1453: Revival of Byzantium
John Hunyadi finally received some intensive professional medical care inside the Bosnian King's tent.
According to the surgeon his conditions have escalated pretty badly that if he do not receive any treatment any time soon, the infection might potential have costed his valuable life.
The King of Bosnia Thomas went back to his tent after settling the surviving Hungarian crusaders and sending out wave after wave of men going out in search of any other folks who managed to make it out of there.
His old friend has recovered his consciousness leaning on a wooden crate with a wolf skin. Although still weak, he does look much better than the state when he was just brought in, with temperature soaring high that the King almost suspected that if he put a cup of freezing water on him it would boil instantly.
The first thing when John Hunyadi saw the king, he waved anxiously at him warning. "Listen, friend, do not trust any letters the Ottomans are sending you, do not trust the shepherds! Turn back, this awful place will gain you no victory or pride!"
"I know, I know." The King sat down there on the ground passing John Hunyadi some wine. "The crusade in the Balkans is over, just like ten years ago."
"Ten years ago…" John Hunyadi painfully shook his head violently recounting on the event a decade ago. "I failed my King and God's mission here, again."
"At least you are still alive."
Not being a man who lives to grind about the sorrow of past failures, John Hunyadi quickly got over it is asking his friend. "Where are my men?"
"Listen." The King pointed to the outside.
John Hunyadi closed his eyes and listened. Through the wind h hears his men crying, weeping, shedding the tears of man. John Hunyadi does not blame them for shedding tears, for he feels exactly how much pain there are as although the social etiquette says that a man are not supposed to easily express themselves with vigorous emotions like crying, but he too knows that a matured man on the inside is like a piece of weight baring leather, when loads like stress, depression and pressure are applied it is supported by that piece of leather preventing it from falling and thus the man appears to be perfectly fine from the outside, though on the inside it does not goes away, it stacks up.
When the final straw is laid onto the load, the weight baring leather is no longer able to hold this mass any longer and crumbles, making the man unleash all of those load he carries in his mind, or in simpler terms, the man experiences a mental and emotional break down.
That is exactly what is going on with John Hunyadi's soldiers out there. And as their commander, John Hunyadi knows very well that if nothing is done about this, these faithful warriors of God coming here to fight for their belief and virtues will soon lose it in their heart and deteriorate into a bunch of rogue soldiers when they go back to Hungary, silent, and become a potential source of trouble for many more years to come.
John Hunyadi took a deep breathe calming himself sweeping all unwanted emotions aside standing up supporting his still ill body with the wooden crate refusing any aid from the King beside him and strutted out of the tent.
Immediately when the Hungarian crusaders saw their general coming in to see them, they quietened down, stopped crying wiping the last droplet of tear from the corner of their eyes and focused their eyes on their general.
"Its okay, its okay." John Hunyadi sat down beside a burly soldier wiping the soldier's face with his fingers. "Stop crying, stop crying."
"Five hundred brothers in arms." The soldier sobered. "Five hundred of my brothers, all brought by me from my home town Brașov coming all the way here marching almost two hundred Roman Miles, all lost, all five hundred bloody young lives… How am I going to tell their families about this news that their sons, brothers, husbands and fathers have lost their lives away in a foreign land?"
The other Hungarian Crusaders lowered their head in this man's words. Even the Bosnian crusaders who understands Hungarian started to translate and gossip about this matter.
John Hunyadi moved closer to the soldier looking at him.
"What is there to cry about? Look at you, well built man, perfect image for a Magyar warrior. Remember, brothers, we do not shed tears, we only shed blood…."
"… You should know, my brother, this is war, and war never changes. We do not only encounter victories, but also defeats."
The soldier nodded in agreement crying.
"I remember you." John Hunyadi tilted the soldier's face towards him staring into his eyes. "You are Pál Kinizsi, yes, I remember you back when you led your five hundred men to join my army half a year ago… Now, can you do me a favour? Call everyone and find an empty spot, I got things to tell all of you."
The soldier, Pál Kinizsi, continued weeping with his facial muscles twitching still engrossed in the sadness of the loss of his brothers.
"Have you not heard my words?" John Hunyadi lifted his eye brow looking at the soldier.
Pál Kinizsi turned and looked at his general. "Your Grace… Five hundred, five hundred of my best country men have lost their lives because of me… I, I am sorry about them… I am sorry to you! Your Grace!"
John Hunyadi suddenly turned grabbing him by his chest armour shaking his body to make him awake and roared gaping at him. "You are still alive! In one piece! That is the most important thing! I can wake up laughing for getting you under my flag! So, what if we lost five hundred men! I can give you one thousand!"
Pál Kinizsi did not know what to do appearing startled with tears still flowing down his cheeks.
"Now smile! Smile for me!" Shouted John Hunyadi.
Chapter 200: 195: Smile For Me
According to the surgeon his conditions have escalated pretty badly that if he do not receive any treatment any time soon, the infection might potential have costed his valuable life.
The King of Bosnia Thomas went back to his tent after settling the surviving Hungarian crusaders and sending out wave after wave of men going out in search of any other folks who managed to make it out of there.
His old friend has recovered his consciousness leaning on a wooden crate with a wolf skin. Although still weak, he does look much better than the state when he was just brought in, with temperature soaring high that the King almost suspected that if he put a cup of freezing water on him it would boil instantly.
The first thing when John Hunyadi saw the king, he waved anxiously at him warning. "Listen, friend, do not trust any letters the Ottomans are sending you, do not trust the shepherds! Turn back, this awful place will gain you no victory or pride!"
"I know, I know." The King sat down there on the ground passing John Hunyadi some wine. "The crusade in the Balkans is over, just like ten years ago."
"Ten years ago…" John Hunyadi painfully shook his head violently recounting on the event a decade ago. "I failed my King and God's mission here, again."
"At least you are still alive."
Not being a man who lives to grind about the sorrow of past failures, John Hunyadi quickly got over it is asking his friend. "Where are my men?"
"Listen." The King pointed to the outside.
John Hunyadi closed his eyes and listened. Through the wind h hears his men crying, weeping, shedding the tears of man. John Hunyadi does not blame them for shedding tears, for he feels exactly how much pain there are as although the social etiquette says that a man are not supposed to easily express themselves with vigorous emotions like crying, but he too knows that a matured man on the inside is like a piece of weight baring leather, when loads like stress, depression and pressure are applied it is supported by that piece of leather preventing it from falling and thus the man appears to be perfectly fine from the outside, though on the inside it does not goes away, it stacks up.
When the final straw is laid onto the load, the weight baring leather is no longer able to hold this mass any longer and crumbles, making the man unleash all of those load he carries in his mind, or in simpler terms, the man experiences a mental and emotional break down.
That is exactly what is going on with John Hunyadi's soldiers out there. And as their commander, John Hunyadi knows very well that if nothing is done about this, these faithful warriors of God coming here to fight for their belief and virtues will soon lose it in their heart and deteriorate into a bunch of rogue soldiers when they go back to Hungary, silent, and become a potential source of trouble for many more years to come.
John Hunyadi took a deep breathe calming himself sweeping all unwanted emotions aside standing up supporting his still ill body with the wooden crate refusing any aid from the King beside him and strutted out of the tent.
Immediately when the Hungarian crusaders saw their general coming in to see them, they quietened down, stopped crying wiping the last droplet of tear from the corner of their eyes and focused their eyes on their general.
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John Hunyadi plodded himself to the center of his man grinning and patting the shoulders of his men on the way sitting down on the dirt, with the King of Bosnia and his men watching from a far folding their arms."Its okay, its okay." John Hunyadi sat down beside a burly soldier wiping the soldier's face with his fingers. "Stop crying, stop crying."
"Five hundred brothers in arms." The soldier sobered. "Five hundred of my brothers, all brought by me from my home town Brașov coming all the way here marching almost two hundred Roman Miles, all lost, all five hundred bloody young lives… How am I going to tell their families about this news that their sons, brothers, husbands and fathers have lost their lives away in a foreign land?"
The other Hungarian Crusaders lowered their head in this man's words. Even the Bosnian crusaders who understands Hungarian started to translate and gossip about this matter.
John Hunyadi moved closer to the soldier looking at him.
"… You should know, my brother, this is war, and war never changes. We do not only encounter victories, but also defeats."
The soldier nodded in agreement crying.
"I remember you." John Hunyadi tilted the soldier's face towards him staring into his eyes. "You are Pál Kinizsi, yes, I remember you back when you led your five hundred men to join my army half a year ago… Now, can you do me a favour? Call everyone and find an empty spot, I got things to tell all of you."
The soldier, Pál Kinizsi, continued weeping with his facial muscles twitching still engrossed in the sadness of the loss of his brothers.
"Have you not heard my words?" John Hunyadi lifted his eye brow looking at the soldier.
Pál Kinizsi turned and looked at his general. "Your Grace… Five hundred, five hundred of my best country men have lost their lives because of me… I, I am sorry about them… I am sorry to you! Your Grace!"
John Hunyadi suddenly turned grabbing him by his chest armour shaking his body to make him awake and roared gaping at him. "You are still alive! In one piece! That is the most important thing! I can wake up laughing for getting you under my flag! So, what if we lost five hundred men! I can give you one thousand!"
Pál Kinizsi did not know what to do appearing startled with tears still flowing down his cheeks.
"Now smile! Smile for me!" Shouted John Hunyadi.
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