The conspirators met one final time to discuss the plan they would set into motion that very night. By the time they finished, Yuri was trembling. How could he be involved in such a plot? He was a doctor. He had sworn a solemn oath to uphold the sanctity of life. How could he kill a man, even a monster like Rasputin?
Now that Katya had begun to recover from her ordeal, Yuri’s initial fury at the man was fading, and for that, at least, he was thankful. It seemed far worse to kill a man out of hatred than it did out of “political necessity,” as his accomplice Pourichkevich would call it. But even at that, Yuri had debated frantically to convince himself of the necessity of the deed. What kept him going was the realization that he knew in his heart it must be done.
He had considered leaving the matter in God’s hands. But he couldn’t decide if that was merely a convenient excuse so he could remain clean, or if it was truly a spiritual principle. The Rasputin problem wasn’t going to remedy itself.
The Bible said, “Thou shalt not kill.” But thousands upon thousands of good Christian men were at that very moment killing other human beings upon the field of battle. Were all those soldiers doomed to eternal damnation? He didn’t think so, and he didn’t think he had a right to try to remain above that himself. This was his moment to take a stand for his country . . . and for his tsar.
Still, even if war was morally no different than political assassination, killing a faceless enemy was a long way from luring an unsuspecting man to your home—in this case, Youssoupov’s home—and offering him wine and cakes laced with poison. Then, if that were not enough, wrapping the body in a rug and carrying it off to an isolated bend in the river to dump it under the ice. That’s what made Yuri shake with fear—the personal-ness of the affair. Granted, in the plan they had concocted, Felix would be the one to entertain Rasputin and feed him the poison. The others would wait upstairs and be in charge of disposing of the body—after Yuri had pronounced the man dead.
The whole thing was gruesome, appalling.
But necessary.
How else to rid the country of an enemy more dangerous than any German?
“Yuri?”
Katya’s soft voice intruded into his grim thoughts.
“Yes, my dear.” He smiled benignly, reaching out to take her hand.
It was good to have her back, even though she still was wounded in her heart and in her soul. Rasputin had seriously undermined her budding faith. Because in her mind he was so wrapped up with her belief in God, she no longer knew what was right and true. She was back to groping around in spiritual darkness. But at least she hadn’t given up. She was still trying to seek the real truth. She and Yuri and Anna had had several discussions about faith since that awful night. Katya had many questions, and she was not going to be satisfied with easy answers. If anything, her experience had made her more determined than ever to understand true Christianity.
Perhaps I should be thanking Rasputin rather than trying to kill him, Yuri thought. But his commitment to the deed had gone far beyond anger over his wife’s ordeal. He knew now it had been growing in him since his first encounter with the man, and especially since that first time he had seen him with the tsarevich. This was his destiny.
“Yuri, you seem so far away,” said Katya. “What are you thinking about?”
She had no idea what he was planning to do. In her delicate state, he hadn’t wanted to trouble her with his decision. But now that she was better, he didn’t want to lie to her. The last thing she needed now was for someone else close to her to lie and damage what trust she had. But he couldn’t tell her the full truth. It was best, for her sake, that she not know. The conspirators had sworn themselves to secrecy, although Yuri knew Pourichkevich was not being very discreet, and that there were vague rumors afloat about the plan. Nevertheless, it was best to keep it as quiet as possible. However, because of the possible repercussions to him, he wondered if it was fair to keep it from his wife. Shouldn’t she have a chance to be prepared for his possible arrest?
“I’ve been thinking about the future, Katya,” he said finally.
“Sometimes it doesn’t look very good, does it?” she said. “All the uncertainty about the war and the growing unrest at home—it can be frightening.”
“You’ve been through so much, my love.”
“Yes, but remember when we talked a few weeks ago about maturing? I thought I was mature then, but I was so very wrong . . .”
“We both were a bit ignorant, weren’t we?”
She nodded with a slight smile. “At least I am now mature enough to see how wrong we were. Your mama said something the other day that really struck me as true. Each trial we experience, each of life’s scars, can only mature us if we allow them to do so, if we don’t let them stop us in fear and panic. I’m trying hard to look at things that way. She said our lives are like a big chunk of marble, and the sculpting process is long and tedious. Each little chip doesn’t amount to much, but, chip by chip, it will eventually turn into a beautiful work of art. The saddest thing would be for the sculptor to tire of the process and quit too soon, leaving a half-carved piece of stone that resembles little or nothing at all. I don’t want my life to be that way, Yuri. I want to keep moving ahead. It scares me, but the alternative is even more frightening.”
Yuri looked at her as if he were seeing her for the first time, and what he saw left him breathless. Her little-girl tenderness was still present, but there was so much more depth to her than he had ever remembered—around her eyes, the curve of her mouth, the set of her jaw. Was it possible that her suffering had made her more beautiful than ever? She had matured. He saw it in the way she gazed at him with the understanding of a woman—yes, a woman—who was truly letting her trials work for good in her and not ill. She was stronger, perhaps, than he gave her credit for.
“I want to be able to say the same thing of my life, Katya.”
“You already can.”
“We have so much further to go.”
“What’s troubling you, Yuri? Even though I’ve been wrapped up in my own problems lately, I can’t help but see there is something wrong with you—something more than concern over me. I doubt I can help you much, but maybe just talking about it will help.”
“I didn’t want to involve you, Katya. But I see now that if we are truly one, then you are involved. I can’t tell you everything—for your own safety—but I will say that I am about to do something dangerous, something that could well get me arrested. I am totally convinced, however, that it is for the good of Russia.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’d rather not tell you any more.”
“Will your life be in danger?”
“I don’t think so.” A half-hearted smile twitched at the corners of his lips. “Actually, if we are successful, I may well become a national hero.” But his attempt at levity faded. “That’s not why I’m doing it, though. It’s not a heroic act, but it is necessary.”
“I wish you wouldn’t be so vague. Why can’t I—?” Suddenly she stopped, and all the color drained from her face. “You’re going to kill Rasputin, aren’t you?”
“Don’t ask any more questions, please.”
“Dear Lord, no! Yuri, you can’t.”
“I know how you feel about him, Katya, and for that reason my decision has deeply grieved me—”
“I don’t care about that, Yuri. I care about you and what could happen to you.”
“I’ve gone too far to turn back—if I wanted to. But I don’t.”
“Are you doing this to avenge what happened to me?”
“I was approached long before that, and I’ve been thinking about it for some time. What happened to you only solidified in my mind the absolute necessity of . . . it. If he continues to reign, Russia will be destroyed. Not a single informed soul in this country doubts that.”
“But why you, Yuri?”
“I’ve asked myself that many, many times. I don’t know why fate led Felix to come to me. But now I believe it must be done and that it is Russia’s only hope of survival. To dump the dirty task on another would make me the worst kind of coward, Katya. I couldn’t live with myself.”
“But how can you do this thing and live with yourself?”
“It won’t be easy, not for any of us who are involved. I suppose it boils down to a choice between evils. I’d rather face the suffering that might come of doing such a deed rather than pass it on to another. At least I can lean upon the strength of mind that God has given me. But if you cannot bear what may come of this, I will back out. I don’t want you hurt further.”
“I have no idea what I can bear—no, I suppose I have a better idea today than I did a week ago.” She took a breath. “It would be so easy to use that to stop you. But I won’t. I will bear what I must bear. I’ve learned I can do that, if nothing else.”
“And you truly have no problem with the fact that he was someone you once cared for?”
“My eyes were opened the other night, and I saw the evil in him. But I feel very sorry for him, too. I think at one time he truly was a man touched by God. But he abused his anointing. He brought his own doom upon himself.”
“That’s what he said of me.”
“His prophecy ended up being for himself.”
“I hope so.”
“We must both be strong.”
Yuri tentatively held out his arms, and Katya came swiftly to him. It was the first time since that night with Rasputin that she had allowed Yuri to be so close.
“I just thought of something,” Yuri said, “something that has been important to me all my life. My brother and Talia and I recited it over a little ritual we once did so we could be blood brothers. ‘A three-fold cord is not easily broken.’ Katya, together, you and I will be far stronger than we ever were separately.”
“I have always sensed that, Yuri.”
“Even when you were running away from me?” He smiled.
“Especially then. Why do you think I ran?”
“I love you so, Katya!” He kissed her fragrant hair. He could feel their hearts beating almost as one. Thoughts of Rasputin faded. In her arms he could forget his fear of what lay ahead, basking only in her love.