Poland: A Novel Part 6

PRIEST ANTON: Are his private parts of enormous dimension?

PAWEL: How would I know?

PRIEST ANTON: Is it true that he killed his Queen Jadwiga because she produced in her womb a devil of tremendous size?

PAWEL: No one ever told me that. She died in childbirth, I believe.

PRIEST ANTON: We know she died in childbirth. But why? For what terrible reason?

PAWEL: Many women die in childbirth. My wife's sister- PRIEST ANTON: Why was no one allowed to see the stillborn?

Was it not because of its monstrosity?

PAWEL: I do not know. I heard of no monster.

PRIEST ANTON: Is your King Jagiello known among your people as a pagan?

PAWEL: When he stayed at Castle Gorka, and I was asked to serve as attendant, he certainly joined us in prayers.

PRIEST ANTON: Did he kneel? Did he cross himself?

PAWEL: I suppose- PRIEST ANTON: We want no supposing. Did he cross himself?

PAWEL (snapping out the word): Yes.

PRIEST ANTON: You are lying, and you can be put to the rack.

PAWEL (stubbornly): I saw him cross himself. On three days I saw him do it.

PRIEST ANTON: Are the Lithuanians who came with him to Krakow, are they not pagans too?

PAWEL: I know none of them.

PRIEST ANTON: Are not the peasants of your village pagans?

PAWEL (bursting into laughter): Our Father Bartosz would give them something to worry about if they tried that.

PRIEST ANTON: In the next village? Aren't they pagans?

PAWEL: Father Bartosz has that village too, and the ones after it and the ones after- SIEGFRIED VON ESCHL (breaking in): Are there many Tatars in the Polish army?

PAWEL: We fight against the Tatars. They used to burn our village, but now we fight against them.

VON ESCHL: But there are many in your army, are there not?

PAWEL: I've never seen a Tatar, and I don't want to see one.

VON ESCHL: But surely you've heard of Tatars serving in your army?

PAWEL: I've heard only that it's death for a Pole to go to Kiev.

VON ESCHL: Have you been to Kiev?

PAWEL: G.o.d forbid, no.

VON ESCHL: How did you get onto the Amber Road?

PAWEL (breathing more easily, for now the questions would begin on topics whose answers he had memorized): I left my village of Bukowo in the month of January, and I rode east for six days, south of Lublin and north of Przemysl- VON ESCHL (impatiently): Did you not go first to Kiev to meet with the Tatars?

PAWEL: G.o.d forbid that I should consort with those devils.

VON ESCHL: Yes, yes. Our own opinion. Then why does your king hire Tatars to fight against the forces of Christendom?

PAWEL: I know of no- PRIEST ANTON: Have you ever met one Lithuanian who was a true Christian?

PAWEL: I told you-King Jagiello. But you understand, I did not meet him personally, like eating with him. I never claimed that.

PRIEST ANTON: Do not the people of your village consider all Lithuanians pagans?

PAWEL: We don't bother with Lithuanians.

PRIEST ANTON: Your king is a Lithuanian.

PAWEL: We think of him as a Pole, and a d.a.m.ned good one.

PRIEST ANTON: If you use profanity, you can be put to the rack.

PAWEL: I am sorry, Your Reverence, but to tell you the truth, I don't believe I've ever met a Lithuanian.

PRIEST ANTON: When Jagiello was at Castle Gorka, did he ask for fresh pine branches ... so that he could cast pagan spells?

PAWEL: I heard of nothing such.

On four different occasions Pawel was questioned like this, Priest Anton Grabener hammering at the supposed paganism of King Jagiello, all Lithuanians and most Poles, while Siegfried von Eschl was preoccupied with the presence of Tatars in the Polish forces. Pawel, obviously, knew nothing about either topic, but his apparent innocence merely fortified the suspicion that he was lying to hide the faults of the Polish-Lithuanian confederacy. The questioning was therefore confusing and non-productive.

On the fifth day Von Eschl said with a show of impatience and authority: 'We've been questioning you, Pawel, in order to verify facts for an important doc.u.ment which Priest Anton is writing for circulation to the courts of Europe. It must go forth within the week, for couriers are leaving to strengthen our alliances and recruit knights for our crusade. I want the priest to read you three sections of our letter, and I want you to identify anything which might sound dubious or false to you. Proceed with the first.'

Von Eschl leaned back, his fingertips forming a little temple at his chin, as the priest, obviously proud of his composition and its irrefutable logic, read the first indictment: 'Know, Sire, that the Lithuanians have never been Christianized, that they are a willful and pagan people, that they live like animals without the blessings of Jesus Christ, and that they const.i.tute a menace to all Christian lands. They must be reduced on the battlefield and brought to a true Christianity.

'Their king, this Jagiello, is known to be a barbarous brute with matted hair covering the entirety of his body and with private parts so much like those of some great horse that he ruptured and killed the saintly Queen Jadwiga, a devout Christian of Hungary. This Jagiello claims to have been baptized, but he makes his claim only to gain the Polish throne, for he remains as pagan as he ever was. On visits to Christian homes he is known to have asked for fresh-cut pine branches so that he might continue his pagan rites and cleanse himself of any Christian influences.

'The Teutonic Knights, right arm of G.o.d and personal agency of the Pope in Rome, beseech your help, both in gold and knights to fight alongside of us, for we are determined to convert Lithuania to Christianity and bring it the benefits of civilization.'

Von Eschl dropped his hands and asked: 'Do you find anything wrong with that?' and Pawel, totally unqualified in Lithuanian affairs, remained silent. 'Proceed with the next,' Von Eschl said.

'Know, Sire, that one of the most grievous faults of King Jagiello is the irrefutable fact that he employs in the armies he sends against us Tatar regiments composed solely of infidels. Some of the Tatars are pagans from the vast wastelands of Asia, some adherents of Islam, the criminal religion which holds Jerusalem in its grasp, denying access to our Holy Places to all Christians.

'It is disgraceful and an offense in the nostrils of G.o.d that a pagan country like Lithuania should employ pagan troops to withstand the pious effort of the Teutonic Knights to bring Christianity to the Baltic coast. We implore you to send us a.s.sistance to eradicate this terrible blasphemy, and we inform all true knights in your domain that if they hunger to smite the infidel, which they can no longer do on crusade in the Holy Land, they must come to Marienburg, where we continue the struggle against the infidel and where Christians can once more cross swords with the followers of Muhammad.'

'Do you find anything wrong with that part?' Von Eschl asked, and Pawel said truthfully: 'I despise Muhammad and the way he keeps Jerusalem in thrall. If I could, I would go to the Holy Land tomorrow to fight him.' Von Eschl nodded and said: 'Now listen carefully to this.'

'Know, Sire, that the princ.i.p.al reason why the Sacred Order of the Teutonic Knights must pursue defensive warfare in these parts is to bring true Christianity to darkened Poland. Despite what their defenders say, this is not a Christian land. It has never been converted by any saint or bishop or even priest in a direct and honest line from St. Peter to Rome to the Holy German Empire to Krakow. It is a pariah among nations and it must be converted, first by the sword, then by true priests who will bring not only the Bible but also European law and custom to this wilderness.

'The Pole is not like the German or the Frenchman or the Englishman. He is more Asian than European, more animal than man. Only the saving grace which the Teutonic Knights can bring, their superior piety and order, can save Poland, and it is our solemn duty to bring that grace to this moral wilderness.

'As proof of our claim, we cite the fact that Poland willfully chose as its king the pagan Jagiello when it could have taken a proved Christian, Sigismund of Luxembourg, and it forced its saintly Queen Jadwiga, daughter of Louis of France, a devoted Christian, to marry Jagiello instead of Wilhelm of Habsburg, a true Christian to whom she was legally engaged and to whom she had been married since the age of five.

'The only salvation for Poland is for it to fall under German rule, and the Teutonic Knights stand prepared to effect this change if only the courts of Europe will support us and if the knights of Europe rally to our cause.'

On hearing this terrible indictment of a land he had known in a much different light, Pawel's neck muscles, which came straight down from his ears to his shoulders, began to stand out like big willow reeds. His face grew red. His hands trembled. And he could imagine no circ.u.mstances under which he could accept such condemnation. At the castigation of the Lithuanians he had remained silent, and he had seen no reason to defend the Tatars, whom he had feared since childhood when tales of how they ravaged villages terrified his dreams, but he could in no way approve what he had just heard about his homeland.

'Did you find anything wrong?' Von Eschl repeated, and Pawel said: 'It's a pack of lies.'

'Be careful,' Priest Anton said. 'You could be thrown on the rack, you know, for claiming that what the church-'

'We have good bishops in Poland. They preach the word of G.o.d. I've heard them. And what you say about them and us is wrong. You say it for some wrong purpose, and you should be ashamed.'

They could not bully Pawel into admitting that their condemnation of Poland was accurate, and when they threw him into one of the single cells from which harsh punishment was administered, he sat in darkness, mumbling to himself: 'I refuse to say that what he wrote is true.' And he was prepared to die for his obstinacy.

But before he could be lashed to the rack, as Priest Anton had directed, he was brought out of his cell, allowed to wash and put on fresh clothes, and taken before the Grand Master himself, who saw in Pawel's presence a chance to promote a scheme which lay close to his heart.

'Brother Pawel,' the powerful Grand Master said as they sat with Von Eschl over a quiet lunch, 'you are to be set free. You are to take these beautiful amber beads, which you purchased with your funds, to the king in Krakow. And you are to carry a letter from me to him, but first I should like to ask you a series of questions quite different from those my friend here and the scribbling priest asked you.'

Pawel bowed, took a healthy bite of the good bread baked by the friars, and waited.

'In your opinion, Pawel, if war came between our Teutonic Knights and Lithuania, would Poland remain neutral?'

'Never. Lithuania and Poland are one nation. With one king.'

'That we know, all of us. But matters of national interest do arise. And Poland is a nation quite different from Lithuania. Do you still think she would join the battle?'

In his dark, solitary cell, Pawel of Bukowo, this petty knight with only three horses, had reviewed every word he could remember of the indictment against his homeland, and he had rejected every charge, except maybe the employment of Tatar cavalrymen, about which he knew nothing. And he confirmed his resolve to die rather than to besmirch his nation or its Christian people. Now he was being asked if Poland would betray its major ally.

'Grand Master,' he said with proper deference; 'it seems to me that what you want Poland to do is stand aside while you destroy Lithuania, so that you can enjoy a free hand later on to destroy Poland.'

Ulrich von Jungingen, a master in exactly the kind of diplomacy Pawel was outlining, neither smiled nor frowned. Leaning slightly forward, he asked: 'So you think Poland would fight?'

'I know it.'

'You gave honest answers, Pan Pawel,' Von Jungingen said, and his voluntary use of the Polish honorific proved the sincerity of his evaluation. Now he asked: 'If my Order sought an armistice ... a cessation of all hostilities between us ... everywhere He paused to allow the gravity of what he was about to propose to sink in, and when he believed that Pawel understood, he concluded: 'If we offered an armistice for one year, would Poland accept?'

'Why not peace for all years?' Pawel asked.

Von Jungingen did not reply. Instead he turned to Von Eschl, tall, straight, keen of mind and brilliant in negotiation, who said very slowly: 'Because permanent peace between the Order and pagan countries like Lithuania and Poland is impossible. It is G.o.d's will that Christian Germans should bring the glories of civilization to these parts.'

'Then why have an armistice, as you call it? Why not war and have done?'

Now the Grand Master spoke, leaning back in the great carved chair which served as his throne: 'We propose an armistice now because at certain times each side knows that it is improper to go to war-neither is ready, the issues have not firmed. War at such times would be a sloppy affair ...'

He hesitated, then leaned far forward until he was almost touching Pawel's hands, and asked with utmost sincerity: 'Tell me, does your side really employ Tatar cavalry?'

'I don't know,' Pawel said.

'That would be a terribly wrong thing to do,' Von Jungingen said. 'To use the followers of Muhammad against a Christian army'-his voice dropped several levels-'against an army which fights only to bring civilization to backward countries.'

Abruptly he terminated the interview, ordered that Pawel be given fresh clothes, the set of six amber beads and two good horses, one for himself and one for Janko.

But Pawel had grown to love these beads so much, imagining them to have lain under the sea for countless years, that he did not deliver them to King Jagiello in Krakow. He gave them to his lord, Kazimir of Gorka, where they formed the chief treasure of that castle.

Unbelievably, the armistice that Grand Master Ulrich von Jungingen proposed was accepted by Jagiello and his cousin Witold, and for the very reasons that Von Jungingen had outlined: neither side was fully ready for war, and to plunge into one haphazardly might lead to haphazard consequences. The truce was to last from 8 October 1409 until sunset on 24 June 1410, at which time the tremendous battle which had been forming for the past ten years would legally begin.

During this pause no serious effort was made to avert the war, only to postpone it, and for the very good reason that each side vigorously wanted to settle growing animosities. The Teutonic Knights believed that they must pursue with European applause their publicized effort at converting the heathen or they would lose their private goal of building a ma.s.sive German state which would comprise the Baltic lands, much of Russia and all of Poland. For them, a battle that would crush Lithuania and Poland for half a century was imperative.

It was equally so for Jagiello's two nations, which had witnessed the slow erosion of their lands, as if an insuperable tidal wave from the west were hammering their sh.o.r.es, cutting away Pomerania here, Danzig there, Samogitia on the next wave. As Jagiello told his captains when accepting the armistice: 'Next year we either conquer the Crossed Knights or we perish as a nation ... and as individuals.'

He used his respite brilliantly, visiting magnates like Kazimir of Castle Gorka and pleading with them that it would serve their own self-interest to contribute armies to the Polish cause. This begging was necessary because even a king as strong as Jagiello had no real power to make the magnates do anything they did not wish to; they ruled, not he, and if he could not make them see that it was to their advantage to give him an army, he would have none.

But Jagiello's brilliance lay mainly in his ability to persuade, and gradually, from all parts of the chaotic nation, he a.s.sembled a force of quite stunning dimensions, one of the largest that had ever operated in this part of Europe. He had Lithuanians in great number, double that amount of Poles, a volunteer battalion from Bohemia, and one group so strange that Pawel of Bukowo, who was sent to enlist it, could not believe his eyes.

The king himself had come to Bukowo with two Lithuanians sent down by his cousin Witold, and he had commissioned his emissaries: 'You are to go to Kiev and invite them, pleadingly, to join us, for it is just as much in their interest that we defeat the Order as in ours.'

Naturally, Pawel had difficulty conversing with the two Lithuanians, for peoples of the two nations had no common language, but each side had a smattering of words, and on the ride to Kiev, attended by sixteen soldiers, he had an opportunity to learn more about Grand Duke Witold, who was to be of such crucial importance in the forthcoming battle.

'Remarkable man,' the Lithuanians said, each one volunteering a broken phrase. 'Like a volcano they tell about in Italy. Ten years ago strong ally of the Teutonic Knights. Fight on their side valiantly. Eight years ago, big fight. We declare war against Marienburg. Six years ago, big friends again. Together we fight big battle against the Tatars. Much killing, believe me. Witold a hero, Grand Master himself kisses Witold at Marienburg. Next year German knights steal much of our land. Witold forms alliance with Tatars against Marienburg. But knights very clever. They make peace with Witold and together they fight Tatars again.'

'Who is he with this year?' Pawel asked.

'That depends.' One of the Lithuanians did not like the sound of this, so he added: 'No matter who he fights for, he fights with great valor. He is Witold, champion of all.'

When they approached Kiev, Pawel became aware of much movement among the mounted troops guarding the city, and some dozen miles from the outskirts the envoys were in effect arrested by a contingent of cavalry. They were then led by circuitous paths into the city, where they were apparently expected by one of the Tatar leaders with whom Witold had been allied twice and against whom he had warred three times. It was Tughril, a small, wiry, incredibly tough veteran of the steppes and of battlefields reaching from the Black Sea to the Baltic. His official suzerain had been Tamerlane the Great, under whose orders he had attacked Lithuania, but when Tamerlane died, Tughril had found much joy in warring on his own, stealing from the Sultan's convoys at the edge of Constantinople, foraging on the Amber Road, laying siege to Moscow, never winning any great battle, never losing a crippling one.

His left eye seemed not to be fixed, looking now this way, now that, but his right had a piercing quality; it seemed always to be laughing at the insanity of life, and whenever some outrageous proposal was laid before him, his left eye wandered this way and that around the possibilities, while his right stared sternly at the visitor as if to ask: 'What gain do I get in this transaction?'

He now stared at the three emissaries from the Polish king: 'I can see why your Jagiello wants to battle the Germans, but why should I?'

Pawel had been schooled in the only answer he was to give: 'Because there will be much booty ... much looting.'

'Good!' Tughril said, leaning back and stroking his huge mustaches. 'How many men do they want me to bring?'

'Ten thousand.'

'Impossible. They don't need that many.'

'How many can you bring?'

'Can? Can? I can bring the entire city of Kiev if needed. But I will bring about fifteen hundred.'

'So few?'