The Kitchen Boy by Robert Alexander

Author:Robert Alexander
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Historical - General, American Historical Fiction, Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 9781435290006
Publisher: Paw Prints
Published: 2008-05-28T07:00:00+00:00

12

Lord, forgive me. But first make me suffer. I am the devil’ s creation. Torture me and make me cry out for mercy, but make me suffer . . . for history shows that it was my grave error that precipitated the murder of the Tsar and his family. Yes, my dear granddaughter, Katya, I confess that it was my stupidity, an ignorant decision by a lowly kitchen boy, that gave the Bolsheviki the excuse they had been seeking . . .

By July 5 the revolution was collapsing in all directions. The Bolsheviki were terrified, for their defeat seemed but days away. The Germans controlled the Ukraine, the English had landed in the north, the Japanese had invaded the Far East, and the American marines were on their way, albeit slowly. Why, even in Moscow itself there was a revolt of the Social Revolutionary Party against Lenin and his depraved cronies. In other words, Lenin and the Bolsheviki were not only cornered, but desperate, which naturally made them more dangerous than ever.

It was a Friday, not hot, not like the days before, but a pleasant thirteen degrees. The rains resumed, which would pose a problem for the night of July 16– 17, yet on the fifth things seemed ready to burst with hope and promise. Not only had the vulgar Avdeyev and his crew been replaced by a new komendant and new guards, but Sister Antonina and Novice Marina arrived, their arms laden with a bounty of wondrous supplies. They had not come for days, and suddenly they appeared, smiles beaming upon their faces as they carried in foodstuffs, the likes of which we hadn’ t seen for months, not since we’ d been carried off from Tobolsk. Instead of just milk and a meager basket of eggs, now there were two chetverts of milk, one large basket containing a chertova dyuzhina — a devil’ s dozen — of fresh, warm eggs, not to mention a glass bottle of thick cream, a generous amount of tvorog — farmer’ s cheese — and even enough meat for six day’ s soup.

“ Oi!” I gasped, as I helped the good nun and her novice into our little makeshift kitchen. “ Tak mnogo v’ syevo!” So much of everything.

Sister Antonina, tiny and round as she was, squinched up her nose like an old hedgehog, and said, “ During Avdeyev we brought this much and more every time. But there was a toll, per se.”

“ What?”

“ Da, da, da. At the outer gate, at the inner gate, as we walked past the guards’ room — they all took as they pleased.”

Novice Marina, her voice small, asserted, “ It’ s true — they wouldn’ t let us pass otherwise.”

“ Now that we know the way is clear,” beamed the good sestra, “ next time we will bring even more!”

When we walked into the tiny kitchen, cook Kharitonov saw the goods and was beside himself, putting aside his boiled potatoes and immediately bragging about what he would make.

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