Falcon without bells 4

 

Chapter 4

 

Sword training started with sticks, which Mira had to admit was a lot safer. He made her learn footwork first.

“If you can’t control your body, you can’t control your sword,” he said. “And some Cossack dancing will both strengthen you and give you better control. The polonez too will help you to move and dip the knee as you go. Fighting is a lot like dancing.”

“I watched you drill, and it’s sheer poetry,” said Mira, admiringly.

“Silly child,” he said, surprised that the admiration of the whelp should please him. “It’s only poetry when your body knows what it is doing without thinking about it. I’ve been doing this for ... well, probably as long as you’ve been alive.”

“And not a sign of the tremours of eld, nor rheumatism!” she said, wide eyed. There were amber sparks of mischief from the hell-rings in her eyes, dancing mischievously at him.

“You whelp, have you any idea how old I am?”

“Not a clue, but it’s young enough that I can tease you about your age without it being a sore point.”

“Well! I can give you a decade or so. I don’t count birthdays so I am not entirely sure.”

“Just a nice age for a big brother,” said Mira. “Are you going to teach me how to leap onto a horse too?”

“Yes; we’ll get you used to my horse, Wiatr, ‘Wind’. He can help train you. He, at least, has the experience and skill to school you.”

“I’d like that.”

“Good. Now do that drill again. Then we shall begin your wrist and arm strengthening exercises. You are already strong from the work your father made you do, but you must train specific muscles, the forearm muscles. You will hold a sword and do ten repetitions each of moving a sword in your wrist side to side and back and forth, and then repeat.”

Mira nodded.

It was hard concentrating on the movement from front to back of foot that he demanded, and surprisingly hard to perform the sword exercises too.

Mira almost collapsed after her first practice.

“And this time I’ll watch over your bath; but to make sure you are not interrupted,” he said.

“My lord, I am so tired, I doubt I’d notice if a company of Winged Hussars rode through,” said Mira.

“You might not, but they’d notice you. And that’s what I’m guarding against,” he said. “I’ll sit outside the kitchen door.”

She appreciated it; and appreciated having a hot bath.  Jaś the carpenter and his mother and sister shared a room behind the kitchen but opening onto the hall, not into the kitchen. She would not be disturbed.

Daily she went through the footwork, and then the sword drills, moving from the exercises in a single direction to practising the cuts from the wrist, arm extended moving from one cut to the next, the sword describing something like a sideways figure of eight.

“Limit the arm motion,” he said. “The more you let your arm move with a wrist cut, the more you create openings for someone to get past your guard. We’ll work on using your elbow and shoulder and adding it all together.”

Next, he made her add the guard positions between the cuts, to move from cut to guard, setting up patterns for her to follow, so that she might readily move from any cut to guard herself.

Soon he permitted her to add her sword moves to footwork, advancing and retreating as she swung the sword, shadow fencing. She also began to learn the demanding and gruelling moves of the Cossack dance. Bohun watched her.

“I’m going to put a hilt on a stick for you; if you want to learn control, and you need to do so, we might as well start from there,” he said. “You have the control over a kitchen knife, now let’s get you really controlling your sabre. Like this.” He demonstrated, and grinned at her, tossing it from hand to hand.

“Beautiful!” gasped Mira.

“And deadly,” said Bohun. “And you’ll need to be able to switch hands too. The best Cossacks can whirl two blades at once, which can cut down arrows. Unfortunately, less use against bullets.”

Then he started fighting with her.  Mira appreciated that they were using wooden swords, to preclude accidents from her still less controlled movements. It hurt as he punished any failure to parry or any opening she left by slapping her hard with the stick he held with such perfect poise and delicacy. The blows were not delicate, but if she learned to counter the stick, she would also learn to counter a cut. He was remarkably patient and did not lose his temper with his pupil. Indeed, Bohun was pleased with her determination, and with her acceptance of the pain he handed her in her quest to improve. He had wondered if she had declared herself ready to take a world of pain without thinking it through; but she had the courage and will to continue, and to take his painful lessons to heart and learn from them.

 

The pattern of days settled to routine; and Mira, less stiff with each practice session, was happy.

The routine of training was broken one day; they had finished drill, and Mira had washed under the stableyard pump, which was hers to use whilst he drew water from the kitchen yard well to wash off the sweat of their exertions. Mira was glad that Marianna did the washing so they always had clean linen! But this day she had barely withdrawn into the dwór where she would order the day with Marianna and then sit to undertake such mending as was required, a task she was happy to perform, when Ana, sister to the carpenter Jaś and daughter of Marianna, ran in.

“There are two people coming here, I think they are szlachta!” the child said shrilly.”

“Have they soldiers with them?” asked Bohun, roughly.

“No, my lord, just the two of them,” said Ana.

“Go to your mother, child, and do not worry,” said Bohun. “I will not permit them to harm you.”

“What do we do, act as if nothing is amiss, but remain wary?” asked Mira

“Yes, that works as well as anything,” said Bohun. “Hopefully they will accept hospitality and then leave, seeing our need for repairs.”

 

 

The two travellers rode in through the broken gate, the taller with something of a shiver. He looked around with obvious distaste.

 “Fuck, it’s Skrzetuski and Rzędzian,” said Bohun, glancing out of the window at the sound of hoofs on the cobbles.

“Do you want me to get rid of them?” asked Mira.

Bohun looked startled

“In what respect?”

“Well I wouldn’t be able to kill him, which I have no reason to do as he returned your freedom to you. I meant divert, confuse, irritate until he goes away.”

“If anyone can manage that, brat, it’s you. I don’t want to hide. I don’t want him to think I am hiding.”

“Let’s find out what he wants first, my lord; please?  If he’s here to warn you Jeremi did not like his mercy, I can find that out, but if Jeremi asks if he saw you, he will tell truth.   Go up in the rafters and help the boy; he’ll take it kindly, the Lipizzaner won’t look for you there, and if it’s something you need to know, you can quickly be called. Please?  I ... I fear if he has been told to collect you and anyone you are with. I ... I think he would be glad to be able to say he did not see you.”

He hesitated; then ran up the ladder. He was uncertain how he felt about Jan Skrzetuski. He admired the graciousness the knight had shown him and wondered if he could have been as gracious; and he hated him for existing as well. And yet ... Helena was both a bond between them and a gulf. In another life he would have been glad to have called the szlachcic ‘friend.’ It was a reason he had been so ready to hate the man; it was easier to hate someone one might have loved as a brother. He squeezed his eyes briefly shut on unbidden hot tears for the loss of the Kurtcewiczowie, that they had never been true brothers to him, willing to share spoils and adventure but as ready to betray him for one of their own kind.

Mira flung open the door.

“Welcome, welcome visitors to my humble abode. Come in and drink ... well, there’s pump water or pump water at the moment.”

“I’ll settle for pump water then,” said Skrzetuski, smiling at the cocky youth. “Have I seen you somewhere before?”

“I don’t think so, honoured sir,” said Mira. “I am Mirek Sokół at your service.”

“Jan Skrzetuski. I was looking for Jurij Bohun.”

“Oh? What do you want my big brother for?”

“Your big brother? That will account for me thinking you familiar, no doubt. The facial hair and colouring make  lot of difference.”

“Yes, we don’t share a father,” said Mira. “But my brother wanted me somewhere safe. So here I am. And you were telling me why you wanted him.”

“He isn’t here, then? I was sent to find out.  And to warn him if he was here that Prince Jeremi was not amused that I...” he frowned, “...spurned his gift.”

“I heard about it; you are a true knight,” said Mira. “You may look around; you won’t find him here, please search so you can take back word. ... Er, do you have to mention my relationship? I don’t want to be taken as a hostage.”

Jan shrugged.

“It’s of no importance. I won’t mention it, and he won’t ask. Bohun is all he’s interested in. I will search; he will ask if I did, and I need to say truthfully that I looked. It’s not much of a place to live. I hear some hammering.”

“Yes, the villagers were driven off but came back; the carpenter is even younger than I am, but he’s doing what he can to give me a room to live in.”

“Bohun’s horse is in the stables,” said Rzędzian.

“No, Jurko’s horse’s brother is in the stables,” said Mira, working on not sounding as shy as she felt to use his name, and the pet form Helena had mentioned at that. “Cyklon, not Wiatr. Mine. Can’t you tell two related horses apart?”

“At least I’m a szlachcic, not some Cossack from who knows where,” said Rzędzian.

“Oh how brave you are my lord brother to taunt a little boy. My father is a Polish szlachcic too, but we all have a little rain in our lives,” said Mira.

“Hush, Rzędzian,” said Jan. “I will search and then you can show me your horse.”

“Indeed,” said Mira. “My brother’s steed has a white sock; mine does not.” That was enough for the lithe Oleh to slip out and cover the white sock with soot or something; he was in the kitchen listening. She noted the door close silently and knew he was on his way. “Please; come through on the grand tour. This is the great hall, open to visitors with hospitality as usual, and through here, my bedroom, rather more open than usual. My bed at least is dry. Behind the screen is my bed when my brother is in residence. Further on as you can see if you come further is uninhabitable.   Now back here if we go the other way, we have the kitchen, please do not frighten my servants, who are my carpenter’s relatives. Do you want to look in the cellar? It’s dry and cool.  Marianna, fill two tankards of water for our guests, please, while they commune with the onions.”

“I don’t like invading your privacy to search,” said Jan.

“I appreciate that; you will appreciate that I don’t like it happening, or that...” she searched for the name Bohun had used, “Jaroma is an oathbreaker.”

Jan flushed.

“I ... did not fulfil the assumptions he made,” he said.

“So he punishes you by making you seem to go back on your word?” said Mira.

“It’s not like that ...”

“To me, it looks exactly like that.  Are you ready to search the privy? Can we send your man down into the cess-pit? He ought to float, like all the big pieces.”

“He was sorry to be confrontational.”

“If you say so, my lord-brother,” said Mira, tonelessly.

Jan did not bother to look in the outhouse; Rzędzian did. Mira sneered. She led them to the stables and led out Bohun’s magnificent stallion

“See? No white sock,” she said.

“Ride it,” said Rzędzian.  “Nobody else can ride Bohun’s horse.”

Mira rolled her eyes.

As well as swordplay she had been learning more riding tricks.

She vaulted lightly onto the stallion without bothering to saddle up. 

“We don’t do airs above the ground,” she said.

“Sitting on that horse, which is remaining still for you, is enough,” said Jan. “You were wrong, Rzędzian.”

Rzędzian scowled, He had been certain it was Bohun’s horse.

Mira grinned and took Wiatr through a series of military dressage moves, and rode him round the courtyard, swinging off and onto his back, finishing by dismounting at the run, and running alongside the horse to bring him back to the stable. Wiatr whickered happily. His trainee was doing well.

Rzędzian could scarcely believe it; he had been made a fool of, and that was something he found as hard to forgive as the vicious blow Bohun had once given him

“Don’t cross my  path, boy,” he said.

“I wouldn’t want to,” said Mira, gurning horribly at Rzędzian. Jan sighed.

“Rzędzian,” he said.  “Well, Pan Mirek, thank you for your hospitality. Pass my warning to your brother.”

“I will, Pan Jan,” said Mira. “Please put a muzzle on your mutt if you bring it back again.”

Rzędzian went for his sword, and Jan held his wrist.

“For shame, pulling steel on a little boy!” he barked.

“I’d fight him,” said Mira.

“Nobody doubts your courage, lad,” said Jan. “Rzędzian doesn’t like your brother. You don’t help though if you call him a mutt.”

“Oh, I forgot. He’s a szlachcic; a well-bred boar-hound,” said Mira.

“That’s hardly any better,” said Jan.

“Do you like my brother?” asked Mira.

Jan sighed.

“More than I probably should, considering all that is between us.”

“Oh, in that case I apologise to your associate, and to show good will, I’ll do it in words not by barking.”

“If you barked, wouldn’t that say you were the son of a bitch?” said Rzędzian.

“That’s my father, anyway,” said Mira. “I don’t really remember my mother.”

 

 

 

 

That was a relief, to see the back of them.

“How much did you overhear?” she asked Bohun as he jumped down.

“Most of it. You’re creative in your insults.”

“I don’t like that blond idiot of Pan Jan’s. He’s malevolent.”

“Strangely enough I owe him my life too. He patched me up from a nasty wound. Clever to hint to Oleh to cover the one white sock. Wiatr is used to you now as well; just as well.  Have you any idea how much I hated lurking in hiding while you saved us from having to move on before we were ready?”

“Yes, because I’d have hated it too,” said Mira. “But we need to keep a look out.  Will Jaroma believe him?”

“Oh yes; because Skrzetuski is incapable of lying,” said Bohun. “Clever to use the Ukrainian version of his name. And Skrzetuski won’t mention you and he won’t let Rzędzian do so either.”

Mira almost sagged with relief.

Bohun caught her by the arms.

“Are you about to swoon?” he demanded.

“I don’t think so,” said Mira, “But you are comfortingly solid to lean on. My heart is going like a triphammer, which I’ve only just noticed. I can do without visitors, even when relatively benign.”

“One thing which I hope he forgets to pass on, is that it is my room when I am in residence,” said Bohun, grimly. “If he mentions that, we may find watchers set.”

“Well, he was going to look behind the screen and would want to know why there was a second bed, and moreover, he would know it’s your room.”

“He doesn’t know you don’t play the lute.”

“Oh! But your scent is all over the room, it’s impossible to miss it, all musky and comforting,” said Mira.

“I ... I wonder if his senses are as acute as yours ... but I see why you chose to mention it,” he said, disconcerted. “I only notice that your presence is there; I don’t notice my own.”

“One doesn’t, I suppose,” said Mira. She was rather enjoying his scent while he supported her.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than lean on me?” said Bohun.

“Probably,” said Mira. “I’m comfortable.”

“You’re a whelp,” he said,  putting her from him firmly. He firmly recalled to mind the scent of Helena’s hair, ignoring the intrusion of whatever the red-haired whelp used on hers.

 

 

“Brat, are you awake?” he asked, when it irritated him still after having gone to bed.

“My lord? Do you need me?” Mira sat up, knuckling her eyes.  “Oooh, look out!” she exclaimed, as she elbowed the screen and it fell towards the bed.

Bohun rolled off the bed; the screen had too many decorative knobbles to want it to land on him.

“How in Hell...”

“I don’t know, you spoke to me and so I woke up and sat up and it sort of went flying,” said Mira, getting up and kindling a light to help him manhandle the screen back into place.

“And never go anywhere just in a nightgown, my child, especially with a light behind you,” said Bohun, leaping hastily back into bed.  Naturally he was thinking of Helena ... to react to this odd little boy of a girl was ridiculous.

“I am sorry,” said Mira. “What did you want me for?”

“You will laugh; I was only going to ask a totally meaningless question.”

“Well you might as well ask; I’m awake now,” she said, sitting on the end of his bed with her knees drawn up to her, encircled by her arms.

“You look absurdly young like that.  I only wondered what you use in your hair.”

“Oh! It’s marigold. It doesn’t smell very nice, does it? But it brings out the red and deters lice. Does it irritate you?  I can use chamomile instead. There’s lots in the stillroom.”

So that was what Helena used.

“I would rather that you did not use chamomile.”

Mira was putting two and two together.

“No, I had not thought,” she said.

“I don’t mind the smell of marigold. I was just curious.”

“I’ll go back to bed then. Good night.”

“Good night. It was my fault for startling you.”

“It was an Event.  They happen sometimes, when things people do add up and conspire,” she said.

“I can hear you saying that with capitals; why do I think you are prone to Events?”

“I was hoping you hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh, Events may happen but if they are more significant than something harmless like a toppling screen, you should think of ways to  use them tactically.”

“Did you just demote me to Rotmistrz?”

“I believe it’s a promotion from quartermaster.”

“I think I prefer quartermaster.”

“Yes, brat. Shut up and go to sleep.”

 

Bohun  lay awake and though it would be as well if he stayed close to the dwór for a while, in case of any watchers; he worried that Skrzetuski would mention the repairs as well. Or perhaps he would say the bare minimum.  Whatever else one might say about the knight, he was clever and he was shrewd.  He would recognise that mentioning repairs would tell Jeremi that he planned to use the Rozłogi dwor as a base, and that would mean that a trap might be set.  He would not want that for the whelp.

 

****

 

“Was Rozłogi really empty as you reported to Jeremi?” asked Helena.

“Why do you ask? I did not see Bohun,” said Jan. “I said only that I had searched and found no indication that he was there.”

“You hushed Rzędzian when he spoke of a rude brat.”

“Fortunately not until we had left Jeremi’s presence and only to you.  And what do you know of the rude brat? He was cheeky more than rude but he and Rzędzian took a dislike to each other.  He said he was Bohun’s brother.”

“Red haired child?”

“Yes. What have I missed?”

“She was running away and talked me into a letter of introduction to Jurko. So he didn’t turn her away, and she is moderately safe.”

“I assume he’s not there much. Good grief, does he know she’s a girl? In the bedroom she claimed was hers, she said the bed behind the screen was his, hers, I mean, when Bohun was there.”

“I wrote ambiguously and she said she would tell him; perhaps she dared not. He can be so frightening.”

“She didn’t strike me as intimidated.  Rzędzian insists that horse had a white sock when he first saw it; I put it down to his obstinacy in disliking the child.  But Bohun does not hide ... oh. He might if it was for the safety of someone under his protection.”

“I ... do you think he would? I hoped he would look after her to redeem himself in my eyes ...”

“If it was his horse, the child was quite at home on it.”

“Well, I am glad she is safe. You did not report a youth there?”

“Nobody asked me that; so I felt no need to mention that there was anyone there at all,” said Jan. “And I forbade Rzędzian from mentioning it as well.”

“Good.”

Jan chuckled.

“He is still sore over not being sure if he lost the battle of words or not.”