Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

After dinner, Ned and Yulia retired early. When the lights went out, Ned heard the familiar muffled knock on his door before it opened and Yulia slipped into the bed beside him. Ned was already naked when Yulia threw her arms around him and landed one hand on the jagged scar that the Moro spear had left along his shoulder blade. By the glow of the moon entering the room through lace-curtained windows, Yulia traced the wound’s borders with her fingertips. Then, as if by chance, she found the exit wound on Ned’s chest and made him roll over so she could examine that scar, as well.

“What happened?” she asked without emotion.

“A rebel stuck me with his spear. I lived to talk about it; he didn’t,” Ned replied.

“Is that your only mark of war?” she continued.

“The only one you can see,” he answered.

“What of the others, then?”

“They come and go,” he said, exhaling deeply. “Sometimes I think they’ve left for good, and then they sneak up from behind. Let’s talk about something else, shall we?”

“Fine, then,” Yulia continued with a note of coyness in her voice “Just now I shall tell you a secret. And then you tell me one of yours. Do you agree?”

“All right, I suppose I can come up with something. You first, then.”

“Do you remember your first day here, when you came to the door with Colonel Neilson?” she asked, draping one leg across his body and propping up her head on one elbow.

“How could I forget?” Ned answered with a low laugh. Though he had been attracted to Yulia from the moment he saw her, he never imagined that they would end up sharing a bed that night.

“Do you know what went through my mind when I first saw you?” she asked.

“That I was a bandit come to rob you?” he quipped.

“Don’t be silly,” she answered. “It was that you were the most attractive man I had ever laid eyes on. It was electric, I tell you. I simply had to have you.”

“Wow,” Ned replied, rolling onto his side to face her. “I just figured you were lonely living way out here and it was my good luck to be the first eligible man to come along.”

“Not true. By now you should know that,” she insisted, taking his hand in hers. “Your secret now.”

“Really, must I?” he groaned. “You’re dragging me into dangerous territory.” His finger traced a line along her neck and shoulder while he contemplated what to say. “All right, I have one. Do you remember, when Neilson introduced me, you asked if I was a du Pont de Nemours?”

“I certainly do.”

“And I told you that my branch of the family wasn’t wealthy?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well, I wasn’t just being modest. It’s true. Our branch doesn’t own a single DuPont Company share. I happen to know the company president only because he and my father were boyhood friends. The only money I have is what I save from my army pay. I just wanted to make that clear, in case you thought I was holding something back.”

Yulia remained silent for what seemed a long time and Ned couldn’t read her face in the dark. At last she spoke.

“Well, if the Bolsheviks take Siberia, I won’t be left with any more than you. The income I receive from my family in London is barely enough to keep my sons in boarding school. All that remains of my husband’s fortune is Beregovoy and his shares in some failing Siberian factories near Omsk, and at Kazan and Samara, which are now under Soviet control. If we lose the war, I intend to sell what I can and flee to China, where I shall catch the first ship back to London and take up whatever work I can find.”

“It’s a sensible plan, Yulia, but I really don’t expect the Red Army to reach Omsk any time soon. We can still win this.”

“Red cavalrymen don’t have to charge up the hill here for the troubles to start,” she asserted. “You were not here last winter and spring, when our local Bolsheviks took over the city duma[27] and town councils. Once more today, partisans are organizing uprisings set to begin the moment the Admiral slackens his grip.” A note of desperation entered her voice. “The day your men leave Beregovoy, those other men will come for me by night.”

Even in the faint light of the moon, Ned could see the terror in her eyes and instinctively pulled her close. She didn’t stop shivering until he tipped her head back and kissed her.

* * *

By week’s end, Zhanna had at last been summoned to the Stavka. But when she arrived there with Ned and Ivashov at her side, they were taken not to Dieterichs’ office, but to the rooms occupied by Lebedev, the Chief of Staff. He informed them that Admiral Kolchak had reconsidered his offer to employ her. Not only might Zhanna’s service expose the government to ridicule, but it could also antagonize the Orthodox Church, which took a dim view of Spiritualists, Mesmerists, and self-styled prophets of every stripe.