Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

While Zhanna waved the banner before an admiring crowd, a trio of black-clad Orthodox monks mounted the stairs, the lead monk carrying something wrapped in thick brown cloth. Upon unwrapping it, Ned saw that it was an antique short sword. The monk announced that it had been found, with help from Zhanna’s Voices, hidden behind the altar at a sixteenth-century monastery near Tobolsk. Upon telling the crowd that the sword was said to have belonged to Yermak, the Russian conqueror of the Mongol Khanate of Sibir, all fell silent. For this could only confirm the legend that the Maid’s followers already knew: that Russia would one day be lost by a mother and then won again by a virgin from Lake Baikal.

Zhanna accepted the sword from the monk with tears streaming down her cheeks, removed it from its scabbard and held its polished blade high, to wild cheers from the crowd.

“Glory be to God!” they cried.

“And victory to His Maid!”

“To Moscow and to triumph over Bolshevism!”

After Zhanna withdrew into the church with her new cap, banner, and sword, several minutes passed before the furor subsided and the crowd dispersed. Ned found the Maid with Paladin and the monks who had brought the sword from Tobolsk.

Ned gestured toward the sword in Zhanna’s hands and the banner that Paladin held aloft.

“Anyone would think that you planned to lead the army in person,” Ned remarked.

“Perhaps I will!” she replied with a gleam in her eye. “Will you join me if I do?”

Ned threw his head back and gave a warm laugh.

“How I’d love to see it!” he replied. “But we Americans are forbidden to engage in combat. I’m sad to say, you’ll need to find someone else to keep you company on that trip. Will you miss me?”

But before Zhanna could answer, Ivashov stepped forward and unwrapped a parcel containing two fresh British uniforms, one made to measure for Zhanna and the other for Paladin. The strapping young Russian held the tunic against his broad chest with a rapturous expression. Zhanna accepted hers with a bright smile and reached out to shake Ivashov’s hand.

Suddenly a woman’s voice called to Zhanna from behind.

“It suits you well,” the woman said.

Ned turned to find Madame Timiryova and General Dieterichs behind him. From their smiles, Ned judged that they had come to join the celebration. But Zhanna was no longer smiling when she turned around to face them. Instead of responding to Madame Timiryova, she addressed the general.

“In God’s name, General Dieterichs, the Admiral has delayed far too long in sending me to the front,” she scolded. “Indeed, this has caused great harm, for today the Siberian Army has lost an important battle near Buguruslan. An entire regiment has deserted to the Bolsheviks, and seventeen thousand fresh Red troops have joined the Fifth Red Army at Samara. Now I fear our side will suffer even worse damage unless I am sent to the front at once.”

“You speak of damage,” Dieterichs replied, “but how can you possibly know the things you claim? I haven’t received any news at all of such setbacks.”

“My Voices revealed it to me; and what they say is always true,” Zhanna replied. “Those who keep me in Omsk bear a heavy responsibility for these latest losses.”

“Well then, young lady,” Dieterichs barked back, “from now on, responsibility shall be yours alone. This morning the Supreme Ruler signed an order conferring upon you the honorary rank of general. His order directs you to gather such of your followers as will go with you to Iletsk to form a reserve brigade for General Tolstov’s Ural Cossacks. Transportation, arms, and equipment will be provided. Do you accept?”

Zhanna’s expression changed in an instant from annoyance to delight as she seized the general’s hand and held it between hers.

“With the greatest pleasure, sir,” she replied with blazing eyes. “Send me now and all things will be granted to us, for now is the time to strike.” Here she paused, her smile faded, and a distant look appeared in her eyes. “But use me well, general, for my work shall last but a season and perhaps a little more. We must do good work in that time.”

“Let it be done, then, come what may,” Dieterichs declared curtly, raising his eyes from Zhanna to Ned and Ivashov. “As for you, good captains, prepare yourselves, for your work with the Maid is not over. The Admiral wishes the two of you to deliver Zhanna safely to General Tolstov at Iletsk. After that, you may stay or return, according to the demands of your superiors. May fortune ride with you!”

* * *

Dieterichs’ announcement left Ned wide-eyed with shock. He had only just returned from Novo-Rossiysk and it seemed inconceivable that he might be asked to leave again so soon. After all, his first responsibility was to the wireless operation at Omsk. How could he justify another lengthy absence to Barrows and Ward? He wired AEF Intelligence Headquarters that evening to request a reprieve from Kolchak’s order and received an encrypted response the next morning.