Chapter 674: Eastern Europe in Flames (Part 1)
Vilnius, a city in northeastern Poland.
In the central square, standing atop a high platform, "Archbishop Marloux" in his black robe held a cross icon high, his voice booming with fervent passion to the thousands of people gathered below:
"We shall follow the guidance of the Lord! Armed with our unwavering faith and our very souls, we shall purge every heretic who dares set foot on this land!
"The esteemed and holy Pope, having received divine revelation, has commanded me to deliver this message to each and every one of you:
"From this moment forward, every man, woman, and child who wishes to serve shall become a holy crusader!
"Whether armed with a sword, a musket, or even a hoe, they shall march eastward, bathed in the divine light of the Lord, and wage a sacred war!"
The square erupted in a wave of deafening cries:
"Holy war! Holy war!"
"Drive out the heretics!"
Every eye brimmed with fervor and devotion, as the crowd listened to "Archbishop Marloux" deliver the Pope's decree. Within their hearts, the flames of the crusade burned bright.
Behind him stood Felix Turski, Archbishop of Warsaw, alongside several high-ranking Polish clergy. Their hands were clasped in prayer as they stood in reverence behind the papal envoy.
Before this gathering, they had traveled through much of Poland, accompanying the Pope's representative to rally the populace against the Eastern Orthodox "heretics" in a "new crusade."
Inspired by "Archbishop Marloux's" fervent sermons, Poles enthusiastically donated to the military effort. Every town began to form its own "Crusader Corps," and the Royal Arsenal in Warsaw worked tirelessly, shipping newly made flintlock muskets to these civilian forces.
Since five months prior, the arsenal—constructed with French assistance—had achieved a production rate of 2,300 muskets per month, manufacturing copies of the Russian Tula Model 1753 flintlock.
The choice of this design over the French Charleville musket served two purposes: distancing the factory from French involvement and ensuring that Polish troops could use captured Russian ammunition without logistical issues.
Of course, "Archbishop Marloux" was none other than Mesmer in disguise.
After a month of intensive "training" in France, armed with forged credentials, Mesmer arrived in Poland. Supported by Sieyès, a high-ranking French cleric, Mesmer avoided suspicion and successfully delivered his fabricated messages.
For Sieyès, a known skeptic, there was no conflict of conscience in this scheme.
While Mesmer roamed Poland spreading the call to holy war, two carriages raced southward from Krakow.
As they neared the border between Poland and Austria, about twenty riders burst out of the roadside thickets, surrounding the carriages with drawn weapons.
"What is the meaning of this?" a clergyman shouted indignantly from the front carriage's window.
A short, sharp-eyed man in a black cloak dismounted, ignoring the priest's protests. He strode directly to the rear carriage, knocked on the door, and spoke:
"Most Reverend Archbishop Krasinski, where are you headed?"
The door opened, revealing Kamenets Archbishop Krasinski himself.
"If this is a robbery, you may take what you wish."
The man in the cloak produced a badge. "I am Lieutenant Kalischtof of the Committee for Freedom and Security. Let's not mince words: your destination is Rome, correct?"
The archbishop drew a deep breath. "I had thought the Bar Confederation's members were loyal servants of the Lord."
The Committee for Freedom and Security had its roots in the Bar Confederation, and Krasinski hoped to appeal to their shared faith.
Lieutenant Kalischtof nodded. "We are indeed devoted believers."
"Then you should not obstruct me," Krasinski argued. "As an intelligence officer, you must recognize the envoy is a fraud. His Italian accent is peculiar, and he lacks knowledge of key details about St. Peter's Basilica. He dares impersonate the Pope's envoy!
"I must go to Rome to verify his claims and expose this blasphemer!"
Kalischtof gazed at the tips of his boots and replied:
"My orders are to escort you back to Kamenets. I have no interest in other matters."
Krasinski raised his voice:
"That blasphemer's deception defiles the Lord's name! And you, do you support his sacrilege?"
The lieutenant sighed deeply, crossing himself. "May the Lord forgive us all. The Pope's envoy is not the only one who can spread the Word of God."
"You're insane! How can that be possible?"
"The Lord will not abandon Poland. This revelation of a 'holy crusade' will unite us, strengthening our courage and resolve!"
Kalischtof lifted his head, his tone somber:
"I survived the Russian guns. I know their strength. Only the Lord's light can bind us together to withstand the coming storm of Russian forces!"
"You're mad! All of you are mad! This is sacrilege—"
"I follow the Lord's will, even if it makes me mad," Kalischtof interrupted. "You will remain in Kamenets, or I will end this here and now."
He motioned to his men. "Return the carriage to Kamenets."
"Yes, sir!"
By the time Mesmer had spent two weeks in Poland, the Committee for Freedom and Security had already suspected his deception.
The zealots of the Bar Confederation were sharp enough to discern a false papal envoy.
But they soon realized that the fake envoy's message was galvanizing unprecedented national unity.
Under the banner of religious fervor, peasants and nobles set aside their differences to join the same army. Lithuanians and Poles ceased quarreling over local taxes and worked together to build fortifications. Merchants generously donated supplies.
Poland shed its former malaise and corruption with astonishing speed.
The Committee for Freedom and Security thus decided to support the holy war narrative.
All roads leading from Poland to Rome were sealed.
Anyone within Poland who questioned the "papal envoy" received stern warnings, and the most stubborn dissenters were quietly eliminated.
The entire nation was ablaze with fervor.
October 15, 1792.
Mozyr, eastern Poland.
Near the Dnieper front, General Kosciuszko observed a column of infantry marching past, frowning slightly.
Among the soldiers, he had noticed at least five men out of step and several others with their musket straps tangled.
He sighed and turned to the officer beside him.
"General Dabrowski, at least a third of these young men may not survive the Russians' first assault."
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