Читаем Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War полностью

“That is because we clerics give more thought to miracles than you military men, miracles being central to the life of the church,” the Archbishop explained.

“But what do miracles have to do with picking out the right man?”

“A miracle is something that creates faith, which is what will happen if the girl chooses correctly.”

Ned felt a chill pass up his spine as he realized the import of Sylvester’s words. For the real significance of the Admiral’s ruse lay beyond its crude effort to trip her up. If Zhanna picked the right man, whether by divine guidance or mere cleverness and sound memory, she would gain a credence and standing before the Admiral much greater than any she might win through words alone.

The Chief of Staff seemed not to draw the same conclusion, judging from his puzzled expression. But before he could speak again, George Guins returned to the room with a score of senior officers and ministers, who wasted no time helping themselves to tea and zakuski, while Guins left again to fetch the Maid. A few minutes later, the Admiral’s assistant ushered Zhanna into the room. At her approach, the men gathered together, with Dieterichs front and center, Lebedev and the Archbishop to either side. Ned and Ivashov stood just behind them, and Kolchak toward the rear.

Zhanna stopped a few feet from the sideboard, looking fresh and sweet in her short blue jacket, pressed trousers and white blouse, her bobbed black hair framing her face in a way that made it seem as if a pale light shone from her violet eyes. She scanned each of the faces arrayed before her with a breathless expression and showed a glimmer of recognition when her eyes met Ned’s. The Maid appeared nervous and disoriented, and for a moment, Ned feared that whatever special powers she possessed might fail her.

“Which of you is the Admiral?” she asked at last, with an expression of humility befitting a provincial schoolgirl.

“You are in his presence,” Dieterichs responded gravely, scratching his stubbled chin while regarding her with a stately frown.

“Come now, dear sir,” Zhanna answered, her face brightening into a smile. “You can’t fool me. What have you done with Admiral Kolchak?”

Dieterichs threw his head back and let out a guttural laugh, upon which Zhanna waded into the huddle of uniformed men and before long seized Admiral Kolchak’s hand in hers, pulling him free. Once they stood apart from the others, she promptly released his hand and bobbed him a deep curtsey.

“How did you recognize me?” the Admiral asked with wide eyes when she rose to face him again.

“I will tell you when we are alone, Your Excellency,” she replied.

“And what is your name, young lady?”

“I am Zhanna Stepanovna Dorokhina, of Verkhne-Udinsk, the one they call the Maid of Baikal. The King of Heaven has sent me here to offer you His aid.”

“Is that so?” the Admiral answered, to the amused laughter of the other men. “And what sort of aid might that be? I’m all ears.”

The exchange between Supreme Ruler and provincial schoolgirl seemed so out of place that several men laughed and Ned nearly joined them.

“Such help as will enable your armed forces to crush the Red Army and stamp out Bolshevist tyranny,” Zhanna declared. “If you accept it, from this hour the course of the war will turn in your favor.”

Though eyebrows lifted around the room, the girl’s sincerity was so palpable that no man was so ungracious as to laugh any longer.

“Does the King of Heaven claim anything in return for his largesse?” Kolchak went on, casting a casual glance toward the Archbishop.

“Only that, upon reaching the Volga and taking the city of Samara, you will convene a new national assembly. That body will then elect you as regent until the war is won,” Zhanna replied. “But when your term is done, you must step down without fail.”

“That’s all well enough, my dear girl,” Lebedev interrupted. “But what I want to know is, how do you propose to capture Samara?”

“Let me lead an army there and I will show you how,” she replied without blinking.

At this, Lebedev let loose a resounding belly laugh and several of the younger officers, presumably his subordinates on the Stavka, joined him. Ned cringed, both at Zhanna’s boldness and the Chief of Staff’s insult. The Supreme Ruler took a step back and noted the questioning looks of Dieterichs and Sylvester.

“There you have it,” Lebedev went on. “The girl thinks herself a general already.”

But Admiral Kolchak seemed to set aside Zhanna’s claim to capture Samara and responded instead to her call for a new national assembly.

“If you wish to convene a new legislative body, you must talk with Guins. He manages the politicians.” Kolchak gestured toward his assistant, who uttered an awkward laugh.

“Oh, Admiral, please don’t trifle with me,” Zhanna reproached the Supreme Ruler. “Won’t you send these people away now so that I may speak with you alone? God has given me much more to tell you, but only in private.”

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