Princess Charlotte Sic’s sleigh stopped in front of Paweł’s town house at midnight. Anna and Zofia were handed down by Charlotte’s driver amidst the hard falling snow. The three friends had spent the evening at the Potockis’ and were still in good humor. “Farewell!” Charlotte called as the sleigh pulled away. It was the only vehicle on Piwna Street.
“Farewell!” Anna called.
Zofia had already proceeded toward the front door. As Anna turned to follow suit, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. Another sleigh was pulling out of the adjacent alleyway. It did so in almost total silence because the street’s thick layer of newly fallen snow muffled the hooves of its horses and hiss of blades. Anna blinked at the strange sight. Two men sat in the front. The driver was on the far side of Anna’s view. The passenger turned for a moment in Anna’s direction, either to glance down the street for traffic—or because he sensed Anna’s presence. For the briefest of moments his face was bared by the moon and reflecting snow. He immediately turned away, and in moments the sleigh was moving quickly away, as if into the vortex of the snowstorm.
Anna thought she recognized the face. Was it possible? Could it have been? Her mouth went dry as she tried to call to Zofia. She couldn’t speak.
“What is it, Anna? Hurry in! You’ll catch your death out there.”
“Zofia!—Did you see?”
“See what?”
“That sleigh!”
“What sleigh?” Zofia descended the few stairs to Anna. “Charlotte’s sleigh?”
“No, there was another.”
Zofia glanced in either direction. “I don’t see another. Just a sheet of snow. Come in the house now.”
The sighting had been most peculiar, and Anna felt sick to her stomach. Had she imagined seeing Doliński? “Zofia, it came out of the alley leading to the coach house.”
“Paweł’s coach house? That seems unlikely, Anna. Come in now.”
In the downstairs hallway, the sense of urgency did not dissipate. Without removing her wrap, Anna rushed the stairs.
“Where are you going?”
“To Basia’s room! You must check on Iza.”
“But—why?”
Anna paused and turned. “Just do as I say!” she screamed, then made her way to the second floor. Her heart beat frantically against her chest as she pushed open the door to Barbara’s bedchamber. It was completely dark. And cold—no one had seen to the hearth before bedtime. She moved into the room. “Basia?” she whispered. “Basia?” She fumbled for the candle on the bedside table. Her hands trembling, she lighted it. “Basia?”
“Mother?” The sleepy voice sent relief flooding into Anna’s body. Barbara sat up in bed. “Oh, Mother, I fell asleep.”
Anna sat on the side of her daughter’s bed. “That’s as it should be. It’s very late.”
“But I wanted to stay awake for you to come home!” Barbara seemed suddenly fully awake, her voice effervescent.
“Why, dearest?” Anna’s hand sought out Basia’s.
“Because they’re home!”
“Who’s home?” The terrible sick feeling returned.
“The boys, Mother. The boys have come home!” Barbara withdrew her hand and flew from the bed. “Let me go get them. I’ll bet they’re not yet asleep!”
“No, Basia!” But the girl was already out of the room and heading for the stairway to the third floor. Anna took the candle and followed. On the landing, she nearly collided with Zofia, who was just coming up from the first floor, candle in hand.
“Izabel is sound asleep downstairs. What’s all the commotion up here?”
“Basia says the boys have come home!”
“Did you expect them?”
“No!” Anna knew at her core that something was amiss. Before she and Zofia could turn to mount the stairs to the third floor, Basia’s scream rang out, long and loud, and then came a refrain of several more cries, staccato and piercing. Anna looked at Zofia and saw her own fear reflected there. Shielding their candles, the two rushed up the stairs.
On the third level, ahead in the shadows, Anna could make out Basia’s crouching body and a form lying prone on the floor. The girl was crying hysterically.
Fear rose up, clutching Anna at the throat. She moved closer. Then both she and Zofia saw it. Barbara knelt weeping over the body of their sheep dog, Borys. A crimson sash lay nearby the lifeless dog. Anna took no time to examine the dog or console her Basia. She moved to the boys’ room. Why was it Basia’s screams had brought neither of them out? She opened the door and peered into darkness. As she walked in, her candle shed light on Jan Michał’s bed. He seemed to be in it—with the covers pulled over his face.
Anna leaned over and pulled back the bedclothes. What she saw made her gasp. Jan Michał had been tied with a sash and cravats. His mouth had been gagged so tightly that he could scarcely breathe. “Jan Michał!” she cried.
By now Zofia had come into the room. She moved toward the other bed, lighting that area of the room as she went. Anna started at once to remove Michał’s gag, but she looked up as Zofia’s candle lighted the area around Tadeusz’ bed. It was empty.
“Dog’s blood!” Zofia cried.
In less than an hour, Anna and Zofia bundled themselves into the open sleigh that Jan Michał had hitched. “Make for the western gate, Michał. Fast as you dare!”
“I shall,” he called back from the driver’s seat.
His story had spilled out with his tears. A note had come to the academy, ostensibly from Anna, hinting at some family tragedy and requesting the boys’ presence at home. Arriving home, they had been greeted by Barbara and Izabel. Not long after they had gone to their bedchamber, taking the sheep dog with them, Borys began scratching at the door, as if wanting to get out. Assuming that he preferred sleeping near Basia, as had become his custom, Michał opened the door and shooed him out. A minute later, he heard a low growl and the sounds of scuffling. He went to the door, opened it, and stepped out into the hall. At that moment something hard came down on his head. He went out like a snuffed candle.
When he came to, he was bound and gagged in his bed, the covers reaching up over his head. He lay very still, listening intently to sounds in the room. He could hear Tadeusz’ muffled voice in protest. There were two men in the room, he realized. They spoke Prussian. While Prussian was not his best subject, Jan Michał did manage to understand them. They had been instructed to bring Tadeusz to some Prussian town Jan Michał had not heard of. The one who seemed to be working for the other kept asking about payment, but he was told to keep quiet.
Are we to bring clothes for him? the underling asked. No, he was told, the boy would be needing no changes of clothes where he was going. The intimation had been clear to Jan Michał, and then, upon the retelling, to Anna and Zofia. Tadeusz had been kidnapped and would likely be killed in Prussia upon his delivery.
Zofia had gone white. “Why on earth would anyone wish harm to sweet little Tadeusz?”
Anna could see that her question stood for Jan Michał’s thoughts, as well. “There are reasons, Zofia, but for now we must search him out.”
“How?” Jan Michał asked, wiping away the last of his tears.
“Tell me, Michał,” Anna asked, “did either of them use the other’s name?” When he said no, she asked, “Did one of them have a rough, raspy voice?”
“Yes! Mother, he did! The one who was the boss. Like gravel it was!”
It was as Anna had thought when she saw the sleigh move noiselessly out from the alleyway leading to the coach house. It had been Doliński’s face she caught just for a second in the light of the moon. Her fear for Basia had proved wrong. He had been after Tadeusz. Her son was a captive in that sleigh and at the mercy of Doliński!
Anna remembered Paweł’s warning and concluded that Doliński must somehow be connected to the Polish member of the Brotherhood who had infiltrated the group on behalf of some Prussian interest. Or—perhaps he was the spy himself!
They passed out of Warsaw’s western gate. “We’ll have to make a decision soon, Mother,” Jan Michał called back. “Which way now?”
Anna leaned forward. “Take the Sochaczew Road, Michał!” What am I doing? Anna asked herself. What? Flying through the night in a sleigh—two women and a fourteen-year-old boy—chasing down a criminal who could easily kill them all without a wrinkle to his conscience? She sat back against the cushion. What have I gotten us into?
But there had been no time to tell authorities, authorities that would likely find her story incredible. No time to seek help from the Brotherhood, even though they were likely to believe her because of their interest in Tadeusz. No time. She had to act. Tadeusz’s life was at stake.
Iza had been as distraught as Basia over the dog’s death, but she collected herself and brought Basia downstairs to stay with her the remainder of the night. Neither Michał nor Zofia would be left behind. Or could be! Anna knew she needed them. Before leaving, Michał took down from the wall the saber that had belonged to Anna’s ancestor who had used it when King Jan Sobieski stood against the Turks at Vienna, and for his service had been ennobled. Zofia and Anna each took a pistol. Only Anna had ever fired one—once, a long time ago.
God was with them in that the snow had stopped falling and the moon was as round and bright as a gold ducat. Still, Anna and Zofia had to shield their faces from pelting particles of snow and ice that flew up from the horses’ hooves.
Intermittently, Jan Michał called back that he thought he could see marks of the sleigh and horses that had preceded them.
As they came into Sochaczew hours later, however, the wind and fresh, light pellets of snow layered the roads, leaving them pure white and smooth as a counterpane on a freshly-made bed. No marks at all. They came to the Market Square, and Anna directed Jan Michał to slowly approach the little complex of offices belonging to the starosta. But as they drew near, they could see that all was dark within and without. No signs of a sleigh and horses. No signs of life.
Anna’s heart dropped. What if she had been wrong? She had guessed they would not stay at an inn because of the prisoner they carried. But what if they had? Or, what if they had continued on, making for Prussia now, traveling straight through? The thought paralyzed her. How could they ever be found?
“Well?” Zofia pressed. “Did you expect someone here? What are we to do now?”
Jan Michał turned about. His expression underscored Zofia’s words.
“Take the North Road, Michał.” Anna commanded. “It’s not more than fifteen minutes. Look for a little drive off to the right. It’s planted on either side with tall evergreens.”
The sleigh moved on and the three fell silent.
“There!” Anna whispered sharply. “There are the trees and the drive, Michał.” The sleigh came to a halt. She stared down the long drive toward the modest manor house of the starosta. She had passed this way many times, but had been to the house itself only once—when she had come with her mother, who demanded from Doliński justice for the killing of her husband. Whether it was any fault of his, she had never found out, but subsequently he had somehow allowed the murderer to escape.
At this distance, the house looked tiny, the windows dark. And there were no signs of a sleigh. “We need to go closer,” Anna said, “on foot.”
Neither companion questioned her. Jan Michał handed them both down from the sleigh.
“Let’s go,” Anna whispered. “Go slowly and don’t talk. Voices will carry on a night like this.”
“Wait a minute, then,” Zofia said, placing her hand on Anna’s arm. “I think your son and I need to know what this is about, Anna. Why would someone here want to take Tadeusz?”
Anna sighed. She knew her cousin was right. They needed to know the circumstances—just what risk there was, and why. In few words she told them now, the silver light from the moon defining their faces as she relayed to them the Brotherhood’s plans for Tadeusz—possible plans, she underscored. And with few details, she characterized Doliński as a man who would enjoy doing harm to her family.
“Tadeusz—king?” Zofia said, her voice drawing out the second word. She was stunned.
“I would not wager money on it,” Anna replied. “I never have.”
Jan Michał’s eyes had gone wide, but he said nothing. Anna could only imagine how Tadeusz’ treatment at the academy now made some sort of sense to him. How could they have helped but treat him differently, knowing there was a chance he would be king of a restored Commonwealth one day? And Jan Michał was a sensitive enough child that he would pick up on the slightest nuance of difference in the ways they were treated.
“I’ll lead,” Jan Michał was saying. “Mother, you and Aunt Zofia follow in my boot steps.”
Child? Anna thought, as they started their single line procession. Jan Michał had become a man.
They had gone some fifty spaces when Zofia whispered for them to stop.
“What is it?” Anna asked.
“A light! There, to the left of the portico.”
Zofia was right. A pale yellow flickered in the windows. Anna’s heart caught. She felt she was nearer Tadeusz. But nearer danger, too. “Push on, Michał.”
The three moved another two hundred paces without stopping, without speaking, the crunch of snow beneath their boots resonating in the stillness. Jan Michał led them to a cluster of shrubs near the lighted window. “I’ll take a look,” Anna said.
“No, Mother I’m taller. I’ll get a better view.”
He was not taller by much, but Anna deferred. She and Zofia held to each other, watching as he sidled up to the white siding of the house, then slowly maneuvered his way to the window. The crocheted curtains framed the upper and sides of the window, allowing one to peer inside at its midpoint. Jan Michał remained locked in position for what seemed a long while.
At last, Jan Michał rejoined Anna and Zofia, his face dark with anger. “He’s in there, all right. On a couch—tied up and gagged like I was.”
“And the other two?” Zofia asked before Anna could.
“Just one is in the room.”
“Is it Doliński—the one you called the boss?”
Jan Michał shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Of course, he wouldn’t know, Anna realized. He had only heard Doliński’s voice. He hadn’t seen him. “I’m going to look,” Anna said. “Jan Michał, hold your anger in check, do you hear? Now, go around back and see what you can find. Check the stable. Find out where the other one is, if you can. Then come back. For God’s sake, don’t do anything with that saber.—Be careful!”
Jan Michał disappeared. “And me?” Zofia whispered.
“Just wait.”
“Wait?”—“I’m sorry, I didn’t bring my knitting with me. Anna, do you have a plan?”
“No, not yet. I wish I had, but we’ll put one together once we know where they both are.”
“Assuming there are only two.”
The thought that there might be more sent a chill through Anna. “Wait for me.” Anna moved in behind the shrubs and delicately made her way to the window. Jan Michał’s little bit of extra height had given him an edge, for Anna had to stand on her toes while gripping the window ledge. She prayed she would maintain her balance.
Suddenly she caught sight of Doliński’s face not two paces beyond the window pane! She froze in place. He had gone near the doorway of the room and turned, as if to survey the human bundle on the couch. Anna closed her eyes, her heart in a vise, fearing he would turn just slightly and see her there in the window. All of their lives would be worthless. He would let no one escape.
Upon opening her eyes again, Anna saw that he had left the room. Tadeusz was unguarded, for the time-being. The moment hung fire. She half expected the front door to open, allowing Doliński to fly at her.
A full minute passed. Anna let herself down and quickly went to where she had left her cousin. But Zofia was gone. Anna didn’t dare call out. She stood there in the numbing cold, wondering what to do next.
Then, out of the dark, she did see someone moving toward her.
“Anna!” Zofia whispered.
“I told you to stay put!—Where did you go?”
“To the front door. They’re trusting criminals—it’s unlocked.”
“Praise God, that’s good news.”
Zofia put the tips of her fingers on Anna’s mouth for just a moment. Then she silently pointed to the window of a second floor room. A light had been made there, and they could see someone’s shadow playing against the window.
“Doliński, I think,” Anna said breathlessly. “He just left Tadeusz alone.”
“Let’s go in then.”
“No, let me go in. You go to the window and come in only if I wave you in. We can’t risk all of us at once. And you need to be here when Jan Michał comes back around.”
Zofia acquiesced and Anna slipped onto the portico, pushing open the front door and moving slowly into the hall. She stood there for the longest time. The house was silent as an abbey except for the sound of the fire crackling in the room in which Tadeusz lay. Anna turned now, moving for the open door to that room. She stopped on its threshold. It was a little library, dirty and ill-kept. She moved stealthily toward the couch. About ten steps away from Tadeusz, the floor boards creaked and boy opened his eyes. Anna said a little prayer of thanksgiving to herself. He had his senses about him, and she hoped that once he was untied, he would be able to walk out on his own.
She fell on her knees by the couch. Her son’s blue eyes had gone wide with relief. “We’ll get you out of here, Tadek. Just be very quiet once I get this cravat untied.”
Untying the knots in the bad light, however, was no easy thing, and Anna’s nervousness worked against her. When she realized it was taking too long, she gave up, and her hands moved to the ropes that had been fastened at his wrists.
She was having more success with these when Tadeusz jerked his head up, his eyes wide in fear—no, in warning! Anna heard a step behind her.
As she turned some inner sense directed her to move, and she did so—just as Doliński brought down a hearth poker. It clipped her shoulder instead of her head.
Anna rolled to the side and scrambled several paces away.
“We have a visitor, it seems, Tadeusz,” Doliński rasped. “Isn’t that nice?” He still held to the poker. “Good to see you in Sochaczew, Lady Stelnicka.”
“I’ve come for my son,” Anna said.
“Have you? That’s unfortunate for you.”
Doliński started for her, his arm with the poker lifting high into the air.
“The misfortune is yours!” The voice belonged to Zofia, who emerged from the shadows near the door.
“Ah, and you brought a friend, I see,” Doliński said, turning about. However overweight, he cut an imposing figure and was not going to be easily cowed. But then he fell suddenly silent, for he saw what Anna saw. Zofia had her pistol trained on him.
“You’re going to let the boy go,” Zofia said. “Anna, untie your son.”
“Let’s not be hasty,” Doliński said. “The boy has a great future. I’ve taken him into custody for the Brotherhood.”
“You’re lying!” Zofia cried. “Stay where you are, bastard! I would enjoy killing you.”
Doliński took a step toward Zofia. “Have you killed many?” he asked. He took another step.
Zofia raised the pistol.
Doliński wasn’t to be deterred. He doubted Zofia’s will. Anna did not.
Zofia fired the gun.
No explosion followed. Just a timid click of the hammer. Horror flashed like lightning across Zofia’s face, and she released the second hammer.
Nothing.
The pistol had not been properly primed. Doliński laughed and started to rush Zofia, the poker held high in the air, ready to strike.
Now came the explosion.
Doliński stopped in mid-step. A beat or two passed before the poker fell to the floor. He had only a few seconds to turn and face Anna, his face screwed into an expression of disbelief and pain.
Anna stood, ready to fire again, but Doliński folded over now and fell to the floor.
A long moment passed as Anna and Zofia stared at him, lifeless on the floor, then at each other. Finally, Zofia said, “Thank God your pistol worked, Anna! And, look, the man was bloodless, just a neat hole in his shirt.”
Anna held a finger to her lips, shushing her cousin. The sound of the shot was bound to bring his friend.
At that moment a door at the rear of the room burst open as if by a bomb. Anna swiftly turned, raising the gun, ready to release the second chamber. The order to fire had already gone from her brain to her finger when she caught sight of a tall figure coming through the door.
A second impulse told her to hold fire a moment longer.
“Anna, don’t!” Zofia screamed. “Don’t! It’s Michał!”
Anna was in such a state of fear and panic and shock at taking one life that she moved with no will or mind of her own. It was Zofia’s scream that very probably saved Jan Michał’s life, Anna would conclude later. The scream paralyzed the finger she had on the trigger. Jan Michał came fully into the room now, his saber drawn, his eyes falling on Doliński.
“Did you see the other one?” Zofia implored Jan Michał. “Surely he heard the shot.”
“He heard it,” Jan Michał said in a strange and cryptic tone. His face was a white mask. “He’ll not trouble us.”
“You killed him?” Tadeusz asked, his face bright with amazement. He had finished the job of loosening his bonds and taken the gag from his mouth, which now formed a perfect O.
Anna looked down then at the saber Michał held, its shiny blade dulled with crimson.