Rumors

[N Katsyev]

February 1443, Trip to Novgorod​

​

Under layers of furs and a thick cap of arctic fox Mina's gray eyes fell upon the two men before her in the sleigh as they passed under the snow-covered branches on the road to Novgorod. Both foreigners from the same country, Count Joao and Lord High Chancellor de la Braga of Portugal. To her right was Tobias Volker.

The conversation had been light so far, maybe due to the bitter cold of the mid-winter day more than lack of topic. The driver in the front kept them on their course through the silence of the winte forest, along a trail obviously frequented by many such sleighs by the slight imprients of prevous runners not yet fully covered by newly fallen snow.

At times they would pass through a small village adjoining the road. Betraying the both harsh and peaceful reality of peasant life in this environment. Everything was eerily quiet except for the sound the occasional axe chop or saw against the frozen trees to keep the life-sustaining fires going. The small peasant Izbas being cleared from time to time by small figures of peasants in the distance. There would be a small gathering in some villages, or the sound of the church bells ringing from the sole stone structure in the settlement, their beautiful domes giving the little towns their only majesty.

Mina looked upon the villages with affection and interest. She admired a romanticism in the village life that the people living it probably only viewed as the cruelty of fate. At the same time she wondered if each village starosta was keeping track of his manpower and tribute quota. Russia as always was two worlds, that of the city and that of the country. Those of the city longed for the simplicity of the country, for the romantic feel of community, of close bonds and sense of belonging. Those of the country dreamed of the prividges and amenities not afforded to them, things that the people of the city seemed at first so desirious to cast away.

Two worlds bound by a language, a history, a religion, a culture yet always jealous of the other and distinctly seperate. Mina had made this trip countless times, yet each time it calmed her, almost enchanted her. Renewed in her dedication, ambition, and love for her subjects... more so for the country and the image of this country that passed before her sparkling wet gray eyes now. Still the trip continued, small talk at times breaking out between the four people in the sleigh, sometimes even including the driver and the road went on...

 

[N Katsyev]

February 1443, Road to Novgorod​

​

​

The remainder of the journey went quietly. Mina wasn't sure but she thought Volker had nodded off most of the trip. All at once the sleigh broke free of the forests and entered the great fields surrounding the city. The crystal blue sky let its fair light down upon the city, its countless golden domes giving off the very aura of grandeur, wealth and power.

Mina smiled as the sleigh drew nearer and spoke her eyes looking beyond the two Portugese men before her, "Sovereign Great Novgorod. The greatest city in Russia. She has always been there for us, a counter-balance to every despotic regime, every would-be conqueror. As long as she remains free, Russia will never lose the old ways, the glory of the past. My father realized that, hopefully my own and all future generations will realize it too."

Through the city gates, across packed streets with swarms of people speaking all languages one could imagine from French, Spanish, English, German, Dutch, Russian, Polish, Lithuanian, Latvian. All mixing in what on the surface was perfect harmony. They crossed over a great bridge to the opposite bank of the Volkhov, their destination came into sight - the Yaroslav Palace. "No Prince may ever reside in this palace, even in this city since the passing of Yaroslav the Wise. I visit, at times like these, but such traditions are far more powerful than I. Yaroslav's memory after all is something to be respected."

Mina wore an expression of pride, but there was another passion burning in her eyes. One that could be so much more dangerous. Taking the hand of an accompanying servitor the Empress set foot once more on the stone of the ancient city, mentioned hundreds of years before Moscow was even a river outpost. Mina took each step up to the palace slowly, with reverance, maybe as Yaroslav himself had done. Behind her were the servitors, the guards, the servants, the visitors. Before her was a destiny to be dreamed of, but Mina would never be content to simply dream...

 

[unmerged(8054)]

- EVENT -

Sale of Memel.

​

It's been several years since the duchy of Prussia ceased to exist as an independent nation, and was divided between Bremen and Pommern. But before it was conqeuered, then duke of Prussia Frederick von Hohenzollern gave away Memel to Lithuania.
For years, this province have poisoned the relation between the neighbours, but now, as Lithuania is about to enter a war against the moslems world, she needs all the aid she can get. The porvince of Memel is one way to secure such aid, and it is sold to Pommern.





RESULT:
The province of Memel becomes controlled by Pommern.
Pommern looses 2 eco.
Lithuania gains 2 eco.

 

[unmerged(7347)]

In Cairo the Caliph have becomed more and more active during the last weeks. Some important decrees have been made.

The Caliphs official support to the Khan of the Golden Horde´s struggle, fullfilling the Fatwa of Tolerance.

"Through his actions, the Great Khan of the Golden Horde is striving for fullfiliing this Fatwa and doing so thus earning himself and any man who follows him a place in Paradise. Dark eyed virgins sheltered in their tents, on green cushions and fine carpets shall await them.

Let it therefore be known that the Golden Horde along side there muslim allies have my and Allahs blessing in this rightfull war against the infidels who defys the sons and daughters of Muhammeds example. There struggle shall be rewarded, there deaths will not be in vain, there bravery will always be remembered..."


And the Caliphs assurance of the Ottoman Sultans rightfull casus belli on the Emirate of Karaman.

"There fore in order to Safeguard Islam and the immortal souls of Karamans inhabitants, the Emir of Karaman shall be removed. His lands and properties shall be confiscated. His people shall be ruled by a more rightous and faitfull ruler and no longer shall Karaman exist in an independent maner, so that heresy never again shall put for there again..."

 

[Eu_proof]

The four men were in a little room left to the court and they sat around a round table. Francois got to his feet and read from a paper as he spoke.

"We swear that we will serve the duchy of Brittany as long as we are still members of the counsel and live in Brittany"

Two of the other men got to their feet and spoke with quiet voices.

"We swear that we will serve the duchy of Brittany as long as we are still members of the counsel and live in Brittany"

Francois continued.

"Good, Eric Frisois and Bernard de Rois, I herby appoint you as the treasurer and marshall of Brittany"

After that, all men walked out of the room and went all different ways. Bernard sat down on a chair a and thought to himself, why did he became the marshall? He had been a member of the Brittany army for several years but he had never participated in any battles. Strange, he thought.

Eric, he went straight home to rest a while before he begun his new life as treasurer in Brittany, he never questioned why he became the treasurer, and why should he?

Jean talked a while to Francois and after that, he went to his room to think about things, his favourite thing to do in the quiet noons at the castle.

Francois himself, he was just happy to finally have appointed a new treasurer and marshall. He sang and were very glad the rest of the day.

 

[Mettermrck]

The Pilgrimage: Cairo​

Cairo. Mameluke capital. Infidel city. Strategic city of the Crusades. The view from the boat was amazing, and the mixture of ancient Egyptian and Muslim architecture moved the onlooker as he stood on the deck, watching the city come closer and closer. The stay had been short in Alexandria, and he had had far too little time to visit Alexander’s city. The same would probably hold true Cairo, and it was with regret that he spotted, in the distance, one of the legendary Pyramids. Looming large on the horizon, he wondered how truly massive it must be in person. But he shook his head to clear his thoughts. This was not a holiday. This was a pilgrimage....a homecoming.

And so he continued to study the city as best he could until the boat docked in the city center. The noise was deafening, nothing like he had ever experienced in Lisbon. The noise from the market was a myriad of shouts and gesticulations, with thousands of voices crying in the various tongues of the city – and he understood few, if any, of them. Stepping on to the ground of the city, he felt the history...the power of this place. In his mind, he knew he was many leagues closer to his ultimate goal, and his pulse quickened at the thought. Once his bodyguard formed up around him, they set off, trying to locate the Sultan’s palace.

It had been a struggle to find, for Reginald was completely unfamiliar with the layout of the city. After an hour of searching, they thought they had found the right place only to be told, by angry guards, that they had come upon the Caliph’s residence and infidels like they were not welcome. Not foolish enough to ask where the Sultan’s Palace, they made a hasty exit and continued their journey through the crowded streets of the city. They drew a lot of attention with their bright colorful garb and Portuguese fashion. If they didn’t know Reginald was a king, they certainly had him marked as a serious lord. Fortunately, the bodyguard kept any vagrants or thieves away, and even the city guards were nervous when they walked by. Finally, after a long hot day of searching, they found some kind souls who were willing to show them the way.

And so it was that as the evening came to Cairo, and the temperatures cooled to something bearable, Reginald and his party arrived at the gates of the Sultan’s palace and asked for an audience.

 

[unmerged(17500)]

The Doge's return

A cool night in early March brings some late flurries to Il Palazzo San Marco. As he gets off the ship, the clocktower beams the time of 3 oclock in the morning down to the few miscreants out. He walks into the palace with his guard in hand. Quickly he heads to his sons private chamber to gain the most up to date information.

From down the hall Francesco can here the thunpings of lacivious sex. His steps grow stronger and more fierce as he approaches his sons room. Like the feel that a storm approaches, the lovers head the oncoming Doge, the son nalready beginning to curse his father for the interuption. Francesco stops at the door and places his hand midway on the oak door, to feel the heat. He slides his hand down the grain of the trees, peeling first his wrist, then his pawm, and finally curling his fingers in preperation for his knock. It turns out to be a bang.

"Giuseppe I need to speak with you immediately. I need a status report on our trade convictions."​

The son pulls the door open, not caring what his father has to say. In plain view is the wretch with which he is serving this night. However firm Giuseppe acts, his father cares only for the information crafted in his sons mind, cares not for the beckoning of the whore.

"Currently I am a little preoccupied father. Why do you not call on Berlusconi, or one of the other council members to bid you good morning. I must return."
_______________

"Ah very nice....I want information now she will wait, just like all of the others. However Venezia shall not, and as much as you would like to devile that whore you shall not defile Venezia. Now the information."
_______________

"Father fine. The Lithuanians have asked for a loan for they are in a fight with the Horde of the north, including the Crimean Hordes. I am not sure what you wish to do about them, or whether you want to get involved and expand from Kerch. With the strength of our armies it should be easy to accomplish.

Elsewhere the merchant guilds would like to speak with you.

Also we have to finish some work with the Timurids and finalize your long term treaty.

In the north we have to deal with the English and have them take over our shipping of goods there. I guess you are not happy with the 10% profit, because I have to tell you our merchants are not. They have refused to approach the area. I would assume you are planning to have the English as a middle man, have them pay a much higher rate, and then sell the goods for us in the north. At least from court records it seems that way.

Now if there is anything else I shall return to my ..... love."​

The door quickly slams on his fathers face. The Doge shocked, begins to burn in anger. In his eminence strength, the power that some humans are endowed with he slams against the door and in would kick of his leg he tears it open and heads strait for his son now on the bed. Specifically his finger points to his noise while he yells at is son.

"I DO NOT WHAT KIND OF IDIOT YOU WISH TO TURN INTO, BUT ATTITUDE WILL NOT BE ACCEPTABLE. WITH ALL THE FUCKING TROUBLE YOU HAVE CAUSED ME, SLEEPING WITH KING'S DAUGHTERS, YOU SHOULD BE HAPPY I LET YOU LIVE.

"King's daughters?​

The wench interrupts, and with out looking at her, in the dark the back of his hand blows her across the bed. The Doge then continues his rant while the girl deals with the blood flowing from her face and the shock of being hit by her God in Venezia.

"I SWEAR TO MY GOD ABOVE, THAT IF YOU CROSS ME AGAIN I WILL FIRSTLY BEAT INTO A FORM OF SOME UNKNOWN BEAST, AND THEN IF YOU ARE STILL ALIVE YOU SHALL BE BANISHED FROM MY PRESENCE FOR YOUR LIFETIME. HOWEVER LONG AND PUTRID IT MAY BE.​

The Doge then turns and normally walks out of the room to finish the work for the night. A few minutes later his son replies softly to himself.

"As usual welcome back father."​

_______________

 

[unmerged(7347)]

In the Halls of the Caliph

The Caliph procceds to the Great Hall where he makes an announcement.

Holy and learned men through out all of Dar l Islam,

It is now clear that the Timurid Khan have defyed the words of the Khalifa and the intesions of Allah. The Timurid Khanate have marsched its forces upon the Uzbekhs, claiming to have proper reason for doing so, but still failed to present such reasons and prove them before Allah. The Timurid Khan have by doing so condemnd himself...

I hereby declare that the Timurid ruler is to be Irtidäd, the Timurid Khanate is no longer a part of Dar l Islam, loosing its voice in this assembly. The Khans lands is now Dar l Harb, and any faitfull muslim who wants to liberate thoose lands from the heresy have Allahs blessing. Any man that will meet there death in such a struggle will immideatly earn themself a place in Paradise. Any man who follows the heretic Timurid Khan will meet a faith of pain and endless sufferings in Hell

All still faithfull in the Timurid lands are urged to revolt and remove the heretic from his position. The honorific title of Amir l Muminin (Commander of the Faitfull), earned by the actions of the former Timurid Khan is here by removed from the Timurid Khan.

Our final call is indeed, all praises are for Allah, Lord of all the Worlds. His prayers and peace upon His Messenger Muhammad, his family and Companions and on all those who strive to follow them in goodness."

 

[Gabriel Anthony]

The steed shifted and neighed under the changing weight, as Vytautas dismounted it. The bitter January cold made short work of his meager attire, but no matter, Vytautas didn't feel the cold at all. He was looking at the object of his desire and the elements had no hold over his emotions.

The challenge to attain this place was, well, quite dissapointing. General Valtratas had been drilling and marshalling his troops for months, and the journey through the heart of Russia was unpleasant. But the Soldiers of Lithuania were driven by the prospect of blood and plunder, Well , theyll get their plunder. The Battle for the walls had been brief, the Mongol scum had buckled like wheat in the wind. Though Vytautas didn't blame them entirely, the sight of the massed armies of Russia Lithuania were a fearsome sight.

But it mattered not now, as he surveyed the abandoned Palace of Samara.
[color=ff3333]" Witness men, The Palace of the Great Khan, descendant of Ghenghis!"[/color] A rowdy laughter rose from the men around him, the Russians most of all. The King and the Tsar took up their residence in the palace as their men sacked the city below, looting and pillaging until they could do so no more.

--------

 

[Eu_proof]

Pskov, Pskov-Novgorod​

The city of Pskov. He was there at last, after taking routs through Magdeburg, Brandenburg, Pommern and Poland, he had decided to go to Pskov. He knew that Brittany had an ammbassadour here under the reign of Jean VI de Montfort, or was it even earlyer but Father Pierre Hardi should be dead after what he had heard. He was sure of that none of the nobles in the lower classes of Pskov would not know about rumors in Brittany. He walked in the streets, looking for a bar where he could ask someone about where he could start his new life, finding a job and a place to live. He found one, the sign over it was on a foreign langague he did not understand, he could just hope that he would understand them. He approached the bardesk and asked the bartender for something to drink, he got in something red and warm and tasted it, it did not taste so bad. He looked around in the bar, who looked sober enogh to talk to him, he saw a little, thin man who sat in the middle of the bar alone. He walked to him and sat down. He looked the other man in the eyes, "Hello", he mumbled. "Nice weather today". He tried to start a conversasion with him.

"Do you pershaps know were a stranger like me, just arrived to Pskov, could get a job and somewere to live? I have nerver been here before you see, I would be much grateful for any help"


In Nantes, meanwhile, Jean talked to Gerard, who just arrived from Groningen.

"So he was in Groningen? Then he is heading for a country in the far east like Russia, i guess, is Father Pierre Hardi still alive in Pskov you think? Maybe i should contact him once again"

 

[unmerged(7347)]

In the Halls of the Caliph

As several question marks have been raised around the Uzbekh Khan, the Caliph have begun an investigation about his conduct. What evidence will be presented...

 

[N Katsyev]

Journey to Yamhur (3)
A Fate Worse Than Death​

​

​

Boris collapsed against the grassy plain, the heat of the fire before him seemed to singe every bit of his torn flesh where the whips had slashed at him only a few days before. One of his eyes had only begun to open again, horribly bruised, it pained him every moment. With his one good eye he had seen Vseslav a couple of times over the past days when he dared to turn for a moment to take in his surroundings. Such occasions were rare however as he already learned that for one to do anything other than walk and look forward silently one would be punished.

There were seven of them being marched along by these Tatars, himself and Vseslav, a young dark girl who he surmised to be the one with the smaller prints they had been following, another man whom by his appearance was probably of the same stock as the girl and four other Russians possibly of anywhere and any trade that had been unfortunate enough to cross the path of these brigands.

Now the sun was setting and there was a fire built, something the Tatars had not done any night prior. Boris was glad for the warmth it afforded in comparison to the previous nights of lying in agony in the cold, however he did not wish to know what was making these Tatars so much more confident either. One of them, a paritcularly swarthy, dirty looking fellow was grumbling as he handed out jerky to the prisoners. It was tough and bloody tasting, but dreadfully familiar by this point.

Over the last days of seemingly endless march it was the one form of sutenance availabe to him. Boris was noble, member of a wealthy and proud family. Back home he would think himself almost industructible, after all he was worth more in ransom than dead so upon the field of battle he would be spared and nobody else would dare cross him. However he was recieving a crash course in humility out here on the steppe. He was nobody here, marched along like an animal and treated worse. Poor Vseslav he thought, Boris himself was not having an easy time with the marches...

Vseslav huddled near the fire, opposite him was Boris who seemed not to have noticed him. However it was little wonder when one considered the state of poor Boris' face alone - it was a miracle he could see anything. The day he had been captured, he heard Boris' screams of pain as he had run with whatever he had left to the thicket. They were on him in moments though, he simply fell to the ground, they tied him up and took him off. As they did he watched his companion torn at by the hands and whips of these dirty scum.

One thing Vseslav had noticed during the march so far was the Tatars had not once lit a fire during the evening. This night they did however, but only when another fire came up on the horizon. Its smoke clearly visible now against the darkening sky of a setting sun. Vseslav tore at his tough jerky and wondered if their lighting of the fire tonight was actually a sign of confidence... or something else entirely. After all, if one has been caught sneaking, it makes little sense for one to continue sneaking.

Regardless, their fate would be decided in the next couple days. It was a fate Vseslav would rather not imagine. A fate connected with the word "Sarai" that he could hear spoken in the harsh tongue of his captors. If they made it to Sarai, it would indeed be a fate worse than death...

 

[unmerged(7347)]

Rumors from the East

Scriptures, about the damnation of the Timurid Khan and the decleration of Irtidäd, from the Caliph in Cairo are smuggled cross the borders to the Timurid Khanate. The letters goes to faithfullas mullahs cross the entire Khanate and there mission is to post them and declare them loudly before the people. The scriptures urges the people to stop paying taxes to the heretic Khan, to turn their way from him, to strike upon him if possibility is given, to drag his soldiers from their horses and all others who follows him in his diabolic ways et.c.

In Cairo the Caliph have set his entire staff to work with these scriptures. He is determined to save as many innocent lifes as possible, as many eternal souls as possible, as many muslims as possible from damnation,casued by the actions of the heretic Khan in Samarkand who has defyed Allah´s will...

 

[unmerged(7849)]

Vasily walked around the building, through its empty halls. It was the second time he had been there, the second time his army had entered Samara. After winding his way through the many rooms he finally came to what he believed was the audience hall of the Khan. Finding an empty seat in the middle of the room, no doubt the Khans, he sat down. His heavy armour put him in an akward position as he rested, but it was better then sitting on the back of his horse for so long. He seemed to have forgotten the great distance the lands of the Rus encompass.

Faintly he could hear the rowdy sound of Russian and Lith soldiers outside. He had instructed his officers to try and put a stop to pillaging, but that was abandoned soon after as his officers decided to gourge themselves too. A man dressed in a black cloak stepped into the room, one of his Oprichniki. The man stood by the Czars side with is hand on sword. After glancing at the man the Czars eyes fixed on the floor as he thought hard.

His child had been born. He did not know if it was a boy or girl, and he had porposely ordered that no letter be delivered to him so his thoughts were not sidetracked to his family. He needed no emotions affecting his decisions in war, just as he expected his soldiers to act without emotions. He fought to get the thoughts of his child out of his mind, and instead focused on the Hordes army. It had abandoned Samara without a fight, and he knew where its new encampment was. But would it stand and defend the Hordes new captial, would it try and take back Samara, or would it continue to evade battle. He knew that a victory in this war would cement the state of Russia, he only hoped that it would come soon. Waiting for a battle was torture.

 

[Alex_pharaoh]

In the Palace of Astrakhan​

I was with Taresh when I heared the news. The Golden Horde has just lost Samara to Lithuanian controll, and my Khanate has lost Tashkent to Timurid hands. Regardless with the fall of the Golden Horde capital, I was concerned about the brutality a man such as Agta Khan would show to a people who resisted the attack of his acenstor, and not forget a nation which has become much more hard to conquer then what he thought. Taresh came to calm me down:

"Please, Alxud, you will be ill if you continue like that..."

"How could I not be like this, when that bastard of Agta Khan is right now establishing his iron hand on my people. And how is Garesh? After his suffering in the Samarakand palace, and his hate towards the Timurids... I don't know what to do."

"Alxud, the only thing that you must do to stop your suffering must be one: Go to the Uzbek Khanate and lead your nation to victory. And for that, you must talk to Orda."

"Yes, I must."

-----------------------------------------------------------------

I was aproaching to Orda Khan with the guards around me, holding me as a prisoner. I aproached him, and said:

"Orda, you will release me, now, or you will face the concequences. I am your vassal, and you have no right to take me as a prisoner."

Then I continued...

"And another thing, Orda. I have a navy that you don't. And you are in a tight situation here with your war. You decided to protect a pittifull christian country like Moldavia, while you fail to protect your loyal Vassal. And the navcy could just raid Astrakhan. This is the moment your dream of a united Mongol Empire must face: Either you let me go and let me come back to the Uzbek Khanate, or the unification fails, and your Mongol Empire falls. I want to remain united to you, but you give me no choice. I have an obligation to my nation, and I will die before I fail to protect my people.

I awaited there, proudly, awaiting any answer, even if it means an execution.

 

[N Katsyev]

March 1443, Visokoye Estate, Tver​

​

Yuri Georgiyevitch walked along the muddy track that would in the summer be a road. To all apperances the old man was appraising the work of his peasants in the fields. However in his own mind he was speaking to his niece, a beautiful woman in a great city far to the north.

However his niece was now an Empress, had driven a most historic divide in the unity of Rus that had existed since the conquests of the sons of Ruirik. He snorted at his own foolishness, romanticism. Unity? Unity indeed, even before the Mongols came the disentigration of Kiev had begun, her Princes is constant civil war, Novgorod had broken once more free to pursue her own destiny. Still the little girl with gray eyes and bobbing hair that curled at the ends, the mind behind that pretty little face had certainly wrought something historic... What it was and would become however was still a thing much shrouded by the mists of the future.

That is how anyone else would look at it however. A Polotovski, more specifically a Polotovski like Yuri, like his brother, like his brother's daughter would look at it as a fate yet to be created, molded. The only thing more important to success than ambition was persistance, the will that would create the way that would lead to the fruition of one's ambition. Will was something that stubborn little brat never lacked, nor did she ever lack the willingess to bend her surroundings in whatever way possible and necessary to add strength to her will.

So what did Mina want to create out of the chaos that was the future? More exactly, what would Mina create out of said chaos, for whatever it was, it would indeed be what she desired. How she loved his stories of Yaroslav the Wise, even of Ruirik... It was more or less clear to any what she was doing now - any not of the foolish stock that is. And from that, from a personal knowledge of the little girl... the Empress, Czarina Mina Andreyevna - 'should have been Mina Yuriyevna', he could not help but pride himself with the thought. From all this maybe one could guess her plans for a future not immediate, not present.

Yuri could indeed guess, his intuition had certainly not begun to deteriorate with age. And if it had it was far more powerful still than those of many of his peers. Mina didn't need help, but she would reward those who did. What if Yuri could help, the Prince 'Vasya' of Tver and with it the Principality so close now. His power gathering always, these people were such fools, so ready to bow to the next strong power. Surely the last couple centuries of whoring themselves to conflicting Russian factions, even to Mongols had instilled in them this nature.

But then, would he whore himself to his own niece? What did he owe her? What did he owe Pskov? Nothing! Nothing! She hated him, they all hated him, he was their equal, their superior, they were afraid of him! He saw the cold glance in those little gray eyes, it humbled him even then. The child that took his soul, took his place... Mina was... No! So quickly thrown out - the bitter thoughts engulfing him he almost stumbled in the thick mud at his feet. He stopped and looked into a thicket, it was cool outside yet he was sweating. He was afraid inwardly, secretly, but horribly evident to himself. He was afraid of taking the next step, it involved her, it involved being a Polotovski... It involved facing a past that Yuri Georgiyevitch, the man who lived without a family name for so long now wished to have forgotten forever.

 

[Mettermrck]

The Pilgrimage - The Sultan's Feast​

Sultan's Palace, Cairo

It was his first chance to relax since the whole journey had began. The long worrisome voyage from Lisbon to Alexandria, the nervous ride down the Nile, and the hectic search through the streets of Cairo. Now at last they had arrived at the Sultan's Palace, to find the monarch amiable and welcoming enough. It was with grateful regard that Reginald bowed to the Sultan and indicated that he would be delighted to share a meal with him. His guards went to make do with what they could find - probably eating with their Mameluke equivalents, no doubt. For Reginald, he was beyond worrying about his person. If he could not trust the Sultan, he was already doomed.

The food was excellent, and Reginald was impressed at the variety of cuisines offered. He recognized a bread prepared in the Iberian style, for example. And the meats, fowl, and fish were plentiful. Despite the barriers in language, he found himself loosening up more and more as the meal progressed, enjoy the scenic room in which they were dining, and listening to some quiet music coming in from the next room...perhaps some players on some form of stringed instruments. It...fit, somehow. He never thought he would enjoy the company of infidels so much. He had spent his entire life thinking of God, the Church, and the Holy Land, and had never thought of who it was he had been fighting. And here he was, his first experience with the Muslim world and he found it to be...civilized? Indeed, this palace was more well run than some European courts he had known.

After indulging himself with food and drink, he allowed himself to open up about his journey to the East and what he hoped to find. "I shan't impose upon your hospitality for too long, Your Majesty, as appreciative as I am. I hope to stay just the one night and then move on for Gaza in the morning. Perhaps you could recommend where I could procure some mounts for the journey? It would be just me and my guards, travelling lightly, for we hope to make haste." He sighed and leaned backwards, his eyes gaining a faraway look.

"There is a question I must answer...one I'll never resolve until I stand in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. I guess I need to find out what the meaning of 'home' truly is...beyond the old definitions of Crusade and jihad...Muslim and Christian. And perhaps...who knows...it might do me some good. I do know I am fortunate to see your great state in person. It makes think of the Muslim world in a different light. Perhaps when I return home, things will be different and Portugal and the Mamelukes can do business together."

He enjoyed the rest of the night, chattig amiably with the Sultan and his fellow diners, looking forward to a good night's sleep before setting out in the morning, before the sun made things too hot.

 

[unmerged(7849)]

Maria sat in the chair, the child wrapped in a blanket in her arms. The birth had taken much of her strength, and three nurses were standing close by waiting to take back the child. They had spent more time with the child then his own mother. Maria held in her hand a letter, addressed from a General informing the Czarina of the liberation of Samara. She spoke softly to the child, "See," she said as she held the letter before the childs eyes, "your father is busy expanding your realm my little Ivan."

She gave a slight cough into her hand, and one of the nurses approached ready to take the child. Maria waved her off and continued to hold the child. She got up and walked over to the window. The sun illuminated Moscow, and she held the child to the window so it could peer out. Ivan playfully put his hand to the window feeling it up and down before giving out a yawn. At the sound of this Maria gave the child up to one of the nurses who quickly took him to his crib.

She took up her seat again, and pulled some blankets over her. She felt weak, and long awaited the return of her husband.

 

[Mettermrck]

The Pilgrimage – Gaza​

Gaza, Palestine

He recalled the words of the scholar he had spoken to the night before, one of the Sultan’s dinner guests. ”The first reference to the town of Gaza came during the reign of Tuthmosis III of Egypt's 18th Dynasty.” Almost three thousand years ago...before Portugal was even a glimmer in God’s eyes. Before the birth of the Lord. This...this was history. Coming out of the hot Sinai, Reginald was grateful for the Sultan’s gifts of the fine horses. Already his mind was at work, with grand plans for breeding these magnificent animals in a stable he would construct next to his palace. He shook his head. This was supposed to be a pilgrimage, but he was enjoying himself...perhaps a bit too much.

From a hill overlooking the city, he could spot the port laid before him, set against the Mediterranean in stark contrast, blue on brown. He was here now...on the edge of the Holy Land. The sounds...the smells...it was starting to come back to him now. This was it...this was what he wanted to face...his past. Nudging his horse forward, his party descended towards the port, where they hoped to spend an evening before setting off up the coast for Jaffa and then the inland push to Jerusalem. He tried not to think of the Holy City...not yet. That momentous hour was still two or three days away. And then? And then came the rest of his life.

His hands gripped the reins tightly as they rode in. It had been a swift journey, only a few days by horse. The Sultan had provided them with comfortable quarters for their repast at the palace and to no one’s surprise, Reginald’s bed had included one of the dancing women. He told himself repeatedly that he was merely trying not to offend his host, but he knew that was a lie. And that was partly what the trip was about. Could he enjoy life pleasures without the constant guilt from his lost heritage? And that is why I am here....at last. To put it all to rest.

 

[N Katsyev]

West of the Dvina - The Journey Begins (I)
"To Meet Once More the Face of the Forgotten"​

​

Three figures sat upon their mounts overlooking a stream, one of an unimaginable many they would cross on this journey. Two brothers and a sister, behind them three servants with horses of their own not for riding but for hauling supplies. A wind blew over them from the east, from mountains yet invisible through distance, it was a cold, frigid wind - one that hinted at dangers that could never be spoken of. It was a frontier wind, one that blows to tantalize those that stand at the edge of a great mystery, a warning and a welcome all at once. Zinaida Stroganova looked to her brother Anatoly with her slate blue eyes, a bit of auburn hair falling characteristically over them. He alone among the three siblings had been past the Dvina, had even been there before. There was a grave expression on the young man's face however in this wonderful morning light as he looked himself east...

One hundred years ago before now in 1443, Veliky Novgorod stretched from the Baltic Sea to the Ural Mountains. Alone her and her sister Republic of Pskov of all Russian states remained free of the Mongol yoke. Together not only did they remain free from the Mongols and prosper as members of the famous Hanseactic League but destroyed countless invasions of the Livonian Order and the Swedes. Still with time and the countless wear of enemies on all sides even the greatest fall. Pskov split away in 1348 and a number of costly wars humbled the great Russian Republic. Her inner politics were becoming more and more poisoned with greed yet she struggled on...

Slowly her eastern colonies were more and more neglected, with less demand for their goods from her own weakening mercantile power they were becoming much too expensive to support. Great Lord Novgorod was slowly dying - as always there was a great thrashing about in the end. Wars in the early 15th century once more with the Mongols and then she was torn asunder, the greatest city in Russia found herself in darkness. However there was one last chance, her sister was still alive and strong - she came back for her terminally wounded sibling. It was clear neither could any longer stand without the other, and they were united once more.

This new Union Republic found herself in a new Russia, a new world. There were enemies on all sides, wanting to finish what history had already begun. However the Union Republic struggled on, re-asserting her position in the new Russia - in the new world. On sunny winter days Veliky Novgorod once more shone brightly in the sun, proudly, the city had found the light once more. The two sisters now once more alive, vibrant, powerful looked to reclaim the glories of the past. The long neglected eastern colonies would be found again, re-settled if need be, they were once more needed to fill the volume of goods demanded from their trading partners. In this will of the woman who so epitomized the Union Republic these three travellers now stood on the edge of a great frontier, to explore a vast, untamed land. To make contact once more with the scattered settlements of the past, to shine the blazing light of knowlege once more upon the great unknown. Following them would no doubt be the legions of free settlers, entrepenuers, trappers, lumberjacks...