Russian. Curses. A foot kicked me in the ankle. I rolled over and fell off a cot in a barracks so cold and drafty I could see snow drifting through the cracks between the boards. An iron stove glowed red-hot and a few men covered in greatcoats and blankets were huddled around it; their rifles stacked near the door. A kettle sat on the hob and was whistling morosely.
“Sevgi, wake up,” the man was a sergeant or its equivalent in the Russian army. He kicked me again onto the floor and I got up slowly. I was dressed in drab green with a woolen overcoat and wore the rank of Captain yet I was no older than sixteen by the faint image in the window beyond the coal stove.
“Get up, Sevgi, you runt Aristocrat bastard,” he said roughly. “It’s your turn to fetch the coal. Go check on the prisoners.”
I didn’t say anything but my body went about the motions without direction. I opened the bare door, staggered out into a blizzard to a coal chute on the side of the guard post/barracks, found a wheelbarrow, and shovel.
It took me twenty minutes to fill the belly of the wheelbarrow in temperatures well below zero and then stagger back inside.
Shoving the others aside roughly, I filled the stove, banked it, slammed the door, and warmed myself by the fire and with a cup of hoary tea minus sugar or milk. When I was finally unfrozen, I went back out to trudge along a faint path until I found a building that was clearly part of a palace complex, entered and headed for a particular suite of rooms.
None was heated and in the one, I saw four young women covered in layers of clothing and coats seated with a young boy of about seven. They all bore a striking resemblance to each other and were instantly recognizable. I was looking at Grand Duchess Anastasia, her sisters and brother, the children of Nicholas and Alexandra, Tsar and Tsarina of Belorussia.
I sighed and wondered if I was there to save all of them or just the one. The next room down housed their parents. Of Rasputin, I saw no sign; he was already murdered and buried.
As I entered the room, the Tsarina saw me and smiled a faint, tremulous smile as if she wasn’t sure it would be received. When I removed my fur hat, it reached her eyes.
“Sevgi,” she breathed and her face, already beautiful, became purely angelic. She rose and took my hands. “Sevgi, how are my children?”
I hesitated. “They’re fine, Tsarina Alex. Forgive me, I am not myself.”
“What is wrong?” I looked at the Tsar and he was lost in a world of dreams, had retreated from reality.
“I’m not sure what I can do, Tsarina. I’m only one man. And not even a full grown one at that.”
“Whatever you can do, Sevgi. We don’t care about ourselves but save my children.”
“I’ll do my best, Tsarina,” I swallowed. “What’s the date?”
She looked at me oddly and told me what I didn’t want to hear. I had less than twelve hours to save what I could of the Russian royal family. In twelve hours, soldiers from Marx would storm into these rooms, gather them all into a smaller room and obliterate them all in a haze of bullets and then spend hours carting off the bodies to hack them to pieces with hatchets and burn what was left before throwing that down an abandoned mine shaft. Only to dig them up and hide them further.
“I have money, jewels,” she offered, tearing at her clothes.
“It’s not that, Tsarina,’” I whispered. “I have no time to plan anything. I need confederates, some escape plan.”
“I thought you said you had everything ready?”
“I did? Tell me,” I said and she outlined a plan so outrageous, I knew that whoever I was before I’d dropped into this role, I had not been a sterling character.
“Anastasia trusts you, Sevgi. And Alexei.”
I laughed bitterly. “Did I take money from them, too?”
She looked at me. “You look different, Sevgi. Your eyes. I never noticed their color before. They’re lavender, like gemstones. Do you have English in you?”
“I am English, Tsarina. And my name is not Sevgi but Aidan. Aidan Argent. I’m from Cornwall and in another hundred years, you and I are distant cousins through your cousin Victoria.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’ll do whatever I can. Fate has played me a nasty trick. I must see what I can do to tweak her back. God is with you.” I sneaked back out and returned to the Grand Duchesses and the tsarovitch; they looked up in terror until they saw my face.
“Sevgi,” they cried gladly. “Is it safe now?”
Before I could answer, the door burst open and the soldiers, my comrades entered the room shoving me roughly aside and began beating the girls, paying particular attention to the boy. I saw blood splatter the walls and rage consumed me. I attacked, opened fire on them and heard their cries of outrage and disbelief. A blue haze filled the room, the smell of cordite, blood and faces so strong that I gagged. Only two of us were left standing, the sergeant and I. he held his stomach together from which entrails were hanging. He cursed me.
“I knew you were still too much the spoiled aristocrat, Sevgi and not a loyal comrade. I hope you rot in hell with the other royal cunts. Your blood isn’t blue or theirs.”
He collapsed and I looked down at my own torso to see a purple stain grow on my uniform. Weakness made my legs tremble. I was sinking to the floor when I heard a faint groan. It came again and with a sudden burst of strength, I pulled corpses from each other to find a body covered in blood and white lace.
She groaned, her eyelids fluttered and Anastasia pushed her white hands into me. Her face wore a look of horror even as tears fell from my eyes. “I was too late,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.” I collapsed on top of her sisters, unable to help any of them.