"How can a principality prosper with such neighbors?" said the Duchess. "There is peace, ostensibly. Embassies and letters pass between us. Yet no one can be sure of the day or the hour. A man who lies down to sleep at night on the border never knows whether he'll wake up in chains, or with a sword's edge at his throat, or with a burning roof over his head. Oaths, seals, and parchments cannot protect against treachery. Did not the same happen near Zlotoryja? In a time of deepest peace, the prince was taken captive. The Krzyżacy claimed that castle could become a threat to them. But castles are repaired for defense, not for attack. And what prince does not have the right to build them or rebuild them in his own land? The Order cannot be appeased, whether one is weak or strong. They despise the weak, and they strive to bring down the strong. Whoever does them good, they repay with evil. Is there any other order in the world that has received such benefits from princes as they have from Polish princes? And how have they repaid? With hatred, with the plunder of lands, with war and treachery. And it is useless to complain, useless to appeal to the Holy See itself, for they live in stubbornness and pride, and do not even heed the Pope in Rome. Now they have sent an embassy, ostensibly for the Queen's illness and the expected christening, but only because they want to deflect the wrath of the mighty King for what they did in Lithuania. In their hearts, however, they always think of the destruction of the kingdom and the entire Polish people."
The abbot listened attentively and nodded. Then he said: "I know that Commander Lichtenstein has arrived in Krakow at the head of the embassy, a brother of the Order greatly respected for his noble lineage, courage, and wisdom. You may see him here soon, gracious lady, for he sent me word yesterday that he wishes to pray at our relics and will come to Tyniec for a visit."
Upon hearing this, the Duchess began to lament anew:
"People say, and surely rightly, that a great war must soon come, in which on one side will be the Kingdom of Poland and all the nations that speak a language similar to Polish, and on the other all the Germans and the Order. There is supposedly a prophecy about this war from some saint."
"Saint Bridget," interrupted the learned abbot. "Eight years ago she was canonized. The devout Peter of Alvastra and Matthew of Linköping recorded her revelations, in which the great war is indeed foretold."
Zbyszko trembled with joy at these words and, unable to contain himself, asked:
"And will it be soon?"
But the abbot, occupied with the Duchess, did not hear him, or perhaps pretended not to hear the question.
The Duchess continued:
"Our young knights rejoice at the prospect of war, but the older and more prudent ones say: 'We do not fear the Germans, great as their power and pride may be, nor their lances and swords; we fear the Krzyżacy relics, for against them all human strength is useless.'"
Here Anna Danuta looked with fear at the abbot and added in a quieter voice:
"They supposedly possess a true piece of the Holy Cross; how can we fight against them?"
"The King of France sent it to them," the abbot replied gloomily.
A moment of silence followed, after which Nicholas of Długolas, known as the Poleaxe, a seasoned and experienced man, spoke up.
"I was a prisoner of the Krzyżacy," he said. "And I saw processions in which that great holy relic was carried. But besides that, in the monastery in Oliwa there are many other most precious relics, without which the Order would never have attained such power."
The Benedictines stretched their heads toward the speaker and asked with great curiosity:
"Tell us, what are they?"
"There is a strip of cloth from the robe of the Blessed Virgin," replied the yeoman of Długolas. "There is a molar of Mary Magdalene, and embers from the burning bush in which God the Father appeared to Moses. There is the hand of Saint Liborius, and as for the bones of other saints, I could not count them on my fingers and toes."
"How can we fight against them?" the Duchess repeated with a sigh.
The abbot furrowed his lofty brow and, after a moment's reflection, replied:
"It is difficult to fight against them, if only because they are monks and bear a cross on their cloaks. But if they have exceeded the measure of sin, then even those relics may become disgusted with their dwelling among them. Then not only will the relics not give them strength, but they will take it away, so that they may pass into more pious hands. May God spare Christian blood, but if the great war comes, there are also relics in our kingdom that will fight for us. And the voice in the revelation of Saint Bridget says: 'I established them as bees of benefit, and I set them on the border of Christian lands. But behold, they have risen against me. For they care not for souls, nor do they have pity on the bodies of that people who have turned from error to the Catholic faith and to me. And they have made them slaves, and do not teach them God's commandments, and by depriving them of the holy sacraments, they condemn them to even greater hellish torments than if they had remained in paganism. And they wage wars to spread their greed. Therefore the time will come when their teeth shall be broken, and their right hand shall be cut off, and their right foot shall go lame, so that they may acknowledge their sins.'"
"So may God grant!" cried Zbyszko.
The other knights and monks also took great heart from the words of the prophecy, and the abbot turned to the Duchess and said:
"Therefore, have faith in God, gracious lady, for their days are numbered sooner than yours. In the meantime, receive with a grateful heart this reliquary, which contains a toe from Saint Ptolemy, one of our patrons."
The Duchess stretched out her hands trembling with joy, and kneeling, received the reliquary, which she immediately began to press to her lips.
The courtiers and ladies-in-waiting shared her joy, for no one doubted that such a gift would bring blessing and prosperity to all, and perhaps to the entire duchy. Zbyszko also felt happy, for it seemed to him that the war should begin right after the celebrations in Krakow.