Dance of Law 1

 In the absence of a positive vote one way or the other the coin flip was for Mariola 2 aka Dance of Law in which we find out how much mayhem can be caused by a pair of Ulans on secondment whilst Substarosta Bystrzanowski is on honeymoon, and how they learn to be useful. 

Chapter 1

 

The Ulans, Konrad Hulewicz and Dawid Starski, were not comfortable.

They were in the office of substarosta Kazimierz Bystrzanowski, and the auburn-haired officer was frowning. So was his little blond page, who was rumoured not to be a boy at all, but the substarosta’s wife.

“And furthermore,” said Kazimierz, in biting tones, “Having used city property, to wit, the said coroner’s gig, for purposes not suited to it, which is to say the transport of criminals, to the consternation of the coroner, you then managed to ... if I may quote your report ... ‘bend’ it around the pillory.”

Hulewicz winced.

“Bending a gig is never going to end well,” said Kazimierz.  “And from what I understand, this is because one of you saw a thief you had failed to apprehend with the others, and you leaped on the horse to ride after him, forgetting that it was still harnessed to the said gig.”

The men exchanged looks. They were almost as opposite in looks as was possible; Hulewicz was short and stocky with hair as blond as a Saxon, a rigid and straight moustache; and Starski was tall, thin and swarthy, with dark, wavy hair, and his moustache long and defiant, a definite Cossack look to him.

“I bent the gig, substarosta,” said Starski. “I didn’t want him to get away.”

“But he did get away, didn’t he?” said Kazimierz. “During the time the coroner’s gig was engaging in futile miscegenation with the pillory.”

“I don’t see why the city has to keep a pillory and whipping post in such an inconvenient place,” said Starski.

“It isn’t inconvenient if you aren’t trying to wrap gigs around it,” said Kazimierz. “You’ll be having the cost of the gig docked from your pay.  I am disappointed, I really am. You were recommended highly by your commanding officer as clever, and potential officer material, and he thought you would do well to cover as deputies to the starosta whilst I was on honeymoon.  So far, you’ve apprehended a gang of thieves, which is to your credit. You have also frisked the eminently respectable wife of a goldsmith in the belief that she was a man in disguise, bent the coroner’s gig, been reported for almost running over a group of drunken szlachta when riding too fast to respond to a summons, been reported for spraying a wedding party with mud and horse shit when riding too fast to respond to a summons, generally riding too fast, oh, and straining the fetlock of the starosta’s horse by unauthorised borrowing of it and riding it too fast. There’s a pattern or three here, boys; unauthorised borrowing, which is known in the trade as ‘stealing’; riding too fast;  and carelessness. Now I commend your enthusiasm but I do not actually think much of being pulled off my honeymoon to sort you out as if you were a pair of errant nephews the schoolmaster needs me to take my belt to!”

“We’re very sorry, substarosta,” said Hulewicz, standing on his partner’s foot. “We’re overtrained as Ulans, I suppose.”

“Yes, we do everything at the gallop,” said Starski, opening his eyes wide for effect.

“Less of the puppy-dog eyes, Starski,” said Kazimierz. “Do bear in mind that my cousin, Bazyli Tataryn is an Ulan captain, so I do know something about your training.”

“Oh, bugger,” said Starski.

“Precisely,” said Kazimierz. “Oh, bugger indeed.  I know you haven’t had the training, and I’m sorry about that, but the idea was that you would be a presence as deputy substarosty, sent out to assist and back up constables in arrests, so the lawless elements did not think they could have free rein just because I was enjoying the first weeks of marriage.  And not only have you managed to be more trouble than most of the criminals, but I appear to have a desk full of the problems you precious pair of babes in arms did not consider exciting enough to investigate.”

That had both of them flushing.

“We wouldn’t know where to start with some of them,” said Hulewicz.

“No, I don’t suppose you would,” said Kazimierz. “Lew here figured it out quite quickly but then my page keeps his brains in his head, not in the place from which he rides.”

The two Ulans flushed again.

“My lord, that’s not fair!” burst out Starski.

“Isn’t it?” said Kazimierz. “You’re both at least twenty, and my page has a way to go yet. But I am seeing notes on some of these problems, Lew, your thoughts?”

“The Krawiek blinding, the features are singular, abacination by holding a heated sword in front of the eyes, according to Bolek. Have you gentlemen met Bolek?” asked Mariola, who worked alongside her husband in the persona of Lew.

“The city torturer,” said Starski.

“He’s a fairly skilled physician as well,” said Mariola. “He made a note on the report, and his handwriting is excruciating enough to prove his ability as a physician.  Now as far as I am aware, it’s a method used historically by Ivan the Terrible, and it’s a bit esoteric. The tailor who was blinded is, of course, deprived of his livelihood, and reduced to penury. He had made a complaint which is also on the desk neglected that a group of men said that without a substarosta he should pay them to protect his shop and livelihood.  Now a couple of other people made complaints of a similar nature and there is a note in that idiot Marciński’s handwriting that the complaints were withdrawn. I’ve cross-correlated with calls for the fire brigades which went to those shops, right before the complaints were withdrawn. Now I’ve been in the office three hours looking over these reports for my lord; why the hell didn’t either of you notice that townsfolk were being terrorised on your watch? The tailor was also burned out and there’s a complaint here, with descriptions of those he suspects. Including a big Tatar.”

The two Ulans stared.

“I am not sure what you are saying, my lord-brother,” said Hulewicz.

“There are a group of people demanding money with menaces, including this big Tatar, who cause damage if not paid off, and when a man stands up for himself and threatens to identify them, his eyes are burned out by an esoteric and questionably Tatar method,” said Mariola.

“And you put all that together from a few reports?” said Starski. “I ... yes, now you go through it, I can see it. We’ve never done anything like that.”

“It’s no different to military intelligence,” said Mariola. “If you hear that a lot of grain is being sold on the Prussian border, and causing perhaps shortages because it’s going out of the country, and someone mentions that there’s increased trade between Austria’s foundries and Prussia, and you take a look at the garrison towns across the border and suddenly there are three times as many latrine huts, what do you do?”

“Prepare for invasion from Prussia,” said Starski. “I see what you mean. Your page is good, my lord.”

“Good; you’ll be working with him,” said Kazimierz. “And Hulewicz will be working with me. You are both subordinate; tough luck, Starski, my brat knows more than you.”

Starski’s face worked.

“I don’t mind working with the lad,” said Hulewicz.

“I dare say. We can swap later, but I want it this way round first,” said Kazimierz. He did not say that Starski was potentially brilliant, if erratic, and would add to his bride’s almost intuitive insights. Hulewicz was methodical, and they might check back facts together. Kazimierz had a feeling Starski would fly apart if checking figures.  Mariola would check figures without bothering to involve a volatile partner.

 

 

“Rumour has it that you’re a woman and married to the substarosta,” said Starski.

“Rumour says a lot of things. You’re under my command whether you want to think of me as a boy of fourteen or a girl of seventeen. If you can’t handle it, you need to go back to your captain and tell him you can’t hack it,” said Mariola, coolly.

“I can handle it; I’d find it easier taking orders from Lady Bystrzanowska though, than a child.”

“Fair enough.  I’m going to be a woman shortly anyway, because I’m going to be the wife of the new tailor.”

“Your husband is too well known.”

“You aren’t though; we’re going undercover. You’re Krawiek’s cousin and you and your wife are taking over the business.  I can sew well enough to cover working in the front. I don’t look enough like you to be your son or brother so wife it will have to be.”

“You don’t sound very happy about it.”

“It was my honeymoon too. And there’s a gang of thieves too, who are working the houses outside the city, digging through the lower courses of those houses built with stone lower courses. You two have ignored that too.”

“We did not, we set watch! Three nights running we watched one of the wealthier houses, and they went elsewhere!”

“I expect you were seen,” said Mariola. “I bet you rode out.”

“Well, yes; it was a couple of miles out of town. What were we supposed to do?”

“Leave the horses in an inn, perhaps, and use your dear little feet,” said Mariola.

“You’re truly offensive, er, Lew.”

“I have my bad points too.”

 

“Good tailor Krawiek, do you know my voice?  I’m the substarosta’s page.”

“Oh, yes, my lord, I am glad you are back on duty, even with Lord Bystrzanowski on honeymoon you’ll soon catch these crooks.”

“He’s left his honeymoon to help sort it out; we had not time to give Lord Starski and Lord Hulewicz enough training,” said Mariola, diplomatically. “But Lord Starski is keen to learn and to help out; he and I are going into disguise to pretend to be your nephew and your nephew’s wife. He’s dark like you so I think we can make it believable. You will need to gossip that we have come to take over the shop.”

“But ... I will have to sell the goods that weren’t burned, and leave the shop ... I may be able to live on the proceeds of the auction for a while ...”

“Oh, no, good Krawiek, you will be eligible for a reward from the government for helping to catch these crooks,” said Mariola.

“I d...” Starski started to speak and Mariola stood on his foot hard.

“We’ll come in by cart later today,” said Mariola, “as soon as we’ve dressed for the part.”

She nodded Starski to follow her.

“Why did you stand on my foot?”

“So you wouldn’t give away that there is no government reward, you big lump,” said Mariola.

“Won’t he feel betrayed if he goes through the risk without reward?”

“Well at least you are thinking of him. What makes you think he won’t be given a decent pension?”

“But ...”

“I’ll pay it out of my own pocket of course, you idiot. There ought to be government compensation for things like that, but there isn’t, so that means those of us who can afford to help should do so. Noblesse oblige and all that sort of thing.”

“Oh, right, I see,” said Starski.

 

Later that day an unremarkable pair drove into town in a donkey cart. Starski was sulking slightly because Mariola had not permitted him to drive, since both donkey and cart were government property.

“I suppose a donkey is suitable for a lady, a nice gentle drive,” said Starski.

“I race sleighs with three horses against towarzysze as well,” said Mariola. “But I’m a good driver and don’t argue with long-established city street furniture. I could out-drive you any day even if I’m not as interested in the Cossack horse tricks some of my sisters enjoy. I can mount or dismount a running horse and rope a man, and that’s about all I care about. But don’t even start with what’s suitable for a lady or I’ll let my sister, Joanna Sokołowska, loose on you. A lady’s hand is suitable for this poor donkey, my lad, and I’ll not have the poor thing run ragged. I’m going through the motions with you, but you won’t make the grade, you don’t have the patience and you won’t put in the effort to learn it.”

Starski, sore, swore silently that he would show her.

 

In the tailor’s shop, they waited, hoping not to have customers but just to have intimidation. When a big Tatar came in, Mariola smiled.

Starski moved forward.

“What can I help you with?” he said, with what he hoped was sufficient unctuousness.

“The old man doesn’t know how to give up, does he?” said the Tatar. “You must have enough money to keep the business going; we’ll take two talar a month to prevent any more accidents and a fine of fifty talar to cover the old man’s stupidity.”

“You must be insane, fellow,” said Starski. “Where am I to get fifty talar from?”

“You should have thought of that before you took on his business ... and his debts,” said the Tatar.

“Get out,” said Mariola, revealing a pistol. “I’m nervous around firearms, and this is liable to go off.”

“Tell your wife to stop with the heroics,” said the Tatar. “Or you’ll watch her being raped as a little persuasion to cough up.”

“I don’t see your army of winged hussars,” sneered Mariola.

“Come in, lads,” said the Tatar.

Five more men came in the back door.

“And what are your intentions?” said Mariola.

One of them sniggered.

“Two of us to hold and beat your man, the rest of us to rape you, wench.”

“Oh, fair enough,” said Mariola. “Go, Starski.”  She shot at the one reaching to grab her, and swung out her sabres, stepping between the miscreants and the door.

Starski neatly lopped the Tatar’s arm off.

The others hesitated. Blinding a man and depriving him of his livelihood was a capital crime, and they decided to leap Mariola all at once, which is what Mariola had hoped.

Her swords swung, singing merrily, and two heads fell, followed by two hands. Mariola was quick with tourniquets.

“St. Jósef, you are fast!” said Starski, putting a tourniquet on his prisoner.

“Yes, I am,” said Mariola.  “And I note no qualifier.”

“I misjudged you,” said Starski. “I will be more respectful, my...er...”

“Lord-brother will do,” said Mariola.

“How do we get them back, my lord-brother?”

“We call the constables, and have them clear up the blood as well.  I’ll stay on guard.”

“Er, yes,” said Starski, who knew enough to reckon that their prisoners ought to behave. He went to round up some constables.  He and Mariola supervised the collection of live and dead bodies, and the start of the cleaning up.  Mariola nodded to him.

“Now the unpleasant bit,” she said.

“Questioning them about any other accomplices?”

“No, worse than that,” said Mariola. “Writing a report.”