A War in Heaven

A War In Heaven By Andre Wisełka This book is dedicated to Kotka and Malusia. “That nature which contemns its origin Cannot be bordered certain in itself. She that herself will sliver and disbranch From her material sap, perforce must wither And come to deadly use.” -King Lear, William Shakespeare “A violent storm broke loose overhead, so that, as in the Homeric battle of gods and men, the disturbance below seemed to be vying with that on high.” -Storm of Steel, Ernst Jünger Greater Saxony and Tribal Environs, Circa 1140 A.D. List of Characters Adalbero – Archbishop of Hamburg-Bremen. Spiritual advisor of Father Vizelin Adolph II – Count of Holsatia, and trading partner of the Obodrites Albert the Bear – Margrave of the northern mark. Enemy of Adolph II Beleknegini – Wife of Knyaz Nyklot Bern – Acolyte monk from Bremen. Disciple of Father Vizelin Bernard of Clairvaux – High Abbot of the Cistercian Order, and spiritual advisor to Pope Eugene III Boliliut – Obodrite treasurer Boyan – Tribal flamen of the Obodrites Daso – Holsatian river merchant Dmitri of Novgorod – interpreter of the Obodrites and adherent of Bogimilism Eskil – Archbishop of Lund Giselbert – Daso's deaf rower Henry of Badwide – Holsatian count, and ally of Albert the Bear Henry the Lion – Duke of Saxony Ludomir – Military advisor of the Obodrites Marchrad – Holsatian elder Nyklot – Tribal knyaz of the Obodrites Peter of Wollin – Amber craftsman of Wollin Pribislav – elder son of Nyklot Rimbert – Henchman of Marchrad Sobieslav – Pomeranian champion fighter and nephew to Nyklot Thorkell – Danish merchant Vizelin – Priest of Hameln Vratislav – younger son of Nyklot Yaroslav – Tribal elder of the Obodrites Glossary Auroch – Ox-like species that lived in Northeastern Germany during the Middle Ages. Now extinct. Blood and Hair – Wendish ritual of exchanging vows of blood and hair. Bogimilism – Medieval heretical sect. Believed that the church was the work of the devil, and that man could have direct communication with God without a priestly intermediary. Bread and Salt – Traditional Slavic greeting ritual. Cowl – Hooded single-piece garment worn by monks. Crosier – Long staff with a spiraling crest, a status symbol of Catholic bishops during the Middle Ages. Denars – Silver coins, the most widely circulating coinage of the High Middle Ages; from Greenland to Samarkand. Druzhina – Tribal retinue of professional warriors within Slavic society. Flamen – Name of Pagan priest. (Latin spelling) Joyeuse – Legendary battle sword of Charlemagne. Knyaz – Hereditary chief of a Wendish tribe. Kyrie eleison – Lit. "Lord have mercy" an ancient Christian hymn Margrave – A warlord stationed at a 'Mark,' or a customs point on the border of the Holy Roman Empire Marten – Small mammal, related to the wolverine, about the size of a beaver. Highly valued for its fur. Mitre – The sacramental headwear of a Catholic bishop. Niemcy – Slavic word for Germanic-speaking peoples. Pejorative. Pram – Flat-bottomed row boat. Reichstag – A formal assembly of the most powerful warlords of the Holy Roman Empire. Rusalka – According to Slavic Folklore, a female water-sprite that dances men to their deaths. Usually an undead spirit that had died a violent death. Part One Journey Into Barbaricum 1138 A.D 1. Lent in Hamburg was generously warm this spring. Fresh shipments of herring were arriving in the harbor, netted off the coasts of Scania and salted in Lüneburg. The cool, spring winds passed through the gates of the abbey as the mild sun beamed down onto the earth, so that the plum trees were already beginning to blossom fragrant, white buds. Inside the abbey walls the acolyte Bern was pensively tending to an herb garden as the silhouette of a crosier overtook him from behind. He continued to pluck weeds from a chive patch as the shadow stretched forth over the cobblestone courtyard, announcing the presence of the archbishop. He dropped his trowel, and lowered his head. "The boatman has arrived," said a firm voice from above. It was still early morning in Hamburg, and the monks of the abbey were tending to their respective duties: sweeping, gardening, chanting, praying. Bern, a novice choir monk, grasped his wooden rosary, tied to the belt of his robe. Turning, he saw the outline of Archbishop Adalbero. He bowed low. The archbishop, adorned in mitre and sacramental robes was an elderly man with a gentle passion in his eye, who had been servicing the diocese of Hamburg-Bremen for many years now, and had come to study this gentle monk particularly well. "At ease, my son. Please – walk with me," he said, putting his arm around Bern. They walked out of the herb garden, past the chapel, and refectory. "Why do you fear?" asked Adalbero, with a penetrating gaze. "It's not fear, my lord," responded Bern. "Was this not your wish? To be reunited with your teacher? Well, the desire of your heart is to come to pass. He is calling for you. God willing, you will be reunited by as soon as tomorrow evening." "Only in the worst times of war does he call. Not out of his love for me but out of necessity," he said, dejectedly. "Never, my lord, have I known of life in the open field. I confess to you that I do have no desire to taste the life of torch and sword. Prayer and book-learning suffice me." For some reason this frankness came out in front of the archbishop, a man who, despite his authority, had a disarming presence. Adalbero tilted his head, opening his eyes widely. "Is it God or Mammon that you serve, my son?" he asked, without raising his voice. The monk lowered his head again. “Your teacher has told me that you have a kind spirit, and that you cherish truth, and learning. I know. I listen to you sing in the choir. I hear your voice reach angelic heights when you sing the Kyrie eleison. Do not feel neglected, my son. Taming wild beasts is not for the faint of heart, and such is the nature of your teacher's work. Do you know to whom he preaches the Word?" he asked, trying to elicit an emotional response. "Yes, lord. He ministers to the Holsatians and to the pagan Wends." "It is for this reason that he neglects you. But I assure you that a braver soul is not to be found in Christendom," said Adalbero. "Upon the conversion of the Wendish apostates I will personally invest him with the bishopric. It must happen soon, as it is written in the Book of Life that all nations must be reborn in Christ in order to make way for His return. It is for this reason that you are now called." Bern felt a tight cramp in his belly. "Amen," he replied, as they approached the infirmary, passing a limestone slab of sundial and astrolabe. Archbishop Adalbero nodded his head in approval. "It is all part of the divine plan, Bern. The prophet foretold of it and now that the End of Days is upon us we must all suffer through it and thus we will endure. I have visited Faldera myself. It is there that your teacher awaits you." Flattery dropped the guard of the young monk. He had barely suspected that the archbishop even knew his name. "I will charge you with one duty, and one duty only," said Adalbero. "Yes, my lord." "Follow me towards the gate.” They exited the hospital and as they did the nuns returned, bowing to the archbishop. Bern saw the boatman from afar, waiting at the abbey gates. As they walked towards the gates an elderly monk approached them from the opposite angle. He held a small, wooden cage in his right hand with a pigeon inside. He handed Adalbero the cage, bowing, and continued to walk on without saying a word. Adalbero handed the cage to Bern. "This little bird is the ideal Christian, for he always remembers where home is," said Adalbero. "I trust that you will be the same." "Yes, my lord," said Bern obediently. Approaching the abbey gate, the boatman was smiling, and opening his arms towards Bern. "This pigeon will always find his way to me, and he will always talk with me, but I command him what to tell me. Do you know what I want him to tell me, my son? I want him to tell me if there are any new martyrs of God's faithful by the hands of the pagans. I want him to tell me if it is true what they say: that the heathen priests in Wendland drink the blood of Christians in their godless rituals." Bern felt a tremendous fear as he listened to the last sentence, and looked at the messenger pigeon. It was sitting on its perch, cooing. He looked back up and Adalbero was staring at him intently. "His presence at my window sill will tell me, and as he is a faithful little bird, I ask you to be his eyes and ears. Open the cage and he will return to me with the information that I seek. But if what I seek is untrue and only the rumors of evil men then snap his little neck, and return immediately to me. Deus vult," finished Adalbero. The boatman stood in the front of the dock, smiling nervously and cracking his knuckles. He was rather tall but had a slight hunch in his back. He wore a brown, linen garment with a black, woolen cloak draped over his left shoulder. Bald with pockmarks on his face, and yellow, crooked teeth, his open-toed sandals revealed wretchedly deformed toes. Bern could not help but feel uncomfortable by the repugnant appearance of this stranger.

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