Helpless: Day 15

Word Total: 90,031

Year to Date: 595,239

Summary of Events:

Mikolaj and his fellow prisoners are placed onto two gallows, each with six nooses, but when the trap drops from beneath Mikolaj, he falls instead of hanging, and so do the others; they are then relieved of their nooses and directed to crawl through a tunnel — which Mikolaj finds terrifying — that takes them to a building where they're put in sacks and covered with potatoes before being loaded onto a wagon and taken on a long journey into the forest, where they emerge at the camp of the friends of the man in green, who feed them a tasty dinner before their leader addresses Mikolaj and his fellow prisoners . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“Greetings,” the man said. “My name is Dobrosław, and these are my Swięty Rycerz.”

In accordance with the man’s gesture, Mikolaj surveyed the men in green who remained gathered around, most of whom looked to be tending to the cleanup of the meal which they’d all just enjoyed.

“It is our belief that Lasnaród is suffering in the throes of injustice and immorality, precipitated by decades of negligence within the house of the Wódz Książę, and, previously, the Książę,” Dobrosław said. “Thus, it is our goal to see justice and morality return to Lasnaród, that peace, prosperity, and success might flourish within our fair borders once more.”

A twinge of scepticism rose in Mikolaj, and a glance down the line of his cellmates showed it was not merely within him, but there were others who were thinking of the conduct of the man in green who’d been their cellmate and wondering what exactly Dobrosław and his Swięty Rycerz envisioned.

“I was told you were all convicted unjustly,” Dobrosław said, looking and sounding a touch bemused. “Why do you not look gladdened at what I have said? Do you not want justice?”

“We do,” the new man said. “But we must also add that your man who was among us was rather an unflattering emissary for your cause.”

“That does not surprise me,” Dobrosław said. “He is not strong in his self-discipline.”

“So, then, you mean to say that you want true justice and morality?” the new man asked. “You do not mean to hold others to a higher standard than you yourself seek to maintain?”

“No,” Dobrosław replied. “It would be unfair of me to do so, for if I cannot do it, how can I expect others to do so?”

Several of Mikolaj’s cellmates nodded, looking pleased by Dobrosław’s words, but Mikolaj still felt wary, and he couldn’t really say why.

“It would, thus, be reasonable for us to expect that you would engage in advocacy efforts when it comes to seeing our names cleared of the unjust charges which were brought against us, and led to our being on the cusp of death this afternoon, until you and your men so graciously liberated us?” one of the men asked critically.

“Of course,” Dobrosław replied. “True justice doesn’t convict innocents.”

If he was honest, Mikolaj felt surprised at the pleasure some of his cellmates expressed. As much as he wanted to have his name be cleared, or even be able to be sentenced to something more along the lines of giving an appropriate recompense to the Wojewoda for the slaughter of his bull, Mikolaj still didn’t feel like he trusted associates of the man who had addressed him with such appalling vulgarity as the man in green had to be the sort of help he wished to have in such an effort.

Pronunciations:

Dobrosław: dawbrawswahv

Rycerz: rihtserz

I will be taking a summer break again this year, so look for the next post on 31 July.

Helpless: Day 14

Word Count: 84,050

Summary of Events:

Filled with dread, Mikolaj listened as the prisoners of the first cell were chained together and led out of the dungeons. He agonised over regrets as the other cells were emptied by turns until finally Mikolaj and his cellmates were chained together and led away on a long and winding parade through Wielisów, led by a knight who proclaimed their charges to the gathered crowd. A distraught woman in the crowd tried to rush to one of Mikolaj's cellmates — her husband, he presumed — but was forced back, and Mikolaj wept silently to think of what his own family would've done if they'd been able to see him . . . 

Excerpt of the Day:

He was sure Roksana would’ve run to him in tears, but Agatka, likely also crying, would have stopped her and saved her from the harm of the guard’s blade. Mama might have also rushed out, either that, or she would undoubtedly have collapsed, maybe even died in that instant of shock and agony to see her last living son being paraded to the gallows because he’d been trying to ensure she and his sisters lived to see another spring.

Considering the idea that Mama might collapse and die of heartbreak and agony at the sight of him, Mikolaj was glad that Mama wasn’t in Wielisów to see him, but at the same time he wished he could’ve seen everyone’s faces one more time before he died, maybe even been able to bid them farewell, but it was far too late for that now.

Wearily Mikolaj trudged onward with the others and began to wonder where in the world the gallows they were to be hanged on had been hidden and when they might possibly end up either back where they’d started or retracing the route over again.

From what Mikolaj could tell, they seemed to be getting nearer and nearer to the largest of Wielisów’s market squares, which Mikolaj supposed would be a place where some gallows could be set up, but he wasn’t really sure, as he did feel a little turned around, and his weariness from the physical and emotional burdens he was bearing he felt was clouding his perceptive abilities.

Mikolaj wanted to put his face in his hands and sob, but the chains and shackles he wore prevented him from doing so, while the consistent pull on the chain that connected him to the man ahead of him forced him to keep moving forward even though he also wished that he could stand still.

Through his tears, Mikolaj thought he recognised the statue of Książę Sobiesław I, the first ruler of a united Lasnaród, which stood at the entrance to the largest of the market squares in a valiant pose, but they carried on down the eastward street before Mikolaj could get a good look at it.

Before going very far they turned and trudged north for a short distance before turning and trudging back west again.

They were nearly at the broad street that led to the market square when Mikolaj heard the sound of a bird. He startled slightly at it, for it was not the hoarse call of a crow, but the sound of a summer songbird that oughtn’t be in Wielisów at such a time of year.

A little further down the street, Mikolaj heard the call of another songbird that was nearly ubiquitous in the summertime. He was confused as to where these birds might have survived the cold, even if not snowy, winter so far, and wished that hearing them would’ve given him some measure of hope, but it didn’t, for the knight had turned his horse north again, going past the statue of Książę Sobiesław I and into the market square at last.

Helpless: Day 13

Word Count: 78,018

Summary of Events:

Mikolaj and his fellow prisoners are notified by a guard that they have been sentenced to death by hanging, which will occur in three days' time. As the youngest of the men in the cell, Mikolaj is horribly distraught at the sentence — which he also doesn't feel is appropriate for the crime of thievery — because of the fact that he's got so much life ahead of him, and he also has a mother and sisters who need him. On the night before the execution, Mikolaj is unable to sleep and tries to think up ways to get free; of which there are few, all of which are highly unlikely to happen . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

If only his uncle and aunt knew he was here and were capable of mounting a sort of rescue so that he wouldn’t necessarily have to hope he himself possessed the level of strength he needed to escape.

But would they really want to risk their lives? Surely they would be much more inclined to have Mama and the girls stay with them, not temporarily as they’d done in the spring when they’d come to celebrate Wódz Książę Sobiesław’s ascension to power — something Mikolaj now had to say he didn’t really know that he considered worthy of celebrating — but permanently.

Mikolaj hunched over in worry as a sustained gust of wind caused the torch outside the door to first flicker wildly, and then go very dim, to the point that Mikolaj couldn’t make out any light from it.

When the gust abated, unlike before, the torch’s glow didn’t grow and return. It had been extinguished, leaving a faint light from the next torch down the corridor to give a vague indication of where the door was, but otherwise leave Mikolaj completely in the dark.

Tears filled Mikolaj’s eyes. He didn’t want to die; not so much because he was too young, but because Mama and the girls needed him. They needed his help, his strength, his capacity to provide for them either by engaging in heavier labour than they could, or by being able to hunt game for them.

As far as he could tell, however, there was no way he could escape the death that the Wódz Książę had sentenced him to for very unjust reasons.

He had been wrong to take the meat of the bull, to even slaughter it, he would willingly admit that if he were asked to, however, he was innocent of luring the bull, damaging the wall, and doing anything prior to that against either the cattle or the Wojewoda’s herdsmen.

If those things were part of the reason why he was being sentenced to this death, then the sentence was unjust and not what he would have expected of the Wódz Książę. If it was purely because of his killing the bull and taking its meat, then Mikolaj, again, couldn’t really say that the punishment was just, as an animal’s life was not equal to that of a man’s, meaning that his death was not a fair recompense for the loss of the bull.

It would be more appropriately just if the Wódz Książę were to sentence him to hard labour or some other sort of punishment instead of death, but Mikolaj knew there would be no chance for him to plead with the Wódz Książę for mercy, even though he desperately wanted to, and he feared that if the Wódz Książę were present at the hanging, his court — including Wojewoda Aureliusz — would be there with him, which would rather thwart any hope Mikolaj might have of being able to plead for mercy.

Whether he liked it or not, the end of his life had come, and even if it would be longer than that of two of his brothers, it wouldn’t be longer than that of the other, nor even of his father.

Helpless: Day 12

Word Count: 72,057

Summary of Events:

A new man was thrown into the cell with Mikolaj and got into a bit of an exchange with the man in the green clothes. During a particularly cold and windy night the man in the green clothes was thrown a cured fish through the window by one of his friends. The man used the bones of the fish and the cloth it was wrapped in presumably to create a message he returned to his friend; as he was doing so, one of the men in the cell took the fish and started dividing it among the others. Mikolaj felt badly about it because the man in the green clothes refused to eat the food they were fed, and so decided to give the man back at least the part of the fish he'd been given . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Mikolaj worked his way free of the straw, doing his best to keep as much of it on the bed as possible, before walking across the cell to the man in green. He held out the fish half, prompting the man in green to go silent.

Warily he stared at the fish in Mikolaj’s hand for some time before he slowly raised his gaze to regard Mikolaj with no small measure of suspicion.

“What are you doing?” the man asked, his voice taut with distrust.

“It was not our place to take your food, since you had not refused it,” Mikolaj replied.

“Are you trying to convince me that you’re not the worst wretch of them all?” the man demanded. “A traitor of the worst degree?”

“I have been convicted out of my appetite,” Mikolaj replied.

“Hm,” the man in green huffed contemptuously. “As if a traitor like you could even have a conscience.”

“Why don’t you take it?” Mikolaj asked.

“I want nothing to do with anything you’ve touched with your filthy, corrupted hands,” the man in green spat.

“You refuse it?” Mikolaj asked. “Even though it is rightfully yours?”

“What else to you think I mean when I say I want nothing to do with anything you’ve touched with your filthy, corrupted hands?” the man demanded.

Mikolaj withdrew his hand with the fish and returned to his place in the corner, where he folded the fish up against himself to save for adding to his soup, as he was sure it would taste quite good, and that would ensure that it lasted longer.

“Why do you harbour such hatred toward him?” the new man asked.

“Have I not already clearly stated why?” the man in green contended.

“Why is he a traitor?” the new man asked. “What makes his hands so filthy and corrupt?”

The man in green gave no answer.

“On one of the last fair days before it became cold, the knights of the Wódz Książę were carrying out a practise of their skills in the courtyard out the window, and somehow one of them inadvertently threw his spear through the window,” one of the other men explained. “He” — he pointed to the man in green — “wanted to use the spear to kill the guards and make an escape, but he” — he pointed at Mikolaj — “seized hold of the spear and we all, not wanting to be executed as accomplices to any slaughter carried out, set ourselves upon him” — he pointed at the man in green again — “so that he would be relieved of the spear, which he” — he pointed at Mikolaj again — “then threw out the window, returning it to the knights.”

“How is it he that is filthy and corrupt?” the new man asked, gesturing toward Mikolaj, but looking at the man in green. “When you are the one who has spewed so many filthy and corrupting oaths, and has striven to find ways to slay innocent men?”

The man in green gave no verbal answer, but his face was clouded over with a savagely incensed expression that showed he was displeased with the fact that he was viewed poorly while Mikolaj was viewed highly.

Helpless: Day 11

Word Count: 66,041

Summary of Events:

The men of Mikolaj's cell argued mostly with the man in the green clothes, who thought they were foolish to eat the food served to them because it was served to them by people he, at least, deemed unjust, while the rest believed eating the food — which was far better than what Mikolaj had been given in the Wojewoda's dungeons — was important, as it would ensure they lived to see their families again; it was by no means the only thing the argued about, as the man in the green clothes didn't believe they hadn't yet been sentenced because of a pursuit of more information to prove whether they were as guilty as they'd been made to look or not . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“You all really think the Wódz Książę would do such a thing?” the man in green challenged. “How can an unholy and impious man be a man of justice? He is a man of injustice, which is proved by the fact that every single one of us is here.”

“Except you,” one of the men said. “You had no need for your victim’s gold and jewels, we all took something we needed.”

“Not that we couldn’t have used gold and jewels to buy things we need,” another man said. “Or if we were goldsmiths we could’ve fashioned it into things to sell to feed our families.”

Several men nodded in agreement.

“You really think that fat old man needed his gold and jewels?” the man in green demanded irritably.

“He probably earned them,” a man said.

The man in green scoffed. “More likely he stole them, whether directly from needy people like you, or by stealing money from you in exorbitant and even unjust charges, which he used to fund his purchase.”

“But what did you need them for?” another man challenged.

“To support those I care about,” the man in green replied.

“But you said you have no family,” the other man contended.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t have people I care about,” the man in green replied. “And they care about me too. In fact, I have full confidence that they will not let the fullness of injustice be meted out upon me, but they will prove to the Wódz Książę, the greedy men of his court, and even such simpletons as yourself the meaning of true justice.”

“If they have those kind of capabilities, what do they need gold and jewels for?” one man asked derisively.

“Although they have been given as many physical and intellectual talents as I myself have been by Bóg, that doesn’t mean that they are any more capable of acquiring the means to feed and clothe themselves without something tangible to exchange for it,” the man in green replied. “We were not born with clothes any more than any of you, nor are we always capable of finding what we wish to eat growing wild.”

“So you use the gold and jewels to gain for yourselves such fineries as the fat man you robbed could enjoy, as opposed to being content with simpler clothing,” a man sneered.

“You ought to be entitled to clothes such as these yourselves, every one of you!” the man in green protested. “But the Wódz Książę and his court hoard so much of the wealth to themselves. They are not so generous and charitable as the Religia would compel them to be, and there are even Ksiądz who are guilty of such excess, for they have been guided too much by the example of their Wódz Książę and too little by the example of their Bóg and Swięty, and that is the cause which I contend, along with those who care about me. We are united by our cause and care for one another in it.”

Helpless: Day 10

Word Count: 60,200

Summary of Events:

"The others" turned out to be nine men locked in a cell who were all accused of thievery. Some had done the act out of desperation to keep their family alive, others had done something more along the lines of Mikolaj, which had been embellished by their accusers. One man, who wore a dark green outfit that was visibly nicer than everyone else's clothes was the only man who'd taken what didn't belong to him without any desperation involved, and also rather annoyed everyone by cursing the guards and any other person outside the cell he could see, which led to the guards beating him severely. With the man unconscious from his beating, Mikolaj took the opportunity to look out the window, where he watched knights drilling until one of them missed his target while throwing his spear, causing it to soar into the cell through the window. The man in the green suit regained consciousness and took hold of the spear, threatening a guard with it before Mikolaj and his cellmates leapt into action to get control of the spear, which suddenly came free into Mikolaj's hold . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Stumbling backwards, Mikolaj managed to keep his feet and feed the spear shaft behind him hand-over-hand until he could see the head, at which point he turned the spear upright so the head was pointing at the ceiling.

“Hey!” the man in green shouted.

A clamorous struggle of arms and legs ensued that looked to mostly be Mikolaj’s cellmates striving to keep the man in green away from the spear.

Taking advantage, Mikolaj turned around and went to the window, where he saw the targets had been reset so that he could see the rings painted onto their faces — not that he was sure why they’d been reset — and he took aim at one before throwing the spear with all his might.

“No!” the man in green shouted.

Mikolaj watched the spear sail through the air in a soft arc before making that solid contact with the target which Mikolaj had to admit felt satisfying — even if he had no idea why — especially when the projectile launched hit the centre mark, as the spear had.

“How many did you kill?” the man in green demanded, still struggling against the hold of several cellmates.

“None,” Mikolaj replied. “I will not be responsible for the shedding of my fellow man’s blood unless it is necessary to prevent the shedding of mine own, or of that which courses through those whom I love.”

“How dare you return a weapon of destruction to those bloodthirsty murderers!” the man cried.

“It belonged to them,” Mikolaj replied.

“They should not have any such weapons!” the man roared.

“Better them than you!” Mikolaj retorted.

“What?” the man demanded. “Are you a heathen? Do you delight in the dishonour of Bóg?”

“No,” Mikolaj replied.

“Then how could you dare give back to those heathens what they never should have had at the first?” the man demanded.

“I do not believe they are heathens any more than I am,” Mikolaj replied. “You are the heathen.”

Enraged, the man strove against the other men who were still restraining him, bellowing oaths and curses at Mikolaj, who flinched and took a step back, tears of hurt surging to his eyes more swiftly than he’d expected.

A swell of anger at his disposition to cry at the profane insults being hurled at him, and at the insults themselves, rose in Mikolaj suddenly and he surged at the man, seizing his shoulder in one hand and using the other to throw three powerful blows — or, as powerful as his undernourished frame could muster — at the face of the man in green.

Even if the blows were feeble — as they felt feeble even to Mikolaj — the fact that the man was so close to the bars of the door caused them to have a satisfactory effect, as far as Mikolaj was concerned, as the man’s head collided with the solid iron of the door’s bars, which caused him to collapse unconscious into the grasp of the men restraining him.

Helpless: Day 9

Word Count: 54,003

Summary of Events:

In pain from his beating, Mikolaj didn't want to get up from his bed, so he stared at the ceiling overhead, where he noticed that different textures combined to look like the face of a fox, which reminded him of a tale his father had told him in his boyhood; this inspired him to fight the pain, that he might be presentable whenever his audience with the Wódz Książę happened, as well as inspiring him to think of how he might be able to talk his way to freedom during that audience. To his surprise, that audience actually came far sooner than he'd expected it would, and he found himself having to try and correct the falsehoods not only that the knights had told the Wojewoda, but that the Wojewoda had added to the tale when telling it to the Wódz Książę and his closest aide, who did the bulk of the talking . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“I did not destroy the property of His Excellency, nor did I bait and trap his animal,” Mikolaj replied. “I did kill it, for it could not have been rescued alive, not even if a cohort of His Excellency or His Grace’s men were to have found him, without having claimed the more valuable lives of men.”

“How can you be so sure?” the man challenged.

“The dais whereupon you stand is no less than twice the size of the abandoned cellar wherein the great bull had fallen on his own, as best I can surmise,” Mikolaj replied. “He could barely turn around in it, and was severely agitated. Any man who would have dared enter the cellar would have been crushed, and even if he would’ve been able to be raised, he could well have still gored or trampled men trying to help him.”

“As best you can surmise?” the man asked. “What mean you by such a statement?”

“I have never known cattle to become entrapped in pits,” Mikolaj replied. “They’ve always seemed at least intelligent enough to avoid such things by their own senses in both daylight and darkness.”

“Yet you deny having baited the animal or driven it into the pit?” the man asked.

“I do,” Mikolaj replied.

“Considering you are the leader of a band of immature insurrectionists who have been accosting the Wojewoda of Małolasnaród’s herdsmen and terrorising his cattle, there is no reason why you should not take it upon yourself to steal one of his animals and render its carcass into meats for your family,” the man said.

“There is no such group in Swięty Daneków,” Mikolaj replied.

“That he should live in a village named after one of the Swięty is appalling, my lord,” Wojewoda Aureliusz said. “He is a dishonour to its namesake.”

“Swięty such as Danek himself know the truth, my lord,” Mikolaj said.

“Very truly they do,” the man said.

Mikolaj expected him to say something further, but silence fell over the room and Mikolaj looked toward the cold, rather expressionless face of Wódz Książę Sobiesław, which hadn’t moved or changed, seeming as if a statue, except that his eyes blinked on occasion.

A swell of desperation within Mikolaj urged him to beg for mercy, even if the knights still gripping his arms as if they meant on the Wódz Książę’s command to tear them from his body wouldn’t let him fall to his knees and beg appropriately.

Before he could even decide what he wanted to say, however, he noticed a subtle movement of the Wódz Książę’s mouth that made him hesitate.

“Put him with the others,” Wódz Książę Sobiesław said, his voice strong, clear, and authoritative; a fitting voice for a man of his standing.

With that simple order, the knights turned around and made for the exit of the grand hall. Outside of the hall Mikolaj let his shoulders sag and his chin drop. His efforts to gain the Wódz Książę’s favour and mercy had failed, and now he had no idea where he was going to end up, outside of ‘with the others’, whoever it was that they might happen to be.

Pronunciation:

Sobiesław: sawbeeehswahv

Helpless: Day 8

Word Count: 48,003

Summary of Events:

To his surprise, Mikolaj was taken before the Wojewoda the next day, where the knights added even more embellishments to their tale of what he'd done as they reported it to the Wojewoda and Mikolaj was sentenced to be jailed until the Wódz Książę was inclined to see him. That afternoon Mikolaj was served his first food since his incarceration, which was a cold, cloudy white liquid with strange little grey tube shapes floating in it, which, even though massively hungry, Mikolaj didn't have the appetite to even taste, but was relentlessly ordered to by the warden . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

His stomach churning with disgust, but sure he wouldn’t be given any peace until he at least took a taste, Mikolaj picked up the bowl in his hands and took a bit of a sip of the unapppetising fluid it contained.

Revulsion contorted Mikolaj’s face and it was all he could do to swallow the cold liquid whose taste he couldn’t even begin to describe.

His stomach rebelled at the offering and sent it back whence it’d come, causing Mikolaj to spit the liquid — along with some additional substances from his stomach — into the bowl, which he also inadvertently tipped, spilling some of the abhorrent fluid onto the floor.

“Don’t you dare!” the warden shouted.

Mikolaj wished he could just have a drink of water to get the nauseating taste out of his mouth, but when he heard the sound of his door being unlocked, he had his doubts that was what he would be receiving, and his doubts were well-founded.

The warden entered the cell and kicked at the bowl which was still in Mikolaj’s hands, flinging it and its disgusting contents into Mikolaj’s face.

Spitting the fluid away from his lips and swiping it away from the rest of his facial features, Mikolaj also cautiously edged back from the warden, who picked up the now-empty bowl and seized Mikolaj’s shoulder in a painful grip that made Mikolaj writhe in an effort to get free of it, which only made it worse.

Using the bowl in his other hand, the warden beat Mikolaj, particularly using the edge of the bowl to strike at Mikolaj’s head and face, which Mikolaj strove to protect with his hands and arms as much as he could.

Every time the warden missed Mikolaj with a blow, the bowl became more and more dented, which led to it inflicting cuts onto Mikolaj when it did meet its mark.

Nonetheless, it eventually became too dented for the warden to believe it very useful anymore, so he cast it aside and seized Mikolaj with both hands, kicking Mikolaj in the stomach several times before he threw Mikolaj to the floor and Mikolaj managed to scramble beneath his cot as the warden stalked out of the cell, slamming the door shut with particular force behind him before locking it and storming away.

Trembling uncontrollably as he cowered beneath his cot, Mikolaj tried vainly to blink away the tears that flooded his eyes. His whole body was in pain, with some of the cuts from the damaged bowl stinging severely.

He didn’t know why the warden had wanted him to eat whatever that had even been, as he wouldn’t have thought the warden would care whether he ate or starved, nor did he know why an accidental spill of the liquid had necessitated such a savage beating, but Mikolaj wanted more than ever to find a way either to get home, or to die.

Helpless: Day 7

Word Count: 42,061

Summary of Events:

The following morning Mikolaj cut the meat of the bull more thoroughly and got roasts smoking before he prepared to grind the tougher cuts to be made into sausage. He tried to get Klaudia to help, to no avail, and was quite frustrated by his mother's chastisements of his efforts. The next day he, his mother, and his 13-year-old sister worked on filling the sausage casings when two knights of the Wojewoda came to the door, arresting Mikolaj for not merely killing the bull, but also purportedly deliberately ensuring the bull escaped his pasture and fell into the cellar. Mikolaj was carried to Wielisów across the back of one of the knight's horses, who hastened the journey by their faster gaits, even if the experience was unpleasantly uncomfortable for Mikolaj . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Finally the knights rode into the courtyard of a grand dwór, where they slowed their pace before ultimately coming to a stop.

At the longest last, Mikolaj was untied from the saddle and herded into the dwór via a side door that led down a dark corridor.

The speed at which Mikolaj was shoved down the corridor, especially considering his legs were recovering from the tight binding they’d endured, prompted Mikolaj to stumble regularly, which caused the knights to utter oaths and strike his head with the heels of their free hands.

Mikolaj stumbled with particular severity when they reached the stairs, as Mikolaj hadn’t been able to see the stairs, and thus had been startled when his foot didn’t meet the ground where he’d expected it to.

Nonetheless, he nor the knights behind him fell down the stairs, although the lower they descended, the more Mikolaj wanted to go back up the stairs, for an odour began to permeate the air which sickened him horribly.

The knights refused to let him, however, and he was pushed down to the bottom of the stairs, where a grimy man with a candle appeared to be waiting for them. He looked to Mikolaj like a disgraced knight, or a man who’d wanted to become a knight, but had failed to achieve such prestige.

He led them down a corridor lined with doors fashioned of heavy iron bars, behind which Mikolaj glimpsed what could’ve been living men or corpses, some of whom moaned and cried out, only to be shouted down by the man with the candle.

Finally they stopped and the man opened a door, through which Mikolaj was thrown, his knees crying out in pain as they struck the stone.

The door was slammed shut behind him and locked before the light faded away as the knights and the man departed.

Mikolaj shifted off his knees and rubbed them to dispel the pain as fresh tears flooded his eyes. He hadn’t expected Wojewoda Aureliusz to keep such watch of his cattle that he would’ve been arrested just two days after killing the bull — not even two days — and he was angry at himself for having been so foolish.

At the same time, he didn’t know what else he could’ve done. Even the knights wouldn’t have been able to — if they’d even dared try — remove the bull from the cellar without killing it.

Swiping the tears from his eyes, Mikolaj groped about in the dark to get a feel for his surroundings, which he found to be four stone walls, one of which had the iron-barred door set in it, and a wooden cot that was mounted to another one of the walls, which bore no bedding whatsoever.

Despite its lack of comfort, Mikolaj climbed up onto it and laid down, facing toward the stone wall, using his hands as a modest pillow while tears continued to trail across his face. If his tiny glimpses of other prisoners were anything to go by, he was going to rot to death in here before he ever saw the fatty face of Wojewoda Aureliusz.

Pronunciations:

Dwór: dvawr

Aureliusz: aoorehleeoosh

Helpless: Day 6

Word Count: 36,216

Summary of Events:

Mikolaj was woken in the night by the bellowing of a near — and very angry — bull, whom he found, to his surprise, had fallen into the small cellar that had been dug for his brother and sister-in-law's house. Since the bull was angry and agitated, Mikolaj knew he couldn't go in the cellar, and even if he got help from his neighbours, they wouldn't be able to get the bull out safely, meaning his only option was to kill it, and after some puzzling about how to do that, he got an idea . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

He drew his hunting knife from its sheath on his leg and held its handle and the handle of the fork together, with the fork tines curving up and away from the knife. It would work.

Quickly taking some of the coarse cord that was used to bind the sheaves at harvest, Mikolaj secured the handle of his knife to the handle of the fork as tightly as he could, until he was sure nothing would cause the two to come apart if he were to fail to hit his mark.

Hurrying back to the cellar, Mikolaj positioned himself in such a way along the edge of the cellar that he was confident nothing the bull could possibly do would make him fall in before the bull was dead.

The bull, however, seemed to be getting increasingly restless, as he was pacing quite a bit. Mikolaj hoped the bull didn’t sense him as a threat and fear his death to be nigh — even though it was.

After some time, the bull finally stopped pacing and backed up against one of the narrow walls. Before Mikolaj could make his strike, the bull bounded forward, slamming his head into the other narrow wall, which looked particularly damaged.

This seemed to daze the bull, whom Mikolaj supposed had either been suspecting the earthen wall to be something he could bash through with his mighty skull, or had been meaning to leap out of the cellar despite the fact that bulls were not known for their ability to leap — an ability that sheep, goats, horses, and deer possessed and, for the most part, looked reasonably graceful in executing; especially the latter two.

Taking the opportunity afforded him, Mikolaj plunged his improvised spear at the bull, the tines of the fork passing neatly between the horns and sliding along the top of the head while the knife went deep into the flesh.

He pulled the knife out as the bull’s legs buckled beneath him before watching the bull collapse and lay completely still.

Using the sharp head of one of his arrows, Mikolaj cut his hunting knife free of the fork before setting the fork aside and watching to be sure the bull was fully dead before he hopped down into the cellar.

It took a few moments for him to screw up the courage to reach out a hand and touch the powerful shoulder of the unmoving creature, but when Mikolaj did so and there was no twitch of the powerful muscles between the sleek coat his hand touched, Mikolaj was able to calm himself and set about the butchering process, at least, to a basic fashion.

He didn’t cut the meat into all the cuts, but carefully divided it into groups that were small enough for him to heft out of the cellar until he’d finally succeeded in getting the bull out of the cellar, albeit in pieces.

Piece by piece, Mikolaj then hauled the bull into the house and down to the cellar within, where it could stay until the meat was trimmed into all the cuts and cured from there in the morning.

Helpless: Day 5

Word Count: 30,056

Summary of Events:

Mikolaj was startled awake in the night by a sound he didn't fully hear, so he went to investigate and discovered the front door was ajar, the bar undamaged and set beside it, while a set of tracks showed in the frost leading to it. Suspicious, Mikolaj searched the house, suspecting someone inside had a secret guest, but found no one, although Klaudia looked to be feigning sleep, which suggested to him that she'd left and returned. The following morning he decided to follow the footprints to see where Klaudia had gone . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Keeping his cloak wrapped around him closely to ward off the early morning chill, which included a heavy fog that kept him from being able to see even the Książęlas behind him, Mikolaj followed the footprints that headed toward the front door, and were actually a little harder to make out than they’d been last night.

He suspected they were harder to see because it hadn’t been quite so frosty when he’d seen them the night before. More frost had come since they’d been made which had been able to cling where other frost had been melted or even simply crushed by the soles of the shoes which had tread the way.

As a result of the heavy fog still lingering, Mikolaj kept his ears open for any sounds of approaching people or vehicles, lest he startle them, or even get injured by them, as he followed the trail of footsteps in reverse.

Mikolaj wished as he walked and started to notice the moisture in the air dampening his cloak, and even his face, that the fog were rain, and that it would’ve come many times during the summer, while, at the same time, hoping that it was a good omen for the next year, as it was said that fogs, as well as dews in the warm months and frosts in the cold months, were indicators of coming precipitation.

He heard little to no traffic as he walked, although he did notice that the fog seemed to be lifting as he carried on, following the route that led to the village.

By the time he reached the village, the fog was almost nonexistent, but the frost gave a whitened look to everything it touched, most especially roofs.

He was getting near to the bridge when the trail of frosted footprints he was following was lost under the trail of other frosted footprints, for those who lived in the village were already about their daily business, and had clearly not noticed the prints, nor had an inclination not to mar them if they did.

As a result, all Mikolaj knew was that Klaudia had come to the village, but nothing more. He walked over to the bridge over the stream and looked at the water flowing by, moving too swiftly to be frozen by all but the deepest of colds.

There was a bit of ice along the edges, and in the places where rocks or even branches forms small pools or eddies also had delicate icy coverings. It was rather pretty to see, but Mikolaj was still disappointed to have not found where Klaudia had gone. He would have to do his seeking before the sun rose next time around and see if he would be able to avoid the marring of the trail by his neighbours then.

With a disappointed sigh, Mikolaj turned homeward to tell Mama he’d been unable to determine where Klaudia had gone.

Helpless: Day 4

Word Count: 24,073

Summary of Events:

Mikolaj was in the village, heading for home, when he was nearly run over by two of the biggest, brawniest bulls he'd ever seen; he ducked into a shop and watched as more fine, meaty cattle — who were predominantly bulls — were herded past. It was soon revealed that these cattle were to be kept within the wall that had been built, and, as a result, belonged to the Wojewoda, whom Mikolaj didn't think needed that much meat, considering how overweight he'd been when Mikolaj had seen him. He couldn't, however, justify stealing one, as the consequences if he were caught were too great, so he stuck to trying to find game in the forest, to no avail, which grieved not only him, but his three-year-old little sister, who expressed that she was almost constantly hungry, and only modestly sated by the meals she ate. This prompted Mikolaj to confront his sister-in-law, only to have his mother tell him to leave her alone, so he stormed outside in frustration . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

He wanted to hope, and to trust, but he couldn’t just sit around like Klaudia — and he doubted Klaudia was doing either of those things because she was as pious as she clearly wanted to seem by spouting the Swięty Język, even if she hadn’t emphasised that she was raised in a klasztor, which she often seemed to do as if to suggest that somehow made her holier than everyone else around her — and wait for things to turn right. He had to do something.

Furthermore — as he’d fruitlessly expressed to Ksiądz Serafin — Klaudia was sinning.

Seeing as Bóg had given books of law to those who followed Him, which were still preserved by the Religia, which involved punishing people for their sins while they were alive and breathing, Mikolaj felt that he had grounds to withhold food from Klaudia and put her out.

Yes, he was well aware Bóg would judge the living and the dead and those who were appropriately righteous would become Swięty living in eternal bliss, while those who were overwhelmingly unrighteous would go to the halls of evil and suffer eternal torment, but Bóg also gave license to those on earth to mete out punishments, and such was done… except here.

He didn’t understand why no one around here seemed to want to do what they had every right to do — if they weren’t even, to some extent, commanded to do — according to Bóg.

Widowed though she was, raising two children alone though she was, Klaudia was also slothful and gluttonous, and even at the expense of her own children. Surely the lives of her daughters, the lives of her sisters-in-law, and her fellow-widowed mother-in-law mattered enough that her sin should be confronted for their protection.

Mikolaj kicked at the blackened rubble that remained of Jędrzej and Klaudia’s house until it crumbled away into ashes and charcoal. He didn’t understand why Klaudia’s sins were not to be confronted.

Gluttony and slothfulness were two sins that were considered among the worst, according to what he’d been taught in his boyhood, which meant they were even worse than lying, selfishness, robbery, and even treason.

Was what he’d been taught in his boyhood about sins now false? Were gluttony and slothfulness no longer such egregious wrongs as he’d always been led to believe they were?

He didn’t see why they should’ve lost their status, especially considering the consequences they could quite clearly have.

Furthermore, even if they weren’t so egregious of sins as they’d once been, they were still sins, assuredly, and thus, they ought to be addressed so that they didn’t mutate into worse sins, with even more devastating consequences.

Pronunciations: 

Klasztor: klahshtawr

Religia: rehleegeeah

Jędrzej: jahderzey

Helpless: Day 3

Word Count: 18,007

Summary of Events:

Mikolaj, done with harvesting, returned to help his employer for the last few days of the work season, during which he watched labourers build a wall around the land the knights had acquired, purportedly for a residence for the Wojewoda, but Mikolaj wasn't sure. Upon learning that he was to be barred from receiving a rite from the church for his outburst against the priest, Mikolaj elected to skip church and go inspect the wall, which took longer than he'd expected, and led to his mother being troubled, thus he was unsurprised when she came into his room just after bedtime to seek the explanation he'd not wanted to give before his sisters . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

He said nothing as Mama crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed before turning toward him and stroking a stray group of hairs toward his ear.

“Will you tell me now Mikolaj?” Mama asked.

“Yes Mama,” Mikolaj replied.

Mama looked at him expectantly.

Despite their privacy, the words seemed to lodge in Mikolaj’s throat. He wasn’t sure if it was them balking at having to come out, or because they all wanted to come out at once.

“Tell me Mikolaj,” Mama pleaded.

Swallowing the words back down so that they could sort themselves out, Mikolaj tried again.

“I… I couldn’t do it,” Mikolaj replied.

“Couldn’t do what?” Mama asked.

“I couldn’t go in there,” Mikolaj replied.

“In the church?” Mama asked. “Why?”

“It isn’t doing me any good Mama,” Mikolaj replied.

Mama looked horrified.

“I have prayed so hard, so faithfully, so desperately,” Mikolaj replied. “But the Swięty won’t hear me.”

Grief came over Mama’s face, a tear trailing down her cheek with rather surprising swiftness.

“I don’t have the strength to try anymore Mama,” Mikolaj said. “If they won’t help me, then I don’t see any reason in wasting their time.”

“Oh Mikolaj,” Mama said, reaching her hand around so as to place it behind his shoulder.

Mikolaj sat up and embraced Mama.

“I’m sorry Mama,” Mikolaj said. “I shouldn’t despair like this, but…”

He leaned his head against Mama’s and squeezed her tightly.

After a long time, he felt Mama shifting as if she wanted to be free of his embrace, so he released her and shifted himself so that he could stay upright and have a better view of her face.

“I don’t know what to do Mama,” Mikolaj said. “But I would never run away. I didn’t mean to scare you or anyone else. I just meant to pass the time. I promise Mama.”
“I believe you,” Mama replied. “But… but I am sore with grief that when you most need the prayers of the Swięty, you would refuse them.”

“I have done everything I can think of to please them,” Mikolaj said. He bit his tongue before he could say the rest of what he wanted to. Mama surely wouldn’t appreciate him rather bitterly demanding to know why the Swięty would listen to him now, considering all his previous efforts.

“Have you trusted their wisdom Mikolaj?” Mama asked. “Have you trusted that they know what is best better than you do?”

Firmly Mikolaj bit his tongue, lest he demand of Mama how the death of his family was better than their ongoing life, because he felt that if he kept looking to the Swięty for help, death was all he was going to get.

“Oh don’t give up now Mikolaj,” Mama pleaded. “Please don’t give up.”

Mikolaj said nothing. He couldn’t guarantee whether he’d be able to hang on to the few shreds of hope that remained in his grasp against the overwhelming helplessness that sought to end him.

Pronunciation:

Wojewoda: vawjehvawdah

Helpless: Day 2

Word Count: 12,006

Summary of Events:

Mikolaj's family threshed the grain they'd harvested with the help of his brother-in-law, the widower of his oldest sister, whose business of tanning was going slowly owing to universal reports of scant game to be hunted, which was much appreciated. That evening Mikolaj's sister-in-law complained that only half the goose was cooked and served in an effort to see the meat last longer. In frustration, Mikolaj confronted her, slapping her when she accused him of dishonesty, which prompted his mother to order him to apologise, before ordering him to go to confession when he refused. At the church, Mikolaj found the priest outside of the confessional and so decided to ask for advice instead of confessing, but it didn't go well . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“You do not need to be anxious, you are under good care,” Ksiądz Serafin replied, pointing one hand skyward and placing the other on Mikolaj’s shoulder.

Annoyed, Mikolaj shifted his shoulder out from under Ksiądz Serafin’s touch.

“I’m sure we would have better chances of surviving if she’d eat less,” Mikolaj said.

“You need to trust, my child,” Ksiądz Serafin said, reaching to touch Mikolaj’s shoulder again.

“Don’t touch me,” Mikolaj replied.

“My child,” Ksiądz Serafin said. “You have come to me for advice. Why do you not wish to receive it?”

“I want to know what to do with her,” Mikolaj replied. “Not how to survive the winter.”

“You must have patience my child,” Ksiądz Serafin said. “You do not know her heart, nor do I.”

“So I’m supposed to excuse her sin, even when it could kill people?” Mikolaj demanded. “Her own daughters could starve to death because of her!”

“You cannot be sure of that, my child,” Ksiądz Serafin replied.

“Then it will be my sisters!” Mikolaj exclaimed. “My mother! Me!”

“You do not trust child,” Ksiądz Serafin said, reaching toward Mikolaj, who stepped back.

“Why does she need to eat so much when she does nothing!?” Mikolaj demanded. “She has not once given us help, in sowing, in reaping, in storing away, but yet she eats twice as much as the rest of us. She is a slothful glutton!”

“Calm child,” Ksiądz Serafin said. “Be calm.”

Mikolaj glared at Ksiądz Serafin, but said nothing.

“You must have patience toward her,” Ksiądz Serafin said. “And you must have grace if she has sinned.”

“If!?” Mikolaj exclaimed. “It is not a question of if she has sinned! She has sinned! But she does not confess it and do penance for it!”
“There must be two or three witnesses before it can be proven,” Ksiądz Serafin said.

“There are,” Mikolaj snapped. “And I can bring them if you need, seeing as apparently you don’t believe my word.”

“Iustus prior est accusator sui venit amicus eius et investigavit eum,” Ksiądz Serafim said.

“I don’t speak the Swięty Język,” Mikolaj snapped.

“The first to state his cause seems right,” Ksiądz Serafim replied. “But his neighbour comes and searches him.”

“I am not the only one who is seeing this,” Mikolaj snapped. “The fact that you haven’t is appalling.”

“You must grow in your trust and long-suffering,” Ksiądz Serafin replied.

“It is sin!” Mikolaj cried. “How long am I supposed to suffer another’s sin!? Why!?”

“Only Bóg knows the heart,” Ksiądz Serafin replied.

“I don’t need to be Bóg to see that she is sinning!” Mikolaj exclaimed. “And I don’t even know as much about Him as you do! What use is it for you to know the Swięty Język if you can’t seem to tell when someone is sinning!?”

Without waiting for an answer, Mikolaj stormed out of the church and quickly down the stairs, stalking back toward home. As much as he’d never particularly liked Ksiądz Serafin, he’d never thought the man to be so utterly useless until now.

Pronunciations:

Ksiądz: k'seeohdz

Serafin: sehrahfeen

Język: jahzihk

Bóg: bawg

Helpless: Day 1

Word Count: 6,011

Summary of Events:

Late in the workday, Mikolaj saw some knights ride past whose heraldry looked familiar to him. On Sunday he overheard a neighbour tell that one of them had come to his place and offered him a significant amount of money for just one third of his land. During the week, Mikolaj saw two men laying stones at intervals in the area where the land had been bought, but he had no idea what the purpose was, nor did he particularly care. Instead, he went out to check the traps he'd set in the forest to see if he'd caught any game to help sustain his family over the winter . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Songbirds sang in the trees as the bulk of them prepared to depart for warmer climes than Lasnaród offered in the wintertime, although some hardy ones meant to stay over winter — none of which were large enough to yield more than a mouthful of meat.

Before he had fully entered the trees, Mikolaj heard the honking of geese overhead and immediately sought around for their formation. A goose that had fattened up in what were hopefully better-moistened northern reaches would be a welcome treat.

Seeing the formation, he quickly strung his bow, nocked an arrow, chose which one he meant to take down, and fired.

To his dismay, the arrow hit the wing of the bird, which flailed wildly as it plummeted from its place in the formation.

Nevertheless, Mikolaj ran toward where the bird was falling. Needles tore at his face as he entered the forest and he ducked to avoid them, colliding with a coarse-barked tree before he staggered a bit.

He heard the sound of something crashing down through the branches before finally it landed solidly on the ground, the whispering of leaves the only sound to be heard.

Forging ahead, Mikolaj wished he had a dog — much less one that could seek — so that he would be better able to figure out where the goose had landed.

Before long the trees came to a stop, revealing a small clearing that Mikolaj was quite familiar with, for it was a place he’d called on frequently over the summer, albeit to no avail.

It was a shrine devoted to Swiȩty Danek — for whom the village also was named — as the village had been founded by a man who had, reportedly, prayed to Swiȩty Danek at this very spot for help and been granted it.

Laying at the base of the mortared stones which sheltered the handsome lion that represented Swiȩty Danek, was the goose, unmoving, suggesting that its fall through the trees — and potential landing on the shrine itself — had done the fatal damage his arrow had failed to do.

As for his arrow, Mikolaj uttered an oath in upset to see the shaft of it was in pieces, with only the head still lodged in the wing of the goose.

Nevertheless, he took up the pieces and then took the goose up by its legs to carry home. 

Looking at the lion, Mikolaj felt uncomfortable, for the stone creature’s expression seemed to have changed from its typical stoic gaze to a snarl, as if to suggest that Swiȩty Danek was upset at him for having uttered an oath in anger.

“Forgive me,” he whispered. “Even if you cannot hear my petitions for bounty.”

Turning away, Mikolaj headed back through the trees homeward to give the goose to Mama.

He heard another flock of geese honk overhead as he walked, and was tempted to try shooting another one to see if he could improve his aim — whose failure to strike where he’d wanted it to was rather disappointing to him, if he was honest — but he figured it wouldn’t do good to be greedy. The goose he had should last them at least two days before he’d need to seek out another one.

Pronunciation:

Swiȩty: sveeahtih