Late the next morning, I was lying on my back and Krystyana was lying on my stomach with her elbows on my shoulders.
She was intently studying my T-shirt. The night before, things had been urgent and necessary, and I was in too much of a hurry at first and too tired afterward to remove my undershirt. Actually, I was still wearing my socks. The morning had been one of calm and wondrous delight, and I hadn't felt the need to change anything.
I couldn't honestly call Krystyana beautiful, but she was certainly pretty. She had lovely long blond hair that was draped over my shoulders. It went well with her light-blue eyes and blond, almost unnoticeable eyebrows and lashes. Her nose was perhaps a little too long, her mouth was too wide, and her teeth were not good, but there was nothing ugly about her. I mentioned that she was tall, but only in comparison to the others. Now her head was at shoulder level and her stretched-out toes brushed my shins. Her body was slender and most acceptable. She looked younger than I had thought last night. Perhaps she was sixteen.
I found out later that she was fourteen, the usual age of marriage among the people of Okoitz.
"Sir Conrad, this is the most amazing knot work! Do you know how it's made?"
She was staring at my knitted cotton T-shirt. Knot work? I studied it, too. Yes, I suppose you could call those knots. And once you thought of them as being hand-tied knots, yes, it was amazing.
"I've never thought about it. I suppose I could figure it out."
"I wish you would. I'd love to do something like this. It's fantastic!"
"You really like my shirt?"
"Oh, yes! Last night I was awfully impressed with that sweater thing you wore, but this is unbelievable. Everything is so tiny!"
"Well, if you want it, it's yours. Merry Christmas."
"Whee! But you mustn't give our Christmas presents now, Sir Conrad. Christmas presents are for this evening."
"As you like. This evening, then. For now, why don't you knock off the sir stuff. My friends call me Conrad, or just Con."
"But that would be most improper, Sir Conrad! If I hailed you not as a knight but as an ordinary man, why, it would be as though I was sleeping with a man before marriage, and that would be a sin."
I was confused. "You aren't married, are you?"
"Of course not!" She was shocked.
"Our . . . customs seem to be different. Could you please explain to me—slowly, as you would to a child—just what it is that you are talking about?"
She gave me a "mere man" look but said, "You are a belted knight. I am an unmarried wench and not of the nobility. You have the right to take any such unmarried woman who attracts you. Therefore, I have an obligation to do as you please. If one is performing an obligation, one cannot possibly be sinning. But for me to wantonly copulate out of wedlock, that would be at least a venial sin." It was the most incredible series of rationalizations—based on the right to rape!—I had ever heard.
"I have the right to take any peasant girl I want?" Accepting the favors of a lady who climbs into one's bed is one thing. Forcibly taking any woman in the fields is quite another, and not for Conrad Schwartz, thank you!
"Not only a right, Sir Conrad, but a duty! 'Sir' means 'sire,' you know. Not one man in a hundred becomes a knight, and the realm needs the children of such heroes."
Charles Darwin in a wheelbarrow! Knighthood as a eugenic program to improve the species? "But it was you who came to me."
"Nonsense, Sir Conrad. I merely lay down for some sleep. It was you who took me. If I made myself more accessible, why, it was only to save some other wench who might be less inclined. Therefore, it doubles my virtue."
What an amazing ball of tangled justifications! Good, though. I leaned back to ponder it all. She leaned forward to get at the window and hit the sore spots on my arm and shoulder. I winced loudly.
"I'm sorry, Sir Conrad. I forgot your wounds." She jumped out of bed and opened an oil-covered parchment window that let in a little light but no sight. She really had an excellent body, willowy yet rounded. "It's a wonderful day! Clear blue sky with not a cloud. But it's late! We've missed mass, and on Christmas day! And look! That steam! They're already quenching the sauna. Hurry or we'll be late!"
I sat up in bed and started fumbling for my clothes. There was absolutely no heat in the room!
"No. No, silly." She kneeled at my feet, yanked off my socks, and threw them any which way. She pulled off my T-shirt; this she folded neatly and set aside. Then she grabbed me by the hand and pulled me out the door and down the stairs. I was cold, naked, and embarrassed, but I followed her through the kitchen and out the back door to the end of a line of naked people running over cold whiteness. The snow on either side of us was more than a meter deep, but a path had been shoveled to the sauna.
Somehow, I had always thought of the sauna as a Scandinavian custom that had spread only in modern times, but there it was. Perhaps the problem is that I had always assumed that my ancestors were all stern, heroic types—and that my grandmother was a virgin.
This sauna was different from any I had seen before. It was a brick dome with walls well over a meter thick. A small hole vented smoke at the top, and a tiny door opened at the side. To heat it, a roaring pinewood fire was kept burning inside for four hours. Then the fire was quenched and after a few minutes for the smoke to clear, the customers ran in. Once heated, the sauna stayed hot all day.
I was handed a board by the attendant. I followed Krystyana's bottom through the door, except that she only had to stoop while I had to crawl through the tiny opening.
The door closed behind me, and the smoke hole was plugged. I was enveloped in heat and darkness. Someone took my arm and led me to a place to sit down. My butt touched the hot bricks, and I jerked upward, hitting my head on the low ceiling. Someone placed my board on the brick shelf and sat me on it. As my eyes adjusted, I made out an oil lamp.
Dim shapes took form around me. We were in a room shaped like an arena that could have seated fifty, if they were friendly, but I counted only eight plus myself. They were friendly anyway. A windburned man with dark blond hair sat across from me—last night's gateman, Sir Miesko. The other man I hadn't met. He was a handsome muscular sort about my own age. He was tall, as the locals went, and blond, much blonder than I. In the twentieth century I would have suspected him of bleaching his hair. Ilona and a woman I hadn't met were sitting on either side, cuddled under his powerful arms and happy. A third woman was rubbing the muscles of his neck and shoulders.
Krystyana and Janina were sitting next to me, and Natalia sat by Sir Miesko.
We were all nude. The sight of those healthy bodies was delightful, but there is nothing sexy about female skin in a sauna. At these high temperatures, the gallant reflex does not take place.
Following the blond man's example, I spread my arms, and the ladies snuggled close to me. I noticed that Sir Miesko still had his hands on his knees.
"Sir Conrad," he said, "you must realize that to have the right to do something is one thing. To be able to get away with it is quite another."
The blond man laughed. "Sir Miesko, you astound me with your valor in battle and your meekness in wedlock. You had best take the advice of the Holy Church and never strike your wife with a stick longer than the distance from your fingertip to your elbow, nor bigger around than your thumb. Then take my advice and never use anything less! And often, Sir Miesko, to ensure your bliss, marital and otherwise."
"Your advice is always welcome, my lord, though it may be that I will state certain facts at tonight's festival." He grinned.
"Hah! That my wife chooses to stay in Hungary and I support her there? Well met, Sir Miesko."
He turned to me. "And this must be the noble giant, Sir Conrad Stargard, who comes from a mysterious land not to be mentioned, decked with mystic equipment." His eyes twinkled, and he smiled. "A man who defeats bandits and highwaymen in droves and captures vast booty! A man who rescues maidens of the tenderest of ages, grabs them from the clutches of death and merchants, and at great personal peril transports them to safety! And a man who, exhausted from fighting the forces of evil and brute nature, still has sap enough in him to keep Krystyana here smiling all morning as she hasn't smiled in months." Krystyana threw a wet cedar branch at him, but he took no notice of it. "I trust that those wounds and bruises are the result of honest battle and were not received from the calm ministrations of our gentle Krystyana." A fistful of wet branches flew.
"Noble Sir Conrad, I am delighted to meet you and honored by your presence. Know that I am Count Lambert Piast and that I welcome you to Okoitz."
I started to rise. It was blindingly hot, and sweat cascaded off me. But on my first day in this century, I had been bashed on the head for not adhering to the proper forms of courtesy. I had determined to learn them all and follow them to the letter.
"Ah, ah. Please, do not bow. It is not that I have disrespect for formalities but that a bow implies getting up again, and I fear for the roof."
"I thank you, Count Lambert, and my skull thanks you as well," I said, trying to match his flippant yet perceptive conversation. "But I complain that your description of me far overshoots the facts."
"I know, but that really is the gist of the story that's been circulating. You're the first news in weeks, and these people need something to talk about. I know the story of the child is true because I have talked to the Malinski woman and seen to the girl's safety.
"Boris Novacek was being sensible, you know, in wanting to leave the child behind. It was only the purest luck that let you find Okoitz in that dark blizzard. A merchant can afford to be sensible, but a nobleman often cannot. A nobleman must think of justice and honor first, and damn the odds! You did well, Sir Conrad.
"Thirdhand information—that is, from reality to Boris to Ilona to me—has it that you killed five highwaymen on the trail. Is this true?"
"No, my lord, I killed only two. One may have been a thief, an extortionist, or only an irate creditor for all I know. He kept striking at me, and I could not dissuade him. I regret his death. The second was a knight I got with a lucky blow. Of the others—one of whom turned out to be a woman—I wounded two that my horse dispatched, and my horse struck down the last."
"Ah, yes. Your docile fighting mare. Your skinny sword and your strange tactics. But later with that. It's time to go out."
I was thankful, for my eyesight was blurring with the heat. One strange effect of the sauna is that once you are hot enough, cold doesn't bother you. I stood in knee-deep snow swishing myself down with a bundle of cedar branches, removing sweat and dirt. We were in a courtyard surrounded by buildings, but the people had absolutely no nudity taboo! Dozens of peasants were coming and going and paying no special attention to the nine of us nude in the snow. I'd never heard of such a custom in Poland, but then, it isn't the sort of thing monks put into history books, is it?
I was musing on that when I felt a sharp whack on the buttocks. I spun around.
Krystyana was standing, facing me, with a cedar switch in her hand. Her legs were wide, her fists were on her hips, and she was grinning, daring me to do something. I was unsure of just what, but I accepted her challenge and swatted her across the obvious protuberances.
She squealed and struck back, and soon the other five girls joined in on her side. I was surrounded and getting the worst of it.
"Fear not, Sir Conrad! I come to thine aid!" The count swatted his way into the circle. "Back to back, Sir Conrad!"
"For this timely aid, much thanks, my lord. Together we may yet be victorious!" I shouted back. A crowd was gathering and cheering us on, generally favoring their own sex.
Still, the count and I were losing. We were outnumbered and were pulling our punches, or rather our swats. The opposition wasn't.
"Sir Miesko!" the count shouted. "You would show the white feather to your liege lord on the field of battle? Defend me!"
"My lord, it's not the enemy I fear but my wife! In all events, things appear to be about to fall to your advantage."
Uh, yes. In the cold, the gallant reflex was no longer impossible. Had I the time, I would have been embarrassed. The fight had the same effect on the count. As uninhibited as these people were, I was afraid that I was about to be involved in a public orgy.
"Defend me, Sir Miesko!"
"My lord, I shall support you with mine trebuchets." Sir Miesko began pelting us indiscriminately with snowballs. Some minutes later, the count stopped one with his face.
"Fair ladies," he said, "I call a truce with you that we might first dispatch our common foe."
Krystyana was, as usual, the spokeswoman (and ringleader). "With pleasure, my lord. Ladies, demolish me that man!"
The eight of us turned instantly on Sir Miesko and buried him under our snowballs.
Seeing Sir Miesko being trounced, some of the spectators—there must have been a hundred by now—started pelting us with snowballs.
Suddenly the count stiffened and raised his hand. Instantly, all motion stopped. Snowballs in the air seemed to drop quickly, as if embarrassed.
"My good people!" the count intoned. There was suddenly nothing of the clown or wit about him. Here was a born commander, knowledgeable of his people, confident of their support.
"I know that this is Christmas day, but the festival does not begin for three hours. I am your liege lord, and I expect to be treated with respect." A smile flashed. "Until then."
He motioned us back into the sauna, and the crowd dispersed. A mother began to whack a boy who had thrown a snowball at us.
We went back to soaking up great quantities of heat. Once we were through, the commoners would get the sauna for the rest of the day.
For the two or three weeks after Christmas, work outside was impossible. Travel was also impossible, and so defense was unnecessary. Traditionally, on the afternoon of Christmas day, the whole countryside went on vacation.
Oh, they couldn't go anywhere, but they had fun anyway. Discipline was relaxed, almost to the point of non-existence. Food and drink were on the count, although everyone was supposed to pitch in on the preparations.
There were two days of gift giving. On Christmas night, December 25, you gave presents to the members of your own class. On the twelfth night, January 6, you gave to members of the opposite class. For purposes of gift giving, the ladies-in-waiting, Krystyana and company, were on the receiving end of both groups.
Properly warmed up, we went back to the castle. Count Lambert had "just under a gross" of knights, but these were all—save Sir Miesko—at their own manors, attending to their own festivities. Usually a half dozen or so were in attendance at Okoitz, with two dozen more guarding the trail.
With the word "castle," several pictures usually come to mind. One involves movie stars in plate armor making stately motions in a huge stone defensive complex like Malbork on the Nogat, near Gdansk. Another is the Viking longhouse, with barbaric warriors drinking mead around a long, open fire with meat roasting above it, then sleeping on the benches when they were drunk. A third has long, plastered halls tenanted by oil paintings and ladies with huge dresses and partially exposed breasts.
Okoitz was none of the above. It resembled, more than anything else, a log frontier fort in an American cowboy movie, roughly square with blockhouses at each corner. The walls were perhaps four meters high and two hundred meters long. Some two hundred peasants and an equal number of children lived in huts built against the outer wall, normally one family to a room. Half the wall was lined with stables.
Scattered in the enclosure—called a bailey—were special-purpose buildings: a smithy, a bakery, the sauna, two latrines, and a millhouse with a hand-turned stone. One of the blockhouses served as an inn. The others served as quarters for visiting knights when the castle was full.
In the center of the bailey were the castle proper and the church. Despite the fact that they formed a single, continuous building, they were always spoken of separately. Perhaps that was because the church was open to everyone but the castle was entered only by invitation.
The count could walk from his chambers directly to the choir loft and see the mass from there. He never did this, always taking a chair in the front row to set an example.
The church, castle, and almost everything else were made of logs. Sawn lumber was used only when it was absolutely necessary, as on floors and doors. Brick and stone work were used very sparingly and metal almost not at all, except for hinges.
There was a newness about the place. Some of the cut wood had not yet weathered. I guessed its age to be about three years.
My backpack had been delivered to my room, which had a basin and water, so I dug out my shaving kit, removed three days of stubble, and brushed my teeth. My pouch of gold seemed to be missing, but I was among friends. They must have put it in a safe place.
I put on my underwear and was thinking about getting my body back into my soiled clothes, when Janina came in. Most people knocked before entering, but apparently ladies-in-waiting didn't have to. Or maybe they just didn't want to. She was carrying a big bundle of clothes.
"Sir Conrad, we haven't had time to get your clothes cleaned, and you wouldn't want to wear armor to a feast, anyway. These were made for Count Lambert, but we made them overly large. He told me to bring them to you."
"Thank you, Janina. The count is generous." She seemed to be expecting something, but this crew was socially equivalent to nobility; one did not tip them. When genuine female nobility were around, they were treated as something just a cut above regular servants.
She spread the clothes out at the foot of the bed. This bed was huge. It was two and a half meters long and more than two meters wide. It had a framework over it, hung with curtains.
"I think that these will fit you properly." She held the tunic up to me and smoothed it over my body. She did quite a lot of smoothing, and it was soon obvious just what it was that she was expecting. However, my needs were not all that pressing, and this business of legalized rape troubled me.
"Yes," I said, "I'm sure you're right. The embroidery on this is excellent. Did you women do this yourselves?"
"Yes, Sir Conrad. But we made the sleeves too long, see? But they're just right for you.
"I always feel so hot after a sauna! You don't mind, do you?" Without waiting to see if I did mind, she stripped off her outer robe and stood in a long underdress, waiting.
"Not at all, feel free to be comfortable." I rooted among the clothes she had brought. "These stockings—pants?—these are new to me." They were of a woven cloth but were like a woman's nylons in that they covered the foot. They had strings at the top.
"Oh, you can't wear them with those shorts. You have to wear this kind, with a belt." She promptly pulled down my undershorts.
"Interesting. And these boots are odd." This game was becoming fun. It was highly unusual to be pursued instead of the pursuer!
"I think they'll fit you." She was down at my knees, making sure I got a good look past her loose, low bodice. "Oh, your feet are cold! We'll have to get them warm!"
The game continued, and sometime later I was trying to figure out a belt buckle and Janina was lying nude on the bed.
"Damn it, Sir Conrad, get over here!"
So I bowed to the inevitable and permitted my body to be abused, knowing full well that she would later claim that she had been forced. She was not as pretty as Krystyana, but youth and enthusiasm make up for a lot.
Janina was promised my last T-shirt.
Over the next few days, I was visited by the other four ladies. Apparently they believed in share and share alike. A sound socialist principle but astounding when applied to one's person! If peasant women really outnumbered knights by a hundred to one, I couldn't imagine any possibility of rape in the modern sense of the word. A man would be too worn out satisfying the volunteers.
I later found out that in addition to giving the girls a socially acceptable outlet for their youthful sexuality and permitting them to mingle with the upper crust, a knight was expected to do well by his "friends" in providing them with a proper dowry and a substantial husband. Since the women seemed enthusiastic, I could find no fault with the system.
You could see where the girl's parents would go along with it, too. It was socially acceptable, it connected them with the nobility, and it saved them the price of a dowry and a wedding.
I was being dressed in my new outfit. Belted linen undershorts were topped with a pullover linen shirt. The deep blue pants—they really were plural, two separate pieces—were tied to the belt on the shorts. They were joined in the middle by a kind of diaper called a codpiece. The arrangement made a lot of sense, considering the use of outdoor latrines in the winter. A gorgeously embroidered long-sleeved tunic of rich burgundy was pulled on next. Something like shoelaces closed the neck.
Soft, black glove-leather boots—without thick soles; they were more like leather stockings—were pulled on. For outdoors, there were thick felt overshoes. Attractive but inferior to my hiking boots.
Over it all, a rich blue cape, matching the pants, was fastened to the left shoulder.
My plain leather belt spoiled the ensemble, but etiquette required one to wear a sword and a knife. My sword sheath suddenly seemed shabby and my jackknife case plain.
Janina was fitting the last of this around me when there was a knock on the door.
"Enter!" she cried, despite the fact that she was still naked.
"Sir Conrad," Count Lambert said, ignoring the naked lady, "I was hoping to see the fabulous equipment that you—I must say that that outfit suits you and fits you quite well." The whole sauna party trailed in with him.
"Thank you, my lord. It's beautiful, and the embroidery is lovely."
"Yes, isn't it? My ladies made it for me last fall, as a surprise. They were all new then and didn't know my size. But it fits you, so please take it as a gift."
"Why . . . why, thank you, my lord." Months of work must have gone into the embroidery alone.
"Please don't think that I'm giving you my castoffs. I could never wear it, and the dears were most disappointed. They seem to have taken quite a liking to you, though." He gestured at Janina's nudity.
"But . . . please, my lord, I hope I haven't—"
"Not in the least, Sir Conrad. What's the use in having things if you can't share them with your friends? Just see that you don't take all of them with you as you ride away. Leave a few behind to train the next bunch. It's a bloody nuisance to have to do it yourself! Now, about your mystic equipage . . ."
So I got my pack and showed them how it was worn. I unrolled the sleeping bag, and Janina crawled in. The room was not heated, and she had to be freezing. The count played a long while with the zipper and eventually came to understand it.
"A wondrous device, Sir Conrad! Could you teach our smiths the way of this?"
"Perhaps, my lord, but not in the few weeks that I shall be here."
"I see. And this? This is your pavilion?"
"Yes, my lord. Oh, I almost forgot! I have a letter here for you. It was brought up from Hungary by Father Ignacy."
He glanced at the envelope and threw it to Janina. "Bring that to me sometime when I'm already in a bad mood. There's no point in spoiling a good one."
I set up the nylon dome tent on the wooden floor. It didn't require tent stakes. The count asked all sorts of questions about the tent and cloth and floor, the fiberglass poles, the snaps and zippers and mosquito netting.
"A veritable house! And so light!"
"Heavier than it should be, my lord. It's still wet. We'll leave it out."
We went through the rest of my things. The lightness of my canteen and mess kit surprised them, but otherwise there was no great impression made. They took a mild interest in the freeze-dried food, but I don't think they realized just how long those few grams would last. The Swiss army knife was considered an ingenious toy. They really didn't know what steel was.
My first-aid kit was treated with studied indifference by the count and Sir Miesko, at least. To worry about an injury was below their knightly dignity. The ladies showed some interest—Janina was still in my sleeping bag—but seemed to feel it best to remain silent.
"And these parchment packages, Sir Conrad?"
"Seeds. I bought them as a present for my mother."
Sir Miesko was greatly taken with my compass.
"So this needle always points to true north?"
"Not exactly. There is some error, to the west. But it always points in the same direction, and if you take it out on a clear night and orient the card with the pole star, you will know the amount. Also, the presence of iron will throw it off."
"Of course. Cold iron always confounds the devices of fairy."
"No, Sir Miesko! It was made by skillful men, knowledgeable in science. Science is the art of discovering the ways in which God made the world and has nothing to do with witchcraft."
"You swear this?"
"On my honor! Furthermore, if you like this compass, it is yours—my Christmas gift."
"Then on my honor, I accept, but keep it until this evening."
The sewing kit, especially the needles with their tiny holes, was met with great enthusiasm by the ladies. I knew what I would do about their four remaining presents.
I'd saved the binoculars for last. They caused quite a stir, with people taking them out of each others' hands. Finally, Count Lambert took them back from Janina.
"Girl, do you want to freeze to death? Get some clothes on!" He strode from the room, down the hall, and out onto a balcony, a part of the defenses. He spent some time adjusting the lenses and looking out upon his lands.
"Excuse me, Count," I said, "but I have not seen Boris Novacek all day. Do you know what has become of him?"
"He left at gray dawn with two of my grooms and five horses. It seems that you lost a horse and its baggage last night. They went out to find them." He swept the fields with my binoculars.
"And there they are, by God! Look! The snow is so deep that the men are forced to break through in front of the horses." He lowered the binoculars.
"No, by God! You can't look, can you? This is a wondrous device, Sir Conrad!" He raised them back to his eyes. "See! Two horses drag the dead war-horse behind them. On another, the baggage. Look—that shield! A black eagle on a red field! You got him, Sir Conrad!"
"I got who?"
"You killed Sir Rheinburg, a foul German renegade knight who has been looting and killing my merchants for more than a year. That black eagle has killed eight of my knights, slaughtered a gross of my commoners, and stolen God knows how many cattle! But you got the bastard, damn it, you got him!" Count Lambert was slapping my back with enthusiasm.
"At the time, it seemed a matter of simple necessity," I said.
"Ah, but now it's a matter of rejoicing! What's more, Sir Conrad, the bounty on him is yours—ten thousand pence, it stands at."
Richer and richer. Thinking about it, where was my pouch? But it would not have been polite to ask.
"You seem to appreciate my binoculars, my lord," I said.
"Appreciate them? They are things of wonder! What a difference these would make on a battlefield!"
"Then you have completed my Christmas list, my lord. Please take them as my gift." Actually, since I had left my home in Katowice, six weeks earlier, I had used my binoculars exactly once and the compass not at all. Certainly they were small gifts for favors received.