Free The Kitchen Boy by Robert Alexander Page A

order of the
komendant
all of you must return to the far room.”
    “Just five more minutes,” she said, not as question, not as a request, but as a statement of fact.
    “Now!”
    “But-”
    Nikolai Aleksandrovich, brushing off his shoulders as he rose from his chair, calmly said, “Actually, Alix, I think you’re finished. If you take any more off I’ll be bald.”
    I watched as she looked momentarily into the soft eyes of her husband, then, her eyes burning, turned her attention on the guard. Her lips trembled as if she wanted to lash out at him, her skin got all blotchy and red. And then in one quick swoop, the Empress threw her cutting shears on the dinner table, gathered up her long skirt, and stormed out of the dining room.
    “You must forgive my wife – she slept poorly last night,” said Nikolai Aleksandrovich, starting after. “Come, Alyosha. Let’s get out of here so the charwomen can clean.”
    I followed after my master, pushing the wheeling chaise and Heir out of the dining room, into the girls’ room, to the left, and into their bedchamber, where Aleksandra Fyodorovna stood, her face bowed into both hands. Weeping quietly, she shook, and I witnessed the Tsar go up and embrace her from behind. In the flash of a second, she spun around, throwing herself into his arms.
    “There, there, my Sunshine,” he said, kissing the top of her head.
    “Forgive me, Nicky. Forgive me, please, my darling. I know my greatest sin is my irritability. You know how hot-tempered I am. I want to be a better woman, and I try, I really do. For long periods I am really patient, and then out breaks my bad temper. It is not so difficult to bear great trials, but these little buzzing mosquitoes are so trying.”
    “Of course they are, my dearest.”
    “I long to warm and comfort others – you know I do – but I don’t feel drawn to those around me here. I am cold toward them, and this too is wrong of me.”
    “All that matters is that we seven are together and safe.”
    “Yes, yes, of course, my love. You’re right. Always right. Oh, how I love you, my treasure, my life. What bliss you have given me.” She sighed, pressed her cheek against his, and keeping her voice low, said, “But where is the sister today? Why didn’t she come with another letter? Oh, Nicky, I’m so scared. We will hear more, won’t we? Promise we will!”
    “I swear with my heart, all my heart.”
    I stood silent and still behind the wheeling chaise, and both Aleksei and I, as if staring upon a silent film, didn’t flinch, only stared on as the Tsar whispered something in her ear, and she half laughed and half cried, her polished nails digging into his muscular back. A few moments later I heard the rustle of clothing and turned to the open doorway. All four grand duchesses, their hands and long skirts powdered with flour for the first time in their lives, were looking upon their parents as well.
    Hearing them, the Tsar turned, his face reddening. “Well, so, all of us are here, are we?”
    Tatyana Nikolaevna, the second daughter and the most responsible of them all, softly said by way of explanation, “The floors are to be cleaned.”
    “So they are,” replied her father as he tugged at his collar. “
Gospodi
,” dear Lord, “but it’s hot in here, isn’t it, children? So… who’d like to play a game of bezique?”
    Thus, for the next two hours, we passed the time playing a type of pinochle, not just the seven Romanovs and me in the bedchamber, but Dr. Botkin, Demidova, and the footman, Trupp, all of us day by day compressing into one unit. Only cook Kharitonov was allowed to carry on as before, and his meager cooking filled the whole of the closed-up house with its smells. Potatoes, beetroot, and more compote. That was the lunch we later took at one o’clock, though by that time it was so stuffy, the heat so intense, that no one much felt like eating. Really, it was broiling in there, not a movement of air. On the street it was