mad Mikolaj and the Austrian infiltration iv bonus

 

IV

 

“Let me practice my Telemann concerto until you hit notes no horn can manage,” said Mikołaj. Gosia giggled.

“I might have to practice my fingerwork on you,” she said.

“Sweetness! A musical interlude!” said Mikołaj, happily. “Oh, how outraged that little fircyk would be if we were audible, I could wish he was the spy with all the outrage he and his damp flower meadow of a title could muster at the suggestive comments Frydek and I were managing about horns and lip work!”

Gosia gave a dirty snigger.

“I need a demonstration,” she said. “And how you manipulate those valves.”

“My wife works me very hard,” said Mikołaj.

Further conversation ceased, though music was made.

 

oOoOo

 

“Feeling better?” asked Friedrich, when they emerged.

“Oh, yes, thank you,” said Gosia.

“I’d like to boast about how good my influence is, but I’d just be blowing my own trumpcard[1],” said Mikołaj. “OW!” he added as both Gosia and Friedrich poked him. Then he giggled as they both found sensitive parts of his midriff.

“I have observed your towarzysze undertaking such discipline when you are out of hand,” said Friedrich. “It is extraordinarily satisfying, especially when you are so ticklish.”

“Fiend!” cried Mikołaj. “Pax! I could not resist the pun!”

“Go and eat something to fortify you for our musical evening,” said Friedrich. “I have word that a letter was left by one of our suspects; I do not know who, and as yet the letter is being read, transcribed, and then heated to reveal any secrets. Von Frettchen will report after the music.”

“I remember doing that the first time we met,” said Mikołaj.

“Yes; you bowed to me like a Polish gentleman, and knelt to Bach. And probably justified in that choice,” said Friedrich. “I don’t like it on the odd occasion you’ve knelt to me, it means you’re apologising for having upset me, and it makes me uncomfortable that you care that much.”

“I do care, you know,” said Mikołaj.

“Oh, go away and do Polish war on your appetite,” said Friedrich, rudely.

“A lance charge at the wurst!” said Mikołaj, happily.

 

oOoOo

 

They were playing Telemann’s gigue, suite 1 in D major for trumpet and strings. Mikołaj had switched to his rather battered military cornet, which he felt happier playing, as the trumpet did not have any valves[2], and if he made up what he did not know, only Friedrich rolled his eyes and put up with it because Mikołaj improvised well enough for the sound to be pleasant. Friedrich played the horn part on his flute, and Gosia joined the string part with the harpsichord.

Mikołaj might rest then, as Friedrich showed how he was equal to the most demanding of Bach’s flute concertos.

“Maestro!” said Mikołaj, in deep respect, bowing to the ground, as the king got his breath back.

“The old man forgot at times that his puppets have to breathe,” laughed the king. “But the exquisite torture is sublime.”

“This musical weekend is one neither of us will ever forget,” said Mikołaj. “Ah, if only there was a way to capture a memory of how it sounds.”

“Ah, but who then would listen to real musicians?” said Friedrich.

“Those who know that sublime comes in different flavours,” said Mikołaj.

They played on until  half an hour before dinner, and Mikołaj and Gosia retired with the king to find Von Distelkamp waiting.

“One of your pages retrieved a message from a summer house in the garden, and took it to the Austrian Embassy in Berlin,” said Von Distelkamp. “He was stopped, and was much upset. He is under the impression that he has been carrying love letters. I have detained him; but he was frank, he said that when a strip of cloth was hung from a particular window, he was to go and find a letter. The window in question is that of the linen closet, so no clue to the writer. Unlike some people, he does not brazenly reveal personal details or sign it floridly.”

“It’s pick on Mikołaj day again,” said Mikołaj, mournfully. “I knew you were going to do that,” he added, when Friedrich and Gosia both poked him.

“It’s your own fault for being ticklish,” said Friedrich. “Well, we can see which spy it was when we know which story he told; we used a different one for each.”

“Ah, ingenious,” said Von Distelkamp. “Ostensibly, this is a love letter to the Austrian ambassador, in nauseatingly servile tones. However, the application of heat to the document produced something else.”

“So, is it the talks with Russia, or the submarine vessel?” asked Friedrich.

“Neither, sire,” said Von Distelkamp. “A submarine vessel, really? Isn’t that unlikely?”

“You didn’t have to escape from one which was heading for the bottom of the Baltic,” said Mikołaj, with feeling. “Deliberately holing a vessel in the middle of the sea is one thing, doing it underwater is something entirely different. Nearest I’ve ever come to dying.”

“Mikołaj! You did not mention that, only that you’d gone fishing and caught a submarine vessel!” said Gosia, indignantly.

“I’m sorry, sweetness. I didn’t want to worry you,” said Mikołaj, contrite.

“There was a submarine vessel, it was Swedish, and Mikołaj discouraged the practice,” said Friedrich. “I am only relieved that he was not kidnapped by mermaids who wanted his beautiful body.”

“There is that to be grateful for,” said Mikołaj.

Von Distelkamp sighed, heavily, and cleared his throat.

“Well, the story was neither of those. This is a rather unlikely story about combining with Poland to seize the Holy Roman Empress, supposedly for ransom, but that you are not aware that the Polish king purposes to divorce his own wife and forcibly marry Maria Teresa, having declared her divorced by fiat,” said Von Distelkamp.

Friedrich sat up straight.

“That wasn’t one we discussed,” he said.

“That was the third story, we let an eavesdropper overhear whilst you slept earlier,” said Mikołaj, grimly. “I’m sorry, Frydek, my pet. You aren’t going to like who it was.”

A bleak look crossed the king’s face.

“Hansel,” he said.

“We heard him come back to spy on what high jinks we might be up to with you,” said Mikołaj. “It seemed a good idea to test him too, so Gosia and I just improvised. And if he already has a means set up to carry letters... did not the page boy know who it was?”

“He thought it was the king as he was detained one night by a figure in a mask and cloak who came out of the king’s rooms. It was the boy’s idea to use the linen closet. He thought it prodigiously good fun. He is very young.”

“A potential recruit for you, Von Distelkamp,” said Mikołaj.

The spy looked startled.

“I suppose so,” he said.  “Actually, it’s my nephew who was serving as a page before he enters the military, but I could do worse than train him up. He’s such an innocent, he thought your majesty had assignations with the Ambassador’s wife.”

“He’ll lose that soon enough,” said Friedrich, cynically. “I am glad he is only involved peripherally and relatively innocently. Well, my friend, I have already got Han... Johann Wurfel... confined, because he attacked the Lady Gosia with intent to break her hands, under the impression that my new keyboard player was after my body.”

“I’ll find out if that was just the excuse or if he wanted to torture her to find out more,” said Von Distelkamp.”

“I am sure you will find out everything,” said Friedrich, with distaste. “Must I attend?”

“Don’t ask it of him; I’ll question the little shit,” said Mikołaj. “I’m still angry enough about him trying to hurt my treasure and take away her music from her. I wager I can make him talk without any use of torture.”

“Mikołaj...I am angered by him, but... please.” Friedrich was relieved.

 

oOoOo

 

Mikołaj travelled to Berlin in the morning, after Wurfel had had the night to reflect in a cell. On Mikołaj’s instructions, several young soldiers had been indulging in a bit of amateur dramatics down the corridor, with groans and cries. One of them had hired a whore, known for her inarticulate vocalisation, and she had been paid well for, as she put it, a nice easy night.

The young page, one Hasso Finsternacht, had volunteered to be thrown into the cell with Wurfel, apparently completely broken. He had been dragged out of the cell at dawn, seemingly unable to walk without aid, and had been tied to a stake outside the window, where a rattle of musket fire made him sag in his bonds.  He was carried away, to be slapped on the back by both Friedrich and Mikołaj.

“That was fun in a gruesome sort of way,” said the boy. He was all of nine.

“The more you can scare people, the less you have to hurt them,” said Mikołaj.

“He’s scared,” said Hasso. “I snivelled all night, and he kept saying ‘but he’s just a boy! What will they do to me?’ so I think he might just talk. I wondered if he’d talk to me, but I pretended not to know him, like you told me.”

“Good lad. Did he apologise to you, at all?”

Hasso’s eyes flashed.

“No,” he said.

“If he had, I might have gone easier on him,” said Mikołaj.

 

Mikołaj slid into the cell.

“Hello, precious,” he said. “Now, I’m still very peeved with you for threatening  to break my wife’s fingers, you know, as well as you being unfaithful to my pet, Frydek.”

“Wha... wife?” Wurfel stared.

“Well, I couldn’t bring her to Sans Souci in her usual clothes, could I? It’s in the rules. No women. So I put her in boy’s clothes. What, did you think she was my catamite? How delicious. But if I’d been that way inclined, a catamite under my protection would still have been in the situation of a wife, you know. Now, they’re leaving you to stew and reflect on how much trouble you got that poor little boy into. And yet, I don’t see any remorse in your face.”

“Why should I care?” said Wurfel. “He ignored me when I hinted that I could give him a good time.”

“Of course he did; he’s too young to understand what you meant, you child-spoiler,” said Mikołaj, with scorn. “What a whore you are; taking Frydek’s love gifts, but also writing passionate letters to the Austrian ambassador, and trying to seduce little boys. He shouldn’t have been here, but his father’s busy and it was supposed to be a safe place.”

“Shut up about him! What are they going to do to me?”

“Well, they’ll have a job doing anything, precious, because I got to you first, whilst Von Distelkamp mourns his nephew. The page, you know.  Now, I’m Polish, and we take attacks on our family members very seriously.  Frydek wouldn’t hand you over to me yesterday, but I suspect right now, he wouldn’t care that I got to you before the official torturers. Now, what I’m going to do is to break all your finger bones as you threatened Gosia, and I brought along some blacksmith tools to do it a bit more efficiently, and an interesting box here which I can put your hand in, and turn this screw at the top, and it settles down on whatever body part I have in mind, and I keep turning this handle until it’s thoroughly crushed. And we don’t have to stop at your hands, precious.” Mikołaj had borrowed a rather clumsy nut cracker. He smiled, brightly. “And I don’t have a need to keep you alive, you know, because I only care peripherally why you hurt Frydek. What I care about is that you planned to torture my wife to find out how much she knew about any plot to kidnap the Austrian woman. You wouldn’t be about to break the hands of a musician if you didn’t plan to question her.”

“I didn’t know she was a woman! How should I? But how can she be? She beat me up and she pulled sword on me!”

“My treasure! She’s such a good little towarzysz,” said Mikołaj delighted. “Oh, she might be ill at the moment, but even sick she’s more than a match for a worm like you. So, you planned her torture...”

“No, it wasn’t! I was jealous!”

 “No, precious, you weren’t jealous. Jealousy implies love, and if you loved Frydek, you wouldn’t be betraying him so thoroughly. I mean, if you were Austrian, the spying is understandable, even forgivable, but you were busy rogering the Austrian   ambassador as well, which is a nasty betrayal.”

“I never! He never! He told me to write as if to the king, so it looked like a love letter; he only likes women. I might have used the odd page or servant, it’s nice not to be submissive all the time, but that’s not the same.”

“It’s exactly the same,” said Mikołaj. “Well, if you weren’t doing it for the love of the ambassador’s muddy brown eyes, why would you sell out your country?”

“For money of course! I want to live the sort of lifestyle you useless noblemen live! I... I can pay you to leave me alone! I’ve put it all aside....” he was sobbing. “I lay with the king for his money too, I hate it, he disgusts me, he’s old and he’s boring. Always talking about music, or battles or some idiot called Katte.”

Mikołaj drifted out of the cell before he did anything fatal.

“You got all that?” he said to Von Distelkamp.

“Yes. No ideals, only money. Filthy little swine.”

“Oh, well, you can hang him now.”

 

Mikołaj went back to Sans Souci to calm his nerves, and he broke the news to Friedrich that Wurfel had been purely mercenary. He left out most of the details.

And then he and Gosia played for the monarch.

 

---

[1] Trumpf in German and so an even better pun.

[2] The baroque era trumpet was like a long cornet which makes the works of the likes of Telemann even more extraordinary, and the players worthy of much kudos. 

 

 

and that, folks, is all I have prepared. I've been singularly disinclined on the writing frnt. 

Mad Mikolaj and the austrian infiltration III

 

III

 

“Dornquast? Didn’t you have a little trouble with your wife’s cousin?” said the Graf Von Eschenhalz. “You’re a Pole, I believe?” He was a neat, dark, dapper fellow.

“Why, yes, the clothing gives it away a little bit,” said Mikołaj. “Yes, Franz never was his uncle’s heir but he wanted to contest the estate going to the former graf’s only child. He offered to duel. Well, I couldn’t duel a boy whose moustache looked as if it apologised for existing, so I let him duel my wife.  Gosia beat him, of course. Took his ear. And that should have been an end to the matter, because the stated reason for the duel was that he would renounce all claim if she won. But he sent his half-brother to blow up the coach with my mother, wife, and our firstborn in it. Fortunately he was inept; and Gosia captured him, Mama being wounded. And then Franz led an army against us. And the king loaned me some troops to finish that nonsense, and as far as I’m aware, hanged him. I lost interest in the irritating little fellow as soon as I’d handed him over for justice.  As anyone might.”

“Er, quite,” said Von Eschenhalz. “And your wife was willing to duel?”

“Oh, hell, yes, eager, willing, and ready,” said Mikołaj. “Martial sort of lady, my wife; I wouldn’t dare gainsay her.”

He noticed the moment the lip twitched into a curl, and the thought ‘fop’ ran across Von Eschenhalz’s face.

“I have no doubt you were happy for her to win a Prussian title for you,” he said.

“Oh, Frydek said he would settle that on me if I did a bit of mapping for him. I’m a very competent map-maker,” said Mikołaj. “I’d just finished that when the ladies joined us and the brouhaha began.”

“And the king’s men captured her cousin.”

“Well, they provided back-up, anyway,” said Mikołaj. “Not knowing how to mount a decent lance charge. Four of us were enough for him and his half dozen friends; he was one down. Gosia had shot him.”

“What Mikołaj does not tell you, is what a consummate warrior he is,” said Friedrich, coming softly up behind him. “Was that the tale of Franz’s ear I heard?”

“Yes, and you know how unfair it would have been if I’d duelled him,” said Mikołaj.

“It would have been murder. In a way, a shame it was not,” said Friedrich.

“He had to have his chance to find his honour. I could not have refused him that chance on my conscience,” said Mikołaj.

“No, you never could,” said Friedrich, “My dear Eduard, how is your charming mother?”

“Charming, as always,” said Von Eschenhalz. “I must write to her of the beauties of Sans Souci as women are forbidden here.”

“And that’s why Sans Souci is beautiful,” said Friedrich. “There might be those selected women I might permit, but if I permit some and exclude others, I have to commit the solecisms of telling those who are excluded why I don’t want them. And then they would screech over being told they were loud, vacuous, smelled of a million offensive scents from their makeup, hair pomatum and whatever scents they drown their handkerchiefs and bodies in. Which would make it even less restful.”

“Your majesty dislikes women,” said Von Eschenhalz.

“Oh, I’m more complex than that; you might just as well say that I dislike Poles,” said Friedrich. “I dislike most women and most Poles. If all women were like Mikołaj’s relatives and all Poles were like Mikołaj, the world would be very different. But then, that’s why I only have to talk to that little Saxon shit through Mikołaj.”

“Slug, majesty, not shit,” said Mikołaj. “Turds have the advantage of not being self-motile nor likely to bring disaster to the crops if you leave them be.”

“I stand corrected,” said Friedrich. “I talk to the Saxon slug through Mikołaj.”

“Yes, but Von Eschenhalz can have no interest in the Russians,” said Mikołaj, looking shifty. “Just because I’m a go-between because of my holdings in Russia....”

“Yes, indeed, no interest at all,” said Friedrich, heartily. “Now, Mikołaj, I’ve found a French horn for you, and over here is Wilhelm, Graf Von Blommenlage who can explain the valves to you.”

“He’ll need the embouchure first, sire,” said Von Blommenlage.

“I fancy he already knows what to do with his lips,” said Friedrich.

“Please! There are people present,” said Mikołaj.

Von Blommenlage gave him a look of distaste. He was a florid man of around forty, a few inches shorter than Mikołaj.

“I found you this horn,” said Friedrich.

Mikołaj took it, and played the charge on it.

“You big Polish oaf,” said Friedrich. “Don’t you know how to do anything but advance lance and charge?”

“It seems to work. You enjoyed my last lance charge.”

“Hush, now, and learn.”

“At your command, sire,” said Mikołaj, bowing.

He did it western fashion for a change. Friedrich laughed, and left them to it.

“I would prefer that you use only the horn his majesty has found for you, and do not ever use the one I use,” said Von Blommenlage.

“You need not worry; I have no time whatsoever for your little horn,” said Mikołaj. If the fellow was going to be offended, one might as well be offensive. “I doubt I could make it wail a paean of joy as I might with some horns I’ve played.”

“You’re disgusting,” said Von Blommenlage. “But the king wishes you taught to use the valves.”

Mikołaj was a fast learner, and was soon producing music recognisable as having been composed by Telemann. Gosia added a harpsichord accompaniment. Friedrich applauded, coming over.

“I knew you would soon pick it up,” he said. “Telemann this evening then.”

“It’s a simple enough process,” said Mikołaj. “Much like the valves for the air and water redistribution on your majesty’s submarine...oh! I am sorry. But nobody’s listening,” he added as Friedrich put a finger to his mouth. Von Blommenlage was in hearing range.

“No harm done,” said Friedrich. Out of sight of Von Blommenlage, he gave Mikołaj a delighted wink.

Both main suspects now had a story to tell; one about a suggested treaty between Prussia, Russia, and Poland; and the other that Prussia had a submarine.

And Wurfel had a story of intended kidnap of Maria Teresa.

Mikołaj smiled a beatific smile, and reflected how amusing it would be if all were spies and sent back details of three disparate plots.

 

oOoOo

 

Gosia retired discreetly to use one of the closed stools in privy closets set up for her by the king, and set out to return to play more. She was not expecting trouble dressed as a boy, and gave a little cry, more of outrage than of fear, when Wurfel pounced on her from behind.

“You little shit! You have your protector in that big Polish oaf, I can’t stop him making eyes at the king, but you, you’re just a hireling, and I won’t have you flirting with him! Another few months and I’ll be set up for life if I’m careful!  I’m going to break every one of those golden fingers of yours!”

“You’d take away my livelihood as a keyboard player because it pleases the king to flirt on one weekend while I am here?” Gosia was truly frightened, but busy continuing to act as a musician for hire.

“Oh, I know what you’re after, you want to supplant me. And you shan’t! I have a hammer waiting through that door. Move!” 

Wurfel had both Gosia’s arms twisted up behind her back, bending her forwards.

It would hurt, but not as much as having her hands hammered. Gosia threw herself forwards, ducking her head right in to land and roll on her shoulders. All the Hopak she had learned would help her here, and she just threw herself into it, kicking back with her feet towards Wurfel to help her rotate.

At some point, he let go of her, as he was pulled off balance, and the force of her move twisted against his thumbs. Her kick caught him on the thighs, and completed his loss of balance. He fell, heavily, as Gosia was rolling back to regain her feet. In a flash, she had drawn her sabre.

“Tell me, precious, why I shouldn’t just gut you?” said Gosia. “You wouldn’t get away with it; I might be playing as a hireling but I’m still of the szlachta, and nobody would turn a hair at me cutting you in half.”

“The king would care! I am his lover!” cried Wurfel.

“He’d soon find consolation,” said Gosia. “Get up; we’re going back outside to see my pet, Frydek. And see what he thinks of you destroying the hands of a musician. Oh, Schneider, wasn’t it?” she added as a footman came to see what was happening. “This little Wurst wanted to hurt me; will you like to help me see him taken to the king?”

“Of course, my lord.” The footman already knew the Poles as generous tippers.  He did not like Wurfel.

Wurfel was marched at sabre point into the garden.

“What’s this?” demanded Friedrich, a couple of his guards moving down towards the scene.

“Precious here wanted to break all my finger bones with a hammer,” said Gosia, a tear running out of one eye now it was over. “Schneider helped me.”

“Precious will regret that,” growled Mikołaj. “My thanks, Schneider.”

“Mine too,” said Friedrich.

“I did very little,” said Schneider.

“Nevertheless, it will be remembered,” said Friedrich. “Well, Wurfel?”

“I love you, your majesty! I do not want this boy trying to supplant me!” howled Wurfel.

“He loves more the thought that what you give him is almost enough to set him up for life,” said Gosia, furiously.

“I see,” said Friedrich. “Lock Herr Wurfel up. See that he is not uncomfortable. I will consider this. It is a betrayal to attack those I trust. And a crime to attack any musician’s fingers. Your hands, my treasure?”

“Unharmed,” said Gosia. “I know too many Cossack fighting tricks to let him take me far.”

“Good,” said Friedrich. “No, Mikołaj, I am not going to cede him to you. But why don’t you take our favourite Jewel back inside for comforting?”

“Thank you, sire,” said Mikołaj.

 

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.