Berezovo: A Revolutionary Russian Epic

Holy Father protect and save me, she prayed. My husband has betrayed me with Irena Kuibysheva and I have been foolish and blind. Because of my stupidity I have lost the respect and affection of my friends who will now, despite their show of sympathy, regard me with contempt and derision and abandon me. As I would in their place – you know that to be true. Holy Father, please help me! I know that I have not been as good a mother as you would wish, or as good a wife to Leonid, but please, I implore you on my knees, please do not abandon me! I have lost my husband, my standing in the town and any hope of happiness in this life and now I face the trials of disgrace and exclusion. Please give me a sign that I will have your protection and your guidance in this hour of my greatest need.

She paused, undecided whether to throw herself further on God’s mercy with unreserved promises of doing His will. The urge was strong but she knew that, on her past record, He would not trust her to her word. She was also unsure whether she should demand punishment for Irena. Scripture was unclear on this. On the one hand His children were instructed to love their enemies and on the other the Creator jealously guarded his monopoly of the administration of vengeance. Her thoughts were still unresolved when she felt a hand being laid gently upon her shoulder. Looking up she wondered whether this might be the Sign for which she had prayed.

Raisa was standing beside her, looking mournfully towards the altar.

“Stand up, Tanya.”

Unwillingly Tatyana stood up, brushing the dust from her skirts.

“Olga wants to speak with you. I’m afraid that she has some distressing news.”

“Why must you continue to bother me?” complained Tatyana. “Can you not see that we are in church and I am at prayer?”

“I am sorry,” Raisa insisted, “but there is no time to lose. In the name of our love for you, you must listen to what she has to tell you.”

Tatyana resisted the urge to flee again. Instead, with an expression of infinite sadness, she clasped her friend by the arm and pulled her to her.

“I know everything now that I did not know yesterday,” she said, speaking quietly into her ear as the plainsong responses rose around them. “There is nothing further to be said, or done.”

She kissed Raisa on the cheek and then left her and made her way towards the queues of women that had formed in front of the rack of candles near the entrance at the rear of the church. The thought had arisen within her that she was being unreasonable asking for the Heavenly Father’s help while her own heart was still full of anger and injured pride. She would have to start her prayers all over again and approach her Maker in true humility – this time without interruption – if they were to have any effect.

As she neared the front of her queue she opened her small purse and selected a five copeck coin, and then after a pause, a ten copeck coin.

One for my prayer to the Heavenly father for his guidance, she thought to herself. One for my husband’s soul and one for my daughter’s happiness.

Dropping the two coins into the wooden box fixed to the back of the rack she selected three candles. As she touched the wick of her first candle to the flame of one already alight she was surprised to see to other candles jostle for the flame. Olga Nadnikova and Lidiya Pusnyena had quietly joined her on either side. Behind them, her head bowed in embarrassment, stood Raisa.

“Glory to Jesus Christ, Tatyana.”

“Glory for ever.”

“We are sorry to disturb you while you are so deep in prayer,” began Olga.

“It is an unforgiveable intrusion, and not the action of a friend,” she replied.

“Yes, it is certainly an intrusion,” agreed Olga quietly, “but I think that it is forgivable, under the circumstances. It is certainly the action of a friend, and of a true friend.”

Tatyana lit the candle and shakily put it in its holder.

“I don’t see how it can be,” she said, presenting her second candle to the flame.

Reaching over, Olga took the third candle out of her hand and laid it on its side away from the flames.