The Last Days of the Romanovs

by N. Sokolov

The stranger exclaimed:—“You will have to look very hard!” I thought this was a strange remark; the singed and scorched appearance of the ground was, indeed, very noticeable still, although nearly a year had passed. But I encouraged the conversation, suspecting a surprise. The stranger proceeded to give in rather excited tones his conviction that the story of the bonfires and the burning of the bodies was all a myth. “See for yourself! How could they have destroyed all those bodies and left so few cinders!” he insisted.

Of course I did not enlighten him as to the petrol and sulphuric-acid—which so powerfully aided the work of cremation—or the probable scattering of the ashes around and down the pit. I went straight to Sokolov, who was not far away and told him what the young man had said. “That must be Fesenko,” was his remark. We walked up to the place. The stranger had resumed his seat beside the birch and appeared to be suffering. Sokolov continued: “Yes, that’s the man. He brought Yurovsky to this place. He is just a young fool of a Bolshevist. Yurovsky took him because he was in charge of this wood, and he was so proud of escorting a komisar that he recorded the visit by carving his name and date on the tree.

“Why then is he at large?” I queried. “Well, the fact is we hope he may give himself or some of the murderers away. We arrested him and let him go. He haunts this place, and is ever trying to prove that nothing could have happened here!” I felt rather sorry for the poor wretch. Perhaps he had not suspected Yurovsky’s purpose; Yurovsky did not confide such secrets. At all events I gave him the benefit of the doubt, feeling sure that there would be no peace for his tortured mind in this life.

But Sokolov dispelled my sympathy: “The fact is, he touches a sore point. Where are the cinders? That is the question. We have found too few. They must be hidden somewhere. Now Fesenko could not possibly have discovered this weak point in our armour himself. He has probably been put up to it by the murderers or their spies. That is why we let him wander about.” However, Fesenko did not give away himself or his associates.

Not a hundred paces away from the pyres I noticed a little clearing with a comfortable tree-stump. Here one could sit quietly, unseen by the people at the pit’s mouth. A pleasant birch and pine grove stretched its fragrant, sonorous maze between this natural arbour and the scene of grisly horror. Here on this stump Yurovsky had sat while his henchmen performed the last act in the tragedy. Beside this seat we found (a year later) egg-shells—the remains of the fifty eggs ordered by Yurovsky from the nuns, ostensibly for the Romanovs. But this fare had not sufficed for the dainty komisar. There were also chicken-bones. There were also torn pages from a treatise on anatomy in German (Yurovsky was only a feldsher; he knew little about anatomy). And in order that there be no doubt as to the origin of these various clues, it so happened that Yurovsky left behind a newspaper published in German at the very period under discussion full of abuse of the Czechs, accusing them of servile subserviency to the Entente High Command, and treating the war as a slaughter arranged in the interest of capital.

Reference has been made in preceding chapters to the manner in which the Grand Duchesses had concealed their jewels. Two of their confidential servitors, Mlles. Tutelberg and Ersberg, came to our camp in the woods to identify the relics. They had sewn up the bodices, buttons, hats, and other receptacles and knew precisely what jewels were on the persons of the victims when the murder took place, it being obvious that during their residence in Ipatiev’s house none of the prisoners would venture to undo or change these receptacles, as they were under constant observation. The Grand Duchesses Olga, Tatiana, and Anastasia each wore double-quilted bodices stuffed with jewels weighing several pounds. Olga carried a satchel round her neck with some special gems and wore several ropes of pearls concealed across her shoulders. The manner in which the concealment had been effected misled the first superficial search of the bodies in the house.

We now trace the gruesome picture of the cutting up and destruction of the bodies. First of all the clothes were partly removed. The bodices at once aroused attention owing to their weight. The “ghouls” began to tear them apart. Their contents were spilled on to the ground, and some of the things rolled into the grass or were trodden into the soil of the mound.

But they did not trouble to denude the corpses completely, and began hacking them in pieces on the clay mound that surrounded the pit’s mouth, smiting and severing at the same time some of the valuables that still remained. The large diamonds, which had been camouflaged as buttons, have disappeared with the exception of one. They may have been burned with the clothes of the Grand Duchesses or have been looted. One was found trampled into the clay beside the pyre. Here also was found the Empress’s emerald pectoral cross. Some of the bullets dropped out of the bodies during the chopping, others while the limbs were in the flames.

Two pyres were used—one near the shaft, the other near the birch tree. After the cremation had been completed the cinders of both pyres were collected and thrown down the shaft of the mine, which had been previously prepared. Ice remains throughout the summer in deep workings like this one. It had been tested by means of hand grenades, and had then been smashed in order that the cinders, etc., should sink to the bottom of the water. Over them a flooring had been adjusted and anchored.

Innumerable witnesses saw the coming and the going of the lorries. The “ghouls” remained in the wood till their task was done. Their shelters and camps were discovered. They were seen leaving—rolling about in the lorry, like men tired to death.