Chapter I - Going to War

Tsarskoe Selo, Russia, 16 December 1914

 

Vladimir

 

It was still dark when Prince Vladimir Pavlovich Paley rose from his bed. He had asked his valet to wake him up at 5, but he didn’t have to wait for him. In fact, he hardly slept at all on that dreadful evening. The palace was dead quiet and he could only hear the sound of the snowflakes, tapping gently at his window. He walked the short distance that separated him from the window and tried to look at the garden outside, but it was still too dark to distinguish anything, except for the growing snow pile on his balcony.

 

After a while, he turned back and sat on the edge of his bed. He lit his table lamp and looked at his watch. It was still 4 in the morning, which meant it was too late to go back to sleep, but too early to go downstairs. With nothing else to do, he just starred at his pristine uniform, which one of the maids had hung beside his bed the previous evening. He didn’t want to put it on yet, because he had promised his father he would wait for him to help. He was also going to be responsible for putting on his insignias, orders and epaulettes. A symbolic gesture before they said their farewells.  

 

It wasn’t the first time he was forced to leave his family because of his military career. He was just 11 years-old when, with little experience of the world outside Paris and Biarritz, he was sent alone with his tutor to Russia, the homeland of his parents, to start his military training at Corps des Pages. It had been a terrifying experience at first, a complete shock even. In Paris, he had his own room, private lessons with a tutor and servants to attend to his every need. He had never given much thought to how privileged his life was until he arrived in St. Petersburg and was told he had to live in a barrack which he had to share with nineteen other boys of the same age. Although they were all born in rich families (Corps des Pages was an exclusive military academy for the sons of aristocrats and noblemen), the boys slept in camp beds in an enormous open space which offered little protection from the biter Russian winter. Whoever complained about it was treated to extreme punishments that included beatings from the officers or running around in the snow. Vladimir never thought about complaining and was a hard worker, so he became quite popular among his teachers and fellow trainees. All in all, although it had been a difficult adjustment, it never felt like something real. Sometimes it could even be fun. What now awaited him at front was the real thing.

 

There were even some of his friends who were already fighting. One of his best friends and fellow soldier from the Corps des Pages, Prince Andrei Alexandrovich, was one of them. Born just a few days after him, he was the Tsar’s nephew, the son of his sister Xenia, and had been one of the first of their class to do leave, just a couple of weeks after the war had started. Andrei’s uncle had sped up his promotion and graduation from the academy so that he could accompany his father, Grand Duke Alexander, to Kiev, in the Ukraine. Another cousin, Prince Oleg Constantinovich, had been killed in action, just two months earlier.

 

At exactly 4:30, Vladimir heard a knock on the door. When he opened it, he found his father, already dressed in his own uniform, and his valet, standing next to him. Before he was able to utter a single word, his father stepped forward and held him in his arms.

 

“Let me hold you, my dear child,” he whispered into his ear, “before your mother wakes up and takes you all to herself.”

 

His father was a kind person, but he was also extremely reserved. Although he always had a word of encouragement and affection for his children, he was rather distant when it came to physical demonstrations, which made the embrace all the more unexpected and touching. Vladimir managed to hold back his feelings, but, as soon as his father let go of him, he could see his eyes shining with tears he tried to conceal. His valet, who was standing just behind him, was not so restrained. He was already taking out his handkerchief to wipe his eyes.

 

After the first emotional moment was over, the valet stepped forward and helped Vladimir get into his uniform. Every step of the procedure was done slowly and carefully, almost in a ceremonial way. Once he was dressed, his father went over to his desk and grabbed the wood boxes where his orders, insignias and epaulets were stored. He took them out, one by one, and placed them on his chest, following meticulously their order of importance.

 

The entire procedure didn’t take more than thirty minutes, but it had felt like much longer. Once they were done, his father made the sign of the cross over his head, gave him his blessing and held him one more time and his valet did the same. The time had come for them to say their goodbyes. Vladimir and his family would attend a church service at 6am and, after that, he would have to catch his train to the front. His valet had offered to accompany him, but Vladimir felt like it wouldn’t set a good example to the other soldiers. War was a serious business. One that didn’t allow perks.

 

After they parted with the valet, Vladimir and his father made their way downstairs, to their private dining-room, where they would have their last breakfast together in a long time. There, already in their places, they found his mother and his two little sisters. As soon as he walked in, Irina and Natalia came rushing towards him and clasped him tightly into their tiny arms. His mother was waiting behind them, tears already pouring down her face. Vladimir set his sisters aside gently and went over to her.

 

“What is this, mama?” He asked her with a soft smile. “You almost make it look like I’m a dying man, already!”

 

She shook her head violently and buried her eyes into her soaked handkerchief.

 

“Don’t you dare using that word, Bodia! You’ll break your poor mama’s heart. Whatever is left of it in any case.”

 

Vladimir tried to laugh. He took his own handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his mother’s tears away with it. The scene was already proving too violent for the girls who were exchanging terrified glances between their mother and brother. His father was next them, with an arm resting on the shoulders of each girl.

 

“Come now then. Let’s not think of disagreeable things. Let’s make this meal a pleasant one, as if I was going nowhere and this was just another ordinary day!”

 

His mother nodded slowly and Vladimir accompanied her back to her place. He tried to remain cheerful throughout the entire meal, even though he grew more restless as the minutes went by. The worst of it all was really to leave his family behind. He didn’t care much about what might happen to him, but it pained him to think of what it might do to his mother and sisters.

 

***

At exactly 5:45am, they left the palace and walked the short distance that separated them from the church. It was still dark and bitterly cold, but at least it wasn’t snowing anymore. Irina and Natalia ran ahead of them, throwing snowballs at each other and the rest of them, seemingly oblivious to the seriousness of the situation. At any other time, their parents would probably scold them and tell them to behave, but their shrieks of delight were the only thing that made their dreadful walk bearable.

 

When they walked into the church, they all took their hats off and bowed in respect. After that, they made the sign of the cross and prayed quietly for a little while. As they were doing so, his mother went off to get candles for them all.

 

At that hour, they had expected to be alone for the service, but there were already two Red Cross nurses standing near the altar. They walked slowly towards the altar and were surprised when both nurses left their place immediately and went over to them. They didn’t recognize them at first, because of the uniforms, but, as soon as they did, his mother made a deep curtsey and his father exclaimed:

 

“Am I seeing this right? Is this Alix?”

 

One of the nurses was Anna Vyrubova, the sister of their brother Alexander’s wife. The other, was the Empress, who gave them a warm smile and nodded her head.

 

“It is indeed.” She said, in her soft, low voice. “I hope you don’t mind us being here. Nicky told me your son was leaving for the front today and I had to come to say my goodbyes and wish him well.”

 

His father shook his head and stood aside to let Vladimir pass. He walked over to her slowly and nervously. Even though he had lived in Russia since he was 11, he had never seen the Empress this close, only from a safe distance at public events. She had always struck him as being somewhat cold and distant, but, when he stepped forward, she immediately kissed him on the cheek and made the sign of the cross over his head.

 

“You are the pride and joy of this country. The Emperor and I will pray for your safe return.”

 

Vladimir nodded and kissed the Empress’ hand in return. She then called Anna Vyrubova to move forward. She took two items out of her hands and showed them to him.

 

“These are two small tokens I would like to give you.” She said as she put each of them into his hands. “It’s an ikon of Saint Michael and a prayer book, to keep you safe at the front. I have given these to all family members who have left. It’s a small thing, but I trust it will make you remember that we think of you all and the dangers you are putting yourselves through for the sake of Russia.”

 

For the second time that morning, Vladimir felt tears in his eyes. He kissed the Empress’ hand once again and thanked her from all his heart. He didn’t dare to look at his mother then. She could only hear her sobs behind him.

 

After this brief interchange, the priest appeared and the service began. The Empress and Anna Vyrubova stayed with them throughout the entire ceremony. In the end, the priest blessed Vladimir in the altar and they all said a special prayer for him. He then followed him to make his confession.

 

When he returned, only his family was there. After he finished his prayers, they all went outside, where the sun was rising. They didn’t have much time to admire it. They were already running late when they squeezed into his father’s car, which was waiting for them outside the church. The journey until the train station was made in the deepest silence, broken only at times by his mother’s sobs.

 

When they arrived to the platform, his train was already waiting. He kissed both of his sisters, held his mother in his arms for a very long time and then, finally, went over to his father. He handed him the only bag he was taking with him and kissed his forehead.

 

“I have talked to the Empress.” He whispered into his ear. “She’s going to talk with the Emperor. It is possible that he will grant me a commission. If he does, we’ll see each other very soon, I promise.”

 

Vladimir looked at his father with a mix of joy and worry. His father’s health had not been good for a few months, which was way the Tsar had decided not to send him to front. Of course, he would be delighted to be with his father and share his burden with him, but not at the cost of his health. He wanted to tell him not to worry, but the train began to whistle. He was immediately rushed inside by his father and, the next minute, he was already taking a seat by the window.

 

His family stood on the platform, waving at him until the train began to move slowly. After, he could only see his sister Natalia, running as fast as she could behind the train. She was shouting something, but he could not understand what she said. She stopped at the edge and continued to wave. That was the last image he saw, before the train entered the tunnel.