the substarosta's case book 2

 

 I'm sorry - I really am having trouble adapting to the new times. 

 

Chapter 2 Without Pity

 

The youth was dressed in such mismatched garments that Stefania Młocka thought for a moment that he was a gypsy; but his voice, when he spoke, was cultured, and addressed her in Latin as accurate as any szlachcic might use.

“Oh, please, to whom do I report a crime?” he asked.

“To me, initially, as I am the clerk of the court of record,” said Stefania. “My husband is the Starosta, so I do know what I am doing.”

“Oh! I... I do not doubt you, but I did not know they let ladies be clerks,” said the youth.

“We didn’t ask,” said Stefania. “I replaced an idiot, who, out of jealousy and ill nature almost let my husband be killed, and I, being there, stepped in, and then I married him. And as nobody in Warszawa has complained about our record keeping, we are leaving them in blissful ignorance as to my female state. So, what can I do for you?”

“I need to report a crime, but I’m not sure how, and I don’t really have any evidence, but I know my uncle is somehow defrauding me... I mean my mistress...”

“Little girl, shall we dispense with the subterfuge and acknowledge that you have dressed in a regular gallimaufry of male clothing, half western and half Sarmatian, in order, I assume, to escape and give testimony?” said Stefania.

The youngster gave a gasp which was more than half relief.

“Oh! And you are not angry?”

“Not in the least. My own sister passed as a boy to be page to Captain Wolski. It’s a White Raven banner thing and we’re sort of associated with them. So, do not fear that you will be looked at askance for dressing as a boy.” She smiled. “What’s your name?”

“Ludwika Galińska,” said the girl.

“Oh, banner of the black bear,” said Stefania.  “We must introduce you at some point to Towarzysz Ursyn Kudła, the regimental bear.”

“I’ve seen him in town, he’s a nice tempered chap,” said Ludwika.

“Oh, you won’t have any trouble getting on with the Ulans, then,” said Stefania. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” said Ludwika.

“Well! It won’t do you any harm to have a year of education and learn sabre drill from the best,” said Stefania. “And if you disappear, it gives my husband every excuse to investigate your household, your uncle, and your finances from Adam to Zebedeusz, as you might say.”

“And then, too, I wouldn’t be afraid of any accidents,” said Ludwika.

“Well! You had better come through and tell all your story; it sounds as if it’s a long one,” said Stefania.

 

Ludwika sat in a fairly comfortable chair in the starosta’s office, with a cup of tea and a large slice of cake, reflecting that this was not how she envisioned telling her story.  They had been joined by the well-known figure of the auburn-haired substarosta, his page, or wife, a dark, curly-haired assistant and his page... or possibly wife. The keen-eyed starosta sat behind his desk, with a small boy beside him on a high stool, who appeared to be reading from a story book, forming the words silently with his mouth as he read a home-made book, and then took up coloured chalks to draw a picture to go with what was written opposite.

“Papa, did the dragon of Krakow have wings?” he asked.

“Assuredly,” said Młocki. He looked at Ludwika. “My stepson had a nurse who told him stories which gave him nightmares, and a father who would not let him have a light in his room. He is still a little fragile, so we keep him with us until he is ready for a better nanny.”

“I see,” said Ludwika. “A man so tender of his stepson must also be a good official for his people, for he must be stepfather to the whole city.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” said Młocki, startled. “But it’s a good analogy.” He went on, “So, tell me about your problem and why you believe you are being defrauded.”

“I am an orphan with a trust fund,” said Ludwika. “I live with Lady Ursula Sroka, who is my governess and duenna; she has ties with the White Raven banner, but when she was widowed she chose to become a governess rather than live on her late husband’s relatives; it was a little awkward, you understand, for he went to fight for the Bar Confederation, and the Ravens have always stood outside of politics and do not join any Rokosz, feeling that any uprising is bad for the country, because even bad kings die eventually. So, there was some strained relations, and she felt more comfortable out of it.”

“So, she’s been your governess for some ten years?” asked Młocki.

“Yes, that sounds about right,” said Ludwika. “Papa thought I needed more of an education than a nursemaid and mama could give me; and what I did not know then was that mama was dying, and he wanted me to have someone else as a mother figure. I think he might have married her, eventually, but he died in a freak accident... if it was an accident... when a stone urn from the parapet fell on him. My Uncle Czcibor is now my guardian, whom I call Uncle Szczypior, Uncle Chives, because it annoys him, and because I misheard his name and really thought he was called for chives or scallions. I was very little,” she added. “Now, without Papa to protect me, he boxes my ears for it, but he doesn’t dare do more as Lady Ursula said she would have me made a ward of court. And he can’t fire her, for she has it written into her contract that she is a member of the family, and cannot be thrown out, even if she becomes too old to care for me. I am sorry to worry her, but I think she has an inkling of what I planned, for she told me stories of how Lady Małgorzata was a page to Lord Mikołaj, and how before them, Lady Janina was page to Lord Lew, and how it is a Raven tradition. I think she intended to give me ideas.”

“What a wise woman,” said Stefania. “And you think your uncle killed your father?”

“Yes, and I have been in a carriage when the horses ran away and the nuts on the rear wheels came away, and locked – accidentally – in a room with a smoking fire and blocked chimney, and when comfrey leaves in salad were substituted with foxglove. And I was knocked out cold by tripping down stairs, and I swear there was a tripwire, but I thrust my arm between the balustrades and broke it rather than fall all the way. And when I came to, of course, there was no evidence of a trip-wire. But Lady Ursula listened to me, and there was a nasty lesion on my ankle, for she looked, and said it looked as if it was caused by fine cord. And I spoke of going to the new school, with Lady Ursula to go along and help; but Uncle Chives said there was not enough money in the trust for that; but there should have been enough there, as Papa said there would be money to go abroad and to school.”

“It’s a thinnish reason, but worth looking into,” said Młocki. “Surely he isn’t the sole trustee?”

“Oh! No, but of the two others, one fell asleep in his bath and drowned, that was my Uncle Bastek, my mother’s brother; and the other is a lawyer whom I do not like.”

“I see,” said Młocki.

“I’d like to know how you survived those so-called accidents,” said Mariola.

“I jumped out of the broken carriage into the river, for I swim like a fish,” said Ludwika. “I would have smothered the fire, but all the cushions in the room were gone, and the curtains taken down to wash;  and the windows were jammed. So, er, I urinated on it.”

“Excellent lateral thinking; born to be stolen by Ravens,” said Mariola. “Did you recognise the leaves?”

“Yes, I did, and Uncle Chives fired the cook, though she swore she had gathered the right leaves, and that someone must have substituted them whilst she spoke to a beggar at the back door,” said Ludwika. “I gave her a good reference.”

“Good girl,” nodded Mariola. “Do you know where she went?”

“Yes, I heard she went to the old Wronowski house where...oh! your house.”

“Good; I shall speak to her,” said Mariola. “Well! Klemens, one accident can be an accident; even two. But a falling urn, a drowning in the bath, a broken carriage, a suffocating fire, a poisonous lunch, and a trip downstairs all start to look like a conspiracy.”

“Hell, yes,” said Młocki. “The Mews?”

“I think so,” said Mariola. “Ludwika, how do you feel about a school where you can be a girl or a boy in dress and learn all a szlachcic learns as well as a szlachcianka?”

“It sounds idyllic,” said Ludwika.

“Fine, one of us will ride over with you, and start poking our beaks in,” said Mariola.

“Only a Raven would put it that way,” murmured Młocki.

“Why, yes,” said Mariola.

 

 

Ludwika was shortly on her way to join the school at the Mews, a miserable winter ride, but bundled up somewhat better than she had been when she entered the Starosta’s office. She was welcomed into the school, and soon settled in a class of serious students, where she made friends with a girl called Dorota.

And Młocki, with malice aforethought, sent Kazimierz and Mariola to find out why Czcibor Galiński had not reported that his niece was missing – as soon as she had been gone overnight.

And in the meantime, Mariola obtained the testimony of her cook, and that the leaves had been comfrey. Mariola was well satisfied that the cook knew the difference.

 

 

oOoOo

 

“Czcibor Galiński?” said Kazimierz. “Why did the starosta’s office have to learn from a servant, who admits to coming of his own initiative, and not sent by you, to inform us that a szlachcianka of tender years is missing?”

Galiński had reluctantly had the substarosta and his page taken into his study, where an older woman was seated, tight-faced.

“I told Pan Galiński last night that Ludwika was missing,” she said. “I am Ursula Sroka, and I have been tempted to contact the White Raven about this, as the child’s own uncle seems unconcerned.”

“It’s snowing out there,” said Mariola. “A young body could freeze to death.”

“I can’t account for where the wayward hussy might have gone, I try to keep her under control, but if she has gone off and got herself frozen, I can hardly be blamed, can I?” said Galiński.

“I don’t know. Can you?” said Kazimierz. “However, you will be delighted to know that we have a heap of constables willing to make her a priority and search every part of your house, outhouses, and so on, and I’ve borrowed Adam Brzeziński to check your accounts as well.”

Galiński paled.

“It isn’t easy, having to take care of the finances of a spendthrift creature like Ludwika.”

“That’s a lie,” said Lady Sroka. “I’m sure Adam Brzeziński will sort it out. But Ludwika is not spendthrift. Why, she mends her own gowns because Pan Galiński says her father’s money does not stretch to new fabric for gowns, even though he has a new kontusz and dines his friends well.”

“Hello, definitely sounds like the lad who spoke to Starosta Młocki was right when he said he thought Panna Galińska was being defrauded,” said Mariola. She was spending less time as the page, Lew, these days, as she had her own little Lew at home, but terrorising abusive guardians was too amusing to pass up.

“I have no intention of passing over my accounts to an outsider,” said Galiński, defiantly.

“You don’t have a choice, precious,” said Mariola. “You’re under arrest for the possible endangerment of a minor szlachcianka, and accusations from more than one person of appropriation of funds. And I am sure that Panna Sroka is well aware that the laws of slander and libel are harsh?”

“I stand by my statement that my charge was being fed scraps, dressed like a szlachiura, and denied the usual sort of social meetings a young szlachcianka of her age should have.”

“You bitch,” said Galiński.

“I was employed by Ludwika’s father to be a mother to her and look out for her interests, and you cannot fire me. It’s in my contract.”

Galiński snarled. Mariola nodded to the constables, two of whom took him away.

“She’s safe,” said Mariola, to Panna Sroka. “We took her to the school run by Sokołowski, so she would be safe. If you want to join her, they are always happy to have more teachers.”

“Thank you; I think I might,” said Panna Sroka.

Mariola went back to the town hall with the constables and their prisoner. They left him to stew in a cell, and Mariola organised a bunch of Ulans to put on a lurid play involving the torture of prisoners in the judicial torture chamber. It usually worked wonders on the minds of any prisoners awaiting interrogation, and when Młocki sent for Galiński, he would be an extraordinary man if he did not break.

 

Panna Sroka packed clothes for herself and her charge, and Marek, Kazimierz’s man, gave her his escort to follow her charge as soon as she had signed a deposition. Marek was hoping to arrive in time for an evening meal and the famed mead from the hives of Olek Zaklika. In this, he was in luck, and pleased to see the emotional reunion of the governess and her charge.

Marek had a letter for Władysław Sokołowski, who read it through.

“I hope you won’t mind fitting in where there’s need for extra aid, Panna Sroka,” he said. “Our classes are sorted out but we do have an all-age remove class for those who need a little extra. But being available if any of the teachers feels a need for help would be appreciated.”

“I am quite happy with that, so long as I may see Ludwika,” said Panna Sroka.

“Oh! You will socialise with her as much as you wish, and if she needs help, she will be one you might bring on if she has missed any of the lessons we do, as we make no difference between girls and boys,” said Władysław.

“Ah, then she may need some extra coaching,” said Panna Sroka, calmly. “Her uncle was not inclined to see such subjects as necessary.”

“Ah, and doubtless there were unkind comments about artillery?” said Władysław.

“Even so,” said Ursula Sroka.

 

Meanwhile, Kazimierz winnowed through any document he could find belonging to Czcibor Galiński, handing over anything to do with accounting to Adam Brzeziński, who glanced through, chuckled, and asked, “When is it being performed as a comedy in Warszawa?”

“It could be part of a comedic melodrama,” said Kazimierz. “Really, he kept a notebook of plausible accidents?”

“He might claim he was writing a melodrama,” warned Adam. Adam was well known to Kazimierz, as he administered the extensive property of Lady Milena Jędrowska and her stepson, illegitimate son of her first husband, Filek Dobczyk, since between them they owned a considerable portion of Większy-Bydlin and the other town in the jurisdiction of the starostowie, Bydlin-Stary. 

“He might, if he hadn’t dated it, and animadverted about the ‘wretched girl’ surviving all his best traps,” said Kazimierz, dryly.  “And yesterday’s entry about hoping she had run away and would end up freezing to death.  I have some older ones, which I suspect will detail doing away with his brother and his sister-in-law’s brother. And that makes it a capital crime.”

“I am sure Mariola will manage to mess with his head so you don’t have to torture him; or can you claim that the journal constitutes a written confession?”

Kazimierz brightened.

“I could argue that; and he has set his name to it, ‘It is intolerable that the wretched brat survives when I, Czcibor Galiński deserves the family money more.’ Which I take to be a signature.”

“If he has a good lawyer, he might wriggle,” said Adam. “Well, the girl is clever enough to figure out what is going on, and to decide to make a run for it; I wonder if she’d like to be a page to my son, Scypion.”

“You Ravens!” said Kazimierz.

“Everyone always says that,” said Adam, plaintively. “I don’t notice you complaining about your page.”

“I did at first,” laughed Kazimierz.

 

oOoOo

 

“Czcibor Galiński, I have sent a message to the senior legislative body to ask whether your journals in your own hand constitute a signed confession of your murder of your brother and his brother-in-law,” said Młocki. “I have here a fair copy for you to sign; if you do not, you will be subject to judicial torture as we have enough evidence to make it acceptable.”

Galiński snarled.

“If the brat had not run away, and some busy-body had not reported it, I would have got away with it, too,” he said. “Who was it? Who told you she was missing?”

“Oh, a non-descript boy who said he was her page,” said Młocki.

“But she has no page!” said Galiński.

“I saw the youth escorted to safety to Lord Sokołowski’s school, and if he turns into a girl called ‘Ludwika’ I would not be surprised; but I had to act on information given,” said Młocki.

“Damn her! I’ll sign. I heard enough of your enthusiastic constables torturing some poor soul,” said Galiński. “What a waste, for a female to inherit fourteen shops, and a smithy!”

“You are a piece of work,” said Młocki.

The confession also implicated the lawyer who was the other trustee, because Galiński did not intend to be executed alone.

The lawyer took longer to break, but a good session of amateur dramatics led him to giving in on being shown the equipment.

And that was always a win.

 

 

the starosta's casebook 1

 back to Poland  for 3 shorts

 

The Substarosta’s casebook 1780

 

Chapter 1 The Ecstasy of Gold

 

“Good Adamiak, I would like your professional point of view, if you would,” said the page, Lew, otherwise known to intimates as Mariola Bystrzanowska, wife of Kazimierz Bystrzanowski, the sub-starosta. “Obviously you’ll be paid, but there are those who refuse to believe that I can read the characteristics of a man from his footprints.”

“Why, my lord, there’s no question but that one can tell much about a man by the footprints he leaves,” said Jozef Adamiak. “I will willingly come; without disparaging the substarosta, who works very hard, the crime rate has gone down since he got helpers like you and Lord Starski, and his page.”

“There’s a limit to how much two men can do,” said Mariola. “Constables are all very well, but they can’t stick their nose in, the same way a szlachcic can. We might be quietly cursed when we do, but it means we can get more done.”

“I welcome it, and gladly give my time without expecting pay,” said Adamiak.

“Oh, no, good Adamiak, you’ll be paid,” said Mariola. “Otherwise it creates a precedent; and suppose I take the time of a man who has knowledge, but is not doing as well as you? I might take a meal from the mouths of his family in demanding his time. If it is properly indented for, approved, stamped, and official, then nobody goes without.”

“I see, my lord,” said Adamiak, bowing. “Then in appreciation of your thought for those in want, I will put what the city pays me into the poor box.”

He was rewarded with the sunny smile the page was known for on the rare occasions people behaved with honour.

“I knew you were the right person to choose,” said Mariola. There were two other shoemakers in the city of Więszy-Bydlin, uncle and nephew, who were good enough shoemakers but who lacked the spark of original thought of Adamiak.

The shoemaker shut up his shop and followed Mariola to the rear of a house rented to a jeweller. Several constables were waiting, and saluted the page, lifting a board from a region of mud, where several footsteps appeared to lead to the back of the house.

“Goldsmith Dostatni informs me, as if he could read the steps, that this must be the shoe print of the man who climbed to the third floor where he has his safe,” said Mariola.

“Oh, no, certainly not, that’s impossible,” said Adamiak. “I can read these feet, and indeed, these boots, for I made them. A workman can always tell his own work, as Dostatni will know,” he added.

“So, tell me, Goodman Adamiak, what I read from these prints is that they belong to a slender, even skinny, man of about five and a half stopy in height, a little taller than me, with one foot badly twisted inwards which causes such wear on the sole, even if built up, that it has needed repairing twice.”

“It’s ridiculous! If these footprints go to the base of the house, they must be the thief!” cried Dostatni.

“Oh, no, Lord Lew describes the man very well,” said Adamiak. “I can add that he has longish, dirty, blond hair, a long moustache, is badly shaved rather than being either clean-shaven or having a beard, and is usually in rags. His name is Kuba the Beggar, and making him shoes is one of my Maundy offerings each year, but as you can see, I have already had to patch them twice because he will not have me make up enough of the sole to hold his foot straight, as he cannot bear the pain and discomfort. This is my patch, over the patch I had placed earlier. Kuba can scarcely walk; see the mark of his stick. He could never climb.”

“There! Now do you believe me?” asked Mariola, of the goldsmith. “You call me a ‘cocky little szlachik’ where you think I cannot hear the insult of calling me a lordling of no account, but you will surely accept the word of another professional townsman of your own social level?”

“He is scarcely of the level...” began Dostatni.

“We are both peasants but successful,” interrupted Adiamak, who had heard that the substarosta’s page was very volatile and good with both the sabres he wore.

“And now, I will ask the kitchen servant whether or not Kuba the beggar came to beg for food or money,” said Mariola. “Which you would have tried to prevent me from doing. Very well, Kowal, run and get plaster of Paris to make an impression of each foot for our collection.”

One of the constables inclined his head and ran off. Mariola rapped peremptorily on the back door. It was opened by a middle aged woman.

“Lew Krasiński, of the starosta’s office,” Mariola identified herself. “I just want to confirm that Kuba the beggar called.”

The woman cast a frightened glance at the goldsmith.

“My lord... he may have called, but of course, I gave him nothing.”

“Nothing? Not even food? What an unchristian household to be so mean when you are yourselves prosperous. I will speak to the vicar of your local church to pray on Sunday that the household of Jan Dostatni should be enlightened, and brought to the ways of Christ and turn away from the Satanic master, gold,” said Mariola, with malicious pleasure as Dostatni gobbled in outrage. Mariola had orders from Pan Młocki, the starosta, not to annoy Dostatni too much if she could avoid it, as he led a group of townsmen who had some power through their wealth, even though technical peasants. Mariola had decided that he had run out of her charity.

“You are...” began the goldsmith.

“Be careful,” said Mariola. “You should precede what you say with, ‘My lord,’ lest I take what you say as insolence.”

“Who the hell do you think pays your salary... my lord?” snapped Dostatni.

“I’m working voluntarily without a salary, as it happens,” said Mariola, coldly. “The taxes pay for the starostowie; you were not suggesting tax evasion, were you?”

“Of course not! But you would do well not to take too peremptory a tone with those who generate the wealth of the city... my lord,” he added, belatedly as Mariola stared at him and let her hand stray to her sabre hilt.

“Oh, I am so sorry, precious, I thought you were a goldsmith, not the town jester,” said Mariola. “I think you would have done better to have apprenticed to a serious trade, you aren’t very funny. I think you should rely on the day job as goldsmith, and behave with the due decorum your position deserves, don’t you? Because I’d hate to report that you obstructed the time of law enforcement and have to arrest you for obstruction. I want to see your safe.”

“Surely you....”

“Now!” barked Mariola. “Excuse me,” she said to the serving woman, and gently moved her to one side to march past her. “You may show me to the master’s counting house and where the theft took place.”

“But...” the goldsmith said, behind her.

“Are you disrespecting our lord?” the constable said. “If so, he might wonder if you were left over from the traitors who supported the traitor, Wronowski. Whom our lord duelled, and took his sword hand off.” 

Mariola smiled a grim smile. Her constables would always back her up, and a reminder that she was accounted deadly with her pair of sabres, or even with just one, never did any harm to those who thought that they could push around ‘a mere boy.’

Those townsmen who were used to pushing others of their ilk around could forget that a slender youth was their social superior; and it was an object lesson, as there were plenty of arrogant young szlachcici who would take offence and begin by removing heads and ask apologies later. The town had quickly forgotten the arrogance of the Syruciowie and the Wronowscy, and there were those who took the softly-spoken confidence of Starosta Młocki, Substarosta Bystrzanowski, and their subordinates for weakness.

And because of the nature of Młocki’s officials, they usually lived to regret it.

 

 

Mariola regarded the study or counting house belonging to the goldsmith. The safe stood in the corner with its door open, being conspicuously empty. Mariola knelt down beside it and regarded the keyhole with some interest through the quizzing glass which looked incongruous with her almost aggressively Sarmatian garb, which gave no concession at all to western dress.  Dostatni bustled in behind her, thrusting his serving woman to one side with an impatient push quite unlike the gentle movement Mariola had made earlier. The old woman stumbled.

“So obvious what a peasant you are,” sneered Mariola, “Quite bestial manners to an old woman.”

“She’s only a servant,” said Dostatni.

“Quite; you betray yourself as low, every time you open your mouth,” said Mariola. “But then, it doesn’t surprise me; though your willingness to pin the theft on an innocent man is remarkable, since there would be no chance of recovery of the goods from someone who does not have them.”

“He might yet have caught a bag thrown from the window by one of my servants, if they are dishonest,” said Dostatni.

“Oh, are you in the habit of leaving the key around for any of your servants to pick up?” asked Mariola.

“Of course not! I wear it on a chain around my neck!” said Dostatni.

“Ah? And does anyone else have a key?” asked Mariola.

“Yes, my secretary,” said Dostatni. “And my son.”

“Ah, yes, Lucek Janowiak, your secretary,” said Mariola. “He came to city hall first thing to report the theft.”

“He should have asked me first,” said Dostatni. “I would have preferred to have found it for myself.”

“And a fine mess you would have made of it,” said Mariola. “Accusing Kuba the beggar.”

“I do not see why you dismiss my assertion that some thieving servant may have thrown it out of the window, or... or an accomplice climbed up, using Kuba the beggar’s footprints to make some stupid fool who can’t see any further say that it was impossible.”

There was a gasp from the doorway, where a richly clad youth stood.

“Father! You cannot call a szlachcic a stupid fool!”

“Your father is fortunate; I scorn to sink to his level to chastise him,” said Mariola. “You’ll be Andrzej Dostatni.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“You have one of three keys to the safe?”

“Yes, my lord,” said the young Dostatni.

“And there are only three keys?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“I told you that... my lord,” said Dostatni.

“So, as there are no scratches on the mechanism of the lock, your theory that some third party opened it falls apart,” said Mariola. “This is a Robert Barron double lever action lock, and it’s the newest thing in locks. And I’m not sure if it’s pickable; but even if it is, you still have to lift the lever to the right level, and no higher and then release it before it will open. I don’t see how you can think that some random burglar could manage that, without making any scratches, and without knowledge of this highly modern lock and its intricacies of lever function.”

“What are you saying, my lord?” gasped Andrzej Dostatni. “Do you think that that Lucek Janowiak betrayed us to steal?”

“I am saying that, unless you can suggest how anyone might have stolen any of the three keys and returned them with the theft unnoticed, there are three main suspects; you, your father, and his secretary,” said Mariola, harshly. “Now, whilst I’d prefer not to have to clutter up our cells with all of you, nor put you to the question, I will do so if I have to do so. Now, I would like to know if you have ever left your keys lying around anywhere.”

“Not I,” said the young man. “And Father sleeps with his around his neck, as he always has with keys to strongboxes. Mine is kept in a locked box beside my bed, and the key to that under my pillow, and I am a light sleeper. I believe Lucek... Janowiak does likewise.”

“And when you share your bed with another?” asked Mariola.

“My son does not dally with the maids, and I would not have any loose woman in the house,” blustered Dostatni. “I think we should search the room of Lucek Jankowiak.”

“That would prove interesting if there is anything there,” said Mariola, neutrally.

“I cannot believe it of him,” said the younger Dostatni.

“He creeps around you, making up to you, and flattering you, but I have begun to distrust him,” said his father.

“You have a list of what is missing?” asked Mariola.

“Yes, and drawings of one or two singular pieces,” said Dostatni.

Mariola smiled.

“I predict that we shall find a single piece, one of those easily identifiable pieces, in Jankowiak’s room in a ridiculously easy hiding place,” she said. She opened the window and called to the constables. “Have you made the castings? If so, pray come up.”

She waited for them before permitting Dostatni to lead her to the secretary’s room, a very sparse sort of room considering his supposed position in the household. Mariola sniffed, speakingly.

“No wonder your servants are not that loyal to you, goldsmith,” she said. “And they gossip freely in the inns.  The young master is considered a better master, but they still speak about his lover, who takes advantage of when the old master is spending his time and gold in brothels, and where he almost suffocated one young whore when his key fell forward into her mouth and was briefly lodged in her throat, and that he is banned from the place since he beat her savagely for accidentally almost swallowing his key. I imagine it was coming home early from that, that he discovered that his son has a lover.”

“Enough of your fairy tales! Have your men search!” said Dostatni, who had gone purple.

“Indeed, search, do, everywhere,” said Mariola.

“But we already...” said one of the constables.

“Just humour me,” said Mariola.

The constables searched, and quickly one found a singular ring, as described and drawn in Dostatni’s notes of what was missing.

“See?” said Dostatni.

“It wasn’t there this morning and it was on top of his underlinen,” said the constable. “There isn’t any more.”

“Then he passed it to his accomplice; and you are letting the beggar get away!” cried Dostatni.  “And what do you mean, it wasn’t there this morning?”

“Oh, Jankowiak asked to have his belongings searched, as is his right, and to return with the constables in custody to demonstrate his innocence,” said Mariola. “And that means someone other than Jankowiak has placed this sapphire ring in his room.” She smiled. “And as Dostatni senior is waiting for a court appearance for a felony, to wit, beating a prostitute, I can search his room with impunity. Come, constables! Let us see what that yields.”

“I will not have rough common constables in my room! I keep money in there, and they might steal it!” cried Dostatni.

“Laying aside your disgusting suggestion of police dishonesty, your son and I will search,” said Mariola. “Now, theft from an employer is a serious offence, and would be punished by a flogging as well as imprisonment. Lucek Janowiak is a delicate man who might not survive such, even though it is not a capital crime.”

Andrzej Dostatni gasped.

“Could my father be so cruel because he does not like the though of Lucek and me....” he went white.

“I might consider it a secondary reason, since gossip also says your father is in debt, but has made a large insurance claim,” said Mariola. “Now, I am not going to look for jewellery in the drawer with underwear, but to lift the lose bit of floorboard which the maids complain about being loose, and tripping them, which the master refuses to have fixed.”

“There’s a loose floorboard? I did not know,” said Andrzej.

Mariola found the floorboard described by maids, which had been described to her by a thief who was in custody as a sure fire place for any cat burglar to search for booty. Mariola kept a good relationship with minor criminals, making sure they were treated fairly, and paying for any good information. This piece of information paid off.  And under the floorboard was everything else, apart from the ring found in Janlowiak’s room, which had been listed as missing from the safe.

She put it all in a bag, and labelled it, and left the room, where the constables were blocking the entrance of Dostanti.

“Goldsmith Jakub Dostanti, you are under arrest,” said Mariola. “I found what you hid under the loose floorboard.”

“I... you cannot arrest me! It was a test for my son and my secretary, and nothing has been stolen, so there is no crime! There! And that’s why I did not want my secretary to alert the constabulary, because it was just a test!”

“Oh, but you are wrong; there are two crimes,” said Mariola. “The crime of fraud, since you have submitted a claim with your insurers; and the crime of framing Lucek Jankowiak with the purpose of somehow punishing him for his romantic interest towards your son. Take him away,” she added.

Dostatni was dragged away, shouting that confining him was illegal.

“You’ll want to get him a lawyer,” said Mariola to Andrzej.

“He did that to hurt Lucek? I cannot believe it. Well, I can, but it seems...”

“I think he meant to steal from himself anyway, as he had had some reverses,” said Mariola. “Getting rid of your lover was a secondary intent.”

“I... it is extraordinary. To commit fraud! I do not know what to do!”

“You will have to testify; but I can assure you there need be nothing about your relationship mentioned, merely that he had taken against his secretary.”

“Oh! Thank you!”

“You are welcome.”

 

Klemens Młocki looked at Mariola and sighed.

“I suppose you had no choice but to arrest him?”

“He will have fewer supporters when his fellow townsmen know he was committing fraud,” said Mariola.

Młocki sighed again.

“That at least is true,” he said. “But why could it not have been a simple burglary?”

“Because greed leads to dishonesty,” said Mariola. “Besides, if you want to speak about wealth generation, the cattle deals my father does probably come to two or three times as much in terms of taxes as the deals of Dostatni and others of his kind. It’s not called Więszy-Bydlin for nothing; the city exists to be a big cattle market.”

“You know, I had not considered that,” said Młocki.