the starosta's assistants 3

Chapter 3

 

Sylwia frowned as they rode up towards her family dwór.

“It’s not in very good heart,” said Jaras.

“No,” said Sylwia, who thought that was self-evident. Weeds abounded and some of the fields were unattended.

The dwór itself looked as if it needed upkeep. Sylwia walked up to the front door and flung it open.

“Adam Kowal! Where the hell are you?” she bellowed.

An old woman scuttled in, bowing and curtseying, trying to do both at once.

“Please, my lord, there’s no lord in residence, and Adam Kowal is dead.”

“Dead!  How can this be? He wasn’t above forty. You’re his mother, Marianna.”

“Aye, my lord. You know me? Adam tried to stop Lord Zabiełło from rounding up and taking our peasants as serfs. Lord Zabiełło struck him down, and killed him.”

“The devil he did!  Right, I’m starting a blood feud,” declared Sylwia.

Ursyn shuffled up, having got out of his cart, and tugged on her sleeve, clutching himself.

“Oh, Ursyn, I’m sorry, I should have waited for you to do your business,” said Sylwia. She opened the door for the bear to amble out and find a bush.

“Miss Sylwia had a bear like that, my lord,” said Marianna.

“Marianna! Don’t you recognise me?” said Sylwia.

“No, my lord, I can’t say I do, though you’ve a look of the old master....”

“Well I should, as his daughter,” said Sylwia, dryly. “Marianna, I am Sylwia; I joined the Ulans as an escape from Zabiełło, and this is my husband, Jaras, that’s Jarosław Bogacki.”

Marianna peered closely at the young woman and then burst into tears and embraced her.

“Waćpanna Sylwia!  Pani Bogacka, I should say....”

“Pani Sylwia does well enough,” said Sylwia. “Your husband, Kuba, is he still alive?”

“Aye, my love, my darling, but he is frail nowadays,” said Marianna, sorrowfully. “Our son’s death hit him hard.”

“I will avenge him,” said Sylwia. “Jaras; if I write a letter to Zabiełło, will you carry it? He is scarcely likely to attack an Ulan in uniform.”

“Of course, my love. I’d  rather kill him for you.”

“Yes, but I need to register a feud with the Starosta,” said Sylwia.

She went into her father’s study, free of dust, but so deeply infused with his presence that she stood a moment fighting back tears as she assimilated that he was no longer there. But she had her duty to his memory, and that was to run the lands he had left her.

She got writing paper, and ink, and after a moment’s thought, wrote in a firm, boyish hand.

 

Lord Zabiełło;

 

It has come to my notice that you have treated my lands with great disrespect, stealing my peasants and forcing them into serfdom, and killing my steward when he behaved most dutifully towards me in protesting your actions.

You have four-and-twenty hours in which to return my peasants, and any offspring born to them since your illegal seizure of them, plus pay blood money of three hundred golden złoty as the value of my steward, and two hundred golden złoty for the loss of the work of my peasants. If these conditions are not met, I will see Starosta Zabiełło-Wąż and declare a blood-feud on you and your house.

Copy to: Eugeniusz Zabiełło-Wąż, Starosta, Dmuchów.

 

Sylwia Bogacka, née Lasecka

 

 

oOoOo

 

“I bear a message from the late Lord Lasecki’s heir, my lord-brother,” said Jaras.

“Heir? As far as I’m aware, he has no heir; there was some sickly brat, who disappeared. I’ve filed a petition with the authorities to have the brat declared dead, so I can take the land; I’ve a familial connection to make it legal.”

“Not when the rightful heir is not dead, and has returned,” said Jaras. “She did not die.”

“She? You are lying. There was a little boy, no female,” said Zabiełło.

“As I understand it, my lord-brother, her father required her to dress as a boy, as he said there was a nobleman nearby who would ravish any woman, even a szlachcianka.  Do you know who that might be?” asked Jaras.

Zabiełło went purple.

“Why, the old fool!” he snarled. “He missed the opportunity to join our lands by giving me the wench in marriage!  Still, it’s not too late, I’m sure she will marry me once I make matters clear to her.”

“Her husband might militate against that, my lord-brother,” said Jaras. “He’s an Ulan.”

 The colour drained from Zabiełło’s face.

“Married! The sly piece!” he growled.

“Hardly; the marriage was public enough, in the town of Większy-Bydlin,” said Jaras. “I am here at my captain’s orders, and the affairs of Lady Sylwia are in my care.”

It was enough of a suggestion that Sylwia had married his captain to make Zabiełło pause before killing Sylwia and Jaras out of hand.

 

 

 

 

Indeed, as he was in uniform, Jaras thought he was probably safe from being killed out of hand, anyway.

“I imagine it must be irksome to have to escort a szlachcianka just because you’re the one your captain can bully,” said Zabiełło. “Now, I have three hundred złóty to wager that the wench suffers no accident.  A poor man would surely be glad to win such a wager.”

“Not if he has any pretensions to the nobility,” said Jaras, coldly. “And the property would still go to her husband.”

“Not if there was any irregularity concerning who she really was, and if dead, she could not dispute it,” said Zabiełło.

“She’s already been recognised by the housekeeper,” said Jaras. “Moreover, she has all her paperwork which has been seen by the colonel, the starosta and substarosta of Większy-Bydlin, and others; and you are a loathsome low-down psia krew,

 

and if the lady’s claim did not supersede mine, I’d be calling you out. Now read the bloody note, and if there’s an appropriate answer I’ll pretend I never met you.”

“You arrogant young shaver!” said Zabiełło. He opened the letter, and went crimson with fury.

“Do you know what this says?” he demanded.

“In broad,” said Jaras. “The lady said she would be prepared to live in peace if you return the peasants stolen and pay a suitable compensation.”

“She must be off her head,” said Zabiełło.

“Yes, I’d have asked for more if it had been me,” said Jaras. “But perhaps she’s soft-hearted enough not to want to beggar you.”

“She can whistle for any of this,” said Zabiełło.

“Oh?  That’s your answer?” said Jaras.

“It is,” said Zabiełło.

“Well, it looks as if I’ll be riding into Dmuchów tomorrow,” said Jaras.

“I’m terrified,” said Zabiełło, scornfully.

Jaras shrugged, and left.

He went on into Dmuchów anyway with the copy of the letter, for Eugeniusz.

“To be activated if I haven’t ridden in to tell you it’s off, oh, an hour after the time it is now,” said Jaras.

“I’m not having a blood feud in my bailiwick,” said Eugeniusz, grimly. “I will send for both parties, and they can bloody well settle it by duel; I assume you will stand for the lady?”

“She’ll stand for herself,” said Jaras. “We’re both Raven trained.”

“That makes me feel better,” said Eugeniusz.

“I have this suspicion that I might be waylaid if carrying this letter tomorrow,” said Jaras.

“Well, I’ll be bringing my wife to stay with you and your wife tomorrow until this is sorted out,” said Eugeniusz. “Leaving the office in the capable hands of Wilk, and, God help me, that young firebrand, Jaracz Rzędzian.”

“Jaracz? Nothing wrong with him,” said Jaras. “A good friend. I’d have said he was a thought more cautious than most.”

“I’m getting old,” groaned Eugeniusz.

“Why, sir, what has he done?” asked Jaras.

Eugeniusz explained the hostage situation and the lance charge.

“And we missed it? Damn! Sounds like famous sport!” said Jaras.

Eugeniusz decided that the help of Ulans might be a mixed blessing.

 

oOoOo

 

Jaracz meanwhile was investigating a complaint by an innkeeper that one of his customers was a card sharper.

The alleged cheat was a drifter, who wore yellow boots and a kontusz of some degree of quality, and carried a sabre, so was presumably a szlachetka of some description.

“Cut me in, my lord-brother,” said Jaracz.

The card-player looked at the cherubic-looking Ulan, with his guileless blue eyes and blond curls, and smiled as if, Jaracz later described it to Kordula, he’d been given a whole basket of pisanki by a dozen giggling girls.

“Of course, my lord-brother,” said the card-player.

“Name’s Rzędzian,” said Jaracz.

“Pluciński,” said the gamester.

Jaracz had learned a few card tricks from Mariola Bystrzanowska, wife and page to the substarosta at Większy-Bydlin, who, being Raven-born, had learned them from her father. He noted the method of marking, and did his own legerdemain, laying down a collection of all four aces to match the three Pluciński had laid.

“What?” spluttered the gamester.

“Well, suka, as you were marking the cards, and have three in your kontusz sleeve, I thought you were happy to play by such rules,” said Jaracz, relieving the gamester of his three spare cards. “As if it wasn’t suspicious enough to wear your kontusz sleeves on in a warm room! You’re under arrest.  I’ll have my pot; landlord, divvy out the rest between those he’s been winning from.”

Pluciński drew his sabre, and townsmen scattered.

Jaracz kicked his feet out from under him, kicked him hard in the crotch, picked up the sword the card-sharp had dropped, and put handcuffs on him, easy enough as the crooked szlachcic was clutching his painful assets.

“You don’t rank a duel, you loathsome creature, not for cheating peasants who have no recourse against you if they catch you, other than hoping the law won’t back one of their own,” said Jaracz in scorn.

“I... you can’t do this!” whined Pluciński.

“Watch me,” said Jaracz.  “Don’t even think of trying anything, dogbreath.” He frogmarched the card sharp to the gaol.

“Cheating at cards,” he said to Felicia.

“Get him to make a statement, and write up your report,” said Felicia. “And a bit more felicity of style then ‘The punks were asking for horses so we gave them a pair at a charge.’

“It sums it up,” said Jaracz.

“No, it doesn’t,” said Felicia. “Write it up again.”

“Raven trained,” grumbled Jaracz. “Dangerous women, those who are Raven trained.”

“Yes,” agreed Felicia. “You’re a quartermaster; such a work of illiterature is a disgrace.”

Jaracz sighed.

He took the card sharp’s statement and stowed him in a cell, and returned to the desk assigned to him.

May it please your lordship, Starosta of Dmuchów, to receive the report of Ulan Quartermaster Jaracz Rzędzian, seconded to provide support as a substarosta.

Proceeding into the rynek, and encountering constables, I was informed that there were two known brigands, who had been recognised, loitering in the bakery, holding hostages including a szlachcianka, and demanding horses for an escape. On conferring with my lord-brother, Frydek Adamiak, I conceived a plan. He fetched our cavalry horses with armour, blacked to hide it and we rode towards the bakery, as if complying with the request, but entering a charge when it was too late for the brigands to do anything much, and proceeded to enter the shop through its lower level, killing one brigand and wounding the other. The wounded man tendered a confession before succumbing to the exigencies of his wound upon surgery.

Jaracz Rzędzian

He handed this to Felicia.

“You see, you can do it,” she said.

Jaracz scowled.

He had intended it as a parody of excess.

Oh well.

 

oOoOo

 

 

Kordula and Halszka had been patrolling, with Frydek Adamiak, under the guidance of a constable, to learn the areas of the large town and where trouble might be expected. Both Kordula and Adamiak had been learning the Raven ways about dealing with trouble, but Halszka was a little nervous. Though there had been sabre drill before bathing that morning, she still had much to learn.

She found the presence of big Frydek Adamiak comforting, however, and was able to relax and learn the various beats.

“At least we have no docklands as such,” said the constable. “A few warehouses on the river, where some barges may reach, but not large ones.”

“What’s the protocol about prostitutes?” asked Kordula, nodding to the knot of women drifting onto the street, breasts provocatively on display, lips reddened beyond the lines natural colour reached, and faces whitened.

“Leave well-alone unless they get in anyone’s face,” said the constable.

Halszka frowned, moved forward, and grabbed one of the knot of prostitutes, who was, on closer inspection, missing more than the suggestion of mammary development, and who was emaciated to the point that her collar bones and bare shoulders were more prominent than her latent breasts.

“She’s not old enough,” she said.

The constable shrugged.

“So, put her in the cells overnight, and release her in the morning,” he said, indifferently.

“Are you insane?” said Halszka. “This poor child has been forced onto the streets prematurely, and I want to know who’s to blame. What’s your name, child?”

“Marylka, my lord. I’m still a virgin, it’s me first time, Ma says I shouldn’t settle for less than forty grosze for me maidenhead.”

“You shouldn’t be selling it at all at your age; how old are you?”

“Eleven, my lord. That Lord Falcon fellow took my sister Dusia, said to be a maid to his daughter, but cor, reckon being mistress to a szlachcic would be fine.  An’ she’d been done by pa an’ our biggest brother what’r dead, and ma said I should help out. She said there’s plenty like to take a virgin, and like bubbies what aren’t proper grown.”

“Unfortunately, she’s correct in that, my lord... brother,” said Adamiak, dryly. “Who is your mother, little one?”

Majka-Magda Kapustka, mother of the hapless Marylka, made a break for it. Adamiak had long legs, however, and soon caught up with her.

“Christ’s wounds, what a filthy object,” he said.

“We raided the apartment where she lives with her sister-in-law as her husband was wanted,” volunteered the constable. “Starosta Wronowski had lost him. The kids were supposed to go to an orphan asylum.”

“We did,” volunteered Marylka. “And they beat us, and scrubbed us until we were sorer’n from the beating, and shaved our heads. I got curls now,” she said, proudly.

“Bathing should not involve soreness. Why did they beat you?” demanded Halszka.

“Being street kids, I fink,” said Marylka. “I runned away, an’ Ma found me, an’ she said if I wanted to live with her, I had to earn me way.”

“You will be my servant,” said Halszka. “You will not steal. If you steal, that is the only think for which I will beat you. We need decent clothes for you,” she added, wrinkling her nose.

“Pa said girls is too stupid to steal,” said Marylka.

“Well, he’s wrong about girls being stupid, but I am glad you don’t have the habit,” said Halszka.

“And this one can be indicted for pimping underage girls,” said Adamiak, shaking the loathsome figure of Majka-Magda.

“Murderin’ my babby you are!” wailed Majka-Magda.

Halszka sighed.

“Take me to where you have been living,” she said to Marylka.