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.

 

Mad Mikolaj in To Russia, with Milena, part II

 

Jędrek took charge of Yevheny. The Cossack seemed to find the whole business very amusing.

“If you’re spying in preparation for an uprising, I don’t want to know,” said Mikołaj. “You silly buggers chose Russia over Poland under Chmielnicki, and it’s no skin off my nose if you want to be free of them. It’s not my business unless you ask Poland for aid, and heal the rift. Not sure what our little trifler would do, but... well, not my bear, not my bearskin. I ask you nicely to leave my lands alone and also Paweł, his minnow, and the sprat.”

“I hear you,” said the Cossack.

He was not protesting vehemently that he was not a spy.

 

“How long have you known that Cossack drover?” asked Pavel.

“Eh? Oh, met him at your gates on the way in, nice herd of sheep, thought they’d add nicely to mine,” said Mikołaj.

“I’m not convinced he isn’t a spy. Honestly, Mikołaj! You’re far too trusting; look how fast you made friends with me!”

“I’m a trusting sort of fellow,” said Mikołaj. “Except of magnates. They don’t count as human. All that gold weighs their souls down and they reason out of their red boots.”

Pavel levelled his quizzing glass at Mikołaj’s red-shod feet.

“You were saying?” he said.

“But they’re pretty,” said Mikołaj.

“Vanitas vanitatum, omnia est Mikołaj,” said Pavel.

“My treasure, my pet! You understand me!”

“It’s a good job you never got a scar on your face from a duel,” said Pavel.

“It’s one reason to make sure I’m as good as I can be,” said Mikołaj. “But of course, any scar on my face would merely lend distinction to features otherwise too beautiful to bear.”

“I love you, Mikołaj, you rogue!”

“And I love you, my little spy!”

“I think I’ll come on to your lands with you, and keep half an eye on your spare Cossack, and his subversive sheep,” said Pavel.

“I assure you, they do not have highly-trained attack-midgets in their fleeces. I already asked Yevheny that,” said Mikołaj.

“He wouldn’t be likely to tell you if he had,” said Pavel, absently. “Highly trained attack midgets? Where do you get your imagination?”

“It’s a gift,” said Mikołaj, modestly.

They were interrupted by the butler.

“My lord, one of your police force is here,” he said.

“Show him in,” said Pavel.

The young man came in, and saluted, and looked warily at Mikołaj.

“He’s harmless,” said Pavel.

“I object to that,” said Mikołaj.

Pavel gave him an exasperated look of affection.

“You’re harmless to me and to my job,” he said. “Ignore my friend, Ivanov.”

“Yes, my lord,” said the policeman, dubiously. “My lord, I have to report that Count Arkadi Vasilievitch Teglev has been shot.”

“Shot! You mean by accident or murder?” asked Pavel.

Mikołaj sat forward.

“Would this be the Arkady Basyliewicz Tegłew who was an attaché for many years in Poland?”

“Yes, he has not long returned,” said Pavel.

“Then I make this my business,” said Mikołaj. “Moreover, when we had our little run-in with bandit on our way here the first time, there were letters from him, to one Lara, the address Larisa Menszichow.”

“Ah, yes, the Princess Larisa Menshikov,” said Pavel. “It’s an old story and a sad one. Lara and Arkady fell in love; but as a younger son of a minor branch, there was no expectation of him being allowed to marry her; she was better born than him.  And her family arranged a marriage with  prince of the Menshikov family.  And Lara’s husband made an agreement with her, that once she had given him an heir, he would leave her in peace providing she limited her romance to writing to her lover, and not see him, and he would take what mistresses he desired.”

“Not very equitable,” said Mikołaj.  “No chance that it is suicide because he can’t bear living close to her?”,

“Her husband died a few days ago,” said Pavel.

“Of natural causes?”

“A hunting accident with no suspicious circumstances,” said Pavel. “And yes, I’ve examined every letter between them, and I’ve heated them; you see, I recall your schoolboy pranks.  They had a pact, that their love survived, despite separation. Since Teglev returned, they have corresponded daily, and I have read the letters, and checked them. Because it is my job. And there is no hint of a plot to kill the prince. What was in the letter you had?”

“Mostly romantic twaddle, nothing very robust. It read like a bad French romance.”

“Well, that is how it is; with the additional twist of tragedy to make it authentically Russian.”

“Good; then, let us go and see the body.”

 

oOoOo

 

An elderly woman was wringing her hands over the body, which was in the study of the fine house.

“I did not hear anything, my lord,” she said.

“Your bedroom is at some distance from the study? I perceive he is wearing a banyan. Which staff were still up?” asked Pavel.

“Oh, we only have the ground floor. Milord let out the rest; his fortune is not huge. I am the only servant left, I am Katya, housekeeper, and we have in a girl on Mondays and Thursdays to clean and help with the heavy work,” said the woman. “I sleep off the kitchen. It used to be a scullery. A scullery! What use do we have nowadays of sculleries? Milord spent all day working on his memoirs, and I cooked small meals... he never has been a big eater, and I, I am old, and do not need much.”

Mikołaj was examining the body.

“Paweł,” he said, “This man has been shot at least four times; which argues at least two people with two pistols each, for I cannot see any housebreaker calmly re-loading. You are, perhaps, deaf, Katya?”

“I am not deaf! But I did not hear the shots. I was probably asleep. I would take him supper, Vodka and biscuits, and then go to bed. If he liked to spoil his eyesight writing half the night, what was it to me?” she scowled. “I don’t know what you mean about needing two people. Milord’s gun fired many shots.”

“Oho, like this?” Mikołaj produced his own multi-chambered pistol.

“Yes, that is it! Put it away, milord, I beg you!” cried Katya. “Where... where did you find it?”

“Oh, this is mine,” said Mikołaj. “Several of us in Poland have them, it makes dealing with brigands easier. I expect your master saw one and had his own made.”

“So. Where did Teglev keep his pistol?” asked Pavel.

“In that drawer,” Katya said, pointing with a tremulous finger.

The drawer, when opened, held nothing but spare ink.

“Ivanov, go and look outside the window, and see if you can find this mysterious cannon,” said Pavel. “It must have been someone he knew very well to coolly help himself to a gun and fire it at him. Were any shots potentially immediately fatal, Mikołaj?”

“The one to the left temple,” said Mikołaj. “If I hadn’t laid my hand on top of another, I might have said ‘suicide’ without further thought, but his shirt shows three sources of bleeding.” He added, “But not much bleeding, you know,” he added. “One I fancy winged the collar-bone, and one might understand it not bleeding much. But the shot into the gut and the one under the rib cage should have bled more. So that suggests to me that the shot to the head happened some few minutes before two of the body shots.

“Odd,” said Pavel. “You think he was maybe shot in the head and then the other three shots were to make sure?”

“Could be,” said Mikołaj. “The one in the gut almost has to have hit the liver, and that’s usually a very messy wound. Of course, blood might have pooled in the body cavity. I think you’ll need to cut him open to find out.”

“No! No!” cried Katya. “I killed him! I, who was his nurse when he was a little boy, when his father owned all this house and lived in it! I did not want him to marry that woman now her husband is dead, she has leached all the life from him!”

Pavel sighed.

“You could have run, you know,” he said.

“She didn’t kill him, I don’t think,” said Mikołaj. “There are powder stains on his temple from how close the gun was held. There are none on his shirt, and no holes in the banyan, which was closed after shooting his body. She would not have the resolve to hold a gun to his head; did you not see her revulsion to my gun? I think the letter burned in the grate might be valuable, if you can make out any of the words burned white in the black surface.”

Pavel looked, and read.

“My dear Kanya,

You something something something, ands death...”

“’You will have heard of my husband’s death,’ probably,” said Mikołaj.

“More than likely. I something, something, get married. My ... the rest is missing on that line.

“’I am sure you will be waiting for us to get married,’” said Mikołaj. “The missing may be an endearment.

“Likely,” said Pavel. “My son is now Prince and he says...  the rest of that line and the next is missing. The following line, I am not made to be poor, my Kanja, so this is... something.”

“’Farewell forever’ would fit,” said Mikołaj. “And easy enough for you to check. I wonder why he would burn this.”

“I would have thought in a fit of anger?” said Pavel.

“The unburned bit which fell in the grate has dark staining. It looks like blood to me,” said Mikołaj. “I think he shot himself when he read the letter, leaving portions of his blood and brains on the letter on his desk. I think Katya then found his body after hearing the shot, was afraid her nurseling would be denied burial under the church for being a suicide. And she picked up the gun, and pointed it at him, and I wager she turned her head away and just pulled the trigger as many times as it had barrels. Am I right, Katya?”

She sobbed, nodding.

“Well! If he was dead, it was no crime,” said Pavel. “Not by any law I administer.”

“Write it up and file it closed, we shan’t interfere with a story of a prowler,” said Mikołaj. “And Katya must bear on her conscience that she wasted police time, and acted a lie, and she must carry that technical sin unshriven until he’s been buried long enough that the church won’t bother to disinter him.”

“Can you not execute me for the murder of my master in a jealous rage?” pleaded Katya.

“No, I think that would go easier on you than considering your conscience,” said Mikołaj. “I’d have done the same in your shoes, but I would have carried my sin to my grave, and taken my time in purgatory. You have chosen to cover a scandal, so you must follow it through.”

 

Mad Mikolaj in To Russia, with Milena, part i

 

Chapter 3 To Russia with Milena Early Spring 1749

 

I

 

“We do need to go check on the lands in Russia, you know, Gosia,” said Mikołaj. “And by the time we get there, rasputitsa should be over, and we can go via Hryhor’s, and see how little Władysław is. He’d be a little older than our Milenka, so probably Hryhor has started him on sabre drill.”

“Surely not!” Gosia bounced Milena, not quite three, on her knee, in time to the nursery rhyme she had been singing before Mikołaj came up with this idea.  “I can’t really come, love, I don’t want to leave Milenka.”

“We’ll take her; it’s not as if we are doing anything clandestine this time,” said Mikołaj. “We could, if you wanted, go into Gdańsk and take ship to St. Petersburg if you wanted to avoid going across land, though it’s the other way to calling on Hryhor. Or would it be an attraction not to see Hryhor?”

“I .... I do want to see little Władysław,” said Gosia. “Oh, Mikołaj, I must be pregnant again, I felt milk welling up just thinking of how I managed to feed him ...”

“Sweetness! Well, I won’t try to trammel you, you do better when you are active.”

“Yes, and it explains why I was feeling grumpy and out of sorts; and an adventure will do me the world of good. So long as I don’t get too angry with Hryhor. Sabre drill, did you mean it?”

“With Hryhor?  Yes, I meant it, he takes sabre drill seriously,” said Mikołaj, soberly. “You will get angry, but you must curb it, love. Just be there to cuddle Władysław, so he has some warm memories.”

“Damn that man!” said Gosia.

 

***

 

The time spent with Hryhor was short. Gosia tried not to weep that small Władysław did not seem to know how to respond to cuddles. However, he did not pull away, and she felt a small victory when he started leaning in to them.

“No point making him soft,” said Hryhor.

“Maybe if you’d been a bit less hard, he’d still have had a mother,” said Gosia.

Hryhor went white.

“What was I supposed to do?” he growled.

“Get a shepherd in who was used to turning lambs,” said Gosia. “You might hate the boy because his mother died to birth him, but it’s not his fault. And I did say I’d take him. But if you punish him for what was your fault, one day he’ll turn on you, and I’ll laugh.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” growled Hryhor.

“No, but you got it, anyway, so you are fortunate,” said Gosia.

They left shortly after that, and Władysław hid so he would not have to see them leave.

Gosia waxed irritable, but only when Milena was asleep and could not hear.

 

***

“I don’t think much of the roads,” said Gosia.

“It’s in line with the rest of the country, backwards, badly maintained, treated carelessly by the users, and generally as ramshackle as the whole rotten structure,” said Mikołaj. “What they need is a good uprising, but I doubt the serfs will ever have the will for it; and if they do, some other bugger will come forward to take the place of their ‘little father’ as tsar, even if by another name. Chodkiewicz should have subdued Moskwa utterly, and... you know, actually, I’m not sure what he could do to cure the Russians of being Russian.”

“Nothing wrong with Paweł.”

“No, but our dear little friend is an exception and he’s a Raven-in-law.”

“Raven-in-law? The law is one of casuistry.”

“Best law in the universe; Ravens invented it.”

“Isn’t this where we set off a charge of winged cows?” said Gosia, changing the subject, hastily.

“Why, so it is. And there are the girls, none the worse,” said Mikołaj. “I recognise that one with a wreath of spots. Hola, neighbour!” Mikołaj called to the cow herd, who was cringing back from fine people. Mikołaj tossed him a couple of golden złoty. “My thanks for your unwitting loan of your herd a couple of years ago; we’d had a misunderstanding over a small matter in Moskwa; all sorted now.”

The bucolic stared at the coins in shock, and then up at Mikołaj, and went into a paroxysm of laughter.

“Ar, that didn’t half scare them bloody soldiers,” he said. 

“Which was the whole idea; scare them without hurting them,” said Mikołaj. “Good day, neighbour!”

The cow herd pulled his forelock, bit the golden coins to check their validity and rapidly stowed them out of sight. His daughter could get married now.

“You’re a neighbour of all the world, it seems,” said Gosia.

“It’s a less contentious word than ‘friend,’” said Mikołaj. “Call someone ‘friend’ and you’re obliged to be friendly to him, even if he turns out to be a shit, or a boyar, but I repeat myself. Neighbours are more of an unknown quantity.”

Gosia smiled to herself. Mikołaj was no diplomat, but his choice of words was almost as nice as if he were.

They rode on, enjoying the thin spring sunshine.

 

“Why did we not stay in that town where we went to church last time?” asked Gosia.

“Because I have a sentimental desire to camp in that little hollow where we were snowed up,” said Mikołaj. “I’m sure Jędrek will entertain Milena for an hour or so as we never got to christen our little home from home by making love there.”

“You’d think it would have dropped off by now from overuse,” rumbled Jędrek. “I’ll take Milenka to pick pretty flowers.”

Much of the structure had fallen in, but with much giggling, a space might be cleared for bedrolls.  Jędrek sighed, shook his head, and let Milena wander off under his watchful eye. He rolled up his eyes at the squeal of delight when she discovered frog spawn.

A couple of hours later, a happily green and slimy child ate supper and was stripped off and washed with water warmed on the fire in the ‘regular chimney’ in the part that had housed their horses the time they passed through the other way, and then Milena was put to bed.

“Maudlin, I call it,” said Jędrek. “A sign that he has softening of the brain.”

“It’s called nostalgia,” said Mikołaj.

“You call it nostalgia, my lord, I’ll call it softening of the brain,” said Jędrek, equably.

“You can call it what you like, but you’re sleeping on the other outside side to keep the girls warm,” said Mikołaj.

“And to think we could have stayed in an inn,” sighed Jędrek.

“I’d rather be outside than in a Russian inn,” said Gosia.

“You are infected too?” sighed Jędrek.

“Jędrek, I don’t mind sharing a bed with you. I don’t like sharing a bed with bedbugs, lice, fleas, and whatever other vermin inns proliferate with.”

“How can I make a good grumbling argument, when your wife is so completely right, Miklosz?” asked Jędrek, plaintively.

“Well, that’s the thing; you can’t,” said Mikołaj, happily. “Oh, what fun it is to be just us together, bickering happily again.”

Jędrek wondered whether he might say, ‘speak for yourself,’ but decided to say nothing, a slow smile playing across his face. He made of his arm a pillow for Milena and Gosia, whilst Mikołaj spooned happily against his wife from behind. And Gosia winked at Jędrek in the fading light.

 

Two days later they were entering Moscow, and encountering the usual obstructiveness and suspicion until Mikołaj said, with a face shining with innocence, “Why don’t you ask my dear little friend and cousin-in-law, Paweł Skobelew? We’ll be staying with him and his minnow, after all.”

Referring to the head of the secret police as a dear little friend and a relative had every guard and policeman in the city ready to leap to Mikołaj’s lightest suggestion as though it was a command.

Mikołaj beamed beatifically.

This had been the general idea.

An escort was to be provided, and if this was in any way to make sure the big Pole was not lying, Mikołaj did not care.

“You can’t include me and your sheep in the deal, can you, Lach?” asked a Cossack, who was waiting without the gates with a herd of rather fine looking sheep.

“Depends if you’re selling,” said Mikołaj.  “Last letter I had from my factor said the sheep were thin and sad, and those would certainly boost my flocks.”

“Well why would I bother to come to Moskva but to sell them?” asked the Cossack.

“I don’t know, you might have highly trained attack midgets strapped to their bellies for the purpose of overthrowing the Moskale, though to be honest, I’d pay to watch that,” said Mikołaj.

The Cossack guffawed.

“No such luck,” he said. 

“What are you asking?”

“Forty grosze a head,” said the Cossack.

“How many have you, twenty?” asked Mikołaj.

“Nineteen,” said the Cossack.

“He’s telling the truth, I counted them,” said Jędrek.

“One-two-fee-four-łots,” said Milena.

“Suppose I pay you five-and-twenty złoty for the sheep, and another five for accompanying them to my lands in the north?” said Mikołaj.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” said the Cossack.

“Half now, half on delivery,” said Mikołaj.

A curt nod answered him.

“He’s with me, and so are his wives,” said Mikołaj to the captain who came to escort him. “And they all need to have their hair dressed and be gowned for the reception tonight.”

“You think you’re a comedian, Lach,” said the Cossack.

“I know I’m a comedian,” said Mikołaj. “It’s part of my manifold charms, along with my perfect  body, and sexual prowess, all of which belongs to my queen, my adored one, my honeyed intoxicant, my ruby without price, my darling wife!” he kissed his fingers to Gosia.

“Ignore my husband in this mood,” said Gosia. “He doesn’t like border guards and it makes him whimsical.”

“And anyone else gets arrested for it, so he must be onto something good.”

“Believe it or not, I really am on good terms with their top secret policeman; he’s married to my cousin,” said Mikołaj.

The Cossack shrugged.

“It takes all sorts,” he said. “If he wants to search the sheep privily, they’re yours now.”

 

 

Pavel Skobelev happened to be looking out of the window to see why there were sheep bleating in the street, and he recognised Mikołaj immediately.

Consequently he came running out of the house before the captain of the guard could knock.

“Paweł! My little fish, where is your minnow?” cried Mikołaj.

“Still not well after giving me a son, I fear,” said Pavel. “That’s never Milena, almost grown up?”

“I is Miłeena,” said Milena.

“Well, I never. Uh... the soldiers and the sheep?”

“Oh, I bought a flock of soldiers and the sheep are part of my escort,” said Mikołaj.

“I see,” said Pavel. “Have you a general to lead your woolly escort?”

“Well, an ataman, which is close enough,” said Mikołaj. “I don’t think they’re going to get coiffed and gowned in time for the reception tonight though.”

“What reception?” said Pavel.

“You mean, you’re not giving one in honour of my perfect body and my honeyed intoxicant?” said Mikołaj, sounding injured.

“No,” said Pavel. “You stole your body from a young god, and if you don’t shut up about it, I might have to hold you for larceny.”

Mikołaj opened his mouth and shut it again.

“Nice one, Paweł,” said Jędrek. “He doesn’t often get out-crazied.”

“I will treasure the moment; I doubt I’ll have many,” said Pavel. “Captain! Find somewhere the ataman can stable his sheep and... is he staying with me, Mikołaj?”

“I don’t know,” said Mikołaj. “Are you staying with us, ataman?”

“Hell, yes, I’ll dine out on it,” said the Cossack. “Name’s Yevheny Lipichenko”            

“That’s a yes,” said Mikołaj. “You’d better hire someone to care for my sheep, Captain.” He passed over money.

 

Magdalena flew out of her room to hug Gosia, and Mikołaj, and Jędrek, and then Milena, which adulation Milena accepted with equanimity as her due.

The visitors were dragged to see baby Vanya, who was a cheerful baby and surrounded by so many servants Mikołaj muttered to Gosia, ‘They breed in dark cupboards, you know.’

“Oh, hush, you,” said Gosia. “It just looks that way when they pop in out of all sorts of places.”

“I hope you don’t want a surfeit of baby-pamperers,” said Mikołaj.

“Heaven forefend!” said Gosia.

“So what are you doing here, Mikołaj?” asked Pavel.

“We were going to look at my lands and thought we’d come to see our dear little friend in his own little fish pool with minnow and smallfry,” said Mikołaj. “Not that I’d say any different if we did have nefarious purposes, but we don’t.”