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Mitzi the Kid
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Southeastern Poland
Summer, 1634
The sun rose toward high noon. A buzzard circled slowly over his head as the gunfighter stepped from the saloon. Red dust puffed up from each step, and the sneer on his face was even more twisted than before.
Mitzi the Kid stood up from the chair in front of the Marshall's office. "Black Bart, what are you doing in town? Didn't I throw you out yesterday?"
Black Bart spit into the street. "You're nothing but a sniveling little mouse, and I never listen to mice."
Mitzi stepped into the middle of the street. Women grabbed their children and hid inside shops. Black Bart's eyes were like flat river rocks. "Draw, you lily-livered coward." Mitzi stood and watched him for a movement.
There, Black Bart's finger twitched. Mitzi's gun cleared leather and started firing before Black Bart could get his gun out. The man in black fell to the ground, and there was silence . . .
Broken by whistling.
Mitzi sat up, suddenly aware that he had fallen asleep with his precious book on his face. He definitely didn't want to be caught with the book again, not when he should be picking rocks. He hid the book under a couple of rocks on the sledge, and hurried over to the first furrow from last fall. He would have to get the rocks out before they could plow and plant this spring. He found a rock, and tossed it to the pile at the edge of the field before the whistler could top the hill behind him.
Mitzi bent over, grabbed another chunk of rock, and with a quick twist of his shoulders threw the rock to the pile. At least he was still close enough to the edge of the field that he didn't have to use the sledge. Dragging a sledge full of rocks was one of Mitzi's least favorite activities. He bent, threw another rock, bent, threw rock, then more of the same.
He kept working as the whistling stopped. Then he heard a familiar voice. "Mstislav, I see you're picking rocks."
Mitzi looked over, and it was Aleksy! "I'm Mitzi. I'm fourteen, great-grandfather was Mstislav. And shouldn't you be at your duties? Were you dismissed? Are you back for good?"
Aleksy laughed as he gave his little brother a hug, and pounded him on the back. "No. The count declared a break. I think it is a new mistress. And while most of my workmates could only talk about having parties and entertainment, I'm here to see what you've been neglecting."
Mitzi grinned as well. "And you walked the whole eighty miles?"
Aleksy shook his head. "No, I was able to ride part of the way. Otherwise, I'd still be on the road."
Mitzi and Aleksy sat down on the sledge and pulled grass stems to chew on. Mitzi leaned back on his elbows. "I was sad to see you go. How long will you be home? Now that you're gone, it's been my job to pick the rocks before the first plowing. I was hoping you were back for good."
Aleksy laughed and leaned on his elbows as well. "Wishful thinking, brother. Even if I were back for good, I'd get a different job than picking rocks. That's yours!"
"I've been reading that book you brought. I've read it through twice already. Who is this man, the author? He sounds like some Frenchman, with a name like L'Amour."
Aleksy tousled Mitzi's hair. "From what I could find out, he was an American, but he doesn't live here in Europe. He was from before the miracle." Aleksy pulled a little booklet from his shirt. "But I learned about something even better than L'Amour. I brought it home to show the village elders. They probably will want to have a meeting tonight, so I don't think anyone else will have time to come out here and catch you sleeping again."
Mitzi blushed, but his discomfiture was quickly forgotten. "What is it? Is it a story as well?"
"No, it's in good German. It's just a couple of pamphlets. They're about something called the grange."
****
Mitzi arrived at the village meeting early, so he could get a good seat. He was perched on a barrel very close to the front. As always, the gathering was in the open area between all the houses.
With only seven extended families, and nine houses, this wasn't the largest village in the district. There wasn't a shop of any kind, so nobody sold spices. That meant that they were not a town. They had their own small scriptorium, but it wasn't really large enough for the meeting, so they met in the courtyard.
In the old days, when Uncle Olek was a young man, the village had been the direct support of the manor. But when the manor house had burned down twenty years ago, the Olbermann family moved off to the town and left the village elders in charge of making sure that the fields were planted and rents were paid. Even the manor was twenty minutes walk from the village. And so the village became sleepier and less exciting week by week and month by month.
He smiled as he saw Frau Walczak, bustling around in the cobble-stoned space between the houses. She always called it a courtyard, saying that even castles did not have so fine a space for their activities. It was not quite like a plaza or courtyard in a town. It really was just a wide space, with houses on all sides.
Herr Piotroski supervised the setting of planks on top of barrels to make the head table. The preparations were finished, and Old Uncle Olek came out of his house, and sat down at his seat. That was the signal, and the rest of the village council, all the heads of households, gathered around the table.
The meeting started. Mitzi let his mind wander as Herr Piotroski gave the same old announcements. Finally it was Aleksy's turn. Aleksy took out the pamphlets and put them on the council table. "Here are the basics for organizing our village into a grange. The grange will protect our farms and families by making us part of a larger coalition. More, it will get us access to The Grange Proceedings, which are newssheets about the advances in agriculture, and broadsheets on how to make improved tools that will work for us."
After he sat down, there was a moment of silence, then the talk began. In the tradition of the village, all the adults seemed to be talking at the same time, and as loudly as possible. Everyone, at one time or another, pointed at the pamphlets laying on the table and waved their hands in the air to emphasize some point or other. As it grew darker, lanterns and torches lit up the area, food and drink were brought out from the houses, but the discussion never stopped.
Uncle Olek waved his cane at Herr Piotroski. "But it's not new! This sounds just exactly like what we've been doing all along."
Herr Piotroski ducked, and nodded. "Yes, I agree. But if we form an organization, one that is bigger than just our village, we can get better prices and what money we do get will go farther."
Mitzi's father, Hans, picked up the pamphlet, and looked at it as the others shouted. Then he stood up, and raised his hand for silence. "It says here, if we set up this organization, we can have a voice in politics. And I like what it says about cutting out the middleman. It means that we could get more money, and even the people we sell to would get more."
As the night wore on, formidable quantities of both beer and bread were consumed. To Mitzi, it seemed that all the wrangling was really more about making sure everyone knew that everybody else had heard them, and that they had heard everybody else. The real selling point had been that everyone had heard about villages in Germany which organized and were having great success.
The last holdout was Herr Grabowski. He stood up and shouted, "You all sound as if we will have to pave the courtyard with gold bricks just to use up all the money we will make. You all act like enthusiasm will solve all your problems. You need to know, that if you're not willing to work this idea won't work for you."
Herr Piotroski banged his cane on the table when the whole village tried to shout down Herr Grabowski. When it was a little calmer, Herr Piotroski said, "So you're saying you don't think we should try this?"
All eyes went to Herr Grabowski. He frowned under his heavy black brows. "No, I'm not. I'm saying that if everyone is willing to make this work, I'll try it too."
****
The Duroski manor had fallen to hard times. It lay on the side of a valley closer to holdings of the Polish nobles. The family was almost nonexistent now. The only living heir when the old man died was his son, Jarusz. He was a bully and a wastrel, but the old man had no other choice. There were not even nephews he could leave it to. So the manor fell into disuse as Jarusz Duroski spent his inheritance on anything and everything except proper maintenance.
Now Jarusz was home and out of money. He and his band of lowlifes were camped at his old manor. The house itself was still standing but most of the outbuildings were collapsed and decaying. There were no servants, just he and his men.
Jarusz and his men were drinking in the old dining room. The table had been hastily repaired with a mismatched leg, and it was not strong enough to lean on, but it was able to hold the leather jack full of beer, and the map spread out in the middle. He leaned over and examined it for a moment, then placed his finger on an area next to his land. "And who owns this land here?"
Boris, his second in command, replied, "That land belongs to the Olbermann family. It is part of an inheritance that went to a German cousin about ninety years ago. They moved to town when their manor house burned. It has been almost twenty years since they have been in residence on that property, but I don't think that the land belongs to anybody else."
Jarusz stroked his beard. "So the family has not been there? That just may be the answer to our supply problems. There's nothing else here we can forage. Perhaps if we occupy the ruins of the manor, we can claim that we were just protecting the property from the bandits and thieves."
That brought a laugh from the men in the room. Jarusz laughed as well. They would really be "protecting" the land from themselves. He pulled his knife from the scabbard and started picking his teeth. "With a little effort perhaps we could convince the Olbermann factor that it should really be ours, and not belong to someone who abandoned it more than a decade ago."
Boris stood up, his eyes alight. "And even if we can't get the land for our own, we can claim payment for protecting it."
Jarusz nodded. "Very well, gather up the men. We'll go camp in the ruins of the Olbermann manor. It looks like a very nice little valley, and it would fit nicely into my holdings."
Boris nodded. "Yes, Your Excellency. Everything will be ready at first light."
Jarusz yawned. "No need to leave that early. We'll go when I'm ready in the morning."
****
With a crunch, the last rock landed on the pile at the edge of the field. Mitzi stood and stretched his back. At least this field is now done. Mitzi got his switch, and started the ox moving. He needed to get these rocks down to where they were building a new shed.
It had been a week since Aleksy returned to his posting. And the organization of the grange was complete. Mitzi himself had been appointed as clerk because he could write well in German. Even though he was still picking rocks out of the fields, he felt more important.
He came out onto the road, then noticed sounds of an argument drifting up the hill from the village. Mitzi shaded his eyes, to see who was waving their hands now.
Down at the edge of the village, there was a group of armed men that Mitzi didn't recognize. He'd never seen anyone like that in this area. Opposite them, a group of villagers stood shaking their fists in the air. He wanted to hear this, but he couldn't leave the ox up here untended.
He tried to hurry, but oxen are slow, and by the time Mitzi had the ox put away, and the sledge behind the barn, the group of strangers was gone. He ran over to his father. "What was all that?"
Hans was still angry. "Those Cossacks claim that they are protecting us from bandits. They have moved into the ruins at the manor, and they want us to provide them with food. I think they're the wastrels that have all but destroyed the Duroski holdings. But they definitely don't work for the Olbermann family, and we owe them nothing."
****
That evening was the regular meeting for the grange, so the tables in the courtyard had been set up again. Mitzi took his seat to the side of the head table, and had paper and his ink pot ready to take notes. He was interested to see what the leadership would decide to do about the Cossacks.
Herr Piotroski stood up and banged his cane for order. When it was relatively quiet, he began. "This opens the monthly grange meeting for New Olbermann. And while we settled on an agenda last meeting, let's talk instead about what everybody has on their minds anyway. What do we do about Duroski and his Cossacks?"
Mitzi's father, Hans, stood. "Yes, agree."
Herr Piotroski nodded. "Fine, we will open the discussion of Duroski and his men, and save the discussion of the cost of seed for next meeting. I'll go first."
There was some murmuring, but no disagreement. Mitzi got busy writing the record of the meeting.
Herr Piotroski laid out all of the particulars of what they said, and what we said, and then opened the floor for general discussion. There were a couple of moments of silence, as everybody waited to see who would go first. Then the shouting and hand-waving started. Tonight, the participants were grim and everybody showed expressions of concern.
Hans stood to speak. "But what can we do? These men are armed like soldiers. They claim they have feudal right over us."
Herr Piotroski stood. "Our leases, our grants, and our loyalties have always gone to the Olbermann family. These men follow that blockhead Duroski. They have been camped at his old family manor for several months now, and have probably either destroyed or completely stripped anything there. I think they are hungry, and clamoring for new ground. I know for a fact that the son, Jarusz, has coveted this valley for as long as he can remember. Our village will never owe that parasite anything."
There were rumbles of agreement all through the meeting, but nobody stood to speak. Finally, Mitzi stood up. "I know I'm young, but I don't think we need to stand for this. It's just like in my book that Aleksy gave me. The people in town are being threatened by a rowdy gang, and they came up with a plan. That's what we need, a plan."
When he sat down, the meeting moved into the typical calm and reasoned discussion of the village. That is, everybody waved their hands in the air, and shouted their opinion at the top of their lungs. Groups began to form. People with the same general opinion tended to stand in the same area.
Finally, it began to look like there were only two groups. One was for the appeal to the law, and the younger group was for a more violent solution.
That was when Herr Piotroski stood and banged his cane for silence. "We haven't heard from Uncle Olek yet. Uncle Olek, which action do you think we should pursue?"
Everybody turned to the old man at the other end of the table from Mitzi. He had not allowed them to make him president, but he was still respected and expected to sit on the council.
Uncle Olek stood slowly, and looked at the entire village. His eyes were burning under his bushy white brows. "I think that we have a responsibility to the Olbermann family. So it is the right thing for us to send a representative to town and let them know what is happening."
That brought a huge reaction from the crowd. It sounded to Mitzi kind of like a roar. People started shouting at Uncle Olek, and then shouting at each other.
That ends the preview. Probably in the middle of a sentence. Sorry.