CHAPTER 8

1894-1904 THE REVOLUTIONARIES

 

The Coronation Ball was a glittering affair, with royalty and commoners mixing.

At a table reserved for Palace staff sat Captain Max Ilyvich Maltzev, resplendent in his Hussar uniform. There were officers and their ladies from other regiments at table, but Max, during polite conversation, gave nothing away of his unique position. The ladies at his table all found their eyes being drawn to the tall, dark Hussar Captain who sat unaccompanied and who drank only water at the loyal toast.

It was during the dancing that he saw her. He caught his breath in surprise at the close resemblance she bore to Lisa, his lovely Lisa, whom he would love forever ... but this girl was alive, vibrant, dancing in another man's arms. Sudden desire burned within him and he retired to watch her in the shadows, waiting his chance to speak to her, to hear the sound of her voice, which would surely be the same as Lisa's ...

She at last excused herself and retired to the boudoir. He watched and waited, then casually bumped into her as she made her way back to her escort.

"My humble apologies, my lady." he smiled, holding her arms.

She looked up into hooded, dark eyes that, despite his smile, were cold. She made to move away without a word, but he said quickly "To amend my blundering carelessness, ma'am, may I have the pleasure of the next dance?"

She looked around anxiously. "I-I'm sorry." she stammered, turning her head away from him. "I must return to my husband, sir!"

"Would he mind me having just one dance with his lovely wife?" he persisted, disappointment in his heart on hearing the word 'husband'. No matter, that could be circumvented, he thought.

"Please, officer, let me go!" and he released her, watched her flounce away towards her husband. But later in the evening, he suddenly realised she was standing by his side, no taller than his shoulder.

Wordlessly, he escorted her onto the dance floor and waltzed. His curiosity got the better of him and he asked "Your husband?"

"Retired to the smoking room. A filthy habit, I think, and I refuse to go near him when he smokes. Do you smoke, Captain?"

"No, I don't, nor do I drink. I like to keep myself healthy, ma'am.

She flicked her eyes appreciatively up and down his spare form and said "My name is Tatya, sir. May I be so bold as to enquire yours?" she smiled coquettishly.

They were soon walking and talking in the grounds of the Kremlin, which was aglow with candlelight. Watching the time, however, she soon asked to be returned to the dance hall, where her husband was already seeking her out. "Please leave." she spoke urgently. "If he finds you with me, he may cause trouble." Max clicked his heels in salute, and she slipped a card into his palm. "Next Tuesday night." was all she said, but it was enough. He hurriedly left the ballroom.

The night was always his ally, and he spent the time between their first encounter and the following Tuesday by doing some research and reconnoitring. Her husband, Ilya Mikhailovich Ratzov, was a rich merchant trader, liable to be away from Moscow for lengthy periods of time in search of business. Their house, in a fashionable district of Moscow, was easily accessible and fairly isolated, with fencing and high trees surrounding its acreage perimeter. Convenient, thought Max. Unaccustomed as he was to the ways of love, he found himself becoming increasingly nervous as Tuesday approached, and he fantasised about which disguises he would use to come to her. He could not go in military uniform. Would he go as a priest, or a beggar? Yes, a beggar. Most appropriate. As night approached, he made his way to her house. Would she remember? Maybe she'd turn him away. He could not bear that, he wanted her - now. Lisa, his Lisa. Now. At last.

When the time came, dressed in peasant's rags complete with false beard, he silently slipped round the back, knocked softly on the door. The place was in darkness. Maybe she'd gone, too. Maybe it was all a joke. If it was, he'd ... He fingered the hilt of his stiletto knife for re-assurance.

The door opened quickly and he stepped into the darkened house. She was wearing a thick evening gown which accentuated her hourglass figure. She gasped in surprise when she saw she had given admission to a peasant instead of the Hussar Captain she expected. "Oh! Go away, please! There's been a mistake ..." she said desperately.

He gave a low chuckle and took off his cap and false beard. "No mistake, I hope, Tatya!"

"Oh! You did give me a shock!" she gasped, clutching her bosom and looking him up and down. He looked so different in these baggy clothes.

"I couldn't very well come in my uniform, could I?" he smiled.

"No, no I suppose not. I never thought of that!" and she took him by the hand and led him through the darkened house. "I've given the servants a night off and my husband will not return until tomorrow. The neighbours saw me leaving for my sister's, so none will suspect."

"Waaait a minute, wait a minute. What's the hurry?" he enquired, surprised at her attitude.

"Don't you - want me?" she stopped, surprised at his hesitancy.

"I want you, only you, Lisa." His voice was deep and husky.

"Tatya."

"Oh, sorry, yes, of course, Tatya, I do want you, but aren't there certain - ah - preliminaries?"

"Oh, you like that, do you?"

"Uh, yes."

She led him to a drawing room with a chaise longue, sat him down and sat beside him, carelessly allowing her dressing gown to slip open, showing her thigh.

He gulped audibly, feeling his temperature rising Suddenly he realised how inexperienced he was in this situation. She leaned back seductively and waited. He reached hesitantly towards her, his big hands clumsy, uncertain. It was then that she realised he was a novice and she collapsed in hysterical laughter.

"What's so funny?" he asked, nonplussed.

"You haven't a clue, have you?" she tried to wipe the tears of laughter from her eyes, laughter bubbling up within her again. "Okay, let's play 'follow my leader'." and she reached into his blouson shirt, feeling the soft hair on his chest, and then, relaxing, he allowed her hands to wander and explore his body. In turn, he enjoyed the softness of her breasts while she skilfully opened the last barrier, making him gasp as she investigated his state of readiness. Suddenly and uncontrollably inflamed, he threw himself on her and they fell off the chaise longue, rolling on the floor as he fumbled with her clothing.

"Oh, Holy Mother, can't you get it right?" she gasped, trying to regain her breath.

Eventually, after a struggle, he got it right, grunting "Lisa!" with every movement. As he lay on top of her, finally spent, eyes closed, he did not see the dark figure appear in the doorway, but he did hear a floorboard creak behind him.

His instincts for self-preservation and danger were galvanised into action, and he threw her round to be on top just as the gun fired. He felt her stiffen as the bullet hit her. His knife was still concealed in the folds of his blouson, and, with a lightning-fast movement, he rolled the body of Tatya away from him, leaped behind the cover of the chaise-longue, and threw the knife before the assassin could get off another shot. He heard a grunt of pain, and the gun clatter from senseless fingers, then saw the silhouette of the man slowly crumple to the ground. He cautiously went over to inspect his assailant. Rolling him over with his boot, Max could see he was not quite dead, but he lay, clutching the hilt of Max's deeply embedded knife, gasping. Max looked for an oil lamp, found one, lit it and shone it in the man's face.

"Who are you?" asked Max, leaning over the dying man.

"I was sent ... to kill ... a killer." the man gasped. "You have killed ... too many of our people. Next time ... it will be your turn to die, you bastard!"

Taking the man by the collar, his face inches away from his unsuccessful assassin, Max, anger welling up in him, said "Who sent you? Tell me, tell me now while you can - WHO SENT YOU?"

The man groaned in pain as Max shook him. "Hah!" he gasped, "You will soon find out anyway, you scum. His name .. ." he doubled up in pain.

"Tell me!" commanded Max.

"... is Yurovsky!" and, gathering all his remaining strength, with his last breath he spat blood and spittle full in Max's face.

Max spun away in sickened disgust, frantically wiping away the excreta. Then, returning to the corpse, he leaned down and pulled the knife out, cleaned it against the body's overcoat, and went through the pockets for identification papers, his mind racing. Yurovsky - Captain Yurovsky from the Corps of Pages training school - a sadist and bully, and his henchman Medvedev! They had defected to the Revolutionaries, the traitors! So now he knew the faces of his enemies. In an inside pocket he found a small red card with the legend "Social Revolutionary Party" embossed on it. "Could be useful." he murmured, and pocketed it quickly, then went over to look at Tatya. She was quite dead. Then, with sudden realisation, a raging anger rose in him. A setup! The whole thing had been a setup, and he had fallen for it, hook, line and sinker! Fool! Poor, lovelorn fool! All he'd wanted was to have her, and she'd wanted him dead! He silently vowed he would never again be a fool for love. Now, they knew who he was, how to get at him. He must take better precautions if he was to continue to serve his new Tsar. But first, he must destroy all evidence that he had ever been here.

Giving vent to his anger and frustration, he threw himself into a frenzy of destruction, completely vandalising the room, breaking everything breakable, chairs, lamps, china, slashing the curtains and then, before setting the place alight, he arranged the corpses to make it look as though it had been a lovers' quarrel - she'd stabbed him, then he'd shot her. He was long gone into the night, still trembling with rage and reaction, before the blaze took hold.

---oo0oo---

A few days later Max was granted an audience with his new Tsar. Tsarina Alexandra was also present. Max knelt before his new ruler.

"Rise, Count Maltzev. I gather you had a - spot of bother the other night."

"Yes, Sire. It is that which I wish to discuss with you." The Tsar gestured for Max to continue. "In the interim, Sire, I have made further observations and know of the location of a Revolutionary cell. Its leader is the traitor Captain Yurovsky, lately of the Corps of Pages, and with your permission I wish to employ some ex-colleagues from the Ochrana to clean out this rat's nest as quickly as possible."

"Do whatever is necessary to protect the Throne." Max bowed and left the audience room.

A few moments later he was stopped by a flunkey, who gave him a note. It was from the Tsarina, who desired a private audience.

Tsarina Alexandra Feodorovna, a German Princess, was a small, vibrant woman with a strong, persuasive personality. In many ways she counterbalanced her husband's shyness and indecisiveness and increasingly throughout their reign took decisions on his behalf.

The Count entered her private apartments. "How may I serve you, Your Majesty?" he bowed low.

"My husband has informed me of your - duties - within this Court. You may find Nicky a little unsure of himself at times. If you think it necessary, do not hesitate to inform me of any subterfuge which you may uncover, either here in Court or amongst our People." Max acknowledged her words. "There is something else, Count."

"My lady?"

"There is someone I wish you to meet, someone who shares similar duties for me. She rang a summoning bell, and a blond, stockily-built man dressed in German military uniform entered. "May I present you to Captain Willem Krieger." The German clicked his heels smartly, bowing simultaneously. "I suggest you familiarise the Captain with the intricacies of your side of Court life, Count."

"Madam, I work alone." Max replied, his voice smooth and determined.

"In the event of danger to our Royal persons, Count, I would suggest that all assistance you may elicit from whatever quarter will facilitate your workload. Captain Krieger has considerable experience in working underground, and you can trust him implicitly."

The German looked sideways at the Count, blue eyes sparkling with what, wondered Max, amusement? Max met his gaze frigidly, and Captain Krieger, pointed helmet in hand, snapped another salute and marched stiffly out the room, the Count at his heels. Outside the door, the two eyed each other up and down, the German still with a twinkle in his blue eyes. Abruptly, the Count said "There is a room which is available to me, Captain. Please follow." and he walked quickly away.

In the furnished room, the Count bade the Captain sit and, sitting and crossing his long legs with a fluid motion, he settled into an armchair. The German waited. "Well, Captain Krieger, since I am commanded to get to know you, I suppose I have no alternative."

"Count, if it is of any comfort to you," said Krieger in halting Russian, "I, too, am used to working alone."

"Indeed. Well, my ongoing mission at the moment is to clean out a Revolutionary cell which I stumbled across the other night. Two were killed, a man and a woman. The man had this..." he tossed over the Party card, which Krieger caught adeptly.

"Hm." he said, inspecting it. "It may be an idea to duplicate a number of these, making infiltration of their ranks easier. Do you have a forger?"

"I have a number of underground contacts, Captain. This would be no problem."

"Sehr gut. Perhaps also we should have prepared false papers, endorsed with the Imperial Eagle?"

Max looked searchingly at the German, appreciating his initiative. Aloud he said "That can be arranged. I have permission to use Ochrana agents to do the initial surveillance. It should not take long until we have uncovered the organisation."

---oo0oo---

But the Count's optimism proved to be false, as the organisation that was revealed was a vast network of Revolutionary cells with a number of faceless co-ordinators commanding them. Russia was moving, step by step, towards the brink, and the Count and Krieger found their time fully occupied by attempting to eradicate as many Revolutionaries as they could, many of whom had infiltrated the Imperial Court.

Meanwhile, Tsar Nicholas Romanov and his ever-increasing family developed a routine to their year, seemingly oblivious of the approaching danger to the monarchy. Every March the Tsar and Tsarina with their family of girls, Olga, born in 1895, Tatiana, born in 1897, Marie, born in 1899 and Anastasia, born in 1901, left the Anitchkov Palace in St Petersburg for the warmth of the Crimea, thence to their villa at Peterhof on the Baltic coast in June. In July they cruised around the Finnish fjords in the Tsar's new Imperial yacht, the 'Standart'. August found them at a hunting lodge in the Polish forest; September heralded their return to the Crimea, and in November they returned to Tsarskoe Selo outside St Petersburg for the winter. The Imperial train which carried the family across Russia was a travelling palace. The saloon cars were decorated in Royal blue with the double-eagled Imperial crest emblazoned in gold on the coach's sides, all pulled along by a gleaming black locomotive.

The Count and the Captain were obliged to visit their monarch regularly, wherever they may be, to report on the ongoing situation, but the Tsar was undecisive what to do to eradicate the growing threat, and the Count and Krieger were compelled to follow their own beliefs and instincts for self-preservation by disposing of as many of the Revolutionaries as they could. The elusive leaders, of whom Yurovsky was one, always seemed to be one step ahead of their pursuers. Although torture and brainwashing techniques were employed, the captives never revealed enough for the Royalists to gain the uppermost hand.

In 1904 came the long-hoped-for birth of the Tsarevich, the heir to Nicholas's throne, Alexis. Although the child initially appeared to be healthy, it was soon discovered that he was a haemophiliac, a factor which was to be the ultimate downfall of the Romanov dynasty. Another factor was the loss of the so-called Russo-Japanese War, which occurred between 1904 and 1905 on the easternmost border of Russia. Russia adopted an expansionist policy, wishing to increase its coastline on its eastern borders, and this involved taking over Korea and Manchuria. Because these small countries were unable to defend themselves, Japan stepped in, acting on their behalf, as there was a possibility of provocation towards their country as well. The expansionist challenge was met by Japan first by protest, then by subversion, negotiation and finally war. The war could have been prevented by concessions, but these were not given. Russia also wished to protect its investment in the Trans-Siberian Railway and the Chinese Eastern railway. In ignoring the Japanese threat, when war was declared Russia was totally unready, as supplies could only be sent via the single-track railway or by sea. When the Russian fleet was torpedoed by the Japanese at Port Arthur, Britain proposed American mediation, from which Russia was forced to concede Port Arthur, the south line of the Chinese Eastern railway and the south half of Sakhalin Island to Japan.

It was also around this time that Vladimir Ilych Ulyanov, better known as Lenin, began to make his presence felt in St Petersburg by circulating disclamatory pamphlets against the Tsar, referring to him openly as 'Nicholas the Bloody' and 'Nicholas the Hangman'. He formed the Social Democratic Party, which was formerly run by Russian Marxists, and his activist followers took on the name of Bolsheviks, which meant Majorityites, whilst the pacifist movement called itself the Mensheviks, or Minorityites. Russian Communism was gaining momentum.

The other major occurrence that turned the people against the Tsar was what became known as 'Bloody Sunday', Sunday 22nd January 1905. On that day a peaceful demonstration by striking workers who amassed at the Winter Palace in St Petersburg was shot at by Hussars and Cossacks, causing nearly 100 deaths and hundreds of wounded. No longer did the people think of the Tsar as 'one of them', as bodies lay bleeding in the snow. Nicholas, however, was in residence at Tsarskoe Selo and was unaware of the occurrence until later informed, and was shocked and saddened at the news The social turmoil caused by that event continued with the peasantry rising in their millions throughout the country, evicting their landlords and taking possession of the land. The uprising culminated in the Tsar signing an Imperial Manifesto on 30th October 1905, effectively ending the 1905 Revolution. This document ended the Tsar's autocratic rule and introduced a semi-constitutional monarchy run by an elected parliament, called the Duma. The Tsar did, however, retain his supreme authority over the appointment of Ministers, defence and overseas matters.

---oo0oo---

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