I thought it would be harder, thought Tatiana, rocking in her seat, with the pulling of the Yakuts, to get Hermogenes, the Archbishop, to override the Pauline laws on succession. But he had that argument down better than we did: “Your father overruled those the moment he designated Olga as his heir. And his was the unreviewable power to do so.” We didn’t even need to mention Peter the Great’s rule on the subject, nor the admirable record of Catherine.
But I think the real reason he decided to support us was, in the first place, sheer fear of the Bolsheviks. Then, maybe, too, he was tickled by the idea of presiding over a coronation. It’s never been done here, before, after all. And, unless we win and beat back the Reds, it will never be done anywhere, ever again.
Another horse was waiting, all saddled up with a side saddle, for Tatiana, at the base of the staircase leading to the kremlin. The sergeant major gave her his hands, fingers interlinked, to boost her up. Once seated, with her right leg hooked in the leaping horn, Tatiana automatically stroked the horse to calm it. With the mildest nudge, and a very light touch of the whip to the horse’s right flank, the Yakut began to follow Cherimisov’s first platoon up the way to the fortress gate.
Passing under the gatehouse and into the open area of the kremlin, Tatiana saw two preposterously small cannon, crewed and standing by. Needs must, she thought.
Just before the cathedral, Cherimisov took the reins of her horse with a strained smile, while Mayevsky helped her dismount. Bishop Germogen of Tobolsk stood in front of the church in all his finery, a beatific smile adorning his bearded face. Be of stout heart, the smile seemed to say to Tatiana. This will be long, but you and Russia deserve no less than the best I can offer.
Would he smile so benignly, wondered Tatiana, if he knew how many death warrants are going to be presented to me tomorrow? Not only many of the prisoners from the rescue battle, but every Bolshevik apparatchik in the town?
Germogen held out the crucifix for Tatiana to kiss. As she did, followed by her sisters, another priest sprinkled the lot with holy water. Turning, then, Germogen led the way into the cathedral. As he did, the chorus sang the One hundred and first Psalm—“I will sing of your love and justice; to You, O Lord, I will sing praise…”
Hundreds filed in after her: her soldiers, the town’s leading citizens, the pre-Bolshevik political leadership, and a youngish couple bearing a camera on a tripod and an old style flash. They would have one chance, as Tatiana was leaving, to make a record for posterity.
As the chorus sang, Tatiana advanced to stand in the front center of the cathedral. There, she was invited by Germogen to recite the Nicene Creed: “I believe in one God, the Father, Almighty, maker of Heaven and Earth, and of all things, visible and invisible….”
From there, Germogen went to the Ambon and read three pieces of scripture, drawn from Isaiah 49, Romans 13, and Matthew 22. From the rear of the church, two underpriests brought out a purple robe, the best they could do in the circumstances, and draped it over Tatiana’s shoulders and around her body.
“Bow your head,” commanded Germogen. He then laid hands upon her, and prayed, “O, Lord, our God, King of kings, who through Samuel, the prophet, chose thy servant, David, and anointed him to be king…”
With the end of that prayer, Germogen called out, “Peace be with you,” after which the deacon commanded the entire populace present in the church to bow their heads.
Another prayer followed, shorter than the first.
“I am sorry,” said Germogen, then, “that we lack a crown, scepter, and orb. But those things are merely material…”
Thereupon a young private of Second platoon, Fourth Company, stepped forth, hesitantly and shyly.
“I know… I mean… Your Majesty… well… ifyouhavenoother crown… well… take this and use it. It’s not much but it’s mine and you’re welcome to it.”
Tatiana smiled gently at the boy. Then she reached out, touching his arm and saying, “Thank you. Thank you so much. I will wear your helmet with pride.”
“Give it here, then, son,” said Germogen.
The young guardsman passed over his helmet over to the priest. To Tatiana he said, apologetically, “For what is ahead of you, Your Majesty, this may be more suitable than any crown.” The boy returned to his spot in the throng.
Kostyshakov, too, then came forward. He took off his machine pistol, saying, “This will likely serve you better than any mace.” The priest took this too.
Molchalin came forth next. He passed the priest a grenade, saying, “I took this from the body of a lieutenant who died defending the royal family. Lieutenant Collan, a Finn, would be pleased if she could use this in lieu of the orb. It’s live, so don’t unscrew the cap or pull the little bead unless you need to.”
Germogen accepted it, whispering to Tatiana, “The boy speaks absolute truth. And you can always have an orb fashioned around it.”
Finally Mokrenko then came forward, sua sponte, handing over his own shashka, or Cossack sword. “And she will need one of these, too.”
With the helmet, Germogen crowned Tatiana Empress, reciting with it her titles: “By the grace of God, I crown thee Empress and Autocrat of All the Russias, of Moscow, Kiev, Vladimir, Novgorod; Tsarina of Kazan, Tsarina of Astrakhan, Tsarina of Poland, Tsarina of Siberia, Tsarina of Chersonese Taurian, Tsarina of Georgia; Ruler of Pskov and Grand Princess of Smolensk, Lithuania, Volhynia, Podolia, Finland; Princess of Estland, Livland, Courland, Semigalia, Samogitia, Belostok, Karelia, Tver, Yugra, Perm, Vyatka, Bolgar and others; Ruler and Grand Princess of Nizhny Novgorod, Chernigov, Ryazan, Polotsk, Rostov, Yaroslavl, Beloozero, Udoria, Obdoria, Kondia, Vitebsk, Mstislav, and all of the northern countries Master; and ruler of Iberia, Kartli, and Kabardia lands and Armenian provinces; hereditary Sovereign and ruler of the Circassian and Mountainous Princes and of others; Ruler of Turkestan; Heir of Norway; Duke of Schleswig-Holstein, Stormarn, Dithmarschen, and Oldenburg, and many, many others.”
Then the archbishop slung over her shoulder the MP18—that it would, in time, become a holy relic, all who saw it knew—slung the sword over the other, and placed the grenade through her belt.
Shortly after this is where Tatiana, by her own will, violated protocol. Called upon to swear an oath that she would preserve the autocracy intact, she swore, instead, that she would preserve the monarchy and the Russian empire. These were subtly but importantly different things, and not lost upon either the priest, the soldiers, nor the witnesses filling the back of the temple.
Communion followed, after Tatiana passed through the Royal Doors, which she, as Tsarina, was the only lay person allowed through. There she received communion, bread separately from wine. Following communion, with the repeated words, “the seal of the gift of the Holy Spirit,” she was well anointed with the Holy Chrism, on her forehead, eyes, nostrils, mouth, ears, breast, and both sides of each hand.
The “many summers” still rang in Tatiana’s ears as she emerged from the cathedral. Instantly the bells of the cathedral rang, to be picked up by every other church in the town, to include the Catholic one at the foot of the hill. At her first appearance in the doorway, the two small cannon began a slow fire, one round, each, per five seconds. This salute went on for over four minutes, while the crowd outside cheered, the soldiery shouted “Urrah! Urrah! Urrah!” and the town’s small band struck up God Save the Tsarina, the voices of the townsfolk and soldiers joining in until the lyrics echoed from every wall and building of the Tobolsk Kremlin.