Jermak in england opening

 a bit fragmentary, this one, but it's what I've done a bit of work on, because it came to me.

Chapter 1

 

“I suppose you’re some kind of Papist, Colonel Orzel?” asked the austere de facto leader of the British Parliament. He regarded the, to him, outlandishly dressed young man in amazement. The man wore a gaudy long coat of brocade in golds and browns and black, the split sleeves hanging entirely loose, not merely open with the wrists in the cuffs as some of the more fanciful fashions  of the west dictated. Under the hem of this garment might be seen trousers of considerable width, which neither fastened to the knee nor hung with beribboned or lace edges, but tucked into neat, soft boots. His dark hair was in a single lock which hung from the centre of his otherwise shaven head as he doffed the extraordinary fur hat to bow down to the ground, in a very different fashion to the western making of a leg. His sword .... was very workmanlike and large.

“My lord, I don’t ask your religion nor make any comment on it, and perhaps you will do me the courtesy to do likewise,” said Jermak. “We both love God; let us leave it at that, for I wager when we both stand before the Almighty, naked  and stripped of all human vanity, he will explain to us both how mortal men’s forms of worship fall short of His design, and we shall run, exposed and ashamed, on His mighty palm until we are forgiven the transgressions we repent, and permitted into Paradise. How can any mortal man frame the Almighty in such a way as to comprehend His will? To try to do so is arrogance, and pride, and a deadly sin.”

Cromwell stared. Then he nodded.

“Well spoken, young man; I hear the sincerity in your voice. I like a man who knows his own mind and is not afraid to speak it; your king has chosen well.”

Jermak hid a grin that Prince Jeremi Wiśniowiecki had suggested his name to King Jan Kazimierz, to get Jermak out of the way of Chmielnicki who had taken it into his head that Jermak was some kind of spymaster, because of his ward, Ninochka, sending intelligence to Jeremi.

“I’m a plain, blunt man, my lord, and I believe in plain, blunt speaking,” said Jermak.

“Good; I shall like you the more for it,” said Cromwell. “Your wife, as I understand, is the child of a Royalist.”

“Nominally,” said Grace. “My father, Charles Greville, believed firmly in the divine right of Charles Greville, and it got him poisoned by a Russian Prince. I am a believer in the Royal Commonwealth of Poland-Lithuania, but as a native English speaker, I am of use to my husband. We elect our kings in Poland, from those eligible, which seems more sensible than strict primogeniture. I knew both the deposed king’s young sons, and unless they’ve improved, I wouldn’t trust either of them with the running of more than a whelk stall in Billingsgate.”

A rare smile ghosted across Cromwell’s face.

“They teach you to be forthright in Poland,” he said.

“We’re Polish Cossacks; the word ‘Cossack’ means free man,” said Grace. “In its literal interpretation, not the freed-man of ancient Rome, who was a freed slave. We have a patron in Prince Jeremi Wiśniowiecki, who put forward our names as ambassadors, but for mutual loyalty only. We named our eldest for him.”

“There are others logged as your children who are surely too old for either of you to be parents to?”

“Our adopted children; yes,” said Jermak. “The Tatars raid, and seize young people for slaves. Sadly, many communities will not take them back, declaring them dead, because they cannot cope with the trauma such youngsters have been through. Even those not deflowered. We were in a position to rescue a number. One community took their own back; another ... did not. We split them between my Uncle Osyp and his English wife and ourselves, and also the orphaned daughter of the szlachcic ... the lord ... of the lands I inherited. Kamila and Alexandra are both fourteen. They are adequate warriors and can take care of themselves. They wish to be as martial as my wife and aunt, who learned to be warriors through your civil war.”

“Women have no place in war,” said Cromwell.

“Tell that to the rapacious soldiers who overrun cities raping, looting and burning,” said Grace.

“My men do not do that.”

“My lord, you are a strong warlord like Prince Jeremi. Not all are,” said Grace, dryly. “I can defend my lord’s lands at need, and my son, and our adopted daughters.”

She did not mention that she disliked Prince Jeremi intensely.

She disliked Cromwell intensely too.