Bastions
Chapter Forty Eight: The Queen of Cities
Part 3
Prelude:
Eventually the King was forced to give into his son's demands. Constantinople had to stand and it had to be an ally of Prussia or Christendom was doomed. Rome broke out into a new series of civil wars, this time between the military governors and their loyal armies and the Prussian-backed Crown-Prince Godwin I. Emperor Stephen I went into hiding, likely in Bulgaria. The conflict quickly boiled over to include the neighboring rivals of Serbia and Bulgaria. Both were former Roman territories, but the chance to attack each other was too much to be passed up and the Bulgarians were the first to send troops to elevate the siege of Constantinople. An important moment came early in the war when the Patriarch of Constantinople sided with the monarchy, declaring the Marshals and their allies "heretics" and excommunicating all of them except their Serbian allies. In the north, King Doyvát was slow in calling up an army. Prussia had grown weary of invading Rome and many of the nobles were against getting involved for fear of sparking similar rebellions in at home. So it was up to the Prussian navy to bear the brunt of their activities until help could come from up north. The most unlikely ally, though, of Rome came from the East. Armenia, seeking stability on one of the borders, sided with the monarchists out of fear of an expansionist Rome. The help, even from heathens, was sorely needed, though both Doyváts knew it would weaken the monarchy's standing with the people and church.
Yet another Roman Civil War: Purple/Pink represents the Crown Prince Godwin I and his allies; Blue represents the military rebellion.
October 31st, 1395
All Saints Eve was a night of still and silence in Memelgrád. Sophie looked out one of the many windows in her room. Life was strange here. The letters promised from England never arrived, though the King had frantically searched for anything of the sort. Abandoned; a simple formality in the building of alliances. In the dark corners of the palace she wept. Down in the courtyard a large group of people were marching under torchlight. Banners and flags flew all around them as the form of the King went to embrace the man leading the parade. After a few moments everyone headed inside. Still, she could hear nothing. Suddenly there was a knock on her door. "Come in," she said with a sigh.
"My lady, you must get ready!" her hair maiden said, quickly grabbing proper clothing and a brush.
"What is it now?" Sophie asked, uninterested.
"The Crown Prince! Prince Doyvát is here! This is your chance to meet him!"
Sophie stood up and let the maids take care of getting everything set and fitted. After what seemed like only a few minutes another woman entered, this time it was the Queen. She watched her future daughter-in-law get ready, critiquing her hair, her dress, her skin, her breasts, everything in a scheme to maintain her position as "woman of the palace". Eventually chatting could be heard coming down the hall and Sophie recognized one voice as that of the King. But the chatting moved on beyond the door and kept going without so much as pausing.
The Lord-Protector was tired. The journey from Kiev had been a long one. He had little time to spare with his father's niceties though they were much appreciated. His father seemed unnaturally happy for a monarch at war. Doyvát settled into a chair in a private dining room and grabbed a goblet. The table was finely set and the Prince noticed an extra spot. "
Gustæs, Taw?" the Prince asked, innocently.
"
Ien Ahwikánæn lá. Æs wuldáju Tu Hime nác sastadæt geárol."
"
Sárik, Æs wor besik æt se Dienwid. Ien Prizjákl Tawus ze se Kárs?" Doyvát asked. When his father didn't answer the Prince set his goblet down and folded his hands together on the table, "
Kát ist He, Taw?" The King didn't know what to say, instead he just signaled to the door and the maids outside half led and half pushed Sophie into the room. The Prince looked at the girl and smirked, it was as if his father thought he wasn't mature enough for such a change in his life.
"This is Princess Sophie of England, your betrothed," the King said awkwardly.
The Prince stood up and took the lady's hand, "Charmed." He gave her hand a small kiss and led her to the table. He pulled her chair out and even pushed it in. Her heart raced. This was it, this was the man who'd father her children and share her bed. He was handsome and well connected; he had left quite an impression on England during his stay there though it seemed he was most famous for his escapades in Constantinople. She swallowed and tried not to be awkward, but she had nothing to say. No, she had plenty to say, but she couldn't speak it in Prussian.
The two men quickly forgot the woman and began chatting quickly in Prussian. They had much to say, it was obvious. Sophie tried to listen in, but this was not the slow annunciated speech of her teachers: it was quick and full of complicated words. She was afraid to leave, trapped in place by a mix of fear and shame. He future husband seemed calm, almost even aloof, despite the King's worry. The Princess watched their faces, building a story from their reactions. Both were hardened politicians. They hid their emotions well. But there were small little tells all over them. The younger would tap his finger if annoyed, the older would stroke his beard if he had already dismissed an argument in his head. They seemed to also see these tells, but continued their speech anyway. Eventually the younger one produced a map of the Greek lands. He motioned above the coast of Pontus but the King shook his head. He dragged his finger from Bulgaria to Athens. The prince then jabbed his finger into the middle of the Greek peninsula.
Portraits of two Davids: King Doyvát I (left) and future King Doyvát II (right). The two men got along well despite disagreements.
With a quick motion the King brushed the whole subject to the side, "We need to talk about a wedding," he said in English.
The Prince tapped his finger against the table, "
Æs mussáj ien Kárs ándget." His voice was indignant and tired, "
Se Wædán cannáf gadisát."
The King looked rather sad, "
Een hápe Siniga ist ien hápe Bærá."
"
Wiw ist næ een Siniga. Næ álæ," the Prince replied.
"
Wiw ist práts; Wiw ist lapnæ; Wiw ist daliŝ. Kát ist apálms?"
"
He gábef ien Kárs, Tewá. Æs bin se Laof-Komándæt ŝew Melnájurá Ármádæn! Æs hám næ laks in ien Wædán! Indrátsak." the Prince shouted. Tears began welling in Sophie's eyes and he snapped to look at his betrothed after her first real sob. At first his face was filled with annoyance, but it quickly melted away into a genuine sympathy.
"You're not going back to the front, Doyvát. I need you here. I need you safe," the King said. He wanted Sophie to know she had an ally. "You have too much of my stupidity and too much of your mother's stubbornness."
"Says the man who spent years fighting a one-man war against an entire Kingdom," the Prince said.
The King paused, "That was different. That was my fight. This is not your fight. This is some petty Roman squabble. Rest assured that I will get Godwin on the throne and we will leave Rome stable. But I am King and you are my son. You will return to your post in Krakow... after your wedding."
"Why so soon?"
"Her father... the King of England, remember, is waiting to hear back. She has played her role, now play yours." The King was finished. He took the map of Rome and rolled it back up and handed it to his son. Doyvát snatched it up and tucked it back into a round case.
***
November 1st, 1385
The Prince sat in one of the many rooms currently not containing his father. It was strange to be home again. Home - a weird thought. It had been a long time since he called any one place home. Wanderlust had dominated his life. Looking out one of the many tall windows he peered out into the harbor. The sea, the sea was his home. So long as he was close to it he was comfortable. It will be strange, claustrophobic almost, to be as far inland as Krakow. It had been years since he was away from the ocean. He knew he'd miss it. Idly he flipped through a few pages of the local almanac. If anything they were a silver lining, the libraries of Memlgrád. Without the frivolous war and destruction the knowledge of Europe slowly trickled east to Constantinople, Jerusalem, Alexandria and Memelgrád. Doyvát had missed the days spent reading books.
"A guest," said Sarah's voice from behind her silver mask. Since she said it in English it had to be Sophie with her. The Prince turned to see the two of them standing there then Sarah dismissed herself with a bow. The Princess walked over to the Prince and curtseyed for him. Doyvát put a linen bookmark between the pages and closed the book softly.
"I know you are not happy with being relieved of command of the Black Sea Fleet," she said shyly.
Doyvát gave her a small reassuring smile before putting his hand on hers, "It is not a fault of your own. I have been prepared for this day for a long, long time now. How have you liked Prussia thus far?" he asked trying to change the subject.
"I have only seen the buildings on the trip from the harbor to the castle and then a few rooms in the castle itself." Sophie saw the terror suddenly well up in her betrothed's eyes: the sudden realization that his days of adventures and journeys were over. Cabin fever was quick to set into his soul and his heart rate jumped a few notches. "Listen, I want this about as much as you do... but... but we need to be allies in this. No one else is on our side."
"That much is true," Doyvát said dismissively. But with a second's thought he changed his mind, "No you are right. But this is not something that will happen quickly."
"Your father begs to differ. Seems we are to be wed before the end of the month," Sophie said. With that she headed toward the door, expecting to at least get something out of the Prince, but looking back she saw he had already returned to his book.
***
November 29th, 1385
Doyvát watched as a troupe of Lith performers danced and did tricks off to the side of the room. They were well dressed and seemed to be more talented than the average group. He was surprised his father let them in at all, though it seemed it was on the insistence of his new wife. Another man watched the troop with a great deal of interest, or at least one member in particular. It was a young woman with auburn hair and a green dress. She was rather striking. The Prince smiled and walked over to the man, who gave a small but courtly bow, "Congratulations, my lord," he said.
"That woman, the Lith... you've been watching her all night. Have you thought of talking to her?" Doyvát asked, though it might have partially been the mead.
"I did, that's why we've been married for three years," the man said rather coolly.
The Prince chuckled, "I guess it does give one license to watch so intently."
"Sometimes," the man started, "Sometimes I wake up next to her and it all seems so unreal." His face took on a transcendent quality. Doyvát knew he was thinking about more than mornings.
"How did you meet; if you don't mind me asking?"
"Chance, mostly. I remember being a young man and her troupe played in my home town. But you shouldn't worry too much of the tiny lives of Lith performers: you have so much to look forward to! And your wife is certainly the most beautiful bride I've seen in a long time," the guest said with a flick of his head.
The Prince nodded idly. He followed the man's gesture and saw his wife sitting at a table with his mother and grandmother. She was beautiful; he had never really tried to see her in any positive light before: slender and brown-haired. She saw him looking at her and blushed. "I never really thought of it before, but as arranged politically driven marriages go I could have done a lot worse, thanks." Doyvát said.
The man's tried to keep from looking unhappy, "I'm glad I could help... I guess." The Prince patted him on the back and walked off with more of a bounce in his step.
"What was that?" The auburn-haired woman asked when her set was done.
"I think I just saved Prussia," the man answered, still slightly confused.
"All in a day's work," she said. She bent in and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
"I guess so. I spend so much time saving the troupe it was only a matter of time before the monarchy called on me for my talents." His voice had a little laugh in it. He put his arm around his wife and watched the Prince go and sit beside his bride. He seemed happier, or at least the couple hoped that was what was different. A lot rested on their shoulders.