The Last Romanov (30 page)

Clad in the Tsarina's once white tulle gown that had inherited the dusty shade of the roads she traveled, Darya sets her valise down and leans on the Tsar's cane, the double-headed eagles, the shaft smooth with the patina of time and polishing oils. She is home at last. Tired from days of traveling from Ekaterinburg to the Crimea to Biaroza and back again. A month away from home seems like an eternity, and she expects to find her Entertainment Palace surrounded by a hostile army, even razed by one or another political faction. Instead, a few birch and linden saplings and a handful of cedars raise their emerald shoots out of the earth, startling the gray landscape of her coffee bushes.

She inhales deeply, surprised to find the air laced with the sweet vanilla and chocolate scent of the coffee Little Servant brews for her, rather than the stink of rot that the hallucinogenic berries have a way of scattering in all directions.

She lifts her suitcase and takes a few steps toward her home, a breeze sighing about the treetops. She gazes up at the scattering of white clouds overhead. A change is in the air, a damp drift that foretells rain. The chatter of birds reminds her of the birds of paradise, and she wonders whether they, too, were forced to readjust their loyalties.

She is startled by the sight of two people walking out of the gateway to her back garden, a swirl of white butterflies on their trail. Her butterflies are not social creatures. Why, then, are they out en masse as if drawn to some fragrant nectar? Who are these strangers with wide-brimmed hats concealing their faces, a veil tossed over the face of one?

Darya retreats into the tree boundary surrounding the vast grounds of her palace and shades her eyes against the sun to take a better look.

The outlines of the intruders move seamlessly under loose, capelike coats with flowing sleeves as they continue to glide ahead, one adjusting the veil, the other waving a hand in front to clear their field of vision. They amble through the bushes, cats and wild civets weaving in and out of their legs. They stop to study the crumbling façade of the palace, gaze up behind them to appraise the gathering clouds on the horizon, then take their time to stroll around, as if surveying the grounds.

Are they waiting for her, Darya wonders? She pinches her cheeks to instigate a blush, pats her hair into place, and brushes leaves off her skirt. What a useless act, she muses, to tidy herself in case of company. Avram is dead. Alexei is imprisoned in his own world. The Ancient One has abandoned her. Who else is left to pay her a visit?

The strangers come to a stop in front of the house, and as if on cue, the door opens and out walks Little Servant, wrapped in a blanket and shivering uncontrollably. A metal watering can in hand, he glances this way and that as if to make sure his mistress has not returned and is not watching him. The two flank him like angels or thieves, collaborators perhaps in a plot as he kneels down, pries the can open, and places the lid at his feet. He pours liquid from the can over a bush. He plunges his hand under the folds of his blanket and pulls out a small box, strikes a match, holds up the flame like a miniature beacon, the breeze transporting the smell of phosphorous. He drops the match on the gasoline-saturated bush. He empties the can, striking match after match while the couple fan the growing flames with their flowing sleeves.

Darya sits on her suitcase, concealed behind the gathering of trees. She stares into the fire as if she is young again and gazing into Rasputin's unforgiving eyes, which had the power to thrust her into her past life and into a fire of death and renewal. The steady rhythm of her heart drowns out the chirping of birds, the yowl of cats and wild civets. All she hears is the blood running strong in her veins.

Little Servant picks handfuls of coffee cherries off the bushes, tosses them on the sputtering fire, upends the can of gasoline, and steps back. A sudden flare blooms like a corsage of red roses, and the plump cherries melt like sugar in hot tea, the sap snaking in and around shrubs, stumps, and saplings, making its way toward the foundation of the Entertainment Palace.

Darya is startled into action. She steps out from behind the trees to hurry ahead and stop the fire from consuming her home. She hesitates, settles back on her suitcase. She sees no reason to save a home that has inherited the stench of her memories, neither is she in a hurry to retrieve the rest of the Romanov jewels that remain concealed under the wooden floor planks in the cellar. What use would these jewels be to the Tsarevich now? She thinks of her friends, the beady-eyed rats that have grown fat on stolen provisions. She thinks of the ambergris, thankful she had the foresight to deliver a large part of it to the Tsarevich. But most of all she thinks of her portrait on the mantelpiece in the upstairs salon, a gift of love from Avram. This she will certainly miss.

The silence is broken by an explosion of slick, golden flames that illuminate the surroundings, the crackle of bushes, the wails of cats and wild civets, the cacophony of birds, and the squeal of squirrels. A flock of birds bursts out of the branches and soars overhead, disoriented in the fragrant smoke and flames that hiss and dance in concert.

Her butterflies, wings rainbows of livid colors, soar to unimaginable heights and disappear from her field of vision. Are they gone, her butterflies? Left without a flutter of a farewell? And then she sees them appear from behind a low cloud, a flurry of white snowflakes floating down toward her, adorning her ermine collar, enfolding her arms and shoulders, crowning her hair, and cascading over her curls like dazzling bridal veils.

Little Servant is astonished at the ferocious determination of the blaze to clear everything in its path. His intention was to light a small bonfire to warm himself, but this beastly fire seems to have a will of its own, spreading uncontrollably in all directions.

He flings his blanket into the flames and flees toward the city.

Darya's gaze follows her servant's flight into Ekaterinburg, a city of cement and concrete, a city of shame teeming with an amnesic generation that keeps igniting mindless wars that will devastate for centuries.

The strangers, with their cloaks as graceful as diaphanous wings, continue to amble around the grounds, as if enjoying the vista of burning saplings, flaming birch, the smoldering of every blessing and sin in their path.

Darya lifts her suitcase, steps into the open, waves, and calls out, “Who are you?”

They beckon to her as they stride toward the flames, their flapping cloaks and sleeves scattering delicious warmth her way. One raises an arm and gestures toward her with open palm. The other flings the veil back with one fluid motion. Darya recognizes her mother's face that is dazzled by the flames and her father's inviting smile, before the two hold hands and walk into the fire.

A delicious breeze strokes Darya's cheeks as if the blaze has opened a door. She is hesitant, uncertain what she might find on the other side of the door, whether it will be better than what she will leave behind. Rasputin had prophesied that she would be doomed to come back again and again until she rights the wrongs committed in her other life. Has she? Did she turn her back on Alexei? She is not certain.

She snaps her purse open and rifles inside for any cash. Enough to purchase a train ticket back to Biaroza. She lifts her suitcase and raises a hand in a gesture of farewell to her parents.

Then he emerges. Avram Bensheimer. As if summoned by some incantation, he ambles toward her with that feline stride that challenges gravity, staring into her face with those green-flecked eyes, tall and defiant as she had seen him for the first time in the St. Petersburg court. His shoulder-grazing hair reflects the colors of his palette; his crooked smile appears the instant he catches sight of her. He comes closer, nodding his salutations, gesturing to the opal wedding band on her finger, promising her that this time is different and that he will not lose this last chance to be with her.

When I embarked on writing my first two novels,
Harem
and
Courtesan
, I did not know where and how my story would begin, nor did I know when and how it would end. Yet, I was intimately familiar with my main characters, with their looks, their likes and dislikes, strengths and weaknesses, and their many eccentricities. I also knew they were determined individuals, even if I was unaware yet of the extent of their bullish tenacity. Having been blessed with a colorful cast of eccentric family members, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends, I've gathered a treasure-trove of fodder to draw from, all types of traits that would find home in my protagonists, men and women, who led me through the ups and downs of their lives, surprising me at every page. And I utterly enjoyed the element of surprise, the excitement of not knowing what they would do next and how their story would unfold.

But the way I came to write
The
Last
Romanov
was quite different.

I was introduced to the shattered, acid-drenched, and burned bones of my main characters, the last Romanovs, on July 18, 1991, after the dissolution of the Soviet Union and the fall of Communism. The advent of
Perestroika
by Gorbachev and the policy of openness enabled the government to announce to the world that the remains of the Romanovs were discovered after seventy-three-years. Yet, the mystery surrounding the 1918 Bolshevik executions of the Tsar Nicholas II, Tsarina Alexandra, and their five children remained unsolved. About one thousand bone fragments were exhumed, but only nine skulls discovered, whereas eleven people—the Romanov Family and four servants—had been murdered in the cellar of the Ipatiev House in Ekaterinburg. Russian scientists began the lengthy process of skeleton identification. With the help of photographic superimposition, initial tests concluded that the missing bodies were those of the Grand Duchess Maria and the Tsarevich Alexei. Another forensic team, this one American, travelled to Ekaterinburg in 1992 to analyze the dental and bone specimens. This time, it was concluded that the missing daughter was Anastasia. To make sure, a Russian DNA specialist took some of the bones to Britain for genetic testing. The mitochondrial DNA—passed down only through the female line and sharply dissimilar from one family to another—from the remains of the Tsarina and three children were compared with that of Prince Philip, the Duke of Edinburgh, whose maternal grandmother, Princess Victoria of Hesse, was Alexandra's sister. The match was identical.

I was captivated by every emerging detail that raised one question after another. Why did the Tsar neglect to care for his teeth, while the Tsarina had sophisticated dental work, even porcelain crowns? Who was this cold-blooded Yakov Yurovsky, the primary Bolshevik executioner, who left a note, detailing the executions, in addition to the gory details of the destruction of the bodies? How and why would the mysterious Grigori Rasputin, known as the mad monk, find such great favor with the Imperial Family? Was he a man of God, a charlatan, or a sorcerer? Was it true he caused the downfall of the three hundred-year-old Romanov Dynasty? But the most pressing question gnawing at me was the looming mystery of the missing remains of the Tsarevich Alexei Nikolaevich. Did he survive? And if so, would he be in a position to reinstate the Romanov dynasty?

I have often asked this same question, albeit in another form, in the context of another revolution, which I witnessed in my own lifetime. Thirty-two-years have passed since the 1979 Islamic Revolution of Iran and the overthrow of the Pahlavi Dynasty. I spent my formative years in Iran. I remember well, the day my life changed in profound ways. Huddled around the TV screen, my family and I watched the Ayatollah Khomeini step onto the tarmac at the Mehrabad airport. His dark, glaring stare and condemnatory wave dismissed Mohammad Reza Shah and ushered in an era of chaos and uncertainty.

Now, after more than three decades in America, I am a changed woman, an American author with the freedom to write honestly without fear of censorship, without fear of imprisonment. With the freedom to ask “what if?” What if the Islamic Republic is overthrown? What if the Pahlavi Dynasty is reinstated?

Questions about the possibility of the fall of Communism and the reinstating of the Romanov Dynasty became tantalizing seeds that bloomed into a novel. I chose 1991, the year the Romanov bones were discovered, as the opening and closing of my novel that spans the life–one hundred and four years—of my main character. So, although the missing remains of Alexei and one of his sisters were discovered in 2007, while I was still in the process of writing the book, I saw no need to alter the storyline. As always, drawing from the amalgam of different cultures I experienced, I weaved my own fictional protagonists, such as the opal-eyed Darya Borisovna and the Jewish artist Avram Bensheimer, among epic historical figures. And as always, I allowed myself a measure of authorial liberty, imagining a meeting between the young Nicholas and Alexis in the Belovezh Forest or an anniversary in the fictional Entertainment Palace in Ekaterinburg.

After extensive research, I became intimately familiar with Tsar Nicholas II and Tsarina Alexandra Feodorovna, the four Grand Duchesses, and Alexei, the hemophilic heir to the throne. I learned about Alexandra and Nicholas's great love for each other, which might have been another cause for their downfall, how their only son's suffering affected their private lives, the political future of Russia, and arguably the entire world. Against the backdrop of one of the most tumultuous political eras in Russian history, years of unrest, a chain of revolutions, the Russo-Japanese War, World War I, and the Bolshevik uprising, I set out to give the reader an intimate understanding of a decadent court steeped in myth, superstition, and denial.

1. When we first meet Darya, we see her waking from sleep and covered in clouds of butterflies. The messenger at her door asks questions seemingly designed to let us know how others fear her—believing she is a sorceress—and are also in awe of her due to her rumored connections to a monarchy from so long ago; it seems like a fairy tale. How does this introduction set the tone of the story and present the threads of magical realism weaving through the history?

2. On page 19, Sabrina and Boris debate the meaning behind their daughter's golden-opal eye. Boris is certain God means to punish him for past sins, while Sabrina interprets the message as a gift, something that will “further embellish their love.” Do their interpretations strike you as naïve, or wisely cautious? What did you suspect the true meaning of Darya's magical eye was at this point, having read the opening chapter?

3. Boris and Sabrina conceived Darya out of wedlock, and Sabrina sometimes fears her daughter will be punished for this sin. But she comforts herself in knowing that Darya was conceived in love, so believes God would only care for her and never harm her. Identify other traditions broken throughout the course of the novel, and discuss how the characters suffer or benefit from these departures.

4. On page 37, Mossanen writes, “The Romanov executions are regarded as a legend rather than a stain on the canvas of history.” What do you think this means? How do you see this sentiment played out in the novel? Discuss the difference between these perspectives and how each might influence the Russia of Darya's old age. Can you think of other historical events that fit this characterization? What might make a people more inclined to remember something as a legend rather than “a stain on the canvas of history,” or vice versa?

5. Born with the gift of second sight, among others, Darya sees signs everywhere. Incredibly, she finds the amulet she gave to the Tsarevich Alexei hidden within her chunk of ambergris decades later, when she splits the chunk of ambergris with the intent to bring a piece to the supposed heir. She interprets the timing of her discovery as a sign that she has finally found Alexei. What other signs occur throughout the novel, and how does Darya interpret them correctly or incorrectly? Do you think Rasputin similarly sees signs, or do you think he's the manipulative charlatan the rebels purport him to be?

6. When Darya first asks the Empress for permission to bring Rasputin to court, Alexandra rejects the idea, claiming on page 80, “We will put our trust in the Lord. He will heal my son.” Why does Darya want to bring Rasputin to see the Imperial Family? What finally makes it possible for her to do so—and why isn't she thrilled with the prospect? Describe the complicated relationship Darya and Rasputin share at the Romanov court, and discuss their feelings for one another.

7. According to Darya, popular gossip and political intrigue paint Rasputin as responsible for the destruction of the Romanov's three-hundred-year-old dynasty, and yet when we see him with the Romanovs, he seems like a friendly monk, even if he is unaware of court protocol. Why does the Empress tolerate Rasputin, given her evident disgust with his lack of manners and general crudeness? What makes the Tsar banish Rasputin from court, and why does he later invite the monk to return?

8. Darya is dubious about helping the Romanovs establish the Artists' Salon at court. What does she worry will happen? Does she think she made a mistake in her choice of artists? Do you think she made a mistake? What would you have done in her place? Identify the many enemies Darya and the Romanovs have lurking in court, and discuss their motives. Do you think the Salon helped or hindered the Romanovs' slow slide into disgrace?

9. Rasputin recognizes White Thighs Paulina, the whore Avram uses as a model for his virgin and child portrait of the Tsarina and the Tsarevich. When Darya confronts Avram, he swears he used Paulina as a model because she had the right look. Did you believe him? Does Darya? Discuss the role of this portrait in Mossanen's version of the Romanovs' downfall. Which other portraits claim important roles in the story? How does art influence the events of the novel?

10. Though the Tsar would dismiss Avram, a Jew, from his court, Alexandra won't hear of it, certain Avram's painting of the Tsarevich keeps the poor boy healthy. Darya continues her secret relationship with Avram, also despite his being Jewish, for six years. Why doesn't she leave with Avram, or simply break it off if she fears her own disgrace? What ultimately causes him to leave her? Discuss the ways she and Avram influence one another throughout the novel.

11. Though there are hints all along that Darya's gifts are magical in nature, it isn't until Rasputin finally gets to put her in a trance that we learn the true origin of her strange abilities. Did you suspect Darya's secret past? Did this information change how you feel about her and her attachment to Alexei? Why or why not? Compare and contrast the details of her past life with her current one.

12. There are many dramatic turning points for the Romanovs and for Darya in
The Last Romanov
. What moment does Darya pinpoint as the moment Russia loses her soul? What relation does this event have to the crack in her opal eye and the unfolding of her own future? What ultimately heals her eye?

13. Finally, after years of searching, Darya receives word that an heir to the Romanov Empire has been located by the Russian Nobility Association. But when they bring her to meet him, she's dismissive. Why doesn't Darya accept Pavel, whose DNA and story reveal him as the grandson of Tsar Nicholas II? Why does Pavel, who thought to become Tsar and revive the Romanov dynasty, cave so quickly and agree to Darya's escape plan? Do you believe it's necessary for him to escape and hide, as Darya convinces him? Why or why not?

14. On page 195, Rasputin warns Darya that she will be forced to live life after life until she makes amends for the sins of her past self. But she counters, “This is my last life. I am a different woman now.” She interprets the messages from the Ancient One as admonitions to care for the Romanov Dynasty and its young prince in particular. At the end of her life, she wonders if she has fulfilled her promise to the Ancient One and redeemed herself for Athalia's transgressions. Do you think she has? Why or why not?

15. How did you feel about the ending? Do you think Darya was right to dismiss Pavel? Why do you think she chooses not to announce to the world that she's finally found the Tsarevich? Why do you think Avram never told her that he'd found Alexei? What would you have done?

16. Who do you think is the last Romanov alluded to by the novel's title? Alexei? Pavel? Darya herself?