45

Tsar Nicholas loved the atmosphere found at Stavka, the Russian command post located in a Polish forest. The camaraderie of men, the regimented rigors of the military life—a hard cot to sleep on, no-nonsense meals, marching and drilling and plotting strategy. He loved his Alix, but the air around Alexander Palace could be so cloying with perfume and flowers and that hideous mauve everywhere. It was decidedly a woman’s world, with Alix and four daughters and all their ladies-in-waiting and such. Not to mention the opulent furnishings and the fine china and . . .

Not so here. The air was fresh and clean, with a fine hint of gunpowder to make it complete. He was going to have to bring Alexis here soon—it would be good for the boy, also, to get away from the influence of women.

Nicholas visited the camp as often as possible, yet he was careful not to interfere with his cousin’s command. That wasn’t always easy, because he still deeply desired to be commander in chief himself. He never voiced it, but he was jealous of the man. Who wouldn’t be? The Grand Duke Nicholas Nicholavich, at six feet six inches tall, towered over the tsar. He looked like a real warrior. And the men all but worshiped him. There were rumors that Nicholas Nicholavich, or Nicholasha, as the tsar referred to him, had said he would one day reign as Nicholas the Third. The tsar chose not to believe the nasty rumors.

Such minor disturbances could not possibly interfere with the tsar’s enjoyment. Nevertheless, he was less than pleased when he saw a copy of a telegram sent by the grand duke to Rasputin. Apparently the starets had telegrammed the grand duke offering to come to the Front to speak a blessing to the troops. The grand duke had replied in his impetuous, bombastic way: “Yes, by all means, come. I will hang you!”

That took gall, even for the commander in chief, and as much as the tsar hated to do it, he had to confront the man over the issue. Alix, of course, had been livid when Rasputin showed her the message and had immediately wired the tsar. Now Nicholas wouldn’t hear the end of it if he didn’t say something to his cousin. He requested that the grand duke come to his private railway car, and as soon as the man arrived, the tsar handed him the copy of the telegram.

Nicholasha quickly scanned the brief sentences, then lifted his eyes to squarely meet the tsar’s. “I cannot have some fake priest underfoot at the Front,” he said bluntly. “We have enough problems, don’t we?”

“Grigori Rasputin is an Imperial friend,” the tsar protested. “I cannot have him spoken of in such a manner. If it were not for him—”

“I think we’d all be a lot better off!” the grand duke interrupted.

The tsar winced slightly at such cheek—no one interrupted His Imperial Highness! “Nicholasha, tread lightly on this matter. If I recall, it was you who recommended Grigori to us in the first place.”

“An act I will never cease to regret.”

“Even you cannot deny what he has done for the tsarevich.”

“I make no comment on matters of spiritual content. I am only concerned about the military. And I say it would not be beneficial for our army to have that man here. You aren’t going to override me on this, are you, Nicky?”

“I don’t think it would be appropriate for him to be here either, but for different reasons altogether.” The last thing the tsar wanted was to have his delightful military world intruded upon by anything to do with the Imperial Court back in Petrograd, especially Rasputin. At the very least the man was . . . a necessary evil. Still, the tsar tried very hard to see the monk with Alix’s eyes. There must be good in the man for her to adore him so.

The tsar was very much relieved when the grand duke asked if he might digress to a new topic. They spent the next hour discussing the new spring offensive aimed at Galicia, where they had known such loss last fall. Both men seemed to relax. The deep creases on the tsar’s face receded and a glow of excitement appeared in his eyes.

Unfortunately, Yuri could never find enjoyment in things military. Even if he hadn’t been constantly surrounded by blood and death, he would have found army life stifling and tedious. But, if there was any glory at all in the military, Yuri saw none of it as a doctor. Serving in a frontline dressing station, he knew only the aftermath of glorious charges and heroic deeds—usually in the form of severed limbs and shattered bodies.

A million Russian soldiers had already been either killed, wounded, or taken prisoner. Yuri worked twenty hours a day trying to save the wounded ones. Sleep and food became luxuries to him. He functioned by grit and willpower. No wonder the news of Katya’s miscarriage had shaken him so. The telegram from his mother said she was physically all right, but it wasn’t hard to read between the lines. They both wanted children, but, to Katya, having a child represented God’s absolution for her mistake.

Then last night he had received a letter from Katya mentioning Rasputin, how he had come to see her and had ministered to her at her bedside. She made a point of saying that he had come on his own, not at her bidding, but she certainly hadn’t made the man leave. Yuri’s greatest fear was that in this time of loss, she would turn again to the starets for counsel. He worried constantly about what distorted ideas Rasputin might feed her poor, distraught mind. He desperately wanted to be home, both to comfort his wife and to steer her away from Rasputin. But his request for a leave had been turned down.

The refusal made no logical sense, either. The influx of casualties had slowed over the winter months, and there were a few weeks yet before the spring offensive was to begin. He could easily be spared now—at least more so at this time than later. But, then, the army rarely operated on logic or common sense.

Yuri turned his attention back to his morning rounds. It didn’t help to think about home and his new wife and the life the war was robbing them of. In the next hour, he examined twenty patients and gave half of those papers for transfer back home. The lucky ones! Of the other half, six would be returned to the line, while the rest were too critical to be moved anywhere.

He was writing notes in a patient’s chart when he heard his name called.

“Yuri.”

“Daniel!” Yuri dropped the chart and strode to his brother-in-law, giving him a big bear hug. “I wondered if you were over here.”

“Are you kidding? Let them try to have a war without me reporting it!”

“I’m finished here,” said Yuri. “Why don’t we find the mess tent and get some tea? You have time, don’t you?”

“You bet! I’ve been looking for you since I arrived.”

Yuri told a nurse where he’d be, then he and Daniel trooped through the ankle-deep mud of the compound to the mess tent. Their timing was perfect. The midday meal was being laid out. They both piled plates full of food.

Yuri motioned to his plate. “Usually by the time I get here, if I do make it at all, there’s nothing left but the dregs.”

“Well, eat hearty, brother—it looks like you can use it.”

Yuri laughed self-consciously. He had lost so much weight that his clothes had begun to hang on him. “Please, don’t say anything to Mama. She has enough worries.”

“I wouldn’t think of it.”

They concentrated on their food for a few minutes, then Daniel said, “I heard about Katya. I’m sorry, Yuri.”

“She’ll recover, and there will be more babies. But I think it’s been much harder on her emotionally than anything else. You haven’t been to St. Petersburg—I mean Petrograd—have you?”

“No, I came directly here. But Mariana and the children are there now.”

“I’m glad for Mama’s sake.”

“I’m kind of surprised to find you here now, Yuri. I said I’d been looking out for you, but I was not looking for you right now. I thought for certain you’d be in Petrograd with Katya.”

“Believe me, that’s where I want to be. I’ve tried to get a leave, but for a long time there was a shortage of doctors, and my superiors didn’t feel Katya’s condition warranted a leave.”

“Things have been quiet lately. If you don’t get away now, who knows when you’ll get another chance.”

“I know . . . I know.” Yuri gave a weary shrug.

“I’ve been assigned to General Headquarters,” Daniel said, “though I try to get away as often as possible to observe the situation in the trenches with the regular soldiers. Anyway, I rub shoulders with a lot of brass. If you’d like, I could put a bug in someone’s ear on your behalf.”

“I’d be in your debt forever, Daniel!”

“Hey, we’re brothers—no debts between us.” Daniel paused, seeming reluctant to progress, then added, “Speaking of brothers, have you heard from Andrei?”

“Nothing. And the little nitwit is risking a thrashing next time I do see him if he remains in hiding much longer.”

“At least he’s out of the war. With the horrendous casualty rate, his chances of being killed, wounded, or captured by the Germans would be pretty strong. I was present a week ago when the tsar was reviewing troops, and he asked how many had been here since the beginning. Precious few hands were raised.”

“You don’t have to tell me. I’ve seen enough blood to swim in it. So, I guess it is just as well that Andrei, with his tender stomach, did what he did. But who knows if he is any safer where he is? We heard a rumor he was with the Bolshevik exile community, perhaps even with Lenin himself.”

“There’s a man I’d like to get close to. An in-depth interview with the Bolshevik leader—front-page stuff!”

“Find Andrei, and maybe you’ll find Lenin.”

“I might just work on that. At least until the spring offensive begins.”

“What of America, Daniel? Will they come into the war?”

“So far, there’s strong support for the President’s declaration of neutrality. But this latest German threat may just push us over the edge.”

“I’m afraid I don’t hear much news. What threat?”

“Germany declared they will actively patrol, by U-boat, all waters surrounding Britain and Ireland, including the English Channel. They will torpedo any enemy vessel. This will seriously endanger U.S. shipping in the area, not to mention Americans who might be passengers on British or French vessels. If any American lives are lost—well, you can imagine how quickly public opinion will turn against Germany.”

“Germany will back down. They don’t want the U.S. in the war against them—”

Just then a nurse appeared at the table. “Dr. Fedorcenko, I am sorry to intrude, but several new wounded have just arrived, and you are needed.”

“Thank you, Sister. I’ll be right there.” Yuri turned back to Daniel. “How much longer do you plan to be here, Daniel?”

“I’m to hook up with Colonel Dolgich this afternoon for a tour of regimental headquarters. I’ll drop by after that, and maybe you’ll be free.”

They rose and Yuri gave Daniel another hug. “It’s been great seeing you. I hope we can talk again; there’s so much to catch up on. But if not—”

“Never mind that!” exclaimed Daniel. “We will catch each other again—I’ll see to it.”

They did see each other again for an hour that evening, then not again for several weeks. Within a week of their meeting, Yuri received a pass to return home. He believed his brother-in-law to be a true miracle worker. And who knew? Maybe Daniel might even be able to find Andrei. If he did, Yuri hoped he’d be able to talk some sense into their wayward little brother.