III.
Uprising at Ilburg
7 April 952 – 1 March 954
Uprising at Ilburg
7 April 952 – 1 March 954
‘You got three of ‘em.’
‘Shhh! Keep your voice down. I knew it was a mistake bringing you along!’
‘But who’s the other one for? Huh?’
‘Be quiet. You’re going to get us both caught.’
The two boys tiptoed their way up the stairs from the cellar with their ill-gotten haul. The older, darker one tried to hide it underneath his cotte and keep it from slipping underneath the hem, though it made his progress awkward. The younger one, the redhead, padded close behind – now being extra careful not to make sound so as not to upset his older friend. They made it to the top of the stairs, and not even one of the servitors or watch saw them.
At last Mutimír allowed himself a sigh of relief, and behind him Mikulica did the same. They then stepped across the hall and strode as naturally as they could, down the hall and out into the courtyard. Once they were outside the gates and on the path into town they were safe.
‘So—are you going to tell me or not? Who’s the other one for?’
‘I’ll show you, don’t worry.’
Mutimír and Mikulica went together to a corner by the town wall, and sat down together. Mutimír drew out from under his cotte the three strings of smoked sweet sausages that he’d pilfered from the castle larder, and gave one of them to Mikulica. One of them was for himself. And the third…
It wasn’t long before a cat appeared, around the grey ragged corner of one of the wooden zemnica houses of Olomouc. It was a young cat – it might have been a kitten or it might have been older. It had grey tabby markings. Its legs and tail were whip-slender and its ribcage was showing. One of its ears had been half bitten-off, and there was a weepy crust around one of its amber eyes. However, it came up expectantly to Mutimír. In typical cat fashion, it did not beg, but instead rubbed against Mutimír’s leg and then pretended to saunter off a ways, before making up its mind to return and reluctantly take one link of Mutimír’s third sausage.
‘So it’s for the cat?’ asked Mikulica.
‘Shh. Wait. Watch.’
Following the grey tabby there came two or three other cats, as well as a puppy – and each of them took a link from the third string of sausages that Mutimír had brought.
‘You’ve been feeding all the strays in Olomouc?!’ Mikulica levelled an accusing brow at him.
‘Someone has to,’ Mutimír shrugged. ‘In the lean months even the mice and rats starve; and how are the stray cats and dogs supposed to feed themselves? I couldn’t stand to see them suffer, and besides, your mother has saved up more than enough this year to go around. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.’
Privately, Mikulica had to agree – and to approve himself. He munched on the chain of smoky savoury ground pork which was his own share of the plunder. Mutimír had made a good and Godly use of his natural charm and his talent for subterfuge, in using it for compassion. It reminded Mikulica of a hagiography of the Irish Saint Brigid he’d once had to read for school.
~~~
Marija put her hands on her hips and sighed in displeasure as she viewed the hooks on the cellar wall. She would once again have to ask the servants to keep a better eye on the larder. Three more strings of sausage had gone missing.
Thankfully, it was only a minor annoyance. Even her aunts had to admit that in Blažena’s day there had never been so much beer and wine to go around, so much meat and cheese. Meal was plentiful and even the spices she was able to acquire cheaply. Indeed, Marija reflected with satisfaction, she had been able to save up enough silver through her careful management of the household and efficient entertainment of guests, to expand her husband’s treasury by at least a tithe.
She climbed the cellar steps again and was about to enter the High Hall when she found her husband waiting there.
‘Ah, Marija! There you are!’
A pleasant smile from Pravoslav. He was evidently in a cheery mood.
‘Milord?’
‘Hrabě Přemysl the Younger was just telling me that I have, not him, but you to thank for the recent windfall. So it must indeed be true. I’ve never known that brown-noser to pass up a chance to take credit even when it is due elsewhere!’
Marija nodded. ‘It is true, Slávek.’
‘Well,’ Pravoslav pondered. ‘How might you suggest we make use of this silver?’
‘I can think of several projects your Majesty might undertake. I would be happy to host a great banquet in the High Hall. Alternatively, the money might be seeded into the merchants’ quarter, or spent on some added men on the watch, or saved away for an event of need.’
‘For now, perhaps it’s best we save it,’ Pravoslav suddenly stepped toward her and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her on the head briskly. ‘Thank you, Marija! You always were my match and more at this sort of thing. I don’t know how I’d manage without you.’
What? Was this tenderness? From Pravoslav, of all men? It was as welcome to Marija as it was unforeseen, and she took it to her every bit as greedily as a starving man might grab an offered crust of bread. Her arms circled around Pravoslav’s waist and held him as long as he would stay there, even if it wouldn’t be for long. At least for the moment, she was – perhaps not loved, but at least appreciated by the only man whose appreciation mattered.
‘Oh, what is it now?’ grunted Slávek. He disentangled himself from the glowing Marija and strode out briskly into the courtyard. There was a herald there who was being closely tailed by Patriarch Miloboj.
‘Messenger to you, milord,’ the Patriarch was saying. ‘Said it was urgent and wouldn’t wait.’
‘I have a message,’ the herald said, ‘from Miloslav Grzymała.’
‘Who?’ asked Slávek blankly. But the messenger cleared his throat and began to read.
‘Hold it right there, Pravoslav, tyrant and oppressor of faithful followers of the ancient ways! You have uprooted our holy groves and destroyed our shrines. You have trampled on the time-honoured rights of the people of Milčané. Your actions are unforgivable! I am the handsome sailor and soldier of Rod and Veles, Miloslav! And now, in the name of Perun, I shall punish you!’
As he finished reading the message, the herald made an odd gesture at Pravoslav with both hands, thumbs and forefingers and pinkies extended. An awkward silence fell over the courtyard. Mewing, a scrawny black cat with a yellow mark on its forehead scampered across the green in pursuit of some small burrowing rodent. Pravoslav turned to his Patriarch at last.
‘Is this… supposed to be some sort of joke? A reference to something, maybe?’
‘I… couldn’t rightly say, milord.’
Pravoslav shrugged. ‘Just as well. It’s probably not kid-friendly in the original language, anyway. You, there, fellow! You go back and tell this… Miloslav, was it? that he’s certainly welcome to try. Miloboj, see him out.’
After he did so, Pravoslav summoned Lada and Radomír. ‘Call up the zbrojnošov. I think we may have some trouble soon.’
~~~
Radomír and Lada rode out at the head of a large contingent of Olomouc’s zbrojnošov some weeks later. They crossed over from the lands of the Češi into the lands of the Milčané without incident. However, when they came to the crossing of the Elbe, they found that Prech z Harrach was not there to join them. Fresh tracks in the early spring mud, however, were still clearly visible, and they led out from Míšiň in the direction of Ilburg to the northwest.
The leaders of the army soon came to the march where they viewed the arrays of men one against the other. On one side, they clearly saw Prech z Harrach arrayed in mail, flying the banners of both Moravia and his own demesne into battle. On the other side were the heathen led by Miloslav, who had gathered under a vane in the symbol of the crescent moon.
‘Looks like our friend the new hrabě has taken the initiative,’ Lada folded her arms in front of her in wry observation. ‘I would never have credited it to him.’
‘He’s holding his own fairly well,’ Radomír observed.
‘Mm,’ Lada smirked. ‘Unsurprising. Miloslav is fielding mostly rural farmers, woodsmen, a handful of mercenaries and local gentry. Prech’s men have the advantage of training and unit discipline.’
‘But there must be over two thousand of them!’
‘Yes, indeed. No way Miloslav could have gathered that many to him by himself. He must be getting help from somewhere, probably in the form of coin. We’ll figure that out once we have Miloslav in bonds.’
Lada spurred on her horse, and Radomír followed her. The zbrojnošov were not far behind on the charge. With the added forces in addition to the men from Míšeň and Chotěbuz, they made quick work of the ‘soldier of Rod and Veles’, and quickly had him transported back to Chotěbuz under arms. There he quickly divulged that the source of his army’s strength had been Wszebora Woewodskij, the young chieftess of the Litoměřici. Once this information was relayed back to Pravoslav, the king calmly replied:
‘Perhaps it is time I did Hrabě Markvart a good turn in answer.’
The same army which had swept in and defeated the Polabian heathen rebels, soon also occupied the lands and holdings of Miloslav’s sponsor, who was forced to flee from her patrimony along with her retainers. Markvart thus gained control of the last Czech border march not already in Moravian hands. The northern border was secure… but it would not be an end to Pravoslav’s troubles, which were at a hard brew within the walls of his own house.
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