My Father the Czar
                             Copyright 1998
                   Library of Congress number: 98-96138
                          by AUTHOR22@aol.com
                          All rights reserved

Chapter Five

                            +  +  +  +  +

                     Tsarskoye Selo, Russia 1913
                          Wednesday evening.

                            +  +  +  +  +

Uncle Gregori could not have helped but sense the disharmony that
descended upon us during that first meeting; nevertheless he spent
most of his time in conversation with the Czarina leaving me and the
Tsarevich to occasionally stare at each other in mutual distaste. It
would have taken great actors to have disguised how we both felt. This
pompous boy who paraded around the car as though he were a peacock was
unreal. It wasn't just his appearance, it was his reaction toward me
that was the most disconcerting. I had been on the road for almost two
weeks in order to put HIS plan into operation, yet he looked at me
like I was some kind of filthy beggar.

My first impulse was to run away. I wondered if I could find the gypsy
caravan and Katrina again. My second thought was to somehow return to
my own village but, since tradition dictated that any boy who had been
"sold" from a village be immediately stricken from the community
history, it would be doubtful that I would be welcome there. If I did
return, the village elders would insist that I be sent back to Gregori
immediately. So, my only real choice would be to find the gypsies.

Taking pity on me, Tatiana beckoned for me to join her on one of the
divans. She was kind and friendly. However, her manner of speach
depressed me even further. I had a monumental task ahead of me if I
were to learn to speak as she did. "Catherine there is a water closet
that you may use if you wish to wash and change your clothes." I shook
my head, "No."  "Where are your things?" She asked. I pointed to the
small cloth covered bundle laying on the floor next to uncle Gregori.

Tatiana's eyes opened wide, "Oh you poor thing. We must do something
about that as soon as we get home. "Mama, may I speak to you for a
moment?" The Czarina joined us on the couch. "Mama, Catherine has no
luggage. Don't you think that we could let her have the wardrobe that
Anastasia has outgrown?"

The Czarina motioned for me to stand and then turn around. "Yes
Tatiana. I do believe they would be the right size. Have Mrs.
Cherminski bring down those trunks from the attic as soon she can."

The woman looked at me with tenderness, "Welcome to our home
Catherine. I am certain you will do well with us."

The Czarina then returned to Gregori's side and they continued their
discussion while Tatiana and I attempted to converse. She was putting
most of the effort into our encounter; attempting to draw me from
behind the barrier created by this strange environment, my difficulty
in speaking and the obvious hostility which the Tsarevich was
exhibiting.

"I don't know what has gotten into Alex. Both yesterday and today he
was bubbling over with anxiety to see you and your uncle. We had lunch
on the yacht and, it seems to me, that was when his mood changed."
Tatiana raised her voice, "Alex stop being so glum; come over here and
get to know Catherine. The poor thing has only the clothes she is
wearing and has been traveling for almost two weeks."

The Tsarevich stood, removed his hat, tucked it under his shirt and
strode over to us. I had to admit that his appearance was less pompous
without the hat; but still, the bright red and blue colors combined
with the flair of his costume reminded me more of the gypsy boy than
it did of my preconception of a young Czar-to-be. I suddenly realized
that the heart of my discomfort lay in the fact that he DID remind me
of the gypsy boy. The Tsarevich's reaction to me could have been
overlooked as having been caused by events over which I had little
control. No, --it WAS the reminder of the Gypsy Boy -- with eyes the
color of dark brown coffee, the boy of the crooked hair and crooked
teeth, the boy whose name I could not remember -- the boy who was not
my friend -- the boy who, in the wee hours of the night, had unearthed
hidden passions within me. Even more disturbing to me was the
discovery that merely a passing thought of that encounter had quickly
stirred my blood and brought my petooshock to full attention.

For the first time, the Tsarevich and I gazed into each others eyes.
It seemed to me that our souls had suddenly locked and all of the
animosity dissolved as though under the hand of a master magician.
"Your Imperial Highness." I heard my own voice speak for the first
time to my doppleganger. He extended his hand, "Catherine, it is a
pleasure to finally meet you. We have been looking forward to your
arrival." The change in attitude made me feel better. I knew not how
much of that change was real and how much of it was due to his
sister's interest in me. I needed to play the game so that I might
gain a more accurate appraisal of this situation. This time the
outcome was important to me. In the back of my mind lurked the thought
that, if given a choice, I'd prefer the company of Katrina and the
gypsy caravan.

The Imperial Train slowed and then gently came to a halt. The officer
who had first entered the car when the royal family arrived now
reappeared and said, "Gregori, why don't you and your niece take the
lead, then the rest of our party will follow." As we stepped from the
car, we were instantly surrounded by a barricade of armed men. In the
midst of that mass, we surged along the walkway, out a gate and along
side three automobiles. This globule of bodies then split three ways:
our party entered the center car, while the bodyguards divided
themselves between the front and rear vehicles. The sounds of three
doors closing made a precise, sequential thump and, as though it had
been a signaling drum roll, the motorcade instantly hurdled out of the
station and raced toward its destination, pushing its collective
cargos back into the soft leather seats.

We had made only two turns when I saw, for the first time, the
Alexander Palace. To me, it seemed larger than our entire village. It
was surrounded by a high, wrought iron fence at least fifteen feet in
height. Massive gates blocked the road's entrance into the compound.
On either side of the gates were small, rectangular sentry houses
painted in white and blue. Above the crest of the entry gate rose the
gilded double eagle which I had seen on the side of the Imperial Train
and etched into the glass table top. We did not pause for the gates to
open, our movement seemed synchronized with them. The road swept
across the front of the building. It seemed inconceivable to me that
such a vast structure would a place in which someone might live in and
called 'home'. There were four grand entrances. We stopped in front of
the one on the far left, climbed out of the automobiles and walked
through the opening doors.

The bodyguards disappeared as the outside doors closed behind us.

"Children, take Catherine upstairs with you. Tell Mrs. Cherminski to
see her to her room. Tatiana, don't forget to ask her to bring down
those clothes from the attic."

The Czarina and uncle Gregori disappeared through a doorway on the
right while Tatiana and I followed Alex through a small doorway on the
left and then up a staircase to the second floor.

Phonograph music was coming from the far end of the corridor. It was
lively, almost passionate. It had a spirit and a rhythm to it that was
vaguely reminiscent of gypsy music. Alex strode through the open
doorway and asked, "Where did you get that new album. And who is it?"
"It is a composition from one of the new associate professors at the
Imperial School for Dance. Don't you just love it?" --a female voice
spoke loudly. Tatiana had run ahead, directly behind her brother. "I
haven't heard it either. It sounds a little like Rimsky-Korsakov, but
not as well structured."

By the time I had reached the doorway, Alex had picked up one of the
records and was reading it out loud. "'Rite of Spring' by Stravinsky.
We had better turn down the volume or papa will be all over us. You
know how he hates these new composers. But I think you were close
Tatiana, Korsakov was Stravinsky's mentor. In fact listen to this
comment printed inside the album cover."

"Under the baton of Pierre Monteux, the Paris premiere of 'Le Sacre du
printemps' at the new Theatre des Champs-Elysees created a violent
reaction among the audience and afterward in the press- no one had
ever heard music that carried this much primordial power - at least
not since Richard Wagner's Tristan und Isolde - and Stravinsky was
severely criticized by the musical establishment, but he seemed not to
care; his notoriety was only incidental to the respect and awe in
which he was held by his musical brethren."  Alex then continued to
comment:  "The premiere of 'Le Sacre' was exactly a year to the day
after the premiere of Nijinsky's 'L'Apres-midi d'un faune' last year
and that caused such an uproar in Paris, which echoed throughout the
world capitols, that even the great sculptor Rodin became involved in
all the press and controversy --and that caused him quite a bit of
trouble,--but the audience's reaction at the premiere was tame
compaired with what happened when 'Le Sacre' premiered this year.

Before I could answer an older girl came into the hallway and said,
"Well you had better keep those records hidden or papa will smash
them. You know how he hates this new music. In fact, last week he
swore that if the Imperial School for Music didn't impose some degree
of discipline, he would close them down." It was Alex who replied,
"You know very well that he was not serious. In fact I will wager you
that we could hold a ball in the downstairs Parade Rooms and invite
Stravinsky to entertain us." The older girl responded, "You probably
could. Papa lets you do what ever you like."

For the first time, the older girl noticed me. "Oh! Are you uncle
Gregori's niece? I am Olga."

An older woman came into the room and spoke to me, "I am the
housekeeper Nadia Cherminski. Would you like to see your room?" I
nodded, "Yes." Tatiana said, "Nadia, mama would like for you to bring
down those trunks of clothes that Anastasia has outgrown and put them
in Catherine's room. It seems that her things got lost some where
while they were traveling. You know how awful the Railway Service is."
"Tatiana is a most thoughtful person," I said to myself. Not wanting
to embarrass, me she had fibbed.

The housekeeper led me through a door on the right hand side of the
playroom, down a short corridor and into a room on the left. "This
will be yours. There is a bathroom further down the hall on the left
side. Be sure to latch the door. The children are prone to not
knocking before entering and the Tsarevich NEVER puts the seat down
after he has done his business.

"There are towels and a robe laid out on your bed. I'll have one of
the men bring down those trunks from the attic while you are bathing.
We can go through them and see which ones you would like to keep."

The woman left me and I laid down on my new bed. The only person I
really knew was downstairs. I was alone among strangers. For the first
time I was frightened. But frightened of what? The unknown? Yes,
certainly that. --The future role that I was expected to fill? Again,
certainly that too. But there was something else, something I could
not put my finger on. It had something to do with the gypsy boy and it
had something to do with the Tsarevich.

There was a knock on my door. "Yes?"  The door opened and Tatiana came
in followed by two younger girls. "Catherine, I would like for you to
meet my two sisters, Maria and Anastasia. Watch out for Anastasia. She
is full of pranks but she is good hearted and loves everyone."

Maria spoke, "I understand you will be attending classes with us. Do
you know which ones?" I shook my head, "No. Uncle Gregori said that he
needed to talk to the teachers first. I probably would need a good
deal of private tutoring until I can catch up. Then, I would think I
would be studying with the Tsarevich."  "Well, I wouldn't count on
that. Mama says that girls need to learn social things, like music and
dancing. Of course languages are also high on our list of importance."
Tatiana, turned and addressed the youngest girl, "You probably
disagree don't you Anastasia."  The little girl quipped, "You left out
boys, Tatiana. You and Olga spend most of your time learning about
boys. I don't think Catherine and I are old enough to concern
ourselves with such boring subjects --and that boy Olga finds so
fascinating is a real UGH!" She laughed and then added, "I hear you
may have found yourself a new beau."

Tatiana glared at her youngest sister, "New beau? Who told you what?"
"Never mind. I heard that you met a new boy today at lunch." Tatiana
began to blush. "My goodness! What did they do, print it on the front
pages of the newspaper?"  "No, I overheard one of the servants say
that she had heard it from one of the bodyguards, who had heard it
from someone on the Standart."  "I guess I shouldn't be surprised, you
know what they say, the only thing faster than a telegraph is tele-a-
servant." Tatiana laughed, and added, "Let's leave Catherine alone,
she needs to bathe and get ready for dinner." She turned to me and
said, "I will come for you when it is time."

The door closed behind them. I got up and fastened the latch, then
removed the dress and underwear. I stood in front of the mirror: a
girl from the neck up and boy from there down. Carefully, I fastened
the robe around me, unlatched the door and proceeded into the bath.

The room was quite large and I found that the toilet was in a separate
alcove. I had to laugh when I saw it, the seat was up. What was odd
was that there were two porcelain fixtures side by side; a standard
sized one and a small one. I wondered if the smaller one was for the
younger children; however, the seat being raised on the larger one
indicated that Alex had used it instead.

I turned on the two faucets of the tub, adjusting them for a
comfortable temperate. The sound of the running water made me want to
pee, so I latched the door and stood before the porcelain fixture and
let go. When I was finished, I pulled the overhead chain which
released water into the bowl, and then lowered the seat. It suddenly
dawned on me that, in the future --whenever I used any toilet, I MUST
make certain that the seat was put back down once I was finished.

Taking the hairpiece off was a tremendous relief and I vigorously
scratched my scalp.

The tub was deep and the water came up to my chin as I submerged
myself. The warm water was so relaxing that I soon began to nod off. A
knock on the door brought me back to the present. A girl's voice said,
"Catherine, you must hurry, Mrs. Cherminski has laid out your things
and dinner will be served in half-an-hour."

I quickly climbed out of the tub and noted that steam from the tub had
fogged the mirror. I wiped the moisture away with my towel so that I
could see well enough to position the wig.

When I had returned to my room, I found that there were at least a
dozen dresses now hanging in my wardrobe. They had been arranged from
"plain" on the left to "spectacular" on the right. One dress had been
laid out on the bed together with fresh underwear, stockings and a
pair of walking shoes.

"Thank God," I said to my self, "Mrs. Cherminski has made the choice
of what to wear for me. I would not have know which outfit was
appropriate."

Much to my chagrin, I noticed that the dress did not flair out from
the waist. I must be careful not to let myself become aroused, a
Vstavat (Hard-on) would show.

The shoes were too tight, so I removed the stockings.

While I was walking about, trying to settle into the shoes, I heard a
knock. I unlatched the door but there was no one there. The knock was
repeated; it was coming from the wall on my left. I knocked in return.
"Catherine, can you hear me?" It was Alex. "Yes. What do you want?"
"Do you see that tiny hole about six inches above the floor?"  "No," I
replied.

"Wait a second." A minute elapsed before he continued, "I am going to
poke a wire through the hole; when you see it, pull it through so that
there is enough to reach the bedside table."

There was a scraping sound followed by white dust falling to the
floor, and then a cream-colored wire poked out of the wall. "What is
this for?" I asked. "A telephone. We will be able to talk to each
other without anyone else knowing about it. Can you hide the wire
under the carpet?"

I pulled enough of the wire through to reach the bedside table and
then covered it with the rug.

"Where is the telephone?" I asked.  "I will give it to you after
dinner. But I don't want anyone to know we have installed it. Agreed?"
"Don't you think Mrs. Cherminski will see the wire?" "Can you move the
wardrobe to hide it?"  "I'll try. How much time do I have before we
eat."  "About ten minutes. I will remind Tatiana to come for you."

"Why all of the secrecy?"  "Uncle Gregori wants everyone to think we
don't like each other." I told myself, "Be alert, play the game. Don't
believe what you are told." Outloud, I replied "I understand."

The wardrobe was two feet to the right of where the wire came through
the wall. It required alternate tugging and pushing to move the
cabinet.

Tatiana's voice accompanied her knock on my door. "Catherine, dinner
will be ready shortly. May I come in?"  Without waiting for my reply,
she turned the door knob but the latch held firm. "Wait just a moment
until I undo the latch."

She came into my room, and looked me up and down. "You really should
wear stockings."  "The shoes hurt my feet if I do."  "They are
probably too small. Here, try mine on." She removed her left shoe and
slid it across the floor to me. It was too large.  "I suspect Maria's
shoes from last year would fit. I'll tell Nadia. I guess, for the
moment, you must have dinner without stockings."

The family dinning room was at the far end of the corridor near the
stairs. The Czar was already seated at one end of the table as we
entered.

In a loud voice Anastasia yelled, "Alex hurry up. I'm hungry." From
the other end of the wing he replied, "Don't be in such a rush. Is
mama there yet." The Czarina's voice came from the vestibule, "Hurry
Alex. Don't keep us waiting."

The table had been set for eight. Seated along one side were Olga,
Tatiana and Maria. I was placed at the facing side between Anastasia
and Alex opposite Tatiana.

The table was set with silver knives, forks and spoons. At each place
were several glasses. I had never eaten with this much ceremony and
felt uneasy.

A serving girl placed hot bowls of soup before each of us. I started
to reach for a spoon, when the Tsarevich kicked me, then took hold of
a different spoon. From then on I followed his lead.

"Mama, Alex has a new recording from a student of Rimsky-Korsakov's."
"Was that the noise I heard earlier?" Asked the Czar. "Papa, it is not
noise. Stravinsky is developing new styles of music," Olga injected.
"The music critic for the newspaper said that he was establishing a
trend with his originality and brilliant compositions."  "Noise is
noise. Stravinsky and Bartok think the same way. But it all can be
laid at Rimsky-Korsokov's feet. He encourages experimenting with
music. My mind hardly has settled into one rhythm before he has flung
me into something else." The Czar smiled at his oldest daughter. "So
what are you leading up to?"

"We want to hold a young peoples ball weekend after next and ask
Stravinsky to organize the entertainment. May we?" The two parents
exchanged glances, already admitting defeat. The Czarina replied, "If
you help each other with your lessons and your teachers agree, then
you may. Who do you wish to invite?" Olga brightened, "Just family,
mama. Family under the age of twenty two." "Cousins with their
guests?"  "Yes mama." The Czar chuckled, "Cousins and guests under the
age of twenty two? That would bring the guest list to at least one
hundred. You had better telephone that musician and see if he is
available."

The Czarina interjected, "I did enjoy the performance of his ballet
Petrouchka last season. Ask him if Nijinksy could dance a small
portion of it." "But mama, then parents will want to attend and it
would become too stuffy. Can't we have our own party, just people our
age?"

Alex asked, "Do you think it would be alright for me to invite Piotr
Veliky."  "Oh Yes! Mama, I would like that very much." Tatiana smiled
at her mother, then whispered across to me. "You will like Piotr. He
is so handsome. He is a sailor on our yacht."

Her mother spoke in my direction, "Catherine have you been taught to
dance." "Oh yes mam." My petooshock became throbbingly erect as I
remembered Katrina and me bobbing up and down to the beat of the gypsy
music.

I glanced toward Alex and saw that he had placed a napkin in his lap.
I did likewise.

It seemed that everyone on my side of the table was starving. All
three of us ate everything on our plates and even asked for more --and
they had Ice Cream for dessert! Not just 'Ice Cream' but the most
creamy, lovely, nut flavored dessert that I had ever tasted. We even
had second helpings of that.

I never dreamed that anyone in the world ate so well. Goat and goat's
milk was what I had been raised on. One winter my brothers had frozen
the cream from the goats, but it tasted like goat cheese.

"Where is uncle Gregori," I asked? The Czarina told me that he would
return in the morning to discuss my education with the head master,
Mr. Gilliard.

Alex asked, "May we be excused? I would like to show Catherine around
the palace." His mother replied, "Certainly, if she is not too tired.
You and Anastasia should both accompany her." I thought I caught a
sour glimpse on Alex's face before he told his sister, "As soon as you
are finished lets go."

We went into the playroom. Alex asked his sister if she could find a
flashlight. While she was gone he told me that he had put the
telephone under my bed and that, after hooking up the wires, I should
hide it in the drawer of my bedside table. "I can tell that mama isn't
going to let us be alone together."

"Alex, I am tired. Why don't we tour the palace tomorrow. I will
connect the telephone right now and we can test it. Agreed?"

Anastasia returned, "I looked everywhere and couldn't find the
flashlight." "Then let's show Catherine the palace tomorrow after our
classes. I think she is tired and would prefer to go to bed." Her
brother suggested.

The little girl looked disappointed, then asked, "Would you like some
help in putting things away?" I shook my head, "No. This will be my
first night in a bed since we left Perm." "Perm! That is a long way.
Did you travel by train the entire distance?" "No we rode horseback
all the way to Kazan. Have you ever been in Kazan?"  Both children
shook their heads. Anastasia commented, "Papa said it is too foreign a
place, not really Russian at all." "He is probably right. There were
many people dressed in strange clothes. Uncle Gregori said they were
from Turkey and China. Most of them were not Christians at all. Yet
there were more Christian churches there than any other place I have
been." Alex snickered, "Then you haven't seen St. Petersburg yet."

"Do you attend mass?" I asked. "Oh, yes. The chapel is downstairs in
the Parade Rooms next to where grandma lives," replied Anastasia. "I
expect you will attend with us."

We now had walked to my room. I said, "Well, good night," entered and
latched the door behind me.

I had just removed the wig when I heard Alex tapping on the wall, "Do
you need help connecting the telephone?" "I haven't even found it yet.
Give me a chance." "Well hurry up. As soon as you connect the wires
push the button, and I'll answer. If it doesn't work tap on the wall."

I found the box under the bed with a picture of a telephone on it.
There were pictures on the side which showed how it was to be
connected. Under a panel on the bottom were two screws for the wires.
In the box were both the telephone and a small screw driver.

After connecting them, I pushed the button and lifted the receiver.
"Hello. Hello, can you hear me." A metallic voice sounded in the ear
piece. "Great. We can talk. It will probably be the only private
conversations we can have. Everyone watches me like a hawk, as though
I might do something stupid."

I asked, "Haven't you ever had a girl friend?" "Just my sisters." "No,
I mean a kissing girl friend?" "No. I think they are all afraid that I
would do something stupid, like have sex with one." "Have you thought
about doing 'it'?" I asked. "Sure, but I have never had the chance.
You?" "Not until we visited some gypsies in Perm."

"Really! What did you do?" "Katrina, a gypsy girl, taught me to
dance."  "Did you kiss her?" I laughed, "That and a lot more."  "More?
How much more?"

Before I could answer he said, "I have to go. Someone is knocking on
my door. It's probably Derevenko." "Who is Derevenko?" As I asked the
question, I heard the click of the receiver being hung up.

After removing my clothes, I laid down on the bed, pulled the covers
over my head and went to sleep.

Thursday morning began with a persistent buzz in my ear as though a
summer fly had been ordered to wake me, but the buzz was not constant
and it sounded from one location. I opened one eye with the
realization that the discord interfering with my sleep was emanating
from the toy telephone.

"Hello." "Are you awake. Breakfast will be ready soon and I have an
idea that will knock your socks off." Of course it was Alex. "You must
have been very tired, I have been buzzing you for almost an hour."

"I gotta go pee." I said. "Well go do it and hurry back."

After putting the hairpiece in place, I examined myself in the full
length mirror and had to laugh. From the neck up I saw a pretty girl
from the neck down I was very much a boy; U men-ya vstal! (I have a
hard-on!).

I pulled on the bathrobe and tied the sash, then I bent over slightly
so that my petooshock was hidden within the folds of my robe and
proceed to the toilet.

My pee led to something else and I decided to sit upon the smaller of
the two fixtures. After having completed my task, I began to look
around for a chain to pull to wash the bowl but couldn't see one. Then
I spotted a small lever on the left side. Experimentally I pushed it.
I almost went through the ceiling. A cold stream of water hit my
popochka (little ass) that sent shock waves up an down my spine. I
leapt up from my seat, the cold water still dripping from my buttocks,
wondering why any one would use such a torturous device.

When I returned, I pushed the button on the telephone several times
and was about ready to give up when the ear piece went click and
Alex's voice said, "That took you a long time."

"What the hell is that small toilet for in the bathroom. I froze my
Popa off." The Tsarevich began to laugh. "You mean the bidet? Have you
never used a bidet?" "No I haven't. Is it always that cold?" "You are
supposed to run it before sitting down, that way the water can warm
up." He continued to laugh, then asked, "Do you want to hear my new
idea?"

"Sure, go ahead." "I have a wardrobe cabinet just like yours and I
have moved it to cover the hole I pushed through the wall. If I can
figure a way to pin down the wardrobe cabinets so that they may not be
moved without pulling out a screw or something, we could cut a hole in
the wall large enough for one of us to pass through."

I began to wonder just what the Tsarevich had in mind. I said, "I have
to meet with Uncle Gregori and one of the tutors at nine o'clock, so
whatever you decide to do, it will have to wait until after that."

"Yes I know. You are meeting with Mr. Gilliard. He is in charge of our
lessons. When he forgets that he is French, he can be a lot of fun;
but, when he is teaching, he can be really stuffy. You'll probably get
Mr. Petrov for some special tutoring in Russian. That reminds me, we
need to find a way to teach each other. I must also learn to speak
like you so that, when we switch places, no one will know the
difference."

I laughed, "Learning to dress like a girl isn't all that easy. If you
try and run, your feet get caught up in your skirt and you are likely
to fall on your face." "I've noticed you haven't mastered that yet
either. Are you ready to eat?" "No! I am standing here stark naked.
Let me put some clothes on. Should I wear the dress I wore to dinner
last night?" "Try to find something else in the same style but a
different color. I will see you at breakfast. Bye."

I had just put the phone down when it buzzed again. "Yes?" "Something
very important I need to mention. Sometime soon, we need to see each
other without any clothes on to discover any differences that others
might detect."

"What do you mean others? What others?" I said anxiously. Alex said,
"Papa, or my doctors Fedorov and Rauchfuss. Then, as we grow older, we
probably will be sharing girl friends."

That idea did not set well with me. The thought of anyone else
enjoying my Katrina's favors made be angry. "And when you marry, you
will let me fuck your wife?" Alex paused for a moment as he digested
my response. "I can see there might be difficulties, but it would have
to be. For the sake of Russia, I would have little choice."

By comparison with last night's evening meal, breakfast that morning
was a disappointment. We had berries with cream, an egg and a small
piece of sausage. We ate better than that on our poor farm. Alex
explained that the small breakfast could be blamed on Mr. Gilliard; he
didn't want the children to become sleepy during class.

I was told to report to Mr. Gilliard's study as both he and uncle
Gregori were waiting for me. Alex announced that he was going to
include himself in the meeting.

The headmaster appeared disconcerted over the presence of the
Tsarevich, but there was little that he could do about it.

"Father Resputin, I understand that you wish for your niece to attend
classes with the grand duchesses. I am not certain that would be in
the girls' best interest. They have been studying music, dance and
literature for several years. Additionally, your niece speaks a
variety of Russian that could hardly be referred to as classic."

Uncle Gregori held up his hand and interrupted Gilliard. "You have
misunderstood mister; first, it is not my wish, but the wish of the
Almighty, and secondly, she is to study languages, with very little
emphasis on dance and music." Gilliard flushed at the suggestion that
it was God's wish and pushed it aside. "Regardless of whose wish it
is, it seems unlikely that there is time for any special tutoring
without effecting the education of the Imperial children. No, I do not
think we can assist you."

Very quietly, but with great emphasis, uncle Gregori said, "Again you
misunderstood. It is both the will of God and the will of her Imperial
Majesty Tsarina Alexandra Fedorovna Romanov. Are you prepared to risk
your position over her wishes?"

Gilliard angrily stood, but forced himself to be silent as his face
turned a crimson red. Finally he reseated himself and continued,
--"Then there is another matter, I understand that you wish to teach a
class in religion. As fine a concept as that maybe, I am afraid that
there are others that are far more qualified than you; but even if we
accepted your credentials to teach the Imperial children, there is no
time in their schedule for any extra classes." "Mr. Gilliard you keep
ignoring the wishes of the Almighty. Beware or your time on this earth
maybe cut short."

Alex was watching this exchange with great interest. But I was
watching the body language more than I was listening to the words. The
two were colliding head on. "Sir," I injected.  "Yes Catherine?"
Gilliard appeared to welcome the interruption. I continued, "Let me
ask the Russian Tutor Mr. Petrov if he can spend an hour a day with
me. Then I can spend most of the day studying what he has outlined for
me. As for Uncle Gregorie's class, why don't you simply schedule it
after the last class of the day. Instead of making it a required
class, leave it up to Alex and his sisters as to whether they wish to
attend."

The headmaster looked at me with great surprise. "Rasputin your niece
is very wise for her years. Alex, how do you feel about an extra class
at the end of each day?" Gregori interrupted again. "No. Not every
day, just twice a week, on Tuesday and Thursday." Alex replied, "I
will help Catherine with her lessons as much as I can. And, as for the
extra class, why don't we try it. If it is interesting enough we will
want to attend, if it isn't we won't learn anything anyway."

Simultaneously the two adults said, "...and a little child shall lead
them." At first they looked shocked at the duet of their words, then
Mr. Gilliard and uncle Gregori smiled at each other. Inwardly, I said
to myself, "Ignore the words. Watch what they do. These two could
never be friends."

Pyotr Petrov, the tutor of Russian begrudgingly gave me an hour of his
time, beginning tomorrow. So the rest of the day I sat quietly in
Alex's classes. He studied French from ten in the morning until
Eleven. Mr. Gilliard had him reading from a book about Napoleon. He
frequently paused before long words and was asked to repeat them until
his teacher was satisfied with the pronunciation.

At Eleven o'clock, an older, round faced man wearing a military
uniform entered the class room. "Good morning Vladimir. The little
girl is Gregori Rasputin's niece. She is much more pleasant than her
uncle and very bright." The man nodded his head at me, neither smiling
nor frowning. "I am Vladimir Voyeikov. History is what I teach. You
are welcome to sit and listen but you may not interrupt. If you have
any questions hold them until after class." The entire hour was spent
reading about Alex's great grandparents. Several times, the teacher
dwelt upon the need for a strong head of government. At least in that
regard he and uncle Gregori would have been in agreement.

All of the children met in the dining room for lunch. It too was
light. Though I was not hungry when I left the table, I certainly was
not full.

Sidney Gibbs had Alex read from Shakespeare from one until two in the
afternoon. English was a very different language. Gibbs kept
interrupting Alex telling him that he needed to use his jaws more.
"When speaking English, one must chew their words."

From two until three, I listened to Pyotr Petrov explain the mechanics
of the Russian language. He wrote sentences on the board and then drew
diagrams. I had no idea what he was talking about. I almost fell
asleep, but then instead decided to play the game. I ignored his words
and watched his movements. At the end of the hour, there was one thing
that I knew for sure: I did not like Pyotr Petrov.

At three o'clock, Petrov closed his book. "That is all for today my
Tsarevich. And you, Catherine, tomorrow morning at nine, we will
commence your lessons in Mr. Gilliard's study. I will bring you a
book."

Alex was already at the doorway when Petrov finished speaking to me.
"Yes sir. Tomorrow at nine." We were out the door and in the playroom
within seconds. "Let me take you on that tour of the palace before
anyone knows we are gone. Derevenko is at the naval base this
afternoon so we are on our own."

We ran through the corridor, down the stairs to the first floor and
out the front door, then back inside through another grand entrance.
"These are the Parade Rooms. This is where we hold grand affairs,
dinners, balls and things. Come along and I will show you the circular
hall where Stranvisky will probably play."

We ran through a broad doorway. The floors were marble, the walls were
trimmed in gold and the lighting fixture were huge glass things that
sparkled like diamonds. It took my breath away.

"I wonder if Stravinsky will bring his boy friend along?" I stopped in
my tracks and stared at Alex. "What do you mean, 'His boyfriend?'"

"There is a very talented ballet dancer by the name of Najinski. When
ever they are in the same room, they watch one another. It was Olga
who said she thinks that they are lovers. Najinksi would make a
beautiful ballerina. Olga collects pictures of the ballet. I will try
to find one of him and show you. You should see the way he moves. He
does not just walk around like you or I. Always, his body moves
gracefully as though he were dancing. He even holds the cheeks of his
buttocks together so tightly that Olga says he could carry a 10 Ruble
Note there."

We came to a stair case, "That leads down to storage areas and our
wine cellar. It is a fun place."

There were doors all along the lower corridors that led off to both
the right and left. A light lit the passageway from an open door. As
we passed it, Alex remarked, "That is a workshop. Let me see who is in
there." He darted in and then called, "No one is here, hold on a
second." When he returned, he was holding a small 12 inch wood saw.
"Can you hide this under your dress?" "What do we want with that?" "To
cut that hole in our bedroom wall."

I was successful at stashing the saw under my dress but it kept
sticking me in the side.

"How much time do we have before you will be missed?" I asked. "With
Derevenko gone, I don't think my absence will be noticed, except by
Anastasia and she is bright enough to be silent."

"Where are we going?" "Just around that corner," Alex pointed ahead of
us. "There! --the big double wooden door."

"Is it locked?" Alex pulled a key from his pocket. "They keep this in
the Pantry. I will have it back before it is missed."

The large door opened easily on well lubricated hinges. As the door
swung closed, he hit a wall switch which illuminated the cellar.

The room appeared to be fifty feet long by twenty five feet wide.
There was a small table with two chair at the entrance. Corridors were
formed by rows of wooden shelves made from some dark wood. Each shelf
was divided into cubicles, each of which contained an even dozen
bottles of wine laying on their sides, necks extending toward the
front. "This first aisle is the newer red wines. The further back we
move, the older is the wine. The next row of shelves are the newer
whites. Then the next is brandy. The pattern is repeated, each shelf
holding successively older bottles. Some of these are older than the
house of Romanov."

We explored the aisles. The further we got from the door, the dustier
were the bottles.

"Uncle Gregori likes Madeira, do you have any of that?" "I think so.
Its back this way." I followed Alex to the back wall. He lifted a
bottle, looked at it, then said, "This is brandy, from France." He
moved further along. "The Madeira is in between the wine and the
brandy. It is very popular, but I have never tasted it."

"Really, it tastes nice. It is a sweet wine to which brandy has been
added. It tastes good on the tongue while building a fire in your
blood. It is one of Uncle Gregori's favorites. We drank two bottles of
it on the train." "If you want some, help yourself." Alex handed me a
dusty bottle. There was nothing to extract the cork, so I handed it
back to him.

"I think there is a cork screw in that table by the door. Let's see."
There were several cork screws in the drawer. Alex handed one to me
together with the bottle. "You had better open it. I cannot risk
cutting myself."

In my eagerness to put the screw into the cork, I succeeded in
breaking the cork and pushing it inside. I lifted it to my mouth, but
the cork blocked the free flow and it slowly gurgled out. This Madeira
tasted much nicer than the one which we had on the train. After
several gulps, I passed the bottle to the Tsarevich. He put it to his
lips, sipping it very gently, then passed it back to me.

"So tell me about you and the gypsy girl. How much more than kissing
did you do with her?" I recounted the first night's adventure as we
continued to sip at the wine. We emptied the bottle as I told him of
Katrina guiding me into her. We were both flushed in the face and we
both had erections. Alex's petooshock was tenting his trousers. He was
staring at my lap where my erection was tenting my dress. "I wished
I'd been there. I have been wondering how it would feel to be inside
of a girl."

I asked him, "Have you ever washed yours with soap and hot water?" He
nodded, "It felt great until I got soap in the end of it, then it
hurt." "You have to be careful not to let the soap get up that high.
Take yours out and I'll show you what I mean."  "No, you takes yours
out and show me."

The Madeira had peeled away my inhibitions, so I pulled my skirt up,
pulled the underpants down and grasped my pole. "Come over here closer
so you can see." I placed my hand at the base and pulled up until the
foreskin completely covered the tip. "Take yours out and try it."

I was surprised when I saw his rigid pole. My eye moved back and forth
between his and mine. There seemed to be little difference in
appearance.

I showed him how to move his hand further up and then massage downward
in a sideways rolling motion, causing the foreskin to move back and
forth over the head.

He mimed my actions and a low groan of pleasure escaped from his
throat. "It feels incredibly good." We were watching each other's hand
as we fell into a synchronized beating of our timbers.

"Take your hand away and close your eyes." I replaced his hand with
mine and continued to stroke. His hips began to move into my hand.

"Oh wow that feels good. Just the difference of it being someone
else's hand is fantastic. Where do you think Katrina and her gypsies
are? Maybe we could practice trading places."

All author22 books are available in paperback from Amazon.com, and are
also available as with colorful illustration in html format for viewing
on your own PC, or in Franklin Rocket-eBook format.

Contact author22@aol.com for further information.