The Eagle and the Falcon 1

 a few years on from the Swedish invasion and preparing for other excitement

 

 

Chapter 1 Duchy of Kurland [Courland]  August 1654

 

“Thank you for your hospitality, your grace,” said Jeremi to Herzog Jakub Von Kettler, Duke of Kurland.

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting your majesty,” said Von Kettler. “Thank you for your son’s excellent aid with adding to my fleet; our colony at Fort Jakob on the River Gambia is well established, and we have had word that colonising Tobago in the Caribbean is going well.”

“I’ve a favour to ask you, with regards to your colonies,” said Jeremi, abruptly. “I... what?”

He had helped himself to some more cucumbers and his wife, Gryzelda, neatly whipped them away.

“Jeremi, you know that cucumbers are under the governance of Saturn, and you are altogether too saturnine a man to risk your good health by eating too many. Remember how ill you were a couple of years ago; why, if you had not been in the peak of health, you might have died. I swear you only survived because the cold of the cucumbers was offset by Jurij feeding you Tatar spiced meat dumplings.”

“Nearly burned my gullet out,” grumbled Jeremi. “Very well, my blossom, I will eschew further cucumbers.”

“My wife takes good care of me, too,” said Von Kettler. They exchanged a look, and much was not said between them that was substituted by eye contact. Jeremi loved Gryzelda dearly, and submitted to the few times she demanded rather than requesting. “What favour was it that you wanted, my liege?” the duke went on.

“It’s about slavery,” said Jeremi. “To be blunt, and to take the moral high ground so we might sneer at the Ottomans, I want to abolish serfdom entirely and to be able to boast that nobody on Rzeczpospolita lands is a slave. And I am aware that most European colonies rely on being sold slaves taken in tribal warfare amongst the various black peoples in Africa, and ship them to the Caribbean too.”

“So I understand,” said Von Kettler. “But we must use black labour, as only they are capable of working in the heat.”

“Not the attitude taken by Cromwell in Britain, as I understand, who ships out Irish and Scots political prisoners to work the plantations in Jamaica,” said Jeremi, dryly. “And you might want to give a thought to... acquiring... some of them.”

Von Kettler nodded.

“We did accidentally steal a British ship carrying supposed slaves, who have been very helpful in helping set up the colonies on Tobago,” he said. “The Cossack captain who took the ship claims it, and the men, were ‘looted’ which is more respectable than stealing.”

“And you’ll never persuade a Cossack otherwise,” said Jeremi. “What I’m proposing is that you manumit the slaves as soon as you have bought them, and either pay them wages as peasants working your lands, or rent them lands which they might pay for using with goods, or sell you the goods and pay a proportion in money. I think that though it would cost more  to you in the short term,  in the long term, happy peasants who can make more for themselves work harder. I... I was not a good landowner at first.  But I have found that better treatment has increased the productivity of my peasantry, and hence my own wealth.”

“Well, if you have seen it on your own lands, I’m willing to give it a try,” said Von Kettler. “And as I’ve been improving my own agriculture, and taking on some Dutch and English methods, and paying my peasants more to do so, and seen how well it worked, I’m more than happy.”

“We are all equal under the Lord, after all,” said Jeremi.

“Amen,” said Von Kettler. “I like that you are ecumenical, too.”

“It’s in my remit as king,” said Jeremi. “Good; I can put that before the Sejm, as well as the changing of the name of the Rzeczpospolita.”

“That will kill most of them of apoplexy,” said Von Kettler, dryly. “Why?”

“Well, it seems to me that the Polish-Lithuanian-Ruthenian Commonwealth is a devil of a mouthful,” said Jeremi. “And hardly gives much recognition to you, who are only nominally Lithuanian. Moreover, I’ve a mind to invite your brother-in-law, the Duke of Brandenburg, to bring Brandenburg-Prussia into the alliance. I was considering calling it the ‘Sarmatian Rzeczpospolita’ to cover that we are all in descent of the original Sarmatians.”

“Clever. You might even get them liking that,” said Von Kettler. “So, the Ottomans; they pose a risk when we use Jurij’s canal to get to the new world and Africa faster by going down the canal and the Dniepr and out to the Black Sea and thence through the Mediterranean. Are you going to war?”

“Offcially, no; unofficially, yes,” said Jeremi. “What I want to do is to issue a stern order to the Ottomans to return any Sarmatian citizen seized in raids. We lose twenty thousand people a year to their depredations, or rather the depredations of the Tatars, but they would not take so many if the Ottomans did not buy them. They will not return them, I am sure. Indeed, if we then punish the Tatars harshly, the Ottomans, who rely on our people as slaves, will likely decide to see if they can try our borders, because I came to the throne as a peacemaker. If we can then show them that this is a very bad idea, we might impose terms on them.”

“So you want my help and ships to back up Jurij to seize Constantinople,” said Von Kettler.

“Essentially, yes,” said Jeremi. “I thought you were a clever enough man to take my meaning.”

“Timing will be essential,” said Von Kettler. “I send ships out in veritable flocks to avoid both the Ottomans and the Barbary Pirates in the Mediterranean. It will have to be co-ordinated to have our fleet to hand.”

“Yes, and I want to offer you the position of Vice Admiral of the Fleet; essentially a Field Hetmanship under Jurij as Grand Admiral, or Crown Hetman of the Fleet,” said Jeremi.

“I accept,” said Von Kettler.

“I’ll stay and give your men a royal inspection, if you like, to help their morale,” said Jeremi. “My wife’s going back to my lands to check on anything needful there; she’s more than capable.

“Perhaps you’d like to take a brief trip in one of our new ships?” suggested Von Kettler.

“For sure; and Jurij with me, if you are acceptable. He’s riding in after having checked on some of his irregulars and their preparations against Russia.”

“Well, he is Grand Admiral of the Royal Fleet,” said Von Kettler. “And chief engineer; he’s a talented young man. I’m glad you Cossacks joined us; I’d hate to have either of you as enemies.”

 

 

oOoOo

 

Jeremi returned to his family happily after an enjoyable time inspecting the Kurland fleet and sailing on one of the larger, ocean-going ships. The family were at his ancestral dwór, which he was visiting before moving back to Warszawa. His oldest legitimate child, Michał, and Michał’s best friend and crony, Juryk Chmielnicki were gangly youths of thirteen, almost ready to go as pages to someone suitable. Their other playmate was Róża, a year or so older, who had been adopted by Jeremi’s illegitimate son, Jurij, and she bossed both boys firmly.  They were too old to consider Marysieńka, technically a lady in waiting, and shipped out of France at the age of five, as a playmate though she was now much their own age, as she was a more feminine little girl than Róża. Fortunately, she had Beata Magdalena Wittenberg, a hostage, as her playmate and follower, as Beata was four years her junior. Raina, at eight, was a sturdy, mischievous little girl, often in trouble with her nephew, Jaromka. They also played with Leonard Johan Wittenberg, Beata’s brother. The children’s father was a prisoner in Zamość, but both visited him only when Jeremi insisted that duty meant they should. Both called Jeremi ‘Papa,’ and Jeremi had given up correcting them. In a way, it was the greatest victory over the predatory and cruel Swedish general, who had threatened to torture Jurko.  At first, Jeremi had sent them to church with one of his Protestant officers; but Beata had asked to go with Marysieńka, as her God was more jolly. Jeremi had insisted that she go week and week about to make up her mind; but had not prevented her making her choice. And what Beata wanted, Leonard, or Leo, as he had become, wanted too. And that was as gall and wormwood to their Swedish sire.

Jeremi’s youngest son, Ruryk, was five, and had been, like Michał, a sickly baby. Gryzelda had not conceived again after his birth; and Jeremi was not displeased. Ruryk had been conceived in Jeremi’s and Gryzelda’s celebration that the Swedes had been repelled. He worked on keeping up with his nephew, Janko, Jaromka’s brother, a few months older than him, and Basia and Janek,  children of the cunning Onufry Zagłoba, Basia the oldest of them. At times, Jaromka, Raina, and Leonard were joined by Remuś, son of Helena’s friend, Malwina, and Jurko’s lieutenant, Wasyl.  Helena and Jurko had two younger children, twins Cyryl, named the Polish version of Jurko’s mentor, Kuryło, and Krystyna, after the brave Swedish queen.

Jeremi’s other essentially adoptive children were Władysław and Jadwiga, the children of the previous king. Władysław was now a sturdy youth of eighteen summers, and Jadwiga a year younger.

Jeremi adored the horde of children he had accepted as his family. That Michał had chivvied all of them into a line, arranged by height, to salute him amused him mightily, and as he came off his horse, and Władysław, acting as his page, led both horses away, the neat line of little towarzysze broke up to hurl themselves on Papa, Uncle Jeremi, or Grandpapa, according to their lineage.

And without Jurij and Helena to teach him how to love, he would never have had this, but would be a stern and distant father. Tears came to his eyes, as they always did, when he contemplated this.

“And where’s my best girl?” he demanded, as Gryzelda came forward. He lifted her and swung her round. Her figure was dumpy from Ruryk’s birth, and she had lines of pain, but to Jeremi she was still the most beautiful woman in the world. He had blamed himself for her lack of health, but she had assured him that she would bear it gladly to have little Ruryk.

How long they might have the delicate Ruryk, neither parent could guess; but they did not prevent him from joining in as much as possible with the others. His life would be as happy as they could make it, for as long as it lasted, without spoiling him.

“How did it go?” asked Gryzelda. “You seem optimistic.”

“He was ready to consider the idea and try it,” said Jeremi. “Now all I have to do is to sell it to the Sejm, and fight the golden rights of the more hidebound to hold their fellow beings as chattel goods, purely because of the myth that peasants are a different race.”

“You may have trouble selling it to some of the serfs, as well, my husband,” said Gryzelda. “Don’t you recall how some of our serfs were afraid it would mean they would be thrown out with nowhere to go? It must be made clear that manumitting serfs does not mean abandoning them.”

“Well, if any do abandon their serfs, I’ll bloody well teach them to be sailors or engineers for Jurij,” said Jeremi. “Yes, we’ll have some repercussions from it, and I’ll have Cossacks out collecting any who are thrown out, regardless of any laws I might make about that, and given succour. We lose enough people every year to the predations of the ruddy Tatars and Turks, you’d think people would treat all their peasants as precious, being the means by which their wealth is won, but no.”

“I can sing the refrain,” said Gryzelda, snuggling. “I’ve missed you.”

“Wife!  I’ve missed you, too,” said Jeremi. “I need a damned good massage.”

“Oh, just your back, my lord, my king?”

“Oh, hell, no, more at the front, thank you,” said Jeremi.

They went off, Gryzelda giggling.

 

oOoOo

 

Jurko looked over his family, sighing in delight. They were his family and he was deliriously happy. Helena too. They saw her cousins occasionally; but essentially they had been left far behind, like his own mother.....

Jurko shuddered, briefly.

They had been in Kijów, a year or so after Jeremi had been elected king, and he had come face to face with his mother in the street, thrusting  herself out in front of him, eluding his guards. Prince Jurij Korybut Wiśniowiecki rated the sort of honour guard the Cossack, Jurko Bohun, did not.

And there she was.

“Jurko! My Jurko! Don’t you recognise me, your own mother?” she intoned.

He hardly had recognised her. She was a few years older than his father, but looked almost old enough to be his grandmother.

“I don’t have a mother,” said Jurko. He felt Jan Skrzetuski stiffen beside him, surprised and disappointed that he should repudiate her. “I haven’t had a mother since I was thirteen years old and my father got married, though I didn’t realise then what prompted my mother to throw a tantrum and tell me to get out. She told me to go to the Sich as I’d never amount to anything. I was glad to leave, away from the changing stream of lovers she had who used to beat on a scrawny little boy. I hadn’t had my final growth spurt then, and I wasn’t well fed. Little girls my age were taller than me. I went to the Sich, and I became a man, and then I became a registered Cossack. And then I met my wife and my father and gained a family. But I have no mother; you are mistaken, old woman. I don’t know you.”

He walked on past her, fighting to stop the tears flowing down his fine, dark face. And Jan had drawn him into his arms and embraced him.

They had got drunk together, and Kuryło had explained why to Helena and to Zuzanna, Jan’s wife. And he had never spoken of it again. But he had arranged for his mother to be taken into a nunnery to be cared for.

Word had reached him, just before his father returned from Kurland, that she had died.

Helena slid an arm around Jurko’s waist.

“I did read the letter which made you go stony-faced and drop it on the floor,” she said. “And you should pray for her soul.”

“I... I will try,” said Jurko. “All I can think of is the anger and malice in her eyes when she threw me out. It was so like the Princess Kurcewiczowa when she looked at you, which was one reason I was so ready to protect you, even though part of me was afraid of committing to marriage so young. Then, in Kijów, she was... calculating. She expected to go to court in fine fabrics, be the mother of the famous Prince Jurij, Grand Hetman of the Fleet.  I read it all in one look. But she was not sorry she had thrown me out because she repented, she was sorry because I made myself rich and famous, and then, beside Papa, my star rose even further. I hate her.”

“I understand,” said Helena.

He knew that she did, that it was no platitude. Her aunt was as grasping and malignant.

“Come to bed,” he said.

She went with him, gladly, and he released all his pain in loving her with a desperation of need.

And then he sobbed, and she held him; and he slept.

And he woke much cleansed, and went to the chapel to pray, at last, for her soul.