Unpublished Work Copyright 2004 Norm Millberry. All Rights Reserved.
Based on the video scenario of the same name by Alexandre Wes Howard, Copyright Alexandre Wes Howard 2003. All Rights Reserved.
After all these years, it has come to this. The Russian February air this night was as chilling as the task that stood before us. We march forward, some of us I'm certain were marching to our deaths, but it was the time. The world may have been at war, but we fought for something far more important. We fought for freedom. For too long, the people had endured the tyranny of the house of Romanov, and then, just maybe, we could end it. Many small events had happened at once. A simple protest on Woman's Day. This lead to an isolated workers strike. That strike lead to a general strike - I of course, was part of it. There had been mutiny after mutiny in military ranks. Very little remained in the way of our new future. We stood only hours away from the winter palace of the Romanov's.
I wondered if I would meet him there? Would it be just like I told him four years prior? The serf and the master meeting again - under very different rules? I was afraid, for I did not know what I would do.
I am Aloisha, son of a moujik, nobody important really. The man I speak of is the young Viscount, Serguei Vladarin. I was once his servant. His father Count Dimitri Vladarin married a cousin of the Romanov's, and their family lead a comfortable life. Serguei, the youngest of the sons, was to enter the Academy of the Imperial Guard, like his father and brothers before him. All of the Vladarin boys in fact had been cadets, and Serguei was to be no different. The years just seemed to fly by. I had been his servant since I was just a lad, and many years later we took our final journey together. We were aboard his father's river yacht - one of the first motor boats at the beginning of the century - on our way to Petrograd on young Serguei's eighteenth birthday. It was in Petrograd that Serguei would join the Academy.
I stood on the steps to the cabin, watching as Serguei stared off into the waters ahead as the sun set, his long blond hair blowing in the wind...he had taken off the mink hat his parents always insisted he wear. He wore a long red coat, a pair of well trimmed and very expensive trousers. No doubt, this young man dressed the part. In a way, I was sort of proud of him. After all, I'd been with him all his life, and now he was all grown up. I was also quite sad. It wasn't just that this would be our last trip together...it was his destination. I could sense it in him as well...he did not want to go to the Academy.
"How much longer?"
The boatman answered Serguei. "Still quite a way young master. We'll be stopping over for the night, and we'll be in Petrograd sometime in the morning."
"So soon?" Serguei's dread had been building for the past few weeks. He did his best to hide it from the family, but I knew better. I heard the dreams that upset his sleep, and I know the tears he has shed. They had been hard times for me, watching my little prince wander the palace aimlessly, spending hours at the large window on the third floor. He was no different than the exotic fish floating in the aquarium in the entrance hall. Serguei approached the cabin entrance slowly, every step taking more effort than the last. He stepped past me down into the cabin. "I am ready."
I wasn't entirely sure that I was ready. This was my final night of service to Serguei. The next afternoon we would part, and I would lose someone I had come to love. I however, was free to do as I wished afterward... Serguei's path was already chosen for him. I stepped into the cabin, warm with fire from a small wood stove in the corner on which a steaming kettle sat. It was certainly a nice yacht. The cushions on the bed were imported from Japan, a Persian rug lay on the sparkling wooden floor, and the cabinets on either side of the cabin were the work of the best craftsmen England had to offer. Count Dimitri was a vain man.
Serguei stood in the brass tub by the stove awaiting me. I poured the hot water into the tub. The boy standing before me did not look like a cadet of the Imperial Guard. His hands did not look like they were meant to yield swords, or bayonets. Gently, I poured water of Serguei's shoulders, steam rose up to the ceiling. I began to sponge down his arms.
"You know everything about me." Serguei stated, as I continued on washing "For you, nothing is a mystery concerning me." I didn't understand Serguei. I continued the bath, and then Serguei raised his voice. "Answer me!"
"Well yes, Sir, I...I know you quite well." I set down the sponge and poured hot water over Serguei. "I know your moods, your secret smiles. I watch as you eat your breakfast in bed or by the window if you feel good at waking."
"Go on."
"I see you as you study your books, as the words seem to affect you. I sense your anger just as I sense your sudden bursts of laughter. I know every inch of your body that I wash every evening. I know you like a shadow knows that which it shapes. Yes sir, I know you."
"And yet I know nothing of you! You are simply familiar to me...like a....like"
"A faithful dog." I grabbed Serguie's silk tunic and floating pants from the bedside and brought them to him.
"It doesn't matter anymore. Tomorrow will be our last day together."
"I know."
"Are you not happy about that?" Serguei set aside the slippers I brought to him.
"I'm not sure, Sir." I drew a chair, and Serguei sat. I began to brush his hair.
"All you know about me you shall take with you. You are stealing my soul!"
"I steal nothing, Sir!"
Serguei rose from the chair and walked to the bed. "Well you can understand my meaning. I know you are not a thief, but..." He was clearly frustrated. "What will you do without me?"
I turned to face Serguei, and took a few steps towards him. "I don't yet know what I'll become, but I will be free...free to be alone, free to be hungry, free to do whatever jobs I can." Serguei looked at me quizzically. "Though I will be sad to no longer serve you. In silence I have become fond of you, as if you were a comrade or something of the like."
"Comrade?!" Serguei threw himself onto the bed. "Foolish, completely ridiculous. Impossible. You and I, comrades? You have lost your mind." I could not resist the urge to smile. "This is unfair! You are but the son of a moujik and you talk about freedom! The only freedom one has is to follow one's destiny. Me, Viscount. You, moujik...that's it... and you dare say you shall be free to do what you wish."
"You say following your destiny is the only freedom, but if your destiny is to join the Academy, and you do not wish to do so, then are you free? You have made me rich with the warm feel of your noble person. I do carry you within me now, but that is mine after all."
"You were mine. Now you leave, and I retain nothing of you."
"But I have nothing to give you except my service and care."
"That's not a gift! You get wages for what you do. You don't actually give me anything."
"But it is nice knowing that I can be worthwhile to someone, to something."
Serguei sat upright and thought about this for a moment. "To whom am I worthwhile?"
"Ahh, you will be serving the Russian Empire Sir!"
Serguei sighed as he rose to his feet. "If you only knew how much I could care less!" He walked over to the opposite end of the cabin. "I'm lost in my thoughts with your foolishness about freedom, service, fondness." Serguei took a seat on the chair. "All I know is that I don't wish to attend that dreadful Academy. My pleasure is in books, not in swords. I do not want to become like my brothers, but I have no choice." Serguei walked slowly back to the bed, all the while holding his chin with his right hand, muttering the word "freedom" every few steps.
I got the impression from looking at Serguei that at any moment, he was going to divine a solution to his quandary. What he eventually suggested certainly did not have the air of peripetia. Serguei paced over to the wood stove, finally breaking the silence. "I must know you as you know me." I was confused, but Serguei appeared enlightened. He paced back to the bed, hands at his hips now. "You seem to know my soul." Serguei now walked over to the cabinets. "And you seem to think it is imprisoned." Serguei faced me and smiled. "I must know your soul, because perhaps it is free."
"I don't understand."
Serguei seemed to think he was on to something. "This night." He jumped onto the bed. "I shall know you as you know me."
"I do not follow, sir."
"No?" He rose from the bed "I shall become your servant! I'll take back a little of what you've taken of me, and be a bit more free, if just for one stupid night."
I could not believe what I was hearing. "Sir, surely you are not serious."
"I'm very serious"
"But Sir, that's ridiculous."
"There's nothing simpler!"
It was beginning to look a little clearer now. "So it's a game, right Sir?" I said "You want to play Aloisha, to jest and mock...who shall I play?"
Serguei sat back down on the bed, laid back and sprawled out. He was clearly impressed by his idea. "Call it whatever you will, It's totally absurd, I know, but that is what I want and that's what I will have. You are you and I am your servant, and we shall be that way until tomorrow. This you must do!" Serguei rose, and pointed to his chair. "Sit here."
"Sit in your chair, Sir?"
"This is an order!"
Hesitantly, I walked over and sat down in my master's chair. Serguei was busy making a cup of tea, which he soon brought over to me. He had forgotten the sugar. I was mortified by what I saw next. Serguei took the brass tub into his hands and began to pour hot water into it. I thought I knew what would come next, but I could not help but think that somehow this was all just a silly daydream. I was taken aback by his next words to me: "Come, Sir."
"You are not going to...to wash me, Sir....are you?"
"Just as you have always washed me, Sir."
"But Sir," I reasoned, "I am not dirty."
"That doesn't matter!" Serguei moved my head with hands, forcing me to look at him directly. "No listen to me, You shall never say 'Sir' to me again! I am the servant, you are my master, is this clear? Masters do not say 'Sir' to their servants!"
"But Sir," I interrupted.
"Don't say 'Sir'!"
"I am sorry, S"
"DON'T say it!"
"I wasn't going to say it, Sir."
"You just said it again!"
"I am sorry." Serguei responded by pointing rather sternly to the brass tub. I was still very confused by the entire situation, but I forced my legs to move towards the brass tub. Serguei untied the laces of my black boots, and removed them. He placed them neatly at my side, doing his best to act as I do. He attempted to remove my peasant shirt by pulling from the top. I let a laugh and raised my arms into the air. Serguei removed my bloomer pants, and reached for the sponge. It was fortunate that I was not dirty, for Serguei's rather sloppy sponge-down left much to be desired. I did what I could to control my laughter. When Serguei had finished, he rushed to the cabinets to retrieve a set of his clothes. Having learned from his mistakes, Serguei was much more adapt at dressing me. He seemed quite pleased with his work, and he led me to his chair. It was quite a shock to be dressed in my masters' clothes. He leaned over me and began to brush my hair. I laughed.
"Did I do something wrong, Sir?"
"No, not at all." With this confidence booster, he returned to his 'duties', all the while humming a tune, obviously enjoying this new and yet familiar activity.
"There...how do you feel, Sir?"
"Thank you," I said through bits of laughter, "you...you did quite...quite well."
"As well as you??" Was his eager reply.
"I'm sure you did."
"Are you happy, Sir?" He asked. I was indeed happy. Thought it was totally silly, seeing the joy the game has brought to Serguei filled me with happiness. I dropped to my knees and bowed at Serguei's feet. He took no notice. "Get UP Sir! We must celebrate! Sir, I'm going to put some more wood in the stove and find some wine." Serguei looked frantically around the cabin. "Where is the wine?" I pointed to the cabinet.
"But Sir, it is your father's private reserve!"
"It's ours!! And do NOT call me Sir!" I watched as Serguei quickly emptied the cabinet and approached with a pair of wine glasses. He set them down at the bedside table and poured what would be our first of many glasses of wine. He placed a glass in my hand and raised his own in a toast. "I drink to the health of my master!"
Upon registering his comment, I smiled, raising my own glass into the air. "And I drink to the health of Viscount Serguei Vladarin, my...." The next words were difficult, "My servant...and faithful..."
But Serguei could not contain his excitement. With a fervor I have not seen in him for quite some time, he interrupted my toast. "I want to read you a poem!!" Serguei quickly walked to the bedside where he pulled from his valise a thick leather-bound book. "This is a poem I found in a book that my mother forbade me to read. I do not really understand why, nor do I really understand the poem...but somehow....there's something in it that I like." With that, Serguei began to read.
"As Atlan and Abdel lay,
Melting the hours in gentle play;
Joining faces, mingling kisses,
And exchanging harmless blisses;
They, trembling, cry'd with eager haste,
Oh! let us feed as well as taste."
"So that is what is in books? It's beautiful."
"There is that, and so much more!" Serguei poured out another drink for us. "Now go on, it's your turn!"
Serguei's proposal was absurd. "I don't know how to read! I can't..."
"Just make one up yourself!" He stated, as if it was obvious.
"But I don't know how!" Was my equally matter-of-fact response.
"Just speak your soul!"
"I've never spoken my soul to anyone before."
"It's easy!" Serguei said "Just try, please?"
I quickly drank my newly filled glass. Serguei looked at me with surprise, and re-filled it. "Is...Is this an order?"
"No, I'm begging you that's all."
I wanted to do this for Serguei. I was simply at a loss for words. "Help me please." I asked.
"Very well." Serguei began flipping through pages in his book. After settling on one page in particular, he began to read aloud.
"I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read,
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed,
And on the pedestal these words appear:
'My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away."
"It's wonderful!" I did not know what to say. I did not think my soul would speak something as impressive as what Serguei has read to me. Serguei took my hands into his, looked directly into my eyes and told me to say what came to my mind. I did.
"Your palace doors are open wide,
And all the lamps are lit,
Your palace doors are open,
Yet I, on the steps, move not.
The snows of silence fall like the hours,
Just as curtains on this stardust night.
With wide open eyes you stare into mine,
Yet I, on the steps, move not."
I was beginning to feel a little strange at this point. I dismissed these odd feelings quickly...I was consuming alcohol for the first time, and I've been witness to the defeat of many good men by wine like this.
"So why don't you enter?" Serguei asked.
"Why don't you invite me? Are you free to do so?"
Serguei thought about it for a moment. "Not really."
"And so there you are you see," I said as I poured myself another drink, fully aware that it was likely not in my best interest, then consumed it. "It's not that simple.
"Please don't start that again...no, start...talk to me again of freedom." I frowned at my new servant, but Serguei was unrelenting. "Speak to me as if it were a poem. Then I shall understand."
I was feeling quite good as I poured myself another drink, so good in fact that I felt I may find a way to explain freedom to him. I turned to Serguei slowly and said to him "Freedom is empty." He was taken back by this. I finished my glass of wine, and saw fit to use it as an illustration. "It is like this glass. It is like space. It exists only in relation to what draws its limits. Think of freedom as another word for possibility. It's all around us, just waiting to be filled with what we create!" Serguei was raptured. He followed the every movement of my hands as I spoke. "Freedom is your fear as well. It is like a tyrannical lover who never knows what he wants, and yet, makes you want him all the same."
I paused briefly to refill my glass with the last of the wine in the bottle. I remember looking quizzically at the empty bottle, as if I had expected it never to empty. Serguei smiled at me then. I took a sip from my glass, choosing to savour my last, and continued. "Freedom is a land where each soul has the body it wants. Listen carefully to me now Serguei. Our destiny is not created by fate. With freedom, our destiny is simply the expression of our character."
"How do you know all that? You've not any books!"
"Ah, not everything, it seems, can be found in books. It is what I saw in your eyes on the palace steps."
Serguei layed back on the bed and looked up at the ceiling. "Shall I ever be free one day?"
"Anyone can make the choice to be free...in one's heart." I thought about what I could say to bring up his spirits, but came up with nothing. "If one is free in the small events of life, only then can he be free in the big ones." I finished my glass, and placed it beside the bed. As I swung back around, it took the objects in the cabin some time to catch up. "It's like this game we are playing."
"This is no longer a game."
"I'm afraid it is. Tomorrow Serguei, I shall bid you farewell and you shall pay me my wages and thus be rid of your servant...just a small event in life."
"And each of us is free if we follow our hearts?"
"That's what I believe."
Serguei sat up again and faced me. "But tonight this game of ours is reality, and the world outside is just a stupid game!"
"That is absolute truth!" He and I broke into laughter. I swayed back and forth on the bed as I sat with my legs crossed. I could feel the space around me spinning. I felt like breaking into song, but no words came to my mouth. All I remember was Serguei's face as it came nearer and nearer my own. I remember his eyes being just inches away from mine, and I remember him placing his right hand around my neck. After that however, my memory of the evening seems to have vanished completely.
When I awoke the next morning the first thing I noticed (after the throbbing pain in my head) was that Serguei had layed his left arm over my waist during the night. We must have both fallen asleep on the bed. He was dressed in my clothes, and I was dressed in his. I was confused by this at first, then remembered our little game. I carefully removed his arm and slid out of the bed to light the stove. I changed into my spare clothes and prepared Serguei's breakfast, for the last time. I watched him lying there on the bed, curled up...it was beautiful. He looked nothing like what one would expect from a fierce warrior of the Russian Empire. He began to stir, rolled onto his back and opened his eyes.
"Good morning Sir" I said. "Did you sleep well?" Serguei said nothing for a short time, just looking around the cabin.
"There will always be princes, and there will always be moujiks."
"Excuse me Sir, did you say something?"
"There shall always be princes and moujiks. It is the will of God."
"If you say so Sir, indeed" I replied.
"And no one can do anything about it."
"Well, God's will IS almighty."
Serguei sat up and came over to me. He sat in his chair, I stood behind him and began to brush his hair, as I did every morning. "Our game last night was fun," he said "but it is dangerous...it is against the will of God."
"I believe one day the time will come when it will be God's will for us to be comrades."
"Comrades? Rubbish!" He paused briefly, and his next words were very soft spoken. "I know you love me" Again he paused. "A serf must love his master. I accept your love like the candle wick accepts the match, but I can never love you in return...only in games."
"I know that, and I pity you."
"What?"
"If one day there were a revolt and I were fighting on the side of the rebels, and I found myself, weapon in hand, facing you, I would hesitate before killing you...not because you are a viscount, but because you are a person dear to me. I expect I would be killed while hesitating, but you Serguei....you would not hesitate one second before killing me on the spot, especially after the Academy...even if I had been, at the time of a game, your true and perhaps only comrade, because in your mind and world, I would only be a rebel serf, a kind of vermin that is to be exterminated. That is why I pity you.
Serguei reached up and took my hands and pulled them over onto his chest. After a moment of silence, he asked a question of me. "If one day, in Russia, we could be comrades, would you still have me as a friend?"
I drew away from him, and knelt down in front of him. "If such a day comes, the Russian Empire will be no more, and without her being what she is, you will be nothing."
"I will be a man like you!"
"Oh no, my sweet prince. You shall always be a Viscount, whatever happens, and without the Russian Empire, being a Viscount means nothing."
Serguei pulled me to my feet and threw his arms around me. I believe I hear a soft sniffle or two before the boatman's call came "Petrograd in Sight!"
"CHARRRRRRRRRRRRGE!!!!!!"
I looked around me. I was surrounded by my comrades in arms, and we were storming the winter palace of the Tzar. There were surprisingly few guards patrolling the grounds...by this time only the faithful had remained in service to the Romanov's. The men before us quickly fell the few guards, but could not enter the palace. I heard calls for the battering ram, and it was brought forward from the rear. I grabbed hold of it at the front and we pushed our way slowly through the crowd. We rammed the door, but it did not budge. We backed up, and rammed the door a second time, but it wavered little. After a third ram the door squealed as if in pain. We backed up for the final push. We slammed the ram hard into the door, breaking half of it down. I fell to the ground when the door broke down. Our men rushed to break in through the open door.
I rose to my feet, picked up a bayonet and shuffled my way into the palace. I had no time, nor the desire, to take in all the sights and splendor that was rumored to be in the palace. I walked to the marble staircase and made my way up to the foyer. I heard a scream in the room at the far end of the hall and ran towards it. When I entered the room I saw two members of the Imperial Guard, two fighters of the revolution, and several bodies on the floor. One of the men was Serguei Vladarin. I was paralyzed. I watched as the second member of the guard fell at the hands of the rebel soldier. I was unable to move as Serguei fought off both the rebels. He fell both of them quickly, one after the after, then turned to me, and stopped dead, just as I had.
"Aloisha??"
I was not accustomed to him calling me by my name, but it snapped me out of shock. I took a few steps towards him, but he quickly took an offensive stance.
"Serguei...my old comrade."
"I am not your comrade. I am a soldier of the Imperial Guard."
"And I am a fighter for the revolution!"
"Then that means that I must kill you."
"And I must kill you."
Another soldier entered the room from behind me. I swung around to face him, but he was too quick. He grabbed my bayonet and used it to throw me across the room. I watched him advance on me in three quick steps. I looked up at the firearm pointed at my head, and prepared for death. But death did not come. Serguei did not allow me to be killed. Serguei stood over the body of his fellow soldier. A smile came across my face, but I resisted the urge to laugh.
"Serguei...join us. It's like Shakespeare said in something...'to thine own self be true'."
"When did you learn how to read?"
"I thought it may be useful someday, so I tried it out."
"But I'm a Viscount."
"Anyone can make the choice to be free, in one's heart."
Serguei removed his armor. "Then I am free."
"Help me up" I said. Serguei leaned over me, took my hand and brought me to my feet. I picked up my bayonet and told Serguei to follow me. "Come, let's finish this...I have a new poem for you."
THE END
[AUTHORS NOTE: This text is based on a video scenario written by my friend Alexandre Wes Howard in June of 2003. I've tried to stay true to the message of Wes's work, and I hope I've been successful in telling his story from a slightly different perspective, without compromising his themes. I wrote several scenes that did not make it into the final version, and my comments about that and other aspects of The Stopover, can be found soon in the comments section at my website, http://www.geocities.com/mli_stories. I have have a few other stories posted here on the Nifty Archives.]