Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood - Saint Petersburg, Russia - January 9, 1905

Pavel Medvedev would have chalked the last 18 hours up as a mid-life crisis if he was 15 years older. Nothing made sense. He wasn’t supposed to care about people. He wasn’t supposed to get involved in causes. And yet here he was compelled to do something that could in no way be benefit himself. These were the fools he mocked. How could he allow himself to be compelled to participate in a fool’s errand. It would be easy to return home and sleep until two in the afternoon. Then he could continue his life as if the last 18 hours hadn’t happened.

Now he found himself at the construction site of the Church of the Savior on Spilled Blood. Since he knew several of the artisans working on the project he knew how to enter the construction site and the building. He came not for the religious aspect of the building but for the artistry. The building had been under construction for as long as Medvedev could remember.

It had been commissioned by Tzar Alexander III following the assassination of his father and work began at the site of the assassination in 1883. Now over 20 years later it was drawing much closer to completion. It was a visually stunning building. In moments of self honesty Medvedev acknowledged that it was the type of legacy that he wanted to leave behind. This monument would stand for centuries. Millions of people would admire the craftsmanship. People would be inspired by the Devine brushstrokes of his friend Mikhail Vrubel or the mosaics of Vladimir Frolov. They had cemented their place in history. They would never be forgotten. One step inside this place of worship would forever be a testament to their greatness.

Medvedev did not have that legacy. At times it drove him to manic hours of creativity. But whether it was sculpting or painting, acting, or writing he could not reach that level of art. His wit and his social skills meant that he would always be adjacent to greatness but greatness always remained just outside of his grasp. He could converse with Gorky, dine with Frolov, charm the likes of Anna Pavlova, the greatest ballerina he had ever seen, but he could never match their glory. Their works would live on after they were gone. And he would be forgotten to history unless he could make something that transcended time.

Standing in the splendor of an artistic masterpiece in progress Medvedev finally realized why he wanted to attend the march. It didn’t have anything to do with the people or their cause. He didn’t care who lived or died. He didn’t care if it was spectacularly successful or a deathly disaster. He only needed it to light a spark in him. This gathering could be his muse.

He had no doubt that the march would be mired with human suffering but if he could capture that suffering and immortalize it through art he would secure his legacy. Or if the march somehow succeeded he could capture the euphoric moment of triumph where the Tzar and the people became one. Yes, today was the day where Medvedev would shake off the complacency and mediocrity that had plagued his life and his work of late. He would no longer have to wallow in secret jealousy about the success of those surrounding him. This march was the spark that would ignite his creativity. The passion and determination of the workers would find expression through his hand.

After he captured the events of today Medvedev would never be forgotten. An electric charge raced through his body. It was time to witness history. It was time to make history. With a confidence and smile that had been missing for months if not years Medvedev exited the church ready to become great.

Sunday January 9th, 1905 - Novikov Household - Saint Petersburg, Russia

“Papa do you ever think about mama?” Svetlana asked her father.

Distracted from his morning routine Novikov looked at his daughter and said “every day.”

“But you never talk about her.”

“Sometimes it is hard to talk about the most important things.”

“Oh, well that doesn’t make sense.”

“No, I guess it doesn’t. Do you think about her?”

“I saw her last night. She gave me a hug.”

“In your dreams?”

“Yes, but you and Ivan would not join us.”

“I wish I could give her a hug again.” Novikov said.

“Papa I don’t think we should go on the march today.”

“I thought you were looking forward to it?”

“I was but not anymore?”

“Did you overhear your brother and I last night?”

“Well yes, but that is not why.”

“You were so excited last night, what has changed, do you feel sick?”

“Well, no but maybe actually yes.”

“If you are not sick then we are going to the march.”

“But what if something bad happens?”

“We do not live in fear. We face it head on.”

“But I think something will happen that is going to drive you and Ivan away from me and not love me anymore.”

“Oh Svetka, nothing could ever happen that would take me away from you. And even though Ivan and I don’t get along as well as we should I still love him too.”

“You will start to get along with him, but you will be more like him. That’s why you will stop loving me.”

“What does that mean?”

“You will fight the Tzar together.”

Novikov let out a laugh. “If that is what your concern is you need not worry. I love you, I love Ivan. I love God and then I love the Tzar.”

“But this March is going to change that.”

“Nonsense. We will wear our finest clothes. The Tzar will stand on his balcony and wave down to his admiring crowds and it will be a day of rejoicing.”

“Please can we stay home?”

“No. We will go and it will be a festive day. We are already running late so we might have to meet the procession on the way.”

“But…”

“There is no more talking about this now. Stop acting like a child. Today will be a great day.”

“I hope so.”

“It will be. Now make sure you are wearing two layers of socks. We don’t want your feet to get cold. We have to see if we are going to catch a glimpse of the empress today. I know you would like to see her.”

“Not anymore.” Svetlana said in an almost inaudible voice, that her father didn’t hear.

“Hurry up, hurry up, it is time to go,” Novikov said excitedly having already forgotten his daughter’s concerns.

The Basil Island Branch of the Assembly of Factory and Mill Workers - Sunday January 9, 1905

Ivan Novikov woke up well before dawn and since Vostokov was not in the apartment Novikov had taken to the streets early. He walked towards the Winter Palace. As he had been walking alone and the hour was early no one had tried to impede him. He had noticed a growing military presence throughout the city as he walked.

Based on his location when the sun rose around 9:30 that morning Novikov decided he would join the marchers at the Basil Island branch. When he arrived there were already hundreds of workers gathered. It was an inspiring moment. If only these people were ready to fight instead of merely petition the Tzar for redress Novikov thought.

He noticed a man speaking “Comrades let us all go to the Tzar! I will go first, in the front ranks, and when we fall, the second ranks will follow. But it cannot be that he would order us shot.”

Novikov was too far back to hear what someone from the crowd said. The remarks had made a negative impression on the crowd as they began to shout. “We do not need students.”

Novikov instantly wanted to find this student who spoke out in such a crowd as this. Clearly he had to be a fellow revolutionary. Clearly he had to see that this was a time for bold action. Novikov wormed his way through the crowd to get closer.

As he did so he heard another man say “Do not push them away comrades. Let all who suffer from the government yoke come with us.”

This sounded like another reasonable man.
Novikov was pleasantly surprised by what he had seen so far; the speakers had voiced some concerns over violence instigated by the soldiers and decried the despotic government. Novikov realized he had worked his way as close as he could to the front of the crowd.

As he settled into his new location he heard a woman speaking. He listened as well as he could.

“Mothers and wives, do not persuade your husbands and brothers to stand apart from the just cause. Go with them. If you are attacked or fired upon, do not scream, do not squeal, help with first aid.”

Novikov noticed that some towards of the front of the crowd had white clothes that they were beginning to hand out.

The woman continued speaking “Here are your arm bands with red crosses. Put them around your sleeves, but not before the shooting starts.”

As the arm bands were being handed out Novikov turned to the worker beside him and asked “who was that speaker?”

“That’s “Karelina. She is one of the organizers.”

As the arm bands were being handed out the crowd was chanting “Let’s go! Let’s go!”

Novikov was amazed by the crowd. They were excited. Clearly they knew troops were stationed everywhere and yet they believed they would make it to the palace. They expected violence but at the same time couldn’t imagine that violence would be used against them. It was all fascinating.

“Comrades before we depart join me in the Lord’s Prayer.”

Novikov rolled his eyes. How could such people believe in such mystical superstitions? He remained silent as the crowd spoke as one.

“Our Father who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread,
and forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive those who trespass against us,
and lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom and the power, and the glory,
forever and ever.
Amen.”

Novikov was glad when that was over. The only good thing about it was that it meant it was time to march.

“Does everyone know where we are going?

“Yes, we know.” Came the resounding reply.

“Then let us go in firm, tight ranks, without turning back or lagging behind, without shouts and noise. Do not listen to voices from the crowd. Listen only to us, those who will march in the front ranks. No flags!”

Novikov was still taken aback by the hostility towards the revolutionaries. Couldn’t this crowd see that they were on the same side? The revolutionaries were the only ones who could improve their lives. He snapped the thoughts out of his mind so that he could continue listening to the speaker.

“Go peacefully and reverently. We are marching for a great cause, and we can be proud of this. Who are we? We are lowly workers. Then let us call all who want to come with us. Do not push anyone away. Let us go!

With a feeling of nervous anticipation Novikov took his first steps. The march to the Winter Palace had begun.

The Neva Branch of the Assembly of Factory and Mill Workers - Sunday January 9, 1905

Since his debate at the Rozhdestvensky Branch ended Vostokov had been very busy. Despite his skepticism about the safety of the march he still wanted to see it succeed.

He and his companion had taken to the streets to see the best route to take. It instantly became clear that the planned route would not work. Every bridge that they came to had soldiers lined up to block the path. There was no way that a large group of people would be able to cross the bridges.

After relaying this information to the Rozhdestvensky Branch leaders the two men had been sent to the Neva Branch to share the intelligence they had gathered. They let the leaders know that they should cross over the ice rather than try to cross the bridge at the Obvodnoi canal. After that the other scout returned to the Rozhdestvensky Branch. Vostokov had decided to remain with the Neva Branch. He settled in with a group of men waiting for the march to begin.

“I heard that the soldiers are on our side.” One man was telling the group.

“The soldiers will follow their orders.” Vostokov replied.

“No, they support us. They will let us pass.”

“Where did you hear that?” Vostokov asked.

“My brother has a friend who is a soldier, he told him so.”

“So you didn’t hear it yourself?”

“Well no, but my brother did.”

“Be prepared for violence.” Vostokov said nonchalantly.

“What, do you expect them to shoot at us?”

“I do.”

“No it will never be so. If they try to stop us, if they aim their weapons at us we will say brothers what are you doing? Would you shoot your own families? Your brothers and sisters are here. Your mothers and fathers are here. No, it is impossible that they will shoot.”

“I wish I had your conviction.” Vostokov said before adding. “I think they will shoot.”

“It will not happen.”

The conversation ended there as Petrov, the leader of the Neva Branch stood and shouted out to the crowd. “Long live freedom!” He took his first steps toward the Winter Palace and the crowd followed behind him.