In reply, Madame Lokhtina beat her chest in a cross and intoned, “Yes, indeed, He has!”
Still clutching my hand, she tugged me across the room. No one seemed to notice us as we traversed the space. Indeed, all the believers were totally focused on one man, thin and bearded, his smile broad and happy, who stood at the front chanting a prayer. He was their leader, I presumed, and the head of this ark or, in the terms of the Khlysty, the local Christ.
“In here,” commanded Madame Lokhtina. “We must remove our clothes and put on holy garments!”
As she pulled me into a small side room lit by a single slim candle, I flushed with worry for the first time. Tossed on the floor were shoes and boots, pants and dresses. Off to one side, hanging from a hook, were a handful of white flaxen gowns. Dear Lord, I’d been only too happy to escape our apartment, but now what? What had I got myself into? All the old stories and rumors came flooding back. What if they were all true? What if the breasts of virgins were lopped off and eaten? What if virgins were pinned down and impregnated by all the men? What if the blood of virgins was drunk?
Bozhe moi, I thought in complete panic, what if I am the only virgin down in this hidden place?
“Get undressed! Hurry, child, they are waiting for you!” pressed Madame Lokhtina.
Waiting for me? In a flash it was perfectly clear: I had no choice, there was no escaping. My hands trembling terribly, I reached slowly for the top buttons of my dress, only to glance over to see Madame Lokhtina frantically undressing. As eager as a debutante to join a mazurka, she dropped her staff, tossed aside her absurd headgear, and started ripping away her dress. A moment later I spied her bony naked body darting around the small chamber. Oh, Lord, help me, I prayed as she clumsily tugged one of the gownlike shirts over her head and spindly neck.
Forgetting about me, Madame Lokhtina rushed from the room. Hearing the choir sing louder, faster, I peered around the corner and into the main chamber. The local Christ was calling and shouting out in great glee.
“Brothers! Sisters! Let us call down God!” he commanded as he lifted both hands to the heavens.
“Oh, Lord the Spirit!” screamed one woman.
“Oh, God the Father!” shouted a man.
“Oh, Holy One!”
“Come to us, Dear One!”
“Present Thyself!”
It was then that I saw not only several of the revelers studying me, their brows creased with disapproval, but also the first hooded man, the heavy one. Sealing the secret door, he turned his angry eyes upon at me. In one brusque movement, he pulled off his hood, revealing a fat, gray, and hairy face that looked none too pleased to see me in my regular clothes.
A deep voice to my side suddenly commanded, “You must cast away your European clothing and garb yourself in sermyaga!”
Gasping, I jumped back. Standing just inches from me was the second hooded man, the shorter one.
Jerking away from him, I replied, “Da, da!”
Retreating to the side room, I knew I had no choice. I had to undress and put on one of their coarse peasant gowns. If I didn’t, they’d know for certain I wasn’t truly one of them-and then what? What would they do to an interloper? Far better that I try somehow to blend in. I huddled in a corner and started to shed my clothes. Oh, God, I thought, fearful that the second hooded man would come in as I undressed, terrified that he would corner and molest me. I now saw what an utter fool I’d been to come here.
Dressed in one of their plain flaxen gowns and shaking from head to toe, I emerged from the side room a few minutes later. Feeling my naked body rub against the loose rough cloth, I felt totally exposed in front of this group of sectarians and clasped my arms tightly across my chest. They wouldn’t attack me, would they? The very idea of sacrificing myself in order to be proclaimed their Bogoroditsa-their Mother of God-was revolting. Surveying the room, I tried to spot Madame Lokhtina, hoping to find shelter in her protection. But when I heard a sob and saw her begin to whirl up at the front, I knew it was useless.
A strong hand grasped me from behind, the fingers sinking into my shoulder. I stifled a scream. It was the second of the hooded men.
His voice hushed, he ordered, “Do not tremble so!”
I tried to pull away but he wouldn’t release me. Tears came to my eyes. Glancing to the front of the room, I saw the local Christ begin to whirl and cross himself. My heart started pounding, for the radeniye had begun. A huge whoop went up from the celebrants, and the choir started chanting faster, louder.
“He will come!” shouted the local Christ as he whirled and whipped himself with a rag.
“We are ready!” shouted a man, jumping forward and starting to spin as well.
The hooded man pressed himself closer, whispering in the din to me, “Do not worry. There’s nothing to be afraid of. You are one of us now, and that is good. We are all one family!”
Bozhe moi. I could hear the lust in his hushed voice, sense it in his close presence, feel it in the warm breath that spilled over me. What did he want?
“Do not worry, Maria, I am here,” he said. “Change will come soon, and soon you must run from the city, this Western seat, without looking back!”
I cowered in terror.
A woman screamed, “He will come to the People!”
Another shouted, “He is of us!”
“We are of Him!”
In the flickering candlelight the entire congregation leaped into the middle of the room, formed a large circle, and started slowly moving from right to left. The choir half cried, half sang some special song. In response, the throbbing congregation cried to the heavens. Someone started screaming. Two men slapped their knees to the beat of the chant. The local Christ shouted an incoherent prayer. Bit by bit, the circle of celebrants began to move faster and faster.
The hooded man took me by the arm. “Come, we must join them!”
I was shaking more than ever, and the tears rolled freely from my eyes. “Please, no! I can’t! I…I…”
He stopped and gently, gingerly, touched me on the shoulder. “But there’s nothing to fear!” He grabbed the top of his hood and started to pull it up. “Maria, I wouldn’t let anything happen to you!”
First his chin appeared, then that sweet mouth. I couldn’t believe it. And when I realized who it really was, when I saw him standing before me, I collapsed sobbing in his arms. It couldn’t be.
“Sasha!”
“There’s nothing to worry about! I’m here,” he said desperately, wrapping his good arm around me and holding me and kissing me on the head. “Sweet one, my Maria, I won’t let anyone hurt you!”
“But how…” I tried to talk but couldn’t. “I mean, you’re here… How…what…oh, I thought…I thought-!”
“Everything’s okay, even wonderful!” he said, with a huge grin.
“But how-”
“You mean you didn’t know?”
“Know what?”
“That I’d be here, that I belong here? And who I am, and-don’t you understand? Isn’t that why you’re here? Don’t you know? I would have told you-I wanted to-but I couldn’t. Secrecy is my greatest commandment.”
“Sasha, what are you saying?”
“I’m a flying angel. I travel from ark to ark, carrying news and warnings to and from other groups. That’s why I was going to your village when we first met, why I asked so many questions about your father, and that’s why I had to flee so quickly-to carry the news of the attack on your father to the other groups.”