Chapter 17
The objective for the day's journey was the town of Iskorosten; they would stay overnight and over Sunday in the castle. Jeremi called on the column to pick up pace sufficiently not to be travelling into the evening, out of deference to the Cossacks, even if his wife's ladies might be less devout. Knowing how stubborn both Helena and Jurko were, he had a horrid feeling that they and the outriders would refuse to go any further after sundown.
He was right.
Picking up the pace saw them into the town before dark, however, and welcomed by the castellan. There was more room here, and Jurko and Jan each got their own room. And Jurko smiled ruefully that he was still joined by Michał, and happily damned Jan and his privacy. But then, if the lad had nobody else he trusted to turn to, who was he to complain? Jurko gave thanks in his prayers that he could help his half-brother, and accepted his frustrations as a test of his constancy.
Jeremi concealed his impatience to get on over Sunday; he wanted to get onto the higher, dryer ground which would not succumb to the rasputitsa, the season of quagmire. The rains had not really come yet, but such things were always slightly uncertain. They would not reach dryer ground until almost as far west as Chełm. And they would be lucky to get that far in less than two weeks.
That was the way it was, when travelling with women.
Well, with the more tender women, anyway. He suspected that if things worked out his way, Helena would not hesitate to go at Cossack pace to accompany Jurko. And he was beginning to think of her as his daughter, and hoped she would not meet anyone else at court.
Well, Jurko was a jealous lover, and would likely see off anyone else.
Malwina insisted on riding daily, and turned her full charm offensive onto Jan, since Gryzelda had mentioned what a wealthy and well-connected young man he was. Jan animadverted about her to Jurko at their next stop.
"That wretched female coos like a dove, and tries to thrust poisoned barbs like a cockatrice!" he said.
"Marchpane," said Jurko. "Too sweet to stomach and an overtaste of bitter almonds withal."
"Really, are you still young enough to think in food analogies?" said Jan.
"You pompous ass, you're a year younger than I am; when do you come of age?"
"Next month. Stuff yourself with straw, you Cossack oaf."
"She really has filled your nose with flies," said Jurko.
"Yes, and another fly for every time she mentions Lady Helena – 'poor little Helena, such a funny little thing' and things like that, in pretended sympathy."
"You ride with Helena tomorrow then, and I'll bear the little bitch company," said Jurko. "But you'll have to take Michał; I'm not exposing him to her."
"Are you sure? That's tremendously generous of you. I... I know who Helena has chosen. She wants me to be a brother to her."
Jurko embraced Jan fiercely.
"Then I appreciate the more that you are my dear brother and friend," he said.
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Helena giggled at Jan's furtive movements to ride out with her, whilst Jurko headed off Malwina.
"Pan Skrzetuski, had all you can take?"
"Yes, you warned me, but your warning did not compass the whole of it," said Jan.
"Poor Malwina, I do actually feel sorry for her – when I don't have to talk to her, when I want to slap her," said Helena.
Jan laughed.
"The thing is, you mean it when you call her 'poor', and you are then honest enough to add how much you dislike her. Her use of 'poor Helena' is all artifice."
"She wouldn't like the life I choose," said Helena. "Cossack and apprentice pirate."
Jan laughed again.
"Now I hadn't thought of it that way, but I suppose I'm an apprentice pirate as well."
"And I have to say, I wish there was a way we could have sailed to Warszawa; this horrid swampy forest we are riding through is damp enough to almost need a ship."
"I can't say that the depression is a pleasant place to travel. It's not as bad as parts of the Prypeć Marshes, and at least there are fewer mosquitoes at this time of year."
"I wish we could go faster, the longer we take, the worse the chance of fever and ague from the swamp air," said Helena.
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"So, tell me about your exploits, Captain Bohun," cooed Malwina.
"Not a lot to tell," said Jurko. "I gut Turks and rescue slaves."
"Oh, I am sure they are very grateful."
"No, most of the Turks dislike being gutted," said Jurko.
"I didn't mean them!Tell me about some of the slaves you have rescued."
"I think the most lasting memory one has of an Ottoman galley is the stink of it," said Jurko. "The slaves are manacled to the oars naked and must live in their own stench, eating at the oars, sleeping at the oars, and relieving themselves at the oars, year in, year out, until they die at the oars and their body is tossed overboard and a new young man is manacled in their place, to change over a year or so from a strong, young, spirited youth into an old man, bent and twisted by the relentless oar, losing his teeth to the poor diet, his hair white with the horror of his experience, his skin crawling with lice and fleas that he has little ability to scratch at for the cramped conditions. Nobleman or peasant, Cossack or Jewish merchant, nations mixed, bound only in the brotherhood of obedience to the drum which regulates the beat of the oar and a longing to be liberated by death."
Malwina shuddered.
"So you drown them to give them death? I meant the slave girls."
"The hell do I drown them. Those who can do no other job than row for being too bent are glad to row as free men, paid, and able to change position to sleep on the deck, and pleased of the chance to kill Turks in my navy. And those who can, glad to go back to their families, if possible. The slave girls? Well, they don't have so hard a life in a way, though it depends if they are ornaments for a harem or bought to be moderately decorative maids of all work with added rape. At least the harem girls usually only get raped a few times a year by their owner. The worst are those destined for brothels, male or female. It's theoretically forbidden to the Ottomans for men to sleep with men, but it happens, and being underground is therefore even less regulated. Those boys made catamites or beloveds to a single master are at least usually pampered, though I can't say I think it makes up for it. The strongest boy children captured are made into Janissaries, who are arrogant bastards and their slavery a mere formality. Then there are the little boys who are captured by the Copts, who are nominally Christian, but have no problem taking slaves and castrating them to sell as harem guards, since the Ottomans themselves are forbidden to castrate, but use the casuistry that they can buy in those castrated by others. Even though it's only done for the Ottomans. That hypocrisy I despise."
"Your navy?" said Jeremi, who had heard this impassioned exchange, and rode closer.
Jurko went red.
"Your pardon, father; I suppose it's your navy. Both warships of it. We took a dhow as well as the galleass, to act as a lighter."
"Well, it's a start," said Jeremi.
"I would that we might send to Holland for some shipwrights, to make proper ships that do not depend on oars," said Jurko. "And if we might build a canal to skip the rapids and make a navigation of the Prypeć, and put a canal at Pińsk from the Prypeć to the Bug, and from there to the Wisla, then we could sail clear from Kijów to Gdansk."
"It's a strategic plan," said Jeremi. "If we can be certain of some peace, it would be worth doing."
"It would mean negotiation with landowners, but if they were permitted to charge a small toll for their section of canal, and use that both for profit and to upkeep the canal, then avarice might win the day over strategic travel, which I wager some golden rights would feel better on other szlachcice's lands."
"The joys of enlightened self-interest," said Jeremi. "And that might work. Royal ships being exempt from any toll of course."
"Naturally, but it would still be cheaper for merchants to pay even a stiffish toll to make that journey with goods in... what, a quarter the time it would take to go by road, or even less, perhaps."
"And at any time of year," said Jeremi. "And cheaper to feed and pay a few sailors than feeding drovers and their beasts and paying them for weeks. And troops could be moved if need by rowing themselves in barges."
"And think of the relative ease of re-provisioning," said Jurko. "The Dutch build canals as well."
"You're talking yourself into a visit to Holland in the future," said Jeremi.
"I'm sure Helena would enjoy it," said Jurko.
Malwina sulked. He was more interested in his stupid ships than he was in her. And talking of involving Helena as if marrying her was expected was just too much. She flounced, and kicked her horse to ride on ahead, winding through those Cossacks ahead of her and past Jan and Helena, currently leading the column.
She urged her horse to a fast canter.
"Oh, little fool," said Jurko. "Helena! Go after her!"
Helena stopped long enough to pass Róża to Jan. Riding astride meant that she could gallop at need, which Malwina could not, any more than she could jump obstacles with the flimsy hold on the saddle.1
Malwina went as fast as she dared, but her horse was startled when a flock of wild goats flowed out of the dank forest, and it reared.
With a shriek, Malwina was thrown, but her foot remained caught in the stirrup, her head and torso at risk from the plunging hoofs of her mare.
Helena thundered up, veering to the other side of the mare to where the hapless Malwina dangled, grabbing the bridle of the plunging beast with a hand strengthened with sabre drill, and dragged it to a stop, transferring effortlessly from her own horse to Malwina's to calm it, before leaping off in one fluid move to aid Malwina.
"That girl can ride," said Jeremi.
"Born to be a Cossack," said Jurko.
"Oh, she's yours if she wants it," said Jeremi. "But this visit to court to bring her out has become strategic."
"Thank you, father; and of course, any understanding remains no more than unspoken," said Jurko. "I'd better help her with the wench. Hej! Kurylo! Bear a hand!"
Helena had got Malwina's foot out of the stirrup, and lifted the girl to the side of the road.
"Malwina, are you sensible, or did you strike your head?"
"I... I kept my head up. You saved my life; why? I hate you."
"I hate you, but I wouldn't see that happen to anyone. You are a little fool, the next village is called Sarny, named for the wild goats around here. I asked," said Helena. "Not to mention not knowing if you might run into brigands, unaware of the escort, or a tree down across the road or anything like that."
"I wanted to get away! I hate this forest, and all Bohun is interested in is his ships!"
"Well, he is justly proud of having stolen so many," said Helena. "You've broken your arm, but I pray to God that your back is only bruised, not broken. Oh, Kurylo! You know how to set bones, don't you?"
"Aye, my lady ataman," said Kurylo. "Hold her; it will hurt cruelly."
Malwina screamed and passed out as her arm was set, and Kurylo ran his hands over her back as Helena raised her.
"Is she badly hurt?" asked Helena.
"She's fortunate," said Kurylo. "But she will have to ride in a coach or on a horse litter between two men; we Cossacks make a sling to carry our wounded."
"Then do that, I cannot think it would be good for her arm to ride in a carriage. I should not like it," said Helena. "And always treat me in the Cossack way if I should be hurt and unable to express an opinion."
"Of course, my lady ataman; you're one of us," said Kurylo.
Malwina was duly loaded onto a makeshift stretcher between two horses; and when she came out of her faint, it is to be said that she was grateful for a less uncomfortable mode of transport than in the coach.
Naturally, Gryzelda sent to ask what had happened, and Jeremi went to answer her himself.
"The little fool, Malwina would show off and took a tumble off her horse," he said. "She's bruised and has broken her arm, but she will recover well enough. The Cossacks know how to transport someone wounded in a more comfortable fashion than laid on the floor of the coach, so do not worry."
"And I suppose she'll moon over whoever helped her out of her predicament," sighed Gryzelda.
"Oh, no worries there; it was Helena, who can do the Cossack riding tricks well enough to calm a plummeting horse," said Jeremi.
That casual mention of a plummeting horse caused shrieks of consternation from Gryzelda's ladies, and Jeremi retreated hastily.
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a/n
1 It was not until three decades into the 19th century that the second, or 'jumping' horn was added to the sidesaddle, enabling a female rider to gallop or jump. And although some fun was poked at ladies who rode astride by the Regency period, it was still common enough for some to do so, as they had done from the earliest of times, for a more secure and comfortable ride. It was only in Victorian times that it became de rigeur.