Just finished Part 1 - three months behind. But the story is very well crafted and enjoyable. Very poetic in that there is artistry in the composition.
Looking forward to the rest!
Rensslaer
Looking forward to the rest!
Rensslaer
- 1
- 1
-
We have updated our Community Code of Conduct. Please read through the new rules for the forum that are an integral part of Paradox Interactive’s User Agreement.
Thanks for the latest chapter. Quite the cliffhanger as we wonder what Zygmunt will ultimately do. Seems he must make some decisions and given the passions of the moment they may not be wise. Time for him to truly choose a side.
This chapter resonates with me because I have written a chapter or two, some in the forum and some elsewhere, that used wolf's bane as a device. An interesting poison, and definitely one used at the time.
Also, I have a chapter set to come to the forum in the next few weeks also set in Västerås (or near it) although it is set 350 years before your alternate timeline.
So I truly appreciate the research you put into this.
As others have noted, this has the elements of a tragedy. I have felt that way from almost the start. Masterfully done, but tragic nonetheless.
Finally, I wonder how related to game play this chapter might be? Did you have a war with this dynamic as you played Finland? If so, I wonder if in the future we will learn how the war turned out in the game, with the Grand Holy Order of WTF?
This chapter resonates with me because I have written a chapter or two, some in the forum and some elsewhere, that used wolf's bane as a device. An interesting poison, and definitely one used at the time.
Also, I have a chapter set to come to the forum in the next few weeks also set in Västerås (or near it) although it is set 350 years before your alternate timeline.
So I truly appreciate the research you put into this.
I will note you used past tense in your answer concerning the prince coming to power to prevent the war. That doesn't bode well for his survival after this chapter.
As others have noted, this has the elements of a tragedy. I have felt that way from almost the start. Masterfully done, but tragic nonetheless.
Finally, I wonder how related to game play this chapter might be? Did you have a war with this dynamic as you played Finland? If so, I wonder if in the future we will learn how the war turned out in the game, with the Grand Holy Order of WTF?
Ulvila, Suomi
October, 1037
October, 1037
Satajalka could hear the castle gate being hoisted from his position in his solar and slumped in relief. Arvo has returned, no doubt. Thank the gods that he is finally home safe.
A court herald had been dispatched to collect more men for the war against the Christians. But instead of being a rather simple matter, he had been accosted by rogues in the fishing village of Rauma and savagely beaten. Satajalka had of course dispatched a small contingent of guards to hang the traitors, but these too were overwhelmed. Finally, Satajalka had been forced to dispatch Arvo, with a small army of guardsmen. For the past few days, the castle had been defended by only a few dozen. It was only for a short time, but it left the king feeling exposed.
The revolt was a little thing, and yet it filled Satajalka with rage. Were the Suomi not a proud people? Were they not stubborn and defiant, famously so? Once it had been so, surely, but now the men of this benighted land quailed at the prospect of a little bloodshed. The war had been hard-fought, of course. Nobody could have expected otherwise. And yet Satajalka had not chosen this war, had in fact ignored outrage after outrage from the Christians until at last his hand was forced by acts of treachery.
He mourned the loss of Mieletty, of course. Satajalka had collapsed on the floor of the court when he learned of his son’s death, and Andrjes had him bodily carried to a sickbed. Scarcely an hour had gone by without him remembering Mieletty as he had last seen him, the very image of a Suomi warrior-king. That loss was staggering, for him and for the people as a whole.
Very few had the courage to see the reality of things. Had Agne not grown waspish now that she wore a widow’s black? Did she not blame him for Mieletty’s death? The redoubtable Susi of Karelia, did he not brood at the losses in the war, or the failure of this year’s harvest? Was that not a king’s responsibility? Even timid Andrjes seemed to be concealing something. It just went to show that in dark times, you could only trust in blood.
The door creaked open, and a man stepped in. Not Arvo, however. There, in mail and travel-stained leathers, stood Zygmunt Ossowski. In his hands he clutched the Virtanen family sword, still in its distinctive gilded hilt. His eyes were red-rimmed, but there was an oddly tentative look on his face. Satajalka was reminded of the boy he had once been.
Why was Zygmunt here, alone? He’s come to kill me at last, the king thought, or He’s come, to return the family sword and to grieve. Both seemed equally plausible.
“Your majesty, you will have heard about Mieletty,” Zygmunt said stiffly.
“I have.” Praise the gods, Satajalka’s voice did not catch.
Zygmunt regarded him for a long moment, as if summoning his courage. Finally he said, “My liege, I–I have come to say that this war cannot be won. A peace must be found, something to save face of course, but…”
Satajalka grit his teeth. “I will make no coward’s peace, my lord. My son–”
“...agreed with me, majesty. He said it to me more than once. Kaur agrees as well, and you know that he does not say such things lightly.”
Satajalka lifted himself up to his feet, hoping that the effort would not be visible. “You called Mieletty your friend, and before his blood ran cold, you would conspire with his killers.”
“Conspire? I am no–”
“I offered you clemency, you faithless whelp. I raised you with my own sons. I taught you everything I knew, I gave you lands as wealthy as my own, and you paid me back with treachery.” Satajalka saw with satisfaction that he had made Zygmunt flinch, and for the first time in years he felt a sense of power. Fury and pleasure flowed through him in equal measure.
“I am trying to save this kingdom of yours, your majesty.” Zygmunt’s voice sounded a touch aggrieved, as if he were still a boy.
“Mine? Not yours?” Satajalka barked out a coarse laugh. “I suppose that yours is the kingdom of heaven, no?”
To Satajalka’s surprise, Zygmunt simply said, “Yes. I worship the god of my father, as you worship the gods of yours.”
He would not say it so lightly unless he felt he had nothing to fear. Suddenly it seemed very plausible that Zygmunt was the villain that Risto believed him to be. “It was you.” The words escaped his lips quite unintentionally.
“It was me who what, majesty?”
He would not have come alone. How many men did he have with him? I did not hear combat in the yard, nor just now in the hall. What of my guards?
Zygmunt took a step forward, looming over him. “It was me who what?”
“You killed my son, blackguard.” Satajalka spit out the words. “Now you mean to do the same for me. Well, I won’t go quietly.” The king raised his walking stick and hoped that it appeared at least somewhat menacing.
Zygmunt paused, staring at him incredulously. Suddenly he made a harsh choking sound, so mirthless and hollow that it did not register as laughter at first. “Is that what you believe?” Satajalka had never seen the man look so astonished. “I… do you know the first thing about me? Do you understand me at all?
“I think about you all the time, Satajalka. What you think of me, what you want, how best to please you. Everybody does, that’s what it means to serve a king. And you… you don’t think about anybody. The only thing that’s real for you is you: your own fears and weaknesses and secret shames. You’re like that man in the tales, obsessed with his own reflection in the lake.”
Satajalka lunged for Zygmunt, hoping to shut his traitor’s mouth. Zygmunt was younger and far more agile, however. He took a quick step back, and struck Satajalka across the mouth with a backhand.
At the sound of the blow, the door to the solar opened. Satajalka could see at least a half dozen soldiers wearing the black eagle of Masuria on their breasts. The captain gave Zygmunt a concerned look, but the duke only smiled.
“His majesty is tired. Take him back to his chambers so that he might rest.”
*****
Snow was starting to fall when they met the prince’s party on the road to Rauma. The sun had been down for hours, and Zygmunt was beyond weary, but he would have this done tonight. Besides, as he had suspected, Prince Arvo feared to leave Ulvila so undermanned for long.
Once, Zygmunt had believed that burning the chapel was his maddest act. And yet today he would surpass that by far. First he had taken the king captive in his own chambers. Now he meant to treat with that king’s son with only a handful of men by his side. Kaur had cautioned him that Arvo would resist him. You may need to shed his blood, no matter what you say. But Zygmunt had insisted otherwise. Arvo lacked his older brother’s innate self-confidence, and he would doubt more readily. That had all seemed wise, back in Sweden. Staring at the hundred men before him, he was not so sure.
Arvo rode his horse forward. Beside him rode the massive form of Erkki Sydӓnmaa, the man called Surma’s Blade. Zygmunt tried not to let his eyes linger on the two-handed greatsword that Erkki wore.
“Zygmunt, is it Father?” Arvo’s brow was knitted in worry, and for a moment the youth looked like his sister Pihla.
“Your father lives, Arvo. His health has not declined.” Zygmunt paused for a second, but soon realized that there was no way to deliver this news except to say it frankly. “I had him confined to his chambers, however. He will be given every comfort, please trust me on that, but he will not rule any longer.”
Erkki’s eyes darkened, and he wrapped a hand on the hilt of his blade. Besides him, Arvo flushed in sudden rage. “Was my brother’s body even cold when you conceived of this plan?”
“I did not conceive of it, Arvo. Mieletty did. Your father had gone beyond reason, was listening to nobody but Risto alone. Your brother should have been here to do this, but… but he isn’t. And I am.”
Arvo shifted in his seat, and spoke in a slightly sullen tone. “My brother never said anything like that to me.”
Erkki drew his sword and held it in one hand. “Highness, shall I cut off this traitor’s head?”
Zygmunt ignored the warrior as best he could and fixed his eyes on the prince. He prayed to God that his voice remain calm. “Is that your judgment, Arvo?”
Arvo lifted a hand. “Not… not yet. Continue, Zygmunt.”
“I did not enact this plan alone, Arvo.” Zygmunt reached into his cloak and retrieved the signet ring bearing the seal of Latgalia. “Kaur gave this to me, so that all would know that we acted in concert. This war your father started cannot be won. Every day for three years good men have died, and we are further now from victory than ever.”
Arvo scoffed. “And you would end it?”
“Yes. For every one of ours we have slain one of theirs. There can be no appetite for war in Sweden, not now.”
Erkki spat. “You would bare our throats to the Christian dogs.”
“Arvo, Risto has murdered Christians by the hundreds.” Zygmunt thought he could see a hint of uncertainty in the prince’s eyes, or at least he prayed that he could. “Look around us. Is Suomi safer? All along the coast, towns have been burned. The Balts and Slavs say that they have been abandoned by the crown, that your father only cares enough to hang his enemies and not to defend their lands. Here in the crown’s own fief, the peasants are revolting. When was the last time that happened, Arvo? Who is still alive to recall when the Virtanens last lost their people's love?”
Arvo thought for a long moment, a troubled look on his face. Zygmunt could imagine what he might be thinking. The prince’s force could overwhelm Zygmunt’s own small party easily enough, but they were not numerous enough to besiege the castle in Uvila. He might strike off for Karelia, or for his cousin in Oulu; but even in the best case scenario, that would mean civil war. Sigurd would be sure to pounce on any weakness.
Finally, the prince cocked his head. “I have two conditions.”
“Name them.”
“First, you do not touch a hair on my father’s head. Not one.” Arvo’s voice was firm now. “Second, you forswear the throne, for yourself and your children.”
Zygmunt nodded. It was no more than he had expected. “I agree.”
“Good,” Arvo said with a hint of relief. “Now swear, here before my man and yours.”
Zygmunt hesitated, but only for a moment. I have truly given leave of my senses. “In the name of Christ and all his saints, I do so swear.”
Erkki’s face was purple with rage, but Arvo only nodded. “Shall I ride with you back to Ulvila, my lord? You must be eager to get out of the snow.”
- 4
- 2
Hopefully this palace coup can bring peace to Suomi, but Satajalka will surely go down fighting...
- 2
- 1
I kept changing my mind on how I thought Zygmunt would react after Mieletty died. For a long time, I was going to have him use the fact that he held Prince Otso (now the king's heir) to keep the king at bay, and get independence in all but name. But that didn't entirely seem satisfying: I figured that he had too much loyalty to Mieletty and Pihla to let the realm fall to ruin without at least trying to right the ship.
I felt it would be the latter. I think it's hard for people to admit that they were wrong when what they were wrong about has been so destructive.
Well, certainly there has been a lot of blood shed by now. No matter what happens next, it can't be a purely happy ending imo.
I will say this. I think it would be very hard for him to admit that he made a mistake that got his own son killed.
Agreed.
Thanks! I hope you enjoy Zygmunt's story as well.
So over the holiday break, my wife was showing me one of her favorite movies: We Are the Best!, which is a Swedish movie about teenage girls starting a punk band in 1980s Stockholm. It was a delightful movie and the big climactic scene took place at a battle of the bands in Västerås. And a little research taught me that Västerås was an old medieval city, so I thought to myself, I'm going to have to use that.
Re: the gameplay, I did have a war with Sweden during the game that was very frustrating.
I had a claim from a legend; Sweden was ruled by a child; and they had a lot fewer troops than I did, so I thought like Satajalka did that it would be a pretty easy win. Go over, take the capital, snatch the child monarch, manage the vassals. Instead it turned out to be a ten year long war because somebody in the HRE had started the Knights Templar, so they have five thousand more troops than I thought.
(Also, Mieletty did die in the game during this war, killed by a Duke Sigurd; that was always part of the story that I was going to tell here.)
I did win the war in the game, but it was a classic pyrrhic victory: because my faith was pluralist, all the Christian dukes in Sweden kept their titles and they all hated me; so then I had to fight out an independence war where I was heavily outnumbered, and I ended up losing the northern half the kingdom. Then Satajalka dies; and the kingdom is split between Otso II and his uncle Arvo, with Arvo getting all the Swedish territories along with Lithuania. I was playing Otso, so I don't know what happened with Arvo; but it seemed like he accepted a dissolution faction and thus all of those lands split apart.
So basically I fought two bloody wars for nothing; and Otso didn't inherit his grandfather's claim on Sweden either. It was an incredibly frustrating session of play but also the kind of setback that helped convince me that there really was a narrative here. When a game goes too easily, then there's no drama to it imo.
(Also, Mieletty did die in the game during this war, killed by a Duke Sigurd; that was always part of the story that I was going to tell here.)
I did win the war in the game, but it was a classic pyrrhic victory: because my faith was pluralist, all the Christian dukes in Sweden kept their titles and they all hated me; so then I had to fight out an independence war where I was heavily outnumbered, and I ended up losing the northern half the kingdom. Then Satajalka dies; and the kingdom is split between Otso II and his uncle Arvo, with Arvo getting all the Swedish territories along with Lithuania. I was playing Otso, so I don't know what happened with Arvo; but it seemed like he accepted a dissolution faction and thus all of those lands split apart.
So basically I fought two bloody wars for nothing; and Otso didn't inherit his grandfather's claim on Sweden either. It was an incredibly frustrating session of play but also the kind of setback that helped convince me that there really was a narrative here. When a game goes too easily, then there's no drama to it imo.
I will say this as a general comment: whenever I make a king into the villain of a story, it probably means that their reign was deeply annoying to play through.
- 2
- 1
- 1
- 1
The classic logic. Satajalka declared this war, Suomi is the attacker. But no, in his mind, it is of course the Christians' fault.
Of course.
I'm sure Satajalka's grief is real, but normal people don't have to say or think things like, "Of course I feel sad. Of course I do. My sadness is so genuine that I have to justify it to myself."
They're both equally plausible, but the first thought in the King's head was of conspiracy and murder, not that his son's best friend is in mourning. This chapter truly shows how far Satajalka has fallen morally and mentally, not just physically, from the assassination attempt.
I hope this gets through to him. But his own daughter couldn't even do that. The King has been fed poison and I see no antidote.
A great line.
I wonder where Risto is during all of this? Plotting his next move, no doubt.
- 2
I'm glad Zygmunt saved the Greek Vulgate volume, for a variety of reasons. A complicated character there!
Rensslaer
Rensslaer
This comment, and the friendship between Mieletty and Zygmunt, remind me of one of my memories from high school which has stuck with me as instructional.
We had two Iranian students at the school - Farzad and Farzhad, who were best friends. I was friends with Farzhad, enough that we would say hi in the hallways at least. I saw him at his locker once and stopped to say hi. I noticed he had a portrait of the Shah Pahlavi in his locker and commented on it. He was very surprised I even knew who it was. He begged me, "Please don't tell Farzad - he's a supporter of the Ayatollahs."
Rensslaer
- 1
“I will want to have coitus, you know.”
Can't beat that as a straight line.
I'm looking forward to seeing more of Pihla!
Rensslaer
Can't beat that as a straight line.
I'm looking forward to seeing more of Pihla!
Rensslaer
- 1
- 1
Brava! Nicely done. Another very good chapter with some surprises. I certainly didn't see Zygmunt arranging a palace coup. Although I certainly did think that Mieletty was dead, even though there was some ambiguity until this chapter. So far Zygmunt continues to stay true to character while threading a very difficult needle of behavior. Well done.
I will have to add that film to my watch queue. I just posted my Västerås chapter, although it happens near Västerås and before Västerås was a real city.
I very much like how you converted what was happening in the game into what you have happening in Book II of your tales. Looking forward to how you wrap this part up. I sense the ending of this book coming soon.
- 3
Hamburg/Ulvila, Suomi
1036 - 1037
1036 - 1037
At twenty-three, Lothar Supplinburg was the youngest man to ever serve as archbishop over Hamburg-Bremen. Courtiers across Christendom praised his learning, his wisdom, and his simple humility. The suffragans of the Nordic lands looked to him for guidance, for there the Church was still in its infancy. The lord-commander of the Holy Order of St Ansgar consulted with him on military matters. The souls of many trapped in pagan Suomi called out to him to save them.
Lothar, naturally, found this all terrifying. It was no secret why Lothar had been raised so high so quickly. Mother was having an affair with the Kaiser of the Holy Roman Empire; and Father had been good enough to look the other way while it happened. Thus Lothar, an inconvenient younger son in any case, had been given this tremendous honor.
He told people all the time that he was not worthy of this honor, that he had been elevated by accident. And people inevitably looked at him and said, it is good for a man of the Church to be so humble. And so they revered him more, which seemed like a cruel joke. If God had a lesson for him in all this, Lothar had yet to discern it.
So Lothar relied heavily on Father Thorvald, a priest so old that most called him Methusaleh. May God keep Thorvald alive as long as the real Methusaleh, because Lothar would be in trouble after that.
Thorvald had woken him up early this morning for a private council with a small delegation from the east. Lothar did not like being up this early, but he mustered as much dignity as he could and strode in his chambers to see a handful of men in simple roughspun robes. They stood in front of a large oaken chest.
They were village priests, if Lothar was any judge. Men of the Church too, and no doubt far more worthy than himself, but still it did not explain this secret conference. Lothar gave Thorvald a questioning look.
Thorvald cleared his throat. “Excellency, these men are priests from Suomi, and they have come with…” The old priest paused for a second. “...a tithe, you called it?”
“Yes, your excellency.” It was a plump man who spoke now, with grey hair and smiling blue eyes. “I am Father Tadeusz of Płock, and by the grace of god a priest. I have led a church in Chełmno for the past fifteen years. Father Milosz has a flock in Chełmno as well, while Fathers Ottokar and Ingvar are in Białystok. There are many others who could not be here, priests who serve in secret and those in nameless villages. The tithe is our humble gift to you.”
Lothar had not imagined that there were so many Christians still in the pagan lands, not after the depredations of the savage Finn Satajalka. “I am blessed to meet you, of course, but I must caution that I can only do so much. I cannot make Duke Sigurd fight any more fiercely.”
Father Tadeusz smiled apologetically. “Your excellency, I should clarify–we are here on behalf of Zygmunt Ossowski, Duke of Masuria and Regent of Suomi. He is willing to make peace with Sweden, and hopes that you will extend your good offices to help make it so.”
Thorvald scoffed. “And why are so many fine Christians here on behalf of a pagan warlord?”
Tadeusz’s smile broadened. “Why, because he is no pagan. Excellency, I have the honor to be confessor to his grace the Duke.”
Thorvald sucked in a breath at that. Lothar leaned forward. “Does his grace mean to claim the Suomi for Christ, then?”
“Such is regrettably not in his power, your excellency. However, his grace has offered to restore the law of King Otso.”
Lothar was distracted for a moment. He had not the foggiest notion who this King Otso might have been, or what his law consisted of. Besides, he could have sworn that the oaken chest was moving.
After a silence, Thorvald supplied, “Your excellency will recall that King Otso held that Christians in Suomi would be judged by Christian law?”
Tadeusz nodded gratefully. “Indeed. He hoped that your excellency might assist in naming a suffragan bishop for Ulvila, who might speak on behalf of the Christians in the realm.”
Lothar considered this notion for a second. “Would I not in essence be recognizing this pagan kingdom? I don’t care for the thought of that. The works of Satan are not to be tolerated as if they were simple eccentricities.”
“I understand if your excellency is not comfortable,” Tadeusz said. “The bishop of Novgorod is currently in exile in Pinsk. Perhaps he would be more suitable.”
While the priest’s face had a look of abject humility, there was a sly note in his voice that Lothar did not care for. The bishop of Novgorod, as Tadeusz knew perfectly well, was given to certain heretical Greek notions.
As Lothar was racking his brain, trying to come up with something wise to say, the oaken chest moved again. This time there was no mistaking it, the chest shook just a little bit. Tadeusz must have known it too, there was a definite strain in his face.
Lothar stood up. “Gentlemen, I would like to see this… tithe.”
Reluctantly, Tadeusz knelt to unlatch the chest. “I would caution your excellency to stand back. It sounds like he may be awake.”
He? As Lothar’s mind worked on that strange notion, Taduesz carefully lifted the lid. The stench was apparent first, the smell of sweat and urine and other foul effluvia. As Lothar peered inside, he was astonished to see a pair of eyes staring back at him. There was a gaunt man inside the chest, snarling like a wild dog through his gag and glaring at Lothar with a fierce and ungodly hatred.
Thorvald was aghast. “What manner of trickery is…”
Tadeusz flushed. “I apologize for the mummer’s show, but we wished to bring him to you alone.”
Lothar could not look away from the creature in the box. “What… who is this?”
“A gift, excellency, from his grace. To assure you of his good wishes. To see that justice is done.” Tadeusz spoke gravely. “Once this man was Count of Sudovian, councillor to the king of Suomi, the arch-persecutor of the Church in Suomi. Now he is just Risto.”
*****
Pihla was not the best at reading people. However, she knew Zygmunt quite well after a decade of marriage, and so she did not need to be told that her husband was worried about her brother Arvo. Arvo was not a dishonorable person, of course not, but he was not a person with a particularly strong will. If left unattended, Arvo might be talked into all sorts of mischief; and the rule of a regent is not strong.
Her husband made a big show of including Arvo in every decision, bringing him along on every affair of state, and even cultivating a form of friendship together. It was a companionable, Zygmunt-y way of keeping a close eye on the prince. And so Zygmunt and Arvo had sailed off together to Åland, there to hopefully hammer out a peace with Duke Sigurd.
The problem wasn’t really Arvo, it seemed to her. The problem was Father. Zygmunt had pledged that he will be given all comforts for the rest of his natural life, and so he was–if you considered life in a well-appointed tower cell to be ‘all comforts’. The king’s guard (his jailers, really) were all Poles. They were loyal men, but there were only so many of them.
She visited her father often, as much out of filial obligation as anything. Some days he would lie there, mutely staring at the wall. Some days he would accuse her of treachery and unnatural acts. Some days he would be consoling and compassionate, and these days were the worst. It meant that he wanted something from her, and he intended to use every trick he knew to get it from her. She inevitably left the cell in tears when he was like that.
Today, she found him sitting on a chair in front of the window, staring at the river. He did not even glance in her direction as she arrived. She greeted him and he said nothing. Once his sullen reaction would have hurt her, but now it was honestly a relief. It meant that she would not be expected to converse with him. She scanned the room quickly, determining that he had eaten his last few meals and that his chamber pot did not need to be emptied; and then moved to leave the room.
She had just gotten to the door when she heard his voice, dripping with contempt. “You ungrateful wench.”
She turned around, to see him holding himself up and staring daggers at her. Mieletty used to say that I was his favorite, she thought sadly. “Excuse me, Father?”
“Father,” he said in a shrill parody of her own voice. “Can I get you something, Father? Are they feeding you okay, Father? My husband is in Mariehamn selling the fucking kingdom to the fucking Christians, have you had your fucking beans, Father?”
His words were hurtful, if by now unsurprising. It was the last shred of power that he had: power over her. But there was one thing…
“How did you know that Zygmunt was in Mariehamn?” Only a handful of people in the court knew the location of the meeting, and most of them had left with her husband.
The captive king stopped, a look of uncertainty on his face. “Well, it just stands to reason that… Of course, it’s just like those Christians to…” Finally his face twisted with frustration. “Ukko’s balls, child, don’t change the subject.”
Pihla scarcely heard him. She mumbled a goodbye, and left his cell. She quickly found Adam, who was one of a half dozen Poles watching the entrance to the southern tower. Taking the guard captain aside, she asked in a low voice, “Who has seen the king recently?”
Adam thought for a second. “Your husband put his own servants in charge of him, highness. None of them speak Suomi, at his request. Aside from that? Only family is allowed up to see him.”
“His concubine?”
“No, highness. Just family, your husband says.”
Pihla paused, her mind racing. “My brother?”
“No, m’lady. We haven’t seen Prince Arvo, not once.”
She nodded, unsurprised. Arvo would have been too embarrassed to see Father, after taking her husband’s part last autumn. So that left… Of course. A chill ran down Pihla’s spine.
“Highness?” Adam was giving her a concerned look.
“Triple the guard on the tower, and have our people see to the gates as well. Nobody gets in or out without my instruction, understood?”
Adam nodded. “I’ll see to it personally, highness.”
“No!” Pihla blurted out. “No, I need you for something else.”
Zygmunt and Pihla had a spacious set of rooms on the east side of the castle. They were humbly appointed, for the same reason that Zygmunt did not drape himself in ermine or sit upon the throne. It was important to send a message that his regency was temporary, that he had no ambitions.
The only hint of luxury was in Elzbieta’s room. Pihla had given birth to Elzbieta in the throes of war and turmoil, after a long and painful delivery that nearly killed her. She was a miracle, Father Tadeusz had said; a blessing from Äkräs, according to the tietäjä. Zygmunt and Pihla would likely have no other children, so this blessed child would get everything she wanted. Elzbieta was bossy and spoiled and a little terror, Pihla knew that, and yet she thought her daughter was perfect nonetheless.
As Pihla had hoped, Otso was there too. Elzbieta had cajoled her older cousin into playing dolls, and he was ever indulgent to her. Thank the gods, they’re safe.
The prince looked up as she entered. “Do they need me in the yard?
Pihla forced a smile, although she had never been good at such things. “Oh, the weather is so dreadful today. Why don’t you take a break from sparring today?”
Young Otso did not look convinced. “Täti Pihla, is something wrong?” Elzbieta looked up as well, aware that something was amiss if not quite sure why.
Pihla cursed herself. Lying had never been her strength. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “But I need you to behave like a brave young prince and protect your cousin, poju. Adam will be outside if you need anything.”
Otso nodded gravely. He was not quite eleven, but for a moment she could see the man that he would become. Pihla gave herself a second to feel relief wash over her, and then she hurried onward.
Mother might have been alarmed to see Pihla arrive in her quarters so suddenly. Pihla found every excuse to avoid her mother normally, a cowardly reaction that she was not proud of. But it would never occur to Mother to be worried about Pihla, because in Mother’s eyes she was still the troublesome little girl with the frightful hair.
Instead, Mother started with a criticism. Naturally.
“Your Elzbieta is getting to be quite mannish, tytärkku. She spends too much time with boys, if you ask me. Now when I was your age, I…”
Pihla was exhausted, having run around the castle in a fright for the past hour. She was in no mood to hear this from her mother, and certainly not about Elzbieta. “Äiti? Shut up.”
Mother flushed with outrage. “How dare you speak to your mother that way?!”
“Because I never had your approval and I realize now that I never will?” Pihla thought for a second. “Oh, right, that wasn’t really a question.”
“You are an unnatural creature, child.”
Pihla resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Tell me something that I don’t know. “Mother, it’s time that you pay Käpy a visit. You may tell everybody that you miss your other grandchildren, and so you intend to leave for Viipuri. Immediately.”
Mother gave Pihla a defiant look. “I have no intention of leaving my husband in the clutches of your husband, child.”
“You know, Father said something funny to me today. He said that Zygmunt was in Mariehamn selling the kingdom to the Christians. Now how do you suppose he knew that, when most of the court doesn’t know where he is?” Pihla cocked her head, noting that Mother had suddenly gotten very pale. “You found out. You got it out of Arvo somehow, where and when they’d be gone, and you and Father concocted some plan. Take over the castle, restore him to the throne, raise the people up against the Christians, something of that nature?”
Mother started to stammer, but Pihla ignored it. “You are my mother, and for some reason or another I do still love you. That’s why you’re not in irons right now. That’s why you’re dealing with your unnatural daughter, and not her husband. This is a gift I’m offering, and I suggest you take it.”
Mother’s face was grey, and she appeared much diminished. It was hard to understand now why Pihla had ever been afraid of her. Finally, the old woman nodded. “Yes… yes, I see. Viipuri is supposed to be lovely in the summer.”
Pihla nodded, relieved. “Good. I’m glad. And Äiti?”
Her mother blinked. “Yes?”
“Keep your mouth shut about my Elzbieta.”
*****
Pihla was on edge for the rest of her husband’s absence. It was not until he and Arvo returned that she finally let herself relax. Sigurd had cursed and blustered and resisted to the utmost, Zygmunt told her later, but in the end the archbishop had exerted pressure as they had hoped he would.
Her husband declared a day of feasting and merriment for commons and nobility alike. He was celebrating the peace as if it were a victory, but she knew that for him it was just that. Two heavily-laden tables were given to the commons. The hall was jammed with nobles of all stations, dukes and counts and barons. Arvo stood up and gave a drunken toast to Zygmunt, in which he proclaimed the wisdom of the new peace and called her husband his brother. She found the moment stirring, at least until the prince threw up.
Pihla could not recall seeing Christians and pagans relate to each other so openly, although it had once been so in the days of her grandfather. It was hard to imagine that such a thing could truly happen, anywhere in the world. She was alarmed when Andrjes got in a shouting match with Father Tadeusz. When she rushed over, however, she found that they were arguing over a game of hnefatafl.
Late in the night, Pihla saw Zygmunt sitting in his usual place, just to the right of the vacant king’s chair. Her husband had played the good host for hours, but now it seemed that fatigue was catching up to him. She sat next to him and slipped her hand into his, saying nothing.
After a time, her husband sighed. “This should be Mieletty’s victory.”
“I know,” she said quietly.
“I think…” His voice caught, and then he started again. “I worked so hard on this damn peace that I scarcely had time to miss him. But now it’s done, and he’s still gone.”
She shook her head. “Not gone, no. A person is never entirely gone. Their luonto, their nature, stays with us always to protect their clan. Mieletty had a strong luonto, everybody said so. There’ll be no getting rid of him.”
“That’s a nice thought,” Zygmunt said, smiling sadly. But she knew that to him, Mieletty was in some Christian afterlife, far away from here.
They paused for a time, and she spoke. “I found myself imagining Father up there alone in his tower cell, hearing the sounds of our merriment. I don’t know why that made me sad, but it did.”
Zygmunt wrapped his arm around her. “Because he’s your father.”
“He blames me. For taking your side over his.” She found herself staring at the candles flickering in the chandelier. “And yet he doesn’t realize–it would have been so easy to win me over, if he had ever once said, Oh, I was wrong.”
“People never realize the error of their ways, not truly. That just happens in the tales.”
Pihla gave her husband a sideways glance. “That doesn’t sound very Christian of you, Zygmunt.”
Zygmunt put up his hands in mock surrender. “Fair enough. Let me say this: it takes a miracle.”
After a companionable silence, he yawned. “I think the regent and his wife can call it a night, no? Tadeusz wants me to help with the construction of the new chapel tomorrow. I guess that would only be fitting, considering.”
Gratefully, she nodded; her eyelids had been getting heavier for hours. Together they walked hand in hand to the regent’s humbly appointed chambers.
End of Part Two
- 5
- 1
This is such a funny line, and it really gets to Satajalka's whole deal.
It's true, Zygmunt is a thorny guy. And I enjoyed being able to bring back the Greek Vulgate, I liked connecting the first part of the story and the second in that way. I love novels that take place over long periods of time (decades or centuries) and the way that unexpected connections come up between past and present; so I wanted to do a little of that in my own way. I'm also keeping track of the literal sword from the title: who has it and when.
Oh my god.
“I will want to have coitus, you know.”
Can't beat that as a straight line.
I'm looking forward to seeing more of Pihla!
I love Pihla so much, I have to say. I came up with her literally for that chapter, because I realized that I didn't have any female characters, and then she really blossomed in my mind.
The ending of the book was coming VERY soon. Within twenty-four hours, even!
- 4
Tadeusz is very crafty. He's forced the Catholics to help and make peace, even if they don't want to, because somehow the idea of an Orthodox nation is worse. It is really odd if you think about it, a heretic is worse than a heathen.
Yes! Justice!
Maybe with Risto out of the way the metaphorical poison he's been feeding Satajalka can be slowly drawn from the wound.
As we see later in the chapter, Pihla has been visiting him still. I hope she continues to do that. Perhaps with enough mercy, patience, and a little luck Satajalka can try and find forgiveness.
I don't expect him to heal fully. As Zygmunt said, it would take a miracle. But I do think if enough time passes and peace returns to the land (maybe he even has a visit from his new granddaughter) something might get through to him.
And trying to make up for the loss of Mieletty too, I think. But nothing can ever replace that friendship, no matter how much Zygmunt tries.
And here we see more of Satajalka's true character. He was a determined and zealous king, and now such traits have been twisted against his own family.
But I do hold out hope that, with enough visits and time, something might get through to him. I don't think Pihla wants to abandon her father to loneliness and decay.
How dare you speak to your granddaughter that way.
Doesn't Pihla's mother know (did we ever learn her name, btw?) you never badmouth someone else's kid.
I believe in miracles. Satajalka may be far gone, but all it takes is one breakthrough, one visit, one glimmer of joy.
He may never sit on the throne of Suomi again, but that doesn't mean his life has to wither away as he dwells on his own bitterness.
Thank you very much for the second book!
I enjoyed Part One very much, but I think this one is even better! The characters were all excellent and complex. I liked how the antagonist this time was from within Suomi's own walls. Satajalka was a compelling villain, especially as we were able to see the small changes that led ultimately to his fall.
Risto, equally, was hateable. We didn't see much of him, but that's what makes him so effective. We see the executions and the decay of the King's mental state, letting us draw a connection between Risto's increasing influence and the decaying situation.
Mieletty was a true friend. It's a real shame he never got to rule. I'm sure Zygmunt, Pihla, and everyone will carry him in their hearts forever.
Zygmunt's divided loyalties between faith and country are all too relatable in many ways. I recently saw the film Bohoeffer, and couldn't help but connect both their struggles. Just like any hero, he makes the hard choice. He does what is right not because it is easy, but because he knows he must.
And Pihla was the standout addition to the cast in my opinion. Like her husband, we see her struggles (not with faith, but with family). The broken relationship between her father and his former favorite child was heartbreaking. But she doesn't let the define her or get her down. She's her own person and, like any good spouse, is there to offer support to Zygmunt when he needs it most.
But she also gets interesting stuff to do outside her marriage (I hope she discovered the secrets of the geese). She's the focus of this last chapter, not her husband. Just like Ermengarda previously, we see the often overlooked role during this time of women. She's there to comfort her husband, love her granddaughter and nephew, show undeserved but merciful kindness to her father, and call out her mother.
One of the truly great AARs of this past year and I hope it continues whenever your time allows.
- 2
- 1
- 1
Loved that last scene for Pihla, I really enjoy her character.
That was also a very surprising coup but I suppose the king was really spiraling by that point.
I’m excited to see what the new age will bring!
That was also a very surprising coup but I suppose the king was really spiraling by that point.
I’m excited to see what the new age will bring!
- 3
- 1
Excellent ending to Book 2. Well done. This ended on a much more positive note than I expected. I thought Zigmunt and Pihla were headed to their doom. Good that justice prevailed. I also like how you established some of the character flaws for this in Book 1.
As @jak7139 noted, this is a very impressive AAR.
On that topic, a bit of a digression...
I thought you should know this AAR is garnering votes from folks around AARland in the 2024 Yearly AARland Year-end AwAARds (the YAYAs) and your work has been supported in the 2024 Quarter 4 AARland Choice Awards (ACAs) too.
As both are wanting for ballots, if you have the time, you might consider making a ballot and casting some votes too. Deadline is this Sunday.
Thanks for posting your good work.
As @jak7139 noted, this is a very impressive AAR.
On that topic, a bit of a digression...
I thought you should know this AAR is garnering votes from folks around AARland in the 2024 Yearly AARland Year-end AwAARds (the YAYAs) and your work has been supported in the 2024 Quarter 4 AARland Choice Awards (ACAs) too.
As both are wanting for ballots, if you have the time, you might consider making a ballot and casting some votes too. Deadline is this Sunday.
Thanks for posting your good work.
- 2
- 1
A little head's up: this week is midterms for the winter term, so I'm going to pause on uploading the prologue of Book 3 until late next week. (The prologue is written already, as are a couple of the early narrative chapters, but I like to make sure that I have a sizable cushion of chapters written in case of emergencies.) Just as a taste, though, we're picking up in 1176, some thirty-plus years into the reign of Otso II, called Longshanks; and the primary character will be his daughter Marja.
It won't be everlasting, but it will be crucial for allowing Suomi to survive into the next century.
I love your optimism; I confess, my own inclinations are closer to Zygmunt's here, but since it's not spelled out, it's up to the reader to decide whether Satajalka comes to terms with everything.
Thanks so much for all your kind words! (Re: Pihla, my wife also wants more chapters where she does goose research. If an idea occurs to me, I'm not against writing up an interstitial chapter.)
I can't recall if I said this after the last chapter; but Zygmunt was not always going to try to launch a coup, in my original plan. But the closer I got, the more it seemed like the only way that he could be loyal to his friend and to the Christians in his community.
Thanks! I had some notion about Satajalka's journey when I was writing Book 1, but honestly Risto being a big deal in Book 2 was inspired by a comment that I got.
It won't be everlasting, but it will be crucial for allowing Suomi to survive into the next century.
I love your optimism; I confess, my own inclinations are closer to Zygmunt's here, but since it's not spelled out, it's up to the reader to decide whether Satajalka comes to terms with everything.
I enjoyed Part One very much, but I think this one is even better! The characters were all excellent and complex. I liked how the antagonist this time was from within Suomi's own walls. Satajalka was a compelling villain, especially as we were able to see the small changes that led ultimately to his fall.
Risto, equally, was hateable. We didn't see much of him, but that's what makes him so effective. We see the executions and the decay of the King's mental state, letting us draw a connection between Risto's increasing influence and the decaying situation.
Mieletty was a true friend. It's a real shame he never got to rule. I'm sure Zygmunt, Pihla, and everyone will carry him in their hearts forever.
Zygmunt's divided loyalties between faith and country are all too relatable in many ways. I recently saw the film Bohoeffer, and couldn't help but connect both their struggles. Just like any hero, he makes the hard choice. He does what is right not because it is easy, but because he knows he must.
And Pihla was the standout addition to the cast in my opinion. Like her husband, we see her struggles (not with faith, but with family). The broken relationship between her father and his former favorite child was heartbreaking. But she doesn't let the define her or get her down. She's her own person and, like any good spouse, is there to offer support to Zygmunt when he needs it most.
But she also gets interesting stuff to do outside her marriage (I hope she discovered the secrets of the geese). She's the focus of this last chapter, not her husband. Just like Ermengarda previously, we see the often overlooked role during this time of women. She's there to comfort her husband, love her granddaughter and nephew, show undeserved but merciful kindness to her father, and call out her mother.
One of the truly great AARs of this past year and I hope it continues whenever your time allows.
Thanks so much for all your kind words! (Re: Pihla, my wife also wants more chapters where she does goose research. If an idea occurs to me, I'm not against writing up an interstitial chapter.)
I can't recall if I said this after the last chapter; but Zygmunt was not always going to try to launch a coup, in my original plan. But the closer I got, the more it seemed like the only way that he could be loyal to his friend and to the Christians in his community.
Thanks! I had some notion about Satajalka's journey when I was writing Book 1, but honestly Risto being a big deal in Book 2 was inspired by a comment that I got.
- 4
Book III: Unnatural Acts
BOOK III
Unnatural Acts, or A Strange And Monstrous Love
Unnatural Acts, or A Strange And Monstrous Love
Duke Zygmunt II Ossowki ruled Suomi in all but name for over four years. Ever conscious of his status as a Christian in the pagan land, he maintained a policy of conspicuous conservatism in policy and modesty in terms of his own personal ambitions. The one exception was his decision to formalize a law on religious toleration. However, this exception is less glaring than it seems. First, the regency couched its decision heavily in terms of reviving the policy of Otso I. Second, many Christians still lived in hiding until King Otso II reaffirmed his support for the law in 1143.
The palace coup against Satajalka revealed the fundamental weakness of the Suomi monarchy, and the nearly five years of regency only exacerbated this. Zygmunt could only rule as first among equals. Under his rule the dukes of the realm grew more powerful still at the expense of the crown. Long-standing divisions between the Slavic-, Baltic-, and Finnic-speaking nobility of the kingdom festered without a central authority to resolve them. The seeds of future conflict were sowed under Satajalka and they began to sprout during the regency.
On June 3, 1141, the de jure king Satajalka died after suffering for several months from the after effects of a stroke. In keeping with old tribal practice, the kingdom was divided into two for the two heirs, Otso II and his uncle Arvo. Otso II took his grandfather’s throne in order to rule the Finnic speaking lands; while Arvo inherited a kingdom, known as Liettua, from the lands on the southern Baltic coast and Novgorod.
The kingdom of Liettua struggled from the start. Arvo Virtanen held relatively little land in his own right, leaving him as a poor monarch with a small force of his own. Those vassals were more assertive than before, having seen for themselves the weakness of the crown. Given their own linguistic diversity, the dukes were often at odds with each other as well. These three factors were exacerbated by Arvo’s own character; he was considered amiable and hard-working, but he lacked the implacable stubbornness that the Suomi call sisu. This Baltic kingdom limped along for a few years, before a Latgalian rebellion put an end to the charade.
While Otso II came to the throne in his minority, his own reign would prove more stable. He had inherited the vast majority of the Virtanen crownlands; the revenue from Uvila and its environs gave Otso a more secure hold on his own vassals. Still, the youthful king had been introduced to the divisions of his realm in a painful fashion, and held no illusions that his path would be secure.
In the first decade of his reign, Otso’s primary goal was to consolidate the lands that his grandfather had ruled over. Much of this time was spent wooing the erstwhile vassals of his uncle Arvo. Most of the former vassals would eventually kneel to Ulvila after years of patient diplomacy. (Prince Arvo would prove to be one of his nephew’s most loyal vassals, evidence of the former’s fundamentally compliant nature.)
The exception was Curonia, where the local duke had hegemonic ambitions of his own. With marriage ties to the Vepsians and the Pommeri, Curonia could muster a military force outnumbering Otso’s own. The echoes of Sviendorog must have been unmistakable. It was considered fortunate, then, when the duke of Curonia abruptly perished after choking on a bone during a feast. We cannot know for sure that the duke was assassinated, but if so, it shows that Otso was willing to be quite ruthless if the need arose.
*****
In 1152, the neighboring kingdom of Sweden was rocked by a noble revolt. Chief among the rebels was High Chieftain Alf Gunnarsson of Västerbotten, who ruled over Sweden’s northern frontier. The marcher lord had made alliances of convenience with the wealthy trading families of Visby as well as Queen Helena’s cousin, Erik of Uppland. The rebels outmatched the loyalists in battle and quickly marched on Västerås. After seizing the capital, the successful lords declared themselves independent with no claims on the other.
Otso was quick to take advantage of the weakness in Sweden. He lacked his grandfather’s grandiose ambitions, but with his realm stabilized, Otso was not averse to the cautious acquisition of new territory. In 1155, the Suomi seized Gotland after a lightning-quick siege of Visby. The duchy of Uppland was more challenging, but after a few bloody battles, it too fell to the pagans in 1157. In both cases, Otso placed his own loyalists in command while encouraging them to be lenient on their subjects. He had seen the folly of challenging Christian practices unnecessarily.
The conquests of the 1150s benefited Suomi greatly. By adding Uppsala and Visby to the thriving ports of Ulvila, Riga, Memel, and Chełmno, Otso had turned the Baltic Sea into a Finnish lake. Nearly all commerce conducted between Viipuri and the Øresund benefited Suomi in some fashion, and thus they benefited the throne.
By 1160, Ulvila boasted a population of over fifty thousand people, spilling out over both sides of the Kokemäenjoki river. The city was predominantly pagan, but an 1163 cadastral survey of the city also recorded a half-dozen churches. In 1167, a handful of Jewish notables successfully obtained royal permission to build and maintain their own synagogue. The population of Jews at this time was small, but it would grow considerably as anti-semitic violence increased in Christian Europe.
Culturally, things were in flux as well: during the mid-twelfth century, court annals refer to the Itämeri people for the first time. The name reflects a people who were neither Suomi nor Baltic alone, but both together. Certainly, Otso had reasons to overstate this phenomenon, in order to calm the tensions of his own diverse realm. Still, it appears that a hybrid culture was beginning to come into being in the crownlands during the twelfth century.
*****
On April 23, 1165, Alf Gunnarsson led an army of over thirteen thousand men over his eastern border into Suomi. His own sizable warband was supplemented by allies from Denmark, by mercenaries, and by the sworn brothers of the Order of the Apostle of the North. Alf’s allies among the clergy had proclaimed this invasion the first Northern Crusade: by the grace of God, the same holy fervor that had won back the city of Jerusalem would also wipe out the pagans of northern Europe as well.
The scale of the invasion was beyond anything that Suomi had ever experienced before. Many in Ulvila were panicked, and some factions of the nobility began to discuss the possibility of bargaining away tracts of land to appease the Christian invaders. However, Otso responded calmly. Suomi would not bargain away its own hard won territory. The so-called crusaders would be defeated by their own hubris.
The first prong of Otso’s strategy was diplomatic. He sent his Catholic cousin, the Duchess Elzbieta Godziemba (née Ossowski), to tamp down enthusiasm for the holy war in Christian courts. The bishop of Ulvila had a more targeted mission: he would rally clerical opposition to the war, on the narrow grounds that Alf Ivarsson had failed to obtain a papal blessing for what was a private war of conquest.
The second prong was military: Duke Kaur of Latgalia, the aged veteran who had commanded the armies of three Virtanen kings, took command of the Suomi army as well as allied Sámi clans. He meant to use the same scorched earth tactics that had been used so effectively against him in Sweden thirty years earlier. The invading army would not die quickly, by violence; they would die by exposure or hunger or rolling waves of infection.
Kaur’s army finally descended upon the bedraggled Christians in late October, in the fateful Battle of the Burning-Lands (Poulanka). Alf Gunnarsson’s forces had been reduced by more than half, and many of those who survived were weakened by starvation and disease. “The pagans,” wrote one Swedish noble later, “emerged from the snowfall like demons of blood and ice. The cry came up from the rabble, Christ has forsaken us. God forgive me, I feared that it was so.”
With morale plummeting, Duke Alf rallied his heavy horse for a desperate cavalry charge. For a moment, it seemed as if he might salvage the battle, and perhaps the whole crusade. Mere feet from the pagan lines, however, the duke was struck in the neck by a lucky shot from an unnamed metsänvartija. When he died, the crusade died with him. The dream of a so-called northern crusade would not be taken up again for nearly two centuries.
That winter, many in the Suomi court urged King Otso to push forward the following year into Västerbotten. The king refused, and that spring a white peace was forged between Otso and Alf’s son, the cautious Ingemar Alfsson. Otso was not simply acting of mercy, as some would later say. Rather, as the old line goes, he liked Christian Sweden so much that he wanted to have two of them.
In the years since Alf’s revolt, Queen Helena had scored a diplomatic coup by marrying her daughter Birgitta to Adam Warenne, the Norman king of England. The alliance gave her breathing space to stabilize her rump kingdom. During the 1160s she would see to the stewardship of her own lands and train new men-at-arms, slowly growing in power. A united Sweden, with the Warenne heavy horse in support, would be a powerful foe of the Suomi.
With Otso entering his middle forties, he could look back on his reign with much pride. The divisions of his grandfather’s era had been successfully buried, and his kingdom was more prosperous and powerful than ever before. And yet, as always, it seemed that the future of his realm would depend upon the Suomi ability to pit the Christian nobility against each other.
In this effort, he would rely on a small group of hand-picked courtiers who were skilled at the subtle arts of diplomacy. The most infamous of these was his daughter, the princess Marja. For more than a decade, she was the face of the Virtanen throne in the courts of northern Europe, always in her widow’s black. It was said that no man understood her father’s mind half as well.
Suomi, 1156
Last edited:
- 7
Hopefully that'll make the realm more stable, but it mightn't, what if people don't want to buy into the unified culture?...
- 1
Otso II is just the ruler Finland needs after Satajalka.
Sweden is divided for now, but how long can that last. The division of Finland didn't last long at all, could the Catholics fare any better?
Marja, from what little you gave us, already seems like an interesting character: "infamous" and "always in her widow's black".
Sweden is divided for now, but how long can that last. The division of Finland didn't last long at all, could the Catholics fare any better?
Marja, from what little you gave us, already seems like an interesting character: "infamous" and "always in her widow's black".
- 2