“Something must be done about this,” the Frank said angrily. “You are being treated like slaves. I have a notion what that feels like.”
He surely did. But what could anyone do?
“We can’t beat the Avars,” Sam said. “Hunger is better than death.”
“But independence is better than hunger.”
“For sure!” Sam agreed. “If only we could achieve it.”
“We can achieve it if we unify.”
Sam shook his head. “We Slavs have never been able to do that.”
“I believe it is worth trying. Failure would leave us where we are now. Success could benefit us greatly.”
Sam laughed. “Persuade Ned.”
The Frank nodded. “I shall.”
And to Sam’s amazement, he did. That same day, Ned asked Sam and Ittai for a family meeting.
“The Avar strength in this region is slight,” the Frank said. “It is Slavic force that prevails, if we but knew it. We serve as allies to bolster the Avars, answering to them. Yielding the bulk of our winnings to them. If we unified and reserved our forces to ourselves, we could profit from our own power.”
“Are you speaking of Slavs or Franks?” Flo asked.
“Of Slavs. My origin is Frank, but now I am Slav.”
“It does happen,” Snow remarked, and the others smiled.
“Listen to him,” Ned said. “He may be able to do us much good.”
“I would like to go to the leaders of the other clans and tribes,” the Frank said. “To persuade them that if we can unify, we can oust the Avars and rule ourselves. But I can’t do it alone, because—”
“Because they won’t listen to a Frank any more than they will listen to a Roman,” Ittai said. “Unless supported by a native Slav leader.”
“Sam,” Snow murmured.
And so Sam found himself traveling again with the Frank, and with Ned, to make the case to the leaders of other Slavic tribes of the region. Sam was not good at public speaking, so he yielded that job to Ned, nodding as Ned spoke, and Ned introduced the Frank.
They went first to the leaders of the Visians, the tribe to which their own clan belonged. Sam’s family was in good repute there, so it was not hard to gain an audience.
At first the others were cynical. “What is your name, Frank?”
“I speak for Sam,” the Frank said. “My foreign name does not matter.”
“Then we shall call you Samo, in lieu of Sam.” A chuckle went around the circle. They were not taking him seriously.
“Call me Samo,” the Frank agreed with a smile. “Sam gave me my freedom. It is a name I honor.”
They did not argue with that. He had answered well, without either taking or giving offense.
Then the Frank spoke of the power of unity, and the inherent greatness of Slavs, and the indignity of taking orders from any foreign power. His persuasiveness manifested, and soon they were nodding, and agreeing. He played upon their prides and their prejudices with an art that Sam could only envy from the depths of his inability to speak similarly.
In the end, they yielded to the Frank’s vision. “If you can get other tribes to join, the Visians will stand with you, Samo,” their leader said.
“I hope they are as perceptive as you are,” Samo replied. There were smiles; they knew he was idly flattering them, but the dream was catching hold.
They went next to the Moravanians, the most powerful Slav tribe of the region. This was a more difficult audience, but in the end it was the same. Later they managed to bring the leaders of the Czech, Slovak, and Polabian tribes together for a common meeting, with a Moravanian leader attending, for news was spreading, and the Frank persuaded them all. They would unite and throw out the Avars.
But who would lead this effort? The Slavs suffered from the-same problem as always: they could agree on no single one of them to govern others for more than a single battle. There were too many rivalries and resentments.
“You must speak,” Ned told Sam. ‘.’It is the only way.”
Sam knew what to say. He was shaking as he stood before the group, for he was a man of action, not speech. “I am Sam,” he said. “I am no leader. But I know one who is. It is the Frank. He has no history with us; he has not fought against neighboring clansmen. He was a trader. But he knows what to do. Follow him.” He stopped, knowing he had spoken clumsily. He hated that.
“Well spoken, Brother,” Ned said. “Follow the one who knows. Follow Samo.”
“But he is foreign,” a leader protested. “How can we know he has our interests at heart?”
Ned turned to the Frank. “How do you answer?”
“I am of foreign origin,” the Frank said. “But I was taken captive by an Avar, and given freedom by a Slav. I swore to restore to him my value. I will not leave his people until I have done that. My value is what he gave me: freedom. I will stay with him until I have given him freedom. And since he can not be free until his people are free, I will try to give his people freedom. And I will join his people. Every person I work with will be Slav, and I will marry a Slav woman. I will become Slav to the best of my ability. All that I do will be for the Slavs.”
“Even if the Franks should oppose us?” a leader demanded.
“Even then,” he agreed. “I make my oath on it.” And he took up a handful of earth and put it on his head.
They were impressed. They debated among themselves, and they set certain conditions, but they accepted him as their leader for now. He would have to be adopted into a Slav tribe, and heed the council of representatives from all the tribes. Samo agreed, and began by appointing Sam and Ned as his chief lieutenants, and asked for the daughter of a Slav leader to marry that same day.
This time there was less hesitation, because women were well regarded among the Slavs and were heeded by their husbands. All five tribes offered women.
“If I may take them all as equals, I will marry them all,” Samo said gallantly.
They considered. This would mean that each tribe had a ranking woman close to the leader. None would be slighted. They agreed.
A protocol was issued: the Slavs would no longer tolerate foreign interference in their affairs.
They proceeded immediately to organization and training for war, because they knew the Avars would not ignore this rebellion. Their best war leaders and men labored to form a unified force. Certainly it was the largest force they had assembled, because it was drawn from five tribes instead of one. But the Avars were brutal fighters; would this new Slav army be able to prevail, or would it collapse under the Avar onslaught?
Samo was concerned about that too. He consulted long hours with the war leaders, and with Ned, and with Ittai, who knew of Roman tactics. Thus there were military schools to draw from: Slav, Frank, and Roman. They devised solid new strategies, considering the ways of the Avars. The leaders were impressed; Samo himself was not a military expert, but he knew how to get the best advice from all sources.
The Avars marched. They were contemptuous but careful. They obviously expected to win, and they maintained good military discipline. But their contempt nevertheless betrayed them, because they allowed the Slavs to select the battle site. The Slav leaders shook their heads. “They are fools. We will destroy them.”
It turned out not to be that easy. The ground was hilly, with alternating bare slopes and forests, so that the action was somewhat dispersed. They had intended it that way, so as not to have to meet the Avars on open, level ground, but now it was interfering with them almost as much as with the enemy. There were problems of organization and coordination, and a certain disinclination to go to the aid of a usually rival tribe when it was hard pressed. One group had overrun an Avar contingent and taken booty, but other Avars were closing in and it was about to be in trouble.
Samo, watching from the height of a protected hill with his lieutenants, cursed. “Ned, go tell that Czech force to go to the aid of that Slovak force, and to the netherworld with their damned rivalries! We all
fight together, or we are all doomed.”
Ned went to his horse. He was being sent because the leaders knew him, and knew he could be trusted.
“Sam, go to the Slovaks and tell them to retreat until the Czechs arrive. They know how to do it.”
Sam nodded and went to his horse. He galloped down through the forest, staying out of sight of the action until he reached the Slovaks. “Retreat, by order of Samo!” he cried to the commander. “Until the Czechs arrive to help.”
“What? Does he think we are cowards? We’re just getting started. We don’t need any Czechs.”
“He said that you know how to do it,” Sam said, with a meaningful look.
“Of course we know how to do it! That’s why we don’t need any Czechs!”
That damned fractiousness was getting in the way again. The Slovak commander thought he could handle it alone. “Samo has given the order,” Sam said firmly, “Shall I tell him you choose to disobey it?”
The man paused, considering. “Ah, yes.” Then he gave the orders.
The retreat began. The Avars, taking this as the turning point, eagerly surged forward. The Slovaks’ retreat became a rout; they overran their rear formation, whose members dropped their booty and ran away.
The Avars broke their formation, going after the booty. Their expectations were being met; at the first sign of real battle the Slavs were fleeing. They began to quarrel over the spoils. The discipline they had shown under combat evaporated.
Then the Czech contingent arrived. The Slovaks turned, quickly resuming their formation, and charged back to the attack. Sam was in their midst, glad to get in a bit of real action while he could. The Avars were caught flat-footed by one of the oldest tricks in the Slav combat manual. They fought, but they were at a double disadvantage, in poor formation facing fresh troops. Soon they were the ones in retreat.
But the Slovak commander spotted him. “Did Samo give you orders to fight?” he asked pointedly.
Sam sighed. He broke off and started back to Samo’s headquarters to report.
So it went. The battle was brutal, but in the end the merged Slavic army defeated the Avars. It was not a rout, but the enemy force took solid losses and was forced to withdraw. Victory was theirs!
Slavs had won battles before, and always then separated into their separate tribes with their loot. But this time that did not happen. “If we let our alliance dissolve, the Avars will take vengeance on us separately,” Samo said. “We must maintain our power and vigilance.
He was right, and they saw it. Grateful for the victory, and still unable to back any individual leader among their own ranks, they named Samo king. Thus came to be the Kingdom of Greater Moravia, also called the Kingdom of Samo.
In due course Samo issued a royal decree: the family of Sam’s clan answered to no one but the king himself, and he made an oath that he would never give an unreasonable order to that clan. “Sam gave me my freedom and my name; now I have returned my value to him.”
Of course it was not that simple, historically. But the Kingdom of Samo endured, even defeating the Frankish’ king Dagobert in 632. Thus it maintained its independence, answering to none of its powerful neighbors, the Avars, the Franks, and the Byzantines. It survived intact, about the size of modern Germany, until Samo’s death in 658. Then it was absorbed back into the Avar empire, and was largely lost to history, but still served as the kernel around which later Slavic unions and nations were formed. Samo had shown the way.
This was, however, only a brief respite in the fortunes of the Slavs, who were overrun by many other peoples, and whose very name was taken by some to mean “slaves.” Today their presence manifests in such names as Czechoslovakia and Yugoslavia, which names are fragmenting as their nations do.
Once again, the tribes are fragmenting after unification brought them victory or economic success. It has ever been thus.
Chapter 14
PLAGUE
The second millennium A.D. was a time of generally rising levels of civilization and warfare. One of the largest empires of human history, that of the Mongols in Asia, was formed and dissipated, and later came the European global expansion. But some of the more interesting by-paths of history occurred on smaller scales. Among these was the trade rivalry of two north Italian cities, Venice and Genoa. Venice was on the northeast coast, at the northern end of the Adriatic Sea; its influence and trade expanded through the Adriatic region and the Aegean, and even as far as the coasts of Egypt and Asia Minor. Genoa was on Italy’s northwest coast; its trade was westward as far as Spain and south to the African shore.
But there was an exception to this pattern: in 1201 the Genoese settled at Kaffa on the Crimean peninsula at the north coast of the Black Sea, in rival Venetian territory. This was a connection to an overland trade route from the far east, so was potentially a rich one. The Venetians established a trading post at Azov, in the same area, north of the Crimean peninsula. Thus the rivalry of the major Italian cities was echoed in the far-flung minor ones.
Then politics took a hand: in 1261 Genoa backed a revolt that placed a friendly emperor on the Byzantine throne, and was granted a monopoly on trading rights to the region. In 1266 the Mongol Khanate of the Golden Horde ceded a piece of land there to the Genoese. Thus the tiny trading port became the center of European trade with Asia. A burgeoning Christian city grew up around the central fortress.
Later, the winds of political favor changed, and the Venetians returned in force. In 1296 a fleet of twenty-five Venetian ships attacked and laid waste the port and fortress at Kaffa. In 1307 the khan was angered because the Italian merchants were supplying Turkish slaves for the Mamelukes of Egypt. He felt this deprived the steppe of potential soldiers. He sent an army to besiege Kaffa. The Genoese had to abandon the city. They took to the sea, burning the port and city behind them.
But in a few years the situation changed again, and the Mongols allowed the Genoese to rebuild Kaffa. Perhaps they missed the trade, from which they, too, profited handsomely. By 1316 Kaffa was flourishing again. The Venetians were also allowed to return, and they built a trading colony at Tana, which may have been a restoration of the prior one they had had at Azov. The exact nature of the relationship between the colonies of Venice and Genoa in this region is uncertain; probably it blew hot and cold as local politics shifted. There is evidence of both quarrels and cooperation.
In 1343 an Italian merchant encountered a Mongol in the market place of Tana. The Italian insulted the one he termed a Tartar. The Mongol responded with a blow. The Italian drew his sword and killed him. This set off other street fights, and a number of Mongols were killed. The khan, not one to take such affront lightly, then drove the Venetians from Tana. They sought refuge in Kaffa, which was better defended. In 1345 and 1346 Genoa and Venice combined their fleets to enforce a blockade of the Mongol coast. Meanwhile in 1344 and 1346 the Mongols besieged Kaffa. They were unable to take the city, and the Italians blockaded the Black Sea, preventing all foreign traffic from entering or leaving Mongol waters. It was a stalemate.
Then came the plague.
FLO WAS BUSY ORGANIZING THE day, so it was some time before she became aware of Wildflower’s proximity. The girl was actually of a high-born Mongol family, but complications of politics and vicisisitudes of battle had stranded her amidst enemies. Lin had saved her by garbing her as a boy and bringing her to Captain Ittai, who had stashed them on his ship and brought them home to Kaffa. Because Mongols were not in good repute at the moment in the city, the girl was confined largely to the house for the duration of the siege. Normally she kept to herself, doing whatever was asked without complaint, and doing it well. She had once, Flo understood, been imperious, but the loss of her position had entirely changed her nature. She was really a very good house guest, and Flo rather liked her. But now something was evidently bothering her.
Flo paused in her activity. “What is it, Princess?”
“I—I—do not wish to give offense.”
There h
ad once been a day when she wouldn’t have cared about giving offense. But maybe that had been a schooled royal attitude, and now the real nature of the girl was showing. “You haven’t given any of us any offense yet. What do you have in mind?”
“I—I am about to be fourteen. In my—among my people, that is considered an age to—to—to be betrothed.”
“Oh, my,” Flo breathed. “Let me look at you, girl.”
Wildflower stood up straight. Flo saw that she was indeed coming into womanhood, with a nice face, nice legs, and breasts verging on nubility. Her hair was long and braided in the Genoese manner for young unmarried women. She wore a fitted robe laced down the front, with elbow-length sleeves whose back sides descended down past the elbows. She was an attractive girl, without doubt. But she was Mongol, and Genoa was at war with the Mongols. Her prospects for marriage within the city were nil. If she even went out on the street with her race and gender showing, she would be raped and killed in short order.
“I know I am not of good repute—because—”
“Among your own people, you would be quite attractive,” Flo said quickly.
“No.”
“Oh, I’m sure of it! In time of peace, even Genoese have taken Mongol brides. Especially when they are pretty. And you are pretty. How much more likely that one of your own would, especially considering your royalty. When this war is done, and you can go out—”
“No. I was—was—”
Oh. “You were raped by Venetians, when they captured you. But we understand about that. I myself was raped, long ago, and Snow—-”
“Yes. You of Sam’s family do not condemn. And the one I—the one I wish—”
Flo felt an expectant shiver. “Who?” But she already knew.
“Ned. But he—”
“He thinks of you as a little sister. Like Lin.”
“Yes.”
“Do you really like him, or is it that he is your only prospect?”
Wildflower looked at her, and tears started from her eyes. Answer enough.