The Swan: Romanov Revenge

PROLOGUE

AUGUST 1918

O n the morning of August 8, 1918, Natasha Morozov departed Petrograd, Russia, probably forever, by railroad with a profound sense of sorrow. Despite the extreme stress of the Russian Revolution, she was still slender and beautiful. At the age of 36, she presented herself at 5 feet 7 inches with light brown hair and deep blue eyes. She selected a plain dark grey dress to avoid attention. Similarly, she was without jewelry. Gazing out of the train window, she sobbed silently about leaving her treasured hometown on the delta of the Neva River at the Gulf of Finland.

Natasha thought about the special places in Petrograd, such as the canals, embankments and bridges that contribute to a symphonic blend of European and Russian architectural wonders. Goodbye to the opera and ballet at the Mariinsky Theater. Farewell to the fabulous Winter Palace, home to generations of Russian royalty starting with Catherine the Great. Goodbye to St. Isaac’s Cathedral, the largest of its kind in the city, with one of the world’s largest gold domes. Proshchay to the many other neoclassical churches that provide definition to city squares. She fled Petrograd, destined to arrive in Murmansk, Russia, some 1,000 km away. The Russian Revolution was a major force for change in the new century and in Natasha’s life.

When her mother died in 1891, the adolescent Natasha was adopted by the Grand Duchess Elizabeth Feodorovna, who was a sister to Czarina Alexandra. The sisters were granddaughters to Queen Victoria. As a result of Natasha’s royal association, she became a close friend of Grand Duchess Olga Nikolaevna, the oldest daughter of the czar and czarina.

As a teenager, Natasha attended the 1896 coronation of Nicholas II in Moscow, and witnessed a tragedy. It was announced that presents would be given to the public attending in Khodynskoe Field. The vastly underestimated number of guests reached more than 300,000, creating a great hazard. People pushed and pressed to the gift tables—a stampede started and a disaster followed. The crushing force killed more than 1,300 people. Thousands more suffered injuries.

The coronation proceedings continued with Nicholas attending the events and a grand ball. That decision was widely considered disrespectful to the people who were crushed to death. The coronation catastrophe was seen as a terrible omen for the czar.

The Romanovs continued to fall from favor. They did not help themselves by associating with the scandalous mystic Grigori Rasputin. The mad monk obtained significant influence with the royal family for his perceived healing powers. He was highly troublesome for many in court and in the population.

Natasha arrived at the Murmansk Seaport. Within view of a large British navy ship, she waited, stiff with anticipation. To conceal her uneasiness, she comported herself in a stately manner. Before the Revolution, she was smiling often, but her face was blank. Standing on the pier within a small crowd, she felt the onset of a headache. She has learned to live with reoccurring headaches and as a woman in danger. A young British naval officer in dress whites approached.

Natasha Morozov?

I am Natasha Morozov, she replied, in clear English with a Russian accent.

I am Lieutenant Commander Bafford. You are leaving Russia at once on His Majesty’s ship?

Yes, she answers, as her eyes moved apprehensively from side to side.

I am here to escort you on board and give you the needed documents, he informed.

She offered what in ordinary times could be taken for a seductive smile, but those were not ordinary times. It was an expression of profound relief. They boarded an armored cruiser of the Royal Navy sent by King George V, the grandson of Queen Victoria.

Please walk this way, Bafford requested.

Once on board, Natasha was escorted to her cabin. She remained anxious to flee Russia, a country that has become dangerous and dreary. It seemed like an eternity to her before the ship sailed. Finally, the cruiser moved away from the pier and toward the Baltic Sea. The departure prompted her to leave the cabin.

As Russia faded into the horizon, Natasha stood at the rail with her hair flowing over her neck—a neck that has been saved. Steadily, her sadness subsided, helped by a calm sea and a sunny sky. She had some 1,500 nautical miles to reflect on her new life, in exile.

Instead, Natasha’s thoughts turned to the past and how destiny set a course leading to this departure. Before the Revolution, she embraced the intelligentsia, a group that included writers, artists and scientists in contrast to the prevailing traditionalist culture. In extravagant parties, she would drink, dance and continue on carefree, rejecting the old norms. Also, she enjoyed her status as an extended Romanov relative—a status that came with a very high price.

The world convulsed in August 1914 with the assassinations of Archduke Ferdinand and his wife, starting the Great War. Russia joined the Allied nations against Germany and the Central Powers. The war exposed Russia’s lack of war production capabilities and sub-standard military leadership, compounded by large-scale causalities. A poor war effort created more political unrest for the Romanovs.

In 1917, while most of Europe was consumed by a raging war, anti-war protesters in Russia divided the country, threatening royal rule. Russian soldiers deserted the war to support the Revolution. Czar Nicholas II failed in both war and peace. Then, the 300-year-old Romanov rule ended with the czar’s abdication. In the midst of the war, the Revolution ushered in the Russian Provisional Government that replaced the monarchy. This allowed Bolshevik leader, Vladimir Lenin to end the war with Germany and end the Russian imperial rule.

Starting with the abdication and the establishment of a Provisional Government, the Romanovs faced an extremely harsh destiny. Less than a year later, the Bolsheviks stormed the Winter Palace in Petrograd and seized power. The Revolution changed everything—it ended the monarchy, and subsequently, the lives of the royal family.

In March 1918, the Russians signed the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk, ending their war with the Central powers, while yielding many adjacent provinces to Germany. Then, on July 16, 1918, communist revolutionaries brutally murdered the czar, czarina, and their five children in a small cellar room. They were shot and stabbed in Yekaterinburg, Russia. The execution squad moved the dead bodies to a forest where they were dismembered and burned. The cold-hearted killing of the royal family ended the Romanov dynasty—and altered the direction of Natasha’s life.

Following the assassinations, Romanov relatives anxiously waited to escape the Bolsheviks, including Natasha. The czar’s mother, sisters and other royals escaped their death sentences by fleeing to European cities. Natasha’s adopted mother, Grand Duchess Elizabeth, did not escape. It was time for Natasha to flee Russia or be killed.

With mixed emotions, Natasha watched Russia ebb from view, each moment created more distance between a horrible past and an uncertain future. She took deep breaths of relief when the coastline was no longer visible.

The Russia people wondered if the communist grip was stronger than the grip of the czar. The answer waited until the civil war was resolved. The Bolshevik Red Army battled the old guard White Army, an extension of the czar’s army. The Whites had several competitive leaders who wanted glory to emerge as the only leader of Russia. The Reds engaged in violent and brutal atrocities; the Whites did so too.

In support of czarist Russia, Natasha attended a social event with the White army leaders. She was encouraged by their military experience, but discouraged by their self-absorbed ambition and disunion. Each sought to destroy the Reds, but each wanted to control Russia—by themselves. Chaos descended on the land.

At the event, Natasha was acknowledged as a royal who supported the Whites. Yet, she opposed some czarist policies and called for reform. Inside the large building, she was introduced to Nikolai Yudenich, one of the White Army commanders. Then, she was startled by the noises of confused activity outside the building. She looked toward him for an explanation.

None was given.

Moments later, she was alarmed by the sounds of machine gun fire.

What is that? she demanded, with urgency.

Nothing unusual, Yudenich responded reluctantly. Just the killing of Red prisoners—and their civilian supporters.

His eyes did not match his smile. Natasha felt a quiver of shock. It was at that precise moment when Natasha lost hope for Russia and for herself as well.

The White Russian forces were defeated. Ultimately, the Bolsheviks swept through Russia by storm, seized power, giving rise to the Communist Party in Russia. Lenin proclaimed that the new socialist state would lead people to freedom and justice. Many believed that Russian life would change dramatically for the worse and would destroy the human soul, including the once untroubled Natasha.

Traveling to England, Natasha carried the burden of the Revolution. She was resentful of her destiny, but grateful that she has all her rubles. There was a character flaw; her soul had been crushed by the murder of her adopted mother and of the Romanovs.

Due to a dark night, Natasha can’t see where the murky ocean ends and the horizon begins. Yet, the air is free. Suddenly, as she took a deep breath, a calloused hand reached around to cup her face and cover her mouth. She was gripped by terror; her blood ran cold. An unusually heavy ring compressed her left check. He pressed his body against her. She tried to hit his groin, but she could not do so for lack of motion.

A menacing male voice said in perfect Russian, Do not speak or turn around. She managed a restricted nod.

You are a fugitive from the people’s justice.

I am not.

I see your aristocratic hands have never done a day’s work.

What do you want? She demanded.

Do not turn around. Take this list of names.

She took a piece of paper in her hand as the man continued, If you wish to live to see England, you will tell me where those on the list have gone. If you don’t comply, I will deliver more than threats, he declared and whirled.

Natasha heard footsteps fade away and remained frozen in place, daring not to move or look back. Shaken by the assault, her eyes remained wide open in fear; she resisted the instinct to run. Once the sound of footsteps receded, she slumped on the deck against the railing, her nerves rattled. She took a deep breath and held her face.

Then, Natasha retreated to her quarters, locked the door and blocked it with a table. Most of the names on the list were unfamiliar to her. She considered confiding in Lieutenant Commander Bafford, but the assailant could be watching. She wondered if this was an attempt by the Bolsheviks to recruit her as a spy. Regardless, her life has taken another perilous turn.

The consequences of the Revolution has changed many facets of her personality. Before the Revolution, she was not in the habit of keeping a firearm. That had changed as she became efficient in handling a Browning Model 1910 pistol that is hidden in her quarters. It was a mistake to walk the deck without her Browning—a mistake that will not be repeated.

On deck, a lone woman dressed in black with a veil hiding her face felt an oncoming nausea and vertigo. The uneven motion in the ship unleashed stress-related hormones within her inner ear causing her seasickness. She wobbled toward the railing to steady herself. Someone from behind grabbed her and threw her overboard. The lone woman disappeared in the ocean.

After a sleepless night, Natasha stared at the ceiling of her cabin, wondering whom to trust on the ship. She did not leave danger in Russia; it has followed her. Already dressed, she decided to leave the cabin. The moment she reached the deck, loud sounds rang out. It was not the sounds of rhythmic ship repairs. The cadence was random—gunshots.

PART ONE

SEABIRDS

LATE SEPTEMBER 1919

CHAPTER 1

CROSSING THE ATLANTIC

A ldoloreto Adobe Centori is forty-five years old, intelligent, educated and romantic to the extreme. He is classically handsome with a square jaw, deep blue eyes and a slender, square-shouldered build. A man of honor, Adobe Centori holds a kind of courage that is at the ready with strong leadership skills. He was instrumental in obtaining New Mexico statehood and he is the owner of the Circle C Ranch in Valtura, New Mexico.

Centori is a veteran of the Spanish-American War in Cuba. Now, he is a veteran of the Great War. Major Centori commanded the 358th Infantry Regiment in the 176th Brigade of the 90th Infantry Division, called the Tough Hombres. The 90th Division, in combat from August to November in 1918, was praised by General Pershing for its action in the Battle of St. Mihiel—a German strongpoint. Along with three divisions of the 1st Army Corps, the 90th engaged in the first major American offensive and conquest that reduced the St. Mihiel Salient. The 90th was exceptional again in the Battle of the Argonne Forest.

On the Western Front, Centori suffered a significant shrapnel wound. During a hospital stay in Rouen, France, he met Nurse Elodie Saint-Sauveur. Elodie was a beautiful woman, so different with innate resolve. Her compelling scent was evocative of springtime and her French accent was exquisitely charming. Within the horror of a world at war, she had managed to send him striking smiles. A magical romance ensued until its nightmarish end. Ten months have passed since Elodie disappeared in the ruins resulting from an aerial attack on the Rouen hospital.

Victories at St. Mihiel and the Argonne Forest led to the defeat of the Central Powers. The American Expeditionary Force would go home and Centori would say goodbye to France. It was a joyous time for the army but a sad state of affairs for Centori—Elodie’s body was not found.

On Armistice Day, the Allied powers and Germany signed a settlement ending the Great War at 11 a.m. on November 11, 1918, in Compiègne, France. On that day, French Marshal Ferdinand Foch informed the Germans about the surrender terms that stopped the fighting. However, it took months of negotiations at the Paris Peace Conference to end the war with the Treaty of Versailles. The war cost the American Army 320,000 casualties with 53,402 deaths.

Millions of doughboys went over there and after Armistice Day, demobilization started, but 15,000 soldiers occupy Coblenz, Germany in the Rhine Valley. The formidable task of returning divisions to the United States was a major logistical challenge as U.S. ships could not convey the entire Expeditionary Force. To meet this huge transportation problem, the U.S. used surrendered German ships acquired as war reparations. The seized ships provided the much-needed assistance in transporting almost two million doughboys across the Atlantic Ocean and to America.

The ex-German ship, Graf Waldersee, was built in Hamburg and used by the U.S. Navy to become a troop transport. The 13,000-ton passenger steamship had made two voyages from Brest, France, to America in the spring.

Now, the Graf Waldersee carries another large group of doughboys who are traveling 3,354 nautical miles to the port of New York. Somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic, thousands of soldiers on board the steamship have said farewell to France. Most of the men will never see Paris again and did not care. The war veterans tend to look west toward the U.S., to home, but not all.

Life on the Graf Waldersee developed into an ongoing routine for the doughboys. The standing orders for army troops on board include the use of lifejackets, forbidden areas, smoking and signals for drills. General alarm blasts are coded, with a specified number of bells for general quarters, beaching, fire and rescue, collision, abandon ship and man overboard.

At the start of the ocean voyage, Centori was restless. Then, several days into the crossing, he began spending time on the stern looking east towards France.

At times, he feels a pang of guilt generated by a mysterious irony of losing two lovers. The tragic death of his first love, Gabriela Zena, undoubtedly had the greatest impact on his life. That relationship underscores the emotional and psychic pressure that changed him. An ocean separates the star-crossed love affairs. Yet, the stories merge, obscuring distinction and compounding his sensibilities within a struggle to overcome a second lover’s tragedy.

At other times, he feels cursed. How else can the two violent deaths be explained? He wonders why he must endure an unthinkable loss—again. Once in a while, he realizes that it is nothing more than outrageous fortune with no effect on subsequent occurrences. Despite the shrapnel scar, he has an appreciation for surviving the war without obvious combat-related injuries. For him, the cost of the war is not visible: Elodie is most central to that end.

Typical for this journey, Centori takes a position on the stern, holds the ship’s rail and watches the ocean dissolve into the night. The high collar on his olive drab tunic is buttoned against the cool night air. At the rail, a silver medallion under his tunic rests on his chest, it was his gift to Elodie. She wore it around her neck most of the time, if not all the time. He believes she wore it when everything around her exploded.

Centori found the silver medallion amidst the hospital wreckage. It was pure chance that it appeared within the rubble that used to be a hospital. Yet, he wonders if the laws of physics had artfully conspired to mock or to console. His arrival at the rubble and the silver medallion recovery are grim reminders of another life ended. It represents a farewell tale—all that remains of a tragic love affair.

Being alone, encircled by the vast ocean and under a big sky is reminiscent of the wide-open spaces of New Mexico and the magnificent celestial show of the great Southwest. In the dark and still night, his thoughts turn to the Circle C and of Elodie at his ranch, a future never to be realized. His eyes sweep the ocean. For a brief moment, distant in time, he imagines her beautiful face and her sensuous tenderness. He wills her image to appear in the sky, as if this will keep Elodie on Earth. Lost in memory, he takes a deep breath as her face emerges from the night. He hears a soft-voiced woman speak in musical French. Before he can answer, a deep voice interrupts his fantasy: Major Centori!

Yes! he replies, flatly.

Captain MuCulloch, Company ‘A’ commander, politely says, Good evening. Nice night.

Centori takes the interruption and abates annoyance in his tone, Yes, it is.

They are silent for a while until MuCulloch says, We should be in New York soon.

Yes, we will.

What will you do when we get back to the states, Major?

I’ll return to New Mexico and my cattle ranch. And you?

MuCulloch smiles and shares, "I will go back to San Antonio and