The shovel sliced through the thick snow with a practiced ease. The man who wielded it was not unaccustomed to hard work, though he had lived most of his life with hordes of servants to wait on his every need. He was glad for the diversion brought by this labor of clearing the freshly fallen snow from the sidewalks. The exercise was good for his constitution, not to mention his mind. People might well wonder how the once mighty tsar of all the Russias could endure his downfall with such patience and restraint. Of course he had wept in his Alix’s arms that first night when he had returned to Tsarskoe Selo a virtual prisoner. But the days that followed brought such rest and peace to him that he was almost content with his lot. There were no detested reports to read or momentous decisions to make. He had all day to do nothing but walk about the gardens, play with the children, smoke a good cigarette, and read for pure pleasure. Even Nicholas had to admit that this was really the life he had been cut out for.
True, it wasn’t completely idyllic. He still agonized over the fate of his beloved country. And occasionally there were moments of personal shame when a guard would treat him with contempt. Once a particularly loathsome guard had ordered him to do a menial task in the presence of his son Alexis. But on the whole the guards treated him and his family with respect, some even with awe. No one called him Your Highness anymore except for the most loyal of servants—and never within earshot of the guards. He was the ex-tsar of Russia. He tried to joke about his new title—Ex-Tsar—hoping to ease the pain of what had happened.
It was hardest on Alix, perhaps even more so than on him. She was bitter and angry. But then, she had borne the brunt of the people’s venom over the whole Rasputin matter. She now spent more time than ever in her bed and seemed to have aged ten years in the last month. She had worn herself out nursing the children and Anna Vyrubova from their bouts with the measles. Marie and Anastasia were the last to contract the infection and were still quite weak. There had been secondary infections and ear abscesses—it had been harrowing. At least Baby had not had any serious bouts of his terrible bleeding. They had been worried about that when Alexis had first contracted the measles.
Then there had been the loss of her friends who had been a great source of comfort to Alix. Shortly after Nicholas’s abdication Anna Vyrubova had been arrested and taken to the Fortress. Lili Dehn, who had been with Alix almost constantly, had been banished from the palace. It seemed such a cruel and senseless act, which had even further embittered Alix. Nicholas was doing all he could to bolster her, comfort her, and lighten her heavy emotional load. Thank God they both hadn’t fallen into a depression.
Nicholas adjusted the gloves on his hands, then gave the shovel another push. Besides concern for his family, the worst of his plight was the uncertainty of their future. They were now confined to the Alexander Palace, which had always been their main residence anyway. At first they had been locked inside, and Nicholas had been kept apart from his family. After a few weeks he had been reunited with them, and they had been given the freedom to walk in the gardens.
The new Minister of Justice for the Provisional Government, a man named Kerensky, seemed to be quite committed to treating the royal family civilly and protecting them. He was determined that this revolution be conducted honorably and as bloodlessly as possible. However, in the newspapers he was allowed, Nicholas could see that the present government was not entirely stable and for the most part operated by the will of the people, of whom a large number wanted to see the Romanovs imprisoned in the Fortress, or worse.
Kerensky had opened negotiations with King George of England over asylum for the deposed Romanovs. This had offered a gleam of hope until recently when the news had arrived that George, Alexandra’s cousin, had to refuse them entry. Apparently the prime minister, Lloyd George, a liberal who took no pains to hide his dislike of Nicholas, convinced the king that there would be a serious backlash from the British people if the Russian monarch was let into the country. The merely symbolic British monarchy had to guard its own future. Nicholas bore no animosity toward King George for his decision.
Nicholas finished clearing the walkway. The feel of the chill air against his sweaty brow was refreshing. He was carrying the shovel back to the work shed when a servant hailed him. They were still permitted servants, though certainly not as many as in the past.
“Your . . . ah, that is . . . ah . . . Citizen Romanov,” the man said, “your luncheon is being served.”
“Thank you. I shall wash up and be there directly,” Nicholas replied with the practiced formality that remained always with him.
The family was gathered around the table for the meal—all except Marie, who was still in her bed with a severe cough and congestion. Nicholas took such pleasure from his family that he was certain all would be well with him as long as the new government did not deny him their presence.
A maid came to the table carrying a platter of meat. “May I serve the empress now?” she asked with all the diffidence of the old days.
Alexandra raised an eyebrow, then, with a coy glance at her husband, replied, “Ta, ta, Marta, I’m not an empress any longer, but an ex-empress!”
There were chuckles around the table. Even the children realized what a victory it was for Alexandra to actually make light of their situation.
The maid served the meat to all, and when Nicholas received his, he poked it suspiciously with his fork. It was rather strange-looking with a peculiar discoloration.
“This may have once been ham,” he said. “But I do believe it is now ex-ham!”
Everyone burst out laughing, a sound that was better than music to the deposed tsar’s ears.