Narva Arch - Saint Petersburg - Sunday January 9, 1905

“Let’s go a different direction. We can bypass these soldiers.”

“No! We are going this way.”

“Straight to the arch. This is the way.”

“Come closer together and let’s sing again “God Save the Tzar!” Thousands of voices rose again in sing the national anthem as they advanced towards the soldiers.

Kiselyov sneered with discontent. How dare these revolutionaries invoke the national anthem. They were trying to win sympathy but it wasn’t going to work. He gladly stepped aside to allow the cavalry to move to the front.

Andreev scanned the crowd of marchers. Father Gapon had to be in the crowd near the front. If he could be separated from the group perhaps the remainder would disperse. A call had been placed to the Narva Branch that morning requesting an audience with Gapon at the police station. Of course Gapon would have been arrested if he had accepted the meeting. Unfortunately he had never even accepted the call.

Now Andreev searched the crowd convinced that he could still arrest Gapon and get the rest of the marchers to turn around. Begrudgingly he had to admire the conviction of the marchers. They sang with gusto and they truly believed the Tzar would save them.

Novikov gripped his daughter’s hand tightly as the size of the contingent of soldiers became clear. This was not supposed to happen. How could troops possibly stand in the way of humble servants of the Tzar. He did the only thing he could think of. He sang louder. They had to reach the Tzar to save the country.

The cavalry charged at the crowd. The crowd instantly parted down the center providing an avenue for the horses to gallop down. Once they reached the end of the marchers they stopped and formed a line again. Novikov scanned the avenue as now the infantry was straight ahead and the cavalry was behind them. If ever there was a time to find a side street to peel off on, that time was now. He was just about to leave the march when Fathers Gapon spoke.

“Be brave! Forward comrades! Freedom or death.”

Novikov stopped trying to leave at this command. If a man of God instructed him to move forward he would be brave. For truly this march had to have the blessing of God and Novikov always listened to instructions from a man of God. He felt slightly ashamed he had started to move away from the march. If this had been a test of his faith he had just faltered. But the words of a priest had called him back to the path. No matter what happened next he would not be shaken from the march.

Andreev recognized the voice. That was Father Gapon. It was time to take action. He remembered what Markov had told him. He would be disguised. He would be in the second row. Using this information and the location of where he had heard the voice originating Andreev scanned hundreds of faces in the first couple of rows. He was still to far away. Andreev stepped forward to meet the crowd. As he did so another police officer followed.

“We have to try to get them to disperse before they get much closer. Some of those soldiers seem a little jittery.” The other officer said.

“We need to talk directly to Gapon. He is the only one who can sway this crowd.” Andreev answered as they walked forward.

As they were doing this Andreev noticed the cavalry was also working its way back through the crowd. They were moving slower and more deliberately. Clearly they were searching for Gapon as well as trying to disperse the crowd. They were unsuccessful in both attempts.

“Father Gapon, do not lead these people into danger!” Andreev shouted.

The voices in the crowd responded by singing louder.

“Gapon, the soldiers will never let you pass. Call this march off.” Andreev finally located the priest. Now he could speak directly to him. “Work with me, let us find a new solution.” Andreev implored.

Their eyes met and Andreev knew that the priest would hear what he said he said next.

The cavalry had retreated behind the infantry and the infantry had spread out blocking the entire road. Kiselyov stood in the center of the avenue staring at the enemy. They had ignored the cavalry. They were ignoring the police officers. It was time they were stopped.
His commanding officer gave a look at him and Kiselyov nodded.

It was time to fire a warning shot. The officer turned to the bugler and gave an order.

Andreev heard the bugler issuing a command that could only mean one thing. “Gapon turn these men around. The army is about to fire. Don’t lead them into an ambush.”

The crack of rifle fire interrupted any chance at a reply. It had been a warning shot into the air. The stunned crowd couldn’t comprehend that a group of soldiers were so callous. For a moment it seemed as if everyone stopped. The next instant would determine the course of history. If the marchers turned and went home the day would largely be forgotten. If they stepped forward they risked their lives for an idea. Freedom from autocracy. They stepped forward.

Andreev realized in that moment the crowd would not be swayed. They would march forward no matter the consequences. They were marching into death. And they were singing. His heart ached. “Gapon!” He cried out pleading as the second volley erupted from the soldiers. A second warning shot fired into the air. Andreev’s voice was trying to convey the hopelessness of Gapon’s march. If it was heard it went unheeded.

The second warning shot had a completely different effect than the first. It enraged the crowd. They broke into a run. They were charging the infantry. Andreev’s shoulders slumped. There could only be one response to this action and it would be brutal.

Kiselyov eyes widened in surprise. The workers were attacking. Instantly in his mind he was transported far to the east. No longer was he staring at workers in Saint Petersburg but at the Japanese army. Port Arthur had to be avenged and this was his chance. The crosses carried by the workers were transformed into bayonets and they were getting close. He took aim and in unison with the command from the ranking officer to fire he pulled the trigger.

Svetlana had been terrified by the first volley fired by the infantry and even more terrified by the second.

“Papa we need to leave!” She shouted.

Novikov knew it was true but he also knew they were hemmed in.

“Yes, Svetka it is time to get you out of here. Hold on to my hand tightly as we work our way through this crowd.”

Novikov had the unfortunate idea to run perpendicular to the crowd just as the marchers surged forward at a run. He was pulling Svetlana behind him as a young man rushed through them. Novikov was hit solidly in the shoulder and lost his grip on Svetlana as he was sent spiraling to the ground. As his face was colliding with the ground he heard the third volley fired by the infantry.

Andreev heard the volley and he heard the screams of pain as he knew people were dying. He also realized he was right in the line of fire. His only hope was that his uniform would prove a deterrent to the soldiers. He needed to get further into the crowd. He took one step in retreat when the next volley rang out. Instantaneously Andreev felt a dull pain in his back. He staggered for a step or two before collapsing.

It was a strange sensation knowing that his allies were the ones who had done this to him. Hopefully they would come and take care of him soon. He listened to the sound of gunfire echoing all around him.

Kiselyov took aim and fired again and again. He was seeking out targets. The stronger looking the better. He was going to kill all of these enemies. It was only natural after Port Arthur. It was clear the enemy had been routed. They were fleeing for cover. As he emptied his clip he knew he had done his job. The crowd had fled. Port Arthur had been avenged. Except this was Saint Petersburg and these were not Japanese soldiers. In the end it didn’t really matter. These were factory workers who refused to make munitions for the war effort. Their refusal to work was treason and they just paid the price for that treason.

Svetlana felt herself being pulled away from her father and pushed along with the crowd. Her little legs kept moving as fast as they could. She was terrified. She could hear the gunfire every where. People all around her were falling to the ground. Then suddenly she wasn’t afraid anymore. A bright light flashed through the sky and as her fear vanished she found herself standing a few feet away from her mother.

“Come with me my child you have nothing to fear anymore.”

“Oh mama I have missed you.”

“Oh my darling I have been waiting for you and now we will be together for always. Follow me Svetka.”

Soon they were walking out of the chaos of gunfire and into a field of red carnations.

Novikov had been trampled and he had curled into a fetal position with his arms protecting his head as people rushed past him. He had to get up not for himself but so that he could find his daughter. He had counted seven volleys of fire and that made him more determined to stand. The crowd had scattered and aside from the moaning and groaning from those injured silence hung in the air.

As he stood Novikov surveyed the scene. There had to be at least one hundred people who were still on the ground. Novikov hoped that they would soon stand up and walk away. He knew that many of them would not, but he was pleased to see dozens of them who were. His most pressing concern was finding his Svetka.

When he did his whole world shattered. She was lying on her side with a wound directly to her heart. Novikov crumpled to the ground and held her in his arms sobbing uncontrollably.

During this time he heard father Gapon speak. He looked at this man who was responsible for this march and anger filled his soul. But Gapon’s words redirected the anger in Novikov’s heart.

Gapon was in shock. His closest allies had been murdered. He couldn’t believe it. At first he muttered to himself and then with more conviction he stated. “There is no God any longer. There is no Tzar!”

Looking down at his daughter Novikov knew it was true. There was no Tzar any longer. As for God, he would no longer worship a God who would permit this type of cruelty. They had been on his errand and he had allowed this to happen. God had died in his heart and Novikov would spend every last beat of his heart to ensure the Tzar suffered a similar fate. The anger welled up inside of he exploded as he shouted out “There is no God, there is no Tzar!” Everyone around him took up the chant as they quickly retreated from view. Novikov could not leave yet as he sat caressing his daughter’s hair not wanting to believe what he saw.

Andreev was cold. Everything seemed quiet. He was vaguely aware of someone coming to his aid. They were trying to ask him questions and he wanted to answer but he found himself thinking about Yevno Azef. If Markov was right, Andreev was beginning to think Azef was a diabolical genius. Self above everything else and kill anyone who gets in your way. It was cold blooded. At least I am better than that and I would have caught him. Andreev thought as his last thought.

Troitskia Square - Sunday January 9, 1905

As the marchers drew closer to the line of soldiers Markov slowed his pace and deliberately fell farther back into the crowd. There were tens of thousands of marchers and Markov fell back deeper and deeper into the throng. He had positioned himself too far away from the front to hear the exchange of words between soldiers and marchers but he knew words were being exchanged.

Everything happened very quickly once the violence began. Soldiers lowered their rifles and fired. They quickly fired two more times. Everyone was fleeing. Markov could tell that the crowd had been dispersed, which is what made what happened next inexcusable.

The cavalry was unleashed on the fleeing crowd. They were not trying to ensure the lines were not reformed but instead they were seeking victims. They were looking to kill. Sabres were slashing and gashing everything in their path. It was unjustifiable.

Markov had spent years working in the underworld. He had encountered truly evil men. Men the government needed to stop. But these were not those people. These were not the revolutionaries. These were not hardened criminals. In fact ten minutes ago they were some of the Tzar’s most loyal followers. They looked to him for relief. The Tzar could have been their savior. If he had just met with them he would’ve ensured another 100 years of Romanov rule. These workers would have fought the revolutionaries for him.

Instead the Tzar made mortal enemies. These people would never forgive him for this. Any bond between them was now permanently severed. Markov watched as the cavalry continued to strike at innocent workers. As they drew closer to him he slipped down a side street and decided to wash his hands of the Russian government. He had an uncle in Chicago. Perhaps it was time to move to America. The only thing that was clear was that he would never work for a Romanov again.