Pirates of the Baltic Sea

By Edgar Kreis

On the seashore, a son of the Sun with golden hair appeared in the family of a fisherman, when they already despaired of having children. The amazing child began to show no less amazing abilities. And so he grew into a tall and strong guy, and the ability to work wonders grew with him. But one day a knightly Order came to their village. The head of the Order was unhappy with the fact that the fishermen were in no hurry to accept the new faith. He decided to punish the apostates and burned down their village demonstratively. The father of the sons of the Sun died in the fire of the fire. He was badly wounded, but he survived and vowed before his friends to take revenge on the Master of the Order. Thus, the Order received an implacable and powerful enemy, capable of subjugating the elements of nature. Guest of the Earth, the Son of God went on the warpath with the invaders of the land of his intended parents.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Edgar Kreis
• Release date: Jan 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005233495

Edgar Kreis

Life is very multifaceted and so it is interesting if you try to discern it from different angles. There is a situation when a person, as it seems to him, reaches the final point, and then there is a deep abyss from which he can no longer get out. But even in this situation it is worth taking a closer look, and I hope that you will be able to discern at least a very small, narrow path, which can, over time, turn into a wide, torn road for you. The main thing is not to lose faith in yourself and the people around you.Several times in my life I had a chance to start all over again. He worked in factories as a mechanic and an installer of radio equipment; was a student at the institute; served as an officer; worked as a computer designer and system administrator; headed the marketing department at the bank, dealt with remote access systems. Everywhere it was interesting to master new layers of knowledge and at the same time it was instructive to observe the life of people from the outside in various groups and life circumstances.I began to write my stories when I was a little over twenty, but after a while I abandoned it, considering it empty self-indulgence. In those days, they were still writing by hand and my manuscripts, due to frequent travel, were lost over time.With interest he switched to the design of radios, various electronics, personal computers. In the 70-80s of the last century it was interesting for me, but for many people it was a wonder. After all, it was very difficult to find a personal computer in an ordinary Soviet family, and therefore my son always had a gang of his acquaintances and friends at home.I resumed writing already in my fifties, apparently the attraction of youth to writing stories has not faded away, but simply calmed down for a while. Now I have written several books, but it is not for me to judge what I got out of it. It is now up to you to decide if you don’t consider it a problem to read these books.I am grateful to my wife, son and two grandchildren for having them and for their unlimited support in all my endeavors.The main thing is that a person at any age is able to master something new, interesting and, possibly, useful for others. All the best to you in your endeavors. Good luck and your dream come true!

Book preview

Edgar Kreis Pirates of the Baltic Sea

The brotherhood of knights conquers new lands with fire and sword. Force and cunning force the enslaved peoples to accept someone else's faith and meekly obey the invaders. Three loyal friends were not afraid of the conquerors and declare merciless war on the Order. But what can the brave trinity do against the war machine of the colonialists? It turns out that there is a lot if there is a firm belief in one's righteousness and an unshakable desire to be not a powerless laborer, but a free person.

Chapter 1. Fire

Stajan's house, where he lived with his elderly father, was the very first from the coast of the bay, right in the dunes, among tall and slender pines. On dark autumn nights, a powerful wind drove the water to the sandy shore and completely flooded it, driving the waves straight to the dilapidated log house, lopsided with time and strong storms. The wind pressed with all its might on the barely living walls of the shack and each time strove to carry it out to the open sea. But the years passed, and the dwelling of the old fisher by some miracle managed to stay in its place. The father told the inhabitants of the fishing village that his house was protected by the Guardian of the pagans and only thanks to him the sea did not take the dwelling for itself.

To all the neighbors' requests to remove the symbol of the old faith from the door of their house, so as not to anger the Livonians, the old man indignantly replied: Our ancestors on Rugen got along without their faith and would have lived happily on if the champions of the crucifixion had not come to us in Arkona and not destroyed the sanctuary of Old gods. Who now dominates the lands of our island Rugen? Who is the boss in our capital city of Arkona now? Who is the head of the Rugen Sea? Servants of a dead man! Now they have followed us here! I had a hope that our tribe managed to get away from them and find peace and tranquility, but no! The lands of our people were not enough for them! It is not enough for them all the time! They will soon force the universe to worship their ghoul! Ugh, it is disgusting to look at! A person's conscience cannot be replaced by faith alone! Especially if for the sake of the triumph of your faith you destroy someone else's! How many bonfires and conflagrations will these killers set up wherever they go? How many lives will they ruin for their faith?! Do you want to be destroyed? Be silent? That is just it! And if you are silent, it means that you agree to perish in the name of someone else's faith and not defend your own! The neighbors did not argue with the ancient old man. They respected him, even though he constantly taught them. No one knew how old he was, for among fellow believers there was no one older than a person who lived on the very shore of the formidable sea and was not afraid of him. Even the oldest of the villagers remembered that when they were still snotty children, the man with the Guardian of the pagans on the doors of the dilapidated hut was already a gray-haired old man. They knew not only the steep disposition of the ancient Old Believer but also his amazing abilities. A wonderful old man could heal people with the touch of his hands, animals, and birds obeyed him. And if he got angry, he could order both the man and the stone. So much so that he and the other will immediately conduct any of his orders. But usually, the old man helped in whatever way he could to everyone who turned to him, and never has he taken payment from anyone for his help. Therefore, he was respected and at the same time very much feared.

Having laid out his simple equipment on a bench under a blank wall of the house, Stajan meticulously examined the fishing nets. He carefully checked the integrity of the cells and the tightness of the nodes holding the sinkers and floats. The young fisher occasionally glanced at the distant horizon of the sea, which seemed so endless to him from here. There, in the distance, sometimes large ships appeared, which hurried to the port of Riga with expensive cargo from the Hansa or left it back, loaded with goods from the Russian lands. When the next ship appeared, Stajan put aside the iron darning needle and looked after the ship for a long time until it was out of sight. Then Stajan again took up the needle and continued to patch the net.

The elderly father was no longer able to fish because it requires great endurance from the fisher, a firm hand, and a keen eye. All this is already in the past, and now Stajan's father often sat down on the bench next to his only son, folded his old dry hands on the knob of the staff, from which the four-headed god Old gods looked sternly in all directions, and for a long time, without stopping, looked at the sea, squinting either from old age and poor eyesight, or from the excessively bright sun, or simply from pleasure. He loved to watch the dexterous actions of his son and was glad that the Sun god Horo’s and the patroness of love and marriage Lada, after so many years, eventually took mercy and gave him and his wife such a wonderful, strong, and intelligent guy by their old age. His hair, burning with fire, the color of the rising sun and blue, like the depths of the sea, his eyes pointed to the givers of such great happiness. Stajan occasionally caught his father's proud glance but tried to pretend not to notice.

Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by the screams of the village boys and the nervous neighing of horses.

Father, there are strangers in our village! Stajan shouted, easily jumping to his feet.

And who could it be? - stretching out his wrinkled neck, the old man asked in bewilderment.

I’ll find out now, father, Stajan replied, disappeared behind the wall of the house, but immediately ran back. The swordsmen have come to us for their tithes!

And what are we going to give them, the old man waved his hands anxiously. There are very few fish in the sea this year, just barely enough!

Go to the house, father, I'll try to talk to them!

As soon as the old fisher disappeared into the shack, a knight rode up in armor polished to a shine and with a raised visor, who was accompanied by a foot warrior in a cuirass and helmet a Landsknecht. A light hand crossbow hung behind the bollard. The knight, on the other hand, kept his right hand on the sword and stopped in front of Stajan, while the second bollard held coal and a tablet for recording the seized rent.

Are you the owner of this shack? The knight asked haughtily, stuck out his lower lip contemptuously.

The owner is ill and cannot leave, and I am his son, Stajan replied calmly.

Bring your father here, I must talk to the owner of the shack! barked a pedantic German.

His legs hurt, and it is difficult for him to get out!

What, you thought of contradicting me, farm laborer ?! screamed the knight.

Knecht, who was standing behind the fisher, immediately threw the clerical supplies into his shoulder bag and, taking the crossbow from his back, began to hastily cock it.

I'm not a farm laborer, but a free fisherman! Stajan replied proudly, with hatred looking straight into the eyes of the knight, pulling his sword from its scabbard. From time immemorial in our family there were no farm laborers, but people like you drove us from the ancestral lands of our ancestors!

The knight, not listening to the end, swung his sword at him, but Stajan suddenly stretched out both hands in the direction of the rider and sharply turned his hands, as if shaking off the drops of water from them - and immediately the knight's face became crimson-up, he wheezed, dropped his sword, and became roll slowly to one side. Finally, the iron idol fell to the ground with a terrible crash.

Sorcerer! the bollard yelled heart-rending and immediately released a bolt into Stajan.

It flew out of the crossbow with a whistle and plunged into the fisherman's back. The blow was so strong that the bolt went right through and went a third into the ground in front of standing Stajan, but he did not fall but slowly turned to the enemy. Knecht grabbed the short sword with a trembling hand, but it suddenly jammed and did not want to leave its scabbard. Desperately tugging at the handle, the bollard did not take his eyes off the sorcerer. He looked at him, not paying any attention to the blurred bloodstain on the shirt torn with a crossbow bolt. With the last of his strength, Stajan raised his hand and directed it towards the enemy. The bollard's eyes glazed with fear. So, with glazed eyes, he fell dead to the ground.

Stajan began to sag and lose consciousness when his friends ran up to him - the big man Vsevolod and the lively Gera. They silently grabbed a comrade and quickly carried him into the dunes, since they were remarkably close. The Livonians were extremely keen on their business - collecting taxes from fishers, and there was much noise around because of the screaming children and crying women that they did not hear anything suspicious and could not if they wanted to. Stajan's friends took advantage of this. They carefully put their friend on the ground, and Gera immediately began to bandage him, and Vsevolod lay behind the hillock and from there began to observe what was happening in the village.

The bodies of two Livonians were still lying near Stajan's house, and several knights on horseback and foot landsknechts were already spinning around them, looking around them warily. The soldiers of Christ clearly did not understand what had happened to their brothers. They were lying on the ground without any visible wounds, and this embarrassed them. Landsknecht, standing next to Stajan's house, shouted something, pointing to the door. Then one of the knights galloped to the house and with a sword cut down the guardian of the pagans hanging above her on a string. Immediately, the Landsknecht lifted it from the ground and gave it to the knight, and he ran into the hut and after a while was already dragging Father Stajan with him. He threw it right under the hooves of the knight's horse.

Sorcerer ?! the knight barked and pointed at the old man with his sword."

Exactly so! the bollard shouted in response."

To his master! The rider ordered.

Knecht grabbed the old man and dragged his master to trial. One of the knights followed them slowly. One more knight and a bollard remained at Stajan's house. They continued to examine the bodies. Finally, having seen enough, the knight rode off after the departed, and the bollard remained to guard the bodies.

Vsevolod lay behind the hillock and, clenching his fists, looked at the stranger. Gera looked tensely at the big man, then at Stajan. Finally, Vsevolod could not stand it and jumped up to rush at the bollard who was left alone, but Gera, who at that time, taking off his shirt, tore it apart, calmly said:

If you die now, your friend will die too. He needs our help!

The big man once again looked back at the enemy with hatred and sank to the ground. Clasping his head in his hands, he said:

I hate it! Why were such tests sent to us? What is Stajan's father to blame for these geeks?

I think that Stajan's father would thank us if we could save his son, Gera answered and, putting a huge plantain, plugged the wound on his friend's chest, and then bandaged him tightly. Better help to tighten the bandage tighter to stop the blood!

Your truth, Mr. Master, I am sure of the justice of our actions, and I am sincerely convinced that only our faith can bring the true light of hope to these savages and turn them away from the darkness into which they are drawn by paganism! the master's secretary answered obsequiously and looked sideways at the assembled crowd.

The flame of true faith cannot be extinguished by anything, and they will eventually understand that only our faith is the absolute truth given to us by the Almighty, and only we are its guides! said the master and with a haughty look looked at the assistant bowed his head in front of him.

Then he turned his gaze to the heretic's burning hut. A charred cross with the charred remains of a man hanging from it protruded above the collapsed roof. This is all that remains of the once-old man. A flock of crows was already circling over the hut, anticipating the feast, but not yet daring to descend. The birds smelled their livelihood, were nervous, and croaked in irritation, but acrid smoke and hot coals, as well as the presence of people, did not allow them to start eating. The Master looked at the flock of crows, winced and croaked in unison:

Let's go from here, my brother, we have nothing more to do here!

But this pagan still has a son, Mr. Master, the assistant said, waving towards the charred corpse.

The death of my father will be a good science for the last, and I am sure that he will learn the proper lesson from this case, and if he fails, then he will also face the unenviable fate of an old man!

Everything is the will of the Lord, the secretary answered meekly, bowing his head.

Truly, our thoughts are directed by our Lord! the master answered didactically. Let us hit the road! Urgent business awaits us in Wenden! On the way, we will stop at Riga. We will visit our esteemed Archbishop and exchange news with him.

The detachment gathered in a marching column and led by the master, set off on the return journey. In the rearguard dragged two carts with the corpses of the warrior brothers, and their horses were tied to the carts. When the last cart disappeared into the coastal dunes, Vsevolod and Gera ran up to the house, from where the sword-bearers had just left. The villagers parted before them. A charred cross towered over the crowd, and on it was the charred body of Stajan's father, nailed down by nails. At that moment, the burned-out logs of the house collapsed with a deafening crash, but the old man's corpse, secured by the skillful hand of a minister of the true faith, continued to hang.

Going inside what was left of the hut, Vsevolod and Gera began to make their way to the place where the cross with the remains of the old man stood. The crows, seeing that there were fewer people, grew bolder and, despite the acrid smoke still rising above the ashes, tried to settle down on the corpse. Gera began to look for something to drive away from the impudent birds, and then his gaze came across a charm shining with pristine purity. Guardian of the pagans looked as if the master had just finished working on it and now, he had not been in the fire of the conflagration. Gera bent down, carefully picked up the ancient creed of the Slavs, and noticed that the staff of Stajan's father was peeping out from under the burnt log. He kicked the crumbling log away with his foot and took the staff in his hand. He, too, did not leave any traces of the fire on himself. Gera put it in his belt and put the amulet in his bosom.

Then, together with Vsevolod, they carefully removed the remains of Stajan's father from the cross and took them to the sea to wash them with seawater. A compassionate neighbor brought an old, tattered sheet, but for this modest help, the guys were incredibly grateful to her because they had nothing left. Or it is good that the parents did not have a chance to see the huts of their fellow believers burning.

Gera ran to the headman and brought a battered shovel. There was a loud crash. Something fell behind them. They turned around. This is the collapsed cross, the symbol of the faith of the uninvited aliens. Strange strangers! They prayed to the cross - and on it, they crucified and burned living people.

Vsevolod and Gera buried the old man at the top of a hillock, in the dunes, near to the place where his dwelling stood. It was from there that the sea, which the old fisher loved so much, was visible, and this hillock was the first to be illuminated by the rising sun. The sun, which Stajan's father adored so much all his life.

None of the villagers came to the funeral, although many of them owed the elder their health, and some even their very lives. After the demonstrative massacre committed by the swordsmen, all the villagers began to fear each other. Everyone could convey to everyone, and only the trinity of friends remained true to themselves and were not afraid of betrayal. All three lost their homes on that terrible day. They were even more united by a common misfortune: they all lost their homes, and Stajan lost his father. Fathers Vsevolod and Gera were taken by the sea long ago, and their mothers outlived them for a brief time. This is the fishing lot: you go out to sea, and you do not know whether you will return home with the booty, or you will become the prey.

Still uncertain, with the support of Vsevolod and Gera, but Stajan could get to his feet. Friends were amazed: as soon as Gera hung a talisman with a guardian of the pagans around his neck, their comrade, who was shot through by an enemy bolt, immediately opened his eyes and said in a weak voice: Thank you! - and then kissed the symbol of the old faith. Gera put his father's staff in his hand, and after only an hour Stajan was already sitting, leaning against a pine tree, and without looking up at the sun. He already knew what the strangers had done to his father. He also knew why his father sacrificed himself. The elder took the blow for his son to survive.

Stajan recovered quickly. The wound healed right before our eyes, leaving no trace. Neither Gera nor Vsevolod were surprised at the peculiarities of their friend. They knew him from childhood and even then, noticed that Stajan quickly adopted the unusual abilities of his father, and in some ways, over time, significantly surpassed him. An hour later, three friends were already standing over his grave.

What are we going to do? Gera asked quietly and looked at his friend, who was silently bending over his father's fresh grave.

I have nothing else to do here myself. The headman told me directly that he would not want the son of a pagan sorcerer to live in his village, Stajan replied, bowing his head.

And where will you go? continued to pry Gera.

Where-where ... I will go to the robbers, but where else should I go now?! Stajan answered bitterly, raising his head. How can I take revenge on the master and his sword-bearers for the murder of my father, and at the same time on all the rich, who bring him money for high protection, so that this bastard will continue to grow rich and continue to kill people who are guilty only of what they think and believe in the wrong way like himself! How much this vampire, together with his accomplices, drank the blood of our seaside people - and the bastard will not burst! Still the same skinny walks! No matter how much he eats - everything is useless!

Don't feed the horse! the big man grinned and patted himself on the voluminous stomach.

That's for sure! assented Gera and looked sideways at the bulging authority of his friend.

And you know, Stajan, now nothing keeps me here either. And I don't want to lose a friend like you! Vsevolod said, looking thoughtfully into the sky.

Well, since you, friends, have decided so, it means that I have only one way - to go to the place with you! answered Gera. Let's beat the master together and stick him until we have enough strength!

Then as before - three as one! With gratitude looking at his friends, Stajan said and held out his hand to them, palm down.

Three as one! answered Vsevolod in a rumbling bass and put his huge paw on top.

Three as one! Gera confirmed to his friends and slapped the friends' hands with his narrow but sinewy palm.

I will avenge our enemies for you, father, and may our gods hear my oath! Enemies will bitterly regret their deeds! Stajan shouted, looking up at the sky, and bowed deeply to his parent's grave.

We will take revenge together! in one voice his comrades firmly and confidently added.

They wanted to quickly leave the fishing village that had suddenly become alien, although they spent all their childhood and youth here. The friends sold their boats and simple fishing tackle to the headman for a low price, except for the seine, which the thrifty Gera saved just in case, and Stajan kept a prison for himself, which he masterfully owned. Now the three friends had some money with them and were ready to go towards their new destiny.

Chapter 2. Beginning of the path

The bright sun was high. A sizzling summer day completely came into its own, but the shaggy crowns of slender tall pines protected the travelers from the intolerable heat. The well-worn forest road was wide enough, and friends walked along its side by side, carelessly talking and dreaming about the future. It was not even possible to say that one of them had been pierced through by a crossbow bolt just three days ago.

Listen, Stajan, what do you think to do when we collect a lot, a lot of money? asked Gera with interest.

If I could raise enough money, I would buy a big ship to go to sea on it, Stajan replied dreamily.

And why do you need a ship, especially a big one? - Vsevolod asked, shrugging his hefty shoulders in surprise.

Yes, Stajan, why do you need a big ship? supported friend Gera.

How for what? Stajan was surprised in turn. You were born and lived all your life next to the sea, but now what? Do you agree so easily to give up its salty, tart smell? From the boundless space, the cry of seagulls and the sound of the surf? We had to leave the village against our will, we were deprived of the sea, and we had already become related to it. All our ancestors lived and died to the sound of the sea. Do we have the right to refuse what Mother Nature herself bequeathed to us?

Well, you turned it down, Stajan, just some kind of herald! Where did you get such eloquence? If I know you, you have always been silent with us, Vsevolod smiled and winked at Gera with a conspiratorial look. But I still do not mind swimming in different seasons a big ship!

My father told me that our ancestor was an interpreter for the great Slavic prince, who lived with his people on the island of Rugen. This talkativeness was transmitted to me from him! Stajan smiled with a slight sadness.

Are the interpreters the ones who conduct conversations with foreign merchants? surprised sideways at his friend, asked Gera?"

Well, yes, my great-grandfather could speak different languages. Do you know how many merchants from all over the world came to Rugen Island? - Stajan spread his arms wide as if he wanted to show how large the crowd of visiting merchants was. - And who will interpret their conversations to the prince? How will the Grand Duke understand what they all want from him? This is where people like interpreters are needed. Not everyone can talk in all sorts of overseas dialects, help ambassadors and merchants communicate with the grand dukes.

"Wow! People are lucky, they talk about different countries among themselves. Well, this is how many new things you can learn! – Gera drawled dreamily. - In general, I liked your idea of the ship. I would sail with you on different seas, see different overseas countries. I would see where some girls live. Are they more beautiful than our villagers? He would have wooed some overseas beauty, and then he would have married her. Children would be brought ...

If we buy a ship, then you will be able to keep an eye on your overseas wife, he chuckled in response to the words of his friend Stajan. And she will wait for you, this marvelous beauty, on long nights on a distant overseas coast. And languish from loneliness and lack of male attention!

Long nights? Gera asked thoughtfully.

"Yeah, and on such a distant coast that the life of a sea tramp will not soon allow you to see him.