The Last Tsar (63 page)

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. At the burial site.

The name of the man Medvedev didn’t know was revealed by Ermakov himself.

Ermakov: “Received an execution decree on July 16 at eight in the evening.… myself arrived with two of my comrades, Medvedev and another Latvian whose last name I don’t recall.”

Medvedev, who came with Ermakov, was actually Mikhail Medvedev-Kudrin, a former sailor and board member of the Ural Cheka.

(Once in Baku, Medvedev-Kudrin had been in the same underground organization of the Russian Social Democratic Workers Party as Myasnikov. On the day of the Romanov tricentennial, they put out a broadside sentencing Nicholas to death. A month before, Myasnikov had carried out this sentence partially—he had organized the murder of Nicholas’s brother. Now it was Medvedev-Kudrin’s turn to keep his promise.)

The detachment was assembled.

Six Latvians from the Cheka—two had refused to join it. One who did not refuse, according to legend, was Imre Nagy, the future leader of the 1956 Hungarian revolution. Nagy’s eventual death (executed without trial by Soviet troops invading Budapest) fits our story quite well. Joining the Latvians were Yurovsky, Nikulin, Ermakov, the two Medvedevs—Pavel, the guard commander, and the Chekist Medvedev-Kudrin.

There would be one more. A most curious person. Before the shooting began he would come down from upstairs, from the attic, where he was at that moment standing by a machine gun: Alexei Kabanov, a former soldier in the tsar’s Life Guards.

The tsar had an amazing visual memory, the guard Yakimov told Investigator Sokolov: “Once Kabanov was on duty at the inner courtyard post. Walking past Kabanov, the tsar took a good look at him and stopped. ‘You served in my cavalry regiment?’ Kabanov replied in the affirmative.”

Now former Life Guard Alexei Kabanov was serving in the Cheka and had been put in charge of the Ipatiev house machine gun platoon.

This “recognition” by the tsar may have decided everything.
Alexei Kabanov had a brother in an important position—head of the Ekaterinburg prison—and Alexei had thought that the way to prove his loyalty to the new authority was to participate in the execution.

Pavel Medvedev: “At about twelve o’clock (old style), two new style, Yurovsky woke the tsar’s family.

“Whether he told them why he was disturbing them and where they were supposed to go, I don’t know.”

Strekotin: “At that moment electric bells were heard. This was them waking the tsar’s family.”

Yurovsky: “That was when I came and woke them. Dr. Botkin, who slept closer to the door of the room, came out.” (No, the doctor was not sleeping, he was writing his last letter and had broken it off in the middle of a word.)

“The following explanation was given: ‘In view of the unrest in the town, it has become necessary to move the Romanov family downstairs.’

“I suggested everyone dress right away. Botkin woke the rest. They took quite a long time getting dressed, probably at least forty minutes.… When they were dressed I myself led them down the inner staircase to the cellar room.”

Yurovsky: “Downstairs a room had been chosen with a plastered wooden partition (to avoid ricochets), from which all the furniture had been moved. The detachment was at the ready in the next room. The R[omanov]s had no inkling.”

Pavel Medvedev: “The tsar was carrying the heir in his arms. The sovereign and the heir were wearing field shirts and forage caps. The empress and her daughters wore dresses but not wraps. The sovereign walked ahead with the heir. In my presence there were no tears, no sobs, and no questions. They went downstairs, out into the courtyard, and from there through the second door into the downstairs quarters. They were led into the corner room adjacent to the sealed storeroom. Yurovsky ordered chairs brought in.”

Yurovsky: “Nich[olas] was carrying Alexei in his arms, the rest were carrying small pillows and various little items. Entering the empty room, A[lexandra] F[eodorovna] asked: ‘What, no chairs? May we not sit?’

“The com[mandant] ordered two chairs brought in. Nich[olas] put A[lexei] in one and A. F. sat in the other. The rest the commandant ordered stand in a row.”

Strekotin: “They were all led into the room.… Next to my post. Soon Akulov [Nikulin] came out and walking past me said, ‘The heir needs a chair.… Evidently he wants to die in a chair.… Oh well—let’s bring them.’”

Nikulin brought the two chairs Yurovsky wrote about. One for the tsaritsa, the other for Alexei.

The chairs were no whim of Alexandra Feodorovna’s. She could not stand for long because her legs ached constantly. That was why she had brought the wheelchair. The boy, who had just had an attack, could not stand either. That was why they “wanted to die in a chair.”

Medvedev: “The empress sat by the wall where the window was, closer to the back column of the arch. Behind her stood three of her daughters. The sovereign was … in the middle, next to the heir, and behind him stood Dr. Botkin. The maid, a tall woman, stood by the left jamb of the storeroom door. With her stood one of the daughters. The maid had a pillow in her arms. The tsar’s daughters had brought small pillows: they put one on the seat of the heir’s chair, the other on their mother’s.”

At this time Deryabin was watching the same scene, but from the other perspective—through the window of the half cellar room. He saw the executioners:

“They arranged themselves like this: to the right of the entrance was Yurovsky, to the left of him stood Nikulin, the Latvians stood right in the doorway, and behind them was Medvedev [Pavel].”

Through the window Deryabin could see part of Yurovsky’s body, but primarily his arm. He saw Yurovsky saying something and waving his arm. What exactly he said, Deryabin could not tell. He said he could not hear the words.

Strekotin: “With quick gestures Yurovsky directed who went where. In a calm, quiet voice: ‘Please, you stand here, and you here … that’s it, in a row.’ The prisoners stood in two rows: in the first, the tsar’s family; in the second, their people. The heir was sitting on a chair. The tsar was standing in the first row with one of his lackeys directly behind him.”

Yes, Nicholas was
standing
. It was all just the way it had been at that last service, when they had heard “Rest with the Saints.”

Everything in this scene is clear—except for one thing: Why were they arrayed so picturesquely? Earlier, when they had listened to the prayers, they had lined up before Father Storozhev and the deacon, but now—when they were
waiting for it to end?

They were waiting out some new danger, so why were they so inappropriately, so picturesquely arrayed? And why did they ask for only two chairs; after all they could be waiting for it to end indefinitely.

A man called me after the publication of my first article. He started right in:

“I will tell you what the second generation of Soviet agents was told in agent school. What is the second generation? If the famous Soviet agent Rikhard Zorge was the first generation, then this is 1927–1929. They are all long since in their graves, and you are unlikely to hear this from anyone but me.… So, at agent classes we were told the following … : they had to arrange the family as conveniently as possible for the execution. The room was narrow, and they were worried the family would crowd together. Then Yurovsky had an idea. He told them they had to go down to the cellar because there was danger of firing on the house. While they were at it, they had to be photographed because people in Moscow were worried and various rumors were going around—to the effect that they had fled. [Indeed, in late June there had been a disturbing telegram to that effect from Moscow.]

“So they went downstairs and stood—for a photograph along the wall. And when they had lined up….”

How simple it all proved to be. Of course, he thought of saying he was going to photograph them. He may even have joked about how he had once been a photographer. Hence his orders, about which Strekotin wrote: “Stand on the left,… and you on the right.” Hence also the calm obedience of all the characters in this scene. Then, when they were standing, waiting for the camera to be brought in….

Yurovsky: “When they were all standing, the detachment was called in.”

Strekotin: “A group of people went to the room where the prisoners had just been led. I followed them, leaving my post. We all stopped at the door to the room.”

So the firing squad was already crowding in the wide double doors to the room, and Strekotin was right beside them.

Ermakov: “Then I came out and told the driver: ‘Get going.’ He knew what to do, the car roared to life, and exhaust appeared. All this was necessary in order to muffle the shots, so that no sound would be heard at liberty.”

The driver, Sergei Lyukhanov, in the courtyard, was sitting in the cab of the truck, listening to the motor running—and waiting.

Yurovsky: “When the detachment com[mandant] walked in, he told the R[omanov]s: ‘In view of the fact that your relatives are continuing their attack on Sov[iet] Russia, the Ural Executive Committee has decided to execute you.’ Nicholas turned his back to the detachment, his face to the family, then sort of came to and turned around to face the com[mandant] and asked: ‘What? What?’”

Strekotin: “Yurovsky was standing in front of the tsar, his right hand in his pants pocket and a small piece of paper in his left. Then he began to read the sentence. But he had not finished the last word when the tsar asked very loudly for him to repeat it.… So Yurovsky read it a second time.”

Yurovsky: “The com[mandant] quickly repeated it and ordered the detachment to get ready.… Nicholas did not say anything more, having turned back toward the family; the others uttered a few incoherent exclamations. It all lasted just a few seconds.”

He “asked him to repeat it” and “did not say anything more”! Such were Nicholas’s last words, wrote Yurovsky and Strekotin.

But the tsar did say a few more words. Yurovsky and Strekotin did not understand them. Or rather, they did not choose to write them down.

Ermakov did not write them down either, but he did remember them. He did not remember much, but this he did not forget. He even talked about it sometimes.

From a letter of Alexei Karelin in Magnitogorsk:

“I remember Ermakov was asked, ‘What did the tsar say before the execution?’ ‘The tsar,’ he replied, ‘said, “You know not what you do.”’”

No, Ermakov could not have invented that sentence; he did not know those words, this assassin and atheist. Nor was there any way he could have known that those words of the Lord were written on the cross of Nicholas’s slain uncle Sergei Alexandrovich. The tsar repeated them, as Ella must have repeated them at the bottom of the mine: “Forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

A few months later in the Fortress of Peter and Paul, another Romanov, Grand Duke Dmitry Konstantinovich, would be led before a firing squad:

“The prison guard said that while Dmitry Konstantinovich was on his way to his execution, he kept repeating Christ’s words: ‘For-give them, Lord, for they know not what they do’” (From the memoirs of Grand Duke Gavriil Konstantinovich,
In a Marble Palace)
.

His last words. At that moment it came to pass—the story of the sacrifice. And forgiveness.

After reading the piece of paper, Yurovsky jerked out his Colt.

Yurovsky: “The detachment had been told beforehand who was to shoot whom, and they had been ordered to aim straight for the heart, to avoid excessive quantities of blood and get it over with quicker.”

Strekotin: “At his last word he instantly pulled a revolver out of his pocket and shot the tsar. The tsaritsa and her daughter Olga tried to make the sign of the cross, but did not have enough time.”

Yurovsky: “Nich[olas] was killed by the commandant, point blank. Then A[lexandra] F[eodorovna] died immediately.”

Yurovsky wrote that it was he who killed the tsar. Strekotin too saw Yurovsky finish reading the paper and immediately pull out his hand with the gun and shoot the tsar.

Actually, that day Yurovsky had two guns with him.

Yurovsky: “Colt no. 71905 with a cartridge clip and seven bullets, and Mauser no. 167177 with a wooden gunstock and a clip with ten bullets.… I killed Nicholas point blank with the Colt.”

But Strekotin was only watching Yurovsky reading, and the guard only saw Yurovsky’s hand aimed at the former Autocrat of All the Russias.

Two others would later assert that they had shot the tsar.

The son of Chekist Medvedev: “The tsar was killed by my father.… As I already said, they had agreed who was to shoot whom. Ermakov the tsar, Yurovsky the tsaritsa, and my father Marie. But when they stood in the doorway, my father found himself directly opposite the tsar. While Yurovsky was reading the paper, my father stood there watching the tsar. He had never seen him so close up. As soon as Yurovsky repeated the last words, my father was ready and waiting and fired immediately. And he killed the tsar. He fired his shot faster than anyone.… Only he had a Browning. On a Mauser, a revolver, or a Colt you have to cock it, and that takes time. On a Browning you don’t have to.”

I am certain, though, that everyone crowding in the doorway of that terrible room, all twelve revolutionaries, had come to kill the tsar, and all twelve sent their first bullet into him. The triumphant inscription left on the wall—“On this night Belshazzar was killed by his lackeys”—was literally true. That was why Nicholas toppled over backward with such force. Only then did they turn to the others, and the chaotic shooting ensued.

Kabanov: “I remember it well: when all of us participating in the execution walked up to the opened door of the room, there turned out to be three rows of us firing revolvers, and the second and third rows were firing over the shoulders of the ones in front. There were so many arms with revolvers pointed toward those being executed, and they were so close to each other, that whoever was standing in front got a burn on the inside of his wrist from the shots of his neighbor behind.”