Chapter 52 Her Prayer
For the next few months, Adeladja prayed. She kept to the safe-sounding but subversive prayer she had come up with on her own. Remembering the Rhineland's more focused, fervent words pained her. The mortals will know what I am saying, she reassured herself. And if Prussia ever demanded to hear her prayer, she could tell him what she said and feel she was not giving the game away.
She honestly didn't know if her thoughts had any effect on the West Prussians. At times, she even doubted she had any ability to control them. She had spent most of her existence connected to the city of Danzig and its inhabitants; those mortals were the ones who permeated her and she them. But she had to try to convince the country mortals, since she was responsible for them also. She had had so little contact with them, that she worried her mind had no ability to affect theirs.
The Rhineland was friendly and polite to her in public, but Adeladja could sense her distance and disappointment in her. Charlotte preferred to associate with the Province of Hanover instead. During evenings when the personifications socialized, Adeladja felt alone, thrown into Prussia's company simply because the other female entities were too busy chattering amongst themselves. Even Alsace seemed more welcome than she.
At least Prussia acted pleased with her, at first. He made much of her obedience in public, to the point that she wanted to hide from embarrassment. Even when the first reports of fines and arrests from his provinces came in, he merely shrugged. "These laws are bringing the rats into the trap," he told her one evening. "By getting the main troublemakers out of the way, we make an example of them so others see we are serious about breaking the power of the Catholic Church. Soon, the worst will be put away and the rest will come to their senses."
But when the returns from the fall elections came in, he grew more irritated. The Zentrum Party had gained more seats in the Reichstag. He grumbled and complained about how their increased presence would cause more trouble. Adeladja nodded and murmured sympathetically as she stroked his hair; she had determined that putting on a show of support would be better than outright rebellion. Her private prayers would do that work instead.
Then one fall evening, he entered her rooms, slamming the door. Adeladja jumped. When she looked at his face, she saw anger. Oh no, she thought, something bad is going to happen. She thought of ways to appease him, as well as possible escape plans to her bedroom.
Prussia stalked over, waving a piece of paper in her face. "Do you know what this is, Frau?" He demanded. She shook her head, hoping she looked meek enough. "This," he snapped the paper before her nose, "is the first report from West Prussia of the mortals fined and arrested for disobeying the laws." Adeladja stiffened; she was now seeing the first fruits of her prayers. "Do you know what this means, Adeladja?" He snapped. She waited for him to tell her and then realized with growing dread that he expected her to answer him.
"It means I am not as strong and clever as you at manipulating my mortals?" She hoped flattery would calm him.
"You didn't try hard enough!" He barked. She flinched. Prussia looked scornfully at her. "Mein Gott, Frau, I begged you, I instructed you, I even offered to reward you for willing your mortals into obedience! No one else got such treatment and you couldn't even go the first quarter without one measly fine! Look at this, look!" He shoved the paper into her hands.
Adeladja scanned the report, noting the names of small towns and villages in West Prussia. She handed it back to him. "I am the City of Danzig," she said softly. "You will see that none of the infractions came from there. These other mortals, they aren't mine, they—"
"They are yours!" Prussia yelled so loudly and closely in her face that she could feel the heat of anger on his breath. She recoiled. "You are the city of Danzig, the capital of West Prussia! You are as responsible for those mortals as if they all lived within your walls!" She was about to protest, but his glare silenced her. She sat still, trying to slow down her galloping heart. "Mein Gott, Adeladja, don't gape at me like a verdammt idiot! You are a trade city, always priding yourself on your wealth and cleverness. You can't even control a bunch of Polish peasants?"
"I told you," she said as calmly as she could, "how stubborn Poles can be." She regretted her words almost immediately. Prussia grabbed her shoulder and pulled her closer to his red face.
"Don't you think I know that, Dummchen? I thought, 'Surely, she wants to go to Vienna to see her sister; she's always yapping about it. Surely she is determined enough, stubborn enough to make her people obey so she can get what she wants.' But obviously, you can't or won't, Adeladja." He looked down on her, his rage now cold. "Which is it, Frau?" He demanded. "Weakness or deliberate sabotage of my laws?"
Adeladja stared back, petrified. Bȯze, she thought, has he guessed what I have really done? She swallowed hard and tried to look contrite and humble; it was easy since she was so frightened. "Weakness, Mein Herr," she muttered. "I am not as strong an entity as you, I am afraid. A female, a city: I don't have the same force of mind that you do, the same strength of will—"
"Lügnerin!"1Prussia stamped his foot and she startled and jumped in her chair at the force of his action and words. "You urged your mortals to rise against me, against your own brother, you got your citizens to hide you for years, and you claim you have no control over them?2 If you can sway a group of merchants and magnates to do your bidding, surely you can manage ignorant farmers!" She was about to repeat that the merchants and magnates had been Danzigers, not West Prussians, but he spun on his heel and began to pace about the sitting room. "You know what this means, don't you?" He grumbled. "No trip to Vienna this year, Adeladja. None until I receive reports that West Prussia is in total compliance with my laws." He glared at her as if he had issued a challenge.
For the first time since his arrival, she no longer felt anxious or cowed. Of course there would be no trip, she thought grimly. She knew "total compliance" meant no fines or arrests from all of West Prussia, an impossible task. He had never planned to reward her with a visit to her sister and now he had his excuse. She lifted her head and looked straight at him. "Why am I not surprised?" She raised an eyebrow at him.
Shock flitted across his face before anger settled on it. "What do you mean by that, Adeladja?" He demanded as he strode back to her. "Why aren't you surprised? Where are the tears, the begging?"
"Why should I cry or beg for something you never intended to give to me?" Her voice grew stronger. "I have prayed, I have sent my thoughts out each day to those mortals, and do you think all of them will obey? Just one strong-minded mortal needed to break the law and I knew you wouldn't let me see my sister. You set an impossible task on purpose."
For a second, she thought Prussia would strike her; she saw his hands curl into fists and his eyes flash red. They had been at peace for several months, but she was sure it would end now. "I swore to you I would do it," he growled. "You have failed yourself, unless this cynical, bitter attitude kept you from trying in the first place." His voice rose. "Is that it, Polin? You figured I was lying to you, so why even bother to try?"
"I told you I tried!" Adeladja rose partly out of her chair, steadying herself by gripping the armrests. "I told you I sent my thoughts out everyday, prayed day and night! I prayed as hard as I could!"
"Then pray harder!" He screamed at her. She fell back into the chair, terrified. It had been a long time since she had seen his face so red and contorted with rage. "Pray right now! I want to hear those miracle prayers of yours!"
Her courage folded up inside her. Pray, she thought, her heart racing, she could do that. But if he heard the prayer that came most easily to her lips, he would be even angrier. Her mouth grew dry and her throat constricted. What could she come up with that sounded plausible? She thought frantically.
"Pray, verdammt noch mal!"3 He bellowed. When he tried to grab her shoulder again, she cried out, "I'm trying, I can't when you yell at me!"
"Wat, Adeladja, you can't recall the prayers you've claimed to say day and night all these months?" Prussia sneered. "Come on, shouldn't they be ready at your lips?" His tone was more controlled, but it was more disturbing than when he had yelled. There was something familiar to it, something terrible in its mockery and coldness. Adeladja gasped for air; her heart was beating so hard, she was sure it was going to break out of her chest. She couldn't look at him and his terrible bright-red gaze. She looked about the room, trying to find something to focus upon. Spots danced before her eyes.
"Say your prayer, Adeladja, say to me what you have been praying all these months."
She finally focused on the lamp on the gate-legged table behind him. She licked her lips and whispered, "Lord, give the Polish Catholics of Prussia the wisdom to see the intent of the new laws and to act accordingly." She trembled, waiting for his judgment.
"That's it? That's it?" Prussia's voice dripped with contempt. "That vague, lukewarm mumbling is supposed to sway the hearts and minds of mortals? Mein Gott, no wonder you failed. Don't you know how stupid mortals are, Polin? They need everything spelled out to them, they need specific instructions to be of any use!" He whipped out a memorandum book and pencil, strode over to the table, and scribbled out some lines. He stalked back to her and shoved the paper into her face. "Here is your prayer," he spat, "here is what you should be saying day and night. Now get on your knees, Dummchen, and pray."
Adeladja could barely make out the marks on the memo paper. He wanted her to kneel. The gate-legged table seemed to loom larger in the room. She saw pictures in her head: her being bent over the table, his anger, his cold sneer, her pleading on her knees. Bȯze, nie.4 She shook her head, trying to clear the ugly images out of her head. "I can't, I can't," she repeated.
"You must. Read it. Jetzt."5 Prussia shoved the paper into her face; she could smell him, the gunpowder and the musk. Bȯze, that pungent smell. She couldn't stand it; she had to get away. She bolted from the chair, but he grabbed her shoulder, forcing her down to her knees.
"Let me go, let me go!" She wailed. She tried to push herself onto her feet and when she saw the oriental carpet below her, she screeched. Images flooded her mind, images which she thought she had managed to avoid during that December evening: him looking at her as she performed her hated task, what she must have looked like to him. Nabawił Bóg, how terrible, how humiliating.6 She sobbed, trying to stagger to her feet.
"Adeladja, stop it! Kneel and say the verdammt prayer!" When Prussia grabbed her by the shoulders and tried to force her down again, she panicked. "Don't touch me!" She screamed. For a second, she had enough distance to marvel at the wild, high-pitched sound coming from her throat. But then she was submerged in the barrage of memories of that night. The taste, the feel in her mouth, the sense of choking: Bȯze, she was going to die, she wanted to die. She lunged away wildly, panting, barely able to see where she was going.
"Mein Gott, Adelaja!" Prussia's voice sounded distant and agitated; she couldn't even see where he was. He could be anywhere, she thought frantically, behind her, before her, in her; she screeched again, staggering. She gripped her head, trying to squeeze out the dreadful pictures filling her brain. The room was growing blurrier. She panicked further as a loud, shrill cry overwhelmed the room. She had to escape, she had to leave this awful place or dash her brains out so she couldn't see what filled it. She was going to vomit. She felt herself pitch forward, and then darkness.
A sharp, harsh scent seared her nostrils. Adeladja gasped and shook her head. She felt so weak, she could only flutter her eyelids. Someone was holding her, whispering her name. She couldn't remember where she was or who was with her; all she knew was that it felt good to lean against this warm solid presence, to hear gentle murmurs instead of Prussia's angry voice.
"Liebling, wake up." The voice was clearer now; she recognized it as Prussia's. She tried to wiggle away, but he held her closer to his chest, stroking her hair. "Shh, Schatz, it's all right, I'm not going to hurt you," he said. "Just breathe, a good deep breath, Liebling." She did and realized she could draw in more than she was used to after years of tightly laced corsets. She looked down and saw her bodice was open. The old dread awoke in her again. "What did you do to me?" She whimpered.
"I just loosened your laces, Schatz, so you could breathe," Prussia replied. "Beruhigst dich, Adeladja, I didn't do anything else, I promise."7 She surveyed herself; her skirt and petticoats were undisturbed and she didn't feel as if he had done anything to her. Her panic dropped to a simmer and she looked about. The room was still the same, and Prussia was sitting on the floor with her, holding her in his lap. His eyes were no longer fierce ruby, but a soft red-violet. She allowed herself to lean against his chest.
"Did I faint?" She whispered. He nodded, rubbing his cheek against her hair. "How long was I out?"
"A few minutes, Liebling. I tried to wake you up, but I had to use some smelling salts I found in your bedroom. Mein armer Vögelchen, my delicate girl."8 She heard a crack in his voice as he kissed her forehead and hair again.
"Why are you being so kind now?" She managed to ask. She felt so weak. All the terror and energy seemed to have drained out of her body. "You were so angry just a bit ago."
"Ach, Adeladja, I admit I was angry. I thought you were throwing a tantrum because you didn't want to say your prayer. But when I saw the panic in your eyes and you fainted, I realized you weren't being stubborn; I knew something else had overwhelmed you. I was so worried, Spätzchen, so worried that you had gone mad again." His voice broke once more as he continued to rock her in his arms.
Adeladja let him cradle her. She could feel her body calming down. It was such a relief, she thought, that he was no longer yelling at her or forcing her to do something against her will. She closed her eyes and nestled against him, enjoying the peace after the earlier storm. He is at his kindest when I am at my frailest, she thought. A sinister idea tried to rise up in her mind, but she pushed it away. Just let me be, she pleaded.
They sat in silence for several minutes as he rocked and cuddled her. Finally, Prussia whispered, "What happened, Liebling? What disturbed you so?"
Adeladja groaned as she struggled inside. She didn't want to tell him and relive the terror; she didn't want him to grow hard and dismissive, or even angry again. But he must know, a voice insisted, he should know what his earlier cruelty did to you. "Memories came into my head," she finally managed, "Terrible memories of one of our last fights in here." Tears and the old panic began to rise within her. "I couldn't stop them, I couldn't—"
"Oh, kochanie, don't speak of it, don't think of it then." Prussia murmured in Polish. "I wasn't going to hurt you, I promise. Remember our New Year's agreement? Have I forced you to do anything like that since then?" Adeladja shook her head, blotting her tears against his woolen military tunic. "Moja dziewczyna szlachetnych, all I wanted was for you to say your prayers properly."9
"You grabbed me and tried to force me on my knees," she wept. She could feel the memories crawling up behind her, trying to pull her back into the emotions she had felt earlier. Go away, go away! She clutched at his sleeves. He was being so kind, so tender, all she wanted was to feel calm and sane again.
"Kochanie, kochanie, I wasn't going to hit you or do anything else to you, I swear!" As Prussia pleaded, she felt liquid drops fall onto her hair. She looked up; she saw Prussia's burgundy eyes shimmering, tears rolling down his cheek. He was sorry, she thought, he was actually sorry for what he had done to her. He gently stroked her face as he kissed her forehead again. She breathed deeply, feeling the ugly images and fear retreat. "Moja smutna dziewczyna, I was angry and I wanted you to say the prayer.10 I'm not angry anymore, kochanie, not at all." He continued to rock her, lulling her into peace.
After a few minutes, he whispered in German, "Liebling, I'm going to confide in you something I've told no one else, not even the Empire. But you must promise me you will tell no one, ja? Because if you do and someone throws it back at me, I will be very angry, do you understand?" Adeladja nodded fervently; she didn't want to disrupt the lovely relief of being cradled and soothed by him. "Gut." He took a deep breath and began.
"Sometimes at night, I think of the past, and occasionally I think of times when I was weak and powerless. The memories come back so vividly of past defeats and humiliations, that I can't stand it. I try to will them away and sometimes it works. But when it doesn't work, I feel overwhelmed and trapped in that horrible moment. So I have to move, I have to get away from it. I'll roam the streets of Berlin or the gardens at Potsdam, walking and running until I am so exhausted I can't think at all and I drop wherever I am and sleep. Other times, I just find the nearest tavern and drink myself into a stupor. Anything to get away from the past, to break out of its grasp." He looked down at her as he stroked her hair. "Was that what happened to you, Adeladja? Because if so, I understand it then."
He looked vulnerable, nervous. She had only seen rare glimpses of that expression before, back when he had confessed to the deaths of Thorn and Elbing during the partitions. "Ja," she whispered, transfixed by the soft burgundy eyes, "that's what it was." She slid her arms around his shoulders, bringing his face closer to hers. "When was the last time this happened to you?" She had never seen him panic before, and he had always been in her bed when she had awakened every morning from her nights with him.
"When I visited Maria last year in Königsberg and I came back early," he muttered. Adeladja remembered the desperation in his eyes then, when he demanded that she say she missed him. Of course, she thought, seeing his sister would not only remind him of his disastrous defeat at Jena, but also the loss of their close bond. Suddenly, she felt an overwhelming rush of pity and kindness towards him. She nuzzled his face and kissed his cheek. When he smiled sweetly, crookedly at her, she felt not only safe, but stronger than she had felt the whole evening.
"The good news, Liebling, is that I haven't had an attack since then. And I think it is because I have spent so many nights with you." A little bit of a pleased smirk returned to Prussia's face. "Being with you makes me feel strong, not so alone. And you don't have to wear the straitjacket when I sleep with you, so we both benefit!" Some of his old confidence returned, and even though she smiled back, Adeladja wasn't sure she liked it. He seemed to sense it and he grew silent, rocking her and stroking her hair.
Finally, he whispered, "Adeladja, please say the prayer I wrote for you now. You seem better and it would make me very happy after such a bad day." He handed her the crumpled paper and she read it over silently. Her heart sank at the precise wishes he had written down. There could be no equivocating if she prayed this. But she was so tired, and he had been so sweet to her. She didn't want to argue or disturb the peace. She looked up at him and he smiled kindly at her, burgundy eyes dark with hope and affection. She sighed and read the prayer. When she finished, he kissed her tenderly on her forehead, eyelids and finally on her lips. He didn't even try to persuade her to open them. It was a lovely kiss, she thought, chaste and gentle.
"Danke, Liebling," he whispered. He helped her to her feet and held her close as she balanced herself. "We should go to bed now." When she tensed at the words, he stroked her hair. "Shh, shh, Spätzchen, we will only sleep tonight," he murmured. "I'll keep my shirt and drawers on, and you can do the same. We're both tired. All we will do is cuddle and sleep. That sounds nice, ja?" She nodded. She could trust him in this, she thought, after he had been so gentle with her.
They retired. True to his word, Prussia kept his underclothes on. But still he wrapped his arms around her, spooning her. He felt so warm, so protective; his earlier rage seemed like a bad dream. As Adeladja drifted gratefully to sleep, she heard him whisper, "Tomorrow, you'll say the prayer again in the morning. You'll learn it by heart and all will be well. Moja słodka dziewczyna, moja umiłowany miasto."11
So what do you think of Adeladja's flashback and panic attack? Of Prussia's behavior towards her before, during, and after the attack? Does it seem plausible that Adeladja would be so grateful for his kindness after what happened?
1 German: Liar
2 Prussia is referring here to Danzig being one of the leaders of the Prussia Confederation, which in the 15th century rose up to rebel against the Teutonic Order and fought to be reunited with the Kingdom of Poland. Then there is Danzig's rebellion against the Polish Crown in 1577, and finally Danzig's hiding from Prussia when she fell to him in 1793.
3 German: damn you!
4 Polish: God, no.
5 German: Now
6 Polish: Oh dear God
7 German: calm yourself, calm down
8 German: my poor little bird
9 Polish: my precious girl
10 Polish: my sad (pitiable, poor) girl
11 Polish: My sweet girl, my beloved city
