Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

Deflecting further questioning from the Maid, General Tolstov ordered his aide de camp to take the three newcomers back to their tent at the first camp they had reached upon arrival. There they found Paladin assembling their sleeping cots and a folding table and chairs, having already brought their belongings to the tent. By now, the Maid’s senior officers from the train had teamed up with several dozen of Tolstov’s Cossack officers to create a semblance of order among the volunteers. But it was not until sundown that all the new men were safely in their quarters and field kitchens were set up to feed them.

After a meager dinner of beet soup and brown bread with sweet tea, Zhanna, Paladin, and the two captains returned in silence to their tent. Accustomed as he was to the Maid’s late hours aboard the train, Ned fully expected Zhanna to stay awake for several more hours to plan for the next day. But to his relief, she went immediately to her cot and fell asleep.

“There is another train leaving Iletsk tomorrow evening,” he whispered to Ivashov once he was certain that the girl could not hear him. “Shall we tell Zhanna now of our plans to leave her, or wait till morning? The trouble is, it may be days before another train comes this way.”

“Neither of us has time to waste in this backwater, to be sure, but I don’t have the heart to add to her burdens just now,” Ivashov replied after a thoughtful pause. “Let’s stay a few more days and see how she does, shall we?”

* * *

The following morning, General Tolstov invited Zhanna, Ned, and Ivashov to his tent for a savory breakfast consisting of hash made from bread cubes, bacon, onions, and eggs, seasoned with fresh dill. Tolstov washed down his food with a short glass of vodka, while Zhanna and the others drank strong tea. After eating, the general answered questions about the war on the steppe and spoke briefly about his upbringing as the son of a Cossack officer, his military career, and his election as ataman of the Ural Cossack Host. The latter he attributed to his vow that, whether war’s fortunes favored him or not, he would never surrender to the Bolsheviks. Afterward, Tolstov led the newcomers to his command tent and introduced them to members of his staff.

“I present to you the Maid of Baikal,” he told them. “She has come to us all the way from Irkutsk, where she somehow persuaded that hornless devil Volkov to grant her an introduction to Admiral Kolchak. The rest of her story, I’m sure, is familiar to you from the newspapers.”

A Cossack colonel named Denisov, a tall, wiry, mustachioed man of about thirty, spoke next.

“I know Volkov well,” he said. “Tell me, Zhanna Stepanovna, how did a hard man like Volkov come to put his trust in a sweet lass like you?”

“In truth, I don’t think he ever did,” she answered with a careless toss of her head. “The ones who believed in me were Staff Captain Ivashov and Captain du Pont, whom you see here. The governor sent me on to Omsk because of them, I think. And also to be rid of me.”

This evoked a hearty laugh from the group. Next to speak was a snub-nosed officer with hair graying at the temples who had a pensive look about him.

“In the history of Siberia,” he began, “I can recall no figure who has gained such widespread popularity as quickly as you. If you are not what you claim to be, then someone with extraordinary imagination must have cooked this thing up.”

A third officer, with a dashing forelock and swarthy cheeks, joined him in a dismissive tone without even deigning to look at Zhanna.

“I agree,” he said. “She’s either a charlatan or a fool.”

But rather than be offended by these remarks, Zhanna gave a lighthearted laugh.

“As for the first, I can’t answer because I don’t know the meaning of the word,” she told the officer. “But if I am a fool, at least God has not held it against me so far.”

“Never mind these draggletail scoundrels, Zhanna,” Tolstov interrupted with a conspiratorial grin. “As long as you don’t give them any commands, you shouldn’t have any problems with these mongrels. Leave them to me.”

“Oh, general, I have no intention to command them. At the moment, I wouldn’t know what commands to give,” she answered, and Ned made note of that important modifier, for he had an inkling that, once she felt confident to issue them, the commands might flow quite freely.

But here Ivashov spoke up, apparently to change the subject.

“Rest assured, gentlemen, Admiral Kolchak did not send the Maid here to interfere with your judgment about how to destroy the Bolsheviks in your own theater of war,” he offered. “But bringing a trainload of volunteers to this remote place is no small thing, and I believe she can also do much in her way to help prepare these volunteers for the fighting ahead.”