Bastions
Chapter Fifty One: Toil and Woe
Part 4
Prelude:
In 1392 Prussia put pressure on Constantinople through a series of embargoes and tariff increases meant to force policy changes from the Emperor. A year later riots throughout the Empire were a sign that the monarchy was losing what little prestige it had left with the common Roman. The Prussian embargoes did little to affect the upper crust of Roman society until the serfs and merchants, starved into action, began to gather at every public appearance of the Emperor to protest. Prussia was merciless in forcing Rome's cooperation. Before long the Emperor recanted, easing restrictions on Prussian trade and movement. But not before some twenty-thousand in Constantinople alone were thought to have starved. It is around this time that the Emperor recognized, officially, that Prussia was the more powerful nation. At the turn of the XV Century, the Emperors signed several humiliating treaties that, despite guaranteeing Prussian intervention "if the survival of the Empire depended on it," essentially downgraded the Empire to a quasi-vassal. One treaty went as far as forcing the Emperor and the Patriarch of Constantinople to accept union with the Church of Prussia. Eastern Christianity, or Orthodoxy, was split into three main branches in 1400 (not including Unionism, which always fell under one of the main branches). First was the Holy Orthodox Church of Mæmálgrád, headed by the Patriarch of the same. It was already in a union with the Holy Orthodox Church of London, which started as an autocephalous church within Prussian Orthodoxy, but eventually was upgraded for the stated purpose of better governing. Prussian Orthodoxy and Anglican Orthodoxy shared many characteristics first associated with the old Catholic Church. On the other hand was the Holy Orthodox Church of Constantinople, which was the purest of the Orthodox branches. However, in 1397 it was made subservient to the Church in Mæmálgrád. This would last until 1401, the longest the two churches would ever be united. Unionism referred to independent formerly Catholic churches that either accepted guidance from either Constantinople or Mæmálgrád. This is not to be confused with Anglican Unionism, another name for Anglican Orthodoxy which was called "Unionism" in English because it was still in Union under the Patriarch in Mæmálgrád.
August 12th, 1389
Mæmálgrád was a bustling city, the likes of which Kenric had never seen before. "I think this is the place," Werna said to him, calmly. They stood outside a decently-sized tavern near the docks. On the door was the image of a shield with a cannon on it. For Muslims in the capital it was a secret mark that they could safely pray here. The cannon was the sign of the House of Hadad, the mighty cannon makers who acted as a family of ambassadors from the Caliph in Barcelona to the King in Prussia.
"What is this place?" Kenric asked, running his fingers over the engraved cannon.
"A mosque. They must hide themselves from the Christians lest they have everything stolen. I will see you later, then?" he asked.
"You aren't coming in?" Kenric asked.
"No, I am sorry, but I am busy. It is not every day we come to the capital. If we are lucky we'll get some high-paying jobs." Werna waved as he headed farther into town, leaving Kenric alone.
Behind him the door opened up and an old lady moved through the threshold. She stopped behind Kenric and saw the boy nervously look around. "Are you looking for a place to belong?" she asked calmly. He snapped around and with eyes darting around slowly nodded. The old lady warmed up, her face folding neatly as her lips perked up. Kenric could tell that many years ago her hair had been jet black, but now was a soft grey with strands of white. She grabbed his hand and holding it softly led him into the mosque.
"It is not often we get someone so young coming here. Sometimes I fear that soon this building will be empty." She poured him a glass of water from a pitcher and handed the small cup to him. "Do you not know where you are?" she asked.
"I know that this is a mosque, but that is all. I am not from the capital," Kenric said, doing nothing to hide who he was from someone who looked as if she could easily be his mother's grandmother. The old lady sat down, her arms shaking as she did so. Her delicate hands tightly gripped a cane that was made from a strange dark wood and marked with a handle made of silver and ivory.
"Ah, then where are you from?"
"Krakow," Kenric answered.
"And what is your name?"
"Kenric, Ma'am."
"Kenric of Krakow... hmmm... that makes you a... ah... Sorry. I have forgotten what the young ones call you."
"A Harrower?"
"Yes!" she said with a slight smile and a flick of her finger, "A Harrower. So where you saved or was it a parent?"
"My mother was saved by a travelling Harrower. I am his son, or so I am told."
"You have the look of a man who hails from both Europe and Arabia, I'd believe it. What has sent you so far from home?"
"I killed my brother out of self preservation and so I ran; I rejected my mother and my family and joined a troop of travelling Liths. I guess I needed a little solace."
"Sounds like it, you've been through a lot Kenric. Why don't you relax a bit? Others should be here soon enough."
"Thank you," Kenric said. He found a place at the base of a cross topped with the crescent moon. Sitting on his knees he bent forward until his head was on the floor and said a short prayer. The building was peaceful and the wonderful scents of incense wafted around the room. The shuffling of the old woman was the only distraction but Kenric found it comforting. In time he heard others coming through the door and taking up spots beside him. Some muttered prayers quietly; others took their time, talking to friends and neighbors. Everything was so mundane. It was like they weren't hiding. They talked about the price of fish and the weather, about the best bars and the best companies to invest in. They didn't seem to actively ignore Kenric, rather just accepted him as part of the background. As he got up, people nodded or shook his hand and said friendly greetings. But just as he felt like he was at home, he remembered Krakow and he remembered the Liths. No one questioned him when he left; people came as went as they needed.
Outside, with the sun hanging low in the sky, Kenric found Godiwa sitting on a few crates that had been left out in front of the mosque. She looked out over the harbor at all the ships. The masts and sails made it look like a strange forest growing out of the water. As the sun crept closer to the horizon the sky turned a strange orange. "It is beautiful," Kenric said.
Godiwa jumped slightly and then laughed, "Yeah. The capital is always so pretty. I was born here, you know."
"Was it when the troop was traveling through?" Kenric asked innocently.
"No, I left my family to join the troop. Just like you!" She scooted to the side and patted the spot where she had been. Kenric jumped up and sat beside her. "But I still like coming back every now and then. I love the road, but sometimes I just want to look back out over the harbor like I did when I was very little. Sometimes, when I was very good, my dad would take me down onto the docks and even onto some of the ships." Kenric watched as she faded off into a dream. Kenric closed his own eyes and let the last rays of the sun bathe him in soothing warmth. The salty air surrounded him and the gentle wind whipped Godiwa's hair into his face. She blushed as she took control over it, "Ramondas told me you tried to stand up to Mishka and Torsti, it means a lot to us. Sometimes I see them steal coins when they think no one is looking."
"Ramondas seems to think that is the least of the problems those two are causing. Werna is betting they won't make it back to Æstlinn before abandoning the troop."
"Yeah, they seemed really glad to get out of Æstlinn, when they first showed up they were groveling at the feet of the elders. But it didn't take long for them to start taking everything for granted and then even stealing from us. I hate them. They always talk in Finnish when they don't want anyone to listen."
"Wait... you know what language they speak?"
"Yeah... it is Finnish."
"How do you know that?!" Kenric asked.
"I just assumed they were merchants, my father worked with lots of Finns in the past. Usually they speak Prussian during official business and stuff, but the sailors often just speak Finnish. There are lots of Finns in Æstlinn."
"Can you speak Finnish?"
"Not really, I know some business stuff and things like 'beer' and 'pint', but that is it. It is just easy to recognize if you've been around it before." Godiwa played with her long curly strands of black hair.
Suddenly something clicked in Kenric's head. "What was your father's profession?" he asked.
"My father was a merchant, why?"
Kenric shook his head, "Sorry... I thought I remembered why you looked familiar this whole time."
Godiwa chuckled, "What?"
Kenric waved his hand in embarrassment. "No, sorry, I was mistaken. You just looked like a portrait I had seen in Krakow."
"Yeah? Was it a pretty portrait?"
The blood drained from Kenric's face. He was a terrible liar and he knew it. It was just that the subject of the portrait happened to be a man. "It was the hair, mostly..." the Harrower said in a half-truth, "but I swear you look just like..."
August 12th, 1389
"David!" Sophie called. The King's eyebrow perked up as he turned away from his balcony overlooking the harbor.
"What is it, love?" he asked calmly. He looked over his wife whose belly expanded with the future of the monarchy.
She walked up toward him, taking a hold of his hand, "Sarah says that the Lith troop who played for our wedding is in town. She was wondering if you wanted to book them again."
Doyvát smiled knowingly, "I assume you already said 'yes' then?" Sophie nodded quickly.
"O, it was so lovely... I couldn't turn down a chance to see them again. Do you remember that red-headed dancer? O her dress was so lovely, the way it flowed around her like flower pedals on a summer breeze... I wish I could dance like that." Sophie twirled around, but then Doyvát had to catch her before she tumbled into his globe, a gift from the ruler of Egypt.
"Save it for the dance floor," he cooed.
"I will and you shall join me?"
"Always," the King replied.