Eric Flint - Grantville Gazette.Volume XVII

But, again, the hetman's face had closed down.

It was odd, in a way. When it came to martial matters, Stanislaw Koniecpolski had a supple and flexible mind. For all the man's personal devotion to ancient methods of warfare-he probably was the greatest archer in Poland; certainly the greatest mounted archer-he'd proven quite capable all his life of adapting to new realities. He knew how to use modern infantry, artillery and fortifications; the so-called "Dutch style" of warfare. He had proven to be skilled at combining land and naval operations, too, although he was not a naval commander himself. Yet that same adaptability ended abruptly whenever Koniecpolski confronted a problem of a social rather than strictly military nature.

Still, you could not in fairness characterize him as a reactionary-what the Americans would call a "hidebound dinosaur." If Stanislaw Koniecpolski was comfortable with the existing Polish and Lithuanian conditions, he was also famous for being utterly scrupulous in respecting the Commonwealth's laws and legal procedures. As much mutual trust as there was between the hetman and the king, for instance-this had been true with the former monarch also-Koniecpolski would flatly refuse to carry out any royal command or instruction unless it had the Sjem's approval required by law.

So…

Koniecpolski would be no help, certainly, in making the profound changes in the Commonwealth that Jozef knew were necessary if the great realm were to survive. He would even, at times, be an active hindrance. But he wouldn't be a bitter enemy, as such-as would, for instance, such great magnates as Samuel Laszcz, the Sheriff of the Crown, or the Seneschal of Lithuania, Samuel Osinsky.

While Jozef had been ruminating, Koniecpolski's gaze had still never left his face. Eventually, with that same half-serene smile, the hetman said: "I know that you are unhappy with me, nephew. So I need to ask. Can you continue to serve me anyhow?"

Jozef nodded. "Yes, uncle. I can."

"Good. I am very pleased with what you have done so far. And now, I must leave to deal with some other business." He gave Wojtowicz and Opalinski a cheerful grin. "Unlike you youngsters, who have the luxury of obsessing over single matters, we men of maturity and substance must deal with many."

Jozef smiled. "Ah, yes. What the Americans call 'multi-tasking.' But they say only women are really good at it. So perhaps women should be put in charge of the Commonwealth's affairs."

For the first time that day, a trace of alarm came to the hetman's face. "What a dreadful idea!"

After Koniecpolski left, Lukasz rose from his chair and went over to the side table which was heavily laden with many bottles of wine.

"Shall we spend the rest of the day getting drunk?"

Jozef sighed. "May as well, I suppose."

Opalinski filled two large goblets and handed one to Wojtowicz before resuming his seat.

"Be realistic, Jozef. You can't really have expected the hetman to agree with your recommendations."

"No, of course not. I just…"

"Yes, I understand. You felt obligated to raise them with him directly. That way"-he paused to take a long quaff of wine-"you won't feel quite so guilty when you start maneuvering around him."

Jozef made a face. "Maneuvering around him. That sounds… ugly."

Opalinski shrugged. "I suppose it is, if you choose to look at it as a matter of aesthetics. But it's not, you know. It's simply a matter of our political survival."

Wojtowicz gave his friend a somewhat skeptical look. "You didn't exactly seem thrilled yourself, at what I had to say."

"Well, of course not!" Lukasz began to throw up his hands with exasperation. Fortunately, he remembered to stop the gesture before he slopped wine all over the floor. And a very fine floor it was, too. Of course, like the floors of all Polish noblemen, be they never so high and exalted, it would be no stranger to spilled liquor.

Still, it would have been a waste of good wine. What was possibly worse, they would have had to summon a servant to clean up the spill. These were difficult subjects to discuss openly under the best of circumstances. Doing so in the presence of a servant's ears would be impossible.

Jozef smiled slightly, then. He could remember a time when he wouldn't have thought twice about discussing anything in the presence of servants. Servants were like furniture. There for a useful purpose, that was all. The fact that the useful purpose might coincidentally happen to be a human being was not something that registered very clearly or very often.

But if there was one thing he'd learned thoroughly since he'd agreed to organize and lead the hetman's spy network in the United States of Europe, it was that servants did indeed have ears. And what was more, they had brains to process the information they heard and pass it on to others.

Others such as Jozef Wojtowicz himself. And the Lord only knew how many spymasters active in the Polish and Lithuanian Commonwealth on behalf of its enemies. They'd certainly have an easy time of it. What the Americans would call a "field day." Between their arrogance and their drunkenness, Polish and Lithuanian szlachta wouldn't even notice the servants moving about them while they babbled whatever they chose to in the "privacy" of their homes.

"And now you're looking very solemn," Lukasz said. "I'd even say, 'glum,' if I didn't know you for the insouciant sprite that you are."

Jozef smiled at him. "I was just thinking-not with any great pleasure, I assure you-that I'll probably find myself organizing my own spy network soon enough. Here at home, so to speak. And how easy it would be, compared to the relative difficulty of operating among the Germans and Americans. Especially the Americans. Who, as naive as they so often are, almost never forget that servants have ears."

"Servants?" Seeming a bit confused, Lukasz looked around him. Not with the focused eyes of someone trying to spot a well-known object or phenomenon, but with the slightly glazed eyes of someone trying to visualize them in the first place. "Oh, them."

After a moment, he and Jozef shared a chuckle. Then, a quaff of wine. And then, a long moment that was quite a bit more solemn.

Finally, Lukasz said: "No, Jozef, I am certainly not thrilled by your proposals and recommendations. Unlike my rambunctious brother Krzysztof, I am inclined toward a relaxed, pleasant-even sedate-existence. Left to my own devices, the life of a nobleman suits me quite nicely. Alas…"

Jozef nodded. "The Americans have an expression for it, which they say they stole from the Chinese, who viewed it as a curse. 'May you live in interesting times.'"

Opalinski grimaced. "Interesting times, indeed." He drained what was left in his goblet, rose to his feet, and headed back toward the side table with the wine bottles. "So, we're about to get to the real unpleasantness of the day. Let me fortify myself first."

He open another bottle and offered Jozef some more, which he accepted. Then, refilled his own goblet-right up to the very brim. It was a big goblet, too.

"What do you mean, the 'real unpleasantness'?" asked Wojtowicz.

Lukasz sat down, scowling at him. "Oh, stop playing the innocent. What do you want me to do?"

"Oh." In point of fact, Jozef had never really concentrated his thoughts on that subject, prior to this moment. But now that he did. ..

For all his frequent protestations of idleness and dissolution and his natural inclinations and talents thereto, Lukasz Opalinski was actually a very competent and capable man. Even energetic, when he chose to be. And, in Jozef's opinion, quite a bit more thoughtful than his older brother. There was undoubtedly something in the term "brilliant" which applied to Krzysztof Opalinski. But, like many such people, the brightness of the mind left little room for shades and subtleties of thought.