study too, I promise you that.’
He stopped a few feet ahead of me and turned around, staring at me with such surprise for a moment that I did not know whether he intended to step forward and slap my face or simply throw me through one of the tall, stained windows that lined the walls. In the end, he did neither, merely shook his head and continued on, shouting after him that I should follow and be quick about it.
A few minutes later, I found myself in a long corridor and was told to sit down in that most exquisite of seats, and I was grateful for the rest. He nodded, satisfied with the completion of his task, and turned around to march away, but before he could vanish out of sight altogether I found the courage within myself to call after him.
‘Sir,’ I cried. ‘Count Charnetsky!’
‘What is it?’ he asked, turning around and glaring at me as if he could not believe the audacity that I displayed to address him at all.
‘Well …’ I began, looking around and shrugging my shoulders. ‘What am I to do now?’
‘What are you to do, boy?’ he asked, taking a few steps closer to me again and laughing a little, but out of bitterness, I thought, not amusement. ‘What are you to do? You will wait. Until you are summoned. And then you will be instructed.’
‘And after that?’
‘After that,’ he said, turning away from me again and disappearing into the darkness of the corridor, ‘you will do what we are all here to do, Georgy Daniilovich. You will obey.’
The minutes that I sat there stretched out endlessly and I began to wonder whether I had been forgotten about. There was no movement on the corridor and, except for the sense that an entire community of dutiful servants was hovering on the other side of every door, little sign of life. Whoever was supposed to be instructing me on my duties showed no sign of appearing and I experienced a growing sense of unease, wondering what I should do or where I should go if no one arrived to take charge of me. I had hoped for a hot meal, a bed, somewhere to wash the dust of the journey off my body, but it seemed unlikely that such luxuries would be mine.
Count Charnetsky, unhappy with my presence at all, had vanished back into the heart of the labyrinth. I wondered whether the Grand Duke Nicholas Nicolaievich was waiting to interview me, but somehow I imagined that he would have returned to Stavka, the Army Headquarters, by now. My stomach began to grumble – it had been almost twenty-four hours since I had last had anything to eat – and I looked down at it, frowning, as if a stern rebuke would encourage it to remain silent. Its low growl,like the sound of an unoiled door being opened slowly, echoed along the corridor, bouncing off the walls and windows, growing louder and more embarrassing by the second. Coughing a little to mask the groan, I stood up to stretch my legs and felt a great ache pass from ankle to thigh, occasioned by the long ride from Kashin.
The passageway where I was standing did not look down over Palace Square, but was situated instead on the opposite side of the citadel with a view over the Neva River, which was lit up along its banks by a series of electric lights. Despite the lateness of the hour, there were still some pleasure boats sailing along, which surprised me, for it was a cold evening and I could only imagine how brisk the temperature would be upon the water. The people clearly belonged to the wealthier classes, however, for even from this distance I could see how swathed they were in expensive furs, hats and gloves. I imagined the decks of the boats to be lined with food and drink, a generation of princes and duchesses laughing and gossiping, as if they had not a care in the world.
No one watching such a scene could have imagined that our country had been engaged in a war for more than eighteen months and that thousands of young Russian men were dying by the hour on the battlefields of Europe. It was not quite Versailles before
He stopped a few feet ahead of me and turned around, staring at me with such surprise for a moment that I did not know whether he intended to step forward and slap my face or simply throw me through one of the tall, stained windows that lined the walls. In the end, he did neither, merely shook his head and continued on, shouting after him that I should follow and be quick about it.
A few minutes later, I found myself in a long corridor and was told to sit down in that most exquisite of seats, and I was grateful for the rest. He nodded, satisfied with the completion of his task, and turned around to march away, but before he could vanish out of sight altogether I found the courage within myself to call after him.
‘Sir,’ I cried. ‘Count Charnetsky!’
‘What is it?’ he asked, turning around and glaring at me as if he could not believe the audacity that I displayed to address him at all.
‘Well …’ I began, looking around and shrugging my shoulders. ‘What am I to do now?’
‘What are you to do, boy?’ he asked, taking a few steps closer to me again and laughing a little, but out of bitterness, I thought, not amusement. ‘What are you to do? You will wait. Until you are summoned. And then you will be instructed.’
‘And after that?’
‘After that,’ he said, turning away from me again and disappearing into the darkness of the corridor, ‘you will do what we are all here to do, Georgy Daniilovich. You will obey.’
The minutes that I sat there stretched out endlessly and I began to wonder whether I had been forgotten about. There was no movement on the corridor and, except for the sense that an entire community of dutiful servants was hovering on the other side of every door, little sign of life. Whoever was supposed to be instructing me on my duties showed no sign of appearing and I experienced a growing sense of unease, wondering what I should do or where I should go if no one arrived to take charge of me. I had hoped for a hot meal, a bed, somewhere to wash the dust of the journey off my body, but it seemed unlikely that such luxuries would be mine.
Count Charnetsky, unhappy with my presence at all, had vanished back into the heart of the labyrinth. I wondered whether the Grand Duke Nicholas Nicolaievich was waiting to interview me, but somehow I imagined that he would have returned to Stavka, the Army Headquarters, by now. My stomach began to grumble – it had been almost twenty-four hours since I had last had anything to eat – and I looked down at it, frowning, as if a stern rebuke would encourage it to remain silent. Its low growl,like the sound of an unoiled door being opened slowly, echoed along the corridor, bouncing off the walls and windows, growing louder and more embarrassing by the second. Coughing a little to mask the groan, I stood up to stretch my legs and felt a great ache pass from ankle to thigh, occasioned by the long ride from Kashin.
The passageway where I was standing did not look down over Palace Square, but was situated instead on the opposite side of the citadel with a view over the Neva River, which was lit up along its banks by a series of electric lights. Despite the lateness of the hour, there were still some pleasure boats sailing along, which surprised me, for it was a cold evening and I could only imagine how brisk the temperature would be upon the water. The people clearly belonged to the wealthier classes, however, for even from this distance I could see how swathed they were in expensive furs, hats and gloves. I imagined the decks of the boats to be lined with food and drink, a generation of princes and duchesses laughing and gossiping, as if they had not a care in the world.
No one watching such a scene could have imagined that our country had been engaged in a war for more than eighteen months and that thousands of young Russian men were dying by the hour on the battlefields of Europe. It was not quite Versailles before
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