Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

“Well, well, I can take a hint as well as anyone,” Dieterichs answered with an unexpected chuckle before refilling his glass from the samovar. “It seems the Maid covets my position. Well, let her make her case and may the better general win. Come, gentlemen, let us give them their moment alone.”

Admiral Kolchak nodded to Dieterichs and then to Guins, who ushered the others out into the reception area. Ned and Ivashov were among the last in line. For a moment, Ned hesitated to leave and grabbed Ivashov’s wrist to hold him back. “Dare we leave her alone with him?” he asked under his breath.

“We have no choice. Let it be,” Ivashov answered.

Not far behind them, Archbishop Sylvester announced just before the door, “I will go, but let it be remembered that General Lebedev and I voiced our reservations about the girl.”

As soon as the two were left alone, Admiral Kolchak led Zhanna to the sideboard and prepared a plate of food for her. She eyed it hungrily while he poured her a glass of tea, but she put the food down without taking a bite.

“I will not require much of your time, Admiral,” the Maid began. “I have come to you because my Voices say that God has placed a grave destiny in your hands and you will need His help to fulfill it.”

Kolchak carried their tea to the nearest sofa and deposited the two glasses on a low table.

“May I call you Zhanna?” he asked while gesturing for her to be seated.

“Call me however you wish, Your Excellency,” she replied. “You are Supreme Ruler. I am a mere messenger called to my task without having chosen it.”

“It may surprise you, Zhanna, but neither did I come to my position by choice,” the Admiral revealed. “As it happened, our Provisional Siberian Government failed and there was no one whom all factions could accept as leader. I refused more than once, yet here I am now, sitting astride the tiger and unable to dismount.”

“The King of Heaven neither expects nor desires that you renounce your position at this time,” Zhanna pointed out with a gentle smile. “But wouldn’t it be better if the peoples’ representatives elected you leader so that none could deny your legitimacy?”

“Perhaps so,” Kolchak responded, regarding her with fresh interest, though perhaps not yet seeing her as an adult. “Yet I doubt it would alter my situation as much as you might think. For what is the good of being Supreme Ruler, elected or not, when the generals, bankers, and foreign allies give all the orders, and the Supreme Ruler attracts all the blame?”

“Come now, Admiral, please take me seriously, for though I have little experience of the world, I’m sent by our Lord, who sees your plight and feels compassion for you.”

At this, the Supreme Ruler rose abruptly to pace beside the table with a heavy tread.

“To be frank, Zhanna, I can’t easily believe that I’m the kind of person in whom God takes an interest,” he confessed with a sorrowful expression. “I am a military man, one whose life work is to wage war and destruction. Why should the Lord help me when I am what I am?”

“God’s ways are not for men to know,” the girl replied, moving closer to the Admiral. “But might it be easier to believe me if I described a secret known until now only to you and Him?”

“Tell it, though I promise you nothing in return.”

“As you please, then,” the Maid began. “My Voices tell me that sometimes you doubt your capacity to lead Russia through its current struggles. The night you became Supreme Ruler of Russia, you offered the King of Heaven a prayer that I shall now repeat to you. May I?”

“Please do.”

“You prayed: ‘Dear Lord, if I am to be your choice as commander of the White Armies, I humbly ask you to aid our just cause. If I have overreached by accepting this office, or if, through error or weakness, I lead Russia astray, I beg you to punish me alone rather than the Russian people, and to preserve from harm my wife and son and my beloved Anna Vasilyevna. This prayer I lay humbly before you.’ My Voices also tell me that you have repeated a similar prayer nearly every night since then.”

Admiral Kolchak stopped pacing to stare at Zhanna, his mouth agape.

“But how could you possibly know?” he whispered with a visible shudder. “You had it down to the word…”

“How could I know except by my Voices?” she replied. “For this was your silent prayer and you never uttered it aloud. And how do I know of battles lost and won, and of General Gaida’s insubordination, but by God’s aid?”

The Admiral resumed his pacing, hands clasped behind his back.

“I am at a loss to explain it. The matter with Gaida was known to only a few,” he admitted. “Unless…”

“No spy informed me,” she answered, as if reading Kolchak’s mind. “I knew of Gaida’s plot before any spy could possibly have reported it.”

“But how?”

“My Voices,” she replied. “The Saints Yekaterina and Marina, and sometimes the Archangel Michael. It is just as I told Governor Volkov.”

“I see,” Kolchak answered, knitting his brows as if struggling to understand.