omake #4

 

Omake 4

 

Jurko and Helena rode in triumph through Kijów after the defeat of the Ottomans.

And Jurko gazed down into eyes he knew. Eyes belonging to a beggar woman who dropped her eyes and started to move away.

With a short exclamation, Jurko was off his horse, moving towards her, easily catching up. He took her work-roughened hands in his and drew her into his embrace.

“Widow Griszczukowa! I thought you were living with your son, Timosz!” he cried. “Had I known it was otherwise, I should have come looking for you long since!”

“Oh, Jurij! Your highness, I mean! I was with Timosz until he remarried, and his second wife would not have me in her house,” the old woman whispered.

“Bitch!” said Jurko. “Well, then! You treated me more as a son than my own mother ever did, you fed me whenever she put me out of doors hungry, you let me rest in your cottage and told me folk tales while I chopped wood for you to pay my way, and so if Timosz is stupid enough to lose the most precious thing he has, I am not, and you shall grace my house as grandmother to our children. You will love Helena; she has common sense.”

Ignoring her feeble protests, Jurko tenderly led the old woman to his horse and lifted her on to it, springing up behind her.

“Helena, this is the Widow Gosia Griszczukowa, who gave me a place to go, and food, many times when my mother drove me out hungry, before I was old enough to hunt and forage properly for myself. She taught me folk tales, and my letters, though she struggled to feed her own children, and they have repaid her hard work by abandoning her.”

“Why, Mama Gosia, the children will be delighted,” said Helena, leaning over to kiss the wrinkled cheek of the old woman. “I have never had a mama, for Gryzelda is too young to be anything but a sister to me.”

 

Gosia Griszczukowa would never have dreamed of seeking out the adult who had grown from the sullen, thoughtful, dreamer of a little boy she had taken under her wing when his feckless mother left him to his own devices, but she had longed to catch a glimpse of him now he was famous, wealthy and with position, to feel some vicarious satisfaction in him growing into a good man despite his mother. She knew she would give thanks on her knees for long hours that she had felt compassion for the awkward, unhappy child, that he returned the love she had learned for him, and that he would include her in his successful life.

 

I was thinking of actually inserting this in the book.

omake #3

 

Omake 3

 

Fourteen-year-old Jaromka Korybut Wiśniowiecki Bohun frowned.

“Papa,” he said, thoughtfully, “The Ottomans managed to make really good steel by blowing air through it. Why don’t we use watermills to power really big bellows, to get decent quantities of steel?  With the Kursk iron mines producing well, and all the iron in Silesia, and plenty of coal there, too, to smelt it, we could do a lot better.”

“You know what? There’s no reason we shouldn’t,” said Jurko. “We’ll run out of mill races soon, though.”

“We need some new source of power; wind isn’t reliable enough.”

“Do you remember you looked at that steam-powered toy the ancient Greeks made, which irritated you so much because it wasn’t being used to do anything practical?” asked Jurko. “Maybe that’s the answer. Oh, my son! You are definitely my true son in spirit, and you’re going to break the curse.”

“Curse?” Jaromka frowned.

“How many rulers can you think of whose sons were equally able?” asked Jurko.

Jaromka considered.

“Philip of Macedon?” he said. “Alexander the Great surpassed his father.”

“And that’s about the only example,” said Jurko.  “Now, I’ve not ruled, but I’ve fame in my own right – but I had achieved a measure of fame or notoriety before Grandpapa told me I was his son and acknowledged me. So, in a way, I never stood in his shadow. Mama and I have always encouraged you to be your own person, all of you to be individuals, and not to feel you have to be a small copy of either Grandpapa or me. And though you are following me into engineering, you are using your brain to come up with your own ideas and innovations.”

“You thought of steam.”

“No, I reminded you of your own thoughts,” said Jurko. “You have no need to be in my shadow, or Grandpapa’s, for you will think of things on your own, and be his adviser too, as I am, and I am here merely to guide you. No father can truly be great unless he has reared his sons to be able to surpass him. And that’s the mistake many of these so-called great men make. They are too busy seeing to their own fame to pass on how to be a good man and to improve the lot of their dependents to their sons, for being a good man is more important than anything else. Longing to improve the lot of others leads to inspiration, and the rest is inevitable.”

“There is much in what you say, Papa,” agreed Jaromka. “Also, sending sons to the Sich for a couple of years, to be anonymous Cossacks, and rub  off any corners, and develop our irresistible Cossack bodies.”

“That’s my boy,” said Jurko.

 so maybe this one might make it as a full story....

omake #2

 

Omake 2

 

“Protector Cromwell of England is displeased with what he is calling the ‘acts of piracy on the high seas’ of the Duke of Kurland. How shall I reply to that, Jurij?” asked Jeremi.

“Tell him that you are amazed that an Englishman, whose great queen, Elizabeth Tudor, declared slavery to be abhorrent to an Englishman, should permit his captains to sail with cargoes of slaves. Tell him that we are bound in our duty to God to release any such captives from durance vile, and treat those who carry such as the criminals they truly are, even if sailing feloniously under the colours of England. Tell him that the Pit of Gomorrah, otherwise known as Jamaica, is forfeit to the Rzeczpospolita for the unnatural practices which abound there, flaunting the laws of God and consequently being a blight upon the hitherto unsullied name of England.”

“We don’t want to warn him we plan to seize Jamaica.”

“Kurland already took it; I have his dispatches here. He’s invested a number of szlachcice amongst the former slaves. One Józef Cudjoe has been elected by his fellows to represent Jamaica in the Sejm.”

“You just enjoy sounding sanctimonious to as narrow-minded a protestant as Cromwell,” laughed Jeremi.

“I do, indeed,” said Jurko.

Korybut omake

 I have a selection of omake one of which might grow into a story, so i thought I'd post them. 

Eagle and Falcon Omake

 

“It’s nice that Michał is making friends with young Leopold of Austria,” said Jeremi. “When Ferdynand does die, we shall make sure Leopold becomes Holy Roman Emperor. We now own a number of votes.”

“Or the Sejm does,” said Jurko.

Jeremi shrugged.

“And Gryzelda and I between us own most of the Sejm, one way or another. It comes to the same thing. We don’t even have to stoop to blackmail; we prefer to have people owing us favours.”

“Gryzelda is as ruthless an operator as any, and makes you look almost an amateur,” grinned Jurko. “Mind, Papa, had you noticed something?”

“Hmmm?” Jeremi was too proud of his wife to take offence at Jurko’s teasing.

“The preponderance of spurious treasure maps on sale have increased since Michaś and Leopold had a lesson in mapping together,” said Jurko.

Jeremi considered.

“Anyone fool enough to believe a purchased treasure map deserves to be taken for a fool,” he said. “It’s all good practice for their map making.”

Jurko grinned.

“Why don’t I suggest a few maps in places where I want to dig canals to get things started?” he said.

“You can’t do that,” said Jeremi. “Mind, if they overheard you discussing how you will need a difficult field dug....”

“I take it back; you’re no amateur at all, my liege,” said Jurko.

Falcon and King live

 https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09WTN3G4K

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09WTN3G4K

the little tank - a moral tale.

 So there was this meme poster...

Once upon a time there was a Little Tank, who liked to be with his friends. But one day the Short Controller said, "Why don't you all go and play noisily Next Door? It's quite all right, the people Next Door like noisy play, and it would get rid of their Nasty guests." But when Little Tank and his friends got Next Door, and started firing their guns, they discovered that the people Next Door had no Nasty guests and were VERY UPSET to be fired at. And they fired back, and the humans got in the way, which was very scary. When the human drivers ran away, leaving their tanks, the tractors came, and took them away, and they were NEVER SEEN AGAIN. So Little Tank ran into a muddy pond, with his gun out, to breathe. The Little Tank was sure that if he kept very quiet, the tractors would not notice him. He only wanted to be a Really Useful Tank, after all, and he cried, though it could not be seen in his pond, at the thought that the Short Controller had told Great Big Wicked SMELLY lies.

 
In time, Little Tank was found, and dragged out of the pond by the tractors, and he cried, for he was very scared. But he was mended, and he discovered that the Shorter Controller, who lived next door, was a much kinder man, who knew how to smile, and Little Tank happily worked for Next Door for ever after, and had fun with his friends who had also been rescued.

So I'm drawing it now to get round copyright. it can go in with the poems...

some pics from the poetry book