Mad Mikolaj and the saxon spy part ii

 

 

“So when we have her out, we split into three,” said Mikołaj. “Adam, Jurko, you two dressed as women making a bit of a to-do about your furtive withdrawal, and then change clothes, acquire a cart and amble out as peasants in your own time; Gosia, you and the spy go back to Dornquast, and if need be sit pat in the castle for a while, which you are entitled to do, and with any women you want as your companions, and then wander out at your leisure. We need to get a boat on the coast for pottering back and up the Wisła.”

“We weren’t making a habit of this, were we?” said Gosia.

“Well I hope not, but an established bit of trading using the coast won’t go amiss,” said Mikołaj.  “Jędrek, you’ll go with the ladies?”

“For my sins, so long as they don’t put me in a dress,” said Jędrek.

“None made to fit you, sweetness,” said Mikołaj. “All the giants died out long ago, when Goliat had his little run-in with Dawid.”

“What about the rest of us?” asked one of the haiduks.

“We cause mayhem on the tail of the ladies to prevent anyone following them,” said Mikołaj. “And they will ride on regardless because I can talk my way out of anything.”

“And how do you plan to climb in the dark?” asked Gosia.

“Sweetness, Janusz and Józek are going to go into the village and acquire two cockerels for fighting, and will wander past the gatehouse arguing, and will start to come to blows, and will then decide to settle it there and then whose cock is best,” said Mikołaj.  “And no, I don’t much like cock fighting, but then, I don’t much like purple barons who keep ladies prisoner.  So with luck the eyes of the guards will be on that, this being at dusk. And then I go up with some light in the sky, with the ladder, and if I think it easy enough I bring the ladder with me so it’s all a big surprise to him how she got away. However, just in case, we’re also going to set up a few surprises on the road of the incendiary kind with lots of sound and fury.”

“I might have guessed,” said Jędrek. “My lord, if that sukinsyn decides to pursue in person, please tell me that you aren’t going to wait to cut him in half?”

“Of course he isn’t, Jędrek; I forbid it,” said Gosia.

“Lieutenant Krasiński forbidden to bisect boorish barons, even purple ones,” said Mikołaj, mournfully.

 

***

 

The two haiduks, under peasant tunics with cockerels in cages, were making a lot of noise quarrelling about which of their pets was the best fighter, and the guards, not unnaturally, turned to look at them.  Mikołaj was up the outer wall without difficulty, looping a ladder for the return of the lady. The guard who was supposed to be patrolling this section had managed to make his patrol take him back towards the source of the noise. Mikołaj crossed the width of the wall and dropped another ladder on a grapnel, which he went down for speed. Now in the bailey, he ran across the ground lightly and fast, the third ladder over his shoulder. He paused under the curtain wall. Nobody seemed to notice him. Mikołaj grinned.

“Fortuna audaces iuvat,” he muttered to himself happily. “Audax, Contumax, et Pulcher sum.”

He had chosen to go over the wall as close as possible to the window at which movement had indicated the fair prisoner, and so he went straight up.

It was not easy; but Mikołaj was a veteran of The Wall, and he knew what he was doing. He took it with deliberation, not rushing, nor fumbling. He wore a hempen tunic over leather breeches, which was close in colour to the wall; and his gloves were light in weight but sturdy.  It took him half an hour, by which time the light was going from the sky.

The window was narrow, but not too narrow to admit him. Mikołaj pulled himself over the threshold, dropping the grapnel into place in case of needing a quick exit.

The auburn haired lady stared. She saw a young blond giant with the long silky moustaches of a Polish nobleman, however much like a peasant he was dressed.

“My name’s Mikołaj. I’m here to rescue you,” said Mikołaj.

“I beg your pardon, I was expecting you to have a plan to get me out,” she said.

“I do,” said Mikołaj. “I brought a ladder -  it’s hung from the grapnel there.”

“You expect me to somehow get out of a window that narrow and climb down a... what, rope ladder?”

“Yes,” said Mikołaj. “My wife could do it, but she’s a good Pole. I didn’t know Saxons were bred feeble.”

“Feeble?”

“Don’t screech; his purpleness might interfere,” said Mikołaj. “And it would get noisy and messy when I killed him.”

“You are very sure of yourself.”

“Yes, lady, I am. It’s why your father asked me, as a personal favour, to extract you, because I’m good enough to be sure of myself, as well as having the body of a young god, the brains of a genius and the patience of a saint. However with people who mess about, the saint might catch up with me and take it back. Don’t you want to be rescued?”

“I ... I can’t get through the window.”

“You could if you took off the bird cage under your skirt. No woman needs all that, just take it off, kilt up your skirts, and use your little legs.”

“But how immodest!”

“Lady, I’ve heard of Von Strang, and you will be more immodest stripped naked and stretched out on the rack for him to enjoy your screams because he has an excuse to torture you as you are a spy. Or worse. As for me, I’m a married man, and my wife is seventeen years old and the most beautiful woman in the world next to our daughter, who has the most perfect toes and fingers.”

“I ... I will try,” she whispered. “I am afraid of heights.”

“Oh, well, I have a rope with me as well,” said Mikołaj. “I will tie it about your waist whilst you climb, and if you slip, I will hold you. Now get ready, do! We don’t have all night to mess about while my men take risks running diversions.”

“I ... yes, pray turn your back.”

Mikołaj sighed, and turned his back, keeping half an eye in the mirror over the mantle in case she suddenly came down with a bout of Mikołajicide for ... some strange reason.

She stripped off the panniers and used a belt to kilt up her skirts as he suggested. He tied the rope around her with brisk, impersonal fingers, which Teresa Poniatowski faintly resented since she was an acknowledged beauty.

The boy was, however, too young to appreciate her. 

“I ... I am grateful,” she said.  “Von Strang has mentioned using other means to loosen my tongue and ... and I fear he was going to start soon.”

“Think of that then, when the going is rough. It can’t be as bad as what I’m sure someone like him could dream up,” said Mikołaj, grimly.

Teresa shuddered.

Von Strang had made a few suggestions over what might be enough to make her talk.  She clambered over the windowsill and started off down the ladder.

“Give the rope two tugs when you are on the ground,” said Mikołaj. “And untie it!”

“I will,” she said.

Terror drove her on; not being able to see the ground helped. She was not as fit as Gosia, but she was not as unfit as many court women, and she managed to make her way all the way down the ladder, her legs shaking with fatigue by the time she got to the bottom.

She gave two tugs on the rope when she had untied the knot. 

Mikołaj cast off the ladder,  dropped the rope end, and swung out over the sill. It was a faster trip down, he had mentally marked a route, and he had not got to lift his weight by the fingertips, only lower it. He collected a few contusions, and decided to drop the last ten feet or so, landing like a cat.

“First hurdle,” he said.

“What ... what next?” she asked.

“Run to the outer bailey wall, up the ladder, over the wall, and down the other side,” said Mikołaj.

“More climbing?”

“If you prefer ropes attached to your wrists and ankles ...”

“I’ll manage.”

“Good. Now we need to check that sentry.”

The sentry was still at the gatehouse, arguing what the winnings were; Janusz and Józek had managed to drag that out well.

“Up!” said Mikołaj. “I’ll hold it steady.”

She went up the ladder not caring if he could see up her skirt.  He wasn’t looking. He followed her up, collecting the ladder, and she was already going down the other side. He nodded. Good. Then he was throwing down the ladder, and climbing down the rough rock. An owl-call, and his men knew to wind up the fight, and rejoin him. 

“Ladies first,” said Mikołaj. “Gosia, you know which way to go?”

“Yes, my lord,” said Gosia. “And so does Jędrek.  Come with me, Lady Teresa.”

Teresa followed fairly meekly, and was tossed up onto a horse by another young giant of a man.

“Ready, other ladies?” said Mikołaj.

Adam and Jurko grinned. They were to ride through towns towards Poland, being glimpsed before they vanished back into being men. They had panniers and outrageous hair.

Nobody was likely to look for the fugitives going north, not east.

And Mikołaj and his band would drift eastwards as Von Strang’s men set out after them, setting off a few pyrotechnics as they went.

“What an excellent night it is for mayhem,” said Mikołaj, happily.

In point of fact they made their way to the first pyrotechnic post and dozed.  Sleep might become precious.

 

***

 

“He’s a bit sloppy,” said Mikołaj, as they ate breakfast at almost eight of the clock in the morning. “Either that or he’s doing something so clever I didn’t plan for it, but that seems unlikely. Even if he goes north to Dornquast he has to pass through this point.  And once he has us as rear guard, he’ll almost certainly follow us. The only snag will be when we skirt Potsdam. But I expect it will be fine. If in doubt, we’ll go and see Frydek, who is at least civilised.”

 

***

 

It was almost ten before horses could be heard galloping. Mikołaj whooped gleefully and set a portfire to slow match.

The troops in the livery of Heinrich Von Strang came clattering around the corner as seven cardboard rockets equipped with whistles whooshed into the air and exploded with a bang and a shower of coloured stars.

The horses of the Prussians were most upset.

The horses of the Poles were used to such nonsense.

The Poles  lit a couple more lengths of fuse and galloped off.  Mikołaj, looking back, was delighted to see the florid figure of the baron fall off his rearing horse as a rocket whooshed past it from the second set of fuses.

“I love gunpowder,” said Mikołaj.

 

***

The Prussians soon figured out that the explosions were only irritants and not destructive, though their horses might have had a different opinion. They came on with relatively little delay.

“Plan B; through Potsdam!” called Mikołaj.

They approached the capital, and Mikołaj realised that perhaps the option for Plan B was about to become imperative. A contingent of the Royal Army was waiting for them.

“Close up knee to knee, lads, look decorative, and sing,” said Mikołaj. “Muss I denn; they’ll know that, it’s Swabian but I heard a version of it here.”

The young men sang enthusiastically, trotting and coming up to the officers of the Royal Army.

“How nice of you to turn out to meet us!” said Mikołaj enthusiastically. “I didn’t know the king knew we were coming to visit!”

“Mikołaj Krasiński?” said the officer.

“Even so!” Mikołaj swept him a Polish bow.

“You are under arrest, and your other ruffians also.”

“Ruffians!” said Mikołaj. “Ruffians!  Why, I fancy I might resent that, but it will all turn out to be a misunderstanding. We surrender ourselves into your hands, captain. Besides, it’s almost time for second breakfast.”

 

 

They  were taken to the palace and no amount of jovial comment moved the captain to further speech. Mikołaj began answering himself and counted it a victory when the man’s moustache twitched.

Mikołaj was marched firmly before Friedrich the Great.

“Frydek!” said Mikołaj, happily, moving with the speed and grace of a panther, fooling his guards, to embrace the king and kiss him on both cheeks. “Lovely to see you, pet.”

Friedrich flushed and laughed.

“You daft Pole, you’re my prisoner; hasn’t that occurred to you? You stole a spy! Von Strang sent me a messenger!”

“No spy with my people, pet. And we don’t have to be uncivil about it, do we?” said Mikołaj. “I wasn’t planning on calling you ‘Precious’ or patting you on the cheek.”

“I almost dread to ask what that might mean,” said Friedrich. “You reserve ‘precious’ for people you don’t like.”

“Yes, and it usually culminates in Hellish Polish Quarte, and I like you too well for that,” said Mikołaj.

“You have a Grafdom in Prussia, can’t I persuade you to change sides on this matter and hand the spy into my custody? You have nothing whatsover in common with the Saxons.”

“No, we Ravens are loyal to our king, you know, whatever. The only way you’d get me on your side would be if our country was irrevocably overrun and no chance of fighting back. We fought the Swedes in the deluge, and held out Ravenshome – we didn’t have the mound then – against them, for Jan Kazimierz.  I’d resist until it was inevitable. Then and only then would you have my loyalty.”

“Do you talk to your king like this?” asked Friedrich, amused.

“Oh certainly not, I never speak to him at all if I can avoid it.  I can’t cope if I am not allowed words of more than one syllable,” said Mikołaj.  “And I don’t like him at all. But don’t mistake loyalty and liking.  Given the choice, I’d rather the sheep... the Sejm, I mean... had elected you, but that’s democracy for you; gives the voters what they deserve.”

“If I offered you parole, would you take it?”

“No, of course not; it’s my duty to escape, and you’d despise me if I said otherwise.”

“Yes, I would, you crazy barbarian of a Pole. I probably ought to put you to the question to find out how much she told you and where she is.”

“Oh, I won’t take it personally,” said Mikołaj. “So long as you don’t mar my physical beauty, which is perfection’s self, and belongs to Gosia.”

“How can I torture you when it would offend Gosia, your treasure, your sweetness, your jewel, your honeyed intoxicant?”

“Sweetness! You remembered!” said Mikołaj, delighted, kissing him again.

Suddenly, for a moment, the king’s eyes were bleak, and were looking very far away.

Mikołaj, dismayed, dropped to one knee and took his hand to kiss. He knew as clearly as if Friedrich had spoken the words that the king was thinking about Lieutenant Von Katte, the king’s true love, executed in front of the young prince, as he was then, by Friedrich’s father.

“I’m a beast to remind you, though I assure you I did not bring him to mind deliberately,” he said.

“I... know,” said Friedrich. “It’s your joie de vivre and your total devotion to her.  Katte...”

“You should recall that he was a good man and tried to please you, and I am a bad man, with bad habits, who is an annoyance to you,” said Mikołaj.

“That, and more,” said Friedrich. “Get up, do; the only person you kneel to, other than God, is Bach.”

“Well, that’s usually true, but I was contrite about hurting you unintentionally.”

“So if it had been intentional, that would have been in order?”

“If I wanted to hurt you, I could do a lot intentionally, but I don’t.  It’s like insulting people, and it’s why I take a lot of effort to learn other languages, so if I insult people, I do so with intent. We had lovely fun winding up the Russians.”

Friedrich laughed ruefully.

“Oh, go away, Mikołaj!”  He turned to the guards.  “Escort this man and his people to the border of Poland and kick them out. They are less danger to my realm free than as prisoners.”

 

By this expedient, Mikołaj and his haiduks arrived home faster than Adam and Jurko or Gosia and Jędrek.

“What kept you?” asked Mikołaj.

“We deposited her in a nunnery and sent word to Poniatowski to collect her,” said Jędrek. “She had hysterics when Gosia told her to stop being a little girl and grow a pair.” 

“Now that would be an interesting sight,” said Mikołaj. “My honeyed intoxicant! You are five days behind me, and do you know what that means?”

“It means that Mikołaj has been desolate and celibate for five days too many,” said Gosia.

“It will take at least three days in bed to catch up,” said Mikołaj.