Chapter 33

Mehmet IV of the Ottoman Empire was not in a good mood. He had been treated to a most cavalier display of ill-bred lack of manner by a wild man with a bare chest and head and who had addressed him as an equal! The fellow had even been lounging in his throne, a throne which was now not useable for the stench on it! He had had to have all the fabric stripped from it and discarded, and the wood scrubbed, and it still smelled! He dared not sit on it for fear of picking up the revolting stench on himself, and to go down in history as 'the smelly' not 'the hunter' by which appellation he was generally known did not please him. The teenage Sultan was determined to display his manhood by taking Poland, and with his Grand Vizier away, fighting the Venetians at sea, he had been able to get enough sycophants to follow him and put together the army.

His men were in a sorry state, and he had ordered a fast of all but water whilst they recovered for those suffering. He was glad they were no longer under the strictures of Ramadan, so as not to have his men dying in droves for dehydration. A ruthless investigation led to the discovery that the supplies in sundry locations had been heavily adulterated with senna, and these supplies had been thrown away, and the quartermasters flogged to death.

He then force-marched his men, day and night, to discover that the Poles had violated his border and were drawn up once again at that same fortress where Osman II had been fought to a stalemate.

There was a weak point where the defences were not complete, and without preamble, Mehmet ordered the charge, taking a high point to watch his Sipahis make a glorious victory, whilst his auxiliaries were still setting up the tents and field kitchens, the forced-march having caught up with those making preparations. Mehmet hoped that a swift victory might be his.

Except that the Sipahis suddenly seemed to hit an invisible wall and fall over.

Screaming horses and yelling men seethed for a moment, and Mehmet suddenly realised that it had been a trap, for in front of the seeming weak point, now filled with a palisade rapidly raised, was a pit, which had been covered lightly with light poles and vegetation.

And laughing Cossacks led his fine Sipahi horses and captured Sipahi along the trench and up a slope back towards their own lines.

Mehmet gave the order to set up camp.

The cannons would catch up to the rest of the army within a day or two, and then they would see who was laughing.

A herald rode out of the Rzeczpospolita gates.

"To his excellency, Mehmet IV of the Ottoman Turks, greetings from his majesty, Jeremi Korybut Wiśniowiecki, most puissant and magnificent King of the Sarmatian Commonwealth. King Jeremi is happy to receive the capitulation and surrender of the yclept Mehmet and to talk terms of the release of both his army to return home, and the return of Constantinople to Ottoman rule."

He blew a flourish on his trumpet, and withdrew.

"What does he mean, release of the army to return home and the return of Constantinople?" demanded Mehmet.

"It's a bluff, your magnificence," said a vizier.

oOoOo

Jeremi was feeling buoyant. Having had a visit from Gryzelda had cheered him up no end, and he had sent her home in plenty of time before any siege might ensue, with Zagłoba as her escort, and the Russian children too. Marysieńka had insisted that if her Jan Sobieski was to stay with the king, she could be his page.

Jan Sobieski was becoming acquainted with the Cossacks and Tatars, and Korwiński's irregulars.

"Czarniecki and Jurij would be proud," he said.

He had a few suggestions to put to the king, and the irregulars were quickly sniggering when told what they were going to do.

The irregulars were busy overnight. The tunnels were put to good use, to be able to approach the Ottoman camp from badly-guarded directions. Sundry stealthy men cut their ways into the backs of some of the more magnificent tents. They had been chosen for their steadiness in not likely to overdo the looting.

Others silently shot the guards around the food tents. They did not bother to touch the food; it was enough that the Sultan could not afford to risk that they had not.

Around dawn, there were the sounds of a series of distant explosions.

oOoOo

"The great guns are no more," Sobieski reported, having led this mission. "We triple-charged and double-shotted them and they peeled like shaved elder stems. We took most of the artillerymen captive to ransom back."

"I wonder how many of them would prefer asylum," said Jeremi. "I doubt Mehmet will be pleased at them failing to protect their guns."

"Most of them are Christians, so he'd be even less likely to be forgiving," said Sobieski. "Shall I put them in the fort for now, as their loyalties will be torn?"

"Yes, and see they are well-cared for," said Jeremi.

oOoOo

Mehmet was beside himself in fury. The first scout he had sent to find the reason for the explosion had failed to return. The second scout had to be promised that he would not be killed, and when he returned, prostrated himself on the ground and sobbed incoherently for almost half an hour before any sense could be got from him, so terrified was he of retribution. Finally he sobbed out his tale, that the gunners were gone, the gun carriages burned, and the guns peeled like fruit.

Mehmet kept his word and only had the messenger beaten. He called for an attack.

An attack against well-prepared defenders was never going to successful. Sobiepan managed to prevent the Tatars from making a sally.

"You can raid them tonight," he said.

This pleased the Tatars well enough, and their overnight raid provided a nice piece of diversion for a grinning Cossack in Jeremi's guard, seconded to the Irregulars, to sneak into the tent of the Agha of Janissaries, their general, to rub Hungarian pepper juice into the armpits and crotch of his underwear, laid out for the next day.

"Jeremi," said Sobiepan, perplexed, "If you have men who can infiltrate any tent to do that, why not just have Mehmet assassinated?"

"Because it's funnier," said Jeremi. "Oh, brother, don't look like that; that young idiot of a Sultan is no older than Michaś. I can't kill a child, can I? Or attack him with Hungarian peppers. But if I make his fighting force foolish, surely you can see that they will realise he is too young to rule, and will return him to his regents. If we assassinate him, his men will, quite rightly, fight harder to avenge him. As our men would if anything happened to Michaś."

"Damn, I'm an amateur next to you and Gryzelda," said Sobiepan.

Mirahor Mehmed Agha, the man targeted, tried to maintain a stoic pose as his skin began burning the next day, but the pain became intense, and he fell from his horse in a dead faint.

His promises of retribution when he came to were filled with black rage. He had let his child sultan persuade him to go to war, but now it was personal.

oOoOo

It was a matter of sheer bad luck that a vigilant group of Janissaries caught Korwiński and one of his men, infiltrating the camp to cause a little mayhem with wódka to put in sherbet. Whether the Janissaries were particularly alert, or Korwiński was careless, the wolf carrying away its prey often enough to be caught by the hunter, as the proverb goes, nobody would ever know. But as dawn came, two rather battered naked men were displayed. The shrill voice of the young Sultan was heard.

"Jeremi! Can you hear me? I'm going to impale your impudent robbers! You can listen to them scream!"

"To horse," said Jeremi. "We can't permit this.

"They'll be expecting it," said Sobiepan.

"Then gallop faster than they realise we can," said Jeremi. "I'm not leaving a man of mine to be impaled for fighting for his country."

"We hit the flanks," said Toqtamiş. "And your Cossacks. As you charge them."

"I'll take out some infantry trained by Jurij to hold off their cavalry," said Sobieski. "I can fight infantry as well as I can charge as a hussar."

The hussars were disciplined, precise, ready in a quarter the time that was prescribed for them, everyone working to caparison them properly; the wings were necessary for the mystique. There was always a contingent ready for a sortie, winged up, ready, relaxing but alert.

"No charging on, no looting, break them and rescue only," said Jeremi. "One of my best... Michał! You snatch one, I'll snatch the other, Cossack fashion."

"I'll guard the backs of you both, sire, if you permit it," said Andrzej Kmicic. "I have not learned all the riding tricks yet."

"You shall indeed; for you have a fire to you which is like that of my beloved son, Jurij," said Jeremi. "Oh, how he will regret missing this."

"He'll be having his own brand of fun with Constantinople," said Michał Wołodyjowski.

And then they were thundering out of the gate, before the Sipahi were ready for them.

Jeremi grinned savagely at the consternation in the Turkish lines as the winged hussars thundered down on them.

"Janissaries, are you ready to die?" he screamed as they rode. The hootfbeats pounded with his heart, and he crouched low in the saddle, ready to swing off the saddle horn and snatch up Korwiński's bloody body. And then he was amongst the Janissaries, his sabre slashing left, right, left again, then down to sever the bonds of Korwiński from the stake he was tied to but not yet impaled on, revelling in his strength to lift the man over the front of his saddle. Korwiński was shaking, with reaction, and Jeremi turned his horse on its own length to return to the Commonwealth fortress. Beside him, the little knight had shown how his strength exceeded his size, with his own prize. The hussars, as Andrzej blew the return, all disengaged with discipline and decorum to follow their king. The Tatars had lost all self control and were looting; well, that was their problem. None of them would suffer himself to be taken alive. The Cossacks were handling the flanks. They had designated a group as looters, who made a pass through the camp, and returned to their fellows, hanging on to stirrups to run, half-carried by the horses, having tossed up sacks of booty to their partner who had been fighting. Jeremi grinned. You could not keep Cossacks from looting, but Jurij could train them to do it in a disciplined way. They all turned to point at the Ottomans and raised their fists to their heads as if it was a timed display. .

Then he cursed as pain drilled through his shoulder; but it would wait.

And Sobieski had his men into a square as the sipahis started a pursuit, which was the biggest risk to the hussars, taking horses who had already charged uphill, pursued by fresh, lighter cavalry.

But the hedgehog square stood, the front two ranks with their bayonets advanced, making one shot at the enemy count, before relying on their bayonets, the rank behind reloading and firing at the rate of three aimed shots a minute. They had been well trained, and Sobieski was delighted to be standing with them.

The front ranks of the Sipahis wavered, many of them falling to the relentless musket fire, the horses shying away from the grim square of spines. And the Sipahis broke, and fled back to their own lines, never having encountered the nerve and discipline like that in this implacable group of infantry, men they despised.

"Retreat in good order!" Sobieski gave the order, and his men flowed back to the fort, firing back at the enemy from time to time, and they were welcomed in by the hussars, who flowed out to cover their return.

Korwiński and his man were more dead than alive.

"His man might pull through, sire, but the beating Korwiński has taken has broken half his internal organs," reported the doctor. "Let me see to your shoulder..."

"It will wait while I give that poor lad some comfort," growled Jeremi. He sat down beside the bed holding the semi-conscious man, and took his hand.

"Sorry... to let you down, my liege..." croaked Korwiński.

"You did not let me down," said Jeremi. "Sobiepan and I are very impressed by you. Now, the doctor wants you to sleep; he has a dose which will help you."

"I'm not... going to wake up, am I?" said Korwiński.

"You will wake up in Heaven," said Jeremi. "Your actions have saved many Commonwealth lives."

"It was damned good sport while it lasted," said Korwiński.

Jeremi kissed him on the brow, and signalled to the doctor to give the man a heavy sedative dose. He crossed himself, and knelt to pray.

"Your turn, your majesty," said the doctor. "I've laudanum..."

"Save it for those who need it more," said Jeremi. "Just take the ruddy ball out, and don't forget the wad. Plenty of wódka to kill all the evil miasmas. I know the drill. I won't scream."

"I will take the ball out," said Marysieńka, bustling in. "I promised Aunt Gryzelda that I would keep you safe, and I have learned all the right skills from Rzędzian and Helena."

"I submit to your ministrations with good grace, my dear," said Jeremi. "Sobieski does not need your aid?"

"He took a spent ball in the fundament which has left a bruise shaped like a rose and I threatened to tattoo it to remind him," said Marysieńka, with a cheeky smirk.

"Oh, call him Gülruh, which is Ottoman Turkish for 'rose-cheeks,'" suggested Jeremi. "What, have you got it out already? What a deft girl you are," he added as she dropped the ball into a kidney bowl.

Marysieńka giggled.

"I will tell him what you said, and I will tease him," she said. "But he is a hero, indeed, it must have been frightening to stand still as the horses charged."

"Oh, I owe him a great deal for that," said Jeremi. "Possibly my life. It worked wonderfully well, even on the formal battlefield and with the proper weapons not spades. You have a good man there, Marysieńka, if you choose to keep him, a man who will work with infantry when he is trained as a hussar is a man who has no false pride."

"He is my bohatyr," said Marysieńka. "Sit still, I have yet to get the wad."