Date: Mon, 27 Mar 2006 16:05:08 -0500 (EST)
From: Justin <justinhh2@excite.com>
Subject: Servant of the Rampant Wolf (part 1)

	I watched with deep fascination as the German knights rode through
the gate. Unlike many of the other townspeople around me, I was not crying
or muttering beneath my breath. I did not give them the evil eye, or turn
my back upon them. I simply did not see their presence as either good nor
bad -- just different. In my opinion our situation could hardly become any
more intolerable under the Germans than it had been under Vytautus. But
many had lost loved ones at the hands of these men, and so there was a
hatred directed towards them. Also, although Vytautus had been vicious,
capricious, even unstable, he had still been a Slav, and the general
consensus in the town of Klatovi, at least as far as I had surmised, was
that any Slav lord, no matter how bad, was infinitely more preferable than
a foreigner.
	Already Vytautus was being refered to deferentially around
town. Ridiculous, of course, considering not four months ago these same
folk had breathed a collective sigh of relief when he had ridden out of the
keep with a contingent of soldiers and left the town in the hands of his
wife. Vytautus is, or I guess I should say was, a vassal of Duke Bohuslav,
and had been called up in service to help repel the advancing forces of the
zealous German knights who for some years had been advancing more steadily
onto traditional Slav territories. This spring the situation had become
most dangerous, as it was discovered that an army of these knights,
assisted by a Polish duke of Massovia, were marching towards Vladice.
Vladice is the largest town in our region and the seat of Bohuslav's
dukedom. It was a challenge which this time could not be ignored, and so
his vassals were called up into service to quickly meet the threat.
	Clearly things had not gone well for we Slavs. Over three hundred
conscripts had left with Vytautus in the spring to join Bohuslav's army;
four days ago just three men had returned. They were the only men from the
Klatovi conscripts known to be alive after the battle at Bolvida Field.
From these men we learned of the great calamity that had befallen us. Duke
Bohuslav had met the German forces at Bolvida Fields along the Nemunas
river. The Germans had chosen their ground carefully, and Bohuslav had
walked into a trap. Flanked by the river on one side and a wood on the
other, and his own baggage train blocking the rear, Bohuslav's forces were
squshed into a confined area. The cavalry could not charge effectively, and
the men were so densely packed that the German arrows and missiles wrought
terrible damage. Some 7,000 slavs had been slaughtered. Many had drowned as
they fell into the Nemunas river, herded back by the advancing German
cavalry, and weighted down by their mail and other armorment. The
contingent from Klatovi had been annihalated on the left flank by several
German archer volleys and a charge of their cavalry, and Vytautus himself
had had his head cleaved in two by a German battle axe. The Duke escaped
just barely, and, with the few hundred Slavs left to him who had not been
killed or deserted, retreated northeast, presumably towards the lands of
the Balts and Varangians where he might find sanctuary.
	We would not have learned any of this had these three men not run
from the battle early, casting off their armor and hidding in thickets
along the forest-- something they did not seem particularly ashamed of
since it meant they still lived. The meaning of the defeat was clear to
everyone. We all knew of these knights who called themselves Teutons. They
aimed to conquer as much lands of the Slavs as they could manage, and
convert the people to their Christian faith. For Klatovi the issue of faith
was not important, as the town had already been forced to accept the new
religion some years ago by Vytautus' father, Svajone. We even had a large
Christian church in the town-- the only church in the region. But as a
matter of politics he (and later his son) had remained loyal to the pagan
Bohuslav in order to retain possession of their lands. What truly worried
the people of the town was the knowledge that many German colonists would
now follow into the area and steal our lands and homes with the permission
of the Teutons, as they had done further west during previous losses to the
Germans. Those who still freely practiced the Old Faith would be
persecuted, made to convert, or possibly killed.
	That night, as I lay upon my straw mat in the back of the smithy, I
could hear the town's women weeping and sobbing through the darkness. Many
sons and husbands would never be buried with their families in the cemetary
outside the walls. Instead their corpses lay on Bolvida field, and I
imagined they were fed upon by birds and wild dogs. How glad I was! So very
glad that I had not been among them, as I had so wanted to be in the
spring. But Dalibor, my master, would not let me go. I was not far along
enough in my apprenticeship, he had argued, and lord Vytautus could not
afford to drag a brat around who could not shod the horses of the knights
quickly. I was slow, I was unskilled, I was stupid, I was careless. He used
these excuses, even though I know they are not true. I think really he
wanted to ingratiate himself further to Vytautus, and to make himself rich
on plunder, and so went himself. Also he needed me to remain in Klatovi and
watch over his smithy while he was away.
	Fat, greedy, mean, stupid Dalibor. Bless him! I'm glad he went, and
I'm not sorry to see the back of him either. I had been Dalibor's slave
since I was eight, sold to him by a miller in a more northerly town, who in
turn had got me from my own mother a year earlier in exchange for milling
her rye crop. The miller did not have any real use for me and so he sold me
to Dalibor for a fair profit. I was a large boy, strong, and seemed an apt
candidate for such work as lifting heavy ingots and hammering hot metal all
day long. However I did not resemble the other people from the Klatovi
region. They were mostly fair-skinned people with light hair and light
eyes. I had darker skin, as though I had been in the summer sun often. My
eyes were dark brown, and so was my hair. Not a few times had I heard
people refer to me as "The Finn." I do not know if I truly am a Finn since
my memories of my family had slowly faded and I did not remember any tales
they may have told me. Sometimes at night, though, as I lay on my straw
mat, I can almost remember my mother. I'm sure she was fair-skinned like
the others. However I never knew my father.
	When I first arrived in Klatovi with Dalibor he was apt to use
violence to make his point more often than not, and many nights I had spent
bruised and weeping in my straw mat over my predicament. I sometimes
thought of running away, but was afraid if I were caught Dalibor might have
me impaled on a pole outside the town, as would be his right. Instead I
tried very hard to learn everything quickly so as to avoid his fists. Life
with Dalibor was difficult at best, but after eight years we had settled
into a pattern together. He fed me and gave me a corner of the smithy to
sleep in. I worked for him from sun up until sun down, except on Sundays
when the church forbade work. He almost never beat me anymore, especially
since I was now taller and stronger than him.
	I did not have many friends, mostly due to my status as a foreigner
and a slave, and also my long hours at the forge and bellows. There were a
few other slave boys in town with whom I would occassionally talk and play
on Sundays after church, but there were no true attachments for me. I had
no best-friend as other boys had, and which I longed for in my heart.
	I did not like working in a smithy, even now after all these years,
but it is my lot in life so long as I am a slave. For the past several
years I had been saving tips given to me for my work in the hopes of one
day buying my freedom from Dalibor. Now that he was surely dead that seemed
no longer nescessary. 'If Dalibor is dead then am I free?' I wondered to
myself. I was not entirely sure.

	Grief for the slain not withstanding, the town now had itself to
worry about. Word of the events at Bolvida Fields had spread quickly and
the next morning not a small number of farmers from nearby lands were
already passing through the town walls seeking further news and
protection. Many people had congregated in the town square. Perhaps they
would have applied to Vytautus' widow, Lady Dorota, to seek council on what
should be done, but earlier that morning, before the sun had risen, she had
ridden out of town, haughty as ever, with Vytautus' infant son and a large
train of baggage and servants in tow. Clearly she did not want to be in
town when the Germans arrived. Probably she was worried they would kill her
and her son. So the people of Klatovi were left to their own will.
	Although Klatovi is not the largest of towns it is still
considerable in size, and it controls a commanding position at a bend in
the Dubysa river. The Germans would certainly not overlook us, and it was
only a matter of time before they arrived at the gates. Some folk wanted to
close the gates and deny the Germans entrance, but most it seemed
recognized that doing so would be certain disaster. We no longer had a
sovereign lord. There was no army to come to our relief should we fall
under seige. Ultimately Klatovi would have to capitulate and if we made it
hard on the Germans they would certainly spare us no mercy. Instead a
number of the respected community shopkeepers argued for capitulating
immediately to the Germans and leaving our gates open to them. And this,
after several days of discussion, is exactly what happened.

	Now here were the proud Teutons, marching through our town and into
the keep. There seemed to be perhaps two hundred or more of them, but not
more than three hundred. Not an army, but a garrison. They had arrived on
the road outside the walls late this morning. Lots had been drawn among the
town elders and Drahomir, a man who ran a tavern in town and had a lame
foot (this is why he had not gone with Vytautus' men) was elected to
officially surrender the town to the leader of the Germans. Before the
troops had entered the town I had seen him distantly through the open
gates, standing on the road and talking with two men on horseback--
presumably surrendering for us all. Having found the town gates open and
the populace submissive they entered without issue. There was no pillaging
or burning, thank God. Except for the sounds of some women crying, and some
mumbling by the men, and the sounds of the footfalls from both men and
horse, it was fairly quiet.
	Perhaps fifteen knights rode on horse, their chainmail coats
glinting under the summer sun, wearing blue mantles charged with a black
cross, worn over a white tunic. They held long spears in their hands, on
the ends of which were pennants-- white with the black cross. Longswords
were belted at their waists. The style of their helms was different from
that of our people, in that they covered the face as well as the head, and
were rather bucket shaped. There were slots for them to see out, and on the
crown they had devices that rather resembled a bird's wings. They were
fierce and noble to look upon, and my heart skipped a beat. Following the
knights were many footmen, attired less grandly but still wearing the blue
mantles with the black cross. Their helms were more simple and functional
and did not cover their faces. Neither did they carry spears, but instead
held tear-shaped shields in their offhands and longswords belted at their
waists. Not having the luxury of mounts these men had sacks with their
provisions slung over their backs. When the last of the footmen had entered
through the gates, the two men to whom Drahomir had earlier been speaking
rode in. One looked much like the other knights, except that he was heavy
built and seemed to give the appearance of an older man. He carried no
spear but instead held aloft a large forked banner on a pole, a black cross
on a white field. Lower on the pole was a smaller pennant, a field of red
and gray with a rampant black wolf upon it. I could not see his face due to
the helm upon his head. When I saw the second man I suddenly felt as though
a demon had stolen my breath.
	He had his helm off, resting it instead in front of him on his
saddle. His blond hair was open to the sun, which shone through it like
gold, and it was cut in a short fashion. He had a proud brow and striking
eyes. His nose was straight and noble. He had a fine mouth with laugh lines
around it and a strong jaw, all of which I could see clearly because he had
no whiskers. I had never before seen a grown man without at least some
fashion of facial hair. I thought at first perhaps he might be incapable of
growing a beard, but when he passed me by I could see that instead it had
been purposely shaven off, as there was a bit of shadow on his jaw.
	Despite being without any whiskers he still seemed to me more
masculine and virile than any man I had ever seen before. He was strong,
that was very clear. And he looked tall. He disported himself with a good
deal of grace and nobility, much like Vytautus once had, but without any
sneer or look of disdain upon his face as was the wont of the latter. The
cut of his mail was different from the other men, and to my blacksmith's
eye I could see it was extremely well-crafted. His steed was also of a
different breed, of much better stock that the others, and it was also
garbed in white cloth. He carried no spear and no shield. He had only a
longsword belted to his waist which was sheathed in a fine black leather
scabbard. He did not wear a blue mantle like the others, but instead wore a
white tabard over a white tunic. Upon the tabard was again the black
cross. Over his shoulders he wore a cloak of black wool trimmed with black
pelts. Black leather gloves were upon his hands. Also the visor on his helm
was of a gold color, and the wings upon it were of black feathers, whereas
the others knights' helms were trimmed with white feathers. I guessed that
this man was not only their leader but also a person of some considerable
importance.
	As he rode he passed not five yards from me. He looked in my
direction. I do not know if he truly was looking at me or if it was just a
chance turn of his head, but for a moment it seemed as though his clear
eyes were upon me and I was suddenly filled with a strange sensation of
trembling. But no sooner had he looked than he turned the other way, and in
a moment he had rode past and down the road towards the keep. When the rest
of the townspeople dispersed back to their homes amd shops I remained long
rooted to the spot for some time and contemplated the extraordinary man I
had just seen before making my way back to the smithy.
	The Germans were not in the keep long before detatchments came out
and made their way to certain points in the town. A small detatchment of
men was sent to the church, where the priest was soon turned out. A handful
were sent to guard the gates and walls. Several squads were sent to inspect
the houses and other buildings to make sure no armed men were being
harbored. Indeed two such soldiers came to the smithy and, after looking
about for some time, they left, taking with them two swords and an axe that
were stored in a back room. The axe and one of the swords had been
Dalibor's creations and they were of no importance to me. But the second
sword was one upon which I had long labored myself, without any help from
Dalibor. I had worked it for months, putting forth all my effort into it's
balance and strength. Having an artistic flair, I had even engraved many
fine patterns upon the face of the blade. I had personally cut the strips
of leather for the hilt, and had polished the blade to a bright shine. I
was very sorry to have it taken. Many hours I had spent crafting that blade
and dreaming of using it, of being a knight myself. (The dreams of a
foolish slave boy, I know.) The Germans did not say anything to me, nor I
to them.
	Drahomir's tavern did a brisk business that evening as much of the
town came to hear his tale about what was said between he and the lord of
the German garrison earlier that day. I went myself, hoping to hear more
about this strange lord. I sat against the wall in the packed tavern, only
listening to what was being said and not joining in.
	"My legs shook mightily when they approached," Drahomir spoke,
after many repeated questions. "I did not know if they would kill me on the
spot. But their lord rode forth ahead of the column and spoke to me. "What
is your name?" he asked me in our tongue, with only a little accent."
	"Drahomir, son of Dainius," I replied. "Before you is the town of
Klatovi, which I have been charged by the people to humbly surrender to
your lordship."
	"The people of Klatovi are wise," he replied. "Who and where is
your former master?"
	"Vytautus, son of Gintautas, sire," I answered him. "We have
heard he is dead, slain by your men at the Nemunas. His wife and child rode
out of town three days ago, headed east on the road, taking with them their
household."
	"I have been charged by my Grand Marshal to seize and to
administer this town." he said to me. "I am Ulrich, Graf von Lubau,
Commander of the Teutonic Order. This is my aide, Jan von Richten," he
said, gesturing towards the heavier man carrying the banner. I bowed low
before them to show my respects."
	"Tell me, Drahomir-- and you had best be honest for the sake of
your neighbors-- do you now harbor in your town any soldiers, knights, or
other armed men loyal to the Duke Bohuslav?"
	"No, certainly not, your lordship," I answerred him. "Three men
there are who returned from Bolvida field, but they are not soldiers by
training. Merely they are townsmen who were conscripted by Vytautus. They
returned unarmored, sire. I can produce them before you if you desire it,
your lordship."
	"That will not be nescessary," he replied. "However I will conduct
a thorough search of every building within the walls of this town before I
accept your word completely, Drahomir." At that point he gave a signal to
his men and they began to enter the town. He did not say anything else to
me during this time, and again I could feel the sweat upon my back as the
tense moments passed quietly. As the last of the men entered through the
gates, the Commander turned to me one last time and said to me, "Tell your
neighbors that they will have no need to fear us so long as they act in
good faith. Tell them I will address them in the square tomorrow at mid
day." And with that, he rode away from me."
	The tavern erupted into a commotion of voices at the conclusion of
Drahomir's tale. People had many questions, all of which were being spoken
over each other. Drahomir was looking a bit swelled and proud at his sudden
lift to prominence, even if it had only been offered up by chance. He waved
the voices down with his hand, holding a tankard of ale in the other. "No,
Gytis, he did not tell me about what he would address us tomorrow," he
spoke, answering a man seated near him. "Though I would imagine he will
tell us the new laws upon which we are to be subject under the Germans."
	"Those German dogs took my best carving knife from my kitchen this
afternoon!" cried a woman near the door.
	"And they took the rusty old battle axe that once was my
grandfather's. And my best hatchet!" replied one man seated near the
hearth. People began speaking over each other again, a general consensus
was among them that we had all had something similar happen. I thought
again wistfully of my fine blade confiscated earlier in the afternoon.
	"They're afraid we'll axe the night watch in the back if we're
armed. If they hadn't taken my blade I would have done the deed, too!"
shouted a man I knew to be Mecislovas, a saucer who ran a shop near the
keep.
	"Don't be foolish, Mecik. We can't aford to cause trouble with
these Germans. Don't forget what happened at Pajevonis!" said another woman
standing near me. She was referring to the town of Pajevonis, some many
leagues to the southwest. The Teutons had taken the town perhaps five
summers ago. I had never been to Pajevonis, nor had anyone else from
Klatovi so far as I was aware. It was more than several week's journey away
as far as I could tell. But rumors abounded about how the people of the
town had killed several of their occupiers, and in retaliation the Teutons
had put every last man, woman and child to the torch. Whether true or not,
the story put the fear of God into every Slav that heard it.
	"No, we must behave towards the Germans with good faith. We're
Christians, after all. They will not harm us if we do not provoke them!"
spoke up Drahomir again.
	Suddenly the voice of the priest, Brother Karolis, could be heard
coming from a corner of the room. I had not noticed him previously. He was
a kind old man, gray at the temples and always wearing his gray robes, but
tonight his speech was slurred from drink. "Christians! Gawwww! There's
Christians, and then there's Christians. Those beasts are priests as well
as soldiers. Abomination, if you ask me. A man of God should not lift the
sword! They turned me out of our own church. Said they would be officiating
the sacrements now." He paused to take a swig of ale from his tankard,
somewhat missing his mouth and dribbling into his beard. "I stood outside
and watched them re-consecrate the altar," he continued. "The pigs don't
trust a Slav to have done the thing right!" At this he began to mutter
under his breath, and was no longer quite intelligible.
	The idea that we might not be Christian enough for the tastes of
the Teutons spooked many of the people. Those of the Old Faith were often
subjected to terrible acts by the Germans, and I imagine many in the room
were afraid of being considered little different from those poor souls in
the eyes of the Germans. The dialogue slowly broke up into many different
conversations around the room. Unable to glean any more information out of
Drahomir about the Commander of the knights, I decided to go home for the
night.
	Over the past few months, and especially the past few days, the
smithy and the house above it had begun to feel more like my own, even
though I doubted that I had a legal claim to it. When I got home I almost
decided to go up to sleep in Dolibar's bed. Rarely was I ever allowed up
there by the old pig, and only then for quick moments in order to fetch
some forgotten thing or other for him. Now that he was dead there was
nothing stopping me... But still something held me back, I am not sure what
exactly. Perhaps the uncertaintly of my legal status in the
community. Instead I lay down upon my old straw mat in the corner of the
ground floor.
	There I lay thinking of the day's events. Especially I thought of
the fine German lord with the golden hair, Ulrich. I wondered where he was
from. I wondered what his voice sounded like. I wondered what it would be
like to stand before him and have him look down upon me as Drahomir had
experienced that morning. I brought the image of him again into my mind's
eye. His golden hair, his strong jaw... I sat up suddenly.
	I don't know from where the impulse came to me. I lit a candle and
went into the smithy. I shuffled around in a sack in the corner. There was
a knife in here which I knew the soldiers had missed. Where was it? Ah,
there! I grabbed the blade and brought it back into my room. There I had a
bucket of water which I had drawn up from the well earlier that day. I used
the water to wet the sparse hair on my face. I did not have much of a
beard, being only sixteen, but still I had a respectable amount of dark
hair on my face. Sitting over the bucket and using the blade of the knife I
slowly shaved off my whiskers. A sense of excitement was beating in my
heart. I did not have a clear idea as to why I was doing this, only that
the image of the Commander stayed in my mind while I did. The thrill of the
act had even caused my member to harden up. When I was done I picked up a
small peice of polished silver which I often used as a makeshift mirror,
but it was too dark to see my reflection, even by the light of the
candle. Instead I felt my face over with my hands to be sure I had not
missed any spot.
	Satisfied that I had done a good job I again laid down upon my mat
and blew out the candle. Loosening the strings of my breeches, I reached in
and pulled out my hard member. I stroked it slowly, bringing myself
pleasure. This was a skill I had learned on my own some years ago. Rarely a
night went by when I did not pleasure myself in this manner. (And sometimes
in the day time, too.) Usually when I pleasured myself I did not have any
clear thoughts beyond bringing myself enjoyment and spilling my seed. But
this time the image of the Commander floated clearly before me in the pitch
black as I stroked myself.
	I saw again his handsome face with the clear eyes, his mouth that
looked as though it might often smile, his broad shoulders which filled out
his chain tunic. I envisaged the muscles of his strong neck, curving
gracefully towards his shoulders before disappearing beyond the collar of
his tunic... And suddenly, sooner than normal, the moment of my pleasure
was upon me. I was spilling my seed into my hand while moaning softly in
the dark, my breath coming in shallow gasps. My toes curled into the matt
and my body went rigid. My member throbbed wildly in my hand for some time
after I'd spilled my seed. After coming down from my high, I licked the
seed from my hand as I had so often done before, enjoying its sweet
saltiness. Before I fell into sleep I idly wondered if the Commander had
ever pleasured himself in such a way. The thought made me smile, and then I
was asleep.

	The next day I rose several hours after the sun. Dalibor surely
would have beat me if I'd ever slept so late when he was around. In the
distance I could faintly hear the peasant women singing while working in
the fields just outside the town walls.  It looked like it might again be
another clear summer day. I used a rag and the remnants of the previous
day's water to wash myself. I had not long been finished before
Svitrigaila, wife of Kazimeras, a local carpenter, came into the
smithy. She looked oddly at me before speaking.
	"Tanas," she spoke, "I have need to order six marks of iron nails
from you for Kazi. He has almost none left."
	"Yes, ma'am." I replied. Truth be told there had been no business
at all since the news had come from Bolvida fields. The past week I had
spent quite idly, but I knew I must make some business soon or not have
enough to keep the forge burning and food to eat.
	"I'll come for them tomorrow morning. Five copper hryvna per mark,
as we have previously settled with Dalibor."
	"Dalibor is now dead," I replied to her simply. She looked sharply
at me then. Her furrowed brows and hooked nose intimidated me just a
little.
	"Do you think to cheat me now, boy?" She asked sternly, raising her
voice at the word "boy," and nodding her chin towards my face-- presumably
to my now shaven jaw.
	"No, ma'am. Five copper hryvna per mark of nails, as usual." I
could not look her in the eye. She stood for a moment before letting out a
"hmmpf" and, spinning round on her heel, marched out of the smithy. Thirty
copper hryvna was not very much, but it was still a sale. I left with a
bucket to draw some water from the well before returning to the bellows to
heat up the forge and begin my work of producing nails-- a simple but
repetitive item to create.
	For a couple hours I banged out those tedious iron nails. The day
had begun to get hot, and in the smithy it was even hotter with the forge
burning. Luckily the front of the shop opened up onto the street, but there
was not much breeze to stir the stiffling air. I was not wearing a tunic as
I sweating enough even without the garment. Instead I was wearing only my
leather work gloves, my leather apron, and my breeches.
	Suddenly I heard the hooves of several horses coming closer to the
shop. I looked up in mid-swing of the hammer to see the Commander and two
knights pass by in front of the smithy. I stood there dumbly with the
hammer raised in the air, my mouth open. The Commander happened to look in
and, seeing me, gave a small grin with the left side of his mouth. His eyes
met with mine, until finally he had passed by the shop and out of my sight.
	My heart was racing. I stood rooted to the spot, as I had the last
time he had looked at me. It felt as though the gaze of his eyes had burned
through my own and I was now blinded in light. I blinked. I put down my
hammer and removed my gloves. When my brain began to once again function my
face started to burn in shame. I must have looked the fool to him, a
simpleton. Sweaty and undressed, mouth agape, more animal than man in his
view. I was glad to have set eyes upon him again, but ashamed he should
have seen me thus. I removed my apron and, grabbing a rag and the bucket of
water, washed myself of the perspiration that had built up during the
morning. Only then did I suddenly realize why he had ridden past-- he was
going to address the town in the square! I quickly donned my tunic and ran
down the street towards the square. When I arrived there was already a
large crowd and the Commander was already speaking to them.
	"...now fall within the domain of the Knights of the Teutonic Order
and the Emperor. Grand Marshal von Draufel in Vladice is now your leige
lord, answerable only to the Grand Master in Acre, and himself answerable
only to the Emperor and his Holiness the Bishop of Rome." He had a
wonderful voice. It was deep and masculine, but also calming, with a light
timbre. He spoke our tongue quite well, with only a slight German
accent. With a voice like that I could see why men would follow him. Who
could resist an order given with that voice?
	"Assuming you are of the Christian faith, you are now considered
subjects of the Holy Roman Empire, and as such are subject to all of it's
laws and customs. Any heretics, pagans, or non-believers must leave these
lands immediately or be subject to punishment and imprisonment." A murmer
went out around the crowd. I looked around but did not see the faces of any
of the people I knew to be of the Old Faith. Perhaps they had fled the town
in the night, fearing what might befall them under the new regime.
	The Commander continued. "My name is Ulrich, Graf von Laubau, from
the lands of Saxony. I am now the lord of Klatovi until such time as the
Marshall of my Order chooses to relieve me. I will reside within the keep
of this town with my men, where I will pass judgement where required and
arbitrate when need arises. Should you have need to see me, approach the
guard of the keep and tell them your business and I assure you you will be
safely brought before me if I am available.
	"My men will roam the streets and walls of this town, as well as
the outlying villages, to keep the peace. They are authorized to act fully
on my behalf. Should you wish to appeal an action made by my men you may
come to see me in the keep.
	"Religious services will be conducted every Sunday one hour past
sunrise. Attendance is compulsory, and services will be conducted in the
Roman fashion." (As he said this his eyes were clearly upon the former
priest who was up front and center in the crowd, not far from the
Commander.) "I will collect taxes on behalf of the Emeperor and the
Teutonic Knights the first Saturday after the passing of the harvest
moon. Payment will be a tithe of your profit or harvest."
	At this last remark there was more murmering within the crowd, this
time more pleasant. A tithing was barely a third as much as Vytautus had
been collecting from us. Suddenly the arrival of the Germans seemed like a
boon to the townspeople. It was still a concern for me, however, because I
did not yet know where Dalibor had hidden the bulk of his resources. I had
looked all over the smithy (believe me, oh how I looked!) but had as yet
not found a single copper. If I did not find his stash by autumn I would
surely be in trouble, since I could not afford a tithing without it. I was
not sure I was responsible to pay the tax since I was merely his slave, but
I did not want to find out the hard way that I was indeed responsible. I
didn't fancy hanging from a rope on the walls of the town!
	Both my cares and the heat had caused me to lose my focus. Rather
than listening to what the Commander was saying I was merely listening to
the flow of his voice. It had a strange effect on me. I desired to know him
better but knew that was foolish. What could a slave have to say to such an
important man? Still, I could not quel the emotion. I remembered his eyes
piercing mine own not half an hour ago at the smithy. A chill went through
my spine.
	Before I was aware of it the speech was over and the Commander and
his accompanying knights had turned their mounts and rode back to the
keep. He passed very close to me, but I do not think he saw me in the
crowd. There was much discussion amongst the townspeople and it was some
time before the crowd dispersed. Many people now seemed almost pleased at
the arrival of the Germans.

	With the Germans settled in the town things slowly returned to
normal. Though we seemed actually a little better off under them still some
people muttered under their breath about the German "dogs." Bitterness, I
suppose, at having lost good men to them along the banks of the Nemunas. I
did not share their bitterness, for I had lost no one to the blades of the
Teuntons, save Dalibor-- and for that I could only offer them thanks!
	Trade at the smithy also began to pick up. I was the only smith in
Klatovi, and now with a garrison within the walls there seemed to be an
endless supply of horses to be shod, spearheads to be fixed, and chainmail
to be mended. There had not been much time between when these Germans
fought at Bolvadi Fields and when they arrived in Klatovi, and so they had
not had the appropriate repairs made after the battle. The German soldiers
treated me quite fairly, even pleasantly. Surely they did not know I was a
slave or they should not have bothered being half as nice, and I said
nothing to let them in on that fact. It would have been more difficult for
me to bargain fair prices with them if they'd known I was not a free
man. They did not speak our Slavic tongue, and I did not speak German,
however it seems the language of bartering is universal.
	The first Sunday after the arrival of the knights the whole town
was packed into the church. Never had attendance been made compulsory by
Vytautus, and so never had I seen the church so full of people. Normally I
always sat on the benches in the back of the church with the other slaves,
but today the church was so full that free laypeople had taken these
benches. Instead I stood against the wall in the farthest back of the
church, my view of the altar partially obstructed by several columns,
squashed together with the other slaves and indentured servants of the
town.
	The Teutons marched quietly into the church not long after we had
settled down. A grey-bearded man in a brown robe preceded them. He also
wore the mantle of the knights over his robe. Behind him followed the
Commander and his aide, who in turn were followed by the fifteen or
knights-proper of the garrison. None of the foot soldiers followed. It was
just as well, since we could not possibly have fit all two hundred of them
into the church along with the citizenry. The Commander and his knights
proceded to the front of the church where several benches had been reserved
for them. Once they were seated the knight-priest moved up to the altar and
began the service.
	It was a long service. Much longer than we had been used to. It was
made worse by the fact that no one understood the priest at all. He spoke a
strange language that I had never heard before. Our former priest had
always officiated in our Slavic tongue. But this language the priest spoke
was completely foreign. To my ear it sounded something akin to
"so-vi-ta-su, so-vi-ta-su." It certainly wasn't German, which I also could
not understand but had heard spoken many times before. The actions of the
priest throughout the liturgy were also somewhat different from our regular
services, though not substantially so. Although I could not understand the
man, I could still sometimes pick out where we were in the service by his
actions.
	The sun had already passed mid-day by the time the knights stood up
to file out of the church. It had become stifling hot inside. My tunic was
stuck to my skin, my hair damp and plastered to my brow. As the Commander
passed by I could see that he too was sweating profusely, though it did not
seem to bother him much. Before he exited the great doorway he happened to
look my way for just a split moment, and then he was gone. Minutes later
the rest of the town gratefully poured out of the doors of the church.
	Being very thirsty after such a long service I decided I would
stroll down to the tavern for a drink. Many others seemed to have the same
idea, because when I arrived there were few seats available. The subject on
everyone's tongues was the service we had just sat through.
	"What strange babble was he on about? I didn't understand a word!
Why make attendance mandatory if they're just going to preach in a strange
tongue?" said Jeska, another slave in the town with whom I sometimes played
on Sundays. He had come to sit with me in the tavern while we sipped our
ales.
	"I don't know. It wasn't German from what I could tell. What it was
I don't rightly know."
	"Latin, my boy." Jeska and I looked over our shoulders. Brother
Karolis, our former priest, was sitting at the next table over. He was
hunched over a flagon of mead which he seemed to be nursing.
	"Huh?" was Jeska's reply.
	"Latin," repeated Brother Karolis. "The language of the
Romans. That fat heretic, the Bishop of Rome, thinks he's better than all
the rest of us. Makes them speak Latin during services made in the Roman
fashion. The patriarchs of Constantinople are not so conceited, which is
why I've always preached to my flock in their own native tongue." He paused
to take a sip of his mead. "Can't stop them from straying if they don't
know what you're saying!" This last part was said perhaps a little too
loudly. Again, as he had done several nights earlier, he began to mumble
heavily under his breath. Jeska and I thought it best to politely excuse
ourselves.
	As we exited the tavern Jeska put his hand on my arm and turned to
me. "It's hot today, let's go down to the river for a swim!"
	"Sure. After being in the church I feel as though I have a second
set of skin. It would be good to rinse off."
	We walked down the road, hooking a left turn by the town square,
and walked out of the town gates. Klatovi sits on a sharp bend of the
Dubysa river, and so it is surrounded by the river on three sides. Not only
does this mean Klatovi strategically controls trade on the river, but it
also provides an excellent source of defense besides just stone
walls. Attackers have only one side from which to come, and so defending is
made easier. It also means that when you exit the town gate one can turn
either left or right to reach the river. It was a tradition that men would
always turn to the right to bath in the river; women would always turn
left. The two did not bath together, as that would have been immoral.
	Jeska and I turned right and followed the paths to the river,
talking about this and that along the way. Mostly we spoke of the
soldiers. Like myself Jeska also had dreams of one day being a soldier. The
presence of the men excited him as it did me. When we reached the river we
found that there were other men and boys already swimming along the banks,
but they were all free men and so we did not attempt to socialize with
them, nor they with us. Instead we found a stretch of empty bank by some
birch trees and removed our clothing. Sandals, tunics and breeches were
quickly discarded as we jumped into the cool water.
	We splashed around together for some time. I stayed close to the
bank so that my feet could touch the bottom, much to Jeska's annoyance. He
had for some time been attempting to teach me to properly swim, a trick he
learned in another village before he was sold to his current
master. Honestly I felt that I had learned the technique sufficiently, but
the murkiness of the river water and it's strong current still intimidated
me, and so I prefered to stay where my feet touched ground. Jeska
eventually tired of showing off his swimming ability and came back towards
me at the shore.
	"The sun is beginning to get low. I'd better get back to Sigita
soon or she'll beat me with that spoon again." Sigita was his mistress. Her
husband was a butcher, and she also sold sausages. "Want to pull before I
go, Tanas?"
	This was Jeska's phrase for asking if I wanted to pleasure myself
with him. We sometimes did this together, sometimes with other boys as
well. We would find a place behind some bushes along the bank and we would
stroke our members while the other did the same. Sometimes it was a lazy
affair, sometimes we made a game of it to see who could spill his seed
first. We never touched each other, though sometimes I suspected that Jeska
might like to touch my member. He often looked at it more than the other
boys'. However I never encouraged him. I liked Jeska, but he did not
interest me in that way. When Jeska asked me if I wanted a pull this day,
my mind suddenly returned to the image of the Commander on his steed. I did
not understand why I should suddenly think of him then, but I frowned
despite myself.
	"No. Not today, Jeska. Another time," I replied.
	"Suit yourself," he shot back, a little too casually. I'm sure he
was disappointed.
	"Why have you shaven your beard?" he suddenly asked. I didn't know
how to answer him, so I just shrugged my shoulders, largely ignoring the
question. He didn't push it further. Instead we both climbed out of the
water. Many of the other men and boys were now gone, only a few stragglers
left besides ourselves. We dried ourselves off using our tunics before
donning our breeches and sandles and heading back to the gates, shirtless
and refreshed.
	I said my farewell to Jeska inside the gate and headed back to the
smithy. The sun was still out but low on the horizon. The sky was bright,
but already the streets and lanes were in shadow and the windows of the
dwellings were dark, except where candles had already been lit. I entered
the dark smithy, which this evening seemed more lonely than it had on other
days. I lit a single candle and made a simple meal of porridge for my
dinner before laying down on my straw mat for the night. The Commander had
been in my mind since I had left the river with Jeska, and for some reason
the thought of him made me feel sad as I laid there alone on my straw mat
in the dark smithy.

	Several weeks after the arrival of the German garrison a caravan of
travellers entered the town with carts in tow. This was not particularly
unusual except for the fact that these travellers were all speaking
German. There were perhaps fifteen or twenty of them total, mostly men but
a few women as well. They had with them several cartloads of goods and
baggage. Several of the travelers spoke with the guards at the gate, and
after some discussion in German one of the guards pointed in the direction
of the keep. The travelers shuffled through the streets and disappeared
into the keep. Many eyes were upon them as they walked, and townspeople
could be seen shaking their heads at each other as if to say, "I told you
so." The arrival of Germans civilians in the town was an ill omen for we
Slavs.
	Early the following morning, as I was opening for the day, one of
the travelers came into the smithy. He was escorted by a foot soldier and
the Commander's aide, von Richten. The traveler was a large built man,
perhaps in his thirties. Von Richten was a much older man with gray hair
and whiskers and who was getting large about the waist. They did not
immediately address me, but instead began to look around the place.
	"Can I help you?" I addressed the traveler. He gave me only a
fleeting glance.
	"Thank you, only we just look," von Richten said to me in a
heavily-accented, gravelly voice. The traveller said something to von
Richten in German, to which he nodded, and with that they walked off back
to the keep. I did not understand the purpose of their visit, but it left
me with a considerable amount of unease. No one came to the smithy that
day, perhaps scared off by the unexplained visit which had been witnessed
by others.
	The next morning I had not yet opened the doors to the smithy when
I heard a loud knocking. I thought at first that it might be Svitrigaila,
back to give me a hard time about more nails. But the knocking was suddenly
followed by the unmistakeable sound of von Richten's gravelly voice.
	"Blacksmith, thank you. Please open."
	I was stunned, and also scared. This was extremely unusual. I
thought at first to pretend I was not at home, but knew that would be
foolish. Instead I went to the doors and opened them. Standing outside was
the Commander's aide, dressed smartly in his tunic and mantle. He was
flanked by several foot soldiers. Behind him stood the foreigner from the
day before, as well as another, younger, thinner man. I also recognized him
as one of the Germans who had arrived the other day. They were both
carrying several bags each.
	I felt my back perspiring against my tunic. I had no idea why they
were here, but frightening thoughts of being arrested were suddenly running
through my mind. I addressed von Richten. "Is there something wrong, my
lord?"
	He gave me a slight frown and held out a peice of parchment to
me. I took the parchment and looked at it. On it were many symbols in
columns. I knew it was writing but I did not know how to read. I was
puzzled. "Sir?"
	"Blacksmith, thank you. Please take things," he said to me. I
looked at him dumbly. I did not understand what he was trying to tell
me. Just then the large civilian German brushed past, pushing me out of the
way. He made to go into the private area of the smithy. "Hey, wait," I
called out to him. What were they doing?
	Suddenly I felt a large hand on my shoulder and I jumped. I turned
to see that it was the old soldier's hand. He pulled me out of the doorway
into the street, closer to himself. In a quieter, more kindly tone of voice
he addressed me. "Blackmith," he said, pointing to my chest in case I did
not understand he meant me. Then he shook his head as if to say no. Then
pointed into the smithy towards the two Germans who were moving about as if
they were in their own shop. "Blacksmith," he said again, and this time
nodded his head as if to say yes. He tapped the parchment in my hands. Was
I being kicked out? I was now shaking all over. By now a number of
townspeople had gathered around the smithy, quietly watching the scene
unfold.
	Von Richten must have seen the fear in my face, or felt my
trembling. His hand was still on my shoulder. He looked at me again in a
rather pitiable manner. Then he pulled me back into the smithy, into the
private area past the forge. He picked up my sandals, which I had not yet
put on this morning. He also picked up my bit of mirror. He made to give
these things to me, saying gently, "Please take things." Finally I
understood. I was being evicted, and he was telling me to pack up my
belongings. Stunned, numb, I began to pick up my things. I did not have
very much, it all fit into one sack. My wool tunic and leather breaches for
the winter months, my boots, my mirror which I rarely used, a blanket, my
knife, a wooden cup, bowl and spoon, one pot, and of course my purse of
coins which I kept hidden under a floorboard beneath the ladder.
	By this time the two Germans had climbed the ladder and were up
above in Dalibor's rooms. I could hear them thumping around. Von Richten
pointed to the ceiling and asked, "Up things?" I shook my head no. There
was nothing of mine up there. I went out to the smithy and made to start
putting my tools into my bag, but von Richten stopped me. "Nein, sohn. No,"
he said, shaking his head.
	"Oh," was all I could think to say. He walked me back out to the
street. Even more people had come to see what was going on. The three foot
soldiers were still standing outside the door.
	"Thank you, Blacksmith. Go," he said to me, nodding vaguely down
the street. Go where? He had just taken the only place I had to go
to. Where did he think I would go now? He continued to stare at me. I would
almost say he looked sorry for me if it weren't for the fact that he had
just taken my home. With a sense of dread, still numb, I turned and began
to walk stiffly, slowly, down the street. The crowd of people parted before
me, but they would not look me in the eye or otherwise acknowledge me. I
felt as though I had suddenly become a ghost. My belongings jangled around
in my bag as I walked.
	In a daze I walked around the streets with all of my worldly goods
in tow. With surprise I found myself at the gates and walked through
them. Not knowing what else to do with myself I turned to the right and
walked down to the river. There were no bathers there today. It was a
market day and everyone was in town at work. I sat against a poplar tree on
the bank of the river, setting my bag down beside me. My body began to
shake and my eyes stung. I was determined not to cry, but still some tears
escaped. When I made to wipe them away I realized with a shock that I was
still holding the peice of parchment in my left hand. I opened it again to
look at it.
	The symbols moved down the page in a vertical fashion, making
columns. On one side there was some wax and more script, except this part
looked a little different from the rest. I hadn't the slightest idea what
any of it meant. I couldn't read, nor did I know anyone else that could
read, except for Brother Karolis.
	Of course! I picked up my bag and ran back towards the gates. The
guards paid me no more heed as I ran past than they had when I blindly
stumbled out earlier. I quickly made my way to Drahomir's tavern, where it
was well-known that Brother Karolis spent all of his time since he had been
evicted from the church. I suddenly thought with bitterness that I now knew
how he felt. Brother Karolis was not in the tavern when I arrived. I made
to wait for him at a table, but Drahomir did not want me dawdling about if
I was not buying anything, so instead I went outside and sat by the door,
waiting for the priest to come. I did not have to wait long.
	Brother Karolis came strolling down the street, wearing his usual
gray robe. His steps were a bit uneven, his path swerving. I thought
perhaps that he had had a bit too much to drink already, even though it was
not yet mid-morning.
	"Brother Karolis!" I shouted, leaping from my waiting place. He
jumped a little from surprise, and turned his head to look upon me as I
rushed towards him. "Brother Karolis," I repeated, "I need your help!" As I
got closer he regarded me with squinting, bleary eyes.
	"Tanas, my boy, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be minding
Dalobir's shop?"
	"I can't, sir. They've turned me out!"
	"They?" he asked.
	"The Germans, sir. Von Richten and some of the travelers from the
other day. They've taken the smithy and kicked me out. I don't know why,
sir. They gave me this," I said, showing him the parchment. "Can you read
it, sir?"
	"My son," he said, "It's much to bright out here. Come with me into
the tavern and we'll have a look at it."
	We went into the tavern and took a table. Drahomir gave me a wary
look, but as I was now accompanying one of his best customers he said
nothing to me. "Draho, two ales, please," Brother Karolis called
out. Drahomir nodded and went back to get the drinks. Turning to me,
Brother Karolis said, "Now, son. Show me what it is the dogs have given
you."
	I laid out the parchment with the columns of symbols in front of
the priest. He looked up at me, gave me a half-sided smile, and spun the
parchment around so that it now had rows of symbols instead of columns. He
leaned over the parchment, moving his face so close that his nose was
almost touching the parchment. He was quiet for a little while. Then he
began to make some noises.
	"Mm. Mm-hmm. Yes. Aha, I see."
	"What does it say, sir?" I was anxious and my voice almost cracked.
	"It says what you already know-- that the Germans are confiscating
the shop."
	"Why?" I asked.
	"For the stability of the domain, it says. I'm not quite sure what
they could mean by that."
	"What am I going to do now?!" I hadn't gotten any farther now that
I knew what the parchment said. I was starting to feel a bit lost.
	"Well, my son, you could go to the keep and appeal it to the
Commander. However do you see this bit here?" He pointed to the part of the
text near the wax which did not resemble the rest of the text.
	"Yes," I answered.
	"Well, that is the Commander's own mark. His signature. He's signed
this himself, which means you're not likely to get very far with an appeal
to him."
	I did not know what to say to that. I thought of the Commander's
kind eyes, of the smile he made to me outside the smithy. Surely I didn't
know the man, but I couldn't accept that he would do this type of thing. He
couldn't be the type of man to make me homeless! There was only one thing I
could do-- I would have to go ask to speak with him.
	"Thank you, Brother Karolis," I said, getting out of my seat.
	"Good luck, my son." As I walked out of the tavern Brother Karolis
pulled my untasted ale towards himself.

	Back out in the sunlight I began to make my way towards the keep,
still carrying my bag of belongings. The keep was a very large stone
building on the west side of town. It sat against the town walls close to
the bend in the river. The tower of the keep was the largest structure in
Klatovi, and it could be seen from several miles off in the countryside. It
had a small moat around it, the water drawn from the river. One had to
cross a wooden bridge to reach the gate to the keep. I had never crossed
that bridge before. Few had. Vytautus had not been the type of man one
wished to visit. When I had reached the gate of the keep the soldiers on
watch stopped me.
	"I wish to speak with the Commander," I told them. One of them
responded in a gutteral tongue I knew to be German. "I wish to speak with
the Commander," I repeated, and this time I showed them my piece of
parchment. The one soldier who had spoken smirked when he saw the
document. The other tapped my sack of belongings with the butt of his
spear, asking me something in German. I looked at him and shrugged my
shoulders. "It's all of my stuff," I said. He pointed two of his fingers at
his eyes, then pointed to my sack. Apparently he wanted to see what was
inside.
	I handed my sack over to the soldier. He handed his spear to his
comrade and took the bag from me. Opening it up he rummaged around,
checking out the contents of the bag. Suddenly his expression changed and
he began talking very animatedly in German. He seemed to be getting
angry. His comrade made a reply, and the one holding my bag suddenly pulled
out my knife that I had been using to shave my face. I had forgotten it was
even in there. The blood rushed from my face.
	Now the second soldier was also talking loudly and angrily,
pointing his finger at me. At the sound of the commotion a third soldier
came from behind the gate. The two showed the third my knife and were
talking animatedly. The third soldier looked sternly at me and grabbed me
by the collar of my tunic, pulling me back towards the gate.
	"No," I protested. "I didn't bring it. I mean I'd forgotten it was
in there. I only came to see the Commander! Please, I wasn't here to cause
trouble!" But the soldier seemed to become more angry and suddenly shouted
at me quite loudly. I had the impression it would be best for me to stay
quiet and see what he meant to do with me. I was very afraid now, fear
causing me to shake badly all over. Once through the gate the soldier
dragged me across an open courtyard. In front of us was the tower of the
keep, but to the left and the right there were other large buildings. There
were other soldiers in the courtyard and when they saw me they began to
chuckle amongst themselves.
	The soldier dragged me off to the left of the courtyard, toward one
of the secondary stone buildings. He pulled me through a thick doorway and
into a hall lit by several torches. There was another soldier inside
sitting in a chair and leaning back casually against the wall. He asked a
question of the soldier holding my collar. There was a brief exchange,
after which the sitting soldier made a sigh and got out of his seat. He led
us down a hallway and through a heavy, solid wooden door. It was dark on
the other side. There were no windows and the only light was coming through
the doorway behind us. My heart was racing wildly. I knew what they meant
to do with me now. The soldier from the hallway pulled open a heavy iron
door with bars on it. On the other side was a small, dark, damp, windowless
room. My captor pushed me into the room, and then the other soldier closed
the door, locking it behind me. My captor pointed his finger at me through
the bars, angrily spouting out one last tirade before they both turned and
left the room. When the wooden door closed behind them it was utterly dark.
	I slumped down on the stone floor and this time I made no attempt
to stop my tears. I wept openly at my predicament, certain I was going to
be forgotten in here and left to die. I should never have come to the keep!

	Some time passed. How much I am not certain. Perhaps a few
hours. But after a time the wooden door opened and light creaked into my
cell. My heart stopped at the sound. I wasn't sure if this was a good turn
of fortune, or a bad one. Had they come to let me out, acknowledging it was
all a mistake? Or had they come with a bit of rope to hang me? Stuck
between fear and elation I remained sitting upon the floor, unable to move.
	A man came into the hallway carrying a torch. The wooden door shut
behind him. He seemed to be the only one to have come through the
doorway. He walked slowly over to my cell, his footsteps sounding loudly on
the stone floor. When he reached my cell he turned and raised the torch
between himself and the bars of my cell door. My heart began to beat
again. It was the Commander!
	"Well, my little blacksmith friend. What have you gotten yourself
into?" He smiled at me.
	"My lord!" I replied stupidly. I climbed onto my knees and bowed
low before him. I knew somehow in my heart now that he was here things
would be better. I knew he would understand me when I explained myself. I
stretched my neck to look up at him from my position on the ground.
	"Stand up. Stand up. I am not so mighty as that. It's just you and
I here," he said. I got up upon my feet. Still I had to look up at him-- he
was at least half a foot taller than me. He smiled at me again. His teeth
were white and straight. My stomach was doing flips upon itself.
	"Attempting to smuggle a knife into my keep." He made a low
"tsk-tsk" sound. "Tell me, my young friend, were you going to try to kill
me?"
	"No, sir! No!" I blurted out anxiously. "I wouldn't ever! Honest! I
had forgotten about the knife! I only came because, sir.. because..." I
didn't know how to phrase my situation tactly before him. I came because of
what he had done to me, but now that I was face to face with him I didn't
want to accuse him of something so cruel. He saw the struggle upon my
face. He smiled again, letting out a small chuckle.
	"Relax! I am only having a bit of sport with you. I know why you're
here. My men know why you are here, too, though none of us had expected you
to come armed!" He said this with another smile. I think he was just
teasing me again.
	"My lord, I am so very sorry! I didn't mean..."
	"Enough," he said, this time a little more firmly. "I will forget
about the incident if you promise to do so as well."
	"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir!" I was no longer sweating.
	He looked at me for a few moments before speaking again. His eyes
looked me up and down. It was both very uncomfortable and very
pleasurable. "You came to see me because today I seized the town
blacksmith."
	"Yes, sir. But sir, I haven't done anything wrong! I don't
understand why I was turned out! I don't have anywhere to go, sir! What
will I do without the smithy?"
	"What indeed?" he replied enigmatically. Then suddenly, "What is
your name, boy?"
	"Tan-Tanas, sir," I stuttered.
	"Tantanas?" He regarded me oddly. "That is a strange name, even for
a Slav."
	"No, sir. It's just "Tanas."
	"I see. Well, Tanas, from what I've heard you were not the actual
owner of the smithy, were you?" I suddenly wondered who had been talking
about me to the Germans, and that the Commander had even been curious
enough about me to ask.
	"N-no, sir."
	"And who does own the smithy, Tanas?"
	"A man named Dalibor, sir. But he's dead."
	"Is he? And are you his son?"
	"No, sir."
	"His nephew?"
	"No, sir. I was not related to Dalibor." I was becoming
uncomfortable with the direction of his questions.
	"I see," he said again. He looked at me pensively for a few
moments. Suddenly he seemed to change the subject. "Tanas, I have been
surprised to see you on Sundays standing at the back of the church with the
slaves and servants. An important businessman such as the town blacksmith
should have a prominent seat in the church. Yet you stand in the back."
	"Yes, sir." Why should he have noticed me?
	"Why do you stand in the back of the church with the slaves and
other servants, Tanas?"
	I didn't want to answer the question. I knew he would be different
towards me if he knew. I liked how he looked at me now. I didn't want him
to stop if he knew that I was only on the very lowest rung of
society. Instead of answering I looked down dumbly at my feet, shame
burning my cheeks. I had never before in my life felt ashamed of what I
was.
	"It's is I thought, then," he said quietly. "Where I am from,
Tanas, men do not keep slaves."
	"They don't, sir?"
	"No."
	"Who does the work, sir?"
	"Free people, of course. Tell me, Tanas-- how did this Dalibor
happen to die?"
	"He was at Bolvida Fields with Vytautus, my lord."
	"Was he?" His voice sounded surprised, but his face did not show
it. I suspected that maybe he already knew this, and knew about me as
well. "Did you know, Tanas, that the lands and property of any Slav who
took arms against the Emperor and my Order are forfeit and subject to
seizure?"
	"No, sir, I did not know that. Is that why you took the smithy?"
	"Yes. For that reason, and also because I can not have certain
important town institutions in the hands of the local Slavs while the
political climate is still unsettled in the region. I also seized the
mill." This was a surprise to me. I had not heard as much.
	"But sir," I pleaded, "I don't have anywhere to go if I can't stay
at the smithy. I don't have very much money."
	"As the local prefect of my Order in this region Dalibor's
possessions are forfeit to me. By the laws of your land, and by the laws of
my land, that means that you, too, Tanas, have passed into my possession."
I stared stupidly at him, my mouth open, unable to respond. I had always
wanted more than anything to be free, but strangely the sudden knowledge
that I was now this nobleman's slave seemed yet more desireable. My spirits
suddenly lifted.
	"However," he added, "I can not keep a slave." My spirits dropped
again. What then would become of me? Would he sell me? I began hastily
pleading my case.
	"But sir, I promise to be an excellent servant. I can do more than
just smithing, sir. I will do whatever you ask of me, honest!" He chuckled
then and smiled at me once more.
	"No, Tanas. I can't keep even a good slave. My Order and my
conscience will not permit it."
	"Will you sell me then, sir?" I could not keep the sound of
disappointment out of my voice.
	"No. That is not permitted to me either."
	"What will you do with me then, sir?"
	"Free you, of course." This was an astonishing announcement. Free
me? Without getting anything in return? Why would he do that? Then the
reality of my situation hit me.
	"Free or not free, sir, I don't have anywhere to go without the
smithy."
	"I couldn't allow a promising young man like yourself to roam
homeless, could I," he asked. I didn't think that was the kind of question
I should answer. "No, but I think I know what I shall do with you."
	"What is that, sir?"
	"I will make you my squire."
	"Your squire?!" This was incredible. This day kept turning upon
itself with startling changes in my life. A squire to such a great and
noble lord? It was almost too much to believe. This was all I had dreamt
during those long years of toil at that cursed forge. "Will I learn to be a
knight in your order like you, sir?"
	"No, Tanas. That would not be allowed. My Order accepts only
knights who are both German and of noble birth. However I shall make you my
squire in the colors of my own household, the House of Laubau, and not of
the Order. It is not nescessarily permitted, but it is not disallowed
either."
	I did not particularly understand the difference, but I was
determined not to disappoint him. "I will strive to do always my best for
you, sir," I said to him eagerly. "I will never disappoint you, on my
honor!"
	"I believe you. Now, I think it is time we sprung you from this
prison." In his left hand he jangled some keys, clearly the keys to my
cell. He unlocked the gate and swung open the door. I took a step to leave
the cell, but he had not moved. He blocked the way. I did not think it
polite to brush past him. Instead I looked up at him, now without bars
between us. He was looking down at me oddly. Again his eyes gave me chills
and I could not help myself but to smile.
	"Sir?" I questioned.
	Slowly he brought his hand up to my face and brushed the back of it
against my cheek. The touch was like fire and I longed to lean into it, but
I did not move. "When I rode into this town I saw you in the crowd," he
stated. I marveled that he should have noticed or remembered me at
all. "You had a beard upon your face then. But the next day, when I saw you
in the smithy, it was gone. Your face is much more pleasing this
way. But... why?"
	"Because, sir... I..." I struggled to verbalize the reason which I
did not completely understand myself. Deciding to put it the only way that
made sense to me I answered, "Because I saw you, sir."
	He smiled then and pulled his hand away. I wished he hadn't. "Come,
Tanas, let's get you settled into the keep."


[continued]