Misha rode along the fringes of the crowd on his black mare. He was an imposing man in his own right, but with the addition of his stunning Cossack uniform, he cut an easy path through the throng until he reached Anna and Sergei. No one was about to stand in the way of such a man.
He swung down off his horse and gave Anna and Sergei a hearty Russian embrace.
“It is nothing less than a miracle that I found you in all this mass of people,” said Misha. “Whatever are you doing here, anyway?”
“I wanted a memento of the coronation,” said Anna.
“I can get you as many cups as you wish. You surely don’t have to put up with this.”
“We never expected a crowd this large,” said Sergei.
“You can be forgiven that, but I am not so sure about the governor and the other fools in charge.” Misha shook his head with disgust. “Do you know they have assigned only one squadron of Cossacks to keep order over this mob?”
“I’m not surprised,” answered Sergei, with a hint of his old cynicism.
“I don’t want to think about what will happen once the beer arrives. I’d advise that you both leave at once. I’ll get your memento for you.”
“Thank you, Misha. That is kind of you,” said Anna.
He smiled, and his eyes said that he would do anything for her. Getting a coronation cup was a very small thing indeed. He bid them goodbye, mounted his horse, and rode off.
“Perhaps we should take his advice,” said Sergei.
Anna made no protest; she desperately wanted to get away. But they were hardly imposing Cossacks, and the dense mob, which had surged back around them the moment Misha rode away, would not give way to them. In ten minutes they had barely moved ten feet. Anna gripped Sergei’s hand and hung on for her very life. Then there rose a cheer from the mob—the wagons of beer had arrived. Anna could see nothing, although she thought she heard the rattle of harness and wheels in the distance. Sergei, whose height gave him some advantage, verified the rumor.
Another man standing nearby must have had a good view also, but he was apparently not happy with what he saw. “There aren’t enough wagons!” he grumbled. “I’ll bet there isn’t going to be enough beer to go around.”
“What’s that?” said another.
“There’s not going to be enough!”
“What?” came several other voices.
“Not enough beer!”
“But we waited all night!”
“What did you expect? When did the government ever keep its promises?”
The rumbling spread through the restive mob like an electrical current, and before the signal to begin the feast was given, before the wagons had even come to a full halt, the throng surged forward. No one intended to be left out. Greed took control and even the Cossacks were hard pressed to control the crowd. They shouted and even fired a few warning shots into the air, but no one heard or listened. The mob, now empowered by anger and greed, overpowered the few Cossacks as if they were nothing.
The meadow between the mob and the wagons was crisscrossed with many drainage ditches. The Cossacks tried to warn the people of the hazard, but they were out of control, and even those who thought better of such behavior were dragged along in the frenzy of the mob.
The ditches acted like death traps. They could not easily be avoided and if a person fell into one, it might as well be his grave. A half million people is more than many charging armies, and this assemblage did not have even the poorest sort of order to it.
If Anna had felt suffocated before, now she felt sheer panic.
“Sergei!”
His hand clamped tightly around hers. “Dear Lord! What is happening?” His lips seemed to be moving, but Anna could not hear him.
A wave of bodies shoved mercilessly against them. Anna’s arm ached as the force of the crowd pressed against her and Sergei, seemingly bent on pulling them apart. She felt certain her arm would be yanked from its socket, but she prayed Sergei would not let go no matter what. She felt his hand grow sweaty and slip slightly from its hold. She clutched his hand and kept her eyes riveted upon him, believing that as long as he was within sight she would be all right. The human wave pounded against them and carried them forward against their will. Turning back was all but impossible. Misha’s warning had come too late, and he was no longer in sight to help them. It was like being carried along on the most torturous rapids of the Volga. Anna recalled how Sergei told of his escape from Siberia by diving, chained, into a raging icy river. She knew now how he must have felt.
Then the unthinkable happened. Sergei lost his grip. Their hands broke apart, and Anna screamed. Still she could see Sergei’s face, bearing a look of fear and fury that frightened her almost as much as the mob did. He grabbed at the man who first came between them and thrust him violently away, and then, clenching his hands into fists, he flailed away at any other man who got in his way. He finally reached her, held out his arms, and clasped her to him.
“Anna, I’m sorry.”
But he had barely spoken the words when they were wrested apart once more. A dozen men and women suddenly enveloped them. For a horrifying moment Anna lost sight of Sergei completely. Then she thought she caught a glimpse of his shoulder. If only she could see over the mob! But she was far too small, and even though Sergei could see over many heads, it hardly mattered since she was quickly buried from his view. If she could stay where she was, perhaps he might come to her, but that, too, was impossible. She was being carried farther and farther away from Sergei.
After a while she lost all hope of seeing him again. She’d be fortunate if she could just survive this experience alive. She silently prayed for help, and prayed that God would protect Sergei wherever he was.
How she did survive she could not explain. It was nothing less than a miracle. She had been all but helpless, a tiny piece of driftwood in a mighty torrent, completely at the mercy of this uncontrollable human flood. She tried to fight against it, tried to move in the opposite direction, but she could not make any progress. Then suddenly she was free. Whether she had actually broken away or the flood had flowed over her and on its way, she did not know. All she knew was that she was standing alone—well, almost alone. Others around her had also extricated themselves from the stifling, shifting prison. Many were sobbing and weeping or crying out for loved ones still caught in the deluge. Others made no sounds at all, but lay still on the grassy earth. They had been trampled to death. They were mostly the frail—women, children, old people.
Anna had never seen a war before, but she thought this was surely what it must be like. Senseless death—all for a free glass of beer!
She was trembling so violently that she could not walk; her legs could hardly hold even her slight weight. She crumpled, weeping, to the ground. Her prayers turned to cries of despair.
“Why, God? Why?”
As if in answer, she heard a small voice murmur by her side. Looking down, she saw a little boy no more than four years old. His dirty face was streaked with his tears, his wrenching sobs so overwhelmed him that he could not even speak. But his silently moving lips formed the unmistakable word that was nearest to his heart.
Mama!
Anna held out her hand to him, and in his agony and need for comfort he did not hesitate before falling into this stranger’s arms. She gave him what comfort she could and, oddly, received comfort in return simply through ministering to him.
A short time later his mother came and with effusive thanks took the boy into her arms. Anna never learned their names, but she knew who his Father was, his heavenly Father. God had sent the child to Anna when she needed him most.
Not long afterward, Anna saw Sergei push and thrust his way through the rear of the mob. His clothes were torn, his face smudged with sweat and blood from a deep scratch over his right eyebrow. But the sight of him made her heart leap, and she sprang to her feet and ran to him. His embrace had never felt more welcome; his soft, tender words never more soothing. In her joy and relief she began to tremble all over again. And in her heart she thanked God as she had done so many times before that He had restored her dear Sergei to her.