Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

“I will insist upon it. She is only a schoolgirl, but it seems that nothing I say can make her stay away. And I’d hate to see the electricity go out again…”

A bewildered look spread across the assistant’s face, as if he believed Zhanna could really make it happen.

“You aren’t afraid of her, are you?” Ivashov asked with a derisive smile. “I mean, after all the talk about Yermak and the maid from Baikal…”

“No, I am far more afraid of Governor Volkov,” the assistant answered earnestly. “But she is so fearless that it—well, she lends me courage!”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Governor-General Vyacheslav Ivanovich Volkov entered the reception room from his private office. Upon recognizing Staff Captain Ivashov, he kissed the younger officer on both cheeks and held him by the elbows for closer inspection. The older man looked like a prosperous merchant or banker in his gray formal frock coat and winged-collar shirt, though his close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair and trimmed beard offered a hint of his military background.

“It was good of you to come and see me,” Volkov told Ivashov in a raspy voice after releasing him from his grip and welcoming Ned to Irkutsk. “Your name came across my desk yesterday and I had a mind to send for you.”

The man’s flinty eyes and humorless smile reminded Ned that Volkov had been a key figure behind the Kolchak coup and later had directed the ruthless purge of liberals from the Omsk government. After being tried and acquitted of abuses against former S-R legislators, Volkov’s reward had been his posting to Irkutsk, where he continued to quell political opposition with a vengeance. But the governor’s repression was child’s play compared with that of the Bolsheviks, Ned reminded himself. And America was now Volkov’s ally.

“I hope your reason for seeing me is something favorable,” Ivashov told the governor, his smile fading. “Would it be about…?”

“It’s about the Dorokhin girl,” Volkov answered with a scowl. “Reports have reached me that you know her and have visited her uncle. So perhaps you can tell me what lies behind her dogged efforts to see me. Her family seems sound enough, but I’ve been given to understand that she has fallen under the influence of a demented priest with S-R leanings and a penchant for Mesmerism. You see, staff captain, in these troubled times, religious fervor can quickly spill over into politics. And unless I can somehow harness such fervor to my own purposes, I prefer to stay away from it.”

Ivashov appeared to breathe a sigh of relief before responding. And Ned almost laughed at the description of Father Timofey as a demented Mesmerist.

“I can assure you, governor, that Zhanna’s request is little more than the idealistic fancy of a headstrong girl, inspired by her favorite saints,” Ivashov began, in a complete departure from the views he had expressed to Ned the night before. “I’m told that her father and brothers, who are unquestionably loyal to Admiral Kolchak, are quite exasperated that she has made a nuisance of herself, but they cannot control her.”

“More of a spectacle than a nuisance, I would say,” Volkov corrected. “And I can’t help but think that the whole affair might have been avoided had her father given his unruly daughter a good slapping when it started.”

Ned winced at the cruel remark but let it pass.

“Once you speak to her, Governor Volkov, I’m sure she will see the light of reason and abandon Irkutsk for the peace and quiet of her father’s estate at Verkhne-Udinsk.”

All at once Ned understood why Ivashov had dismissed Zhanna to Volkov as a fanciful schoolgirl. As an avowed skeptic, perhaps he might more easily cajole the governor into meeting her head-on so she could have her chance with him.

“Do I have your word on that?” Volkov shot back.

Ivashov swallowed hard. Though he remained silent, beads of sweat began to form on his upper lip.

“Oh, never mind,” Volkov went on at last, making a sour face as he turned to his assistant. “Sublieutenant, show the girl into my office.”

Upon following Ivashov and Volkov into the latter’s immense office a few moments later, Ned found Zhanna already seated in a straight-backed chair facing Volkov’s ornately inlaid oak desk. Ned and Ivashov took seats beside her. Sunlight streamed through tall French windows that occupied nearly the entire wall behind the governor.

The moment Volkov took his place behind the desk, Zhanna rose and introduced herself in a loud, clear voice. Despite the official’s prior refusals to see her, she wore a relaxed expression and did not tremble, fidget, or show any sign of nervous tension.

“Your Excellency, I have come on a matter of grave importance,” she began.

“And what matter might be so important as to make you so relentless in pursuing me?” Volkov demanded, lowering his head so that his eyes nearly rolled up in their sockets to gaze at her.