Stories thread - King of the Romans PBM

[Tamur]

Mourning a Priest, the Stettin Way

Fritz had seen enough of the Diet. There was too much at stake, too much to lose, sitting there day after day, haggling over air. Air. That's what he wanted.

With a kick he moved his horse into a gallop. His retinue followed behind, onward to Stettin.

The battle with the Danes had almost been nostalgic. It would be the last in which he would meet the despicable scum of the north for a long while. Péter's attack on Constantinople had left the Franconian eastern front empty for the Poles to march into. And, as always, there were swarms of them.

But today he would not be troubled by war.

They came into sight of the outlying farms in a few minutes, and then the city walls. Fritz dismounted as he came to the gate, where a group of well-dressed figures waited.

"Olbrecht!" Fritz called out. "Good to see you. How is your family?"

"Berchtold, I heard about the shipment. You must invite me to dinner sometime!"

"Trutwin, I've brought something for your daughter's dowry."

And so on. Fritz did not have many soft spots in his heart, but the people of Stettin were one of them. The party was joined by Fritz' retinue, and they all wandered through the gate.

Though he had seen many cities sacked and buildings crumble, the sight which greeted him still was a shock. The church which had stood so proudly at the main gate of Stettin, a centrepiece of the city, still smouldered. Blackened pieces of stone lay on the grass, and half-burned timbers stood at strange angles all around. The walls still held for the most part, but large pieces had fallen from the top.

The group paused in silence. Fritz turned to the man Berchtold, who stood at his side.

"What happened to Regibald?" he asked quietly.

"Regibald." Berchtold winced. "Ah, he tried to stop it, even though we had given him warnings. I'm afraid..." Berchtold's voice fell away as he nodded in the direction of the grave field outside the walls.

Fritz stood still for a moment. "Anyone else?"

"A few cuts and breaks when some boys got too close and were hit by falling mortar. But nothing that won't heal."

Fritz nodded, then cleared his throat and smiled up at the gathered group.

"Regibald was a good priest for us," Fritz said. The group nodded.

"He had many fine qualities that we should all strive to achieve in ourselves," Fritz continued. The group made sad smiles.

Fritz's eyes narrowed to near invisibility. "And he was a papist. Let us not mourn unduly." A man in the back spat in the direction of the grave field.

"So," Fritz said to happy agreement, "let's go eat! I'm starving."