Alexander II_ The Last Great Tsar - Edvard Radzinsky [157]
In Tobolsk, under the guidance of Tatiana (the “governor”), the nurse Sasha Tegleva and her helper Liza Ersberg began to prepare the jewels for the trip. They concealed them by sewing them into the girls’ bodices: two bodices were placed on top of one another and the stones sewn in between.
They hid the diamonds and pearls in buttons and sewed them into the fur linings of hats.
THE EXODUS FROM TOBOLSK
What about Feodor Lukoyanov, the “spy”? He, of course, was in Tobolsk, for that was where the jewels were. Now he was their sentry. So that they would be returned “to the working people of the Red Urals, whose sweat and blood had won those jewels.”
Leaving Tobolsk, Nicholas had embraced Alexander Volkov and instructed him: “Protect the children.” It was not easy for the devoted old servant to fulfill his tsar’s instruction. Now the remaining family was in the charge of the Soviet and its chairman, the former stoker from the steamer Alexander III who was now master of Tobolsk, Pavel Khokhryakov. He was readying the departure of the tsar’s children, the remaining suite, and the people from Freedom House. They were going to the capital of the Red Urals. For many, this would be their last journey.
Inside the house Commissar Rodionov and his detachment were in charge. Subsequently Sasha Tegleva would tell White Guard investigator Sokolov: “I have nothing bad to say about Khokhryakov, but Rodionov—there was a malicious snake.”
Baroness Buxhoeveden identified Rodionov. Sofia Karlovna asserted that she had once seen him at Verzhbolovo, a station on the German border. A policeman, who was as like Rodionov as two drops of water, had checked their passports.
Kobylinsky spoke about Rodionov: “You immediately felt the policeman in him.… A bloodthirsty, cruel police detective.”
It turned out, though, that they were both partially wrong.
From a letter of Yakov Verigin in Tver:
“At one time, in my youth, in the fifties, I lived in Riga in the apartment of a university professor, the old Latvian Bolshevik Yan Svikke.… He had an amazing biography. He had been a professional revolutionary and carried out important party orders; he even managed to infiltrate the tsarist secret police.… In 1918, Commissar Yan Svikke, under the name of Rodionov, was sent to Tobolsk, where he led the detachment transferring the tsar’s children.… He died in 1976, in Riga, at the age of ninety-one—in complete senility and isolation. He walked around town wearing all sorts of pins—he thought they were medals.”
In 1918 the revolutionary-policeman was young and zealous.
During services, Rodionov-Svikke placed a Latvian rifleman near the altar, explaining: “He’s watching the priest.” He searched the priest, and the nuns as well. He was suspiciously fond of undressing them during the search. He also introduced a strange innovation: the girls were not allowed to lock their doors at night. The tsar’s daughters did not even have the right to close their doors.
“So that I can walk in at any moment and see what is going on.”
Volkov tried to object: “How can you … they are young girls, after all.”
They had grown up before his very eyes, and he had always looked forward to seeing them marry. He had always tried to guess which king they would wed. And here—the former grand duchesses were now to sleep with their doors open at night.
“If my order is not carried out, I have the authority to shoot them on the spot.” The policeman-revolutionary was enjoying himself.
His time would come. The spirit of the timeless Russian institution would triumph.
Meanwhile the rivers opened up and Alexei began to recuperate.
Olga reported in one of