Mariola/dance of justice 1

I don't have a working title for this one yet.  It covers some of the same ground as in Dance of Ravens but from Mariola's POV.  Bear with me if I made a mess of any of that [though I think most of the mess was in the re-write when I extracted this one to give Mariola her story]
Mariola takes her turn to be a page with Kazimierz and is engaged in a police procedural which mops up some more loose ends. 
I'm not sure if this counts as book four of the Dance Trilogy perhaps as Dance of Justice.  It wanted to be written so I wrote it ... I relied heavily on Kitowicz so I hope I've extracted fact from irony. 

Chapter 1

“Papa,” said Mariola, nibbing one long silver-gilt plait,  “It seems to work, but are there any nice ones left? And do I really want to be a boy, and am I too clumsy for anyone to want?”

“What are you talking about, my dear?” asked Mikołaj Krasiński.

“Being a page to a live one,” said Mariola.  “Irenka got Wojciech, and Filka got our Seweryn, and Joanna has her Falcon. Ida is going to school with half of Wojciech’s wards and etceteras. It helped learning to dance with Władek, though he is scarily intense. And I have been shadowing Joanna for years doing sabre drill in secret. We worked out together too when she wanted a partner. All I’m good at is music and not if anyone is looking at me because my fingers all become left feet.”

“Let us leave it until after Christmas, hmm?” said Mikołaj. “It’s not even St. Mikołaj’s day yet.”

“Very well, Papa,” said Mariola. It was fair enough. She was not yet as old as Joanna had been when she had become Władysław’s page.

It was a glorious Mikołajki; Mariola received a violin laid by her shoes and music for it, something she had yearned for, but which only Joanna had known. How special her sister had become to her!

Shortly after this, Mariola had a letter from Joanna.

“My dear sister,

You need to know how much of a sham Milena’s marriage was. Filip was unfaithful to her, and sired children out of wedlock, and also was cruel to her. You do not need to know all the details, but the horrid creature beat her; and one reason she was mean to you was because she was terrified of what he would do to you if he found out how much you managed to break. She took the blame for many of our misdeeds, and I feel so ashamed of not knowing.

 Anyway, she is steeling herself to go and sort out Filip’s holdings and seeing how many bastards he left. Uncle Adam Brzeziński is looking into things, and will advise her, but she will need a chaperone as she is taking Joachim Jędrowski as an escort, and we wondered if you would like an outing and to be her chaperone accordingly.

Your loving sister,

Joanna.”

“Mama! Look at what Joanna has written!” said Mariola. “I had no idea that Filip was such a tick; I mean, I never liked him but I did not know he beat Milena, nor that she took the blame for some of the things I broke. I wish Świnka had not killed him so casually so that Sewek could have eviscerated him to strangle him with his own guts.”

Małgorzata laughed.

“I should just have turned all you girls over to Papa to train, shouldn’t I?” she said. “I had some idea that if you didn’t have to be martial, you would have peaceful lives. I should just have acknowledged that I rather enjoyed the unsettled nature of our courtship, Steppe winters and learning swordplay and all.”

“Mama! Can you use a sword?”

“Just because I don’t follow the sabre drills daily doesn’t mean I can’t do them,” said Małgorzata. “And goodness knows, you’re all talented enough to make it worthwhile. Do you want to go to be Milena’s chaperone?”

“Yes, Mama, I think I do; it will help to show her there are no hard feelings. And hope to forge a better relationship with Milena.  We should be back by Christmas. I’m the big one at home now so I might as well be useful; and it will be good for Barbara.”

“She’ll leave it all to Ida,” said Małgorzata.

Mariola giggled.

“Send Ida to help Joasia with her orphans,” she said.

“You know, I might,” said Małgorzata. “I want all my girls to grow up strong and happy.”

“Joanna could cut away the growths

in you, that you were talking to Papa about in you, that you were talking to Papa about,” said Mariola.

“I am afraid to take the risk while Elżbieta and Katarzyna are still small,” sighed Małgorzata not pretending to misunderstand her.

“Think about it, Mama; you’ve been hiding pain for a while now.  It could kill you before you make up your mind.”

“I had no idea you knew.”

“Filka pointed it out; I’ve been watching you,” said Mariola.  “I remember that you took a growth out of our farrier’s wife, and made notes in your commonplace book about it.  I filched it and had a look at the watercolour. I wish  you would talk to Joasia. She has the fortitude few people have.”

“I ... will consider it. I do not want her left with guilt if I die of it.”

“Joasia’s too sensible to carry guilt for something she can’t help. She’d feel guilty if she didn’t do it though, if she knew. I’ve kept it from her.”

“After Christmas then; I’ll talk to her then.”

Mariola said no more, but she planned to say a lot more to Joanna. She went in search of Ida.

“Hey, Ida, how’d you like to help Magdalena look after the eyasses at the Mews?”

Ida considered.

“Eyass is the word used for a falcon fledgling taken from its nest to train, isn’t it?” she said.

“Yes,” said Mariola.

“How very appropriate for acquired Zabiełłowie chicks,” said Ida.

“Papa,” said Mariola, “I want Joasia to cut out the growths in Mama, and I have a sense of urgency about it.”

Mikołaj blinked.

“You are one of our more sensitive girls; if you have a sense of urgency, I won’t argue,” he said. “Should I send her to France or England where they have the most advanced surgery?”

“I think it might kill her,” said Mariola. “I am going to talk Joasia into coming to do it the day after Mama sends Ida and me to collect Milena.”

“I tend to forget that my quiet girl has a will of steel,” said Mikołaj.  “I ... will make sure your mother is ready. I ... I will be there for you all.”

“I know, Papa; and I’m scared too,” said Mariola.

***

Joanna gave a boyish yell of delight when Mariola and Ida turned up.

“What, both of you to chaperone Milena?” she asked.

“No, I’m here to help with the little ones,” said Ida.

“And I want to talk to you seriously, Joasia,” said Mariola.

Joanna took one look at her sister’s face and yelled for Mestek.

“Show my sister Ida around and introduce her to people.,” she said. “Mariola, walk with me.”

Mariola was nothing loath.

“It’s Mama,” she said. “She’s sicker than she’s been letting  on.”

Joanna went white.

“And I put her through so much worry ...”

“Never mind that; she enjoyed rising to the occasion. Only have you got the fortitude to cut into her and excise growths? I heard her talking to Papa about how it feels as though she is pregnant with something growing, but she knows it is not, I’m not sure how she knows that.”

“Hellfire, damnation and steel!” said Joanna. “I ... yes, I can do it. It won’t be easy. Will ... can you help?  Basia can’t help from her wheeled chair; Milena probably will.  Władysław is steady. The difficult thing is not damaging the bladder and ureter on one side or the bowel on the other. Is it ... yes, it’s necessary or you wouldn’t ask.”

“Mama does a good job of hiding that she is in pain and that she is so tired,” said Mariola. “But I’ve been watching her.” She pulled a face. “She wanted to wait until after Christmas so as not to spoil it for everyone.”

“Mikołajki is over. In this blessed tide of Advent I feel I would have more support from the Mother of Poland, who knew the discomfort of pregnancy and birth. We’ll do it tomorrow. I’ll send back word.”

“I thought you’d feel like that so I spoke to Papa about it.  He’s expecting us. You ... are you going to tell Ida?”

“I’d have wanted to be told.”

They set off early, and with the aid of Małgorzata’s own maid, Ala, who helped her with surgery, they swabbed down every surface of Małgorzata’s hospital with rosemary oil.  The big, heavy table for surgery was set, and the skylight uncovered for maximum natural light. Sharp knives had been boiled and sat in rosemary solution. Pure gold thread to use inside also lay in dishes with rosemary oil. Mariola helped lay things out. She would be there for Joasia and would learn from her.

Mikołaj carried Małgorzata to the operating room. He was saying,

“I have rarely given you orders as your lord, Gosia, my love. I take full responsibility for this. I don’t trust anyone more than I trust Joasia if you can’t do it yourself; and as you’re going to be off your head on wódka and haszysz tea you won’t be much good at surgery.”

“Mikołaj... I don’t want to leave you and the children ...”

“Gosia, I’ve watched you wasting away and over the last few months it’s been more profound.”

“Kiss me, my hussar, and hold my hand.”

He kissed her.

“I’ll be with you, always, even if there comes a time we are briefly separated in this life,” he said. “You’ll come through this; you are too strong not to do so.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Away with you, woman; you’re not meek and mild. I recall it was you who proposed to me. We’d known each other about six hours.”

“You said yes, though.”

He laid her on the table.

“Damn this table is cold,” said Małgorzata. “I haven’t had enough sympathy for my own victims.”

Seweryn was there, looking haggard. Phyllis held his hand tightly.

“Mama Raven, you are not going to give up,” said Phyllis.  “Think of all those grandchildren you are waiting to meet.”

Małgorzata smiled at her daughter-in-law.

“Quite right, dear daughter,” she said. “But take Seweryn away. He’ll be underfoot.”

“And likely to pass out. I know,” said Phyllis. “Kiss Mama, Sewek and come away to organise the little ones for the day.”

“How long?” said Seweryn.

“If I haven’t done it by midday it won’t get done,” said Joanna, who was white. “Go away, Sewek. This is the job of Mama’s big girls. Unless you want me to operate on you to make you one.”

“I’m going,” said Seweryn, hastily, kissing his mother.  Phyllis also kissed her, and murmured something in her ear.

Małgorzata spat out a laugh which ended on a dirty chuckle.

“Thank you, my English daughter,” she said. “I needed that.” Mariola wondered what she had said, and decided she did not want to know.

She handed her mother the cup of haszysz tea well-laced with poppy draught.  Małgorzata made a face but drank it down.

 Małgorzata was as close to unconscious as could be.

“Aren’t there things which can numb the skin too?” said Mariola.

“You’re thinking of wolfsbane and that’s not a good idea,” said Joanna. “The smallest amount on the inside is deadly. So it’s a bad idea.  I am going to need lengths of gold wire when I say ‘ligature’ to tie off blood vessels.  It’s going to be messy and horrible, and if you are going to pass out, please go away now.”

“I’ll manage,” said Mariola.

“Strap in Mama’s mouth, Papa,” said Joanna. “Władysław, Milena, ready to draw back skin and hold things out of the way.”

“It’s times like this I wish I had both arms,” said Władysław.

“You manage more with one hand’s sensitive fingers than most with two,” said Joanna.  “Besides you are my talisman and you keep me calm.”

Mariola had read all she could on the subject, and there were records from the fourteenth century of successful caesarean births in which mother and baby had both lived. This would be not unlike that, surely. 

 “Mother of Poland be with a daughter and mother this day,” said Joanna, and made the incision. Mariola echoed the prayer in her heart.

It was hard not to feel nauseous at the amount of blood and at the revolting things which were inside the human body.  The obscene looking purple and pink mass though was not like anything in any of the drawings in the books on anatomy which their mother had made and variously acquired, some of which Małgorzata was a little cagey about.

Mariola did not interrupt Joanna, but she noticed her sister crossing herself at the sight. She was barking out commands about holding this, passing that, and Mariola made herself forget the horror, and become an instrument of Joanna’s clever hands. She realised in some shock that Joanna planned to cut out the whole womb and the growths with it as the safest way of removing the growths.

 “Ligature,” Joanna snapped. Mariola handed her the gold thread.

Tying off, cutting away, carefully, methodically Joanna worked, and Władysław mopped sweat from her  brow with a clean towel. The obscene  growth did not seem to be attached anywhere else. Mariola and Milena were Joanna’s hands for her, pinching on arteries, holding away the ureter for her to reach underneath it.  And then Joanna was lifting the misshapen womb out, and washing  out the body cavity with rosemary-infused wódka.

Mariola held the skin for Joanna to close up their mother’s belly, and was in time to ease her sister to the ground as Joanna passed out.

Mama must be lifted onto a narrow hospital bed, and Joanna onto another.

“Papa, Władek, you must just do the best you can to cuddle them when they come to,” said Mariola.

“Yes, my lord,” said Mikołaj, his eyes twinkling at her.

“Oh, Papa!” said Mariola.

Mama was not out of the woods.

“Milena, shall we go to the chapel when we have cleaned up?” said Mariola.

“A good idea,” agreed Milena. “And we will take that ... thing ... to the furnace to be burned.”

A couple of hours later, the Sokołowscy joined Milena and Mariola in the chapel.

“Thank you!” said Mariola.

“The Queen of Poland guided my hands,” said Joanna. “And Mama’s recovery is in her hands.”

“And so we all pray,” said Mariola. “Milena and I can leave tomorrow now without worrying, because either Mama will get better, or God needs her more than we do.”

“Or I made a mistake, but I don’t think I did,” said Joanna. “I am not sure I remember much of it though.”

Mariola slipped an arm through her sister’s arm.

As Małgorzata was a better colour by the next day, Milena and Mariola left with Joachim, who drove over to collect them, without any qualms.