Johann briefly glanced at the flickering candlelight within the small chapel. He had decided on an all night vigil before his conversion to the Orthodox Church. It had been a long and torturous process that had taken him years to deal with, but in the end he had finally decided that converting was the proper thing to do. When he was a child his entire family had converted to Lutheran, and although he had never corrected the Cossacks about him being Catholic, it was still something he had struggled with.
He had written letters to his family a year ago. One to his parents, another to his brother, and a third to his sister. His parents had not been pleased; in fact their last letter had disowned him as their child. They had taken their vow of Lutheranism very seriously, and had never looked back on their decision. Their disappointment and scorn fairly dripped off the letter. He had burned it before his bride to be had seen it. Although she spoke nor read Swedish, he did not wish to have her see it and want it translated for her.
His brother had not been much better. Now that their parents were quite aged, he had taken over as the lord of the land. He also disowned his brother, even going so far as changing the name of his son, Johann to Wolfgar. Such a reaction hurt Johann, but he had never met the boy. In fact, until that letter, he and his brother had not had any communications in years. That letter he also burned, and for the same reasons as before.
The letter from his sister’s daughter had been surprising. His sister had died two years before, and his brother in law had not deigned to inform him of that fact. In fact if his niece, Tamara, had not intercepted his letter to his sister he would not have known even now. Tamara congratulated him on his upcoming nuptials, and beseeched him to be sure of his commitment to his conversion. She had converted herself, with her mother, just days before her death. She informed him that his brother in law had turned to drink soon after his marriage and never stopped. He even hit her mother on occasion. Reading this made Johann’s blood burn, but he was unsure of what to do about it. One part of him wished to ride back to his brother in law’s estate and torture him slowly before executing him in a most gruesome manner. On the thought of his niece, and her two younger brothers stayed his hand.
Shaking his head, he slipped the letter back in his robes and bowed his head in contemplation. Hours later, Petro slipped in to see his friend shedding tears. Not knowing the reason why he slipped back out to find Roxana. Perhaps she knew the answer to why his best friend was crying. All she could tell him is that Johann had received three letters that very morning. Unbeknownst to him, she had seen him crumple two of them before tossing them into the morning fire. The third he had tucked into his clothing.
Petro nodded, thanked her and stalked off to find the rider who had brought in the letters. It took him hours, but he finally tracked the man down and spoke to him. The man couldn’t tell him much other than the letters had come from Sweden and Poland. He didn’t speak Swedish, so he couldn’t tell him what the letters said. Petro thanked him and walked away in great concern. His friend was upset, and he believed it had something to do with the letters.
He had to know what was going on, but how to find out? He couldn’t disturb the vigil Johann had set himself, it would be wrong to do so. He had seemed so insistent, even though such was not required before a conversion. He sat in front of a fire, refusing drink, deep in thought.
Roxana ran up to him, visibly agitated, waving another letter.
“This just came,” She gasped,” A rider came on a lathered horse. I couldn’t understand him very well. He speaks Polish, but he was quite unhappy when I told him he could not speak to Johann. He gave me this to give to him. He is waiting outside my tent.”
“Give it to me,” Petro held out his hand, she gave it to him without hesitation.
Petro had learned Swedish early on in his time with Ivan. It had seemed prudent to know another language as he and his companions taught Ivan Cossack. He ripped open the envelope and began to read.
Dear Uncle Johann,
My name is Ivar, your nephew. My father found out about Tamara writing you. He was furious! He locked her in the cellar after giving her a tremendous beating. My brother Otar had tried to stop him, only to receive a beating as well. Father locked him in his room. I am the youngest, and someone had to tell what happened. I stayed hidden and wrote this letter to you. Tamara had told both of us where you were, and had set aside money in the event we ever had to reach you for any reason. I have a reason.
I want you to come and take us away from my father. Ever since Momma died he has been nothing but mean and hateful to us. He is squandering all the money, and there is virtually nothing left. Tamara had tried to write our grandparents, but she had gotten no reply. You are our last hope, please help us.
Your Nephew,
Ivar
Petro shivered in rage. He thrust the letter back at Roxana and roared in rage. He saddled a horse and shoved provisions into the saddlebags before meeting the Polish letter bearer.
“Get another horse. In fact get five. I shall get four more for myself,” Petro grated in Polish,” We are going to the place you got this letter.”
The man shrugged and picked out five horses, resaddling one of them to ride. Petro had memorized the last name on the letter. Petrochenko. He would remember. The two men wheeled their horses and rode like the wind for Poland. Four horses streamed behind each of them, the thunder of their hooves loud enough to even rouse Johann from his reverie briefly.
When he stepped outside in the morning light, Roxana was waiting for him with the letter. Upon reading it he snarled. When she told him Petro had rode out of the camp like the demons of hell were after him, he went white. He told her what was in the letter. She stormed and ranted and raved for nearly fifteen minutes.
“You must go, my love,” She snarled,” Save your niece and nephews. Bring them here. To us, to the Cossacks. We will care for them. We have more than enough wealth to provide for them. They will have a good life here.”
“Yes,” Johann agreed,” I will!”
He saddled a horse and picked four more as remounts. Roxana had already packed his saddlebags. He placed his favorite bow and arrows, along with the finest rifle he owned, along with his six pistols. He kissed Roxana passionately and leaped upon his horse. He swung his horse toward Poland, turning back to wave at his beloved.
“Ivan!” She yelled at him,” Kill that bastard!”
“Your wish is my command, my love,” Johann yelled back.
He galloped out of the camp, only 4 hours behind Petro and the messenger. His thoughts roiled in his head. The wedding was in a little over a month. Barely enough time to get there and back, but with children it might take longer. He would have to push himself and the horses as hard as he dared.
In a bit over a week he approached his brother in law’s estate. He had not encountered Petro at all along the way. In fact, nobody had seen him. It was if he disappeared off the face of the Earth. Stealing on the grounds of the estate, Johann was struck by the unnatural stillness and quiet of the place. It was like a graveyard. No candle or lamp light flickered in the windows of the great house.
Stalking to the back door he found it was partially open. Stalking through the door, he heard a muffled noise upstairs. Quickly stepping along the outside of the stairs he reached the second floor and found two boys bound and gagged in a bedroom. They looked quite bedraggled and very bruised. Their eyes widened in shock and dismay when they saw what looked like a wild Cossack coming toward them with a long wicked knife. He put his finger to his lips.
“Don’t worry, lads,” Johann whispered,” I am your Uncle Johann. I have come for you and your sister.”
He quickly cut the cords of the captive boys and undid the gags. They both shrank away from him in fear.
“I understand,” Johann smiled,” I look a sight. I had a long ride from the wild fields. I got your letter, Otar.”
Otar smiled tremulously,” It IS you! Irina is still downstairs. Father and some of his friends caught a man creeping into the house a few hours ago. They tied us up, and they haven’t come back.”
Johann went purple in fury,” Stay here boys. I will take care of it.”
Johann stole back down the stairs and crept down the basement stairs. Four men were roaring drunk surrounded a bound Petro. They had been whipping him. Petro barely made a sound. Not because he was screamed out, but because he was too proud to see his captors enjoy his torment.
Johann slipped two of his pistols out of the holsters and cocked them. The four men froze at the sound. Two shots rang out, and two men dropped. Johann dropped the pistols and took out another pistol and his sword. Another shot, and another man falls. Only the brother in law is left alive. He turned with the whip in his hand. A snarl on his lips he flicks the whip at Johann.
A quick slash, and the whip was severed. The man reaches for his own blade, only to find Johann’s blade at his throat. He arrested his motion at once.
“I thought this scum was you.”
“It just proves that you really don’t pay that much attention,” Johann snapped,” Where is my niece?”
“In the other room,” he grimaced,” You are welcome to her. She is nothing but trouble. Especially since her mother died.”
Johann pressed the blade further into the drunk man’s neck,” You were unworthy of her. I know you beat her. Did you kill her?”
The man shrank back in fear.
“Did….You….Kill…My….Sister!?”
Petro turned his head and spat out some blood,” He did, Ivan. He gloated about it to me, thinking I was you. I chose not to disabuse him of his misplaced notion.”
“You I will deal with later,” Johann snapped at him,” You, my dear brother in law, will have an unpleasant death ahead of you.”
With that he kicked his foe in the balls and then hammered his head with the hilt of his blade. He quickly cut Petro free and rescued his niece from the other room. She was also quite bruised, but otherwise unharmed. Petro staggered, and Tamara went to him. She tore strips from her shift and used a nearby water bucket to get water to wash his wounds
“Watch him, Petro,” Johann glared at his friend,” I will be back.”
With that he went outside to the barn and got a wagon ready with some supplies and four horses to draw it. He put a very large barrel in the back a quarter filled with offal. He went back and carried his brother in law to the wagon. He dumped him into the barrel, none to gently, and nailed the thing shut after binding and gagging the man. He removed the bunghole to allow air to enter the barrel.
He collected his niece, nephews, and Petro, along with the valuables of the house before setting off back to the wild fields. Every two days he would allow the man some hard bread and water before stuffing him back into the barrel. Johann found out that the messenger had been paid off and sent on his way before Petro had tried to spirit the children away.
They traveled at their best speed, but they would be quite late for the wedding. For they were going to go into the lands of the Golden Horde first. Fifteen miles over the border Johann peeled away the eyelids of the doomed man, tossing them aside with contempt. He stripped him and staked him over an anthill. The Tatars would find him soon enough, covered in his own filth and swarming with flies and other biting bugs. In fact, a cloud of dust heralded their imminent arrival. They rode away, the children and Petro continuing on to the border as Johann stopped at a nearby hill to watch the Tatars torture and then kill the hapless man.
With a grim smile, Johann galloped back to his new children and returned to the Wild Fields and Roxana.
Lords of Horizons was one of my favorites and Al-Andalus only ended because of an ungly crash. I did start another game with it and managed to conquer all of Iberia, but I'd never have guts to attempt it again
