Another fertile Moravian queen. What religion was the opposition and what is the division in Rus? Thank you for updating
The Lions of Olomouc: a CKIII Ironman AAR (Duchy of Moravia, 867)
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BTW "zbrojnošov" means "of zbrojnoshes", normal plural is just "zbrojnoši". 
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So, the Rus' are divided into several principalities. Galicia-Volhynia, White Rus' and what is called by the game Ruthenia (and which I am calling alternatively Great Rus' or Mozyr, based on where their capital is) are Orthodox. Budzhak is Adamite (nice warm Black Sea coast there, no wonder). Pretty much everything northeast of the Mozyr-held territories are Qara'im. There are some Insularists and Ásatrúar up there, too, but don't ask me right now which principalities those belong to.
BTW "zbrojnošov" means "of zbrojnoshes", normal plural is just "zbrojnoši".
Good to know. Thank you for the grammatical corrections, @Silverbow, but you'll understand if I don't go back and change four books' worth of that error.
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Book Five Chapter Six
SIX
Mother’s Son
13 December 1231 – 19 March 1233
Mother’s Son
13 December 1231 – 19 March 1233
Kaloján found forgiveness came readily to him for Siloš of Užhorod. Knieža Siloš, who had been taken in rebellion against King Želimír and held hostage in Olomouc ever since, was set free without any ransom, nor anything else asked in return. The master of the White Croat lands had done the deeds he had done, out of love for the Faith, and in the tweening that the former king had been tempted back into his old heresies.
But it surprised the whole court when the Kráľ gave the command to release Prisnec of Bohemia. Prisnec had raised the revolt against Kaloján, to place his uncle Zvonimír on the throne in his stead. Kaloján did command that Prisnec raise a goodly sum of silver for ransom, but he immediately sent the ransom whence it came, back to Praha, in secret. Prisnec had not anticipated this grace from the king, and he made a great show of his gratitude toward Kaloján for it.
It was expected by all in Olomouc, that another revolt against the King would arise in the west, but Praha was quiet and content. Forsooth, my children, Prisnec chose to stay in Olomouc rather than return to Praha. Further marks of God’s favour visited themselves upon Moravia. It had not been long since Kaloján returned to Olomouc from Starodub, that Bohumila again conceived.
‘My love and my king,’ quoth Bohumila to her husband as she thoughtfully ran a hand over her wame, ‘I pray to God that our child should have your looks.’
‘And whyever is that?’ asked Kaloján, taken aback.
‘God has favoured you with a comely countenance,’ Bohumila spoke. ‘Surely there were women of fairness better rivalling yours—or women of greater fitness, or women of greater understanding. I must ask it of you—why had you chosen me among women to woo and to marry? I fear I am truly quite ordinary… not a worthy consort to a great and good man.’
‘You are wrong,’ Kaloján clasped his wife’s hands to him. ‘Truly I tell you, Bohumila—I could not love you more. A woman might have the beauty of a whole field of summer wildflowers, or the strength and fitness of a mountain ram, or the understanding of all the philosophers in Constantinople. But she would not be your rival—you surpass all of these.’
‘How?’
‘All of the lily-root powders and marjoram and rouge[1] could not give a woman your singleness of heart, or the hope which shines from your eyes. All of the book-learning and bon mots a woman might acquire could not hold a candle to the natural breadth of your mind and graciousness of your bearing. And all of the soundness of body and pride of good health which a woman might possess, could not hope to overpower the faith which you place in God.’
Bohumila was reassured, and she embraced her husband once again.
‘And behold our heirs already,’ Kaloján told her. ‘Are not Kvetľana and Kurík blessed in abundance with such natural gifts as you desire?’
‘They are,’ Bohumila owned it.
‘And you shall see to it that they marry their equals, seeing that it matters to you.’
~~~
It happened thereafter that their son Kurík was betrothed to a young girl of Dorochoi, the daughter of Vasili Balharski-Neamț and his wife Salomé, named Vjačeslava. Because Salomé’s father was the Knyaz of the Červený, it was to this Knyaz that Kaloján applied for his granddaughter’s hand on his son’s behalf. The Kráľ had heard that Vjačeslava was a bold and healthy and lively girl, even a bit of a tomboy—as indeed she was. Upon meeting her at their betrothal, Bohumila approved of her at once. Shortly thereafter Bohumila gave birth to a pair of well-favoured twins—Viera and Vratislav.
In the meanwhile, there arrived in Olomouc—a Trebizond merchant of certain renown. He gave a deep obeisance as the Kráľ presented himself before him.
‘Your Majesty, we have arrived here from the great City with a selection of rarities and fine antiquities which I guarantee you would be unavailable for purchase elsewhere. Given your great reputation for bravery and magnanimity, I would be willing to provide these items to you at a significant discount…’
In such artful language did the Greek merchant flatter and praise the king, who looked over the ‘selection’ with a tweening eye. It was clear to him that the merchant was… not entirely honest, and that many of his wares were of doubtful provenance. The pastiches and cheap imitations were the ones to which the merchant through his gesticulations tried to draw the king. But the king’s eye fell toward a set of long, thin cases covered with the same faded brocade.
‘What is in these?’ asked the king.
‘Those?’ the merchant rolled his head from one side to the other, as if attempting to decide something. He then made an obsequious gesture and remarked to the king: ‘Oh, these are a curious little set which I happened to acquire from a Qypchaq trader, who brought them in from the realm of Taugats[2]. I have it upon his authority that these are a document of considerable age, and that they touch upon matters of military strategy. If you can translate them, as they are written in the Taugats script. By itself I’d mark it at thirty denáre, and I just so happen to have a Greek glossary of such script here as well… I can throw it in for, oh, fifteen extra denáre. Quite a bargain, Kráľ!’
The long case contained a wooden-handled paper scroll. The Kráľ unfurled it.
‘No, no… that’s the wrong way,’ the merchant gestured, but then ended his correction at a glare from the king with a toadyish gesture. ‘Begging your pardon, Majesty… but the Taugats script is read top-down, and from right to left.’
Indeed, my children, the scroll did contain the ornate, square script of that far realm. And the first four words upon it read: Sam Kvek Tče Tčjô[3], that is to say, Notes upon the Tales of Three Kingdoms.
When all was said and done, the king did buy both scroll and glossary from the Greek merchant, though he haggled him down to thirty denáre for both.
Even then, for a long while struggling with both glossary and text, the Kráľ still felt like he’d been cheated. Kaloján, though no fool, was also no man of letters as his great-grandfather had been—and though the scrolls were genuine, the glossary was of poor quality. Long nights he spent struggling through the text… though he was compelled by curiosity as much as anything else to read about the downfall of the kingdom of Daj Han, and the deeds of Tzau Tšau, Ľju Bi and Sun Huén[4] during the kingdom’s threefold sundering.
At last he came to a passage about the Battle of Čjekpik which caught his eye… the way in which Tzau Tšau was hoodwinked into linking his ships together while two enemy commanders, Tčju-Kat Ľjáň and Tčjô Ju, sacrificed several riverboats by lighting them on fire and ramming them into his fleet, causing a great firestorm which wiped out Tzau Tšau’s fleet. The king studied the original text and the accompanying commentaries on this battle in great detail, and gained a number of insights on the value of misdirection and intelligence in battle, as well as the tactics of river crossings.
It was during his studies of the Sam Kvek Tče Tčjô, that the Queen Mother Živana invited her son to Znojmo. Dutifully went Kaloján. It is a pity to say of a leader of men, my children, but Kaloján had never been at ease among large throngs, instead seeking repose and quietude, or the company of one or two trusted friends. Knowing this, his mother brought him to Znojmo on the assurance that only close kin would be present.
Mother and son were of two disparate minds. ‘Close kin’, for her, reckoned Ladislav. Not two nights into the festivities in Znojmo, did this same royal uncle Ladislav make a shameful display of himself, bare as a newborn babe, before the whole gathering. And poor Kaloján burned with pity upon his uncle’s account.
The king’s elder brother Radomír was also there: he who had been a monk, but whose misdeeds with a noblewoman had caused his return to the life of the laity. Poor Radomír could never handle his wine. And soon enough the king’s elder brother was loudly proclaiming his gratitude to the Kráľ: as flush with embarrassment as his brother was with drink. Kaloján was never one to take advantage of a man in his cups, and so he carefully disavowed any debts his brother claimed to owe.
The feasting was over, and the entertainments had dwindled, and the Queen Mother took her son aside.
‘Thank you for being here, Kaloján. I am truly sorry for the anguish our kin cause you.’
‘Mother, say nothing of it,’ assured her filial son. ‘All of us are family here.’
Amid the general riot and drunkenness that accompanied the feast at Znojmo, all were impressed with Kaloján’s self-control and forbearance as well as his warm affection for his mother, his brother and his uncle. If the nobles had already bethought themselves that Kaloján was indeed, among his family, the best fit to rule the realm—then this feast went only further to showing it.
[1] Ingredients of women’s cosmetics in the High Middle Ages.
[2] Such was the post-classical Greek name for China, as borrowed from Old Turkic Tabγač.
[3] Middle Moravian rendering of the title of Pei Songzhi’s Annotations to Records of the Three Kingdoms: 三國志注.
[4] Middle Moravian renderings of Cao Cao 曹操, Liu Bei 劉備 and Sun Quan 孫權.
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If you do not mind, I would like to give a shout out to the author of the ancient manuscript: @Zamarak500. A modern translation is found in the CK2 forum. If one has relatives, there is no need to hire a jester for entertainment at your next feast. Thank you for updating.
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Book Five Chapter Seven
SEVEN
Grudge
19 June 1233 – 28 December 1235
Grudge
19 June 1233 – 28 December 1235
Kaloján was indeed a man of very fair countenance who well matched the moniker that Vratislav Kopčianský had bestowed upon him as a child, as well as being a gallant and an honourable fighter. Several were the ladies of the court who tried to win his heart away from Bohumila—but none of them succeeded. So dearly did Kaloján prize the love of his queen that no other woman could draw near him.
His Armenian sorrel, Krvavý Kralík, was among horses the strongest and swiftest and surest of hoof of any which trod upon Moravian soil. Krvavý Kralík was an able and biddable beast when the king demanded it… and only at the king’s behest and bidding would the sorrel stallion himself permit anyone to approach him. Among the very few whom Krvavý Kralík allowed to mount him apart from Kaloján, was the queen’s nephew: Svätopluk’s son and successor Tichomil.
Kaloján doted upon Krvavý Kralík, and rode with him not only in war but also in times of peace. Rare was the day of fair weather when he was not riding the spirited sorrel up and down the banks of the Morava. The bowers would often see the king riding by. In particular mothers with scrofulous children would go to touch the horse’s saddle or stirrups for healing—a favour Kaloján was happy always to bestow.
And unlike his father and mother till late, Kaloján was a dutiful son of the Church. He kept the fasts every Wednesday and Friday, and the fasting seasons before Christmas and Easter. He went to Vigil every Saturday, and he went to Liturgy every Sunday. He prayed earnestly at his own iconostasis, and before undertaking any task.
He heeded his Archbishop and paid reverence to the Patriarchs of the ancient sees—particularly to those in Alexandria and in Constantinople. Indeed, the Kráľ twice received envoys from the Imperial City. The Kráľ always received these members of the black clergy with deep reverence and prostrations, and treated them as though they were angels upon earth.
Understand that everything that Kaloján was given was first a gift from God. If Kaloján was by nature given a pretty face, his mother saw to it that he did not grow vain and frivolous, but paid more attention to the beauty of his heart. If Kaloján had a loving wife, he kept her only by humility, by attention, and by gratitude. And if Kaloján had a faithful steed, he won him only with an open hand and patience. The good things that were bestowed upon the King were from those virtues within him which, with prayer and thanksgiving to the Creator of All, he honed through his life.
But, oh, my children—envy is a deadly thing, deadlier than an adder’s venom! For it not only desires the good things another man has—that is only part of it. It also desires the destruction of the man. But in so desiring, it damages only the envious ill-wisher! And envy robs the getting of the desired things of its joy, as well as undermining the virtues within the soul needed to retain them! What a mockery the demons make of us, if we give into envy!
Such ought to have been the lesson Vratislav Kopčianský ought to have taken upon seeing the king’s success. But it was not. The lad who had given Kaloján his byname had become the hrabě of Kremža and of Jihlava in his adulthood. He had also grown into a sullen and resentful temper, one which rejoiced in others’ misfortunes. And the more the king attained to glory upon the field of battle, or the more fiercely shone his virtues and his loves, the bitterer the hatred for the Kráľ in Vratislav’s heart grew.
Yet as the Kráľ’s vassal, Vratislav could not openly show his hatred for his liege in court. And so he took instead to gathering an army of whispers. He waged a campaign, not against the Kráľ himself, but against the Queen Mother. Given her former errors, few well-placed doubts and half-truths were all it took. Soon it was being spread among the vassals that Živana had been faithless to the former King, and that she had never truly renounced her former blasphemous God-hating heresies.
Kaloján was enraged by these rumours once he came to learn of them. But falsehoods and whispers in the shadows cannot be cut down with swords, and to give them attention only grants them greater power. This time, the Kráľ had nothing to rely upon but faith in his mother and faith in God. Truly, the Kráľ himself might never have found the source of the rumours if Vratislav had not given himself away.
There was a hunt that summer, and the highlands of southwestern Moravia, near Zborná, were the grounds. Queen Mother Živana rode one of her better hunting steeds, and she dressed for the occasion – a light dress with a high hem. The party were not long on the road before the cruel whispers began again. This time, it was to the effect that at least her tailor must be an Adamite, to dress her in such a shoddy gown for a hunt worthy of the royal dignity.
The old woman blushed scarlet, and her son likewise burned hot with indignation. He knew that the source of the slander must have been toward the front of the party, among the higher nobles, who had been within view of her the while. The Rychnovských were fractious, but Kaloján couldn’t see them promoting such vicious personal slanders against one of their own, and besmirching their own honour in the process. And the Bijelahrvatskići and the Pavelkovci were toward the rear of the procession. Those who had been best situated to spread the rumour backwards and forwards… were under the banner of the Mojmírovci of Nitra.
Among the sundry members of the Mojmírov dynasty, Bohuslav, the king’s šafár, could not have been the slanderer. If Bohuslav had aught against Kaloján or his mother, they would hear it in the open. That left Vratislav Kopčianský.
Kaloján fell back gradually in the procession until he fell within earshot of Vratislav. When they dismounted to take a draught of water, he heard Vratislav himself begin uttering all manner of calumnies against the Queen Mother.
‘Have you seen how that foul slattern rides?’ he asked one of the Bohemians with a sneer. ‘And you want to tell me that she’s a faithful daughter of the Church? If you ask me, the bishop of Jáger could stand to do a few investigations…’
Enraged, the king ordered two zbrojnoši at once to lay hand upon Vratislav, strip the tunic from his back and have him horse-whipped. The Kráľ then said to Vratislav:
‘A viper with such a forked tongue should be trampled underfoot. Henceforth you are no longer in my retinue, nor welcome within my realm. And for the lies and insults you have just uttered about the Queen Mother, all the lands you hold within the Morava Valley are forfeit.’
‘This is tyranny!’ shouted Vratislav.
‘Nay, but justice,’ Kaloján answered. ‘How many Moravians did it take to bring the city of Jáger out of the clutches of the Gnostics? You belittle the faithful soldiers, and you spit upon their graves, when you insult the Purkmistrička who returned Jáger to the clean waters of its baptism!’
‘I swear, for this outrage, you shall be made to answer,’ Vratislav told him.
But the keys to all the castles, and the deeds to all the manors that Vratislav Kopčianský held in the vysočina, were taken from his person, and every reeve and every bower that had paid obeisance to the hrabě swore anew their oaths, to the person of the King. Vratislav was then banished from setting foot again in Moravia.
But Kaloján’s reach did not extend into the traditional Austrian lands. Vratislav fled to Kremža upon being loosed, and there bided himself for vengeance upon the Moravian king.
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Book Five Chapter Eight
EIGHT
Riazan Humbled
28 December 1235 – 13 December 1238
Riazan Humbled
28 December 1235 – 13 December 1238
Once, the Kráľ had fought the Black Knight to a draw upon the road to Doudleby and thus won his allegiance. But this time the king’s arm was slowed, and he found himself worsted. He made one last swing—though it was ill-aimed, and the Knight struck him in the shoulder, wounding him deeply there. The Black Knight was deeply apologetic, but the hurt had been done.
The White Knight of Bohemia, on the other hand, waxed wroth and quarrelsome. Several within the King’s court underwent his challenge and fought with him in the courtyard. Kaloján himself fell foul of the White Knight’s flaring anger once, and himself would have fought with him. And it was only by the Black Knight’s and the Gold Knight’s word, that Kaloján and the White Knight did not come to deadly blows between them. Ultimately, by the two other Bohemian knights’ intervention, the two men were reconciled to each other.
Falling to such injuries might well turn a lesser man bitter. But the Kráľ was not of such a resentful disposition. Instead, he fostered within himself the spirit of gratitude. Grateful to God for having preserved his life, grateful to his knights for their friendship, and grateful to the Queen whose merciful hands tended to his wounds, the Kráľ set to work writing an epistle of love to the last of these. Bohumila received it—and him—with deep affection. Indeed: later that winter she began showing the signs of being with child once more.
It was in this time that the Great Rus’ came once more under attack—this time from the east. The prince of Riazan, named Rjurik after the great founder of his dynasty, made a bid for the city of Romen. At this time the eastern Rus’ had fallen under the blasphemous error of the Sadducees, and they did not believe in the Resurrection of the dead, neither did they believe in Our Lord Christ. And once more Kaloján mustered the Moravians to march eastward across Tarnov and Galicia, and come to the aid of the Great Rus’. By this Kaloján proved that he was a true friend to the Rus’, and the Veliky Knyaz of Mozyr, Vseslav, became the Moravian Kráľ’s fast friend.
The Kráľ gathered to him many knights from around the realm and elsewhere—one of whom, Ruslav, had a great many victories to his name. He rode out with the assembled troops. Too, Hartneid, the commander of the Brotherhood of the Holy Sepulchre, answered the call to defend Romen from the Sadducees under the banner of Rjurik of Riazan.
Early the Moravians heard that the Rus’ had been defeated by the Jews and the Riazanovci at Samara. Many among the Moravians were downcast at this news, but Kaloján told them:
‘Fear not, brothers, for we ride with the blessing of the Risen Lord, alongside the Brotherhood of the Holy Sepulchre—with such help as this, what man can stop us?’
And so the men of Moravia came upon the town of Karlovka. There they met the Riazanovci.
Tam čierny rytier ukázal svoju oceľ!
Tam syn Svätoplukov krv nabral!
Tam syn Svätoplukov krv nabral!
The first to cross the plain by Karlovka were the ordinary Moravian soldiery, and Rjurik of Ryazan fell upon them with great slaughter. But afar across the field rode the son of Svätopluk, the kinsman of the king, Tichomil! Tichomil, who rode out ahead of the king, couched his lance and rode straight for the line of his foes. He fell about him with heavy strokes, and many by him were sent into the grave! Not to be outdone was the Black Knight, who wielded a great mace and rode forth into battle after Tichomil.
Asko, a severán of the far north, was among the first of the Riazanovci to join the battle. Spotting him, Tichomil thundered through the ranks as a bolt from the heavens, and smote the Northman a mighty blow, shattering his shield and knocking him clean from his horse.
Tichomil, taken with rage and the heat of battle, his armour smoking with blood, rode out again and wheeled about in search of the vanes of the men or Riazan. And once more he spotted among them a vane-bearer, named Jefim. Bold and bravely fought Jefim, and the two riders fought for twenty passes with neither one giving way to the other, until both horses were sweating froth and both men were oozing blood from their wounds. With a swing bearing the weight of ten men behind it, Tichomil landed a mighty blow upon the pate of Jefim with his shield, and sent him off his horse, sprawling to the dust of the earth.
And then the Black Knight of Bohemia swooped like a raven down upon the foe. The strength of ninety zbrojnoši within his limbs, he came upon the Hazar chieftain Čorpan of Tambov and struck at him. The chieftain gave battle, but fought only five passes with the Black Knight before the behemoth of Bohemia landed with his mace upon the Hazar such a blow, that it smote the head clean from his body and sent it sailing through the air high over the ranks of the Riazanovci. Seeing this, the Riazanovci were dismayed, and they fled from the field at Karlovka.
The Moravians seized the towns of Samara and Karlovka from the prince of Riazan, and marched northward through the forests. However, once they came to the Oskol River, they were met by a black-haired man in simple robes who gave his name as Konstantin of Kholm.
‘And what are you doing here, sir?’
‘I have come to save, and to warn you, O Kráľ,’ said black-haired Konstantin.
‘Of what have you to warn me, good man?’ asked Kaloján, listening with respect. For Kaloján was a pious man, and knew that even angels have been known thus to appear to men in disreputable guise.
‘Do not pass further north. Do not attack Riazan,’ the man told him. ‘Riazan is favoured of God, and one day shall be lifted up among all the towns of Rus’—above Kiev, above Mozyr, above Novgorod. Indeed, there shall come a day soon when the Knyaz of Ryazan will stand in judgement over the Rychnovských!’
Kaloján was not angered, but his curiosity was tempered with caution. ‘Have you any proof of this?’ asked the king.
‘Your daughter,’ Konstantin told him, after having looked upon his face. ‘She is healthy and well—as is her mother. She has named your daughter Dobrohneva.’
And this was true—though the father of the babe did not yet know it.
‘The knieža of Nitra—he is not long for this world. Bid him make his peace, and be shriven.’
And this also was true. Bohuslav would succumb to a tumour of the brain not five days later.
Konstantin then approached the commander of the Brotherhood of the Holy Sepulchre.
‘Come down, let me see you,’ said Konstantin.
Bemused, the German Hartneid lit from his horse and stood before Konstantin. Then the black-haired man began to weep. He gripped the Brother of the Holy Sepulchre by the shoulders and kissed him soundly upon the left temple.
‘Brother Hartneid,’ he told the warrior, ‘be gracious, humble, patient and God-fearing. The foe shall strike you where I have kissed. If you do not do God’s will hereafter, the blow shall be deadly. If, on the other hand, you believe upon the Lord and keep His commandments, loving Him and loving your neighbour—your life shall be spared.’
‘What nonsense you speak!’ cried Hartneid. ‘Kráľ, this man is gone wood! Let us depart from him.’
‘Remember what I have said,’ Konstantin implored them as they rode off.
They kept riding northward through the forest until they came to the village of Chursa. At Chursa once more the Riazanovci fell upon the Moravians with a surprise attack. The Moravian army fought with bravery and strength, but it so happened that Brother Hartneid was caught in the midst of the fighting, and was spotted by Kamaj of Petrovsk. The Hazar lordling smote Hartneid a mighty blow upon the left temple. Hartneid might have had his head smitten from his body, were he not protected by the kiss of Konstantin. Thereupon Hartneid himself came to believe that Konstantin of Kholm had indeed been a holy man sent by God… and so too did Kaloján.
Whereupon the men of Moravia did not follow the track through the forests further north toward Riazan. For the Kráľ had been convinced by the signs and prophecies of the holy man upon the road that the Jewish city would come to be crowned for a great purpose. And if one day the prince of Riazan would come to stand in judgement over the whole of his clan, then Kaloján stood in hope that the judgement would be a merciful one[1].
Instead bent their way westward toward Kursk. Once again they came upon Rjurik, and here they rode upon him in force, and surrounded him and captured him. They were able to force him to a peace, and forswear his claims upon the town of Romen.
Upon his return, Kaloján was greeted at once by his queen, who presented him with a newborn daughter named Dobrohneva. Once again the king marvelled at the foreknowledge of the man they’d met on the forest road. But he did not have long for such wonder, for the queen bade him into their chambers, whither he went willingly. Again the queen conceived, and once more she bore unto him a daughter, whose name was called Krásnoroda.
[1] Several scholars, particularly during the early 1800s, have maintained that these passages postdate the Zemsky Sobor of 1661 which inaugurated the Tsardom of Riazan. But it is highly interesting to note that the first occurrence of the Príbeh which alludes to the primacy of Riazan was in fact commissioned during the reign of Róbert Rychnovsky in the late 1400s.
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Book Five Chapter Nine
NINE
Last Days of Krvavý Králik
13 December 1238 – 31 August 1243
Last Days of Krvavý Králik
13 December 1238 – 31 August 1243
The first true družinniki[1] of Kaloján were, of course, those who accompanied him when he first took the throne, as well as upon his campaigns to defend the Rus’, and upon his later campaigns against the Adamites. Think of the bold charges made by the three Knights of Bohemia, or the bold stand of the Six Knights at the gates of Vysoký Breh! My children, think you thereupon of the selfless brotherhood of Vojtech of the Silver Helmet and Knieža Bohuslav, defiant of defeat and death! God-fearing of soul, courageous of heart, generous of hand, truthful of word, fearless of deed, mighty of form—these were the marks of a družinnik of Kaloján.
Kaloján himself was no stranger to these virtues. By the time he was thirty-three years of age, the Kráľ of Moravia was renowned abroad. Upon each feast day he opened the larders of Olomouc to the poor, the widows and the orphans, and sent out cartloads full of food from his feasting-table into the countryside for those who were lacking. Any who came to Olomouc, no matter their station in life, in need of help, would always find a ready and sympathetic ear with the king.
As munificent as Kaloján was to those who appealed to him, he was likewise ferocious to the foes of his realm. His sword was ever honed keen and hung at his side. And he was never content to lead from the vane—he would always ride from the front in a bold charge. Both to longstanding friends like Tichomil of the Sliezsko March, and to later supporters like Prisnec of Bohemia, Kaloján was a paragon to be emulated. Only to three would Kaloján kneel: to our Lord Christ; to the Holy Mother of God; and to his wife Queen Bohumila.
Kaloján’s two sons, Kurík and Vratislav, each received part of their father’s nature. Kurík, possessed of a fine tongue ever ready with a fitting word, grew up doughty and bold—intrepid as a bull, and twice as stubborn. Vratislav, on the other hand, was of a sweet and obliging temper, but was every bit the equal of his elder brother in contests of arms. Kurík could spar twenty, forty, sixty, eighty passes with Vratislav, and neither brother could best the other. But either of them could roundly whip any of the other court boys in under five strokes. All agreed that both boys would make fine družinniki when they came of age, and all agreed that either of them would one day make a worthy heir to Kaloján.
Kurík had been betrothed in his youth to Vjačeslava Vasilevna, of the noble Balharská line. Vjačeslava visited Olomouc but once. Fiery of hair, strong of limb and every bit as bold and fearless of temper as her betrothed, Vjačeslava fell in love with him at once she saw him, would look at no other man, and yearned for Kurík’s coming of age. At the same time, just as she loved Kurík, Kurík’s brother Vratislav in turn fell in love with his brother’s intended. Yet knowing his love for his brother’s bride to be the sin of covetousness condemned under the Law of Moses, and hateful before God, Vratislav spoke not of his love for Vjačeslava—not to her, nor to any other, yet kept it locked within his heart and behind his lips.
~~~
Both legends were embodied in the form of Krvavý Kralík, red and fair as the sunset and swift as the wind. The sight of Kaloján astride his Armenian sorrel, the doughty Krvavý Kralík, gave heart to Moravia and Moravia’s friends—and struck fear into the hearts of those who wished Moravia ill. Krvavý Kralík had no fear of anything upon earth or in heaven—neither thunder, nor rain, nor din of weapons nor glint of blades, could deter the steed from his charge. But such was the Armenian sorrel’s devotion to the Kráľ that he had merely to whisper a word and the steed would pull up sharp and stand stock still—or veer left, right or across at the king’s merest gesture.
Krvavý Kralík served the Kráľ well in peace as well as at war. Kaloján loved to ride the sorrel for the sheer joy and exertion of it on fair days. And whenever the sorrel fell ill, Kaloján cared for the beast with a hand as tender as he gave to any among mankind—save his wife.
Krvavý Kralík also served the Kráľovná, albeit in other ways.
In May of 6751, there was a hunt called, and the queen rode together with the king. At one glance from Bohumila, the king bore the queen up upon Krvavý Kralík’s back, and off they rode at speed—far out of the sight and hearing of men. There the royal pair stayed for the rest of the day and night, clad only in the green gown of the woods. None were surprised, two months after coming back from that hunt, when Bohumila’s belly once again grew round with child. And nine months after that hunt, Bohumila bore unto Kaloján another girl, whom she named after his mother, and christened Živoslava.
In those years of družnosť, during peacetime Kaloján held great tourneys and rode together with his knights upon vast fields set apart for the purpose, amid many vanes of red and green, gold and black. Bohumila presided at her fair share of these contests. Great was the show made by the Armenian sorrel, and great was the glory that reflected upon the king and all his kin.
Yet the Armenian sorrel was beginning to show his age. Though his heart was still bold and fierce and although his blood ran as hot as ever, the Kráľ could feel the stride of the beast begin to slow. Krvavý Kralík had never feared death—yet now the Kráľ began to fear for his beloved steed. What a crime to the world, if Krvavý Kralík would leave not even a shadow behind him, before being buried in the ground!
The Kráľ chose with care for him—a Caucasian mare, a palomino. At least this way, the Armenian blood would not be diluted in the offspring of the ‘bloody rabbit’! Krvavý Kralík at first would not touch the mare, but at last his nature got the better of him, and the mare conceived before Krvavý Kralík rode and stood his last. And the foal of Krvavý Kralík by the palomino, who had a similar temper to his sire, was christened by the Kráľ with the name of Nabíjačník, or ‘Charger’.
The blood of Krvavý Kralík and Nabíjačník, is still said by some to reside in the herds that live near the Tatras. And though these horses are but mere shadows of their illustrious ancestor, still occasionally there is a sorrel or a palomino among them who bears some of the old wind and fire, from which the legends say God made the horses of the Caucasus on the eighth day.
[1] Literally, ‘companions’. The same term was used for the retinues of Polish and Rus’ chieftains.
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Evidently I shall have to spend more time in the CK2 forum! I've been a fan of Sanguo Yanyi since college, so it would be interesting to read an AAR set during that time.
The fun thing about Crusader Kings is that, if left long enough, everything comes back around.
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Book Five Chapter Ten
TEN
To Shreds
15 February 1245 – 28 May 1250
I.
To Shreds
15 February 1245 – 28 May 1250
I.
The mountains, fast friends to the friendless, faithful guides to the leaderless, redoubtable shelter to those in need of shelter, companion to the hermit and contemplative retreat to the monk—have also harboured their share of fugitives, of criminals, and of heretics. And so it was that the Gnostic sect that had been returned to shadow in Moravia found open sanction in the lands to the south… and willing ears even among great lords and ladies of those lands. Kňažná Roza of Moldavia was seduced by the Adamite God-haters, and being misled by their blasphemies and lies, she invaded the lands of Kráľ Kulin of the Vlachs.
The tidings of Roza’s invasion of the Vlachs struck Moravia like a bolt, in the midst of a time of peace and happiness.
Kvetľana had been married to a bold knight of Powys in Britain, by the name of Morfarch Eginog. Gladly had she taken his hand, and with great festivity was their wedding celebrated. Kurík had come of age, had married Vjačeslava Vasilevna, and had been given the post of kancelár by his father. Likewise the union of Kurík and Vjačeslava was greeted with great joy. And Bohumila had once again conceived, and bore forth to Kaloján a third son, whose name was called after the late former king—Želimír.
But when Kaloján had heard of the attack upon the Vlachs by the heretics, he found he could not sit idle. He readied the saddle upon Nabíjačník. He gathered around him his vassals, his knights, his zbrojnoši. He left Kurík, his new kancelár, in charge of his kingdom. And even the townsfolk, when they heard of his purpose as he rode out to battle, wanted to draw deep into their money-pouches and into their coffers, and pour forth their wealth into the treasury of the king, as he went to war against the enemies of God. But Kaloján said he had need only of faith, not of gold.
And Kaloján rode southward, across the Carpathians and into the lands of the Vlachs, to the aid of his fellow Kráľ, Kulín. He rode to the very banks of the Danube. There he met the God-hating Gnostics who were on the north bank of the Danube, led by a woman named Borislava.
The Moravians were victorious. Borislava herself was captured and sent back to Olomouc in chains, along with a number of other female zbrojnoši of the Adamites: among whom were Iva, one of Kňažná Roza’s knights; and Emilija, the daughter of Hrabě Priezda.
And again, as the men of Moravia encamped themselves upon the Danube, they were met in battle by Kňažná Roza’s allies: Greeks, from the north edge of the Black Sea.
The brazen blare of trumpets sounded! The shouts of the zbrojnoši were raised to the skies! The howl of the wind and the clash of thunder roared! The fields upon the edge of the Danube were spattered with blood as the contest was joined.
Although there were no knights among them, the men of Moravia proved their virtue in that second battle on the Danube’s northern bank, as they drove the Greeks back. Of the Black Sea cataphracts, they took three heads: those of Zenobios, of Kallistos, and of Helias Akropolites!
But this victory, my children, was short-lived… and the sweet taste soon turned bitter with defeat.
How could the Moravians, who feared God, who were led by a bold and virtuous king, and upon whom God had given so many great blessings—be turned back? How could such a defeat and such a slaughter happen, as was in store for the zbrojnoši of Kalojan? My children, it is hard to conceive for us. Think how much harder it must have been for the women and children of Nitra, who had to watch as long trains of carts hauled back their dead from those accursed fields? Had God abandoned us? Was there some fault within us, some sickness of soul that we had overlooked?
Out of every two of the Moravians who took to the field once more against the Greeks at Galați that November, only one returned alive. That dark day, when the trumpets blew and the hooves of the horses pounded upon the Dacian earth… the Moravians were the ones who were cut down like wheat before the scythe, and sent fleeing.
Accursed is the name of Galați! May woe betide the Dacian lands for fourteen and twenty-one and twenty-eight generations! But those of Moravia’s young boys who died that day upon that blighted ground—they shall live hallowed in our memory forever! Many were the cries and wails of the women of Nitra, as the bodies of the dead were borne back from the battle. Many were the groans and laments of the House of Mojmír! For their son, their virtuous Sokol, had been among the heads whom the Greeks had taken that evil day.
The faces of the four who bore upon their backs the weight of Sokol, were wet with tears the whole way back from the banks of the Danube. The Danube was fed with salt from their eyes, as it flowed in streams into the Euxinus. Does God yet see and remember? Is God yet just?
For only a single turn of the moon after the slaughter of Galați, was Kulín himself taken captive by his foes. Across the sea, the king of the Vlachs was held in the donjons of the wicked. Young Kulín was forced to endure many indignities, even as the Moravians were upon a bitter march of defeat at his behest. And the Kňažná Roza, looking upon the works of iniquity she had wrought as the blood of the innocent soaked into Balkan soil, smiled—as did her master the Devil. For Kulín was forced to cede to her nearly half of his kingdom.
And but one ray of hope shone into this darkness.
The bride of Moravia’s kancelár had taken to Kurík’s bed with a great passion, and that previous spring she had conceived of him. Upon the sixth day of the Christmas feast, Vjačeslava Vasilevna bore forth from her womb the first of Kaloján’s grandchildren… a boy, meek and quiet and dark of aspect, whom she named Radomír.
Few marked, that day, from the shadows the covetous glances that the younger brother, Vratislav, cast upon his elder brother’s bride, newly delivered of her firstborn. And fewer still could sense the tangle of hardship that would rise from this sin, as yet still hidden within the bosom of Kaloján’s second son. For now, there was only the mourning of the dead—and the christening of this new life.
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[The author would like to express amazement for the chapters, but will reserve the review on the epic of Kaloján for a later date; it is therefore only one detail (out of hundreds-many) will be highlighted in this comment.]
{Old Turkic Tabγač} This is attested as from the east side of the Kül Tigin part of the Orkhon inscriptions; below is an example-rendering:
(excerpt taken from a web-archive of a Kazakh website)
E4 to E5; transliteration is below:
(...) : yoγučï : sïγïtčï : öŋre : kün : toγusïqta : Böküli : Čölüg el : Tabγač : Tüpüt : Apar : Purum : Qïrqïz : Üč Qurïqan : Otuz Tatar : Qïtaň : Tatabi : bunča : budun : kelipen : sïγïtamïs : yoγulamïs : antïγ : külüg : qaγan : ermis : (...)
Thomsen classification I E 4 to II E 5, translation is below:
(excerpt from The Orkhon Inscriptions: Being a Translation of Prof Vilhelm Thomsen's Final Danish Rendering; Ross, E. Denison)
Notice the list follows clockwise from east (from the sun-rise east, from south, from west, then from north)
Böküli : Čölüg el: The supposed claim is Korea (Bökküli - Goguryeo; possibly from Gaoli), with Čölüg as Northern Zhou; but these are unattested.
Tabγač: exonym of China (specifically Northern Qi - 6th century); name from the Tuoba of the Xianbei clans.
Tüpüt: Tibet; Apar: Claimed to be Avars - unattested; (A)Purum: Claimed to be Roman Empire, through Venetian merchants - unattested; Qïrqïz: The Kirghiz; Üč Qurïqan: The Three Kurykans - possibly turko-mongol or turkic tiele tribes, possibly inhabitants of Yenisei-Baikal; Otuz Tatar: The Thirty Tatars - mongol tribes; possibly of Baikal to Manchuria; Qïtaň: The Khitan - mongol tribes of Northern China to Manchuria; Tatabi: exonym for Kumo Xi - mongol tribes of Manchuria
{Such was the post-classical Greek name for China, as borrowed from Old Turkic Tabγač.}
Through the nomadic khaganates, the name is assumed for China in the Roman sources, though Sinae, Serica, etc were already in use. The usual example for attesting is given with the historian Theophylact Simocatta (during the reign of Emperor Mauritius, 7th century), who cites the polity as Taugast:
(excerpt from Theophylact Simocatta's History (Book 7), english translation by Michael and Mary Whitby, Oxford Uni Press, 1986)
(excerpt from Cathay and the Way Thither: Being a Collection of Medieval Notices of China Vol I, Henry Yule (1915), referencing classical historiography of Roman Empire for the names of China)
Sincere apologies for the unnecessary amount of extra information that came with the comment (it is fun); have given the example of Theophylact Simocatta for the exonym Tabγač, also for the extraordinary-coincidence for using it in own (pathetic) work of The Secret History of the Bargas and in its next chapter, which has become a never-ending adventure of editing before publishing any part at all. Though have to edit it now one more time, to avoid the lucky-strike of the subjects. Lol.
Sht. Butchered again. Eh.
Anyway; extraordinary details, incredible structure. Will give the review for the epic of Kaloján later - and it will be shorter, no worries.
Kudos.
Necro edit: Corrected typographical mistake.
Among the extraordinary diligence afforded on the details of the names, can comment on the item [2].
{Old Turkic Tabγač} This is attested as from the east side of the Kül Tigin part of the Orkhon inscriptions; below is an example-rendering:
(excerpt taken from a web-archive of a Kazakh website)
E4 to E5; transliteration is below:
(...) : yoγučï : sïγïtčï : öŋre : kün : toγusïqta : Böküli : Čölüg el : Tabγač : Tüpüt : Apar : Purum : Qïrqïz : Üč Qurïqan : Otuz Tatar : Qïtaň : Tatabi : bunča : budun : kelipen : sïγïtamïs : yoγulamïs : antïγ : külüg : qaγan : ermis : (...)
Thomsen classification I E 4 to II E 5, translation is below:
(excerpt from The Orkhon Inscriptions: Being a Translation of Prof Vilhelm Thomsen's Final Danish Rendering; Ross, E. Denison)
Notice the list follows clockwise from east (from the sun-rise east, from south, from west, then from north)
Böküli : Čölüg el: The supposed claim is Korea (Bökküli - Goguryeo; possibly from Gaoli), with Čölüg as Northern Zhou; but these are unattested.
Tabγač: exonym of China (specifically Northern Qi - 6th century); name from the Tuoba of the Xianbei clans.
Tüpüt: Tibet; Apar: Claimed to be Avars - unattested; (A)Purum: Claimed to be Roman Empire, through Venetian merchants - unattested; Qïrqïz: The Kirghiz; Üč Qurïqan: The Three Kurykans - possibly turko-mongol or turkic tiele tribes, possibly inhabitants of Yenisei-Baikal; Otuz Tatar: The Thirty Tatars - mongol tribes; possibly of Baikal to Manchuria; Qïtaň: The Khitan - mongol tribes of Northern China to Manchuria; Tatabi: exonym for Kumo Xi - mongol tribes of Manchuria
{Such was the post-classical Greek name for China, as borrowed from Old Turkic Tabγač.}
Through the nomadic khaganates, the name is assumed for China in the Roman sources, though Sinae, Serica, etc were already in use. The usual example for attesting is given with the historian Theophylact Simocatta (during the reign of Emperor Mauritius, 7th century), who cites the polity as Taugast:
(excerpt from Theophylact Simocatta's History (Book 7), english translation by Michael and Mary Whitby, Oxford Uni Press, 1986)
(excerpt from Cathay and the Way Thither: Being a Collection of Medieval Notices of China Vol I, Henry Yule (1915), referencing classical historiography of Roman Empire for the names of China)
Sincere apologies for the unnecessary amount of extra information that came with the comment (it is fun); have given the example of Theophylact Simocatta for the exonym Tabγač, also for the extraordinary-coincidence for using it in own (pathetic) work of The Secret History of the Bargas and in its next chapter, which has become a never-ending adventure of editing before publishing any part at all. Though have to edit it now one more time, to avoid the lucky-strike of the subjects. Lol.
Sht. Butchered again. Eh.
Anyway; extraordinary details, incredible structure. Will give the review for the epic of Kaloján later - and it will be shorter, no worries.
Kudos.
Necro edit: Corrected typographical mistake.
Last edited:
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Thank you for the kind words of praise, @filcat! And thank you indeed for the excellent supplementary research footwork you have been doing: the Orkhon Inscriptions offer a fascinating window into the cross-cultural currents over the Gate of Thomas that have been something of an obsession for me since college!
II.
Y children, among the družnosť of Kaloján, who is the most celebrated, the most fearsome upon the field of battle, the greatest and noblest of heart? There are many who would say, and not without grounds, that Kaloján himself deserves that honour. There are others who would say this of the king’s teacher Kolman the Monk. And there are others who would say this of the Black Knight of Bohemia, dauntless and undefeated in battle. And still others would say this of Bohuslav of Nitra, who bore himself nobly even in defeat.
And then there are those who say that Vojtech of the Silver Helmet was the greatest družinnik in Kaloján’s retinue. Vojtech, scion of the White Knight of Bohemia, a warrior of great prowess and courage, possessing tenacity and cunning besides, had long and faithfully served the Kráľ of Moravia. He had been one of the last two among the Six Knights who held the gate during the hopeless battle at Vysoký Breh, when Bohemia had risen up in arms against Moravian rule. There he had earned the undying friendship and brotherhood of the knieža of Nitra, who had been his fellow in defeat, defiant to the end.
In every battle of every war that Kaloján had fought since he was but a boy, Vojtech Silverhelm could be seen fighting at his liege’s side or before him[1]. The Knight who wore the helm of silver upon his head was bold of spirit and steadfast of heart. For that reason he had won the admiration and friendship of the King’s Nitran vassals. And yet Silverhelm had also within him a streak of bitter wrack that many of his foes lived to rue.
One may see from this with ease that Vojtech Silverhelm had been admired, and been enamoured in turn, of several court ladies in Moravia. Yet his heart belonged to none of them. Much nearer to him in affection were his fellow družinniki. This changed, however, with the Third Adamite War—a war coming hard on the heels of the Second which had ended in such disastrous defeat for the flower of Moravian arms.
The cries of the Serbian folk, who were under the headship of the young Vojvotkiňa Cveta of Srem, reached the ears of Kaloján: for they were being attacked by Blahomíra and her faithless Gnostics of Vukovár—and their conspirators in blasphemy of Šomoď. Once again the Moravians were called to arms on behalf of their Serbian brothers in the faith. Kaloján raised the banner upon the right bank of the Danube, and five and thirty thousands of Moravians—many of them, the younger brothers, uncles and cousins of those who had fallen at Galați—answered his call to the aid of Srem.
This happened, just as there arose from among the right-believing commons of Šomoď a great howl of unrest, and the bowers and townsfolk of Balaton themselves rose up against their Adamite overlords. Kaloján and the Moravians watched from afar upon one edge of Lake Balaton, as the armies of the God-haters were attacked from the rear by the very folk who suffered their misrule! God Himself, it seemed, was allowing the Moravians to enter Šomoď without a fight. At once they began laying siege to the town of Bezprem north of the great lake.
Once Bezprem fell, there came again an urgent missive from the Serbian town of Beograd.
‘Milord Kráľ,’ gasped the black-bearded Serb who approached, ‘I bring dire news.’
‘Speak, good man!’
‘Truly, o good King,’ spake the Serb with tears in his dark eyes, ‘we are in a desperate state! Our chief town of Mitrovica has fallen to the God-haters. The few guardsmen who are faithful to God and to our Vojvotkiňa have fallen back to the fortress at Beograd. Cveta is still only a girl, not yet of age, and yet she is attacked mercilessly, and we fear for her honour as well as her life if Beograd falls!’
‘Such a cruel fate to befall a young girl!’ Kaloján sighed. Tears sprang to his eyes. Was the Kráľ thinking of the twins waiting at home—of Viera and Vratislav, who were of an age with Cveta?
‘So it shall surely be, if you do not come to her help!’
‘Bid your mistress to be of stout heart, not to give over, and to hold where she is until we arrive,’ Kaloján bade the Serb. ‘We march for Beograd this very hour!’
Hearing of a young maiden in such distress against a ruthless foe was too much for Kaloján to bear—and he rode Nabíjačník at the head of his armies as they marched down the Danube. At his side all the while, were his faithful družinniki: and foremost among them were Tichomil of Sliezsko, and Vojtech of the Silver Helmet. At Beograd they found the Magyars of Šomoď besieging the Serbian fortress, and armed with the knowledge of who lay inside and what she faced at their hands, the Moravians fell upon them with an almighty fury and waded with abandon into the slaughter.
There were more knights among the men of Šomoď. There were more zbrojnoši than there were among the Moravians. The Moravians were attacking from an inferior position. But Kaloján wrought a great terror among the Magyars upon the back of Nabíjačník, with his sword flashing back and forth in a great storm of thunder. Tichomil of Sliezsko’s spear was couched against his shoulder, and the men of Šomoď parted before him like the waters of the Red Sea before the staff of Moses. And Vojtech Silverhelm, foremost among the družinniki, waded into the battle with his mace, and raised such a din beneath the walls of Beograd that the Serbs answered him with cheers and war-cries of their own, adding to the confusion of the Magyars. Ladomír, his fellow Bohemian, drew the blood of one of the Magyar knights, named Balázs, and felled him clear from his horse.
The foe was driven away from the gates of Beograd and chased headlong from the field, and the Moravians’ bitter defeat at Galați was at last avenged. The Moravians gave elt to the foe as far as Mitrovica, but when they saw the plight of that town they stopped to free it from the grasp of the Vukovár Adamites.
In battle after battle, the Moravians triumphed. Kaloján fought the men of Šomoď again at Stoličný Bielehrad, and they fought the men of Usora again at Mitrovica—and at both turns they forced the foe from the field in rout. The Serbs of Mitrovica and Beograd, who were loyal to their Vojvotkiňa Cveta and to our Lord Christ, lent their prayers as well as their steel to the Moravians’ war effort—and this more than anything else helped the Moravians secure their victory.
But what the Kráľ did not know as yet, when it came to the fighting of his foremost družinnik Vojtech of the Silver Helmet, was that his victories were dedicated entirely to a single woman. Where before, Vojtech Silverhelm had entertained only passing and ephemeral affaires du cœur with the ladies of the Moravian court, now a single woman had captured his heart—and that was the Kráľ’s own daughter, Svetluša.
The Silver Helm was showered and wreathed in glory… and those glories were all bound back to Olomouc to be laid at the feet of Kaloján’s and Bohumila’s third child. For while she was yet a maiden, Svetluša had seen and admired the boldness and vigour, the uncompromising honesty, and even the fearsome wrack of Vojtech. And in turn, Vojtech had been taken with the clear grey eyes and the straight gaze of Svetluša. Upon embarking upon this campaign, the knight, thirty-eight years the senior of the girl he loved, had knelt before her and sought to bring her honour with whatever victories he won, however unworthy they were of her.
When the Kráľ therefore praised Vojtech for his skill in battle, and lavished upon him honours the like of which he had not won since his youth, it was with a sense of guilt. This was because Vojtech had not told of his love to any, let alone the father of his beloved. And yet he continued to win fame and glory—whether at Mitrovica or at Beograd or at Stoličný Bielehrad.
Blahomíra, who ruled from Vukovár, herself took to the field once it grew clear that the Magyars were facing rout at the hands of the Moravians. She led the armies of the God-hating into the southwest. For another king had joined the war upon the side of the right-believers: the Latinist king of Dalmatia, Tvrdomil Vilémovec-Kostoly. Blahomíra saw a chance to strike back, and she joined the battle at Prozor in the mountains near the river Rama in Bosna. Tvrdomil called for aid, and Moravia at once obliged. Once more the charge was led by Vojtech of the Silver Helmet against the God-hating Adamites, and once more the Adamites were driven from the field at the points of Moravian spears at the Dalmatians’ behest.
Blahomíra fled. She went straight back to Vukovár and plotted for another assault upon the town of Mitrovica. However, the Serbs of Mitrovica were ready and armed for a fight this time, and they came down from the gates in sortie. The Serbs were driven back, but they had bought the garrison some much-needed time. The Moravians punched through the rear lines of the Adamites at Vukovár, and made a beeline for their commandrix upon the Mitrovica road. There they met her once more—one final time—in battle.
A great battle-cry arose from the crest of a hill upon the left bank of the Sava River. From thence charged the three eternal-named among the Moravian družnosť, at the head of a mighty army composed of Moravians, Serbs and some Latin Dalmatians. Kaloján upon Nabíjačník, with his sword flashing like lightning. Tichomil of Sliezsko with his spear couched at his shoulder. And Vojtech of the Silver Helmet with his mace crushing all who stood before him.
The Adamites scattered before them as chaff before a stiff wind. Blahomíra was left standing before the gates of Mitrovica all but alone, with none to come to her defence. She was taken alive and placed in shackles, and led in shame back to Vukovár. The war was over, and Blahomíra was forced to pay a heavy indemnity in silver to the young Vojvotkiňa Cveta in Srem.
And so this time the armies returned to Moravia, to Olomouc. Vjačeslava Vasilevna had conceived once more by the Kancelár Kurík, and her belly grew round with the fruit of their love. An it were a girl, so the young couple had hitherto chosen, she would be christened with the name of Kurík’s younger sister, and called Svetluša.
Vojtech of the Silver Helm went in secret to the namesake of this unborn one, to the king’s daughter Svetluša, who had already heard from afar of his renewed exploits in her father’s service. Indeed, nothing of the sort had attended the rather elderly knight since his younger days. The heart of the king’s daughter was moved by Vojtech’s loyalty and by his bravery, and she welcomed the honours he brought her, and welcomed him into her chamber. And from this time the elderly knight and the king’s daughter lay together as lovers.
[1] Does this include the rebellion of Bohemia, or is it merely poetic licence? It stands to reason that if he was the son of the White Knight of Bohemia, he would have started off his career fighting for the rebels under Prisnec 2. of Bohemia.
II.
And then there are those who say that Vojtech of the Silver Helmet was the greatest družinnik in Kaloján’s retinue. Vojtech, scion of the White Knight of Bohemia, a warrior of great prowess and courage, possessing tenacity and cunning besides, had long and faithfully served the Kráľ of Moravia. He had been one of the last two among the Six Knights who held the gate during the hopeless battle at Vysoký Breh, when Bohemia had risen up in arms against Moravian rule. There he had earned the undying friendship and brotherhood of the knieža of Nitra, who had been his fellow in defeat, defiant to the end.
In every battle of every war that Kaloján had fought since he was but a boy, Vojtech Silverhelm could be seen fighting at his liege’s side or before him[1]. The Knight who wore the helm of silver upon his head was bold of spirit and steadfast of heart. For that reason he had won the admiration and friendship of the King’s Nitran vassals. And yet Silverhelm had also within him a streak of bitter wrack that many of his foes lived to rue.
One may see from this with ease that Vojtech Silverhelm had been admired, and been enamoured in turn, of several court ladies in Moravia. Yet his heart belonged to none of them. Much nearer to him in affection were his fellow družinniki. This changed, however, with the Third Adamite War—a war coming hard on the heels of the Second which had ended in such disastrous defeat for the flower of Moravian arms.
The cries of the Serbian folk, who were under the headship of the young Vojvotkiňa Cveta of Srem, reached the ears of Kaloján: for they were being attacked by Blahomíra and her faithless Gnostics of Vukovár—and their conspirators in blasphemy of Šomoď. Once again the Moravians were called to arms on behalf of their Serbian brothers in the faith. Kaloján raised the banner upon the right bank of the Danube, and five and thirty thousands of Moravians—many of them, the younger brothers, uncles and cousins of those who had fallen at Galați—answered his call to the aid of Srem.
This happened, just as there arose from among the right-believing commons of Šomoď a great howl of unrest, and the bowers and townsfolk of Balaton themselves rose up against their Adamite overlords. Kaloján and the Moravians watched from afar upon one edge of Lake Balaton, as the armies of the God-haters were attacked from the rear by the very folk who suffered their misrule! God Himself, it seemed, was allowing the Moravians to enter Šomoď without a fight. At once they began laying siege to the town of Bezprem north of the great lake.
Once Bezprem fell, there came again an urgent missive from the Serbian town of Beograd.
‘Milord Kráľ,’ gasped the black-bearded Serb who approached, ‘I bring dire news.’
‘Speak, good man!’
‘Truly, o good King,’ spake the Serb with tears in his dark eyes, ‘we are in a desperate state! Our chief town of Mitrovica has fallen to the God-haters. The few guardsmen who are faithful to God and to our Vojvotkiňa have fallen back to the fortress at Beograd. Cveta is still only a girl, not yet of age, and yet she is attacked mercilessly, and we fear for her honour as well as her life if Beograd falls!’
‘Such a cruel fate to befall a young girl!’ Kaloján sighed. Tears sprang to his eyes. Was the Kráľ thinking of the twins waiting at home—of Viera and Vratislav, who were of an age with Cveta?
‘So it shall surely be, if you do not come to her help!’
‘Bid your mistress to be of stout heart, not to give over, and to hold where she is until we arrive,’ Kaloján bade the Serb. ‘We march for Beograd this very hour!’
Hearing of a young maiden in such distress against a ruthless foe was too much for Kaloján to bear—and he rode Nabíjačník at the head of his armies as they marched down the Danube. At his side all the while, were his faithful družinniki: and foremost among them were Tichomil of Sliezsko, and Vojtech of the Silver Helmet. At Beograd they found the Magyars of Šomoď besieging the Serbian fortress, and armed with the knowledge of who lay inside and what she faced at their hands, the Moravians fell upon them with an almighty fury and waded with abandon into the slaughter.
There were more knights among the men of Šomoď. There were more zbrojnoši than there were among the Moravians. The Moravians were attacking from an inferior position. But Kaloján wrought a great terror among the Magyars upon the back of Nabíjačník, with his sword flashing back and forth in a great storm of thunder. Tichomil of Sliezsko’s spear was couched against his shoulder, and the men of Šomoď parted before him like the waters of the Red Sea before the staff of Moses. And Vojtech Silverhelm, foremost among the družinniki, waded into the battle with his mace, and raised such a din beneath the walls of Beograd that the Serbs answered him with cheers and war-cries of their own, adding to the confusion of the Magyars. Ladomír, his fellow Bohemian, drew the blood of one of the Magyar knights, named Balázs, and felled him clear from his horse.
The foe was driven away from the gates of Beograd and chased headlong from the field, and the Moravians’ bitter defeat at Galați was at last avenged. The Moravians gave elt to the foe as far as Mitrovica, but when they saw the plight of that town they stopped to free it from the grasp of the Vukovár Adamites.
In battle after battle, the Moravians triumphed. Kaloján fought the men of Šomoď again at Stoličný Bielehrad, and they fought the men of Usora again at Mitrovica—and at both turns they forced the foe from the field in rout. The Serbs of Mitrovica and Beograd, who were loyal to their Vojvotkiňa Cveta and to our Lord Christ, lent their prayers as well as their steel to the Moravians’ war effort—and this more than anything else helped the Moravians secure their victory.
But what the Kráľ did not know as yet, when it came to the fighting of his foremost družinnik Vojtech of the Silver Helmet, was that his victories were dedicated entirely to a single woman. Where before, Vojtech Silverhelm had entertained only passing and ephemeral affaires du cœur with the ladies of the Moravian court, now a single woman had captured his heart—and that was the Kráľ’s own daughter, Svetluša.
The Silver Helm was showered and wreathed in glory… and those glories were all bound back to Olomouc to be laid at the feet of Kaloján’s and Bohumila’s third child. For while she was yet a maiden, Svetluša had seen and admired the boldness and vigour, the uncompromising honesty, and even the fearsome wrack of Vojtech. And in turn, Vojtech had been taken with the clear grey eyes and the straight gaze of Svetluša. Upon embarking upon this campaign, the knight, thirty-eight years the senior of the girl he loved, had knelt before her and sought to bring her honour with whatever victories he won, however unworthy they were of her.
When the Kráľ therefore praised Vojtech for his skill in battle, and lavished upon him honours the like of which he had not won since his youth, it was with a sense of guilt. This was because Vojtech had not told of his love to any, let alone the father of his beloved. And yet he continued to win fame and glory—whether at Mitrovica or at Beograd or at Stoličný Bielehrad.
Blahomíra, who ruled from Vukovár, herself took to the field once it grew clear that the Magyars were facing rout at the hands of the Moravians. She led the armies of the God-hating into the southwest. For another king had joined the war upon the side of the right-believers: the Latinist king of Dalmatia, Tvrdomil Vilémovec-Kostoly. Blahomíra saw a chance to strike back, and she joined the battle at Prozor in the mountains near the river Rama in Bosna. Tvrdomil called for aid, and Moravia at once obliged. Once more the charge was led by Vojtech of the Silver Helmet against the God-hating Adamites, and once more the Adamites were driven from the field at the points of Moravian spears at the Dalmatians’ behest.
Blahomíra fled. She went straight back to Vukovár and plotted for another assault upon the town of Mitrovica. However, the Serbs of Mitrovica were ready and armed for a fight this time, and they came down from the gates in sortie. The Serbs were driven back, but they had bought the garrison some much-needed time. The Moravians punched through the rear lines of the Adamites at Vukovár, and made a beeline for their commandrix upon the Mitrovica road. There they met her once more—one final time—in battle.
A great battle-cry arose from the crest of a hill upon the left bank of the Sava River. From thence charged the three eternal-named among the Moravian družnosť, at the head of a mighty army composed of Moravians, Serbs and some Latin Dalmatians. Kaloján upon Nabíjačník, with his sword flashing like lightning. Tichomil of Sliezsko with his spear couched at his shoulder. And Vojtech of the Silver Helmet with his mace crushing all who stood before him.
The Adamites scattered before them as chaff before a stiff wind. Blahomíra was left standing before the gates of Mitrovica all but alone, with none to come to her defence. She was taken alive and placed in shackles, and led in shame back to Vukovár. The war was over, and Blahomíra was forced to pay a heavy indemnity in silver to the young Vojvotkiňa Cveta in Srem.
And so this time the armies returned to Moravia, to Olomouc. Vjačeslava Vasilevna had conceived once more by the Kancelár Kurík, and her belly grew round with the fruit of their love. An it were a girl, so the young couple had hitherto chosen, she would be christened with the name of Kurík’s younger sister, and called Svetluša.
Vojtech of the Silver Helm went in secret to the namesake of this unborn one, to the king’s daughter Svetluša, who had already heard from afar of his renewed exploits in her father’s service. Indeed, nothing of the sort had attended the rather elderly knight since his younger days. The heart of the king’s daughter was moved by Vojtech’s loyalty and by his bravery, and she welcomed the honours he brought her, and welcomed him into her chamber. And from this time the elderly knight and the king’s daughter lay together as lovers.
[1] Does this include the rebellion of Bohemia, or is it merely poetic licence? It stands to reason that if he was the son of the White Knight of Bohemia, he would have started off his career fighting for the rebels under Prisnec 2. of Bohemia.
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Book Five Chapter Eleven
ELEVEN
A Son for a Kingdom
6 June 1250 – 9 June 1252
A Son for a Kingdom
6 June 1250 – 9 June 1252
The first concerned Vjačeslava Vasilevna’s brother, Spitihnev Vasilevič. The lord of the Červený, Dobrynia—a wicked tyrant in a long line of wicked tyrants—suspected Spitihnev of disloyalty, and gave the order to have him killed by stealth. Riled to action, Spitihnev rose up in revolt against the Červen Knyaz, and called for aid from Moravia. Calling to his side the faithless, serpent-faced[1] Queen Käbi of the Estonians, Dobrynia made to encircle Spitihnev. Kancelár Kurík was not overly eager to involve the realm in a conflict between the Červený and the inland Moldavian Slavs under Červen rule. But it was his younger brother Vratislav who approached him in open court.
‘For the oaths sworn before God, for your own wife’s good name, for the sake of the family—we must ride to Spitihnev’s help!’ cried aloud the king’s second son. ‘Dobrynia makes great show of his honour, and loves to be lauded beneath his vanes of blue and yellow, and shout glory to his heroes. But you and I both know that the heart of the Červen is darkened with a thousand hatreds and atters and murderous grudges. The Červen loves to act the hero as a stage-player would, but he would murder his brother in the dark for half a silver obol. For pity’s sake, we cannot leave Spitihnev to Dobrynia’s mercies!’
And thus Vratislav prevailed upon his elder brother to commit Moravia’s zbrojnoši to Spitihnev’s cause. Vjačeslava saw, and she took note, that it was Vratislav who stood fast for her brother—and Kurík who had placed the realm ahead of her family’s honour. No shadow yet fell upon her, for she was still true. But it may be here that the first inkling of a disloyal thought occurred to her.
The second disaster occurred when the belly of Svetluša, the third daughter of the king, began to swell. She was not wed, but a man’s seed had taken root in her womb. Her brothers tried to get her to speak the name of the man who had impregnated her, but she would not. Though Svetluša had tossed her maidenhead aside with reckless abandon, nonetheless she was loyal beyond measure to the father of her unborn child and she would not speak his name—not to her brothers and not to any other man.
Of course the father of Svetluša’s unborn child was the elderly knight, Vojtech Silverhelm. But none would yet suspect that the honourable and seasoned družinnik of fifty-four years had deflowered a maiden of sixteen—let alone that his seed had quickened within her! For now, the babe’s true parentage remained secret between Vojtech and Svetluša.
And the third disaster came from the north. The Vojvodkyňa Zlatoróda[2] of the Pomorania saw that the Moravian armies were marching upon the Červený. She knew that Kaloján was afar off in the Egyptian lands. And she took the opportunity to claim the whole of the Great Moravian kingdom for her own. Zlatoróda lay siege to the nether Silesian outpost of Premkóv, and sent a missive to the nobles of Moravia that they would receive great glory if they abandoned Kaloján in Egypt and came to her side instead.
Betray Kaloján for a coward such as this? The Moravians, to a man, cried fie upon Pomerania. Although Tichomil of Sliezsko had raised the vane of war at Andrejóv in the east to march upon the Červený, he turned a volte-face upon hearing this news, and moved toward Premkóv to defend the Silesian March from Zlatoróda and her Pomorané.
At once upon hearing that the Estonians, who had embraced the foul doctrines of the Adamites, were attacking Moravia, the Brotherhood of the Holy Sepulchre as well turned their face to the north, and marched upon Silesia to defend the faith. The fearsome defenders of the Holy Places in and around Jerusalem, marked with the red crosses upon their tabards and the letters ТФ, could be seen upon all the paths heading north from each wayhouse upon the pilgrims’ road! And the fierce Brother Hartneid was at their head. Too, the head of the church in Constantinople, Gennadios 2., sent a large sum of money to Kancelár Kurík upon hearing of the war that had befallen Moravia. The Orthodox of the Imperial City would not allow Moravia to fall.
Kaloján came within his own borders to the news of these three disasters, just as Zlatoróda was besieging Premkóv. He spurred Nabíjačník to a gallop, and rode from south to north, from Danube to Oder. And he was joined upon the way by his elder son, who would not sit idle within the capital while his realm’s fate was decided far to the north.
‘Forgive me, Father,’ Kurík bade him sadly. ‘I have proven unworthy to rule this kingdom—even within our own household, disorder reigns. I find it hard to face you again.’
But Kaloján lifted up his son and embraced him. ‘Kurík, you cannot be held answerable for the caprice and greed of other rulers, or for the wantonness of your sister. Indeed—see how quickly the Brotherhood and the Church came to our aid? If you were unworthy, would they have done so? My son, your worth is proven already.’
The king and the king’s son arrived at Premkóv just as the Brotherhood did, and Tichomil faced off against the Pomorané with all his host. He wielded in one arm his mighty spear and laid about him with such ferocity that Zlatoróda received word that there were five of him upon the battlefield. The družnosť of Moravia shed cascades and rivers of the invaders’ blood, upon those fields at Premkóv. Moravia would not yield herself to such misrule, nor would she bend the knee to such an unworthy pretendrix: Moravia fought, each družinnik and each zbrojnoš and each common soldier beside the others, for the sake of those who could not fight, and lay down their lives for each other as Moravians.
When the red cross of the Brothers of the Holy Sepulchre appeared upon the horizon, the defenders of Premkóv took heart. Brother Hartneid rode out front with his straight mace and his staff, and he smote the Hrabja Helias upon the crown of his head, and the Pomorán fell from his horse to the Moravian earth and was trampled to death. And when the banner of the king and of the king’s son appeared at last upon the horizon, the Moravians knew in their hearts that victory was at hand.
At Premkóv the forces of Zlatoróda were driven back, and Tichomil turned to the east once more… all the way back to the eastern end of the Moravian land, in Podkarpatská. There, the forces of Dobrynia were mounting, and Tichomil was determined to strike them before they had a chance to gather.
Upon the road thither, the news came that Svetluša Rychnovská, the daughter of the king, had borne a boy, whom she had named Ján. When this news reached Vojtech Silverhelm, who was now daily in the presence of the king whose daughter he had dishonoured, the knight could no longer keep silence. He flung himself down at the feet of his liege, and confessed himself to be the father of little Ján.
At first, the Kráľ was incensed, and had the zbrojnoši lay hold of Vojtech by the arms, and had determined to flog the wrongdoing družinnik to within an inch of his life. But once his anger subsided, he began to listen to the voice of mercy. Could Vojtech have simply gone on and given no one the notice of his affaire with Svetluša? Indeed he could—and no one, Kaloján included, would have been any the wiser. Yet he had come forward of his own will and confessed to being the father. He had offered no resistance to Kaloján, but had given himself up for punishment.
And Kaloján found he did not have the heart to deal out that punishment, to a man who had served him with such steadfastness for over thirty years. But he did instruct the elderly knight, upon pain of death, to marry his daughter and to raise the son as his own. And he ordered his daughter to change the name of her child from Ján to the more German Hans.
When at last the Moravian forces arrived at Gheorgheni, and there met the Červený, Kaloján upon the back of Nabíjačník, and Kurík at one side, and Vojtech Silverhelm at the other, and Tichomil at the head of the army—they fell upon them with fury. Kaloján had forgiven Vojtech, and Vojtech’s loyalty now was that much stronger. He fought with the strength of fifteen men at Gheorgheni, despite his age. This show of strength at the border with the Červens gave further strength and heart to Spitihnev Vasilevič and those who stood with them.
But once again the Moravians were made to march to the west. For Zlatoróda had taken not only Premkóv, but now also Boleslav, and was threatening Litoměřice. The Bohemians could only watch with dismay as the Pomeranians laid waste to the countryside, and they held out in the few fastnesses that lay within that eastern stretch of the Ores. Hearing the tales that were coming from before them, Kurík went to Kráľ Kaloján and pleaded:
‘Father, allow me to take Tichomil and eight thousand men forward into Bohemia. I know how to march them at speed. We can meet Zlatoróda in the field, and stymie her advance until you arrive—we may even be able to keep Litoměřice from falling.’
‘Eight thousand—that isn’t enough,’ the king said.
‘It will have to be,’ the king’s son answered. ‘Any more would slow us down, and we would not reach Zlatoróda’s main force in time.’
‘O Kráľ,’ Vojtech Silverhelm offered upon hearing this exchange, ‘your son is too important to us. Allow me to go in his place. His reasoning is sound, and he is right about the stakes, but the plan is a plighty one—it is better that I should take the risk upon my own head, which is forfeit upon account of my sins against you.’
But in the end, it was Kurík who had his way, for Kurík was the more stubborn of the two, and the more used to getting his way. Not gladly did Vojtech Silverhelm yield the command of the Andrejóv muster, but Kurík was the one who went alongside Tichomil of Sliezsko on the advance.
‘God go with you,’ Kaloján bade his son before he rode out.
‘He shall,’ Kurík assured the king.
The men who mustered at Andrejóv encountered the armies of the Pomeranians at the fork of the Labe and the Vltava, in the lowland plain near where Mělník stands. They were outnumbered, my children, outnumbered sore: the Moravians numbered eight thousand, and the Pomeranians fourteen thousand. The Pomeranians had fourteen knights and nobles among them, all arrayed under their vanes—the Moravians had only Tichomil and Kurík. The Pomeranians had lines and lines of champions at their command, and the Moravians had not even one zbrojnoš in that army. The Pomeranians had been living fat off of plunder they’d taken from Bohemian homes, while the Andrejóv army had been exhausted from a march that had taken them twice the length of their own realm from west to east and back again. And the Pomeranians had Lady Zlatoróda herself at their head.
‘Go back whence you came!’ shouted Kurík from across the length of the field. ‘Else, if it’s Moravian earth you desire, we shall give you six feet of it!’
‘This realm belongs by right to me,’ Zlatoróda answered him proudly, ‘and no infant who has hung lifelong upon his father’s robes shall deprive me of it!’
The battle was joined, that black day. The Moravians put up a brave fight, but against the well-trained, well-led and well-fed Pomeranian army, the men who had mustered at Andrejóv began to weaken and buckle—and Kurík and Tichomil, no matter how bravely the two of them fought, were facing foes upon every side, stronger and with a harder will.
‘We must hold,’ Kurík shouted to Tichomil. ‘We must hold until Father arrives!’
‘Then hold we shall,’ Tichomil answered grimly. ‘Though it will not be many of us.’
One vane made speed at their flank, and Kurík moved to head off whichever nobleman was riding beneath it. That nobleman—accursed be his name among Moravians till Judgement Day!—was Andronikos, a Greek who had the overlordship of the town of Přemyslav to his name.
Kurík met Andronikos, and they fought with each other for twenty passes, then thirty, then forty. Both men were men of skill at arms and upon horseback, and neither man could overmaster the other. But Kurík, weary from the road and fearful that his father might not arrive in time, made a single wild lunge. Andronikos fell shy of it, and then answered with a strike of his own. The point of the Greek’s spear passed Kurík’s shield, breached his armour—and pierced his heart.
And it was then and only then, that Kaloján arrived upon the field, with Vojtech Silverhelm and the rest of his retinue. He watched his own son fall.
Grief and rage went up in a howl from the Moravian armies which had gathered there. With loud cries of ‘Out! Out!’, they drove the Pomeranians back upon the points of their spears and beneath the hooves of their horses, and they surrounded Zlatoróda. That day upon the plain at Mělník, they broke and drove back the Pomeranian invasion, and took their chief foe captive. The Moravian kingdom had been saved from invasion. But the king had lost his elder son.
The vanes which flew as the Moravian armies returned home were those of mourning. Tears in endless streams flowed down the noble cheeks of Kaloján, and his voice was heavy with lamentation as he followed the cart bearing Kurík’s body home.
[1] It is unknown if this is in reference to Queen Käbi’s character, or if she suffered some deformity of the skin.
[2] Known in other sources as Chrysogonē. Zlatoróda is a Slavic calque of the Greek name.
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Book Five Chapter Twelve
TWELVE
Olives Envenomed
15 June 1252 – 12 February 1260
Olives Envenomed
15 June 1252 – 12 February 1260
‘You must not blame yourself for Kurík’s death,’ Bohumila assured him.
‘But it was I who ordered him to take the advance—only Tichomil at his side, and no zbrojnoši.’
‘So done to save time, and deliver Litoměřice,’ Bohumila assured her husband. ‘Kurík himself would have had it no other way! Indeed, he would have had trouble forgiving you, had you held him back for fear of his being hurt. No—Kurík would never blame you for his death. He died worthily, like a družinnik.’ Bohumila’s eyes took on a far-off look as she said this—true it was, and yet she wished it wasn’t. ‘And no more do I blame you.’
Still it was a long time before Kaloján could forgive himself.
Kaloján had come across several men of monastic learning, upon his journeys to Alexandria, who had spent time upon the Holy Mountain. They had gained among them an understanding of certain ways of prayer, which Kaloján took up eagerly. They placed an emphasis upon the healing nature of the spoken Name of Christ, and advised calling upon the Name as often as possible. When the Patriarch of Constantinople heard that Kaloján had been among these monastics, he had been concerned[1].
But when it came to light that the Kráľ, in his grief over his lost son, had taken up not only this but several other methods of prayer, the Patriarch was aggrieved. He sent several worried letters to the Moravian king, to put him back upon the rightly-guided path. And the king, though he continued in his prayer upon the Name of Christ, answered the Patriarch with his apologies. In addition, he donated much silver to Constantinople, to be used by the Church—upon which the Patriarch there softened greatly, and halted his epistles of reproach in favour of those more accommodating.
The Kráľ at once offered his son’s widow Vjačeslava to take on her son with Kurík, Radomír, as ward. Upon dark-browed little Radomír the Kráľ lavished great affection. But Radomír was as unlike his father, it seemed, as it was possible to be. Where Kurík was witty and quick of tongue, Radomír was quiet and almost shy. Where Kurík revelled in jousts of words and ado at arms, Radomír loved rather the stillness of the library and the company of books.
Perhaps in an attempt to get him to be more active, Kráľ Kaloján had the boy betrothed to a girl of mingled Polish and Old Prussian blood, who hailed from the town of Kráľovec upon the Baltic coast, which had once been called by the Prussian name of Twangste. Her name was Lucia of Kráľovec, and she was a brassy-haired, round-faced, snub-nosed, quick-witted and spirited little girl—and she went about in trousers and tunic, and fought and swore and spat and rough-housed like a lad.
‘Such a temper!’ Radomír frowned upon meeting her. ‘Should I marry her or make her my družinnik?’
Kaloján boxed his grandson on the ear for this remark. Lucia herself looked rather hurt by it, and for the rest of the time in Olomouc she made clear efforts to act in a manner worthier of a gentlewoman. Still, Radomír didn’t say her nay, and Kaloján did his best to assure her of Radomír’s agreeability to the match.
Dobrynia was overthrown as the overlord of the Červený, but knowing the temperament of the people, it wouldn’t be much longer before a double of Dobrynia took his place. Still, Spitihnev, the Moldavian brother of Vjačeslava Vasilevna, was now able to breathe easier. And the young woman knew that she had Vratislav the king’s second son to thank for the favour.
Kaloján, having arranged Vojtech Silverhelm with his daughter Svetluša, decided once and for all to put to rest any doubts about the parentage of their son Hans. The king was not of a resentful or spiteful temper. He had the little child welcomed formally into the Rychnovský family, and his rights of inheritance restored. Also, Svetluša was once again pregnant, and her belly swelled heavily with Silverhelm’s child. She would, in fact, bear him twin girls: Eva and Živka. And after the twins, another son: Zdravoslav. And after Zdravoslav, a third son: Radislav. Kaloján found he didn’t have the heart to deny to Hans the blessings his two younger brothers would enjoy, for all he had been born out of wedlock.
There came into Olomouc a wild man from the countryside. He belonged to no monastery and was under no kind of obedience—yet the common folk seemed to respect him as bearing a kind of spiritual wisdom. The wild man was taken from the street and brought to Olomouc before the king. There he began to prophesy in tones of bale about Kaloján.
‘Milord Kráľ, there is great darkness and woe which swirls around you. Baneful are the signs. Look!’
He thrust back his sleeves, and the palms of his hands were slick and bright with fresh blood.
‘Be upon your guard, O Kráľ,’ said the wild man, ‘for there are men who seek your death!’
And Kaloján knew at once whom he meant: his childhood rival, Hrabě Vratislav Kopčianský of Kremža. The scion of the house of Mojmír had never forgiven him for the loss of Jihlava, or for the humiliation of being horse-whipped and cast out before the entire royal retinue. Still less had Vratislav forgiven Kaloján the good fortune he had enjoyed as Kráľ, howbeit this came with its share of heartbreak.
My children—Kaloján had indeed long sought to mend his ties with the Mojmírovci. He promised his daughter Dobrohneva to his vassal, Hrabě Ivan of Hont, who was a Mojmírov. This was a match to which both parties were highly agreeable, for Dobrohneva was as bold and fierce as she was fair, and Ivan was a true družinnik whose words and whose deeds were of accord with truth. With less success he tried to instruct the Knieža Ladomír of Nitra in how to train the green boys among the zbrojnoši, which sadly the knieža took as something of a slight.
But when Kaloján heard this fortune from the wild man, he at once sent a missive to Kremža, challenging the hrabě to a contest of arms, at any place of his choosing, and with any weapons of his choosing. But the missive received no reply. Kaloján waited a full turn of the moon before he made Vratislav’s cowardice known.
But the weird occurrences and signs that Kaloján was being targeted for death, did not cease. Strange men wandered through Olomouc, and when Vojtech Silverhelm asked them where they came from and whither bound, it never failed that their steps had taken them, at one point, through Kremža. Odd gifts arrived from the Rakúsko for several members of the court. The German-speaking Rakúsy had never exactly been friendly with Moravia, and of course Kremža bordered upon their lands. The links all seemed to lead back to Vratislav Kopčianský.
My children, imagine the surprise to the Kráľ when the tormentor of his childhood stood before him, face-to-face, white of hair and beard, within his audience chamber, eighteen months after the wild man had prophesied to Kaloján! And yet there he stood, as bold as you please, hands folded in front of him before the king. Kaloján asked Vratislav, very cordially, what business he had in Moravia, and Vratislav answered him:
‘I come merely to extend the olive-branch. We’ve been at each other’s throats long enough, the time has come that we made peace with each other.’
‘Made peace?’ roared Kaloján. ‘You speak of peace with your mouth, but you send strange men into Olomouc and gifts to my courtiers—and you think me such a fool as not to know what they are for? Unless you mean to draw steel yourself and attack me in the open like a man… then remove yourself from my court. Your presence is a disgrace, coward.’
There was peace at the court for some time after that. And Kaloján had other preoccupations. Radomír Rychnovský, the king’s grandson and his heir, was fast becoming a man.
Kaloján was grieved sore, that Radomír showed no great liking for sport or for contests of arms. Young Radomír liefer lost himself in books and prayer and study. Although he bore the likeness of both his dead father Kurík and his mother Vjačeslava upon his face, he had not inherited any share in their boldness. Instead, the black-browed boy was much more like unto his grandmother than unto either of his parents: meek and biddable of disposition and sweet of temper.
The feast-day of Saint Nicholas arrived, and as was Kaloján’s wont, he went into the settlement of Slezská Ostrava to deliver a cartload of food and money and sweets to the bowers there. Often upon coming there he was met by a throng of folk, both those willing to help him and those who took help. This time, however, the throng was angry and agitated. They descended upon Kaloján and his retinue breathing fire and slaughter, armed with whatever staves and farm tools they had to hand.
Kaloján hesitated for a moment, not being sure what to do. He did not want to hurt these people, who were his subjects. At the same time, there could be no doubt of their murderous intent. The zbrojnoši upon either side of his cart, however, leapt into action and began fending the attackers off.
Kaloján leapt on his horse and called out to the zbrojnoši, ‘Leave the cart! The cart stays! Do not kill!’
Kaloján got to safety, but not before he brought his zbrojnoši out of harm’s way. The zbrojnoši had killed two of the attackers, and managed to capture three more. One of them, upon being brought back to Olomouc Castle, readily confessed to having taken a bribe from the Hrabě of Kremža.
‘Kopčianský,’ the Kráľ growled. ‘And the olive branch he had extended, was the whole time merely venom meant to destroy me. Truly the man is a coward as well as a murderer by stealth, and the realm is well rid of him.’
[1] The reference to the Holy Mountain – that is to say, Mount Athos – and to Alexandria may be an attempt on the part of the author of the Príbeh to claim Kaloján as a hesychast. However, the hesychast controversies would take place during the following century. If this part of the Tales is true, then the Patriarch of Constantinople must be criticising Kaloján for some other unapproved practice.
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Book Five Chapter Thirteen
THIRTEEN
Pamätaj na Galac
12 April 1260 – 11 May 1262
Pamätaj na Galac
12 April 1260 – 11 May 1262
Kaloján once again came to the defence of the Christians of Bihar against the God-hating Gnostics. Only this time, he found that the Červený had sunk so low as to yoke themselves to this mistress of the Devil. The new overlord of the Červen cities, of Halič, of Ľvov and Volyň, was Knez Juri, and following him his son Jaroslav. Juri and Jaroslav were of a kind, their mouths full of honour and glory, but in their hearts lusting after the gold and land of Bihar for their own. Thus with the Červený it has long been: professing God with their lips, but in their hearts committing adultery with the Devil. Ah, alas, my children! Do not ever turn your back upon a lard-eating Červen, nay, not even a Červen who swears himself your brother! He will soon sink his knife to the hilt in it[1].
Vratislav heard of the summons against the Adamites, and he at once went to Vjačeslava Vasilevna, and he knelt before her. He swore to dedicate all victories he won over the heretics to her. Vjačeslava made Vratislav no answer, then. But in her heart she was pleased that the younger brother of her late husband still thought her worthy of such attentions.
The youngest son of the Kráľ, the one who also bore the same name as the former king Želimír, now also came of age. Želimír had never been bold or daring, but he desired still to do something for the success of his father and brother in the field. Thus he took up the life of prayer and went into seclusion, with the health and salvation of those he loved upon his lips constantly.
Himself Kaloján led the Moravians into battle, himself upon Nabíjačník, his younger son Vratislav with him at his side, and Tichomil with him, and all his družnosť with him, and the Brotherhood of the Holy Sepulchre too! Thirty thousand and more rallied around his banner, and around the scarlet banner of the Cross! To Julský Belehrad[2] they marched, singing songs of praise to Christ the King, for the defence of the Magyars and their land against the God-hating heretics!
And there at Julský Belehrad they met three Adamite armies in battle. And the Moravian battle cry was:
‘Pamätaj na Galac!’
For Galați, the vengeance of God was visited tenfold upon the forces of the Adamites at Julský Belehrad. Thunder cracked the skies. Shields were splintered, spears were shattered. Great rivers of blood flowed from the field. Kaloján and Tichomil, and all the družnosť of the Moravian nobility, drove the Gnostics headlong from the field at the points of their spears and at the shoes of their horses’ hooves—but not before Vratislav, the second son of the king, unhorsed and took captive Višeslav, the eldest son of Kňažná Rosa… and claimed his victory in the name of Vjačeslava Vasilevna!
The Moravians swept across Bihar to Székelyföld, into the Harghita Mountains, and set about liberating them from the clutches of the Adamite. Once the mountains were swept clean of the followers of the Devil, then Kaloján led his men southward into Brašov and Covasna. There too, the right-believing men and women of that land, Magyars and Vlachs alike, were set at liberty. But then came the sad news from Mozyř, that Kaloján’s sister Volimíra had died.
Kaloján had been upon campaign before many times, but now he found it harder to bear. He found himself wracked with the pricklings of the flesh, and away from Bohumila who was in Olomouc. He knew he could, at any time he pleased, turn back upon the camp followers. And he knew that many of the unmarried girls in the Székelyföld would come running to his bed if he called. And the temptation to do either or both was strong, and though it was torment upon him so to do he withheld himself and restrained himself from it. The members of the Brotherhood who were with Kaloján marked well how he skirted away from the trailing camps, and held himself away from the wayhouses. He would return chaste and whole of mind to his Bohumila, and with her alone would he slake the burning.
But, my children: the Moravian men who climbed into the mountains with Tichomil of Sliezsko to do battle against the Červený that day, possessed within their hearts else, which the Červený did not have. The Moravians had brotherhood among themselves. The Moravians had faith. And they had love for Christ our God burning within them. Could the Červený, who had chosen the same side as Kňažná Rosa, as the Gnostics and the worldly folly they pass for wisdom, say the same for themselves?
Again clashed blade against timber, and again the din of battle scraped the heavens. Many men fell, both Moravian and Červen, that bloody day. But in the end, the men of Gheorgheni could see the banners of the Moravian king flying aloft from the mountain peaks, while the blue and gold standard of the Červen king, and the white circle-cross of the Červen burghers, had been withdrawn in defeat—over the Carpathians and back into the lands of the Bukovins. Thus Tichomil fended off from the north another attempt by those loyal to Rosa to invade Bihar.
The Gnostics sent forth their women as well as their men into battle. Vratislav upon his horse made it his aim not to strike or to hurt a woman upon the battlefield, but the Gnostics knowing no such restraint sent the women against him in arms all the same. And one among his army, one Oleg, unhorsed one woman landowner from her mount, doing her an injury. For this, Vratislav had him taken from the lines and beaten.
The battle was joined by the Greeks from beyond the river, and blood flowed in great rivers, parting both ways from the mountaintops. And then upon the field there appeared Kaloján beneath his vane, brandishing his own sword aloft from Nabíjačník! As he smote left and right from him, the enemy scurried over themselves in their escape. The mighty clash between the Gnostics upon the one hand, and the Orthodox upon the other, ended in victory for those who hope in Christ.
It was Vratislav, as much as Kaloján, who had preserved the lands of Bihar from the dark winds of delusion and from the greed and devilish rage of Kňažná Rosa. And so it was hailed all along the road back from thither, with songs of praise being raised aloft from the Moravian march. When at last Vratislav returned to Olomouc—there indeed was Vjačeslava Vasilevna waiting for him. And the bold woman was not at all displeased, when the younger brother of her husband knelt before her and presented her his sword. Ah, my children: do not allow yourselves to be puffed up with pride, or to be carried away with lust, even when you enjoy the favour of God and the feast of victory!
But such matters did not approach the eyes of Kaloján. In celebration of his victory, Kráľ Kaloján took himself and all of his družnosť upon a great hunt. And although he found some opriški there who were making sport of their own, the Kráľ forgave them and set them free with the king’s peace. For the moment, the Moravian realm was jubilant.
[1] The Červenian nobility under the princes Juri and Jaroslav did indeed support Rosa of Moldavia in her war against Bihar. However, this intemperate and prejudicial outburst on the part of the author of the Príbeh against the Červens seems linked to the rather later rivalry between Moravia and Galicia-Volhynia.
[2] Also called Fehér in Hungarian, Weißenburg in German and Alba Iulia in Dacian.
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Book Five Chapter Fourteen
FOURTEEN
Valiant
1 January 1263 – 29 July 1267
Valiant
1 January 1263 – 29 July 1267
Lucia of Kráľovec was much changed, even transformed, from when Radomír had seen her last. The young woman of the White Rus’[1] showed herself still to be bright-eyed, brassy-haired and quick-witted. But not once did she stamp or swear or spit; and she brought herself into the hall at Olomouc arrayed in a fine dark gown. As Radomír observed her, he beheld not the tomboy he remembered, but a woman of sublime and ladylike grace, sweet-tempered and forbearing. So it came about that even as the banns were pronounced, the Kráľ’s young grandson—having at first leant toward the unwilling—began to feel that this was a lady with whom he could share his life with a bit more ease.
Kaloján, though he was still vigorous and sound in body, nonetheless began to show the marks of age upon him. The red of his hair and beard were now streaked with grey, and there were claw-marks at the edges of his hard, aquiline eyes. But to keep himself and his družnosť ready, and to keep his own skills well-whetted, he oversaw with meticulous care and attention the organisation and supply of his men. The mind of Kaloján was sharp, and he understood that wars are won or lost by the belly as well as by the brain or by the arm.
A certain brotherhood of traders there was in those days, called the Guild of the Ewe’s Hoof. The merchants of the Ewe’s Hoof, though they operated all the way from Bremen to Constantinople, carried on their work with circumspection. For many a twelvemonth Kaloján was unable to pin down even a solid contact among them. It so happened, however, that in passing through an unremarkable village near Brno, Kaloján saved the life of the daughter of one of the foremost merchants in the Guild. Upon being granted a boon by this merchant, Kaloján saw to it that the Ewe’s Hoof—whatever arrangements it might make elsewhere to its advantage amongst the kings and princes secular of the world—would always keep the Moravian Army supplied, though it found itself even in the heart of the lands of its deadliest foes. This Kaloján negotiated in good faith, and the Ewe’s Hoof kept their word unto seven generations since Kaloján’s passing… even unto this very day[2].
Also, he continued to hone his own body for battle. He conferred often with Knieža Tichomil, and the two of them often showed themselves together before the armigers and the men of the garrison. Tichomil of Sliezsko was Kaloján’s most able strategist, and among the worthiest of his družinniki now that all Three Knights of Bohemia—the White, the Gold, and the Black—had gone to their graves. It was needful and only good sense that the Kráľ rely upon his stoutest and most stalwart družinnik in such matters.
Tichomil and Kaloján also frequently sparred together. Young men of the garrison and young zbrojnoši crowded around the courtyard expectantly to watch these matches. And whyever not? Where these days can one watch and take pointers from two such old masters of the blade, crossing each other even in sport? Many we have, in our day, who say they know the sword… but ah, my children, are there any such who can be found to approach half the skill of either Kaloján or Tichomil in arms?
For, my children, when I was young I heard it from my grandfather, and he heard it from his grandfather, who heard it from his grandfather—and that man was one of the young armigers in Kaloján’s day, having taken himself into Bihar during the fourth of the wars against the Gnostics. And the tales he told of that sparring! The flow of great rivers, the force of great rockslides! Man and blade became one, and moved as one, and moved with the strength and grace of the wind. It was, so I heard it from my grandfather, from his and from his, something that the greatest of sword-masters dream of perfecting. And to hear of it, Kaloján, though adept, was nothing like his own great-grandfather, whose movements of the blade could not even be seen by mortal eyes[3]!
And Nabíjačník? Any good rider shall understand the bond between man and beast. Krvavý Kralík, though a more beautiful and majestic stallion than any before or since, in his power like the rolling thunder across the Mountains of the Armenian Kavkaz—was too much an elemental force of nature to be tamed fully. But the scion of Krvavý Kralík—! My children, understand that Nabíjačník who had known Kaloján since a foal, trusted the Moravian king like a babe trusts its mother. Understand now how close Kaloján and Nabíjačník were—no living being created by God was ever so close to Kaloján, save his consort Bohumila who was with him one flesh.
Kaloján and Nabíjačník were inseparable in the field—whether that was the field of leisure, the field of the hunt, or the field of battle. Kaloján exulted himself with Nabíjačník in times of peace, and fought his foes together with Nabíjačník in times of war. And he cared for Nabíjačník with the tender attention a father might bestow upon a beloved son, when Nabíjačník was ill and had to be cared for.
These gifts of might and skill unbeknown to us in our darkened latter days, and the friendship[4] of a powerful steed upon the field of battle, are precious and worthy indeed. But they did not cause the Kráľ to become overbearing, stingy or hard of heart. There are things, my children, far more precious than the honours of the world. Lifelong, the Kráľ had attended church every Saturday and every Sunday, and had fasted every Wednesday and every Friday, and upon every fast season of the Church. He prayed without fail before the iconostasis in the chapel. He confessed his sins regularly, and he paid deep respect even to the shoddiest and barefoot of the white clergy. Even in his old age he approached the Gifts as though he were still the child, too young to receive the crown upon his head.
It is enough to show from this. Upon his hunts, whenever he chanced to meet some of God’s poor, whether of his own lands or vagrants from lands afar, who were making the walks of the edges of the fields and the forests and gleaning what they needed from thence, Kaloján did not react with anger. He did not bring down the law upon their heads. Instead he gave alms either to them hand-to-hand, or else unto whatever church was supporting them.
When Kaloján had taken the crown, he had been a simple and kind-hearted, but bold and daring young lad. And as he had grown, he had grown in wisdom… but in his fearlessness he never wavered, and in his simplicity and goodness of heart he remained as he ever was. Across a reign that had spanned forty years and more, he had verily earned the cognomen which his armigers and his družinniki sought to bestow upon him.
Even within his own lifetime, the Kráľ Kaloján became known among his men as Kaloján chrabrý.
Kaloján the Valiant.
[1] Lucia of Kráľovec’s heritage is something of a mystery. She is in various places referred to as Polish or ‘Old Prussian’, and here as White Rus’. It is not surprising that the Príbeh is confused on this matter: Kráľovec, of course, refers to the town of Königsberg on the Baltic Coast which later fell under Swedish rule, but it seems her family were rather landowners around Grodno—then under the control of White Rus’. Indeed, after the conquest of the area by Lithuania, Lucia and her family were taken in as guests of the White Russian knyaz, which suggests Belarusian cultural affinity.
[2] There is little to no direct evidence of any such far-flung merchant guild in other histories. The inclusion of this anecdote in the Príbeh may simply be a fanciful flourish, or a way of indicating Kaloján’s closeness to the burghers. On the other hand, it is very much true that the Moravian Army did, even during the times of moral decay and intrigue which were to follow, weathered the passage of those times remarkably well, and was never short of either armaments, training or victuals…
[3] The age of chivalry always appears to us at a distance, at a great remove. The wistful yearning for a time of greater integrity and of wondrous skill seems to be a universal among tales such as these.
[4] The literal word in Middle Moravian is družnosť—the same term that was used for Kaloján’s fellowship of knights and retainers.
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Book Five Chapter Fifteen
FIFTEEN
Ascent
3 August 1268 – 23 November 1268
Ascent
3 August 1268 – 23 November 1268
It is said in Holy Writ: ‘Thou shalt not uncover the nakedness of thy mother's sister, nor of thy father’s sister: for he uncovereth his near kin: they shall bear their iniquity.’ But is it not also said: ‘And if a man shall take his brother’s wife, it is an unclean thing: he hath uncovered his brother's nakedness; they shall be childless’? And though the first comes before the second in the Law of Moses—yet among us, we sinners, we backward folk, the latter came first!
And do we condemn a daughter for the sins of her mother? Do we condemn a son for the sins of his father? Do we condemn a nephew for the sins of his uncle? Are the merciful words of the Prophet Ezekiel come to nought among us? And yet how much more do the innocent suffer! And how much greater are the sins of those who begat them[1]! Alas for us to live in such evil times!
My children, Vratislav was a bold družinnik and a mighty warrior. But he had long ago conceived a terrible and overmastering desire for his brother’s bride, even when he was but yet a child. And far from fleeing from this sinful desire, he indulged it, nursed it, revelled in it in his mind. Having lived always in the shadow of Kurík, having been twice passed over as his father’s heir upon account of Kurík’s son Radomír, Vratislav the Kráľ’s son began to foster a deeper grudge against his brother’s memory. If he would be denied the kingly glory, at least he would yet have Vjačeslava!
In these days another Vratislav died. Kaloján, though he never sought the wrongful death of another, still was not displeased to hear this news. By his death, Kremža had been quit of its treacherous lord. The king wished it of them, that a worthier lord might take his place. But too died the king’s sister Ctislava, and too died the king’s družinnik Ladomír, and Kaloján drew his gaze away from his own household to condole with the bereaved.
And so the deeds that Vratislav had done upon the battlefield, great and worthy as they were when they were meant to shield the innocent and defend the right belief, he laid at the feet of Vjačeslava. Here, placed at the service of his lust, they poisoned his soul. And Vjačeslava began, by turns, to look upon her younger brother with new eyes most unsisterly. As Vratislav’s glory waxed greater and greater, so grew the unholy passion in Vjačeslava’s bosom. And when she dared to unclasp it to him, they betook themselves in secret to the darker bysteads in Olomouc, and wrought between them such deeds of darkness where—so they deluded themselves to think—they revealed to each other the light of a love denied them.
Nešťastie! Osivo brata
Sa v lone sestry zakorenila.
Nestalo raz, ale dvakrát tak sa.
Sa v lone sestry zakorenila.
Nestalo raz, ale dvakrát tak sa.
Soon Vjačeslava’s belly began to swell. The Kráľ was forced to sequester her away, and the Kráľ’s justice demanded in private to seek for the man who had impregnated her. As it happened, the king had not far to look. It took only a short investigation for the Kráľ to uncover the infamous nature of the union.
Roused to wrath, Kaloján called for his one son still living and within the world. To his scheming, incestuous son, Kaloján offered a simple choice. To enter the cloister—or to be disowned from the family he had defiled. Vratislav first tried to put off the king’s request, harshly refusing to take upon himself the schema of a rasophore. But when Kaloján showed himself in earnest about disowning his own son, even the son who had served him so faithfully and with such bravery in war after war, Vratislav bethought himself better.
But he would not join the black clergy. No—for him was rather the cloak and tabard of the Brotherhood, and the blood-red sign of the Cross. Kaloján sent Vratislav, thereupon, to Kroměříž, where he took vows to the Lord upon sword-hilt.
Kaloján was much disturbed at heart. The eldest son, virtuous Kurík, he had lost in battle, fending off the greed of Zlatoróda. The youngest son, pious Želimír, had gone willing into the cloister, dying to self to pray for the salvation of all. But the middle son, Vratislav—Kaloján had flung roughly away from him. And though Vratislav had earned such a high hand, the kind-hearted Kaloján first turned the blame in upon himself.
And yet can a king be anything but a king? To whom could Kaloján give his crown in this life? Had not Radomír since reached the age, when Kaloján took the crown? Trust Kaloján gave, and was not wrong in so doing, for did not Radomír bear within him the blood of his beloved Kurík, and had not Radomír in him every grace and good nature that his father could bestow?
And so at once Kaloján took it upon himself to undertake a journey—a long journey into the East. He left Olomouc by the southern gate, crossed the Morava River, and joined the caravans bound upon the Jerusalem Way, the pilgrims’ road. He turned aside at Trenčín. He crossed the valley and ascended into the Tatras. And from there, no družinnik heard word from the greatest of Moravia’s kings.
Tales were told of him from that day, however.
One pilgrim upon that way swore to the truth of such a tale. His caravan was beset by brigands of the roughest and most desperate kind. The pilgrim had given himself up for lost, having prayed to God for deliverance and having heard nothing in answer, when a rough-clad man appeared among them. He had a long beard of grey and red, and the eyes beneath the hood of his cloak glinted with iron. The brigands tried to lay hand upon him, but the rough-clad man with the red-and-grey beard began slaughtering them with ease.
One by one they fell as they tried to accost him, to avenge their fallen brethren, until none of them remained standing. The pilgrim stood awestruck in the presence of such a master of the blade. But the swordsman said nothing, instead hiking deeper and deeper into the mountains on his own.
There was another village in the Tatra foothills in which a mendicant claiming to be a monk began preaching of the world’s doom. Another swordsman—perhaps the same—came into the town with his hood drawn low, and stopped to listen to the preacher. After listening for some time, the swordsman stepped silently up to the preacher and tore off his mantle.
The villagers could thereupon see for themselves that the ‘monk’ had no tonsure, and that his neck was unburnt by the sun, and that his limbs were white and smooth and unused to toil. The villagers then took the man and bound him fast, and delivered him up to justice. But although they looked for the swordsman after, they could not find him.
After all word was lost of Kaloján, a search was made outward from Olomouc for him. The družnosť searched for him high and low upon the Jerusalem Way, but they found him not. The one družinnik who had any luck in his search, was the one who heard the tales above recounted. The družinnik followed the trail of the king to the foot of Mount Gerlach, but further than that he could not pass, for an avalanche had fallen across the only trail up, forbidding entry not only to horse, but to man.
Kaloján was thereupon mourned as one dead, and Radomír took the throne. But no certain word was ever spoken of his death.
Some spoke as though the Kráľ was killed in the same avalanche that had blocked the path of the družinniki sent to search for him.
Others spoke as though the great Moravian king was lifted up from the mountain and taken into heaven upon the arms of the angels.
Others still, spoke as though the Kráľ had succeeded in ascending the peak of Gerlach.
Once there, they said, he went into a cave to rest his weary legs, and he sat. He lay his sword across his knees, and he closed his eyes. As he rested and sat, the soles of his feet began to turn to stone. And then the pillars of his tired legs—they turned to stone as well. And so too his knees, and his waist and his shoulders. Soon the whole man was carven, as though from the selfsame stone upon which he sat. And, so it is said, there he waits, sleeping, to this day.
The king of Moravia, resting upon Mount Gerlach, never truly died. But when the faithful men and women of Moravia are beset by devils in the last of days, they shall have nowhere to turn. It will be dark—darker even than our own days, and men shall follow after every manner of deceit and denial. Upon that day, someone shall call upon the name of Kráľ Kaloján.
And upon that day, the hlucháň lesný shall take wing. Flying higher and further than it has done before, the glistening bird of black and green shall mount the peak of Gerlach, and shall cry its cry of mourning. And then shall Kaloján awaken, pick his sword up from off his knees, and descend from the mountains to deliver his people into the hands of Christ and into the fold of the faithful.
These were the days of Kaloján the Valiant, my children: the days which all of Moravia remembers with fondness and gratitude. Gleaming in the distance like the last rays of sunlight or the last embers of a warm fire, there are yet among us those who have not forgotten the days of Kaloján. Heed them, my children, and bear some of that light and warmth into these darker days.
[1] Here, the author of the Príbeh here clearly takes the editorial perspective that the ignorant, ‘accidental’ incest of Bohodar 4. and his paternal aunt Pribislava, is infinitely less blameworthy than the knowing and deliberate incest between Vjačeslava Vasilevna and her brother-in-law Vratislav. More radically, the author strongly suggests, hearkening to Ezekiel, that Bohodar and Pribislava should be forgiven for their incestuous marriage. Other sources in the Moravian historical canon, however, condemn the cases equally.
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The story of King Jan is an epic sung by a traveling troubadour where truth, legend and myth are intertwined. #2 son's infatuation with #1's wife was worrying until #1 lost his life on the battlefield. Will #2 comfort the grieving widow and raise his nephew to be a great king or will survivor guilt keep them apart? The 50ish great knight and finder of secrets allowed nature to take its course upon finding a teenage vixen in his chambers. Did she have a crush or respond to a dare from her peers? Thank you for your many updates. (I have read until to the death of #1).
Are the Adamites a Catholic or Orthodox heresy?
Are the Adamites a Catholic or Orthodox heresy?
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I am now caught up and I thank you for giving me many hours of enjoyment. The teen vixen and the aging great knight are certainly prolific. Is grandson the heir? The wandering tomboy has grown into a reputable young lady and she is a mingling of cultures (Polish, White Rus, Russian). #2 son and #1 widow have overcome their lost for a try at happiness. How would this relationship be looked at in an Orthodox Moravian? Different cultures have this ranging from an expectation of the younger unmarried son to succeed his deceased brother to an incestuous relationship.
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