Bastions
Chapter Fifty Two: Empire of Sand
Part 2
Prelude
The war between Denmark and the Muslims that ruled southern Sweden and Norway came to a close in 1395. Three years of struggles and the Danish, still fighting Holstein on the mainland, needed to cut some of their losses to free soldiers up to keep pressure on their southern border. It was a calculated risk, but it was a gamble that had to be taken. Thousands of ships carried goods, riches, soldiers, and tens of thousands of people to the Danish isles and Jutland. But the ships could only carry so many people and many were left behind to deal with the victorious Muslims. Skane was surrendered in the hopes that Jutland could be saved. The position of the Muslims in Sweden was quickly becoming one of hegemony. They were quickly building wealth and power, though they were having a tough time making converts. Traditional forms of Islam generally limited conversions as they imposed a special tax on non-believers, but Frandism had no such tax. So Frandist missionaries were a premium in Sweden. These missionaries began to sprout up in neighboring Christian states as well, including Finland and the rump Norse Kingdoms. Meanwhile, in Prussia, the royal family celebrated relative stability. Their first son, Georgs, had been born in late 1389 and despite a sickly start had survived his first five years. It was around this age that King Doyvát decided to invest in his son the title of "Prince of Prussia," which more or less confirmed the practice of primogeniture in Prussia.
August 20th, 1389
"Why did you do it?" Godiwa asked quietly.
Kenric turned away from the warmth of the fire and saw that she was looking straight at him. "What do you mean? I..."
"When the King stopped us I screamed over and over in my head for someone to protect me... I prayed it would be Werna, he would know what to say and what to do, but the only face I could picture was yours. And I was so mad..." The Harrower held his breath as she looked away, light dancing on the flowers spread throughout her curls. "But when I opened my eyes... it was you, standing there."
"I thought he was going to hurt you."
"I thought so too."
"What is it like," Kenric asked getting her to look his way again, "being royalty?"
"Stupid," she said with a 'hmph.' "I don't like that the silver-faced bitch knocked all my flowers out. If being royalty means I cannot wear flowers I'd rather be a peasant."
"Would you really?" Kenric asked, already violating his attempts to not sound like such an ass.
"Well... I'd rather be out here... with all of my friends. Even if they don't always think before they speak."
"Thanks," Kenric said.
"Would you call me Princess, though?" Godiwa asked. Her eyes bubbled like a sad puppy's and Kenric couldn't help but nod. He knew that had Ramondas been here he would give him a hard time, but it was like Godiwa had said, there was a certain magic around her and the other Lith women.
March 8th, 1399
The streets of Edessa were packed with bodies as people crowded around to hear the latest street preacher, a stately Qurati man with olive skin and blonde hair that hung around his shoulders. He looked like a Bedouin warrior, a master of the sun and the sands. At his hip the traditional long sword of a Christian crusader, which at times would double as his cross. During a particularly dramatic moment his ripped it from its scabbard and hoisted it above his head pommel first, gripping the blade so hard blood ran down the polished steel.
"Brothers!" he cried mightily. "Brothers there is a war! There has always been a war! And you have ignored its call!" His voice bellowed and echoed through the streets. His audience stood in stunned silence. "Our crusade has not ended! Our crusade was a gift from GOD ALMIGHTY!"
He paused for dramatic effect, "I do not remember GOD telling us we could stop!" he continued. "Was I too busy fighting to hear the trumpets sound or watch the sky split open as our LORD AND SAVIOR came down from above and told the rest of you 'Rest in defeat my weary warriors for you have done your best?!'" He brought his sword down and wiped the blood from his face. He almost didn't seem to notice what would have had any other man rolling in pain. But his hands we covered in scars as was much of his body.
"Our enemies are numerous," he said quietly, forcing everyone to pack in around him. He slowly lowered himself down, sitting rather than standing, with his sword resting against his shoulder, its pommel next to his face. "Our enemies are numerous and all around us. Turks and Persians and Arabs and Kurds and traitors and all sorts of undesirables... they surround us and they infect us."
"What can we do?" a meek voice cried from the back of the crowd.
"What can we do?" the preacher repeated. "What can we do when the forces of evil try to drag us down to the pits of eternal suffering? WE DO WHAT CRUSADERS DO!" he shouted with sudden enthusiasm. "WE FIGHT! WE TAKE BACK THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN!" This time he swung the sword around and gripping it tightly thrust the blade into the sky, standing dramatically. "WE KILL THE INFEDELS! WE BURN THEIR CROPS AND WE DRIVE THEM BEFORE OUR RIGHTEOUS MIGHT!"
Cheers filled the crowd as the spirit of their long-dead Kingdom began to infuse back into their souls. "War is the way of the Qurati! We are warriors! We are guaranteed victory! We will conquer the Kingdoms lost! And from Jerusalem we will bring forth the end of those who would reject the authority of Christ Divine!" Again he thrust his sword upward and now guards seemed to be getting involved. The pushed their way to the preacher through the sea of people. But the preacher saw them and leveled his sword at their faces, "Warriors! Today we spill blood!"
One of the guards drew his sword and pushed back any would-be crusader. But he turned and saw his friend being dragged down to the ground and pelted with rocked and shoes. He barely had time to register he had been stabbed once before the crowd descended on him brandishing blades and stones and fists.
The once mighty Qurati had been reduced to complacent inhabitants, slaves in their own cities; their once powerful empire now divided and scattered to the winds. Only in the Persian Gulf did they fight on, centered on the rock of Bahrain, but as the Seljuk warlords fought and bickered the Qurati began to organize.