Chapter 1 - Part 5
Sct. Petersburg, Russia, October 25th 1938
Vladimir stood on the deck of the Russian passenger ship Antenor, named after a Greek mythological figure, although Vladimir did not know which one. They had left Lübeck four days earlier after the horrible affair with Anton and the failed assassination.
“Are you alright Meinhard?” Dmitri’s voice startled Vladimir out of his musings about the recent past. “Oh, hello Uncle Helmut.” Vladimir, hurriedly replied. Nicolai had urgently advised them to continue the use of their false identities, even after the business in Lübeck, to ensure that anyone, who did not work with Anton’s unknown employers, would not be able to pose a threat to the group. Vladimir, shocked by what had happened and seriously altering his outlook on who he could and could not trust, had taken the advice speedily. “I am quite fine thank you. Just thinking a bit is all. How is Ernst?” Dmitri shrugged. “Still resting, but the doctor says he will be fine soon enough.” Nicolai had quickly concocted a story about an armed robbery gone horribly wrong, when they had reached the ship, as an explanation on why he had, what appeared to be a fresh bullet wound in his shoulder and a flesh wound in his leg. Although the captain had, at first seemed dubious, he had decided to take them on anyway, after a significant ‘donation’ to the well-being of the ship, from Vladimir. The ship’s doctor had seen to the wounds and they should cease to cause Nicolai any trouble soon, if he rested. To that end, the doctor had given him an injection of a sleeping drug, which had kept him in bed for the last couple of days. When Nicolai had woken up again yesterday, he had been furious about that, but Dmitri had been able to calm him down somehow and the Okhrana captain was now resting in his bed, as a good patient should be.
“However did you manage that anyway?” Vladimir asked, for the twentieth time. He was very curious indeed, as to how his old friend had managed to persuade the hardened agent to stay in his bed, obviously against his own wishes. “He told me about certain duties I have, at some length.” Vladimir turned around in a flash and a smile spread across his face. “Ernst.” He exclaimed although very nearly saying another name. After Nicolai had saved his life in Lübeck, Vladimir had thought a great deal about him and had, in the process, grown rather fond of the man. In the private parts of his mind, he acknowledged that he liked the mysterious agent quite a lot and considered him a trusted ally and perhaps even a friend.
“Glad to see you on your feet again.” He said which made Nicolai throw a glance at Dmitri. “If uncle Helmut here hadn’t told the doctor to give me that injection, I would’ve been on my feet a lot earlier.” Nicolai replied, causing Vladimir to throw a somewhat surprised and amused look at his ‘uncle’. “I see.” He said simply. “And you would have been hampered by those wounds for a long while yet, which might prove detrimental to certain plans, you have for the near future.” Dmitri replied, causing both Vladimir and Nicolai to immediately become serious again. Although Vladimir had ordered Nicolai not to begin his investigations into the identity of Anton’s employers until after the coronation was done, they all knew, that when he began, Nicolai would not rest, until the entire network of traitors had been unraveled, something in which Dmitri and surprisingly to himself, even Vladimir, wholeheartedly supported. To himself Vladimir admitted that he did not want, ever, to become the target of that Iron-willed and cold-hearted determination, with which Nicolai would pursue his enemies. To be honest, what he had seen in the eyes of the captain, back in Lübeck, frightened him quite a bit, although he only admitted as much to himself.
“I know uncle.” Ernst replied and nodded his respect to the old count, before turning his attention to the front. “Look gentlemen.” He said, his voice suddenly hushed and somehow, rather humble. Dmitri and Vladimir turned and what greeted them was a look few men could endure, without feeling a bit awed: Skt. Petersburg in all its glory. Vladimir let out a sigh, part of regret for being away for so long, from the country, which, even though it had caused him so much grief, he still loved with all his heart and part because he knew that the future of said country, would sun rest on his shoulders and its future rely on him.
Soon, individual features began to make their appearance, among them the great Peter and Paul Fortress, for ages the primary coastal defense of the city, but now mainly a prison.
That will change. Vladimir promised himself.
Once more, the might of the fortress shall be a sight to fear for all intruders. The young grand duke knew very well that around the world were many, powerful nations, which might very well someday be counted among the enemies of Russia. And it was his duty to see to it, that none of these enemies would ever be victories in their struggles against the empire.
The Peter and Paul Fortress, named after the cathedral, which stands in it's center.
“We better get ready.” Nicolai said after a few minutes, knowing full well what both Vladimir and Dmitri must be thinking and feeling at the view of the capital. “When we reach the harbor, we have to move quickly.” Vladimir and Dmitri turned towards him. “Remember what I told you, gentlemen.” He said, throwing a quick glance around to ensure they had privacy. “The streets of Skt. Petersburg are not safe for the time being. When I left, there were rioters in the streets and rebellion lured just beneath the surface. The doctor, when he checked on me earlier today, told me that things have not improved in the least.” He hesitated. “In fact he told me that the Republican Guard has been called in to secure the peace.” Vladimir was stunned. “He has sent in the Guard against civilians?” They all knew, who he meant by ‘he’ and Nicolai nodded. “Obviously. This means that the situation is even more insecure now, as there might be street battles between rioters and armed troops. We have to be very careful. Once we reach the palace of St. Michael, I can gain us entrance, I hope, by using my Okhrana credentials. But getting there might not be easy.” Both Vladimir and Dmitri nodded. Getting through a city filled with rioters and nervous soldiers would not be easy indeed and they simply
had to get safely to the palace. The future of Russia depended on it. “Well?” Vladimir asked, “let’s go then.”
About half an hour later, the Altenor had docked and the passengers, including Nicolai, Vladimir and Dmitri, were leaving the ships to set foot in the highly unsafe city. Nicolai turned at once towards the nearest taxi-parking with the others close on his tail. “We’ll go first to a safe house I know.” Nicolai had said, earlier on the ship. “There will be a car we can use, to get further towards the palace. It will get us as close as we can and we simply have to make the best way after that.” They found a taxi rather easily and although nervous about it, the driver agreed to take them to the address he was given, although he did warn them that the neighborhood wasn’t the safest to be in at the time being. Still, he got them there without incident, although they did see quite a few groups of people eyeing them suspiciously, as they drove past them. “Here you are sirs.” The taxi driver said when they arrived and they paid him the agreed-upon money, which was, in fact, quite a bit more than the usually price. The three men quickly left the taxi and Nicolai lead the way through an alley to a door. “We’ll go through here, to the garage in the other street.” He said and led them through a series of small hallways through the building and into a garage, which held a black car. Nicolai mumbled something satisfying, when they entered the garage and Vladimir suspected that the captain hadn’t been entirely sure that the car would be here after all, but who could blame him. “Get in and I’ll get the door.” Nicolai said. After a few moments, he had opened the door and quickly drove out the car, exiting only to reclose the garage door behind them. When he was back behind the steering wheel, he turned around, to face Dmitri and Vladimir in the back. “I know a few ways through the city, which should take us rather close to the palace, without detection.” He said and Vladimir nodded. “But after that, we have to take our chances in the open.” They quickly sped off and made their way through a series of rather narrow roads and even a few back alleys, making Vladimir become hopelessly lost within a few minutes. After a while, they came out to a big road, which Vladimir recognized as the one leading to the palace of St. Michael. “Alright, stay sharp back there.” Nicolai warned, as he continued out on the street. To their left, which was the direction of the castle, they immediately began hearing shouts and yells and turning to look, they saw a crowd of several thousand demonstrators, screaming something, which to Vladimir sounded like: “Down with the president, down with Denikin!”
Oh God. He thought,
It’s even worse than I imagined. Further away, on the other side of the crowd, they could see mounted guardsmen, trying to stem the advance of the rioters. “Alright.” Nicolai said, “I’ll take another road and come out behind those guardsmen, then we might make it to the palace.” Without waiting for a reply, he quickly sped forward down another side street, narrowly missing another group of people, seemingly trying to catch up with the first. Without slowing, Nicolai continued and made a sharp turn down another street. For a few minutes, this madness continued, as Nicolai, showing his high skill at driving took them down another series of small streets and then out onto the large one they had just left and smack into a large group of guards, who quickly aimed their rifles at them. “Shit.” Nicolai exclaimed. “Get out of the car!” One man, an officer bearing the insignias of a lieutenant called at them. “And get your hands up!” eying the rifles pointing in their direction, the three men quickly decided that they had very little choice in the matter and exited the car, holding their hands were the lieutenant could see them. “Who are you?” He asked, his question made in the form of a crisp, military command. Nicolai responded. “I am Captain Nicolai Amenikov of the Okhrana. I am leading two very important people to the palace.” The lieutenant eyed him, suddenly a bit less sure of himself than before. “Can you prove that?” he asked, still in a tone of command. He was obviously very nervous about the whole situation, not the least because of the thousands of people, his detachment was currently trying to keep at bay. “I have identification in my pocket.” Nicolai said and the lieutenant nodded to one of his soldiers. “Get it private.” The soldier cocked his rifle and went over to Nicolai, who nodded towards one of his pockets. Taking out the papers, the private went back to the lieutenant, who quickly read them through. “Very well captain, I can see you are, who you claim you are.” He said, as he handed back the papers and motioned for his people to lower their weapons. “But you cannot get to the palace.” Nicolai looked at him sharply. “There are another group, much larger than this one, between us and there, sir.” The lieutenant explained. “And I have orders to hold this section. I cannot spare any men to help you.” Nicolai seemed very unpleased at that, but kept quiet, obviously trying to think of a way to get through.
Vladimir waited for a few moments and stepped forward, motioning to ward off Nicolai, who was about to protest. “Lieutenant.” Vladimir said, his voice calm. “Do you have any idea, who I am?” The lieutenant looked at him puzzled and shook his head, eyeing Nicolai. “Tell him captain.” Vladimir said and Nicolai, although at first staying silent, looking at Vladimir, then nodded and turned his attention back to the lieutenant. “What is your name, lieutenant?” he asked. “Shumenko.” The lieutenant answered. “Lieutenant Segiy Shumenko.” It was an Ukrainian name, although this did not surprise Nicolai, since Ukraine had been part of the republic for some time now and no matter what, many Ukrainians had lived inside the republic, even before that. “Well, then Lieutenant Shumenko.” Nicolai said his voice very, very serious. “What you are about to hear is considered a state secret, do you understand? If for any reason, you divulge this information to anyone else, you will be found and executed for treason.” The lieutenant looked at Nicolai surprised. “Surely you cannot…” He began, but Nicolai interrupted him. “I can and I will.” With that, he held out a hand towards Vladimir. “You have the honor to address, the Grand Duke Vladimir Cyrillovich Romanov.” He said simply and the lieutenant’s face paled to an absolute white, while he stared first at Nicolai and then at Vladimir. “Your Highness.” He exclaimed, his voice a mere whisper from shock. “I take it you know, why I am here lieutenant Shumenko?” Vladimir asked and got a stunned nod in reply. “Then you must also know the vital necessity of me reaching the palace unharmed as soon as humanly possible.” Again, all he got was a nod. “Then lieutenant, although I cannot command you as yet, I strongly suggest that you immediately form up your men, to escort me and my companions to the Palace of St. Michael.” The lieutenant looked at him. “But my orders, Your Highness.” He said, not entirely sure what to do. “I could get shot for this.” Vladimir nodded. “You will receive a full pardon by the president, as soon as we have spoken with him, lieutenant. I give you my word.” Lieutenant Shumenko seemed to consider his options for a moment and then reached a conclusion. “Sergeant Lebedev!” he called out and one of the men a bit away called out in reply. “Form up the troops, we are leaving at once!” The sergeant complied and soon the soldiers were ready to move out, forming up around the black car in their middle, which they knew very little about, but which their commander had given them strict orders to protect, whatever the cost. While keeping the demonstrators and rioters at bay, the group of about three hundred armed men, slowly made their way towards the palace, forcefully removing any and all opposition to their progress. “We will be there soon, captain.” The lieutenant said in through the window at the car, which he was walking next to. Nicolai nodded. A few shots were fired, to head off the more serious opposition, but as of yet, the citizens of Skt. Petersburg did not have the stomach to take on a full detachment of the Republican Guard, when the latter seemed determined to get through.
Mounted troops of the Republican Guard, taken at night.
As the lieutenant had predicted, they soon came to the palace, but between them and their destination was a huge crowd of people. “Form up!” The lieutenant yelled out his command. “Push forward!” The next part was unpleasant to say the least, but Vladimir forced himself to watch as numerous people were either forcefully pushed away or simply ridden down by the mounted troops in front.
This will have to end. he thought and was about to exit the car, but found that he was held back by Dmitri. “No Vova.” Dmitri said. It was a nickname he very rarely used and Vladimir sank back in his seat. “You cannot save them.” Dmitri continued. “But you may doom us, if you try. Get to the palace and talk to the marshal. That is the only way to end this madness.” Vladimir nodded. He knew as much already, although he could not help the tears that flowed down his face, from the many deaths and injuries he was causing. Dmitri eyed him seriously. “You will have saved so many more, when this is all over Vova.” He said and Vladimir nodded again. He watched in silence, as the troops forced their way forward and silently vowed to himself:
Never again.
They finally reached the lines of the Republican Guards, defending the palace. The lieutenant quickly dispersed his men to take up defensive positions and then led Vladimir and his companions towards the entrance. Before they got there, they were intercepted by an enraged colonel. “What in the Nine hells do you think you’re during lieutenant!” he screamed, spit flying from his mouth, as he was unable to control himself. The lieutenant, unable and unwilling to talk back to a commanding officer, kept silent. “I shall have you shot for this! I…” Vladimir interrupted. “Be silent colonel.” He said his voice cold and hard. What he had just endured left him with absolutely no patience for angry officers. In his mind, he could see the dead bodies, as the car passed them by and the screams of the wounded still went on, to his inner ear. The colonel turned to him. “Who the hell do you think you are?!” He screamed, possibly even angrier than before. “Vladimir Cyrillovich Romanov.” Vladimir stated simply, locking eyes with the colonel, who had very suddenly fallen silent, his eyes bulging and his mouth open. “I am here to meet with Marshal Denikin.” The colonel’s mouth open and closed, but no sound came out, as he simply stood there, staring at the grand duke in front of him. “Very well then.” Vladimir continued and turned to Shumenko. “Lieutenant, please proceed.” The lieutenant, staring first at his colonel and then at Vladimir, snapped to attention. “Yes Your Highness.” He snapped and turned on his heel, to lead them past the guards, those of whom, who had overheard Vladimir, staring at him as if he had just grown ten feet tall and sprouted wings. Their eyes silently followed the Grand Duke, as they let him pass and then formed up around him and his companions, with no one, least of all the still flabbergasted colonel, countermanding their decision.
As they reached the doors, the guards defending it, eyed the lieutenant, which by now had regained his confidence, perhaps partly due to the fifty or so soldiers, following him in straight ranks, forming a protective barrier around the people in their middle. “Move aside.” The lieutenant stated simply, as they made to move in front of him and seeing that he had no intention of stopping, the guards did just that, not knowing what else to do.
Marshal Anton Denikin, president of the Republic of Russia, was not a pleased man. From his office in the presidential palace, he was looking out over the masses of demonstrators, screaming for his head. “What are your orders Mr. President?” The voice, coming from behind him, called Denikin back to attention. “What order is there to give, Marshal?” He asked simply and looked at his Chief of Staff, Field Marshal Wrangel. “I will not command the troops to open fire into the crowd. They may rebellious, but these are the people of Russia, we’re talking about. Besides, I’m pretty certain that most of the troops would not obey the order.” He turned back to the window. “Look at them marshal, they are the people of Russia, the citizens of Skt. Petersburg, but more than that, they are the fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers of the soldiers standing against them. Some of them at least, anything else would be ludicrous.” Behind him, Wrangel agreed. “You are right Mr. President.” He said, “In fact, the desertions have increased in number. Obviously, many of the soldiers do not want to have to face their families and friends across the barrel of a rifle.” Denikin nodded. “Who can blame them?” He asked to no one in particular.
He was interrupted by a knock on the door and his private secretary opened. “There are someone to see you Mr. President.” The secretary said, her voice sounding somewhat shaken. Denikin looked at her and noticed that she seemed rather shocked and even a bit afraid.
What is this? Denikin thought,
Not the rioters surely, or I would have known. “Who is it then?” He asked, “A Lieutenant Segiy Shumenko, sir, of the Republican Guard.”
A lieutenant, what on earth? “What does he want, this lieutenant?” Denikin looked at his secretary, who was usually very professional. He had never seen her like this before.
What is happening? “I think you better talk to him yourself sir.” His secretary replied and without waiting for confirmation opened the door further. Denikin was shocked, to say the least, he had never experienced anything like this from his secretary, who was the best of her kind, hence her position. “What in…” he began, but fell silent, as a young man in the uniform of the Republican Guard and wearing the insignia of a lieutenant entered. He too looked visibly shaken and his eyes darted from the president to Wrangel, the sight of the latter, which made the lieutenant pale even more. Before Denikin could demand any explanation however, three more men entered the room, two of them rather young, while the last one seemed to be in his fifties. By now, the president was on the verge of exploding. Never, in his entire career, had he experienced such audacity. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” He said, “I demand an explanation.” Before any of them could speak, however, Field Marshal Wrangel did so. “Your Highness.” He exclaimed, causing Denikin to look at him and then back at the three men. One of them, the youngest-looking of the three, replied to Wrangel’s exclamation with a nod. “Indeed Count Wrangel.” He replied, surprising Denikin with the use of the field marshal’s noble title, which he had all but forgotten about.
Highness. he thought and suddenly stared at the young man.
Then he must be… “Greetings President Denikin.” The young man said and Denikin nodded, too surprised to do anything else. “I am Grand Duke Vladimir Cyrillovich Romanov. I have been informed that you would like to see me?” Once more, Denikin simply nodded.
...The Grand Duke.
“See you? Oh, yes, yes.” Denikin had indeed ordered the Okhrana to find Vladimir and persuade him to return to Russia, but he hadn’t really believed it possible, after all that had happened during the civil war and after. The two men quickly got to talking and spent the next couple of hours discussing what to do, how to do it and so forth. While Count Dmitri Yuriev, as he had been introduced, much to Denikin’s annoyance stayed at the side of the Grand Duke and counseled him during the discussion, the President found, even more to his dismay, that Vladimir Romanov was a very shrewd negotiator to say the least. In fact, even though he had imagined a kind of constitutional monarchy, with himself being the real power and Vladimir as a mere figurehead, he found himself backed into a corner with no way out. “It is very simple marshal.” Vladimir said, having long since stopped using the presidential title, as part of the psychology of the talks. “The people wishes for a strong monarchy to secure the nation and lead Russia into the future. They are demanding a return of their Tsar, not a petty king or emperor, who is simply a tool of greedy men, who think only of themselves and not of Russia. I will give them what they ask. That is why I am here.” Denikin had retorted. “And what if I do not agree to this
Your Highness?” He used the title insultingly, trying to remind the young upstart, just who he was speaking with.
“Then I will leave this office and proclaim my identity to the people.” Vladimir had stated and in a split second, Denikin knew he had lost. If Vladimir were to do what he said, the people would storm the palace. Denikin had eyed Wrangel and noting the look in his eyes, when he eyed the Grand Duke, knew that he could not prevent Vladimir from carrying out his threat. If he tried, or so he believed, Wrangel might very well support Vladimir and all would be lost. “And you will keep me as chancellor, Your Highness?” Vladimir nodded with a smile on his face.
He knows he has won. Denikin thought “Of course marshal.” Vladimir said, “You know more about the status of Russia and the affairs of the government, than I do for the time being. I will need your advice.”
Advice Denikin though.
So that’s it, I am demoted from president to Imperial Advisor. He knew he had no choice however and nodded his agreement. “I agree Your Highness, it shall be as you request.” Vladimir nodded and smiled. “But how then, do we inform the people? We can hardly go out onto the balconies, as we might get shot down by someone and we can’t leave the palace.” Vladimir’s smile nearly turned into a grin, as he turned towards the last man, whom Denikin still didn’t know. “Captain, if you please.” Vladimir said and the man nodded and left the office. “I think what I have in mind will do the job perfectly marshal.” Vladimir said and arose. He went over to the window, Denikin close behind him. For about ten or so minutes, nothing happened. “What are we waiting for?” Denikin asked and, after a rather insisting cough from behind him, most likely from the Count Yuriev, added: “Your Highness.” Vladimir held up a hand to silence him, making Denikin’s anger flare up again.
Who dare he! he thought, but kept it inside. At least for the time being, he had to play the Grand Duke’s game.
But not for long. Not for long. “There marshal, do you see it?” Vladimir nodded down at the crowds, surrounding the palace and Denikin noticed that the shouting had died down. “What is happening Your Highness?” he asked, truly bewildered. “The people have just received some very good news, I imagine.” Vladimir replied, smiling again. “They just need a little time to understand it, that’s all.”
Down on the street, the people, furious already, had been whipped into near frenzy by the arrival of the Republican Guards Detachment, who had forced their way through, by the gun, if necessary. It was all the guards could do, to keep the people from assaulting the palace and the situation had been highly unstable ever since. But then, several hours after the incident, a hush seemed to come over the people all at once, making the guards nervous. Then, one after the other turned his head to look in the direction, which seemed to hold the attention of the crowd. From every flagpole on the palace roof, the republican flag was slowly lowered, only to be replaced with another flag, moments later. Muttering spread among the crowd, as they took in this development, trying to figure out what was happening. And then, suddenly, a window in the top floor of the palace opened. A voice could be heard, calling through some sort of speaker:
“Long Live Vladimir Romanov! Long Live the Tsar!”
Imperial flag of Russia, the sign of a new age.