Alexandrinsky Theatre - January 8, 1905

Pavel Medvedev walked past the statue of Catherine the Great before pausing to look up at Apollo standing in his chariot pulled by four horses. The sculpture always caught his eye as he gazed at the Alexandrinsky Theatre. Above the six white columns Apollo stood, commanding Medvedev’s attention.

Apollo appeared to be staring directly at Medvedev. Intrinsically Medvedev knew that the statue couldn’t actually look at him, but he had this gut feeling that Apollo wanted to tell him something. Medvedev couldn’t keep his eyes focused on Apollo, so he looked lower at the four horses. Instantly his mind thought of the book of Revelation in the New Testament. The sixth chapter talked about 4 horses.

Although he had never read the book the words of the fourth verse came flooding into his mind. “And there went out another horse that was red: and power was given to him that sat there on to take peace from the earth, and that they should kill one another.”

Medvedev shook his head, this couldn’t be real. He looked back up at Apollo. Apollo seemed to be telling Medvedev I protected the oracle at Delphi and I possess the ability to foretell the future. Apollo appeared to direct Medvedev to look down at the horses once again. As he did so the words of verse eight were ringing in his ears.

“And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth.“

Medvedev couldn’t believe what was happening. He had come to the theatre to unwind. He had no desire to receive some prophecy about death. Why was he imagining all of this? Apollo wasn’t real. Clearly all of the talk about the march in the morning had been weighing on his mind. Now his overactive imagination was forecasting a worst case scenario for the march. As for recalling bible verses he had never read, clearly his grandmother or some priest from his childhood must have read them aloud in his presence. Seeing the horses just unlocked the verses from deep within his subconscious. Medvedev refused to believe what had just happened was anything other than his imagination running wild.

Looking at Apollo now gave Medvedev no impression other than it was a fine piece of art. It was interesting what the mind could conjure up. Medvedev pulled out a cigarette and stood lost in his thoughts. Unsure of how long he had been standing there Medvedev was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of approaching footsteps.

Medvedev was shocked to see Vladimir Telyakovsky coming towards him.

“I expected to see you at the show this evening.” Telyakovsky said.

Medvedev knew that he was probably going to miss the first act of the show but he couldn’t understand why the director of the theatre was outside talking to him before the second act.

Medvedev removed his pocket watch and stared in amazement as it was nearing midnight.

“I lost track of the time,” was all Medvedev could muster in reply. He knew he had got to the theatre in plenty of time to watch act two. Where had the time gone?

“It sounds like something you would do, but you missed a tremendous show. Probably the best of the season.”

“That’s a shame.”

“You seem a bit distracted this evening. Let’s go and put your mind at ease.”

“My mind is cluttered. I need to keep a clear head.”

“Nothing like a good drink and a night out on the town to clear your mind.”

“I don’t know if tonight is the night for me.”

“Lenka will be there.”

“She is a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

“And that is why you love her.”

“She is my forbidden fruit.”

“Don’t be a fool.”

“That may be my lot in life.”

“What has changed in you?”

“All will be made clear tomorrow.”

“Then we share a drink tonight for the glorious day tomorrow.”

“Only a glorious day depending on the outcome.”

“Why are you talking in riddles?

“My whole life has been turned upside down in the last 5 hours.”

“What girl broke your heart?”

“If only this was a question of love.”

At that moment Medvedev stopped talking as Lenka approached. Telyakovsky noticed the change in Medvedev and instantly turned to see what had caused it. He smiled as he spoke.

“Elizavetta Olegovna Pavlova it is so great of you to join us on this frigid night.”

She gave him a side eyed glance wondering why he was being so formal. She didn’t have to wonder for long. Before she could respond Telyakovsky continued.

“Our friend Pasha appears to be having a midlife crisis. His sharp wit and gregariousness have been replaced by a stumbling broken man who can only speak in riddles.”

“Oh dear, we can’t have that.” Pavlova said earnestly.

“The flair for theatrical drama is in your blood Vladimir, your skill at embellishment is unmatched.” Medvedev responded.

“Lenka, our poor Pasha is still in need of some watching. Can you look over him until he snaps to his senses and realizes that mingling with the other patrons of this fine establishment is the best way to end a Saturday night.”

She smiled, took Medvedev by the hand and said “come with me,” as she escorted him towards the theater entrance.

Tsarskoe Selo - January 8, 1905

Sitting in his office Tzar Nicholas II reflected on the events of the day. He tried to be diligent in keeping a journal and now as he concluded his night he jotted down a few notes. He wanted to leave a record for future generations.

As the pen hit the paper the Tzar’s thoughts filled the paper. He wrote:

“Since yesterday all factories and plants in St. Petersburg have been on strike. Troops from the outlying areas have been ordered to reinforce the garrison. The workers are behaving peacefully so far. Their number is estimated at 120,000. The union is lead by some socialist priest, Gapon. Mirskii came in the evening with a report on proposed measures.”

Nicholas put the pen down, closed the journal and switched his lamp off. Another day in the empire had come to an end.