looked like before. This new Sasha, who had fought and killed and stared his own death in the face, was now the only Sasha there was. I was a little sad, but also a little in awe. He was a man. My friend, my only true friend, was no longer a boy. “Will I see you again before you go away?” I asked.
“If I can find an excuse to come here. It’s not easy, you know.”
“If I were a real grand duchess I could order you,” I said, putting my nose in the air.
“Grand duchesses can do many things, but they cannot give orders to soldiers,” he said, and tweaked my nose.
“My brother once ordered a whole regiment of guards to march into the sea,” I said.
He laughed. “Ah, but he is the tsarevich. And a boy.” Sasha walked a little way out of the trees and looked left and right, to see that no one was watching, then came back. “I have to go. You’ve made me waste too much time already!”
He gave me a smile and a quick salute and strode off. I liked watching him from the back. He had a straight-shouldered, rhythmic walk. He had grown taller too. But he was so caught up in the war and his new position of responsibility that I was very much afraid he couldn’t see beyond his own advancement and change to recognize mine. I so desperately wanted him to understand all the ways that I had grown too. I looked down at my outfit. My child’s coat covered a mock sailor’s uniform, not like anything one actually saw officers wear on board a ship, of course, but the kind beloved by mothers. No wonder he thought of me as little more than a child.
C HAPTER 11
In December of 1915, more than a year after the start of the war and months after we had all been told it would end, tragic events began to pile up again. A dear friend of Mama’s, one of her maids of honor, died after a short illness. I thought Mama’s heart would break. Then if that wasn’t enough, Papa returned home unexpectedly with Alexei, who had broken a blood vessel in his nose and was dangerously ill because of it.
Again, the doctors tried everything and failed to make a difference. And again Mama called in Rasputin, who prayed and touched Alyosha’s face (so Mashka told me, since I refused to be in the same room with him). Alyosha began to recover after that, and the doctors could not account for why. But Mama was convinced it was the holy power of her trusted Grigory. No one could ever have persuaded her otherwise.
Always, after Alyosha had been ill and was recovering, we made a great fuss over him. The kitchen would prepare endless delicacies to tempt his appetite. “Let’s go try Alyosha’s food!” I said after Mashka’s and my lessons one day, knowing that a little mischief would cheer him up more than anything. We went to his room just as the first footman arrived carrying trays with special morsels for him: sweets and sausages, noodle cakes and dumplings, caviar and blinis.
“Come, Alyosha!” I said. “Surely you can’t eat this all by yourself. We’ve come to help you so that Dr. Botkin doesn’t get angry and make you stay in bed for weeks.”
I helped myself to a few of the little portions. “Leave some for me!” he cried. “I’m feeling much better now, no thanks to you.”
“What? Didn’t we visit you enough while you were sick?”
“You came and tormented me with all the things I couldn’t do until I got better.” But he smiled when he said it. It was a trick I had, once the very worst was over: I would tease him into a fighting frame of mind.
Mashka and I ate our fill of Alexei’s treats, and I think because we were eating them, he ate more than he would have otherwise. I told him all the naughty things my puppy, Jimmy, was doing, that he’d left a mess right in the middle of the semicircular hall and one of the footman had stepped in it while I was running to get a shovel to pick it up. He laughed and laughed. We didn’t leave until Zhilik came to get us for our afternoon lessons.
Mama too was very ill that
“If I can find an excuse to come here. It’s not easy, you know.”
“If I were a real grand duchess I could order you,” I said, putting my nose in the air.
“Grand duchesses can do many things, but they cannot give orders to soldiers,” he said, and tweaked my nose.
“My brother once ordered a whole regiment of guards to march into the sea,” I said.
He laughed. “Ah, but he is the tsarevich. And a boy.” Sasha walked a little way out of the trees and looked left and right, to see that no one was watching, then came back. “I have to go. You’ve made me waste too much time already!”
He gave me a smile and a quick salute and strode off. I liked watching him from the back. He had a straight-shouldered, rhythmic walk. He had grown taller too. But he was so caught up in the war and his new position of responsibility that I was very much afraid he couldn’t see beyond his own advancement and change to recognize mine. I so desperately wanted him to understand all the ways that I had grown too. I looked down at my outfit. My child’s coat covered a mock sailor’s uniform, not like anything one actually saw officers wear on board a ship, of course, but the kind beloved by mothers. No wonder he thought of me as little more than a child.
C HAPTER 11
In December of 1915, more than a year after the start of the war and months after we had all been told it would end, tragic events began to pile up again. A dear friend of Mama’s, one of her maids of honor, died after a short illness. I thought Mama’s heart would break. Then if that wasn’t enough, Papa returned home unexpectedly with Alexei, who had broken a blood vessel in his nose and was dangerously ill because of it.
Again, the doctors tried everything and failed to make a difference. And again Mama called in Rasputin, who prayed and touched Alyosha’s face (so Mashka told me, since I refused to be in the same room with him). Alyosha began to recover after that, and the doctors could not account for why. But Mama was convinced it was the holy power of her trusted Grigory. No one could ever have persuaded her otherwise.
Always, after Alyosha had been ill and was recovering, we made a great fuss over him. The kitchen would prepare endless delicacies to tempt his appetite. “Let’s go try Alyosha’s food!” I said after Mashka’s and my lessons one day, knowing that a little mischief would cheer him up more than anything. We went to his room just as the first footman arrived carrying trays with special morsels for him: sweets and sausages, noodle cakes and dumplings, caviar and blinis.
“Come, Alyosha!” I said. “Surely you can’t eat this all by yourself. We’ve come to help you so that Dr. Botkin doesn’t get angry and make you stay in bed for weeks.”
I helped myself to a few of the little portions. “Leave some for me!” he cried. “I’m feeling much better now, no thanks to you.”
“What? Didn’t we visit you enough while you were sick?”
“You came and tormented me with all the things I couldn’t do until I got better.” But he smiled when he said it. It was a trick I had, once the very worst was over: I would tease him into a fighting frame of mind.
Mashka and I ate our fill of Alexei’s treats, and I think because we were eating them, he ate more than he would have otherwise. I told him all the naughty things my puppy, Jimmy, was doing, that he’d left a mess right in the middle of the semicircular hall and one of the footman had stepped in it while I was running to get a shovel to pick it up. He laughed and laughed. We didn’t leave until Zhilik came to get us for our afternoon lessons.
Mama too was very ill that
Similar Books
