himself on his bed and beating the pillows with his fists, so upset was he by the manner in which he was protected. Perhaps this frustration was exacerbated by the fact that he came from a family of sisters, and he was the Tsarevich, and yet only they could do the things that he most desired.