Dirk stepped through the breach in the pagan fortress’s walls. The mangled bodies of men lay on the ground, frozen in their battle rage. He stepped over a particularly bloody looking corpse on the ground. A pagan. The damned savages had refused to surrender. He stepped over another body. Next to the body lay a pike, abandoned on the ground. This one was a Catholic. The coat-of-arms on his breast was split by what looked like a savage’s battleaxe. He stopped, and picked up the pike, placing it between the dead soldier’s hands. “The Lord shelter you, my liegeman.” The whisper barely left his lips, completely incomprehensible from six inches.
“My Lord? Are you alright?” The head of his bodyguard was tall and wide, built for the forge as much as any battlefield.
Dirk turned his head to Willem Roon. “Yes, Willem. Where is Father Diest?”
“He said he’d meet us there, my Lord. I trust Father Diest. He won’t let any of these savages kill him.”
Willem was quite a crusader, born to destroy the unbelievers. Dirk would have to do something to temper the zeal of his bodyguards. “Ready?” Upon seeing the nodding heads, he turned, and strode deeper into the fort.
His men had been most effective. All resistance had been demolished by the time he reached the pagan temple. A suitable place to mark the destruction of this tribe. The eighty-two prisoners taken in the assault were brought forward, heads bowed, awaiting the judgment of Dirk van Holland. Many were crying, expecting the axe.
There he was. Father Diest had arrived, now as well. Diest strode up to Roger, and inclined his head slightly.
“Father. Are you ready?”
“Yes, my son.”
“Very well, after I am finished with the prisoners.” He turned towards the savages.
“For ages have this people been lost to the Lord. For ages has this land worshipped false gods, graven images, and idols. Yet, I tell you people that it is not too late for repentance. Christ is merciful, as am I. I realize that your chieftains and pagan priests incited you to conflict with our Christian army. I declare you all free to go.” The shocked surprise on their faces was evident. Truly these people had never seen mercy. They stumbled to their feet, running off to their families and homes.
He nodded to Willem, who stood on the roof of the temple with a banner in one hand, and an axe in the other. The axe smashed into the sculpture of a wolf on top of the temple, shattering the pagan stonework. Willem then planted the banner in the rubble of the wolf. He then bowed in Dirk’s direction.
Dirk, in turn took a knee before the priest. Diest pulled a crown from his cloak. Placing it on Dirk’s head, he turned to the army and the onlookers. “In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.” The soldiers bowed heads.
“Amen.” The guttural whisper came back in a wave.
He turned to Dirk. “Dirk van Holland by virtue of bringing those who do not know the Lord into the body of believers, I am authorized by the Holy Father to do the following. I crown you Duke of Finland in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. You are a shepherd of the Lord’s flock. Rule for the Glory of God.”
