“So, what of it?”
“That’s who took the Joselewicz gold, oaf! We have debts to pay. To the bishop, to the duke, and to the peasant girl who calls herself Lady Kwasniewska!”
…
In early 1378, King Louis I of Hungary and Poland, then in the thirty-sixth and eighth years of his reigns, respectively, roamed one of his castle’s gardens and considered the future of his kingdom. When he ascended the throne of Poland in 1370, he began acquiring lands along the Adriatic, and had been hugely successful on the battlefield. For him, however, it was not enough.
Bundled in furs and heavy clothing against the late snows, he forged a trail with his lined leather boots. His large feet left quite a mark, as would the coming campaign, he thought, smiling to himself. His burgeoning empire needed a water route to the Baltic controlled by Hungary, independent of Poland and its truculent lords. Because he could not rely on Polish nobility, almost none of whom were related to him, spoke the same language, or shared the same culture, he found himself in a situation where his imperial dreams had to be self-sustaining.
Against the advice of his counselors, a taste for expansion of his empire remained in his mouth. Now at the age of fifty-two, he knew those around him considered him elderly. His counselors wished him to focus his energies on the kingship of Naples. Leave the north to the Teutons, they urged.
Not to be dissuaded from northern glory, Louis returned to the warmth of the great hearth fire as a winter storm began to blow, and summoned his most trusted counselor, Duke Vladislaus Jurisic. Jurisic was thoroughly Hungarian, a vassal who would do anything to please his sovereign. Together, they dreamt aloud. If Hungarian conquest proved easier than thought by others, it would be worth sending forth a small but well-armed expeditionary force. It could be reinforced if victory followed victory, they speculated.
Louis and Duke Vladislaus held a secret audience with Sir Bela Kinizsi, a man of distinguished military valor. It was necessary to veil this effort, the king affirmed, because courtiers had relatives everywhere and even in his own household, those with even a trace of Polish or German blood might have trouble guarding their tongues.
“My esteemed Baron,” Louis said to Kinizsi, “tomorrow is March 5, my birthday, and in honor of this auspicious occasion, I charge you with a great risk for us, and, perhaps, a great reward.”
Sir Bela bowed deeply.
“You will enter into the heart of Silesia, lands now controlled by the Germanic Princes, the Margraves of Breslau, Glogau and Brandenburg. All three Duchies, just west of Polish territories, lie astride the Oder, and if you can attack and secure the fortress towns in key spots along the river, you will give the Hungarian people a great gift—a way to reach the Baltic!”
Kinizsi, stood, his right hand resting on the jeweled pommel of his court sword. His countenance brightened with each syllable of his king’s words. “A water route!”
King Louis continued, “Exactly, Sir Bela! Reaching the Baltic through Wielko Polska is of little value to Hungary. It is a water route Hungary seeks!”
Sir Bela’s smile remained fixed, as if painted on for posterity.
“If resistance is strong,” the king went on, “that will be one thing, and if the Oder is not well-garrisoned, that will be quite another—an opening. We do not desire all their lands, just those pieces we can wrest from them for the lowest possible battle price. Either way, we will learn whether to make this effort now or, perhaps, later. You have two months to secure your troops and prepare a plan of attack when the spring thaw is certain. I know you will make the best of it!”
“Your Majesty,” Sir Bela replied, “who would not agree that your birthday is a good day to begin this effort, but is that the only reason, if I may ask?”
For just a moment, Louis stayed silent, thinking. Then, to the surprise of both his trusted men, he laughed out loud. He laughed so heartily his cheeks reddened and he became short of breath. When, eventually, he regained his composure, he said, “Why, Sir Bela, you are a most astute strategist and challenge me in the most diplomatic way.” He paused. “Here, I swear you both to the utmost secrecy. This very day, I learned that in one month’s time, my dear cousin in Paris will issue invitations all across Europe for men of wealth and power to gather with him. By early May, many of them will make the journey west.” He chuckled.
“You both have my apologies, as I have the advantage of a day’s consideration of this matter. I have no interest in attending such a costly circus from which I will gain nothing. If our timing is fortunate,” he nodded to Kinizsi, “you may find various castles and fortresses along the Oder defenseless. That, my friend, should make your task all the easier.”
Sir Bela bowed in admiration. “I will make the most of what one hundred of the best armed men can accomplish, pressing into service others as we move up the countryside. I might suggest, Your Majesty, that at some point in our progress, we will require much greater supplies of men and resources to make our way to the sea.”
“Precisely, Sir Bela. The Empire’s military wealth is now committed in the south, but if you are successful in taking a few smaller bites from the German apple, we will come with full might to consume it with you, core and all.”
“It will be my pleasure, Your Majesty.”
…
Sister Rose stood in the kitchen’s archway and noticed her Mother Superior, most unusually, resting in the small, spare room beyond. Complaining of nausea the evening before, Sister Elisabeth said she needed to be off her feet. Dizzy, she said she was and couldn’t seem to stand. Now, in the morning sun stream, she seemed no better.
“Sister Rose,” she called in a reedy voice.
Wiping her hands on an apron and taking it off out of respect, Sister Rose moved quickly to her bedside. Despite the possibility of plague she had not hesitated, since she had lived a long life and always depended upon the divine plan for her well-being.
“Yes, Mother.”
It was all Sister Elisabeth could do to lift her head. She looked straight into the eyes of her companion in Christ, mouthing the words for water and a cool, wet cloth.
Sister Rose nodded in willing obedience. There was a secret to share, and she had to do it now, or she would never have the opportunity to obtain the advice and guidance on which she had always relied. Returning, she brought cool water and a moist cloth. She held the dying woman’s head and let her sip what water she could take. Folding the towel, she laid it across Sister Elisabeth’s forehead. The elder nun exhaled and let her head fall back to its rest.
“Mother,” Sister Rose began in an urgent whisper, “I will call the priest for you.” Both knew such a visit would be for Last Rites, the church’s final earthly sacrament.
Able to muster only the faintest of smiles, Sister Elisabeth whispered, “It is too late for that, I think. I’ll have to trust in God’s mercy.” In a last display of her famous humor, she said, “If you have something to say, you needn’t worry—your secret will be safe with me.”
Sister Rose attempted to match her Mother Superior’s smile, but could not. “It’s about Zuzanna,” she said quickly.
Their words were few. Their time, short.
Sister Elisabeth smiled with knowledge that answered many questions for her. Mother Superior thanked her companion for her life of service, and with great labor, gave the guidance she knew was best. With a wry smile and a look of deep peace, she took a last breath.
…
It was near nightfall, a time when birds stopped singing and bats left their roosts, that Tomasz and Franciszek found themselves where they had bivouacked more than a week before. It was the faint sound of Vespers being sung by the monks that guided them. In the gloom, they saw St. Stephen’s, its wooden gate caressed only by the dull glow of moonlight.
“Sire,” Franciszek said quietly, addressing Tomasz in a deferential manner, though resentment seemed just a wo
rd away. “Shall I rap at the gate?”
Tomasz turned his head slowly, not believing that Franciszek would even consider such an idea. He kept his contempt in check, however, because frighteningly dumb though he was, Franciszek was a valuable tool.
“No, Franciszek,” he patiently answered. “Do you not see we’d have to explain how we happened to return here? Do you think the lying bastard of a bishop would believe anything we had to say?”
Franciszek looked down at his saddle. “You’re right as always, Sire. But why did we come back here?”
“Be grateful, Franciszek, that I am able to think for both of us,” Tomasz scolded. “The monastery has gardens and pens. We need food, and nighttime is a good time to obtain our provisions—quietly.
…
When the days grew longer and warmer, Irina sat on a plank seat in the cart as it rattled along, and Velka napped in the bed of the cart as the afternoon sun shone through the thick trees.
“Madrosh,” she called to the priest riding just ahead, “what and where is this Krosno that everyone speaks of?”
“Ah,” Madrosh smiled, and steadied his horse. “Some days ago, when you asked me why we traveled in the woods, I thought you would ask me where we were.” He laughed aloud. “Krosno Odrzanskie—Krosno on the Oder, My Lady, is the next most important visit in our westerly journey. I will not burden you with the labyrinthine politics, but this will be in your interest to remember: It had been under Polish control in the past, as was nearly all the country we have crossed since leaving Poznan. For various reasons, the lands have changed hands several times across the centuries. At present, Krosno is in the Duchy of Glogau. All along our travels you heard people speaking Polish and Germanic tongues. You now understand why.” He paused to let her take that in.
“The duke will see the Margrave of Brandenburg, Wenceslas, who has asked to meet at the small castle there. Duke Zygmunt must be very careful in that meeting. At the moment, the Germans may be our allies against the Hungarians. It will not always be so.”
Irina laughed and said, “For reasons you suggested earlier?”
“Yes, this is about land, and now, more than ever, about people.”
“People?”
“Yes. Remember what I told you? In the Teutonic lands, it’s been reported the plague wiped out nearly one half of all men, women, and children over the past forty years. That’s why the Hungarians so covet the Polish lands, and why the Poles so hate them. We should be safe at Krosno—the Hungarians have no business here. And for now,” he added, “we need the protection of the Germans.”
“But do the Germans need us?”
Madrosh gave her a look of distaste. “Hmmh! I should not be so candid with you, my dear. The Teutons have always looked down upon us—they think we are somehow inferior to them.”
“Inferior?”
“Yes. Have you not noticed? It seems every group, clan, nation needs someone over whom they feel superior. The Hungarians and the Germans. The Germans and the Poles. The Poles and the Jews. Do you see?
“Yes, I think so. Does Holy Mother Church have a part in this?”
He gave her a sideways glance. “An astute question, and one you should never ask of anyone but me. The answer is not pretty. The church may be married to Christ, but on this earth, it marries itself to temporal powers, and so the bishops to the Teutons support their ambitions while bishops to the Poles support theirs. Christ the shepherd is often nowhere to be seen.”
“God permits this?”
“Not God, Irina. Men do.”
“Where does all this leave the Jews, then?”
“Just another game piece, and easily expendable, I’m afraid.”
“And Krosno?” she asked, returning Madrosh to the present.
“Ah, yes, an important stop, my dear. Our duke and the margrave have much to talk over and both know each other’s value in the little wars for lands and people. Moreover, if the duke has been invited to Paris, so has the margrave, for he is a new prince-elector of the Holy Roman Empire.”
“And our Duke Zygmunt is ready for word battles with this margrave?”
“You may be assured our duke is well studied, shall we say, in the nuances of our visit here.”
Many more questions followed, their discussions of political matters involving family alliances, borders, and ancient hatreds. As the late afternoon shade crept upon them, Irina felt sleepy as the cart rolled in the soft dirt. “I can manage only one more question, Madrosh. Where exactly is this Krosno?”
Just as the words left her lips, the duke’s entourage burst out of the woods into a blinding sunlight that danced on a majestic plain matted nearly flat along the eastern edge of the river. In the far distance appeared a castle with its two tall towers.
A broad smile crossed the old priest’s face. “Ah, you won’t nap now, My Lady. See, there!” He pointed. “There is Krosno Odrzanskie!”
Chapter VI
1378
Duke Zygmunt’s party found a pleasant place to rest on the Oder’s banks while soldiers and ferrymen hurried to accommodate their passage across.
Irina remained in the cart, finding herself most comfortable in a semi-reclining position behind one of the seats, and warmed by her blue woolen blanket. Madrosh dismounted and walked to her cart where she could see him at eye level. “I take it we are not able to use the bridge,” she said, confirming her own observation.
“No, My Lady, the bridge is too narrow for our carts and cannot take the weight of so many men and horses.”
“Of what use is it, then?”
“For us, none at all. It was built as a defensive measure so that large bodies of armed soldiers could not cross into Krosno for an attack. They would have to cross a few at a time, single file. Thus, castle defenders could easily dispatch them.”
“So, what is our plan, then?”
Madrosh chuckled. “I counsel the duke on religious and political matters, my dear Lady, but not on ways and means to cross rivers. I understand, however, there is a barge guided by a rope on pulleys. The ferrymen will balance us on the barge and pull us across. It remains uncertain, however, whether we can accomplish the crossing tonight.”
Duke Zygmunt rode up and dipped his head with a smile. “My Lady Kwasniewska, our timing this day is unfortunate. It is too late to erect tents, and within the hour it will be too late to cross. I and a few of my men, along with Madrosh, will go ahead and cross the narrow bridge to make ourselves known to the castle warden. You and the other ladies may remain, making yourselves as comfortable as possible, or you can cross on the barge as soon as it can be arranged. In your condition, I leave the choice to you, My Lady.”
Irina breathed deeply, trying to adjust her position. “If it’s a question of enduring this bed for one more hour or through the night, there is, to me, no choice at all, My Lord. I’ll go as soon as can be arranged, thank you.”
“Then stay where you are, My Lady, and I will give the orders. We will see you on the other side, where I will see that a good featherbed awaits you.”
Irina smiled in thanks, grateful for his solicitous manner. Would that he had similarly concerned himself with the Joselewicz family! She turned to Madrosh as Duke Zygmunt rode away. “We have a few minutes, then?”
“Yes, Irina, and then all will be well. Before I am called to go ahead with the duke, let me offer a suggestion.” As he spoke, a breeze came up, cool and refreshing.
“Yes?”
“There lies Krosno Castle,” he said, pointing across the river, “and what occurs there may be of immense interest to you.”
“In what way?” Irina pulled her blanket closer to her.
“You were an astute judge of the interactions at St. Stephen’s.” He smiled, conspiratorially. “See who talks to whom and how they do so.”
“Madrosh, I do not wish to be disrespectful, but th
e one interchange I will not miss is the one when you at last prove the existence of God.”
“May I remind the lady it has been she who on several occasions has changed the subject or, like a rabbit, gone in many gardens in search of a carrot. Your thirst for knowledge is admirable, if not organized.” Madrosh laughed out loud.
“So I am an object of laughter to you,” she asked in mock hurt.
“No, My Lady. It is only the situation in which we find ourselves. Here I am, never having had to answer such a question before dukes and princes. Yet you, my dear, never fail to ask bigger and wiser questions than many of them could ever conceive.”
A soldier rode up and nodded to Madrosh. “I’ll see you on the other side, My Lady. Squire Brezchwa will accompany you on the barge.” Into the looming dusk, Madrosh rode toward the sun setting on the far side of the Oder.
Squire Brezchwa appeared and grasped the reins of Irina’s horse and cart. “Lady Irina, you and I, your cart and horse, and two other riders with their horses will be on the first barge across.”
“And Velka, my servant, and the two nuns?” A light rain began falling, soon made worse by the quickening breeze from the north.
“That may be too many for the barge, My Lady.”
“Velka, at least, must come with us. I may need her.”
“As you wish.”
The ferrymen hastened in the fading light, and within a few moments, all were loaded on the long, sturdy barge. A half dozen torches cast gleaming shadows on the water’s surface. Silky smooth just moments earlier, the river’s surface now began to churn with the wind.
Never one to be left behind, Yip slipped aboard and slid under the cart. The ferrymen used what light they had to help them manage the rope as they pulled toward the opposite shore. The barge strained against the wind and water, rougher by the moment.
The rain became heavier. Irina caught Squire Brezchwa’s eye, as if wondering about their safety. In turn, the squire grabbed one of the ferrymen by the tunic and shouted words into his ear as the wind began to whirl and whistle, but Irina could not hear them.
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