Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

But before he could continue, the chief examiner grasped the monk’s elbow and whispered in his ear. Whatever approach he might have had in mind for her, the girl seemed to be throwing him off his game. After acknowledging Father Leo’s intervention with a curt nod, Nestor turned his attention back to the Maid.

“Very well, then,” he continued, drawing a deep breath. “My question to you is this: when your trial is over, will you or will you not accept the final judgment of the Holy Church?”

“I am a faithful child of the church and have always obeyed her,” Zhanna answered with bowed head.

“Then you will accept and obey?”

“Yes, provided that the church does not demand anything impossible of me.”

The monk threw up his hands in frustration and several of his fellow examiners raised their eyebrows. Bishop Fyodor gritted his teeth but said nothing.

“What, do you mean to accuse the church of fallibility?” the deputy examiner demanded. “Who are you to decide which of the church’s commands is acceptable or not?”

“I am God’s messenger,” she answered in a firm voice. “What He makes me do, I will not go back on. And if the church bids me to act counter to His commands, I will refuse!”

“Listen to her!” Father Nestor railed, pointing his finger at Zhanna. “The accused calls the church contrary to God. Unbelievable! Woman, you have spewed enough heresy today to anathematize ten heretics! Now, will you at least have the decency to concede that the Holy Church is wiser than you?”

“God is indeed wiser than I, and it is His commands I follow and none other. Know that everything you call a crime I have done by His order alone.”

“You have no idea what you are saying, child,” Nestor objected, his face gone red and his forehead glistening with beads of sweat. “Let me put it another way: do you not accept that you are subject to the church of God on earth?

“When have I denied it?” she answered with the trace of a smile.

“I am glad to hear you say it,” the monk replied with evident relief, though his voice was laden with sarcasm. “Does it not then follow that you are under the authority of the bishops and priests who guide Christ’s flock?”

At this suggestion, the Maid gave her head a stubborn shake.

“God must be served first,” she said. “The church is made up of mortals. It rests in the hands of God and not the other way around.”

“Zhanna, I warn you not to test the court’s patience,” Leo admonished, a note of anxiety creeping back into his voice. “How can you possibly claim to know the will of God without reference to the church?”

“What other judgment can I use if not my own?” the Maid replied with a shrug.

“Your Honor, let the accused’s damning statements speak for themselves,” the deputy examiner offered, turning to Bishop Fyodor with a triumphant smile spreading across his face. “I have no further questions.”

“If no other examiners wish to speak, I order a recess,” Bishop Fyodor declared without waiting for a response. “The court shall reconvene after lunch.”

While Nestor seemed quite satisfied with his performance, several of his fellow examiners exchanged relieved glances when the bishop rapped his gavel on the table at last.

* * *

That afternoon, Bishop Fyodor was called away unexpectedly on other business and Zhanna was escorted back to her cell. The next morning, she appeared on schedule before the court, shackled as before, and similarly wobbly and bleary-eyed from lack of sleep. Giving the girl scarcely a glance, the bishop wasted no time calling the court to order.

“Do you swear today to speak the truth and nothing but the truth?” he began, addressing himself to the Maid.

“I took the oath yesterday and have sworn enough. Go ahead and ask your questions, if you must,” she answered in a voice that was raspy from lack of sleep.

But rather than be dragged into a dispute over it, Fyodor ignored her objection and motioned for the chief examiner to proceed.

“The accused remains under oath,” the judge announced with a glance at his pocket watch. “You may resume your examination so as not to waste any more of the court’s time.”

“As you wish, Your Honor,” Father Leo replied. Turning to the Maid, the chief examiner forced a smile and asked, “Tell me, Zhanna Stepanovna, why do you claim before the world to be a virgin, when surely you can be no such thing?”

A collective gasp issued from the other examiners and the two assessors.

“I say I am,” she said calmly. “That should be enough. If you don’t believe me, too bad for you.”

“Do you really expect anyone to believe that you remain intact, after having spent most of the past year surrounded by the roughest breed of soldier?” the chief examiner pressed.

“Instead of slandering me and my men, why don’t you ask the nuns at the convent here to conduct a physical examination? Then we shall see whose word is to be trusted,” Zhanna replied.

“You would consent to such a test?” Leo asked with a surprised look.

“Indeed, I demand it to clear my name,” Zhanna told him without a moment’s hesitation.