The two walked past several rail coaches full of soldiers. Some sang; others played cards. Several boxcars were painted with mountain scenes and forests, making a stroll along the train feel a bit like a walk through an art gallery.
“Have you known him long?” Filip was her husband, even if it was only for a few weeks, and she wanted to know more about him.
“Not any longer than you have. But he’s already managed to save my life. More than that, Corporal Sedlák gave me hope again. Not just for an end to war but for something better when peace comes. A country of our own. I don’t know if you can understand, but I grew up subject to German magistrates, always looked down on because I’m Slavic, constantly told my language and my culture were inferior. After that . . . well, Czechoslovakia is a vision worth fighting for.”
It seemed Nadia’s husband was an idealist with a gift for inspiring his men. “I’m surprised he’s been so kind to a former aristocrat.”
“I don’t think he minds that you were rich.” Emil chuckled. “Actually, I think he was frightened at the thought of you cutting your hair.”
Nadia’s hand went to her braid. Was Emil suggesting that her husband liked her hair? There was something satisfying in that, but it also made her worry. She’d trusted Filip’s judgment, but now she wasn’t so sure. Was it really safe for her to leave it long? Perhaps the scarf would be enough. She’d put one on the next time she left the women’s van.
A figure loomed in front of them, but he wore a normal Russian uniform with the legion’s ribbon, not the black leather of the Cheka. Jakub Zeman.
He sneered at her. “So, you married Sedlák, and now you’re the common property of his squad? Is that how it works?” His tone and the accompanying gestures hinted at something horrifyingly lewd.
Emil took a step toward Zeman, then planted his feet in a wide stance. He had to look up to Zeman, but that didn’t soften the hard expression on his face. “Everyone in our squad treats Mrs. Sedláková with the utmost respect, Corporal Zeman. I suggest you do the same.”
“It’s a new age. I don’t have to show respect to anyone who hasn’t earned it, and that includes Corporal Sedlák and his wife.”
“You’d be dead if Corporal Sedlák hadn’t taken that machine-gun nest at Bakhmach. You owe him your life.”
Zeman huffed. “I was behind a wall. I wasn’t in danger. If Sedlák hadn’t taken the gun, we could have waited the Germans out.”
“We didn’t have time to wait. The rest of the German Army was closing in, remember?” Emil took a step back, but the rage on his face didn’t diminish. “Let us pass.”
Zeman gave Nadia another sneer and walked away.
She took a few deep breaths to clear away the disconcertment. To think that she’d almost been desperate enough to marry that man. “You were very brave, Mr. Horák. Thank you.”
Emil laughed. “Standing up to him? That’s not brave. That’s . . . Well, he’s been listening to too many Bolshevik rabble-rousers. The more he listens, the more he turns into rabble.”
Standing up to rabble was brave. It had been rabble that had put the Bolsheviks in power, rabble that had become a dangerous mob and forced her family to flee their ancestral home. And no one could take a German machine-gun nest without a tremendous store of courage.
These legionnaires were made of sterner stuff than she. When she’d been confronted by the Bolsheviks, she’d run. And now she was hiding, depending on Filip and his squad to keep her safe. She wasn’t proud of it, but she wasn’t sure what else to do.
“Besides,” Emil continued, “Corporal Sedlák slipped me this.” He pulled a small handgun from his pocket, the one Filip has been so protective of in the market. “Makes it a little easier to put Zeman in his place, knowing I’m armed and he’s not.”
Chapter Ten
Filip and Dalek found Kral in the boxcar that served as the train’s command center with a large map pinned to one wall and multiple desks covered in machines and paperwork. The smell of ink mingled with the scent of baking bread from a nearby boxcar that had been converted into a bakery.
Kral put his stack of papers aside while Filip expressed his concerns.
“I don’t like having Bolshevik commissars either,” Kral said. “But we don’t have much of a choice, not if we want to avoid war in Russia. Maybe they really will expedite our withdrawal, like the Soviets say. They’ve enough things to worry about without an armed foreign army in their midst. Most of them want us gone.”
Filip wasn’t sure how much he should tell Kral about his wife. Would he think Filip had gone behind his back when he’d married Nadia to get her on the train? “I’m particularly concerned about the commissar assigned to the Sixth Regiment. His name is Vlad Orlov.”
Dalek broke in. “We have eyewitness testimony that he ordered the slaughter of former tsarist officials and their families. He’s ruthless.”
“With your permission, we could attach his boxcar to a different train.” Ideally, Filip could attach Orlov’s car to an engine on its way to the bottom of a ravine, but he’d settle for a different regiment.
Kral nodded. “I don’t know that any of the other commissars would be better, but I’ll look into it.”
Filip almost let it go at that, but he trusted Kral to take care of the men he commanded. “There’s a bit of personal animosity involved. Someone just as ruthless, but not Orlov, would be an improvement, sir.”
“Sir?”
“Brother Lieutenant,” Filip corrected himself.
“Very well. Sedlák, you’re free to go. Pokorný, I understand you know how to operate a telegraph?”
“Yes, brother.” Dalek straightened his shoulders.
“Good. You’re being transferred to headquarters staff.” Kral gave Filip an apologetic smile. “I know the two of you are old friends, but the legion is spread across six thousand miles. We need solid communications.”
“I recruited him to serve the legion and our as-yet nonexistent country, Brother Lieutenant.” Filip hoped his words hid his sense of loss. Seeing Dalek in that prison camp and convincing him to join the legion had brought in the warmth of old friendship and given him a piece of home. Yes, Dalek made fun of most things and never took Filip too seriously, but Filip needed that. War was far too often far too serious, and Dalek’s sarcasm and wit helped make it bearable.
“Pokorný, report tomorrow morning at six.”
“Yes, Brother Lieutenant.”
The two left, and Filip didn’t bother to hide his frown.
“Well, you’ve managed to protect your wife at the cost of losing your best friend.”
Filip grunted. “She’s not safe yet. But I have gotten rid of an irreverent, insubordinate soldier.”
“Not entirely. We’ll still sleep in the same coach, so I’ll still have to listen to your bed creaking above me, unless you manage to corner part of a boxcar to share with the grand duchess.”
Filip smiled for a moment. Nadia was beautiful, but beyond that, there was something about her, a graciousness and a determination, that he admired. His smile faded. She was also desperate, and that was the only reason she was married to him, even temporarily. He may as well dream of being king of Czechoslovakia. That was about as likely as Nadia willingly building a home with him. The fact that it wouldn’t be a real home, just a flimsy teplushka shared with a least a dozen other couples, made a future with her that much more improbable. “I should make sure she made it back without running into the Cheka.”
“I’m sure Emil got her back safely, but by all means, go check on her.” Dalek slapped Filip’s shoulder and strode off, whistling as he walked.
Filip watched him go. They were packed tightly into the boxcar, more tightly now with the secret compartment eating away some of their space. He would have to limit the tossing and turning at night. But it was hard to sleep in the middle of revolutionary Russia. The Germans had stopped at the newly negotiated border, but trickles of released German, Austrian, and Hungarian POWs were starting to move west, more every day. They were unorganized and full of animosity, returning west to fight with the Central Powers again. The Czechs and Slovaks were rebelling, planning to fight against them. Tension between the two was thick enough to cut with a bayonet.