Surrexit Dominus, surrexit vere

Et apparuit Simoni

Alleluia, alleluia!

The procession was led by the Guardian of the Minorites, who was also the lector at the Collegiate Church. Other Friars Minor followed after him. They were followed by the knighthood, bearing mainly Polish coats of arms. They in turn were followed by the Patriciate, burghers and merchants. The small number that had remained in the ruined town, now devoid of importance.

Advenisti desiderabilis,

quem expectabamus in tenebris,

ut educeres hac nocte vinculatos de claustris.

Te nostra vocabant suspiria,

te larga requirebant lamenta…

Alleluia!

The procession reached the Franciscan monastery. Wołoszek had chosen the place deliberately. The sight of shattered, charred but mainly intact walls was supposed to communicate a message. It was meant to remind people who and what were responsible for the walls continuing to stand.

A herald dressed in a tabard with the sign of a golden Opole eagle stepped out of the procession. After waiting for the hubbub and murmuring to quieten down and for complete silence to fall, the herald unfurled a parchment hung with seals.

“In nomine Sancte et Individue Trinitatis, amen,” he thundered. “Nos Boleslaus filius Boleslae, Dei gratia dominus Glogovie et dux futurus Oppoliensis, significamus praesentibus litteris nostris, quorum interest, universis et singulis.

“We make it known, in order to ensure peace and save our lands and subjects, we vow and pledge an alliance, a brotherhood of arms and loyalty to the Community of the Tábor and all the allies of the Tábor. We vow to stand loyally beside the Tábor and fight together for peace and stability, which means to join battle with any man who is against such stability.”

The colour drained from the Franciscan guardian’s face and the rest of the monks and clergymen likewise paled like shrouds. Although the duke had preliminarily prepared them for what would occur, the shock did not elude them.

“As reward and compensation for this alliance, we shall give the Tábor the towns and estates specified in the annex, with the exception of those that we shall keep for ourselves. In exchange, the Tábor promises us the towns and estates specified in the annex, which are currently in others’ hands and which in the fight for peace we shall confiscate from the present owners.

“Factum est,” finished the herald, “in Dominica Resurrectionis Anno Domini MCCCCXXIX ad laudem Omnipotentis Dei amen.”

Not even the faintest murmur disturbed the silence.

Duke Bolesław Wołoszek, son of Bolesław, grandson of Bolesław, great-grandson of Bolesław, Piast among Piasts, stepped forward. He was in full armour, and with a gold chain on his chest and an ermine collar on his cloak he resembled a king. To his right stood a marshal, also in full plate, and behind him a seneschal, and he was flanked by his guests, two Polish knights: one of the Leliwa coat of arms, the other of the Kornicz arms. The pale Franciscan guardian stood on the duke’s left. At the rear walked a standard bearer carrying a flag with an eagle.