Death – A Jest
‘Excuse me, sir. There is a man at the front door. He says that you invited him for dinner tonight. He says that he is Rasputin, sire.’
Yusupov looked up, and saw his butler standing near him. He felt his heart beating faster. Shoving away all signs of nervousness, he calmly replied, ‘Bring him in Hans. Also, tell the others to be ready.’
‘As you will says so, sir.’ said the butler, and trotted off, returning a couple of moments later with a tall and lanky man, who had worn a grayish-blue overcoat to prevent the nasty cold from entering his body. His beard looked slightly untidy, and his eyes gave of a soft and mystical gleam.
‘You are Yusupov, right?’ asked Rasputin.
‘Indeed I am. Sit down, Mr. Rasputin. Thank you so much for attending to my humble request for dinner.’
‘No no, it’s my pleasure.’
They then began to talk about the current politics – covering every aspect of the motive of Yusupov’s plan. Yusupov calmly listened to the monk’s deep concern about the Russian monarchy. He did not let the visitor know what poison he had concocted up. If everything went well…
At about nine-thirty, Gustav – Yusupov’s chef – came in and asked his master if he would bring in the starter, which would start the events of the plan. Yusupov gave the green signal to him. The chef disappeared into the kitchen, only to return with a plate of eight pieces of the Russian Honey Cake.
Before Rasputin arrived, Yusupov had mixed potassium cyanide into each one of the pieces of cake. When Rasputin gave the first bite, the great monk would fall down, and after a few moments fulfill the motive of Yusupov’s plan – death. Yusupov and his fellow conspirators had pledged to get the monk out of their motherland, either by hook or by crook. Yusupov waited patiently, any minute now…
Yusupov’s eyes got suddenly struck with both shock and surprise, as he saw – to his horror – that the pieces of cake were munched down joyfully by Rasputin down his throat, and he was continuously smacking his lips with delight, muttering praise for the cake.
What Yusupov didn’t know that the pieces of cake were laced with a poison having very mild effects. This betraying task was done by one of his fellow conspirators, who – at the last moment – had a sudden change in his heart. Anyway, coming back:
‘Oh, the cake was delicious, Mr. Yusupov! Who made this heaven?’ Rasputin asked – still smacking his honey-glazed lips.
‘They were prepared for you specially, by my special chef.’ He replied, struggling very hard not to let out his fury at his failure. It was the first attempt.
‘Pardon me, but do you have Madeira wine? I have heard that wine goes best with these. You might be surprised to see how a holy monk could like me drink alcohol, but besides religion, food also matters to me!’ He laughed showing his teeth.
Yusupov – in reply – gave a charming – yet evil – smile. How God is now favoring him this time. He had also laced all his wine bottles with cyanide, in case the cake didn’t work. He was amazed at the fact that Rasputin was asking for his own coffin…
‘Certainly yes. I have the finest of all wines in Russia. One minute.’ Yusupov replied, and then went down hurriedly to the basement, where all his alcoholic beverages and his three fellow conspirators were waiting as backup. Yusupov told them: ‘Look, if the wine doesn’t work, then we’ll all shoot that mongrel down. I have sworn to Christ to murder this Satan-like creature! That scandal has already been attempted to be murdered by four others, yet he has escaped. However, today God or the people of Russia shall not save him!’ Yusupov banged the table once, and went upstairs to present his guest with a glass of the Madeira wine. He then sat down in his chair, anticipating – any minute now – the end of the monk. It should be over in…
Yusupov just managed to save the bottle from crashing down to the marble floor from his trembling hands. He had expected the poison to do its action in fifteen minutes, but no! Twenty minutes had passed by, yet Rasputin showed no signs of uneasiness! He was there, sitting and drinking the wine peacefully. After this – eating the cake and drinking the wine – the monk should have enough cyanide in his body to immaterialize his body! To Yusupov’s horror, he saw that his both his attempts had just been crushed down!
Now he couldn’t control his anger anymore. He got off and stomped off furiously down to the basement, very much surprising the monk who wondered what he could have done that so disturbed his host so much. Perhaps he shouldn’t have asked for the wine…
Yusupov returned shortly after a few moments - not alone – with the three conspirators. His hand now possessed a revolver. The monk just sat there, frozen at this new surprise.
‘You better look at that crucifix and chant every prayer you’ve heard, Mr. Rasputin, for you will be now going to your miserable coffin!’ Yusupov – at point-blank range – then shot at the forehead of Rasputin. The monk gave out a cry of agony, and fell down face-to-face with the floor from the chair.
Yusupov felt a load coming down from his skin as he and the others rushed towards the body of the monk. Yes, Rasputin was dead! The monk was no more! The aristocracy will now no longer be threatened! They had…
Before anyone could do anything, Yusupov felt his chin suddenly got struck by a fist – as hard as iron, and for a few moments, he saw complete darkness. In those moments, Rasputin had punched into Yusupov’s chin, and shoving off others, he began running down the hallway. They heard the low moan of a man, and the slamming of the front door. ‘Get him!’ cried out Yusupov, who had recovered by then. The four rushed to the entrance, and found that the butler was lying on the floor, groaning in pain, apparently hit by Rasputin, while escaping. They got out, and stood there, wondering where the monk could have gone. He should not have gone too far. There was a mist gathering now, and darkness was increasing…
‘There he is!’ cried out Dmitri – one of the conspirators – ‘he’s running towards east! Let’s get him!’ They all saw Rasputin, disappearing into the mist eastwards.
What followed next was a frantic chase in the darkness. The conspirators were shooting bullet after bullet, sometimes skidded in the ice, and they kept on running after the monk. They would not rest until they had shot…
But not for long. Yusupov had just shot a bullet in the monk’s direction, when he heard a loud scream piercing the darkness. Upon moving closer, they saw that their prey had been caught. Rasputin was lying on the ground, groaning in pain, when he felt three more pellets of lead entering his body. The last thing he saw – in the ever-decreasing visibility – was the murderous smiles of the conspirators, before he finally closed down his eyes…
‘Oh finally! Now what do we do with his body?’ Dmitri asked.
‘Why, we will drown him in the Malaya Neva. I still doubt whether he has died or not from the bullets. If we drown him, there’s no escape route for him: he will die by drowning!’
The Malaya Neva was just close to where they assassinated Rasputin. They hurled the body of the monk over their shoulders. Reaching there, they threw the body into the water, which sank down into the pits of the river.
‘Now listen. Within half an hour, I’ll meet you at the station. It will be a foolish job to remain anywhere after this. The police and the people will be blood-thirsty for us after this incident. Pack up everything and come. We shall be out of the country by dawn tomorrow. Go!’ Yusupov commanded the others.
At eleven-thirty, the four boarded a goods train, which helped them to run away from the place for good…
***
The body of Rasputin was found the next morning. On his death certificate, the expectations of Yusupov came out to be true. Meaning?
It was found that Rasputin had his lungs were filled with water. There was no cyanide found in his stomach, nor were any bullets found in his head or chest. This gave only one conclusion:
Rasputin – the man who had so cleverly tricked Death, making him a jest in front of everyone – had finally died by drowning in the Malaya Neva.
***
M.Macabre
25.07.2020
Dedicated to: Gavrilo Princip (Happy Birthday!)
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