DAMNING EVIDENCE
Having established, with the evidence of accomplices and of the
death-house, the fact that a murder had been committed, the
investigating magistrate had to find the bodies or to show conclusively
what had become of them; otherwise the whole case remained in doubt.
This proved to be a task of immense difficulty.
Suspicions of the truth were rife from the outset. It was known that
five motor-lorries had been requisitioned; that all had been absent
several days; that two had carried petrol, and that one had returned
covered with mud and gore. Too many persons were involved to conceal the
truth for long; the peasants who had to come by the forest road from
Koptiaki village at once detected something amiss, and quickly drew
their conclusions, which turned out to be correct. But “suspicions” are
not proof.
Somewhere within the purview of the disused iron mine “proof” was
obtainable--on that point there seemed to be no doubt. We took up our
residence in the wood--Sokolov, Diterichs, myself, and others--and
remained there throughout the late spring and early summer of 1919. We
descended the mine, found water and ice and a floor. We searched the
ground and scoured the woods, living from day to day in alternate hope
or despair of settling the gruesome mystery. Sometimes I felt as if we
were seeking the proverbial needle. The woods were full of disused
workings, each easily capable of concealing what we sought.
Day by day we discovered fresh relics around the pit where the bodies
had, we knew, been destroyed. Sokolov tirelessly passed through his
searching examination every likely witness; not a peasant, or _dachnik_
(summer resident), or railway servant that had been anywhere near the
place escaped him.
Slowly, but surely, the scope of possible error lessened. We had got
well away from the versions carefully sown by agents of Yurovsky, who
remained in the city, that the bodies had been buried in one place, then
re-buried in another.
One of the witnesses cited in the preliminary inquiry (before Sokolov
took charge) had described overhearing a conversation between several
Bolshevists about the bodies. The speakers were said to be: Ermakov
(whom we know), Mlyshkin, Kostuzov, Partin, Krivtsov, and Levatnykh.
They spoke cynically of feeling the corpses while they were still warm.
Levatnykh boasted that he had felt the Tsaritsa and that he “could now
die in peace.” They also spoke of the “valuables sown in their
clothes.”
The presumable genuineness of these confidences misled the earlier
investigator into believing their other statements or perhaps the
additions made to them by the spy who may have been a Red agent--to wit,
that the bodies had been buried in various places round the city. This
was a “red” herring that unfortunately drew the investigator off a hot
trail. He did not even go near the wood. Had he done so, he could not
have helped discovering easily then what we had such difficulty in
finding a year later. His excuse had been that the wood was “dangerous”
on account of Red bands; but even if this were so, he could have deputed
a less timorous person. A number of self-appointed “investigators” took
this opportunity of “gleaning” relics--perhaps invaluable clues.
Extreme measures had to be taken, nothing less than the complete sifting
of the ground within the area of destruction and emptying of the shafts
down which any remains could have been thrown. This was a task outside
the province of an investigating magistrate. Here we wanted miners with
pumping machinery, woodsmen, and surveyors; above all we wanted money.
Thanks to Admiral Kolchak the wherewithal was forthcoming. Indeed, I
render him bare justice in saying that without his stanch personal
support the investigation would have been overwhelmed long ago by the
constant intrigues of the Omsk Government. He gave the money out of his
own funds because the grant legally authorised by him was “held up” by
his Ministers.
Under the orders and supervision of General Diterichs, a command of
White Guards was formed to carry out the necessary operations. The men
were all from the Urals--_i.e._, miners and peasants versed in
woodcraft. Several hundreds of them camped around the Ganina Yama
(ditch), situated near a bend in the road to Koptiaki, not a hundred
paces from the mine. These men knew what they were working for and put
their shoulder to the wheel in all earnestness.
But we had to leave before complete success had crowned their efforts.
Diterichs received the summons to save the armies. I went with him.
General Domontovich, a very gallant soldier, took command in his place.
(He died of typhus during the retreat and was buried in Chita early this
year. “Tsárstvie nebésnoie.”)
Success came before we had to evacuate Ekaterinburg. The contents of the
shaft, extracted with infinite trouble, set at rest for ever any
lingering doubt as to the destruction of the bodies. Sokolov had his
“proof.”
Here is the narrative of the investigation. It is a good commentary on
the homely saying, “Murder will out.”
It will be remembered that Ermakov went with the bodies from the
death-house. Now Ermakov lived at the Verkh-Issetsk ironworks, adjoining
the city and situated along the route to Koptiaki--_i.e._, north-east of
Ekaterinburg. The Stenbok-Fermer Wood lies a few miles beyond. At the
works Ermakov found a detachment of his Red Guards (he was military
_komisar_) and a number of conveyances ready harnessed. The whole
procession moved off along the Koptiaki road. There is, indeed, no other
road in the vicinity practicable for a motor-lorry. Vaganov, the other
regicide, mounted his horse and acted as armed escort for the lorry.
Shortly after three o’clock in the morning (solar time) they reached
that place where several paths, long disused and grass-grown, turn off
to the left towards Ganina Yama. Here they forced a way through the
undergrowth, and at one place nearly upset the lorry into a ditch. The
mark of the wheels was still visible a year later, and alongside lay the
beam which had been brought from the disused mine to jack up the canted
lorry.
Around the shafts in this particular place the grass then showed no
trace of human passage. Koptiaki villagers did not come that way as a
rule. The place had been well selected. But the murderers forgot the
habits of the peasant, especially the haymakers and fisherfolk.
Nastasia Z. left the village at dawn with her son and daughter-in-law.
They approached the gruesome procession just as it was turning off the
road. Two horsemen rode up to them. One wore a sailor’s uniform.
Nastasia knew him--he was a Verkh-Issetsk resident--Vaganov. The latter
yelled out: “Turn back!” and coming abreast of the peasant cart
brandished a revolver at Nastasia’s head. Frightened, the peasant woman
pulled her horse round so sharply that the cart almost upset. Vaganov
rode alongside, still pointing his weapon and shouting “Don’t look
around or I shoot....” After chasing them about a mile towards the
village, Vaganov rode back.
The peasant had not been able in the faint light to make out clearly
what was behind Vaganov. “Something long and grey, like a heap,” was all
that they could distinguish. The _baba_ (peasant woman) concluded that
it was the Red Guard army marching to Koptiaki. Urging her horse onward,
she immediately roused the whole village, informing the _muzhiks_ that
the “army” was coming “with transport and artillery.” They listened in
consternation, alarmed chiefly for their hay crop. An army coming meant
fighting in the neighbourhood, and here it was just the time for mowing.
The hay might all be lost.
They discussed the matter long and passionately, then some of the
boldest among them, headed by an old soldier, set out to investigate.
On the road they encountered some Austrian war prisoners who were
hay-making, and asked if they had seen the army. They replied that quite
early, while they were working on the road, some Russian Cossacks had
ridden up and driven them away. The villagers became all the more
curious to know what it all meant.
Presently, as they came abreast of the mine, they heard horses neighing.
Coming to one of the turnings, they saw that the grass had all been
crushed and the saplings bent. They were on the point of following this
strange trail, when out of the wood appeared a horseman armed with
sword, revolver, rifle and hand-grenades and asked them what they were
doing. The _muzhiks_ put on a bold face, although badly frightened, and
asked if the _tovarishch_ (comrade) would kindly reassure them, because
the whole village was in a state of excitement.
They were graciously informed that there was no cause for alarm. “Our
front has been entered at several points. We are merely scouting and
practising. Do not be afraid if you hear firing!” They had a friendly
smoke together and then the _muzhiks_ departed. They had scarcely gone
when a report like the explosion of a hand grenade was heard, and then a
short while afterwards another explosion. Soon after their return to the
village the same horseman appeared “to tranquillise them all,” as he
explained.
They were reassured about the hay-making, but now arose another matter.
Many of the villagers fished in the large Issetsk lake which spreads its
lovely waters in front of Koptiaki. They had obtained a good haul that
night and must take it into the city--it was market day (Wednesday) and
in the hot weather fish does not keep. But the “Russian Cossacks” were
inexorable.
On the city side there was a crowd at the level crossing over the Ural
line striving to get to Koptiaki, which being a pretty place attracted
many summer residents. These unfortunates, thus “stranded,” waited for
hours and hours in vain. Some of the railway servants were accommodated
with “benzine” from the casks of petrol waiting in reserve. The stream
of fisher folk and the procession of _dachniks_ coming and going enabled
the investigation to define very precisely the exact limits of the
cordon placed round the wood. It pointed in one direction--Ganina Yama.
That was the locality that had to be kept from prying eyes.
The peasants were also the first to discover the place where the bodies
were destroyed. Their evidence afforded immense, invaluable service to
the investigation; in fact, without them the truth might never have been
established owing to the earlier mistakes of the inquiry.
As soon as the cordon was raised, some of the Koptiaki men hastened to
the spot where the horses had neighed and the detonations had been
heard. They had thought that the Red guards were burying arms. The ashes
around the pit suggested something else. They started to scrape; soon
they found a cross belonging to the Empress and the brass buckle of the
Tsarevich’s belt. Some instinct prompted them to jump to the conclusion
that it was “the Tsar’s,” although they knew nothing of the murder.
There were eight of the _muzhiks_ standing round the pit examining with
awe the finds that they had made:--“Boys,” said one, and he voiced the
secret thought of all, “it is just this, they have been burning Nicholas
here. That cross can belong only to him. And that buckle, I tell you, is
the Tsarevich’s.” They crossed themselves in prayer and silently came
away. Needless to say, these honest souls promptly handed over the
relics to the White authorities.
On my first visit to the burning-mound, I was attracted by an
inscription carved on the giant birch that overhangs one pyre. It
read:--“T. A. Fesenko” and the date “July 11, 1918,” _i.e._, six days
before the murder. A young man sat beside the tree. He was a stranger to
me. I took him to be one of Sokolov’s agents, especially as outsiders
were not encouraged to hover round the iron-pits. I was looking closely
at the ground to note where the bodies had been burned and pick up any
remaining clues.
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.
The flooring had deceived all search in the mine. Only when the
operations that I have described above had brought all the core of the
shaft to the surface everything was explained. The corpse of little
Jemmy lay just under the false floor. It had been preserved by the ice.
When good Domontovich made this discovery he immediately telegraphed to
us. We all realized that the mystery of the bodies had been solved....
There were literally hundreds of clues now available. Sokolov busied
himself classifying and identifying them. It would be quite impossible
to enumerate them all. Several volumes of the _dossier_ are devoted to
it. There are the _procès-verbaux_ of each “find” and each
identification. I give here a brief but accurate summary of the clues:--
(1) A large diamond of the finest water, identified as forming a pendant
to a necklace belonging to the Empress, valued at 20,000 gold roubles;
slightly touched by fire.
(2) An emerald cross belonging to Alexandra, identified as a present
from the Empress Marie, found by experts to be of high workmanship,
valued at 2,000 gold roubles; broken and singed.
(3) A pearl earring untouched, having been thrown with some earth down
the shaft, recognized as one of a pair always worn by the Empress,
declared to be of extremely fine workmanship, valued at 3,000 gold
roubles.
(4) Four fragments of a large pearl and settings, declared to be a pair
to (3).
(5) Two fragments of emerald declared by experts to have formed part of
a large and very fine stone, severed by some hard and heavy object and
trampled.
(6) Eleven fragments of emerald.
(7) Thirteen round pearls as of high quality, all belonging to one rope.
(8) Five fragments of pearl, belonging to one large gem of finest
orient, severed by a heavy weight or trampling.
(9) Another broken pearl of high quality.
(10) Two fine brilliants declared to have formed part of an ornament of
large size.
(11) Portion of a large diamond silver-mounted ornament bearing traces
of heavy blows.
(12 to 21) Precious stones--diamonds, sapphires, rubies, almandine, and
topazes--and settings, all bearing marks, as experts show, of having
been crushed or severed by heavy or cutting objects.
(22 to 28) Articles and appurtenances of apparel, including pieces of
cloth identified as parts of the Empress’s skirt, the Tsarevich’s
military overcoat and Botkin’s overcoat; six sets of corset steels--the
Empress would not permit her daughters or the servants to go without
corsets, neither would she herself; (Demidova wore them also--that would
make exactly six); metallic parts of corset suspenders and fragments of
silk and elastic; the Tsarevich’s belt buckle; the Tsar’s belt buckle,
both identified; three paste shoe buckles of first-class workmanship,
one identified as the Empress’s, two as belonging to the grand
duchesses; a large number of buttons, hooks and eyes, etc., some
identified as belonging to the Empress’s dress, also military buttons
corresponding with the uniforms and caps of the Tsar and Tsarevich, as
made for them by the court tailor in Petrograd. The appurtenances of
female costume were such as the court dressmaker used for the family.
There were also parts of apparel such as were used by the tailor who
dressed the court servants. The footgear remnants showed strong action
by fire. Experts were able, however, to note that they included cork and
fine brass screws, both evidences of high-class articles. In their
opinion the remnants might well represent seven pairs of boots.
(29 to 41) Exhibits of equal if not greater interest. Among them may be
cited:--A pocket case in which the Tsar always carried his wife’s
portrait; three small ikons worn by the grand duchesses, having in each
case the face of the saint destroyed as if blows had been aimed at them;
the Empress’s jubilee badge of her Lancer regiment; the gold frame of
Botkin’s eye-glasses; a large spectacle glass such as the Empress wore
at Tobolsk; remnants of the Tsarevich’s haversack, in which he was
accustomed to keep his treasures; several bottles as used for smelling
salts, always carried by the grand duchesses, and finally a varied
assortment of nails, tinfoil, copper coins, etc., which vastly puzzled
Sokolov till somebody, I think Mr. Gibbes, reminded him that Alexis was
fond of collecting odds and ends, being of a very saving disposition,
like his father.
Then came a number of specially important relics. First, a series of
Nagan bullets, some entire but bearing the marks of the rifling, some
without the lead core, some in the shape of blobs of moulten lead, still
unmistakable. Secondly, in the shaft itself, a human finger, two pieces
of human skin, and in the clay of the mound many fragments of chopped
and sawed human bones, which could still be certified although they had
been subjected to the action of fire and perhaps of acid. Experts found
that the skin was from a human hand. The finger is described as
belonging to a woman of middle age. It is long, slender and well-shaped,
like the Empress’s hand.
Near the shaft was found a set of artificial teeth (upper jaw with
plate), identified as Dr. Botkin’s. The front teeth were deeply
encrusted with mire, as if the body had been dragged face downwards and
thereby the teeth, catching in the hard clay soil, had dragged the plate
out of the dead man’s mouth.
When the first inspection of the death house was made--ten days after
the murder--it bore all the traces of having been plundered by people
who had first slaughtered the owners. The reader will be able to
picture it, but his imagination will not come up to the reality. Amidst
this scene of pillage and confusion one felt that a careful hand had
destroyed everything that could help the investigation; nevertheless
highly important clues came to light, among them a full list of the Red
guards who had acted as gaolers, the Tsar’s private cypher which he had
hidden away--as if expecting to be able to reclaim it some day.
In the death chamber there was a curious inscription in German, written
by a man of some culture--not Yurovsky, therefore, but perhaps one of
the two men from the Chrezvychaika whom he had left in charge of the
house on his departure. It was an adaptation of Heine’s lines on the
fate of Belshazzar:--
Belsatzar ward in selbiger Nacht
Von seinen Knechten umgebracht.
He had omitted the conjunctive “aber” which comes in the poet’s line
after “ward”; and then, having first written “selbigen,” had changed it
to “seinen,” feeling perhaps that these modifications were necessary to
fit the occasion. Perhaps unconsciously he also converted Belsazar (as
Heine spells the name) to Belsatzar. The writer was quoting a Jew whose
poem expatiates on the overthrow of a Gentile sovereign who had offended
Israel. The Book of Daniel is not so explicit. It says:--“In that night
was Belshazzar the King of the Chaldeans slain.” (Dan. vi. 30.) But the
author of the inscription wished to make it “plain” that “Belsatzar” was
slain by his own people.