Polonaise (54 page)

‘Lord knows! Besides, how can I leave Casimir? Now, when he is so unhappy. Good God!' He saw it all. ‘The Princess must have known.'

Their eyes met. ‘Oh dear,' said Jenny. ‘I suppose she did.'

To her delighted surprise, he was laughing. ‘It was going to be Queen Cophetua and the beggar-man. And then, what a delightful surprise, the beggar-man would have turned out a frog Prince. Or at least a frog Baron!'

‘You're mixing your fairy tales.' She was laughing, too. ‘But I see just what you mean. I wonder how she knew.'

Glynde thought he knew the answer; recognised Talleyrand's hand in it. Had he hoped to have a grateful son in place behind the future King of Poland? ‘I don't know what to do.' And then, at last, remembered the Brotherhood's message. ‘A Russian army, you say, to the south? How far?'

‘They didn't say. Just urged we go back to Warsaw.'

‘You should have told her.'

‘How could I? Not then! But we must, at once.'

'We?'

‘Please?'

Emerging from the secluded salon, they found the palace in uproar. ‘What's going on?' Glynde asked Madame Poiret, who was standing at the bottom of the grand stairway, looking distraught.

‘The Princess has left again for Warsaw. Everything she needs for Spa is to be sent after her. She's put Herr von Stenck in charge. I've never seen her so angry. Oh mon Dieu, what is going to happen to us all?'

Jenny and Glynde exchanged a quick, appalled glance. Then, ‘We'd best go at once to von Stenck,' said Glynde. ‘Fetch Marylka? He may take some convincing.'

Jenny nodded, knowing him to be right, and hurried off to look for Marylka. The two of them found Glynde with von Stenck and Wysocki in the room the Princess used as her office, all talking angrily at once. Glynde had found the other two already at loggerheads, with Wysocki refusing to hand over his keys, but they united in derision at his news. ‘A Russian army to the south!' von Stenck shouted. ‘So you're a strategist now, as well as a snivelling tutor! I tell you, we're going to have some discipline in this place, now I'm in charge. You!' He rounded on Wysocki. ‘Keep your damned keys, if you must! I don't want to be troubled with your paper-work, but remember, the Princess will expect an accounting when she returns. As for you,' to Glynde, ‘back to your charges, and if they are really infectious, keep away from the palace. Which goes for you too.' To Jenny. ‘We've had enough of you fawning British, creeping and making interest with the Princess for all the world like a couple of crawling Jews. I'm in charge now! Get back to your duties.'

‘You'd best listen to Marylka first,' said Jenny quietly. And something about that very quietness got her a hearing.

‘Lords, it was my brother, Lech, brought the message. He's not a fool. He doesn't make things up. He saw the Cossacks himself; had to hide for his life on his way here.'

‘You're crazy,' said von Stenck. ‘Where was he coming from?'

‘The Princess's village, lord, to the south. That's where he lives since he married. The Brotherhood's messenger came
there. Told them to take what they valued and hide in the forest.'

‘And have they?' asked Glynde.

‘Yes, lord. And Lech has gone back to see to his wife. Please God he gets there.' She crossed herself; raised her head to look the three men directly in the face. ‘The villagers had the sense to do as they were bid.'

There was a little silence, then Jenny spoke. ‘The school is between here and the village.'

‘And Lech nearly met Cossacks on his way here?' Glynde asked Marylka.

‘Yes, lord.'

‘Then there's not a minute to be lost. I'll fetch the boys, von Stenck, while you see to the defence of the palace.' Suddenly they were two soldiers, reckoning the odds. ‘If it can be defended?'

‘Against flying bands of Cossacks? Yes. Against a whole army, not a hope.'

‘Then let us devoutly pray it is only flying bands of Cossacks. Miss Peverel, you'll organise the women? Do exactly as von Stenck bids you?'

‘Of course. But –'

Their eyes met. ‘You know I must go.'

‘Go carefully! It will help no one if you are taken. And come back safe!'

Leaving the house by way of the stable yard, Glynde made his way swiftly through the shrubberies that masked the stables. It was late afternoon now and long shadows fell slantways. Above him, a late lark sang. Everything seemed normal, under the hot westering sun, until he stopped for a moment to listen, and his blood chilled. He had heard that sound before, many times, the Cossack ‘hurra', the rush of their horses' hooves. Very near. Too near?

He ran the length of the yew walk, keeping to the shadowed side, dived across the open space by the ornamental water, through another shrubbery, and came out to the side view of the school, pausing there a moment for breath. He could see the boys now, drawn up outside the schoolhouse, on their ponies, glorious in the uniforms the Princess had brought them. Casimir was speaking to them, obviously giving them
their orders. Behind him, the classics tutor was pleading, begging, cajoling. Casimir took no notice. Glynde could not hear what they were saying, was helpless himself, too far off to get their attention. He watched in spellbound horror as the Cossack ‘hurra' grew louder and a group of them swept round the turn of the drive, their savage figures stark against the light.

Miriam went through the strange, swift marriage service as if in a dream. She hardly spoke on the journey to Warsaw, but did, docile as a child, whatever Jan said. For the first few days, the going was hideous, with signs everywhere of the French army; ruined houses, crops destroyed and the bodies of horses abandoned beside the road, already beginning to stink. ‘It looks more like a retreat than a victorious advance,' Jan said, and got no answer. If she would only scream, cry, curse he would feel better about her. He had seen, from the first, that even his touch was intolerable to her, and held himself carefully aloof, but her silence was worst of all. ‘I am going to tell you about my family, and my home,' he announced on the morning they left the spoor of the French army behind and plunged into virgin forest. ‘And America, so you will know what to expect.' He pretended not to feel how she mutely rejected this, and went on to describe the big plantation house outside Savannah, the detached slaves' quarters, the great sweep of the river almost encircling the house. ‘My sister lives not far away, you'll love her, and she you. I know it.' He had not realised how homesick he had been until he started talking about it. Even in the face of her continued silence, it was easy to go on, to talk of his father, of the nephews and nieces he had never seen, the friendly social life of the thriving town.

But she had still not spoken except for an essential yes or no when they reached Warsaw at last. ‘I'm going to take you straight to the Princess's house,' he said as they crossed the Vistula. ‘And, remember, all that happened to you was a bad fright.' He felt her shudder. ‘A very bad fright, Miriam. Paul Genet promised me he would tell everyone that he arrived just in time. So, for both our sakes, and for the child's, if there should be one, try to behave as if that was really all that happened. What is it?' She was shaking her head.

'No child,' she said.

‘Thank God.' He was relieved, too, when they reached the Ovinski Palace and learned that the Princess was at Rendomierz, though his first act was to send an urgent messenger warning her of the danger of the advancing Russian army. The expurgated story he told of the destruction of Vinsk was dramatic enough to get Miriam the sympathetic attention of the women, who carried her off and put her to bed while he went to pay an essential call on de Pradt.

He found him ostentatiously busy, and only the note Paul Genet had scrawled for him got him admission. At first, de Pradt refused to take him seriously. ‘An army in the south? Nonsense. Everyone knows the Tsar is involved in Turkey still, and he'd never divide his main army. A tale of a cock and a bull.' But he looked frightened. ‘I'll report it to Schwarzenberg who commands the forces here in the Duchy, but I have no doubt he'll think no more of your rumour than I do. As to Vinsk, naturally, I'm sorry to hear about it, but you know the old saying about the omelette and the eggs. Lucky for Princess Ovinska that her Rendomierz estate is in an altogether safer part of the country. Talking of the Princess, there have been the most extraordinary rumours going around about her, here in Warsaw. Imagine! That she might be going to marry her son's tutor. A nobody of an Englishman. And that her son was so outraged by the prospect that he let fly with some joke fountain or other and drenched the pair of them. Together they were, mind you! Which does give one a little to think.'

‘I never heard such nonsense,' said Jan roundly. ‘Well, I've given my warning as I promised Genet, now I must set about making arrangements for journeying to Paris with my wife.'

‘I must congratulate you.' His tone was dry. ‘The Princess Ovinska's Jewish stewardess, you said?'

‘My wife, sir.'

The Cossacks had stopped shouting. They paused, resting their horses, staring at the line of boys, who sat their elegant little ponies easily, resplendent in their Polish uniforms, one of them carrying the eagle standard Jenny had made. Glynde, watching, helpless, still had no breath to hold.

Casimir pushed forward a pace, raised a hand in greeting and challenge: ‘I am the Prince Ovinski. What are you doing on my land, and what can I do for you?' He had spoken in his fluent Russian and Glynde breathed a long sigh of hope.

‘Let us pass,' said the Cossack leader. ‘We don't fight with children. Put your toy swords away; tell us where your horses are stabled and maybe we'll let you keep those pretty little ponies, and your Polish chicken, good for running away!' His contemptuous gesture was for their flag.

‘We don't run.' Casimir held on to his temper. He was playing for time, Glynde realised, must have sent a message to the palace and was doing his best for his friends. ‘But your being here – it's war then?'

‘It's war, young cockerel. Our little father the Tsar is going to teach you snivelling Poles a lesson you won't forget.'

An outraged stir among the boys. Casimir's hand went up to quell it; too late. A shot rang out. Karol? ‘Damn you!' As he spoke, the leader swayed, fell in slow motion from his horse and his men screamed their war cry and charged.

Glynde was praying and cursing under his breath. He saw Casimir kick his pony forward, sword gleaming in evening sun, and go down like corn to the sickle. Tears streamed down his face. He took one last, helpless look at the melee, which was almost over, boys down everywhere before that swift professional onslaught, and turned to run for his life. For Jenny's. For all their lives. For what Casimir had tried to save.

Herr von Stenck had been busy. Every carriage in the stables had been fetched, formed into a barricade eked out with odd bits of furniture from the house. There were marksmen ready at the downstairs windows. Not enough of them.

‘The boys?' Von Stenck was directing operations at the front of the house.

‘Dead.' Glynde was hardly aware of his tears. ‘Not a chance. The Prince was holding them, but young Karol fired on their leader. I had to watch … nothing I could do but come and warn you. They may be busy for a while sacking the school. Or they may come straight here.'

‘Is it true you're a crack shot?'

‘I've killed a pheasant or two.'

'We need a man in the church tower. It commands every side. The Prince's sporting guns. You can use them?'

‘Yes. The women?'

‘Making bandages. And ready to pass us ammunition when it begins.'

‘You got a message off to the Princess?'

‘At once. But whether she gets it …' He turned to hurry away.

Glynde stood for a moment, facing their desperate case, saw Jenny come running from the palace door.

‘You're safe!' she exclaimed. ‘But – where's Casimir? The boys?'

‘Dead.' He took both her hands in his. For comfort. His, or hers? ‘I couldn't save him. All of them …'

‘Dead? The little boys? The hope of Poland.' Silent tears ebbed from her eyes.

‘I could do nothing. Too far away. Had to watch it; leave them to their fate.' He must not tell her about the part her eagle had played. ‘I'll never forgive myself; never forget it.'

‘But it may save the rest of us.' His wild look frightened her. ‘If you break down, we're all lost, I think. The serfs trust you as they don't von Stenck.'

‘Thank you.' He released her hands, reached gently to wipe away her tears. ‘You're right. No time for tears. Come round with me and talk to them? No need to take my place in the tower until we see them coming. Von Stenck knows his business; he's placed his lookouts well.'

They found him arguing furiously with a group of outdoors men whom he had ordered to destroy the Princess's beloved orangery. ‘It's got to go.' He turned to them, ‘But the fools are frightened of what the Princess will say.'

‘You're right, of course. It would provide cover from the shrubbery right to the palace. Have you explained to them?'

‘Explained! To serfs! Anyway, I don't speak their damned lingo!'

‘Miss Peverel, make them understand?' Glynde took von Stenck's arm to draw him away and was rewarded a few moments later by the crash of breaking glass.

The sentinel's shouted warning came just as he was beginning to wonder if night might not save them at least for the
time being. He turned to Jenny. ‘Come and load for me? You know how?'

‘Of course.'

They reached the narrow parapet of the tower just as the Cossacks emerged from the shrubbery beyond the ornamental water, and Glynde was glad to see that they were riding, as before, in a solid mass, loaded with what must be booty from his house and the school. He breathed a prayer for the tutors, the servants … Not hopefully … But nothing could have happened to suggest to the Russians that the palace might be defended. Hoping this, he and von Stenck had agreed to hold their fire to the very last moment for maximum effect on the swift-moving targets. He waited, holding his breath, until the Cossacks had cleared the yew walk and swung round to take the palace from the front. His first shot and those of the other defenders sounded almost at the same moment. Four Cossacks slumped in their saddles and one horse fell under its rider. He took the second gun from Jenny and fired again as the attackers massed on the drive in front of the house. Another volley of shots from the defenders. Two more horses down, and one man. So far, the leader had escaped. The one Karol had hit, he wondered, or another? He took careful aim, fired, and got him. That did it. The rest of the depleted band conferred hastily, turned and fled back the way they had come, taking their wounded with them. With one last shot, Glynde got the rider of a dead horse as he tried to leap up behind one of his fellows. ‘I hope he's only wounded,' he told Jenny, handing her the rifle. ‘We need to know what to expect.'