Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

EARLY SEPTEMBER, 1919, SAMARA

The first days of September were warm and unusually dry along the Lower Volga. Though the sun’s heat scorched all it touched, the approach of autumn promised welcome relief. Outside Samara, the crowns of tall poplars that separated one peasant field from another turned yellow and the first flocks of migrating cranes descended on the harvested croplands. Late in the afternoon, distant thunder rolled in from clouds gathering in the west.

Each morning, Ned rose early to attend committee sessions of the new national assembly at the Samara Drama Theater, a striking Baroque edifice painted in garish red and white, which had become one of the city’s major landmarks in the three decades since it was built. The first delegates to reach Samara settled down there immediately to draft a new political program. Most of them, Ned noted, seemed to come from the newly liberated areas of South Russia and the Volga, which were more liberal than Omsk and Eastern Siberia.

Because many of the representatives were relative newcomers to politics, old-line monarchists and reactionaries found it difficult to dismiss them as pro-Bolshevik. Accordingly, most observers were pleasantly surprised that the new legislature came quite close to achieving Admiral Kolchak’s stated goal of a broad-based political coalition. Moreover, the participation of S-Rs, Socialists, and Constitutional Democrats easily refuted Bolshevik propaganda claims that the assembly consisted entirely of monarchists, Cossacks, and military officers of the type who sang “God Save the Tsar” at every session.

At the risk of alienating the reactionary clique who raised him to power, the Admiral seemed to have made good on his promise to create an energetic new leadership class capable of promoting reconciliation across the vast expanse of Russia. But since the assembly’s primary task would be to endorse Kolchak as wartime regent and endorse his new war cabinet, he banned from the assembly any candidates associated with the Bolsheviks, Mensheviks, and other parties subservient to Moscow.

At the assembly’s initial plenary session, some expressed doubts about the Admiral’s pledge to step down as Supreme Ruler once the Bolsheviks were defeated and a new head of state elected. Until then, Kolchak proposed that the assembly appoint him regent to legitimize his role as Commander in Chief of the White Armies. Under this arrangement, martial law would continue, but under a government oversight committee representing the new assembly. That committee would also supervise the government budget, evaluate departmental activities, and question ministers about their performance in office. While far short of the full-blown governmental reorganization that many delegates wanted, they accepted it as a step in the right direction.

Thus, in mid-September, the national assembly elected Admiral Kolchak as regent of Russia, a post similar to that held until recently by General Mannerheim in Finland after guiding that country to independence. Kolchak’s term as regent was to extend for two years, or until a successor head of state took office, whichever came first.

On the day before the inauguration, the Maid arrived in Samara from her encampment outside the city, together with General Tolstov and a team of senior officers. To celebrate the occasion, Ned had invited Zhanna, Paladin, Tolstov, and Colonel Denisov to the Uspensky for an early dinner, where they enjoyed a feast unlike any they had experienced before, though without the aid of vodka. For nearly two hours, they regaled one other with stories of the Uralsk and Ufa campaigns, as well as more recent battles on the Volga. But as Ned’s duties required him to rise early the next morning to deliver intelligence reports to his clients, and Zhanna had to report early to the cathedral to rehearse for the inauguration, the party broke up before the early autumn sun went down.

“Are you staying at the Zhiguli?” Ned asked the Maid once they were outdoors. “It’s not far. Why don’t we walk? Perhaps we could enjoy a cup of tea before retiring.”

“Actually, I’m staying at Madame Timiryova’s,” Zhanna replied, with a wince that showed sympathy for Ned’s disappointment.

“Her lodging is only a block or two further on,” he pointed out. “We could still walk there. That is, if you don’t mind my company…”

Ned offered Zhanna a winsome smile, which she returned before stepping aside to wave off Tolstov’s offer to ride in his carriage.

“Until morning!” she called out to the general before his carriage left the curb.

The couple set off toward the residence, choosing a route that was still well trodden by White officers and smartly dressed men and women out for a stroll after celebrating the eve of Kolchak’s inauguration. Though Zhanna attracted a few polite stares from people who guessed she might be the famous Maid of Baikal, she did not draw a crowd, perhaps because she had not appeared in the city before now.