ok posting early - one of the cats did something horrible to my laptop, I can;t permanently live with the mangled keyboard so it's going in for repair tomorrow. I may be around by wednesday, if not, not.

Chapter 29

Jurko and the boys used lassos on any figure that stumbled out of the scene from hell lately known as the mess hall. Anyone who survived the grenade and got away from the noxious smoke was plainly born lucky and deserved mercy, being beloved of God, whatever they called him. Sometimes Jurko was superstitious that way.

There were not many.

The grenade in an enclosed space had blown out the high windows, but had also shredded the table it had landed on, sending shards of timber in all directions. Those who had avoided serious injury were then caught in the noxious smoke, their eyes streaming, their noses and throats seeming to be on fire, and for those closest, burning skin as well. It seemed to be working, and as the smoke billowed out of the door as well, so too did the masks.

Other janissaries came running, those on different watches, some not fully clad. More smoke bombs and they stopped as if they had hit an invisible wall, coughing, retching, falling to their knees, clawing at their faces.

The arapniki of the invading four made short work of them; it was no time for sentiment. And the fifteen-stopy-long whips reached into the smoke cloud without the masks having to be tested too much.

And then, as those on watch came down from on high, there was some hand-to-hand fighting, the smoke too dense for them to fire muskets, unsure if they would hit friend or foe.

And then it was over, and there were only frightened servants and slaves, peering out of their quarters.

Jurko nodded to the boys to open the gate, to let in the Cossacks waiting without. Once fifty or so Cossacks were let into a castle, they could be relied upon to handle any other opposition, loot it bare, and release any prisoners.

Jurko regarded the ragged band of released prisoners.

"Any of you who just want to sod off and get the hell out of Constantinople are welcome to do so," he said. "You will be provided with some spare clothing, a blanket or cloak, a water-bottle and some bread, but if I see you in Constantinople, I will kill you, assuming you to act the spy. Anyone who wants to join my war band is also welcome to do so, to make a strike back at the Ottomans. But you will obey my rules. Absolute obedience to my word, weapons discipline, no raping, all loot held in common and divided up when the fighting is over. You are mine absolutely or you are nothing."

"What if we want neither?" said a man.

"Oh, I can't be arsed to keep prisoners, I'll hang you," said Jurko, indifferently.

He was gratified that around two thirds of them elected to join him.

The loot was taken down to the ship, and the commander with it, as he might be ransomed. He had a wet cloth tied over his eyes, soaked in soda ash, and he whimpered from time to time. He had a canteen of water to wash out his mouth and drink, to soothe his throat. He coughed intermittently.

"You'll get better," said one of the Cossacks, in rough kindness. "It's not permanent, except the damage you did with your own fingernails."

"What infernal Christian magic was that?" the man whispered through his burning mouth.

"Well, as you Muslims invented alchemy, that's a damn silly question to ask," said the Cossack. "Alchemy. It's a great boon to warfare."

"Saves lives, too," said Jurko, laconically. "I haven't lost a man, and we didn't have to kill all of yours. They're nicely subdued, those we didn't kill, and we can let them go at some point. Poor bloody slaves, not their fault."

"You know," said Helena, "I doubt they are expecting trouble at the small fort and the tower, so if we go up to them, knock, lob in a smoke bomb and depart, they should empty out in seconds."

"It has the beauty of simplicity," said Jurko.

"Róża and I will do it," said Helena. "Because they'll pause over laying hands on a woman."

"Damn! I can't fault your logic," said Jurko. "But we'll scout them out whilst as honest merchants we sell our caviar, furs, and lapis lazuli and such luxuries."

"Are we going to buy anything?" asked Helena.

"No, sweetness, but we are going to loot plenty," said Jurko. "Lads! No looting of ordinary citizens, or mosques, or synagogues or other people's churches. You know the rules; the new lads don't. Just palaces and no raping. I hope Von Kettler made it clear to the mercenaries."

"You can remind them when we let them loose," said Helena. "We'll hear the rest of the fleet arrive, when the guns open fire."

"Yes, and I would like to take out the artillery store and the tower before they come," said Jurko.

"They come a day behind us. And we can maybe seem to run to them for protection when the firing starts?" said Helena.

"It has merit," said Jurko. "If only we had an arbalest to lob our smelly bombs over walls or up to the top of the tower."

"We could make one, but it would be a bit obvious," said Kuryło.

oOoOo

"Isn't this a military encampment?" asked Yevdokia. "I thought we were being taken to safety?"

"It is, but we will be going on to Warszawa soon," said Janina. "It was easier to come this far by boat, however, and then travel north and west."

It would have been quicker to have taken the great canal north and sailed round the coast to the mouth of the Wisła, but the king liked to have Janina's husband on hand with his tall stories. And the children might as well see real life.

Onufry Zagłoba was quick to bring the peasants from the village inside the castle and stopped Sobiepan's people from burning the village. He borrowed Korwiński, and had a chat with him, and with his leading psychopaths, otherwise known as partisans.

The idea of making the village into a series of traps appealed to them mightily. Zagłoba was a little shocked that they planned to use the church.

One shrugged.

"If they respect it as a place of worship, it will not harm them and we can dismantle any surprises. If not? Well, they will feel the wrath of God."

Jeremi came upon a man trying to rape a village woman, having knocked down her husband and oldest child. The others were clinging to her, hampering his efforts and he had drawn his sabre.

Jeremi's own sabre was out in an instant, decapitating a man.

"We do not rape, especially our own people!" he declared in a carrying voice. "Goodman, take your children to Pan Zagłoba, who has healing herbs, for the contusions that they have. Someone mount... that... on a couple of stakes outside the camp as a warning. But take off his damned feathers and armour, he disgraces them."

"You're not very good at digging holes, are you?" said Yevdokia, who had spent some time watching her father and the other prisoners, before they left. She had escaped the eye of Janina. The soldier glared at her.

"And could you do better, brat?" he said.

"Of course I could. I've been for a while with Jurij's shovel masters," said Yevdokia. "And don't call me 'brat' it is... nikultjurni." She struggled in vain for the Latin and fell back on her native Russian. This was close enough to the Polish for her meaning to be plain. The soldier's face darkened.

"Ah, here you are, princess," said Janina, hurrying up. "Are you being a nuisance?"

"Oh, no, Lady Janina, I am trying to teach the hajduk how to dig."

"You can always tell a hajduk, but you cannot tell him much," said Janina. "It is never wise to irritate grown men who have not enough balls to take instruction from a little girl. I will send someone with better understanding of shovelcraft to make sure that these latrines are sufficiently well dug."

Yevdokia stood on one leg, and considered matters.

"It is a bit beyond me to dig deep enough," she conceded. "Papa could."

"Your Papa is a very capable man," said Janina. She watched the man sneer. "Like Jeremi, he knows it is wise to know enough to be able to show any man under him how a job should be performed."

She would ask the king if he would demonstrate his digging skills; it would be an object lesson to this idiot in humility.

oOoOo

The column had stopped to rest and bait the horses, and Gryzelda, feeling the call of nature, moved discreetly off the road, with Marysieńka by her side and the discreet, faithful Jan Sobieski following, turning his back and making sure nobody approached.

More comfortable, Gryzelda adjusted her clothing, and cocked her head to listen, hearing a despairing cry and voices begging.

"Come with me," she snapped, and went in the direction of the sounds.

It appeared to be a lynching party; a man dressed as a szlachcic in fine clothes presided over it. Bound were a man and presumably his wife, a teenage boy, and a little girl of about eight or nine. Another girl, around Marysieńka's age, who resembled them strongly, was held by an armed man.

"What is going on here?" demanded Gryzelda, crisply.

"Bugger off, wench, you aren't one of mine," growled the szlachcic.

"Don't call me wench, fellow," said Gryzelda. "What do you think you are about?"

"It's none of your damn business," said the man. "I can hang my own runaway serfs if I please."

"No, you can't, as serfdom has been abolished," said Gryzelda.

He turned to glare at her.

"Listen, my lady busybody, whoever you are, stop interfering. I don't give a fuck for the stupid new rules of that poncy little Cossack on the throne, things will return to normal when he dies, and good riddance to him when he..."

"That sounds like treason to me," said Gryzelda, drawing her sabre and lopping off his head in one single stroke.

The armed men growled in an ugly fashion and Sobieski did not like the way some of them eyed Marysieńka.

"On your knees and beg forgiveness of your queen for supporting this traitor!" he roared.

His charisma was enough to make several of them waver.

And then half a dozen winged hussars came through the wood at a run.

"Your majesty! There you are! Lord Lubomirski was concerned," said one.

"I have business with a traitor," said Gryzelda, coldly.

The armed men fell to their knees.

Marysieńka had run to cut free the bound peasants, and the young girl ran from the soldier's grasp to embrace her family.

"So what happened?" demanded Gryzelda.

"Please, lady, Lord Stefan wanted my daughter, and I said that he couldn't make her, and he said he could, so we tried to run away," said the man, with a clumsy bow.

"You six," said Gryzelda, "You are under Colonel Sobieski here, who will stay and sort out this sorry mess. I'm sorry, Jan, lad, but when you have appointed a suitable lord over this property who will not flout the king's writ, you may catch up with us." She looked at the peasant family. "You will be safe to stay now; and those men at arms will not trouble you. The king requires troops, and since they have doubtless already been paid more than they deserve in bullying favours out of others, they won't require pay to join us fighting the Turk. Fall in; we don't want to be late resuming the march. If you have family or sweethearts who care enough, they will pack for you, that you have sufficient clothing."

The men staggered off their knees and fell into a ragged column, resigned fear in their faces. There was no point fighting what would be inevitable if they tangled with hussars, even those on foot.

"Perhaps, your majesty, they might be escorted to pack," said Sobieski. "The king does not want his troops badly equipped."

"Of course, colonel; you are so correct in that matter," said Gryzelda. "Come, Marysieńka; your betrothed husband will organise things perfectly, for he is as much of a rogue as Jurij, and almost as good at planning."

She swept off, back the way she had come, to be greeted by an almost hysterical Lubomirski, who was envisioning being flayed, impaled, hanged and anything else Jeremi might come up with for losing his wife.

"I seconded the party you sent looking to help Sobieski sort out a little matter of treason I stumbled on," said Gryzelda. "They will catch us up."

"Yes, your majesty," said Lubomirski, wishing that his queen was not quite so liable to find trouble like a magnet. Like the rest of the family. And seemed to take it as commonplace.

In all fairness, Gryzelda might not have felt quite as sanguine about her family had she been aware of her firstborn masquerading in a barrel with noxious bombs, but as she had no idea, she did not worry about it, and joined the column again in good spirits.

And the story passed back that their queen had personally taken the head of a traitor who called her 'wench,' which was considered quite proper for her to take exception to that, even if he had not been a traitor.

The new men would be licked into shape.