CHAPTER IX
CALVARY
Yankel Yurovsky left the prison-house on several occasions. Each absence lasted many hours. He was surveying the environs of the city for a convenient place to dispose of the bodies of his victims. His escort consisted of one or two of the “Letts” mounted on horseback. Several witnesses deposed to meeting him and his bodyguard in the woods during the week that preceded the murder. They were seen near the very spot where the remains were afterwards destroyed.
Whenever he had to absent himself, Yurovsky placed Medvedev in charge. Besides the latter, there was another non “Lett” in the house, a certain Nikulin, respecting whom it is known that he came with Yurovsky from the Chrezvychaika. He enjoyed Yurovsky’s entire confidence, and was probably there to keep an eye on Medvedev.
On Monday, July 15th, the lay sisters came as usual in the morning with milk for the Imperial family. Yankel took it himself, and graciously informed them that on the morrow they might bring half-a-hundred eggs. This they did gladly, thinking that the poor captives would enjoy a hearty meal, all unsuspicious of the cynical intention that had prompted Yurovsky’s generosity. (These eggs were boiled by Haritonov, but they were eaten, not in Ipatiev’s house, but in the woods.)
On the Tuesday morning, a whole nine days before the arrival of the Czechs, Yurovsky made his final arrangements for the murder of the family. The boy Leonid Sednev was removed early in the day to Popov’s house across the lane, whither the Russian guards had been transferred. There he was seen sitting on the window-sill and crying bitterly, whether because he was dull without his play-fellow or had some inkling of his fate is not known. The boy disappeared, never to be seen again. Later this gave rise to rumours that Yurovsky had been told to reserve him for future use, perhaps to impersonate his little friend the Tsarevitch—in short, to act the part of a False Dmitri.
Two important visitors came to the prison-house during the day—namely, the arch-inquisitor, Isai Goloshchekin, and his humble servant, the Russian workman Beloborodov, president of the regional Soviet. They took Yurovsky away in their automobile to some place unspecified, presumably to a meeting of the Soviet Presidium (Board). Yurovsky returned some hours later, towards evening.
At seven p.m. Yurovsky gave orders to Medvedev to collect all the revolvers of the outer guard. Medvedev complied. He brought twelve Nagans (the Nagan is the Russian service revolver) to the commandant’s room and handed them to Yurovsky. The latter then confided to him the plan to shoot the whole “Tsarian family” that night. He (Medvedev) would have to warn the Russian guards “later,” when he got word to do so. Meanwhile he must be silent. At nightfall (about 10:30 p.m. in these latitudes in summer time) Medvedev “told the Russians.” The murderers were to be the “Letts.”
There is no record of any open protests on the part of these men, who had been “disgraced” only a few days ago for their “friendliness” to the “arch-capitalist” and “drinker of blood.” There is nothing to be surprised at. Beloborodov had been rendered “amenable,” because he had “stolen”; here the crimes laid to these men’s charge was not only pilfering but “counter-revolution.” They knew—and we may be sure they were made to feel—that the Chrezvychaika would know how to deal with them if they showed truculence. Having “warned” the Russians, Medvedev returned to the commandant.
Two other strangers now made their appearance. One of them was Peter Ermakov, “military komisar” of the Verkh-Isetsk iron-works; the other, his assistant, a sailor named Vaganov. Both these men had distinguished themselves by their ferocity. They were professional assassins, “working” for the Red inquisition out of sheer blood-lust. But there was another reason for inviting these butchers to the approaching feast of blood. They were both to play a leading part in the “disposal” of the bodies. Both were friends of Yurovsky. With him they had already, some days earlier, studied and arranged the whole grisly performance.
When midnight by solar time had gone some minutes, Yurovsky went to the Imperial chambers. The family slept. He woke them up, and told them that there were urgent reasons why they should be at once removed; that there was trouble in the city which might endanger their lives, and that they must dress quickly and come downstairs. All rose, washed, and dressed themselves, the grand duchesses donning their jewel-stuffed garments. Each member of the family and their followers put on his or her going-out clothes and headgear. The Empress wore her overcoat. Some of the prisoners even took their pillows—for comfort’s sake or because they had precious possessions secreted within.