5 Wladek Koskiewicz grew slowly. It soon became apparent to his foster mother that the boy’s health would always be a problem. He caught all the illnesses and diseases that growing children normally catch, and many that most don’t. He then passed them on indiscriminately to the rest of the family. Helena treated Wladek like one of her own, and vigorously defended him whenever Jasio began to blame the devil, rather than God, for the child’s presence in their tiny cottage. Florentyna also took care of Wladek as if he were her own child. She had loved him from the first moment she set eyes on him, with an intensity that grew from a fear that because no one would ever want to marry her, the penniless daughter of a trapper, she would therefore be childless. Wladek was her child. The eldest brother, Franck, who had found Wladek on the riverbank, treated him like a plaything. He would never admit that he was fond of the frail infant, as his father had told him children were a woman’s concern. In any case, next January he would be leaving school to start work on the Baron’s estate. The three younger brothers, Stefan, Josef and Jan, showed little interest in Wladek, while the remaining member of the family, Sophia, only six months his senior, was happy enough just to cuddle him. What Helena had not been prepared for was a character and a mind so unlike those of her own children. No one could fail to notice the physical or intellectual differences. The Koskiewicz children were all tall, heavily set, with red hair and, except for Florentyna, grey eyes. Wladek was short and stocky, with dark hair and intense blue eyes. The Koskiewiczes had no interest in education, and left the village school as soon as age or necessity demanded. Wladek, on the other hand, though he was late to crawl, could speak at eighteen months, read before his third birthday – but was still unable to dress himself – and write coherent sentences at five – but continued to wet his bed. He became the despair of his father and the pride of his mother. His first four years on this earth were memorable mainly because of how many attempts he made through illness to depart from it; he would have succeeded in doing so had it not been for the sustained efforts of Helena and Florentyna. He would run around the little wooden cottage barefoot, usually dressed in his harlequin outfit, a yard or so behind his mother. When Florentyna returned from school he would transfer his allegiance, never leaving her side until she put him to bed. In her division of the food Florentyna often sacrificed half of her own share to Wladek or, if he was sick, the entire portion. Wladek wore the clothes she made for him, sang the songs she taught him and shared with her the few toys and presents she possessed. Because Florentyna was away at school for most of the day, Wladek wanted to go with her. As soon as he was allowed to, he walked the eighteen-wiorsta path through the woods of moss-covered birches and cypresses to the little school in Slonim, holding firmly on to her hand until they reached its gates. Unlike his brothers, Wladek enjoyed school from the first bell; for him, it was an escape from the tiny cottage that had until then been his whole world. School also made him painfully aware that the Russians occupied his homeland. He learned that his native Polish was only to be spoken in the privacy of the cottage, and that at school Russian would be the mother tongue. He sensed in the other children a fierce pride in their oppressed language and culture, and he too came to share that same pride. To his surprise, Wladek found that he was not belittled by Mr Kotowski, the schoolteacher, the way he was at home by his father. Although still the youngest, as he was at home, it was not long before he rose above his classmates in everything other than height. His tiny stature misled his contemporaries into underestimating him: children so often assume biggest is best. By the age of five Wladek was top of his class in every subject except woodwork. At night, back at the little wooden cottage, while the other children tended the violets that bloomed so fragrantly in their springtime garden, picked berries, chopped wood, hunted rabbits or made clothes, Wladek read and read, until he was reading the unopened books of his eldest brother and then those of his elder sister. It began to dawn slowly on Helena that she had taken on more than she had bargained for when Franck had brought home the little animal in place of three rabbits. Already Wladek was asking questions she could not answer. She knew it wouldn’t be long before she couldn’t cope with him, and she didn’t know what to do about it. But she had an unquestionable belief in destiny, so was not surprised when the decision was taken out of her hands. The first major turning point in Wladek’s life came one evening in the autumn of 1911. The family had finished their usual supper of beetroot soup and rabbit. Jasio was snoring by the fire and Helena was sewing while the other children were all playing. Wladek was sitting at the feet of his mother, reading, when above the noise of Stefan and Josef squabbling over the possession of some newly painted pine-cones, they heard a loud knock on the door. They all fell silent. A knock was always a surprise to the Koskiewicz family, for visitors at the little cottage were almost unknown. The whole family looked towards the door apprehensively. As if it had not occurred, they waited for the knock to come a second time. It did – a little louder than the first. Jasio rose sleepily from his chair, walked across to the door and opened it cautiously. When they saw who was standing there, they all leapt up and bowed their heads except Wladek, who stared up at the broad-shouldered, handsome, aristocratic figure draped in his heavy bearskin coat, whose presence had instantly brought fear into the father’s eyes. But the visitor’s cordial smile removed any anxiety, and Jasio quickly stood aside to allow Baron Rosnovski to enter his home. Nobody spoke. The Baron had never visited the cottage before, so they did not know what to do next. Wladek put down his book, rose, walked up to the stranger and thrust out his hand before his father could stop him. ‘Good evening, sir.’ The Baron shook his hand, and they stared into each other’s eyes. When the Baron released him, Wladek’s eyes came to rest on a magnificent silver band around his wrist, with an inscription on it that he couldn’t quite make out. ‘You must be Wladek.’ ‘Yes, sir,’ replied the boy, seemingly unsurprised to find that the Baron knew his name. ‘It is about you that I have come to see your father,’ said the Baron. Jasio signified by a wave of his arm that the other children should leave him alone with his master, so two of them curtsied, four bowed, and all six retreated silently up into the loft. Wladek remained, as no one suggested he should join the other children. ‘Koskiewicz,’ began the Baron, still standing, as no one had offered him a seat, firstly because they were too frightened, and secondly because they assumed he was there to issue a reprimand. ‘I have come to ask a favour.’ ‘Anything, sir, anything,’ said the father, wondering what he could possibly give the Baron that he did not already have a hundred-fold. The Baron continued. ‘My son, Leon, is now six years of age, and is being taught privately at the castle by two tutors, one from Poland, the other from Germany. They tell me he is a bright child but lacks competition, as he has only himself to beat. Mr Kotowski at the village school tells me that Wladek is the only boy there who is capable of providing such competition. I have come to ask you if you would permit your son to leave the village school and join Leon and his tutors at the castle.’ Before Wladek’s eyes there appeared a wondrous vision of books, and teachers far wiser than Mr Kotowski. He glanced towards his mother. She was gazing at the Baron, her face filled with a mixture of wonder and sorrow. His father turned to her, and the moment of silent communication between them seemed an eternity to the child. The trapper gruffly addressed the Baron’s feet. ‘We would be honoured, sir.’ The Baron turned his attention to Helena. ‘The Blessed Virgin forbids that I should ever stand in my child’s way,’ she said softly, ‘though she alone knows how much I will miss him.’ ‘Be assured, Madam Koskiewicz, that your son can return home whenever he wishes.’ ‘Yes, sir. I expect he will do so, at first.’ She was about to add some plea but thought better of it. The Baron smiled. ‘Good. It’s settled then. Please bring him to the castle tomorrow morning by seven o’clock. During the school term he will live with us, and at Christmas he can return to you.’ Wladek burst into tears. ‘Quiet, boy,’ said the trapper. ‘I will not leave you,’ Wladek said, turning to face his mother, although in truth he wanted to go. ‘Quiet, boy,’ repeated the trapper, this time a little louder. ‘Why not?’ asked the Baron, with compassion in his voice. ‘I will never leave Florcia – never.’ ‘Florcia?’ queried the Baron. ‘My eldest daughter, sir,’ interjected the trapper. ‘Don’t concern yourself with her, sir. The boy will do as he is told.’ No one spoke. The Baron remained silent for a moment, while Wladek continued to cry controlled tears. ‘How old is the girl?’ he finally asked. ‘Fourteen,’ replied the trapper. ‘Could she work in the kitchens?’ asked the Baron, relieved to see that Helena Koskiewicz did not look as if she was going to burst into tears as well. ‘Oh, yes, Baron,’ she replied. ‘Florcia can cook, and she can sew and she can . . .’ ‘Good, good, then she can come as well. I shall expect them both tomorrow morning at seven.’ The Baron walked to the door, looked back at the boy and smiled. This time Wladek returned the smile. He had struck his first bargain, and allowed his mother to cling to him after the Baron had left. He heard her whisper, ‘Ah, Matka’s littlest one, what will become of you now?’ Wladek couldn’t wait to find out. * Helena packed for Wladek and Florentyna before going to bed that night, not that it would have taken long to pack the entire family’s possessions. At six the following morning the rest of the family stood by the door and watched them depart for the castle, each holding a paper parcel under one arm. Florentyna, tall and graceful, kept turning to look at them, crying and waving; but Wladek, short and ungainly, never once looked back. Florentyna held firmly on to his hand for the entire journey. Their roles had been reversed: from that day on, she would depend on him. They were clearly expected by the magnificent manservant in an embroidered suit of green livery covered in golden buttons who answered their timid knock on the great oak door. Both of them had often gazed in admiration at the grey uniforms of the soldiers who guarded the nearby Russian–Polish border, but they had never seen anything so resplendent as this giant towering above them, who they thought must be of overwhelming importance. There was a thick rug in the hall, and Wladek stared at the green-and-red pattern, amazed by its beauty, wondering if he should take off his shoes, and was surprised that when he walked across it, his footsteps made no sound. The dazzling being conducted them to their bedrooms in the west wing. Separate rooms – how would they ever get to sleep? At least there was a connecting door, so they need never be too far apart, and in fact for many nights they slept together in the same bed. Once they had unpacked, Florentyna was taken off to the kitchen and Wladek to a playroom in the south wing of the castle where he was introduced to the Baron’s son. Leon Rosnovski was tall for his age, a good-looking boy who was so charming and welcoming that Wladek abandoned his prepared pugnacious attitude within moments of meeting him. Wladek quickly discovered that Leon was a lonely child, with no one to play with except his niania, the devoted Lithuanian woman who had breast-fed him and attended to his every need since the premature death of his mother. The sturdy boy who had come out of the forest promised companionship. And at least in one matter they were considered equals. Leon immediately offered to show Wladek around the castle – every room of which was bigger than the entire cottage. The adventure took the rest of the morning, and Wladek was astounded by the sheer size of the castle, the richness of its furniture and fabrics – and those carpets were in every room. Wladek admitted only to being agreeably impressed. The main part of the building, Leon told him, was early Gothic, as if Wladek was sure to know what Gothic meant. He nodded. Next, Leon took his new friend down a stone staircase into the immense cellars, with row upon row of wine bottles covered in dust and cobwebs. But Wladek’s favourite room was the vast dining hall, with its massive pillared vaulting, flagged floor and the largest table he’d ever seen. He stared at the stuffed heads mounted on the walls. Leon told him they were bison, bear, elk, boar and wolverine that his father had shot over the years. Above the fireplace was the Baron’s coat of arms. The Rosnovski family motto read: ‘Fortune favours the brave.’ At twelve, a gong sounded and lunch was served by liveried servants. Wladek ate very little as he watched Leon carefully, trying to memorize which instruments he used in the bewildering array of silver cutlery. After lunch he met his two tutors, who did not welcome him as Leon had done. That evening he climbed up onto the largest bed he had ever seen, and told Florentyna about his adventures. Her disbelieving eyes never once left his face, nor did she even close her mouth, agape with wonder, especially when she heard about the knives and forks. Lessons began at seven sharp the next morning, before breakfast, and continued throughout the day, with only short breaks for meals. To begin with, Leon was clearly ahead of his new classmate, but Wladek wrestled manfully with his books, and as the weeks passed the gap began to narrow. The two boys’ friendship and rivalry developed at the same pace. The tutors found it hard to treat their two pupils – one the son of a baron, the other the illegitimate son of God knows who – as equals, although they reluctantly conceded to the Baron that he had made the right academic choice. Their uncompromising attitude never worried Wladek, because Leon always treated him as an equal. The Baron let it be known that he was pleased with the progress the boys were making, and he would often reward Wladek with clothes and toys. Wladek’s initial distant and detached admiration for the Baron quickly developed into respect. When the time came for Wladek to return to the little cottage in the forest for Christmas he was distressed at having to leave Leon. Despite his initial happiness at seeing his mother, the three short months he’d spent in the Baron’s castle had introduced him to a far more exciting world. He would have rather been a servant at the castle than master at the cottage. As the holiday dragged on, Wladek felt himself stifled by the little cottage with its one room and overcrowded loft, and dissatisfied by the food dished out in such meagre amounts and eaten with bare hands: no one divided things up into nine portions at the castle. After a few days Wladek longed to return and be with Leon and the Baron. Every afternoon he would walk the six wiorsta to the castle and sit and stare at the great walls that surrounded an estate he would not consider entering without permission. Florentyna, who had lived only among the kitchen servants, adjusted more easily to the return to her former simple life, and could not understand that the cottage would never again be home for Wladek. Jasio was not sure how to treat the six-year-old boy, who was now so well dressed and well spoken, and talked of matters that the father did not begin to understand; nor did he want to. And worse, Wladek seemed to do nothing but waste the entire day reading. Whatever would become of him, the trapper wondered, if he could not swing an axe or trap a rabbit. How could he ever hope to earn an honest living? He too prayed that the holiday would pass quickly. Helena was proud of Wladek, and at first refused to admit even to herself that a wedge had been driven between him and the rest of the children. But it was not long before it could not be avoided. Playing at soldiers one evening, both Stefan and Franck, generals of opposing armies, refused to have Wladek in their ranks. ‘Why must I always be left out?’ cried Wladek. ‘I want to join in the battle.’ ‘Because you are no longer one of us,’ declared Stefan. ‘And in any case, you’re not really our brother.’ There was a long silence before Franck added, ‘Father never wanted you in the first place; only Matka allowed you to stay.’ Wladek looked around the circle of children, searching for Florentyna. ‘What does Stefan mean, I am not your brother?’ he demanded. Thus Wladek came to learn the manner of his birth, and to understand why he had always felt different from his brothers and sisters. He was secretly pleased to discover that, untouched by the meanness of the trapper’s blood, he came from unknown stock, containing with it the germ of spirit that would make all things possible. Once the unhappy holiday finally came to an end, Wladek returned to the castle before first light, a reluctant Florentyna following a few paces behind. Leon welcomed him back with open arms; for him, as isolated by the wealth of his father as Wladek was by the poverty of the trapper, it had also been a Christmas with little to celebrate. From that moment the two boys became the closest of friends, and were inseparable. When the summer holidays came, Leon begged his father to allow Wladek to remain at the castle. The Baron agreed, for he too had grown attached to the trapper’s son. Wladek was overjoyed. He would return to the wooden cottage again only once in his life.