Now Sarai Abram's wife bore him no children: and she had an handmaid, an Egyptian, whose name was Hagar. And Sarai said unto Abram, Behold now, the Lord hath restrained me from bearing: I pray thee, go in unto my maid, it may be that I may obtain children by her. And Abram hearkened to the voice of Sarai. (Genesis 16: 1-2, King James Version)
Alexander Palace
Tsarskoe Selo, Russia
1909
I never expected to have such a great honor bestowed upon me, or be asked to bear such a burdensome obligation.
As one of the youngest members of the court of Imperial Russia, I know that I owe my position as lady in waiting to my mother's close friendship with the Tsar's widowed mother, Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna. I have no special talents or abilities that stand out, nor have I accomplished anything of any particular merit or virtue since arriving at court. Therefore I am genuinely surprised when I am told that the Dowager Empress has requested an audience with me.
I walk from my room on the second floor of the palace to the staircase, the heels of my boots making a click-clack sound on the marbled floor. I struggle to recall the events of the past few days. Have I failed in my duties in any way? I have tried to be as conscientious as possible.
At last I reach the large, airy room of the Dowager Empress, marveling at its vastness and grandiosity. My eyes sweep over the pale blue and yellow walls, coming to rest on the chandelier high above the wooden floor. The Dowager Empress is seated before her desk, wearing a dark dress with a large white corsage pinned to the front. Her dark hair is perfectly coiffed. Despite her age, she is beautiful. She notices me immediately and smiles. Her usual stiff posture relaxed, she lowers her chin so she doesn't appear to be looking down her nose, which disarms me somewhat.
"Yelizaveta Ivanovna," she greets me. "Please have a seat."
I sit in one of the white chairs with blue padding beside the fireplace and fold my hands in my lap. Although they are damp with sweat, I know that I dare not wipe them.
"I'll get right to the point," she says. Her eyes almost seem to bore into mine. "Our beloved country has reached a crossroads, a point of crisis, a situation in which the outcome is uncertain. Mother Russia needs your help for her very survival."
"But what can I do?" My voice quakes.
"I have had a great deal of investigation done into your family background," she tells me. "There has been no trace of any hereditary diseases on either side of your family. All your brothers, all your uncles, and all your other male relatives are perfectly healthy."
I gasp. "But what has that to do with - "
"Let me explain." She almost smiles. "You see, my grandson, the heir to the throne, suffers from a grave disease, one which he inherited from his mother, the Tsarina. He has hemophilia, which means that his blood does not clot normally. He must be very careful, as even the slightest injury could potentially kill him. My son and his wife are afraid to try for another child, as the idea of another hemophiliac son terrifies them. Yet our country needs a healthy heir, someone fit to rule her in the event of the deaths of both my son and grandson."
As the realization of what she seems to be implying sweeps over me, a hand seems to press down upon my chest, suffocating me. "But certainly you can't mean - "
"That's exactly what I mean." She is not smiling now.
"But ... what about Alexandra?"
"I've discussed my proposition with her, and she's in full agreement with it. It's my son the Tsar who's been resistant. He believes God has visited Alexei's condition upon us, upon Russia, as a test of our faith. He also thinks that, regardless of the motive, what I suggest would be a violation of the sacred vow he made to Alexandra on the day they were wed. Alexandra convinced him to go along with the plan, and did so only by pointing out Biblical examples of similar situations such as those of Abraham and Sarah, Jacob and Rachel."
"But Sarah and Rachel were infertile," I remind her. "Her Highness, the Tsarina, is not. She's borne five children."
"She's borne four daughters and a hemophiliac son," the Dowager Empress emphasizes. "She has not produced a healthy son, and may never do so. Yet the necessity of providing Russia with a healthy heir remains."
"And it's expected of me to provide that heir by ... engaging in marital relations with His Imperial Highness?"
"You're under no obligation to accept, of course," the Dowager Empress assures me. "This is only a request, not an order, and if you feel unable to comply, an alternative will be found. Only realize that should you agree, my son, the Tsar, and I, indeed Russia herself, will always be grateful to you."
"But the illegitimate son of a lady in waiting would never be accepted as Tsar."
"The people of Russia shall never know," she replies. "The Tsarina will never appear in public during the latter part of your confinement. The public will be told that she is experiencing complications and has been ordered to remain on complete bed rest."
"So after the birth, everyone will think she was the one who delivered the child."
"Precisely."
"And what about the royal children?"
"The royal children shall be sent to stay with relatives for a few months. A logical explanation will be given to them, one which they would never question. Upon the child's birth, they will return to the palace."
Indeed she has thought of everything.
"There's no rush," the Dowager Empress continues. "Take as much time as you need to consider my request, but do let me know if you are unable to go through with it, so that another can be found."
She dismisses me, and I am left alone. My conflicting thoughts twirl around and around in my head, threatening to drive me mad.