Showing posts with label Winged hussar. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Winged hussar. Show all posts

Monday, April 1, 2024

the starosta's assistants 1

 you've some of you seen the first bit of this; I hope to keep ahead of you, I have been slow writing but bear with me...

 


Chapter 1 late Autumn 1779

 

“I have the honour to report, my lord, that Towarzysz Ursyn Kudła, aided by sundry towarzysze at and staying at the haberdashery in Ulica Św. Stefana, whom you know, have indeed caught three very fine burglars,” said Jaracz Rzędzian, saluting Starosta Młocki.

“Jaracz, did you just misquote Pliny deliberately?” asked Młocki.

“Of course,” said Jaracz.

“So, I assume you had ‘not forsaken your laziness and had beside you a stylus and tablet?’” Młocki added to the passage often used to the sighs of schoolchildren everywhere as an exercise in translation.

“Well, a wife, anyway,” said Jaracz. “Kordula and I had been partying with the other married bods,  since I’m in two minds about mustering out if I can find a steward for Kordula’s lands, she having a distaste for the place.”

“Understandable,” said Młocki. “But burglars? Who in their right mind would burgle Ulans?”

“Well, they were apparently burgling the haberdashery over and under which sundry of us live,” said Jaracz. “And it was Ursyn who heard them.”

“Inevitably; bears have good hearing,” said Młocki. Ursyn Kudłá, a sub-adult bear, lived with Sylwia  Bogacka, and her husband, Jarosław Bogacki. She had taken him from a cruel master, before she met Jaras, as Jarosław was known. They occupied the basement of the building, with Jeremi Skrzetuski and his wife, Anna Maria having lately lived on the first floor, and the rest of the building occupied by Aureliusz Stroyny and his wife, Ludwika, who was Jaras’s sister, and Paweł Kwaśniecki, and his wife, Edyta. Jeremi and Anna-Maria had not yet decided whether to move into the town property she inherited since her father had died, and had sent a steward to the country estate. Jaracz and Kordula found it uncomfortable living on the estate where Kordula’s father had killed himself, blaming Jaracz for uncovering the crimes of the late Lord Fincke, and showing Kordula’s father up as a fool.

“Well, yes, so as I understand it, Ursyn went to find out why there were unauthorised customers at an odd time of day,” said Jaracz. “That bear has a well-developed sense of duty. He’s also nosy,” he added.

“The latter I believe more,” said Młocki. The Ulans adored their bear and ascribed to him more abilities of reasoning than many outsiders believed.

Rzędzian grinned.

“Well, the first thing the rest of us know is the high-pitched, indeed, falsetto, scream of sheer terror. So we all leap out of bed and run downstairs with our sabres....”

“Stark naked?” asked Młocki.

“Why not? We’re all towarzysze together, including the girls, and just because Jeremi and I have rank, we don’t have that much more dignity.” He considered. “Anna-Maria pulled on a kontusz so she could slide down the banisters,” he added. “She said that the trivial delay in acquiring some protection was insignificant next to the singular advantage to be gained in descending with more rapidity.”

Młocki was used to the wordiness of Lady Skrzetuska.

“So Ursyn caught three very fine burglars?”

“Well, he had one treed, and one of the others told him off for screaming. It was a hoot,” said Jaracz. “The first one said, in a strangled whisper ‘there’s a bear!’ and the next said, ‘nonsense! You came upon some furs.’ And the first said, ‘with eyes, and teeth, and claws?” and the second one had come upon Ursyn by then, who was standing up, a bit puzzled, and said... the burglar said, not Ursyn... ‘it’s stuffed.’ And then Ursyn turned round, and he gave as girly a screech as I have ever heard.  And said, ‘It’s a b-b-bear!’ And then Jeremi heard stealthy noises and leaped on the maker of them, which was the third burglar, and we took Ursyn’s bag in charge, and they were willing to confess rather than be fed to the bear, which we didn’t even have to threaten.   And now Ursyn is a prime favourite with the haberdasher, who had been dubious about him before, so it was a jolly good outcome.”

“Except for the burglars, but they are doubtless glad to be safe in gaol,” said Młocki, cheerfully. “Away from bears and naked towarzysze with sabres. There’s something about a naked woman with a sabre which is almost as scary as a bear.”

“I’d take the bear any day,” agreed Jaracz. “Oh, we need a quote from the English playwright, Shakespeare here – ‘exit, pursued by a bear.’”

“Now that has to be a strange play,” said Młocki.

“I dunno; I don’t speak English,” said Jaracz. “But I heard it mentioned.”

“Well, I am glad you caught the burglars,” said Młocki. “How would you feel about a little more detached duty?”

“Depends where and doing what,” said Jaracz.

“I can’t order you, of course, so you can please yourself. But it’s more or less a favour for the Falcon.”

“Oh, I’ll do it, then. We all respect the Falcon no end,” said Jaracz.

Młocki gave a thin smile.

“He basically threw out the starosta in his nearest town, Dmuchów, and set up a new one, who is a protégé of his,” he explained. “And the level of corruption is unbelievable. It would be as assistants to the Starosta and his page, or wife, if you and your wife, or page, would care for it. I don’t know quite what’s on offer, but only a limited number of constables are actually trustworthy.”

“Delightful. Of course I’ll help out my lord-brother for the Falcon, and I’m sure Kordula will be delighted to be friends with his wife.”

“Splendid,” said Młocki.

 

oOoOo

 

“Dmuchów?” said Sylwia, when Jaracz shared the move with his fellow towarzysze. “But that’s the administrative centre for the village I ran away from to avoid the unpleasant lord who is so free with any girl he fancies.”

“Seems to be something in the water over there,” said Jaracz. “Name wasn’t Zabiełło or Piekarski, was it?”

“Zabiełło,” said Sylwia. “No, Ursyn, you’ve had enough honey.”

The bear grumbled gently, but accepted her removing the jar firmly from his sticky paws. He proceeded to wash them thoroughly and noisily.

“I wonder if the new Starosta would like a second pair of seconded Ulans and their towarzysz with a rather unusual skin condition?” murmured Jaracz. “We should look into your property while we are there.”

“Well, if given leave, I should like to see what’s happening,” said Sylvia. “I left with Ursyn in a bit of a hurry.” She added, “But I did bring the deeds with me.”

“Good; that will help,” said Jaracz.

 

oOoOo

 

Where Jaracz Rzędzian went, his man, Frydek Adamiak also went. Adamiak had worked for Kordula’s father, but Jaracz had won his trust and allegiance, and the man also adored his mistress. Jaracz recognised that a man who could lead the other grooms in trouble, and make small rebellions was a man of initiative who needed more responsibility and wider outlets for his talents than just fettling horses, and Adamiak was happy to be his bâtman with added duties.

Before they set out, however, Jeremi was confronted with a problem as he went to wave them farewell.

The city coach came to a stop in the Rynek, and a young woman climbed out, looking around her, as if trying to get her bearings.

“Halszka?” said Jeremi, striding over to his sister. “Halszka Skrzetuska! What are you doing here? Where are Mama and Papa?”

“Oh, Jeremi! I’ve run away!” said Halszka, casting herself into her brother’s arms. “Do you recall that I hoped to marry Paweł Korwiński?”

“Yes, and I wondered where your wits had gone begging,” said Jeremi. “He ain’t good enough for you.”

“Oh, Jeremi! You are so right!” said Halszka, sobbing. “He did notice me and started courting me, but I was riding astride, racing Janko and Jurko, you know, as one does, and he was just furious, and he raced after me, with no consideration for his horse, and grabbed the bridle and asked what I thought I was doing, and he was so angry!  And I told him, I know my mount’s capabilities, I was not risking her, and he looked at me as if I was crazy, and said ‘to hell with the horse, I’m not going to put up with my bride haring across the countryside like a hoyden, and riding in that immodest fashion too!’ and I said that I wasn’t immodest, I had trousers on so I could ride safely, and he struck me, and said that I should not even mention such garments, and that he would have the banns put up right away so he could school me into being a better lady wife for him, and I said I will tell my parents I don’t want to marry a bully and he said they would be g...glad to get rid of me!”

“It would appear,” said Anna-Maria, who had listened to this tirade, “That the aspirations of this inadequate piece of ordure outstrip his performance as one who aspires to be counted as one of the human race. Indeed, our regimental bear has more manners. I cannot think that Mama and Papa Skrzetuski would make you marry a man who has the temerity to strike a woman, and moreover, his disapproval of what you do, which is presumably within the purview of their sanction, is disrespect to your honoured parents. Jeremi will write to them where you are, and tell them what he thinks, and if this Korwiński comes here, he will undoubtedly employ the noble art of pugilism to soundly discourage the fellow from approaching you, since he can hardly call out a specimen whose own little weapon is too small to consider matching with any of your kin.”

“I might make him fight you, my dear, as he thinks hitting women is fine,” said Jeremi. “In fact, I shall; it’ll be funnier when he loses.”

“In the meantime, I suggest it would be expedient for Halszka to vanish from sight, by being obvious,” said Anna-Maria. “Jeremi, you must arrange for her a horse, and a uniform, and she shall join Sylwia and Kordula as a page to go to Dmuchów.”

An hour later, Halszka, now Hanusz, was dressed in Ulan costume, provided with extra clothes, male and female, having jumped on the coach without thinking or preparing, was wondering what she had let herself in for.

“Well, he won’t marry me with short hair,” she said, happily. Anna-Maria had cut her a czupryna without thinking, and bundled up her plaits to take with her. Halszka was a pretty girl, with curling strawberry-blonde hair, but Hanusz was a relatively unremarkable, if very young-looking, little boy. She got to meet her new companions, though she knew Jaracz Rzędzian, and was comfortable with him, like a spare brother.

He cuffed her gently with the familiarity of a sibling.

“And I hope those precious twin brothers of yours told your parents what was going on, or they’ll be out of their heads with worry,” he said.

“Oh, yes, Janko and Jurko waxed most irritable at Paweł, who was horribly patronising, and called them ‘little boys,’ as well,” said Halszka.

“He’s a cursed rum touch, if you ask me,” said Jaracz. “Any man would like a wife who can stay in the saddle regardless of the terrain, so he doesn’t have to worry when he takes her to war.”

“Paweł despises soldiers,” said Halszka. “He says that war is  too deadly nowadays for any country to ever risk going to war again, and that negotiation and diplomacy will always carry the day.”

“Has a few rats loose in the attic too, by the sound of it,” said Jaracz. “Don’t worry about the bear, he’s a sucker for the dames.”

Ursyn promptly swept off his hat and bowed low, and lifted Halszka’s proffered hand to his lips. It was a new trick which he spoilt by licking her hand, and she squealed and giggled.

Ursyn swept her into a polonaise, and Halszka was giggling as they completed a circle.

“Much more a gentleman than Paweł!” she agreed.

 

oOoOo

 

The group of Ulans swept into Dmuchów in formation, performing riding tricks as they rode. They might not be as flamboyant as some, but they performed well enough, including Ursyn, who had his own carriage, which now had a folding top provided, against inclement weather. Ursyn stood, bowing left and right, as the Ulans turned around, stood in the saddles, ran alongside their galloping horses – they galloped the last part, in the city itself – and finishing with the Cossack death-drag, hats in hands as they hung, head first off the saddles. They rode all round the rynek thus, to come to a halt outside city hall. They remounted in unison to swing off in a more upright fashion.

 

Eugeniusz Zabiełło-Wąż heard galloping hoofs and went to the window.

“This is something worth watching, Felicia,” he said to his wife, who joined him to watch the display.

“Insane,” laughed Felicia. “Surely this isn’t the couple of Ulans we were to be loaned?”

“Oh, I expect the rest are an escort, on their way elsewhere,” said Eugeniusz. “But we’ll give them hospitality... is that a bear?”

“It is a bear. In Ulan uniform,” said Felicia. “Well, that should enliven things if the bear is here to stay.”

“I’m not sure I want things enlivened that much,” said Eugeniusz.

Friday, May 5, 2023

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.