the Cossack live in both formats

 

The Cossack

UK https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B094KR4XBF

US https://www.amazon.com/dp/B094KR4XBF

 

 

Chapter 1 Jedrek's Daughter.

 So I hear  you all saying 'but Jedrek plays for the other team' but all should become clear. Remember Frydek wished a barony on Jedrek?  well, his daughter is spending time in Prussia looking for someone to be page to, to pick a live one to help her with it. 

Chapter 1

 

“Are you going to follow Lord Mikołaj’s instructions at court, Uncle Norbert?” asked Emelia. She was as blonde as any Krasiński, but her eyes were smokey-blue, not the bright china blue of the Krasińscy.

“He is my lord,” said Norbert Korwiński. “And I am his steward here in Prussia at Dornquast.”

“It’ll either be hilarious, or fatal,” said Emelia.

“I was going to take his letter and pass the blame,” said Norbert.

 

 

oOoOo

 

The court of Frederick The Great of Prussia managed sumptuous without descent into tastelessness, and Norbert, flanked by Emelia, approached the king.

“Should I worry?” said that monarch, looking wary at the Pole’s approach.

“Well, I do have instructions from Lord Mikołaj,” said Norbert, half apologetically.

“If it involves kissing me enthusiastically, calling me ‘Frydek, my pet’, and generally being Mad Mikołaj, can we just consider it done?” said Frederick. “If he wants me called ‘precious’, I hope at least you will let me know how I offended him.”

Norbert grinned.

“The former, your majesty; he’s actually fond of you, which is more than he could ever say of our previous king. Staś Gustek he likes.”

“Ah, he only contracts names of people he likes; what did he call August III?”

“’The Slug’, your majesty,” said Norbert. “He’s fairly happy at the moment; one of his daughters is a fine surgeon, and she cut a mass out of Gosia, giving her the chance of living longer.”

“Well, that’s good, he wouldn’t want to lose his jewel, his treasure, his sun and moon, his honeyed intoxicant,” said the king.

Norbert beamed.

“Oh, he will be pleased that you remember him and Gosia so well,” he said.

“Yes, actually I believe that,” said Frederick.  “Mikołaj Krasiński is a man of simple pleasures, and complex motives. Sometimes I think he might just be the happiest man in the world.”

“He probably is, now, sire.  He’s had some problems, Gosia’s health not least. But he was writing in his old, cheerful manner, rather than being businesslike.”

“I am glad,” said Frederick. “Dear me, and I actually mean it. He’s the only damned Pole I ever liked, you know.”

“Oh, I’m fairly palatable when you get to know me,” said Norbert. “I like artillery too, and I adhere to the White Raven principle that there is no problem so large it cannot be cured with enough gunpowder.”

“He didn’t cure The Slug, though.”

“No, but then, The Slug was a duly elected slug, and the sheep must have their way,” said Norbert.

“You White Ravens are all insane,” said Frederick.

Norbert bowed, Polish fashion.

“How kind, sire,” he said.

“And never out of countenance,” said Frederick. “Your daughter?”

“No, sire,  a courtesy niece, but she was curious,” said Norbert.

“Of course she was,” said Frederick.  “Well, Fraulein, do I live up to expectations?”

Emilia beamed at him and also bowed, Polish fashion.

“Eminently, sire,” she said.

“She’s Jędrek’s daughter,” said Norbert.

“Really? But he ...”

“... is a man of infinite compassion who married a dying noblewoman so her baby would not be born an illegitimate orphan,” said Norbert. “And she is therefore heir to that barony you foisted onto him, and has grown up mostly in Prussia, to be more suited to it.”

Frederick regarded Emilia with interest.

“I like your father,” he said. “Dear me, that makes two Poles I like, I must be slipping.”

“I’m not sure if I count or not,” said Emilia, demurely. “I do have a Polish adoptive father after all, and have been reared mostly by Uncle Norbert once I got older. Papa had issues with Aunt Dorota at Raven’s Knoll, you see. Well, you probably don’t see, but it doesn’t really matter.  Papa says you should dress me as a page and find someone suitable to foist me onto.”

Frederick stared.

“Pavel Skobelev’s page ...”

“Has been his wife since they got to Raven’s Knoll after leaving Prussia,” said Norbert, calmly.

“Dammit, I don’t permit women at Sanssouci!” said Frederick.

“You weren’t permitting, sire; you were infiltrated,” said Emilia.

“Besides, Paweł’s minnow doesn’t hardly count as a woman, more as a towarzysz,” said Norbert. “Like Gosia, who can ride sixty miles and more a day and give birth at the end of it.”

“Thank God most Poles are too set in their ways to arm their women; the world would burn,” said Frederick.

“It would have been glorious,” said Norbert, sadly.

“You Ravens!” said the king, absently echoing what many others had said, in Polish, Ruthenian, Russian and English as well as German.

“Do you have someone for me to be page to?” asked Emilia.

“I don’t know about that, but I have someone I want you to dance with,” said the king.  “Von Finsternacht! This is Fraulein ... what do you go as, Fraulein?”

“I usually go as Kowalski,” said Emilia, her eyes dancing.

“Oh, that’s how you plan to play it, is it?” said the king.

“I think being Emilia Kowalski is a lot easier than anything else,” said Emilia. “Though if he wants to call me Fraulein Schmidt it makes no odds to me to have the translation used.”

“Fraulein Schmidt, really?” said the heavy-set man who had come over. He was of indeterminate age, and had a military bearing. He wore a plain wig, and dressed in black.  Quick eyes might note that his right arm was held stiffly. His eyes were clear, bright blue, and keenly piercing. He was clean-shaven.

“It does well enough,” said Emelia, curtseying.

“So, Herzog Hasso Von Finsternacht rates a curtsey, and I got a Polish bow?” said the king amused.

“Of course, sire; I know to respect you, from tales told by Uncle Norbert, Papa and Uncle Mikołaj, but the duke I do not know,” said Emilia.

Frederick laughed, making heads turn.

“You are as bad as your father and uncles,” he said. “Now go and dance.”

The duke had been looking approval on Emilia for making the king laugh; now a selection of expressions flashed across his face.

“My king....” he said.

Frederick waved a hand, and turned to a courtier who had been trying to attract his attention.

“How badly damaged is it?” asked Emilia.

“I beg your pardon?” said Von Finsternacht.

“Your arm,” said Emilia. “I assume it was wounded somewhere.”

“You noticed? I try to conceal it. It is a souvenir of the last year of the Seven Years War, for which I was just old enough to be wounded and mustered out. But I am one of the few who remembers what it was like, it was a bloody conflict.”

“I heard,” said Emilia. “So how bad is it?”

“Why should I tell you?”

“My, you are prickly.  I need to know how much support you will need with dancing. If you have movement with it or not, if you have use of your hand.”

“Oh.  I have some use of my hand, but the arm is stiff and weak from the elbow down.”

“Oh, I see. Then you could grasp my forearm and I yours so I can take the weight from it, and we do a more sedate minuet than one with multiple arm hold changes. We can still do plenty of position changes.”

“I don’t generally dance because of it. The king forgot ...”

“The king is watching in gently malicious interest to see how I handle it,” said Emilia. “And whether you lose patience with me fumbling and being afraid of it as some little idiots probably are.”

“You’re right,” he said.

“I am concerned about hurting you; you have pain lines.”

“Oh, you haven’t decided I am just old?”

“You’re four- and thirty; you told me that. I can add and subtract, you know,” said Emilia, sliding her left hand up his forearm to support it, considered, and cupped his elbow. He gave a gasp.

“Oh!”

“Relief? Good,” she said as he nodded.

                                            

It was not the most elegant minuet, but his footwork was faultless.

“You’re a swordsman of note, I think,” said Emilia.

“Yes; I fight left-handed, of course,” he said. “How did you know?”

“I note the foot-work,” said Emilia. “Oof!” a passing dancer whirled past and knocked into her, throwing her against the duke.

She steadied herself against him, noted a reaction, and looked up into his eyes.

“Herzog ... I don’t know what you are doing, but I feel unaccountably light-headed and ... strange,” she said, breathlessly.  “I think I would like to retire from the dance floor.  I enjoyed dancing,” she added.

“So did I,” he said. “Really, Fraulein, do you truly think me such a naive fool as to think you so innocent?”

She looked at him, a frown of confusion on her face.

“I don’t think I’m an innocent,” she said. “I don’t understand what you are saying.”

“How old are you, Fraulein?” he said, steering her to the edge of the dance floor.

“Seventeen, my lord, so I am not a baby. Though a lot of the girls at school were, as well as being boring about various boys,” she added.

“Ah?”

“Well, I know where babies come from, we do have animals after all,” said Emilia. “And I am feeling such a fool, because I blurted out nonsense about what I’m beginning to realise more about. It’s lust, isn’t it?”

“God in Heaven, you really are an innocent, and prattle whatever comes into your head!” he said.

“I do not prattle! Please, you have never heard prattling if you think I do it.”

“The girls at school?”

“Yes.”

“Did you hate it?”

“Thoroughly. I ran away.”

“You did what?”

“I ran away. I climbed out of an upstairs window on a rope manufactured from plaited strips of blanket, and took my horse and rode back to Dornquast to Uncle Norbert.”

“You’re some relation of Krasiński, then.”

“My Uncle Mikołaj. Yes. And Ravens are born climbing. Can we go out on the balcony? You want to kiss me, don’t you?”

“With any other girl, that would be forward; from you, either it is merely straightforward, or you want to lead me on because you want something.”

“I do want something.”

“And what’s that?” it was almost a snap.

“I want you to kiss me and make me feel all those nice feelings again,” said Emilia.

He hurried her onto the balcony with almost indecent haste. His good hand cupped her face for a moment and then moved, to pull her to him. Emilia absently shifted his right arm to fold up against her, and gasped when his hand fell on her breast.

“More than you bargained for? I can’t move it readily now, you know.”

“I ... I think I like it,” said Emilia, lifting her face to his.

He kissed her. It was not a gentle kiss, but demanded. Emilia pressed against him, making little, inarticulate noises, grasping the lapel of his coat with the hand of the arm which supported his, sliding her other arm round his neck.

Then he was pulling away.

“I wish I knew what you were up to,” he said, roughly. “Nice girls do not do this. You ... you seem as though it was your first kiss, but why would an innocent be so wanton?”

“It is my first kiss, and I’m Raven raised, and we go for what we want, and the hell with convention,” said Emilia. “I expect Uncle Norbert will have a cat, but oh, dear me, human mating rituals are a lot more complex than I realised and far more intoxicating.”

“You are the strangest girl I have ever met, and I still wish I knew if that was just you, or if it was design to fascinate me.”

“The thing is, if I meant to fascinate you, wouldn’t I need a reason other than liking what it feels like?” said Emilia. “Are you someone people want to fascinate? Only I don’t really know who you are other than that the king trusts you, or he wouldn’t play games with you, and you’re a soldier and a swordsman, and a duke.”

“For many, being a duke would be reason enough.”

“If you know anything about my father, you will know how often he quarrelled with the king over not wanting to be burdened with a title,” said Emilia. “I don’t need any worthless baubles, I may not be Raven-born, but I’m Raven-reared, and that makes me outrank anyone here except Uncle Norbert.”

“Himmel! I have heard similar sentiments, when I was young, from Mikołaj Krasiński ... and the king believes he means it. Well, you take the wind from my sails, girl.”

“I think it’s a hobby of all Ravens, Hasso.”

He kissed her again, pushing her against the wall, and she whimpered happily into his mouth.

They were interrupted by Norbert.

“Herzog, you are kissing my niece,” said Norbert.

Von Finsternacht took Emilia’s chin in his hand again to turn her face this way and that.

“Why, I do believe you’re correct,” he said.

“She’s a babe,” said Norbert. “I know who you are, you’re a canny old spymaster, and I won’t have you trying to seduce secrets out of a girl scarce out of the schoolroom by flattery and charm.”

“How interesting, he’s accusing me of what I wondered you might be up to,” said Finsternacht to Emilia. “Did you know I am a spymaster?”

“No, I didn’t; nobody bothered to tell me,” said Emilia.

“I’m interested that your uncle accuses me of seducing you, not of coercing you.”

“One; she had an arm around your neck. Two; you are alive and in one piece, which if you tried to maul a Raven girl who has one arm free would not be the case,” said Norbert, laconically.

“The devil!  Better training than most ninnies. Well, maybe you should go with your uncle now,” said Finsternacht. “I might forget I am a gentleman if you stay.”

“I ...”

“Go.”

She stepped away and followed Norbert.

“Emilia! You did not learn to behave like that at finishing school!” said Norbert.

“No ...” said Emilia. “It is foolish to act on such whimsy but if he’s a spymaster, at least I don’t have to worry that he’s all  very male animal and no brains.”

Norbert shook his head.

The girl had grown  up as a Raven, so he should not really be surprised.

Finsternacht, who had sharp hearing, had heard that comment, and was chuckling to himself.

He did not think she was stupid either, despite her beauty.

 

 

The Elopement of Convenience is live

 UK:

here 

US:

here 

Dance of Fledglings 9

 Yesterday was a bad day, but I am working towards submitting Elopement of Convenience, Ring in the True, The Cossack and Dance of Fire. 

Chapter 9

 

Warszawa was loud to the ears of country girls! Staś, returning to school, affected not to notice, but his siblings clung to each other or to Justyna in horror at the almost physical assault upon the senses. Carts and carriages rumbled their inexorable way through the streets, the clopping of hoofs on the road indicating the speed of each vehicle, here the heavy plodding of a big dray horse with a heavy load, there the fast trot of some young szlachcic in a modern, light, French vehicle, weaving in and out of the other traffic. Dogs barked, and as they passed the cattle market the lowing of more cows than any of them had ever seen together at one time, and the stench of much churned mud with faeces made them quail.  Street vendors cried their wares, and carters, trying to pass each other down too narrow a street, swore and cursed each other, neither willing to back down and attempt to back his overloaded horse and its burden. A donkey brayed, and somewhere a dog howled in pain, whether from a human kicking or whipping it or being hit by a cart could not be gauged.

“I don’t like it much,” said Wiktoria, in a small voice.

“It is loud and intimidating,” said her father. “You get somewhat used to the noise. We are staying in a relatively quiet street; The Falcon has been kind enough to loan us his house, so long as I make a catalogue of anything  needed by the skeleton staff there. I imagine my good children will make your own beds, and that Bartosz will help carry water for washing.”

He was answered by murmurs of assent. Bartosz was proud of his strength and ability to be a real help. At fourteen, he was well-grown for his age, and could pass as older. Klementyna was also proud of her ability to manage a home, as she had done for her father before they had moved into the school.

Staś left them at the door, hefting his pack of clothes, and went off whistling. He was keen to be back with his fellows at his own school.

The footman left in charge read Władysław Sokołowski’s letter, and bowed the family into the house.

They had soon sorted out rooms, and started exploring.  Klementyna gave a squeal of delight.

“There’s a music room!” she cried. This was enough to bring Bartosz, Zofia, Hieronim, and August running; Wiktoria, Karolina, and Dominik were less musical, though they enjoyed it well enough. Justyna followed them more sedately.

“Lord Sokołowski told me that he trusts you to treat the instruments with respect, and hopes you will enjoy playing them,” she said. “With one exception; the lute on the cushion is forbidden save to any skilled on the instrument. It belonged to his ancestor, and has sentimental attachment. Lord Sokołowski hopes that one of his own children will be a worthy inheritor of the instrument. You may look through the music book compiled by Jur Sokołowski, and copy to use anything you like; some of it is his own composition.”

“Oh my!” said Klementyna. “No wonder it is off limits, it must be wonderful to have so illustrious an ancestor.”

Justyna laughed.

“Jur and his wife were the ones who began the two-fisted fighting tradition of the family,” she said. “They were at Jasna Góra.”

The children were respectfully silent at that. The miraculous defeat of the Swedes besieging the monastery of Jasna Góra was legendary.

They were to spend three days in Warszawa, one of them shopping, a fashionable outfit each for the older girls and Bartosz, fabric, and toys for the younger ones as well as their own musical instruments. The pay of schoolteachers was not considerable, but there was Jan’s income from his land, and he had managed to save enough to give his daughters a dowry as well as seeing Staś through school and outfit him.  Staś was now assured a place in the Ulan unit in Większy-Bydlin, if he wished it, or with the unit of Ukrainian Ulans under Bazyli Tataryn but he would still have to be provided with horses. Jan was hoping to purchase a Raven-bred horse for his son.

After making various purchases, the family would indulge themselves in sight-seeing; going round the public parts of the Royal Palace, and looking at the grand palaces of magnates and wealthy noblemen.

“Papa,” said Zofia, quietly, “Are you doing this just to brag at Eugenia?”

“Partly,” said Jan. “I don’t want her crowing at any of my little girls, and I will be throwing a ball in Dobrepola. And by the way, if she tried comparing land size, her father owns four włóka and rents three from me; our five włoka are not all of our lands.”

“It’s then about a quarter of what The Falcon owns?”

 “Yes, and he has income from land rented to Olek as well, which does well with his honey,” said Jan. “And he has had various awards from the king, which he has invested in business rather than land. The Falcon is wealthier even than the amount of land he has, because the king was generous to a man who lost an arm in his service.  Which is not to be spoken of, and I would not tell you if I did not think you have learned both discretion and perhaps a need to know the true value of some things in life. But also you need to know the truth about my own lands.”  He hesitated. “Your experiences are what is making me make this trip, in truth,” he said. “If the Kociełłówna girl is such a liar and user, it makes me concerned about the peasants in the hamlet he rents. Such callous disregard would displease me if he is abusing the trust I have placed into him to oversee my lands properly. And if he is not treating my peasants well, then the rental agreement will be terminated as of the quarter day on Michaelmas, which will fall while we are there. Lord Joachim has sent for one of his men who has understanding of land management, who is undertaking a survey for me while we are in Warszawa. I have also sent word to a cousin of mine, with whom I have held desultory correspondence, who was thinking of mustering out of the army and looking for work.  We grew up together, so I know he is a fair, just man, and I was thinking of making him my steward over all. He has no prospects, so if he does not remain a career officer, he must rely on relatives, and it would be in his interests to do well by the land.”

“Like Bartosz,”

“Yes, like Bartosz,” said Jan. “Though I fancy Staś is keen on a lifetime career in the military, so Bartosz at least will likely have the option of being his steward. I was wondering about settling some money on each of you, and letting you invest it.”

“But what would we invest it in?” asked Zofia.

“Well, you were all taken by the hats you got in that pokey little shop we visited this morning,” said Jan. “The shop is rented by three townswomen with limited dowry, who decided to pool their resources, and make millinery.  Putting money into the venture would improve its chances of success, and such girls might then either buy out your share when established,  or continue to take a share.”

“Oh, I see,” said Zofia. “So find people who are talented but who need some more capital.”

“Yes,” said her father.

Zofia thought.

“Weren’t some of the child thieves peasants, exploited by that awful man?”

“Yes, most of them.”

“And they’re in an orphanage as well ... perhaps funding some of them when they have been taught a trade?”

“That’s my good girl.  Or young people who are struggling, to prevent them becoming thieves, because The Falcon will see those he has taken responsibility for put in good places.”

“I will need help to know what to do!”

“Yes, of course you will,” said Jan. “And I’m just mooting the idea for now. We’ll find a lawyer to help all of you and to find people deserving of investment. We’ve had a hand up; and we can pass it on, as I’ve been promised help to outfit your brothers with second hand, but excellent quality, kit, and a horse at a good price.”

“We have been helped in so many ways, Papa,” said Zofia, soberly, realising that she owed the Falcons perhaps more than most, for Lady Sokołowska’s timely intervention in her bad behaviour before it became irredeemable.

Being one of those girls who were in Paulina Piekarska’s class, her thoughts went to that difficult maiden.

Paulina had made some pointed comments to her about how a stepmother would be a stumbling block in her life, likely to get her two older sisters married off as soon as possible, and then her and Karolina. Karolina had laughed at Paulina, but it had been Paulina’s comments which had exacerbated Zofia’s own bad behaviour.

Zofia wrote a letter.

Dear Lady Joanna,

You ought to keep an eye on whether Paulina is needling Alojza, because Alojza is a bit like me and easily rattled. I don’t mean this as telling tales, but while we’re away, it might happen. I don’t know how to help Paulina like you helped me.

Zosia.

 

 

Joanna read the letter, frowned over the sentence about not telling tales, and decided that Zofia was genuine. Insecurity had made her spiteful but unlike Paulina she had been genuinely interested in Joanna’s own story, and appalled by it. Nothing wrong with that little maiden that removing the mote in her eye regarding her so-called friend had not cured. Paulina’s mote was a sense of grievance which could not be thoroughly denied. She was an orphan, and her father and grandfather had behaved disgracefully.  For both to have the same woman as a mistress was bad enough, and mitigated by not knowing about each other, but either could have asked her to marry him, and Paulina’s father, with children the same sort of age as his lover’s offspring, should certainly have insisted on regularising the affair.

Though nobody could have guessed that his father would murder the poor woman by a vicious abortion attempt. Joanna picked up Bronisława, the child whose conception had caused all this furore, and hugged her. Bronisława was as much her baby in many ways as Małgorzata, their little Gosia. And Pauline had refused to have anything to do with her infant half-sister, though Idzik and Emil were keen to know her well, as were Judyta and her siblings. Alexandra, now married, called in to see the baby, and so did Ksawery; and if Krzesimir was busy training with the White Ravens, he mentioned sending a kiss to Bronisława on the rare occasions he wrote. Come to think of it, Judyta had been spending less time with the baby; it was probably easier for the easy-going and gentle Judyta to go along with Paulina’s demands.

Perhaps Olek should decide not to have Paulina over Christmas to spoil a family Christmas for his own kin. She would have a word with him; perhaps he might suggest taking baby Władysław over to see Bronisława and Gosia too, and ask if the girls wanted to come, and see what transpired from that.

No, it wasn’t fair on young Gryfina to have the responsibility of Paulina as well as the three adopted Zabiełłowie, Mieczyk, Juruś, and Oleńka, in addition to Judyta, and her own small son.  After all, the indolent Dorota would not be likely to turn a hand to help with any but her own much doted-on son, Adam. She was too self-centred to care about nieces and nephews.

Joanna conveniently forgot that she was not much older than Gryfina and had happily taken responsibility for  all the Zabiełłowie bastards. It was, to her, the obligation of the successor of the former lord, and thus, too, of his lady, and no question about doing it.

The White Ravens reared all their offspring with a very stern sense of duty.

 

Olek turned up with his three adopted offspring, his wife and their baby, to let the infants be together, and for the three older ones to play with Mestek.  The babies were not old enough to take much notice of each other, but it had been an excuse.

“I am not happy that Paulina and Justyna expressed no interest in seeing Bronisława,” he said.

“Tell me, Olek, did one of them speak first about that and the other agree?” asked Joanna.

“Now you mention it, Paulina said she had no desire to see the baby who had led to her father’s death, and Judyta paused and then nodded. I do not like Paulina, so I am falling over myself backwards to be fair to her.”

“I don’t think it’s helping her right now; she’s taking an attitude that she is hard done by, and anything done for her is only her right due. I think you are going to have to show her that actions have consequences, and tell her that you do not like how her attitude poisons Judyta’s view of her innocent half-sister. I think, though she’s going to be a pain in the arse here, you might do well to refuse to have her for Christmas.”

“I wasn’t looking forward to having Moping Marzanna at Christmas and was chiding myself for being Unchristian,” said Olek. “Honestly, she does look as cheerful and wholesome half the time as a Marzanna effigy after it’s been burned and drowned on March twenty-first.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t dispute it,” sighed Joanna. “I’ve told her my history and she almost sneered at me. I itched to slap her, but it never solves anything.”

“Who will she upset over Christmas here?”

“Nobody; the Białkowscy don’t care any more, the Hulewiczowie are going home for Christmas, and she doesn’t dare twit any of the boys or any of the older girls. If she starts on Alicja, Alicja will hang one on her, and Mestek won’t stay silent. Any more than he will if she tries it with Maja. Tekla is a satisfied and happy child, and there are no more Morscy. And she has no call to be with the younger ones, except Bronisława, and they are all supervised pretty closely too.”

Olek nodded.

“Well, then, I have an unpleasant task when this holiday is over, but it needs to be done. And I will make it clear that it is her behaviour which has made her outstay her welcome.”

“Thanks, Olek.  And I see your eyes straying to the veranda where the children are doing something noisy, and if you want to go and play with them, Gryfina and I will talk babies while our little boys go off to play.”

“Wench,” said Olek, without heat. He kissed his wife tenderly and went out. “Now, Hetman, any chance you need anyone else?” he said as he left.

Joanna laughed.

“And it’s how he stays so young,” she said.

“Yes, and I plan to keep him that way for as long as I have him,” said Gryfina.