Silent shock filled the room. Disarmament. Separation. Conscription or slavery.
The quiet didn’t last. Soon, murmurs grew and spread.
“Without arms, we’ll be at the mercy of every bandit in Siberia!” someone called out.
The man in front of them got to his feet. “I won’t go to one of their camps! They’ll work us to death.”
“We should fight our way through!” another man said.
Filip nodded his agreement as the debate continued, boisterous and emotional.
Richter, still at the stand, held up his hands in a call for order. Gradually, the noise died down, but there was still a palpable charge in the air. “Brothers, we can have only one response to this demand.” He raised the telegram as if his words could somehow be transmitted back to the man who had sent it. “We will not turn over our weapons! If you want them, come and get them!”
The room broke into cheers.
“It’s about time.” Filip turned to Dalek, a sudden worry in his chest. “That telegram is real, isn’t it?”
Dalek smirked, changing the shape of his mustache. “Of course it’s real. I only counterfeit telegrams to rid us of Soviet Commissars.”
“This will rid us of all Soviet Commissars.”
“Only if we win.”
“We will, Dalek. I can feel it.”
Everyone in the room seemed to feel the same thing. From his seat near the front, Karel Kral stood and sang the words of a familiar folk song.
Where is my home?
Where is my home?
Filip joined in, as did most of the hall.
Waters murmur across the meadows,
Pinewoods rustle upon the hills,
Bloom of spring shines in the orchard,
Filip had left his homeland close to four years ago. He’d seen more of the world than he’d ever expected, but nothing compared with his own land—the flowing and rippling waters, the trees in the wind, the burst of color every spring. When he closed his eyes, he could see it again, could almost smell and hear it.
Paradise on Earth to see!
And that is the beautiful land,
His homeland would always be beautiful to him, and now it felt as if all their hopes were within reach. Not just a compromise giving them more autonomy within an empire but instead a settlement that would give them a new, independent country. Freedom would make the beauty more meaningful, carrying his people forward to a new era, where the light of liberty scattered the shadows of oppression.
The Czech land, my home!
The Czech land, my home!
Tears streamed down Filip’s face, but he wasn’t embarrassed. Everyone else was crying too. This could change everything—for him, for his family, for his people. No more would they be forced to give loyalty to an emperor who cared nothing for them. No longer would they form his cannon fodder when he went to war. No more would they have to hang his portrait in every schoolhouse and every business. They would be no longer subjects but citizens. No longer oppressed Slavs but free men. They would have their own country, and the next step in winning it would come here, in Siberia.
Chapter Fifteen
Endless grass of green and gold blurred past the window of the slowing train. “I wonder why we’re stopping,” Nadia said. It had been a strange day. Normally, the Bolsheviks kept them spread out, but they’d converged with another legion train at Isikul. A second train offered double the weapons and double the manpower. And unfortunately, double the requirements at the service stations. So their train had gone ahead while the other waited at Marianovka.
Veronika joined her at the sawn-out window. “We’re not approaching a station?”
“Just a bridge.” And another train, with the prominent red flag of the Bolsheviks.
Veronika leaned out the window for a better view. “Sometimes I have trouble keeping track of where we are.”
“We’re east of the Urals but west of Lake Baikal. That puts us in Central Siberia.”
“Yes, but you always seem to know the spot on the map as well as the station’s and town’s history.”
Was that a compliment? Veronika was kind like that. Nadia looked around, but even Larisa wasn’t displaying the contempt and distain she normally showed whenever Nadia spoke. Nor were the other women.
“Marianovka is where we left the other train,” Nadia said. “Omsk is ahead, not far. It’s one of the larger cities in Siberia, founded about two hundred years ago as a fort.” They were getting farther and farther from Filip, and something about that made her nervous. But he would catch up. He might not come for her, but his men were here, and Filip genuinely cared about them—whether it was mentoring young, courageous Emil or drawing quiet, competent Anton out of his shell.
Anton jogged to their boxcar before they came to a complete stop.
“Why are we stopping?” Veronika asked him.
“The engine is low on water. The engineer’s afraid he’ll blow the boiler if he keeps going. So we’re going to have to push the train back to the last water tower we passed.”
“Push it?” Veronika’s eyes widened. “How?”
“Once we get it started backward, it should be easy enough to keep it moving. But when they tell everyone to help push, they don’t mean the women.” Anton lowered his voice but not so much that Nadia couldn’t hear. “Especially not you, love.” He ran off, probably to help get the train moving in the opposite direction.
Veronika looked after him, one hand on her abdomen, increasing Nadia’s suspicion.
“Veronika . . .” Her friend met her gaze. Nadia probably shouldn’t ask, but the curiosity was unrelenting. “Are you going to be a mother?”
Veronika glanced around to see if the others were listening, but they were watching the men detrain. “Yes, probably at the end of July.”
“So soon? Why haven’t you told anyone?” Nadia hadn’t heard a peep of gossip about it, and she understood more Czech every day.
Veronika chewed on her lip for a moment. “Some of the women have been married longer than I have. And they want babies very badly.”
“You don’t think they’d be happy for you?”
“Happy for me, yes, but also sad for themselves. I just thought it would be easier not to say anything, and maybe we’d get to Vladivostok before it was time.”
“My mother used to say that the world is flooded with hardship and sorrow. We’ll only get our fill of joy if we experience it with others when they’re blessed. What we have alone won’t be enough.”
Veronika smiled. “Your mother was wise.”
Nadia felt longing, then sadness as the last image of her mother passed through her mind. “Yes.”
Veronika put her hand over Nadia’s. “Her wisdom can live on in you.”
It was a beautiful thought, one that brought comfort while she was missing her parents and, she supposed, missing her husband.
***
When they pulled into Marianovka Station again, music from the other train’s regimental band filled the air. Anton went to find Veronika. The last thousand miles had taught him that delays usually dragged into boredom, so they ought to enjoy the concert while it lasted. Her clothing hung differently now, with the baby’s growth, but she was still camouflaging her condition, for the most part. And she was still just as beautiful, especially as she smiled at the music.
Something about that Bolshevik train worried him. And why had the engineer refused to go forward? They’d been far closer to the Kulomzino Station than they’d been to the water tower.
The band played one song and started another. Then Anton noticed a train from the east—the train they’d seen at the bridge. There were a number of nonthreatening reasons the train could be following them. It might simply be heading west. But cooperation with the Bolsheviks had been growing more and more difficult.