Oh no! I did forget! I claim Monday being like that....
Chapter 9
Frydek was in the lobby when a very expensive and obviously szlachta couple came in. There was nobody on the desk; both Eugeniusz and Felicia were going through the haphazardly filed reports which Wronowski had kept.
“And to call them ‘reports’ is a misnomer,” Felicia grumbled. “I’ve seen better from some of the babes of six or seven at the school.”
“Oh, that I don’t doubt,” said Eugeniusz. “The man was plainly allergic to anything like responsibility. Put a notice in the newspaper, love, advertising for szlachcianki of superior literary ability, the tenacity to search through old documents and the patience of a saint; if nothing else we can give paid positions to a few impoverished young ladies who don’t want to be governesses.”
“Good idea,” said Felicia. “And some of the older girls in the peasant school would do well if they picked up enough.”
“Yes, so long as they can do the job,” said Eugeniusz. “There’s someone in the foyer.”
“Frydek whatever they are calling him this week is on it,” said Felicia. “And I think I’ve found the missing piece to the puzzle in the old fool’s day book.”
Frydek approached the noble couple.
“Can I help?” he asked. “The clerk’s a little busy; we had a little bit of unpleasantness out of town and the paperwork around it is complex.”
“We were looking to hire the public hall to put on a charity masked ball on Saturday,” said Michał. “Is that something inside your remit, my lord-brother?”
“I don’t see why not,” said Frydek. “Pani Zabiełło-Wąż is very efficient; let me look in the book of bookings... the hall is in use in the morning for a shopkeepers’ guild meeting, but they are expecting to finish by midday, so I’ll write you in for the evening. Charity ball? May I ask which charity?”
“The schools run by the Falcon,” said Barbara.
“I’m sure we’ll all be glad to support that,” said Frydek. “One of my lords-brothers, Hanusz Skrzetuski, has taken on the raising of two infants, currently with the wife of one of our constables, and the older sister of one of them as a maid... uh...” he blushed, “I mean, older brother as a manservant.”
“Didn’t hear a word about a maid for a lady towarzysz,” murmured Michał. “White Raven casuistry is none of our business.”
Frydek gave him a relieved grin.
“I’m not used to subterfuge,” he said. “But if you know how it is, the polite fiction is easier. The child was about to be forced into whoring by her own mother, and she’s only eleven years old, it’s a disgrace! Like the building they were living in when we arrested the mother... I’m sorry, you don’t want to be bombarded with police matters.”
“On the contrary, we’d like to hear about this apartment,” said Michał.
Frydek looked uncertainly at him.
“It means a szlachcic is not living up to his responsibilities,” said Barbara.
“No, he’s a gambler,” said Frydek, in disgust. “He lives off the mill he owns and lets the three apartments crumble, and his tenants live in squalor.”
“Now, what makes me think some of you towarzysze might have some plans?” said Michał, amused.
“Wouldn’t be my place to talk about one of our townsfolks to strangers,” said Frydek, stiffening up. “My duty is to prevent trouble where I can, and deal with it where I must.”
“Had much?” asked Michał.
“Well, the lance charge with pitchforks was glorious,” said Frydek. “They demanded riding horses; we gave ‘em riding horses. Just at the gallop, pitchforks in tok, knee to knee.”
Michał sighed.
“I miss my days with wings,” he said. “Uh, do you want the fee for the hall in advance?”
“As I’m not the proper person on duty, I probably should ask for that,” said Frydek. “Do you want to hire the constables’ wives to do the catering? And are you running a bar, or going dry with beverages and soft drinks like we do on Wednesdays?”
“Dry,” said Barbara. “No reason to cause you extra trouble. And yes, by all means hire the good women of the constables; they can always use it to subcontract if we pay them handsomely enough. And enough to give everyone with a ticket one drink and one plate of sandwiches or equivalent, so the poorest at least can have something to eat. When I do it at home, I make it four items, such that a full two slices of sandwich cut in four or a roll cut in half with fillings makes four or two items, a slice of pie or small filled pie or a piece of cake each an item. One cannot be too obvious with charity, some proud peasants are offended.” She sighed. “And some wealthy ones try to take advantage.”
“Milady is a philosopher and a realist,” said Frydek. “I’m glad you’re going ‘dry’ though; I have my eye on someone I swear smuggles wódka, and if he has a sudden chance for an extra profit, he might take more chances, and then I have him.”
“Good luck,” said Michał.
“Thank you,” said Frydek. He recorded the hiring, took the fee, and added it to the metal box in which sundry funds were stored, remembering to inscribe the sum in the day book along with the notes about food and drink. “Where do you make money for the charity if the gate also covers food?”
“The main charity is giving a meal and some pleasure,” said Barbara. “Any left on the sale of food and beverages once the caterers have taken their cut is a bonus. I tend also to give prizes for costumes, dancing, and any made up reason I can come up with for the poorest, which are certificates providing them with so much bread, or a meal in a tavern for six people, then I can pay when the certificates are redeemed.”
“That’s in the Bible,” said Frydek. “When giving, give in secret so your left hand knoweth not what your right hand doth.”
“We only have to tell you as you don’t know our ways,” said Barbara, looking uncomfortable.
“It’s clever,” said Frydek. “Especially as I expect you could recognise who’s who of your own people, and know who needs most, and can tip the wink to those serving.”
Barbara beamed at him.
“An astute young man who knows his duty to his people,” she said. “May I know your name?”
“Frydek, my lady, Frydek...” he hesitated infinitesimally and lifted his chin, “Vishnevetsky-Adamiak.”
“Ah, a good Cossack name,” said Michał. “One of our sons is Jurko, for an old family friend. Well, we shall see you on Saturday.”
He and his wife left.
oOoOo
“The young man has good instincts,” said Barbara, “A bit rough around the edges, but that is the least of our worries. I like it that he was indignant on that child’s behalf. We shall have to remember that Halszka is currently Hanusz.”
“I wish she did not feel that she had to,” grumbled Michał. “She could have come back to us and just told us she’d gone off Korwiński.”
“If he was laying it on thick how naughty she was and how much we would disapprove – without pausing to think that if we disapproved we should talk to her about it – she might have at least half believed him because he is grown up, and she doesn’t feel quite grown up herself.”
“This Frydek Adamiak is no younger.”
“No, but he carries himself not only with assurance but with an air of levity one associates with Ulans,” said Barbara. “I dare say he’d have joined in the race himself.”
Michał considered; and nodded.
“He also takes his job seriously, with regards to wanting to catch someone smuggling in liquor,” he said. “I like what I see of him so far. I wonder where Halszka is?”
oOoOo
Halszka, with Kordula and their accompanying constable, were interrupting an impromptu lynching.
Halszka had learned how to use a pistol young, and carried one as a matter of course in her role as Ulan aide. Kordula might be ahead of her in sabre practice, but Halszka, coming round the corner as an angry crowd hoisting a man from a rope who dangled off the steelyard of a grain chandler’s shop knew it was the job of a firearm, at which she excelled. Halszka sighted, and fired, separating the hempen strands sufficiently that the man’s weight broke the last strand and he fell heavily to the ground.
The crowd turned. They were in ugly mood.
“I know what you’re thinking,” said Halszka. “You’re thinking, how many chambers does her White Raven pistol have. And you’re wondering if you can further brook the law in rushing me; and how many of you will die to do so. Do you really feel that lucky?”
The rabble muttered, but subsided.
Halszka walked forward, refilling her pistol unhurriedly.
“And now I am also in sabre range,” she said. “What is going on here, and why are you trying to hang this man? Constable, take him in charge whilst I ascertain the circumstances.”
Kordula had thought of Halszka as rather a sheltered child – as she had, herself been. But the self-assurance of a szlachcianka raised to be a part of her father’s helpmates in settling disputes on his land, expecting to do the same on the lands of anyone she married, brought home to Kordula again her own father’s failings in not teaching her this same easy assumption of authority, to walk into a group of angry peasants without showing any fear or expectation that they might attack her; and because she assumed their compliance, their truculance faded and they dropped their eyes and bowed their heads.
“He’s a gypsy and a seducer of decent women!” declared a tubby little man. “My daughter is with child from when he was last here, and he is the father!”
“Hanging him won’t make him pay for the child, if he is the father,” said Halszka. “You – did you sleep with this man’s daughter?”
The gypsy was an attractive young man with very white teeth and deep brown eyes, reminding Halszka of how brown Frydek’s eyes were.
He looked down his nose.
“With a good woman, there’s precious little sleeping,” he said. He gave her a look that said that he knew she was a woman and that she was attractive.
Halszka frowned.
“I should not have used the euphemism,” she said, coldly. “Did you know this girl carnally?”
“I don’t know; I accept the offerings of those women who are willing,” said the gypsy, impudently. “I can’t recall every woman I have swived last time I passed through... usually bored wives.”
The crowd was getting ugly again.
“Bring your daughter to me,” said Halszka, quietly. “Has she given birth, yet?”
“Yes, my lord, she has,” said the shopkeeper. “I will fetch her.”
“And the child,” said Halszka.
The girl came out with her baby in her arms,
Halszka held out her arms for the child and unwillingly, the girl passed the child over.
“A bonny baby,” said Halszka. “Look at me, girl.”
The girl looked up, fear on her face, and Halszka stared into her eyes. She also looked at the shopkeeper, and down at the baby.
“When did your wife die?” she asked.
There was a gasp from the crowd.
“’Bout two year ago, my lord; how did you know?” asked the man.
“I think that, rogue as this gypsy undoubtedly is, you should disperse the crowd because you know who the real father is, and dared not speak up,” said Halszka. “This is a matter about which I will speak to you and your daughter privately.”
“I... the panicz is right. I... I knew the gypsy was a rogue and sought to blame him,” said the shopkeeper. “Please leave!”
The crowd was unwilling.
“Leave, or I’ll run you off,” said Halszka, half drawing her sabre.
That did the trick.
“You know,” said the shopkeeper, miserably.
“I know that you are lost to shame, and that such pale blue eyes of such a singular colour which you and your child and grandchild both bear might be carried by your daughter if she had had blue eyes herself,” said Halszka. “However, she has hazel eyes; which can produce blue eyes with a brown eyed person, but hardly likely in a gypsy who has probably many generations of brown-eyed forebears. Many children are born with blue eyes, but such a clear, pale, bright blue usually indicates that this is the colour they will stay. You needed a scapegoat for your incestuous relations.”
He groaned.
“I miss my wife so much! I do not want to sully her memory by remarrying...”
“Do you not think you sully her memory in having despoiled the gift of a beautiful daughter that she gave you?” said Halszka, harshly. “I do not want to leave your daughter destitute through making this crime of yours official. I have worded my comments in such a way as to let your neighbours draw the conclusion that your daughter was despoiled by a szlachcic; it happens, especially the late, unlamented Paweł Zabiełło. You will not lay a finger on your daughter again; and if you are afraid to confess your crime to your priest, I suggest you seek atonement from the Mother of all Mothers by saying five Hail Marys a day for the nine months your daughter had to bear your child. You will also go to an unmarried mothers’ asylum and say that you have promised marriage and to rear, as your own, the child of one who will have you and understands that you are a man of strong sexual urges. You can tell her the truth or the fiction that your daughter was despoiled by a szlachcic, and hopefully that will not blight her marriage chances if she still wishes to wed.”
“I want to marry Pyotr Biały, the miller’s son,” said the girl. “He knows the truth; he has not told his father, but if his father believes it was a szlachcic he might let Pyotr marry me,” she said. “Papa has not let him for fear I would tell him, but I already did.”
“Then I suggest you arrange this as soon as is feasible,” said Halszka. “This gypsy; have you any genuine charges to level against him?”
“Only that he did chase the women,” grumbled the shopkeeper.
“If they have not complained, there’s not a lot to be done about it,” said Halszka. She went over to the gypsy.
“Let him loose,” she said to the constable. “And let this be a lesson not to be too free with other folk’s women. Sooner or later you will happen upon one who will leave you short three items, to end your career as a seducer. If I see you again, you’ll be in the stocks.”
“A good job you have a multi-barrel pistol, my lord,” said the constable.
“Eh? I don’t. I lied,” said Halszka.
No comments:
Post a Comment