My Father the Czar
                             Copyright 1998
                   Library of Congress number: 98-96138
                          by AUTHOR22@aol.com
                          All rights reserved

Chapter Seventeen

From Gregori Rasputin's point of view the world was rapidly going to
hell in a hand basket.

Before he had made his trip east to his home village, St. Petersburg
had already begun to reflect the disarray that comes from a lack of
cohesiveness.

Getting into the war had been a big mistake. He had tried his level
best to influence the Czar and the Czarina about this matter... all to
no avail.

He had only a few friends in the Duma. The majority of the politicians
were against him. He realized that part of this negative attitude
stemmed from his relationship with the Czarina. She was German. He had
wanted to prevent the war with Germany, so in almost everyone's eyes
he was a traitor.

The public saw Rasputin's hand behind each appointment. His minion,
Boris Sturmer, was Prime Minister. Even Sturmer's secretary held the
opinion that Sturmer was a shallow and dishonest creature who emitted
an intolerable odor of falseness that excited disgust in almost
everyone. He maddened his aide by gazing at himself in a mirror
shortly before appointments, in enraptured admiration, twirling the
waxed ends of his mustaches. "Absolutely unprincipled, double faced,"
his fellow conservatives said, "a complete nullity. He'll be finished
at fifty."

Rasputin was held to have gifted the second most powerful position of
state, that of interior minister, to Alexander Dmitrievich Protopopov.
Not unlike Sturmer this puppet strutted in high boots while wearing a
self-designed operatic uniform. He was a small, gray-haired man with
restless nervous movements and bright wild eyes that shifted all the
time. It was reported that he might be syphilitic --he suffered from
hallucinations, leg ulcers and paresis --a partial form of paralysis
characteristic of syphilitics-- and was certainly not quite sane.

The communists were also against the war; in fact, it was widely
rumored that the communist party was financed by the German espionage
service.

The entire foreign situation was one giant quagmire, but for Rasputin,
God had spoken to him and that was the ultimate command; yet, for some
unfathomable reason it seemed that even those directions were
diametrically opposed to how the world was moving.

For the past five years he had followed God's instructions. He had
sought out a double for the Tsarevich. He had taught both of the boys
how to use their heads, how to apply logic, how to seek out what would
be best for mother Russia. He had been appalled by the newspaper
article that reported on Nicholas taking his young son on a tour of
the front lines. He had wondered which Alex had gone on the trip and
what had happened to the other boy; Catherine, as a girl, going to
Camp Sunshine just couldn't be.

He had received an urgent message from the Prime Minister. Although
he, Rasputin, had been instrumental in the man's appointment, he had
little respect for him. He was too easily influenced; though, in
reality, that was the reason he had spoken to the Czarina about
placing Sturmer in that position of power in the first place.

Sturmer had wired Rasputin that Russia was facing a disaster on the
front lines. The Germans had introduced a new weapon; one for which
there was no defense. Half of the Duma wanted to support the war by
sending more men into battle, the other half wanted to end the war by
suing for peace. Both factions blamed the Czar for the sorry state of
affairs in Mother Russia and her surrounding area.

Nicholas had never faced up to the fact that the Duma was a part of
his government. As far as he was concerned that legislative body was
nothing more than an accommodation to the people. He was the emperor!
The Emperor's word was absolute! --as it had been for more than three
hundred years.

Prince Yusupov was still a thorn in Rasputin's side. Within the
Imperial family alone there were many who wanted to ascend to the
throne. Both of the Czar's brothers were eager to replace him. Prince
Yusupov had bragged about his ability to handle the "foreign
situation" better than Nicholas had. And from within the Duma there
were at least fifty men who eagerly wanted to take control.

The newspaper, Pravda, had been demanding that Russia ally herself
with the Germans.

Rasputin's rest that night had been worrisome at best. The rail trip
had been arduous. In the wee hours of the morning he had awakened from
a nightmare which had been so vivid that he was uncertain whether it
was a dream or a vision. In it he had been kneeling at the foot of a
rocky hill and God, dressed in ancient garb and holding a staff, had
spoken to him with a voice of thunder. "You are to die within two
years. If the peasants of Russia murder you, then the Czar will win
the war and Aleksey will become the next ruler before his twenty-first
birthday. On the other hand, if any member of the Imperial family
brings about your end, then the House of Romanov will cease to exist
within one year of your death."

He had risen from his bed, found a half-empty bottle of Madeira and
gulped it down. He was unconscious within seconds of his head hitting
his pillow, but the dream had repeated itself. The drama was the same,
but this time the atmosphere was saturated with thunder and lightning.

Nature had reinforced his dream. Suddenly the room was filled with a
brilliant flash of blue-white light followed by a real clap of thunder
that shook his bed.

It was six-thirty in the morning. He bathed his face in cold water,
dressed and left his building. The plain-clothed policeman stationed
near his door noted his departure.

Rasputin walked rapidly toward the rail station, then turned and
walked toward the Winter Palace. The gate guard was new and did not
recognize him. Minutes passed before a senior officer appeared.
Rasputin was advised that the Imperial family was at Tsarskoye Selo.
The exasperated expression on the holy man's face resulted in the
officer telephoning Alexander Palace, then ordering a car to transport
Rasputin to the rural estate.

It took just a little more than an hour for the car to reach
Tsarskoye. The wrought iron gates swung open and the car swept around
the driveway, depositing him at the entrance to the family quarters.

The housekeeper, Nadia Cherminski, was standing at the front entrance.
"Father Rasputin, it has been quite some time since we last saw you.
Her Majesty is eager to speak with you. She awaits you in her sitting
room."

The woman led the way through the entrance and then to the left,
entering the small wood-paneled room. Rich brocade draperies still
covered the windows deceiving the occupants into believing that it was
much earlier than it really was.

The Czarina was dressed in a heavy red robe. She did not rise to greet
her guest, but motioned for him to sit in a chair opposite her.

"Now, dear Gregori, what brings you to our door so early?"

"Oh, dear mother, God has spoken to me. We have little time to
accomplish his work.

"I had a vision in the middle of the night, which foretold of my
death, and that the future of the Imperial Dynasty is somehow
interwoven into that fabric."

After cautioning her to secrecy, he retold the vision, emphasizing
what God had told him was in the future.

The Czarina looked perplexed, then agreed that there would be no point
in telling her husband; he wouldn't believe a word of it. --as for the
children, she would not wish to frighten them.

"Dear mother, it is urgent that I again resume tutoring of the
Tsarevich and my niece. We must prepare them for the future."

"My dear Gregori, I fail to understand why Catherine should undertake
the same studies as Aleksey. Even though the two children are close,
there never could be a joining of their forces. After all she is a
peasant girl. Never could she and Aleksey marry."

"Your highness, I do not know the mind of God, I am simply his humble
servant and it is He that has ordered me to teach both of the
children."

The Empress picked up a silver bell and rang it twice. When a maid
appeared she said: "Marie, bring a large pot of tea." She turned her
head to face Rasputin and asked, "You will join me?"

Rasputin shook his head, "I would prefer a small glass of Madeira. I
did not sleep well. The wine will soothe my nerves."

The Czarina nodded toward the maid.

                              + + + + +

On April 23rd, 1915, the front page of the St. Petersburg Times was
headlined:

                       "GERMANS USE POISON GAS
                     150,000 CANADIAN TROOPS DIE"

Gregori Rasputin had resumed his tutoring of The Tsarevich and
Catherine/Alex-P.

It was mid-afternoon when the newspaper was brought into the palace
and almost evening before Rasputin saw it. The next day the article
was the subject of a debate on the pros and cons of new weaponry.
Catherine was chosen to support their use while Alex-T was to refute
that position. It was during this debate when it became obvious that
Catherine knew more about the subject than anyone had supposed. It was
then that Rasputin realized that he had made a grave error; the
children should have been de-briefed as soon as they had returned to
the palace. The next three days were spent rectifying that error to
the dismay of the other tutors.

Their experiences and their behavior had been so different; anyone
privy to both of their adventures would immediately know that they
could not have been experienced by the same person. The most
perplexing issue was that Piotr Veliky now knew that Aleksey had a
double.

Both children had developed a new passion: Aleksey's was photography
and girls; while Catherine/Alex-P was intrigued by military tactics.

Life for the rest of the Imperial family was far from normal. The
girls were frequent volunteer workers in the military hospitals of
Petrograd. The Czarina spent most of her time attending to domestic
political matters and had given the raising of her children over to
the tutors and the housekeeping staff of Alexandria Palace.

The Czar had become too well acquainted with the behavior of his
"young son" during the trip to the front. It became obvious that the
monarch found much pleasure in the boy's appreciation of military
tactics.

Frequent setbacks had taken the Czar to the front lines, each time
reinforced with new ideas and new applications of logic set forth by
Aleksey. Nicholas longed to take the boy with him, but the fear of
exposing him to gas stopped him from seriously considering it.

The Czar's brother, Mikhail, was obstinate. He percieved his one and
only path to victory was the use of more and still yet more men and
the losses were becoming monumental.

On May 2, the beginning of the great Austro-German offensive in
Galicia checked Mikhail's forces. His troops were suffering severely
from lack of rifles, artillery, ammunition and clothing. By the end of
June the Austro-German forces had advanced almost 100 miles, had
liberated Galicia and Bukovina, and had taken huge numbers of
prisoners.

June had quite suddenly become July. Alex-P had repeatedly offered to
accompany the Czar to the front. Now, in mid-July the monarch agreed.
There had been no further use of gas since March, so Nicholas offered
to take the boy on one of his forays. Their visit would be far behind
the front lines; there should be little danger. It was then when
Catherine/Alex-T made it known that she/he wanted to return to Gdov
for the rest of the summer.

On the local scene both Rasputin and the Czarina were spending more
and more time attending to political matters... on one point both were
in agreement: This war with Germany must come to an end.

                              + + + + +

The autocrat of all the Russias, Nicholas Alexandrovich Romanov, was
now 490 miles to the south in the provincial town of Mogilev. It was a
pleasant place, with views across a wooded valley to the Dnieper
River.

The resident Jews had been deported to the steppes and replaced by a
transient population of staff officers. The town had acquired a
melancholy that suited the word from which its name was derived,
mogila, "a grave."

The Bristol, a four-ruble-a-night hotel on an avenue of leafless
chestnuts, had been commandeered for the Stavka, the supreme army
headquarters. The Czar took daily walks by the river with his English
Setters. In the evenings he watched movies. His favorite was a twenty-
two-reel detective serial called "The Secrets of New York". He thought
to himself that the Okhrana could learn a lot from the film.

The Czar was confident that his army remained loyal. He followed its
movements on maps hung in the hotel's Cafe Chantant. He was happy. In
one of his daily letters to the Czarina he wrote: "My brain is resting
here." He was far from the intrigues of Petrograd. Oblivious of the
real situation; he didn't realize that his army was, in reality, in a
psychotic state. By contrast, the fresh troops which were arriving
weekly seemed demented.

"It was not that they screamed or did anything violent," an officer
remarked. "They simply marched into camp, shoulders hunched, heads
down, and if they looked up as they passed, their faces wore a vacant
expression that is the beginning of insanity."

At Kovel on the central front, a Guards army of the Semyonovsky and
Preobrazhensky regiments attacked across open, marshy country
seventeen times in three months. The Preobrazhenskys, the British
military attache' General Alfred Knox observed, were "physically the
finest human animals in Europe."

Since Peter the Great first dressed them in bottle green uniforms and
insisted that each man stand over six feet tall, every Czar had been
honorary colonel of the regiment.

The commander of the assault, General Alexander Bezobrazov, was
thought by his peers to be unbelievably stubborn and of limited
intelligence.

One of his corps commanders, the Czar's uncle Grand Duke Paul, was a
fine dancer, a skilled philanderer, a dashing figure in close-fitting
strawberry britches and short hussar riding boots. He alone, of the
four brothers, would soon prove loyal to his nephew. Unfortunately, he
knew absolutely nothing about military affairs. The commander of the
other corps also suffered from a defect; whenever in danger, he lost
all presence of mind and was unable to conduct operations because his
nerves could not stand the sound of rifle fire.

The guardsmen were sent into a swamp. German aircraft strafed them as
they struggled in the mud, then refueled, rearmed and returned to
feast on the bottle green mass. "The wounded sank slowly in the marsh
and it was impossible to send them help," Knox wrote. "The Russian
Command, for some unknown reason, seems always to choose a bog to
drown in."

In less than a fortnight, four out of five of the empire's finest
troops had been lost. Half-trained reinforcements were ordered to
continue the assault. They advanced in long, thin lines, dressing to
the left, officers at the head, sergeant majors behind to shoot
deserters.

They made no attempt to maneuver; their officers did not think them
capable of it.

So many corpses lay in no-man's-land that the Germans were petitioned
for a truce to allow for their burrial, which was refused. Despite the
terrible stench of putrefaction, the Germans reasoned that the growing
heaps of bodies provided a physical obstacle to any fresh Russian
assaults.

By the time the offensive was called off in November, the Russians
were bombarding their own jump-off trenches to force their men into
the attack. Bodies were swallowed slowly in quicksand. Months later an
officer posted there, Prince Obolensky, found that "still above the
sand one could see the tops of their bayonets."

As the casualty reports from the "Kovel pit" flooded back to the
Stavka, Nicholas was obliged to dismiss Bezobrazov. He did so
unwillingly 'What an honest and well-bred man he is!" he wrote to his
wife. "I have given him leave for two months.... I have promised that,
if some vacancies occur in the Guards Corps, I will appoint him
there!"

The Czar's troops no longer thought of themselves as Russian soldiers;
"they were just men who were going to die." A rampant rumor had it
that the government had been paid a billion rubles by Berlin to ensure
that as few of them as possible survived the war. The troops' most
special hatred was reserved for the German-born Czarina; they thought
that she was in league with the enemy, that she talked to Germany on a
radio concealed under the eaves of her palace, that she passed secrets
to her sister, Princess Irene of Prussia, that to accept a decoration
from her meant certain death. They believed the rumors and newspaper
articles which reported that the Czarina was sleeping with Gregori
Rasputin. When Nicholas attended medal ceremonies to award the Cross
of St. George, they laughed and called it the "Georgiy cross": "Czar
with Georgiy, Czarina with Grigory." They called her Nemka, "the
German woman."

Nicholas reviewed the Guards Brigade at the Stavka in early December.
An officer had accidentally cut off the ear of his Irish Hunter with
his saber. The man had fastened it back on with a little screw, like
an earring. It fell off in front of the Czar. Even though Nicholas
pretended not to notice and ignored the incident, his officers thought
it a bad omen.

The Russian armies were completely demoralized. The German-Austrian
offensives pushed the Russians further and further east. When the
German advance came to a stop, the Russians had lost all of Poland,
Lithuania, and Courland, along with almost a million men. Mikhail was
relieved of the supreme command and sent as viceroy to the Caucasus.
The supreme command was taken over by the Czar himself.

When the news of the loss of Poland appeared in the newspapers, Piotr
went into shock. Immediately he asked Adrian if CNOP could find out
what had happened to his parents. Adrian replied that CNOP was a naval
command and therefore had no sources of information. Piotr then
telephoned the Alexander Palace to make inquiries... still nothing. In
desperation he visited The Embers. Iveren met him, but it was obvious
the only thing on the fat man's mind was getting him into bed. He was
about to leave, having refused a drink on the house, when Sasha
entered the establishment. The reporter beckoned the cadet to join
him. Piotr emotionally unburdened himself. Sasha offered to make
inquiries.

Feeling somewhat better Piotr returned to the Academy. The reporter
had said that he would contact him if he uncovered any information.

Sasha used Iveren's office to make two telephone calls: One to Paul
Benkendorff who said he would look into the matter; the second to
Roman Malinovsky, chief of "Pravda".

One hour later Sasha received a telephone call from an associate of
Malinovsky's; he wanted to meet with Veliky.

Four days later the meeting took place at one of the balcony tables in
The Embers. Piotr was dressed in his loose brown civilian trousers and
a pullover sweater. The appointment was set for ten in the morning.
Piotr had asked for special permission to cut his classes. The faculty
of the academy was aware that the boy was going through a crisis and
thus gave him the time off.

Shortly after breakfast he had taken the horse-drawn trolley to the
other side of St. Petersburg and found himself at the entrance to the
nightclub. There was no doorman. The entrance was closed. He grasped
the handle of the large wooden door and tugged it open. It took a
moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior. There was no one in
sight. Nevertheless he entered and climbed the narrow stairs as though
he were going to Iveren's office.

In a far corner, almost invisible in the shadows, sat a tall thin man
with a dark scruffy beard who rose from his seat and asked: "Veliky?
Piotr Veliky?"

The cadet moved toward the table trying to better see the stranger,
extending his hand in acknowledgment.

"Sit. Sit. My name is Leon." He again seated himself and poured two
cups of tea from a small samovar.

"I understand you have relatives in Poland and that you are concerned
about their welfare."

Piotr looked apprehensively, "Yes. My mother and father were employed
at the Imperial Hunting Lodge in Spala."

"Then you have just cause to worry. The Lodge was destroyed and its
occupants interned in a camp fifty miles to the west."

"Then you have contacts in Poland? Can you help me?"

"Yes I have contacts, but they are filled with danger. I will make
inquiries."

"Oh yes, please do. I would be ever so appreciative."

"There will be a price."

Piotr immediately jumped to the conclusion that the price would be his
body and, while blushing, said: "Anything. Anything."

Piotr's eyes had adjusted to the dim light. The man was somewhere in
his mid-thirties.

"My name is Leon Trotsky and I am a member of the central Communist
committee. There has been much negative publicity circulated about our
group, mostly by the Czar.

"We are not traitors to the Russian people. We want only what is best
for Mother Russia. If Nicholas Romanov proves to be a suitable ruler,
then we would support him; but it appears that this is not the case.
Look at what is happening at the front and at the turmoil within the
Duma.

"Our Bolshevik party is a party of and for the common Russian citizen.
We are here to step in and pick up the reins of government should
Russia lose the war."

Piotr looked stunned. "The Imperial Family are my friends. I could not
betray them."

"We would never ask you to turn your back on the Romanovs. No. That is
not why I am interested in you. Russia will need well trained naval
officers regardless of the outcome of the war."

The cadet looked directly into the man's eyes. They seemed to sparkle
with fire. "Mr. Trotsky, what is it that you want from me?"

"Nothing, really. All we want for you to do, is continue doing what
you are already doing. Apply yourself to your studies. Graduate from
the Naval Academy and become a good officer in the Russian navy. If
you do that, I will attempt to have your parents smuggled out of
Poland and to safety. And then, of course, we expect you to remember
who helped you in your time of need."

Piotr nodded in agreement. It was a win-win situation. --Yet, --was
it?

Trotsky stood and moved away from the table without saying good-bye.
He walked toward the staircase. "Just one other thing Veliky. One of
my comrades will want to speak with you. His name is Joseph Stalin.
He'll let you know when."

The cadet continued to sit alone at the table. He sipped from his cup
of lukewarm tea, then set it down with disgust. He did not hear the
footsteps that came up from behind him, but the sound of a bottle
being set upon the table startled him.

Iveren moved around in front of Piotr and sat in the chair that had
been occupied by Trotsky. "You are traveling in some pretty heavy
company. I think a bit of Vodka would be in order... Yes?" Without
waiting for a reply he poured the clear liquid into the cadet's almost
empty cup. Without looking at his benefactor Piotr gulped the contents
in a single swallow. The small amount of tea which had mixed with the
alcohol softened the impact but gave it an odd flavor. The unexpected
brought him out of his introspection, but it was Iveren's hand upon
his knee that brought him abruptly back into the present.

"Why don't we go into my office? I have some excellent rum and a pot
of hot coffee. They go well together." He patted the knee and moved
upward an inch or two. "It will make you feel much better." He was
moving his hand toward Piotr's crotch when the boy stood up. Iveren
mistook the movement as an invitation and put his fleshy lips against
the slight bulge and breathed out hot gusts of air.

The cadet backed away, placing his hands over his genitals. "No!
Please not now. My family is in trouble, I must concern myself only
with that."

"Very well. Don't worry about it. The time will come when you will
need my help... then maybe I can stand in for Adrian."

Piotr said nothing, shamed by the knowledge that his affair with the
CNOP secretary was known by others. He mumbled an apology and quickly
left the building. Disturbed and confused, he walked the long distance
back to the naval base.

His mind was in turmoil as he examined and re-examined the situation.
He was in a corner. He had no choice. His family's safety was at
stake. Not only did he have to sell his body to assure his position in
the Academy, now it appeared that he would have to betray his country.
---But Trotsky had said: "All we want for you to do, is continue doing
what you are already doing. Apply yourself to your studies. Graduate
from the Naval Academy and become a good officer in the Russian navy."

Iveren's bold move to bed him made him feel even worse. "Was he to be
everyone's bed boy?"

                              + + + + +

After the outbreak of the war, patriotism had swelled and, for a time
at least, the labor unrest came to an end. In the beginning, the war
was overwhelming supported, except by the Bolsheviks, Minister Sturmer
and Rasputin; but, the recent fall of Paris had caused a disquieting
atmosphere to descend upon the St. Petersburg.

The Czar had returned to the front accompanied by Alex-P.

The Czarina was giving another tea party at the Winter Palace to
encourage volunteers from among the nobility to help in the military
hospitals.

Rasputin had called upon her Imperial highness under the guise of a
concern about the health of the Tsarevich, and thus found himself
face-to-face with numerous ladies of the court.

On the far side of the room was a ravishing woman in her mid-thirties.
At first sight their eyes communicated a passion which went far beyond
that shown by anyone else in the room. Under other circumstances he
would have immediately initiated a conquest. It had been far too long
since he last enjoyed an intimate relationship.

His daughter Maria had moved into his apartment, then taken over
control. Her efforts as housekeeper and overseer of her father
resulted in a comfortable arrangement; however, the price was a total
loss of his privacy. Several months ago he had found a good house on
Gorokhovaya ulitsa, which should have provided more private access to
his chambers; however, Maria had developed a friendship with one of
the  Okhrana men who guarded his property.

The Czarina saw his gaze linger more than once on one of her guests in
particular. "Gregori, I am surprised by your interest. Have you not
met our niece? You know her husband, Prince Yusupov."

The woman in question came sweeping across the room smiling at the
holy man. The other women watched, their expressions ranging from envy
to disgust. It was obvious that most were aware of Rasputin's
reputation; either by rumor or from personal experience.

The woman curtsied toward the Czarina, "Your Imperial Highness, I wish
to thank you for the invitation."

"Ah, Irina, I was most pleased to see that you have chosen to attend.
There is a grave matter about which I must speak with you; in fact I
must speak to all of my guests." The Empress beckoned a waiter.
"Please see that everyone has a fresh glass of Champaign."

Four liveried waiters circulated about the room refilling glasses.

Once her orders had been carried out, the Empress stood and addressed
the room: "Ladies! Ladies! May I have your attention." The noise
subsided. "Ladies, I am becoming alarmed at the state of our war with
Germany. Our losses are monumental and I see no sign that things will
improve.

"I know that you who are mothers feel deeply the losses of your sons,
nephews, and lovers. We must council our husbands to impress upon
those who continue the war that they should find an alternative. Not
overtly, but subtly. Possibly use the ultimate weapon: 'We will not
sleep with our husbands until the war is ended'."

A wave of chatter spread across the room. A young woman's voice raised
above the others to be heard. "But your Imperial Majesty my husband
and I have been married for less than two weeks. He is at the front,
even as we speak. I could not refuse him."

Silence descended as fast as the chatter had begun. Everyone's
attention was diverted to the woman who dared to oppose the Czarina.

Rasputin put his hand on the Czarina's and rose. "Madam, her Majesty
understands your point of view... believe me when I tell you that she
feels as dedicated to her husband as do you. The key concern should be
how you express your wish and intent. Diplomacy must be exercised.
Should any of you wish to seek my council regarding the best way to
achieve this goal, you may feel free to call upon me at my home."

A sly smile appeared on the lips of more than one of the women.

                              + + + + +

On October second, an encrypted radiogram arrived at CNOP
headquarters. The British Admiralty announced its intention to mine
the North Sea. An envoy was enroute to map out the specific locations;
but, in the meantime, Russia must halt all maritime activity in that
region.

The content of the message had been posted on the academy bulletin
board along with the most recent draft list.

Piotr Veliky was among a dozen students crowding around the board to
see if their names were on the dreaded roster. He was pleased to see
that, again, his name was not posted.

It was close to dinnertime. For a moment he toyed with the idea of
going into town for a beer, but the weather, which had been pleasant
during the first part of the day was now turning stormy. He braced
himself against what appeared to be the beginning of a squall and
walked the short distance to the dining hall.

The food was predictable; fish as usual. Haphazardly grilled. After
tasting it he pushed his plate away and returned to his bunk. Still
wearing his uniform, he lay facing the ceiling. He wondered where the
Yarsolav might be. He made a mental note to ask Adrian as to the
whereabouts of his old ship. The thought brought back memories of that
first encounter with the Tsarevich, the luncheon on the Standart which
had resulted in his transfer to the Imperial yacht and, finally, to
that incident when he had stood naked next to the boy washing the
black dye from his hair. By the time the trumpeter signaled lights out
he was in a randy mood. He pulled himself out of his bunk, adjusted
his chlen so that it did not show, and walked down the street to the
senior enlisted quarters. The CQ was not at his post, so Piotr's
passage went unchallenged. He rapped three times with their private
code; there was no response. He returned the same way whence he had
come; but now, the CQ was at his post.

"You looking for Adrian?"

The question made the cadet feel uncomfortable; it was as though he
had been caught doing something he should not have been doing. He
replied: "I owe him ten rubles, but he's not in."

"You lucked out. You are ten rubles ahead. Adrian was transferred to
the Aurora this morning. You should see the old truck driver woman
that replaced him at CNOP. --Must be at least fifty and built like a
wrestler. You could probably get Adrian's address from her if you want
to send him the money."

A chill went up his spine as he realized the first barrier between him
and the draft list had been removed. He wanted to immediately dig
through his footlocker and hold on to the letter from the Tsarevich
which asked that he be allowed to remain in school, but the barracks
was dark and he could not disturb his sleeping classmates.

He undressed and slipped into his bed, but he could not sleep. What
had happened to Adrian? Why was he transfered so suddenly? He wanted
to see the Tsarevich, feeling that just being in the boy's presence
would prove comforting. Then he remembered reading something in the
newspaper about the Czar and the Tsarevich being back on the front
lines. He wondered if that was true, or might he be in Gdov at Camp
Sunshine? He needed to talk with someone... but who? Paul
Benckendorff? Sasha? That Bolshevik fellow he had met at The Embers?
Then he remembered that Trotsky had said one of his comrades wanted to
meet with him. What was his name? ...Stalin? But that meeting had not
yet taken place. In fact there had been no further contact at all.

His chlen was throbbing like the string of a bass fiddle. "Fuck! Where
was Adrian?"

It was two in the morning when he left the cadet barracks and hailed a
taxi; at three he entered The Embers. Both rooms were overflowing with
late night revelers. He looked around for Iveren but he was nowhere to
be seen. He climbed the stairway to the balcony and knocked on the
office door. He could hear movement. His chlen was almost popping out
of his trousers when the door was opened. The fat man's trousers were
open at the top, and his quickly stuffed shirt tail poked out of the
fly. Beyond him, on the couch, was a dark haired soldier with a towel
across his lap.

Before anyone could react, Piotr turned on his heel and said: "I've
got to get back to the base."

He had used his last ruble to pay the taxi, so he started to walk. A
car pulled up alongside him and tooted its horn. "You going back to
the base?" It was the same taxi that had brought him to The Embers.

"Sorry, I'm broke. I'll have to walk."

The driver offered: "If you are trying to sell that thing, I'll trade
you."

Piotr slid into the car alongside the driver. "It's an awful long
walk. You've got yourself a deal."

                              + + + + +

By mid October, the mood on the streets of Petrograd had become
unprecedentedly violent. The Okhrana said that it was no longer
possible to prosecute all those who made overt and brazen insults
against the Czar and his Empress. The numbers were too great for the
courts to cope with them all. Sending a letter by diplomatic bag to
avoid the censors, Robert Wilton, a reporter for the London Times,
warned that the dynasty was in danger: "I hear that banners inscribed
'Down with the Romanovs' have been found in workmen's houses."

Strikers murdered a foreman in a French-owned vehicle plant. Troops
from the 181st Infantry Regiment who were called in, opened fire on
the police instead of the strikers.

At the front, shell-shocked men were shot for cowardice. In the
capital the authorities were too frightened of their own garrison to
impose the death sentence on mutineers. Every day the police arrested
soldiers for picking pockets at streetcar stops. The military dared
not punish them; the Okhrana chief complained that the thieves were
back on the streets within hours.

A French spiritualist and magician by the name of Papus died. Years
before he had conducted seances with Nicholas and Alexandra at which
he had conjured up the spirit of Alexander III, the Czar's dead
father. Alexander had warned --so Papus claimed --that revolution
would one-day strike Russia with unparalleled violence. Papus said
that he could avert the prophecy, but only as long as he lived. Now he
was gone. Shortly before his death he had written about Rasputin.
"Cabalistically speaking," he said, "Rasputin is a vessel like
Pandora's box, which contains all the vices, crimes and filth of the
Russian people. Should the vessel be broken, we will see its dreadful
contents spill themselves across Russia."

                              + + + + +

Winter was rapidly approaching as the Czar assumed the mantle of
Commander in Chief of the war effort, personally controlling the armed
forces.

Many anti-Czar political groups were suggesting that the front line
failures were orchestrated by his wife in concert with Rasputin;
however, Nicholas and Aleksandras' political views were very similar,
resulting in Rasputin commonly becoming the scapegoat.

The Czar's decision to take personal control of the troops proved to
be a disaster, as they were poorly equipped and poorly trained with
few seasoned veterans to lead them. Food was scarce and there was even
a shortage of footwear. A photograph appeared in Pravda showing
barefoot troops marching through snow. Dark streaks of blood marked
the trail.

St. Petersburg stank with the chemical odor of the munitions
factories; yet those who needed the ammunition did not have it.

The day after the Czar had returned to the front lines, a picture of
the Imperial Train appeared on the front pages of the Wedomosti. Along
side the train were cases of ammunition. The caption read: "Imperial
Train departs for the front. Needed ammunition is left behind."

On the 4th of October, the Okhrana's report to the Czar predicted that
Antwerp would be surrendered to the Germans within the week. Five days
later the Wedomosti confirmed the surrender in headlines across its
front page.

Pravda was now openly calling for the replacement of the Czar.

Men back from the front boasted openly that they had become atheists.
The bishop blamed this on their contact with "intellectuals and Jews."
Others thought that the church was losing its hold because of its
servility to the despised autocracy; even there, Rasputin's name was
repeated over and over again.

The poor of Petrograd were stacked like cordwood in rooming houses of
the Vyborgsky factory district. The living had less space than the
dead did in the municipal cemetery. "Most factory workers live in
complete darkness," a Pravda reporter wrote: "The ceilings are so low
that a tall man cannot stand upright. And there is that specific smell
peculiar to legions of cockroaches. Even in the piercing cold there
are no double window frames. Unwashed people huddle together under a
single blanket, sharing their body heat in order that they might
survive the night. Then the next day they trudge through the snow to
unheated factory buildings where the monotonous routine is repeated
day in and day out."

Rasputin was ill at ease. God had told him that he must find a double
for the Tsarevich. He had obeyed The Almighty, found a boy, and
undertaken the education of both boys so that either one could become
the next Czar of Russia. He knew that there was more to teach them,
but the war had gotten in the way. One of the boys was at the front,
the other was sunning himself at a nudist camp in Gdov.

Unbeknownst to both the Czar and the Czarina, Rasputin sent a wire to
both boys, summoning them back to Petrograd. "God has spoken. There is
much yet that I must teach you."

The wire reached Camp Sunshine addressed to Peter Kokoroff in the late
afternoon. He and Yars were in the woods with the two girls discussing
the details of their intended movie. It was when they responded to the
dinner bell that they learned of the message. Yars father told him,
"We must have you at the station first thing in the morning."

Alex-T was most displeased by this sudden summons, but, under the
circumstances, he had little choice other than to obey; besides, he
had not as yet obtained a movie camera or film. He promised Yars that
he would return as soon as he had the necessary equipment and
supplies... and certainly no later than the second week of January.

The reality of making the movie had long since given way to the fun of
practicing most of the scenes that they had outlined in their notes.
All four of the children had suggested different ways of "doing it"
and had even demonstrated the various techniques. But the one that
didn't work was the one proposed by Sarah: she and Yars doing it
upside down while standing on their heads. They had tried for almost
an hour, even using a tree to prop themselves up, but Yars was too
tall so Sarah's vagina was about level with his navel. She tried to
raise herself with her arms, but the angle made it impossible to hold
that position for more than a few seconds.

The wire addressed to the Tsarevich was first read by the Czar. Even
though he wanted his son to be with him, it was obvious that the boy
must return to his schooling. What bothered him even more was an
article which appeared in a small newspaper published in Moscow that
had arrived earlier on that same day. It claimed that Rasputin was
bedding the Czarina and his two oldest daughters, Olga and Tatiana. He
knew his family better than to give any credence to that gossip. What
really bothered him was that others might believe it.

The Czar knew of Rasputin's reputation with the ladies and actually
believed some of it himself... but certainly not with his wife or
children. Further, the holy man was important to his son's health. He
reasoned that idleness had contributed to the man's escapades. If
Rasputin were to resume his tutoring, then that should keep him busy.
Another contributing factor to his willingness to comply with the
request was that he liked the way his son now thought... that change
had to be the result of Rasputin's handiwork.

                              + + + + +

At the start of November, Vladimir Purishkevich, an arch reactionary,
the self-styled "most extreme of the Rights," dined with Nicholas in
Mogilev. He had made the trip to warn the Czar that Rasputin was
savaging the reputation of the monarchy. He hoped the Czar's aides
would back him up but found their "self-love" was too great for them
to risk their careers by speaking out. Disgusted, he returned to
Petrograd to attack Rasputin openly in the Duma. In his address he
compared Rasputin to False Dmitri, a horror figure in Russian history
(who was a pretender to the throne, with facial warts and malformed
arms). Purishkevich railed at the "filthy, depraved, corrupt peasant"
to whose advice "Russia's Empress listens above all others."

"It cannot be that Rasputin's recommendation is enough for the most
infamous persons to be nominated to the highest posts," he went on.
"Ministers! If you are true patriots, go over there, to the Czar's
Stavka, fall at the Czar's feet and ask that Russia be redeemed from
Rasputin and all his followers, great and small."

A young aristocrat, Prince Felix Yusupov, a one-time transvestite now
married to the Czar's niece, listened to the speech. He was much
impressed and arranged to meet Purishkevich.

In response to the widening turmoil, the Okhrana chief worked out a
plan to use police and Cossacks armed with machine guns to put down an
uprising in the city. He suspected that Duma members and many in the
army high command were plotting to overthrow the Czar and murder
Rasputin. He was actively intercepting mail sent by suspects, then
became alarmed when he found that they were beginning to use special
confidential messengers.

                              + + + + +

                "GREAT BRITAIN DECLARES WAR ON TURKEY
                   CYPRUS ANNEXED BY GREAT BRITAIN"


This headline was the news of the day for November 5th, 1916.
Catherine/Alex-P and the Tsarevich had been attending classes for
several weeks.

Alex-P had almost forgotten his adventurous confrontation on the
Turkish border until he saw the newspaper. His thoughts drifted back
to their short stay there, and he wondered how Isad was doing. The
Turkish boy had joined the Russian Army. "Uncle Gregori. Do you have
any idea how I might find someone who joined our army shortly after we
returned from the Standart?" He went on to explain the circumstances
of his interest.

Rasputin thought for a few minutes then said that he doubted if it
would be possible to locate the lad. The odds were that his
recruitment had been processed as a field acquisition and that the
boy's participation in the army was not formally recorded.

Later that day Alex-P wrote a letter to Sergy at the army base in
Odessa, asking if he knew of Isad's whereabouts.

After the letter had been placed in the out going mail, Rasputin
expressed his concern about the details that differentiated the lives
of the two boys. If they had not been separated, then their lives
could have become completely interchangeable. He chastised himself for
not foreseeing this problem. If this charade were to succeed, then the
two boys must now share all details of their lives... It is the little
details which could prove their undoing.

Alex-T's interest in photography and his new friends in Gdov generated
a legion of trivia, any part of which could bring their downfall.

Alex-P's skill and interest in logic and the adventures of the war
were equally dangerous should the two boys fall under suspicion.

The Czar preferred the characteristics of Alex-P to Alex-T as the
Tsarevich.

And then there was Piotr Veliky who now knew about the masquerade.

Word of God or not, the charade must stop. He must keep the boys
together with Alex-P as Catherine. No more switching places unless it
was to be permanent.

In an unusual meeting, the three debated this issue. In the end, there
was no denying the obvious.

For more than a week the two boys felt discouraged. Alex-T would have
much preferred to become Peter Kokoroff and return to Gdov to make his
movie. It was only the sexual escapades that Alex-P would have
enjoyed; the photography part would have been a total bore. On the
other hand, the adrenaline rush of being on the front lines was
nothing short of high adventure for him.

Rasputin had used the subject of current events to divert the boys'
pessimism. Each day started with the reading of as many different
newspapers as they could lay hands on, usually the St. Petersburg
Times and the Moscow Pravda. Occasionally the aristocratic magazine
"Neva" found its way into the classroom if it could be pried away from
its most devoted fan, Olga.

The magazine contained editorials on the state of world politics as
well as continuing romance stories and, of course it was these
episodic tales of love that had gained Olga's dedication to the
publication.

On the last Friday of November, a particularly vicious story appeared
in Pravda. The article focused on Olga and her cadet boy friend. It
suggested that the couple were having a three way sexual orgy with
Rasputin. Olga's first reaction was to laugh at the ridiculous lie.
But the cadet had become outraged, and telephoned her on Saturday,
shouting into the instrument, demanding that she do something to
distance herself from Rasputin. At the end of the conversation the
girl was in tears. The Czarina had taken her daughter into her arms
trying to comfort her. Late Saturday, the latest edition of Neva
reached the palace. It contained a short story which, with a little
imagination, could have been about Rasputin, Olga, and her cadet.

The girl would not eat diner; remaining in her room, she sobbed her
heart out as though her world was at an end.

The Czarina sent a wire to her husband. She had decided to take the
family to Yalta. The pressure here was just too much for the children.

On Monday morning, the twenty eighth of November, the Imperial Train
left Tsarskoye Selo carrying her Imperial Highness Alexandra Fedorovna
Romanov, her daughters Olga, Tatiana, Maria, Anastasia, her only son
Aleksey Nickolaevich Romanov, and Rasputin's niece Catherine.
Destination: Yalta.

The sudden departure of the Imperial Family provided the opportunity
for Rasputin to visit with politicians in an attempt to convince them
that Russia must end the war.

On Friday, the second of December, Rasputin had lunch with the Prime
Minister. The meeting had gone quite well, he was easily convinced
that the war should be brought to an end... but how? Sturmer had
suggested that Rasputin visit one of the leaders of the opposition,
Prince Yusupov, who had an office in the building that housed the
Duma.

After they had eaten, Rasputin excused himself and made his way to the
Duma. A sentry directed him to Yusupov's office. The prince had not
returned from lunch. They did not know when, or if, he would return.
If he had lunch at The Embers then he usually did not return.

Rasputin hailed a cab and was dropped off at The Embers. The doorman
telephoned Iveren about the new guest. Rasputin had not waited for the
doorman to pass him through. The last words of the doorman's "Just a
moment sir..." were cut off as the door closed behind Rasputin.

Despite Iveren's weight, he was out of his office and down the stairs
in a flash. Even so, Rasputin had entered the large room and was
enroute to Yusupov's table when the corpulent man caught up with him.
"Please sir, I have an excellent table in the other room."

Surprisingly, Yusupov did not seem disturbed by Rasputin's unexpected
appearance. He waved Iveren off, "Ah Gregori. How nice to see you
again; but, this time, no Madeira all right?" He laughed in a light,
effeminate way, "It does strange things to you." He pointed to a chair
across the table, "Make yourself comfortable. Would you care for
lunch?"

Rasputin shook his head, "Thank you, but no. I have just had lunch
with Minister Sturmer. He suggested that I speak with you about the
war."

The prince shook his head while still smiling. "The Embers is too
public a place to discuss such a serious subject. Besides, my wife
Irina has asked me several times to invite you to our home for dinner.
Would that do?"

Rasputin had heard the Yusupov marriage was an open one. He wondered
if the prince was offering him his wife. He pressed on: "The war is a
disaster. We must find a way to bring it to a conclusion."

"And how would you propose that we do that?"

Rasputin started to reply, but was cutoff, "Really Gregori, The Embers
is NOT the place for such discussions. Tonight I must go to Moscow for
a week. Would you be free on Friday the 16th? Say ...about eight
o'clock?"

Iveren had moved to the side of the room, out of Rasputin's direct
line of sight. He told several of his strongest employees to stay
alert and available just in case Rasputin's mood changed.

Rasputin realized that there was little that he could achieve by
continuing his visit; besides, he neither trusted nor liked Yusupov.

"Well, I have other appointments I must keep this afternoon. You said
about eight o'clock on the 16th?"

Yusupov nodded in the affirmative. "Would you mind telephoning my wife
and let her know that you will attend?"

Rasputin grunted a "Yes" and then left the room with a sly smile on
his lips. The husband would be away for a week. He would confirm the
dinner date by calling upon the wife in person.

                              + + + + +

On December 8, the Union of Towns, an important municipal body, went
into secret session. It passed a resolution: "The government, having
now become an instrument of the dark forces, is driving Russia to her
ruin and is shattering the Imperial Throne. In this grave hour the
country requires a government worthy of a great people. There is not a
day to lose!"

Secrets were no longer kept. The resolution was circulated in printed
leaflets by the thousands.

"Dark forces" was a simple code phrase for: Gregori Rasputin and those
about him.

A pamphlet written in poetic, old-style Russian made the rounds. It
was addressed to "Father Gregori, new saint of the devil, reveler of
Christ's teachings, ruiner of the Russian land, defiler of wives and
maidens." Its refrain urged Rasputin to rejoice: "Rejoice at the
Czar's dulled mind, rejoice at the Czarina's delectation ... at their
daughters' seduction ... at Protopopov's promotion ... at
voluptuousness, at the wagging spine and shaking hips ... at the
propagation of dark forces ... at the German stronghold. Rejoice, foul
receptacle of Satan!"

"Oh, how terrible an autocracy is without an autocrat!" a leading
monarchist, Vasily Shulgin, loyal patrician, wrote in a letter to the
St. Petersburg Times. "The Czar offends the nation by what he allows
to go on in the palace ... while the country offends the Czar by its
terrible suspicions."

The Empress was sleeping badly; she had a dream in which she lay on an
operating table while a surgeon cut off her arm.

"Frantic debauchery" --he liked the word 'frantic' enough to be using
it as a nickname for a young woman he was trying to seduce --had
turned Rasputin's sturdy frame "gaunt and cadaverous." The increasing
malevolence of the anecdotes circulating about him kept his bodyguards
on edge in December. He was said to be a German spy. It was said that
he used a radio to talk to Berlin. It was said that he was fucking the
Czar's beautiful daughters as well as their mother. It ws also said
that his underpants flew over the royal palaces in place of the
double-headed Imperial Eagle. The rumor continued that, at night,
Rasputin drove in a black car across the Palace Bridge and fired shots
at random, killing and wounding for pleasure.

"Do you know that I shall soon die in terrible pain?" Rasputin said,
or so the French ambassador reported. "But what can I do? God has sent
me to save our dear sovereign and Holy Russia. Despite my terrible
sins I am a Christ in miniature."

The name "Rasputin" was becoming a byword for "evil", though many
people held it in a kind of superstitious dread, daring not to
pronounce it; believing that, if they did so, ill luck would befall
them. Defensively they would whisper: "The unmentionable", "The
nameless one", or simply "him!"

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