Excerpt: To Fortune A Hostage

t least I did not have to see my father beheaded when Jajce fell. It was bad enough hearing that he was flayed alive first, then beheaded, I do not know for sure about the flaying part of the tale, but the beheading was certainly true.
I loved my father, but very frankly, he was not very lucky man, nor was he a particularly intelligent man. He was sometimes too direct, sometimes he told others too much of his intentions and his reasons. He also could not decide on his own what to do. My mother, Katarina was more decisive. She was as well more quick-witted.
My father King Stjepan Ostojić tried, he really did try to get help for our land from the other rulers in Christendom, he was eloquent, but he was not able to get the help. So the Turks poured in, they came in endless numbers it seemed.
Worse yet, the peasants joined them. Guarding the land from the Turks and simultaneously paying them the tribute was not a way to success. No people will endure to be double taxed. People, I do not care whether they be Christian or Turk do not suffer to be doubly taxed, they suffer singly taxed with ill enough grace! Then too, the Turks said they only would charge a little tax and permit the Christians to remain Christians or if they joined the Turk's religion, their taxes became smaller yet, and they would be almost like Turks themselves in the matter of rights and privileges.
We did not offer such things, no we had two taxes, one for the maintenance of armies, and one to pay the Tribute.
We had good fortune in our journey, we did not pass close to any Turks so far. But of course we feared such an encounter. We were on our way to Stjepangrad, a place built by my grandfather, Herzog Stjepan. He was alive but ill, my uncle Vlatko really had the keeping of his lands. My mother, Queen Katarina grew up there. I had yet to visit the place and of course Mali Katja had never been there. Our mother was eager for us to reach this refuge, so that we could rest a bit, get more provisions and move on to the free city of Ragusa. Neither my sister nor I had been to Ragusa, but our mother had been there before and well loved it.
None of us looked terribly royal, true our linage traced to Constantine the First, and to Kulin Ban, but our appearance was that of petty traders. We wore rough peasant clothes, the men-at-arms did have armor, they wore rough peasant clothes, barely suitable for work in the fields over their armor. We did not curry our horses too much. We had not washed over-much either. Bosnia is a land with plentiful clean water and our people used to bath in little tents of hides, with steam, or in the river, depending on whether one was a male or a female. The wagon pulled by oxen had a sow and her new litter in it, the Turks we heard, did not much esteem swine, or dogs. We had of course a couple of dogs, and the little family of pigs. This was to guard our valuables. Our mother had books, mostly holy books, in a chest, she had relics in there too. She had jewels, and some gold dukati in there, as well as silver monies, some even was from good King Tvrtko's time. We had cleverly forged Ragusan documents proclaiming us to be humble traders. We did have a load of salt. Our nicer clothing was in the wagon. A yoke of dun colored, long horned oxen pulled this wagon, and a cow was tied to the back. Our food-stuffs were in there too. The wagon proceeded slowest of all. The roads were very bad. The wagon was not so big. The Queen also had a few important papers in the chest in the wagon where the relics were. The pigs were in a sort of box made of wood. We fed them from left-over food, it was well worth it to have them along if ever the Turks stopped us.
It shamed my mother to say so, but her half brother,Stjepan, fruit of my grandfathr's third marriage, my cousin had joined the Turkish religion. No one compelled him. He id so a couple years after our grandfather sent him as hostage along with the tribute from his lands. I do not think my uncle Stjepan can have been a very sound Christian to have done such a thing. But then again, maybe he felt betrayed. Maybe the splendor of Carigrad swayed him. We knew of his change of faith from my step grandmother's sad letters to our mother.
We were not many days from Stjepangrad. Despite mostly traveling at night, we made excellent progress. The faithful Mate knew the land well. Our men-at-arms were a mixed group, some from my mother's lands, and some from my father's lands. So we had few problems picking our way through. None suspected our true identities and that was as well. Simply humble traders on our way to the Republic of Ragusa. There were many such that wandered from time to time in these lands. If the peasants did not buy the nobles would and even the Turks might have need of goods, salt at very least.
'Salt is better than gold or silver sometimes!' my mother used to say.
My mother was still a very great beauty, and Mali Katja was looking to be a great beauty one day, she favored our mother in looks. I looked a bit more like her than like my father as well. Mother knew how to pass as a peasant if she had to, and right now we had to do that.
We began to break camp, we packed our belongings, and set off. My pony was saddled, and I helped saddle Mali Katja's pony. Then we put out the small fire we'd used to cook some chickens, and we set off down the road.
All the night we rode, and just as dawn was breaking, we crossed the bridge that Herzog Stjepan made, and we saw the ramparts of Stjepangrad. We were safe, we would rest there.
Indeed I could see the waving of flags, I could see the glint of helmets, and how light began to flash off the tips of spears. Then a church bell rang across the valley, and we picked up speed. We did not have to conceal ourselves. We were met by a group of men-at-arms from the castle. They escorted us to the gates of the fortress Stjepangrad.