“It’s happening everywhere,” the tsarina said. “They set fire to Count Freedericz’s house.”
I lay my coat across a chair. “More bandits than Bolsheviks, we think. They’ve been forcing Father to write his Ministry correspondence as usual and stealing the money. He’s beyond despair.”
The tsarina watched me carefully. “Despicable. And your son?”
“A young peasant girl who was tending him at the time of the attack still has him.”
“Can she not help you?” Olga asked. “Certainly, she wants to reunite you with your child.”
“She shows no sign of it. We’ve seen only a glimpse of Max since the attack. I’m afraid he thinks of her as his mother and has forgotten me.”
Olga and Tatiana came to me. “Don’t cry, cousin.”
How good it was to finally tell someone our troubles.
“God will help you,” the tsarina said. “He knows a mother must be with her son.” How could I tell her, lying there surrounded by gold-painted icons, that God had abandoned us long ago?
“How is Agnessa?” Tatiana asked.
“Near death and refuses to eat.”
“Luba?” Olga asked.
“Stalwart as you can imagine, but we need help—”
“The letter, Tatiana,” the tsarina said. “Where is it?”
Tatiana stepped to a desk in the shadows. I had forgotten how the tsarina treated Tatiana as her glorified maid, while strong-minded Olga often resisted her mother’s requests.
“A letter arrived just last week,” Olga said. “From Afon.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“And a telegram and a letter from your friend Eliza. I hope you don’t mind that Mama opened them, in case we could help.”
Tatiana returned and handed me the ecru envelopes, both slit along the top. “Much has been censored in Afon’s, but it is like hearing his wonderful voice to read it.”
I held the envelopes to my chest. How long had it been with no word? Was he frantic? And what of Cook? Had he come to the palace for help?
“Have you seen Baron Vasily-Argunov?” I asked.
“Yury?” Olga asked.
“He escaped when we were first captured. This would have been his likely first stop. We think one of the bandits shot him though.”
“No,” the tsarina said. “We would remember such a handsome visitor. Perhaps he didn’t make it. So many have fallen to the rabble.”
The thought of Cook lying dead under the snow in the forest was too horrible to dwell on.
The tsarina sat up straighter, one hand to her back. “It is past midnight. You need a bath and fresh linen and a good rest. Olga, have Anna see to it. And have her bring a third cot to your room. We will see to the Malinov situation in the morning. I have a direct telephone line to the Winter Palace and can send a letter to the Ministry as well.”
Every part of me calmed. “Thank you, Empress. You are too generous.”
“Tatiana, stay and read a bit more. Olga, tend to Sofya.” The tsarina slid a book from her table and opened it, our sign to repair to the children’s quarters upstairs.
Olga and I hurried out into the hallway, a new lightness to my step. Imperial guards would have no problem taking on Vladi and Taras. Would they send Cossacks? I smoothed the envelope in my fingers. Word from Afon at last.
I turned to Olga. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am. My parents—”
Olga stopped in the middle of the hallway, one hand on my arm. “I must tell you the truth, cousin. I am sorry Mama raised your hopes.”
“I don’t understand.”
“My mother is delusional. The pain of her back and the worry over our increasingly tenuous situation frayed her mind, I’m afraid. She cries much of the day but pretends our house arrest is temporary. Claims we have running water and electricity, but both were shut off weeks ago, so the maids fetch well water. She knows little of the news for they keep the papers from her and our phones are disconnected. Truth is, Petrograd is entirely turned over to the revolutionaries.”
“But this is Ministry business. These bandits are stealing from the government, holding a member of the Finance—”
“The provisional government is in chaos, my darling. The duma dissolved. The Ministry is reeling itself, infected with traitors, one step away from radicals cracking open their safes. Even Papa is not accepting the truth that his people no longer support him. Keeps blaming his troubles on the Jews. Says they hate him.”
“He funded pogroms against them, Olga. Murdered thousands—”
“I know it all, Sofya, and God will punish us. But don’t you see? Everyone has turned against him. Even if they wanted to