Eric Flint: Grantville Gazette Volume XI

"What are you doing, Vladislav?" The noise had brought her from the tent. She was shouting. "And why are your men holding Bernie? Neither of these men is to be harmed. You know that. Let them go."

Vladislav let go of the outlander, who promptly fell on the ground, holding his guts, trying not to heave. The other guards let Bernie pass.

Bernie took a few steps and reached Cass. "Good. Is it my turn now?" He bowed graciously to Vladislav. "I didn't really mind waiting, Vladislav Vasl'yevich, but you might have left a bit more for me. Don't worry about it, Natasha. Every man here has wanted to give Cass a lesson in manners from the moment he arrived. He's earned this, in more ways than you know."

Bernie picked Cass up and leaned him against the handy cart, propping him carefully. Cass' knees buckled and he went down again. "I do think you could have left me some, Vladislav. Considering it was me he pushed."

"I apologize, Bernie Janovich." Vladislav bowed precisely. "But there was very little to it. I thought there would be more. Perhaps tomorrow." Cass groaned.

Natasha sniffed loudly and retreated to her tent. "Men!" She stopped at the entrance. "It has been a busy time and I do not read well in a coach. I have not had time to read any but the most essential messages from Grantville. We finally have an evening not filled with politics and you children decide to throw a brawl. Keep the noise down. I don't wish to be disturbed again tonight."

Fifteen minutes later Bernie and Vladislav had arranged the semiconscious Cass on one of the carts. They were about to walk back to the fire when Natasha came storming out of the tent again. "You fool!" she shouted at Cass. "Why didn't you tell me that my brother wishes to marry Brandy Bates?" Then she hit him.

"Darn it!" Bernie complained, laughing. "I never get a turn."

Of that charge, at least, Cass was innocent. He hadn't known. He had left Grantville before Vladimir had sent the letter and it had caught up en route.

Yaroslavich Dacha

"What are we going to do about Cass?" Natasha asked Boris two days after they had gotten back. "He managed, just barely, to be polite to the czar. Other than that, he has offended everyone who has met him."

Boris grinned. "I am giving him to the military. Specifically to the Streltzi bureau." The Muscovy military was a weird mix of feudal duty and bureaucratic confusion. The bureaucratic nobility were also the officers in time of war. Each, depending on the amount of lands he held, was required provide so many soldiers. They were the officer corps and the cavalry. The Streltzi, who didn't receive land for their service but the right to do business, were the infantry. Added to the mix over the last few years were mercenary companies hired from the west, who had a different way of fighting.

Natasha was nodding. Bernie had been urgently called to various military bureaus over the last few months. Especially the Streltzi bureaus. The Streltzi preferred to fight behind walls, city walls, because they were mostly city guards. When they could not fight defensively behind the walls of a city they wanted to fight behind walking walls. The "stand and take it" philosophy of the western mercenary infantry was not in their traditions. They had no objection to dishing it out and did not lack courage, but standing in the open and taking it just seemed stupid. "Do you think it will work?"

"Perhaps. But in any case, it gets him out of our hair and gets the military bureaus off my back."

Natasha laughed out loud. "So the gun shop, as Bernie calls it, will have their own up-timer."

To be continued