Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

“No,” he resumed, shaking his head ever so slowly. “When the time comes for new elections, after victory has been won on the battlefield, only healthy-minded elements can be allowed to participate. Not socialists or idle talkers who promote utopian ideas. That is the kind of democrat I am!” he roared, slamming his fist on the table.

“So long as we remain at war, we cannot afford divisive political campaigning; nor can we allow Socialist Revolutionaries to gain power through premature elections. No matter how badly we might want Allied support, this is still Russia! And we will not bow to foreign pressure.”

After casting a final stern look down the table at Regnault and Preston, the Supreme Ruler rose from his chair and left the room without saying another word. Ned cast a glance at Colonel Ward, who sat slumped forward in his chair, holding his head in his hands.

* * *

The day after the meeting with Guins and the Allied consuls at Liberty House, Yulia returned from Yekaterinburg, elated at having sold a piece of property there. Perhaps for this reason, she seemed to take the news of Ned’s imminent departure for Samara in stride. He found her acquiescence rather odd, in light of her fury the last time he had left. But his profound relief soon overcame any concerns he might have had. As if to underscore her relaxed attitude toward their separation, before dinner that night, she brought from the cellar one of her few remaining bottles of champagne to share with Ned, and drank most of it herself.

“Did you know that I also own property in Samara?” she boasted after downing her second glass. “Perhaps I will come visit you there.”

“If I were you, I would wait until conditions settle down a bit,” he warned, feeling his spirits lift from both the champagne and Yulia’s buoyant mood. “The White Armies haven’t fully consolidated their hold at Samara. Bolshevik partisans are still active there, together with quite a few S-R’s of dubious loyalty.”

“Oh, I have no reason to fear the S-Rs,” Yulia answered with a carefree toss of her head. “Nearly everyone who works the land in Siberia supports them. Even now, most of the town dumas and rural councils are run by S-Rs. The S-Rs here are not at all the same as Bolsheviks, but because they opposed Kolchak’s coup, he persecutes them.”

“Perhaps so. But all the same, I wouldn’t advise going to Samara until things settle down.”

“Could that be because the girl from Irkutsk has also taken up residence in Samara?” Yulia asked, turning up her nose. “Do you mean for me to stay away as long as she remains?”

“That’s quite unfair,” Ned reproached her, putting down his empty glass. “My travel has nothing to do with Zhanna,” he claimed, knowing this was untrue. “Besides, I’m not even sure how long I’ll be there. Send me a telegram at the Samara railroad offices before you come. If you intend to sell property, maybe I can find a way to help you.”

Yulia heaved a deep sigh and looked away before snuffing out the candles on the table, one after another, with her soft breath. Ned felt a chill as darkness fell over the room.

“If my business in Samara is your only reason for wanting to see me…”

Ned held his tongue, as he knew that nothing he could say would placate her. That night the couple slept in separate bedrooms. Ned left for Omsk before dawn the next morning and Yulia didn’t rise to see him off.

* * *

On orders from Colonel Barrows, Ned did not travel alone to Samara, but rather brought with him from Beregovoy two technicians and a spare wireless device to set up a new communications post on the Volga. Upon arrival, he checked in with his counterpart at the newly opened British Military Mission and was taken afterward to the Grand Hotel Zhiguli. The hotel, named for a range of hills outside Samara, had once been one of the finest in Samara and was occupied until recently by senior Bolshevik officials. Now, workmen swarmed the hotel’s public areas from morning till night, painting, plastering and repairing broken fixtures with scarce building materials hoarded during the Soviet occupation in hopes of better days ahead.

Because the Red Army had fled Samara without a fight, the city appeared to have suffered relatively little war damage. Some damage, however, remained unrepaired from the previous year, when the Czech Legion and the nascent People’s Army of the Komuch, under Vladimir Kappel, had captured the city from the Bolsheviks in June and lost it again in September. But the aftereffects of Red rule were most evident in the garbage-strewn streets, rundown buildings, shortages of vehicles and draft animals, and nearly total absence of trees, since these had been burned for firewood during the winter, owing to a shortage of coal.