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Dec. 6th, 138X, Streets of Warsaw
It must have been during those early years, just as Władysław and Jadwiga had been married, and before the troubles with the Teutonic Knights and Lithuania’s own internal struggles intensified.
Poland remembered the joy and celebration in that year, when the castle at Krakow and Wawel cathedral were covered in crowns of hardy winter flowers and the belltower’s candlelight seemed to last all through the night, tinting the snowy rooftops red.
“Feliks, don’t run so fast!”
A soft voice followed him from behind, chastising him. He was strolling down the main street cobblestoned road towards one of the shop stands . A small wooden manger caught his eye on the merchant to the right.
He couldn't help but stare. His hands reached out to grab--and then, he felt a sharp pull.
“How could you run off?” Jadwiga whispered into his ear, not loud, but with the huffs from sprinting after. “It’s hard to blend in just on my own.”
“But--” He pouted, rubbing his ear. “You were walking so slowly. Look at all the things they’ve brought from all over.”
She smiled at that, once she got a closer look. The merchants had flocked into town from the Hansa cities of Gdansk and Lubeck, bringing delicate embroidery and sturdy woolen winter clothes. From the south, a few merchants from Genoa and Venice brought wine, olive oil and some odd spices.
It was the year’s largest fair. Everyone, from the poorest child to the wealthiest lord, had rushed into town with excitement. He’d barged into Jadwiga’s room as soon as he heard the ruckus from the guildmaster. Within an hour he’d dragged her out the castle walls, hidden under a red cape, both of them holding a giggle as they climbed up the walls.
The first order of business was to scout along for anything pretty.
“Looking for a gift for someone?” Jadwiga giggled, following his lead. “Maybe a certain someone your age?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He shook his head and turned his back to the other side.
“You haven’t asked him?” She prodded. “There isn’t anything that has come up in conversation?”
“I--he doesn’t talk much.” He lied. Lithuania had sought him out often since the coronation. But even when he caught up and tried to listen, his mind would replay that embarrassing scene in his head. By then half of the conversation was a blank.
“He’s not quiet either.” She insisted. He was nearly sprinting over to another stand. “He came in to see me for advice about you. He wants to get along with you.”
Feliks bit his lip. He stared intently at some wine glasses, decorated with the duchy’s coat of arms.
“Those are the newest design from Murano.” A young voice added.
Feliks flinched at the sound. He held the edge of Jadwiga’s dress in his fist. The merchant’s apprentice caught them looking.
“We’ve been all over this year--ran into some trouble near the Po valley when we were getting those, barely made it to Venice.” Feliks nodded briskly, his eyes darting for an escape. “We got some sweet wine if you need something to use them. I’ve tried it myself when my dad’s not lookin’.”
Jadwiga gave him a knowing look at that. She always caught him in the kitchens.
“That’s a little strong for us.” She warned Feliks with a sharp gaze. “They don’t need any more of that at dinner.”
He almost choked on a laugh he held back. Jadwiga had made a point of chastising Władysław’s lavish December feasts. She also always knew when to find him in the kitchens, sneaking off a honeyed fruit.
“Maybe that’s what he’d like!” Jadwiga exclaimed. “The only times I’ve seen you together this month are when he’s offered to help with the cakes .
“He’s good at it, but he never eats them.” He explained. He’d never had the patience to fiddle with those things, but Lithuania seemed to love tending to the oven fires.
They’d spent most of the day there yesterday. Lithuania managed to get him out of bed. He promised the kitchens would be even warmer than his blankets.
Well he wasn’t wrong, but Feliks could have done without the smell of salted herring. And the hard work of chopping firewood.
“So maybe not.” Jadwiga interrupted his musings. “Especially if you end up eating all of the sweets.”
He nodded, puffing his cheeks at that accusation. A quick glance around gave him an idea--a few boys had just filtered out of the cathedral with play swords. They were dressed in black woolen robes, as servants of Herod. The guilds were putting on a reenactment .
“I’ll get him a new sword!”
He rushed to the metalworks by the edge of the square, ignoring Jadwiga’s protests. The royal castle employed this swordsmith from time to time, when they needed new swords for knighting.
Feliks stepped on his heels inside the shop, admiring a new display. The metalworker’s apprentice, Pawel, grinned at him.
“The Lord of Radom ordered a new set of swords.” Pawel revealed. “Sent a letter to the guildmaster asking for it to be ready for ‘round this time. Jan said we’d better finish an’ do a good job of it.”
“It looks sturdy.” Feliks examined it closely--the blade shone without rust or blood to taint it. The handle curved and looked a steady grip. A small leather cover wrapped around the handle, embedded with a small insignia, carrying the coat of arms of the lord’s family.
“Took a long time to make, that one!” Pawel boasted, as if he’d made it himself. Feliks knew that was definitely not true--he was too clumsy for that. “I mean the others were just plain swords, but that’s a present for his son.”
Feliks gleamed at that.
“So you can make one like that if I ordered it?”
“If you ordered it?” Pawel blinked. “Since when do they let you do that?”
“Since always!” He chided the boy. “What makes you think I can’t order my own swords?”
“You’d have ordered one already if you could.” Pawel stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Then his eyes widened.
“Feliks, is that--” He pointed outside. “Her Majesty!”
“Jadzia!”
He rushed out to the streets in panic. In the chaos of the crowds, a few ruffians were dragging Jadwiga by the arm to a side street, despite her protests.
“Let go of her! Let her go, you bastards!”
Feliks shouted as loudly as he could, wading through the carts. A few bystanders stopped in their tracks. The kidnappers were running faster through to the alley. Jadwiga’s feet digging into the mud could only stop their tracks a little.
“Jadzia!” He yelled, willing his legs to carry him further. He was about to lose sight of them, just as another boy ran straight into them with a dagger.
“ Unhand her.”
The man’s grip on Jadwiga snapped. She fell onto the ground. Someone behind him yelled out--the guards were coming. The men disappeared within seconds.
Feliks ran up to help her, but Lithuania beat him to it. He also locked Feliks in an iron gaze.
“The royal guard will be here soon.” He explained. “As soon as I saw, I sent one of the boys to alert them.”
“Jadzia, did the fall hurt?” Poland blurted out. “And what are you doing out here”
She shook her head. Her feet were still shaking and she leaned into Lithuania’s embrace to keep from falling again. Lithuania in turn, held her wrist gingerly.
“ I’m fine, Felek, it’s really the scare.”
Then he remembered. Lithuania didn't yet know Polish. He’d yelled out to the walls for all that heard him.
There wasn’t much time to think of that. The guard arrived--Pawel had shown them where the men had run--and they prepared a horse to take Jadwiga. Lithuania loosened his grip on her waist and gestured over to him.
He got a fierce hug and another earful from her. With her uninjured hand, she passed him a weighty satchel.
“Open it later.” She said with a smile.
He helped her onto the smaller horse with one of the squires. He stood holding her hand for a little, making a scene as her protector, although all he wanted was for his heart to stop rushing. He watched Lithuania approach the guardsmen and explain the situation as best he could, in broken Polish.
By the time they’d left, the sun was beginning to set. The market stalls were closing for the day, just before the last mass. In the skies, a cluster of stormy clouds was brewing.
Lithuania had been silent for the whole walk back to the market square, and it was driving him insane.
“What are you doing here.” Feliks repeated in Latin. “How did you know?”
“I followed you out.” Lithuania revealed. “As soon as I saw you and Her Majesty climbing the western walls of the castle, I worried something would happen.”
That infuriated him, especially that he’d said it so matter of factly. As if it wasn’t a creepy thing to admit to following people without them knowing.
“You--you were going to rat us out.” Feliks accused, stopping to point at Lithuania.
“Not as such, not unless something happened.” Lithuania defended himself. “But it did happen.”
“And you are saying its my fault?!” Feliks fumed at that. “You think I wanted her to get hurt? I was chasing those bastards down and if they thought they’d get away--!”
“I’m saying you weren’t careful.” Lithuania interrupted.
“Just say it’s my fault already!”
Feliks gritted his teeth, stomping off. He could hear the clatter of footsteps behind him, but if Lithuania thought he’d talk to him after that, he had another thing coming. In a flash, he sprinted out towards the open fields.
“Polska!”
Lithuania called after him, but he ignored it. He didn't know where he was going, as long as it took him away from the other boy. Lithuania was fast and it was not fair that he had to make such an effort to outrun him. He closed his eyes for a second, to focus.
“Polska, in front!”
It was too late when he felt the thud. His legs slipped and he fell bottom down into the grass.
He opened his eyes to small hoofs. In a panic, he rolled out of the way before they hit him in the face. The ground was dry, and when he tried to go back onto his back, he found his legs were too sore to react.
Then the heavens opened up. The wayward sheep fled instantly from them and the snow. Lithuania’s voice caught up to him on top of the hill.
“Polska! Are you okay?”
Feliks knew he’d look pathetic. He was splayed on his stomach in the mud; his legs had locked and he’d done it all to himself. Worst of all, he’d either have to stay there in the rain or cave in and ask Lithuania to help.
He’d need a moment to think about whether a week’s bedrest with a cold was worth swallowing his pride.
“Leave me here.” He squeaked out. “I’m fine.”
He heard Lithuania sigh loudly, crouch down in the muddy earth. With a hidden strength, he pulled Feliks up by the arms onto his shoulder.
“Can you walk?”
Feliks felt his legs again. Something had twisted or broken where his ankle hit the sheep’s hooves.
“I can walk, just give me a minute.”
Feliks stubbornly leaned on Lithuania’s shoulder, standing up on his feet. He took a few steps and couldn’t hold back a wince.
“The castle’s too far to walk on that foot.” Lithuania stated, as if he’d concluded it.
“I’ll make it.” Feliks insisted.
He saw Lithuania take his hands to his forehead, his brow scrunched as far down as it could go. His gaze wandered off, until he seemed to spot something in the distance.
“Can you make it to that shed?”
Feliks was about to bite back, when he felt the snow come down in earnest. The last bit of sunlight was almost gone. They would close the town and castle gates on them, even if they could run.
“Fine, since you’re not in the shape to run in the snow, we’ll sneak in there.” He conceded.
If Lithuania had something to say about that remark, he held it back. Feliks started walking in front, so that his back would shield him from Lithuania’s gaze.
When they got to the shed, it was empty. Feliks expected to find a nearby house of farmers, but all it had were some travelling bags and tools strewn over the heaps of hay. They must have run further out from Krakow that he thought.
Lithuania had gotten around to the top of the shed, and brought down some branches and debris.
“It’s a good start for a small fire.” He smiled softly. “It’s all that’s here, so when we get back, we should send some sturdier logs as thanks.”
Feliks nodded silently, biting his lip again. He’d been furious at Lithuania and that had gotten them both into this mess. As practice, he tried to set his face back to a frown, but it was too cold and he was too tired to continue fighting.
But if he couldn’t fight, what else were they going to do out here?
He thought of Jadwiga at the castle. She would be worried sick because of them--because of him. Maybe she’d send some knights out to look for them, but who would find them in the middle of this dusty thing.
His stomach was unsettled and he felt a wave of nausea run through. In an instant, he tried to lean back on the hay and felt the air on his back instead. And in another second, a strong arm.
Lithuania caught him from the fall. He settled him down onto the hay and held up his injured leg.
“May I check it?” Lithuania asked, holding onto the hem of Feliks’ trousers.
“Do you need to ask?” Poland gritted his teeth, looking away.
“It’s the thing to do.” Lithuania spoke matter of factly, before his lips curled into a laugh. “I won’t ask you to take everything off.”
He swatted his leg at that, his face unbelievably red. Redder still, when Lithuania couldn’t stifle a gentle laugh.
“Stop laughing at me.” Feliks pleaded, frustrated that he was still too tired to complain.
“I’m not laughing at you.” Lithuania insisted. “Besides, Jogalia offered to take my place.”
Feliks buried his head in the hay, until the rough edges forced him to shake his head to stop the itch.
“I wish you’d forget that.” He admitted. “Pretend I never said it.”
Lithuania just laughed again. “I don’t think it’s something anyone will forget.”
He expected the laughs to continue, but then Lithuania said something unexpected to him.
“I’m surprised that you haven’t made it into an even crazier story.” He commented. “Usually when you are this embarrassed, you lean into it and make it so outrageous that nobody remember what actually happened.”
Feliks sat up again and blinked. “Is that what Jadzia told you?”
Lithuania shook his head.
“She just told me that you were embarrassed over something.” He confessed. His fingers reached into his own bag, playing with something inside. “Her Majesty always speaks fondly of you.”
“I wanted to find a gift for her at the market, since she’s been kind in extending her hospitality.” He held up a wooden manger, carved up and slightly crooked. “When I was following you, I was trying to see what you’d both like.”
“Spy” Feliks jabbed him, barely putting any weight into it. Lithuania just smiled wider at that. “So you’re making her a barn?”
Lithuania shook his head. “A scene, with Jozef and the Virgin and her child.”
Poland perked up at that, surprised that Lithuania had taken a gift for the queen so seriously. He heard the archbishop complaining that he didn’t pay full attention at mass.
“Can I see?”
Lithuania nodded enthusiastically, pulling out the figures. Poland took the Virgin from his hand and examined the detail work. Lithuania had carved out even the folds of the veil, and the dress. Curiously, he’d carved out flowers and rye grain patterns on the dress , which Feliks had never seen in any church.
The figure of Jozef was similar. It was carved from oak to show a middle-aged man with a large beard and strong arms. The effect was stronger, sterner than the pious depictions at Wawel Cathedral .
“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything like this.” Feliks conceded. He wondered if he should tell Lithuania that he should stick to something more traditional.
“I tried to make it different from the ones you see at the market.” He announced proudly. “I bought some paints and dyes at the market. Do you think she’ll like it.”
Lithuania looked at him with excitement, his eyes shining brightly. In this light he looked less like a stranger and more like a boy his age, worried and anxious about his own work.
“She’ll love it.”
Feliks thought to himself that he should have said something about whether Jadwiga would like a scene with such strange Lithuanian elements--honestly people might think it looked pagan. But Lithuania’s smile was too sweet for him to handle. He lied.
“Just make sure you paint the Virgin blue.” It was the only advice he could offer to try to keep Lithuania out of trouble.
At that moment, the sheep from before crashed into their makeshift shelter and sauntered over to the other side of the fire. Feliks scowled and shooed it, but he was ignored.
“It’s cold and wet. You don’t have to be mean.” Lithuania argued. “You were the one who ran into her.”
Feliks humphed, turning his head. He felt slightly jealous when Lithuania placed down his bandaged leg and started petting her instead.
“You should apologize to her.” Lithuania added. “I bet she was looking for you, to make sure you were alright.”
“It’s not as if she can understand what I am saying.”
“You never know.” Lithuania hinted at, crawling closer to where she lay. “On a dark and cold winter night like tonight, strange things can happen. Herders can hear their flocks talking.”
Feliks raised his brows at that. It sounded like a bit of magic. Almost as if he read his thoughts, Lithuania replied.
“I bet it’s not so strange to your people either. The farmers and fieldworkers--it’s not as if you have always been a Christian.”
“Longer than you” Feliks argued again.
“Perhaps.” Lithuania conceded. “But it’s not that new to me either. Jogalia wasn’t the first to build a church in Vilnius--we still have the old one Mindaugas build with the men from Revelia .”
Poland raised his brows at that. It was so different than what he always heard from the Teutonic leaders.
“What I mean to say is that some things just never disappear.” Lithuania continued. “You can’t tell a farmer to stop his traditions--you’d have better luck trying to convince a Samogitian to stop being stubborn.”
The sheep cried out at that and Lithuania chuckled, as if he seemed to think that the sheep would laugh at his joke. She laid down with her eyes closed and rested. Even if she could speak, she was too tired to try.
It didn’t stop Lithuania, who was in a grand and playful mood that to Feliks appeared to come out of nowhere.
“ Be gentle, Polska .” He lowered his voice, speaking with an open mouth. His imitation was so poor and the attempt at a sheep’s voice so jumbled up his speech, that Feliks found himself laughing.
“ Stop running, Polska. Why are you running, Polska? Why are you leaving me here, Polska.”
“Stop it, Lietuva!”
“ Let me out of the rain, Polska. I want to be warm too, Polska.”
His voice was horse from laughing--half in embarrassment for Lithuania’s sake. He had to catch his breath and hope Lithuania wouldn’t keep teasing.
“ Polska--”
“Stop calling me Polska, we are out in the fields.” Feliks noted. “You sound like a lunatic.”
That finally got Lithuania to stop. He pondered something in his head.
“What else would I call you?” Lithuania asked. “You never told me your name.”
That was strange, Feliks thought. They’d spent the whole year together as Jadwiga’s way to make them bond. Toris talked to him everyday in the castle halls, practiced swordplay with him in the yards and dragged him out the kitchens at night.
Actually they hadn’t spent much time outside the castle, hadn’t they? Perhaps that’s why Feliks never noticed it. And he only knew Lithuania’s nickname from the Grand-Duke--Lietuva. He didn’t know if Lithuania’s people would call him that.
“I told the boys in town to call me Feliks.” He explained, although he wasn’t sure if that’s what he wanted. “Jadzia came up with it when she was a child. When I was younger I just made up a new name every day and people would call me a liar.”
Lithuania nodded in understanding.
“I didn’t remember my name either, until King Mindaugas’ wife gave me one when she wanted to scold me apart from her children.” Lithuania seemed to remember this with a smile. “Tolys.”
Feliks tried to picture a mischievous young Toris getting into trouble. Somehow it was harder than he expected. He thought that Toris had been born stern and solemn.
“It’s strange if you call me Polska around ordinary people, but only Jadzia calls me Feliks.”
“Do you want me to make up another name for you?” Lithuania mused. “Maybe Saulius, or--”
Feliks shook his head. “Not a name. It should have been a polish name, anyway.” An idea came to his head.
“You can call me Po.” He concluded, happy with his choice. “That way it’s not too long and you can’t forget it.”
“Po…” Lithuania tried it out. It felt right to him too, by the looks of it. “But how would you shorten Lietuva?”
“Isn’t that what Władysław calls you? Is it another name?”
“He calls me that because it’s what we call our lands.” Lithuania shook his head. “It’s the same as Polska.”
“So you could shorten it the same way.” Feliks concluded. “Like, Li--Lietu--Liet…”
“That’s not so bad.”
Feliks nodded--he held out the satchel that Jadwiga gave him. Something told him then it wasn’t meant for him.
“This is for you, Liet.”
Lithuania pulled on the leather ends, gingerly lifting up the inside. It was a copy of a book, finely bound in scarlet, with a small inprint--” Quatre Fils Aymon”
“Jadzia helped me pick it up so it’s really also her gift to you.” Feliks confessed.
Feliks inched closer to Lithuania, nearly leaning on his shoulder. Inside the book the writing was pristine. The odd pages were filled with illustrated pictures of knights on crusade, protecting their domain. There was even a crafty sorcerer in the stories and a horse so large it could carry four men.
Lithuania started to read the tales out loud. It was captivating.
They must have spent hours lost in those pages. The midnight cold set in and the winds stoked the fire. Feliks inched even closer to Lithuania for warmth. When the hero arrived back to his home from the crusades and was sent back, Feliks couldn't help but fume at the ungrateful villagers.
“I mean he goes through all that, nearly gets killed and still nobody really believes him.” Feliks said as much. He suppresed a yawn, badly. “I’d smack them if they did that to me.”
“If that’s the case I’m glad I brought something for you.” Lithuania whispered in Feliks’ ears.
Feliks turned at that, his eyes wide. Lithuania took Feliks’ right hand and turned it, dropping a small leather bag into it.
“Open it...Po.” He squirmed with anxiety.
Liet’s leather satchel had a bright amber glow inside. It was unmistakeable. Feliks held it up to the glow of the fire and admired it--a full rosary, delicately carved from amber.
“There’s something else.” Lithuania admitted.
Feliks dug further and found another amber piece. A small ring with a simple silver band and an outline of a phoenix, reddened by the amber below.
“I didn’t really have a ring of my own to give you, when we celebrated the union of our crowns.” Lithuania lamented. “So it’s late.”
“And the rosary?” Feliks marveled.
“I had to get it ordered by one of the German merchants in Vilnius last year.” He explained. “When I went back with Jogalia in the summer, I picked it up.”
“It’s beautiful”
Feliks put the ring on his right index finger. It was a perfect fit--there’d been a little birdie acting behind his back for sure.
“Jadwiga told me you liked red, so it’s a darker amber.”
And there it was. Oh Jadzia.
“I need to apologize to her when we get back” Feliks realized. “She must be worried sick.”
Lithuania sighed in return. “Once we get out of here. If the snow ever stops falling.” He threw a bit of hay into the fire. “I never knew it could get as cold here as it does in Trakai.”
“Get closer Liet, so that we don’t freeze.” Feliks insisted.
He didn’t wait. Feliks curled his knees into his arms and tucked himself into a crook in Lithuania’s shoulder. His legs fit snuggly in between Liet’s waist.
It was like that that Jadwiga’s knights found them with her knights the next morning, fast asleep with each other in hand.