Lost History – The lost swords of Grunwald
Last week marked the anniversary of one of the biggest battles in medieval European history. The Battle of Grunwald, 15 July 1410, was fought between the forces of the Kingdom of Poland and the Grand Duchy of Lithuania against the formidable Teutonic Knights. The clash is deemed a seminal episode in the epic historical saga of Poland and Lithuania, a dramatic instance when their resistance to the Teutonic incursion solidified their cultural identities and united the neighbouring realms for several centuries to come.
The genesis of chivalric orders in Europe helped decrease the chaos of a continent ungoverned by any single authority. It also introduced a hybrid threat to the sovereignty of feudal states. Attracting great fighters, architects, bankers and political strategists, orders like the Teutons exerted enormous influence over the proud and violent princes and warlords who dominated gothic Europe. The menace of these indomitable knightly armies unintentionally improved the organisation and dedication of beleaguered territories like Poland and Lithuania.
In the 1200s, the Teutonic knights invaded pagan Lithuania, intending to convert the population and suppress potential military rivals in the region. Long after the leadership of Lithuania converted to Christianity and had vied for independence from the raiding Teutonic cavalries encamped on their borders, many revolted against the Teutons, supported by the Grand Duke and his ally, the King of Poland. The Teutons mobilised a colossal force to meet the united cohorts of Poland and Lithuania, who could muster a larger army than the Teutons.
Despite their numerical superiority, the Poles and Lithuanians were alarmed by the famed effectiveness of the Teutons’ heavy cavalry, engineering and legion-like discipline. The Teutons were confident that their battle-hardened elite troops would overcome the mish-mash masses of the Polish-Lithuanian host.
Before the battle of Grunwald commenced, the Grand Master of the Teutonic Order, Ulrich Von Jungingen, sent a pair of unsheathed broadswords as a “mocking” gift to the King of Poland and the Grand Duke of Lithuania. It was a symbolic invitation to begin the brutality of the day, designed to insult and unnerve the co-leaders of the opposition. It had the opposite effect. The celebrated heavy cavalry of the Teutons was bogged down in the marshy terrain of Grunwald, and the Polish-Lithuanian alliance arose from the slaughter victorious.
The Polish King took the pair of swords back to his capital, Krakow, and installed the relics of his historic triumph in the vaults of Wawel Castle. They were subsequently used as coronation instruments once the Grand Duchy and Kingdom formally merged under one monarch in 1569. For two centuries, every King of Poland and Grand Duke of Lithuania wielded the two swords at his coronation, signifying the shared valour and heroism that those twin states displayed on the fields of Grunwald. They were last used to confirm a king’s rule over the allied lands in 1764 for the coronation of Stanislaw II August.
During an uprising against the Russian and Prussian overlordship of Poland, Prussian soldiers looted Wawel Castle but were unaware of the cultural significance of the two simple swords and left them behind. A concerned member of the Polish royal family retrieved the patriotic memorabilia and exhibited the swords in a purpose-built museum in the city of Pulawy.
In 1830, another uprising ensued, and the heirlooms were quickly hidden in a local priest’s home. But in 1853, the priest’s house was searched by Russian gendarmes, and the swords were discovered. Under the pretext of the swords being “illegal weapons”, the policemen confiscated the blades and took the venerated artefacts to the fortress of Zamosc, where they disappeared.
No trace of these royal Polish-Lithuanian relics has been noted since. The prosperous bi-federation of Poland and Lithuania formally came to an end in 1795. With the death of this illustrious hybrid state, the value of its ceremonial regalia depleted.
As a result, the search for the missing swords keeps few awake at night today. However, their extraordinary providence would undoubtedly demand a premium on the antique market if they were ever found, authenticated and privately auctioned.
If they are ever discovered, one ought to be returned to Krakow and the other to Vilnius, the capital of Lithuania. They denote the brave collaboration of two nations in the face of destruction and are the central props in the telling of that dramatic tale.