She knew they were coming. It was gossip from Vilnius. Some listened while others ignored. Her village prayed, hoping Deivas protected them.
Fear swept through Kaunas as news of the Teutonic Knights’ massacres reached them. Stories of carnage arrived with fleeing villagers, and many began to worry. These murderers were stomping through Lithuania from Prussia and taking what they wanted. In the name of their god they practised slaughter, knew how to wield a sword, killing those who would not convert. Violence was unleashed, all this destruction with the Pope’s blessing and money. How could their god be called loving?
The Teutonic Knights earlier defeat in Jerusalem had brought shame and their need to destroy others. Tarnished with the label pagan, they were sport. It was blood lust and greed. The Baltic filled with herring and their lands fertile with wood, a prize for any conqueror, meant it would never be a matter of religion.
The beat of the horses’ hooves on the dry clay road was an ominous warning. ‘Run,’ she said hoping all she foraged would not be lost from her basket. They needed to hide; could not go back to the farm the forest the safest place. The sound growing, she grabbed her little brother throwing him behind the raspberry bushes. Her heart pounding, she prayed her family would be safe and escape the marauders. She knew what lay ahead. The riches of Vilnius the prize the knights sought.
The knights high on their horses looked formidable, their white cloaks and red crosses only promised death not redemption. They would kill all who stood in front of them, strip everything of value, leave no food for those left behind. All that work to prepare for winter for nothing, just to fill the mouths of murderers.
The long line of bloodthirsty knights and their retinue filled her with horror. She’d heard the stories. Kill the men and the old; leave only the women and children to bear the brunt: rape and slavery. The skirmishes around the border by the knights had left empty farms, lands desolate, the reward for those who followed. Hate grew, she wanted these foreigners dead, there must be a way to stop this invasion. We are just farmers, it is they who carry the sword.
Her people were no competition, their horses were old, their knives only for the slaughter of animals and they had no swords. They lived in peace but now a poison was sweeping through. She hoped protection from Vilnius would come, stop these thieves, arrive before the land was left barren and her village destroyed.
The pine forest was her domain. Perhaps they could protect themselves here. They were no match for the knights but they could ambush the Prussian settlers who followed, lead them into the marshes. She could feel a change inside of her as her fingers tightened around the hilt of her knife. She watched and waited for nightfall, prayed Dalia offered a fate better than death.
Burnside Writers Group 