THE
STORY OF THE PILĖNAI
Translated from
Lithuanian by Gloria O’Brien
…. Mėlyno Nemuno pašonėje,
neįžengiamų girių skraistėje, rūsčių
vėjų pagairėje stovėjo didinga Punios pilis
..........
Hard by the blue Nemunas,
cloaked in impenetrable forests and swept by harsh winds, stood the great
His war campaigns were sung
by priests and priestesses in their ritual hymns; old folks told legends of
him; and young maidens sang dainas about his works. There was no one in
He often led his warriors
into the lands of the Kryžiuočiai, to pay them back with fire and blood
for offenses wrought on
Having subjugated the
Prussians, the Knights expected to conquer
Although these Knights had
been eyeing Lithuania‘s lands for long
years, their hopes were frustrated by a line of castle-forts along the Nemunas,
like sharp lances trained on the enemy‘s breast, preventing them from
entering the heart of the country. And the most powerful
of these was the stronghold of Punia, a rock which the
Kryžiuočiai could neither crack nor defeat.
Each year, Duke Margiris
would ride to the lands of the Kryžiuočiai, leading a group of young
heroes chosen from neighboring castles. Their eager steeds neighed and
whickered in their excitement, the sunlight flashed on sharpened swords, and
from the castle walls, young maidens tearfully waved farewell to their loved
ones.
And they penetrated far into
the Knights‘ territory, reaching some of the
furthermost, mightiest castles -- Rastenberg, Johanesburg, even Alenštein.
And the Knights‘ smaller forts, built nearest to
Sūduva, surrounded by the Lithuanian forces and unable to repel
their furious onslaught, quickly turned into fire-pits. They burned liike
torches, plumes of black smoke twisting in the wind and spreading the fearsome
news: “Danger! Duke Margiris and his warriors have invaded our land! Save
yourselves!“
Not one of the Knights‘ castles could feel safe, except perhaps for
Marienberg, their greatest stronghold, the very heart of their Order and home
of their highest Magistrate. Hundreds of knights from all over Europe visited
at Marienberg, whose tall, thick walls, deep moats, strong towers and its large
regular garrison afforded its inhabitants the strength and security that other
castles didn‘t enjoy. Lacking all of that, the smaller castle-forts also
could not compare with the Lithuanians for courage and daring.
Margiris and his warriors
always brought home a great deal of booty from the knights‘
territories: sharp swords, strong lances, fine leather saddles and
magnificent clothing, as well as beautiful jewelry and other articles of gold
and silver. More important, however, was their success in destroying several of
the knights‘ forts, intimidating their
defenders and alarming the leaders of the Order. So far, the
Kryžiuočiai were unable to respond, as the Lithuanians used to appear
suddenly, like a dark storm cloud, strike with the force of lightning, and
vanish as quickly, having accomplished their goal.
The Grand Master of the Order
was concerned that his knights were spending too much time and resources in
defending their forts at Sūduva from attack by Margiris, and had no time
or opportunity left for the attacks he had planned on Žemaitija and
The leader of Punia at the
moment of this army‘s appearance, was hunting the great aurochs with his
men deep in the forest, and thinking, planning his next foray against the
Order. He knew that Lithuania‘s Grand Duke with his army had recently
departed on a march to Poland, and he decided that he would march against the
Order with his men upon the Grand Duke‘s return.
But the second day of the
hunt, the old soldier Narimantas approached the Duke and quietly told him:
“Look, honored lord, at
this section of the forest where we now ride. Do you see - the wild beasts do
not run from us, but advance toward us. Already yesterday, I noticed how the
families of elk swam the Nemunas in a great hurry. And from early this morning
we have met the great bison, grey bears and aurochs, running straight toward
us, seemingly fearing neither lance nor arrow. I believe that a great army
approaches, and the frightened beasts run from them toward us
.“
The Duke realized that his
old soldier was correct, and sounded his horn, signifying the hunt was at an
end and all should hurry back to the castle. They had barely ridden back and
raised the drawbridge, when all saw that columns
of black smoke were rising from Alytus and Birštonas, a signal from their
defenders that the enemy drew near, and a savage battle should be expected.
The castle soon seethed with
activity in readiness for the battle: Large stones and logs were piled near the
battlements, and kettles of tar and pitch were heated, to be thrown down upon
attackers; each man armed himself in preparation for the assault.
That evening, as the sun hid
beyond the hills, the army of knights arrived. Flags and banners were raised,
hundreds of tents put up, and countless campfires flared at the foot of
Punia’s hill, near the slope of the swift-running blue Punelė.
Punia’s defenders all realized they would be overwhelmed, fighting a
cruel and probably losing battle. -- Unless the Grand Duke’s army showed
up to assist, but they were marching through
As Margiris sat in his hall
considering the situation, an emissary from the Grand Master presented himself
under a flag of truce. His message: “Put up your weapons and surrender
unconditionally to our mercy or vengeance. It should be plain, that you are
vastly outnumbered and any attempt at defense would be futile. Your castle will
be ours, before the day is over.”
Margiris responded that he
expected the Grand Duke’s army to arrive within a few days, and relied on
that assistance to carry the Lithuanians through and force the attackers to
give up and leave. “You speak sharply, sir knight, but my sword is as
sharp as ever, which has already tasted the blood of hundreds of your kind, and
will again.”
The emissary sneered,
replying, “Your Grand Duke will not help you; we know that he is a long
way from here, in
“And if we did
surrender, what do you plan to do with us - what would
be our fate?”
“Your castle, which has
been the cause of such trouble for our Order, shall be razed to the ground, and
all inhabitants - men, women and children - shall be transported to our lands,
to be used as slaves.”
“Never would a
Lithuanian willingly accept the path of slavery! Better to die a hundred
deaths, than be a slave.”
“Fine, then die! When
you and all your warriors are dead, we will take the castle, and your women and
children will be our slaves. The Order will be content with the riches of your
castle and the prisoners.”
“Never - that will not happen.”
And to his servants -
“Take this knight and his escort to the gates and send them back where
they came from.”
Left alone, Margiris paced up
and down the hall all night, thinking. The
As he walked through his
hall, a bleak and severe solution grew in his heart and mind.
Then dawned a bright
Lithuanian morning, filled with the fragrance of flowers, and lovely birdsong;
but the castle’s defenders saw only the enemy forming up for the assault.
Trumpets blared, and the Order’s knights, wave after wave, fell upon
Punia.
The Lithuanians met them with
rocks and logs, with boiling tar and sharp swords. After but an hour, the
knights’ first attack had been warded off, the foot of the hill covered
with attackers’ bodies. The blue waters of Punelė turned red and
dyed the Nemunas’ shore.
But the defenders could not
rest for long, as the Kryžiuočiai rose
again and fell upon the castle wall like locusts on a field of wheat. As more
of them fell, it seemed more of them rose up to take their place.
For five days, the siege
continued, until only a small group of defenders was left, and those were all
grievously wounded. They understood, that they would
be unable to hold out through the next day. That night, Duke Margiris ordered
them to build a bonfire in the courtyard.
Every single thing of value
was placed in that pile: weapons, hangings, rugs, furniture, fabrics, clothing,
plates and utensils, jewelry and all else that the inhabitants owned. As the
sun showed her face that day, rising over the forest, the Duke escorted his
wife, Vaiva, to the bonfire and kissed her.
“There have been two
suns in my life - that one, which now rises over the
“Oh, no!” cried
the duchess, embracing her husband. “I love you as well, and will always
thank the gods for the hours we have spent together. I am happy that
today we will both journey to the sky to be with the great Perkūnas, where
we will suffer neither slavery nor separation.”
Margiris kissed his wife and
drove his dagger into her heart. She fell without a sound, closing her blue
eyes forever, and lay upon the pyre. Soon, the rest of the women arrived, with
their children in hand. Loving farewells, kisses, and a dagger’s strike
ended all their lives. Finally, at the last, the mother of Margiris herself
climbed up on the pyre.
“Oh you gods!” she exclaimed,
“Avenge us against the vicious Kryžiuočiai! Take vengeance for
offences against Lithuania and for Lithuanian people‘s suffering! Never
will we be slaves, and we go now to meet Perkūnas
as free people.”
And she thrust her dagger into her breast, falling
among the others.
The Duke beckoned to an
old vaidila (priest)and requested that he light the huge pyre. Soon, bright
flames shot into the air, illuminating the faces
of the surprised knights, who could not imagine what was happening in the
castle.
Suddenly the drawbridge
came down, the castle gates opened, and the
remaining Lithuanian warriors rode out to their last battle against the enemy,
to die for the motherland. They fell upon the unready knights, who had not
expected the Lithuanians to find the strength to join in open battle. And until
the knights recovered from their surprise, their bodies covered the slope of
the Punelė.
Charging at the head of
the group was the unstoppable and irresistible Duke Margiris, and where his
sword flashed , there enemies fell like leaves from a
tree. More than one count, duke or baron, even the commandant of the
Kryžiuočiai, saw the flames of Punia‘s pyre as their last
vision, as Margiris with his sword closed their eyes forever. Soon, all of his
warriors were dead, but he continued on his warhorse with his sword in hand.
He may have continued for a longer time, but that
an archer‘s arrow pierced his horse‘s neck. The Duke‘s best
friend stumbled, throwing his rider to the ground.
“Take him alive! Take him alive!”
screamed the Kryžiuočiai, rushing toward the Duke.
“No! That will not
be!” answered the valiant one, drawing his dagger and driving it into his
heart, knowing that he would join his Vaiva, his mother and his warriors, in
the abode of Perkūnas.
And the knights, entering the
castle, were startled, seeing the pyre and realizing that all the inhabitants
had chosen death before slavery.
They were deprived of both loot and prisoners, and would have to return home
with empty hands.
“We lost so many
knights and soldiers, and won nothing at all”, complained the Grand Master, grim and sullen as a raincloud,
giving the order to prepare for the road back.
Bitter and disappointed, the
Kryžiuočiai headed home, while the burning castle with its fallen
heroes ominously called to them from afar:
“Lithuanians will not
be slaves! Rather death than slavery!”
So perished the Pilėnai,
inhabitants and defenders of the castle Punia, and from that time, their heroic
deeds are constantly told by the blue Nemunas, the green forest at
Panemunė, the swift Punelė, and the great hillfort -- all
eternal witnesses of their courage. And the story has lived until our own day.
Source:
Fom “Lietuvių Padavimai”, a collection of Lithuanian tales
edited by Pranas Sasnauskas
© English
Translation - Gloria O’Brien 2008
This article was printed in Lithuanian Heritage
March/April 2009