My Father the Czar
Copyright 1998
Library of Congress number: 98-96138
by AUTHOR22@aol.com
All rights reserved
Chapter Four
+ + + + +
KAZAN, Tartarstan, Russia 1913
Monday --according to Alex-P, the peasant boy.
+ + + + +
My first glimpse of Kazan was from the crest of a small hill, as we
rode from the northeast.
The sun was about an hour high and the river lay like a quivering mass
of liquid silver between a river barge and the smooth, vividly green
slopes of the high western bank. On our side, the eastern side, was a
line of black hulls with yellow roofs and deckhouses that served as
landing stages. Beyond them, and just above the high water mark on the
barren sandy shore, was a row of heterogeneous wooden shops and
lodging-houses that displayed lavish colors on walls and roofs.
On another barge, perhaps 500 feet in length and a 100 feet wide, were
ready-made houses with elaborate carved gables. The population for
this transient town was, for the most part, bareheaded. The men wore
bright red shirts, while the women were gowned in a sparkling blue.
Many were gathered around a blazing campfire near one end of the raft
drinking tea.
We crossed over the river on a high, narrow bridge and proceeded down
the main street. All around us, we could see characteristic oriental
costumes: Tartars in overcoats cut from cloth of gold or silver with
blue or yellow jackets; Chinamen in the wide, colored pantaloons of
their country --wearing curious caps and shoes. Every type of Russian
was also represented. There were faces and costumes from every
district. Chinese, Bokharese, and Blacks all rubbed shoulders with
Russian merchants, peasants, and gentlemen.
Once the river was behind us, the most dominate feature of the city
were a number of colorfully bright buildings which uncle Gregori said
were churches of Greek architectural style.
The hotel in front of which we stopped and tied the horse was dull by
comparison. While it was not rundown or dirty, it could not compare
with the grandeur of the churches. We booked a room for the day, so
that we could bathe and make ready for our appointment with Prince
Ukhtinsky, the Bishop of Kazan.
It felt good to rid myself of the hairpiece. Using great care, I
unfolded the blue dress and hung it on a hanger. Uncle Gregori removed
all of his clothes and strode past me into the bath. "Come little one,
we must rid ourselves of the stench of the road."
I heard water flowing into the tub and removed my own garments. When I
heard the slosh of his stepping into the bath, I stretched lazily out
on the bed and closed my eyes. My thoughts kept returning to my first
night with Katrina. My daydream moved from fantasy to what seemed to
be reality.
I was rudely yanked from my dream by a sharp pain in my rigid penis.
"If you keep having dreams like that I will need to call you something
other than little one." He had flicked the head of my tiny rod with
his finger.
Angrily I looked at him. He stood above me. The first thing I noticed
was his penis. While it was not hard, it was not deflated either. I
saw the growth on his cock head. "May I look at that closer? Does it
really make a difference?" He put his hand at the tip of his shaft and
pulled the foreskin back. The growth moved back, but remained very
much in view. "Yes, women like the protrusion which is not firmly in
place. There is a part of a woman's sex that the growth rubs over and
tickles her into ecstasy."
Wanting to see for myself how the growth reacted to movement I reached
my hand toward it, but he moved away quickly. "No little one, it is
not for you. Go take your bath, then we must dress."
After bathing I put on the girl's undergarments that were made for me.
They were uncomfortable. Following the old woman's instructions, I
used my hand to give myself a hard-on, then adjusted the underpants so
that the rod could not be seen. Then came the skirt, the blouse and
then the hairpiece. I looked at myself in the mirror and was not
pleased with what I saw:
I looked like a girl.
"Very good Catherine, but we need to lower the skirt just a bit. It
should come to the center of your ankle. Also, move the bottom of the
jacket to your right, it is crooked. The buttons should be in a
straight row. "Now try tossing your hair. Make it flare outward. Yes
that is good."
The cathedral was not far away, but we walked in the opposite
direction toward the railway station to book passage to St.
Petersburg. We strolled along the street with the reins of our horse
in-hand. I remained outside, holding the animal, while uncle Gregori
disappeared inside. Within a few minutes he returned. We led the horse
around to the freight entrance and handed it over to an official.
From all over the city, bells began to chime. "It is two o'clock. Our
appointment with the Bishop is in half-an-hour."
The Cathedral was located on the river. The white towers and golden
domes gleamed out against the sapphire sky. Gorgeous flowers, in beds
around the building, added a bit of reality to what otherwise might
have been mistaken for merely a piece of art. We did not stop on the
steps, but went quickly up.
On entering the building, I looked upward and saw a painted vault of
heaven, full of soft, shining stars stretched vast and fathomless
above me. It was as though the Milky Way ran in two pale streams from
the zenith to the horizon of the dome. I felt as though my soul was
overflowing with rapture, yearning for freedom, space, and openness.
A stately, gray-haired man, in his mid-forties, was seated to our
right. Hesitantly, he stood up while looking in our direction.
"Gregori? Gregori Rasputin?" Without acknowledging his question, we
walked toward him. Their hands met in greeting. Questioningly, the man
looked in my direction with raised eyebrows.
"This is my niece Catherine. We are en route to the capital."
"Ah yes. I am Bishop Andrey. There is an admirer of yours in the small
chapel who wishes to meet you--the monk Ilidor." They turned to the
left, crossing the large marbled entryway. I trailed behind, being as
inconspicuous as possible.
The room we entered contained 10 rows of pews. A man was kneeling in
front of an altar, praying fervently. "Ilidor, this is Father
Gregori," the bishop whispered. The man interrupted his prayers, stood
and extended his hand.
I sat quietly in the last row while carefully observing the three.
This was a fun game, watching them, fantasizing about what they were
saying. It seemed to me that Ilidor looked at uncle Gregori in much
the same way as the gypsy boy had looked at me. They spoke vigorously
and animatedly for more than an hour. When the bells chimed that it
was four o'clock, the three men abruptly ended their conversation and
we left the cathedral.
At the hotel, we paid our bill and then walked hurriedly toward the
railway station. We passed an open-air market place where we purchased
vegetables, fresh fruit, dry apricots, raisins and a package of tea.
The station had become very busy in the intervening hour.
The mixture of people here was less diverse than that which we had
seen on the streets of Kazan.
Uniformed porters carrying traveling bags accompanied men in suits and
hats. Women, with children of all ages, shepherded their flocks down
the corridors toward a waiting train.
The engine was at the far end hissing and belching great clouds of
steam like a captive dragon on the verge of taking flight. Uncle
Gregori's hand firmly held mine causing me to gallop in order to keep
pace. The skirt limited my stride. It felt like I was being dragged
down the walkway. Dresses were not meant for boys!
We were three-quarters of the way down the length of the train when he
veered off toward an open carriage door. "This is it Catherine. Hurry
so that we may find the best seats. We will be here for the better
part of two days. It is more than eight-hundred miles to St.
Petersburg."
There was a passageway on the right hand side, extending the length of
the car, with a dozen compartment door openings to the left side. We
entered a compartment whose door was labeled "B-7" and we were now
alone. The small room contained two bench-like seats facing each
other; one facing toward the rear, the other forward.
We seated ourselves across from one another so that we each sat next
to a window. Mounted on the oak-paneled walls over our heads were
shelves for parcels and hand luggage. The floors were bare wood which
never would be the same shade as the walls; it's color derived from
the thousands of shoes which applied road dirt from all across Russia.
There was no breeze and, even though we were not in direct sunlight, I
began to perspire. Then I began to itch. Silently I swore to myself
and wondered how women could stand to wear dresses. I spread my legs
apart, but uncle Gregori cleared his throat and motioned for me to
keep them together. "Young ladies must keep their privates private."
I glared at him and stuck my hand under the bottom of the blouse and
on down beneath the waistand of the skirt to my crotch and began to
scratch my balls. "No!" His words were not welcome. Never the less, I
reluctantly obeyed and removed my hand.
Then I remembered that there was a slit in the waist on the right side
of my skirt next to the wall. My "boy's ingenuity" then took over.
There were pillows in the overhead rack. I pulled one down and,
without speaking, offered one to uncle. He shook his head, "No." I
reseated myself, with the pillow against the wall, turned to my right
and buried my head in the cushion; thus hiding my right arm from his
view.
My fingers found the slit and slipped through it. It took a little
maneuvering to get under the panties, but soon I had my hands on my
balls. Oh! That felt good. The pleasant feeling moved upward and I
found myself with an erection. I could not resist the temptation and
stroked my shaft. I cautiously peeked at uncle Gregori and was brought
up short when I saw that his eyes were burning through me. "Willpower
little one. Willpower."
A sudden jerk of the train brought me out of the first stages of the
nap I had begun to drift into. The car creaked as it moved forward.
That was followed by a squeak of the brakes, then more jerking. We
were still by ourselves so I stretched out on my seat.
"Catherine! Tell me, what were your thoughts about our visit with
Bishop Andrey?"
"Well, to begin with, I think they both want something from you." Then
I laughed in a rather dirty sort of way, "...and that other guy was
looking at you like Katrina looked at me when she wanted to go to
bed." "Very good. Very good indeed. What else did you make of it?"
Gregori was looking at me with a new appreciation.
"I would not trust either one of them with a single kopek even if I
had a million rubles. Do you think the monk wants to suck your penis?"
I glanced at him again and his expression had changed to one of
surprise rather than one of shock. "And what do you know of such
things my little one? Did Katrina experiment with you?"
I had said too much. I did not want to tell him about the gypsy boy,
so I nodded "yes," then yawned. "Will we have this compartment to
ourselves until we reach St. Petersburg?" "It is unlikely. The train
will make many stops between now and then and many more people may
board."
The speed of the train was now increasing. The wheels soon settled
into to a steady rhythm. I turned toward the window. Buildings were
moving rapidly across my view like a picture in motion. Abruptly, the
scene changed to one of open fields intersected by an occasional dirt
road.
Someone in the corridor passed by our door announcing: "Staraya
Tyurlema. Next stop Staraya Tyurlema. We will be in Staraya Tyurlema
for ten minutes." The engine began to slow and the cars bumped against
each other; then there was a great hissing sound of brakes and
squeaking wheels.
The "picture" in the window became quite sluggish as we drifted into
this rural station.
A peasant, carrying a large basket, came along the corridor calling:
"Fruit! ...Juice! ...All kinds of drinks! The night is long! ...Be
prepared." Uncle Gregori opened our door. "Here! Do you have fresh
lemons? How about vodka?" The man shook his head. "I have lemons, but
no vodka. The Railway will not allow me to sell it." He paused for a
short moment before whispering, "But I have several bottles of Madeira
which I can let you have."
Merchandise and money changed hands as the train lurched forward. The
vendor raced for the door and dropped abruptly onto the station
platform. Gregori had pulled the cork from the bottle and had taken a
long swallow. "That is very good." He looked my way and ordered me to
sample it.
I put the mouth of the bottle to mine and sipped carefully. It was
less powerful than vodka, but it soon hit my blood in the same way. A
wave of warmth spread upward toward my face, and downward to my groin.
I passed the bottle back to him. "I like that much better than the
vodka. What is it?" "Madeira. It is a beautiful wine that has brandy
added to it; but, it is sweet and you must be careful not to drink too
much or you will become sick to your stomach. I will put it away for
now.
"If we must share the compartment with others I would like for you to
again play our little game; observe and guess what people are really
about."
The tracks had taken us west, but now we turned south. We were again
building up speed and the wheels were beating a frantic staccato
rhythm. The sun had set, but there was still light in the sky. We both
nodded off to sleep.
Later, the conductor came through announcing, "Shumerlya. Next stop
Shumerlya. This is a flag stop. We will be here less than five
minutes. Shumerlya."
I looked out the window. There was no station or platform only a small
wooden shack. It was simply a place where the road crossed the tracks.
A sharply dressed woman extended her hand toward the conductor and was
pulled up into our car, followed by a school boy dressed in dark blue
trousers, white shirt and matching blue jacket.
The train again began to move. I wanted to sleep a little more, but I
heard our compartment door open. The new passengers entered. The woman
seated herself alongside uncle Gregori, while the boy was directed to
sit next to me.
Uncle Gregori offered to help her put her bags in the overhead rack.
He spoke softly to the newcomer. "I am Father Gregori and this is my
niece Catherine. It will be pleasant to have someone to talk with.
What is your destination?"
"Thank you father. We will be with you overnight. We are traveling to
Nizhny Novgorod. I am taking my brother to the St. Teresa School for
boys. This will be his second year." "Ah. That explains it then. You
are too beautiful to have a boy as big as he. How old is he?" "He
celebrated his fifteenth birthday only yesterday."
The boy had moved to the far end of our bench and was staring at the
floor. His face expressed boredom. I began to play our game by
watching all movements and expressions while ignoring what she and
uncle Gregori were actually talking about.
After a few minutes, uncle reached into our food bag and offered the
woman an apple, then poured himself a glass of the Madeira. Almost as
an afterthought he offered her a glass as well.
At first, they just sipped the wine while discussing the power and
mercy of God. "The most rewarding experience we poor sinners can have
is to ask and then receive the forgiveness of the Almighty." My ears
perked up. His words did not match his actions.
He continued, "...We cannot ask for his forgiveness unless we have
sinned. Thus, in order that we may draw closer to him we must first
enjoy the pleasures of the flesh." He had his arm around her waist,
pulling her against his shoulder. He gently moved her aside, pulled
down the shade of the corridor window and latched the door. After
turning off the lamp, only the glow seeping through the window shade
lit the compartment.
He reseated himself, refilled their glasses and again took the woman
into his arms. The boy had his eyes closed. I pulled my legs up onto
my seat, being careful not to touch him with my feet. Then I too
closed my eyes. --not completely however, as I was still playing our
game.
The woman's hand was moving around uncle's neck, drawing him into a
passionate kiss. "Yes. Yes, we will share our flesh, then we can
honestly pray for forgiveness." Gregori's voice had become husky. In
their passion they had forgotten that there were two children in the
compartment. Within minutes, their clothes were on the floor and his
penis was pushing into her.
It was then that I felt a hand slip up my skirt, moving cautiously
towards my crotch. The boy was only feigning sleep, as was I. My rod
was at full erection. If the boy went much further, he would be in for
quite a surprise. I pushed his hand away, but moments later he had
regained his courage and continued his exploration. It became obvious
that I needed to do something to stop him.
I sat up, put my feet on the floor and moved right up next to him. He
tried to kiss me, but I ducked away and at the same time unbuttoned
the fly of his trousers. He gasped in surprise as I pulled his penis
free. It was much larger than I had expected. I moved my hand rapidly
up and down the shaft. Within seconds, it felt very warm and began to
pulse. Suddenly his hips bucked forward and his juice spurted all over
my hand. Intentionally, I directed his flow down onto his pants. When
it had stopped, I wiped my hands on his legs and whispered. "Now will
you let me get some fucking sleep?"
Several times during the long night, I was awakened by renewed
activity on the opposite seat.
It was still dark when I felt the train begin to slow. I glanced out
of the window. Buildings were passing close by. We appeared to be
entering a city. All of the lights in the train came on. The conductor
was moving down the corridor, knocking on each door, and calling:
"Nizhny Novgorod! We are in Nizhny Novgorod. We will be here for
thirty minutes before proceeding to Moscow."
To my surprise, both uncle Gregori and the woman were fully dressed.
The last thing I remembered seeing was his bare bottom, glowing in the
reflected light from the window.
I was delighted to note that the boy had white streaks all over the
front of his dark blue pants. He saw both where I was gazing and the
expression on my face and he glared in return. He removed one of their
hand bags from the overhead shelf and held it in front of himself,
then followed his sister out of the compartment.
They had been gone for only a short time when uncle Gregori said, "You
handled that situation very well last night. I am proud of you." "No
thanks to any help from you. All of your carrying on last night
couldn't help but excite us. Have you no willpower uncle?" "Few
teachers are experts at what they teach. It is you that must show
willpower, not me."
+ + + + +
Alexander Palace, Tsarskoye Selo 1913
Tuesday --from Alex-T, the Tsarevich's point of view.
+ + + + +
Only mama and I appear to be excited about the return of uncle
Gregori; but then, I was the only person in the Palace who knew the
real purpose of his absence.
I had asked papa if we could have lunch onboard the Standart tomorrow.
He said that he had appointments scheduled throughout the entire day;
but, if mama wanted to use the yacht, she could do so. I figured that,
if we were in St. Petersburg tomorrow evening, uncle Gregori could
join us on the Imperial Train and ride back with us.
At dinner that night, mama asked my sisters if they would like to join
us. As expected, Olga declined, saying that her beau would be calling.
I had thought that Anastasia might like to go, but she was behind in
her French lessons and couldn't. Maria also declined, but unexpectedly
Tatiana said she would love to come.
My sisters Olga and Tatiana share a bedroom and are also best friends.
Olga is seventeen and really a pain; but Tatiana, who is just two
years younger, can be a lovely person. Even when I tease her about
becoming an old maid, she takes it in stride. I only do that in front
of Olga because she is always bragging about the boys that find her
attractive. In comparing the two, Tatiana is much the prettier. She
just turned fifteen, so she is almost five years older than I am.
Papa told mama to call security and have them make the arrangements
for our lunch on board the yacht.
After dinner, remembering what the Gamekeeper's son had told me, I
asked mama if we could have either roast duck or woodcock like they
prepare it at the hunting lodge. She said she would ask. Since she
seemed to be so amenable, I suggested herring with onion and mustard
sauce, followed by caviar as our appetizer.
Mama smiled at me and said, "Alex, since when have you started paying
attention to what you eat?" "Mama, the other day, when papa and I were
reviewing the crew of the Yaroslav, I met a sailor who is the son of
one of our gamekeepers in Spala. Can we invite him to lunch?"
"So that is what this is all about. Of course Alex, I will tell
security to arrange it. What is his name?" "Piotr Veliky." I was
pleased at how easily this was coming about.
"Anything else?" "Only that ...since uncle Gregori's train arrives
tomorrow late afternoon, he and his niece could ride home with us.
That would be a great convenience for everyone." Mama broke into her
delightful, almost gleeful laugh. "My, my. You are really becoming
most devious. I will certainly have to keep an eye on you once you
begin taking an interest in girls."
I spent the rest of the night wondering about Gregori's peasant
"niece". What part of Russia was the boy from? What would we need to
do to change his appearance to match my own? I even wondered how it
would feel to dress as a girl. If, indeed, this charade had the
slightest chance of being successful, we must each be attentive to
every slight detail. My sisters were always sticking their noses into
everyone's affairs.
I woke up in the middle of the night with a brilliant idea. I turned
on the light and began to search though boxes of toys that had been
given to me over the years. A toy telephone set was in the middle of
the stack in one of my closets. I read the instructions as best I
could, since they were written in German. I suspect that this set had
been a gift from the Mercedes Motorcar Company; almost all of our
automobiles were Mercedes.
It was as I had remembered: There were two instruments, batteries, and
a coil of wire. It all looked pretty simple, so I skipped the
instructions and connected it. There was a button on each telephone.
If I pushed either one, a buzzer on each instrument would sound.
Tomorrow morning, I would explore the servants quarters and see which
bedroom would be the closest to mine. I would ask the housekeeper to
give uncle Gregori's niece that particular bedroom.
I then went back to sleep while awaiting the first sounds of the new
day's activity to come from the servant's wing.
My parents' bedrooms were on the first floor. The second floor was
divided into two sections: the east wing being occupied by the palace
staff, while the west wing was where my sisters and I lived. In our
wing, there are three bedrooms, several class rooms and a play area.
My bedroom is the largest and has its own bathroom.
Occasionally, while I was in the bath, I could hear someone moving
around on the other side of the wall. There was a wardrobe standing
against that bathroom wall, which I moved. Using an ice pick, I
punched a tiny hole through the wall and peered into the next room.
What I saw on the other side, was a bedroom. I recognized the
occupant, who was then getting out of bed, as one of our serving
girls.
I reasoned that I might use "installing my toy telephone" as the
excuse for having Gregori's niece assigned to that particular room. We
had just finished breakfast when one of the servants told mama that we
should plan on boarding the Imperial Train no later than ten o'clock.
That gave me less than an hour to talk to the housekeeper about my
idea and then to get dressed for our day's outing.
Without papa present, security would not be as tight nor would there
be as much ceremony associated with our movements. I was tempted to
wear my navy uniform, but had second thoughts about that. After all,
lunch onboard the yacht was informal --in the same category as the
hunting lodge; yet, I still wanted to wear something which would stand
out. Finally I settled on my Cossack Uniform. The colors were
spectacular. Blue pants, Red Coat and a bright sash. The fur-rimmed
hat topped the whole thing off magnificently. The only part of my
choice that I questioned was whether or not the uniform's dress sword
might be considered--too much?
Everyone was waiting at the automobile entryway when I arrived. Mama
was dressed informally in a gray touring dress. Tatiana was more
appropriately attired in a sports outfit, which would have been
suitable either for lunch or a game of tennis.
They stared at me as I came into view and Tatiana remarked, "Good
heavens Alex, you look like the grand marshal of a parade. All that's
missing is the horse." Mama grinned, "Well it will have to do. You
haven't time to change. Maybe there is something onboard the Standart
that you can wear instead."
It always takes more time to board the train and get ready to go than
it takes to actually travel the sixteen miles to the St. Petersburg
Railway Station. In reality it would have been much faster to motor
into the city, but security would not allow that. There were too many
places along the road that were vulnerable to attack. Captain
Sabanskoi, head of today's security detail, told us that the Standart
had been moved from the Naval Base and was now docked in front of the
Admiralty building just across the road from the Winter Palace.
The motorcade to the Admiralty was uneventful. There were no onlookers
along the route; however, the docking of the Imperial Yacht had drawn
some attention. About a quarter of a mile away, a small group of
spectators had gathered just beyond the fence, where the street
crosses the Neva River.
Even from a distance, tied up by herself, the Standart looked huge and
out of place. She was two hundred and twenty feet long and was
designed to comfortably accommodate 80 passengers and a full crew. The
main salon had been used many times for dances when we were cruising
in the Mediterranean or Black Seas.
Using the Imperial yacht for a lunch for four seemed strangely out of
place; yet, I felt as comfortable on the Standart as I did in the
Alexander Palace. I had known every member of the crew from my
earliest childhood.
Captain Prokoshov greeted us at the gangplank. "Your Royal Highness,
your guest has arrived. We have set a table for four in the small
dinning room. The outside deck is too exposed to the street."
Piotr Veliky, wearing his best seaman's uniform, sat uncomfortably at
one end of the room. Beside him lay his sea bag. I felt like an
overdressed idiot, but quickly crossed the room and welcomed him.
There was a certain coldness about him that bothered me. He was not
the same warm, friendly, rural boy that I had met just a few days
earlier.
I introduced him to mama and Tatiana. Momentarily, he thawed as he met
my sister. I said to him, "We are having duck prepared just the way
it is in Spala." The boy appeared to be at a complete loss for what
to say or do.
"Come, I think they have prepared the appetizers the way I enjoy them.
Remember what I mentioned to you before? ...Herring with minced onion
and mustard sauce accompanied by caviar?"
Piotr and I led the way to a side table. I took a plate, put pieces of
the fish, sauce, and caviar on it, then handed it to my guest. Even
while nibbling, he appeared uncomfortable. Finally I asked mama and
Tatiana, "Would you excuse us for a moment? I need to speak with
Piotr."
We returned to the corner where the boy had been seated when I first
entered the room. "Alright Piotr, what is wrong? I had hoped you would
enjoy having lunch with us. I wanted to get to know you better, so
this lunch was organized just for you."
"Your Royal Highness," the boy faltered, then his face turned red and
he coughed, "I don't understand why you are interested in me. I am
just another enlisted man in the navy." "I don't know why either,
Piotr. I have few friends and I just took a liking to you from the
first time my attention was drawn to you."
My indirect reference to his farting in ranks brought a fresh flow of
blood to his cheeks. The boy paused for a long time, before
continuing. "Damn it Alex, I have been transferred from the Yaroslav."
"Why would they do that?"
"My ship was preparing to get underway for the Mediterranean cruise
when your invitation reached my commanding officer. An invitation from
the royal family is tantamount to an Imperial order from the Czar. He
could not delay their departure, so he told me to pack my gear and
report to the commanding officer of the Standart. I want to make the
navy my career. All of my shipmates were envious of my new assignment,
but no one ever became an admiral while assigned to the Imperial
Yacht."
I felt sick to my stomach. I had tried to be nice to the sailor in an
attempt to gain a new friend, but instead, had destroyed what the
young seaman had been working for. "I am so sorry Piotr. I will talk
this over with mama and papa tonight and see what can be done to
repair the damage I have caused. Please try to forgive me and not let
my stupidity destroy this meal."
During the next half-hour, two things occurred: First, Tatiana began
to flirt, outrageously, with Piotr, --and it seemed to me that mama
was encouraging her. Second, was that Piotr devoured the entire bowl
of caviar. Just before we were to be seated for the meal, Captain
Prokoshov stopped by and asked if everything was alright.
The Captain had always been "Family" to me, so I decided to grab the
horse by the reins and straighten out my own mess. I explained to him
what had happened and how what I had done with the best of intentions
had, none the less, jeopardized Piotr's naval career.
Captain Prokoshov asked Piotr a few questions and then suggested that
the best course of action, with the Czar's permission, would be to
create a berth for the boy onboard the Standart. If Piotr would study
hard during the next year and prove himself worthy, then he, the
Captain, would nominate the boy for entrance into the Naval Academy.
It would have been next to impossible for Piotr to have been accepted
into military school while a civilian, as all of those appointments
went to aristocrats; but, the navy always kept a few openings reserved
for nominations from the fleet.
Thus, with Captain Prokoshov's aid, my unconscious error had now been
corrected--and in a manner that would have been otherwise impossible.
+ + + + +
Somewhere between Moscow and St. Petersburg, Russia 1913
Wednesday--according to Alex-P, the peasant boy.
+ + + + +
Moscow was about four hours behind us when we passed through a marshy
area and the conductor announced that we were now stopping in the
village of Likhoslavl. Throughout our ride, we had had numerous
passengers share our compartment. The ones that joined us at rural
stations were always more colorful and friendly. A few had shared
their vodka with us. I declined most of the time, but uncle Gregori
always welcomed the refreshment.
We were in the station for just a few minutes. The train lurched
forward and rapidly gained speed. The conductor came into our
compartment and asked, "Are you Gregori Rasputin?" Uncle nodded yes.
"Telegram for you, sir." Uncle Gregori read from the sheet of paper
and then spoke to me. "We are to board the Imperial Train when we
reach St. Petersburg. The Czarina is having lunch in the capital and
she will wait for us to board so that we may continue together."
The conductor asked, "Any reply, sir?" Gregori shook his head "No".
The conductor's attitude changed immediately. He became extremely
polite, kept asking if we needed hot water for tea and thereafter, put
no other passenger in our compartment. I had to admit that being
treated like someone of importance was really nice. I could get used
to it quite easily.
Having no other passengers in our compartment for the balance of the
trip gave us more of an opportunity to talk. However, in looking back,
it was really more of an opportunity for Gregori to hold forth on
numerous subjects. Mainly he dwelt on what talents I needed to develop
if I were to become a successful double for the Tsarevich.
He went on to comment on what was wrong with the present empire and
with Nicholas II in particular. He likened the present government to a
multi-headed dragon, with each head leaping toward a different goal,
but with no attempt to coordinate these efforts toward a single
purpose. The major difficulty seemed to be that the Czar would have
preferred almost any job in the world to the one he had inherited. His
greatest pleasure centered on his family. He found the dispensation of
justice and the administration of the affairs of government to be most
disagreeable chores.
Despite Gregori's loyalty to the Tsarevich, he knew that Alex was a
spoiled youngster. Because of his illness, he was mostly allowed to do
as he pleased and was given his every whim. The boy possessed few of
the traits which I was expected to learn. The picture that Gregori
painted was one of a lonely child who spent most of his time playing
with toys and not people. The boy's favorite activities were driving
around the palace grounds in a miniature Mercedes, given to him by the
Mercedes Motorcar Company, and accompanying his father to military
reviews.
The Tsarevich's friends were not really friends, but rather older
people he met in his daily life. Hopefully, with my arrival on the
scene, this would change. Yet, in the long run, what really mattered
was not the Tsarevich, but rather what I would be trained to do.
Unless a miracle crossed the path of history I was likely to become
the next ruler of Russia.
It was late afternoon when the conductor heralded our passing through
Kolpino. We would be arriving in St. Petersburg in less than half-an-
hour. Soon, what we began to see through our window were shack-like
buildings, which within minutes gave way to larger, better built
structures. As the train slowed, uncle Gregori pointed to two short,
blue trains each car of which bore the golden double eagle seal that
marked it as the Imperial Train.
Moments later we jerked to a complete stop. Our luggage consisted of a
cloth-bound bundle, containing the clothes I was wearing when I left
my village, and a few things belonging to uncle Gregori. We left the
train, leaving our food bag behind, carrying only the simple bundle of
soiled clothing.
I felt dirty and uncomfortable from the two-day train ride. My ability
to keep pace with uncle Gregori had improved somewhat. I found that,
if I lifted my skirt, I could achieve a longer stride.
After moving into the station's waiting room, we walked directly
toward a small gilded doorway which was closed. Two armed guards stood
on either side of this door. They looked at us curiously as we
approached and, placing their weapons across the entry, they said,
"You are at the wrong gate. Leave immediately."
Gregori's eyes burned in anger, then suddenly relaxed. He smiled and
presented the telegram. "The Czarina is expecting us." Without a
blink, both men came to attention, opened the door and motioned us
toward the waiting train. Apparently the attendants inside were
expecting us, as we were further directed into the last car of the
first train.
The luxury that greeted my eyes was beyond my comprehension. The
entire car was a single room. There were no ordinary train seats. It
was furnished with hand polished wooden tables and upholstered leather
chairs.
A small table whose top was clear glass with the Imperial double
eagles etched in its center separated two matching divans. The floor
was covered in a thick wine-colored carpet. The walls were wood panels
of oak. Lighting was provided by wall mounted crystal fixtures. At the
far end of the car was a serving bar.
A uniformed attendant asked if we would care for refreshments and
added that the Imperial Family were expected momentarily. We seated
ourselves in two deep, cushioned chairs on the left side of the bar.
My mind was in a torrent of wonderment. In the next few minutes, I
would actually meet the Tsarevich. Fantasy was about to be replaced by
reality. The past ten years of my life were only a dim haze in
comparison to the spectacular events of the past ten days.
From 1903 (when I was born) until ten days ago, my life had consisted
of little more than eating peasant food and tending goats. There had
been no monumental memories to mark the milestones of my years. But,
in the past ten days, I had traveled across Russia, seen people and
scenery that I had never imagined existed. I had been told that I
might become the next Czar of my country and discovered that more than
pee came out of my petooshock (little cock). Now, I was actually
going to meet the most famous people in the world.
There was a sudden commotion just beyond the other end of the car,
then the door pushed open and a uniformed officer preceded a simply
dressed woman in her early forties followed by a handsome girl and the
most ridiculously dressed boy that I had ever seen.
He was wearing bright blue pants stuffed into shiny black leather
boots, a red silk shirt and a stupid fur trimmed hat that would have
looked better on the girl. There was no one else in the party so that
idiot had to be the one whom I was supposed to look and act like? The
idea almost made me break up in laughter, but the reality of the
situation came down hard upon me. Then the little jerk, as if in
command, strode over to me, stood in front of me and just stared.
+ + + + +
The Meeting--according to Alex-T the Tsarevich.
+ + + + +
We had dawdled aboard the Standart far too long. Piotr was not good
company. The sudden change in his military status was apparently too
much for him. The entire luncheon had simply been an excuse to have
the Imperial Train in St. Petersburg so that I could meet the boy that
uncle Gregori had found.
The motor trip back to the railway station was unimpeded but it seemed
to take forever. Our bodyguards surrounded us as we entered the
waiting room and were then ushered through the Imperial Rail Gate. One
of the guards said that our guests were already onboard the first
train.
The engines of both trains came to life as we mounted the steps of our
car. Captain Sabanskoi, head of security, preceded us up the steps
and into the salon car. Mama and Tatiana followed.
Sitting at the far end was uncle Gregori and a horribly dirty little
girl. Her dark blue dress was spotted with light colored muck. If THAT
was supposed to be my double, I would have to say that Gregori had
lost his mind or his eyesight. I had to ask myself if my eagerness
had again brought down a disaster.
As I approached them, I could see a look in her eyes that could only
be described as one of ridicule. I shifted my gaze to uncle Gregori.
I am sure my expression showed my dissatisfaction with this situation.
"Ah Alex, this is my niece Catherine." This effrontery escaped me for
but a moment and then I glared at him hoping that he understood that
it was she that should have been introduced to me. I choose not to
acknowledge the introduction; however, mama and Tatiana came up behind
us. "Gregori, it is so nice to see you after such a long absence. Is
this your niece?"
The train started to move as they became acquainted and I began to
wonder how I could undo this plan that I had put into place.
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