I watched with deep fascination as the German knights rode through the gate. Unlike many of the other townspeople around me, I was not crying or muttering beneath my breath. I did not give them the evil eye, or turn my back upon them. I simply did not see their presence as either good nor bad -- just different. In my opinion our situation could hardly become any more intolerable under the Germans than it had been under Vytautus. But many had lost loved ones at the hands of these men, and so there was a hatred directed towards them. Also, although Vytautus had been vicious, capricious, even unstable, he had still been a Slav, and the general consensus in the town of Klatovi, at least as far as I had surmised, was that any Slav lord, no matter how bad, was infinitely more preferable than a foreigner.
Already Vytautus was being refered to deferentially around town. Ridiculous, of course, considering not four months ago these same folk had breathed a collective sigh of relief when he had ridden out of the keep with a contingent of soldiers and left the town in the hands of his wife. Vytautus is, or I guess I should say was, a vassal of Duke Bohuslav, and had been called up in service to help repel the advancing forces of the zealous German knights who for some years had been advancing more steadily onto traditional Slav territories. This spring the situation had become most dangerous, as it was discovered that an army of these knights, assisted by a Polish duke of Massovia, were marching towards Vladice. Vladice is the largest town in our region and the seat of Bohuslav's dukedom. It was a challenge which this time could not be ignored, and so his vassals were called up into service to quickly meet the threat.
Clearly things had not gone well for we Slavs. Over three hundred conscripts had left with Vytautus in the spring to join Bohuslav's army; four days ago just three men had returned. They were the only men from the Klatovi conscripts known to be alive after the battle at Bolvida Field. From these men we learned of the great calamity that had befallen us. Duke Bohuslav had met the German forces at Bolvida Fields along the Nemunas river. The Germans had chosen their ground carefully, and Bohuslav had walked into a trap. Flanked by the river on one side and a wood on the other, and his own baggage train blocking the rear, Bohuslav's forces were squshed into a confined area. The cavalry could not charge effectively, and the men were so densely packed that the German arrows and missiles wrought terrible damage. Some 7,000 slavs had been slaughtered. Many had drowned as they fell into the Nemunas river, herded back by the advancing German cavalry, and weighted down by their mail and other armorment. The contingent from Klatovi had been annihalated on the left flank by several German archer volleys and a charge of their cavalry, and Vytautus himself had had his head cleaved in two by a German battle axe. The Duke escaped just barely, and, with the few hundred Slavs left to him who had not been killed or deserted, retreated northeast, presumably towards the lands of the Balts and Varangians where he might find sanctuary.
We would not have learned any of this had these three men not run from the battle early, casting off their armor and hidding in thickets along the forest-- something they did not seem particularly ashamed of since it meant they still lived. The meaning of the defeat was clear to everyone. We all knew of these knights who called themselves Teutons. They aimed to conquer as much lands of the Slavs as they could manage, and convert the people to their Christian faith. For Klatovi the issue of faith was not important, as the town had already been forced to accept the new religion some years ago by Vytautus' father, Svajone. We even had a large Christian church in the town-- the only church in the region. But as a matter of politics he (and later his son) had remained loyal to the pagan Bohuslav in order to retain possession of their lands. What truly worried the people of the town was the knowledge that many German colonists would now follow into the area and steal our lands and homes with the permission of the Teutons, as they had done further west during previous losses to the Germans. Those who still freely practiced the Old Faith would be persecuted, made to convert, or possibly killed.
That night, as I lay upon my straw mat in the back of the smithy, I could hear the town's women weeping and sobbing through the darkness. Many sons and husbands would never be buried with their families in the cemetary outside the walls. Instead their corpses lay on Bolvida field, and I imagined they were fed upon by birds and wild dogs. How glad I was! So very glad that I had not been among them, as I had so wanted to be in the spring. But Dalibor, my master, would not let me go. I was not far along enough in my apprenticeship, he had argued, and lord Vytautus could not afford to drag a brat around who could not shod the horses of the knights quickly. I was slow, I was unskilled, I was stupid, I was careless. He used these excuses, even though I know they are not true. I think really he wanted to ingratiate himself further to Vytautus, and to make himself rich on plunder, and so went himself. Also he needed me to remain in Klatovi and watch over his smithy while he was away.
Fat, greedy, mean, stupid Dalibor. Bless him! I'm glad he went, and I'm not sorry to see the back of him either. I had been Dalibor's slave since I was eight, sold to him by a miller in a more northerly town, who in turn had got me from my own mother a year earlier in exchange for milling her rye crop. The miller did not have any real use for me and so he sold me to Dalibor for a fair profit. I was a large boy, strong, and seemed an apt candidate for such work as lifting heavy ingots and hammering hot metal all day long. However I did not resemble the other people from the Klatovi region. They were mostly fair-skinned people with light hair and light eyes. I had darker skin, as though I had been in the summer sun often. My eyes were dark brown, and so was my hair. Not a few times had I heard people refer to me as "The Finn." I do not know if I truly am a Finn since my memories of my family had slowly faded and I did not remember any tales they may have told me. Sometimes at night, though, as I lay on my straw mat, I can almost remember my mother. I'm sure she was fair-skinned like the others. However I never knew my father.
When I first arrived in Klatovi with Dalibor he was apt to use violence to make his point more often than not, and many nights I had spent bruised and weeping in my straw mat over my predicament. I sometimes thought of running away, but was afraid if I were caught Dalibor might have me impaled on a pole outside the town, as would be his right. Instead I tried very hard to learn everything quickly so as to avoid his fists. Life with Dalibor was difficult at best, but after eight years we had settled into a pattern together. He fed me and gave me a corner of the smithy to sleep in. I worked for him from sun up until sun down, except on Sundays when the church forbade work. He almost never beat me anymore, especially since I was now taller and stronger than him.
I did not have many friends, mostly due to my status as a foreigner and a slave, and also my long hours at the forge and bellows. There were a few other slave boys in town with whom I would occassionally talk and play on Sundays after church, but there were no true attachments for me. I had no best-friend as other boys had, and which I longed for in my heart.
I did not like working in a smithy, even now after all these years, but it is my lot in life so long as I am a slave. For the past several years I had been saving tips given to me for my work in the hopes of one day buying my freedom from Dalibor. Now that he was surely dead that seemed no longer nescessary. 'If Dalibor is dead then am I free?' I wondered to myself. I was not entirely sure.
Grief for the slain not withstanding, the town now had itself to worry about. Word of the events at Bolvida Fields had spread quickly and the next morning not a small number of farmers from nearby lands were already passing through the town walls seeking further news and protection. Many people had congregated in the town square. Perhaps they would have applied to Vytautus' widow, Lady Dorota, to seek council on what should be done, but earlier that morning, before the sun had risen, she had ridden out of town, haughty as ever, with Vytautus' infant son and a large train of baggage and servants in tow. Clearly she did not want to be in town when the Germans arrived. Probably she was worried they would kill her and her son. So the people of Klatovi were left to their own will.
Although Klatovi is not the largest of towns it is still considerable in size, and it controls a commanding position at a bend in the Dubysa river. The Germans would certainly not overlook us, and it was only a matter of time before they arrived at the gates. Some folk wanted to close the gates and deny the Germans entrance, but most it seemed recognized that doing so would be certain disaster. We no longer had a sovereign lord. There was no army to come to our relief should we fall under seige. Ultimately Klatovi would have to capitulate and if we made it hard on the Germans they would certainly spare us no mercy. Instead a number of the respected community shopkeepers argued for capitulating immediately to the Germans and leaving our gates open to them. And this, after several days of discussion, is exactly what happened.
Now here were the proud Teutons, marching through our town and into the keep. There seemed to be perhaps two hundred or more of them, but not more than three hundred. Not an army, but a garrison. They had arrived on the road outside the walls late this morning. Lots had been drawn among the town elders and Drahomir, a man who ran a tavern in town and had a lame foot (this is why he had not gone with Vytautus' men) was elected to officially surrender the town to the leader of the Germans. Before the troops had entered the town I had seen him distantly through the open gates, standing on the road and talking with two men on horseback-- presumably surrendering for us all. Having found the town gates open and the populace submissive they entered without issue. There was no pillaging or burning, thank God. Except for the sounds of some women crying, and some mumbling by the men, and the sounds of the footfalls from both men and horse, it was fairly quiet.
Perhaps fifteen knights rode on horse, their chainmail coats glinting under the summer sun, wearing blue mantles charged with a black cross, worn over a white tunic. They held long spears in their hands, on the ends of which were pennants-- white with the black cross. Longswords were belted at their waists. The style of their helms was different from that of our people, in that they covered the face as well as the head, and were rather bucket shaped. There were slots for them to see out, and on the crown they had devices that rather resembled a bird's wings. They were fierce and noble to look upon, and my heart skipped a beat. Following the knights were many footmen, attired less grandly but still wearing the blue mantles with the black cross. Their helms were more simple and functional and did not cover their faces. Neither did they carry spears, but instead held tear-shaped shields in their offhands and longswords belted at their waists. Not having the luxury of mounts these men had sacks with their provisions slung over their backs. When the last of the footmen had entered through the gates, the two men to whom Drahomir had earlier been speaking rode in. One looked much like the other knights, except that he was heavy built and seemed to give the appearance of an older man. He carried no spear but instead held aloft a large forked banner on a pole, a black cross on a white field. Lower on the pole was a smaller pennant, a field of red and gray with a rampant black wolf upon it. I could not see his face due to the helm upon his head. When I saw the second man I suddenly felt as though a demon had stolen my breath.
He had his helm off, resting it instead in front of him on his saddle. His blond hair was open to the sun, which shone through it like gold, and it was cut in a short fashion. He had a proud brow and striking eyes. His nose was straight and noble. He had a fine mouth with laugh lines around it and a strong jaw, all of which I could see clearly because he had no whiskers. I had never before seen a grown man without at least some fashion of facial hair. I thought at first perhaps he might be incapable of growing a beard, but when he passed me by I could see that instead it had been purposely shaven off, as there was a bit of shadow on his jaw.
Despite being without any whiskers he still seemed to me more masculine and virile than any man I had ever seen before. He was strong, that was very clear. And he looked tall. He disported himself with a good deal of grace and nobility, much like Vytautus once had, but without any sneer or look of disdain upon his face as was the wont of the latter. The cut of his mail was different from the other men, and to my blacksmith's eye I could see it was extremely well-crafted. His steed was also of a different breed, of much better stock that the others, and it was also garbed in white cloth. He carried no spear and no shield. He had only a longsword belted to his waist which was sheathed in a fine black leather scabbard. He did not wear a blue mantle like the others, but instead wore a white tabard over a white tunic. Upon the tabard was again the black cross. Over his shoulders he wore a cloak of black wool trimmed with black pelts. Black leather gloves were upon his hands. Also the visor on his helm was of a gold color, and the wings upon it were of black feathers, whereas the others knights' helms were trimmed with white feathers. I guessed that this man was not only their leader but also a person of some considerable importance.
As he rode he passed not five yards from me. He looked in my direction. I do not know if he truly was looking at me or if it was just a chance turn of his head, but for a moment it seemed as though his clear eyes were upon me and I was suddenly filled with a strange sensation of trembling. But no sooner had he looked than he turned the other way, and in a moment he had rode past and down the road towards the keep. When the rest of the townspeople dispersed back to their homes amd shops I remained long rooted to the spot for some time and contemplated the extraordinary man I had just seen before making my way back to the smithy.
The Germans were not in the keep long before detatchments came out and made their way to certain points in the town. A small detatchment of men was sent to the church, where the priest was soon turned out. A handful were sent to guard the gates and walls. Several squads were sent to inspect the houses and other buildings to make sure no armed men were being harbored. Indeed two such soldiers came to the smithy and, after looking about for some time, they left, taking with them two swords and an axe that were stored in a back room. The axe and one of the swords had been Dalibor's creations and they were of no importance to me. But the second sword was one upon which I had long labored myself, without any help from Dalibor. I had worked it for months, putting forth all my effort into it's balance and strength. Having an artistic flair, I had even engraved many fine patterns upon the face of the blade. I had personally cut the strips of leather for the hilt, and had polished the blade to a bright shine. I was very sorry to have it taken. Many hours I had spent crafting that blade and dreaming of using it, of being a knight myself. (The dreams of a foolish slave boy, I know.) The Germans did not say anything to me, nor I to them.
Drahomir's tavern did a brisk business that evening as much of the town came to hear his tale about what was said between he and the lord of the German garrison earlier that day. I went myself, hoping to hear more about this strange lord. I sat against the wall in the packed tavern, only listening to what was being said and not joining in.
"My legs shook mightily when they approached," Drahomir spoke, after many repeated questions. "I did not know if they would kill me on the spot. But their lord rode forth ahead of the column and spoke to me. "What is your name?" he asked me in our tongue, with only a little accent."
"Drahomir, son of Dainius," I replied. "Before you is the town of Klatovi, which I have been charged by the people to humbly surrender to your lordship."
"The people of Klatovi are wise," he replied. "Who and where is your former master?"
"Vytautus, son of Gintautas, sire," I answered him. "We have heard he is dead, slain by your men at the Nemunas. His wife and child rode out of town three days ago, headed east on the road, taking with them their household."
"I have been charged by my Grand Marshal to seize and to administer this town." he said to me. "I am Ulrich, Graf von Lubau, Commander of the Teutonic Order. This is my aide, Jan von Richten," he said, gesturing towards the heavier man carrying the banner. I bowed low before them to show my respects."
"Tell me, Drahomir-- and you had best be honest for the sake of your neighbors-- do you now harbor in your town any soldiers, knights, or other armed men loyal to the Duke Bohuslav?"
"No, certainly not, your lordship," I answerred him. "Three men there are who returned from Bolvida field, but they are not soldiers by training. Merely they are townsmen who were conscripted by Vytautus. They returned unarmored, sire. I can produce them before you if you desire it, your lordship."
"That will not be nescessary," he replied. "However I will conduct a thorough search of every building within the walls of this town before I accept your word completely, Drahomir." At that point he gave a signal to his men and they began to enter the town. He did not say anything else to me during this time, and again I could feel the sweat upon my back as the tense moments passed quietly. As the last of the men entered through the gates, the Commander turned to me one last time and said to me, "Tell your neighbors that they will have no need to fear us so long as they act in good faith. Tell them I will address them in the square tomorrow at mid day." And with that, he rode away from me."
The tavern erupted into a commotion of voices at the conclusion of Drahomir's tale. People had many questions, all of which were being spoken over each other. Drahomir was looking a bit swelled and proud at his sudden lift to prominence, even if it had only been offered up by chance. He waved the voices down with his hand, holding a tankard of ale in the other. "No, Gytis, he did not tell me about what he would address us tomorrow," he spoke, answering a man seated near him. "Though I would imagine he will tell us the new laws upon which we are to be subject under the Germans."
"Those German dogs took my best carving knife from my kitchen this afternoon!" cried a woman near the door.
"And they took the rusty old battle axe that once was my grandfather's. And my best hatchet!" replied one man seated near the hearth. People began speaking over each other again, a general consensus was among them that we had all had something similar happen. I thought again wistfully of my fine blade confiscated earlier in the afternoon.
"They're afraid we'll axe the night watch in the back if we're armed. If they hadn't taken my blade I would have done the deed, too!" shouted a man I knew to be Mecislovas, a saucer who ran a shop near the keep.
"Don't be foolish, Mecik. We can't aford to cause trouble with these Germans. Don't forget what happened at Pajevonis!" said another woman standing near me. She was referring to the town of Pajevonis, some many leagues to the southwest. The Teutons had taken the town perhaps five summers ago. I had never been to Pajevonis, nor had anyone else from Klatovi so far as I was aware. It was more than several week's journey away as far as I could tell. But rumors abounded about how the people of the town had killed several of their occupiers, and in retaliation the Teutons had put every last man, woman and child to the torch. Whether true or not, the story put the fear of God into every Slav that heard it.
"No, we must behave towards the Germans with good faith. We're Christians, after all. They will not harm us if we do not provoke them!" spoke up Drahomir again.
Suddenly the voice of the priest, Brother Karolis, could be heard coming from a corner of the room. I had not noticed him previously. He was a kind old man, gray at the temples and always wearing his gray robes, but tonight his speech was slurred from drink. "Christians! Gawwww! There's Christians, and then there's Christians. Those beasts are priests as well as soldiers. Abomination, if you ask me. A man of God should not lift the sword! They turned me out of our own church. Said they would be officiating the sacrements now." He paused to take a swig of ale from his tankard, somewhat missing his mouth and dribbling into his beard. "I stood outside and watched them re-consecrate the altar," he continued. "The pigs don't trust a Slav to have done the thing right!" At this he began to mutter under his breath, and was no longer quite intelligible.
The idea that we might not be Christian enough for the tastes of the Teutons spooked many of the people. Those of the Old Faith were often subjected to terrible acts by the Germans, and I imagine many in the room were afraid of being considered little different from those poor souls in the eyes of the Germans. The dialogue slowly broke up into many different conversations around the room. Unable to glean any more information out of Drahomir about the Commander of the knights, I decided to go home for the night.
Over the past few months, and especially the past few days, the smithy and the house above it had begun to feel more like my own, even though I doubted that I had a legal claim to it. When I got home I almost decided to go up to sleep in Dolibar's bed. Rarely was I ever allowed up there by the old pig, and only then for quick moments in order to fetch some forgotten thing or other for him. Now that he was dead there was nothing stopping me... But still something held me back, I am not sure what exactly. Perhaps the uncertaintly of my legal status in the community. Instead I lay down upon my old straw mat in the corner of the ground floor.
There I lay thinking of the day's events. Especially I thought of the fine German lord with the golden hair, Ulrich. I wondered where he was from. I wondered what his voice sounded like. I wondered what it would be like to stand before him and have him look down upon me as Drahomir had experienced that morning. I brought the image of him again into my mind's eye. His golden hair, his strong jaw... I sat up suddenly.
I don't know from where the impulse came to me. I lit a candle and went into the smithy. I shuffled around in a sack in the corner. There was a knife in here which I knew the soldiers had missed. Where was it? Ah, there! I grabbed the blade and brought it back into my room. There I had a bucket of water which I had drawn up from the well earlier that day. I used the water to wet the sparse hair on my face. I did not have much of a beard, being only sixteen, but still I had a respectable amount of dark hair on my face. Sitting over the bucket and using the blade of the knife I slowly shaved off my whiskers. A sense of excitement was beating in my heart. I did not have a clear idea as to why I was doing this, only that the image of the Commander stayed in my mind while I did. The thrill of the act had even caused my member to harden up. When I was done I picked up a small peice of polished silver which I often used as a makeshift mirror, but it was too dark to see my reflection, even by the light of the candle. Instead I felt my face over with my hands to be sure I had not missed any spot.
Satisfied that I had done a good job I again laid down upon my mat and blew out the candle. Loosening the strings of my breeches, I reached in and pulled out my hard member. I stroked it slowly, bringing myself pleasure. This was a skill I had learned on my own some years ago. Rarely a night went by when I did not pleasure myself in this manner. (And sometimes in the day time, too.) Usually when I pleasured myself I did not have any clear thoughts beyond bringing myself enjoyment and spilling my seed. But this time the image of the Commander floated clearly before me in the pitch black as I stroked myself.
I saw again his handsome face with the clear eyes, his mouth that looked as though it might often smile, his broad shoulders which filled out his chain tunic. I envisaged the muscles of his strong neck, curving gracefully towards his shoulders before disappearing beyond the collar of his tunic... And suddenly, sooner than normal, the moment of my pleasure was upon me. I was spilling my seed into my hand while moaning softly in the dark, my breath coming in shallow gasps. My toes curled into the matt and my body went rigid. My member throbbed wildly in my hand for some time after I'd spilled my seed. After coming down from my high, I licked the seed from my hand as I had so often done before, enjoying its sweet saltiness. Before I fell into sleep I idly wondered if the Commander had ever pleasured himself in such a way. The thought made me smile, and then I was asleep.
The next day I rose several hours after the sun. Dalibor surely would have beat me if I'd ever slept so late when he was around. In the distance I could faintly hear the peasant women singing while working in the fields just outside the town walls. It looked like it might again be another clear summer day. I used a rag and the remnants of the previous day's water to wash myself. I had not long been finished before Svitrigaila, wife of Kazimeras, a local carpenter, came into the smithy. She looked oddly at me before speaking.
"Tanas," she spoke, "I have need to order six marks of iron nails from you for Kazi. He has almost none left."
"Yes, ma'am." I replied. Truth be told there had been no business at all since the news had come from Bolvida fields. The past week I had spent quite idly, but I knew I must make some business soon or not have enough to keep the forge burning and food to eat.
"I'll come for them tomorrow morning. Five copper hryvna per mark, as we have previously settled with Dalibor."
"Dalibor is now dead," I replied to her simply. She looked sharply at me then. Her furrowed brows and hooked nose intimidated me just a little.
"Do you think to cheat me now, boy?" She asked sternly, raising her voice at the word "boy," and nodding her chin towards my face-- presumably to my now shaven jaw.
"No, ma'am. Five copper hryvna per mark of nails, as usual." I could not look her in the eye. She stood for a moment before letting out a "hmmpf" and, spinning round on her heel, marched out of the smithy. Thirty copper hryvna was not very much, but it was still a sale. I left with a bucket to draw some water from the well before returning to the bellows to heat up the forge and begin my work of producing nails-- a simple but repetitive item to create.
For a couple hours I banged out those tedious iron nails. The day had begun to get hot, and in the smithy it was even hotter with the forge burning. Luckily the front of the shop opened up onto the street, but there was not much breeze to stir the stiffling air. I was not wearing a tunic as I sweating enough even without the garment. Instead I was wearing only my leather work gloves, my leather apron, and my breeches.
Suddenly I heard the hooves of several horses coming closer to the shop. I looked up in mid-swing of the hammer to see the Commander and two knights pass by in front of the smithy. I stood there dumbly with the hammer raised in the air, my mouth open. The Commander happened to look in and, seeing me, gave a small grin with the left side of his mouth. His eyes met with mine, until finally he had passed by the shop and out of my sight.
My heart was racing. I stood rooted to the spot, as I had the last time he had looked at me. It felt as though the gaze of his eyes had burned through my own and I was now blinded in light. I blinked. I put down my hammer and removed my gloves. When my brain began to once again function my face started to burn in shame. I must have looked the fool to him, a simpleton. Sweaty and undressed, mouth agape, more animal than man in his view. I was glad to have set eyes upon him again, but ashamed he should have seen me thus. I removed my apron and, grabbing a rag and the bucket of water, washed myself of the perspiration that had built up during the morning. Only then did I suddenly realize why he had ridden past-- he was going to address the town in the square! I quickly donned my tunic and ran down the street towards the square. When I arrived there was already a large crowd and the Commander was already speaking to them.
"...now fall within the domain of the Knights of the Teutonic Order and the Emperor. Grand Marshal von Draufel in Vladice is now your leige lord, answerable only to the Grand Master in Acre, and himself answerable only to the Emperor and his Holiness the Bishop of Rome." He had a wonderful voice. It was deep and masculine, but also calming, with a light timbre. He spoke our tongue quite well, with only a slight German accent. With a voice like that I could see why men would follow him. Who could resist an order given with that voice?
"Assuming you are of the Christian faith, you are now considered subjects of the Holy Roman Empire, and as such are subject to all of it's laws and customs. Any heretics, pagans, or non-believers must leave these lands immediately or be subject to punishment and imprisonment." A murmer went out around the crowd. I looked around but did not see the faces of any of the people I knew to be of the Old Faith. Perhaps they had fled the town in the night, fearing what might befall them under the new regime.
The Commander continued. "My name is Ulrich, Graf von Laubau, from the lands of Saxony. I am now the lord of Klatovi until such time as the Marshall of my Order chooses to relieve me. I will reside within the keep of this town with my men, where I will pass judgement where required and arbitrate when need arises. Should you have need to see me, approach the guard of the keep and tell them your business and I assure you you will be safely brought before me if I am available.
"My men will roam the streets and walls of this town, as well as the outlying villages, to keep the peace. They are authorized to act fully on my behalf. Should you wish to appeal an action made by my men you may come to see me in the keep.
"Religious services will be conducted every Sunday one hour past sunrise. Attendance is compulsory, and services will be conducted in the Roman fashion." (As he said this his eyes were clearly upon the former priest who was up front and center in the crowd, not far from the Commander.) "I will collect taxes on behalf of the Emeperor and the Teutonic Knights the first Saturday after the passing of the harvest moon. Payment will be a tithe of your profit or harvest."
At this last remark there was more murmering within the crowd, this time more pleasant. A tithing was barely a third as much as Vytautus had been collecting from us. Suddenly the arrival of the Germans seemed like a boon to the townspeople. It was still a concern for me, however, because I did not yet know where Dalibor had hidden the bulk of his resources. I had looked all over the smithy (believe me, oh how I looked!) but had as yet not found a single copper. If I did not find his stash by autumn I would surely be in trouble, since I could not afford a tithing without it. I was not sure I was responsible to pay the tax since I was merely his slave, but I did not want to find out the hard way that I was indeed responsible. I didn't fancy hanging from a rope on the walls of the town!
Both my cares and the heat had caused me to lose my focus. Rather than listening to what the Commander was saying I was merely listening to the flow of his voice. It had a strange effect on me. I desired to know him better but knew that was foolish. What could a slave have to say to such an important man? Still, I could not quel the emotion. I remembered his eyes piercing mine own not half an hour ago at the smithy. A chill went through my spine.
Before I was aware of it the speech was over and the Commander and his accompanying knights had turned their mounts and rode back to the keep. He passed very close to me, but I do not think he saw me in the crowd. There was much discussion amongst the townspeople and it was some time before the crowd dispersed. Many people now seemed almost pleased at the arrival of the Germans.
With the Germans settled in the town things slowly returned to normal. Though we seemed actually a little better off under them still some people muttered under their breath about the German "dogs." Bitterness, I suppose, at having lost good men to them along the banks of the Nemunas. I did not share their bitterness, for I had lost no one to the blades of the Teuntons, save Dalibor-- and for that I could only offer them thanks!
Trade at the smithy also began to pick up. I was the only smith in Klatovi, and now with a garrison within the walls there seemed to be an endless supply of horses to be shod, spearheads to be fixed, and chainmail to be mended. There had not been much time between when these Germans fought at Bolvadi Fields and when they arrived in Klatovi, and so they had not had the appropriate repairs made after the battle. The German soldiers treated me quite fairly, even pleasantly. Surely they did not know I was a slave or they should not have bothered being half as nice, and I said nothing to let them in on that fact. It would have been more difficult for me to bargain fair prices with them if they'd known I was not a free man. They did not speak our Slavic tongue, and I did not speak German, however it seems the language of bartering is universal.
The first Sunday after the arrival of the knights the whole town was packed into the church. Never had attendance been made compulsory by Vytautus, and so never had I seen the church so full of people. Normally I always sat on the benches in the back of the church with the other slaves, but today the church was so full that free laypeople had taken these benches. Instead I stood against the wall in the farthest back of the church, my view of the altar partially obstructed by several columns, squashed together with the other slaves and indentured servants of the town.
The Teutons marched quietly into the church not long after we had settled down. A grey-bearded man in a brown robe preceded them. He also wore the mantle of the knights over his robe. Behind him followed the Commander and his aide, who in turn were followed by the fifteen or knights-proper of the garrison. None of the foot soldiers followed. It was just as well, since we could not possibly have fit all two hundred of them into the church along with the citizenry. The Commander and his knights proceded to the front of the church where several benches had been reserved for them. Once they were seated the knight-priest moved up to the altar and began the service.
It was a long service. Much longer than we had been used to. It was made worse by the fact that no one understood the priest at all. He spoke a strange language that I had never heard before. Our former priest had always officiated in our Slavic tongue. But this language the priest spoke was completely foreign. To my ear it sounded something akin to "so-vi-ta-su, so-vi-ta-su." It certainly wasn't German, which I also could not understand but had heard spoken many times before. The actions of the priest throughout the liturgy were also somewhat different from our regular services, though not substantially so. Although I could not understand the man, I could still sometimes pick out where we were in the service by his actions.
The sun had already passed mid-day by the time the knights stood up to file out of the church. It had become stifling hot inside. My tunic was stuck to my skin, my hair damp and plastered to my brow. As the Commander passed by I could see that he too was sweating profusely, though it did not seem to bother him much. Before he exited the great doorway he happened to look my way for just a split moment, and then he was gone. Minutes later the rest of the town gratefully poured out of the doors of the church.
Being very thirsty after such a long service I decided I would stroll down to the tavern for a drink. Many others seemed to have the same idea, because when I arrived there were few seats available. The subject on everyone's tongues was the service we had just sat through.
"What strange babble was he on about? I didn't understand a word! Why make attendance mandatory if they're just going to preach in a strange tongue?" said Jeska, another slave in the town with whom I sometimes played on Sundays. He had come to sit with me in the tavern while we sipped our ales.
"I don't know. It wasn't German from what I could tell. What it was I don't rightly know."
"Latin, my boy." Jeska and I looked over our shoulders. Brother Karolis, our former priest, was sitting at the next table over. He was hunched over a flagon of mead which he seemed to be nursing.
"Huh?" was Jeska's reply.
"Latin," repeated Brother Karolis. "The language of the Romans. That fat heretic, the Bishop of Rome, thinks he's better than all the rest of us. Makes them speak Latin during services made in the Roman fashion. The patriarchs of Constantinople are not so conceited, which is why I've always preached to my flock in their own native tongue." He paused to take a sip of his mead. "Can't stop them from straying if they don't know what you're saying!" This last part was said perhaps a little too loudly. Again, as he had done several nights earlier, he began to mumble heavily under his breath. Jeska and I thought it best to politely excuse ourselves.
As we exited the tavern Jeska put his hand on my arm and turned to me. "It's hot today, let's go down to the river for a swim!"
"Sure. After being in the church I feel as though I have a second set of skin. It would be good to rinse off."
We walked down the road, hooking a left turn by the town square, and walked out of the town gates. Klatovi sits on a sharp bend of the Dubysa river, and so it is surrounded by the river on three sides. Not only does this mean Klatovi strategically controls trade on the river, but it also provides an excellent source of defense besides just stone walls. Attackers have only one side from which to come, and so defending is made easier. It also means that when you exit the town gate one can turn either left or right to reach the river. It was a tradition that men would always turn to the right to bath in the river; women would always turn left. The two did not bath together, as that would have been immoral.
Jeska and I turned right and followed the paths to the river, talking about this and that along the way. Mostly we spoke of the soldiers. Like myself Jeska also had dreams of one day being a soldier. The presence of the men excited him as it did me. When we reached the river we found that there were other men and boys already swimming along the banks, but they were all free men and so we did not attempt to socialize with them, nor they with us. Instead we found a stretch of empty bank by some birch trees and removed our clothing. Sandals, tunics and breeches were quickly discarded as we jumped into the cool water.
We splashed around together for some time. I stayed close to the bank so that my feet could touch the bottom, much to Jeska's annoyance. He had for some time been attempting to teach me to properly swim, a trick he learned in another village before he was sold to his current master. Honestly I felt that I had learned the technique sufficiently, but the murkiness of the river water and it's strong current still intimidated me, and so I prefered to stay where my feet touched ground. Jeska eventually tired of showing off his swimming ability and came back towards me at the shore.
"The sun is beginning to get low. I'd better get back to Sigita soon or she'll beat me with that spoon again." Sigita was his mistress. Her husband was a butcher, and she also sold sausages. "Want to pull before I go, Tanas?"
This was Jeska's phrase for asking if I wanted to pleasure myself with him. We sometimes did this together, sometimes with other boys as well. We would find a place behind some bushes along the bank and we would stroke our members while the other did the same. Sometimes it was a lazy affair, sometimes we made a game of it to see who could spill his seed first. We never touched each other, though sometimes I suspected that Jeska might like to touch my member. He often looked at it more than the other boys'. However I never encouraged him. I liked Jeska, but he did not interest me in that way. When Jeska asked me if I wanted a pull this day, my mind suddenly returned to the image of the Commander on his steed. I did not understand why I should suddenly think of him then, but I frowned despite myself.
"No. Not today, Jeska. Another time," I replied.
"Suit yourself," he shot back, a little too casually. I'm sure he was disappointed.
"Why have you shaven your beard?" he suddenly asked. I didn't know how to answer him, so I just shrugged my shoulders, largely ignoring the question. He didn't push it further. Instead we both climbed out of the water. Many of the other men and boys were now gone, only a few stragglers left besides ourselves. We dried ourselves off using our tunics before donning our breeches and sandles and heading back to the gates, shirtless and refreshed.
I said my farewell to Jeska inside the gate and headed back to the smithy. The sun was still out but low on the horizon. The sky was bright, but already the streets and lanes were in shadow and the windows of the dwellings were dark, except where candles had already been lit. I entered the dark smithy, which this evening seemed more lonely than it had on other days. I lit a single candle and made a simple meal of porridge for my dinner before laying down on my straw mat for the night. The Commander had been in my mind since I had left the river with Jeska, and for some reason the thought of him made me feel sad as I laid there alone on my straw mat in the dark smithy.
Several weeks after the arrival of the German garrison a caravan of travellers entered the town with carts in tow. This was not particularly unusual except for the fact that these travellers were all speaking German. There were perhaps fifteen or twenty of them total, mostly men but a few women as well. They had with them several cartloads of goods and baggage. Several of the travelers spoke with the guards at the gate, and after some discussion in German one of the guards pointed in the direction of the keep. The travelers shuffled through the streets and disappeared into the keep. Many eyes were upon them as they walked, and townspeople could be seen shaking their heads at each other as if to say, "I told you so." The arrival of Germans civilians in the town was an ill omen for we Slavs.
Early the following morning, as I was opening for the day, one of the travelers came into the smithy. He was escorted by a foot soldier and the Commander's aide, von Richten. The traveler was a large built man, perhaps in his thirties. Von Richten was a much older man with gray hair and whiskers and who was getting large about the waist. They did not immediately address me, but instead began to look around the place.
"Can I help you?" I addressed the traveler. He gave me only a fleeting glance.
"Thank you, only we just look," von Richten said to me in a heavily-accented, gravelly voice. The traveller said something to von Richten in German, to which he nodded, and with that they walked off back to the keep. I did not understand the purpose of their visit, but it left me with a considerable amount of unease. No one came to the smithy that day, perhaps scared off by the unexplained visit which had been witnessed by others.
The next morning I had not yet opened the doors to the smithy when I heard a loud knocking. I thought at first that it might be Svitrigaila, back to give me a hard time about more nails. But the knocking was suddenly followed by the unmistakeable sound of von Richten's gravelly voice.
"Blacksmith, thank you. Please open."
I was stunned, and also scared. This was extremely unusual. I thought at first to pretend I was not at home, but knew that would be foolish. Instead I went to the doors and opened them. Standing outside was the Commander's aide, dressed smartly in his tunic and mantle. He was flanked by several foot soldiers. Behind him stood the foreigner from the day before, as well as another, younger, thinner man. I also recognized him as one of the Germans who had arrived the other day. They were both carrying several bags each.
I felt my back perspiring against my tunic. I had no idea why they were here, but frightening thoughts of being arrested were suddenly running through my mind. I addressed von Richten. "Is there something wrong, my lord?"
He gave me a slight frown and held out a peice of parchment to me. I took the parchment and looked at it. On it were many symbols in columns. I knew it was writing but I did not know how to read. I was puzzled. "Sir?"
"Blacksmith, thank you. Please take things," he said to me. I looked at him dumbly. I did not understand what he was trying to tell me. Just then the large civilian German brushed past, pushing me out of the way. He made to go into the private area of the smithy. "Hey, wait," I called out to him. What were they doing?
Suddenly I felt a large hand on my shoulder and I jumped. I turned to see that it was the old soldier's hand. He pulled me out of the doorway into the street, closer to himself. In a quieter, more kindly tone of voice he addressed me. "Blackmith," he said, pointing to my chest in case I did not understand he meant me. Then he shook his head as if to say no. Then pointed into the smithy towards the two Germans who were moving about as if they were in their own shop. "Blacksmith," he said again, and this time nodded his head as if to say yes. He tapped the parchment in my hands. Was I being kicked out? I was now shaking all over. By now a number of townspeople had gathered around the smithy, quietly watching the scene unfold.
Von Richten must have seen the fear in my face, or felt my trembling. His hand was still on my shoulder. He looked at me again in a rather pitiable manner. Then he pulled me back into the smithy, into the private area past the forge. He picked up my sandals, which I had not yet put on this morning. He also picked up my bit of mirror. He made to give these things to me, saying gently, "Please take things." Finally I understood. I was being evicted, and he was telling me to pack up my belongings. Stunned, numb, I began to pick up my things. I did not have very much, it all fit into one sack. My wool tunic and leather breaches for the winter months, my boots, my mirror which I rarely used, a blanket, my knife, a wooden cup, bowl and spoon, one pot, and of course my purse of coins which I kept hidden under a floorboard beneath the ladder.
By this time the two Germans had climbed the ladder and were up above in Dalibor's rooms. I could hear them thumping around. Von Richten pointed to the ceiling and asked, "Up things?" I shook my head no. There was nothing of mine up there. I went out to the smithy and made to start putting my tools into my bag, but von Richten stopped me. "Nein, sohn. No," he said, shaking his head.
"Oh," was all I could think to say. He walked me back out to the street. Even more people had come to see what was going on. The three foot soldiers were still standing outside the door.
"Thank you, Blacksmith. Go," he said to me, nodding vaguely down the street. Go where? He had just taken the only place I had to go to. Where did he think I would go now? He continued to stare at me. I would almost say he looked sorry for me if it weren't for the fact that he had just taken my home. With a sense of dread, still numb, I turned and began to walk stiffly, slowly, down the street. The crowd of people parted before me, but they would not look me in the eye or otherwise acknowledge me. I felt as though I had suddenly become a ghost. My belongings jangled around in my bag as I walked.
In a daze I walked around the streets with all of my worldly goods in tow. With surprise I found myself at the gates and walked through them. Not knowing what else to do with myself I turned to the right and walked down to the river. There were no bathers there today. It was a market day and everyone was in town at work. I sat against a poplar tree on the bank of the river, setting my bag down beside me. My body began to shake and my eyes stung. I was determined not to cry, but still some tears escaped. When I made to wipe them away I realized with a shock that I was still holding the peice of parchment in my left hand. I opened it again to look at it.
The symbols moved down the page in a vertical fashion, making columns. On one side there was some wax and more script, except this part looked a little different from the rest. I hadn't the slightest idea what any of it meant. I couldn't read, nor did I know anyone else that could read, except for Brother Karolis.
Of course! I picked up my bag and ran back towards the gates. The guards paid me no more heed as I ran past than they had when I blindly stumbled out earlier. I quickly made my way to Drahomir's tavern, where it was well-known that Brother Karolis spent all of his time since he had been evicted from the church. I suddenly thought with bitterness that I now knew how he felt. Brother Karolis was not in the tavern when I arrived. I made to wait for him at a table, but Drahomir did not want me dawdling about if I was not buying anything, so instead I went outside and sat by the door, waiting for the priest to come. I did not have to wait long.
Brother Karolis came strolling down the street, wearing his usual gray robe. His steps were a bit uneven, his path swerving. I thought perhaps that he had had a bit too much to drink already, even though it was not yet mid-morning.
"Brother Karolis!" I shouted, leaping from my waiting place. He jumped a little from surprise, and turned his head to look upon me as I rushed towards him. "Brother Karolis," I repeated, "I need your help!" As I got closer he regarded me with squinting, bleary eyes.
"Tanas, my boy, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be minding Dalobir's shop?"
"I can't, sir. They've turned me out!"
"They?" he asked.
"The Germans, sir. Von Richten and some of the travelers from the other day. They've taken the smithy and kicked me out. I don't know why, sir. They gave me this," I said, showing him the parchment. "Can you read it, sir?"
"My son," he said, "It's much to bright out here. Come with me into the tavern and we'll have a look at it."
We went into the tavern and took a table. Drahomir gave me a wary look, but as I was now accompanying one of his best customers he said nothing to me. "Draho, two ales, please," Brother Karolis called out. Drahomir nodded and went back to get the drinks. Turning to me, Brother Karolis said, "Now, son. Show me what it is the dogs have given you."
I laid out the parchment with the columns of symbols in front of the priest. He looked up at me, gave me a half-sided smile, and spun the parchment around so that it now had rows of symbols instead of columns. He leaned over the parchment, moving his face so close that his nose was almost touching the parchment. He was quiet for a little while. Then he began to make some noises.
"Mm. Mm-hmm. Yes. Aha, I see."
"What does it say, sir?" I was anxious and my voice almost cracked.
"It says what you already know-- that the Germans are confiscating the shop."
"Why?" I asked.
"For the stability of the domain, it says. I'm not quite sure what they could mean by that."
"What am I going to do now?!" I hadn't gotten any farther now that I knew what the parchment said. I was starting to feel a bit lost.
"Well, my son, you could go to the keep and appeal it to the Commander. However do you see this bit here?" He pointed to the part of the text near the wax which did not resemble the rest of the text.
"Yes," I answered.
"Well, that is the Commander's own mark. His signature. He's signed this himself, which means you're not likely to get very far with an appeal to him."
I did not know what to say to that. I thought of the Commander's kind eyes, of the smile he made to me outside the smithy. Surely I didn't know the man, but I couldn't accept that he would do this type of thing. He couldn't be the type of man to make me homeless! There was only one thing I could do-- I would have to go ask to speak with him.
"Thank you, Brother Karolis," I said, getting out of my seat.
"Good luck, my son." As I walked out of the tavern Brother Karolis pulled my untasted ale towards himself.
Back out in the sunlight I began to make my way towards the keep, still carrying my bag of belongings. The keep was a very large stone building on the west side of town. It sat against the town walls close to the bend in the river. The tower of the keep was the largest structure in Klatovi, and it could be seen from several miles off in the countryside. It had a small moat around it, the water drawn from the river. One had to cross a wooden bridge to reach the gate to the keep. I had never crossed that bridge before. Few had. Vytautus had not been the type of man one wished to visit. When I had reached the gate of the keep the soldiers on watch stopped me.
"I wish to speak with the Commander," I told them. One of them responded in a gutteral tongue I knew to be German. "I wish to speak with the Commander," I repeated, and this time I showed them my piece of parchment. The one soldier who had spoken smirked when he saw the document. The other tapped my sack of belongings with the butt of his spear, asking me something in German. I looked at him and shrugged my shoulders. "It's all of my stuff," I said. He pointed two of his fingers at his eyes, then pointed to my sack. Apparently he wanted to see what was inside.
I handed my sack over to the soldier. He handed his spear to his comrade and took the bag from me. Opening it up he rummaged around, checking out the contents of the bag. Suddenly his expression changed and he began talking very animatedly in German. He seemed to be getting angry. His comrade made a reply, and the one holding my bag suddenly pulled out my knife that I had been using to shave my face. I had forgotten it was even in there. The blood rushed from my face.
Now the second soldier was also talking loudly and angrily, pointing his finger at me. At the sound of the commotion a third soldier came from behind the gate. The two showed the third my knife and were talking animatedly. The third soldier looked sternly at me and grabbed me by the collar of my tunic, pulling me back towards the gate.
"No," I protested. "I didn't bring it. I mean I'd forgotten it was in there. I only came to see the Commander! Please, I wasn't here to cause trouble!" But the soldier seemed to become more angry and suddenly shouted at me quite loudly. I had the impression it would be best for me to stay quiet and see what he meant to do with me. I was very afraid now, fear causing me to shake badly all over. Once through the gate the soldier dragged me across an open courtyard. In front of us was the tower of the keep, but to the left and the right there were other large buildings. There were other soldiers in the courtyard and when they saw me they began to chuckle amongst themselves.
The soldier dragged me off to the left of the courtyard, toward one of the secondary stone buildings. He pulled me through a thick doorway and into a hall lit by several torches. There was another soldier inside sitting in a chair and leaning back casually against the wall. He asked a question of the soldier holding my collar. There was a brief exchange, after which the sitting soldier made a sigh and got out of his seat. He led us down a hallway and through a heavy, solid wooden door. It was dark on the other side. There were no windows and the only light was coming through the doorway behind us. My heart was racing wildly. I knew what they meant to do with me now. The soldier from the hallway pulled open a heavy iron door with bars on it. On the other side was a small, dark, damp, windowless room. My captor pushed me into the room, and then the other soldier closed the door, locking it behind me. My captor pointed his finger at me through the bars, angrily spouting out one last tirade before they both turned and left the room. When the wooden door closed behind them it was utterly dark.
I slumped down on the stone floor and this time I made no attempt to stop my tears. I wept openly at my predicament, certain I was going to be forgotten in here and left to die. I should never have come to the keep!
Some time passed. How much I am not certain. Perhaps a few hours. But after a time the wooden door opened and light creaked into my cell. My heart stopped at the sound. I wasn't sure if this was a good turn of fortune, or a bad one. Had they come to let me out, acknowledging it was all a mistake? Or had they come with a bit of rope to hang me? Stuck between fear and elation I remained sitting upon the floor, unable to move.
A man came into the hallway carrying a torch. The wooden door shut behind him. He seemed to be the only one to have come through the doorway. He walked slowly over to my cell, his footsteps sounding loudly on the stone floor. When he reached my cell he turned and raised the torch between himself and the bars of my cell door. My heart began to beat again. It was the Commander!
"Well, my little blacksmith friend. What have you gotten yourself into?" He smiled at me.
"My lord!" I replied stupidly. I climbed onto my knees and bowed low before him. I knew somehow in my heart now that he was here things would be better. I knew he would understand me when I explained myself. I stretched my neck to look up at him from my position on the ground.
"Stand up. Stand up. I am not so mighty as that. It's just you and I here," he said. I got up upon my feet. Still I had to look up at him-- he was at least half a foot taller than me. He smiled at me again. His teeth were white and straight. My stomach was doing flips upon itself.
"Attempting to smuggle a knife into my keep." He made a low "tsk-tsk" sound. "Tell me, my young friend, were you going to try to kill me?"
"No, sir! No!" I blurted out anxiously. "I wouldn't ever! Honest! I had forgotten about the knife! I only came because, sir.. because..." I didn't know how to phrase my situation tactly before him. I came because of what he had done to me, but now that I was face to face with him I didn't want to accuse him of something so cruel. He saw the struggle upon my face. He smiled again, letting out a small chuckle.
"Relax! I am only having a bit of sport with you. I know why you're here. My men know why you are here, too, though none of us had expected you to come armed!" He said this with another smile. I think he was just teasing me again.
"My lord, I am so very sorry! I didn't mean..."
"Enough," he said, this time a little more firmly. "I will forget about the incident if you promise to do so as well."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir!" I was no longer sweating.
He looked at me for a few moments before speaking again. His eyes looked me up and down. It was both very uncomfortable and very pleasurable. "You came to see me because today I seized the town blacksmith."
"Yes, sir. But sir, I haven't done anything wrong! I don't understand why I was turned out! I don't have anywhere to go, sir! What will I do without the smithy?"
"What indeed?" he replied enigmatically. Then suddenly, "What is your name, boy?"
"Tan-Tanas, sir," I stuttered.
"Tantanas?" He regarded me oddly. "That is a strange name, even for a Slav."
"No, sir. It's just "Tanas."
"I see. Well, Tanas, from what I've heard you were not the actual owner of the smithy, were you?" I suddenly wondered who had been talking about me to the Germans, and that the Commander had even been curious enough about me to ask.
"N-no, sir."
"And who does own the smithy, Tanas?"
"A man named Dalibor, sir. But he's dead."
"Is he? And are you his son?"
"No, sir."
"His nephew?"
"No, sir. I was not related to Dalibor." I was becoming uncomfortable with the direction of his questions.
"I see," he said again. He looked at me pensively for a few moments. Suddenly he seemed to change the subject. "Tanas, I have been surprised to see you on Sundays standing at the back of the church with the slaves and servants. An important businessman such as the town blacksmith should have a prominent seat in the church. Yet you stand in the back."
"Yes, sir." Why should he have noticed me?
"Why do you stand in the back of the church with the slaves and other servants, Tanas?"
I didn't want to answer the question. I knew he would be different towards me if he knew. I liked how he looked at me now. I didn't want him to stop if he knew that I was only on the very lowest rung of society. Instead of answering I looked down dumbly at my feet, shame burning my cheeks. I had never before in my life felt ashamed of what I was.
"It's is I thought, then," he said quietly. "Where I am from, Tanas, men do not keep slaves."
"They don't, sir?"
"No."
"Who does the work, sir?"
"Free people, of course. Tell me, Tanas-- how did this Dalibor happen to die?"
"He was at Bolvida Fields with Vytautus, my lord."
"Was he?" His voice sounded surprised, but his face did not show it. I suspected that maybe he already knew this, and knew about me as well. "Did you know, Tanas, that the lands and property of any Slav who took arms against the Emperor and my Order are forfeit and subject to seizure?"
"No, sir, I did not know that. Is that why you took the smithy?"
"Yes. For that reason, and also because I can not have certain important town institutions in the hands of the local Slavs while the political climate is still unsettled in the region. I also seized the mill." This was a surprise to me. I had not heard as much.
"But sir," I pleaded, "I don't have anywhere to go if I can't stay at the smithy. I don't have very much money."
"As the local prefect of my Order in this region Dalibor's possessions are forfeit to me. By the laws of your land, and by the laws of my land, that means that you, too, Tanas, have passed into my possession." I stared stupidly at him, my mouth open, unable to respond. I had always wanted more than anything to be free, but strangely the sudden knowledge that I was now this nobleman's slave seemed yet more desireable. My spirits suddenly lifted.
"However," he added, "I can not keep a slave." My spirits dropped again. What then would become of me? Would he sell me? I began hastily pleading my case.
"But sir, I promise to be an excellent servant. I can do more than just smithing, sir. I will do whatever you ask of me, honest!" He chuckled then and smiled at me once more.
"No, Tanas. I can't keep even a good slave. My Order and my conscience will not permit it."
"Will you sell me then, sir?" I could not keep the sound of disappointment out of my voice.
"No. That is not permitted to me either."
"What will you do with me then, sir?"
"Free you, of course." This was an astonishing announcement. Free me? Without getting anything in return? Why would he do that? Then the reality of my situation hit me.
"Free or not free, sir, I don't have anywhere to go without the smithy."
"I couldn't allow a promising young man like yourself to roam homeless, could I," he asked. I didn't think that was the kind of question I should answer. "No, but I think I know what I shall do with you."
"What is that, sir?"
"I will make you my squire."
"Your squire?!" This was incredible. This day kept turning upon itself with startling changes in my life. A squire to such a great and noble lord? It was almost too much to believe. This was all I had dreamt during those long years of toil at that cursed forge. "Will I learn to be a knight in your order like you, sir?"
"No, Tanas. That would not be allowed. My Order accepts only knights who are both German and of noble birth. However I shall make you my squire in the colors of my own household, the House of Laubau, and not of the Order. It is not nescessarily permitted, but it is not disallowed either."
I did not particularly understand the difference, but I was determined not to disappoint him. "I will strive to do always my best for you, sir," I said to him eagerly. "I will never disappoint you, on my honor!"
"I believe you. Now, I think it is time we sprung you from this prison." In his left hand he jangled some keys, clearly the keys to my cell. He unlocked the gate and swung open the door. I took a step to leave the cell, but he had not moved. He blocked the way. I did not think it polite to brush past him. Instead I looked up at him, now without bars between us. He was looking down at me oddly. Again his eyes gave me chills and I could not help myself but to smile.
"Sir?" I questioned.
Slowly he brought his hand up to my face and brushed the back of it against my cheek. The touch was like fire and I longed to lean into it, but I did not move. "When I rode into this town I saw you in the crowd," he stated. I marveled that he should have noticed or remembered me at all. "You had a beard upon your face then. But the next day, when I saw you in the smithy, it was gone. Your face is much more pleasing this way. But... why?"
"Because, sir... I..." I struggled to verbalize the reason which I did not completely understand myself. Deciding to put it the only way that made sense to me I answered, "Because I saw you, sir."
He smiled then and pulled his hand away. I wished he hadn't. "Come, Tanas, let's get you settled into the keep."
[continued]