feathers or mammoth sturgeons swimming in rich sauce. Though it broke Toma’s heart, even our daily meals became simple, for the Empress said, “We must eat what our people are eating.” We dined on cabbage soup, potatoes in sour cream, and pirozhki filled with bits of fish or hard-boiled egg.
When Olga turned up her nose at a dish of borsch, the Tsar said in a disapproving voice, “Shame on you, Olga. Think of what our brave soldiers are forced toget by on.” I had never before heard him speak so harshly to one of the girls.
When winter came, we cut back on wood. Half the stoves in the palace remained cold. With all our sacrifices I could not help but think how comfortable we were. It was true some rooms were cold, but many were warm and cozy. Though pheasant and sturgeon were banished from the table, Toma saw to it that the cabbage soup had large chunks of tender meat.
The winter of 1914–15 was the coldest in years. The wounded soldiers who arrived at the Catherine Palace told stories of digging through the snow for a frozen carrot or turnip. Their fingers and toes were frostbitten. I asked myself why I should be warm and comfortable with a full belly when soldiers were suffering and dying. Even Stana no longer had easy answers.
“I wish Papa would find a way to end the war,” she said. It was the closest she had ever come to questioning her father. She sighed. “Mama says we mustpray harder, but I pray as hard as I can.”
I prayed for Misha each night and thought of him all day long.
“Mama,” I begged, “can’t you ask the Tsar to find out where Misha is?”
“Katya, there are ten million Russian soldiers. Besides, think how much the Tsar has on his mind.” Yet I saw that Mama was as worried about Misha as I was. She nursed the dying soldiers, afraid that at any moment she might see Misha on one of the stretchers.
When I read in the newspaper that nearly a million Russian soldiers had been taken prisoner, I kept awake at night trying to count to a million. I thought somehow that if I could count each prisoner, and Misha with them, the prisoners would be protected. Often I would stay awake into the early-morning hours, but I only got into the thousands—not enough.
The cold winter turned into a chilly spring and the spring into a rainy summer, the summer into a gloomyfall, and the news of the war was no better. One October morning, while we were having our simple breakfast of bread and tea and tvorog, with no jam to go with it, the Tsar announced, “I leave next week for army headquarters, and Alexei goes with me.”
Alexei leaped up, shouting with pleasure.
The Empress uttered a sharp cry. Her eyes were blazing. She sprang from her chair. Grasping the dining table for support, she said, “You cannot think of taking Alexei to such a place. He is not well enough. Even if he were, we could not take such a step without consulting Father Grigory.”
In the past the Tsar had given in to the Empress, especially in matters concerning Alexei, but now the Tsar thrust out his chin. In a firm voice he said, “Alexei is the heir to the throne, my dear. One day he will be Tsar. If he is to defend our country from its enemies, he must know what it is like to be a soldier. I’m afraid he has been coddled too much, for which I take full responsibility. I promise you, I will do whatever isnecessary to see that he is well taken care of, but I have made up my mind.”
We all sat with open mouths. The Empress was so taken aback by the Tsar’s strong words that she could find no answer, but only sank down onto her chair and began to cry. Mama went to comfort her, but the Empress shook her off. She would not be comforted.
A week later the Tsar and Alexei left the palace for army headquarters.
CHAPTER EIGHT
RASPUTIN
Spring 1916–Winter 1917
The Empress fretted over Alexei all winter. She would not rest until she saw for herself that he was well. The Tsar wrote to discourage her, but nothing would
When Olga turned up her nose at a dish of borsch, the Tsar said in a disapproving voice, “Shame on you, Olga. Think of what our brave soldiers are forced toget by on.” I had never before heard him speak so harshly to one of the girls.
When winter came, we cut back on wood. Half the stoves in the palace remained cold. With all our sacrifices I could not help but think how comfortable we were. It was true some rooms were cold, but many were warm and cozy. Though pheasant and sturgeon were banished from the table, Toma saw to it that the cabbage soup had large chunks of tender meat.
The winter of 1914–15 was the coldest in years. The wounded soldiers who arrived at the Catherine Palace told stories of digging through the snow for a frozen carrot or turnip. Their fingers and toes were frostbitten. I asked myself why I should be warm and comfortable with a full belly when soldiers were suffering and dying. Even Stana no longer had easy answers.
“I wish Papa would find a way to end the war,” she said. It was the closest she had ever come to questioning her father. She sighed. “Mama says we mustpray harder, but I pray as hard as I can.”
I prayed for Misha each night and thought of him all day long.
“Mama,” I begged, “can’t you ask the Tsar to find out where Misha is?”
“Katya, there are ten million Russian soldiers. Besides, think how much the Tsar has on his mind.” Yet I saw that Mama was as worried about Misha as I was. She nursed the dying soldiers, afraid that at any moment she might see Misha on one of the stretchers.
When I read in the newspaper that nearly a million Russian soldiers had been taken prisoner, I kept awake at night trying to count to a million. I thought somehow that if I could count each prisoner, and Misha with them, the prisoners would be protected. Often I would stay awake into the early-morning hours, but I only got into the thousands—not enough.
The cold winter turned into a chilly spring and the spring into a rainy summer, the summer into a gloomyfall, and the news of the war was no better. One October morning, while we were having our simple breakfast of bread and tea and tvorog, with no jam to go with it, the Tsar announced, “I leave next week for army headquarters, and Alexei goes with me.”
Alexei leaped up, shouting with pleasure.
The Empress uttered a sharp cry. Her eyes were blazing. She sprang from her chair. Grasping the dining table for support, she said, “You cannot think of taking Alexei to such a place. He is not well enough. Even if he were, we could not take such a step without consulting Father Grigory.”
In the past the Tsar had given in to the Empress, especially in matters concerning Alexei, but now the Tsar thrust out his chin. In a firm voice he said, “Alexei is the heir to the throne, my dear. One day he will be Tsar. If he is to defend our country from its enemies, he must know what it is like to be a soldier. I’m afraid he has been coddled too much, for which I take full responsibility. I promise you, I will do whatever isnecessary to see that he is well taken care of, but I have made up my mind.”
We all sat with open mouths. The Empress was so taken aback by the Tsar’s strong words that she could find no answer, but only sank down onto her chair and began to cry. Mama went to comfort her, but the Empress shook her off. She would not be comforted.
A week later the Tsar and Alexei left the palace for army headquarters.
CHAPTER EIGHT
RASPUTIN
Spring 1916–Winter 1917
The Empress fretted over Alexei all winter. She would not rest until she saw for herself that he was well. The Tsar wrote to discourage her, but nothing would
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