Marina
October 1943
Moscow
Princess Olga, daughter of Prince Tokmakov, is in the garden, as are two nannies, who tell stories of the repressive behavior of Tsar Ivan on Pskov’s sister city, Novgorod. Mikhail Tucha, the leader of the uprising in Pskov, is beloved of Princess Olga, but she is betrothed to the boyar Nikita Matuta. After Tucha and Olga sing a love duet, Tokmakov and Matuta arrive. Tucha leaves quickly and Olga hides herself. Tokmakov tells Matuta that Olga is not his own daughter, but the child of his sister-in-law . He does not know who Olga’s true father is.
At the square of the Pskov kremlin, a messenger from Novgorod bears news that Tsar Ivan is about to deal the same fate to Pskov that he has to Novgorod. The townspeople are initially roused to defiance, but Tokmakov tries to calm the crowd and preach submission, saying that they are innocent of any treason and thus need not fear the Tsar. Tucha and his associates plan to rebel.
Act one ended.
Marina walked into the dressing room, teared down the fussy headwear, and smashed it on the mirror.
“Черт!” she roared in her throat, rubbing her forehead fretfully, eyes closed. Then she took a deep breath, lifted her eyes and gazed into the mirror, mumbled. “Focus on yourself…no one noticed…and no one will.” Then she put her hands behind to untie the robe. Her heartbeat slowed down while unbuttoning her costumes, until a deep voice came behind her.
“No one could manage to not notice you, Princess Olga.” said a middle-aged man in decent uniform, holding a bunch of roses tied in silk ribbon.
“How long have you been hiding there? In my locker room.” Marina forced a natural smile to the man in the mirror, taking off her white robe. Then she sat in front of the dressing table, nearly naked.
“Not long enough for the Vozhd[1] to notice. Every comrade needs some time for the restroom, isn’t it?”
“There isn’t much time for me to get dressed for the next scene, this damn opera is literally killing me, if you wanna say something, please be quick.” said Marina impatiently after she took a sip of water.
“Shouldn’t you add ‘general’ when you finished?”
“Do I still need to?”
“That depends on how you treat me.”
The man chuckled, walked closer, stood behind her, hands on her shoulders, looking into the mirror in front of them.
“I’m not here to. . .say something.” he leaned down on her left, whispered to her ear.
Marina sighed softly, frowned, shoved his right hand off her shoulder. “You are not going to do it h…”
The man left kisses on her neck, almost sucking, before she could finish her words. Marina did not reject physically. She leaned back in the chair, eyes closed, breathing heavily to slow down her heartbeats, and try to find a word. Before she could do that, one of the man’s hands made its way from her shoulder to her breast under the untied bra, touching and rubbing it softly. Roses dropped on the timber floor. She couldn’t help moaning lightly, one hand on the man’s nape and the other grabbing the armrest, breathing to his ears.
“Fuck, Vasily.” she let out a groan from her mouth. “If you don’t stop. . . Черт возьми.” She was interrupted by the man licking her breast on the left, his hands on her waist. All she could see from the mirror was his brown hair and green uniform. He took a step forward, still bent over the chair, burying his face in her hair at front. She threw her head on his shoulder, facing the ceiling, as his hands slid all the way down to her inner thighs, rousing goosebumps.
“If we do this right now,” she mumbled between her breaths. “I’m gonna die on that stage soon.”
“How come?” The man lifted his head, strengthened up a bit, nuzzling her cheek.
“Do you think the Vozhd wants to see a naked Olga performing on stage?” Marina blurted, with a blushing face. Then she pushed the man off her shoulder, sprang to her feet, turned around and leaned on the desk, sighed.“You know we can meet in my apartment After The Show.” she almost shouted, eyes on the man.
“It’s torturing to wait another two hours. . .I got wet when I saw you flirting with Tucha on stage.” The man took a step closer, touching her face.
“Now you are ruining the makeup.” said Marina sulkily, shoving off his hand.
“Don’t you think it’s hilarious to get wet beside him?”
“Don’t you think it’s dangerous if I fuck up the show in front of him?”
“Am I your Tucha?”
“Now you are saying something even more dangerous.”
The man burst into laughter, so did Marina. “Hush!” Marina signaled him to shut up when someone knocked on the door.
“Act two is about to end, Ms Khoklova.” a boy’s voice came from outside.
“I’ll be ready in time!” Marina yelled toward the door. Then She jerked her head to the man, opened her mouth, eyebrows raised.
“I know what you’re gonna say. I’m going to your place tonight, and finish what we haven’t done.” said the man, smiling at Marina’s expression.
“Just— Get—Out.” she literally shouted.
“Behave yourself, Princess Olga.” The man grinned at Marina, with a teasing look on his face.
The people of Pskov are in fear of the wrath of the Tsar. Olga sings of how she does not truly know of her parents. A crowd gathers and sings welcome to the Tsar.
At Tokmakov’s residence, Tsar Ivan patronizes Tokmakov and his ideas of the city behaving independently of the Tsar. The Tsar then asks to be attended by Princess Olga. She enters, and they both react oddly at each other’s appearance. When Tokmakov and Ivan are later alone in conversation, the Tsar asks about Olga and learns about the identity of her mother. Ivan is shaken to learn that Vera Sheloga is Olga’s mother, and his attitude toward the city changes.
In the forest, Olga and Tucha meet for a tryst. However, Matuta and his men appear, repulse Tucha and abduct Olga.
At a camp near the riverside, Ivan continues to think about Olga. He hears that Matuta has abducted her. Angry at this news, Ivan summons Olga, and addresses her as “Olga Ivanova”, a hint as to her true father. Olga asks for protection from Matuta. Tsar Ivan says that she will be taken to Moscow, and he will choose her groom. He says that when Tucha is captured, he will live, but imprisoned. Olga continues to plead for mercy, and says that she has always worshipped him since she was young.
Tucha and his forces attack the Tsar’s camp. As they are repelled, Olga is fatally shot. At the end, over her body, Ivan reveals that he is, in fact, Olga’s father.
As the curtain fell, the audience filled the Bolshoi Theatre with echoing applause. Marina stood in the centre of the light, dressed in the glowing scarlet gown Princess Olga wore in the last scene, blowing kisses and waving her hands from time to time, along with other actors. She gave more air kisses, smiled harder, deliberately and as usual, in the direction of the officers sitting in the middle on the second platform. However, her stomach tightened when she spotted something wrong—— none of them was applauding. The reason couldn’t be more obvious as Joseph Stalin slowly walked down to the gate with his advisors, without a hint of satisfaction on his face. The yellow light from chandeliers seemed more dazzling somehow, the air turned heavier, and the sounds grew deafening, rendering her ears ring and spots dance before her eyes. She took a glance at the director, from whose face she learned worry and fear. He was standing in the shadow on the right side of the stage, with one hand rubbing his eyes and the other holding the glasses. Smile faded away on Marina’s face, she couldn’t force another smile on stage, she felt like throwing up, because she knew she made a mistake, which could be fatal, of taking part in this opera.
A little boy emerged from the auditorium, jogging toward the stage, one hand rested on his grey beret, the other holding a banquet of white flowers. All of a sudden, he fell on the stairs, flowers spread around, but he pressed his beret tightly, making sure it stayed where it was. Then he quickly stood up, bent down to gather the flowers. Several ladies sitting at front noticed the boy, and they poked their gentlemen almost simultaneously, but none of them decided to move their butt. Marina saw the boy, she deadly needed a reason to get off the stage for a while, so she went to the stairs, squatted down to help him with it.
“Who do you wanna send these to?” Marina asked gently, smiling to the boy’s eyes.
“They are for you, madam.” The boy answered while sliding the flowers into her hands. Then he took off his beret carefully and held it toward her, on the opposite face, showing the note hidden inside. Marina took the note swiftly, screwed it up in her palm and walked back on stage with the flowers.
The Bolshoi Theatre returned to silence after the audience and actors left. Most lights were turned off, only a few remained on for the workers removing the stage settings. Instead of the splendid hall gathering the richest people, now this place looked more like a grave, lifeless and speechless. Marina put on a scarf and walked out of the gate, said goodbye to the fountain opposite the marble pillars. The chilling wind of October penetrated her greatcoat to reach her skin, shivering. She felt she had almost lost her voice after singing too much. The streets were shadowy as usual, lamps were dim and flickering, one of the scenes waiting for an opera singer after work. She stopped by the cross, looking around, breathing out white steam. A car in bottle green, which was parked by the cross, captured her eyes. She walked closer, then spotted a familiar figure in there. A young man behind the wheel signaled her to get in. A strong smell of smoke struck her face as she opened the door.
“When did you start to smoke?” asked Marina as she took off her scarf and put her purse aside.
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, my big sister.” said the young man while starting the car.
“Like what? Taking pills?” Marina laughed, pressed her head against the window, closed her eyes.
“I just quitted that, believe it or not.”
“Sounds like a joke.”
The man chuckled and shook his head, eyes fixed on the road. Both of them remained silent. The bricks and arched stones along Nikolskaya street moved towards the car faster and faster. A few drops of rain hit the windshield, breaking the silence.
“You look tired.”
“I am. . .the damn opera, long and exhausting, troublesome too. . .Why the note and flowers? That was unnecessary, you could just wait by the street and pick me up.”
“I was in the theatre.”
“You were watching the show?”
“Yeah, just like the Vozhd.”
“How did I do?”
“Brilliant as usual, you overshadowed all the others.”
Marina grinned, reaching out to touch the man’s jaw, glancing at his green eyes. “That’s my little brother’s sweet mouth.” she joked before she rolled down the window.
“Now you are seducing me.”
“Doesn’t matter, you are not really my brother anyway, which means you do have a chance to marry me.” Marina started to chortle, her laughter filled the car.
“Then who’s gonna sleep with Vasily Sokolovsky?” the young man threw a question casually, making laughter cease at once.
All of a moment, Marina’s face turned grave, she turned her head to face the man, eyes fixed on him and her heartbeats became heavy. “How do you know this?” she asked in a deep voice, hands sweating.
“I said, you don’t really know about me.”
“This is not about You, but about Me!” she yelled at the man, grabbing his collar. “Now tell me, how do you know this? Is there anyone else knowing about the thing between me and him?” She bit her lips, breathing heavily.
“I’m still driving, m’am, you don’t wanna die for a car accident, do you?”
After saying so, the man turned the car sharply to the right, prompting Marina to let go of him. Next second, her elbow and shoulder bumped hard against the door.
“Придурок!” she cried painfully, curling up in the seat with a twisted face. “What’s this all about? You plan to murder me tonight, don’t you?” she glared at the man, who was parking the car by the street without any expression. “And this is not the way to my apartment.” added Marina angrily.
The man didn’t look at her, he lowered his head, frowned and sighed, organizing his words. After a while, he lifted his eyes and cleared his throat softly.
“I’m not the one who wants to murder you, or hurt you in any way. The story I’m telling you is gonna make you sick, but you need to believe me, for your own good.”
“You’d better explain it before you run out of my patience.”
More snowflakes fell on the windshield, slowly melted, dropped down, forming an abstract net of water on the window.
“Elena Meryerhold,” words came out of the man’s mouth, like a sharp knife, cut on Marina’s skin. “Daughter of Zinaida Reich[2] and Vsevolod Meryerhold[3], this is who you are, isn’t it?”
He didn’t receive any respond. Marina leaned on the window, her lips turned pale, eyes closed, frozen as if she was already dead.
“I’m not the only one who knows this.”
“Who else?” Marina whispered, staring at the falling snow outside.
“The man you sleep with, and Laventiy Beria.”
“Who the hell are you?”she asked abruptly.
“Oleg Strizhenov, your friend. There’s no need for me to change my name.”
“Let me guess, from NKVD?” she threw him a scornful look, and a contemptuous smile.
“As you said, this is not about me.”
“Seems that I inherit the same fate from my parents,” she smiled a little. “The only question left is the date of execution. You are not shooting me in this car, are you? I’d rather be hung.” After saying so, she began to let out sounds similar to laughter hysterically, crouching in the seat, head on her knees. Hard to tell whether she was crying or laughing.
“If I wanted to shoot you, you’d already be dead.” Oleg mumbled while taking a cigar out of a wooden box. The he put the box back to his coat, found out a lighter, sent the dancing flame to the cigar in his mouth. His eyes weren’t on Marina. But next second, Marina was over him, knee against his crotch, one hand holding a knife around his neck, the other pushing the flame to his face. The cigar dropped on his laps. It happened fast and quietly, the only sound left in the car now was Oleg’s tense breaths.
“Save your fucking mercy little brother, all of you Suck!” Marina roared in her throat, glared straight into Oleg’s eyes, kept pushing the lighter, which was no more than one inch to his face.
“You should. . . pay attention to your stomach.” words squeezed out Oleg’s lips, along with a sound of safety bolt.
Marina took a look down, her face blushed all over, then she took back her knife, let go of the lighter, sat back to her seat. Oleg breathed a sigh of relief, closed the lid of the lighter, put it into his pocket and picked the cigar, still pointing the pistol at her.
“That was fast, did you practice?” Oleg asked with a wry smile, rubbing his neck and smoothing his brown hair backward, chuckled. “Sokolovsky hasn’t told anyone from what I can see. You have something he wants deadly. . .I should say your parents had it, which could kill him and Molotov once it’s revealed. Beria has a thing with them, he wants them dead. This is where I get in, to get what Beria wants.”
“Are you saying that I became a target of three devils and I’m still fresh and alive? And one of the devils’ killer is explaining to me what is going on.” Marina burst into a hearty laugh as if she just heard a joke. “ I should have been interrogated to death if you are telling the truth, Mr Naïve.”
“You are still fine because only one of the three devils knows who you are.”
“You just told me Beria knows.”
“He’s aware that the couple had a child, but he was told the child had been sent to America somehow. Sokolovsky didn’t know your identity in the beginning, he discovered it from the picture you hid in the piano sheet. You haven’t realize how eye-catching it is to place sheets of Rachmaninoff in your house, have you? He talked to Molotov on the phone that night, after he went home from your place. I guess he was going to tell him what he’d found, but he hesitated, and changed the topic. I’m not sure about his intention, but keeping the relationship with you is the best way to keep the whole thing to himself. Once he gets you arrested and interrogated, news will reach Beria’s ears, Molotov’s as well. He’s clear that he’s been watched, but having an affair with an actress is not a big deal.”
“Sounds like people like you are spying on every living being. Shooting shitty movies and watching people at the same time must be exhausting,” said Marina. “You haven’t talked much about the role you play in this, or why would I believe in you?” she added casually, then took out a lipstick and put it on carefully in front of the mirror.
“You’ll probably be killed by the man on your bed tonight if you don’t trust me. He entered the dressing room to take your key when you were on stage, but he didn’t get it, because I did it before him.” he lifted the key, which was swaying on his index finger.
“You’re such a jerk!” Marina roared furiously, clutching her lipstick in hand, went red as a beet.
“He should have been fucking around in your house if weren’t for me, princess Olga,” tittered Oleg. “Just a reminder, he’s got a pistol in his coat, bigger than mine, and a knife better than yours, a pair of handcuffs as well. I spotted on occasion in the theatre. It’s no surprise for someone like him, a general, to take the first two. But handcuffs. . .I guess they are for you. You’ve run outta his patience after two months. Interrogating you in your own apartment isn’t a bad option for him.”
“If you think you can convince me into handing in the ‘thing’ Beria wants by telling me all these bullshit. . .well. . .first of all, I have no idea what Beria is looking for, not even a clue. My dead parents haven’t appeared in my dreams to tell me what, or where it is. Second, why makes you think I’ll help the devil who murdered my parents four years ago? Interrogating me is a better option for people like you, isn’t it?” she needled, a pause. “This is the first time I’ve seen a secret police bothering so much to do his job, disguising himself as a lovely friend for half a year just for getting close to me. I gotta say. . . I’m really flattered.” Marina sneered.
Oleg fell silent, they both did, as if the snowflakes rest on the window are eavesdropping their conversation. After a while, Oleg raised his left hand and pointed at a restaurant by the street, of which the sign read “Aragvi”.
“There’s a safe house in there, if you need a place to hide, go to that restaurant and find Sasha Markarova. She’s red. . .whatever she is wearing it must be red too. You won’t miss her once you are in there,” Oleg took a puff of his cigar, then he put the gun back into his pocket and said “Whatever you are doing tonight is up to you, I’ll drive you to your place if you want, but I suggest that you should go into that restaurant.”
Marina checked her watch. It was a quarter past ten. “Drop me at my apartment, Vasily’s waiting”
Oleg pulled the handbrake after they arrived at Marina’s place, a Khrushchyovka building erected on Leningradsky Avenue. The building stood in shadow in the day, blended with darkness at night. Dusky light could be seen from the dense windows, making it more like a ghost somehow. She was about to get out of the car when Oleg took her hand abruptly and looked into her eyes.
“What now?” asked Marina impatiently.
“You’re gonna need this.” He took out the pistol and slipped it into her hand. “Tell me you know how to use it.”
“Don’t need you to teach me.” Marina grabbed the pistol and shook off his hand.
“I still can’t believe Sokolovsky’s willing to stay here most nights, instead of his house on the embankment.”
“It’s shabby and damp, but places like this are the safest in this country. At least it has kept me alive, so far.” said Marina, a bitter smile. The she put on her scarf, got out of the car and walked to the gate.
Oleg watched her go up the stairs and eventually disappeared from his sight.
[1] The Vozhd refers to Joseph Stalin
[2] A Russian actress, one of the main stars of the Mayerhold theatre, stabbed to death at home in 1939
[3] A Russian director, executed in 1940
