mad Mikolaj and the Austrian infiltration II

 

II

 

“A man who likes gossip, but who refrains from spreading it, sounds to me as though a nasty name might be appended to him,” said Gosia, later, in their bedroom in Sans Souci.

“The thought occurred also to me,” said Mikołaj. “Why on earth would Von Frettchen not tell Frydek?”

“Because he treats him as a king and overlord instead of like an equal,” said Gosia. “You may have irritated him with your ecumenism of rank at first, but in a way, he likes it. It’s not because you’re a Pole or just contumelious, it’s because you’re you, and he recognises that. And he likes having one self-willed, contrary bugger as a friend who will continue to be his friend, even if working against him, and let no man deny you. Really, if he only thought of it, the only way he could get you as his man entirely would be to provoke our little trifler into making you choose between loyalty to him and friendship with our favourite Fryc.”

“God forefend!” said Mikołaj, horrified. “I’d lead all our peasants out, too, because Papa would give his blessing, and he and Mama would come on principle.  And what price Raven land with nobody to work it. And we have a lot of portable wealth hidden in the Hill as well as bank accounts out of the country.” 

“Frydek would be richer, and August the slug poorer.”

“But I’d have to build another hill,” whined Mikołaj.

“There’s enough land, with what Cousin Franz owned,” said Gosia. “And I have every expectation that Aunt Joanna’s husband’s lands will fall to you, too.”

“I like being Polish.”

“Stop grumbling, the slug hasn’t thought of making you choose.”

“Just as well.  Meanwhile, let’s strip you off and re-dress you as a boy.  After I’ve checked out everything is in working order.”

Gosia giggled.

 

oOoOo

 

There was to be a musical weekend with selected guests; fortunately both suspects enjoyed music.  And Johann Wurfel would be there as a matter of course, indeed he was organising the weekend.

Wurfel was not pleased to hear the fortepiano being played when it was not, as far as he knew, authorised. He marched into the music room, to see a chubby youth at the piano, letting rip with Bach’s little fugue. He could see on a chaise longue the back of the head of some blond fellow with shaven sides to his head and his hair too long, and caught in a tail at the base of his neck, worn over what appeared to be a brocade banyan!

“What is this?” demanded Wurfel.

Mikołaj turned and put a finger to his lips. Wurfel stormed forward, about to give the impudent fellow a piece of his mind.

The impudent fellow was not alone on the chaise longue; the king, wigless, and bootless, was lying on it, with his feet in the blond man’s lap.  Mikołaj was absently, but expertly, massaging the royal feet.

Wurfel gaped. Freidrich had opened one eye, and pointed imperiously to a chair. Perforce, Wurfel sat down.

Gosia came to a triumphant end to the little fugue.

“Magnificent!” said Friedrich. “Hansel, you wanted something?”

“I came to see who was playing your fortepiano, I thought without permission.”

“And now you know.  Mikołaj, this is Johann Wurfel; Hansel, this Mikołaj Krasiński. He’s a Pole. I don’t like Poles,” he added.

“You like me, though, Frydek, my pet,” said Mikołaj. “My ineffable personality overwhelms your otherwise golden reservations.”

Friedrich laughed.

“Yes, it is the revolting arrogance about golden rights which fuels most of my reservations. But I’m still investigating you for the theft of the body of whichever young god you stole it from.”

“It’s not needed now; there are no pagans left,” said Mikołaj. “I inherited it.”

“You daft bugger,” said Friedrich affectionately. “And my keyboard player, also from Poland. Pan z Skarb,” he said, grinning half maliciously at Mikołaj, having named Gosia ‘Lord of Treasure.’

Gosia rose, and bowed, Polish fashion, to the king, and to Wurfel.

“What do you play, Mikołaj?” asked Friedrich.

“I can manage a horn,” said Mikołaj.

“Was that meant to be a two-edged comment?” asked Friedrich.

“No, but if you want it to be, far be it for me to spoil your enjoyment of word play,” said Mikołaj. “I appreciate music, but I’m not really trained. I’m better with the percussive nature of gunpowder.”

“Oh, you Ravens!” said Friedrich. “I can  find you a horn to blow; when I can I like to play with my musicians in the evenings.”

“I hope you’re aware that Mikołaj means the military horn, not the French horn,” said Gosia. “Though with those wickedly mobile lips of his, he can get more out of a bugle than most.”

“I wager,” said Friedrich, his eyes dwelling on Mikołaj’s sensitive mouth.

Mikołaj managed a blush.

“Towarzysz Krasiński forbidden to play inappropriate tunes on the bugle especially at midnight,” he murmured. “I might have practised the lip movements elsewhere.”

“Of course you did,” said Friedrich, in affectionate exasperation. “And I’m sure your treasure, your jewel was an enthusiastic trainer.”

Both Mikołaj and Gosia blushed.

“You had not told me to include Herr Krasiński and Herr Skarb in the musical weekend, sire,” said Wurfel. He managed to sound sulky.

“Graf von und zu Dornquast, not Herr Krasiński,” said Friedrich. “As Poles go, being one of my noblemen, I put up with his Polishness.  And Pan z Skarb has golden fingers.”

Gosia wiggled her fingers suggestively.  The king seemed to be letting his current bed warmer know not to get too possessive.

The look Wurfel gave Gosia was positively poisonous. And he was pouting at Mikołaj. Gosia thought him an idiot; he had not worked out the dynamics of the relationships here at all. But then, they had agreed to keep the other visitors guessing as to the precise relationships; and letting that be a supposed cover for the secret talks. If it was assumed she was Mikołaj’s catamite, it might be assumed by those who had to know there were supposed talks with Poland, that this was the cover of a diplomat.

Mikołaj picked up Friedrich’s feet to move off his lap.

“Don’t stop,” said Friedrich.

“You’ll get wet,” said Mikołaj.

“Oh, in that case, stop, but you can come back.”

“Take your coat off and shift onto your front the other way round, and I’ll do your neck and shoulders,” promised Mikołaj.

“Damned irritating Pole,” muttered Friedrich, shifting.

“I could rub your neck and shoulders, sire,” said Wurfel, resentfully.

“No, you couldn’t, you have no idea how. Go on playing, my treasure,” he added to Gosia. Gosia chuckled, and moved onto Handel, accompanying herself singing ‘Ombre mai fu.’

Friedrich sat upright to listen.

“Sublime,” he said, as Mikołaj returned. “I had to give that my full attention.”

“I’ll play you some music to relax to, Frydek, my pet,” said Gosia. She let Vivaldi’s seasons flow from her fingers, as Mikołaj perched on the end of the day bed, straddling it to rub the out of the Prussian king’s abused muscles. tension

“I don’t normally let myself relax like this,” murmured Friedrich.

“My sabre is ready in case of trouble, as is that of my treasure,” said Mikołaj.

“Strangely, I find that comforting,” murmured the king. He started snoring gently.

Gosia applied more soft pedal, giving him time to be fully asleep before stopping. She came over to sink to the floor, leaning on Mikołaj.

“You Poles need not think you are going to supplant me,” hissed Wurfel.

“Foolish boy,” murmured Mikołaj. “Hush, Frydek, my pet, don’t wake up for Precious wurfling on.”

“How do you dare so name him....”

“I’ve been naming my dear Frydek thus for six years, and his toys have come and gone,” said Mikołaj.

“Don’t wake him up now, by getting childish or he will discard you,” said Gosia. She saw the monarch shift in his sleep, and started singing the lullabies which worked on Milena.

Seweryn only went to sleep with loud, martial songs. Gosia spared a sympathetic thought for Aunt Dorota; but Lew would know how to get his grandson to sleep. Slung over his shoulder whilst he inspected his men, listening to the sounds of horses, and snatches of the Rowan Tree Song, and Seweryn would be well away.

Wurfel stalked off in high dudgeon.

Mikołaj looked at Gosia and winked.

“If he only knew the truth!” he said.

Sounds of a flouncing retreat  stopped, and stealthy feet – not stealthy enough – returned.

“I was amazed King August thought of it,” said Gosia.

“But it does cover our secret diplomacy well, to be thought no more than one of Frydek’s toys,” said Mikołaj.  “It could go disastrously wrong if anything got out about combining with Prussia-Brandenburg; but it would be worse if Frydek ever finds out that it goes beyond taking Maria Teresa hostage. If he knew Augustus means to divorce his wife, and bed Maria Teresa by force to claim rulership of the whole Holy Roman Empire, he’d be less helpful. He seems receptive, though.”

“We might keep him when it’s all over,” said Gosia.

“Oho, you naughty whelp,” said Mikołaj. “Here, you slide under his feet and keep him asleep with that special move I showed you.”

The stealthy feet moved away, rapidly.

“It won’t hurt,” said Mikołaj. “If he tells Frydek then I exonerate him, but if not...”

“If not, I hope you have people watching him, too,” said Gosia.

“Why, did you not see me greet the officer when we came in? He was the lieutenant under Frydek when we stormed Franz a little bit. I told him to get more men in, who were good watchers, and to release any poachers who were in prison and employ them watching the gardens of Sans Souci.”

“Mikołaj, you are stealing my poachers why?” murmured a sleepy voice.

“To help watch for people using all your delightful grottos for the wrong sort of assignations,” said Mikołaj. “Go back to sleep, I’ll wake you in time for tea.”

He moved to make a lap for the king’s head, sensing what Friedrich was too proud to ask, and let him sleep off some of the nervous exhaustion Friedrich suffered continuously.

 

oOoOo

 

“I fell asleep on you... how embarrassing,” said Friedrich.

“Not at all. It was lovely and domestic,” said Gosia. “Rather like when Mikołaj, Jędrek and I were sharing a tent, on the run from Paweł’s secret policemen in a snowstorm.”

“I thought you were supposed to have been fooled by him,” said Friedrich.

“Von Frettchen chose to assume we were fooled by Paweł,” said Mikołaj. “I didn’t like to upset him by correcting his misapprehensions.”

“So you knew he was spying on me?”

“Well, yes. You were peremptory and snippy at me, and I took it amiss. It was before we adopted you. Don’t worry, he’s a sort of adopted Raven too, so he won’t do anything to upset you.”

“If only diplomacy was as simple as the way you Ravens treat it,” he said.

“For us, it compensates for the complexities of the usual nastiness, to love deeply and truly and to treat that as more important than nations,” said Mikołaj. “And I think your first guests have arrived.”

“Good; let us circulate in the grounds with refreshments,” said Friedrich. “I’ve had a harpsichord taken out for occasional music if Gosia will indulge us.”

“Delighted,” said Gosia.

She was looking less careworn already, the effect of SansSouci helping her.

“Frydek,” said Mikołaj, “If your Hansel warns you that we are dangerous, I will be very pleased.”

“Why is that?” asked Friedrich.

“We let him overhear something to test how much he gossips, or if he uses it to help you,” said Mikołaj.

“I am sure he will tell me if he thinks I should know,” said Friedrich.

And then the people arriving were being introduced, and Mikołaj bowed western fashion to people most of whose names he promptly forgot; except for Eduard, Graf Von Eschenhalz and Wilhelm, Graf Von Blommenlage.

And in those two he took more interest.