Bastions
Chapter Fifty: A King of Peasants
Part 4
Prelude:
Prussia was one of the most centralized states of the High Middle Ages. Even so, it was a patchwork of Dukes and Counts held together by the feudal contract. In the past, Prussia had a literal feudal contract: the
Æðelræchtæs or "Noble Rights". The document was the center of at least one civil war, though an argument can be made that it was really two. Many had expected King Gunvald II to reinstate the document, but he did not. It is not that he refused, but he never brought the argument up. His son followed the same line, slowly centralizing Prussia where he could and letting the argument go where he had to. A growing blot on the political landscape of Prussia: The Crown Demesne, lands that were more and more under the authority of the King. Most of these lands were directly under the control of the King, though some remained in the hands of Counts and Barons who nominally served the Crown rather than the King. While a large collection of titles still remained in the West, in the eastern reaches of the Crown Demesne were generally blank: made up of titles destroyed when King Vishly took down the House of Rurik. But true feudal lords still remained: the Marches and the lords of Poland. Three special states also remained: The Sich of Asowia, the County of Tessin, and the Lordship of Finland. All parts of the Kingdom, but each operated mostly independently. The Sich was famous for its quasi-independence. It relied on Prussia mostly for international relations and trade. The County of Tessin was a tiny piece of land that was technically part of the Crown of Poland, but had been inherited by the independent Duchy of Brandenmark. Lastly, the Lordship of Finland was a collection of semi-civilized, semi-Christian Finnish tribes under the rule of a so-called "High King".
Prussia at the end of the XIV Century.
July 9th, 1389
It felt like ages ago that Sophie had watched her husband march off against Duke Meinekinus in Moldavia, now she sat around idly in New Caen listening to the chatter of the horse-women. It seemed the head of the household was a loud red-haired woman by the name of Sibyl. She was Rollo's eldest child and Gaspar's only full sibling. Despite her gossipy mouth, Sophie saw that she had quiet the flourish for commanding the loyalty of the other women and the few men that remained when the armies marched off. Unlike the women of much of Europe, Sibyl and the other ladies of the Azowian court did not wear dresses; they wore shorter skirts over pants that allowed them freedom of movement should a raid happen. It was only now that Sophie realized how close they were to the edge of civilization. All the people here were armed not because it was the fashion of the day, but because Persian or Turkish raiders could show up at any point.
Sarah was not too far away, twiddling her thumbs nervously without Edward.
"He'll be fine," Sophie said. Sarah didn't answer, only nodded half-heartedly.
"Ah! Chipper up!" Sibyl said, slapping Sarah across the back. Sarah ducked forward and her mask came tumbling off, clattering loudly on the ground. The Horselady looked at the mask, its placid features looking up at her. "Let me get that for you, dear," she said sweetly.
"No, it is fine," Sarah said, but both women knelt to pick it up. Sophie couldn't help but look either. She saw only the edges coming over the mangled remains of a nose. Sibyl, however, could see everything and she stopped Sarah.
"What is this, Sarah? Who did this to you?" She gentle cupped Sarah's face and looked into her remaining eye.
"I don't know," Sarah answered honestly.
"You needn't fear him; in this house a woman is safe."
"You don't unde..."
"Tell me!" Sibyl was more forceful, "It was Doyvát wasn't it?" The accusation made both Sarah and Sophie gasp.
"N-no!" Sarah stammered, "He'd never, he l..." she stopped and looked over at Sophie who looked slightly shocked.
"He what, Sarah?" Sibyl asked.
"Nothing, it wasn't him..." she slouched down and tried not to cry. He had to have moved on. She knew what few others did; Sophie's belly had begun to expand. Inside was none other than Doyvát's child. Sibyl picked the mask up off the floor and inspected it. It was finely crafted, though slightly tarnished on the edges. The face was permanently frozen somewhere between a frown and indifference. "It was a gift," Sarah explained.
"From who?"
"King Doyvát the Elder... he felt bad for me, thought I wanted to cover my face with more than just a veil, he didn't want to look at it either. Nor did his court. I... I..." She stopped and swallowed as best as she could. "It is a reminder of home... I know what it is like to live within the shadow of barbarians."
Sibyl tightened her face and nodded. "So that explains the handsome red-head you have following you around." She smiled and handed the mask back. "You should never be ashamed; the women of Azowia bear their scars in pride." It was true; Sarah had seen many women with the signs of battle. Sibyl herself was never seen without her axe hanging off her back. It was no surprise that when Rollo died there were many Horselords who supported her ascent to the throne. The women in Azowia were equals to the men in many ways, but they could still not rule. And their culture was one in transition. Slowly the patriarchy of the west was winning out; the national was settling and turning into a reflection of its master.
The fields that used to be home to the thundering of hooves now grew wheat and rye. Men who once led from the back of a horse now led from warm and cushy throne room. Women who once served on the walls of the forts now served only from the kitchen. It was a fading experiment and in a lot of ways it made Sophie sort of sad to see it go. Maybe it was the thoughts of someone who feared her place in life.