that in her youth she had been a beauty, or that she had ever loved. Life had hardened her.
He already knew Konstantin’s habits. He and his mother had studied them in the newspapers, even from distant Saratov. If he was at home and if his brother, the tsar, was at home – and the Romanov standards flying above both palaces showed that they were – then he would most likely make the short journey from the Marble to the Winter Palace at some point in the mid-morning. Mihail turned away from the river and towards Millionaire’s Street. The doors of the palace opened on to a courtyard from which gates led out on either side. The far side opened on to the embankment, but to reach his brother, Konstantin would use the gates through which Mihail now peered. It was scarcely nine o’clock, but already quite a crowd was gathering, waiting to get a glimpse of royalty as it hurried past. It would not make things easier.
He took the small, square piece of notepaper from his pocket and looked at it again. The message was brief, almost curt.
My Dear Kostya
This is your son.
With many affectionate memories,
Tamara Valentinovna Komarova
Mihail had asked his mother if she didn’t have more to say, but she was not sentimental; this would be enough. She had used the name by which Konstantin had known her. Mihail could explain the rest, if it was appropriate. On the back of the note Mihail had scribbled his own name, and the address of his hotel. Now all he had to do was wait.
He glanced at the faces in the crowd. Most looked like foreigners – French, German and English come to see what they imagined to be a spectacle. Some were merchants or professionals, part of a new class that had money but no family connections. Among the aristocracy, only a few had easy access to the royal family, but those who did not would not accentuate the fact by standing out in the cold, waiting for a glimpse of one of them. The scattering of peasants or workers who watched were merely passing by. They waited for a few moments, hoping to be lucky enough to spot the mighty grand duke, but did not have time to linger; they had work to do.
And then there were two others that did not fit into any group. A man and a woman – apparently unconnected to one another, but giving the impression of having some common purpose. Mihail was reminded of hidden glances exchanged between Dusya and the bearded man on the train. His heightened awareness was no accident; being brought up to fear creatures that lurked in the shadows made him perceptive of the world around him.
The man was barely twenty, with a square head of untidy swept-back hair and no beard. He had flat eyebrows and a broad, squashed nose. The woman was somewhat older, though it was difficult to judge. Her blonde hair and bright blue eyes gave the impression of youth, but other features indicated a greater maturity. She was plainly dressed and would have been pretty if it were not for her large forehead, which seemed to dominate her face.
In the palace courtyard there was a commotion. Mihail looked and saw horses being made ready. He pushed his way to the front of the crowd. He was the only figure in uniform there, and the people let him past as if to do so was in their very nature. When the entourage emerged, it came quickly. First two mounted Cossacks, then the royal carriage itself, then two more Cossacks. It was not just the tsar who needed a bodyguard in these turbulent times. The gates opened and the carriage slowed to turn on to Millionaire’s Street. Mihail grabbed his chance.
It took him only two strides to reach the coach and then launch himself from the ground. His hand caught the frame of the open window and his feet scrabbled momentarily before finding a secure place to settle on the running board. Konstantin turned, his expression not so much startled as offended. The two men locked eyes for only a fraction of a second, and then Mihail reached forward with his free hand, offering the grand duke his mother’s note. The coach continued to move, carrying them away from the crowd. Mihail waved the slip of paper.
‘Take it, please!’ he said, loud enough only for the grand duke to hear.
Then hands grabbed him and he fell