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Hail my brothers and sisters. A Pint of Mead for a weary traveler. I have a tale to tell, that requires a seat, and a Ballader of repute to accompany me. Alas, my tale is not of the concerns of MTW, as yet, but will be the basis for my campaign, once the mallady my system is inflicted with (lacklusterous Video Cardus), is remedied...that is.
If you care not for bravery or courage, move on. If you need fiction to wet your interests, then turn aside. If you reject the brotherhood of warriors, and the communal pull of a clan, then you must now click ahead. And if most of all you feel that the bond of love is wastefull, this tale is most definitely not for you.
So, you are well met, my friend. But first, you must see what I saw, and understand why this tale grabbed my heart. For then, you will indeed be one...with the Bastard Son of a Saracen.
My story commenced while on a Geneological Research study in Italy's Piedmonte region. I came across an ancient parchment in the national archives in Torino, that led to the discovery of a Ballad lost.
The parchment was itself a 16th century genealogical study prepared by a Cappucine Monk, Friar Donatto, of Ceva, a small town on the southwestern edge of Piedmonte. The parchment was dated in the Year 1545 a.d. and prepared for his benefactor the pro-temp Marquis of Ceva. As it turned out, the Duke of Savoy had recently annexed the territory owned by the Marquis of Ceva that included the ancestral lands of the mythical knight Aleramo, the first Marquis of Monferrat.
The Duke of Savoy had agreed to maintain the Marquis' feudal rights during the wars of annexation, but once the wars were done he questioned the Marquis' right to ownership of the land. In order for the Marquis to maintain his rights he would have to prove to the Duke his unquestioning lineage to that mythical Knight, Aleramo, within the year.
And so, the Marquis asked the holy Friar Donatto to research his lineage back to the great Aleramo. The request proved fruitful, as evidenced in the parchment. Friar Donatto was able to trace the Marquis' lineage through 18 Generations of landowners to the fabled Knight Aleramo. The following lines were inserted in the margin of the Family Tree he drew (loosely translated from the original localized Latin.)
By the grace of the Holy Spirit, the Legend of Aleramo follows through history as that of an abandoned son of Saracens. Aleramo became the squire of the Holy Roman Emperor, Ottone Prime. He seduced the beautiful Adelesia, Daughter of the Great Emperor. Angered Ottone, and stole away with Adelesia to the Alpi Ligure where he joined the brotherhood of the Ipaneri. After some time and eight children, Aleramo's son Guglielmo went to the court of Ottone Prime. His Grandfather loved him, and pardoned his daughter. Aleramo was made the first Marquis of Monferrato, and the General who destroyed the Saracens.
That’s where my search began. My appetite was wetted. I poured through relevant documents produced by the Cappuccines of Ceva for indication of any further story of this knight.
My search turned up a document written on a waxed leather parchment. The parchment was donated by a priest named Giovanni Baotista from the church of Santa Giulita in the Alto Val Tanaro in the Ligurian Alps. The document spoke of The Boar, a Christian knight who terrorized the Saracens, and did God's work. It was dated in the year 1012 a.d. Alone, the document seemed incomplete. My intuition and increased curiosity forced me onwards to seek out that church, in the hopes that a larger collection of documents might be found in its library.
I journeyed to the Alto Val Tanaro (the High Valley Tanaro) named after a tributary of the Po River, the Tanaro River, and found the trek taking me through the town of Ceva, which was at the Northern end of a long reverse L shaped Valley. The valley follows the flow of the Tanaro River, which begins near Ormea in the springs of San Benedetto North past Garessio, past Pievetta, and Bagnasco, then through Ceva out of the Valley on through the Plains of the Po through Alba, where it soon joins the Po River.
It is this river which has brought life to the inhabitants of the Alto Val Tanaro since prehistoric times. And which forms the centerpiece of the Ballad of Aleramo.
The High Valley Tanaro was originally occupied by a tribe of Ligurian Alpine Celts known as the Ipanarii (“The people of the Boar as Livy called them.) The Ipanarii had apparently been successful in avoiding contact, and control by a number of invaders from Hannibal, to the Romans, then the Goths, and Gallic tribes. They were never successfully dominated. This tribe inhabited not only the Valley of the High Tanaro, but also the valleys to the East and West of it.
Their most sacred totem was the Boar. An animal that represented strength, and character to the Ipanarii. It also represented their way of resolving conflict. This was called the Way of the Boar. It is said this way is to Maim, then to kill, as a boar maims its assailants, and then kills them. This way is that of sudden attack in defense from the safety of the brush with a fierceness of a mother protecting her children.
I journeyed to the Church of Santa Giulita high on a ridge in the center of the Valley, and found it on the evening of July 18th, 1999. As I admired the small unobtrusive building I noted how it was isolated from all other buildings in towns in the valley. High up on a ridge it only had a cottage nearby it where the church’s caretakers might live.
It was there that I found Father Giovanni, not the one who wrote the parchment, but another who was a successor to the position spoken of in the second parchment. I explained my interest, and he politely invited me in to talk. I told him what I had found in Torino's Archives, and he took me to the vault of the Church of Santa Giulita. He said he would show me the rest of what I sought.
It was in the vault of Santa Giulita that I saw him.
The remains of the mythical Knight Aleramo.
His shield emblazoned on a simple stone coffin. Maintained for centuries by the fathers of the Church of Santa Giulita. I admired the calm, and cocky look on the face of the stone caricature of the man that was Aleramo. He seemed larger than life, which at first I thought was artistic license, but now I know it was probably true. He was sketched wearing the hybrid armor of a Christian Knight, a Saracen raider, and a Celtic Warrior. This struck me as odd. I quickly sketched the shield of this man. A Boar's head charging, tusks lowered with Three bands on the diagonal representing the Sky, the Ridges of the Valley, and the Tanaro River.
Father Giovanni then finished lighting candles in the Vault that allowed me to see Mosaics dating from the 12th Century completely surrounding the tomb of Aleramo. These Mosaics, the good father explained, told the 21 chapters, or stations as he called them, of the life of the knight known as the Boar.
We spent an entire afternoon going from station to station as father Giovanni recited the story at each station. The story was wrapped within the short summary given by the Cappucine Monk Friar Donatto. However the story told by Father Giovanni was much more colorful, and everything I was searching for.
I wrote the words as told to me by Father Giovanni, and made certain to note each inflection. And here just over 1,000 years from the dates of the Events retold, I present those notes in my interpretation of.
I present...
THE BALLAD OF ALERAMO
An Interpretation
The Prologue
Listen all, and a legend hear,
Of the one whose name
Brought Saracens fear.
Aleramo the thief, the squire, and knight,
The husband, the father, the farmer, and thrice…
The Boar…
Servant of God
Whose strikes would maim
Sagittu the Vile
Aleramo
The savior of Montferrat,
Marquis of that the same.
The First Station
The Darkest of all the ages fell,
Upon the Highest vale and hill,
When Sagittu’s Demons rose to find,
and take Bagnasco’s belle Giulita.
Disposed, as if so many rags,
From chamber to the street,
Giulita lost her way and found
Gio-Batta’s feet.
As seasons changed,
The terror spread.
Sagittu’s host, did gain the Vale,
The Tanaro did turn Blood Red.
Of soldiers lost to Moorish blade.
The months did pass,
And fall arrived.
The Harvest poor,
Starvation’s bride,
Bore salvation to the tribe.
The Second Station
Born Aleramo to Giulita,
The people heard, and tried to kill
the child whose blood ran Moor.
But good Father Gio-Batta,
would have it not.
And baptized him to save him.
Word of birth,
Ran to the Moor,
Where bred those seeds of doubt in him.
Sagittu,
brought him hatred then,
Of man whose blood was wronged.
The Third Station
Sagittu, as king Herod did,
Sent Captain Babel to the task,
the boy to kill,
the mother caught.
Instead of boy, Giulita’s found,
Good Father Gio-Batta saves again.
The luckless boy,
Whose mother’s dead.
Babel afraid, reports the death,
Of both, not one, instead.
Sagittu knows only this,
Fayed is truly now his son.
Giulita dead, her child is safe,
Gio-Batta guards his life again.
Raised on the street unknown to man,
But known to valley and to hills,
The boy grows-up to be a man.
The Fourth Station
Ludovico , the knight errant,
The Father Gio-Batta meets.
His need to find a mutual cause,
In the flock the Father leads.
Ludovico, sent by his master,
To the Vale to find dissent,
Instead the Father makes a case,
Of apathy in every face.
Aleramo meets the knight errant,
Ludovico tells a tale,
Of warriors bold,
And christian swords,
And strength that never fails.
They part,
And on his quest he goes,
Ludovico to bring the news,
Of people of the Tanaro.
The knight who’s sad at what he found,
Is found himself instead,
Before he dies at Babel’s hand,
This tale he tells Aleramo its said,
I give you this medallion,
twas given unto me,
by he who’s lead I follow,
Go to Ottone,
tell him this tale,
The medal will then lead his sorrow.
To you I give this charge,
To you, my friend,
I leave my life.
Let me live,
Immortally,
And give these words,
To He I follow.
The boy then hides,
As Babel’s men,
Have their way with sword, and dance,
And Ludovico then loses life.
The Fifth Station
Aleramo makes to leave the Town,
Full of fear, courage fed,
He finds the bravery and the might,
And springs to action in the night.
First Bagnasco’s gate he makes,
Then through bramble,
Through the woods,
Then on over ridge,
To Ceva’s wall.
Then through valley, deep with sorrow,
Tanaro’s flow he follows,
To Hills and all,
And then the Saracen picket lines.
Through hosts of Moors,
It seems all lost,
And finally,
He meets the ones.
The christian Camp,
Its armored knights,
Its men-at-arms,
And sheer awesome might.
The Sixth Station
Aleramo goes to the camp,
Of Ottone Prime, the emperor,
The master of Ludovico,
And savior of Rome.
The Courtly grace escapes his charm,
Aleramo is now ridiculed,
He’s told today is not the day,
He’s told to go away.
A Guardsman Captain, Giulelmo,
Takes note of the boy,
The anger in his eyes,
Medallion in his hand.
It bears the mark of Ottone Prime
The Captain knows his charge,
To Ottone he escorts the boy,
Ottone then meets the man.
Tell me child, how came you this,
The entire tale, spare no expense,
I need to hear that which you say,
About my friend, my loyal lance.
Aleramo was struck with the man,
And saw in him, the emperor,
the honor, strength, the care, and love.
To him he knew he would be squire.
The story of Ludovico,
His quest to find the truth,
Was told by Aleramo,
His findings, and his loss,
At Babel’s hand,
And how he came to hold,
Ludovico’s Medallion.
Ottone shed tears.
He finally knew,
Ludovico was dead,
A friend he would mourn.
He called Aleramo to him,
To kneel, so he may grant,
in exchange for this tale, A Favor.
So all may know his gratitude.
Aleramo knew what he would ask,
As soon as it was given,
He looked to Ottone,
Eye to eye, and asked.
I bring to you my arms,
my strength, my head, and heart,
I bring to you devotion,
And from you I ask to be your squire.
The Court amused,
They gossiped, and laughed,
Who was this child to ask,
To be a man?
But not controlled by petty thoughts,
Ottone commanded,
This child I will take into my house.
He’ll tend to me, as others do,
And learn the arts of Squirehood.
The Seventh Station
A beauty as Adelesia existed once,
As is said in legend.
In truth, it was as such,
She was loved by all men.
Her father Ottone,
Jealous of others affections,
Guarded her closely,
Never wishing to lose her,
Unless of his choosing.
Adelesia’s eyes wandered though,
And sought attention, only once,
In the yards of the castle at Asti.
While the squires played.
Adelesia first saw Aleramo.
And forever more, they were locked on him.
A chance game of sport,
Organized to show the prowess
Of the squires of Ottone,
Doth prove won by Aleramo.
The prize, a favor of a lady fair.
He chooseth, Adelesia,
But her father would have none’o’it.
And so Aleramo resigned his victory.
The Court amused at the dare.
But retribution by Ottone,
Was interrupted at once,
When a scout’s report, doth tell
That the Saracens march,
And bring with them the hordes of Hell
To Arms To March
My squires to me
We ride To Defend the cross
And to Lay Asunder this plague on our land.
Ottone led his army of 5,000 warriors,
And on the fields below Mondovi found war,
Sagittu, and his horde, 15,000 strong
A terrible fight was at hand
Sagittu’s cavalry harrassed the brave Christians,
Their arrows taking their toll.
When Ottone’s Lance fell forward,
And his charger neighed,
And his roar could be heard above the throng
For all the saints and God
The mighty Knights, their charge begun,
A rumble on the earth,
As though thunder was contained within.
The Saracen cavalry fell away,
As they were trampled underfoot.
The Charge continued,
Ever forward,
Into the Saracen Ranks
The fighting was fierce,
The Knighthood entrenched,
The Emperor surrounded by his house
The squires afoot, entered the fray,
And one could be seen among them
To me To me
Together we fight
To Ottone, with all our might
Twas Aleramo, wielding a fallen Saracen’s Blade.
Much larger than his own,
And no shield, as the others had.
With each swing no fewer than three fell.
Aleramo roared out, the other squires understood.
Together they formed a wedge,
With Aleramo at its point,
They made for Ottone,
Who now stood alone,
His back to trusty Sir Giulielmo,
Together they stood
Sagittu from his height knew the battle was won.
He saw the emperor off his horse,
Surrounded by his guard,
He saw one by one,
His guard fall,
Until only the Emperor,
stood, his back to one.
Then a Saracen blow, Felled Ottone
The saints cried out in rage
The Saracens fell on him in a crowd,
Giulelmo fought on in vain.
Ottone, could feel the fetid breath,
Of a moor who tried to take his helm,
The Head of an Emperor to be his prize.
When suddenly, and without a sound,
As if borne on an angels wing,
The Saracen was lifted,
And held on high
And tossed aside as if a doll,
By mighty Aleramo
Sagittu thought victory at hand,
But all at once,
In a shattering blow,
A group of squires,
one wielding a Moorish blade
Saved Ottone,
And put him on a steed.
From on-high, Ottone roared
Let them feel our blades
With that, the Saracens met,
The full force of the Christian might,
And left the field, on swifter steeds,
Into the High Valleys, from whence they came.
The day was won,
The emperor saved,
Aleramo rode as a hero,
Into the Court at Asti.
The Eighth Station
Where the Emperor proclaimed
His deed to the assembled throng,
Squire Aleramo, kneel to me.
And so Aleramo did.
Sir Aleramo Rise before me
And now Aleramo was knighted.
His joy was met by Adelesia’s eyes,
And so when Ottone granted him a second favor,
Aleramo was heard to say…
I wish to cherish,
that which you cherish,
To have that which you have,
I wish the beauty of this earth.
I wish your daughter’s hand
Ottone, let out a yell,
As a wounded bear might do.
Twas all he could do to prevent his hand
From claiming the life of he,
Who had saved his.
You have saved my life,
Sir Knight,
And as such, I will save yours,
For such an affront, I cannot condone
Out of my sight,
And never more,
Be seen within my ranks
Those who were there that day,
Could swear,
Ottone, did shed a tear,
As if he lost a son.
Shattered,
Angered,
Betrayed,
Aleramo stole Adelesia away.
And to the hills of the High Valleys,
He rode, to make a home with her.
And forever to forget his life
The way it was, was not.
The things he’d done, undone.
Only he, and her,
Existed now.
Ottone, forgotten.
The Ninth Station
Years gone by, friends remembered,
GioBatta, married them.
And Baptized their children,
Eight there were,
Giulelmo, Ludovico,
Giulita and Gemma
Erucleo
and Carlo
Felicita,
and the youngest, Aldo.
Aleramo’s Friends found again,
Bruno, and Berto,
Cristiano, and Eugenio.
But most of all Valerius.
All were happy, and rejoiced.
Ten long years, and then the voice.
The Tenth Station
Sagittu’s own, the man Fayed,
Captain of a squadron,
Moors were all, Saracen dread,
They came upon the happy farm.
They came, and Fayed said to them.
To my father, you owe the life you live.
To him, who shields you in these hills.
And thus you give disdain to he.
I bill you now, your daughters three
Aleramo, heard these words aloud,
The blood of Cain he saw and wept,
He tried to live the life of peace,
But here come they to take his nest
Alas, poor Saracens,
Warriors but six,
The squadron led by Fayed met,
The mighty Aleramo, scythe in hand,
He plowed the heathen from his land
Each one was maimed, their arms, or legs,
Gone, were limbs, their hands, and knees,
Lost were they, in hills anon.
Fayed fell, and was scared beyond.
Listen, foe, to me…too close,
For you have threatened, Hades ghost,
And waken in me, Jupiter’s son,
To avenge the hangman’s noose.
Call me by name,
And hear it well,
pray only once you’ll see no more,
The awful visage of The Boar
With words as thus, The Boar struck once,
On Fayed’s leg, and then he stood,
A horror to the prince befallen,
The Boar backed into woods beyond.
The Eleventh Station
Valerius heard the tale as told,
And warned his friend to be not bold,
For once let live, the Moors would hunt,
And thus the fight was on.
Aleramo knew the truth in this,
And sought the counsel in his eyes,
Valerius knew that as the Boar,
Aleramo must make to hide.
Valerius knew of a secret place,
And such he told his friend.
Aleramo bade his family go to this hiding place,
And there was joined by more,
The poor, and helpless of the Vale,
The oppressed, and lucky to escape.
Those with hatred in their eyes.
Those who wished to only live.
Aleramo saw in them a vision,
Of those who came before.
That night was lost in mystic dream.
He saw a story in his mind,
And knew what he must do.
He stole away into the dark,
To find his trove long lost,
He donned his helm,
His chain, and cloth,
And drew his sword into a flame.
On his dress he burnt a crest,
The Boar would live again.
He returned into the cave where all were hid and safe,
He gathered friends around him then,
And spoke these words to them,
We face a time that is not strange,
A time that must be faced,
Again.
We faced the Gallic blood we drew,
When they sought to hunt our hills.
We faced the Roman blood we drew,
When they sought to rule by swords.
We faced Germanic blood we drew,
When our childs they sought to take.
We face the Saracen blood, on now.
But, the blood still flows inside their veins,
Those gone before us cry in shame,
As they see the state we’re in.
This blood, the Blood of Saracen,
must be drawn,
The Saracens must feel the pain,
The pain they bring on us,
The pain they scream for, Now
The Boar will give them this,
All for which they ask,
The Boar will take them where they wish to go,
To the depths from which they came.
The Boar shall live again,
Along my side,
My friends will be.
Shielding those behind.
Let no man stand before us.
As God will guide our fight.
To arms my friends,
And join me now,
To maim the foe
As Boar we are in Brotherhood
With this a throng did gather strong,
The Boar did fight and maim again,
Forever stronger,
More to join, they came.
Three hundred now,
And Captains three,
Valerius, Cristiano, and Eugenio.
Each with fifty men-at-arms.
Brought death to Saracens they found.
And maimed the hand of Sagittu
Sagittu burst with anger,
For three hundred were but gnats to him.
The bother though was great indeed,
When Captain Babel’s head was found.
Upon a pike in the town,
A letter rolled into his mouth.
To he whose name is evil true,
Beware the Boar, and Brotherhood.
Leave these Vales, and you leave whole.
Stay and fight,
And lose it all.
The letter was signed
The Boar,
in blood.
Sagittu shook as it was read,
And laughed when it all was said,
He asked who among his knights,
Would bring the head of Boar to light.
Fayed, his son, was first to yell,
I will, within the next full moon
And so was set the stage to find,
The Boar, and brood, in kind.
The Twelfth Station
Fayed, his scent warmed to the hunt
Found his quarry soon enough,
Cremonio, his duty led,
To feed his family with bread.
And there he found awaiting him,
Fayed, and more instead.
Cremonio, you who do not tend a farm,
do not mend a shoe,
or plumb a board.
Cremonio, how is it you bring this food.
Fayed began to dance around,
Cremonio saw his madness,
His family was his only worry,
And then, the sadness.
Cremonio, your wife is fair,
As is your eldest daughter,
The youngest will bring price as well.
Your son will become fodder.
Fayed, his eye’s aglow,
Stood behind Cremonio.
And found his quarry start to sweat,
And saw he was to win.
Cremonio, unless you can devulge to me,
The information which you know.
I will do these and many things,
To those, of yours, you love.
For Fayed would have his family stolen,
Cremonio knew this to be true.
He gave the place the Boar were hid,
And forever more was cursed.
Fayed in joy,
Slew the man.
And sold the wife, and daughter too.
The boy alone he saved to please,
The torturer with his tools.
In haste, he mounted one thousand men,
And in the dimness of the moonless night,
Sought out the cave, Cremonio sent,
And found in it his Prize
The guard’s alert came all too late,
The devil was within,
A fight ensued to make man cringe,
As Boar fought Hell’s own brood.
The Boar himself was seen that night,
Surrounded by one hundred,
He slew, and maimed, and roared a cry
Whose next to Hell
And then, the fight did seem to waver,
The Saracens did back away,
Fayed faced the Boar alone,
Come on, lets have it now
Fayed advanced,
The Boar, he fell,
The floor too slick with blood.
Fayed’s blow sliced the Boar in two.
His friends too late to show.
But then, a yell To me The Boar To me
Valerius, by Giulelmo’s side,
And twenty more, who showed no fear,
Did take the body of the Boar,
Away into the night.
Fayed, his prize now gone,
Did find another in its stead.
The fair Adelesia who was caught,
In honor did she stand.
I am your captive, sir Fayed.
As such I will remain,
Until my husband doth return
To free me from these chains.
Fayed was struck with this beauty,
And took her hand,
Facing his horde he said,
Upon my honor I do claim,
Your safety in this land.
You are my captive, this is true,
Your husband will not come for you.
The Thirteenth Station
But Fayed was mistaken,
In fact the Boar did live,
His friends did save him,
And spirit him away.
Although his wound was deep,
And took four seasons just to heal.
And so did Adelesia feel.
For such was Aleramo’s wounds,
When wake he did,
Know not did he,
Of all that had transpired.
It was as such.
That all he knew,
Was that he might have died.
Cristiano, and Giulelmo too,
And Bruno, and Berto,
Eugenio, all lived.
Valerius had died,
That day a year ago, a stone placed where he lay.
The day betrayed,
By Cremonio’s hand,
That day so many died.
My family?
Aleramo asked,
Giulelmo told that all his siblings lived,
In safety, among the Clan.
But Adelesia, was gone.
At the hands of Fayed.
This was true, they all agreed.
Aleramo, his heart was broken.
Lost, the love of his life, believed.
A day he mourned,
A week,
And then.
Again returned, the Boar.
Gather, the clan.
Aleramo ordered.
How few we are,
How mortal few.
And yet, we must succeed.
The Clan gathered again,
In the winter months,
And together,
Only fourty-one they numbered now.
And think they did of what can be,
With a number as few as they.
And then the news,
It was as fire,
To goad the Boar to strike.
Sagittu only then found out,
Of Adelesia’s spouse,
As such he ordered Fayed’s hand,
To marry her for the honor,
Which would become the final blow,
To end the myth of a man thought dead.
The Boar did learn of this,
Through GioBatta the elder priest.
And planned the sack of Garresio,
The tower where she wept.
One moonless night, the winter wind did blow,
A chill was in the air.
The fires crackled from their hearths,
The Saracens held no cares.
Up on the Highest Tower,
The one upon the cliff,
Whose drop would be the water,
Of Tanaro there deep.
Was Adelesia to be found,
And Boar did find the scent,
As Aleramo climbed the cliff,
Fire arrows did descend,
On down upon the frightened Moors,
Who guarded the western Gate.
Distraction did but help the cause,
Of Boar, and Adelesia,
As he did reach the Tower high,
In fully armored dress.
The First of Fifty guards he struck,
And threw him to the Tanaro.
The other forty-nine met fate,
In armored hand,
And its sharpened mate,
In silence though so no alarm,
Was raised to save their day.
Oppressed in hate
Fayed smelled the fate,
And flew onto the Tower.
To save the one whose life he loved,
Instead he met her lover.
The Boar met Hell’s incarnate fury,
Equal in intensity,
This time the match did end but brief,
For Adelesia’s beauty.
The Boar did slay Fayed that night,
And left his symbol there,
On top the Tower of Garessio,
Where Sagittu’s heir was dead.
The Boar escaped,
His wife in hand.
It was thus said that down Tanaro,
Past Nucetto, and Ceva,
And even on to Asti,
That Ottone’s knights did count that morn,
The Fifty Guardsman’s lives,
As Fifty Saracen bodies did float,
On the Tanaro that night.
The Fourteenth Station
Sagittu’s worst of fears came true,
As worst was to be had,
The people of the Garessio,
Saw the damage done,
The wedding did not go as planned,
And slowly did they tell,
The tale of that fiery night,
And the Boar as resurrected.
The towns along the Valley,
Did hear the tale anon,
And slowly did they rise their ire,
At Sagittu’s demise.
The Fifteenth Station
Now Sagittu was so enraged,
With tribute late,
And insolence,
His first son lost, and now again…
Did begin the scourge,
So remembered,
And the Boar did only hide.
With so many dead,
Since Garessio,
And so few remaining,
The Boar did gather clan around,
We must now hide,
and lick our wounds,
we can fight,
No more.
Giulelmo, His Father’s son,
Did scream out denial,
This cannot be,
the Valley Bleeds
Our brothers need our help
The argument was loud,
As frightened clan saw father and son,
Combating thoughts about.
Until the fury was at an end,
And Giulelmo left the crowd.
Lost was Clan,
The Boar did hide,
The Valley bled,
As revenge Allied
With Sagittu’s fury.
The Sixteenth Station
Giulelmo, son of Boar,
Escaped through bloody flight,
To find the host of Lord Ottone,
Encamped in Alba’s shadow.
Enlisting in the troops to fight,
And recognized as a child of the Tanaro,
His namesake was through duty bound
To investigate the High Valley’s Plight.
Young Giulelmo, your name is good,
For that is the name I was given in Childhood.
Said Sir Giulelmo of old.
The older man, took two more looks,
As memory shook his head.
He asked the junior his task at hand.
But as Giulelmo spoke,
The sun did shine,
And God did speak,
For the Elder saw, reflecting the
Glow of the sun,
A Medallion hung on the youngster’s neck.
Stop all you say, and tell me this,
The Medal you wear, I need to see.
And forcefully the Elder Giulelmo
Took in hand the Medal.
And saw it as he thought
Young man, from whence did you receive this?
The Elder asked the younger.
From my mother Adelesia, on birth.
With that, and with much haste,
The memory did strike him
The Elder recognized at once,
The features on the younger face,
As that of Aleramo’s Blood
He shook, and prayed to God,
And took the younger man in hand,
They rushed to Ottone’s court.
And found him in his age.
My lord I must show you fate
The Elder Giulelmo spoke.
Speak on oh trusty knight.
Ottone did let him speak.
My lord This young man who bears my name,
Does come from the High Valleys
The Elder Knight shook.
Ottone did question of the import.
He comes to join your force, my lord
Ottone thanked the younger man.
He bears a medal on a chain
With that Ottone did focus on the chain.
The Emperor at once did yell
In anger did he stand. And pound the Arm of his chair.
He looked straight in the eye of the Younger Man,
And suddenly he stood agasp.
My son, who is your father? he asked.
My father, Aleramo the Boar, is dead, my lord
The Emperor sat in sudden loss,
Of strength in all his limbs.
My son, your mother, who is she?
My mother is Adelesia, my lord.
The Emperor did shed a tear.
My son, come here, and kneel before me.
Giulelmo, uncertain of his fate,
Did boldly kneel before the Lord.
My son, rise, and greet your Grand-Sire.
Giulelmo shook, and stood in shock.
My Grandfather ?
Adelesia, my daughter, lives?
Yes, my lord Still in shock.
The Emperor gripped Giulelmo then
And hugged him hard,
Almost as if to draw his life
To him and know,
the years for which he missed.
The Court did shout that day,
Throughout the land,
As the BOAR of whom they heard,
Was revealed,
A hero’s death.
The Boar’s own son,
The Emperor’s blood,
The Daughter still alive.
At once At once Adelesia must be saved
To the valley, with all our might
We must go to her side
The Court exclaimed, and was subdued.
The Emperor a wisened man,
Did bid his grand-son to a deed.
Go Giulelmo, and you Sir Knight,
To the High Valley,
With spirited flight.
And bring my daughter,
And my blood,
Back to my side.
The Seventeenth Station
With that Giulelmo, Elder, and Young,
Incognito, in the night,
Did hasten to the High Valley.
And found Adelesia, and Aleramo.
The Dormant Boar awoke that day,
And saw his son anew.
A plan had formed within his mind,
That could the hills relieve,
Of Saracen, and evil scourge,
For Sagittu to fear this day.
The Eighteenth Station
The family broke through the line,
And entered Christian land,
The Boar was dressed as simpleton,
a servant of the lady.
Presented to the court of Lords,
The family went on forth,
Adelesia embraced in weeping arms,
As Ottone saw his daughter.
Then one by one,
The children were presented,
Their grand-sire, smiled in awe.
Such strapping sons,
And beautiful daughters,
His blood was again renewed.
He rose, and knew he must reclaim,
The family that he lost,
When Aleramo stole the girl,
His only daughter, once.
He called the court to harken him,
As he proclaimed the honor of the man,
That hurt him so, in past,
Aleramo, now at once the Boar,
known to the Valley as the reaper,
of the Saracen host.
This man who once I banished from my sight,
Has regained honor for all to know.
In death he brought me my grandsons,
My daughter, and her daughters.
Aleramo, The Boar,
I reinstate in death,
As Knight of the realm.
And father of my heirs.
With that the court knew what transpired,
Ottone, in reclaiming The Boar,
Reclaimed his own.
With Aleramo dead,
His Grandsons were now his heirs.
But then to the shock of all those present,
The Servant revealed his real form.
As Aleramo, the newly knight,
As Aleramo, the Boar.
Ottone sat back,
In shock, and fear,
But then a smile regained his face,
I should have known,
That you would not,
Allow me my own way,
On this very joyous day.
To all, I affirm my recent charter,
And reclaim my son, the Boar.
As such, I forgive his past affronts,
And offer him a favor.
Aleramo smiled his knowing way,
And looked Ottone straight on,
I wish an army of 10,000 men,
to reclaim the land of Tanaro
Ottone, thought once, and then again,
And knew the favor was for him,
And knew the power of the man,
He knew till then as son.
He knew the son was now a man,
And knew that this was now God’s will.
The Boar has asked for arms, and men,
to favor me with my lands.
Which I have fought these many years,
To reclaim, again.
I put the notice to the realm,
That all those who wish may join the fight,
And find the army to be led,
By Aleramo the Boar,
Marquis of Monferrat, in right
I now do ask my friend,
most holy Bishop,
the reverend of Alba.
To take request to his most holy father,
To make this quest a crusade
To Make the Valley of the High Tanaro,
A Christian Land again
The roar of the crowd was deafening,
Aleramo the Boar,
Marquis of Monferrat,
And Scourge of Saracen,
To lead a Crusade, 10,000 strong,
Holy blessed to take back
the Land Of Tanaro
The Ninteenth Station
Till news of blessing should arrive,
Aleramo did train his host.
In methods of the Clan of Boar,
And knowledge of the Tanaro.
The word of deeds and of crusade,
Did reach the ear of Sagittu,
And preparations did he make,
To defend his conquered land.
The Twentieth Station
And then the messenger did return,
With bull in hand,
And did proclaim,
With this, the bones of Michael,
And this the Wood of Paul’s own Cross.
Our holy see has blessed the way,
On the Tanaro Crusade
The Boar, Marquis of Monferrat,
Did take his army strong.
His followers, rode with him then,
And sung the Boar’s war song.
They rode into the hills at Mondovi,
And met the Saracen Picket,
And overthrew with force indeed
The line that Sagittu did make.
They rode into the heights,
And then into the vale,
Through Fossato’s gate,
And on the western slope,
Of Bagnasco’s mighty wall.
It was this place where crossroads meet,
Where Sagittu first met Giulita,
Where Aleramo was soon born,
Where Saracen’s made a stand.
Within the walls that girdered hill,
And in the towers down the ridge,
The Saracen’s did meet in force,
And waited for the sound,
Of Pounding hooves,
And armored mail,
As the Boar did charge the wall.
Upon the cry of Liberate ,
The force did surge against,
Like wave upon the shore,
And as the cry, did sound,
Another from within,
The Saracens were shook upon the sound,
Of rebels in their ranks,
For Giulelmo, senior, and the son,
Embraced the Clan and then,
Entered through deep uncharted creek,
The night before, and hid,
Within the depths of house, and home,
Of Father Gio-Batta, one and the same.
They broke, and down the inner road,
Entered gate, and up the hill,
To the Western Tower high,
They went,
To help the Boar achieve his aim.
The Moorish Captains,
Betrayed as such,
Did valiantly defend their prize.
And at the end that day was heard,
Their voices cry in vain.
As Aleramo planted flag,
And blessed the church again.
The Final Station
Sagittu did hear the news,
And took account of all his force,
And found his men were few and far,
And knew his way was blocked to sea.
As Genoese were heard to send,
Their fleet to form blockade.
His orders were,
To all our brothers,
We must hold,
Our Towers,
and Our Lands.
And slowly shall we let them come,
Drained of their strength,
And of their number.
The final fight that we will have,
Will be Garressio,
Where we will win,
And Allah’s word will be confirmed
This note he sent to all his captains,
Warriors unto themselves,
Enslavers of the weak.
And masters through the sword alone.
They heard not what was in the words,
But just the words alone.
And of the Captains not one stood,
And held for long, as The Boar advanced.
And then the season rightly came,
When Aleramo did advance,
The Marquis’ men,
Strengthened now,
And not with less,
For more did join, and volunteered,
As fame of deed did echo forth.
And Aleramo met the lord of Moorish pride,
And they did fight alone upon,
That same tower on the heights
Above the town,
Where Fayed fell,
And so did they,
The Moorish guard,
Each leapt for life upon the cliff,
Faced with the Boar in fiery fight,
Until the last,
And then they met,
Lord of Moor, the Savage Boar.
The fight ensued,
And lasted long,
And then with one last cut,
Aleramo did,
And took Sagittu’s life.
And God did thunder from the heights,
His thunder spoke,
and lightening fell,
And rain did wash the last of blood,
Into the Alto – Tanaro.
The War was done,
The Battle won
And All did shout his name.
Aleramo,
the Boar,
and Marquis of Monferrat
Had valiantly won the day.
The Valley and all its heights,
Had now been freed of Moorish reign,
And owed to him, the new Marquis,
Their Freedom, and their Liberty.
The Epilogue
And so it came that this young boy,
The son of war,
Raised Tanaro,
Adopted son of Ottone Prime,
Did come to marry beauty born,
Did come to be the savage Boar,
And slew the demon Moor
The End
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Excellent Truly excellent, an epic warriors story indeed
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