Angel on the Square (14 page)

The bitter look on Misha’s face I had seen as he walked about the burned ruins of The Oaks returned. “You’ve heard nothing?” he asked. His voice was a whisper, though no one was near.

“We hear no news,” I told him. “We might as well
be a thousand kilometers from St. Petersburg.” I was studying Misha’s face. “Something has happened, hasn’t it?”

He put his hand on mine. “Lenin ordered the Tsar executed.”

“It can’t be! How could anyone be so cruel?” After a moment I managed to ask, “The Empress and Alexei and the girls? Are they safe?”

Misha shook his head. “No one has heard, and no one has seen them. I must tell you there is little doubt that they were executed as well. Lenin wants the Romanov family wiped out. All the Grand Dukes have been arrested and sentenced to be executed.”

I left him and walked out into the field. Misha understood and did not follow me. I had lost two fathers and now my sisters as well. I sank down in the wheat and cried for the Tsar and the Empress, for Alexei, for Olga and Tatiana, for Marie and my beloved Stana, and for Russia. I cried until I had no tears left.

Days later, when I could trust myself to talk about it, I asked Misha, “How could they do such a thing?”

We were walking beside the little stream. A pale moon shone in the eastern sky, while the sun was still a circle of gold in the west. With the quiet beauty of the countryside all around us, such deeds seemed impossible.

“They are evil people, Katya. They trust no one. Lenin and his crew are like the insects that eat their own young. The very people who worked hardest for the revolution are being arrested. Kerensky had to flee the country. I was lucky to get out of St. Petersburg with my life. I thought I understood what was best for Russia. I knew too little and believed too soon.”

“It’s the same for me, Misha.” I sighed. “I see how empty-headed I was. I understand now how hard it has been for the peasants. And remember how I turned up my nose at the poor people in St. Petersburg because they were dirty? And you said they had no water. Now we are lucky to have a bath once a week,
and Mama and I share the water. There had to be changes.”

I began to cry, as I did whenever I thought of the girls. “But Misha, we have traded thoughtlessness for evil.”

Misha said, “As soon as I’ve helped you and Stepan with the harvest, I mean to go back to St. Petersburg, Katya. I know a family who will put me up. There are still a few of us left to fight against this government, in secret if we must. For however many years it takes, we will fight, until we get real freedom in Russia. If we die in the attempt, others will come after us.”

As Misha spoke I began to feel a longing for my city, which was now in so much trouble. For the first time in months I let myself think of the crowds on the Nevsky, the clanging tram cars, and the reflection of the Winter Palace shimmering in the Neva. I sighed, and Misha took my hand. “Come with me,” he said.

I did not ever want to be separated again from
Misha. I had lost so much. I couldn’t bear to lose him too. Looking at him now, holding his hand, the only future I could imagine was one we would share. Yet I shook my head. I was afraid. At least here I was safe.

As we walked by the pine tree with the nest, I heard faint peeps. The dove’s eggs had hatched. Five fledglings poked up their tiny beaks. After that I hardly let the nest out of my sight. I was resolved that no fox would steal the fledglings. I could not help but remember how the Tsar had called the girls, shorn of their curls, his fledglings. I was there at dawn, and all day long I ran in from the fields to stand watch. The last thing I did before I went to bed at night was to check the nest. But I could not be up all night. In the darkness a raccoon came, leaving behind an empty nest.

I saw that there was as little safety here as there was in St. Petersburg. I could not hide for the rest of my life. More than anything, I wanted to be with Misha. The next morning I took Misha aside. “Once Mama is settled for the winter, I’ll go with you. I’ve
talked to Stepan and Nina. Nina adores Mama, and she and Stepan have promised to watch over her. Most of the crops have done well. There will be food enough for the winter.” Together we made our plans.

It was only when I came to say farewell to Mama that I nearly lost my courage. I did not see how I was to live apart from her.

“Come with me, Mama,” I begged.

“Katya, I could never face St. Petersburg now. I am better here. I feel a kind of peace here at The Oaks, where I played as a child. Nina and Stepan will look after me. My greatest happiness will be in knowing that you and Misha have each other.”

It was late fall when Misha and I walked out of the St. Petersburg train station and onto the Nevsky. The city welcomed us with a golden October day. We crossed Anichkov Bridge. The great bronze horses still pawed the air, but how different from the noisy, cheerful crowds of my childhood were the silent pedestrians
on the prospekt with their suspicious, closed faces. Rough-looking soldiers wearing badges of the revolutionary government were everywhere. Misha took my hand, for we were both nervous walking openly in the street. Many of the stores were boarded up. Even the clanking of the trams seemed subdued.

I wanted to see the Zhukovsky mansion that had been our home. At first Misha tried to discourage me.

“It will only make you unhappy,” he said.

“Perhaps it will, but I won’t start my new life with my eyes closed. There has been enough of that.”

We crossed the Griboedov Canal, with its perfect reflection of the domes of the Church of the Resurrection still looking like a tumble of crown jewels. There was our mansion. My heart stopped at the sight. Strung across the entrance was a crudely lettered sign that read:
REVOLUTIONARY WORKERS
’
CENTER
. I could see the yellow silk draperies fluttering from the open windows in Mama’s room. I looked up at the balcony where I had stood with Misha to see the
celebration of three hundred years of Romanov rule. The child who had gazed with such excitement at the golden carriage of the Tsar and the Empress was gone forever, but the city was still there.

The Neva’s arms were still wrapped around St. Petersburg. The Winter Palace was surrounded with barricades and soldiers, but in the square the angel looked down at us. I thought of how Lidya had promised me, “Difficult times and even wars may come to the city, but as long as the angel watches over St. Petersburg, the city will survive.”

Misha must have been thinking of the same legend, for when we turned back to the Nevsky, he was smiling.

babushka:
grandma; old woman

beliye nochi:
white nights of spring and summer, when it is light until the early-morning hours

borsch:
beet soup

chudo:
miracle

da:
yes

dacha:
vacation home

Duma:
the Russian parliament

kasha:
buckwheat groat porridge

Khristos voskres. Voistinu voskres:
Christ is risen. Indeed, He has risen.

khorosho:
very good

koshevy:
basketlike Siberian wagon

krasivo:
beautiful

kulich:
Easter coffee cake

Lebedinoye Ozero: Swan Lake

Mamochka:
Mommy

molodyets:
well done!

nyet:
no

paskha:
Easter cheesecake in the shape of a pyramid

perina:
featherbed

pirozhki:
filled pastries

podruga:
special friend

proshchayte:
farewell

S rozhdestvom Khristovom:
Merry Christmas

sluzhanka:
female servant

tovarich:
comrade

troika:
carriage drawn by three horses abreast

Tsar-batyushev:
little father

tsarevich:
crown prince

tvorog:
cottage cheese

voina:
war

vorobyei:
sparrow

vranyo:
white lie

zabastovka:
labor strike

Jacket illustration © 2001 by Peter Malone

Jacket design by Alison Donalty

Jacket © 2001 by HarperCollins Publishers