Chapter 11

The king's son, acting as a messenger, was taken seriously in Smoleńsk, and the horses of him and his companions were tenderly cared for, and he was fed and put to bed, with a promise to rouse him early to get back on the road. Or rather, on the canals. It was Rzeczpospolita business; at need, Michaś could requisition any shipping in the name of his brother. Shipping passed up and down the Dniepr all the time, now, and he and his fellows must tranship to get onto the Pripec, which then went through a canal into the Bug all the way to the Wisla. He would have little to do but worry; but Michaś was no idler, and anticipated being an extra hand to help the sailors. The prevailing winds in January were westerlies, which could not be helped, but some of the travel would be north and south, following the vagaries of the water-ways.

Michaś could row as well. It might take both him and Juryk on an oar to replace an experienced hand, but they could give that relief where a man was less effective for illness or injury. It was most uncomfortable on his still sore backside, but then, it had been a punishment for promoting unnecessary rivalries, and Michaś sighed and endured. At least the trip to the mouth of the Pripec had been achieved in a day. It would now be four days against the wind along the canal which incorporated the Pripec, the Bug, and then a day or less into Warszawa.

And if Jurij fell, the fort would delay the Moskale more, and Smoleńsk was prepared. It would take several days to get warships provisioned and ready... no, thought Michaś, his father was expecting to go to war. The provisioning was done, the men on alert. Two days perhaps to load men and horses. And another six days back to Smoleńsk.

He could remember travelling from Kijów to Warszawa, the more vividly because of the horror of being threatened, small boy that he had been, on the way. It had been a journey of weeks, not just protracted in the restless mind of a child. Now, with Jurij's waterways and good roads between, the Commonwealth could be crossed in a matter of days.

If only there was a way in which it might be accomplished in hours, so he could bring Papa to Jurij.

oOoOo

Count Vladimir Vladimirovitch Dorogin was sore. Physically and with regards to his temper. He was the true brains behind this quiet invasion, before the Poles would think to look for any invader, and he had been made to look a fool by some Cossack claiming to be a prince. And his elite cavalry had been held at bay by shovels, farm implements, and it did not bear thinking of! Yes, he had killed some of them, but fully fifty of his own elite cavalry were down, and half the peasants had fled to the other side! He could not understand that at all!

Well, the damned Poles would suffer. Pickets could make their way around them to the other side to cut them off, so they could not flee. And some of them would die of cold overnight, and thirst would make them lightheaded; there was no snow where they were digging to melt in the hands and drink. And he would have his table set up in their sight and eat and drink, with the others of highest rank, with candles and lanterns to make sure they could see how much was there. And caltrops in front of the table, in case they tried to charge him and steal food. Then they might be flogged to death.

Dorogin laughed, despite his painful leg.

oOoOo

"Don't look at any of the lanterns they are setting, lads," said Jurko. "Helena, how are you doing?"

"I had to relieve my bladder, and I can't do it standing like you boys can, so I squatted on the prince for comfort," said Helena.

"What a good little Cossack my wife is," said Jurko.

"Well, any gentleman would offer his lap for a lady to sit on to pee into, and he's as close as what passes for a gentleman in Moskwa," said Helena.

"Indeed, he should be honoured," said Jurko.

They all laughed.

The peasants were to share two tents, which were not as fine as those of the officers. The officers appeared to be sharing a tent between about six of them, there being little room for any more, and Kuryło smiled.

"We can drop the tents on top of the peasants; crammed together as they are, it'll take them forever to escape," he said. "They won't dare cut their way out, after all. And the officers who sleep need not wake up."

"They seem to be sending out pickets," said Wasyl.

"And destroying the night sight of the camp with lanterns," said Kuryło, happily. "A lasso over the neck of each picket will shorten their watch really quickly."

"They can't enjoy sharing tents," said Wasyl. "I wonder if any of them will quarrel enough to do our jobs for them?"

"We can't bank on it," said Kuryło. "But be aware they may not sleep deeply when we go to slit their throats."

"We'll be careful until they're dead," said Wasyl. "Now I see why you stopped us firing into them, we're Jurij's ace in the hole."

"He's lost eight men; they may not all be dead," said Kuryło. "I saw Helena put two at least of them on the groundsheet with cloaks over them. The hedgehog has killed fifty or more of the Moskale scum. We need to take down all of them and capture all the peasants. And I want that little shit who is setting up a feast alive; I think he's the brains behind this, not the prince. He moved straight into command, and though I might have done so, or Pan Jan, or even Wasyl if Jurij was down, we've been trained that way by our little father who is busy playing with Moskale down there. Grab any you think might be of use, and incapacitate rather than kill, but don't risk the mission. Forty tents! And straggled back along the trail in order of importance no doubt. It'll take a while."

"Jurko will take advantage of them destroying their sight by letting his men out of the square," said Wasyl. "We need to kill the pickets first, and then collect our brothers to help. It'll take a cart or two to carry all this loot!"

"Well, one cart with tents came with them, and I wager there are others we haven't seen yet with fodder for the horses and food, and furnishings. Phaugh!" said Kuryło in disgust. "And just for fancy nobles; and our king goes to war with a command tent, a camp bed, and a travelling altar. I wager he'd not kick up a fuss camping shovel-master fashion."

"A man who will pray all night on the cold stones of the church floor for the safety of his son is not a man to worry about his tent," said Malwina. "And I want to make sure we don't have to tell the king how his son died. Let's set about making sure the Moskale do the dying."

They set off through the crepuscular gloom deepened by the canopy of the sullen pine trees, looking away from the candles and lanterns being lit.

And on a brief whistle from Kuryło, six lassos shot out, and six necks had cries in them choked off before they could begin, and were shortly thereafter silenced forever, as the cervical vertibrae parted company with the savage yank on the rope, before the dead boyars parted company from their horses. It was Frol's job to then lead away the horses, and picket them off the trail, while the bodies of their riders were piled up for later identification and looting.

Kuryło wandered up the dug out road.

"Ataman?" he said.

"Kuryło! I saw some pickets vanish off their horses," said Jurko, sliding to the back of the square. "We'll be quietly dispersing shortly. I thought if you could bring us some man-height stakes, we've opened the ground somewhat with spades, and we can drape cloaks on half a dozen stakes, and slide away behind them. We've six dead, two wounded, and two captives, one peasant lad, wounded, and one prince, peed on by Helena."

Kuryło sniggered over the last.

"That'll cool his ardour as the temperature drops," he said. "We'll carry out the wounded when we bring you the stakes."

"And our first men out will bring out our dead; we leave nobody behind," said Jurko.

oOoOo

Dorogin could see the figures of the men at the far limit of what the deepening twilight permitted, just within the glow of his further lamps. Their uncanny stillness made him shudder. But then, they had waited thus between attacks all afternoon. Perhaps they would freeze into dead statues of men. That would be good.

The smells of the food being cooked for him on the travelling kitchen smelled good. He wished he had been able to bring some cannon as well as the field kitchen, but one had to eat properly. And getting cannon over the roads, which tended to be scoured clear of snow the moment the wind blew, was more trouble than it was worth. Of course, they would have to bring artillery sooner or later.

"A shame we don't have a small cannon, but we can send back for one," he said. "A ball into that annoying knot of Cossacks to reduce them to pulp and body parts would soon get rid of them. Or chainshot, to tear them limb from limb." He smiled. "Maybe I might fire it low first to cut them in half or cut off legs so they will appreciate more how much they have irritated me. Of course, I will not now permit them to get off the road, they have chosen a futile stand against me, and they will pay for it."

"That would kill the prince!" said one of his fellows, shocked. Dorogin waved a fork.

"Unfortunate, but such a heroic way that he died, charging these fool Poles all alone. A bogatyr, surely."

The noose which dropped over his head startled him, but before he had a chance to say anything he was being gently throttled.

Those he had chose to eat with him were throttled less gently.

oOoOo

"We don't need to wait until they go to bed," said Jurko. "I sent for Jan to come with a relief force, and we don't need to put them in danger. Most of them, you say, are eating in their tents? He is showing off to us. So we take out the servants of their kitchen, neutralise those at this bizarre high table, and then deal with each tent in turn."

"Kill, or capture?" asked Helena.

"Kill; we can't afford mercy. They give us nothing. We have the prince, and we will take that loudmouth. And we set their heads on poles along the road. They are, after all, acting as brigands. There has been no declaration of war, so they must be brigands," said Jurko.

There was much laughter.

First, the servants of the kitchen were tied up. Then the best with lassos noosed those at the high table, Kuryło himself taking Dorogin, to make sure he silenced him without killing. Then half a dozen went to each tent, not hurrying. They slid in the back of the gaudy pavillions which made the tents for the gaudy boyars, and without messing about, threw axes into the heads of those sitting to eat.

The axes were harder to get out than to throw, but once this was accomplished, each group might move on to a new objective.

It was bloody slaughter.

But then, nobody had any illusions that the Russians would not enact bloody slaughter, as they had done before, on those they overran.

"All that blood is going to be hard to get out of the furs when we loot it," said Malwina.

"Better that, than being made their unwilling whores," said Helena, who had lost any illusions she may have harboured in her youth with regards to noblewomen being treated honourably. She and Malwina were lovely enough to be taken by the highest and kept for a while rather than being raped to death fairly quickly.

"Oh, it's the way round I'd rather have it, but I was just grumbling about the work," said Malwina.

"Even hardened warriors like Kuryło can be sickened," said Jurko, quietly. "You don't have to hide it. His face is a mask; but we dare not leave them to fight back."

His own face was something of a mask, and Helena touched him on the arm.

"Kuryło captured one tent full," he said. "I love him for being as sentimental as I am. Two of those he found were scarce older than Michaś and Juryk, and a man with them surely their father. And he would save three he is not sentimental over for the three he is."

"He's a good man," said Helena.

The peasants had no fight in them once a tent had been dropped on them, and had been rounded up to march, when Jurko's pickets called a challenge.

"It's me, Jan," called the voice from the dark.

"Advance and be recognised, Pan Jan," said the Cossack.

A few minutes later and Jan was in Jurko's arms, in a fierce embrace.

"What, am I too late for any of the fun?" asked Jan.

"You know what?" said Jurko, embracing Jan again, "I've just had a revelation into how you feel when you give me that dismayed look and ask if we are going to have my idea of fun."

"Bad?" asked Jan.

"It had its high notes; taunting the real leader, Helena pissing on the prince, seeing the leader's face as Kuryło's noose went over his head, just after he had been fantasizing about cutting us in half with chain shot, seeing the pickets vanish as if by magic as Kuryło's lads dealt with them, the faces of the peasants after we dropped a tent on them...but one can be sickened by killing when taking them by surprise," said Jurko. "But we can't afford to let them report back."

"No, indeed. How many were there?"

"Around three hundred, and more peasants."

Jan whistled.

"That's not just an outpost garrison force."

"No, I think he planned to see what he could nip off," said Jurko. "So they came as thieves, and as thieves we will treat them. You can send a runner back, and then we're going to fall on their food and eat it. The peasants have eaten, even if their rations were more meagre."

"Vae victor, vae victis," said Jan.

"The little bastard ate outside to make us hungry as well," said Jurko. "And we've been working since breakfast time; I'm famished now the sick feeling is settling. We'll put the heads on poles tomorrow, and gather up the loot."

"We must be getting old," laughed Jan. "Why, I remember when we would grab anything which wasn't nailed down to get it to safety quickly. Especially from Ottoman ships."

"Oh, I doubt not but that such a joy will be ours again," said Jurko.