“We’re living in misery, oppressed, crushed by the weight of our labors, insulted, treated like slaves, it’s inhuman.” Word for word, they repeat what the reverend says.

Now and then Father Gapon stops to ask the crowd, “Is this true, comrades?”

They agree with a roar, many of them crossing themselves, a sign that the words the reverend is saying are sacred.

Gapon begins to give instructions.

“Everyone should wear their Sunday best. Bring your women and your children. No one should carry a single weapon, not even knives. We’ll have no red flags, not even red handkerchiefs. Come when you hear the church bells ring, bring crosses and icons and portraits of the tsar, ask to borrow them at your chapels and your workplaces.

He pauses. A murmur runs through the crowd. They knew about the clothing and the weapons and the red flags, but this bit about crosses, icons, and portraits of the tsar is something new. The murmurs are of assent; if the reverend has asked, they’ll have to bring them.

“What if the tsar turns us away? Then we won’t have a tsar!”

Rutenberg, the intimate of Father Gapon—the clergyman has thousands of followers but only one friend—joins him at the podium and speaks.

“We could be attacked. So I’m going to give you instructions now on where to get weapons to protect yourselves….”

They boo, shouting, “No one should carry any weapons!”

“Apostasy!”

“Heresy!”

“No one should lift a finger against the tsar!”

One of Father Gapon’s other lieutenants jumps onto the podium and says, “Is it possible to get closer to God with weapons? Is it possible to get closer to the tsar with hostility and suspicion?”

The congregation chants, “Apostasy!” their voices filling the church.

There are so many people crowded indoors that the candles flicker out from lack of oxygen.

Gapon begins speaking again, and Rutenberg, like a new convert, nods enthusiastically at his message of peace. Gapon calms the crowd down. Rutenberg steps off the podium. Gapon stresses the peaceful and spiritual nature of the march that will begin in a few hours. He says a prayer. He sings a religious song and gets the whole audience to join him. Then he asks, “Will any of you bear weapons tomorrow? Is anyone bearing weapons tonight?”

“No one! No one!” the crowd shouts in unison.

“Good. We’ll approach the tsar without a single weapon.”

Father Gapon steps off the podium, followed by his lieutenants. A young man takes his place and repeats Gapon’s words to the people. “Comrades, will the police and the army dare stop us?”

“They won’t dare!”

“Comrades, is it better to die for our cause than to continue living as we have been?”

“We’ll give our lives!”

“Comrades, do you swear to die for our cause?”

“We swear!”

“Comrades, what if those who are swearing tonight lose heart and don’t join us tomorrow?”