Chapter 8
"You won't need your wings, or your armour," said Jurko, softly. "We are not anticipating a fight just yet... well, maybe the odd brigands, but not the Moskale just yet. Of course, if I'm wrong, you'll have a very short learning session on surviving war without being peacock-tailed lobsters. But let me remind you of something; both peacocks and lobsters attract people wanting to eat them and loot their feathers."
"You know nothing about hussars," complained one man.
"Don't I?" said Jurko. "And on what do you base that assessment?"
"You're on... you're a Cossack, you have never ridden with wings, or taken part in a lance charge."
"You say that as if you knew anything about me," said Jurko. "I've ridden with wings. I've taken part in lance charges. My father believes in cross-training. I've had Colonel Wołodyjowski's scathing comment about posture and how to angle my weapon. Cossacks ride for distance and speed, not to intimidate and then concentrate their weight to make sure all the momentum of the charge goes through the tip of the spear. I can do it in practice, and more than that, I can do you the mathematics which tells exactly why a spear can go clear through two armoured bodies if the angel holding it is worth his salt and it is at the high point of his charge. I've also used hussaria tactics against the many hussars I've killed. Oh yes, my dear little cherubs, I've used a group of two hundred Cossacks to kill ten times our number of hussars. They were, I hasten to add, traitors who were trying to destroy the fragile peace my father brokered with the Sich. And by the sound of what I've heard, you lot have similar views, that the only good Cossack is a dead Cossack. Well, you're all getting to be Cossacks for the next month or more, and if any of you have more brains than snot, which is debateable, you'll take a lot of knowledge away with you. Anyone who makes unreasonable comments will have his head shaved entirely. Which reminds me, I owe my brother and his friend an oseledets cut; they took their whippings like men, and they shall have the rite of passage to be men."
"I don't see how Cossacks without armour can stand against armoured men," persisted the questioner.
"Much as I hate to do it, once your horses are down, you're moderately useless," said Jurko. "Oh, I grant you, sitting tall in red silk, with wings whirring gently in the breeze behind you, and szyszak in place to protect every part of the face and neck, one feels like a young god. You lot just got shaken out of Zeus's aegis right into the middle of the shit-pot of Europe, otherwise known as the Moskwa forest. Because we can't afford to waste even such precious cherubs as you, and if nothing else we shall rely on your unspeakable bravery and use you as armour. What, did you expect me to be kind to you when I've heard a tale from my little brother and his best friend, about how they've been pushed, often right over, tripped, sneered at, had their honesty called into question, casually slapped and so on?"
"But... but they aren't real Cossacks," said another.
"Yes, they bloody well are," said Jurko. "As am I. As is my father. Do you want to go and be Russian if you disapprove of a Cossack king? Do, please. You'd be an asset to us by joining your military prowess to the enemy; I'm a great believer in donating the useless to the foe. And plainly you like the knout as your adjutant considers it suitable, so you'll like it being used on you. Because you won't automatically take your status as szlachta to Moskwa. Now if any of you can manage to work for your living, and learn as you do so, in a couple of months, you might be worth something. But at this moment, I look at a bunch of the most expendable losers I've seen since we took Stefan Potocki's men from him when my father suckered all of them into surrendering on his own. Because he is a bohatyr, and he is a Cossack, and I will do anything for him, even trying to turn you kindergarden trash into soldiers." He paused, his dimples popping in and out in genuine mirth at the various expressions of outrage. "No armour; no wings. Your plainest clothing. You will each be issued with a spade; guard it with your life. You will have a good heavy wool cloak, which is your bedding, and I won't object to you taking any fur-lined garment to sleep in as well. You will have a big piece of canvas which is half a tent. You'll be learning how to make it better. You will have a coil of rope, which has many uses, but if you use it up and leave it, it's gone. You will have a pair of axes, which you can learn to use as weapons, but mostly, you'll be attacking trees. I assume you all have a whet-stone. You're going to be doing a lot of walking so choose your footwear accordingly. If any of you affect western dress out of uniform, a pair of silk stockings inside woollen ones or flannel foot wrappings help keep warm. Take care of your feet and your feet will take care of you. Consult a healer over any foot problems. You are likely to get chilblains; but remember, while your feet hurt, you aren't hurt. If they go numb, then you panic. Gloves, hats... do I have to tell you all to make sure to keep your head warm as well as your extremities? I am hoping some, at least, of your pocztowi will have common sense, and might end up getting promoted over you first."
"They'll learn," said Jan. "That, or they'll die, and improve the stock of manhood in the Commonwealth."
"We don't have to stay here and be insulted by Cossacks!" declared one.
"Yes, actually, you do," said Jan. "You were placed under the command of Colonel Wołodyjowski, and he's given you to Jurko, which means I get to teach you a few tricks, as one of his advisors. I'm pretty good at being a Cossack now; I'm adopted."
"Oh, you're a pretty good Cossack for a pampered and pretty Lach," said Jurko draping an affectionate arm over Jan's shoulders.
"And you're not a half bad Sarmatian gentleman for a wild Cossack," said Jan, draping his own arm back. "First lesson, gentlemen; we became friends and brothers when courting the same woman and swore oaths of brotherhood and support, whichever of us she chose. And we insult each other with love, as one can do with brothers. And you will learn that the Cossacks, Lithuanians, and Poles are brothers."
"And if you don't want to even try with that I don't expect you to have the impudence to turn up for mass on Sunday as you won't be in a sufficient state of grace," said Jurko. "I hate hypocrisy, and I'll be wary of any man giving lip service to the Love of God if he isn't ready to give himself in the service of love to his fellow men."
Several of the hussars looked as if they had been struck between the eyes at this addition, and most of those crossed themselves, a couple with tears starting in their eyes at the realisation of their casual sins.
Jurko smiled, and his cold, wintery face transformed to be as the summer sun on the steppe.
"Some of you understand; and that delights me," he said, softly.
oOoOo
It is not to be expected that the newly-made Cossacks liked the idea of leaving their horses at the forward camp.
Many of the men with Andrzej and Symeon were displeased too, and wondering why they were made to wait.
"Oh, you mutinous bunch of scowling children!" cried Jurko as he addressed them. "You are about to embark on the big adventure known as learning to use your own little legs, which will get you further and faster than having to care for your nags. I believe Andrzej and Symeon have designated grooms from your pacholiki and pochtowi, of those who are aged or very young." He smiled, briefly. "This does not include my brother, Michał, known as Miszko, and his friend Jurij, known as Juryk, who became men this day. Miszko, are you growing your hair be like Papa, or will I shave you to have an oseledets?"
"Oh, Jurij, I was wanting to be like you and Papa, but I think I would like an oseledets," said Miszko.
"And I want to be like my Papa," said Juryk.
"Kneel and let me shave you, to show that you are men this day," said Jurko. Gently he plied his sabre to take off all but the central scalp lock of each. Then they stood, and the men cheered.
"Well worth the sore bum," Miszko muttered to his friend.
Jurko spoke again.
"Each of you should have a piece of canvas eight stopy by ten stopy. How many of you took my advice while you waited for us to turn up the ends on the short sides to sew pockets? Some of you? Good. The rest of you will have to do so when you have leisure, as will our newborn baby Cossacks here, who are hatching out of Angel eggs. They are under penance, but don't jostle them too much. Help them to learn. With education, comes enlightenment. With enlightenment comes wisdom. With education, even Russians can be turned into civilised beings, and civilise the buggers we shall. This day will be mostly taken up walking as you haven't learned to dig as you walk as you swear. And as to swearing, you can be as scatalogical as you like, but expect a fine, or a buffet, if you blaspheme."
oOoOo
Jurko walked with the new recruits.
"The idea is to live with God's world, not against it, nor ignoring it," he said. "These primeval forests are uncanny, I grant you, and improved greatly for driving a decent road through, and cutting back vegetation in which brigands, or skirmishers, can lurk. But notice the few spinneys left. They are for our own snipers, bowmen for the most part, when the Moskale attack. But they don't look like much, do they? And they are in the open so men can't get to them from the forest, right?"
"Yes, sir," said a few irritable voices.
Jurko sniggered.
"This is a tactic I worked out long ago with Symeon," he said. "Watch."
He ran lightly to a spinney, and then to all appearances, vanished from view. Several minutes later, they turned to his shout.
He was on the edge of the forest.
Several of the new ones and Andrzej's forces crossed themselves.
"How the devil...?" asked Andrzej.
Jurko joined him.
"In the spinney, is a wattle shield on three sides, which also acts as some armour. It has earth over it to make it a berm, and has wildflower seeds in the earth for spring. It is three feet high because of the hole behind it, where a couple of men can stand and fire over it whilst essentially protected. Behind it, a slit trench runs back into the woodlands, and the last bit is a crawl-way under wattle hurdles which will be naturally colonised by plants. A hole in the woods, surrounded by vegetation is just a hole."
"It's brilliant," said Andrzej. "And I never even noticed Symeon's men doing it."
"They camped, Cossack fashion, after you'd gone back to camp, I expect," said Jurko. "Just to surprise you one day. We Cossacks have a basic sense of humour."
"The Moskale won't be laughing."
"No, so they won't," said Jurko, happily. "Now, tell me what's at Dorogobuż."
"Bugger all," said Andrzej. "But it has some advantages. For one, it's still in Poland, and I had planned to move the forward base to it when we reached it. There used to be a Russian wooden fort there, and we used it as a forward defence of Smolensk. It got ravaged in all that nonsense of the thirty years' war, and the population was... well whatever the opposite of decimated is and then some. Not losing one man in ten, nearer ninety in a hundred. There's a small, stubborn peasant population and one szlachetka and they don't want to be Russian. I thought it was worthwhile leaving a few people who understand fortification to set up better defences around it."
"A sound plan. I'll make some suggestions myself when we get there; I helped design the defences of Warszawa before the Swedes arrived."
"I heard about it; successive lines of irritations to slow people up and whittle them down."
"Yes, that's about the size of it. Sucker people in with a line of hurdles on top of a berm, and the next time they find a line of hurdles they jump them, and end up in a pit. Or the hurdles conceal highly mobile artillery like Cossack little cannons, which fire one round of grapeshot to cut down as many as possible and retreat to previously prepared positions. And easy ways round set up as enfilades of other artillery."
"I like the way you think." Andrzej added, "And it's also on the Dniepr in case you wanted to drive a canal."
"It crossed my mind," said Jurko. "We are alike; Michał said as much. I think I'm going to adopt you as a spare baby brother."
"It's an honour," said Andrzej. "You told Oleńka to sleep in my tent."
"It worked for Helena and me, and for Zuzanna and Jan," shrugged Jurko. "Pity Jan, Zuzanna has taken some years to conceive, and he has left her in Warszawa. Every spare minute he has, he's writing home with 'Darling-my-trousers-are-on-fire' letters. She normally goes with him as his quartermaster."
"Your Cossack women are warriors too; I am in awe," said Andrzej. "And Oleńka joined in sabre drill as well."
"We all do," said Jurko. "And we have ladies' corner in the steam bath."
oOoOo
"We're taking things slowly today, to get the new recruits settled in," said Jurko, when they had reached the end of the built road. "How do you divide your messes up, Andrzej? I imagine Symeon goes by my method of squads of six or eight, plus their servants, and three of them share a cookfire?"
"He suggested we do the same, so we do," said Andrzej.
"Fine, I want every squad to take two of the newly hatched lads, so they can learn on the job," said Jurko. "We'll give it a week to see how it goes, barring serious personality clashes, and then they can play all change if any of them have struck up friendships."
The former hussars were not happy to be spilt up and isolated, two of them in with a group of fierce, rather rough, men. Andrzej's men might not be Cossacks, but they were certainly szlachetka and not of the sort of families which usually were picked for the elite winged regiments. Protesting got nowhere, however, and being split up meant that plotting would be, on the whole, confined to two plotters inside the larger group. The hussars were used to acting in a lance of four men, backed up by their fighting pocztowi, and their servants. Jurko's system made little difference between the fighting pocztowy and the former hussars; after all, many of them were szlachetka too poor to outfit themselves, and to Jurko it was fighting skill that counted, not wealth. And the Angels must choose a partner to share a tent with, from a former towarzysz, or from one of his dependants. Jurko made a note of those who chose a dependant; the likelihood was, they would adapt better, helped by a man with fewer illusions about status.
