The Midwife of St. Petersburg (20 page)

Grandmother Jilinsky looked at her sharply. “The colonel who is here to arrest Sergei?”

“He may not arrest him. Maybe Uncle Viktor sent him … Maybe it will bode well for Sergei after all, for all of us,” she added, thinking about her own presence at the college square last night.

Karena looked out the window and watched the older man in uniform with the slouching jacket and cap ride away from the other three toward the manor house. Alex dismounted and remained talking with Ilya and Uncle Matvey for a few minutes. She did not think the older man could be an Imperial officer, but some other specialized bureaucrat in the military section of the Okhrana, whereas she knew from Tatiana that Alex had gone to the elite officer school. Karena took note of his precise military manner and how authoritative he looked as he spoke to Ilya.

Alex finished speaking to Ilya, remounted, and rode toward the path that led to the manor house. Ilya turned to Uncle Matvey for a moment and then followed Alex.

“Uncle Matvey is returning alone,” Karena said. “The other men have gone up to the manor.” She considered going, but remembered Uncle Matvey wanted her to remain here.

Grandmother Jilinsky pushed herself up from the wicker chair.

“He will want coffee.”

The kitchen door opened, and Uncle Matvey entered. Even in his ailing health, his presence brought a feeling of security into the room. Karena stood expectantly, waiting for news. Grandmother Jilinsky hovered at the stove with the coffee.

He reached for his pipe on the shelf. He filled it with tobacco, pressing it in with his thumb.

“There is distressing news. You know this, both of you.” He struck a match. “They will be asking Sergei some questions.” He puffed the pipe. “Sergei told me he wasn’t at the meeting last night.”

Karena shifted her gaze to look at him. Did Uncle Matvey really believe that?

“When did you see him last?” Karena asked quietly.

“This morning, helping Ilya with the harvest.” He took the coffee from Grandmother Jilinsky. “Leah, the soldiers will camp in the field
tonight. Major-General Durnov will need some food for the men. I told him you would gather what provisions you could from the storehouse. The rest will be provided by Marta. One of the soldiers will come by the back door to receive it. Could you please get it ready for him?”

Grandmother Jilinsky grumbled her displeasure and left by way of the back door.

Leah restrained the words that simmered in her heart as hotly as her cabbage on the stove. Having gone without food many times in her life, she found it painful to give up what she had been storing away for herself and Ilya.

If I had arsenic, I would put it in the soldiers’ mush and feel no shame. Are they not murderers? Yes, all of them. Russian soldiers, bah! What did the czar do to stop the murder of my people under the heels of his officials? What did he do to stop the Jew haters? He did nothing. Nothing, except to blame the Jews. “The revolutionaries snarling at my ankles are either Jews or backed by Jews.” A lie! There were no more Jews involved than Russians!

Now she was to take her food stores and feed how many? Maybe fifty hungry soldiers. It would take a firm bite from her hard work of canning and preserving.

She entered the storage pantry. In the dimness, she paused, her thoughts spinning back to Warsaw and the robbery done to her son, Ilya’s father, and to the other shopkeepers. The raw memories marched across her soul. The clatter of cavalry on the old cobble streets echoed in her ears again. The shattering glass, the smoke, the heat burning her cheeks as she searched in a frenzy for Ilya—Ilya, in the back of the store while his father fought to stop the Polish soldiers and students. Houses, shops, whole buildings burned to the ground, and the watermen would not come to
put out the fires. The synagogues were broken into, objects smashed, rabbis kicked and beaten, men and boys killed, women and girls violated.

Leah’s sob shook her back to the reality of the moment. She was not in Warsaw but in Russia, and the nightmare was now a memory—it was over.

Her wrinkled hands trembled as she pushed her silver hair back from her damp face.

She set her mouth grimly. She respected Matvey’s articles and books written when he had taught at Warsaw. His last book, too, was worthy of him, the one on Russia’s last war with Japan. But the book he was working on now! Why was he wasting his latter years on empty research? The Messiah! The Deliverer.

She snatched containers and cloth bags and grudgingly began taking potatoes, onions, flour, and dried strips of beef from the storage bins. How painful this was to her.

She straightened her shoulders. So be it. Karena had spoken the truth: there was no choice.

“The Messiah,” she said aloud, and then again in Hebrew,
“HaMashiach.”
It tasted pleasant on her tongue. Not at all bitter, as she had thought it might.

She looked up at the cracked roofing, but it did not come crashing down in wrath. “HaMashiach,” she said louder.

A
s soon as Grandmother Jilinsky left for the storage room, Uncle Matvey moved swiftly toward Karena.

“I need to speak to you alone.”

Karena peered at him closely. “You have news you don’t want her to hear.”

“She’s overburdened in spirit. It will do us no good and harm her. Now, quickly.” He took hold of her arm, his voice becoming grim as he talked. “We don’t have much time, Karena. Is there anything I should know about last night?”

She looked away, shaking her head, and moved toward the window. “No, nothing.” She loathed involving him after his past arrest in Warsaw. Once a report of sedition against the Imperial power was written up against anyone, the mark never left the files of the secret police, even if later proven false. She guessed this was on his mind as well.

“They’ll interrogate us all before they depart tomorrow morning,” he said. “Colonel Kronstadt will question us here at the bungalow. It’s important I’m told the truth beforehand.”

She turned to face him. “But why question you? You had nothing to do with the meeting last night. You don’t even know Policeman Grinevich.”

“They will question each one of us as normal procedure.”

His deep-set eyes fixed on her intently. Normally, she would have told him everything, except she recalled Dr. Zinnovy’s orders. She looked down at her hands as though she had never seen them before.

“Come, come, Karena. Do you not trust your old uncle?”

Her anxiety melted, and she went to him quickly and hugged him. “More than anyone.”

He patted her head. “Good. It would give me great ease if I understood the risks we face, especially for you. Were you there last night, Karena?”

She brushed back the hair from her damp forehead. She lowered her voice. “Yes. I went for personal reasons. I wanted to see Ivanna, Dr. Lenski’s daughter. She attends the medical school. Sergei’s been seeing her in St. Petersburg. He and I both thought she might be able to put in a favorable word for me.” She turned away. “It was all useless anyway. Ivanna didn’t even come to hear her brother’s speech.”

Matvey’s eyes were grave. “Who saw you there?”

“No one saw me, except a few peasants. Everyone was listening to Lenski. Oh yes, and Anna.”

Alarm showed in his face. “Anna was there?”

“I don’t know if she looked my way. She must have come to please Sergei, even though he didn’t appear to notice her. It makes me think he didn’t invite her. Suddenly, someone shouted, ‘Police!’ I ran, but the horse was missing—”

“The horse?”

“Sergei and I rode a horse to the meeting. The police were out searching.”

His worry was such that she could not hold back and hastened in a whisper, “Dr. Zinnovy came by in his coach and stopped, threw open his door, and ordered me inside. I recognized him. I had just reached his coach door when police came running up, ordering me to halt. Dr. Zinnovy told
them I had been with him that evening, doing some work for him, and that he could swear to my whereabouts. They acted as though they believed him and apologized—though Policeman Leonovich looked suspicious. They let us go, however. Dr. Zinnovy brought me to the front of the manor house. Then we called on Anna to make sure she was all right. Later, I entered through the back door unseen and went straight up to my room.”

The startled expression on Uncle Matvey’s face when she mentioned Dr. Zinnovy now turned wary. “Dr.
Dmitri
Zinnovy, or do you mean his son Fyodor?”

“The
renowned
Dr. Zinnovy—” She stopped. She would not mention that Zinnovy, by chance on his evening walk, had shown up at the meeting, even to Uncle Matvey.

“Well now, that is what I call good fortune. Dr. Zinnovy’s reputation as a Romanov family physician could not be better where you are concerned. I am most surprised he remains in Kiev, though. I’d heard he was returning to St. Petersburg three weeks ago.”

“It was astounding, Uncle. He even promised to make a way for my entry into the medical school, but—” She stopped again. “Papa said the finances aren’t available this year.”

He walked to the stove and refilled his cup.

“I’m still in shock that he’d help me as he did,” she said, “but I’m not about to argue with providence.”

“You appear to be in a firm position with Dr. Zinnovy’s backing. I suppose he told you not to mention the facts to anyone, even though Yeva and Josef must know you were not working for Dr. Zinnovy. Undoubtedly, he assumes the alibi he gave you will be sufficient to quiet further questioning. Well, hopefully, that should satisfy Durnov and Kronstadt.” He rubbed his chin and then looked at his watch. “Zinnovy’s help brings me great relief. I only wish he could have vouched for Sergei, but one cannot have everything.” He walked over to the door and unlocked it.
“Unless I’m mistaken, Kronstadt will be here any minute now. Keep to your story at all costs, Karena. You have a friend in Dr. Zinnovy.” He looked at her, and then a tiny frown stole over his face.

Karena wondered what it was about Dr. Zinnovy’s favor that worried him. She spoke up. “Colonel Kronstadt’s likely to discover your secret dinners with Miliukov in St. Petersburg.”

He turned his head. “How did you find out? Sergei, I suppose.”

She thought about the intellectual group her uncle met with whenever he was in St. Petersburg. She hoped they were not considered revolutionaries.

“We must not be afraid of ideas, Karena, as long as we have a foundation of truth to judge right from wrong. It’s when a people no longer hold on to the foundation that all ideas are judged to be equal. Then a nation, however great, is in grave danger of the greatest deceptions.”

She looked at him. “You’ve changed.”

He raised his white brows. “How so?”

“I grew up hearing you tell me how all truths are relative.”

He bit the end of his pipe and watched the smoke rings. “Perhaps I am only now discovering how wrong I was. We are all mortal, with feet of clay.”

The kitchen door opened suddenly. Ilya came in. He was out of breath from running and looked over at Uncle Matvey. Some wordless message passed between them.

Karena stood, her gaze darting suspiciously from one to the other. “What is it?” she asked.

Ilya was still looking at Matvey. “Sergei is waiting at the back of the bungalow, Uncle. He wants to talk to you.”

Karena started for the door, but Ilya stopped her.

“Wait, Karena, please. Sergei needs to see Matvey alone,” he said quietly.

She watched as Matvey went out the back kitchen door and around the window to the side porch.

She turned to Ilya. “How did Sergei slip away from the officers?”

“So far, he’s managed to avoid them.” His voice was low and tight. He walked over to the stove, lifted the lid on the large kettle of stew and sniffed. She handed him a bowl and a spoon. He scooped out a hearty portion and leaned against the wall, ignoring the chair and table.

“Is my father at the manor?”

He nodded without speaking.

A horrid suspicion rose in her chest. She began to pace the kitchen floor, occasionally glancing out the window. Ilya ate his stew in silence. She looked over at him. What was he keeping from her?

“Kronstadt will come here to talk to you,” he said a minute later. “If you even hint you were there last night with Sergei, they’ll take you to St. Petersburg. You should have listened to me. I knew he’d lead you into trouble.”

“Sergei didn’t drag me there. I went of my own will.”

“If he says anything—or if Anna talks—”

“I will not be arrested.” She paced. “I have an alibi.”

“What good is an alibi? They will break it in two.”

“Not this one.”

Ilya looked at her curiously, no doubt wondering what gave her such confidence.

“If you think Kronstadt will deal gently with you, you’re wrong. Just because your Uncle Viktor favors him doesn’t mean Kronstadt can be trusted to do anything for the family. He will do what furthers his own reputation. I don’t like him. Why isn’t he going off to war like the rest of us? Instead he goes to the safety of St. Petersburg.”