Mihail Alexandrovich was the next child to be baptised by Father Stephanje. Xenia was 3 and had fallen into the beauty common in her family. Her mother's eyes, her father's determination, and the beauty of the Romanov's evident in her copper brown hair and sparkling blue eyes. Russia was in love again. The mother, Maria, the beautiful jewel that they had taken in and now held dear to their hearts; the children, they adored the children. Each one was never seen laughing or holding onto their mother.
Nikolas was now 10 and a handsome young man. He stood proudly next to his mother and father. The crowd would wave and he would smile and stare back. He was learning to be a Prince. Soon he would learn to be a Tsar. For now, however, Maria wanted him to grow and enjoy childhood. Alexander adored his elder brother. They were close, mischievous, but a cute pair. George was still a young boy. He stayed close to Maria. Although, he loved his father more than anything. Then there was Xenia. She was the other gem of Russia's heart. Now there was Mihail. Whilst Russia loved them all, they wondered when Maria and Alexander would care to stop.
Father Stephanje didn't stop his visits to Anichkov, and the love never stopped to flow between him and the children, between him and Alexander and Maria. He was still an Archimandrite, and still at the Cathedral of Saint Petersburg. Now as the secretary to the Patriarch, he'd had the opportunity to travel around Russia and go to various parishes and other villages. He brought back stories to tell the family. As though a master story- teller, he'd have the whole family mesmirised by the stories. The calm he brought to the Palace when he was there was something appreciated, even by the servants. He was kind, and easy to please. He knew them all by name, and would call them by their names when he needed them, or when he spoke to them. It was unconventional, they still looked at him as Prince, and also as Priest. It sometimes confused them so, that he would chuckle when they would call him "Your Highness", then instantly correct themselves to "Father".
The biggest blow to the family, and to Father Stephanje, came one fatal day on the morning of March 13. The Tsar, Alexander was returning to the Winter Palace after attending a military parade. The entire family, Alexander and Maria and the children, were there visiting. They were waiting for the Tsar to return before spending some quality time. It would be the first time in a long time. Maria adored her father- in- law dearly. He'd helped her when she first came to Russia. He taught her and loved her dearly too. It was partly because of him, that Maria loved Russia so much. Upon his return to the gates of the Palace a bomb exploded and wounded the Tsar. His carriage didn't stop till it was well within the gates, and no- one stopped running till the Tsar was safely inside the Palace. Maria instantly called for help. She had the children sent away to another wing in the Palace, and spent all the time remaining at the bed- side of her Tsar.
After a few hours Maria was seen by some servants, with tears streaming from her eyes, running towards the Holy Chapel. Tsar Alexander II had died. Russia was now without a Tsar, and would be till the funeral and other arrangements were made. Maria didn't leave the Chapel, for nothing and no one. Alexander didn't send any servants, and he himself didn't go, to attempt to remove her. Instead he did the best thing possible. He sent for Father Stephanje, post- post- haste, and informed him of the recent events. Father Stephanje came by Imperial carriage from Moscow. He was distressed and weeped at the loss of his Tsar and uncle. Then he went to the Chapel to console Maria. She fell into his arms straight away.
The entire family wore black. The Palaces were decorated with black ribbons, and the Imperial emblems were taken down from the Palaces out of respect. The Cathedral bells struck sombrely every day at three in the afternoon. They rung thus leading up to the Tsar's funeral, and for fourty days afterwards. At the lapsing of those fourty days the bells were only heard upon their usual hour, ringing in the various patterns they did.
Tsar Alexander II was buried among his other relatives who had passed on. The service was conducted by the Patriarch and the Holy Clergy of Russia. All of Moscow and Saint Petersburg citizens had turned up for the funeral. Other villagers who had travelled were also there to mourn the passing of one of their great Tsars. Now they looked to his son, Alexander III, and their new Tsarina, Maria. Maria refused to be bothered or badgered before the forty days had lapsed. Alexander, on the other hand, had no choice but to mourn his father whenever he had free time. Now he had other, bigger, responsibilities, and events to arrange and over- look.
Father Stephanje tried desperately to visit more often. The children were all slightly distressed, yet, still being rather young they didn't really understand. One thursday, after returning to his office at trhe Cathedral, and whilst looking after the Patriarch's ledger's, the Patriarch approached Father Stephanje. Father Stephanje stood up.
"Holy Father," he said moving from behind his mahogany desk to kiss the hand of his Patriarch.
"Stephanje, i wish to speak to you." Said the Patriarch softly, offering his hand and blessing.
Father Stephanje gestured to the seats. They took them facing one another.
"Stephanje, you have come a long way. To be honest with you, you've come further than most would have thought, or believed, you would. Being a Prince, i doubt this would have been easy, and i see that it hasn't been. However, you have been diligent and you have remained strong in your faith and vocation. I am pleased, and i whole- heartedly believe that God is too. So i come to you today, not to inform, but to tell you, you will be tonsured Bishop this coming sunday." The Patriarch stopped purposely to look for a reaction from Father Stephanje. Father Stephanje was taken aback. This was not the speech he was expecting to recieve. He didn't know what he was waiting for, but it wasn't this.
Father Stephanje smiled broadly, he kneeled before his Patriarch, eyes filled with tears, and thanked him. He kissed the hand of the Patriarch, stood, excused himself then went into the Cathedral to pray and praise God. He said nothing to the family. The forty days had lapsed now. They had the sunday that had passed. All the family, however, were going to attend the sunday liturgy and gather at the Winter Palace afterwards. Father Stephanje withheld his excitement, and continued to pray all the while. His heart, however, was soaring.
The sunday liturgy begun as usual. Mid- point, however, Father Stephanje appeared, being led by the Bishops of Ykateringburg and Novgorod. They took him to stand in front of the Patriarch's throne, before all the congregation. Maria, Alexander and the children knew what was happening. Father Stephanje had told them what happens when someone is being tonsured, or Ordained. They were surprised and pleased. Whilst he hadn't told them, it was the happiest they had ever felt since the passing of the last Tsar. They joined in, happily, with the rest of the congregation, exclaiming loudly "Worthy" three times, as is customary in the Orthodox Church. When Father, or Bishop as he should rightly be called now, Stephanje was lead around the Holy Altar in the Sanctuary, kissing the edges, three times he was then dressed in his Episcopal vestments. As each vestment was blessed by the Patriarch, he held it up, from inside the Sanctuary, towards the congregation, and said loudly "Worthy". It was something of a question he was asking them. "Is this man worthy of the Holy vestment i am about to dress him in?". Alexander and Maria, lead the rest of the congregation is crying out "Worthy", in response.
c. John Apotsis 2008- 2009
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