Stetting became crowded? How does one city that has been recently conquered host so many royal entourages?
Piety of the North Star
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I like the higher contrast on these versions of the maps.
Ha! Rugen holds out! The sons of Svantevit shall throw the vile Crusaders out yet!
Vratislav played all his cards in the wrong order. Heh.
Hvides will need to cultivate the Griffins for terms of logistics between the two halves of their little empire. Open boats and men on foot are fine now but their time is ending and later armies will have more materiel to move around.
Excellent update!
Ha! Rugen holds out! The sons of Svantevit shall throw the vile Crusaders out yet!
Vratislav played all his cards in the wrong order. Heh.
Hvides will need to cultivate the Griffins for terms of logistics between the two halves of their little empire. Open boats and men on foot are fine now but their time is ending and later armies will have more materiel to move around.
Excellent update!
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General_BT: Are you saying you didn't want to watch that scene unfold? 
Skjalm was never going to get everything he claimed or wanted, but he did well to get what he did out of it. The Hvide now rule over a seriously large chunk of Baltic land, and the King of Denmark will be sweating bullets - it will not, however, mean instant or easy victories for Sjælland. The Baltic pagans still need to be Christianized and absorbed into the Danish realm!
There are not currently plans to move the Hvide seat to those lands, for now they will be ruled by proxy from afar. Sjælland is still the centre of Hvide power and is treated as such.
Artell: Glad to hear it, this is my first time writing a scene like this so it was a completely new experience for me!
FlyingDutchie: Hvide now controls more land than the Knýtling clan, but the King rules over a strong Danish kingdom that can't be underestimated. Due to the religious turmoil and after-effects of the Crusade, Denmark is still wealthier and better armed than Sjælland.
Enewald: Stettin has been under German control for years and is a relatively stable place, it was chosen for the treaty due to its geographically central location (compared to the parties involved) and high accessability, while also being a "neutral" territory (i.e. captured).
RGB: The higher contrast was put in at your suggestion so I'm glad. Rügen does hold out but Pryzbyslaw, dread enemy of the spawn of Knud, hasn't done much of anything all war. He just sits there and chills out.
Vratislav was left completely behind in these negotiations and Brandenburg and Denmark are easily the biggest gainers. Poland gained what it wanted and is content with the terms, leaving them high dry and without a leg to stand on diplomatically.
The Griffins will definitely be a very important part of any future Hvide strategies. Nurturing a friendly power there will grant them much better lines of transportation between Baltia and Denmark, and if they aren't nurtured there's a risk of them falling under German or Polish sway - something the Hvide have every reason not to want.
Skjalm was never going to get everything he claimed or wanted, but he did well to get what he did out of it. The Hvide now rule over a seriously large chunk of Baltic land, and the King of Denmark will be sweating bullets - it will not, however, mean instant or easy victories for Sjælland. The Baltic pagans still need to be Christianized and absorbed into the Danish realm!There are not currently plans to move the Hvide seat to those lands, for now they will be ruled by proxy from afar. Sjælland is still the centre of Hvide power and is treated as such.
Artell: Glad to hear it, this is my first time writing a scene like this so it was a completely new experience for me!
FlyingDutchie: Hvide now controls more land than the Knýtling clan, but the King rules over a strong Danish kingdom that can't be underestimated. Due to the religious turmoil and after-effects of the Crusade, Denmark is still wealthier and better armed than Sjælland.
Enewald: Stettin has been under German control for years and is a relatively stable place, it was chosen for the treaty due to its geographically central location (compared to the parties involved) and high accessability, while also being a "neutral" territory (i.e. captured).
RGB: The higher contrast was put in at your suggestion so I'm glad.
Rügen does hold out but Pryzbyslaw, dread enemy of the spawn of Knud, hasn't done much of anything all war. He just sits there and chills out.Vratislav was left completely behind in these negotiations and Brandenburg and Denmark are easily the biggest gainers. Poland gained what it wanted and is content with the terms, leaving them high dry and without a leg to stand on diplomatically.
The Griffins will definitely be a very important part of any future Hvide strategies. Nurturing a friendly power there will grant them much better lines of transportation between Baltia and Denmark, and if they aren't nurtured there's a risk of them falling under German or Polish sway - something the Hvide have every reason not to want.
The groundwork for further bickering is laid. I look forward to further Danish-Hvide clashes and I guess that in the end, the Hvide might very well either dethrone the Knytlings and take over all of Denmark, or leave Denmark and establish their own state in the Baltics.
A brief update to get me back into the writing and further some character development. It's not as long as the last one but I hope you like it. ^_^
Qorten: Lovely to see you again! I assure you the Hvide clan is well-set to bicker extensively and has very legitimate claims to a much larger chunk of the territory than they got. In CK terms, about 6 provinces were lost that should have been Hvide territory, for various reasons. I didn't play as optimally as I could have but allowing myself to take defeats and have setbacks makes the AAR more interesting.
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Chapter 37 – Night Falls over Søborg
5th of April, 1080 Anno Domini
Ernst scowled at the small figures dashing about. The adopted child of the Hvide clan was well-grown and fit, a fine example of Danish nobility in its progression. Over the years, he had shown himself to be of some intelligence, but foul-tempered and rarely viewed as a normal child. Despite that, he was adopted into the family because of his parents’ friendship with the Hvide, and Gro had seen to it that he received treatment and tutoring equal to nearly all of his peers.
All, that is, except for Harald Audensen.
“Look at the useless brat...look at the way everyone crowds around him...everyone loves him, pah! Why couldn’t they love me? Am I not a noble Dane as well, fit in my prime?” Ernst kicked a tree root. The arboreal cover that gave him shade in the courtyard of Søborg was in full bloom, swaying in the breeze gently and dropping the occasional fresh green leaf. The beauty was lost upon the brooding child, for in his jealousy he saw nothing but the back of the one he hated.
Harald Audensen had grown tall and strong, more than any of his kindred, and under the tutelage of Chieftain Harald of the Bragde clan had become a fierce, brave fighter. The Hvide Clan’s favourite child was now ten years old, leaving Ernst, his senior after 11 winters, without any love amongst their new family. Worse still, as much as Ernst tried to stand up to Harald and become his rival in all things, the younger boy was practically ignoring him!
No, lately in all contests it was Harald and Prince Jens who had come together in their own battles, struggling in game and contest to overcome the other, to be the fastest, the strongest and the smartest. Try as he might, Ernst was being left behind by the two, and he didn’t like it. Harald was as tall as him and stronger to boot, Jens was faster and smarter, and both of them viewed him as little more than an irritation.
How, then, was he to fix this? That was the dilemma that tore Ernst’s mind asunder this day, the constant deliberation on what would put a stop to the ignorance of his peers. He needed to prove himself a man worthy of the Hvide name. After all, at his age, proving his manhood was a real concern. How would the others be able to look upon him with awe, and how could he live up to the expectations of his dead parents?
Ernst remembered nothing of the fire, not as such, but when that night came to mind, his imagination ran wild with images of death and ash, and of the soot-covered hero who rescued him. His hero, the tall man who accompanied his foster mother wherever she went – Connor O’Reilly from the land of Scots beyond the sea. The Scot had taught him a great deal about fighting, and Gro had taught him much about the world. That was perhaps his one consolation in life – where Harald was groomed by mother’s nurses and tutors, he was taught by her and her closest alone.
A smile crept onto Ernst's face as the sun slowly crept towards the horizon. He was going to show everyone just what he was made of. It was time Harald took him seriously; he was just as worthy of praise and attention as the others. He crept forward, thinking to act immediately, before catching himself - this was not the right place, not with everyone looking. He needed to pick the right time to strike, if he wanted to do this seriously. Turning, he rushed to the castle doors, paying no heed to those he passed and in turn passing under their notice. This plan was going to require more preparation than just one night. He ran past the strange men walking through the gates, not giving them a second thought.
Harald Audensen gave the entourage entering the castle a strange look. Their hair was dark and their faces strange to him, unlike the pale-skinned Danes who remained prevalent throughout the land. They walked with wide, uncertain steps, and looked around at the castle, nodding appreciatively. Søborg had prospered since the end of the war, and was in fine repair – as capital of the Hvide family, it was the most important castle in Sjælland and settlement around the stately fortification had grown in size. The castle was regularly bustling and he knew his uncle had plans to expand the castle beyond its current state, to raise the walls and rebuild them.
These men were clearly impressed, but Harald was not sure who they were. They were obviously not Danes, nor Norwegians nor Swedes. Perhaps Germans, he thought, although they were usually similar to himself in appearance. It was not long before his uncle, with a grey mane and a wrinkled yet cheery face, was there to meet them. It was well known that Skjalm’s disposition had greatly improved over the last few years – his marriage with the Polish Jadwiga had produced two children, the older named Thyra, the younger Margrethe. Although neither were an heir for Skjalm’s lineage, having a child of any sort seemed enough for him.
Harald watched the two discuss from a safe distance, he could not make out any words but Skjalm seemed friendly with them. At last, his ears picked up the sound of footfalls behind him, the same catlike approach he had always come to expect from his maidservant.
“There’s no need to sneak about, Cecilie.” He stated bluntly without turning around.
His mentor smirked and stepped forward next to him. “You always manage to know when I’m sneaking up on you.”
Harald shrugged. “I guess it’s just something I’m good at. Who’s that?” He pointed at the strangers curiously.
Cecilie looked up at them, then back to Harald. “They’re the Aukshayts clan, Lithuanians from abroad. The Aukshayts cooperated with us and were granted sizeable land in the southeast for their loyalty, you might recall. They’re here to meet for the ting, and I expect we shall be seeing a great number more visitors within the week. I hear they are to discuss a new economic proposal that the Chancellor has come up with.”
Harald nodded, trying to remember. “This is about the nobles paying not to fight, right?”
“Aye, that’s the one.”
Harald scoffed. “Cowards...we’re a nation of warriors, why would they want to pay to get out of a fight? They should fight like heroes!”
“Most people are scared of death, and in war many people will die. For our wealthier vassals, it is a convenient option to be offered a chance out in exchange for money.” Cecilie sat down carefully, took a stick and started scratching down numbers. “This is the amount of debt the Hvide clan currently owns.”
Harald looked at the number, then frowned. It was big, but his lessons in numeracy were sufficient to understand the scope of it. “That’s a lot.”
The number was nothing less than 120,838 silver pfennings, such was the scope of their debt. Now a pfenning wasn’t worth as much as say, a coin of pure gold, but it was the main trade currency of the north and the scope was enormous to him.
“It’s worth noting...” Cecilie said as he considered it. “That this is just under half what we owed following the end of the Baltic Crusade. We have been somewhat lucky in our investors and the church paid a significant sum to Auden last year as part of an arrangement I am not privy to. It will still take another 6 years to pay off this debt, minimum. The duchy usually sees around 1,750 to 1,800 spare pfennings enter the coffers each month – how long will it take us to repay the debt if we spend nothing?”
Harald thought about this, then took the stick and started trying to figure it out. He started scratching numbers and trying to execute the masterful art of division. About halfway through, Cecilie helpfully pointed out that he had made a mistake, and guided him to the correct result. A few minutes later, he had a result he was happy with.
“At least 68 months which is...” he counted. “Almost 6 years!” He looked shocked. “I’ll be old before we have money again!”
Cecilie laughed. “Correct, very good. You’re learning quickly, and you’re only ten. Rest assured that you won’t feel old six years from now, but you will be a man, and your generation will be those who take full advantage of the state we have created in the east.”
Harald thought about this, then nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be Hertug by the time I’m sixteen, I promise!” He stood up with a proud grin and flexed his young muscles a bit, posing dramatically. “Harald Audensen, Chieftain of Hvide! Perhaps one day I will be King of Denmark, and I will go and reclaim Norway and then the crown of England! People will fear the name of the Danish again!”
Cecilie laughed and patted Harald on the shoulder. “Very good, I will expect great results, future King. Let us hear the name Harald the Great whispered alongside Alexander or Julius.”
Harald grinned. “You may think it’s funny, Cecilie, but I’m serious. When I am Hertug, I will make sure this Clan restores Denmark to her former state. You watch and see.”
Cecilie noted the confidence in his eye and his smile as well as his words. She noted ‘when I am Hertug’ and the way he seemed sure all obstacles would melt away. The real world was not so simple, but his drive and determination were admirable. She wished that she could share his methods.
Harald seemed to pause, then slowly turned and looked at Cecilie with a strange face. “Cecilie?”
Cecilie tilted her head curiously. “Yes, Harald?”
“...who are you, really?”
The maid seemed taken aback, and unsure what to say. There was a silence, then she shook her head. “I am your maid and advisor, master Harald.”
“I know that...but Cecilie isn’t your real name, is it? You have no past, no history, that anyone knows of. You seem to be nothing more than a commoner, yet you know everything. You understand everything. You’re more literate, more numerate than most of the court, you have knowledge of events seemingly before they happen, and yet you just...who are you? Is Cecilie actually your name or is it something else?” Harald looked at her firmly, his arms crossed. “You can trust me.”
His mentor stared for a moment, something flickering in her eyes, then she smiled. “Maybe when you’re a little older...it is not important right now. Focus on your studies.”
She turned and walked away, leaving Harald alone and contemplative. The young boy tried to figure out, there was certainly something different about Cecilie, and as far as he and anyone else could tell the woman was a pure genius, yet most of the court knew little if anything about her. He heard rumours from his uncle that she was actually a member of the disgraced Banner clan, or that she was a spy from the Knýtling courts in Odense.
“Harald!”
Harald turned and saw the smiling face of Ernst approaching him. “Oh, hi Ernst. What’s up?”
“All of us are going to play a game in the Great Hall, everyone wants you to come join in. Let’s go!”
Harald looked at Ernst for a moment, then smiled. “Okay, sounds fun!”
Qorten: Lovely to see you again! I assure you the Hvide clan is well-set to bicker extensively and has very legitimate claims to a much larger chunk of the territory than they got. In CK terms, about 6 provinces were lost that should have been Hvide territory, for various reasons. I didn't play as optimally as I could have but allowing myself to take defeats and have setbacks makes the AAR more interesting.
---- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Chapter 37 – Night Falls over Søborg
5th of April, 1080 Anno Domini
Ernst scowled at the small figures dashing about. The adopted child of the Hvide clan was well-grown and fit, a fine example of Danish nobility in its progression. Over the years, he had shown himself to be of some intelligence, but foul-tempered and rarely viewed as a normal child. Despite that, he was adopted into the family because of his parents’ friendship with the Hvide, and Gro had seen to it that he received treatment and tutoring equal to nearly all of his peers.
All, that is, except for Harald Audensen.
“Look at the useless brat...look at the way everyone crowds around him...everyone loves him, pah! Why couldn’t they love me? Am I not a noble Dane as well, fit in my prime?” Ernst kicked a tree root. The arboreal cover that gave him shade in the courtyard of Søborg was in full bloom, swaying in the breeze gently and dropping the occasional fresh green leaf. The beauty was lost upon the brooding child, for in his jealousy he saw nothing but the back of the one he hated.
Harald Audensen had grown tall and strong, more than any of his kindred, and under the tutelage of Chieftain Harald of the Bragde clan had become a fierce, brave fighter. The Hvide Clan’s favourite child was now ten years old, leaving Ernst, his senior after 11 winters, without any love amongst their new family. Worse still, as much as Ernst tried to stand up to Harald and become his rival in all things, the younger boy was practically ignoring him!
No, lately in all contests it was Harald and Prince Jens who had come together in their own battles, struggling in game and contest to overcome the other, to be the fastest, the strongest and the smartest. Try as he might, Ernst was being left behind by the two, and he didn’t like it. Harald was as tall as him and stronger to boot, Jens was faster and smarter, and both of them viewed him as little more than an irritation.
How, then, was he to fix this? That was the dilemma that tore Ernst’s mind asunder this day, the constant deliberation on what would put a stop to the ignorance of his peers. He needed to prove himself a man worthy of the Hvide name. After all, at his age, proving his manhood was a real concern. How would the others be able to look upon him with awe, and how could he live up to the expectations of his dead parents?
Ernst remembered nothing of the fire, not as such, but when that night came to mind, his imagination ran wild with images of death and ash, and of the soot-covered hero who rescued him. His hero, the tall man who accompanied his foster mother wherever she went – Connor O’Reilly from the land of Scots beyond the sea. The Scot had taught him a great deal about fighting, and Gro had taught him much about the world. That was perhaps his one consolation in life – where Harald was groomed by mother’s nurses and tutors, he was taught by her and her closest alone.
A smile crept onto Ernst's face as the sun slowly crept towards the horizon. He was going to show everyone just what he was made of. It was time Harald took him seriously; he was just as worthy of praise and attention as the others. He crept forward, thinking to act immediately, before catching himself - this was not the right place, not with everyone looking. He needed to pick the right time to strike, if he wanted to do this seriously. Turning, he rushed to the castle doors, paying no heed to those he passed and in turn passing under their notice. This plan was going to require more preparation than just one night. He ran past the strange men walking through the gates, not giving them a second thought.
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Harald Audensen gave the entourage entering the castle a strange look. Their hair was dark and their faces strange to him, unlike the pale-skinned Danes who remained prevalent throughout the land. They walked with wide, uncertain steps, and looked around at the castle, nodding appreciatively. Søborg had prospered since the end of the war, and was in fine repair – as capital of the Hvide family, it was the most important castle in Sjælland and settlement around the stately fortification had grown in size. The castle was regularly bustling and he knew his uncle had plans to expand the castle beyond its current state, to raise the walls and rebuild them.
These men were clearly impressed, but Harald was not sure who they were. They were obviously not Danes, nor Norwegians nor Swedes. Perhaps Germans, he thought, although they were usually similar to himself in appearance. It was not long before his uncle, with a grey mane and a wrinkled yet cheery face, was there to meet them. It was well known that Skjalm’s disposition had greatly improved over the last few years – his marriage with the Polish Jadwiga had produced two children, the older named Thyra, the younger Margrethe. Although neither were an heir for Skjalm’s lineage, having a child of any sort seemed enough for him.
Harald watched the two discuss from a safe distance, he could not make out any words but Skjalm seemed friendly with them. At last, his ears picked up the sound of footfalls behind him, the same catlike approach he had always come to expect from his maidservant.
“There’s no need to sneak about, Cecilie.” He stated bluntly without turning around.
His mentor smirked and stepped forward next to him. “You always manage to know when I’m sneaking up on you.”
Harald shrugged. “I guess it’s just something I’m good at. Who’s that?” He pointed at the strangers curiously.
Cecilie looked up at them, then back to Harald. “They’re the Aukshayts clan, Lithuanians from abroad. The Aukshayts cooperated with us and were granted sizeable land in the southeast for their loyalty, you might recall. They’re here to meet for the ting, and I expect we shall be seeing a great number more visitors within the week. I hear they are to discuss a new economic proposal that the Chancellor has come up with.”
Harald nodded, trying to remember. “This is about the nobles paying not to fight, right?”
“Aye, that’s the one.”
Harald scoffed. “Cowards...we’re a nation of warriors, why would they want to pay to get out of a fight? They should fight like heroes!”
“Most people are scared of death, and in war many people will die. For our wealthier vassals, it is a convenient option to be offered a chance out in exchange for money.” Cecilie sat down carefully, took a stick and started scratching down numbers. “This is the amount of debt the Hvide clan currently owns.”
Harald looked at the number, then frowned. It was big, but his lessons in numeracy were sufficient to understand the scope of it. “That’s a lot.”
The number was nothing less than 120,838 silver pfennings, such was the scope of their debt. Now a pfenning wasn’t worth as much as say, a coin of pure gold, but it was the main trade currency of the north and the scope was enormous to him.
“It’s worth noting...” Cecilie said as he considered it. “That this is just under half what we owed following the end of the Baltic Crusade. We have been somewhat lucky in our investors and the church paid a significant sum to Auden last year as part of an arrangement I am not privy to. It will still take another 6 years to pay off this debt, minimum. The duchy usually sees around 1,750 to 1,800 spare pfennings enter the coffers each month – how long will it take us to repay the debt if we spend nothing?”
Harald thought about this, then took the stick and started trying to figure it out. He started scratching numbers and trying to execute the masterful art of division. About halfway through, Cecilie helpfully pointed out that he had made a mistake, and guided him to the correct result. A few minutes later, he had a result he was happy with.
“At least 68 months which is...” he counted. “Almost 6 years!” He looked shocked. “I’ll be old before we have money again!”
Cecilie laughed. “Correct, very good. You’re learning quickly, and you’re only ten. Rest assured that you won’t feel old six years from now, but you will be a man, and your generation will be those who take full advantage of the state we have created in the east.”
Harald thought about this, then nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be Hertug by the time I’m sixteen, I promise!” He stood up with a proud grin and flexed his young muscles a bit, posing dramatically. “Harald Audensen, Chieftain of Hvide! Perhaps one day I will be King of Denmark, and I will go and reclaim Norway and then the crown of England! People will fear the name of the Danish again!”
Cecilie laughed and patted Harald on the shoulder. “Very good, I will expect great results, future King. Let us hear the name Harald the Great whispered alongside Alexander or Julius.”
Harald grinned. “You may think it’s funny, Cecilie, but I’m serious. When I am Hertug, I will make sure this Clan restores Denmark to her former state. You watch and see.”
Cecilie noted the confidence in his eye and his smile as well as his words. She noted ‘when I am Hertug’ and the way he seemed sure all obstacles would melt away. The real world was not so simple, but his drive and determination were admirable. She wished that she could share his methods.
Harald seemed to pause, then slowly turned and looked at Cecilie with a strange face. “Cecilie?”
Cecilie tilted her head curiously. “Yes, Harald?”
“...who are you, really?”
The maid seemed taken aback, and unsure what to say. There was a silence, then she shook her head. “I am your maid and advisor, master Harald.”
“I know that...but Cecilie isn’t your real name, is it? You have no past, no history, that anyone knows of. You seem to be nothing more than a commoner, yet you know everything. You understand everything. You’re more literate, more numerate than most of the court, you have knowledge of events seemingly before they happen, and yet you just...who are you? Is Cecilie actually your name or is it something else?” Harald looked at her firmly, his arms crossed. “You can trust me.”
His mentor stared for a moment, something flickering in her eyes, then she smiled. “Maybe when you’re a little older...it is not important right now. Focus on your studies.”
She turned and walked away, leaving Harald alone and contemplative. The young boy tried to figure out, there was certainly something different about Cecilie, and as far as he and anyone else could tell the woman was a pure genius, yet most of the court knew little if anything about her. He heard rumours from his uncle that she was actually a member of the disgraced Banner clan, or that she was a spy from the Knýtling courts in Odense.
“Harald!”
Harald turned and saw the smiling face of Ernst approaching him. “Oh, hi Ernst. What’s up?”
“All of us are going to play a game in the Great Hall, everyone wants you to come join in. Let’s go!”
Harald looked at Ernst for a moment, then smiled. “Okay, sounds fun!”
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Nooooo Harald No! Don't follow Ernst! He's up to no good - focus on conquering England instead!
6 years repayment? Easily remedied with some intense viking-ing. I know you got the Meh Slavic lands, but they do have potential in the long run.
Nice re-enactor pics!
6 years repayment? Easily remedied with some intense viking-ing. I know you got the Meh Slavic lands, but they do have potential in the long run.
Nice re-enactor pics!
Ernst is preparing a knife? Check. Harald walking into the trap like a sheep? Check. A slaughter about to begin? I'm not sure.
Ernst is going to try to make his stand, it appears. I doubt it'll lead to actual bloodshed (I didn't detect a murderous intent in his thoughts), but something tells me Harald is about to be supremely embarrassed--and in the high stakes gave of being a noble, that can be just as bad...
Ernst is going to try to make his stand, it appears. I doubt it'll lead to actual bloodshed (I didn't detect a murderous intent in his thoughts), but something tells me Harald is about to be supremely embarrassed--and in the high stakes gave of being a noble, that can be just as bad...
Ooh, another Saithis update! I always enjoy reading of your supremely... effervescent Hvide clan.
By the way, that picture you used for the Aukshayts looks vaguely familiar to me. Where's it from?
I always enjoy reading of your supremely... effervescent Hvide clan.By the way, that picture you used for the Aukshayts looks vaguely familiar to me. Where's it from?
That is a delicate and wonderful scene, the core of this update. It was private and focused enough that it enforced a sort of tunnel vision, blackening out the preceding conspiratorial wretchedness; so successfully, I think, that the second part of the bookends of Ernst's plotting felt unexpected, and harkened back to the first part quite well. The comment on age remains the best for me, though. There's something touching about six years. Seven is what they say is long enough for a person to visibly change and grow older. I suspect if Harald survives Ernst (and he is foreshadowed to either prosper or have his potential shattered, so who knows) he will have many moments where five, six, seven years down the line will be within the scope of his plotting, a time frame within which he will anticipate retaining his vigor, but during which he will finally grow old each and every time.
Nice update. I like short updates so I liked this one especially.
RGB: Ernst, up to no good? Nonsense, he's innocence itself! I didn't get the best pieces of slavic land but I managed to grab some pretty good ones. Mecklemburg is pretty rich, and Memel/Sambia can hold their own. IIRC the province of Zhmud is also very decent. A lot of it is worthless, though, I will admit.
General_BT: We'll just have to see how it goes. Live or die, Harald is likely going to learn a few things he didn't want to know.
AlexanderPrimus: Nice to see you again, I always enjoy getting comments from you! I'm not sure where the Aukshayts picture is from, I believe it's just a random re-enactor picture I found somewhere on the net, but I can't tell you its origin other than I had it listed as 'russianreenactors'.
Enewald: Such witchcraft is a dangerous power to wield, but if Harald can master it he will be greatly advantaged.
phargle: My god, he's back from the dead. How long as it been since you posted? I'm glad you liked the update, the relationship between Harald and Cecilie is very important and in some ways she's more of a mother figure than Gro is, being the primary caregiver and teacher in his life. It's also a relationship that the impetuous future King of England is unlikely to forget, whether it's six or fifty-six years from now.
---- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Chapter 38 – Treacherous Black
5th of April, 1080 Anno Domini
Harald crept through the shadows, looking for the rest of them. Jens was here too, along with Hemming, Erik and Ernst who organized the whole thing. The halls were dark, lit by flickering torchlight or the occasional beam of moonlight. Rough grey stone twisted and turned in a labyrinth of corridors, yet the boys knew each twist and turn and every hiding place – or so they liked to think. Harald was the best at this game. Every boy but one would hide; the other would count and then come look for them – a simple but exciting task, for him.
Yet, for some reason, he could not find them. Try as he might, push as he might, they were just...gone. Given his usual track record of success, this perturbed him. Were they cheating? Had they broken the rules? As the young Dane explored, checking every nook and cranny, his ears listening for any subtle sound, he just failed to pick up anything more than the occasional distant conversation, echoing from the Great Hall. The Great Hall...he hadn’t checked there yet, he supposed – it was a place for adults at times like this, but that wasn’t likely to stop Jens or Ernst.
He rushed through the halls, ducking past a servant and ignoring her startled look. Finding his way to the door, he crept up to it and peered through the crack. There were many people in attendance of this meeting, and he could hear the sounds of conversation filter out into the hall, giving him plenty to listen to. He squinted through the thin hole and could barely see his uncle, and his father, sitting side by side at the head of the tables.
“-is no doubt in my mind, Auctune, that your claims are true. What I am not sure is what you expect us to do about it.” Auden declared, casting an annoyed gaze to a figure beyond Harald’s sight.
A heavily accented German voice rang back proudly, “It is simple, your grace. The Ordenmarschall may have seized control of much of the order with Johann’s death, but he is not invincible, nor do all men follow him out of loyalty. Fear keeps them in line, but as Großkomtur of the Order, I was to be appointed. Heinrich could not stand the possibility of losing power, and now he seeks to use Truso for his own benefit!”
Skjalm sighed visibly. “You are asking a weary people to go back to war, when we have had peace for so long. What benefit do you expect the Hvide clan to gain from this, Großkomtur? Will this pay our debts or settle the painful process of Christianization that is sweeping through the Baltic?”
“Nay, my good Hertug...” The Teuton’s voice was audibly frustrated. “But I tell you now, if we destroy Heinrich and his loyalists, my fellow brethren will be free of internal dispute, and I will become the new Hochmeister of the Knights. I would be forever indebted to you...”
From the back, Harald had not yet recognized the frame of Harald Bragde, but it shifted noticeably. It was however, his own vassal and cousin, Abel Bragde, who spoke up. “As Greve of Scalovia, it will be my men who are first to battle if we go to war against the Order. This affects my people directly, but you give nothing but promises. My men already struggle to control the peasantry, how much more pressure would you put on them?”
“I...Hertug Skjalm, I implore you to assist. I would swear the fealty of the order to the Hvide, if that was what it was required to maintain the purity of my Order. I swear by my sword, I would see to it that we loyally defend Sjælland and all her domains. Truso was rightfully yours, and yours it would become again under Teutonic supervision.”
Skjalm’s wrinkled face allowed its eyes to narrow. “Then do so, here and now, in the presence of our scribe and of all these men of Sjælland. Pledge your allegiance to the Chieftain of the Hvide Clan, and you will have your aid, Hochmeister. We will see to i-“
There was a great crashing sound that echoed through the halls, the enormous thud overtaking even the sound of the intense discussion. Harald jumped instinctually and something collided with his head. Dizziness overtook him and he stumbled a bit, falling to the floor. His head swam for a moment, his vision blurred and shifted in and out. He saw...something ...rocks? And he felt...something had grabbed his arm. He shook his wet head and tried to figure out where he was.
“Harald, what happened?” A voice rang through his confused head, and he tried to stand up properly, but crumpled to his knees, barely able to tell what was what. “Ernst! What happened here?”
Harald’s vision refocused a little and he saw through a single, bleary eye the form of Ernst. He felt a strong arm holding him up and dabbing at his head with a cloth of some kind. He touched his face and the fingers came away red, blood flowing from an open wound in his head. What on earth had happened?
“Harald said he was angry because no one was paying attention to him, he said he was gonna break it!” Ernst said, sounding shocked. All at once, Harald’s senses sharpened, his eye narrowed and his muscles tightened.
His vision looked to what it was. A sculptured stone, one of the nicest pieces of art the Hvide had collected. He recognized it, it was new and of his uncle, carved in his honour – it held his face carved into its stone, and many details of the successes of the Baltic Crusade. It now lay in several pieces, its relatively thin cross-shape broken upon impact with the floor. Opposite was a shredded remain of what had once been a small tapestry that depicted one of the battles of the Baltic Crusade. How had these been destroyed, he hadn’t done it...
“It’s true, aunt, I saw him do it!” Another voice piped up. It was Jens, his cousin and Prince of Denmark. Another liar, and an equally good actor. Rage boiled in Harald’s heart at this betrayal.
“Harald!” Gro sounded infuriated.
“It’s not true, they’re lying!” He snapped. “STOP LYING!”
The young Audensen boy struggled and tried to escape his mother’s vicelike grip, but she had him firmly under control and he was neither tall nor old enough to escape her. “I didn’t do this, they did it! They’re trying to pick on me!”
“That’s enough, Harald! You’ve interrupted a most important meeting with your antics, and your actions embarrass our clan! Such selfishness will not go unpunished.” Auden’s voice was steely and stern, as any father should be.
“But they’re lying, father! I never did such a thing! I didn’t do it!” His protests refused to cease, and he struggled with blind rage, heedless of his bleeding and furious at the other two boys. He would make them pay for this. He had done nothing to them, he was always their friend, and this was how they treated him? If he got his hands on them, he’d give them a beating they would never forget!
“Enough of this!” Auden snapped. “Cecilie, take Harald to his chambers. I will discuss your punishment later, my son.”
Cecilie took over, her arms no less strong than Gro’s, and Harald continued to kick and yell in fury, desperate to exact his revenge. He caught a glimpse through a bleary eye of Ernst’s cruel smile, before the nursemaid had carried him off. Tears ran from his eyes and mixed with blood, the adrenaline rush starting to fade in place of exhaustion and intense pain. His head was cut pretty badly, he thought, and he could hardly open his other eye. Yet still he didn’t calm until the whispering voice of his mentor reached him.
“This is not the time. Come with me, I will take care of you. Revenge is something that must be planned properly, lest you only make things worse for yourself.”
Harald’s kicks slowed at the voice, then stopped. He tried his best to keep a stiff, strong face, but the tears flowed involuntarily, such was the pain – not just pain of his wounds but pain of his betrayal. One of his fists clenched tightly. Those two were going to pay for this, he would make sure of it – Harald Audensen Hvide would not be betrayed so lightly.
Skjalm nodded to the man kneeling at his feet, then made an upwards motion with his hand. “Arise, Hochmeister Auctune von Marienburg. You have sworn your oaths of fealty, from henceforth the Hochmeister of the Knights Teutonic answers to the Hvide Clan, and his council shall be valued as a part of our state. Truso shall be his domain upon its recapture from the pretender Heinrich von Staufen, and his people shall be defeated, but so too shall you be titled Prince of the County of Marienburg, such as the Empire admitted you, and your people will unite under the one banner.”
Auctune picked himself up and brought his clenched fist to his chest in salute. “Then it is done.”
Skjalm gestured to the Bragde clan. “Abel, you will lead your Scalovian armies to Labguva, where you shall rendezvous with an army led by Marshall Harald Ribbing. Auctune shall go with you, and take command of part of Ribbing’s army. Together you will retake Truso and Marienburg Castle and re-establish Auctune as rightful successor to Johann. Hvide will have another war.”
General_BT: We'll just have to see how it goes. Live or die, Harald is likely going to learn a few things he didn't want to know.
AlexanderPrimus: Nice to see you again, I always enjoy getting comments from you! I'm not sure where the Aukshayts picture is from, I believe it's just a random re-enactor picture I found somewhere on the net, but I can't tell you its origin other than I had it listed as 'russianreenactors'.
Enewald: Such witchcraft is a dangerous power to wield, but if Harald can master it he will be greatly advantaged.
phargle: My god, he's back from the dead. How long as it been since you posted? I'm glad you liked the update, the relationship between Harald and Cecilie is very important and in some ways she's more of a mother figure than Gro is, being the primary caregiver and teacher in his life. It's also a relationship that the impetuous future King of England is unlikely to forget, whether it's six or fifty-six years from now.
---- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Chapter 38 – Treacherous Black
5th of April, 1080 Anno Domini
Harald crept through the shadows, looking for the rest of them. Jens was here too, along with Hemming, Erik and Ernst who organized the whole thing. The halls were dark, lit by flickering torchlight or the occasional beam of moonlight. Rough grey stone twisted and turned in a labyrinth of corridors, yet the boys knew each twist and turn and every hiding place – or so they liked to think. Harald was the best at this game. Every boy but one would hide; the other would count and then come look for them – a simple but exciting task, for him.
Yet, for some reason, he could not find them. Try as he might, push as he might, they were just...gone. Given his usual track record of success, this perturbed him. Were they cheating? Had they broken the rules? As the young Dane explored, checking every nook and cranny, his ears listening for any subtle sound, he just failed to pick up anything more than the occasional distant conversation, echoing from the Great Hall. The Great Hall...he hadn’t checked there yet, he supposed – it was a place for adults at times like this, but that wasn’t likely to stop Jens or Ernst.
He rushed through the halls, ducking past a servant and ignoring her startled look. Finding his way to the door, he crept up to it and peered through the crack. There were many people in attendance of this meeting, and he could hear the sounds of conversation filter out into the hall, giving him plenty to listen to. He squinted through the thin hole and could barely see his uncle, and his father, sitting side by side at the head of the tables.
“-is no doubt in my mind, Auctune, that your claims are true. What I am not sure is what you expect us to do about it.” Auden declared, casting an annoyed gaze to a figure beyond Harald’s sight.
A heavily accented German voice rang back proudly, “It is simple, your grace. The Ordenmarschall may have seized control of much of the order with Johann’s death, but he is not invincible, nor do all men follow him out of loyalty. Fear keeps them in line, but as Großkomtur of the Order, I was to be appointed. Heinrich could not stand the possibility of losing power, and now he seeks to use Truso for his own benefit!”
Skjalm sighed visibly. “You are asking a weary people to go back to war, when we have had peace for so long. What benefit do you expect the Hvide clan to gain from this, Großkomtur? Will this pay our debts or settle the painful process of Christianization that is sweeping through the Baltic?”
“Nay, my good Hertug...” The Teuton’s voice was audibly frustrated. “But I tell you now, if we destroy Heinrich and his loyalists, my fellow brethren will be free of internal dispute, and I will become the new Hochmeister of the Knights. I would be forever indebted to you...”
From the back, Harald had not yet recognized the frame of Harald Bragde, but it shifted noticeably. It was however, his own vassal and cousin, Abel Bragde, who spoke up. “As Greve of Scalovia, it will be my men who are first to battle if we go to war against the Order. This affects my people directly, but you give nothing but promises. My men already struggle to control the peasantry, how much more pressure would you put on them?”
“I...Hertug Skjalm, I implore you to assist. I would swear the fealty of the order to the Hvide, if that was what it was required to maintain the purity of my Order. I swear by my sword, I would see to it that we loyally defend Sjælland and all her domains. Truso was rightfully yours, and yours it would become again under Teutonic supervision.”
Skjalm’s wrinkled face allowed its eyes to narrow. “Then do so, here and now, in the presence of our scribe and of all these men of Sjælland. Pledge your allegiance to the Chieftain of the Hvide Clan, and you will have your aid, Hochmeister. We will see to i-“
There was a great crashing sound that echoed through the halls, the enormous thud overtaking even the sound of the intense discussion. Harald jumped instinctually and something collided with his head. Dizziness overtook him and he stumbled a bit, falling to the floor. His head swam for a moment, his vision blurred and shifted in and out. He saw...something ...rocks? And he felt...something had grabbed his arm. He shook his wet head and tried to figure out where he was.
“Harald, what happened?” A voice rang through his confused head, and he tried to stand up properly, but crumpled to his knees, barely able to tell what was what. “Ernst! What happened here?”
Harald’s vision refocused a little and he saw through a single, bleary eye the form of Ernst. He felt a strong arm holding him up and dabbing at his head with a cloth of some kind. He touched his face and the fingers came away red, blood flowing from an open wound in his head. What on earth had happened?
“Harald said he was angry because no one was paying attention to him, he said he was gonna break it!” Ernst said, sounding shocked. All at once, Harald’s senses sharpened, his eye narrowed and his muscles tightened.
His vision looked to what it was. A sculptured stone, one of the nicest pieces of art the Hvide had collected. He recognized it, it was new and of his uncle, carved in his honour – it held his face carved into its stone, and many details of the successes of the Baltic Crusade. It now lay in several pieces, its relatively thin cross-shape broken upon impact with the floor. Opposite was a shredded remain of what had once been a small tapestry that depicted one of the battles of the Baltic Crusade. How had these been destroyed, he hadn’t done it...
“It’s true, aunt, I saw him do it!” Another voice piped up. It was Jens, his cousin and Prince of Denmark. Another liar, and an equally good actor. Rage boiled in Harald’s heart at this betrayal.
“Harald!” Gro sounded infuriated.
“It’s not true, they’re lying!” He snapped. “STOP LYING!”
The young Audensen boy struggled and tried to escape his mother’s vicelike grip, but she had him firmly under control and he was neither tall nor old enough to escape her. “I didn’t do this, they did it! They’re trying to pick on me!”
“That’s enough, Harald! You’ve interrupted a most important meeting with your antics, and your actions embarrass our clan! Such selfishness will not go unpunished.” Auden’s voice was steely and stern, as any father should be.
“But they’re lying, father! I never did such a thing! I didn’t do it!” His protests refused to cease, and he struggled with blind rage, heedless of his bleeding and furious at the other two boys. He would make them pay for this. He had done nothing to them, he was always their friend, and this was how they treated him? If he got his hands on them, he’d give them a beating they would never forget!
“Enough of this!” Auden snapped. “Cecilie, take Harald to his chambers. I will discuss your punishment later, my son.”
Cecilie took over, her arms no less strong than Gro’s, and Harald continued to kick and yell in fury, desperate to exact his revenge. He caught a glimpse through a bleary eye of Ernst’s cruel smile, before the nursemaid had carried him off. Tears ran from his eyes and mixed with blood, the adrenaline rush starting to fade in place of exhaustion and intense pain. His head was cut pretty badly, he thought, and he could hardly open his other eye. Yet still he didn’t calm until the whispering voice of his mentor reached him.
“This is not the time. Come with me, I will take care of you. Revenge is something that must be planned properly, lest you only make things worse for yourself.”
Harald’s kicks slowed at the voice, then stopped. He tried his best to keep a stiff, strong face, but the tears flowed involuntarily, such was the pain – not just pain of his wounds but pain of his betrayal. One of his fists clenched tightly. Those two were going to pay for this, he would make sure of it – Harald Audensen Hvide would not be betrayed so lightly.
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Skjalm nodded to the man kneeling at his feet, then made an upwards motion with his hand. “Arise, Hochmeister Auctune von Marienburg. You have sworn your oaths of fealty, from henceforth the Hochmeister of the Knights Teutonic answers to the Hvide Clan, and his council shall be valued as a part of our state. Truso shall be his domain upon its recapture from the pretender Heinrich von Staufen, and his people shall be defeated, but so too shall you be titled Prince of the County of Marienburg, such as the Empire admitted you, and your people will unite under the one banner.”
Auctune picked himself up and brought his clenched fist to his chest in salute. “Then it is done.”
Skjalm gestured to the Bragde clan. “Abel, you will lead your Scalovian armies to Labguva, where you shall rendezvous with an army led by Marshall Harald Ribbing. Auctune shall go with you, and take command of part of Ribbing’s army. Together you will retake Truso and Marienburg Castle and re-establish Auctune as rightful successor to Johann. Hvide will have another war.”
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This portion of the narrative reminds me of Dragondrums, a book with a young male hero who is picked on by his enemies. the end of that story is success, not vengeance, but Harald seems positioned to do both. With C as his mentor, there's a bit of a darkness to that portion. I also liked the narrative device of using a keyhole to show Harald what was going on, because that also used the keyhole to show us what was going on. It almost made me wish that second had been briefer to highlight the form-function snapshot of peeking through. I also wonder why the grossduder gave in so easily; he must have everything to gain and nothing to lose. For the Hvide, for whom the opposite may be true, the prize must be quite valuable for war to be an option.
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Revenge is a dish best served suddenly.
The boys' plot probably unsettled Auden, I'm thinking. There's no immediate benefit in going to war, but decisions aren't always taken completely rationally.
The boys' plot probably unsettled Auden, I'm thinking. There's no immediate benefit in going to war, but decisions aren't always taken completely rationally.
Not all is well in the family it seems. Guess the Hvides are just as backstabbing as the average medieval family in CK.
For the sake of the future Hvide Clan, I hope the boy's squabbles get settled before they can add huscarls and armies to their tussles...
Not all is well in the family it seems. Guess the Hvides are just as backstabbing as the average medieval family in CK.
Enewald: I have had that same thought in mind but this is how it went, sadly. Perhaps later.
Phargle: One of the Pern books I haven't read! I always manage to forget about that series and then someone brings it up. I liked the keyhole presentation and you can expect more information to drop here and there through the eyes of the children. Control of Truso is rather important as its developing into an important settlement on the Baltic and extends Danish influence closer to the homeland, which is the justification. The wisdom of the act, on the other hand...
RGB: Harald will definitely have his revenge, and the boys are definitely impacting politics more than they would ever think/expect in their actions. Ernst's plot was disruptive to the meeting and a mild embarrassment for the Hvide, and you can be sure that impacted their decision-making!
FlyingDutchie: I never pretended that the family is one of saints - Skjalm is a pretty nice guy, that's about it.
General_BT: Indeed, that is the worry. Civil war is the last thing Sjælland needs right now!
---- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Chapter 39 – Pain and Celebration
12th of December, 1080 Anno Domini
Tufts of snow wafted across the landscape, the white landscape was only marred by the steady march of the soldiers over the hills. Only a core contingent of the forces were actually Danish, consisting mainly of local huskarls from the Bragde clan and some veteran professional soldiers from the Crusades. In the winter it was hard to immediately spot, but through the poor visibility, Harald Ribbing at last spotted their opponents. The Teutonic Order, garbed in their white and black uniforms, blended well with the snow but were in such a massive group that even in this mess he could see them.
“They’ve brought quite a fighting force. It seems Heinrich will not easily give up his power, will he?” Harald said to the other two leaders of the Danish force. Auctune von Marienburg and Abel Nielsen Bragde showed determined faces despite the bitter cold that bit at their rosy cheeks. This was a nightmarish situation for a battle, but Auctune had insisted they move forward as soon as possible. The camp would be made upon this hill in the evening, and barring poor weather, they would make their way down to confront the Teutons in the morning.
“What do you think, how many are there?” Abel said to Auctune, who would know best of any of them.
“It looks like they’ve brought most of the order’s fighting capacity; pushed to a guess, I would say around 200 of the RitterBrudern and another 600 DiendeBrudern and Levied men. They will form a defensive line and expect us to attack, with the advantage on their side – that is how Heinrich likes to fight.”
The Hochmeister’s face wrinkled in disappointment. “I had hoped that fewer of my brothers would come.” His eyes swept over the knightly banners in the distance. “Very well then, let that be the end of it...”
“Look, the lights of the castle! We are back at Søborg at long last!” Harald grinned in delight. They had just returned from their trip to Roskilde. Harald Audensen had a cheeky grin on his face and puffy red cheeks. Alongside him rode his mother and father, along with a number of huskarls and Jens Knýtling.
Though the sun dipped down over the horizon, they could see their destination clearly ahead of them. Harald felt full of energy as they entered the courtyard. Home was always a pleasant place to be, and Søborg more pleasant than most (in his eyes). The cold white which blanketed the land in its icy embrace was not without pleasure – indeed, while perhaps commoners might fear it for the pain it brought them, Harald remained blissfully free of its dangers and his childish naïveté saw the snow as something beautiful to look forward to.
It was not surprising, then, that as he rode forward into the courtyard of Søborg under the watchful eye of his riding instructor, that he remained blissfully unaware of the sombre looks that greeted him. He dropped down out of his saddle and laughed, turning to wave at his parents with a cheeky grin. Without any help, he had made that trip on horseback, and his pride was practically bursting from the seams. “I made it, father!”
Auden returned his waves with a silent nod of approval, before riding up to the waiting figures. Unlike his son, his eyes gauged the mood at a glance, and his mild expression wrinkled into a deep frown. “What is going on? Where is my brother?”
One of the court stood forward and looked at Auden frankly. “You come back to meet grave tidings my lord – the Chieftain’s wife is dead.”
Auden’s frown did not fade. “Dead? Heavens...how has this happened?”
“Duchess Jadwiga gave birth to a son three nights prior, but the strain was too great and she perished giving the child life.”
“I see.” The bishop straightened his back and looked around the courtyard, then sighed. “Where has my brother gone? I must speak with him.”
“He has sealed himself inside Søborg chapel. He will speak to no one.”
Auden turned and without a further word he rode back out of the castle, seeking the chapel outside its walls. Gro removed herself from her horse with all the dainty grace of a princess, unbound by her age or by the many children she had now borne for her husband. Harald approached his mother with a concerned gaze, he understood but did not understand what was going on.
“Mother, uncle is sad, isn’t he? But I have a new cousin, isn’t this a good thing? He has wanted a son for some time.”
Svendsdatter gave her son a long look, then sighed. “It is not so simple, Harald. Skjalm was content with his first child Thyra. Now he has had Margrethe by Jadwiga, and now finally a son, but he would not have asked a son in exchange for his wife. He had grown to love her, I believe, such was the softness of his heart – that departure will likely have broken him as much as it broke him when Signe left.” Her eye twitched at the mention of the Hertug’s former wife.
“What’s the boy’s name?” Harald asked. Gro looked at him, then at the court. “Well?”
“Ah...it is Odon, your highness. I do not know why he chose it.”
Gro scoffed. “I do, the sentimental man is honouring a dead friend. Odon was to be the name of Asbjørn’s son, before his wife died. I suppose this is Skjalm’s way of giving Asbjørn his peace.”
Harald thought about this for a moment, then shrugged. “It seems like a nice gesture to me. Friendship is a very important thing, after all. It binds men together, and means more than just empty words or agreements.”
“You can’t trust friends.” Gro looked away. “The only person you can trust is yourself.”
“That seems like a rather lonely way to live...” Harald thought to himself under his breath. He wouldn’t give up on friends; he just had to find better ones than Jens and Ernst. He would prove his mother, Cecilie and anyone else who told him just how wrong they were.
Across the snowy vale, the morning sun shone down brightly from a blue sky, reflecting from the white layer in a nearly blinding amount of light. This did nothing to stop the snow from turning to mud and chaos intermixed with blood as men fought over a dispute between two men. Most of the warriors were balts – Lithuanians, Prussians and Sambians who fought at the beck and call of their German and Danish masters. They cared little for the dispute, but their job was to fight nonetheless.
While Danish Leidang were usually superior to German levies, in this case the quality of fighting men was closer to equal, and while the numbers were in favour of the Danish army the Teutons had an advantage in the quality of their elite core. The Hochmeister by force, Heinrich von Wettin, a distant cousin of the Emperor who held more loyalty to the Empire, led his brethren into battle. The rightfully elected Hochmeister, Auctune von Marienburg, led a contingent of Sambians on the Danish left flank, but found himself frustrated by the strong defensive tactics of the Teutonic Order.
As men cut each other down and spears clashed in the middle, the elite RidderBrudern were taking part in a massacre which even the Danish huskarls were struggling to cope with on this day. Five minutes later, a cry of panic went up and the right flank collapsed and dissipated; they made a full retreat, leaving their comrades outflanked and soon to be outnumbered. The cries rode across the battlefield that Abel Bragde, Greve of Scalovia, was slain. Without much hope of repairing this tactical position, Harald Bragde gritted his teeth, then called for the retreat. There was no further way to achieve victory, and he needed to preserve what he had before the Danes suffered a further defeat.
“Retreat! Fly from this place!” They fled in force, leaving many behind. The Knights were heavily armoured, however, and could not keep up with the lighter Danish forces, nor did they see the need to – they had defeated Sjælland’s armies despite being outnumbered. Celebration was the order of the day, and the Germans burst into raucous cries of delight, letting their weapons and shields clash and roaring at the Bragde Clan’s retreating forces.
Bragde turned on his horse and glared at the Germans, before returning to the flight. Skjalm would be greatly displeased by this news, but he had not given up yet. The Bragde clan would not give up on their mission so easily, nor would they let this opportunity to craft a powerful ally in the Teutonic Order slip through their fingers.
The celebrations were in good fashion, a grand feast had been called and Skjalm had paid for it out of his own pocket. Every Dane, common or noble, had been invited to partake in this great celebration of Sjælland’s success and glory in the crusades. While he had been somewhat criticized for calling this expensive feast during a time of monetary troubles, Skjalm had waved away their concerns and simply explained that “the money will come.”
The effect on the populace, however, was very immediately obvious. People danced and laughed in joy, drinking and eating to their heart’s content. Søborg and its environs were a place of merriment where everyone could unite in their happiness and content. But not all was well, and not all were enjoying the party as they should for while even as you may put friends alongside each other, inevitably enemies will find one another in the crowds as well.
And so Harald’s gaze fell upon his target, the lone figure of Ernst, hiding behind a tent. Although Harald was a year younger, he was as big as his rival and perhaps even stronger. While Ernst spent all his days reading and plotting, Harald spent his days fighting and learning the arts of war. During his nights, too, Harald studied with Cecilie and strove to become a scholar as much as a leader, and he had become quite clever to boot. Harald rightly viewed himself as superior to the snivelling little whelp that had called him friend then stabbed him in the back.
Ernst didn’t see him coming until it was too late. Harald Audensen’s strong hands grabbed the boy’s shoulders and turned him around. Ernst yelped a bit but his cry was drowned out by the sound of the crowded courtyard. Harald drew him close with a strong, fierce glare, fire burning in his eyes. Ernst was held up by the collar of his tunic, and his anger was so hot that Ernst could not help but cower in spite of a year of age in his advantage.
“H-Harald...”
“Your luck has run up, you cowardly little whelp.” He tightened his grip, lifting the boy up onto his tippy-toes. He tensed, prepared to strike, when something caught his attention. His mother, Gro, looking from the tables in their direction. Could she see them, even in this darkness? Someone would probably notice if Ernst made enough noise, and he didn’t want to be caught. Sneaking around beating Ernst up would not do much for his stature, he needed to prove his superiority, after all, to truly embarrass his rival in a way that he wouldn’t be able to recover from.
“I’m not done with you, nor will I ever forget what you have done. But you’re not worth it to beat up, that’s too clever for you. I will make sure the whole world sees what a coward and weakling you are, Ernst Pedersen. The Hvide will regret ever taking you into their midst, I swear it.”
Harald Audensen threw his rival into the muddy ground, then turned and walked back into the light, a friendly smile on his face. He knew what to do now, it was time he found real, meaningful revenge. Ernst would pay for that day at the Great Hall.
Harald stopped in his tracks, then turned and looked, his mouth left slightly open. “Who was that?” He thought to himself.
He caught another glimpse through the crowd, a young lady, who looked to be around his age. She was tall, fair-haired and had a smile like an angel. Her cheeks were puffy and bright and her eyes seemed to twinkle. He did not know who this girl was and like any proud boy his age, he refuted girls as anything of interest – yet this one, she captured his eye. He tugged at a servant’s tunic and pointed.
“Who is that girl? Next to the Norwegian?”
The servant looked, then smirked. “Young master has a discerning eye – that is Astrithr, she is the daughter of the King of Norway – they came here to discuss a potential alliance with Skjalm, or so I have heard through rumours.”
Harald’s eyes remained fixated on her, then he shook his head and walked away as quickly as he could, before someone realized what was on his mind. She was beautiful, and something inside tugged at his heartstrings. Although he could not fully understand it yet, the young boy had instantly developed feelings for her.
“Astrithr...” he mouthed silently.
Phargle: One of the Pern books I haven't read! I always manage to forget about that series and then someone brings it up. I liked the keyhole presentation and you can expect more information to drop here and there through the eyes of the children. Control of Truso is rather important as its developing into an important settlement on the Baltic and extends Danish influence closer to the homeland, which is the justification. The wisdom of the act, on the other hand...
RGB: Harald will definitely have his revenge, and the boys are definitely impacting politics more than they would ever think/expect in their actions. Ernst's plot was disruptive to the meeting and a mild embarrassment for the Hvide, and you can be sure that impacted their decision-making!
FlyingDutchie: I never pretended that the family is one of saints - Skjalm is a pretty nice guy, that's about it.
General_BT: Indeed, that is the worry. Civil war is the last thing Sjælland needs right now!
---- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Chapter 39 – Pain and Celebration
12th of December, 1080 Anno Domini
Tufts of snow wafted across the landscape, the white landscape was only marred by the steady march of the soldiers over the hills. Only a core contingent of the forces were actually Danish, consisting mainly of local huskarls from the Bragde clan and some veteran professional soldiers from the Crusades. In the winter it was hard to immediately spot, but through the poor visibility, Harald Ribbing at last spotted their opponents. The Teutonic Order, garbed in their white and black uniforms, blended well with the snow but were in such a massive group that even in this mess he could see them.
“They’ve brought quite a fighting force. It seems Heinrich will not easily give up his power, will he?” Harald said to the other two leaders of the Danish force. Auctune von Marienburg and Abel Nielsen Bragde showed determined faces despite the bitter cold that bit at their rosy cheeks. This was a nightmarish situation for a battle, but Auctune had insisted they move forward as soon as possible. The camp would be made upon this hill in the evening, and barring poor weather, they would make their way down to confront the Teutons in the morning.
“What do you think, how many are there?” Abel said to Auctune, who would know best of any of them.
“It looks like they’ve brought most of the order’s fighting capacity; pushed to a guess, I would say around 200 of the RitterBrudern and another 600 DiendeBrudern and Levied men. They will form a defensive line and expect us to attack, with the advantage on their side – that is how Heinrich likes to fight.”
The Hochmeister’s face wrinkled in disappointment. “I had hoped that fewer of my brothers would come.” His eyes swept over the knightly banners in the distance. “Very well then, let that be the end of it...”
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
“Look, the lights of the castle! We are back at Søborg at long last!” Harald grinned in delight. They had just returned from their trip to Roskilde. Harald Audensen had a cheeky grin on his face and puffy red cheeks. Alongside him rode his mother and father, along with a number of huskarls and Jens Knýtling.
Though the sun dipped down over the horizon, they could see their destination clearly ahead of them. Harald felt full of energy as they entered the courtyard. Home was always a pleasant place to be, and Søborg more pleasant than most (in his eyes). The cold white which blanketed the land in its icy embrace was not without pleasure – indeed, while perhaps commoners might fear it for the pain it brought them, Harald remained blissfully free of its dangers and his childish naïveté saw the snow as something beautiful to look forward to.
It was not surprising, then, that as he rode forward into the courtyard of Søborg under the watchful eye of his riding instructor, that he remained blissfully unaware of the sombre looks that greeted him. He dropped down out of his saddle and laughed, turning to wave at his parents with a cheeky grin. Without any help, he had made that trip on horseback, and his pride was practically bursting from the seams. “I made it, father!”
Auden returned his waves with a silent nod of approval, before riding up to the waiting figures. Unlike his son, his eyes gauged the mood at a glance, and his mild expression wrinkled into a deep frown. “What is going on? Where is my brother?”
One of the court stood forward and looked at Auden frankly. “You come back to meet grave tidings my lord – the Chieftain’s wife is dead.”
Auden’s frown did not fade. “Dead? Heavens...how has this happened?”
“Duchess Jadwiga gave birth to a son three nights prior, but the strain was too great and she perished giving the child life.”
“I see.” The bishop straightened his back and looked around the courtyard, then sighed. “Where has my brother gone? I must speak with him.”
“He has sealed himself inside Søborg chapel. He will speak to no one.”
Auden turned and without a further word he rode back out of the castle, seeking the chapel outside its walls. Gro removed herself from her horse with all the dainty grace of a princess, unbound by her age or by the many children she had now borne for her husband. Harald approached his mother with a concerned gaze, he understood but did not understand what was going on.
“Mother, uncle is sad, isn’t he? But I have a new cousin, isn’t this a good thing? He has wanted a son for some time.”
Svendsdatter gave her son a long look, then sighed. “It is not so simple, Harald. Skjalm was content with his first child Thyra. Now he has had Margrethe by Jadwiga, and now finally a son, but he would not have asked a son in exchange for his wife. He had grown to love her, I believe, such was the softness of his heart – that departure will likely have broken him as much as it broke him when Signe left.” Her eye twitched at the mention of the Hertug’s former wife.
“What’s the boy’s name?” Harald asked. Gro looked at him, then at the court. “Well?”
“Ah...it is Odon, your highness. I do not know why he chose it.”
Gro scoffed. “I do, the sentimental man is honouring a dead friend. Odon was to be the name of Asbjørn’s son, before his wife died. I suppose this is Skjalm’s way of giving Asbjørn his peace.”
Harald thought about this for a moment, then shrugged. “It seems like a nice gesture to me. Friendship is a very important thing, after all. It binds men together, and means more than just empty words or agreements.”
“You can’t trust friends.” Gro looked away. “The only person you can trust is yourself.”
“That seems like a rather lonely way to live...” Harald thought to himself under his breath. He wouldn’t give up on friends; he just had to find better ones than Jens and Ernst. He would prove his mother, Cecilie and anyone else who told him just how wrong they were.
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
13th of December, 1080
13th of December, 1080
Across the snowy vale, the morning sun shone down brightly from a blue sky, reflecting from the white layer in a nearly blinding amount of light. This did nothing to stop the snow from turning to mud and chaos intermixed with blood as men fought over a dispute between two men. Most of the warriors were balts – Lithuanians, Prussians and Sambians who fought at the beck and call of their German and Danish masters. They cared little for the dispute, but their job was to fight nonetheless.
While Danish Leidang were usually superior to German levies, in this case the quality of fighting men was closer to equal, and while the numbers were in favour of the Danish army the Teutons had an advantage in the quality of their elite core. The Hochmeister by force, Heinrich von Wettin, a distant cousin of the Emperor who held more loyalty to the Empire, led his brethren into battle. The rightfully elected Hochmeister, Auctune von Marienburg, led a contingent of Sambians on the Danish left flank, but found himself frustrated by the strong defensive tactics of the Teutonic Order.
As men cut each other down and spears clashed in the middle, the elite RidderBrudern were taking part in a massacre which even the Danish huskarls were struggling to cope with on this day. Five minutes later, a cry of panic went up and the right flank collapsed and dissipated; they made a full retreat, leaving their comrades outflanked and soon to be outnumbered. The cries rode across the battlefield that Abel Bragde, Greve of Scalovia, was slain. Without much hope of repairing this tactical position, Harald Bragde gritted his teeth, then called for the retreat. There was no further way to achieve victory, and he needed to preserve what he had before the Danes suffered a further defeat.
“Retreat! Fly from this place!” They fled in force, leaving many behind. The Knights were heavily armoured, however, and could not keep up with the lighter Danish forces, nor did they see the need to – they had defeated Sjælland’s armies despite being outnumbered. Celebration was the order of the day, and the Germans burst into raucous cries of delight, letting their weapons and shields clash and roaring at the Bragde Clan’s retreating forces.
Bragde turned on his horse and glared at the Germans, before returning to the flight. Skjalm would be greatly displeased by this news, but he had not given up yet. The Bragde clan would not give up on their mission so easily, nor would they let this opportunity to craft a powerful ally in the Teutonic Order slip through their fingers.
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
1st of January, 1081
1st of January, 1081
The celebrations were in good fashion, a grand feast had been called and Skjalm had paid for it out of his own pocket. Every Dane, common or noble, had been invited to partake in this great celebration of Sjælland’s success and glory in the crusades. While he had been somewhat criticized for calling this expensive feast during a time of monetary troubles, Skjalm had waved away their concerns and simply explained that “the money will come.”
The effect on the populace, however, was very immediately obvious. People danced and laughed in joy, drinking and eating to their heart’s content. Søborg and its environs were a place of merriment where everyone could unite in their happiness and content. But not all was well, and not all were enjoying the party as they should for while even as you may put friends alongside each other, inevitably enemies will find one another in the crowds as well.
And so Harald’s gaze fell upon his target, the lone figure of Ernst, hiding behind a tent. Although Harald was a year younger, he was as big as his rival and perhaps even stronger. While Ernst spent all his days reading and plotting, Harald spent his days fighting and learning the arts of war. During his nights, too, Harald studied with Cecilie and strove to become a scholar as much as a leader, and he had become quite clever to boot. Harald rightly viewed himself as superior to the snivelling little whelp that had called him friend then stabbed him in the back.
Ernst didn’t see him coming until it was too late. Harald Audensen’s strong hands grabbed the boy’s shoulders and turned him around. Ernst yelped a bit but his cry was drowned out by the sound of the crowded courtyard. Harald drew him close with a strong, fierce glare, fire burning in his eyes. Ernst was held up by the collar of his tunic, and his anger was so hot that Ernst could not help but cower in spite of a year of age in his advantage.
“H-Harald...”
“Your luck has run up, you cowardly little whelp.” He tightened his grip, lifting the boy up onto his tippy-toes. He tensed, prepared to strike, when something caught his attention. His mother, Gro, looking from the tables in their direction. Could she see them, even in this darkness? Someone would probably notice if Ernst made enough noise, and he didn’t want to be caught. Sneaking around beating Ernst up would not do much for his stature, he needed to prove his superiority, after all, to truly embarrass his rival in a way that he wouldn’t be able to recover from.
“I’m not done with you, nor will I ever forget what you have done. But you’re not worth it to beat up, that’s too clever for you. I will make sure the whole world sees what a coward and weakling you are, Ernst Pedersen. The Hvide will regret ever taking you into their midst, I swear it.”
Harald Audensen threw his rival into the muddy ground, then turned and walked back into the light, a friendly smile on his face. He knew what to do now, it was time he found real, meaningful revenge. Ernst would pay for that day at the Great Hall.
Harald stopped in his tracks, then turned and looked, his mouth left slightly open. “Who was that?” He thought to himself.
He caught another glimpse through the crowd, a young lady, who looked to be around his age. She was tall, fair-haired and had a smile like an angel. Her cheeks were puffy and bright and her eyes seemed to twinkle. He did not know who this girl was and like any proud boy his age, he refuted girls as anything of interest – yet this one, she captured his eye. He tugged at a servant’s tunic and pointed.
“Who is that girl? Next to the Norwegian?”
The servant looked, then smirked. “Young master has a discerning eye – that is Astrithr, she is the daughter of the King of Norway – they came here to discuss a potential alliance with Skjalm, or so I have heard through rumours.”
Harald’s eyes remained fixated on her, then he shook his head and walked away as quickly as he could, before someone realized what was on his mind. She was beautiful, and something inside tugged at his heartstrings. Although he could not fully understand it yet, the young boy had instantly developed feelings for her.
“Astrithr...” he mouthed silently.
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My goodness, another update! You're cranking them out so fast that I can't keep up.
And that's a good thing.
And that's a good thing.
Aaah, young love. Harald, boy, make sure it doesn't get in your way!
Ernst and the other boys were kind of mean, though, and I am sure that the superior Harald will have his revenge sooner or later. Perhaps it will have something to do with the girl, who knows.
Also, poor Skjalm. He lost yet another wife, but finally got a son in return...
This story is proving to get more and more interesting. I can't wait until the next update~
Ernst and the other boys were kind of mean, though, and I am sure that the superior Harald will have his revenge sooner or later. Perhaps it will have something to do with the girl, who knows.
Also, poor Skjalm. He lost yet another wife, but finally got a son in return...
This story is proving to get more and more interesting. I can't wait until the next update~