Page 190 of Atlas: The Story of Pa Salt
‘Fine words, Atlas. You always had those.’
‘A fine diamond, which... I have now... returned.’ I closed my eyes. The air from the fresh, salty sea filled my lungs, and I felt the warmth of the sun on my face. Involuntarily, I stretched my arms above my head, and a heavenly peace descended on me. ‘Kreeg... no longer do I hold the weight of the world on my shoulders. I am grateful to you for giving me the opportunity to tell you the truth of what happened, whether you believe me or not. And now... I am free. Pick up the pistol, brother. I have surrendered and am happy to die.’
Eszu hesitated. ‘Is there anything you wish to ask me before you do?’
I thought for a moment. ‘Yes, actually. There is. You are fixated on the idea that I knew of the diamond’s existence. You mentioned moments ago that you believe my father hadtold me about it. Kreeg, he had not. So, please – tell me what you meant.’
Eszu nodded. ‘As you wish, Atlas. You have told me your story. And now, I shall tell you mine. Let me begin with your birth.’
Tsar Nicholas II’s reign had been characterised by a growing discontent amongst his people, which he himself had failed to alleviate or quash. The anger, in the most part, had been caused by the distribution of land in the country, most of which was owned by the aristocracy.
The majority of Russia’s deeply religious people attended church on a weekly basis, where it was preached that Nicholas had been chosen as tsar by God. But, as bellies went continually hungry, the congregations slowly began to question why their divine ruler required so much land and power to exercise his duties, when their families had so little. Thus, the social revolutionary movement began to gain momentum. It had culminated in February of 1917, when days of protest and violent clashes gave Tsar Nicholas II little choice but to relinquish the throne. He passed the tsardom to his brother, Grand Duke Michael Alexandrovich. But the duke had seen which way the wind was blowing, and refused to ascend – stating that he would only do so if warranted through democratic action.
As a result, a provisional government, led by AlexanderKerensky, was formed. The initial solution to the problem of the purposeless monarchy seemed to be exile. After February, opportunities for asylum looked relatively promising. But, after months of debate, Britain and France withdrew their offers of residency, as the tsar’s wife, Alexandra, was regarded as pro-German.
The question of what to do with the family therefore raged on, but during Kerensky’s premiership the Romanovs existed in relative safety. After the revolution, the royal family were escorted to the Governor’s Mansion in Tobolsk, where they were allowed to live in comfort, with a significant government subsidy provided to fund their existence. In addition, several members of the royal household had also been permitted to travel to Tobolsk with the Romanovs, with the tsar and tsarina choosing their most trusted companions to accompany them.
A few months later, the October Revolution came. The people were unhappy with Russia’s continued involvement in the First World War, and the manner in which Kerensky had ruled with an iron fist. Because of this, the Bolshevik Red Army overthrew the provisional government and seized power. They installed their talismanic leader, Vladimir Lenin, as premier.
Suddenly, the situation for the Russian royal family looked bleaker, with their fate fiercely debated amongst Bolsheviks. Some had favoured extradition. Others wished for the family to face life imprisonment. Many wanted a straight execution, to eliminate what they believed to be the cancer that prevented true equality for the Russian people.
After Lenin took power, the amount of time the Romanovs were permitted to spend outside the Governor’s Mansion was policed. The family was even prevented from walking to church on Sundays. Needless to say, the subsidy they had beengranted by Kerensky’s government was cut, and ‘luxuries’ such as butter and coffee disappeared overnight.
The leaders of the party eventually agreed that the best course of action over Tsar Nicholas was a show trial in Moscow, so that the Bolsheviks might demonstrate their grip on power. But in order for that to happen, they needed the tsar alive.
This could not be guaranteed. Amongst the lower ranks, discontent about the tsar’s fate was increasing, and in March of 1918, rival factions of Bolsheviks descended on Tobolsk. Fears grew for the safety of the royal family, and the government appointed a special commissar to move the family 350 miles west of the settlement to the city of Ekaterinburg.
Commissar Vasily Yakovlev and his men decided to begin the perilous journey in the dead of the night. Nicholas, Alexandra and their eldest daughter Olga were traipsed out of bed at two a.m., along with several members of the royal household. The party were forced to endure fording rivers, changing coaches and observing the narrow foiling of several assassination attempts. After 150 miles of perilous travel, the family and their entourage arrived in the city of Tyumen, where Yakovlev requisitioned a train to speed them to Ekaterinburg.
‘You will board,’ he barked at the former tsar.
‘Very well,’ Nicholas replied, and took Olga by the hand. Alexandra followed behind.
Lapetus Tanit, personal astrologer to the tsar and teacher to the tsarevich and his sisters, put his arm around his wife, Clymene – herself a lady-in-waiting to the tsarina. Clymene was heavily pregnant, and Lapetus had spent the entire journey fretting about her welfare. Nonetheless, they had no choice but to follow the orders of Commissar Yakovlev. If they had remained in Tobolsk, the Red Guards would have seen to them.
Clymene went to follow Alexandra, but grimaced in pain after a single step.
Lapetus held her arm tightly. ‘Are you all right, my darling?’
‘Yes,’ she gasped. ‘He’s very active today.’
‘Oh, we’re calling the babyhenow, are we?’ Lapetus asked, mustering a smile.
‘Stop!’ Yakovlev cried as the couple approached the train. ‘Family only.’
‘What would you like us to do?’ Lapetus asked.
‘You will go in this carriage.’ Yakovlev pointed to a separate train car with no locomotive.
‘Is... His Majesty aware of this?’
Yakovlev laughed. ‘It matters not what he is aware of. Now,’ he said, raising his weapon. ‘Get in that carriage.’
Lapetus stood firmly. ‘Is it necessary to point a gun at a pregnant woman?’
‘Absolutely, because, like you, she blindly serves an evil autocrat.’
Lapetus felt a hand on his shoulder. ‘Come on, my friend. Let’s go.’
