Evading Crusading
Praktycznie każda popularna publikacja, która choćby pobieżnie rekapituluje dzieje piwa w Polsce, wspomina dwie obowiązkowe anegdoty. Tą o świętej Piwie z Warki zajęliśmy się już wcześniej. Dziś skupimy się na tej drugiej – o tym, jak książę Leszek Biały na krucjatę nie pojechał.
Virtually every general-audience publication that however briefly retells the history of beer in Poland mentions two mandatory anecdotes. The one about Saint Piva of Warka we already dealt with before. This time, we're going to focus on the other one – about how Duke Lestek the White (also known as Leszek, the modern Polish spelling of his name) wriggled out of going on a crusade.
| Leszek the White stayed out of crusades by arguing that there was no beer in the Holy Land; Pope Innocent III granted him a dispensation. |
| — Fałat, Ziemowit et al., Przewodnik piwosza, Pascal, Bielsko-Biała 2002 (own translation)
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The poet and singer Jacek Kowalski even wrote a song about it. It was commissioned by the Żnin Brewery in the Pałuki region, which until 2007 produced an unpasteurized beer called Leszek.
A vow he once made |
| — Kowalski, Jacek, Pieśń rodu Napiwonów (own translation)
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As with any such oft-repeated story, the question is: did it really happen?
Game of the Cracow Throne
Let's start with simpler questions: who was this Lestek the White? And did he really intend to take the cross and travel to the Holy Land?
Lestek, known as "the White" due to his blond hair, was the one of the youngest grandsons of Boleslav Wrymouth, a duke who divided Poland among his sons. Boleslav's sons divided their parts among their sons and so forth, with Poland growing into a loose collection of ever smaller duchies. In Lestek's times, the political situation in Poland resembled that in the novels of the A Song of Ice and Fire series by George R.R. Martin. In Westeros there is supposedly one realm with one king, but in fact each of the eight regions (the old seven kingdoms plus the Riverlands) is ruled by a local lord. All these lords are constantly fighting each other by all means possible – from diplomatic marriages to kidnappings, poisonings, assassinations, to all-out wars. The nominal king is whoever, at the given moment, controls the capital city and is able to physically sit on the Iron Throne. In 13th-century Poland there was also supposedly a single kingdom (but no king) divided into several regions, each ruled by a local duke – a grandson or great-grandson of Boleslav Wrymouth – aided by local lords. All (or almost all) of these dukes were constantly fighting each other by all means possible – from diplomatic marriages to kidnappings, poisons, assassinations, to all-out wars. The nominal high duke of all Poland was whoever, at the given moment, controlled the capital city and was able to physically sit on the Cracow throne. Starting from the year 1205, this would have been our Lestek.
Just like the king of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men has his power supported by the faith of the Seven, so did Polish dukes coöperate with the Catholic Church to strenghten their power. And as the popes at the time really wanted to free the Holy Land from the Saracens, the dukes could help their chances to win the Cracow throne by participating (or at least by promising to participate) in a crusade. The crusade movement had been only moderately popular in Poland until then, but we know for instance that Henry, one of Lestek's uncles, did go on one, if not two crusades. Did Henry encourage his nephew to take the cross with tales of his overseas exploits? Unlikely, as he had died 20 years before Lestek was born.
What's more, the image of the crusade movement suffered in Lestek's lifetime after the Fourth Crusade had failed to even reach Palestine and settled on plundering the perfectly Christian Constantinople instead. This was followed by a Children's Crusade, which just as bad an idea as it sounds. But when Pope Innocent III announced a new crusade in 1215, Lestek decide enroll anyway. Innocent promised a plenary (full) indulgence to anyone who would join the crusade himself or send an armed delegate and a partial indulgence for financial support. Taking the cross also gave you a kind of immunity, as any attack on a crusader was punishable by excommunication. The pope's protégé in Poland, Archbishop Henry Ketlich of Gnezno, had little trouble inducing a team of young Polish dukes to make a crusader's vow. The team consisted of Lestek and his brother Conrad, as well as their cousins, Casimir of Opole and Vladislav Spitter. Together they formed a coalition of junior dukes put together by Ketlich to wrest control of all Poland from the elder generation of Wrymouth's descendants.
But when the crusade eventually started two years later, only Casimir did actually join. For other dukes, the crusade had lost its appeal. Innocent III had died in 1216, leaving Ketlich without either influence in Rome or further interest in the crusade. Meanwhile, Lestek and Conrad had made peace with the elder dukes, Henry the Bearded and Vladislav Spindleshanks, so they no longer needed their crusader's immunity so much. And what about Spitter? Betrayed by Lestek, he had to run into exile from his spindle-shanked uncle, so crusades were definitely the last thing on his mind.
Letter from the Pope
After this lengthy introduction, we come back to our anecdote at last. Did Pope Innocent III grant Lestek a dispensation from his crusader's vow? Unlikley, as Innocent was already dead by the time the crusade started. But the new pope, Honorius III, did not forget about Lestek's vow and started to remind him that excommunication awaited not only those who attacked a crusader, but also those who failed to follow through on their obligation to take the cross. Lestek needed to come up with some excuse.
The letter in which Lestek allegedly explained to the pope that he could not travel to Palestine as that place lacked beer, without which he could not live, has not survided to our times. What has survived is a letter dated April 1221 from Honorius III to two Polish clergymen – Bishop Lawrence of Vratislav and Provost Peter of Glogov. And in this letter the pope does mention the excuses that Lestek had made to justify his no-show on the crusade.
| Recently we were told for certain that the same duke could not cross the sea to aid in the Holy Land any time soon, being heavy in his body and because, having changed habit into nature, he is unable to drink wine or simple water, being used to drinking beer or mead instead... |
| — Honorius III, letter quoted in: Chrzanowski, Marek, Leszek Biały, Avalon, Kraków 2013, p. 119 (own translation)
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So it's true! It's this one brief mention in the papal letter that made future historians label Lestek as a lazy, obese drunk. Especially that "having changed habit into nature" souns very much like a nice euphemism for "being an alcoholic". But there's a few things here that don't look right...
First of all, what kind of alcoholism makes you drink beer and mead, but stay away from wine? Secondly, how come the pope bought such an excuse so flimsy? And does corporis gravedine gravis really mean "heavy in his body"? This Latin fragment could be also translated as "being full of catarrh" or "suffering from a heavy cold". Anyway, I suspect that Lestek was trying to excuse his failure to join the crusade with some grave illness, and the necessity to replace wine and water in his diet with beer and mead was not necessarily his personal preference, but a medical prescription. Yes, I know, neither a cold nor being overweight would let me get away with not showing up at work, but perhaps medieval attitudes to sick leaves were more relaxed?
It's also possible that the pope was simply being ironic. What meant was something like, "look at this northern brute who promised to go on a crusade, but now says he doesn't feel like it! The fat sloth who probably can't even live without those barbaric drinks like beer and mead!" But if this was the case, then what convinced the pope to forgive Lestek and not excommunicate him after all? Well, what could have worked was what the duke offered as a replacement.
That's right, with his effort and diligence, not with fire and sword! What Lestek proposed was to convert the pagan tribes of the Baltic Prussians to Christianity. But rather than conquer their territory and convert them by force, he would build a merchant town in their land and use it to export to them some of the goods they lacked, such as salt and iron. Only once the Prussians had swallowed the bait, would missionaries start to preach the Gospel to them. The pope didn't seem convinced that this unorthodox approach would work, but decided to give Lestek a chance nonetheless.
And that's it, as far the Lestek's weakness for alcoholic beverages is concerned. In this case, as Myth Busters would say, myth confirmed! But if you want to know, whether Lestek's plan of peaceful Christianization of the Prussians worked out, then read on.
What happened next
Wydawałoby się, że to nie mogło się udać. Tak liberalnego stosunku do dzikusów z Zamurza nie miał nawet Jaśko Śnieg – a i tak go zaciukano za sprzyjanie nieprzyjaciołom. No i rzeczywiście – nie udało się! W latach 1222–1223 Lestek, wraz z Konradem, Henrykiem Brodatym i swoim namiestnikiem na Pomorzu, Świętopełkiem, dwukrotnie wyprawił się na ziemie Prusów i dwukrotnie wrócił z niczym. Po drugiej nieudanej wyprawie książęta postanowili, że na razie założą na granicy z Prusami coś w rodzaju Nocnej Straży – linię warowni obsadzonych przez rycerzy ze wszystkich dzielnic królestwa, którzy mieli pilnować, by dzikusy... tzn. Prusowie nie napadali na terytorium Konrada. Owa tzw. stróża miała status krzyżowców i utworzenie jej zostało Lestkowi i Konradowi zaliczone jako udział w krucjacie.
Trzy główne różnice między polską stróżą a Nocną Strażą były takie, że członkowie tej pierwszej nie musieli składać ślubów czystości, nie dysponowali wielkim lodowym murem, a ich formacja nie przetrwała ośmiu tysięcy lat, tylko... niecałe dwa. Pewnej nocy Prusowie napadli na jedną z warowni; część rycerzy poległa, część ratowała się ucieczką. W Małopolsce doprowadziło to do wojny domowej między rodami Odrowążów, których synowie zginęli w ataku, i Gryfitów, oskarżonych o tchórzostwo i zdradę. Gryfici uciekli na Śląsk, gdzie namówili Henryka Brodatego, by pod nieobecność Lestka zajął Kraków i sam został zwierzchnim księciem Polski. Wprawdzie Lestek odbił stolicę z powrotem tydzień po zdobyciu jej przez Henryka, ale walki między książętami ostatecznie doprowadziły do całkowitego załamania się stróży.
W 1227 r. Lestek zwołał zjazd wszystkich książąt do Gąsawy na Pałukach, czyli pograniczu Mazowsza, Wielkopolski i Pomorza. Nie wiadomo, co dokładnie było na agendzie, ale prawdopodobnie chodziło spór Plwacza i Laskonogiego o Wielkopolskę i zdyscyplinowanie Świętopełka, który próbował uniezależnić Pomorze Gdańskie od Polski. Do Gąsawy zjechali Lestek z Krakowa, Konrad z Mazowsza, Henryk Brodaty ze Śląska i Władysław Laskonogi z Wielkopolski, a także liczni biskupi i możnowładcy. Brakowało tylko dwóch głównych zainteresowanych: Władysława Plwacza i Świętopełka. Po prawie dwóch tygodniach oczekiwania zdecydowano chyba, że nic z tego, bo większość uczestników zaczęła rozjeżdżać się do domów. W Gąsawie zostali jeszcze tylko Lestek i Henryk? Nie wiadomo, czy chcieli omówić jeszcze jakieś ważne sprawy tylko we dwóch, czy też tak zapili, że nie byli w stanie nigdzie podróżować (obaj mają wśród historyków opinię miłośników mocno zakrapianych biesiad). W każdym razie właśnie wtedy, rankiem 24 listopada, Plwacz i Świętopełk wreszcie się pojawili – razem ze swoimi siepaczami. Henryk, którego zastali w łóżku, został ranny, ale śmiertelny cios przyjął za niego jego wierny rycerz, Perygryn z Wisenburga. Tymaczasem Lestka napadnięto, gdy właśnie zażywał łaźni. Jakimś sposobem ów otyły, skacowany czterdziesto-parolatek zdołał wymnąć się napatnikom, przebiec nago z łaźni do stajni, dosiąść konia i uciec w las. Zamachowcy dopadli go dopiero w oddalonym o 2 km Marcinkowie.
Rok po śmierci Lestka, ale być może jeszcze z jego rozkazu, wyruszył z Krakowa na Ruś jego rówieśnik z rodu Odrowążów, dominikanin Jacek. Jeśli wierzyć legendzie, to właśnie on sprowadził stamtąd do Polski przepis na pierogi. Jeszcze przed śmiercią Lestka Konrad uznał, że pokojowe podejście jego brata do Prusów do niczego nie prowadzi i że lepiej będzie sprowadzić z Węgier – skąd właśnie ich wyrzucono – krzyżaków. Wtedy pewnie to się wydawało dobrym pomysłem... Ale dopiero następne pokolenie książąt polskich musiało zmierzyć się z inwazją tak straszliwą, że najazdy pruskie były przy niej tylko drobną niedogodnością. Nawet połączone siły krzyżaków oraz synów Lestka i Henryka nie były w stanie powstrzymać hord prowadzonych przez Nocnego Króla... tzn. Bajdara, wnuka zmarłego w tym samym roku co Lestek Czyngis-chana. Czy oprócz pożogi i zniszczenia przywieźli też ze sobą przepisy na tatara i sos tatarski? To już temat na inny wpis.
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