The Tailor of Semenov - Part 3: The Tailor of Semenov, #3

By Alydia Rackham

Maria faces the gut-wrenching choice between fleeing the impending danger with her friends from Semenov, and attempting to save Gregori from Vladimir Lenin himself. Either choice will mean a harrowing journey across Europe and coming face to face with death. Which one will her heart choose? 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alydia Rackham
• Release date: Mar 29, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224404513

Alydia Rackham

Alydia Rackham is a daughter of Jesus Christ. She has written more than thirty original novels of many genres, including fantasy, time-travel, steampunk, modern romance, historical fiction, science fiction, and allegory. She is also a singer, actress, avid traveler, artist, and animal lover. 

Book preview

Chapter One

"It has come to my knowledge that during the last months there have been heard in some assemblies of the elected councils, the voices of those who have indulged in a senseless dream that the elected councils be called upon to participate in the government of the country.

I want everyone to know that I will devote all my strength to maintain, for the good of the whole nation, the principle of absolute autocracy, as firmly and as strongly as did my late lamented father."

-Czar Nikolai II of Russia

Maria sat in the warmth of the hearth, stitching a new dress for her doll. Night had descended, and she could see the orange lights in the windows of the houses across the square. Reb Aron and Isak had left just after dinner, saying that they were going to visit Reb Yisroel. Reb Yudko sat in the chair across from her, reading a letter by the light of a lamp on the side table, Nochka on his lap. The Krasnydom sat in silence, except for the mutter of the flames, and Zver’s snoring.

Maria slowly ran the red thread up and down through the scrap of blue felt, creating a border at the hem of the dress, the needle flickering in the firelight. But over and over, without conscious thought, her gaze kept drifting out the window, toward the haunted house, where she could see the shadows of the soldiers moving back and forth.

See something?

Maria jumped at the sound of Reb Yudko’s voice—and realized that she hadn’t made a stitch for several minutes.

No, she said, sighing and giving him a smile, regathering herself. I’m just sleepy.

The merry old man smiled back at her, wrinkles forming around his sparkling eyes. Not for the first time, Maria was reminded of Father Frost and the very essence of Christmas when she looked at him, with his colorful clothes, his bushy beard, and his childlike vivacity, so different from the other Jewish men in Semenov.

My son sent me a new book. Would you care to see it? he asked.

Oh—no, not before you have! Maria said.

I have enough to read in his letters, Reb Yudko chuckled, reaching to the side of his chair and pulling the loosened paper off the new book. Here, take a look at it.

Maria set her sewing aside and took the small, leather-bound book from him. She held it up and read the title.

"‘The Declaration of Independence and The Constitution of the United States,’" Maria murmured.

You read English, then? Reb Yudko noted.

Maria froze. Her heart staggered in her chest. She stared over the book at Reb Yudko, going pale.

However, he just kept smiling, and leaned back in his chair.

So many young people now can read English! he remarked. I am jealous of you. It is a difficult tongue for me to work out, but I am trying very hard, because Sapsha wants me to come to America. And how can I live in America if I don’t speak English?

The terror drained out of Maria’s body. She nodded carefully.

Why...did he send this to you? she ventured.

He is studying to become a good citizen, and he wants me to do the same, Reb Yudko shrugged. It’s probably a good idea, don’t you think? If you are expected to run the government, you had better know how the government runs!

What do you mean, if you’re expected to run the government? Maria frowned.

That’s how it is in America, Reb Yudko. Sapsha says that is the first line of their constitution. You can see it, there. Or, so he tells me! He pointed at the book.

Confused, Maria opened the book and flipped to the portion where the Constitution began. And there, she read these words:

"‘We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.’"

From what Sapsha tries to explain to me, this is the way it is, Reb Yudko said. The people choose representatives by voting for them. They vote on laws, they vote on taxes, they vote on everything. The people can be in the military if they wish, but they don’t have to—they can have whatever job they want. They can even go anywhere they want in the whole country, without papers. They can make as much money as they want, with a good idea and hard work—and a plain shopkeeper or butcher can rise up to be a millionaire, and live in a mansion, like Mr. Woolworth! Anyone can even take a train all the way from New York to Los Angeles in just a few days. Imagine that! Reb Yudko sighed, leaning back and smiling. If I could go there tomorrow, I would. He winked at her. Do not tell anyone...but I would rather go there than to the Holy Land.

Maria raised her eyebrows and smiled, but was not astonished. Then, her gaze was pulled back down to the page.

Do you...mind if I read this, after all?

Of course not, Reb Yudko said, folding up his son’s letter. When you finish, you can tell me about it.

Eagerly, Maria turned back to the beginning, and started to read the Declaration of Independence by the firelight.

She had, of course, been given a cursory lesson about the American Revolution during her history courses—but any kind of revolution against royalty had always been staunchly condemned by her tutor, who had gravely stressed the massive loss of life, destabilization, and waste of resources that such a revolution had brought about. Personally, she had always been deeply offended by the Americans’ gall, on behalf of her royal English relatives, who of course were related to the king that the Americans had humiliated.

But she had never read the Declaration that started it all. She had never known what King George III had done to his colonists in the new world to make them want to revolt, never studied the other side of the argument. Never read their list of grievances—which seemed to Maria to be naked abuses of power on the part of the king. She read and re-read this shocking Declaration, deeply stricken by its bold, calm and precise language, so different from the exalted bravado she had found in the Pravda newspaper.

In the back of her mind, she could almost hear her parents’ counter arguments to this damning list. If the colonies expected protection from their government, why wouldn’t they also expect to pay for it, and all the more dearly, because of the vast ocean of water between them? What gave the colonists the right, as mere subjects of the crown, to question how their gracious sovereign decided to govern his empire? After all, they could not be aware of the scope and complexity of his duties, nor the ramifications of all his policies across the globe.

However, as Maria continued to read, and as the full meaning sank through her, those objections faded in the wake of the rational, clear words cut in black and white across the page—words that, while tranquil on the surface, burned beneath with an insatiable, youthful, intelligent, righteous anger. This man, who had written these words, did know the complexity of a king’s duties, and seemed deadly certain of his own rights, and the rights of his people. One paragraph in particular emblazoned itself into her mind: 

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.—That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, —That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.

Before she had quite realized it, Maria had read through this declaration three times. And then, with a deep and quiet breath—as if she was about to take a far leap into unknown waters—she started in on the Constitution.      

AT LONG LAST, SPRING burst through the countryside like a firework. For three days solid, it poured rain, lashing the sky with ribbons of lightning, and shaking the earth with cascades of thunder. Then, the storm broke, the sun came out...

And the grass turned from grey to vibrant green. Little flowers of all colors sprang open on either side of the lane, and all along the river. The wind turned warm and blustery, tossing the new petals from the blossoming trees like rice at a wedding. The birds returned full force, chattering, trilling and tweeting amidst all the swaying branches. The sun turned golden and drew nearer, filling the very air with tangible warmth, transforming the sky from a remote blue to a dazzling sapphire.

Maria flung open all the windows, letting the friendly breezes blow through the Krasnydom, blowing away all the cobwebs of winter. She ceased to wear her woolen dresses, and instead changed to wearing two different blouses—a white one or a light blue one—along with her black skirt, covered by an apron. Morning came earlier each day, and greeted her with cheerful birdsong instead of frost, so she eagerly got up without groaning and washed, watching the water twinkle in the sunlight. Humming to herself, she adorned her hair with the ribbons she had worn for Raisa’s wedding.

Every day now, the chickens and goats were let out into the yard to scratch and graze. Maria turned Czar out to graze in the small, fenced meadow behind the blacksmith. The chickens gave more eggs, and the goats more milk. Isak and Maria put up a wooden fence to keep the chickens and goats out of the garden, where the vegetables were already several inches high. Maria also planted more vegetables from the seeds and roots she found in the pantry, as well as the potatoes. She kept busy every morning with cooking and baking, gardening and cleaning. The afternoons found her in the tailor shop, helping Reb Aron. All the time, she thought of Raisa. Missing her friendly conversation, her helpful advice, her gentle teasing.

Often, in the evenings, the men would leave the Krasnydom to go to Reb Yisroel’s house. At first, Maria thought this was simply a show of sympathy, as the poor man had suddenly lost his father, and could not have recovered yet. But then, when she once saw Isak snatch up a prayer book on his way out, she knew the truth.

It wasn’t a social call. The men were attending synagogue, as close as they could come to it—in defiance of Commander Ivanov’s orders. This realization filled Maria with a strange and distant dread. But she said nothing about it, and never tried to stop them. As much as their defiance made her afraid, it also made her secretly proud.

One afternoon, the warm wind blew into the tailor shop, disturbing the jacket she was mending. She looked up from her work for the hundredth time, out into the square and beyond, where the trees shimmered with new, green leaves, flocks of songbirds flew back and forth, singing, and wisps of white cloud wandered through the high dome of the sky. Maria bit her lip and glanced around. Isak was working in the back of the room, bending close over a little boy’s shoe. Reb Aron and Reb Yudko had gone to the butcher’s.

She heaved a sigh, turning a longing gaze toward the glorious day outside. This jacket needed to be finished by tomorrow.

The wind blew in again, teasing her hair and bringing with it the sweet scent of new flowers. She squeezed her eyes shut—and smiled to herself. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—sit inside any longer.

Quietly, she folded her mending, set it on the sewing table, got up and stepped out of the tailor shop, saying nothing to Isak. She carefully closed the door behind her, took off her apron and hung it on its peg, then slipped out the front door, without Zver.

The wind laughed when she emerged, as if in triumph at the fact that it had convinced her to abandon her work, and she smiled again. She tilted her head back, letting the sun kiss her face, then started forward, out through the gate and toward the lane. Soon, the lively sounds of the awakened woods surrounded her, and ahead, the Nevsky gushed in a full-throated tumble down its banks. She picked up her pace, pulling her headscarf off, letting her hair tumble free in the wind. Her hair had finally gotten longer, well past her shoulders, and shone thick and healthy again. As she walked, she hummed an old tune to herself, enchanted by the sights of the flashing green leaves, the flutter of birds’ wings, the dancing of the flowers and the shimmer of the sun. The warm air felt so very good on her bare forearms, her face, her neck, and through her hair—almost like bathing in hot water before the fire. Better.

She made her way past the curve in the lane, watching the youthful, brilliant motion of the river, strands of grass trailing in its current. She kept walking, beneath the thin shade of the trees, on past the signpost for the cemetery.

It was then that she remembered it was Friday.

She stopped, going still. Staring far ahead at the vague outline of the stone bridge.

Should she go back? Or should she keep going?

Haha! the wind laughed behind her, shoving her forward and throwing her hair over her shoulders. She took two steps forward under its force, and glanced backward up the lane.

She saw no one.

Maria hesitated for just one more moment. Then, she turned and went on.

She didn’t look around her as she walked, now. Instead, her attention fixed on the bridge ahead, trying to decipher if anyone stood upon it, or was crossing it. She couldn’t tell for a long time, until she was almost next to it.

Then, suddenly, she arrived. She stood at the foot of the bridge, and looked toward its arch.

There was no one there. It was empty.

Her brow contracted, and something inside her chest sank. The sound of the river rising up beneath her, she stepped up onto the leaf-strewn bridge, up to the arc, and stopped. She leaned her arms on the rough, cool rock, and stared at the Nevsky as it flowed downstream, carrying with it the brown decay of winter. Leaving behind a bright clarity and a rainbow of smooth stones. She didn’t know how long she stood there, listening to the wild all around her, lost in wordless thought.

Good Shabbat.

Maria’s head jerked up, and she turned to her left...

Gregori stood at the foot of the bridge. He wore boots, brown trousers, and a cream-colored work shirt, its sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He held his fishing pole loosely over his right shoulder, with a small box in his left hand. He was smiling at her.

She studied him, halfway facing him.

Hello, she replied.

He stayed where he was for a moment, adjusting his hold on the handle of the box, his smile fading. Simply looking at her. She said nothing.

May I join you? he finally asked.

She lifted one shoulder, and allowed herself a small smile. He hesitated a moment, then came up the bridge, walked a little past her, and set the wooden box on the bridge wall, near where she was leaning. She watched him as he set his fishing pole down and opened the box.

Two dozen colorful lures sat inside, each in its own compartment. Some with feathers, some with tiny mirrors, some with rubber pieces that looked like worms. He glanced down at the water, up at the sky, then deftly picked out a bright yellow one with feathers.

We’ll see if I have better luck today, he murmured, taking up his pole and loosing the hook from the bottom of the handle. He removed the lure that was already there, put it away in the box and shut the lid. Then, with