The King of the Peasants (4)
In the early 19th century, there existed a legendary army that conquered Europe and reigned as the strongest land force of its time.
It was none other than Napoleon’s Grande Armée.
So, why was Napoleon’s army so powerful?
Was it his innovative mobile warfare and organic corps system?
Was it his artillery operational capability that poured out overwhelming firepower?
Was it the genius command of Napoleon, who was called the God of War?
Or was it the massive scale of conscription, reaching into the hundreds of thousands?
All of those would be correct answers.
However, I believed there was another, more fundamental reason.
1789, the French Revolution.
Before the blood of the guillotine had even dried, the French revolutionary government confiscated the lands of the nobility and the church, nationalized them, and sold them to the French people at a pittance or distributed them for free.
As a result, countless French tenant farmers were reborn overnight as self-sufficient farmers who owned their own land.
When Napoleon ascended as Emperor, he enshrined the fruits of this revolution into law.
The absolute guarantee of private property rights.
This was the core of the famous Napoleonic Code.
The backbone of Napoleon’s army at the time was composed of the sons of these self-sufficient farmers who had gained land.
What if they lost the war, the Bourbon dynasty returned, or foreign kings invaded and nullified the revolution?
They would have to return to being miserable serfs, and they would have to lose the land their parents had obtained through blood and sweat.
That is why the French people fought with their lives for the Emperor, to protect their own land and their own rights.
On the other hand, what about the peasants of the 15th-century Middle Ages?
They have nothing to protect.
With no land to lose and no rights to defend, they are the first to pack their bags and flee when an enemy invades.
But a man who owns his own land does not run.
A man who tries to protect his own home does not retreat.
Only by fostering self-sufficient farmers can a country be created where all the people unite as one to stand against external enemies.
Furthermore, in terms of productivity, there is no comparison.
Tenant farmers, even if they work their fingers to the bone, have everything taken by the lord, so they only work just enough not to starve to death.
But self-sufficient farmers are different.
My granary is filled in proportion to the sweat I shed. I can feed my children more fully.
So, without anyone telling them to, they plow the fields and spread fertilizer day and night.
If the four-field crop rotation system I prepared is added to this, productivity will explode exponentially.
As agricultural productivity rises, tax revenue naturally increases as well.
Strengthening national defense, increasing productivity, and securing tax revenue.
It is a perfect blueprint—no, calling it "killing three birds with one stone" is an understatement.
However, not every policy in the world can satisfy everyone.
While the people praised the King with one voice, there were those who remained silent or ground their teeth in resentment.
Those who thought their land, their power, and their tenant farmers had been stolen.
They were the nobles of Bohemia.
The Grand Audience Chamber of the Prague Palace.
In the heavy silence of the chamber, nobles decked out in expensive velvet and gold ornaments were lined up before me.
Their faces were truly diverse.
At the very front stood the moderate Hussite nobles, led by Ceněk von Wartenberg.
Behind them were the Catholic nobles who had been clinging to Sigismund’s pant legs until recently, only to quickly swear loyalty to me.
Beyond them were the great landowners who had possessed the fertile plains of southern Bohemia for generations.
Their commonality was clear.
They were the richest men in this country, holding the most land.
I looked down at them obliquely, resting my chin on my hand.
'They all look like they’ve swallowed something rotten.'
It was understandable.
My decree had been announced only three days ago.
In that short time, the entire kingdom had been turned upside down.
For the peasants who had spent their lives tilling land that wasn't theirs, this decree must have been the trumpet call of blessing.
But for those who had fattened themselves by exploiting their labor, it was a bolt from the blue.
The nobles looked at each other with anxious eyes, hesitating.
"Umm..."
"Ahem!"
There was only one reason they were awkwardly watching each other.
Who would bell the cat?
Who would dare to be the one to defy the Heretic King who laughed at the Pope’s excommunication and slaughtered the Emperor’s crusade?
As I expected, the first to break the silence was the leader of the moderates, Ceněk von Wartenberg.
"I greet Your Majesty the King."
Ceněk opened his mouth as he respectfully knelt on one knee.
"Sir Ceněk, it has been a while."
"Yes, Your Majesty. Today, the loyal subjects of Bohemia have gathered here because we have something urgent to tell you."
I let out a faint, mocking laugh.
"Loyal subjects, you say... seeing as you’ve come empty-handed, I don’t suppose you’re here to say you’ll pay more taxes."
At my not-so-joking remark, a chilling silence descended upon the audience chamber.
No one laughed, and no one dared to retort.
I nodded lightly.
"Very well, speak. Let us see what you have gathered in such a swarm to say."
Ceněk lifted his head cautiously, as if bracing himself.
"Your Majesty, I implore you to withdraw the land distribution decree."
As if that were a signal, the dozens of nobles standing behind him all knelt on the floor at once.
"Withdraw the decree, Your Majesty!"
"If things continue this way, the nobles of Bohemia will all starve to death!"
"Please look upon us with mercy, Your Majesty!"
An outcry erupted, as if it would tear the audience chamber apart.
I tapped the armrest of the throne lightly with my index finger as I spoke.
Tap, tap. The rhythmic sound cut through their clamor.
"Withdraw the decree... and why is that?"
"Because that decree is shaking the very foundations of Bohemian order."
"Bohemian order is being shaken?"
"That is correct, Your Majesty."
Ceněk pointed to the nobles lined up behind him.
"Including the lord of Svitavy and the Count of Plzeň here, peasants are fleeing from every estate in the kingdom. It is like a scene from the Book of Exodus."
Resentment and anger began to show on his face.
"My estate is the same. Out of ten farming households that have been tenant farming for generations, five have fled in the dead of night. The other half are clamoring for me to cancel their tenant contracts, promising to come up with the penalty fees."
"Hmm..."
The reason for Ceněk’s resentment was clear.
To the nobles, tenant farmers were not people. They were assets belonging to their estates, existence equal to the livestock that tilled the fields.
From their perspective, their livestock were jumping out of the pen on their own.
"The spring sowing will begin soon. At this important time when we must plow the fields and sow seeds, the hands have all abandoned their plows and fled, saying they want to receive Your Majesty’s land. If this continues, the fields of the estates will be left empty."
"The fields are empty?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. But how could this be a problem for me alone? Every noble gathered here is suffering the same pain."
Empowered by Ceněk’s words, the nobles began to vent their frustration from all sides.
"That’s right! Half of them fled from my estate as well!"
"Ungrateful wretches! They don’t even know the grace of being fed and housed!"
"Your Majesty, please withdraw the decree so that the peasants may return to their rightful places!"
The resentment erupting from everywhere filled the audience chamber.
I burst into laughter on the throne.
'Rightful places?'
What exactly is this "rightful place" they speak of?
A life of slavery where, even if you work your bones to dust, you have half your harvest snatched away by the lord and must starve to death in a bad year.
A life where, even if you plow the fields until your back breaks for a lifetime, all you can pass on to your children is the same poverty.
That was the order the nobles spoke of, and the rightful place of the peasant they firmly believed in.
"My Lord."
Standing like a shadow right next to the throne, Janos whispered quietly.
"What detestable wretches. To dare tell the King to withdraw a decree just to fill their own bellies. Shall I just slaughter them all right now? If you give me the signal, I can turn this audience chamber into a slaughterhouse in five minutes."
It was a radical solution, typical of Janos.
But I shook my head.
It is only natural for a dog that has had its food bowl stolen to bark. It is easy to cut them down with a sword, but if I did that, I would only be branded a tyrant.
The master’s job is not to bark back, but to pick up a club and make them recognize the hierarchy.
"Sir Ceněk, listening to your words, it is truly strange."
"Yes?"
I asked with a feigned look of confusion.
"Did I put a sword to the peasants' throats and force them to migrate? Or did I send an army to your estates to forcibly kidnap the tenant farmers?"
"Ah, no, Your Majesty. I do not mean to say you have done such a wicked thing, but..."
"I merely announced that I would sell my own land, which is royal property, to the people for a fair price. I am disposing of my private property as I please, so what on earth is the problem?"
I deliberately furrowed my brow, not hiding my displeasure.
"Surely, you aren't saying that I, as King, must obtain your permission to sell my own land?"
At my chilling rebuke, Ceněk’s face turned bright red.
There was no room for logical rebuttal. A subject cannot argue with a King disposing of his own property.
He coughed briefly and changed the subject.
"How could that be? Although we dare not argue about Your Majesty’s sacred private property... this matter is not one that can be calculated solely by a merchant’s arithmetic."
"Then?"
"This is a matter of order, Your Majesty."
Ceněk raised his voice.
"The Lord created three types of humans to maintain this world in harmony: those who pray (Oratores), those who fight (Bellatores), and those who work (Laboratores)."
The priest prays, the knight fights, and the people work.
It was the most rigid ideology that had supported medieval society: the Three Estates.
The ruling logic was that each must not deviate from their assigned position, and defying that hierarchy was defying the will of God.
"The peasant’s duty is to silently plow the fields and serve their master. That is the calling God has bestowed upon them. But what will happen if a peasant obtains his own land?"
Ceněk continued with a solemn expression.
He acted as if he were a loyal subject worried about the future of the country.
"Those who gain land today will demand even greater things tomorrow. Tomorrow they will ask for taxes to be abolished, and the day after, they will try to climb higher, demanding rights equal to the nobility."
He clenched his fist and spoke passionately.
"Those ignorant wretches know no satisfaction. If you want them to know their place, you must not let them own land! They must be subservient to the land, not the land subservient to them. This is the holy order ordained by God!"
The nobles lined up behind him chimed in as if they had promised to do so.
"That’s right! Sir Ceněk’s words are a hundred times correct!"
"If order collapses, the country collapses!"
The nobles clamoring before me truly believed it.
That their privileges were heaven-sent, and that exploiting the people was the maintenance of the order God had given.
Even if this is the medieval average...
'It’s a bit disgusting.'
I rose from the throne.
And slowly walked down the stairs.
Click, click-
The sound of leather boots hitting the marble floor echoed rhythmically.
I stepped off the last stair and stopped right in front of the stiffly frozen Ceněk.
"Sir Ceněk."
"...Yes, Your Majesty."
Ceněk looked down, sweating coldly.
"Your faith is truly deep. To know the will of God so well."
"You are too kind."
"However, listening to you, I have one question."
I leaned my upper body slightly to meet his eyes.
"Where exactly in the Bible is such a thing written?"
"Yes...?"
"That holy order you speak of. In which chapter and verse of the Bible does it say that nobles may take half of the peasants' harvest? When did Jesus teach to squeeze the poor and keep them hungry forever?"
Ceněk’s pupils shook as if having an earthquake.
"Those who work must not own land? Who decided that? God? The Pope? Or is it your own endless greed?"
"Th-that is..."
Ceněk’s lips trembled, but he could not find a proper answer.
It was natural. The Three Estates was not a teaching of the Bible, but a mere illusion created by medieval power-holders to rule society as they pleased.
I did not miss the opening and drove the wedge in.
"There is not a single verse in the Bible that justifies the exploitation of the nobility. On the contrary. The Apostle Paul said: If anyone is not willing to work, let him not eat."
My voice rang out low, riding the high ceiling of the audience chamber.
"Are you not the very ones who deserve the thunderbolt of God, sucking the blood of the peasants who work hard while you sit in your castles and enjoy your banquets?"
"...!"
"If you don't like the tenant farmers fleeing, don't whine for me to withdraw the decree—lower their taxes. Lower the rent and treat them like human beings. If you offer better conditions, they won't run away. Even if you tell them not to come, they will find their way to you on their own."
Ceněk’s lips trembled violently.
At that moment, someone from the back shouted as if aggrieved.
"This is too much! We are Your Majesty’s subjects!"
It was the Count of Plzeň.
With his face bright red, he forgot his manners, clenched his fist, and shouted.
"You cannot cast aside the loyal subjects who fought with their lives for Your Majesty during the Crusades! Have you forgotten the blood we shed!"
At that shout, the surrounding nobles stirred in agitation.
Loyalty.
It was the most powerful and classic weapon that could pressure a King in a feudal society.
An explicit bill demanding that the King protect their food bowl because they had taken up swords for the King.
I slowly turned my head to look at the Count of Plzeň.
"Fought with your lives, you say..."
The moment our eyes met, the Count of Plzeň flinched and swallowed dryly.
I stroked my chin and nodded.
"Yes. I acknowledge that. I have not forgotten the merit of your fighting against the Crusaders last winter. However—"
My gaze instantly turned cold.
"Do not be mistaken. It was not this country or these people that you protected. You merely took up swords to protect your own estates, your own castles, and your own granaries."
"Y-Your Majesty! How could you say such a thing...!"
"And the reason you were able to protect those estates was because I was there."
I took another step forward.
My shadow covered the Count of Plzeň’s head.
"Who united the moderates and radicals who were growling at each other like they would cut each other’s throats? Who built the steel wagons that deflected the cavalry charges of the Crusaders? Who forged the cannons that turned solid fortress walls into dust?"
I did not wait for an answer.
"It was me. It was I who saved this country and I who defended it. Therefore, I alone decide who gets the land of this country. Because it is the natural right of the victor to distribute the spoils."
No one could refute it. Because it was all an obvious fact.
If not for me, their heads would have long since been pierced by the Emperor’s spear tips and displayed on the Prague fortress walls.
The color drained from the nobles' faces.
The King had no intention of compromising. He was an iron wall that could not be moved by pleas, threats, or transactions collateralized by loyalty.
I looked around and declared coldly.
"Therefore, my decree will not be amended. Not by a single letter."