Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

In itself, this theme was nothing remarkable, as the audience expected Zhanna to speak of her faith. Those who were religious or who had lost loved ones in the war, listened attentively, while others let their attention drift.

“But Holy Russia is not some legal or governmental body or geographic location,” she went on. “Rather, it is the incarnation of God’s Word in the national life of Russia. To understand this wondrous idea, to live it and to love it, that is the task of every Russian. For that is where our joy resides; that is where we reconcile ourselves to our lot in life, and to our personal connection to God.”

Here McCloud jabbed Ned in the ribs with his elbow.

“Listen closely now,” he whispered, his eyes wide with anticipation. “She’s coming to the good part.”

And as if on cue, Zhanna paused to take a deep breath, smile at the audience and make a sweeping gesture with both arms that seemed to take in the entire cemetery, the rolling landscape and the river beyond.

“Now, let us rededicate ourselves to Almighty God and the Holy Spirit, as we dedicate this holy site to His Will!

“Two years ago, a miracle was recorded in the tiny country of Portugal, on the Atlantic Ocean. There, in a town called Fatima, the Holy Mother appeared to three poor shepherd children and warned them against a coming century of suffering for the world, if Russia were not consecrated to the Holy Spirit. Why the Holy Mother spoke of Russia to those children, so far away from here, we may never know. But the warning took on new meaning when the October Revolution led to our present civil war.”

Ned gave McCloud a sideways look.

“I don’t get it, what’s she talking about?” he asked.

“She’s almost there,” McCloud assured him with a pat on the knee.

Zhanna paused here to allow herself a shift in tone.

“Today I bring a message of hope,” she went on, “for by rededicating Russia to God’s Will, we have an opportunity to heed the Holy Mother’s warning and avoid a century of suffering. But it is not the Pope of Rome who can do this, nor the Patriarchs of Jerusalem, Antioch or Constantinople. No, not even we, the living Russian people, can consecrate this small burial place. That is because the brave men and women who struggled and died here for a free Russia have hallowed it far above our power to add or subtract.”

McCloud was grinning from ear to ear.

“Now do you get it? Eh? Eh?” he demanded in a stage whisper that drew irritated looks from their neighbors.

Zhanna’s voice rose for emphasis.

“The world outside Russia will little note, nor long remember, what we say here today, but it can never forget what our brave soldiers have done here. And it is for us, the living, to dedicate ourselves to the unfinished work that they have thus far so nobly advanced, and to take increased devotion to their cause. It is for us to resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, and that a new Russia, under God, shall have a rebirth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, and for the people, shall not perish from this land!”

Unlike the moments after Admiral Kolchak’s speech to the national assembly, no wild applause followed Zhanna’s last words. Nor were there many moist eyes at first, other than Ned’s. Instead, total silence reigned, and no one moved from his seat. It was as if the listeners were lost in thought, for this was an address unlike any they had heard before. Only upon closer examination did Ned see the tear-stained cheeks of the older men and women, and the exultant expressions on the faces of the men in uniform. But to Ned, the closing paragraphs had a very familiar ring.

“Did you hear what I heard?” Ned whispered to McCloud, scarcely believing it. “Wasn’t that the peroration of the Gettysburg Address? You didn’t happen to…?”

“Our girl needed a little help,” the journalist replied with a self-satisfied smile. “And I was happy to oblige.”

“But what will they say back home? Won’t people think she stole her speech from Lincoln?”

“They’ll never know, laddie. You and I are the only Americans here, and I won’t be reporting the speech verbatim. All is fair in war and journalism, my boy.”

* * *

McCloud’s predictions about the speeches came true, as his reports of Kolchak’s and Zhanna’s respective orations moved American public opinion even further toward the White cause. Encouraged by Kolchak’s reforms, the Maid’s popularity, and improved prospects for a White assault on Moscow, President Wilson agreed to receive White Russia’s new ambassador a few days later at the White House.

Early the following week, however, Wilson collapsed during a speaking tour in Colorado and suffered an incapacitating stroke. It so happened that McCloud’s reporting had made its mark just in time. And no less important to the cash-strapped newsman, his prospects for a lucrative speaking tour in America had never looked better. All he needed was for the Whites to wrap up the war.

Chapter 20: Capture at Kazan