"I do not like to think of myself as a man with enemies," said Saint-Germain, "but I am sure I must have them."
"And they are all the worse if you don't know who they are," said Saari.
"I will not argue that," said Saint-Germain, his voice dropping. "But I have no wish to offend anyone, which would only compound the problem."
"I'm discreet--Watchmen learn to be, because we see things that are best kept silent." Saari put his hand on his puukko, tucked into a rawhide scabbard on his belt--the skinning-knife was the traditional weapon carried by Finns, and Yrjo Saari was no exception to the custom. "I can also be silent and deadly, if that's called for. I may not be able to run as swiftly as I used to, but I know how to follow a trail and I can wait in ambush when ambush is called for."
"I hope I will have no need of such skills," Saint-Germain said with feeling.
"It may come to that, however," Saari said, "depending upon the enemy."
Saint-Germain considered this. "Shall we say we will try for a month, and at that time discuss what you have seen? I want no invented foes, or exaggerated dangers, presented to me as a way to ensure longer employment, simply an accurate report. Your candor will be more valuable to me than any fabrication."
Saari straightened himself as much as his body would allow. "I am a Finn, and I would disgrace myself if I were to offer false intelligence to you, Hercegek. Fables are for recitations around the evening fire, not for misleading those who do us good."
"An excellent distinction," said Hroger with a quick glance at Saint-Germain. "Think of how useful Natalis was," he said in Imperial Latin.
"Those were different circumstances; this man is not a thief," said Saint-Germain in the same language, but with a note of wariness in his voice. He thought for a bit, his memories casting back to Delhi, to the Jou'an-Jou'an camps, to Aachen, to Cuzco, to Moscow, and he said suddenly, speaking once more in Russian, "But what would be the harm? At the worst I will be alerted to danger, at best I will learn there is no danger and the alert is unnecessary." He held out his hand
to Saari. "In a month, then. You may eat with the servants. I'll give you some Turkish sequins against your wages so you'll have coins in your pocket. Hroger, if you will bring me half a dozen? And two louis d'or, in case there are some here who will not take Turkish coins." It was a generous amount and all three of them knew it.
"I will be back directly," said Hroger, and went off toward Zozia's and Saint-Germain's bedchamber.
"You won't regret this, Hercegek," said Saari with feeling.
"I trust not," said Saint-Germain, taking a turn about the room. "I gather from this that you want more than employment; you actually do suspect something or someone of intending to do me harm."
Saari nodded. "When I was injured, one of the men who found me said it had to have been the same men following the Hungarian."
"They might have meant Janos Czobor," Saint-Germain suggested.
"They might have, but they didn't. No gangs have bothered him that I have heard of," Saari declared. "Everything points to you, Hercegek, and to a plan to cripple or kill you; I expect they will try again."
"Then you and I have much to think about, and we will need to prepare," said Saint-Germain. He stopped by the single bookcase in the house, with its one hundred thirty-four volumes in eight languages. "Can you read?"
"A little, Hercegek, mostly Finn, some Russian, and a bit of Swedish, if the words aren't too hard; I know German when I see it, but I don't know the words. A Lutheran priest ran a school in Pieksamaki, and my father sent me there for three years. I can do simple sums, too. That's one of the reasons they made me a supervisor."
In spite of all he had learned about this northern part of the world, Saint-Germain was still amazed by the high illiteracy he encountered: not only did most of the people not read or write, but a vast majority of the Russian clergy and nobles were also unlettered. "That is useful--and rare."
"I've found it so: both useful and rare." He paused. "Will you want me to write reports?" His uncertainty was obvious.
"Only if necessary, if there is some kind of official inquiry; other
wise I would prefer not to commit much to paper," said Saint-Germain. He turned toward Hroger, who had returned with a small leather pouch in his hand. "Very good, Hroger. Thank you." He took the pouch and opened it, counting out the eight coins. "As agreed, Saari. If you accept these, you are in my employ."
Saari took the money with an expression of misgiving, as if he expected to see the coins vanish. "Kiitos," he said as he put the coins into the leather wallet attached to his belt.
Saint-Germain dismissed his thanks with a wave. "I am sure you will earn." He paced the width of the room. "If you will return tomorrow morning, at eight o'clock, we can arrange a schedule for you, and decide how best to employ your skills. Then you may accompany me out to the second treadmill-pump, and afterward tell me what you observe."
Saari nodded emphatically. "Do you want me in livery? I don't think it would be wise, but I know some of the nobles here insist upon it."
"I will see you are provided a badge for your sleeve, but otherwise, a degree of anonymity will stand you in good stead." Saint-Germain hoped he had a few of the Arco-Tolvay badges with him: three golden-billed storks rising in flight against a field of blue. Such a badge had been provided for Adolphus Gronigen and Hroger, but the other servants wore the five silver caltrops against three dented bands, brown, red, and brown, the arms of Nisko.
"As you say, Hercegek," Saari said, and prepared to leave. "Until tomorrow morning, then. I'll have a look around your stables, to see if anyone has been stealing tack or feed. It will be a first step, to assure you of my abilities." He ducked his head and made for the door, Hroger close behind him to see him out.
When Saari was gone, Saint-Germain turned to Hroger, speaking the Saxon dialect of seven centuries ago. "Well, old friend, what do you think? Am I being a too-suspicious dupe, seeing foes in every shadow?"
"I wouldn't have thought so, my master: Yrjo Saari is sincere in his purpose, and I doubt he would believe that there are foes in the shadows if there were no cause for consternation." Hroger went to pick up the plate Saari had used.
"But what would be the purpose of maintaining surveillance on
me?" As he asked it, he reminded himself that he was a stranger here, with more than one thing to hide.
Hroger thought about it. "It may be more a matter of watching this household, not just you," he said at last.
"You mean that Zozia is the focus of their efforts?" Saint-Germain mulled this over. "Poland is supposed to be an ally of Russia. Why would a Pole be regarded with suspicion?"
"You assume it is the Russians who are watching you, or watching Zozia," said Hroger. "As you reminded me when we were in Roma to assist Niklos Aulirios in keeping his legacy, it was not only the Romans who were acting against you, and against Niklos."
Saint-Germain studied Hroger closely. "You have been thinking about this for some time, have you not."
"I have--since you were first attacked. The Watchmen said it appeared your attackers were Lithuanians, but that may be only a useful fiction. There are a number of Lithuanian gangs, and they are so easily suspected that no one will accuse them formally due to the risk of torture to the accuser. Many of the Lithuanians support the Swedes, some for the advantage they gain, some out of traditional alliances. You as an impostor can expect no support from Augustus if your masquerade is revealed, and the Russians will torture you, no matter what the situation, if you are denounced. Half the murders in this city go unreported, and there is as much gossip as information in the denouncements made, which torture only compounds." He put the dish in a European washtub behind the stove. "The first attack might have been an accident, of course. The second wasn't."
"No; it was deliberate," Saint-Germain agreed. "As I suppose the first was, as well, for similar reasons."
"Then it's a worthwhile precaution to have Saari guard you," said Hroger, and went on in Russian, "Is there anything more you require of me, or shall I go to the market now?"
"Come help me make myself presentable, and we can discuss this further," said Saint-Germain, also in Russian.
"What time does the English Resident expect to arrive?"
"Eleven o'clock. We have plenty of time." Saint-Germain headed
for the bedchamber. "That iris-colored damask and ecru linen should do for a visit from the English Resident."
"With the English wig," said Hroger. "I have cleaned it for you, perfumed it so you cannot smell the charring, and reset the pigeon's-wings curls. You are lucky that the English wigs are so distinctive--they're not so likely to be stolen."
"All right--with the English wig; it's not as bulky as the German," said Saint-Germain. "Also the turquoise waistcoat."
He had been dressed for little more than twenty minutes when Zozia returned from the bath-house, her wooden shoes clumping as she hurried to her portion of the bedchamber, Salomea hastening after her. He rose from the chair where he had been reading and bowed to Zozia, who glared at him, then rushed on.
"Narkiss," Zozia shouted to their cook from her portion of the bedroom, "sausage and onions. In fifteen minutes!"
From the depths of the servants' room, Narkiss muttered his intention to do so. "I have to go out to the stable for eggs," he called.
"Then do it!" Zozia shouted back.
Hroger, who had been washing the dishes in the washtub, looked up. "My master?"
"We will learn in time," said Saint-Germain. He resumed his reading, his concentration fully on the account by a French Jesuit of his three years in Japan.
Hroger finished his chores and left to procure meat for the evening meal, some of which he would consume in private. Narkiss came in from the stable carrying a small basket containing four eggs and a large brown onion. He stopped in front of the stove, opened the firebox and thrust in a split log, then reached for the pan, and then for the tub of butter; as the stove heated once again, Narkiss chopped the onion, then put butter into the pan to sizzle.
Saint-Germain had covered almost fifty pages when Zozia emerged from the bedchamber, now resplendent in an amber gown with a Viennese farthingale and a long stomacher; her petticoats were revealed in the front, a multi-tiered profusion of straw-colored point-lace, which also cascaded from her elbows to her wrists. He
closed his book and stood. "Magnificent, Ksiezna," he said with a slight bow.
"Where is my breakfast?" she asked, paying almost no attention to him.
Narkiss indicated the pan. "The onions are nearly ready. I have only to whip the eggs."
"Then do it," she said, and rounded on Saint-Germain. "I'm told you're taking on a body-guard."
"I am," he said. "Do you object?"
"Of course I object," she snapped, and stamped her foot. "How do you think it looks for you to have someone protecting you?"
"Given that I've been attacked twice, I think it will appear that I am being prudent," he said, unperturbed.
"Report the attacks to the Czar's officers and--"
"And be taken by the soldiers and tortured to determine if my accusations are valid? I would prefer not."
"Oh, very good," she jeered. "Everyone will say that." Her laughter was filled with fury.
"Very probably," he said.
"The Czar doesn't go about with body-guards," she accused him.
"No; the Czar goes about with his poteshnyes--far better protection than body-guards," said Saint-Germain.
Zozia stood still, her gaze fulminating. "It reflects badly on Augustus that one of his representatives must be guarded in the Czar's city."
"It would reflect poorly on the Czar if his ally's representative should be attacked again, or if you should be attacked," Saint-Germain said calmly, anticipating a vehement denial that never came.
"No one would attack me!"
Behind Saint-Germain, Narkiss broke eggs into a bowl and began to whip them with a slotted spoon. "Have your breakfast, Ksiezna. We can talk when you have eaten."
"You will not deter me so easily," she warned him. "We have to discuss your decision. I won't let you frighten me into agreeing to this foolishness."
"Why is it foolishness?" Saint-Germain asked her.
"It makes you seem epicene, and that makes all Poland look poltroonish."
"But I am Hungarian," he reminded her.
She glowered at him. "It is a slight to Polish honor, no matter what you are, because you're here on the order of Augustus. You would lack my rank even if you were Polish, so you should be willing to obey me. But I'm not going to tell the King that you have shown yourself to be a coward unless you force me."
"How does having a body-guard make me a coward? I mean to protect you as well as myself--is that not one of my obligations to Augustus? To see that you come to no harm?" he inquired as she pushed by him and went up to the stove.
"Don't wrap your cowardice in your duty to me: it's offensive." She watched Narkiss work the eggs and onions in the pan, her face shining from her exchange with Saint-Germain; she did not turn to look at him again, and so he left her to her breakfast while he went back to his book.
Text of a letter from Benedykt Rozmowaslad, Ksiaze Radom, at Gdynia, to his sister, Zozia, Ksiezna Nisko, at Sankt Piterburkh, carried by Royal Messenger and delivered on August 16th, 1704.
To the most exalted Zozia, Ksiezna Nisko, the greeting of Benedykt, Ksiaze Radom, her most loving brother.
Zozia,
As you may have already been informed, I will shortly take ship for Sankt Piterburkh, leaving from the harbor here at Gdynia for the mouth of the Neva. This journey will make four ports of call before arriving in Russia, and that means you will have this in hand at least three weeks before I reach you, since Augustus has given permission for me to send it via his own courier. You will have time enough to arrange for some kind of housing for me--the Polish Resident has already informed the King that he has no place within his allocated house to put me. You may experience the same difficulty, for from what I hear, you will not have much room to spare. I rely upon you and your fraud of a husband to arrange something suitable. I promise
I will not interfere with your spying, which will please our King, little as your sham of a spouse may like it.
