Die Eröffnung

The prologue.

12^th September, 1492, Grand Duchy of Lithuania

It was just another bright cold afternoon outside of Arklio Galva, old Jokūbas’ establishment. Kotryna just finished feeding pigs, and now she had some free time on her hands, until her master will shout her name from inside the tavern with all the power of his mighty lungs. She could go inside and tell him what the work’s done to avoid it, of course, but had completely no desire to do so. All she wanted right now is to watch passing clouds and, far beyond them, passing travellers. She wandered about how strange it is what mere people and clouds, covering God’s Kingdom from the eyes of humankind, move in the same direction. Life in Braslavl’ was always quiet as far as she could remember it. Being located far from all the conflicts which took part during last century, its quietness was unmarred by all the wars raging in other corners of the Great Duchy. The only trouble they sometimes got were knights from Livonian Order, who could rob or even kill any peasant they met in the wilderness. They knew what the worst they could face for anything done to a peasant was paying fine, which didn’t scare them too much. Kotryna’s mother always told her: “if you see a group of knights while in the woods, run as fast as you can. Because otherwise no one will take you as a wife after they are finished with you”. But if you are careful, they didn’t pose that much of a danger, not like the bandits of old. They didn’t try to find you unprepared; they just believed you were an insect, and could be done with any way they want.

Another group of landsknechts passed by, halberds and pikes wavering in the air. Curious, how come they are here, so far away from Prussia? And it was not the first group she saw, big, hardy men clad in unusual and colourful clothing, faces covered in scars... Some of them were carrying muskets, even. Villagers mostly preferred to avoid them, even though they never caused any problems before. She heard stories about horrible atrocities they do during their campaigns, and only when they were safely away she realised that she was holding her breath.

She looked left and found a young man staring at her. His face was gaunt and pale, his eyes red, and after a few seconds she noticed that his whole body was visibly trembling. His clothing told her he was, probably, local. “Is he sick with a disease?” passed a fearful thought in her head. Meanwhile, a young man opened his mouth as if to tell her something, and suddenly started to cough hard, unable to stop. Kotryna backed away; she was only sixteen, and didn’t want to die just yet. She saw people dying from plague, when she was nine: she lost her father to it. The man, still coughing, tried to walk up to her, but after a few unsure steps he fell down, slowly collapsing to the ground.

- - Jokūbas, Jokūbas! " She was shouting a second later, bursting inside Arklio Galva.

- - What is it, girl? You stop screaming right now, or you’ll get a slap you will not soon forget! And I told you thousands of times " I’m Master Jokūbas to you! " growled irritated tavern’s fat owner, standing up from his wooden stool beside the bar. There were not many visitors this afternoon, and most of them sat silently in the corners, slowly drinking what Jokūbas called “beer”.

- - Master, there is a man outside! He looks ill!

It took several moments for Jokubas to realize why it should be any concern of his. When he rushed outside, shoving the girl aside. The man still was there, laying where he fell, shivering slightly. He lay in almost foetal position, hands pressed to his stomach. The tavern master came to a halt two dozen feet away from the body and stood there unsure, watching the stranger. All he could see from where he stood was a pale face, all warped from apparently unimaginable pain and comparatively good clothes, however made from undyed cloth. One of the tavern’s visitors went out as well, and stood next to him, eyeing the young man with interest.

- - Hey, dat’s young Romek! He’s an old miller’s son, " he said suddenly.

- - Romek, you say? - mumbled Jokubas, still not moving.

- - Balsas už¹! " He said, - What happened to the lad, I wonder? Mabbe ate something?

- - He looks ill! Get him away from here! " almost cried the barmaid, standing ten steps further away from the young man than her master and looking about to run away.

- - I still owe old Svitrigaila some gold he lent me last summer, and he never mentioned it since, - continued the visitor, - a decent person, even if a bit grumpy at times. Let’s bring the lad in, what do you say, Jokubas?

Tavern owner looked sideways at the man, slightly annoyed. He was one of those scoundrels who, when entering some new establishment or visiting some distant relatives for the first time, always make sure to know all the names before he enters the place, so he can annoy people calling them by name casually, showing that they have an advantage of “I know you, but you have no idea who I am”. Still, miller Svitrigaila was always a respected person in Braslavl’, and it could have some very bad consequences to leave his son to die on the yard before your tavern.

- - Viskas gerai²! Lend me a hand here, will you?

***

First he felt the pain. Like a crushing maul, wielded by some giant, it hammered on his brain, methodically, without a pause. He wanted to run away, to hide somewhere, leave his brain behind if needs be. But no, his consciousness was trapped, chained to this ravaged ball of muscles, blood and juice.

Slowly, he started to feel other parts of his body, still just a bleak reflection of what it used to be, compared to this very alive and very suffering head of his. His control over his muscles and bones was very weak, giving him a feeling that he is nothing but a prisoner inside this shivering veil of his soul. After a minute or two he managed to open his eyes, which took a great effort of will. Blinding, searing light took place instead of darkness, triggering especially powerful swing of the relentless maul.

It took a few seconds for eyes to regain some focus, and, much more unhurriedly than was wished for, his pain started to decline.

A room. Small, lacking any furniture except for the crude wooden stool and the bed he laid on, with badly painted, stained walls. The only window showed a blue sky with some rare clouds quickly passing by. “Where am I?” came a thought, the first one to be clear enough to be easily expressed with words. He tried to sit up, the effort which was rewarded with nothing but an additional slam of the hammer inside of his head. This slam was strong enough to break his wish to move in any direction whatsoever and he let his body relax, trying to focus on the outside world and not his headache. Steps? Or was it just a wind, battering the outside? He wasn’t sure for a few seconds, but then the sound became louder and louder until it stopped before the room’s door. A few seconds later, it slowly started to open, with a short pause after each especially loud creak. Soon, a girl’s head appeared from beside it. She stared at him, and her already big eyes opened even more when she noticed that he is awake and watching her. She looked scared.

- - Ummm… - she clearly had no idea what to say, - are you all right? " Realising how stupid her question probably sounded, given his appearance and position, she hurried to add, - What happened to you?

He struggled to answer, even though not knowing what to say. Was he ill? What really happened?

- - Anreas said you’re Romek, Svitrigalia’s son… Are you ill? You looked like a living corpse when I saw you outside of the tavern, but now you already look much better! Did you eat something bad?

Her speech was hurried and unsteady, her manner - anxious. Romek started to think about all these questions which fell on his head like an avalanche. Romek? Yes, right… Father… Mill… Grey figures, standing above him, doing something to him, whispering … Things they told him…

He needs to get out of here, fast! They still might be somewhere nearby!

- - I need to… - he started to say, words having a difficulty to leave his dry throat, - water? " He ended the phrase suddenly, realizing how thirsty he is. When was the last time he drank?

- Water? Oh, sure, I actually brought you some! And a couple of apples… - she started to move toward him, but then suddenly stopped as if she forgot something important, - are you sure you’re not sick or something?

- No, no… Just… Bad food, - he needs to get out of here! Lie, if he must, but he has to get away from this place as fast as possible.

He tried to sit up again, and succeeded this time. During the dialogue, the pain slowly declined, leaving just a pale persistent shadow of what it used to be before.

- - Wow, wow! Maybe you should rest a bit more, what’cha think? " She said, looking genuinely worried.

- - No… I… Am… Well enough, - he managed to answer, sitting on the edge of his bed. " I need to… Father is probably… worried! " He started to say the first thing that came to mind, - I need to say him… I am all right… Water?

The girl suddenly recalled about the tray in her hands she was holding all along, and rushed toward him with it held like a shield before her.

- - Here, take this…

More steps echoed from the corridor, this time heavier and louder. Soon, a big fat man entered the room and stood beside the girl. He was wearing a big leather apron and his broad arms and nose in combination with his small pig-like eyes made him look like a classical evil butcher from one of the fairy tales mothers told their children all over the county when they didn’t want to go to bed.

- - So, you are awake! Quite a show you made out there, falling down on your face like this. Anreas went out to tell your father, whom he knows apparently well, what you are here and he should come and bring you home. The mill’s about four miles from here, so you it shouldn’t take them more than an hour to get here. Meantime, you’d better rest, I say. " He spoke with the manner of a person who is used to give commands and to see them done.

An hour? He tried to imagine waiting an hour here, in this room. With them out there, somewhere nearby. Awe, terrible horror filled him, destroying any resistance on its way.

- - Have to… get out of here! Now! " Last word coming out as a squeak, he tried to stand up, but instantly met an impregnable barrier on his way up in a shape of the fat man’s hand.

- - No, no. Rest is all you need. It seems you are still affected by the illness, you delirate.

He tried to stand up despite the hand on his way, but to no avail. He was too weak to move this fat man from his way, and suddenly a thought appeared inside his head: he is a one of their servants! Deep terror rising again, he suddenly found strength to shout:

- - No! You will not chain me again! " With this, he tried to strike the man with his fist, but he easily caught his arm and forced him back into bed.

Despite all the thrashing around, there was nothing Rorek could have had done against him. Horror blinded him, and he barely heard the words the fat man was telling him while forcing back to bed:

- - Shh, shh. You’re hallucinating. Soon your father will be here, he will take you home… God, what happened to this poor soul?

Struggling against him was like fighting against a mountain falling on you. Man’s hands held his like a pair of handcuffs. And they, they still stood in his eyes, all this time. He quickly got out of breath, his lungs apparently got out of air, with no way to get some more. It seemed to go on for ages, a hopeless, doomed war, weak and pale youngster against a mature big man.

And then, when he was about to give up, he suddenly found a new strength inside him. And then, everything changed. It was a second when the history took a new turn.

1. (lith.) Yes

2. (lith.) All right