The Master Craftsman, page 16
“You look good,” he said with an approving nod. “You look like stylish Russian girl.”
“But I’m supposed to be an American girl,” Ava said.
Anatoly shrugged. “Is okay, though. When you look like stylish Russian girl, you blend in better and get more respect. Americans often so sloppy. They do not dress nice enough.”
Ava smiled. “Thanks,” she said.
Anatoly slowed down and pulled to the side of the road, ignoring the car behind him as the driver laid on his horn. Ava looked back and saw her mother and Xander walking swiftly up the sidewalk. A moment later, the door opened and the two slid into the back seat. Ava blushed as Xander squeezed next to her, the weight of his body pressing into hers.
“It is cold out there!” Carol exclaimed, pulling the door shut. “Floridians have no business trying to walk in such weather.”
Xander laughed. He turned to look at Ava. “Well,” he said, eyebrows raised. “You look very nice.”
Ava cleared her throat. “Yeah, thanks,” she said. She felt her cheeks get hot.
Xander leaned forward and said something quietly in Russian to Anatoly.
Ava glanced at her mom behind his back. Carol gave her a good-natured wink. Ava pursed her lips and looked away as Xander leaned back between them.
“Ava,” he said, “I sent Anatoly a copy of Alma’s poem. He had an interesting observation.”
Ava’s eyes shifted from Xander to Anatoly’s gaze in the rearview of the mirror. “Oh,” she said. “What did you think, Anatoly?”
“Are we okay parked here on the side of the road?” Carol asked, shifting nervously in her seat.
“Yes. Is Russia,” Anatoly replied with a wave of his hand as he turned in his seat to face them. “May I have copy of poem please?”
Ava reached in her bag and pulled out the copy of Alma’s poem that she’d made earlier, not wanting to bring the original out of the hotel. The original Russian was on one side of the paper, and she’d hastily scribbled Nick’s translation on the side. She handed it to Anatoly.
“Look here,” he said.
Xander leaned forward next to Ava, their shoulders pressed together. She cleared her throat and focused on Anatoly.
“The translation is not accurate.” Anatoly pointed at the page. “Is missing correct wording.”
“Like what?” Ava asked.
Anatoly pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Well, is missing important . . . uh . . . how you say in English . . .” He looked at Xander and said something in Russian.
“Basically, what he’s saying is there’s nuance missing in the translation,” Xander said.
“Okay,” she said. “Where?”
“Well,” Anatoly said, “here first line is translated same as seventh line, but there is small variation that is important. See”—he pointed—“first line says, ‘The day I know the secret from the boards.’ But here”—he moved his finger down the page—“says ‘The day they know the secret from the boards.’”
“Interesting. The secret from the boards?” Ava looked at him. “What does that mean?”
He shrugged. “Is all confusing. But I am . . . uh, how you call it? I am man of science. I do not know the poetry.” He handed her the paper, and Ava sat back in her seat, reading the poem aloud.
“‘The day I know the secret from the boards,
Hidden beneath the inner chamber of—’ That part is missing.
‘Held in bondage to the ancient rule,
Invisible but seen.
All I knew is stolen, then
Taken from the watching world.
The day they know the secret from the boards . . .’”
She glanced up at Anatoly’s gaze. He gave a small nod. Ava looked back down and continued to read.
“‘The day will flee like all that have come before.
Home is what my heart desires,
Where dust settles and the—’ Something . . .
‘All will be known where the ice doesn’t hang.
The fisted heart of a man now lies,
Not in the light for all to see,
But in the secret chambers of the boards.’”
Ava looked from the page to Xander and then up to Anatoly. “This is painfully cryptic.”
“Seems to me we’ve got ourselves a treasure map,” Xander replied.
“You think?”
Xander nodded. He took the paper from Ava’s hand, then pressed his finger to his ear.
“Zak? Can you hear me, mate?” He waited a beat, then nodded. “Good.”
“You can talk to Zak?” Ava asked.
“Yeah,” Xander replied. “He’s all set up in the room and confirmed he sees everything we see, so we’re good to go.”
“Where’s my camera?” Ava asked, glancing down at her outfit. “I don’t want to accidentally cover it up.”
Xander reached over and tugged on the collar of her shirt. “It’s inside this pin here,” he said, fingering a small flower pin tucked into the fabric.
Ava’s heart fluttered at the nearness of his fingers. She reached up and touched the button on her collar lightly. “Got it. Where’s your camera?”
Xander pointed to a diamond-shaped button at the top of his dress shirt. “And your mom’s camera is here, inside her brooch.” He pointed at the golden flower pin on Carol’s jacket.
“What happens when she puts on her coat?” Ava asked.
“I’ll be with her, so Zak will still see what he needs to see.” He pressed his finger to his ear again. “You hear me then, yeah?” Xander waited a beat. “Cool,” he said. “As you’re sifting through files, if you come across anything that references the lines in this poem, will you pull it out?” He paused. “Thanks.”
He handed the page back to Ava, and she tucked it back into her bag. “So, you think it’s a treasure map, then? Really?”
Xander nodded. “Yeah, seems to me that Alma Pihl was leaving us a little message about the egg.”
Ava leaned back. “The day I knew the secret from the boards,” she murmured. She was silent for a beat, then shot up and turned to Xander.
“Hold on. Zak can see our every move?”
“Yeah.”
“So, what do we do if we need to go to the bathroom?”
Xander chuckled. “Just flip up your collar. He won’t be able to see anything, and he can’t hear you, only me, so all’s well.”
Ava narrowed her eyes, then slowly leaned back against the seat.
Carol snickered from the other side of Xander. “You’ve just been dissecting a potential treasure map in cryptic code, and that was the first question you thought to ask?”
Ava shrugged, then turned and looked out the window. The cloud cover from earlier had burned off, leaving the sky vibrant, the cerulean backdrop lighting up the city. Rows of cars snaked their way through the boulevards, but if Ava concentrated, she could dismiss them easily. She imagined what it must have looked like a hundred years earlier when horse-drawn carriages were prevalent. The busy thoroughfare would likely have been crowded with people, most of them dressed elegantly, as it would have been the upper echelon of society who frequented the streets surrounding the Winter Palace.
“I love thee, work of Peter’s hand,” Ava murmured.
“What was that?” Xander asked.
Ava turned. “I was just thinking of the poem I read by Pushkin.” She looked back out the window. “This city is romantic, isn’t it?”
“Totally,” Xander agreed. “Some of the most famous writers in Russia found their way here, and they never left.” He leaned over her and pointed out the window. “See over there? The gilt statue?”
Ava nodded. “That’s the spire of the Saints Peter and Paul Cathedral inside the fortress walls.”
Xander nodded. “You know your stuff.”
“She has a headful of knowledge that hasn’t been useful until the last two weeks,” Carol piped up from beside him.
Xander chuckled. “Well, Nick did tell me she was much smarter than even she understood.” He gave Ava a quick glance. “He also said you had a bit of a stubborn streak.”
Ava blinked a few times, shifting her eyes away from Xander and her mother and looking out at the city passing them by. She chewed on her bottom lip for several minutes before turning back to face him.
“So, are we going to visit the fortress while we’re here?” she asked Xander.
His eyes locked on hers with an intensity that made her shift in her seat. “If there’s time, we should. You can’t really understand the unique history of St. Petersburg without visiting the fortress.”
Ava glanced back out the window, then turned, a quizzical look flashing through her eyes. “Held in bondage by the ancient rule. Hidden beneath the secret chambers,” she said.
“What?” he asked.
“Alma’s poem. Think about it. ‘Held in bondage to the ancient rule.’ In Alma’s time, Russia was held in bondage to the rule of the tsars. Nicholas the Second was widely considered a terrible leader, and the ancient rule crumbled beneath him.”
Xander nodded slowly. “Go on.”
“In the early twentieth century, St. Petersburg could easily have been considered the heart of Russia.” Ava gazed out the window. “I think Alma’s clue is pointing us to the city itself.”
“Right,” Xander said slowly. “Interesting.” He looked out the window. “We’re quite close to the museum now. Right, Anatoly?”
Anatoly grunted. “Is some traffic.”
“See that building over there, across the way?” Xander pointed, and Ava leaned forward.
“That gorgeous palace-looking structure?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Xander answered. “That’s where the museum is housed.”
“My goodness,” Carol said. “This city really is magnificent.”
“The Fabergé Museum is inside the Shuvalov Palace,” Xander said as Ava and Carol gaped at the sight. The marvelous building sat on the bank of the river that ran through St. Petersburg’s city center.
“What river is that in front of it?” Carol asked.
“Is the Fontanka River,” Anatoly said. He turned the car off the main thoroughfare and wove his way around a short backstreet before turning toward the museum. “Only five more minutes.”
“This stretch of the Fontanka used to house much of the Russian nobility,” Xander said.
Ava leaned forward to get a better look at the buildings.
“You can see the neoclassical, Baroque style of the buildings, yeah?” Xander continued. “The Shuvalov Palace underwent a huge renovation in 1844 before the wedding of Sofia Naryshkina to Count Pyotr Pavlovich Shuvalov. Their descendants lived in the palace until the revolution. The palace was nationalized in 1918. And now it houses Fabergé’s treasures, which is a bit of a fitting end to the palace’s history.”
Ava blinked up at Xander as he rattled off the historical facts. He smiled in return.
“You’re not the only one interested in history,” he said with a wink.
Ava looked away quickly, unnerved by how charming he could be.
“Your mother and I will exit the car here and walk,” he said as Anatoly pulled to the side of the road and stopped the car. “We’ll enter the museum as patrons before you come in, and we will simply begin looking around. You come in and approach the front desk. Ask to see Larissa Pavlovna. Tell the front desk you’ve got an appointment. Larissa is the docent on duty today and is expecting you. After you introduce yourself, I’ll approach and explain that we’re here on vacation from America and would love to join in on your tour if that’s okay with you. If you concede, Larissa Pavlovna will as well, because then it means she won’t have to give two separate tours. From there we’ll pretend we know nothing about what you’re discussing, and we can all ask questions at will. You have your notebook and pen ready?”
Ava nodded.
“Alright then. Shall we go?” He turned to Carol. She nodded slowly.
“You okay, Mom?” Ava asked.
“Yeah. Just gearing myself up to step out into the cold.” Carol tossed them an apologetic look, then grimaced as Xander reached across her and shoved open the door. Carol gasped as the icy cold air hit her face. Ava watched the scene play out with mild amusement.
Xander shut the door behind them, then turned and walked quickly away from the car, his hand on Carol’s back. Anatoly merged back onto the road and pulled around the corner to the front of the building, slowing down in front of the large glass doors that opened up into the Fabergé Museum.
“Okay,” Ava muttered to herself. “I’m Bethany Hansen. I teach literature. I love Shakespeare. I’m writing a book. I can do this.”
She shifted her gaze to Anatoly and nodded. “Um . . . thanks.”
“Is fine. You do okay in there.”
Ava pushed open the door and stepped out. She took a moment to gather herself before marching up the sidewalk and yanking the door of the building open.
She stepped inside and let the door swing shut behind her. It was warm in the building. She pulled off her scarf and slowly unbuttoned her coat. The long blond wig tickled the back of her neck, and she shook her head a little to try and shake it off. She looked around the quiet lobby, taking a moment to observe her surroundings before she had to fall into character. She looked up and took in the ornate interior, the opulence and grandeur overwhelming, even for a girl from America. She tried to imagine what it must have been like to walk into this same space in the nineteenth century, and immediately found herself as awestruck as she’d been the day before in the Hermitage.
She turned at the sound of footsteps and pasted a smile on her face as a woman approached her. The woman spoke something in Russian. Ava blinked and shook her head.
“I’m looking for Larissa Pavlovna?” she asked.
The woman smiled and extended her hand. “Hello. I’m Larissa. You are Bethany then, yes?”
Ava nodded.
“Wonderful. I am happy to give you your tour, and to answer any questions you have about Fabergé and his creations.”
“Thank you,” Ava said. She took a moment to observe Larissa. She was petite and pretty, with light brown hair that hung to her shoulders. She wore very little makeup, but she didn’t need much anyway. She looked young, perhaps even the same age as Ava herself.
“Thank you for helping me with the research for my book,” Ava said with a smile as they climbed the small staircase to the first showroom.
“It is my pleasure,” Larissa said. “We are always happy to answer questions about the magnificent history of these pieces. Now, if you’ll notice where we begin, you will see that there are many interesting and unique pieces of art. Fabergé created more than just the eggs that most people know about. In fact, the Fabergé eggs were only just a very small piece of what Fabergé and his craftsman made and sold.”
Ava nodded. She reached into her bag, pulled out the notebook and pen that Xander had given her, and began jotting down a few notes.
“Excuse me?”
Ava and Larissa turned to see Xander and Carol approaching. Xander’s mouth stretched into an impossibly handsome smile as he bowed his head slightly.
“I couldn’t help but overhear you both speaking in English, and I wondered if my mother and I might join you for this tour?”
“Oh, well, I am unsure,” Larissa said. “This woman has paid for a private tour, so I’m afraid it is up to her.”
“I don’t mind,” Ava said with a shrug.
Larissa offered a nod to Xander and Carol. “Of course,” she said, motioning with the swing of an arm for the two to join them.
“Oh, thank you both so much.” Xander grabbed Carol’s elbow and pulled her forward. “Mother, look. We’re going to tag along here.”
“Oh, wonderful.” Carol smiled. “Thank you both.”
Ava nodded at Xander and her mom, trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness of the whole plot.
“I’m Bethany,” she said with a smile.
“Alex Morgan. And this is my mother, Mary. We’re here on a little cultural excursion.” Xander flashed a smile as he held his hand out to Ava. She shook it quickly, then turned back to the guide.
“Well, we will continue then,” Larissa said.
They followed her through each room of the tour, Ava taking notes and interjecting questions now and then. Finally, they entered the final room of the tour.
“And here we have the blue room,” Larissa said with a smile. “This is usually the part of the museum people are most interested in because it is where we house our collection of Fabergé eggs.”
“It is lovely in here,” Carol said, her eyes sweeping across the room.
Ava nodded in agreement. Her heart pounded in her chest as she walked to the first display case.
“This is the Hen Egg, correct?” she asked, turning to Larissa.
“It is,” Larissa replied with a smile. “It was the first egg that Fabergé made for Tsar Alexander the Third, which he presented to his wife, Maria Feodorovna, in 1885. This was the egg that began the long-standing tradition between Fabergé and the tsars.”
Ava nodded. She leaned forward and stared at the egg behind the glass. It was displayed in three parts. The outside of the egg sat on one platform, the thick, golden exterior covered in an opaque enamel, giving it the appearance of a real egg.
The platform below held the golden yolk, which had been tucked inside the enameled egg. Ava could tell just by looking at the matte yellow-gold yolk that it was heavy. She wished she could reach in and touch it.
Sitting on a platform next to the egg and yolk was the second surprise from inside the egg. It was a solid gold hen, expertly carved and intricately detailed. Ava leaned closer.
“Amazing,” she murmured.
“Indeed,” Larissa agreed. “But there was originally more to this egg. If you look at the hen very closely, you see that it, too, opens up. Inside, the tsarina found a small replica of the imperial crown made from diamonds and rubies, as well as a small ruby pendant. Those two surprises have, unfortunately, been lost.” Larissa paused to let the group study the hen.
“When Maria Feodorovna saw this egg,” she continued, “she was so delighted that Alexander the Second immediately commissioned a second egg for the following year.”
