PART IV Tobolsk (continued 2)

The men who guarded us at this time were the most vicious we had had. They hurled obscene words at us, then laughed at our flushed faces. Rodionov, the new commissar, was a wild bloodthirsty Latvian, always insulting. He took several pieces of our valuable possessions as souvenirs. Now almost all our guards were completely new and strange to us. The only friendly ones who remained were those who, thanks to Colonel Kobylinsky, were posted at each door. They were old guards and saw to it that only his own men could enter our rooms.

We received orders not to lock our doors at night: our last bulwark of privacy was removed. On the pretense of finding out whether we were asleep, at any time of night, a guard without knocking or asking for permission was free to enter our bedrooms and other rooms. Now that Marie was gone, we three sisters remained in the same corner bedroom. Being frightened, we took turns guarding our room at night. While the other two slept, one of us sat up in bed on watch, wrapped in a blanket. When the floors creaked, we knew that the guard was approaching, and the one on watch would lie down pretending to be asleep.

We became insensitive to the new guards and were no longer annoyed by their overbearing conduct. Our worst anxiety was to get some news from Colonel Kobylinsky, but he did not appear; not in the morning, not in the afternoon, not the next day. What did all this mean? He had never stayed away so long. Finally the news came; our beloved Colonel had become ill and had been sent away just a few days before our nearing departure and was not permitted to say good-bye. We hoped our parents were not informed about this. It would add greatly to their troubled minds.

The guards were now everywhere, even at the door of our bathroom. We never went alone to bathe, always Shura or Mlle. Schneider was with us. One morning Tatiana crossed the hall on her way to the dressing room. A guard followed her closely, though she was not at first aware of it. When she heard footsteps behind her, she turned back suddenly and bumped into Rodionov, thus crashing into the wall. He had something hard on his person which hit her breast, so that she was pained and frightened. She screamed. When we arrived she was trembling and ghastly pale. She did not get over the shock for some time. After this incident none of us dared go into the bathroom alone. Always Volkov, Mother’s old groom of the chamber, or Nagorny paced back and forth in the hall.

From then on we assumed a mock respectfulness, hoping to shame these men and to arouse their conscience. We believed the only way we could hold them at bay was by appealing to their sense of honor. But the way they leered and chuckled gave us a feeling of hopelessness. Without my Father, Dr. Botkin, or Colonel Kobylinsky they might dare anything.

May 6th, old style, was my Father’s birthday, his second during our captivity. It was distressing to think this was the first time in our lives we could not congratulate him. Marie told us later that Mother and Father wished to have a service in Ekaterinburg on that day, but no priest was permitted to come to the house.

More than ever we were anxious to be on our way. The desire to be with our parents was above all else. Yet we wanted to do nothing which might harm our brother. The lack of letters and news from our family spelled tragic overtones. One or two letters did arrive from Dr. Botkin to his son Gleb and daughter Tatiana, and they managed to relay news to us. But these messages told little beyond the word “well.” That word told us they were alive but were so restricted they were unable to communicate with us.

At last the river opened and the boats could navigate. Alexei, though far from well was able to sit up in a wheel chair. We hoped the trip might help him to get his strength more quickly, especially the thought that he was on the way to his Mother might prove a tonic. With this idea in mind we persuaded Dr. Derevenko to tell the Commandant that Alexei was able to travel. At once he was glad to comply with our wishes, since our condition was so wretched.

For some time in anticipation of this signal our suitcases had been packed. We had very few clothes with us. But Anna Demidova on behalf of Mother wrote to us from Ekaterinburg, that the medicine (meaning the jewels) should be packed carefully. General Tatishchev took the inventory; there were not many pieces, but they were invaluable. The General estimated the value of the stones and other items at between three and four million rubles. He and Gillek (M. Gilliard) and Shura Tegleva took great care in placing them in our clothes, suitcases, and pillows. We were to carry these things with us. Some of the large stones had been removed from their settings in Tsarskoe Selo. Mother also had taken from her big trunk in Tsarskoe Selo a few small valuable laces, which she always supervised when the inventory of these priceless pieces was taken, usually twice a year.

It had now been three weeks since our parents had left and we had lived through all kinds of hardships. The night before we were notified that our departure was scheduled in the morning at 11:00 A.M. The guards were standing at each street corner, as they hurriedly whisked us through the streets to the dock.

On May 20th, 1918, we boarded the “Rossia,” the same boat that brought us to Tobolsk almost ten months before. No other boats followed us. We reached the steamer before noon, but not until late in the afternoon did we start to move. No one was allowed on the dock but in the afternoon people crowded on the river bank to see us depart. Some pressed handkerchiefs to their faces, some wiped their eyes with their long sleeves, some made crosses in the air or on their breasts. When the crowds grew larger we were told to get back into our cabins, which were damp and cold.

About an hour or so later, before our departure, we were allowed to come out on the upper deck. We recognized some familiar faces on the shore, but were puzzled not to see the Botkin children among the people. We could not later explain the reason to their father. Upon our arrival in Ekaterinburg, fearing for their safety, Dr. Botkin addressed a letter to Voykov in regard to their coming, but the sinner’s eyes were closed. Later Nagorny told us that one man had called out: “Lunatics, what are you doing to this innocent family? God will punish you for your brutality.” Rodionov, having heard this remark, said to us, “Your friends called us lunatics.” They were lucky that the boat was sailing, otherwise not one of them would be alive now.