Bastions
Chapter Forty Four: War and Peace
Part 3
Prelude:
In 1372 an unprecedented thing happened: the Roman Empire was at peace. Tired of war and devoid of supplies, the Roman Emperor signed a peace treaty with Armenia, losing much of the eastern extremities of the Empire and Cyprus, an important wine manufacturer and outpost. Emperor Æthelstan stepped down as ruler, and fled to Serbia in exile. His bastard son, Edward, was forced to deal with the turmoil following the peace and subsequent flight of thousands of Christians back into Roman territory. Edward, only four at the time, reigned for a record seven and a half minutes before being captured, usurped, tried for treason in place of his father, and beheaded by a distant uncle, also by the name Edward. In true Roman fashion, the Saxon nobles of the Empire quickly fell into civil war, fighting over every petty issue that had been boiling in their blood. By 1374, Edward II had been kicked out of the Queen of Cities by Stephen I. Emperor Stephen was able to settle most of the nation, save a couple revolts on Crete and Rhodes which were put down forcibly. In 1375 most of Europe felt it was finally safe to normalize relations with the Roman Empire again. Despite the peace that the Romans had finally been able to win, the reign of Stephen the Bloodied would not see that peace last even past 1375.
The Roman Empire and Armenia in 1372.
July 3rd, 1373
Doyvát's legs hung over the edge of the ship, the water some fifteen or so feet below him. In the distance, poking out from a mountain of fog, was the edge of the island of Gotland. It was their duty to patrol the coasts of the Empire for pirates, though they were only very rarely found this deep in Prussia's sovereign waters. The world was quiet. At the rear of the ship the Lord-Protector could hear the ships bell, ringing as the ship rocked in the water. Below him the waves lapped gently at the wooden walls of the ship. From behind came the sound of polished boots walking on the deck. Doyvát turned to see the ship's captain standing behind him, his coat untucked in the summer's heat. "Any sign of vikings?" he asked, a light chuckle followed.
The Baltic Sea in 1373. Despite the long coast line of the Scandinavian states, only Prussia could afford a large navy; it truly was a "Prussian lake".
"No, no sign of anything this morning, Captain," Doyvát replied. The prince watched as the old man stepped up to the railing and rested his elbows on it. The captain began scanning the same horizon that Doyvát had been just seconds before.
Once he was satisfied that no Swedish ships would suddenly appear from the fog, he nodded and said, "Well, lieutenant, I believe it is time to get underway."
"Yes sir," Doyvát responded, "Men! To stations and prepare to raise anchor!" From below several men came up on deck and began to ready the ship to go underway. They scrambled up the rigging and began pulling up the sails, at the bow the officers commanded the men to raise the anchor and lock it on deck. But in all the noise and activity a streamlined shape appeared in the fog.
"SIR!" a voice called, "Raiding ship! Raiding ship off the starboard bow!"
Doyvát turned to the other lieutenant who was muttering under his breath "Star light, start bright, starboard is right." The prince shook his head and headed over there with the captain.
"It is a single mast ship, headed straight for us," one of the sailors said, pointing.
"Tricky devils, coming at us from open waters. Men, prepare to board!" the captain shouted. The men cheered and drew their swords. The Prince took a deep breath and did the same, joining the men under his command. Eventually the ship pulled in close enough that Doyvát could see the other men and hear them chattering. When they saw that the Prussians were expecting them, they seemed to lose heart. They lowered their sail and dropped anchor, the Prussians did the same and set up gang planks down onto the raider.
Doyvát was among the first on board, and quickly went about inspecting the crew. "These aren't Swedes, sir. They are Icelandic."
"How can you tell?"
"They were speaking Icelandic, plus this ship seems out fitted for long distance sailing, not just quick raids across the Baltic," Doyvát answered. As he walked in between the Icelandic sailors he stopped at one with black hair and dark skin. The sailor seemed to squint out into the distance, but when the prince watched him for a bit he noticed that the man's face just looked like that.
"What is it Doyvát?"
"Sir, have you ever seen a man like this?"
"No, I don't think I ever have."
"
Hvað heitir þu?" the prince asked.
"
Hann talar ekki Norse," another sea man replied.
"
Hvað gerir hann talar?"
"
Skrælingi."
"What did he say, Prince?" the captain asked.
"He says that this man speaks... barbarian? I am not sure. I've never really heard the term.
Ert þú talar prússneska?" No one seemed to respond. "Wonderful."
"What do you want to do, captain?" the other lieutenant asked. Doyvát turned to face the captain, waiting for an answer. "They don't speak Prussian, they look like raiders, and they are carrying this half-man with them. I suggest hang the crew, grab their supplies and torch the ship." The other lieutenant looked at Doyvát for some support, but the Prince showed no interest one way or another.
"What do they have in the crates?" the captain asked, pointing at the couple of boxes in the middle of the ship, tied down around the mast.
Doyvát walked over and using a close-by oar pried the box lid off. He looked inside and saw a strange plant, and grabbing one of its pods he held it aloft for all to see. "I have no idea, captain."
"This is like something out of a dream, Mister Doyvát, let us be gone. I want nothing more to do with this ship."
"Yes, captain. What should we do with the ship?"
"Leave it, these are not raiders, we can see that."
The Prussians put away their swords and climbed back onto their ship before watching the Icelanders sail back into the mist. The Prince was left confused. He turned to the captain who was chatting idly with the other lieutenant. "Sir, what do you think all of that was?" he asked earnestly.
"Prince, I've seen much of the world. Sometimes you just don't know, and you pray to God that some fool isn't doing anything that will doom all of the good folks." It was a very unsatisfying answer for the curious prince who just turned around and peered out to where the raider used to be. For an instant he thought he could catch a glimpse of it as the mist dissipated. But as the skies cleared, nothing was there.
A week later Doyvát was in Æstlinn, the city of his grandfather, on shore leave. He holed himself up in the local library digging through texts and scrolls looking for the world "
skræling" it was with much care in shifting through the documents from diplomatic missions abroad that he found a single instance of the word. It was in a nonsensical fairy tale about Viking raiders headed far beyond the view of man. It spoke of a great land of meadows and a great land of forests beyond the green lands west of Iceland. There it said there were many "
skrælingjar" who were long established in the area when the Vikings arrived. The prince closed the book and folded his hands. He wondered aloud, "Could such a land exist; beyond the knowledge of even the most hardened English and Irish fishermen?" He chuckled at the fancy of such ideas. The man must have been a Mongol, captured as a servant by the Mords and sold to some Icelandic captain on a visit to Ingria. How could he have been so short sighted? So blind to reason? Of course they would call such a man a "barbarian". With everything settled in his mind he replaced the book on the shelves and left the library to return back to the streets.