The Rebel Daughters

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

One month later. January 1826

A small slit of light came through the curtains and crept across the room to the bed. Anna felt it on her face and opened her eyes, blinking at the brightness. Sleep had not come easily and it was morning already. Today was the day the fate of Sasha and Peter was to be announced. Michael had promised to come as soon as he received news. It was the day she feared most, the day that would demand her greatest strength.

Anna stepped gingerly onto the cold floor, shivering as she wrapped herself in a fur cloak and went to the window. She could see the low silhouette of the Peter and Paul Fortress on the far side of the Neva. Peter and Sasha were incarcerated in damp, cold cells beneath sea level. If only they could take them blankets and food – but the families were not allowed to visit. The fortress was notorious for outbreaks of small pox, pneumonia and typhoid. If Sasha fell ill, he could die.

There had been no word from him since the day of his arrest and the strain was unbearable. Anna saw it on her father and mother’s faces. Papa, always so optimistic, could not bring himself to smile, while Valentina spent days locked in her bedroom. Sofia tried to be brave and kept her fears to herself, but Anna felt her despair. Christmas and New Year went by uncelebrated and days passed that she couldn’t remember at all. She tried to bolster her parents’ spirits but, when she thought of Sasha, her strength deserted her.

Their peaceful, leisured existence was gone forever. Every day, every hour brought fear and dread; yet outside the house, life continued as normal. Society was still in mourning, but sleighs and droshkies crossed the city as people went about their business. How could the world behave as if nothing had changed when her brother’s life hung in the balance? Suspense, sorrow and diminishing hope frayed Anna’s nerves to breaking point. To her parents, the cause of their agony seemed senseless. But Sasha had done what he believed to be right and she could not condemn him.

And then, yesterday they learned that five of the Decembrists, as the Decembrists were now called had been executed: the brilliant, charismatic Pavel Pestel, gentle Muravyov-Apostel, Ryleyev the poet, Bestuzhev-Ryumin and Kakhovsky. Despite pleas of mercy from the empress, there had been no last-minute reprieve. The whole of St. Petersburg was appalled. The hanged men came from some of the noblest families in Russia and been sent to the gallows like common criminals. The news terrified Anna. What would be the sentences for Sasha, Sergei and Peter? Only God could save them now. Was He listening? Did He hear her desperate prayers? She felt as if she was suspended in time, barely alive, waiting for a denouement she was too frightened to contemplate.

*

‘I hear Maria Volkonsky’s returned to the city against her parents’ wishes.’ Count Brianski’s voice broke the silence as they sat in the drawing room later that morning.

‘Maria wants to be close to her husband. It’s understandable,’ Sofia answered.

‘And how will it help him, if she’s not allowed in the Fortress?’ Ivan Brianski was dressed in a smoke-coloured tailcoat and white stockings. He had recovered from his injuries but looked haggard, his eyes sunken beneath their bushy brows. ‘Mind you, the Raevsky family were never sure of Sergei Volkonsky and I don’t blame them. His family has always supported the Romanovs yet he was one of the ring-leaders—’

‘And what about Sasha? Do you judge him any differently?’ Anna interrupted shortly.

‘It’s a comfort for Sasha that I’m nearby,’ Sofia said mildly. ‘I’m glad Maria’s in St. Petersburg. It will help Sergei to know that she hasn’t deserted him.’

‘And then there’s Olga Bulgarin.’ Valentina was standing by a vase of flowers. She absently snapped the wilting head off a bloom, letting a haze of yellow pollen fall through her fingers. ‘I suppose she’ll put an end to her betrothal to Peter Dashkovy.’

Anna heart tightened, but she couldn’t think about Peter now – only Sasha. She glanced nervously at the clock and saw it was past noon already. They had expected Michael earlier. Why was he so late? Did it mean bad news? It had been snowing all morning and large white flakes were piled high on the windowsills. Michael was delayed by the bad weather, she told herself, and began fiddling with her handkerchief. Her fingers worked agitatedly through the lace trim until the doorbell rang downstairs.

A few moments later, Josef ushered Michael into the room, followed by Nicholas and Olga Bulgarin with Maria Volkonsky. Anna was glad to see Maria, but why had the Bulgarins come? Maria was staying with them, she remembered. She must have asked them to accompany her – or else the verdict was so terrible that Michael hadn’t the strength to speak to them on his own.

For a time, good manners demanded a measure of civility. Valentina sent Josef to the kitchen to fetch zakuski along with vodka for the men and cordial for the ladies. The footmen rearranged the furniture at one end of the room so they could all be together. Count and Countess Brianski sat on one sofa, Nicholas and Olga on the other, with Anna, Sofia and Michael in adjacent armchairs.

Nicholas acknowledged Anna with a nod and, as he leant over to speak to Maria, she studied Olga. She wore an elegant green coat with a high collar and sat on the edge of her seat, her expression tense. Despite her dislike of Olga, Anna felt an unexpected burst of sympathy. They both loved Peter and were suffering on his account. This was no time to feel anything as petty as jealousy. Olga glanced at her and gave a tight-lipped smile, but the green eyes revealed nothing. Beside her, Maria looked thin and pale but seemed calm.

Refreshments were passed around and, once the servants had withdrawn, Michael cleared his throat. ‘I’m happy to say that our loved ones have been spared their lives.’

There was an audible release of breath but a chill, like the first wave of fever, made Anna shiver. Michael’s stiff manner and expression signalled more and she waited for him to go on.

‘Alexander Brianski, Peter Dashkovy and Sergei Volkonsky are sentenced to ten years’ hard labour and lifetime exile in Siberia.’

Clearer than day. Blacker than night. Hard labour followed by a life of exile in Siberia! He would not hang, but Sasha was to be taken from them and sent to the ends of the earth. He would never return, never meet his unborn child. Hope vanished like mist before a breeze and Anna saw Sofia’s face crumple. Her parents were clasping hands, Ivan Brianski weeping openly while Valentina’s face was contorted with the effort of keeping her composure.

Michael started to speak again. ‘The tsar has declared official mourning for his brother at an end this Friday—’

But his voice broke and Nicholas Bulgarin took over. ‘A statement has been released to the effect that families of the criminals will suffer no ill consequences. The first convoy leaves for Siberia in two weeks’ time. It’s believed they will work in the silver mines of Nerchinsk.’

Like the moment before thunder, the air in the room seemed to vibrate and darken. Beside Nicholas, Olga was so still she might have been carved out of stone. Nicholas stood up and offered her his hand, but she declined and stayed where she was, staring ahead of her with her lower lip caught between her teeth. Only Maria appeared relatively collected.

After a long silence, she spoke first. ‘I intend to appeal to His Majesty for permission to follow Sergei into exile. Whatever the future holds, I will share it with my beloved husband.’

‘But what about little Nicolenka?’ Anna asked. ‘Are you allowed to take him with you?’

‘I hope so. If not, then I’ll return to collect him. I love my son, but my husband is the one who needs me now.’

‘And I shall do the same!’ Sofia spoke with unusual force. ‘I will go with Sasha into exile. Maria and I will petition the tsar for permission to go to Siberia.’

‘You don’t know what you’re saying!’ Michael Pavel’s arm dropped from Sofia’s shoulders. ‘You can’t give up your life for—’

‘We all need time to reflect,’ Nicholas interposed coolly. ‘Nothing should be decided on the spur of the moment.’

‘This is no sudden impulse,’ Maria responded. ‘Sofia and I are married. We will act according to the law of God, not that of the tsar.’

Nothing will stop Maria from trying to follow Sergei, Anna thought, and Sofia seems equally determined. Is she really going leave us to be with Sasha? She must be mad! How will she ever manage in her condition? And what about Olga? Will she sacrifice her ambition for Peter’s sake? Olga has another suitor. She won’t give up her life for Peter Dashkovy. Lifting her head, she caught Nicholas’s eye across the room. He had an unerring ability to read her mind, but the news was too shocking for her to care what he thought. Sasha and Peter were to be banished for life and she would never see them again.

Anna looked at her parents, clinging on to one another like seafarers in a storm. Michael was speaking quietly into Sofia’s ear. She had her brother to console her, and Nicholas stood between Olga and Maria. He would take care of them, she thought, but there was no one she could turn to for comfort. She had grown up surrounded by love. Now suddenly she felt utterly desolate and alone.

Maria and Olga came over and kissed her cheek and Nicholas took her hand. The despair in her heart must have been palpable for he held it a moment, as if willing her courage. Anna was too stricken to speak or look him in the face. She was aware that the Bulgarins spoke briefly to Sofia and Michael, but when they approached her parents, Count Brianski waved them away and they left the room in silence.