mad Mikolaj, to Russia with Milena part III

 

III

 

Pavel left his affairs in order.

“I wish I could come with you all,” said Magdalena, a little fractious.”But I don’t worry about my Paweł going on a journey when he has you three with him.”

They all hugged her and kissed her, and set off.

“Why were we accompanying the sheep, instead of sending Yevheny on and going at our usual pace?” asked Gosia.

“Because our dear little friend decided that he was a big, hungry pike in goldfish’s scales and that our sheep were somehow subversive,” said Mikołaj. “I’m hoping that a couple of days of it will bore him enough to overcome that over-sensitive policeman’s nose of his; see, Yevheny is laughing, and would he laugh if he was a spy and we were discussing it?”

“You would,” said Pavel.

“But I am magnificent, outrageous, possessed of the cheek of the devil, which is handed down as a family heirloom since one of my ancestors raided hell to steal it, as well as being in possession of the body of a young god, which even Frydek of Prussia could not bear to torture, because it belongs to my sweet, my adored, my honeyed intoxicant, my ruby without price, my Gosia with whom my sun and moon rise and set,” said Mikołaj.

“How do you account for such outrageous cheek, Yevheny?” asked Pavel.

“Cossack allure,” said Yevheny. “It’s legendary.”

“Oh, bugger, we’re stuck with two of them,” groaned Pavel to Jędrek.

“Just get used to it; I had to,” said Jędrek.

 

“The road towards St. Petersburg is, at least, as good a road as any in Russia,” said Pavel.

“That’s not saying much,” said Mikołaj.

“Now look what you’ve done, little fish,” rumbled Jędrek. “You’ll set him off into saying a great deal about not saying much.”

“I was only saying it’ll be less easy when we leave the road to head east to your lands,” said Pavel.

“They’d better be improved around my lands,” said Mikołaj. “I sent your nephew specific instructions to pay the peasants well over the winter months to engage in road building, under-draining, and other necessary chores. I sent him diagrams of what I expect from roads as well.”

“He did write to me that he has happy peasants on higher pay than they are used to,” said Pavel.

“Good,” said Mikołaj. “Yevheny, can we run them a bit? I have an urge to push on, and that’s for the sheep as well.”

“Weather change coming,” grunted Yevheny. He lassoed a leading sheep, and set off a bit faster, the other sheep following at the higher rate.

“If only that worked on towarzysze,” said Mikołaj. “It’s damned cold all of a sudden.”

Gosia sniffed the air, shivering.

“Mikołaj,” she said, “Does this sudden cold and the smell on the air remind you of anything?”

Mikołaj sniffed and his eyes widened.

“Oh, shit,” he said.

“Not in front of Milena,” said Gosia, firmly.

“What is it?” asked Paweł.

“This cold, the smell; it’s the same as when we were holed up with a three day blizzard when you were chasing us across the Ukraine,” said Mikołaj, grimly.  “How fast can you get those damned sheep down into the bluffs where we can use the river cliffs as one wall for a shelter, my Cossack friend?”

“As quick as you want, my lord,” said Yevheny.

“Paweł, I expect you have your small, frugal, regulation secret policeman’s tent with you?” said Mikołaj.

“Implied insults aside, yes,” said Paweł.

“We shall be cutting it up, and ours, and adding hurdles, oilcloth and so on to make a shelter for all of us, including the sheep,” said Mikołaj, grimly.

“But....”

“Paweł, in a single tent, you’ll die,” said Mikołaj.

“The sheep....”

“They’re my sheep; they are good Catholic sheep.”

“What, you expect me to sleep with heretic sheep?”

“Well, in the normal euphemism, I don’t expect you to sleep with any sheep, your minnow would be most put out,” said Mikołaj, rudely.

“They’re in Orthodox lands, they’re Orthodox sheep,” said Paweł.

The Cossack went into a paroxysm of silent laughter.

“You fine lords are both wrong. We looted them off the Tatars; they’re Muslim sheep,” he said.

“Fine, I’ll feed them on halal grass,” said Mikołaj. “You know the signs?”

“Aye,” said Yevheny. “I’ll get them sheep down there and we can build hurdles and add your tents to them.”

Gosia left Milena on Thunder, the little girl being quite equal to staying on the largely placid husaria horse, to add her efforts to those of the men. They found a place where a tree on the edge of the bluffs had fallen, bringing down a good bit of the cliff, and this Jędrek dug into, to make a deeper cave, which might be roofed with a layer of branches, Paweł’s tent, and another layer of branches, a hole left for a smoke hole.  Gosia cut reeds to spread thick on the floor of the shelter, and Paweł, readily catching on, added to the bulk of the fallen tree to make one wall. Yevheny cut away the further dead branches of the tree to haul round to make another side, both curving in.

“We can hurdle the sheep from inside,” said Mikołaj. “Put the horses up against the tree bole where it’ll be highest.”

The first flakes were falling as they pulled canvas and oiled skin over the top, tying it firmly.

“I’ll dig out a cold sink and use the dirt from it to plug gaps,” said Jędrek.

“You’ll rub off that sweat before you take cold and I’ll do it,” said Mikołaj.

Jędrek nodded. He knew as well as anyone how dangerous it was to sweat and then freeze.

This time, they had a better idea what they were doing, Mikołaj having introduced it as a drill for the men under his command, as well as having done it before. And once they had some kind of shelter, the horses might be led in, and the sheep driven in... with a bit of help from the lasso... and coralled in a makeshift pen. Gosia made up a bed beside the sheep.

“Milena, you missed your nap. When you wake up, it will be supper time,” she said, firmly.

Milena was cold, cross, and sleepy, and settled down for a nap, grumbling gently and unintelligibly to herself.  Gosia kindled a fire as the men dragged in a log pile and stacked it against the sandy bluff.

“Well, this time we prepared for trouble,” said Gosia, gaily. “Yevheny, do you have any in-lamb ewes?”

“About half; we nabbed the ones of highest value.”

“You didn’t ought to be droving them, pregnant,” said Mikołaj, disapprovingly.

“I’m not pregnant, so I don’t care,” said Yevheny. “You’re the one who bought them to drove, anywise.”

“Quit arguing and go and milk them,” said Gosia. “I know sheep don’t yield as much as goats, but we will do what we might.”

“It’ll strip the goodness of first milk,” said Mikołaj.

“Which we need, and if we don’t survive, the sheep won’t survive to lamb,” said Gosia.

“Fair point,” said Mikołaj. “And to think, I almost laughed at you for bringing a barrel of dried fish, a barrel of sauerkraut, and a huge sack of oatmeal.”

“And if need be, the Good Lord will understand if we violate Lent and eat the odd sheep.”

“We Orthodoxers are out of Lent,” said Pavel. “I fancy these conditions make normal prohibitions moot.”

“Survive as one might,” said Mikołaj. “We’re doing better than our makeshift shelter last time, though.”

“If you can put up with the sheep,” said Pavel.

“They’ll warm the place up,” said Mikołaj. “Milky fishy herby stew; my honeyed intoxicant! What a fine manager you are!

“Smile, you’re going to be shaking up the left over milk to make butter so we can have oat cakes for breakfast, and the buttermilk to make porridge,” said Gosia.

“Should have kept my big mouth shut,” said Mikołaj.

“You’d still have been doing it, I wager,” rumbled Jędrek.

“We could take turns,” said Mikołaj, plaintively.

“No, you won’t, if he has something to do with his hands, he doesn’t get restless and start coming up with good ideas,” said Gosia.

“Apparently they know you, Lach,” said Yevheny.

Woken to eat, Milena was in a better mood, and slurped down her stew happily. Inevitably she wanted to play for a little while, and found being in a confined space irksome, but various games of patacake soothed her, and she demanded a story.

“Well, let Mama tell you about how we were first caught in an unseasonal snow storm,” said Gosia. “And that one had wild winds and howling voices in it.”

Milena cocked her head on one side.

“Not here,” she said, gravely.

“No, just snow,” said Gosia. “My! We were lucky to find a place a bit like this, and we made a shelter against the river cliffs.  We did not know what to expect! But it did not last long, and we were snug,” she added, as Milena’s eyes drooped. “Snug as we are now, and we shall have an adventure. Good baby.”

Milena dropped off to sleep naturally.

“And we might as well all bed down as well,” said Gosia. “Mikołaj has dug a latrine trench, and I will not notice anyone using it.  I’m a good towarzysz.”

 

The unseasonal snow continued for a couple of days, and Milena learned how to milk the ewes with Yevheny’s patient help. She was wide-eyed when one of the ewes proceeded to birth twins, and helped give them extra feeds, as they were tiny and weak, using one of Gosia’s gloves with a hole poked in a finger to feed the tiny babies. Cuddling them to keep them warm kept Milena occupied. And, as Yevheny opined, it might even have saved their lives.

“Premature, but they might yet thrive,” said Yevheny.

The third day held sunshine and no more fresh snow.

“I don’t want to take the sheep on through deep snow drifts, though,” said Mikołaj. “On the other hand, I want to get Milena to something akin to civilisation.”

“She’s having fun,” said Gosia, watching their daughter run about making snow-angels where the snow was less deep.  “It’s melting in the sun, though I expect it will freeze hard overnight.”

“And that won’t be pleasant. But no more will mud, if it melts the soil,” worried Mikołaj.

“Why don’t I ride on, for I know Mikhail, and he knows me, and then I can bring back help,” suggested Jędrek.

“Well, if you don’t mind, Jędrek...” said Mikołaj. “If you haven’t found somewhere civilised to stay by the afternoon, come back.”

“I won’t take foolish chances, Miklosz,” said Jędrek.

 

Mikołaj prayed all night for his milk-brother and best friend, of course.  But about midday the next day, he leaped up with a yell of joy to hear Jędrek’s call.

Jędrek had returned with a broad-wheeled cart, plenty of hay in it for the horses and sheep, and a number of shepherds to help out.

“Does this count as getting there?” asked Yevheny.

“I suppose so.  Did you want to get back home?” asked Mikołaj.

“Yes,” said Yevheny. “Travelling with you is nervous business.”

“I never look for excitement,” said Mikołaj.

Yevheny went into one of his long, silent laughs.

“It just finds you, Lach,” he said.

“It seems to,” said Mikołaj.

 

 The pocket of bad weather had been fairly localised, and no more than a little sleet at the dacha owned now by Mikołaj, on higher ground, and sweeping down to the lake. Mikhail was delighted to see his uncle as well as his overlord, and lady and firstborn, and Milena made friends amongst the peasantry.

“Such a good little farmer’s wife,” said Gosia.

“She ought to be a towarzysz,” said Mikołaj.

“She’ll be anything she wants to be,” said Gosia.