Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

“Will you walk into my parlour?” said the Spider to the Fly,

’Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy;
The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,
And I’ve a many curious things to shew when you are there.”
“Oh no, no,” said the little Fly, “to ask me is in vain,
For who goes up your winding stair
Can ne’er come down again.”

—Mary Howitt, The Spider and the Fly

(1829)

Musical Theme: Prelude in C-Sharp Minor, Op. 3, No. 2, by Sergei Rachmaninoff

MID-MARCH, 1919, OMSK

Since his arrival in Vladivostok in September and his travel across Siberia to Omsk, Ned had come to appreciate Siberia for its vastness, its unspoiled natural beauty, and the pioneer spirit of its people, many of whom had come east as refugees or prisoners to start new lives in relative freedom where land was plentiful. Even the fierce intractability of Siberia’s Cossacks and nomadic tribes Ned found endearing, since he saw these as analogous to America’s rough-and-tumble settlers and savage Indian tribes. All the same, Ned had no tolerance for Bolshevik partisans and agitators, whom he believed should be rounded up and summarily hanged as outlaws. In this, he had come to share the harsh views of Lieutenant Colonel Neilson, who had participated in fierce fighting against Bolsheviks partisans near Vladivostok in August of 1918.

Having resided in Omsk for some three months, Ned found it difficult to stomach the unchecked corruption seething beneath the Siberian capital’s surface, in contrast to the self-discipline and austerity of the more remote Siberian towns and villages he had seen. In Omsk, the rudderless elites clung to hopes that, if only the White Armies could beat the Bolsheviks on the battlefield, their kind might somehow put Russia’s Humpty Dumpty empire back together again, while maintaining an upper hand against the bourgeoisie, workers, and peasants.

Ned observed, but declined to participate in, the decadent life of Omsk’s privileged classes. Lavish parties, gambling, whoring, narcotics abuse, random acts of cruelty against the lower orders—all these were rampant among bloated bureaucrats and staff officers residing at Omsk. Every day Ned asked himself why such men were not sent off to the front to do honest duty. Though he often reported such things to the AEF Intelligence Staff at Vladivostok, he was careful to limit his observations to matters directly affecting the war, lest he himself be viewed as leaning to the left.

Month by month, Ned felt increasingly estranged from the inept and corrupt officials he ran across at Omsk, as well as from uncritical Allied support of the Omsk regime, since such support was necessarily based on Britain’s and America’s national interests rather than what might be best for Russia. All the while, he tried to sort out in his own mind what course Admiral Kolchak might best follow for Russia’s sake. Again and again, he returned to Zhanna’s insistence that reform was essential to a White victory. Somehow, this young girl had formed a clear vision of Russia’s path forward, even if she lacked the means to make it happen. Why, he wondered, couldn’t Washington do the same?

* * *

After completing her examination before the ecclesiastical panel, Zhanna moved out of her austere cell at the St. Nicholas monastery and back into Yulia’s spacious downtown flat, where the housekeeper brought her breakfast each morning before she went off to pray at the nearby Assumption Cathedral. Whatever the hour, ten or twenty women were always gathered outside to greet her and escort her to the church. Along the way, she would ask them about their lives and families and listen quietly to the women’s stories and their hopes for a better future. And always they would ask questions of her.

As she left the cathedral one such evening, a woman who had watched Zhanna meditate and then fold her hands to offer a silent prayer, asked the Maid the difference between the two practices.

“It’s simple,” Zhanna had replied. “Prayer is when I speak to God. Meditation is when I listen to him speak to me. He would speak to each of us, if we would only listen.”