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This thread is for in-character stories in the King of the Romans thread (except battle reports, which have their own thread). Any out of character comments or discussion should be kept in the OOC thread.
Note - if your story involves casting another player's avatar in an unfavourable light or doing bad things to them, you must liase with that player first.
The clean up process was never a glorious one, or a heartening one. The sacking of Hamburg had left much of the castle's lower quarters in shambles as the men trashed the place searching for loot. The bodies of the enemy lie everywhere, stamped and mangled beneath the thunder of half a thousand hooves, cheap armaments broken and portruding from their planted position in the ground, horrified faces twisted in agony staring up into the beating sun, into the faces of their killers. He had always thought of the battlefield as a graveyard, but at the same time far from such a sacred place. Battlefields were the place where murderers and grave robbers were allowed to enact their trade with impunity.
And then there was the case of fallen friends, comrades in arms now shut out of life. Dietrich sighed as he stood beside one of the men in his own retinue that had fallen in the battle. He was from southern Frankfurt. He was not particularly any sort of spectacular man, but he was honest, good intentioned. He remembered seeing him fall, struck by the final release of an archer's arrow right before they ran the regiment down in the street.
As Dietrich stood amongst the bodies, he noted the approach of the young knight he'd been briefed by before the battle. He could see a slight look of disdain on the man's face, and hesitated for a moment before he spoke.
"There's going to be many more days like this ahead, have no regrets if you are certain you did all you could. All that can be done afterwards is to see off lost friends to the heavens with respect." He said, reaching into a small pouch at his side and dismounting his horse. From the pouch he pulled two Imperial coins, then, bending down, placed them over the eyes of the man he recognised from his retinue. "And, sometimes, to pay their way there from your own pocket." Dietrich stared up into the sun and sighed. "Come, help me, there's much work to be done."
Cardinal Peter Scherer walked around tiny church frowning. The parish priest looked aghast and ashamed. He skittered about trying to straighten a candle here and wipe away some dust there, unable to keep up with the wandering gaze of the Cardinal.
"Fret not, good Father. This is a small parish and I know the tithes are not great in size or number," said Cardinal Peter. He thought to himself, "How will we ever stand up to the Italian's arrogance when there houses of worship are works of divinely inspired art, yet ours are seem but stables with pews..."
"Thank you your Eminence, but I again apologize for the meager comforts and state of unpreparedness of this House of God. I beg your forgiveness most wholeheartedly..." groaned Father Mueller.
"Nonsense, a good and pious House of our Lord this is! It preaches to the simple folk and as such has simple charm," replied the Cardinal. He continued, "Regardless, I have recieved word from the Imperial Diet that funds have been set aside to subsidize the erecting of many new Churchs. Our Kaiser and his men are filled with such faith! If only the other peoples of our world were led by such holy men...<sigh>.. but I digress into matters that are not for you to fret good Father."
"Our Emperor and his noble lords are righteous men indeed, your Eminence," agreed the priest.
"As are you good Father. And I am sure that the Kaiser and the Prince and all our noble born lords will be happy to know the common men feel that way," said Peter. He continued, "Considering the state of affairs here, I may recommend that this parish receive a church in which you may preach."
"That is MOST gracious, your Eminence!" said Father Mueller, grinning widely and bowing deeply.
The two clerics said there farewells and Peter climbed into his coach. Willem of Bruges, the cardinal's secretary, looked him over and, in his Flemish accent, queried "All is well, your Eminence?"
"Yes, yes... fine. Advise the electors that this will be a good parish to build a new church in. The current one is no better than a swine yard, and smells as such. When I visited here just half a dozen years ago, this church thrived. It was never a glorious place but it had a pastoral charm," said the Cardinal. "I dare say that I mistook the cobwebs for silk curtains," he continued, chuckling.
As his chuckling died out he grew cold and a stern look washed over his face. "As for this simpleton, Mueller, I don't want him near our new Church. If he doesn't lead it to ruin, he will only serve to remind the folk of this miserable ruin of a shack," said Peter. "Send him on a pilgrimage somewhere far away, Spain or the Holy Land, I care not. Somewhere with brigands and lepers and the like. I don't want to see him again."
Willem raised an eyebrow, "I hear the Reconquista of Iberia is particularly violent these days. There are captains, Christian and heathen, who serve one master one day and his sworn enemies the next... desperate men they are," said the secratary, as if musing over a random thought. He continued, "has your Eminence ever been to the Shrine of Santa Maria Dolores de Cordoba? I have heard that every holy man should be given an oppurtunity to drink from the spring there. It is said to give new insight into spreading the word of Our Lord...."
The Cardinal simply nodded.
Cardinal Peter Scherer listened with pride as the Flemish priest stated that Bavaria would be the first to build these new Churches. He gazed out among the pine trees and watched as the sun slowly sank behind them. It seemed as though the pointed pines were fangs in the maw of some great beast that was devouring the sun and the cardinal was lost in this pagan image from some long forgotten myth.
Ashamed of such heretical thoughts, he quickly tried to think of something more pious. Without consciously chosing the image, he thought of a time in his boyhood. He was 12 and he was crying and laughing at the same time. he was on his knees in the street. His chaperone was aghast and telling him to get out of the filth and that when his father saw his hose torn and muddy, he would have him horse whipped. However, Peter stayed where he was, kneeling in front of the Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Chartres. He had never seen anything so magnificent or so beautiful in his life. He was overcome with a sense of faith and knelt paralyzed and in a state of rapture. One of the priests, seeing this young boy, dressed in noble finery, kneeling in the mud before the Cathedral, asked him to come inside. After speaking to Preist for some time, he was taken to see the Sancta Camisia, the gown of Saint Mary, Blessed Mother. His fathers dreams of Peter taking over the family's lucridive silver trade died that very instant. Peter knew his calling and all the horse-whipping in the world would not change his mind.
Suddenly he he straightened and looked to Willem.
"Willem, these new Houses of Our Lord are but a first step. Greater works must follow. A Cathedral, in Bavaria ... a Cathedral that will bring glory to our Church, glory to our People, glory to our Empire. A Cathedral that will make all other princes and kings grow green with jealousy... that will make hardened Catalans weep and Saracens throw down their turbans. I swear upon my Holy Oath that we will have such a Cathedral, although I may never see it completed, I will see it started...."
Maximillian Mandorf rolled over and wiped the sweat from his face. After a momentary pause, he reached out and grasped a half-empty goblet of wine. Propping himself up on his elbow, he took a deep draught, then wiped a red rivulet from the corner of his mouth. Behind him on the bed, a peasant girl lay bare-breasted, breathing heavily.
Mandorf distained mistresses. They were expensive and expected rank and privilege. Far too much trouble in comparison to the simple service they performed. Servants and townsfolk were free and never said a word. As he rose, a butler stepped forward from the far corner and proffered a heavy robe. Mandorf shrugged on the garment and walked into his private study.
Another servant was waiting there. He immediately stepped forward and held up a parchment. “Sir, the latest report from Italy.” The letter was sealed with the insignia of a minor Bavarian noble in Kaiser Heinrich’s retinue. Mandorf broke it with his thumb and scanned the text.
Progress. At last, some progress. There was no official word of Florence’s fall, but the siege had been nearing its end when the letter had been written. By now the city had surely rejoined the Empire. Hamburg, Metz, and Florence. It was a start. The Steward of Bavaria walked over to the eastern wall behind a massive oak desk. A large embroidered tapestry hung there, depicting the extent of Imperial power under Konrad the Second, only 60 years before.
The Holy Roman Empire had stretched from Antwerp and Marseille in the west to Prague in the east. Bruges, Rheims, Dijon, and Zagreb had been within a day’s ride of the border. On the other axis, Imperial power had held sway from Hamburg and Magdeburg in the north, to Rome in the south. Rome.
So much had been lost in the last decade and it was all because of Rome. The arrogance of the Pope knew no bounds. In 1075, against all laws of man and God, he had declared himself the sole authority in the appointment of clergymen, effectively severing the Kaiser’s power over Christianity. The Pope claimed authority from God, but he had no precedence for the matter. The Divine Mandate came from God himself and transcended the politics of man. Kaiser Heinrich had inherited the role handed down from the time of the Constantine the Great himself. The Pope’s actions were illegal and without support in history.
At first, Kaiser Heinrich had responded as an Emperor should, he had thrown down the gauntlet and sent a scathing letter to Rome in which he exercised his rightful power to depose the Pope and call for a new election. The Pope had responded by excommunicating Heinrich.
Mandorf laughed just remembering the matter. The sheer audacity of the Pope’s action had to be respected, even if it made him the enemy of the entire Empire. The man had balls. Yet, instead of crushing the impudent lout, as an Emperor should, Heinrich had humiliated himself! It was pathetic. A rebellion by some of the nobility had threatened Heinrich’s power, and he had surrendered his God given rights to that petulant monk without a struggle. The man had stood barefoot in the snow, wearing a hairshirt, until the priest had forgiven him! It made Mandorf sick just thinking about it.
The Emperor should have marched on the Pope, torn down his fortress stone by stone, and disemboweled him alive. Instead he had gutted his own authority. In the time since, it seemed as if half the Empire had ceased to obey Imperial power. Bern, Metz, Hamburg, Antwerp, Magdeburg, Prague, and Florence had declared themselves Free Cities. Marseilles had joined the Franks, and the Milanese and Venetians had declared themselves powers in their own right. It was an unmitigated disaster.
Recently, Heinrich seemed to have finally regrown some of his backbone. Asserting Imperial authority over Hamburg, Metz, and Florence was a good start, but it remained just that, a start. The Empire would never be restored to its rightful order until the Pope bent knee and groveled before the Kaiser. Mandorf doubted that Heinrich would ever have the authority or the courage to confront the Empire’s greatest enemy.
There was no prospect of Prinz Henry rising to the challenge either. That ‘royal’ had actually proposed to give regular tribute to the Roman usurper! It was outrageous. Not only had the Kaiser seconded the motion, but the entire damned Diet had gone along with it. Only Mandorf himself had retained enough dignity to oppose the insult to the Empire.
Mandorf would never bow to a false Pope. Any man who did was a heretic and would surely be separated from God in the next life. Yet, if the Kaiser and the Prinz threw themselves at the heathen’s feet, was it sacrilege to swear fealty to them as well?
The Steward of Bavaria gazed longingly at the tapestry. The Empire could regain its rightful place as God’s authority on Earth, but only if men had the will to make it so. Only if they had the strength to do what had to be done. All enemies of the Reich had to be purged. The only question was who these enemies were. Those who had thrown off Imperial authority to be sure, but what of those who remained? Was a man who allowed treason also a traitor?
A shuffling sound behind him caused Mandorf to turn. The peasant girl was gathering up her clothes in the bedroom. All thoughts of Popes and treason vanished. Mandorf grinned. “Where do you think you’re going?”
A letter from Otto von Kassel to Wilhelm von Kassel shortly after the capture of Metz:
Father,
I am sure you have heard the news that Metz has been returned to the Reich. The Prinz and his new "brother" stormed the rebels' fort in a bold action. I had not heard of this Der Stoltze fellow before, but I am glad he has proven the Kaiser correct in his choice.
Yes, I am still in Innsbruck, to some regret. I was stupid and misinterpreted a passing remark from the Kaiser to mean that I was to go on campaign. My eagerness clouded my judgement once again. I find solace by walking the walls of the keep. The view is astounding. The Alps tower to the north and south, almost ringing the castle. The Inn river flows from the west to the east down the broad valley dividing the two ranges and eventually feeds into the Danube. From the south the Sill river winds down from the mountains, and where it flows into the Inn lies the castle. I am told a settlement, by one name or another, has been on this spot since Roman times.
If you follow the Sill south into the mountains to it's source, you come to the Brenner Pass. This is the only pass, Father, between us and the Venetians that can accommodate an army. A small force could hold back an entire army in such a confined space! Woods, cliffs, and switchbacks provide several excellent spots for ambushes. That is why there is a castle here, and the castle is why I am here. The garrison has grown and needs training and quarters. Even though we have sworn a treaty of goodwill and trade with those merchants, the border needs to be watched and tariffs need to be collected. Even now, a Venetian trade caravan eats at my table and sleeps in my hall because the pass has been snowed in. I offer them hospitality, as is my duty, and they return the favor with sidelong glances and snide remarks about the food. I do not trust them!
Between merchants, freeholders fighting over livestock, and endless drilling of conscripts I sometimes regret defying you and not going into the priesthood. "A soldier or a priest, that is the choice for the younger son, and I didn't have you taught to read so you could be arrow fodder!", you often told me. Very often. Still, I would have made a poor priest, I can barely recite the Lord's Prayer, and my Latin is atrocious. I am a soldier, a Ritter of Bavaria, and I serve the Reich in whatever task I am given.
Yet, there are times when my service weighs more heavily than others. I hear of the victories to the north, to the west, and to the south, and I am envious. The Mountains close in and seem more of a prison than a spectacle. I want to strike at our enemies, I want to be in the field, I want to feel flesh and bone break beneath my sword arm! I can hear you now, "Patience, you impetuous pup!". Aye, I know. But if you always had your way I would be mouthing Te Deums and wedding swine herders to their cousins in some hole of a hamlet. Which reminds me, did you hear that rumour about the Austrian electors? It was the talk of Frankfurt before I left.
I hope you are in good health Father and the old wound does not trouble you as much as in the past. Send along my greetings to my brother, read him the letter if you wish. I will write again when I have the time.
Your son,
Otto
The voices down the hall were muddled, and the thunder's cacophanous symphony shattered Hamburg's new peace in a crescendo reminiscent of Dietrich's charge through the gates. The organ playing in the main hall could still be heard at the top of the stairs as well. In a lower layer of hell, this musical orgy could have tantalised darker spirits into ecstasy, but it scared Godfrey half to death. If he had not personally seen the Duke occassionally in the castle's small chapel, praying for his sins, he might, at that moment, have been inclined to believe he were a man of the devil.
He shook, half from the atmosphere, half in an attempt to shove such thoughts from his mind. "Stop it, just go. Go, tell him the news." He said to himself, willing himself down the hallway one step at a time. The dark corridor's shadows seemed to scurry away with every crack of the lightning, then instantly lunge back out, kept at bay only by the light of a few small torches. As he grew nearer the door, some of the muffled conversation began to sound more clear.
"So she's well then?"
"Yes."
"Good, and what of -" The voice was cut off by the ravenous growl of thunder, but it was distinguishable, familiar. The second voice though was new, and deeply accented in its speech.
"It's fine, hardly changed at all, even since you've left. The family's kept its eminence through your father's trade, and the town itself is coming into a considerable amount of wealth because of it. I know I shouldn't mention it, but they miss you."
"It's ok Cibor, hopefully -" Again, the the sky's vengeful roar interrupted the conversation, to which Godfrey was now listening intently. "secure the deal. Do me a favor though, when you get home, have my father urge the rest of the local noble council to push for compliance. Our current situation places us in a position to make this a reality. But, by all means Cibor, speak only to my father. That twisted wretch of a 'prince' must not get wind of this. If he takes the throne -" The next crack of thunder made Godfrey jump, his ear pressed close to the door he couldn't help but bang his head in his fright. As he stepped backwards, suddenly fearing for his life with the realisation of what just happened, their was startled bantering from inside and the door swung open with a heavy slam against the wall. Dietrich stood in the doorway, sword drawn, the man behind him staring, startled, over his shoulder.
"Godfrey..." Dietrich seemed appalled.
"Who is it? Gut him! It's a spy!" The man behind him yelled.
"No." Dietrich replied, lowering his sword. "I've fought with this man, he helped in this castle's fall, he's a good man. He's just in the wrong place at the wrong time." He looked down the hall, towards the sound of the organ's music and the stairs, and reached out to grab Godfrey by the tunic. "I'll assume you've already heard much, so come inside Godfrey, and let me tell you a story."
Florence, 1100
The sound of trumpets. The cheering crowd. The fine food, exquisite sleeping arrangements, and dedicated staff. One got used to these things as Holy Roman Emperor.
Then why was this job so damned hard?
Kaiser Heinrich, upon his return to the city, retired to his chamber for the night, asked himself that question. The midterm session of the Diet that had just ended was a particularly... annoying one.
"Wise Kaiser, noble Kaiser they all say publicly. And then they proceed to quickly ignore my proposals and go the other way, unanimously. They all want to benefit their House and their House only, and they all want to make their city the shiniest and most glorious in the entire Reich, never mind that it will make me bankrupt."
One could say that the Kaiser was in a bad mood.
"I have to deal with that stupid Cardinal who can't even identify people's gender. And of course he cares little for the Empire, only Rome. And my son, bah! Henry is weak. He was too young to remember. An entire generation, starting with him, is being raised to accept the fact that the Papacy is infalliable. This is unacceptable. He wants me to abdicate. I can see it. He figures that if a pro-Rome ruler is installed then things will be perfect.
"This cannot happen. We must not forget. This Reich has been wronged. It took me some time to realize that but we have been wronged. And if we do not act quickly people will never remember the power we once held."
He gazed out his window to the south. The prominent feature in the city was a small church, rising above the mostly small buildings but not obstructing his view. Past the church, symbol of much were the city gates. Past the gates were the fields of the Florence region, where many farmers now toiled to bring wealth to the Reich. And beyond those fields, to the south, were the fields of Rome.
Many years ago, over a thousand, those fields had been the site of a bloody, but decisive conflict for Rome itself. In earlier, happier times, Heinrich had paid visits to those fields. Certainly, the grounds were contested by heretics who believed in the pagan practice of polytheism, but when that many people died in one concentrated spot, the ground was hallowed no matter who fought there.
"I hereby vow, at this moment, that before I die Rome will be under the benevolent arm of the Empire once again. And may this battle be less bloody than the last."
As light flooded the previously darkened room, the torch cast a warm, glowing light across his face. The diet floor was empty, the chairs vacated, the candelabras that adorned many of the tables had long been extinguished for the night. The room bore a chill in its emptiness, and Dietrich felt the need to progress to his seat at the head of Franconia's section, staring out across the circular arrangement of desks, chairs, and the oratory floor at the center.
As his gaze turned towards the map on the far wall, his thoughts went to the future of the Reich. He closed his eyes for a moment, reaching into the inside of his shirt to pull out a necklace with a silver crucifix. Holding the cross tight, he closed his eyes in prayer. Our father who art in heaven flowed from his lips as it has done a thousand times before. It was in these quiet moments of silence that he felt closest to his God. Not on the field of battle, where promises of heaven and glory inspired other men to great deeds, or in the churches and altar houses where he often donated to the Catholic faith, but in his own solitude, his own place of silence in the night. This place of aloneness was where he spoke to God, and it was the answers he made for himself in that state of silence that guided his life. The shrill creaking of the door behind him occurred almost simultaneously with the opening of his eyes. Then he recognised the footsteps.
"I've been waiting." He said. "I almost thought you wouldn't come, Conrad." Looking towards the open door to where the old man stood, he slipped the cross back into his shirt.
Conrad Schüsselen was a wiry man whose white thin hair was slowly baldening. It was difficult imagining the fragile person on a battlefield, and it is understood that although he has been one several campaigns, he was never a man of the field. His duty had led him elsewhere. Scribes and Runners were always needed. Behind the glorious charges of knights and deadly hails of arrows, small cogs twirled endlessly to supply an army with its needs and Conrad was the man who made those things happen.
Clothed in an elaborate gown that seemed several sizes too large for him, Conrad entered the chamber of the Diet. A throaty cough escapes his lips and immediately his right hand rises to his mouth, and a handkerchief tugged away in his sleeve for this purpose is pressed against his lips. Small specks of blood can be seen which are quickly wiped away.
"My Grace! I'm honoured to meet you."
A small bow with just the right degree of reverence to somebody of Dietrich's station is given, not an inch more. Then he straightens and looks at him expectantly.
"You needn't bow to me." Dietrich stepped towards the old man, and, as he approached, extended his hand in greetings. After tucking the bloodied hankerchief back into his sleeve, Conrad shook the duke's hand, a slight look of bewilderment on his face.
Taking note of his unusual attire, Dietrich opted then to light the candelabra on the table and deposit the torch in a brazier before returning to sit at the table. "I have a great deal of respect for you Conrad. You stand here, old and ill, some might say leperous, blood accompanying your almost every word, and yet still you continue to attend the diet and dictate your opinion to the electors. Rarely have I seen such devotion to a cause."
Before Conrad could muster a response, he continued more directly on the purpose of their meeting. "The diet today, the exchange between myself and the Kaiser, it is much like the battle of chivalry against corruption. I have made my point and the corrupt has been exposed as such, but there are things he can do which I cannot. One of which, I believe, has been to prevent me from meeting with Duke Leopold. Every messenger I have sent has failed to return, and I can't remember the Duke ever appearing for more than a moment in the diet. I understand that you, however, meet with him regularly. What can you do? What must be done to have you arrange a meeting between Leopold and myself? Somewhere safe, somewhere, somewhere like Hamburg."
Conrad von Schüsselen was truly bewildered by this breach of protocol from Dietrich von Saxony. It seemed that he was a man who beleived in protocol and order. Neatness, yes, besides being wiry the man was neat and seemed to like it.
"You honour me with your words, my Grace. My duty is to serve and try to fulfill this duty. Can't let myself be distracted by petty illnesses, now can I?"
He listened intently to Dietrichs words. Chivalry against Corruption, an interesting way to put it.
"Indeed the Kaiser has been acting strange lately. I did not get to know him as such a man from my time in Italy. You have heard my words in the Diet. It seems my requests fall on deaf ears with the Kaiser, but I'm just a simple Elector. Ignoring a Duke now, I think he has gone too far. You seek contact to my Liege, I think I can provide it. I don't know what happened to the messengers you sent, but I have secure communication channels established. Whatever message you want to have sent, I shall deliver it."
Conrad clasps his hand in front of him, ready to deliver a final bow. Was this all this meeting was about or would there be more?
"Thank you. Have Duke Leopold meet me in Hamburg as soon as possible. I'll temporarily delay heading out to begin work on the Kaiser's menial task of setting up watch towers in the Reich's interior, something that, were he not so blinded by his power, he would have made the regional responsability of the individual Duchies a long time ago. As for brother Leopold, travelling with a small retinue, he should be able to arrive without issue in a few short weeks. My captain, Godfrey, will greet him at the front gates."
Conrad performs his bow once again as he receives Dietrichs request: "Be assured that my Liege will receive my message and will meet you in Hamburg as soon as the siege of Prague is concluded."
Dietrich, looking down towards the candelabra on the table, stared into the core of the flame, watching it flicker and dance. He lost his concentration for a moment, as if thinking back to something in his past, before he looked back up. "Oh, yes. I almost forgot." He said, then, reaching into the gilded pouch attached to his belt, pulled from it a smooth, crimson colored hankerchief that felt of silk, embroidered with the House of Austria's coat of arms.
Offering the cloth to the old man with a respectful nod, he smiled. "I thought the color might help to make the severity of your condition a little less noticeable to the diet."
Conrad stepped forward carefully and extended a hand to receive this unusual gift. His gaze is cast down upon the handkerchief as he takes it and reverently turns it around in his hand. Finally, he looks up, a quizzical look on his face: "Thank you, your Grace, your attention is too kind. Although I believe this is too fine a material to be stained by my own blood."
"Then consider it a token of my appreciation. Do you have any questions for me, Conrad?" The duke asked, watching the old man closely, attempting to pick out any discrepencies in his responce with his movements. "You seemed surprised by my greeting tonight."
Conrad seemed to be a little nervous all of a sudden and began to twirl the handkerchief in his hands, before finally getting a grip on himself and tugging it away in his sleeve. "I was indeed surprised by your invitation tonight, but it was a pleasant surprise. I have been meaning to get in contact with you. Since you will meet Duke Leopold soon though, I'm not convinced of the necessity of this meeting. Surely he can discuss these matters with you in person. However..."
Conrad reached into his garment and pulled forward a scroll, sealed with the sigil of the House of Austria and handed it to Dietrich.
"... I can give you this, it should prepare you for one of the things my master has in mind for the next Diet session. Of course all things mentioned within this document are purely a base for negotiation. I'm sure your support in this matter will be appreciated by our House and every favour returned as soon as possible." He smiled a sleek smile and bowed his exact bow once more.
After reading over the document Dietrich smiled and stood to retrieve his torch from the brazier, making sure that any ashes left are out. "I will speak with Leopold on this matter deeply, but let him know that I am fully supportive of his ideas. The House of Austria has a friend in Franconia." He said, before offering the elderly elector a bow.
As he snuffed out the candle light at the table, he took one final look around the empty diet floor. "Conrad." He said, still thinking back to the elector's bewilderment in his greeting and feeling it may be best to explain his breach of regular diet protocol. "Do not be surprised by my informality today. We are both men of nobility and station, and you, being worthy of my great respect, I believe should also then be worthy of my friendship. And when the diet is closed, well, why worry about formalities between friends? I'll be leaving in a moment, no need to wait for me."
At this comment Conrad bowed even deeper to the Duke. "I'm just a simple servant, my Grace. Your offer of friendship is heartily accepted. I'm convinced that the friendship between our Houses will bear many fruits."
He turned around and left the Diet floor, already engrossed in his own thoughts again, a smug smile showed on his face, as he was quite pleased with his accomplishments tonight.
There was one last thing he had to do before he left. Earlier in the day the Kaiser had snorted and fumed about Dietrich's supposed lack of children. If the Kaiser wanted Dietrich so greatly to have a son, then Dietrich would have a son, but it would be a son who understood the errors of the Kaiser's judgement. Reaching again into the pouch he removed a small scroll, his eyes crossing over the petition for adoption before finally coming to rest on the Kaiser's table. He would have to accept, his remarks earlier that day really gave him no other choice.
This story was written as a cooperative work between Lucjan and Ituralde.
The servant shuffled his feet and kept his eyes on the ground. He was visually uncomfortable with the conversation.
“I will repeat this one last time.” Maximillian Mandorf stared hard at the man. “Tell that uncultured Polish bastard that I expect some proper hospitality in this God-forsaken town. Tell him that I want proper lodgings for my men and a full haunch of beef for each of them this evening. And tell him…” the Bavarian’s face reddened and his voice began to boom “…that if one more Polish peasant delays our march or demands a toll for a river crossing, I will personally geld him!”
The servant continued to stare at his feet. Mandorf gave him a three-count before exploding. “What the hell are you standing there for? Get out and do your job! If you come back here one more time without having done what I said, I will strap you to the top of the battering ram when we reach Stettin!” All color left the man’s face and for a moment it appeared as if he would faint. The man recovered well though, turning an involuntary backwards step into a proper about-face. He left in a hurry.
The room was silent for several moments, then Mandorf exploded into laughter. “It is a farce! A mockery of proper order!” He bellowed deeply for several moments, then shook his head with a broad smile. “Kaiser Heinrich is a more astute politician than I gave him credit for.” He turned and looked at the robed figure in the corner. “You disagree?”
The priest replied in a pinched voice, as if suffering from a cold. “Imperial politics are not something I concern myself with; I care only for spiritual matters.”
A huge smile crept across Mandorf’s face. “Yes, I’m sure you do.” He stood up and crossed the room. “Well, I am feeling very much like a sinner at the moment.” The Steward of Bavaria grabbed his crotch. “Would you like to hear my confession?”
A look of horror crossed the priest’s face. Mandorf erupted into laughter again. “You do not appreciate my affection, Charles?”
The priest sputtered out a response, “It is not a lack of affection, my lord, I… I am just concerned that such things might be seen!” His voice dropped into a whisper, “We are not in your private estate, who knows what eyes and ears could be spying on us, here in Poland?”
Mandorf waved his hand dismissively. “Do not concern yourself with such matters. These Poles are ignorant buffoons and my men are completely loyal.” His eyes met the priests’ and he gazed at them deeply. “Besides, you have not answered my question.”
The priest shifted in his seat. “It seems to me that the Kaiser has managed to offend everyone in every way possible.”
“Offend? Ah, but he has done anything but!” Mandorf turned and began to pace the room. “He demonstrates his displeasure with von Saxony by denying him command of the attack on Stettin. Yet the Duke of Franconia cannot be publicly offended as the rights to Stettin will surely be given to his House. Furthermore, he cannot protest too greatly at the command, lest he risk offending me and the House of Bavaria.” Mandorf paused before a window and looked out. “At the same time, he removes me from my lands, and orders me North, away from the Milanese and that bastard in Rome. While I am up here, I am unable to effectively agitate against the Usurper and I am exceedingly far from the Italian lands which I concern myself with. Yet I too cannot be publicly offended. I have been given a military command that was unexpected and not mandated by the Imperial Diet. This is a high compliment and, combined with the previous allocation of Bolognia to Bavaria, I cannot honorably express displeasure. Any protest I make also risks offending von Saxony and the Franconians. If I were spurn a military command the Kaiser has felt they were not fit for, I would be making myself out to be superior to them!”
Mandorf turned back to the priest, a slight smirk spreading across his face. “Yes, the Kaiser knows exactly what he is doing. Franconia’s interests lie only in the north and Bavaria’s lie only in the south. We are natural allies, yet with this act the Kaiser drives a wedge between us. At the same time, the difficulties between Swabia and Austria continue, preventing them from forming any kind of coherent bond, despite their similarly compatible interests. In the south, both Austria and Bavaria desire the Italian lands, which will undoubtedly prevent us from reaching any kind of long-term alliance. Thank the heavens that the assault on Bern went well. If Sigismund had died under von Kassel’s command, our relations with Swabia would have been greatly damaged. Yes, the Kaiser knows what he is doing. He plays us all off against one another. As long as we squabble amongst ourselves, he may do what he wishes.”
The priest considered this for a moment before speaking. “You speak of this as if it is undesirable, yet the Kaiser has been exceedingly kind to Bavaria and none in the Reich has more of a reason to hate Pope Gregory than him. Surely a more powerful Kaiser is a boon to the House of Bavaria?”
Mandorf raised an eyebrow. “So much for restricting your thoughts to spiritual matters. Yes, you are correct. We have no reason to oppose the Kaiser at the moment. However, politics is a fickle beast and interests change as rapidly as a whore’s lover. The Kaiser is looking to his own interests in the coming years. He will be prepared no matter what course the Houses take.” The Steward of Bavaria glanced down at the priest’s robes. “Speaking of whores…”
The priest gaped. “My lord, please, this is not the place!”
“This is the place if I say it is the place!” Mandorf snarled. He placed his hand between the priest’s legs, the robe giving way to reveal a decided lack of bulk. “Or would you prefer that I inform Cardinal Scherer of your… peculiarity?”
The priest’s eyes began to water. “My lord, Maximillian… you promised!”
Mandorf grabbed the priest by the hair. “And so did you. I swore to keep your secret and you swore to preach the righteous word of God; to undermine support for the Usurper from your pulpit. Those you convert in Stettin must be loyal to the Kaiser, not to Rome! Yet, I have heard reports of your sermons and they have been decidedly lacking in the fiery rhetoric I have been expecting.”
“But, but, my lord… I cannot simply speak of it openly, it must be done subtly and often in private! If Scherer hears of open sermons against Pope Gregory, I will be as damned as if he knew…” His gaze moved down to where Mandorf’s hand rested.
“Yes, well, then you had better start giving more convincing private sermons, hadn’t you?” He pulled up the priest’s robes, revealing an entirely feminine body. Mandorf smiled. “Let’s call this… practice.”
It was an unusual chilly morning and his breathing turned into small clouds of mist as Leopold looked over the battlements. The sun was not fully over the horizon yet, but soon it would rise through the cool morning air and bask the surrounding countryside in its warmth. Soon it would glisten off the standards and weapons of his adversaries, but right now the only thing revealing the Venetian presence in the surrounding hills were small spirals of smoke rising from several fires. Judging from their position all major roads to and from Vienna were blocked by the Doge's army.
He should have known something was up when the guards on the merchant trains coming into Austria had been doubled. Brigands and robbery in the Alp passes were supposedly endangering the Venetian merchants. In a motion of goodwill he had granted the Venetians access and even supplied them with scouts to traverse along the Danube. Hah! What an gullible idiot he had been. A small detachment of cavalry had just marched up to the city the previous month and demanded that Vienna surrender to the Doge. Leopold could not believe his ears! Surrender to the Doge? Had they not been allies just minutes ago? But soon the fires had sprung up around the city and the army sent into the Alps had just arrived in time to support the intruders. Vienna was completely surrounded and all that stood between them and the city was Leopold and a large assembly of Militia.
"Mein Herzog! Mein Herzog!" Rainer, a burly man in his midfourties, an aged retainer and veteran warrior pulled Leopold out of his revery. "They are ready mein Herr, for the demonstration." Leopold tore his gaze away from the Venetian encampments and looked at Rainer. It was hard to suppress a sigh but he followed the aged man into the courtyard. He had to pass a small construction site where workers were still attempting to improve the fortifications. Leopold had ordered Stone Walls to be build and they had progressed nicely, however with the city cut off no more stones from the quarries arrived and the masons had to make do with the little they got.
Assembled in the courtyard besides some guild leaders and dignitaries of the city stood five men, looking somewhat uneasy that they were the center of attention. Each one of them had a crossbow dangling from their belts. The guilds were eager to show off their new capabilities for defending the city. Had the Venetians arrived later Leopold might have had a regiment or two of those men at his disposal. After a brief demonstration of the Peasants skill the guild leaders mumbled something about merely a dozen of them being ready now. While not enough to make a difference should the Venetians attack, Leopold could at least man the towers with those men and hope they inflict some damage on the enemy.
Once again his thoughts were far away as a spindly looking clerk explained something about tension and recoil effect to him. Not only his situation in Vienna looked grim. The Reich was at war against Milan and would soon attack Rome itself. Every voice of reason was needed in the Diet and he was not able to attend. He could only hope that his messengers had made it through, but everything else lay in the hands of Chancellor Sigismund.
He could understand the hatred against Pope Gregory it had filled him in the first years of the investiture crisis, but now he had begun to understand that the will of god was not to be questioned by mere men. God's representative on earth had spoken and the following events had proven him right. The Reich had lain shattered and in ruins just years ago. They had worked hard to regain its former glory and accomplished some things. Although Leopold still felt left out on the recent expansions of the Reich. Prague, one meager city had been given to his control, while everyone that had taken a look at the profits generated by Vienna should know that he would have been the best choice to turn their Italian possessions in the cash-machines they could be.
Instead he was now besieged by those merchants, unable to muster a professional force for his defense or strike at those traitors directly, while excommunication loomed over their every heads and all they had worked for so hard could be shattered in mere instants.
But he would not give up without a fight. The clerk had just finished that the new techniques could punch a hole into a plank of wood a hundred meters distant.
"Punch a hole! That's what we're going to do. Punch a hole in their shiny armour once they try to scale our walls! And then, then we'll bring the fight right to their doorstep! I will see the city of Venice under our control and their coffers plundered by our soldiers or I will not be Leopold of Austria!"
He laughed, laughed for the pure joy of it, while at the same time hoping that the defense of Vienna might hold and that he would carry the day once the Venetians attacked.
Sylvio Miracola, special Messenger of the Pope, was shocked at the amount of hostility that was present in the atmosphere as he made his short ride to deliver a message from Pope Gregory to Kaiser Heinrich. Gregory had given him a blessing before he had departed, but Sylvio had the distinct impression that this land was outside of God's control. The skies were gloomy, the roads were a mess, and he had come down with a sudden cough as he rode to Genoa.
The hostility was even more open once he arrived in the city proper. The guards at the gates spent an inordinately long amount of time checking his papers as well as his person, and finally let him pass with scowls on their faces. He received the same treatment upon arrival at Heinrich's residence, and even the Kaiser himself displayed little hospitality to this ambassador to the Pope.
And that was before he had read the message.
"His Holiness Pope Gregory hereby summons me to meet with him and discuss recent events by his headquarters on MY land??!!?! Tell me, messenger, since when did His Holiness acquire such cheek?"
"His Holiness would ask the same to you, Your Highness," Sylvio piped in. He was under protection of the Pope, and thus cared little about etiquette.
Heinrich stared at him for several moments, apparently deciding whether this ingrate was for real or not. Finally, he sent the messenger off with his reply.
Two days later, Heinrich and his entourage, including Captain Ludwig, rode out to the Pope's location. They were more numerous than what was usual for this sort of meeting and much more heavily-armed. The Kaiser finally arrived at Pope Gregory's tent, more than three hours late. He would at least have some say in the pace of this meeting.
The Pope's retinue was just as numerous, and some of them were even armed. However, all were respectful and silent. The only voices to be heard that evening would be the Kaiser's and the Pope's, and the Kaiser began the meeting without any of the respectful greetings that the Pope was probably accustomed to.
"So, Your Holiness, what troubles you enough to summon me to meet with you on my own land?"
Pope Gregory smiled for a moment, and then spoke. “Ah, Heinrich, I see this time you do not come to me wearing a hairshirt and walking through the snow. Tell me, how is your eldest son, Henry? I had such high hopes for that man - I thought perhaps he would be the one to finally remove all trace of the wounds caused by the Investiture Crisis. And yet I have heard such a disturbing report from one of my inquisitors, Bandius de Bargio. I hope the report is misinformed - after all, de Bargio is more used to rooting out foul spirits than conversing with Princes.”
"Henry is quite fine," said Heinrich, eyeing the Pope. "And please tell your inquisitor that there is a difference between supporting the Pope and knowing when an invited guest oversteps his boundaries."
That was all the Kaiser said of the matter, not mentioning that there was currently Diet discussion about hunting down and executing all inquisitors that made their way into Imperial territory. Gregory continued, shrugging.
“Before we get down to why I have summoned you here, I must protest at the action of your men in blocking the roads around Genoa. What do they think they are doing, trying to confine my army to its camp? I have 1300 men with me - do they think a single regiment will stop me passing down a road if I have a mind to do so? Do you think to stop me returning to Rome? Do you dare to believe you can reclaim it, now that the Sicilians who helped evict you from it are no longer at my side?”
Heinrich chuckled for a second. "Believe me, Your Holiness, if I had it my way the road back to Rome would be wide open. I would even send regiments to make sure that your journey back would go as smoothly as possible. If you wish to return to Rome then just give the word. I shall pass it onto Sigismund. In the meantime, you are violating Imperial borders."
“Enough of this talk of borders and blockades - I will leave Genoa with or without your men's permission, and as soon as I'm ready. But let us talk instead of why I have summoned you here. I wish to personally convey my injunctions regarding your Empire. I know it is no longer yours to command, and you must suffer at the mercy of those buffoonish Dukes and your Diet, but what am I to do? I cannot address each Elector individually and anyway, you - not they - were chosen by God to rule your kingdom. Even if the monkeys usurp the role of organ-grinder, it does not mean that I must attempt to converse with the simians! So, now I tell you, Heinrich, King of the Romans, my four demands.”
“First, I remind you that you have not yet fulfilled my injunction to end your alliance with the Kingdom of Sicily. Quite why you remain loyal to these pirates is beyond me. Do you not remember that you lost Rome due to their intervention? They have certainly forgotten any pretence that they were acting for the good of the Church.”
“Second, no German army has joined the crusade against the Sicilians. I have overlooked this for a while, as you lacked a fleet to reach Tunis. But that is no longer true. Why are you content to let your brother nations take the lead in bringing down these godless Normans?”
“Third, you must end hostilities with Milan. Your mad friend Maximillan is quite wrong on this point. I have no sympathy for these Milanese - normally, I would not suffer them to be mentioned in my presence; they rank even lower in my estimation than your Empire. Milan started this war and they have paid a steep price. But enough is enough. You have driven them out of every settlement on mainland Europe. There is no need to persist in your attacks. Let no more Catholic blood be spilled; if they defy me by attacking you, they will join Sicily in being cast outside the Church.”
“Fourth, you must end hostilities with Venice. Venice is a powerful Catholic faction - perhaps the mightiest faction in Europe. They vie with you for dominance in Europe; such is the nature of the mighty. Do lions not fight for the pride? Do stags not lock horns for the herd? But, as in nature, these struggles must be kept limited - it will not serve the good of the species for its leaders to both be mortally wounded. So it is with Christendom. If your Empire and Venice fight a total war, Catholicism will be weakened from within. The Orthodox nations, the Muslims, the pagans, will all benefit and rejoice. And again, if for her part, Venice continues hostilities, know that she too will learn of God’s displeasure.”
After Gregory concluded, an aide whispered something in Heinrich's ear. The Kaiser nodded and made a motion with his hand dismissing the aide, replying.
"It's funny, Your Holiness. You question my continued allegiance to the Sicilians when you state that they were instrumental in me being removed from Rome. Yet you were instrumental in making them who they are today. But you still excommunicated them. Obviously, opinions change over time. Sicily is now our only friend on the Italian Peninsula, thanks to your machinations. I will not break our allegiance, and I will not waste lives attacking far-off cities while our main cities are in danger.
"I wonder why you called the crusade on Tunis, of all places. Is it just because Sicily now holds it? Or is it because nearly every faction on their way to the place will march through our lands? Why did you excommunicate Sicily? Was it strictly a power play because they had allied with us?
"As far as Milan, you have finally said something of merit. I hold you to your promise and will report your intentions to the Diet. The only thing that worries me are the two armies still on the mainland. Perhaps you could send your inquisitor to their locations and... inform of what has transpired.
"However, for Venice, I have little mercy for them. They were our allies - they betrayed us. They must pay. You may blather all you wish about this war being bad for Christianity but the bottom line is that currently, we are out for revenge. I do not intend on terminating hostilites with the Venetians until their namesake city is in our possession, and some Electors may even want more. Until that happens, your threats fall on empty ears."
Heinrich finished, sipping some water. He waited for the Pope to blast him for his stance on Venice, but no words came. The two leaders sat across from each other, saying nothing, just eyeing each other, perhaps sizing each other up. This intense staring contest lasted for over a minute when the Pope finally broke it, speaking soberly.
“So, it seems we have said all that we came to say. May you ponder long on what I have said, Emperor Heinrich, King of the Romans. Your Empire has made great gains thanks to the impetuosity and aggression of the Milanese. But they say a creature may inherit the qualities of the thing it consumes. Ensure your Empire does not inherit the vices of your Milanese victims, Heinrich.”
The Kaiser rose and departed, this time managing a proper goodbye. "God's Grace be with you, Your Holiness."
The ride back to Genoa was quiet, the Kaiser once again lost in his own thoughts. However, one thing escaped his lips that only Captain Ludwig heard:
"Last we met, I was begging him for forgiveness. This time, we were equals. The next time, he shall be the one begging me."
(Thanks to econ21 for agreeing to play Pope Gregory)
The room was uncomfortably cold. Winters in Bavaria were often harsh, but thick robes and plentiful fires kept the worst of it at bay; two large ones blazed in the immense hearths at either end of the hall. The walls were hung with thick tapestries which served to insulate the room from the seeping cold. Wearing two layers of wool on top of his underclothes, Maximillian Mandorf should have been comfortable, yet he felt chilled to the bone. I cannot even remember the last time I felt warm.
When he had heard that ‘Charles’ Otterbach had been appointed to Cardinal, all the joys of life had left him. Despite her deception, ‘Charles’ was a supremely holy being. The Lord must have favored her highly, to allow her to ascend to such a position despite her sex. I have defiled one of God’s chosen.
He heard the creaking steps of the household servant approaching from several rooms away; the sound delivered the message just as effectively as the man himself. When he arrived, he bowed quickly, looking to the Steward of Bavaria for permission to speak. Mandorf raised a finger.
“My Lord, she has arrived.”
Mandorf nodded and the servant exited through a small side-door. The sound of his retreat faded into the depths of the manor. The vacuum of silence filled the room. Mandorf closed his eyes and prayed. Minutes passed. His lips moved, but he did not give voice to his thoughts.
“It is good that you commune with the Lord.”
He jerked and his entire body tensed into a rigid mass. The suddenness of the unexpected comment frightened him to the core. Mandof slowly raised his eyes, fearing what he would see. Before him stood a tall, thin woman in a dark habit. He opened his mouth, but no words came.
“You do not need to speak, I am here to deliver a message from the Heavenly Father. You have sinned greatly, Steward Mandorf. You have given yourself over to the temptations of the flesh and by doing so you have fallen under the sway of Satan.”
A shiver ran through Mandorf’s body and he felt himself shrink into his chair. The woman tilted her head slightly and looked at him. A smile came over her face.
“Do not fear me, I do not bring the Inquisition to your door. The Lord grants me visions from time to time and recently I have had visions of you. He wants me to help guide you back to the light. You are a pious and worthy man, but you have lost your way.” She held out her hand.
For several moments, Mandorf didn’t move. Slowly, he slid from his chair and fell to his knees. As he crawled across the floor towards Hildegard of Bingen, he began to weep.
“You seek to uphold God’s will, yet your passion has been corrupted. You embrace violence and the pleasures of the body in place of the Word of the Lord. The Prince of Lies holds you in his grasp and if you do not escape, you shall pay for your sins for all eternity.”
Mandorf grasped Hildegard’s feet, laying his head between them. He sobbed openly. “I… I have always put the Lord foremost in my life. I wish only to do his work.”
“He knows. That is why he has sent me to you. You can be a powerful force for Christ and do much good for his people, but first you must repent. You have sinned greatly.” She reached deep into a dark sleeve and pulled out a small gilded tome. She opened it and began to read.
"God united man and woman, thus joining the strong to the weak, that each might sustain the other. But these perverted adulterers change their virile strength into perverse weakness, rejecting the proper male and female roles, and in their wickedness they shamefully follow Satan, who in his pride sought to split and divide Him Who is indivisible. They create in themselves by their wicked deeds a strange and perverse adultery, and so appear polluted and shameful in My sight. And men who touch their own genital organ and emit their semen seriously imperil their souls, for they excite themselves to distraction; they appear to Me as impure animals devouring their own whelps, for they wickedly produce their semen only for abusive pollution. When a person feels himself disturbed by bodily stimulation let him run to the refuge of continence, and seize the shield of chastity, and thus defend himself from uncleanness."
Hildegard closed the book and gazed down upon Mandorf. As he looked up into her face, the glow of the fire illuminated her from behind. The spreading light seemed to emanate from deep within her, purifying all that it touched. For the first time in weeks, Maximillian Mandorf stopped shivering. “What must I do?”
She reached down and touched his cheek. “The Lord has already told you that. You have known from the beginning that what you were doing was wrong. There is no secret to be revealed, only the path of God to be followed.” Mandorf blinked slowly, his eyes dropping back to the floor. “Stand, my child. I will help you to make yourself worthy of His love once again.”
Mandorf staggered to his feet, feeling light-headed and weak, but strangely whole. “I will do all that you say from this day forward.”
She smiled at him again. “I know you will. First, you must pay penance for your sins. Purify yourself of evil and you will be reborn. You are a slave to your flesh, so you must master your body before you can cleanse your soul. You will spend one week in contemplation of the Lord. You must fast during this time and you may drink naught but water. Three times a day I shall lead you in prayer and guidance. When we are done, you shall be a new man.” She looked deeply into his eyes, the smile fading. “Then, we shall talk of Pope Gregory.”
(OOC: My info on Hildegard von Bingen comes from the Wikipedia entry on her here. I had never heard of her before I saw her in Max’s retinue. Just goes to show that computer games can teach you a lot sometimes.)
Bern, 1130
The guards ushered the Chancellor into the presence of Prinz Henry - Sigismund walked quickly and looked distracted, as if he had a lot on his mind. In his hand, he carried a long list of issues to discuss with the Prinz - both matters of the House of Swabia and Imperial matters.
“Heil, mein noble Prinz!” he said vigorously, “It is a pleasure to see you once again.”
Henry sat back: “Welcome, Chancellor. Now that Edict 4.8 has been passed, I am preparing to march immediately to Lombardy, but I am honoured that you wish to consult with me before I depart. How goes things in the Chancellery?”
Sigismund shook his head agitatedly: “I am concerned about the behaviour of the Austrians. It is true that they are not very popular with the Diet now, but I am now an enemy of Duke Leopold, and that puts Austria at enmity against Swabia.”
Henry paused and considered his reply. He and Sigismund were bound together by duty and House, although frequently their judgements and instincts seemed opposed. Henry had to try to strike the right balance between not trying to bind the Chancellor to his own will and not being committed to policies or actions he personally opposed.
“I agree that the situation with the Austrians is vexatious. However, I am concerned that if we treat them too harshly, they will withdraw from public life - as Dietrich has done. We cannot afford to have half the Empire inactive. Furthermore, you must bear in mind that I am destined to be Emperor one day. My father has been drawn into frosty conflicts with two Dukes - an outcome I would like to avoid. Your own relations with them are your affair, but I would not like myself or Swabia to burn any bridges.”
Sigismund considered this and then turned to another subject: ”I also worry about our newest elector. He has not been informed of our goals and alliances, and perhaps it would be wise to inform him.”
Henry nodded: “Since you have volunteered to act as Secretary to the House of Swabia, I will leave briefing the newest Elector in your hands.” Henry was relieved to have passed on the day to day management of the House of Swabia to Sigismund. The Prinz did not have the time or inclination to organise the House as an active cabal in the Diet. In part, this was because Swabia appeared to be faring well enough without organisation. And in part, because as a future Emperor, Henry did not wish to partake too vigorously in partisan actions that would alienate him from the nobles on whose cooperation he would come to depend.
Sigismund continued: “Now to Imperial matters. I am worried about the amount of time it will take you to reach Lombardy. As you are currently in Bern, it is best that you travel east to Innsbruck, where you shall finf spearmen in mail waiting for you. However, there is currently an experienced Venetian army blocking the pass through the Alps from Innsbruck to Venice; you may need to fight your way through. Normally, I would not worry, but our recent defeat at the hands of that army may shake the spirits of our men somewhat, despite being commanded by an Imperial Prinz. Still, I trust your generalship will get you through.”
Henry sat up - Imperial matters, especially those involving the Prinz on campaign, were much more to his likely than factional politics. ”Going all the way to Innsbruck would be something of a diversion, but I wonder if I could rendezvous with their garrison somewhere between that settlement and Bern?
Henry paused for a moment. He knew Sigismund had voted against Edicts 4.1 and 4.2 restraining the Chancellor from attacking Milan and Venice. To raise the matter again would be impolite, but Henry felt it important to drive home the implications. “I am quite prepared to meet the Venetians in the field, although given our edicts to avoid excommunication, I believe a strategy of "passive aggression" will be best - we should induce them to strike first.”
Sigismund’s face was inscrutable as he moved on to the next item on his agenda. “I still hesitate to launch an offensive against Poland. We are stretched enough as it is, and I cannot trust some of those Franconians; after the example of their Duke, Dietrich, it would not be wise to place too many men under their command.
Henry did not react to Sigismund’s criticism of the Franconians: “On the Poles, I agree that taking the war to them is not a priority. I believe Franconia should take the initiative in proposing aggressive action. It is they who are besieged at Stettin and they who should initiate an appropriate response. Furthermore, only Dietrich is qualified to command an army. The lesser nobles in his House need to first earn their spurs - whether under his leadership or that of another. I would be happy to have one assigned to my command, as you yourself were once, Sigismund.”
Sigismund smiled faintly at the memory of simpler times, before he had become weighed down by matters of state. Then his brow darkened as he turned to the next item on his list.
“Now, we must discuss the Pope. I know that you are a supporter of the Pope, yet a German one, not a Roman. I agree, save that I do not wish that we ought to subject ourselves to him at all. Look at the chaos he has wrought upon us. Who can say what he might do later?”
Henry lowered his head, reverentially, and intoned softly: “Forbearance is the best approach. If we are patient, I suspect our enemies will not be. If they are excommunicated, then we can spring for their throats unrestrained.”
Sigismund looked up at the Prinz - he had reached the last item on his list: ”Finally, there is the matter of my successor. I have not, as yet, spoken to Count von Kassel, however, I am wondering whether you have heard from Steward Maximillian yet? His opinion would greatly assist our discussions.”
Henry nodded. Swabia owed a debt to Bavaria for backing Sigismund’s candidacy. Henry could not abide the thought of staying in debt to another and was keen to promote the candidacy of a Bavarian to succeed Sigismund as Chancellor. But which Bavarian? The first step was finding out if either or both prominent nobles in that House wished to stand. In truth, it seemed that Henry shared more in outlook with Count Otto and Sigismund with Steward Mandorf. But protocol implied that it was more appropriate, as head of a noble house, for Henry to approach Mandorf while Sigismund consulted his fellow Count, Otto.
“Like you, I have not yet communicated with my Bavarian counterpart but now that the mid-term is over, I believe now may be an appropriate time and will write to Maximillan before I depart for Lombardy.”
His list finished, Sigismund visibly started to relax. Henry watched with relief as the Chancellor put away his list. The mood in the room lightened.
“Now, let us drink to our success in Lombardy!”
The chapel stank of stale incense, sweat, and human waste. The rector of the Nuremburg church made special efforts to cover up the foul stench coming from the figure hunched in the corner, but there was only so much a few passes with a thurible could do. The man had not left the room for a week. Though his bodily excretions had diminished quickly with his fasting, their odor remained, as if haunting him. The air itself had taken on a smoky appearance, though from dust, smoke, or stench, it was impossible to tell.
Maximillian Mandorf noticed none of this. Not the smell, not the hunger, not even the hairshirt on his back. His skin was ashen and tight around his face. To all others, a week had passed, but to Mandorf it had been a lifetime. The rigors of the fast and the constant prayer had stripped him of all memory of earthly pleasures.
He was aware of a presence in the room, though no sound had been made. For whatever reason, he simply knew she was there. She coughed gently to announce her presence, but he ignored it and continued in prayer, his lips moving in silence, his head rocking back and forth in short jerks. Minutes passed. When he finally finished, he bowed his head and looked at the floor.
“We have already completed the lesson for this evening. Why are you here?”
Hildegard von Bilgen cocked her head slightly and looked at him. “The week is over, your penance is done.” Mandorf did not respond. The nun was about to repeat herself, when his voice came in a soft whisper.
“I am not ready.”
“Perhaps your soul is not ready, but you body must be tended to. You must eat and regain your strength.”
“I am not ready.”
She sighed and shook her head. “Have you forgotten the lesson from yesterday morning so quickly?” She closed her eyes, tilted her head upwards, and began to recite a passage.
“If our soul, under the body's urging, does evil with the body, the power of our soul will be darkened, because the light of the truth is missing. But if later the soul feels humiliated by sin and rises up again in opposition to the desires of the flesh, it will henceforth harry that flesh and hinder its evil deeds.
Indeed, the soul sustains the flesh, just as the flesh sustains the soul. For, after all, every deed is accomplished by the soul and the flesh. And, therefore, the soul can achieve with the body good and holy things and be revived as a result.
In this connection, it often happens that our flesh may feel bored when it cooperates with the soul. In such a case, therefore, the soul may give in to its fleshly partner and let the flesh take delight in earthly things. Similarly, a mother knows how to get her crying child to laugh again. Thus the soul accomplishes good deeds with the body, even though there may be some evil mixed up with them. The soul lets this happen so as not to overburden the flesh too much.”
Hildegard’s eyes opened again and she looked at Mandorf. “You soul may still require time, but your flesh must be nourished. Without the one you will never be able to achieve the other.”
The Steward of Bavaria’s head tilted upwards; the movement so slow that it appeared he struggled against a great weight. “I cannot help myself. I still desire.” Hildegard could see pale vertical channels carved in the filth below his eyes; the memory of tears that had long since dried.
“Desire itself is not an evil thing. It is only acting on the sinful desire that is evil. A man can desire to be generous to others. A woman can desire to make her children happy. Are these signs of evil?” Again, silence penetrated the room. Mandorf’s head bowed again.
“It is you I desire.”
Hildegard paused and considered this for a moment. “Will you act on this desire?”
“No. Never without your permission.”
She nodded. “Permission which you cannot have. Do not think me unfeeling; your affections have been apparent to me for several days now. Were I another person, I would assent to your advances, but I am devoted to Christ and my oath is stronger than any earthly love.”
“I know. That is why I must continue. My desire will consume me, unless I consume it. Without food, my body will feast on my passions, until they too are gone.”
The nun shook her head. “Your passions can further the glory of Christ. You must simply harness them and direct them towards his Works. Besides, carnal pleasures are not evil if they are between a man and a woman united by love and marriage. You are without a wife, a man without a family. When you have found a love that is true, you may enjoy your passions with her and be blessed. Until then, use your desires for other purposes.”
Mandorf considered this and shook his head. He closed his eyes and parted his lips in preparation for prayer, but the words would not form in his head. He remained like that, frozen and listless, but he could not remember a single prayer. After some time, Mandorf raised his head and looked at the nun. “What purposes?”
She smiled and held out her hand. “Come… we will talk while you eat.”
---------
Note: Hildegard's sermon recital is an actual passage from her work "Liber Divinorum Operum".
Near Magdeburg 13.6.1136 Anno Domini
Dietrich Von Saxony sat on his tent in front of a desk made from barrel. He was drinking beer after he had finished few urgent letters. After a long time of life without the matters of the Reich, many things that had felt hidious in the past felt better now. Maybe it was the succesfull battle against the Polish or just freshness of affairs after long time,Dietrich didnt know and really didnt care.
After he had returned to public life.The fist affair for him was to contact his Franconian Electors. He had already bonded with Jonas Von Mahren before and after the battle of Kamienski.
"There is a young man with great opportunities."
Dietrich thought.
"Only thing im worried about is the bit heavy drinking Mahren tend to do bit more usually then its usual. Many great men have lost their way with too much drinking, but then man is only young once and yuth is time of celebrating and recklesnes."
Gunther Von Kastillien had entered Dietrich´s forces few days earlier,when Von Mahren was sent to Stettin by Dietrich to keep things organised in order to be ready for the next move of the Polish.
"This Von Kastillien is a very different kind of man then most of us. "
Early expressions from him was that he was bit silent,but not becouse of shyness. There was something very grim about Count Kastillien. He usually didnt smile much, but on one day when one of the remaining peasants of Dietrich´s forces got into accident and got his feet mauled badly, Kastillien was very intrested on the suffering of the serf. But there was no sympathy in Von Kastilliens,behavior, rather like he was just looking at an animal and was intrested on its suffering.
Dietrich had talked few times briefly with Count Kastillien and there was no doubt that he wasnt an able man with lot of good qualities, but kindness was definately among his virtues. If Dietrich´s expectations werent completely wrong. Soon he would find out how Von Kastillien would handle himself in the field of battle.
Dietrich had also named Fredericus von Hamburg,the former steward of Franconia as count of Hamburg. But after his return into public life he had not heard a word from Von Hamburg and was worried that Count Von Hamburg could hold some grudges over Dietrich,or that his loyalty was not what it was supposed to be. Maybe Von Hamburg had gained too much power while acting Steward of Franconia and was plannning on taking Dietrich´s place as the Duke.
"What ever the truth may be.I have to meet Von Hamburg as soon as possible.I have to find out what is going through that mans mind."
Another case that puzzled Friedrich´s mind was the fourth Elector of Franconia.
"He has been silent just like Count Von Hamburg. Could those two have plans against me? I have to find out or this time i could be put out of my position for good and not by my superiors, but by my closest own men."
Friedrich woke up from his thoughts and realized that soon it would be morning. He stepped out and felt the fresh morning mist on his face. A guard was walking near him and stopped for a moment when he saw the Duke of Franconia on this early hour, standing outside his tent,while most men were still sleeping. Dietrich answered on the guards salutation and watched over to the horizon,where the first rays of the rising sun were colouring the morning sky red.
The smell of food almost made him wretch. When his fast began, the hunger pains gnawed at him ceaselessly. For three days it had been nearly all he could think about. The ritual of prayer became a shield with which he could fend off the beast of starvation. On the fourth day, the pain receded into a dull ache which in turn became a simple presence in his mind; a constant reminder of his sins. His soul mastered his flesh and the healing began.
Yet with the first waft of odor, it all rushed back to him. His stomach knotted so tightly that he found it difficult to walk. With great effort, Mandorf achieved the rough-hewn table, seating himself before the source of his agony. It was a thin, steaming gruel with a few chunks of solid matter that might have once been turnips. His household dogs would have refused better food than this. It took all of his willpower not to grab the bowl and gulp it.
Slowly and deliberately, he folded his hands, bowed his head, and mumbled the Common Prayer. From the corner of his eye, he could see Hildegard smiling at him.
“Your patience at this final moment serves you well, my Lord.” She gestured towards the bowl. “Please, eat.”
Mandorf stared at the gruel for a moment, then picked up the dish and drank deeply. The hot liquid coursed through his body, warming parts of him where the very memory of heat was long forgotten. The nun waited until the bowl was half empty before she began.
“You do not hide your feelings for Pope Gregory.”
Mandorf froze, his lips a hair’s breadth from the edge of the bowl.
“Why do you hate him so?”
He raised his head and looked at her, then remembered the gruel in his hands and carefully placed it on the table. “He has rejected God’s laws, sinned against the Kaiser, excommunicated the Reich’s allies, supported those who have rebelled against us, and allowed war to be waged against us.” Mandorf’s voice grew icy. “He is an abomination, a tool of Satan.”
“What do you know of God’s laws? Does he speak to you?”
His eyes narrowed. “It has always been the right of the Roman Emperor to appoint the Pope.”
“Always? Did an Emperor appoint Peter?”
The anger on Mandorf’s face turned to confusion. “Of course not, he was the successor of Christ, by divine appointment.”
“Was Peter’s successor, Pope Linus, appointed by an Emperor?” Mandorf did not answer. “So, it has not always been the right of the Emperor to appoint the Pope. Why then is it God’s law?”
“It has been this way for years beyond memory. It is the way of the Church.”
Hildegard shook her head. “That does not answer the question.” She paused for a moment, then looked Mandorf in the eye. “Do you think all of the Cardinals are evil men?”
The Steward of Bavaria frowned. He thought of Cardinal Otterbach and Cardinal Scherer. “No, of course not.”
“If the Cardinals are good and holy men, true to the Word, then surely they would also choose a worthy man to act as the Vicar of Christ.”
It was all Mandorf could do to control his frustration. “NO! They have not done so! They have supported Gregory!”
“Is he really so evil?”
He wanted to pound on the table, to overturn it, to break it, break something, break anything. “HE HAS ENCOURAGED WAR AGAINST US!”
“You mean the Milanese and the Venitians.”
“YES!”
“Then why has he excommunicated Venice? Why did he not use his army to defend Milan and Genoa?”
Mandorf’s eyes glazed over. Why indeed. What was Gregory playing at? Why undermine his own allies?
The nun stepped closer. “Did you ever consider that Gregory has simply sought to maintain order amongst Christian nations? Perhaps he has made mistakes, made enemies where he should not have, and made friends of foul men, but who are you to say what is in his heart?”
Maximillian shook his head. “Simply being Pope does not make a man holy.”
Hildegard grinned. “Indeed.” She looked up at the soot darkened beams which supported the peaked ceiling. “Some undertake the religious life renouncing not their own will but only their secular clothes, because they have experienced misery and poverty instead of riches in the world; they leave the world because they cannot have it as they wish. Others are foolish and simple about the world and, being unable to guide themselves, are contemptible to people; so they flee from the world because they are mocked by it. Others labor greatly under the calamities of sickness and bodily weakness, and so leave the world not for God’s sake but to remedy these afflictions more easily.
Yet others suffer such great anguish and oppression from the temporal Lords to whom they are subject that they withdraw from the world for fear of them, not so as to obey God’s precepts but only so that those Lords can no longer have power over them. So all these come to the religious life not for the sake of celestial love but for the sake of the earthly troubles they have, not knowing whether God is salted with wisdom or insipid, sweet or bitter, a dweller in Heaven or on earth.”
She turned her gaze upon Mandorf once more. “Who are you to judge whether Gregory is one of these or not?”
Fatigue rushed over Mandorf. Fatigue from a week’s worth of fasting and prayer. Fatigue from a lifetime of duty and responsibility. “I am a loyal vassal of the Kaiser,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.
The nun nodded. “As you should be, but you are also a Christian. What has Heinrich gained from challenging Gregory? What has the Reich gained?”
His head sagged, his shoulders slumped. “Rebellion. War. Humiliation. Death.”
“Is it loyal to lead your Kaiser to his destruction? Is it loyal to cause the deaths of so many Bavarian sons?”
Mandorf shook his head. “I will not side with Gregory against the Kaiser.”
“It is not a question of sides. You must simply obey the Will of Christ. If Gregory’s actions violate God’s Word, then he must be resisted. If his actions are generous and Christian, they must be obeyed.”
He looked up into her eyes. They sparkled with a clarity and compassion that he had not seen since he was a child. “How am I to know one from another?”
The smile that spread across her face was like the first warm breath of spring after a hard winter. “If you are true to the Lord, you shall never doubt.”
She sat down next to him. He could feel her warmth through her course robes. “Trust in God, follow your heart, but do not judge. Follow the Word in all your actions.”
She placed her hand on his. “We can never be together, but you can embrace your passions for me. Use them for the glory of Christ. Act as his servant in all matters. Follow those who in turn follow the Teachings. Shun those who stray from the path. Bring justice to those who are in need.”
Her eyes darkened, her tone became subdued. “Destroy those who are evil. Do this, and you will be the beloved of God, and I will be forever at your side. We may be lovers in soul, if not in flesh.”
Mandorf drank in the sight of Hildegard von Bilgen. The gruel lay forgotten in front of him. His hunger was gone, and he knew it would never return. He turned his eyes and looked back into the chapel. Sunlight was playing on the altar, illuminating the gilded cross. He gazed at it for a long moment, then stood and held out his hand.
“Come. There is much work to be done.”
------------------
Note: Hildegard's comments about the reasons why some people join the Church is an actual passage from her work "Scivias.”
Outside of Milan, 1136
Twilight illuminated the Italian sky, casting some interesting shadows over Kaiser Heinrich and his army's campsite. Hundreds of tents littered the fields of what was once known as Aemilia. The largest and most richly decorated of these tents housed the commander the army and Holy Roman Emperor. While he was not Chancellor, Heinrich still held immense power and influence, although some of it seemed to be lessening of late.
"Ugh, I can't believe that fool Mandorf sides with the Pope now too. After all these years. Who would have thought that he would have given in so quickly?"
Heinrich was steaming about his encounter in the Diet with the Steward of Bavaria, Maximillian Mandorf. The unlucky recepient of the Kaiser's venting was his trusted advisor, Captain Ludwig, who had long accepted that this would be one of his roles in life.
"So how many heads of the Houses have you angered now?" Despite all the anger emanating from the Kaiser, Ludwig knew that the time was not quite wrong to tell a joke.
It worked, getting a slight chuckle out of Heinrich. "Hmm, that's a tough one. Publicly, three out of the four Dukes and Stewards are now against me: Dietrich (although I may not have to worry about him much longer if the Polish fight well), Leopold, and now Mandorf. Privately, Henry disagrees with me I'm sure, but he at least has enough loyalty to say nothing. So I am a Kaiser with the heads of Houses united against me. Excellent."
Ludwig, pushing his luck, tried another funny comment. "Well, at least they're united about something."
However, this only seemed to depress the Kaiser, as he sunk down into his throne-like chair. "I've spent the second half of my life trying to right the wrongs I made in the first half, but these idiots don't care about that. All they do is scream 'But I want MY house to be the best!' in these shrill falsetto voices, and if I make a decision that puts the good of the Reich over the good of their House, they stir trouble and make my life even more difficult. Honestly, I'm thinking about marrying Elsebeth off to a Frenchman."
"A wise decision, Mein Kaiser," Ludwig chimed in, offering his opinion on the Kaiser's soon-to-be-of-age daughter.
Heinrich looked at him oddly. "No it isn't! It's the French! That's how bad our nobility has become! The only marriable options here are Mandorf, who's probably chopped off his reproducer by now, and a couple of no-name Franconians."
It was an unspoken agreement that the Kaiser would never marry his second daughter off to a Franconian, after the first one ended in zero children and a falling out.
Ludwig, however, finally said something of merit.
"There is von Kassel, Mein Kaiser..."
Von Kassel. The man had fought admirably well in the campaigns in Bern and Italy. However, there was the slight problem of Otto disagreeing with most of his proposals in the Diet, especially the most important one: taking back Rome.
"At least he does it respectfully," Heinrich said out loud, not realizing his previous thoughts had been only thoughts. "Ludwig, what do you know of his past?"
Captain Ludwig, who considered himself an expert on biographies of the Electors, rattled off some facts. "Otto von Kassel - born into a minor noble family, if it was nobility at all - now that I think of it, it's not. Anyway, it seems as if he was betrothed once as a youth but it was broken off (the details are rather shoddy). He got the rank of General through merit, which is pretty impressive."
Heinrich jumped at this. "So do you think he'd be eager for more power?"
Ludwig shook his head. "It's hard to tell with these types, Sir. Even if he was, would it be enough to compromise his principles and side with you the whole time?"
The Kaiser sighed. "Well, there's only one way to find out. Go to Milan and get him."
Ludwig started. "Now? But the twilight's almost out, and it will take quite some time to get to Milan."
"Just do it, Ludwig. I'm getting isolated in the Diet here, and I don't have much more time. Pope Gregory and his damned city are slipping away."
Captain Ludwig bowed and exited the opulent tent, leaving the Kaiser alone to hear hoofbeats heading in the direction of Milan.
OOC: This is a collaborative story between myself and GeneralHankerchief.
Milan, 1136
Otto von Kassel was woken by someone pounding on the door to his bed chamber. Snapping awake, he drew a dagger from underneath his pillow and leapt to his feet.
Otto had not slept well since the Reich had taken Milan, the city was a hotbed of discontent and several attempts had been made on his life by the locals. The would be assassins had been killed, their decaying bodies on display at the front gates of the palace as a warning to the Milanese. Without enough men to properly rule the city, Otto had to keep the Milanese cowed through fear.
Balanced on the balls of his feet with his blade extended, Otto called out, "Who's there?"
"My lord", replied a voice at the door, "The Kaiser has summoned you to his camp outside the city."
Lowering his dagger, Otto glanced out the window of the room, night still hung heavily on the city. "What time is it?", he asked.
"After midnight von Kassel, the Kaiser said to bring you to him immediately, no delay."
Otto recognized the voice now, it was Heinrich's second, Captain Ludwig, the leader of his bodyguard. A chill ran down Otto's spine. The Kaiser had chased off the second Venetian siege of Milan, but had not tarried in the city, in fact Otto felt he had been deliberately snubbed. Yet now the Kaiser wished to speak to him, in the middle of the night? Swallowing hard, Otto spoke, "Give me a moment, Sir, to dress and I will be with you shortly."
Emerging from his room clothed in riding leathers and a sword, two of Otto's men tried to form up on him.
Ludwig waved them off with a growl, "You're to come alone, no escort, the Kaiser's orders."
"Of course", said Otto in a flat voice, "Lead on Captain."
The ride to Heinrich's army camp was short and Otto soon found himself in front of the Kaiser's campaign tent, an elaborate affair that dwarfed the others. Two armed guards stood at attention in front of the entrance flap, spearheads gleaming in the torchlight. Otto moved to enter the tent. The guards crossed their spears blocking him.
"Before you enter von Kassel, I'll need your weapons", Ludwig said from behind him.
Otto turned, and glared at Ludwig. Unbuckling his sword belt he thrust it at the Captain, "You will address me as my lord or Count, Sir."
One side of Ludwig's mouth quirked upwards, "My apologies, the Kaiser is waiting to see you. . .my lord."
Otto turned away from him and passing the guards he entered the tent.
Apprehension filled Otto. He had never had an audience with the Kaiser besides the occasional encounter in the Diet or written message. They traveled in different circles, up-jumped soldiers and high nobles rarely mixed. Why does he want to see me now?, thought Otto. Reviewing his past interactions with the Kaiser did not comfort him. Otto had opposed a preemptive war with Venice and a campaign against Rome, both favorites of Heinrich.
I believe I called that last one hubris, a poor choice of words at best. I pray my service in the field has bought me some leeway. Yes, the Electors could debate in the Diet, but they served the Kaiser at his sufferance. The man still had the divine mandate of Kings. One only need think of Dietrich von Saxony, the man's own son-in-law, exiled for years and just now returning to public life. Most likely he's summoned me to go build watchtowers for the next decade, Otto thought darkly to himself. Shaking off his doubts Otto moved from the entrance further into the tent.
The Kaiser sat on an elaborate camp seat, more akin to a throne than a stool. He gazed into a small fire burning in a brazier near the center of the tent. Firelight glinted off his crown as shadows thrown by the flames danced across his face. Otto approached Heinrich and kneeled. Bowing his head, Otto spoke to the Emperor, "I am here as you commanded, mein Kaiser."
Heinrich, the Holy Roman Emperor, studied this man who addressed him. In all the times that they had deliberated in the Diet he could never get a good read on the count of Bavaria. It was obvious that Dietrich was ambitious, Henry was preparing for a career to please everyone, and that Mandorf was something of a nutter. But Otto von Kassel remained an enigma.
Sure, he had disagreed with the Kaiser's plans. Openly, at that. But he always did so in subtle ways. There was none of the brash confrontational bluster that Dietrich and Leopold had taken in recent years when presenting their grievances to Heinrich. Did that mean that he was just smarter than them, or was that his personality?
I am going to figure you out tonight, the Kaiser thought to himself as he smiled at the man currently paying him respect.
"Rise Otto von Kassel, Count of Bavaria," he said somewhat kindly as Otto did as he was told. "It's a shame that you and me have not really had the chance to talk - you have been a powerful voice in the Diet for a non-noble."
Otto said nothing at this. Obviously the Kaiser was just warming up.
"Captain Ludwig tells me that you were born and raised in Bavaria, and that you've received your military position due to merit. Also, you have had... a chance to marry into nobility but due to circumstances it did not happen."
Von Kassel stared. It appeared that the Kaiser's contacts knew much. It would be interesting to determine how much this man really knew about his Electors in the Diet.
"Let me be frank with you. I need an ally, you want more influence. I can't trust Mandorf anymore, not with that witch leeching his passion and devotion to his Kaiser away. Bavaria has also taken the brunt of the casualties in this Italian campaign, and I believe that it needs a Duke."
This was obviously the part that Heinrich was leading up to.
"I am offering my daughter Elsebeth's hand in marriage to you."
Otto's eyes widened in surprise. This was. . .unexpected. He had girded himself for a defense of his actions in the Diet, charges of disloyalty, and possible exile. Yet the Kaiser was offering him more than he ever dreamed possible. Heinrich had thought about this though, his knowledge of Otto's thwarted betrothal showed that.
My God, after all these years it still hurts to think of it, thought Otto. Unbidden the memories came back, he and Katarine had been so young. Otto clenched his jaw. It had been a love match, the second son of a rich but minor noble family, and the younger sister of a Baron whose family's name had heritage, but whose coffers were empty. His father had at first opposed the match, he was intent that Otto go to seminary, but it made too much sense for both families for him to deny for long. Then the Baron, only a young man himself, had died without issue and Katarine had become an heiress.
Otto's father, sensing an opportunity to add to not only the lands but to the dignity of the von Kassels, quickly substituted his elder son, Aldrick, as the suitor. If there was an estate and a title now involved, the oldest son, the heir of the von Kassel's, should receive them. Katarine's mother had quickly agreed. Otto had begged, cajoled and threatened, but in the end he was powerless. Katarine was now his sister-in-law, and at last count he had four nephews and nieces. Otto was surprised how intensely the anger still burned in him. The same anger had pushed him from his home and into the military. He had never sought to marry again.
Snapping back to the present, he could feel the Kaiser's gaze upon him. Otto sought to control his feelings, to restore a neutral expression to his features. Openly showing his emotions could be dangerous, a man walks with caution among giants. Only in the heat of battle did Otto allow himself to unleash his passions, there it was safe to do so and even useful. The Kaiser's offer, despite bringing forth bad memories, tempted him greatly. It was difficult for Otto to maintain his composure when the world was being offered to him.
Stalling for time Otto spoke, "Mein Kaiser, your man is well informed except for one fact. The von Kassels are nobles, minor to be sure, but we have served the Reich and Bavaria since the age of Charlemagne."
Heinrich paused. He did not enjoy getting his facts wrong. That was why he was a little angered at Sigismund for underestimating the strength of the Polish forces.
"Of course, but you must understand that there's nobility and there's... nobility. I apologize for the slip-up."
Otto's play for more time was good for exactly two sentences, plus emphasis on the word "nobility". It didn't take too long for the Kaiser to get back on track.
"Now," he began, "You may have some doubts in your mind about this, and I don't blame you. First of all, I have spoken to Elsebeth about this matter (she does not know that you will be the one marrying her but she does know that a marriage will be arranged) and I can assure you that she is willing to do her duty as a daughter of the Reich. If you accept, you get the title of Duke of Bavaria and all of its benefits, including added influence in the Diet."
Heinrich took a breath, trying to get a read on Otto. None came. This man was good.
"Obviously, some conditions are required in order for this marriage to follow through, mainly you must actually attempt to father plenty of children. I think if Dietrich had actually produced some grandchildren for me then I wouldn't have put him in such a bad position." He laughed harshly, unaware that Otto had been scared out of his wits about facing the same punishment as Dietrich just minutes earlier.
"So, what say you?"
The Kaiser had given Otto little time to think. Heinrich's laugh had made him jump a bit. This man was raised in power and dignity, and is not afraid to use either as a weapon, thought Otto.
If he said yes, he would be a Duke, power and position that could not be taken away at a whim. He would be his Father's overlord. He hated to admit it, but the thought filled Otto with schadenfreude. Yet there was something unspoken in the Kaiser's offer. He had mentioned one condition, yet there were sure to be others. Yes, he would be a powerful man, but he would be more beholden to the Kaiser as a Duke than a Count. Grandchildren would be the smallest price to pay.
What if I said no?, Otto thought. I have risen far in the Reich by my own actions and with the assistance of Maximillian, a good friend if a touch eccentric. Perhaps it would be best if I left well enough alone. But how would the Kaiser react to a refusal? Powerful men do not like to hear the word no, there are still many watchtowers to be built on the frontier. And If I did say no, who would be the Duke? If the Kaiser wanted the Steward as Duke, he would not have offered Elsebeth's hand to me.
The thought of a stranger as Duke filled Otto with regret. He and Maximillian had put much effort into making Bavaria first among the Duchies. To let a stranger, a non-Bavarian, fritter it away would be terrible. Otto was tempted to say yes.
"Mein Kaiser there is no need to apologize," Otto said, trying to keep his voice even, "Your proposal intrigues me, but besides children, a duty of any Christian marriage, what are the other 'conditions'?"
Otto was definitely sharp; the Kaiser gave him credit for that. In an ideal situation, Heinrich would have liked it if von Kassel had blindly agreed and he could simply catch him on the conditions later. But the wily general had seen through it. Damn it all, because his hand was forced early there was a chance that his proposal might be rejected!
"Ah, the other conditions - of course," said Heinrich as he drummed his fingers on the extremely opulent fabric that covered his knees. "As I said before, I need an ally, especially in the Diet. My own sons care mostly for their Dukedoms instead of the good of the entire Reich. I could usually count on Mandorf for my support but now his vote is called into question thanks to that woman." He shuddered. News of Hildegard's transformation of the Steward of Bavaria from a playboy to a snivelling lapdog had reminded him the dangers of the truly pious.
"I simply ask you to please keep in mind who gave you your current position -if you accept of course- when you cast your votes in the Diet. I am growing old, Otto, and before I die I would like to see certain things accomplished. Certain things that your past words and actions may not add up with. I am deliberating whether to attempt another Chancellor run in the coming session, your support would be much welcome there."
As if it were a cue to a change in Heinrich's tone, the fire suddenly turned more intense, casting even darker shadows over the Kaiser's face.
"However, if you accept and you cross me, you will be wishing that you were put on watchtower duty."
Otto swallowed hard. Besides being told no, powerful men hated to explain themselves. His patience is running thin, Otto thought, I walk a fine line here. He was reminded of the assault on Bern when the first siege tower had burst into flames. This situation had the same danger, but also the same opportunity.
Steadying himself, Otto spoke, "Your Majesty, you already have the war with Venice, and the Chancellorship will most likely be yours for the taking, the only goal that eludes you is Pope Gregory. That is where you would need my help."
Otto looked into the shadowed face of the Kaiser. He could see the grim set to it. I would hate a man, any man, even the savior himself, who made me stand in snow, clad only in hairshirt for four days, and all that for a mere audience. We have taken back the Reich, but the man responsible for it's troubles still draws breath.
Otto had never been a supporter of Pope Gregory. Gregory's actions had caused great harm to the Kaiser and the Reich. Despite his father's intentions, he was not a particularly devout man, but Otto respected the temporal power the Pope held. His word was law across most of Europe. Even now the armies of Christendom marched on Tunis because the Pope had called a crusade. That is why Otto had opposed an early move on Rome, the Reich was simply not strong enough to take on all of Europe.
Otto chose his worlds carefully, "I hope you realize, mein Kaiser, that my opposition to an attack on Rome was based on the current state of the Reich at that point and not out of any support for Hildebrand or fear of hellfire.
"Rome, at some point, must bend the knee to the Reich as it did in the past. We must regain our right of approval over the appointment of Popes. We draw closer to that point with our conquests in Italy, but we are still on the knife's edge, as the seizure of Bologna has shown."
Otto drew a deep breath. As he exhaled he thought, How much am I willing to sacrifice for a title and a royal wife?
Otto reached a decision, "My lord, if you still wish to replace Pope Gregory on the throne of Peter, I will aid you. But I hope you will strike when the Reich is ready and our enemies are not."
He kneeled in front of the Emperor, "Kaiser Heinrich, I am your man. I will marry Elsebeth if you will have me."
The die is cast, thought Otto as he awaited the Kaiser's decision.
How many rulers are placed in this position, Heinrich thought. How many Kings and Sultans and Emperors are required to marry off their daughters to some lowly noble general just so that they get their way politically?
Have I really stooped this low in life where I need to do this in order to cement my legacy and fulfill my final wish?
"Nevertheless, I suppose that this show of weakness is only temporary until I get my final revenge."
"Beg your pardon, Mein Kaiser?" Otto looked at him questioningly. Wow, did I just say that out loud? I really must be getting old. The Kaiser smiled at his soon-to-be son-in-law.
"Sorry, my mind was elsewhere." That wasn't entirely a lie. "Yes, I believe that almost fifty years of rule have made me acutely aware of the Reich's current strength. First things must be first, obviously. Rest assured Otto, I will not attack until the moment we are ready.
The Kaiser placed his hand on Otto's shoulder, looking at him with something like relief in his eyes. This was very different from the expressions that had come from Heinrich's face all evening.
"Thank you for agreeing. Together the Reich will be strengthened. Your betrothal shall be announced at the upcoming Diet session and your wedding will begin immediately when Elsebeth turns sixteen.
"May the Lord be with you in your upcoming military actions, soon-to-be Duke of Bavaria."
Rising to his feet, Otto felt a great sense of relief rush through him. Duke von Kassel, he had thought Maximillian mad when the Steward had first mentioned the possibility. Yet he would be Duke now. A new foreboding filled Otto, How will Maximillian react? How will the Diet react? Otto shook his head, Whatever comes, I will face it, I will not be daunted. I serve the Reich!
After Otto had bowed and left, being escorted back to Milan, the Kaiser was left alone with his second and advisor, Captain Ludwig, once again.
"Well," Ludwig stated smartly, "That's taken care of. Do you think Otto will hold up his end of the bargain?"
Heinrich sighed. "God, I hope so." After silently berating and crossing himself for using the Lord's name in vain, he continued. "I told them about Venice, but nobody listened. They don't seem to be listening to me about Gregory either, even after he blatantly seduces Mandorf."
Ludwig nodded, taking the subject back to Otto. "He seemed somewhat frightened that you would punish him; perhaps that is in our favor."
Heinrich agreed, sighing again. "Pope Gregory has made his latest move; I have just made mine. This is going to escalate soon enough."
Ludwig sensed where this conversation was going and tried to steer the Kaiser back.
"Mein Kaiser?"
"If Otto isn't enough to turn the tide, then I am going to have to take things into my own hands. But rest assured Ludwig, Gregory's hourglass has been turned for the last time."
Ludwig took that as his cue to exit, now leaving the Kaiser alone with the fire, which continued to cast shadows across his face.
Imperial Diet, Frankfurt 1140 AD
Dietrich sat down after thanking Sigismund for his services to the reich,drank from his glass of red wine and wiped his mouth with a handkerchief that had the Franconian coat of arms sewed on it.
No one saw that the red liquid that Dietrich had wiped of from his lips was not wine, but blood. He had bited his lip painfully after "thanking" the now retired Chancellor, in order to cover his real feelings towards the man.
"Great services to the Reich. Great services indeed." Dietrich thought.
While Sigismund had declared publicly to support Dietrich´s Franconians in the war against the Polish, in reality the case was far from that. It was true that the Chancellor had given funds for Dietrich to hire some mercenaries, but after he got reports from his Counts in Stettin and Hamburg, Friedrich had been so furious that he had broken his writing table in the camp around Magdeburg.
"That man is nothing but a snake and powermonger. While declaring his support for my arms in Diet he ordered to disband many of our forces in Stettin,including archers. Archers that Dietrich needed badly against the Polish cavalry forces. Also he send me reinforcements from my castles allright. whole 41 spearmen, who cant even break through from small army of rebels that have gathered behind the Franconian main army. Also while he could have sent Count Von Hamburg straght to me. He decided to move him into Stettin."
Dietrich stared at Sigismund,who was just giving speech, how he would be ready to smite the French and that there was no personal ambitions behind his plans to start offensive war,when Reich was already in war with 3 countries.
"I cant believe how Prinz Henry can tolerate that man. He undermines Henry in every occasion possible and still Henry acts like nothing has happened. I respect our Prinz and maybe he is just thinking of the larger picture, but if i were him i would move Sigismund somewhere,where he wouldnt be causing constant trouble with his schemes."
Dietrich looked around the room,wieving who was present and who not. Untill stopping his eyes to Kaiser Heinrich.
"Kaiser still acts like i wouldnt be even here. I cant understand how long the old warhorse can hold grudge against me. He hasnt even seen his grand daughter, which have made my wife sick of sorrow. Well it seems that i cant do anything to change the situation for now and im more then sure that, Heinrich will not do anything to help the situation either."
Dietrich turned his eyes back towards Sigismund again and thought:
"Well i will not speak one word about that snake and his traitorous acts,sabotaging my forces. I will let him have his moment now. Im sure that eventually he will trip on his own power hungry plans"
Dietrich turned to his clerk and adressed him like he had been just bored of the deliberations that were going on.
"Clerk, what the nobles are saying? I think i drank few too many ale´s last night,so i cant keep up with the squabling."
Near Dijon, 1140
Jobst Von Salza stood on the mountain range, dividing Bern and Dijon. The air whistled softly by, rustling the world. All manners of creatures crawled around, the sun peeked from behind lcouds in that glorious afternoon. Jobst heard a crackling of stone and foot, as the stones protested to the manner of foot. it was his Trusted Knight, the leader of jobst's bodyguard unit. He wore full army, and his helm was lifted back to show brown hair and blue eyes. He walked up beside Jobst, who was lookign out again. Thye stood on the highest mountain in the region, clouds barely touched there heads, and they could see far and wide. To the north they could see forests and froests, then mountains covering the horizon, like giants of old. Behind that would be the Great city of Metz. To there west they could see plains, and a river winding slolwy through the area, then France. Also there lay the Greta ALmighty Castle of Dijon. Jobst Von Salza sighed,
'isn't it beautiful?' he asked, sounding as if he was asking himself. he was obviously talking of the city.
'Yes Sir, a very fine city and one of the best in Swabia, although not the best' said The knight in a Afterthought. Jobst paid no thought to his words, and stared around the valleys and plains.
'This is Swabia, and its people, I shall forever be held to it' said Jobst. The Knight nodded, it was indeed a beautiful land, and had not yet been touched by recent war. Jobst Von Salza pointed East.
'There lays The Empire, the Roman Empire, the Holy Roman Empire. ' Jobst's brow thickened into thought ' Also East lies the city of Bern' The knight looked east as well, and saw mountain upon moutain, and a winding road leading through a valley, which was thousands of years old. The Knight nodded, he looked at Dijon again, then his gaze slowly went south until he saw smoke tunneling into the air, and a collection of dots. He let a gasp of suprise him, and Jobst's head swiveled slowly to where the Knight was looking, Jobst nodded,
'The worst part of the landscape' Jobst spat,
'That is where two armies of vile French camp, ready to attack Dijon. I was waiting for the moment your view tunred there, as we are to have blood on our hands soon' said Jobst, The knight looked at Jobst Von Salza, awed by his leaders words,
'Recently the House of Austria has been under attack again and again by the Vile veneatians, as you know' said Jobst, the Knight nodded,
'I know of that sir, but that is at Austria, not Swabia' exclaimed the Knight,
Jobst nodded, waving his hand vaguely,
'yes,yes. But! They have been searching for a Commander or General to fill in there ranks, to help defend Vienna and Austria' said Jobst,
'Our great Prinz Henri, Duke of Swabia, has said to me, "Austria is lookign for another General, we have no spare generla sof now. I am dealing with matters, Count Sigismund had his own city to deal with" says The Great prinz, athen he goes on,"I wonder if you would like to help defend Vienna and help Austria" he asks, this offer seemed good enough, i wad eager for battle, thoughi hate killing innocent. I was to accept, when he coughs and goes on,
"If you were willign I could also make you a Count, of either Dijon or bern" Alas! those words have clamped my mind! Alas! i was ready to leave! TO Austria! bah!' said jobst, the knight thought on hsi words and then said,
'What happened sir? Are you to Austria?' asked The Knight. Jobst shook his head,
'A message came through that Duke leopold had chosen another General' said Jobst, dissappointed,
'DOes thta mean you do not get a option of controlling bern or Dijon?' asked the General, jobst shook his head,
'Wait wait, then another messga earrives from Prinz Henri it said "Cause of your quick and swift words of acceptance, and our need of controlled cities, you may become a Count of either bern or Dijon" said the message, i was overjoyed! After hours of long discussion with the Prinz, we came to the conclusion of this- I am now a Count of Dijon' said Jobst Von Salza proudly,
' That means you control the actiopns of Dijon?' asked The knight,
'More then that, I am the city, I chose what buildings, I defend it, I am the Lord of Dijon!' cried Count Salza, the knight cried out in Congrats. but his face soured,
'Sir? What of your army?' asked The knight,
I shall keep it to defend Dijon of course!' said Count Jobst,
'I am overjoyed sir! I shall tell the army at once!' said The knight, he also looked happy. Count Jobst put a hand on The knights Shoulder,
'theres one more bit. The French are to attack Dijon, we are the defenders' said Count Jobst,
'Excellent sir! our first Town Siege! Though we are the defenders, that matters not' said The knight, who rushed away, to the area where the army ws, high in the Roman Mountains. Jobst sighed and looked onto the City which was his. He was Now Count Of Dijon. Count Jobst Von Salza of Dijon.
Deutsches Historisches Museum, Berlin, 2007
The translation of a recently-unearthed piece of the Holy Roman Emperor Heinrich's diary has just been completed by several leading historians. The paper is in moderate condition, being yellowed with age and several words having faded long ago. However, it is still readable for the most part, and preparations are underway to display it in the museum after a short restoration process.
The text reads, more or less, as follows:
Frankfurt, 1140
I am on my way back to Milan, and possibly Florence after this disaster of a Diet session. Ludwig tells me I should spend more time in the capital, to enjoy the large palace that was built for my comfort. Personally, I can't wait to get out of here. It seems every time I set foot in here I am reminded that my authority is slipping more and more. Right now I have just lost an election for Chancellorship to a man who changes his views like the wind and is widely rumored to be a puppet of a nun. However, the Diet believes that this type of man is still a better choice to be Chancellor than their Kaiser.
What is worse is that I am not even sure if the Diet is aware that they are dealing me this large of a rebuke. They do not even consciously challenge me anymore. I suspect that my loss has less to do with my departing from the majority opinion than to foolish reasons like prior promises. This is ridiculous.
I am particularly displeased with the House of Swabia. Sigismund der Stolze or whatever he calls himself now was, I thought, an ally. He told me that he intended to support my push for Chancellor before the session had begun, yet he votes for Mandorf for some idiotic reason of a prior commitment. Likewise with Prinz Henry. Absurd. It seems as if my son is shaping up to be a royal coward. If he disagrees with my ideas he should at least make it known; then I would think better of him! At least von Saxony was up front with me about why he was voting for Mandorf.
And now it seems as if I will have to take the Prinz into battle with me when I am to relieve my beloved Florence from the Milanese. Perhaps making his escort shock cavalry and placing him in danger will scare him straight and make a man out of him. Or maybe it will be easier if I just give him a heart-to-heart talk. Nah, maybe when the battle's done.
I fear for the Reich's future. Henry needs to become much more forceful, one way or another, or otherwise he will become nothing but a pawn of the Dukes.
I am most concerned about one more Italian objective - Rome. That city has plagued me for many years now and it is nearly gone from my grasp. Pope Gregory is laughing silently now that he has the Chancellor and Diet in his pocket. My honor must be redeemed, even if it makes me a pariah in the Reich. In due time, long after I am dead and residing in the Kingdom of Heaven, future generations will come to realize the wisdom of bringing Rome back into the fold and curbing the Papacy once and for all.
Unfortunately, time is running out. I am fifty-five and feel much older. The Diet is seemingly united against me, although they lack the will to say it directly to my person. I must be forceful, extremely forceful if
The entry ends abruptly there. The next page has not been recovered.
*note* Due to the document's age, an exact translation cannot be guaranteed. This represents the best effort of several medieval historians, however, accuracy may be lacking, especially in the later half of the entry, in which the condition is much poorer than the earlier half.
Bologna, 1140
Otto von Kassel drank deeply from the bottle of wine. It was a terrible vintage, the taste of sour grapes in his mouth was sickening. Still, Otto did not care, the goal was to numb the pain, not to please his palette. Finishing the bottle, he threw it violently against the stone wall of his bed chamber. Shards of glass scattered as Otto lurched from his seat and began pacing.
The towers of Venice were in sight and I had enough men to seize the city, thought Otto, yet I was recalled, stripped of my command, most of my army sent south with the Prinz and now I rot behind city walls. Walls that still have a gaping hole in them!
Otto choked back a hysterical laugh and stumbled to the window. Looking north he thought back to the last Diet session. I failed utterly! I could not keep my end of the deal with the Kaiser and I offended both the Prinz and the new Chancellor over the issue of Venice. They prattle on about honor and Christian virtue, but they don't want to hear about the stark realities of war. They didn't complain when I sacked Bern or Milan, 'good Christian' lives were lost there as well, but God forbid someone offend their sensibilities with plain talk! Maximillian, the mercurial bastard, doesn't trust me anymore, I backed the wrong horse, and now someone else will take Venice. I probably didn't flog myself and pray enough for the Steward's new taste!
Otto staggered over to the bureau to open another bottle. Taking a deep swig, he stared into the bronze mirror that hung on the wall in front of him. His eyes were bloodshot, his face guant and his clothes and hair in disarray.
"The Chancellorship will most likely be yours for the taking, Mein Kaiser", Otto said to his reflection. He spoke in a slurred mockery of the cultured tone he used in the Diet and in conversations with the mighty.
"My arse it will!", he continued in the more rustic language he used on the battlefield, "Maybe if your Lordship actually spoke up in your own defense, deigned to mingle with the small folk, you wouldn't have been crushed by Mandorf! Why the Hell did I ever listen to you!? I should have stayed a Count, but I sold my soul for the promise of a royal wife and a title. That's probably gone now too. I've managed to piss away everything!"
Taking another pull on the bottle, Otto stumbled over to the bed and collapsed onto it. The open bottle fell from his grasp and hit the floor with a thud. It slowly rolled away, spilling red wine.
Otto turned over on his back and watched the ceiling spin above him. Self-pity slowly gave way to analysis. Why had the Kaiser been so silent during the Diet session and after his loss? I expected more sturm und drang from him after such a horrible defeat. God's Blood, I expected him to give me Holy Hell for my failure! Yet the Kaiser calmly gave his build orders and left.
Otto sat up in bed, swaying a bit, but with some returned focus, and spoke out loud, "He must be plotting something."
A terrible thought occurred to Otto, and that is when he leaned over the bed and began to vomit.
After the dry heaves had passed, Otto slowly made his way back to the bureau. Rifling through his scattered papers, he came upon his copy of the Reich's Charter. Paging through it, he found what he had been looking for.
"Mein Gott!", exclaimed Otto, dropping the papers, "It might work!"
The question, thought Otto looking into the mirror, Is what should I do about it?
Below him, on the floor, the Charter became soaked in wine, turning it blood red.
Dijon, 1142
The tall man smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair affectionately:
“Here, boy, take this coin and fetch your mother. Then go get yourself something nice from the bakery.”
The man saw the ragged boy’s eyes widen at the sight of the gold and watched as the six year old ran off. Nasty rat faced little creature, the man thought. Shortly a plain young peasant woman arrived, fussing with her hair and straightening her crude clothing. The man leapt up eagerly and rushed towards her, embracing her passionately. The woman recoiled, but with only feigned reluctance:
“Stop! What are you doing? Anyone could see us!”
The man smiled rakishly, unconcerned: “Not being seen is a speciality of mine.”
They embraced again, longer this time. The man lavished attention on her, solicited her views, charmed her with his anecdotes and plied her with gifts from his bag. Then, when he felt he could endure the distasteful intimacy no longer, he stepped back coolly and produced one final item from his bag:
“You remember what we talked about before? Here it is.”
It was a small vial. The young peasant woman’s flush face started to whiten and she tensed:
“Is it…? Will it harm the master?”
The man laughed: “Of course not! What do you think I am? As I said before, it is a sleeping draught. He’ll merely retire a little earlier and rest a little longer. Probably do him some good, I reckon. Spends too much time gallivanting around, doing his duty, for Duke and Kaiser. He should take it easy, enjoy life … like us”
He embraced her again and her body began to soften. He whispered in her ear:
“I only want to borrow a few things, for us. He has more than he needs. Your dowry, well, it’s not quite what my father expected me to win.”
The young woman looked awkward and pulled back. The man comforted her, then placed the vial into her hand and coaxed:
“Put it in his wine tonight. Do you think you can do that?”
She looked down and nodded.
“Then, when he retires to his room, let me in through the kitchen. I’ve arranged some entertainment for the guards; they won’t be there. And I’ll be dressed as one of them. The domestic staff won’t question a man in good armour.”
She pursed her lips and nodded again. The man beamed affectionately and pulled her towards him. Her head on his chest, the peasant woman could not see the man wrinkling his nose at her smell, as his hands moved gently over her young body.
* * * * *
It was late when the tall man entered the kitchen of the manor. As he anticipated, the staff glanced at his fine German armour and long expensive cloak then anxiously turned away. Unlike that stupid peasant woman, they knew their place, he thought. She was there – watching him from a corner, wide eyed and terrified. He winked at her and she too turned away. He was grateful to put her out of his mind. He had to focus.
Sigismund had walked into the trap, the man thought. The Germans had believed the French to be fools trying to besiege Dijon with only a regiment of knights. Who were the fools now? Mandorf had diverted the new “Swabian Household Army” to Dijon, leaving the road to Bern almost open for the real French offensive. And with the Swabian Army, Mandorf had delivered Sigismund to Dijon and the tall man waiting for him there.
The man made his way quietly through the manor, evading the remaining staff and the rest of Sigismund’s entourage. Fortunately, Sigimund was a loner – he had attracted no retinue, no harridans like Mandorf , no veterans like Heinrich, Dietrich and Leopold. Unlike his patron, Prinz Henry, “Saint” Sigismund did not even have a stupid mutt to guard his quarters. He was married, but thankfully had not brought his family on campaign. And such was his virtue, it was unlikely there would be another sharing his bed this evening.
The man quietly opened the door to Sigismund’s bedroom chamber. The Count was slumped over his desk, almost as if in humble prayer. Moonlight shone through a large window, bathing the blonde Count in a gentle light. The tall man closed the door and approached the desk gingerly. He stood behind the Count and listened, hearing the faint sound of Sigismund breathing. The assassin frowned, then produced from his belt a long piece of wire. Gingerly, he slipped the wire under Sigismund’s neck. As the assassin carefully drew up the wire noose, the cold metal touched Sigismund’s warm skin. The Count stirred and in response, the tall assassin yanked the noose tight.
Sigismund started: the wire cut into his neck and he was struggling to breathe. The violence of the attack shocked Sigismund into consciousness. His mind was still swimming, oxygen deprivation now combining with the doctored drink to blur his vision and senses. But even in his stupor, Sigismund realised he was in mortal peril. He summoned his great strength and rose from his seat, dragging the assassin across his back and round, away from the desk. Sigismund’s fingers tore at the wire and his assailant’s mailed grip but flesh was of no avail against cold metal. The assassin tightened the noose yet further and Sigismund sank to the floor.
The movement eased the pressure on the Count for a second and, in a brief moment of clarity, Sigismund’s right hand moved quickly to his belt. The tall assassin steadied himself, then began to press his attack: watching triumphantly as Sigismund’s left hand flailed hopelessly and the noose gauged deeper into the Count’s neck. Sigismund arched his kneeling body further forward, again dragging the assassin closer to his back. Then suddenly the assassin felt excruciating pain. Sigismund had managed to retrieve his dagger from his belt and slammed it backwards into the assassin’s upper thigh. The blade had pierced the mesh armour protecting the region. The assassin collapsed on the floor, doubled over in pain.
Slowly, unsteadily, Sigismund rose and straightened up. He looked at the tall man bent over, bleeding on the floor. Roles reversed, now Sigismund staggered behind the helpless form on the floor. Exhausted, he grabbed the tall man’s hair and thrust back his head, preparing to draw his dagger across the exposed throat. But as Sigismund raised his knife, he felt his heart constrict. He struggled for breath and looked helplessly at his own knifehand, outstretched but motionless. Out of the corner of his eye, the wounded assassin watched the dying Count stagger and then fall. The assassin gasped and began to rise. He cursed in his pain: that dose should have killed an elephant by now! He was only supposed to make sure the deed was done – not fight the German brute hand to hand. The assassin watched Sigismund lie motionless on the floor beside him. The tall man summoned his remaining strength: he had to make sure the job was done and get out.
Outside a cloud covered the moon, drawing a veil over the Sigismund’s bed chamber.
* * * * *
When Captain Adolf arrived at Sigismund’s manor, he found the servants and guards milling around in confusion and disbelief. He shook his head - he would bring order to this chaos. Yet for moment, the Captain stood detached from those around him, taking in every detail. His eyes settled on one serving girl visibly more distressed than the rest, sobbing uncontrollably and surrounded by other kitchen staff trying to comfort her.
A Sergeant saw the Captain and marched purposefully towards him, grim-faced and ready to report. The Captain stayed his approach and pointed out the hysterical serving girl, querying:
“Sigismund was not one to stray, so why is she taking this so hard?”
The serving girl - a plain, young peasant woman - glanced up at the two men-at-arms watching her and immediately looked down. The Captain’s tone became harsher and started to step towards her: “I’ll find out what she knows.”
The Sergeant nodded, but touched the Captain’s arm to make him pause and then pointed to the kitchen floor. A small deep red stain was faintly visible under the torchlight; more stains led across the floor towards the door. The Captain’s face hardened:
“Our general did not go down without a fight. I do believe he has given us a trail. Call out the bloodhounds and wake the camp. I want the entire Army out into the countryside searching for this fiend. We’ve wounded our prey; let’s hunt him down.”
The Sergeant nodded and left, as the Captain approached the cowering young peasant woman.
Metz, 1144
The entire Imperial Diet was assembled in the church to send off one of their own. It was a rather small, modest building, but it had its own personality and probably suited Sigismund best. Kaiser Heinrich, in charge of funeral arrangements, had purposely decided to bury Sigismund in this city that he had poured so much into rather than the Imperial Capital, Frankfurt.
There had been a great exodus from the Imperial frontier and its cities by its nobles. Deputies had been left in charge of armies, advisors cities. Everyone important in the policy-making process of the Reich was present at the service. Even Cardinal Peter Scherer, himself aged and suffering from a horrible cough, turned out to preside over the event. However, he got no respite from the Kaiser, who demanded that eulogies be allowed even though they were contrary to Catholic doctrine.
Once the congregation took their seats, Scherer began speaking out in his deep, powerful voice. It was clear that this was hurting him beyond belief, but still he continued.
"A reading from the Gospel of Matthew."
The Electors wondered what passage Scherer had in mind.
"Take heed that ye do not your alms before men, to be seen of them: otherwise ye have no reward of your Father which is in heaven. Therefore when thou doest thine alms, do not sound a trumpet before thee, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may have glory of men. Verily I say unto you, They have their reward. But when thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth:
That thine alms may be in secret: and thy Father which seeth in secret himself shall reward thee openly. And when thou prayest, thou shalt not be as the hypocrites are: for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and in the corners of the streets, that they may be seen of men. Verily I say unto you, They have their reward. But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret; and thy Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly.
But when ye pray, use not vain repetitions, as the heathen do: for they think that they shall be heard for their much speaking. Be not ye therefore like unto them: for your Father knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask him. After this manner therefore pray ye:
Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.
And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.
For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you: But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses. Moreover when ye fast, be not, as the hypocrites, of a sad countenance: for they disfigure their faces, that they may appear unto men to fast. Verily I say unto you, They have their reward.
But thou, when thou fastest, anoint thine head, and wash thy face; That thou appear not unto men to fast, but unto thy Father which is in secret: and thy Father, which seeth in secret, shall reward thee openly.
Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. The light of the body is the eye: if therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light. But if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness. If therefore the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!
No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon. Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment? Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they? Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his stature?
And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is, and to morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?
Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.
But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you. Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof."
Scherer paused at the conclusion of this passage, then bent over in a violent fit of hacking that lasted for over a minute. When a deacon rushed up to see if the Cardinal was in need of medical attention, Scherer waved him away and finished up his coughing. As he made his way back to the pulpit, the deacon brought him water, which Scherer thankfully sipped. He then continued.
"This was of course part of Jesus's Sermon on the Mount, in which he preached his values and teachings to a massive amount of followers. This section is known as the Discourse on Ostentation, in which Jesus condemns fasting, alms, and prayer that is done only for show. It then focuses on, as do I, the dangers of *cough* materialism."
Scherer took another sip, and continued.
"Materialism, or the want of earthly possessions, is numerous times referenced in the Holy Book as a sin, and should be avoided. Most notably, it is done so in Exodus, where the 9th and 10th Commandments, and to a lesser extent, the 7th, deal with it. It is closely tied with several of the cardinal vices, such as greed, gluttony, and pride, which is the sin that caused Lucifer to fall from grace. It is to be avoided at all costs, for not doing so plants a seed in our minds that this is the only world that we are to look for. We sometimes tend to forget that The Lord God and His Son are waiting for us with a much better kingdom when the time has come to depart. When we pass on, He will be waiting for us, and He will be smiling, beckoning us on, saying 'Welcome my son, here is your salvation.' The eternal company of friends and angels is a far better reward than any palace, jewelry, or fine clothing."
The Diet was transfixed at Scherer's sermon. The man was clearly on his last legs, but continued to wax poetic with the wisdom and oratory skill of a higher power. The only thing that reminded the Electors of his mortality was the persistent clearing of his throat.
"Sigismund der Stolze exemplified many of the qualities that Jesus spoke of in that Sermon and Discourse. He was a very humble, chivalrous man who lived a noble life. He always downplayed his many accomplishments, whether they be in his personal life, military career, or Chancellorship. He did not seek to bask in the moment and enjoy life, rather, he simply moved onto the next objective and tackled it head-on. Observe his comments to the Diet after returning from his courageous sally from Bern. Nothing is said about the actual conflict or his gallant performance. As a matter of fact, he only mentions the city once - when describing how the Milanese fight."
In the front pew, Heinrich chuckled at the memories. He would never admit it, but if he had run for Chancellor after pulling off that victory, he would have woven it into his manifesto quite a few times.
"He continued this righteous style throughout his Chancellorship. In his first report, he addressed the Diet using the following words:
"Again, no mention of his heroic efforts at that battle or overly elaborate descriptions of his wedding. Instead, he simply mentions it and moves on. Such was the character of Sigismund, whom we should all seek to emulate in our actions and our words."Quote:
Due to a good defensible position and good fortune, the Milanese were unable to attack my meagre force. My object, was therefore gained - I had prevented the Milanese from entering Lombardy.
On a personal note, I have finally married.
On the other side of the aisle, Sigismund's wife Syele, and daughter Judda were crying. The Kaiser's daughter Elsebeth, sitting next to Otto von Kassel, also had tears in her eyes. At the news of Sigismund's death Heinrich had put off the wedding between the two. Meanwhile, Scherer, after coughing some more and finishing his water, continued.
"Alas, the only truly despicable part of Sigismund was his manner of death. Such a noble and holy man should have been destined to die saving the lives of others or defending Christendom against those who would seek it harm. Nevertheless, things are better for him now. We must remember that good Sigismund has entered the House of the Lord and will be an honored guest there for all eternity."
Scherer, pale as a ghost, could by now say no more. He yielded the pulpit to Kaiser Heinrich, who gave his eulogy.
"Gentlemen, this is not my forte. My limited oratorial skills are much better applied when inspiring troops before a battle or attempting to persuade you in the Diet. Also, nothing can be said that has not already been addressed by Cardinal Scherer, whom I wish a speedy recovery to and also offer my thanks for presiding over this mass."
He motioned to Scherer, who nodded his acknowledgement and stepped out of the church to cough some more.
"Sigismund, if a little aloof, was nevertheless a great man and a huge benefit to the Reich. I had the pleasure of conversing with him many times, and he was a wise man who wished nothing more than the betterment of the Empire. The people who did this to him are cowards and unholy. I, as well as Chancellor Mandorf, assure his family that they will be hunted down and brought to justice. The coming days ahead will be difficult for us all, and Sigismund's wisdom and chivalry will be sorely missed."
The Kaiser took his seat, a little embarassed, and there was an eerie silence in the church that lasted over a minute. Scherer was absent, still coughing, and the church's deacon was still attending to him. Finally, in an impromptu manner, the six pallbearers rose as one, picked up the closed coffin, and began to carry it outside, followed by the rest of the congregation.
Kaiser Heinrich, Prinz Henry, Dukes Leopold and Dietrich von Saxony, Steward/Chancellor Maximillian Mandorf, and Sigismund's adopted son Jobst von Salza slowly and laboriously lowered the coffin into Sigismund's final resting place, a freshly-dug grave in the church's cemetary. Once again the simplicity of it reflected the character of the deceased.
With no priest present, the 5th Elector of Bavaria, who had some experience with these matters, led the Diet in the saying of the final prayer.
"Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord.
And let perpetual light shine upon him.
May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.
Amen."
With that, the Electors departed, heads bowed, lost in their own thoughts. It was back to their duties, and to some, their plannings.
Deutsches Historisches Museum, Berlin, 2007
Researchers have released further translations from a cache of documents found in the city of Frankfurt during routine utility work on underground pipes. Further excavation of the site revealed ruins dating back to the 12th century. Archaeologists are speculating that this might be the location of the long lost Imperial Archives. Historians hope that these new translations will lend further insight into the momentous events of the time. The following is an exchange of letters between Maximillian Mandorf, Chancellor of the Reich, and Otto von Kassel, future Duke of Bavaria. Surprisingly enough for that era, both noblemen were literate.
Bologna 1142
Maximillian,
Congratulations on your election to Chancellor! I would have written sooner, but the last Diet was a troubling affair for me. I admit, I made a hash of it. You won an overwhelming victory and I feared that the Kaiser would cancel my betrothal. Not to mention my blunder on trying to dictate occupation policy on Venice, a fruitless gesture in hindsight.
Yet, I have good news, the engagement will continue and I am to be Duke! The Kaiser and I have reached an understanding that will benefit Bavaria. Nor have I forgotten you, my friend. Bavaria might lose a Steward, but she will gain a Count. It would be cruel of me to take Nuremberg from you, you have made clear your desire to stay there. I plan to move the capital of Bavaria to Innsbruck, my current domain, and you will keep yours. Also, as recognition of your service, you will keep the title of First Elector. Moving the capital south makes sense anyway, as I must always keep one eye on Italy.
So how does it feel to be Chancellor? I've heard the braying of the Diet has already reached your ears, even though your term has just begun. Very few people want the job, but they all think they can do it. Do not lose hope, there are some of us who still value your acumen.
Have you considered coming south in your travels as Chancellor? The Italian front is still the most active. The Milanese will be dispatched, but we could use your assistance with Venice and in other matters. For example, the Pope and his army still haunt our lands. How long are we to allow this? The first year of his "tour" of northern Italy could be seen as an aberration, but the man has yet to return to Rome. Venice, Milan and Sicily are all excommunicated and the only nation in Italy that remains in the Church, ours, bears the weight of a massive Papal army. Why is that?
I am confused as to why you have changed your mind about Gregory. You may be a man reborn, Saul on the road to Damascus, but surely he is still the same man who upended the traditional balance between Church and Empire, fostered dissent throughout the Reich, and caused the loss of much of our territory. And for what? All that so the Papacy could be free of a Kaiser's right to aid in the selection of a Pontiff. Only now have we recovered from the investiture crisis, and yet he still gets to choose who receives the crown of the Roman Empire. Is that fair?
A time may come Maximillian, and I hope it doesn't, when you will have to choose between service to the Reich and Bavaria and service to this man. I do not begrudge you your rebirth, but I question your choice of mid-wife.
Think on what I have written, and on who your true friends are.
Otto
~~~~~~~~
Otto,
It warms my heart to hear that your engagement to Elsebeth will continue. Though I have taken a vow of celibacy myself, much joy can come from a Holy Union. I wish you the utmost success with your wife in the years to come. I fervently wish I could attend the wedding, but it seems likely that it will occur in Bologna or Florence. With the Bavarian roads cleared of brigands and the new war with France, I have decided to journey westwards to give whatever aid I can to the Swabians. Unfortunately, this means I shall not be close enough to attend the wedding. Know that I will pray for God to bless your union and give you happiness and success for many years.
I do not fault you for voting for the Kaiser in the election. You must look to your own interests and ensure a prosperous future, especially now that you will have a family and a noble House dependant upon your success. It is true that I once desired to be Duke of Bavaria, but in my heart I knew it would never come to pass. I am too stubborn and sinful to bear such a responsibility. Some may mock my reform, but Hildegard has made my life joyful for the first time in many years. My soul is at peace and I have let go of most of my earthly ambitions.
You are a good man and you will be a good Duke for Bavaria. It will certainly be strange to kneel before you in the years to come, but Hildegard says it will be a good lesson in Pride. Apparently I have not yet rid myself of all of my sins.
Your words about Gregory ring true and I admit that I no longer know where he stands. His actions baffle me and I see no earthly or Heavenly reason for them. I am still convinced that he incited the Milanese and Venetians to war against us, but why did he then excommunicate them? If they displeased him in some way, then surely he would have decided to aid us. Yet all reports indicate that he still seethes at the very mention of the Reich.
Surely our people are as righteous and holy as any in Christendom. How can the Pope harbor such hatred for us and yet aid us at the same time? Is it Christian charity or Satanic duplicity? Hildegard tells me to trust in the Pope and abide by his words. She says that the Church cannot exist without a Pope, and if Gregory is false, then we are adrift and disconnected from God. She has proven herself to be a righteous woman and if she claims this to be true, I must believe it. Those who insult her and say that I am her pawn simply do not know her. She is a great and holy woman; a band of knights from the Teutonic Order even arrived in Nuremburg recently to pay homage to her!
The truth is that the question of Pope Gregory is beyond my grasp. With the situation so unclear, I must simply wait and see what the future brings. For now my life is dedicated to protecting the Reich and her people. Wars spoil our lands and good Christian blood is spilled every year. Perhaps when these battles are done with I will know better what to do.
May the Word of God guide your path.
Maximillian
Magdeburg, 1146
"This isn't good, you know. This whole thing with Sigismund. Nothing good will come of it."
Fredericus was standing in the courtyard of recently conquered Magdeburg, observing as a great number of workers were tearing down a part of the garrison's quarters to make room for a drill square. With him was Franz, a member of his bodyguard, and well within hearing range was Otto, the engineer overseeing the construction project.
"The war, you mean?" said Franz.
"Yeah, the war, the impending Swabian land grab that was so masterfully set up. If only I knew who exactly was behind it all."
"The French?" Franz said, knowing that this explanation was far too simple for Fredericus.
"Oh, it wasn't the French. What would they have to gain? I'll tell you what Swabia has to gain: France. It's perfect, really. The honest and chivalrous Swabian gets killed, everyone laments his death, vows revenge upon the villainous French scum, Swabian armies get sent into France. Even better if they get it done before Heinrich dies, since he can use his little 'geographical' distribution to justify giving a disproportionate number of lands to Swabia. Still, I have a difficult time blaming the Prinz, it doesn't seem like something he'd do. Maybe it was that von Salza. Conveniently enough, he's the only one eligible to be Duke of Swabia now. He's already started to point fingers at nameless electors in the Diet, as if everyone isn't eager to accept that the French did it. You know..."
"Yes, but," Franz finally interrupted the rant, "the French attacked us before the assassination. We were at war. Is it not reasonable that they would eliminate a commander of our army in the west for strategic purposes?"
"Of course they attacked us! They always do. Are you familiar with the story of how the Romans came to conquer everything?" Upon receiving a negative gesture from Franz, Fredericus continued, "well, they say that back when the Romans had only the control of Italy, and were at war with some small city in the west of Greece, I forget what it was called, they decided to send a small raid over. So they did, but one of their Senators died in battle. Naturally, there were great lamentations and cries for revenge, so they sent a big army to conquer Greece, but they said 'we'll just take Greece, then we'll stop expanding.' But in the process of doing this, their little legions were attacked by the entire Macedonian might. That's what they say anyway, but from what I've read, they seemed to be on the offensive the whole time. I think they lost another Senator, or maybe a Consul, so, of course, they had to completely destroy Macedon. But this got them into contact with the Thracians and the Illyrians, who attacked them, and then also the Seleucid and Ptolemaic empires the same, and, well, you know the rest."
"That seems a bit exaggerated," said Franz.
"Oh, I'm sure it is, but the exact history isn't important. It's more of a fable than anything. The point is, that deaths can be used to justify aggression. That expansion gets you into other wars. No one likes large armies running around near their border, conquering their neighbors. I'm already looking beyond France, and see England, Portugal, and Spain. I'm sure they're looking over here too."
Franz nodded, having nothing to add. Fredericus continued, "there is also a third way to get into wars, as the Romans have shown us with their conquest of the Iberians. That role, for us, is filled quite well by the Kaiser himself. He doesn't respect the Diet. Some of his actions can only be described as Servian, although perhaps a bit lesser in magnitude. Remember when he ordered an Imperial army to violate Polish territory, when the Diet desired good relations with the Poles? But of course, the Poles are the back stabbers! They must be destroyed! Now they wonder why the Russians won't ally with us. I'm betting they don't want to be labeled as back stabbers when our armies start taking scenic tours of the steppes around Novgorod in a few decades' time."
Franz chuckled. "So, what is to be done?"
"Nothing. Lay low and keep quiet. Sigismund is dead, remember? Woe to him who doesn't grab his lance and charge at the walls of Paris."
At that point, the conversation is interrupted, as a wall of the garrison quarters falls over, crushing several workers.
Frankfurt, 1142 AD
Jobst von Salza looked upon the Great City of Frankfurt, Capital of the Reich, a home of worries, the Home of the Imperial Diet. Recently thigns had not been well, Electors in the Diet acting rudely against Swabia, Sigismunds Death. Von Salza's palns were all wrong, but he adre not reveal them to no one, the only one who knew of it was his Trusted knight. They were in a escort to Frankfurt, heading to the diet.Jobst Von Salza was with his Bodyguard, and had been speakign with the Captain Knight,
'My plans have been messed up' whispered Jobst, the Captain leaned forward, all had been mourning over Sigismunds death,
'What were your plans?' asked the Captain, the babble of city could be heard from far off,
'Why, if I explained them any more my lungs would burst' said Jobst, The Captain laughed, The Captains horse neighed,
'Yes, those plans' said Captain,
'But they were awfully mixed up with Sigismunds death'
'Why of course they were, I should've sent my whole BodyGuard if I had've to, damm it!' said Jobst, 'I bet you I know who that Assasain was workign for' said Jobst,
'Who?'
'I'd say those Austrians' said Jobst, Jobst didn't like the fraction betweent eh Houses, though now he had no thought o that,
'They swear on Swabias name, say we ahve plots, why, when those Venetians attacked Vienna, did we go about yelligna t them, screamign crap which helps no one! No! We offered men! generals! Real help' yelled Jobst,
'Why sir, Duke Leopold isn't that bad...' said The Captain, Von Salza looked at him,
'I would awfully like to know what he's up to, he seems unaffected by Sigimunds death' said Jobst Von Salza,
'Thats true Sir'
'The way those Austrians Electors act.. sometimes I wonder if the beggers have come into the Imperial Diet' said Von Salza, The Captain laughed,
'WHy sir, I agree there, when the Diet was at its end last time, and I was waiting for you by the Doors, one of those Austrian Electors comes out and spits on me' siad THe Captain, Jobst shook his head,
'Next tiem they mutter words like that about Swabia, I shall kill them personally' Jobst sighed,
'Why , I have thought on it, after Sigismunds death, i am net in line for Duke of Swabia' said Jobst, The Captain nodded, and looked at Jobst. tears were in his eyes, and Jobst muttered something, then spoke loudeer,
'I need battle' they were at the City Gates, and jobst Von Salza's escort rode n, when Von Salza saw a Austrian Elector, glaring at him, the escort passed by through the crowd, The Elector swore at him, The Captain drew his sword,
'Why you...' Jobst stopped his sword wth a hand, and spat on the Elector,
'I shall see you next Diet, begger' spat Jobst, and laughed bitterly, there escrot moved on, and the day grew old.
(OOC: This is a prelude to the Kaiser's recent actions regarding Rome, written by OverKnight and myself.)
Bologna, 1142
A sentry in the beleagured city observed a large dust cloud to the south, heading his way. While only a militiaman, he was trained to know what that type of dust cloud meant: military movement.
Judging by the size of the cloud, it was a small army, perhaps two regiments. It certainly was too big for any Imperial general's escort, even the Kaiser's. It was the right size for both Kaiser Heinrich and Prinz Henry, as well as their escorts, but why would both of these royals visit the city and leave their large army about to relieve Florence leaderless?
The sentry really didn't want to take any chances. "Someone alert Count von Kassel," he cried. "We've got something moving this way, and fast! It could be a Milanese scouting party."
Several minutes later, Otto von Kassel arrived on the scene, slightly tense with anticipation, only to groan when he saw the soldiers for himself. They were indeed the Kaiser and his escort, but there was also a mysterious entourage behind him that was not the Prinz's.
Upon greeting Heinrich, Otto asked a question about this unknown escort but the Kaiser brushed it off, instead motioning to the nearest church.
"Come, von Kassel. We have much to discuss, but first we must attend mass."
Otto stared slightly. This was odd. Although he was by all means a religious person, the Kaiser was never known to put it ahead of matters of state. During the mass and the serving of communion, his mind was on what the Kaiser could possibly want, while Heinrich's seemed to be elsewhere altogether.
After the mass got out ("lovely sermon," the Kaiser remarked to the priest), he finally turned his attention toward the soon-to-be-Duke.
"Otto, our time is approaching. Soon, very soon, unless of course I die in the upcoming battle against the Milanese, Elsebeth will come of age and the two of you shall marry. I have brought her and her escort to Bologna to get you two acquainted until this time comes. Hopefully the two of you shall have a friendly relationship."
The Kaiser paused, letting this sink in for a minute before continuing.
"Once you are married, you will become the Duke of Bavaria with all of its benefits. This includes certain powers detailed in the Imperial Charter, powers that the Dukes currently do not share with me. You are aware of these, correct?"
Otto could not help but smile. In vino veritas, he thought, I was right, my path is set. His expression quickly changed as he realized the enormity of what lay before him.
Glancing about him for eavesdroppers in the Church, Otto removed a folded, wine stained piece of paper from his belt pouch. Straightening it out, he read from it while keeping his voice low and even, "Article 3.3, any declaration of war must be authorised by an Imperial edict. The Chancellor or any Duke is empowered to declare war on a non-allied army entering its lands."
He folded the paper up and replaced it, "Maximillian is the Chancellor, regrettably, but I will be a Duke soon enough. I would be honored to do this for you on the day of your daughter's wedding. I am glad you brought Elsebeth, mein Kaiser, I look forward to meeting her. A couple should be introduced before they are married."
Otto leaned in, his voice becoming more conspiratorial, "There is one complication, however, your Majesty. The language is vague, some might say that a Duke can only declare war on an army trespassing in his own Duchy. Unfortunately, Hildebrand's army has moved from Milan, which is Bavarian, to the outskirts of Genoa, an Imperial city. If we are to have success in this endeavor, Kaiser, we must follow the letter of the law."
At Otto's latest comment, apparently to be used as a bargaining chip, the Kaiser threw his head back and laughed. The sound echoed throughout the church but the few people still inside did not give it much of a thought. They knew to leave the nobles to their business.
"It's yours. It was always going to be yours. I'm surprised that you figured out that much without realizing that Genoa would be yours. The only city I really care about is Rome, of course. I was just using Florence as a watchtower."
The Kaiser's face, wrinkled and hair almost completely gray, now had an expression that Otto had never seen before. Relatively few people did. It was full of energy and ready for anything, but this was not the same as before he went into a battle. It was clear that Heinrich had been leading up to this moment for a long time. The expression could best be categorized as... giddy.
"Now, your first days as Duke are going to be extremely busy. Once you and Elsebeth are married and the deed against Rome is done, you are to go to Innsbruck to supervise the completion of the Bavarian House army, of which you have complete control over. That fool Mandorf cannot complain otherwise; it was he who insisted that these armies be under the total supervision of the Dukes."
The church was by now empty, leaving Otto and the increasingly-excited Heinrich alone. He was talking in the same manner as a child telling a friend about a secret he had so desperately wanted to reveal.
"Assuming my army is not decimated after relieving Florence, I am going to head to Rome and assault it immediately. We must again thank Chancellor Mandorf for providing me with ballistae. Without his assistance this move would not be possible."
Otto said nothing. The Kaiser was clearly on a roll.
"At that point, Pope Gregory will have lost his safe haven and will most likely pursue one of two courses: Either he will besiege what is most likely in front of him, which is Genoa, or he will move on Rome. Now, if he attacks Rome (which would be extremely satisfying if he did, since I am itching for a defensive fight), you and the House army will most likely not get there in time, and I either drive the Pope off myself or die a heroic death. The minstrels would love it if this option happened, but the more ideal scenario would be Genoa."
Heinrich finally remembered to draw breath. He then continued.
"If that happens, then I march north from Rome and you south from Innsbruck. Then, together, we break the Pope's army and finish this Investiture Crisis once and for all."
Otto had never seen the Kaiser like this. This is his last throw of the dice, thought Otto. He will triumph, or he will die, the simplicity must be intoxicating.
"Mein Kaiser, I would have liked very much to have marched on Rome with you," Otto replied, "but we will need my Bavarians. It shall be as you say, my lord."
Otto wished he shared the Kaiser's new found serenity, but the possible consequences of their actions troubled him, "What we do is right, but there will be a price, there will be rioting in Italy I'm sure, if not the whole Reich. The Diet will be screaming for our heads, and if we don't get our own selection for Pope in power before the next session, they might be able to curtail us. Who do you favor mein Kaiser, Scherer or Otterbach?"
Heinrich laughed loudly again and sighed. "How I have longed to have been asked that question," he said. "Obviously Otterbach would be more fitting for what will hopefully be a total victory. The position of God's Messenger being held by a woman. Can you believe that? Oh, didn't you know? Otterbach is a woman. I knew as soon as I made her priest. Isn't that funny?"
Heinrich was totally oblivious to Otto's caution. He continued, still giddy. "I'm not sure if Otterbach's a preferati or not, so we'll have to side with Scherer for a while. That's assuming he lives through this. Last I heard the man was pretty ill. And hey, even if nobody we like is in the preferati, I can always... depose them."
He laughed one final time before departing (making sure to genuflect), leaving Otto alone in the House of God where two men had just conspired to overthrow the Pope.
Otto watched the Kaiser leave. Nausea filled him, but this time, wine was not the cause. All he wants is to spit Hildebrand, and the rest of us can burn for all he cares. Yet, I am committed. This must be done. I can only ride out the storm, not control it, and hope that I will not drown.
Otto moved to the altar of the Church and gazed at the Crucifix behind it. Swallowing hard, Otto knelt, and for the first time since he had left home as a young man, he prayed.
A cooperative story from TC and OK
A further exchange of letters, dating from 1146, the beginning of the second Investiture Crisis, have been translated.
Maximillian,
As you read this, I'm sure you are aware of the actions the Kaiser and myself have taken in Italy. Hildebrand has violated our borders for too long! I can only imagine your reaction, but what I do, I do for the good of Bavaria and the Reich. This day was coming for a long while, since the investiture crisis, and it is time we restored the influence of the Reich in the affairs of the Church. We have the forces available in Italy to do so, all the other nations in the area are excommunicated, and we have an Imperial Cardinal, nearing the preferati, as a possible replacement for Hildebrand. The time to complete the full restoration of the Reich is now!
There was a time when you would have welcomed this day. You and I found ourselves on the opposite ends of this issue before, yet now we have switched sides, an unfortunate irony. It's not too late Maximillian, join us! Your aid, as Chancellor and a leading man of the realm, not to mention as my friend, would be priceless.
Do you not find it odd that the Pope has excommunicated his neighbors, Sicily, Milan and Venice? Or the fact that he, a man of the cloth, leads an army marching around Italy? The man seeks temporal hegemony in the area. Are these the actions of a true Vicar of Christ? He has sent his agent to you, after hearing of your past denunciations, to cloud your mind and blunt your purpose. Think, Maximillian, it's a little too convenient, isn't it?
No matter what you decide, your new title and lands are yours. You more than deserve them for your long, distinguished service to Bavaria and the Reich. Besides, you made me a Count, it's the least I could do for you.
I beg you, join with us, together we can restore the Church and the Reich, bringing both to a Golden Age!
Otto
~~~~~~~~~~
Otto,
You have brought the Wrath of God down upon us! The Pope has declared Heinrich excommunicated, his personal army now threatens all our holdings in Italy, and citizens in every city in the Reich are in great unrest! YOU HAVE DAMNED US!
I spent hours in prayer to the Holy Father when I received word of your treachery, but my hand still shakes as I write this. The Kaiser was the one who arranged all of this and you were his willing pawn. Yet I cannot help but think that I am guilty myself for failing to prevent this. I am Chancellor, I swore to protect the Reich, uphold the law, and promote Christian values. Now I am not even halfway through with my term and the Reich is threatened with total destruction!
Otto, you have betrayed Bavaria, you have betrayed the Reich, you have betrayed all of Christendom, but the worst of it is that you have betrayed me! We were friends and allies once. Even when you were my vassal I respected you and your opinion above all others. I even forgave you for voting against me in the election.
However, I cannot forgive this. Our friendship is over. Your soul is doomed and mine hangs in the balance. My first duty is to protect the Reich. There will be unbelievably trying times ahead of us and I must devote all of my efforts towards keeping our cursed and war-ravaged lands from totally dissolving. For now you and the Kaiser are beyond my power, but know this, traitor. Somehow, I will find a way to bring God’s holy vengeance down upon you. I swear that I will personally light the bonfire that consumes your mortal shell and sends your soul to Satan for all eternity. Perhaps by doing this I will avoid a similar fate.
We will not speak again. The next time you see me, we will be enemies.
Maximillian
~~~~~~~~~~~
Chancellor,
You spend too much time on your knees! Now is the time for action!
When next you see me, I'll be dead or a hero of the Reich, either way you will find it difficult to burn me alive.
Farewell,
Duke von Kassel
As Dietrich Von Saxony closed the door of the Diet hall behind him,he couldnt believe what he has just heard.
"Now the old man has finally done it. He has placed the Lords of the Reich for the second time to choose between himself and the Gods representative on earth."
"Maybe he has gone mad?" Dietrich asked from himself. "I could just have the Diet building surrounded,Kaiser doesnt have many men with him. The Prinz is not here and Leopold is enraged." Once Dietrich got into his own rooms,he summoned a guard. "Get me Captain Herman here,right now!" As the servant started running Dietrich continued thinking "The situation is flammable atleast. Basicly anything could happen in matter of hours. I better make sure that im prepared." Veteran Captain Herman came running into the room,trying to put his gear like it was supposed to be "Mein Duke.." Herman tryed to start,but Dietrich interfered "Shut up my friend and listen. Something has just happened and we have to take measures,if the situation calls for that. In all silence create a ring around the Diet,so no one gets out or in,without us knowing it. Pick just trustworthy men. I dont want the whole city to know about that." Herman started to ask something,but Dietrich commanded "Now Go! I will tell you later,what this about."
As Herman left the room Dietrich sat down and watched the flame of the candle on his writing table. "This will be a long night." He thought.
The cold Church floor siphoned all willpower of him. Grit was lodged in the skin of his forehead, but he ignored it and continued to press his head into the stones. If only he could plunge his head clear through, perhaps he would break out on the other side into a paradise, an Eden, where the sins of men could not penetrate.
“Oh, what great evil and enmity this is!”
He had never seen Hildegard like this before. He had known her, loved her, for her shining example of Christian morality and forgiveness. She had saved his soul through compassion and patience. Yet now Mandorf was afraid to raise his head from the floor in front of the altar, fearing that he would see a great and terrible Angel seeking vengeance with a fiery sword.
“That a person is unwilling to live an upright life, either for God's sake or mankind's, but, rather, seeks honor without work and eternal rewards without abstinence! Such a one, in his supposed sanctity, vainly longs to cry out, as the devil does, I am good and holy. But this is not true!”
Mandorf focused his thoughts and attempted to calm his rising panic. I am the Chancellor of the Reich and the Steward, no… the Count of Nuremburg. I must face my failures like a nobleman.
“You are worn out by seeking after your own transitory reputation in the world, so that, at one moment, you are knights, the next slaves, the next mere jesting minstrels, so that in the perfunctory performance of your duties you sometimes manage to brush off the flies in the summer.”
He took a deep breath and raised his head, his eyes angled upwards, to meet her gaze at the first possible instant. Her robes came into view, a dark mass of fabric, punctuated by the pale white form of an outstretched hand pointed directly at his soul.
“You ought to be the day, but you are the night! For you will be either the day or the night. Choose, therefore, where you wish to take your stand!”
The Chancellor stood and looked Hildegard in the eye. “I am a man of God. I am his servant on Earth and will give my life in service to him.”
The nun’s head tilted, and her eyes bore in on him. “You lead an Empire that is at war with the Vicar of Christ, God’s representative on Earth. The very legislation you proposed now requires you to supply those responsible for this atrocity with armies to slaughter the Pope himself. If he dies, the blood of Christ will be on your hands!”
He wanted to bow his head in shame, to hide his soul from her gaze. The stone and dirt beneath his feet was a bastion of safety for the damned. Yet he did not move. “If I am damned, I shall pay for my crimes in the afterlife. When the time comes, my responsibilities for this war will be weighed in the Heavens. If I am found wanting, I will accept the consequences. But I still draw breath and I have duties to this Empire, its peoples, and its laws.”
Hildegard scowled. “You choose the night!”
“NO!” Blood rushed to his face. “I choose justice and law! I am a servant of the Reich and a servant of the Lord, and I will fulfill my obligations to both! It was not my schemes, my machinations, which started this war. The Kaiser rules us all and the Duke of Bavaria is no longer my vassal. I have no power to refuse them or to invalidate their actions, but I do have power to protect the good Christians of the Reich. The Kaiser has been excommunicated, but there are vast numbers of the Faithful within our borders. Tell me, would I serve God or the Devil if I resigned my post and left them to the wolves simply because I feared for my own soul?”
The anger subsided from her face, but the fires still burned deep in her eyes. “You will send armed men to Duke von Kassel. You will give him the means to destroy Pope Gregory.”
The Chancellor shook his head. “They are not mine to give or take away. The law requires that I maintain the Household Armies and it gives the Duke free reign to use them as he sees fit within his own borders. I could no more refuse to continue to assemble the Bavarian Household Army than I could hold back the winds with my bare hands. The army is his, it matters not whether I wish him to have it or not.”
Mandorf took a deep breath, feeling the confidence grow inside him. “Laws are not evil simply because some men may use them in evil ways. A good law cannot be abandoned because one man abuses it. I will not deny Duke von Kassel the men he is entitled to by law, but I also shall not aid him further beyond the minimum of what is required of me. He has chosen his own fate and I will have no hand in it beyond what is mandated.”
Hildegard considered him for a moment, then her stare finally broke and she look up at the cross on the altar. “Go then. Protect the good Christians and fight whatever evil you perceive. Your actions will be weighed in the end.” She turned back and looked at him. “Just remember that an immense weight will be pulling down on you always. Your virtues will have to be great indeed to break that chain.”
The Chancellor of the Reich bowed. “You will forgive my departure then, for there is much to do.” The nun did not move as he turned and strode out of the Church.
-------------
Note: Hildegard's first four quotes are a section from a sermon she gave in Cologne in 1163.
A small church outside of Genoa, 1154
If one was to walk into the church at that very moment, that person would have found Kaiser Heinrich alone, kneeling at the front pew, deep in prayer. However, if that person were to be specifically looking for the Kaiser, they would have been turned away by the numerous guards surrounding the church. Heinrich had specifically ordered that he be given time for solitude. And so, he was left alone in that small church, with the candles flickering and figure of the crucified Jesus staring down imposingly at him.
He did not confess his sins; he believed that there was nothing to confess. In his heart he truly thought that he had done right all these years. He was restoring the power of investiture to its proper place, ridding the world and Christendom of an usurper and false prophet.
No, he did not seek forgiveness. He had come to this church at this time to pray for success in the upcoming battle. The final battle.
"He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.
Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence.
He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler.
Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day;
Nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday.
A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee.
Only with thine eyes shalt thou behold and see the reward of the wicked.
Because thou hast made the Lord, which is my refuge, even the most High, thy habitation;
There shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling.
For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.
They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone.
Thou shalt tread upon the lion and adder: the young lion and the dragon shalt thou trample under feet.
Because he hath set his love upon me, therefore will I deliver him: I will set him on high, because he hath known my name.
He shall call upon me, and I will answer him: I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him, and honour him.
With long life will I satisfy him, and show him my salvation."
The last few years had been a blur to Heinrich. He had remembered receiving the official notice of excommunication, remembered the glory of finally entering and taking Rome, remembered the Diet's explosion and its grim realization that it could do nothing. After that, however... silence. Life moved on, and Heinrich's internal hourglass had a few more grains trickle to the bottom.
Pope Gregory, in an expected move, had besieged Genoa immediately after Rome fell. However, in an unexpected move, he had assaulted very quickly and easily overwhelemed the garrison. This turned out to be a blessing, however, as he was trapped at last. The Bavarian Household Army, led by Duke Otto von Kassel, had besieged the city again, and the Kaiser's army had followed. The long period of waiting and construction was over. Soon it would be time to assault.
"Blessed be the Lord my strength which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight:
My goodness, and my fortress; my high tower, and my deliverer; my shield, and he in whom I trust; who subdueth my people under me.
Lord, what is man, that thou takest knowledge of him! or the son of man, that thou makest account of him!
Man is like to vanity: his days are as a shadow that passeth away.
Bow thy heavens, O Lord, and come down: touch the mountains, and they shall smoke.
Cast forth lightning, and scatter them: shoot out thine arrows, and destroy them.
Send thine hand from above; rid me, and deliver me out of great waters, from the hand of strange children;
Whose mouth speaketh vanity, and their right hand is a right hand of falsehood.
I will sing a new song unto thee, O God: upon a psaltery and an instrument of ten strings will I sing praises unto thee.
It is he that giveth salvation unto kings: who delivereth David his servant from the hurtful sword.
Rid me, and deliver me from the hand of strange children, whose mouth speaketh vanity, and their right hand is a right hand of falsehood:
That our sons may be as plants grown up in their youth; that our daughters may be as corner stones, polished after the similitude of a palace:
That our garners may be full, affording all manner of store: that our sheep may bring forth thousands and ten thousands in our streets:
That our oxen may be strong to labour; that there be no breaking in, nor going out; that there be no complaining in our streets.
Happy is that people, that is in such a case: yea, happy is that people, whose God is the Lord."
It seemed as if all his life had been leading up to this moment. The Pope had broken away from the Reich when he was six; ever since then he had been fighting to repair things. At first, things did not go well. He was forced to stand in the snow for four days and beg forgiveness. Over half of his territories had been lost to him.
Finally, things had started to turn around. He began a campaign to take back the surrounding lands. Most of the Diet had supported his claim to Rome. But, just as things had started to finally get back into his grasp, Rome and investiture had slipped away again. In the Diet, he had been involved in too many conflicts with the Dukes. The situation in Italy was complicated by bloody wars with both Milan and Venice. And a servant, no, puppet of Gregory had been elected to the office of Chancellor in Maximillian Mandorf, all but denying him the prospect of redemption forever.
He had somehow managed to work around it all, getting Duke Otto involved in an elaborate plan to legally declare war on the Papacy. It had worked, to most of the Electors' outrage and chagrin. He had finally been given a chance to right the largest wrong of them all.
The Diet still denounced and demonized him. Never mind the fact that Dietrich von Saxony, Fredricus von Hamburg, and the other disbelieving Franconians finally had a free hand to drive back the Poles. Never mind the fact that Prinz Henry and the other Swabians now had nothing standing in their way to enact revenge on the French, or Duke Leopold and the Austrians against the Venetians. He had given the Electors a means of extending the glory of their Houses without any outside interference, but very few people had realized it. Gregory had done an excellent job.
"Hold not thy peace, O God of my praise;
For the mouth of the wicked and the mouth of the deceitful are opened against me: they have spoken against me with a lying tongue.
They compassed me about also with words of hatred; and fought against me without a cause.
For my love they are my adversaries: but I give myself unto prayer.
And they have rewarded me evil for good, and hatred for my love.
Set thou a wicked man over him: and let Satan stand at his right hand.
When he shall be judged, let him be condemned: and let his prayer become sin.
Let his days be few; and let another take his office.
Let his children be fatherless, and his wife a widow.
Let his children be continually vagabonds, and beg: let them seek their bread also out of their desolate places.
Let the extortioner catch all that he hath; and let the strangers spoil his labour.
Let there be none to extend mercy unto him: neither let there be any to favour his fatherless children.
Let his posterity be cut off; and in the generation following let their name be blotted out.
Let the iniquity of his fathers be remembered with the Lord; and let not the sin of his mother be blotted out.
Let them be before the Lord continually, that he may cut off the memory of them from the earth.
Because that he remembered not to shew mercy, but persecuted the poor and needy man, that he might even slay the broken in heart.
As he loved cursing, so let it come unto him: as he delighted not in blessing, so let it be far from him.
As he clothed himself with cursing like as with his garment, so let it come into his bowels like water, and like oil into his bones.
Let it be unto him as the garment which covereth him, and for a girdle wherewith he is girded continually.
Let this be the reward of mine adversaries from the Lord, and of them that speak evil against my soul.
But do thou for me, O God the Lord, for thy name's sake: because thy mercy is good, deliver thou me.
For I am poor and needy, and my heart is wounded within me.
I am gone like the shadow when it declineth: I am tossed up and down as the locust.
My knees are weak through fasting; and my flesh faileth of fatness.
I became also a reproach unto them: when they looked upon me they shaked their heads.
Help me, O Lord my God: O save me according to thy mercy:
That they may know that this is thy hand; that thou, Lord, hast done it.
Let them curse, but bless thou: when they arise, let them be ashamed; but let thy servant rejoice.
Let mine adversaries be clothed with shame, and let them cover themselves with their own confusion, as with a mantle.
I will greatly praise the Lord with my mouth; yea, I will praise him among the multitude.
For he shall stand at the right hand of the poor, to save him from those that condemn his soul."
Heinrich had won a resounding victory in his capture of Rome, but there was still the ultimate resolution to be fought. Gregory still lived, and as long as he did, Heinrich would be perceived as the lesser man.
Time to get going, Heinrich thought as he stood up, the process taking longer than usual due to his aged knees. The moment to forever decide his final reputation, his final legacy, had come at last.
Otto was back at Bern, lined up with his men for an assault. Beside him Sigismund was extolling the troops, "Men of Bavaria, follow von Kassel to the death."
Sigismund turned to him, and that is when he noticed the man's throat was cut and his face mottled in asphyxiation. All at once the siege towers burst into flames casting a red glare over the dead man's features.
The fire was now coming from a brazier, the Kaiser's face floating over it bathed in shadow and flame, "If you accept and you cross me, you will be wishing that you were put on watchtower duty."
The die is cast.
Suddenly, he was bound to a stake, on a pyre erected in the middle of the Diet. The Electors were gathered there, and Maximillian stood before him holding a torch. "YOU HAVE DAMNED US!", screamed Mandorf as he tossed the torch into the kindling. The flames leapt up.
I have to deal with the world the way it is.
"Even if nobody we like is in the preferati, I can always... depose them," said the Kaiser, as he hung from a cross in a Bolognese church.
I sold my soul for the promise of a royal wife and a title.
Otto sat on a throne in the Great Hall of Innsbruck, the crown of Bavaria on his head. A roaring fire in the hearth turned the room crimson. Around him were scattered the bodies of his family and friends, butchered and left for the crows.
"Of course you may join your comrades", Otto heard himself say, "You have fought bravely and will be released. After, of course, we hack off your head. I will not have you wearing a crown again!"
The question is what should I do about it?
The axe fell and Otto screamed. . .and woke up.
Outside Genoa, 1154
Otto's tent lay among the large Bavarian siege camp. Inside, the Duke of Bavaria started up in his bed, breathing raggedly. His wife stirred beside him, turned over and resumed snoring.
Getting up from bed, Otto threw on a robe against the chill of the night, and exited the tent. Looking south his gaze took in the siege works and beyond that the city of Genoa. Once the city is taken and Gregory is killed, thought Otto, This must end.
Returning to the tent he lit a candle, placed it on a desk, and sat before it. He stared into the flame, it flickered and danced in the darkness.
"Otto?", mumbled Elsebeth, "What are you doing up? Come back to bed."
"Later Princess," replied Otto, his eyes not moving from the fire, "I have some letters to write."
Rome, 1154
Otto's head rung from the slap.
"You bastard!", hissed Elsebeth, "Is what I heard in the Diet true? Is what I heard from my ladies-in-waiting true?"
Otto reached up and massaged his jaw, this was not the greeting he had expected after returning from the Emergency Diet session.
"I do not know Elsebeth", replied Otto, "What have they told you?"
Elsebeth slapped him again.
"Don't play stupid with me Otto! I have been told that you and my Father conspired to bring about the confrontation with Gregory, and that I was the bribe needed to make this happen! Otto von Kassel, second son and mere soldier of the Reich, needed lands and a title, my father needed a pliant Duke, and so I was married off to you to seal the deal!"
Otto grunted, someone had made damn sure that this information made it to Elsebeth, but who? Still, she would have found out eventually.
"Yes Princess, what you have heard was true. I am sorry it is so, but your father needed it done, and if it was not me, it would have been someone else who married you for the same price. That is the lot of royal daughters."
Elsebeth slapped him again.
"At least you have the bravery to be honest about your treachery! Even now, you use me as an excuse not go on my brother's Crusade! How dare you bring up our child troubles? Do you think me so weak and delicate that I can't handle the rigors of travel? You of all people need to cleanse your sins!"
Otto gaped, "But my lady, it was not an excuse, I would not drag you across Europe. There is much to be done here to rebuild Bavaria and heal the wounds of the investiture crisis. I regret my actions, but. . ."
Elsebeth tried to slap him again, but Otto caught her arm and pulled her forward. They were very close now.
"Beth, please stop that", Otto said quietly, "I do regret my actions in the crisis. I wish there had been another way. I tried my best to control it, to make sure the madness didn't continue. . .but if I hadn't said yes we would have never been married. I do love you, I hope you know that."
The Princess looked up at him, she brought up her hand and cupped his face where she had struck him, "Otto, I hear your words, but you still struggle against yourself. I love you, your better half that is. Let go of the anger and the greed, be a true Knight."
Otto smiled sadly, "Ah yes, Roland, what would he do? Go on the Crusade and leave the trappings of power behind, most like."
Elsebeth nodded, "But there is more, you must believe it in your heart. You must act in a Chivalrous manner. You must seek true forgiveness with an open mind and a clean soul."
Otto grimaced, "You sound like Maximillian, my love."
He sighed heavily, "You are right, however, though I am loathe to admit it. Well, if I am to be true Knight, than I would ask my Lady for her favor. A piece of silk perhaps?"
Elsebeth kissed Otto and then moved over to a chest. Removing an item she came back to her husband.
"You may have my favor, Otto", she said, "But I doubt a kerchief will be to your liking. Now this is more fitting."
Elsebeth presented Otto with a small dagger. It was sheathed in a scabbard that was embroidered with the quartered arms of the Empire and Bavaria. A delicate blade, but sharp.
"I no longer have need of this. Perhaps you will find it useful. I hope it will remind you of your new calling when in battle."
Otto smiled, accepting the blade, "Are you sure Beth? The times ahead will be difficult. I will be glad to have you with me, but it will not be easy for you."
Elsebeth nodded and they embraced. Their path was set.
Genoa, 1154
The door to a rarely-used room in the city's palace creaked open. Inside sat Pope Gregory, tied to a chair and looking thoroughly uncomfortable. He turned his head at this new development in what had otherwise been quite a boring day. In strode Kaiser Heinrich, dressed modestly and holding a sword in hand. Gregory chuckled.
"Ah, Heinrich, have you come to make me a martyr?"
The Kaiser kept a stern look on his face. "You delude yourself, Hildebrand," he said, using the Pope's given name. "Once I destroy you, Catholic Europe will be released from your spell and they will beg me for forgiveness, saying how right I was all these years."
The Pope seemed to ignore everything Heinrich had said, instead focusing on the first part. "As my Papal name is Gregory, you will address me as such, Kaiser. It is a part of my title."
Heinrich just sighed. "First of all, this is turning into a meta-argument. Since I did not approve of your appointment you have no right to declare your new name as part of your title. Since this past argument has led to my victory and your capture, it has already been determined that your Papacy was an illegitimate one. Second of all, that aside, you are in no position to request or demand how I am to address you."
The Pope said nothing, so the Kaiser continued.
"Now that we have settled this matter, Hildebrand, let us move on to other issues. You have put my Empire in grave danger numerous times over the course of your Papacy and flouted my authority an equal amount of those times. I do not appreciate this."
"Ha!" Gregory spat at the Kaiser, being able to do little else. "I was just reclaiming a right that you had taken away from us many years ago. Why should someone not associated with the church appoint its highest officials?"
"This was not a religious move; this was a political move and we both know it."
"It does not lessen the question. Answer it please."
The Kaiser whacked Gregory over the head with the flat edge of his sword at this last comment. The Pope, screaming in pain, fell over along with the chair he was still tied to.
"Apparently we are getting nowhere here," said Heinrich smartly. He took out a piece of brown material and after examining it, threw it at his helpless prisoner. "This is the same hairshirt that I wore to Canossa begging for your forgiveness all of these years ago. Put it on, please."
Gregory stared at it for a second and laughed. "You have got to be joking."
The Kaiser's expression was similar to that of stone. "If you do not put it on, I will give the order to execute the several hundred prisoners captured in the battle."
Gregory did a double-take (as much as it would allow while being tied-up and on one's side) at this last comment. "Surely you would not escalate this vendetta of yours to the point that when I did not obey you hundreds of lives would be lost."
"Nobody thought I'd restart this conflict and attack Rome either. Put it on. I'll untie you."
After Heinrich untied his prisoner (although cutting the ropes with his sword was more like it) he watched Gregory change, giving the man no privacy. The sight of Gregory's body, the slowness at which he changed, and the paleness of his skin with no clothes to hide it struck Heinrich. The Pope looked incredibly weak.
When Gregory was dressed, Heinrich grabbed his shoulder and dragged him out of the room into the palace corridor. Gregory was expecting to have to beg for the Kaiser's forgiveness, but Heinrich seemed to be leading him to a specific location. He vaguely paid attention to the journey, but he saw that there were lots of turns and lots of downstairs flights.
Gradually the light got darker and darker, until finally, when Heinrich opened another door, it seemed like night. Evidently they were in the city's catacombs. A horrible odor had permeated the air, and Gregory, wearing nothing but his captor's old hairshirt, quickly got chilly.
The Kaiser, noticing Gregory's uncomfortableness with the temperature, turned. "Enjoy the chill while you can, Hildebrand. It's going to get a lot hotter for you very soon."
The putrid, cool, damp air was doing more damage to Gregory's fragile system than any physical harm. He began to bend over, coughing. Meanwhile, Heinrich continued to lead him down, deeper into the city's catacombs.
"You know, I've been thinking," he said as he walked, speaking over Gregory's occasional coughing and now, sneezing, "What would be more satisfying for me personally? The prospect of killing my greatest enemy and thus fully redeeming myself for my foolish early actions, or keeping him alive and making him my puppet, thus allowing him to unfortunately witness my triumph?"
Finally, they stopped walking. Gregory was barely able to talk now. The air was so foul, he didn't understand how Heinrich could bear it. To their side was what seemed to be a river of sludge. Was it the city's sewer system, perhaps?
"I'd appreciate some input, Hildebrand."
The next thing Gregory knew, his head was being forced into the sludge. Gasping in shock and surprise, he swallowed a mouthful of God knows what. It tasted as bad as it smelt. He couldn't see, his nose, throat, eyes, and stomach were all screaming at him to stop the pain, but no respite came...
...finally, his head was pulled back up out of the sewer. His face was a mess, his long white hair now dirty and tangled. He gasped for breath, and his ears vaguely heard a "well?" before he was forced back into the muck.
The second time was as bad as the first. If this were water it wouldn't be so bad, but this was not water. He was suffocating, drowning in other people's trash, urine, excrement, and who knows what else.
He was pulled back out of the sewer once again, this time allowed to catch his breath.
"I want an answer, Hildebrand."
Gregory, sputtering, trying to clear his mouth of the toxic mixture that it had been subjected to, could only manage a "puh-puh-please..." before he was dunked again.
The third time was worse than the other two, due to the sheer longetivity that he was down. He was still fully aware of himself, and thinking clearly, but he knew that if he didn't get air, blessed air, even the pungent aroma of these catacombs, he would die soon.
When next allowed to rise out of the sludge, Gregory swallowed his pride (along with various other substances), and begged for it to stop.
"Puh-please, don't... please don't keep this up... I'll do anything... I'm sorry..."
"What was that?"
"I'm sorry... just please don't kill me... I'll do anything you ask... just don't..."
Heinrich grinned menacingly.
"Do you agree that you were wrong all these years, that I have the power of Investiture and that you unrightfully took it away from me?"
"Yes, yes! Just get me out of here!"
"Do you agree that I have the sole power of Investiture?!"
"YES! Please don't hurt me anymore..."
Heinrich ignored the final plea.
"Then, by the power vested in me as Holy Roman Emperor, I hereby depose you as Pope."
He dunked Hildebrand, for that was truly his name now, into the sewer for the final time, this time not letting up until Hildebrand had finished screaming and shaking his arms madly. Kaiser Heinrich, power asserted once and for all, turned away from the lifeless, stinking body of his tormentor and exited the catacombs without looking back.
Somewhere in North Italy, 1154
Henry rode through the darkened city streets with a single escort, a young Bavarian knight. It had been arranged - it was better like this, less likely to attract attention. All through the long journey, Duke Otto’s question at the Crusader Council had rang unanswered in his mind: would he, Henry, stand for Chancellor? The Bavarian knight wanted an answer for his Duke, but Henry still needed time to think. Why me? Why should I be the one to stand?
The main business of the next Diet would be shepherding the crusade to the Holy Land - for that reason, a crusading Chancellor was the best bet. With settlements governed by Counts and Household armies governed by Dukes, the Reich could almost run itself. All it would take, if Henry were elected Chancellor, were a few signatures on troop requisition forms and reliance on the Imperial secretariat to facilitate communication among the Houses.
What was the alternative? Entrusting the logistics and direction of the crusade to the trust of a man who opposed the crusade? Or worse, one of his father’s lackeys who might find a way to subvert the Edict against further territorial expansion. Who might use the opportunity to hunt down and kill future Popes and foreign Cardinals. Henry shuddered. Yes, a crusading Chancellor would be the best bet.
And yet there were no candidates. Henry had looked to Dietrich, whose accomplishments in the field Henry had always admired and envied. But the old warhorse had stubbornly ruled it out, thinking it inappropriate. Likewise, Maximillan, a shrewd and severe Chancellor, had barred himself from what would no doubt have been a most proficiently executed second term. Otto - well, Otto was wise enough to see the logic of a crusading Chancellor but was too unsure of his current standing in the Diet to risk defeat in an election. And so that left Henry.
What held him back? Was it the weakness his father had saw in him? The fear of making enemies? The lack of drive or direction that had characterised his career so far? In truth, Henry did not know. Henry lived in the shadow of his father and of the crown that would be his, God willing, when his father passed on. Until that shadow was lifted, until the crown was secure, Henry felt as if he were waiting for his real life to begin. Why expose himself to criticism and condemnation now? Why exhaust his political capital, make enemies, just for the privilege of planning a route march? The next Diet would probably be uneventful; certainly uneventful if Henry had his way. Why bother? Why me? Let Leopold or someone else do the donkey’s work. Stay under that shadow, wait for that crown.
He had arrived. His Bavarian escort dismounted and helped Henry off his horse. The knight knocked on the heavy wooden door. A shutter on the door opened and frightened eyes looked out. Whispered words in Italian and the door was unlocked. Henry entered, was ushered down to the basement by a worried looking man with a shaved head.
In the basement, Henry saw a second man waiting - dressed in plain white and black clothes, with a large black hat. An inquisitor! Henry’s hand moved to his dagger and he checked behind him to look at his Bavarian escort. The Bavarian was looking around the dark basement curiously, the blank open look on his face testimony to his innocence. Henry relaxed - it was not a trap, the inquisitor was alone and apparently not on official business.
“He is here”, the shaven man said, pointing to a wrapped form on the table.
Henry approached cautiously. Why was he, Henry, here? Why was he doing this again? But morbid fascination propelled him forward. Fascination not with the form on the table, but with the bloodline that had put it there.
“It is very bad, your Highness, very bad.” the man lamented. “We found him and brought him here. We did not want the Germans… we did not want anything more to happen to him.”
Henry pulled back the rough blanket covering the figure on the table. The smell was overpowering - a stench of waste and putrefaction. The corpse’s eyes were bulging, its face had a bluish tinge under the dirt. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the young Bavarian knight hold his nose and look away in revulsion. The inquisitor was staring at Henry, eyes burning with hatred.
Henry focussed again on the corpse. The dirt was so ingrained it was hard to make out. What was he wearing? Henry noticed the hair shirt and gasped - so it was true, there could be no doubt who was responsible for this. He looked at the expression of helpless terror on the dead man’s face. Henry’s lips curled in disdain - not at the pitiful spectacle in front of him, but at the thought of the events that had led to it. War with Papacy, sacking Rome, besieging Genoa - these were bad enough. These things he had endured. But this, this was something else.
What had he said in the Diet? …the prospect of the Holy Father lying dead at the feet of my unholy father… Even in his wildest condemnation of Heinrich, he had not imagined this prospect would come true - not like this. Death in combat was one thing; no man in an army could object to such an end. But callous and cruel murder was quite another matter. Poor Sigismund’s end had been kind compared to this. Henry gently closed the dead man’s eyes and placed the blanket back over him.
He turned angrily to the shaven headed monk:
“Clean him up. Anoint him. Dress him in the finest garments you can procure. I will send men to collect the body for burial, far from prying eyes. You must organise Mass for him in as many churches as you can. For me to do so would be seen as treason.”
The monk bowed, while the inquisitor watched Henry coolly and then quietly left the basement. Henry ignored his departure and instead stared harshly at Bavarian knight. It was as if he seeing his own father standing there, instead of the young warrior. Heinrich had to be stopped. Why me? Because there was no one else.
“And you… you tell Duke Otto the answer is yes.”
Thorn castle at night after the fall of The castle to German hands.
At the gates of Thorn,Sergeant Ulf was counting in his head,how much money he would get from the loot of the castle. He cursed his faith,that had put him on the guard duty on this very night when others were celebrating the victory from the Poles.
At evening a rain had started and it had got worse hour by hour and now it was pouring like someone would have been pouring it from a huge barrel over the earth.
Ulf was disturbed from his thoughts,when a single rider came towards the gate. As the stranger aproached Ulf grabbed his spear and shouted to the man who was now dismounted and walking his horse towards the gate
"Who are you and why are you aproaching the gates of Thorn,after the night call has been sounded. There is no entrance to the city in the middle of the night!"
Stranger,a tall figure dressed on a black robe and an armor showing up behind the black cloath walked towards the sergeant steadily,without saying a word.
"Are you a deaf, there is no entrance to the castle at this hour!"
Ulf shouted as the stranger aproached. As the stranger came near Ulf,he tryed to lift his spear to block the way of the man. Fast as lightning,the armored hand of the stranger grabbed a firm grib from his spear. Ulf looked at the hand and saw the seal ring of Franconia in the finger of the stranger.
Dietrich Von Saxony sayed with calm and steady voice to the sergeant of the Spearmen.
"Are you blocking your Dukes way to one of his castles?"
As Ulf tryed to simultaneously salute the Duke and give reply,Dietrich interrupted him and continued.
"What is your name and rank soldier?"
Ulf replyed.
"Ulf, sergeant of Spearmen in Household army of Franconia"
"Well,Ulf,Sergeant of Spearmen in the Household army of Franconia. I have orders for you.Now you go to your captain and tell him that you want the next guard shift also. After that you will go to castle crypt and drive anyone out from there and after that come back and escort me there.Is this understood?"
Ulf tryed to sober.
"But mein Lord,there is a wake going on for the Polish nobleman who lead the defense of this castle,before he and his men were killed."
"Silence!"
Dietrich barked to the man.
"Now you go and do what i told you to do. And speak not a single word about to anyone,that im here."
"Sir!Yes Sire!"
Ulf mumbled and started running towards the guard house.Dietrich remained standing in the rain. He tapped his horses sides,which were warm and wet from the rain and sayed to the horse.
"Old friend,we still have many miles to journey this night.Rest now and wait for me hear."
The horse turned its wet and warm mouth towards Dietrich as he stroke it gently. And looked Dietrich with its large brown eyes.
Soon Ulf returned and escorted Dietrich to the Crypt. As Ulf tryed to take a torch and lead Dietrich down the stairs. Dietrich stopped him.
"Give me the torch and wait outside."
Ulf nodded and walked out,as Dietrich started walking down to the crypt. Soon he entered a large hall with a single man lying in a stand made of Stone, surrounded by candles that created a dim light to the crypt.. The man was still in full armour and Dietrich could see the dryed blood and large wounds on the man. Dietrich walked next to the corpse and put his torch into a hanger.
The man was about the same size as Dietrich was,thick neck and broad shoulders looked exactly like Dietrichs own, but while Dietrichs thick black hair had gained some grey,the man lying next to Dietrich was completely bald and had large beard.Nonetheless these two, if they would have standed side by side,could have been thought to be brothers or relatives. Dietrich talked to the dead man.
"Finally we meet. Im sorry that i could not save you, but may we meet in heaven soon. While you never knew me.I know who you were. Rest now and may you be in peace. Dietrich kneeled and prayed outloud.
"Our Father, who art in heaven,
Hallowed be thy Name.
Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done,
On earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses,
As we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation,
But deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom,
and the power,
and the glory,
for ever and ever.
Amen."
Dietrich draw the sign of cross with his wet finger from the rain on the forehead of the dead man and stayed on his place for a while in the absolute silence of the crypt. After a while he stood up grabbed the torch and walked out,where Ulf was waiting.
As the two men came out from the gate.Dietrich mounted and turned towards Ulf and sayed.
"Sergeant Ulf. No one came in the Thorn tonight and no one left Thorn also."
Ulf swallowed as Dietrich pierced him with his eyes.
"Yes Sire,understood"
Dietrich dropped a heavy bag of Gold coins to the sergeants hand. Before Ulf could say anything, The Duke of Franconia was already galloping away,in to the rain.
OOC:Remember guys,not any of you know about this episode.
The colonnade lay quiet, except for the quiet sprinkling of the marble fountain in the middle of the inner courtyard, the noise of the Eternal City dimmed to a mere buzz. Although the Imperial Diet had chosen a central building for their congregations it was large enough to provide small patches of quietness in the busy city.
Leopold standing between two columns was lost in thought as the approaching footsteps pulled him out of the reverie. Slowly he turns to face the newcomer. Disbanding all protocol he takes a step forward to clasp his hand on the other man's shoulder. "I'm glad you came, my brother! Finally we have the time to talk." Thus declaring that this was not intended as a talk between Dukes, but between friends.
Smiling a faint smile he turns around: "Let's walk a little. We have much to discuss!"
Dietrich shook Leopolds hand with a friendly smile on his face. The two walked through the hallways and ended up on a balcony that provided a view over the holy city. After a bit of silence Dietrich said to the younger man.
"Im leaving. I am going to the Holy land to meet my destiny. It will be up to you to deal with the old man and I hope you can gather enough support in the Diet to keep him under control, so the Reich will not drive itself in to the doom, that is lurking around us.
Leopold enjoyed the sight in front of him, the bustle of a city always gave him a good feeling.
"I am happy for you. May you find your destiny on this Crusade. I had my doubts, but with your support this could still turn into a holy journey. I hear that young von Mahren is going too? Too bad, he did an admirable job and made our border even securer. I hope I can count on von Kastilien and von Hamburg to secure our Eastern border."
He looks over the balcony again, taking in the view and taking a deep breath, before looking back to Dietrich: "You presume right though. I will stay to defend what's mine. In fact I would like to defend what's ours by candidating for Chancellor. Do I have your support?"
Dietrich smiles to Leopold, leaving Leopold to wonder if he is just honestly smiling or he is just smiling to the predictable question.
"There is no question about that. I think you are the man who can save the Reich in this situation. After all we have been through together I have absolute trust on you. Im sure that Von Hamburg and Von Kastillien will help you in any way possible to protect the Reich. Von Mahren is still a young man and I'm sure one day he will be back from the Holy journey, along with the Prinz. I hope then the times will be more pleasant and these days will be just an agonizing memory. It has been an honour to know you Duke Leopold of Austria. May God go with you. I will have to go now to Frankfurt to say my goodbyes to my loved ones and prepare for my final journey to the Holy Land. You have the support and friendship of Franconia and I'm sure you will honour that."
Duke Dietrich turns his head towards the first rays of light of the rising sun. Watching somewhere in the distance and then turns to shake Leopolds hand.
"I thank you for your support Dietrich, it means a lot to me. I will do everything in my power to ensure that whoever comes back from the Crusade will find his lands untouched and secure.
It has been a pleasure to know you Duke Saxony of Franconia. It lifts my heart that such able men accompany the Crusade and at the same time saddens me that this will be your last journey. I wish you the best of luck and I am sure you will see success!"
Leopold shakes the hand of Dietrich a brief smile passing over his face. It would become a difficult time and it would be even more difficult without his trusted ally at his side. Still holding on to his hand he speaks again.
"I will honour this friendship and Franconia can always rely on Austria! Who will be your Steward once you are gone though? Who can I turn to, to uphold the friendship between our Houses?"
Dietrich looks in the eyes of Leopold and answers:
"Tell you the truth, I'm not sure even myself at the moment. I have little time before the Crusade moves out, so I will visit my home Frankfurt to say goodbyes to my family, before I will leave from there. I will decide the future ruler of Franconia. Now my friend, we should go and cast our votes in the Diet. Im in a hurry so I can leave still today to see my Duchy, before leaving from where the sun rises."
Dietrich taps Leopold on the shoulder and starts walking steadily towards the Diet, while Leopold remains standing on the banister. So much had been left untouched and untalked about, but the most important thing, the support for his Chancellroship had been secured.
(written by Kagemusha and Ituralde)
A recently unearthed letter exchange between the Dukes of Bavaria and Austria has been translated. It is believed to stem from the Second Investiture Crisis, maybe following or having been written during the Emergency Diet of the year 1154 AD. It is notable how Duke Otto von Kassel later did join the Crusade, which lead to the ensuing struggle we all know of.
Dear Otto von Kassel,
Duke of Bavaria!
I have refrained until now from speaking of your involvement in the recent developments that have led to our excommunication. I believe you had your reasons to cooperate with Emperor Heinrich and respected them. You have sold your soul and cast possible damnation on all of us for your advancement. While I admire your verve and ambition, I believed you to be a more astute man to see the consequences of your doings. Your cooperation has brought you much, a royal wife, the title of a Duke and rich lands in Italy. Who would not be tempted to sell his soul for those prospects, seeing how well the things have developed.
Gregory has clearly not had God's support in the battle and probably never had it. Who am I to judge these Celestial things? All I can do is observe what happens here on Earth and make my judgement based on it.
I believed you would see that you have done a great wrong to gain much advancement and would come to your senses and see that you may have bargained for too much. That you may try to right some of the wrongs you made. That you try to lessen the burden of sin you have laden upon your shoulders.
Your actions in this Emergency Diet sessions have once again shown your true face however. Consumed by greed you are unable to sacrifice one meagre settlement for reconciliation with the Pope, for restoring the excommunication you have cast upon us. It would still be a good deal. Duke of Bavaria, member of the Royal family, Genoa in your possession. You would have done admirably well to advance your own agenda. Do not take this game too far however by wanting to hold on to everything you have recieved. If you give up a small part of it now in the form of Florence, the other Houses may see that you are noble and pious at your heart and have done the same that most of us would have also done were they in the same situation.
As said in the Diet, if our roles were reversed I'd gladly give up Florence to gain reconciliation. Does Heinrich still have this great a hold on you? He is old and soon our brother Henry will become Emperor. Your actions are despised by most other Houses and even your own lieges seem to disagree with you. You don't have to stand without allies once Heinrichs reign ends.
If you decide not to repent yoru sins, and show some reconciliation efforts by offering one of the treasures you have gained through your unholy bargain, then I fear that I for one will not be able to forgive you. Do what you must, but don't expect me to forgive you for your atrocities. If a small sacrifice seems too much for you and your sins, then I will refuse to acknowledge you or any of your actions in the future, be they in the Diet or in private.
Choose well, my Lord!
Yours faithfully,
Duke Leopold
---------------
Duke Leopold,
Your speak plainly and I'm grateful for it. My past dealings with you and von Schusslen were usually more murky.
I simply do not agree with your proposal. It has nothing to do with the state of my soul, which is my own business, or my supposed diabolical leanings. I wish I was the mastermind you made me out to be. I support 1.1. I do not support 1.4. It is as simple as that.
Maximillian is set on going on this Crusade, I will not deny him this. I am the only army commander left in Bavaria, that, among other reasons I've already stated, is why I must stay. I will not leave Bavaria defended by a young man who has not even been knighted. Believe this or not.
If this Crusade is to be succesful the efforts on the home front are important as well. Crusaders will need florins, supplies and reinforcements. The defense of the Reich must be maintained. What use is taking Jerusalem if there is nothing to come home to? If I have sinned then I will seek forgiveness by rebuilding the war torn lands of Italy, and doing what I can to defend the Reich and Bavaria.
Again if you wish your proposal to succeed, sacrifice your own land, you will have Venice soon enough. I do not choose who recieves what, the Kaiser does. If you had served him better, perhaps you would have benefited more. Do you think your dramatic reversal of position right before the last Chancellor's election escaped my notice? Let he who is without sin, cast the first stone.
Don't threaten me your Grace, and don't invoke your brother the Prinz. He has voted against you in the Diet more often than I have. Even now, you stand against him in your opposition to 1.1.
I will find your silence most comforting.
Otto von Kassel
Rome, 1160
The Imperial Diet
It was well past midnight when the Diet building, also the Roman Senate building of old, had a live body in it once again. The building was now privy to the presence of its keeper, Kaiser Heinrich.
The old man, as he was now (un?)affectionately known by, was unable to sleep in his lavish palace and had decided to take a walk through the streets of his prize, the Reich's new capital of Rome. His post-midnight stroll had ended up at the site where the next Chancellor would be decided the following day.
The old man ascended to his usual podium, taking in the sights that were illuminated by the moonlight. All around him the chamber echoed with history. The Curia Julia, as it was known in ancient times, had been home to all the deliberations of the Roman Republic. Men such as Quintus, Augustus Verginius, Numerius Aureolus, and the entire Aemilii clan had stood in the same building that Kaiser Heinrich was in now. Upon the Empire's fall, it had been converted into a church, but when Heinrich had taken Rome in 1146 he immediately ordered the reconversion of the building to a legislative chamber in anticipation of the capital's move.
So, Heinrich thought to himself, tomorrow I drag my rear end back in here just to announce that Leopold has been elected Chancellor over Henry as well as a few edict results. And then it's happy retirement for this Kaiser, since I won't live to see another Diet session. Maybe that's for the best.
He absentmindedly made his way through the voting tally of the current session, straining his eyes to make out how his favored proposals were doing.
Hmm, not going my way, not going my way... too close to call, not going my way. Curses. Let's see how 6.2 is doing... "This Edict hereby instructs the Chancellor to have Kaiser Heinrich, reinforced with the full garrison of Rome, attack Pope Accattus so that the Reich may be reconciled more quickly." ...and, it's not going my way. Big surprise.
So the Diet wishes to take away the right that I have just won back for them. Why does it always turn out this way?
Pope Accattus of Portugal was the man that Heinrich had personally approved to succeed Gregory to the Papal Seat. However, he had betrayed the Kaiser by refusing to reconcile the Reich, and even besieging Rome and attacking Heinrich himself! Normally, this would be grounds for removal but it seemed as if the Diet was just fine with this continued period of excommunication.
These people don't seem to realize that the sooner Accattus dies, the sooner Otterbach comes in and the sooner we get reconciled.
Heinrich's mind was already working on how to get around this legality, since it seemed as if his edict that permitted the attacking of Accattus would fail.
Technically, we are in a period without a Chancellor, which means that, as Emperor, nobody is free to order troops in my jurisdiction around. I don't have much time to act since soon, the law will be set in stone that I am not allowed to attack this traitor of a Pope...
Still thinking, the Kaiser strode out of the empty chamber and once again walked in the streets of Rome. Although this time the walk had a purpose. The direction was towards the city's barracks.
Tuttlingen, 1168
Ulrich Hümmel roughly dismounted his horse and threw the reins to his page. He frowned disapprovingly on the deplorable state of the inn.
"Are you sure that there are no other lodgings?" he asked his page. "This building isn't fit for even the schwein French, let alone the Prinz's son-in-law."
"I am afraid not, mein lord. However, I hear that this landlord's beer is good."
At the mention of beer, Ulrich's expression changed. "Very well, we shall halt here for the day."
Leaving the page to attend to the horses, Ulrich strolled toward's the rough building. It was obvious that it had been poorly constructed, and one look was enough to tell Ulrich that it was in a bad state of repair.
As Ulrich entered, the landlord hurried over to him. "Welcome, mein guest! Would you care for some Schinkenwurst?"
"Nein, danke. I have eaten my fair share of sausage today. A mug of beer would be in order, though."
As the landlord went off to his kitchen, Ulrich sat down at one of the tables.
A young man, bearing a Flemish complexion, slowly walked over to him.
"Good evening, mein freund. Where do you hail from?"
Ulrich studied the man closely before replying. "I am Ulrich Hümmel, the Sixth Elector of Swabia. You, I believe, are from Flandern?"
"Ja, that is correct. Mein name is Jan van Ghent; I fought against the French at Brugges."
The landlord returned with Ulrich's beer, and attended to another traveller.
"You fought against the French?" mused Ulrich, "Well, perhaps you could be kind enough to assist me."
"You need mein assistance, Herr Ulrich?" asked van Ghent.
"I am currently riding west to assist Count Jobst von Salza of the County of Burgundy in fighting the French. Herr Jobst is currently shut up in the city of Dijon, and a large French army surrounds it. Although an experienced campaigner, my battles have been chiefly against the rebels of Milan. I gained much experience under Count Sigismund der Stolze."
"Ah, Sigismund was a brilliant general! I have heard of his victories over those Italian rebels of yours."
"Ja," replied Ulrich bitterly, "and because of that those French schwein murdered him. But anyway, as I was saying, I have no experience of how to fight the French."
"You indeed have a tough task ahead of you. The King of France has many a brave Ritter at his banner, and as such you will need to stand repeatedly against his many charges."
"Ja, Ja, I know that. But how can I do that with the men that we have? Our militia are but poorly trained and ill-equiped to meet a cavalry charge. And as for our sergeants, I fear that even they cannot survive many charges unsupported."
"Have patience, mein freund. If you permit me to accompany you, I shall teach you what I know in time."
"Very well," said Ulrich as he rose, "you shall accompany me."
Jan rose and turned to leave the inn, "Good Night! I trust we shall meet tomorrow."
Ulrich sat deep in thought as the door closed. He was tired, and longed to retire to bed.
"Mein lord?"
Ulrich looked up. It was his page, Rupert.
"Ja, Rupert, what is it?" he asked
"The horses are stabled and have been fed. Are you finished with me for the night?" responded Rupert.
"Ja, you may go and rest. We must leave early. We have a long journey ahead of us."
As Rupert left to go to the stables, Ulrich called the landlord over to him.
"Landlord, here is a florin for the beer and tonight's lodging. I shall be leaving at dawn."
The landlord bowed. "Very gut, mein guest."
As he went to his room, Ulrich sighed. Today, he reflected, had been an interesting day.
Rome, 1168
The Imperial Palace
Pope Andreas is dead.
Kaiser Heinrich is dying.
Those two pieces of news had spread through the streets of Rome until nothing else was deemed worthy of discussing. These two events were quite related, which prompted even more chatter than normal. The Kaiser had sallied out of Rome some weeks ago, driving back the besieging army and killing the Pope in the process. There were even rumors that he was surrounded by ten or so Papal horsemen and had slain them all personally.
Whatever had happened in that battle, Heinrich had returned from the fields north of the city a changed man. He had sported nasty wounds all throughout his person; it's a miracle he wasn't killed. His complexion had turned much paler as well, and that combined with his white hair made him look something of a ghost.
The few times that Heinrich had been seen in public and the Diet since the last battle, he relied on an ornate walker to help him get around. Even then, it took him much longer to do things. His voice, before deep and rich with power and authority, had become wheezy and weak. His mental state was still there, struggling to complete his normal routine despite the injuries, but it was clear that the Kaiser was aware that his time was finally nearing, and if one looked closely, despair could be seen in Heinrich's eyes.
Finally, about a week ago, the Kaiser had stopped being seen in public. He was now spending all of his time in the comforts of his bed, aided by a few dedicated doctors that could really only watch as his condition deteriorated. Authority was delegated to his staff and advisors, but Heinrich still kept a close watch on the goings-on of his men.
Two days ago, the various members of the College of Cardinals had shuffled into the city to once again elect a new Pope. Some, upon hearing about the Kaiser's condition, had grinned.
"So, divine retribution strikes at last," said Froderigus of the Papal States to his entourage, commenting on Heinrich's state.
Finally, on the day of the Papal Election, Heinrich awoke with a high fever. He knew that his time had come.
Ringing the bell which had been provided should he need anything, the Kaiser addressed the first servant that had come rushing in.
"Send me *cough* my wife and Otterbach. The Anointing of the Sick must be administered."
Several minutes later, Betrada, Heinrich's wife arrived into the room, and was closely followed by Cardinal Charles Otterbach, who would soon stand for Pope.
So, these are the only two people that stand by and aid me as my time ends. No children or grandchildren. They all are off, estranged from me or too young to care. No friends or allied Electors, like Ludwig or Sigismund. They are all dead, and now I join them.
"Otterbach," he said, giving a smile to his wife, "Hold off on the Undulation for a little while. I need you to write."
"Mein Kaiser," said the female Cardinal, the same Cardinal whom a different Maximillian Mandorf had taken advantage of so many years ago, a bit shocked, "Your time is short and these matters are of grave importance. I must insist that the Undulation is performed poste-haste."
"Re*cough*lax, Otterbach, I've put off death for many years now; I can put it off for a few more minutes. As the man who appointed you as priest, I order you to write."
Reluctantly, Cardinal Otterbach picked up paper and quill, and began to transcribe what Heinrich dictated to her.
"Good Electors,
It is my regret that I leave you now after so much time on Earth. I depart with mixed emotions but no regrets. I only wish that more could have been done. Unfortunately, that task is now up to you and know that I will be with you always in seeing it done.
Regretfully, my condition prevents me from addressing certain Electors in person so I will now do so here. To the certain few that would have none of it, please, at least hear what this dying Kaiser has to say as a last request.
To Dietrich von Saxony: I apologize for never bothering to see your daughter and my grandchild that you informed me of many years ago. If you ever return from your crusade, please teach her who I was and what I stood for.
To Otto von Kassel: You disappoint me. No matter what you stood for, I wanted a friend and an ally. You were both, for a short period of time. However, when it became clear that I was on my way out in the world you threw our bond aside, forgetting all that I had done for you. While I can do nothing about you now, you will surely remember this betrayal sometime into the future.
To Leopold: May you continue to bring much glory to Austria and the Reich as Chancellor. With Hungary, Poland, and Venice still at war with us much hard times will befall your House. Know that you have my blessing in all of my endeavours.
To Prinz Henry: The crown is finally yours, my son. In due time you will recognize all of the finer points of being Kaiser, as well as appreciate your father more for what he has done. May your reign be long and prosperous, and may you continue to expand the Reich's glory.
To all of you, I realize that I leave you with enemies on all sides and within. The times ahead will be trying, but eventually we shall prevail. I leave you one last piece of advice, which you may heed if you like: Never stop fighting. France will fall, the enemies of the East be tamed, England repulsed. Even the Papacy, which some of you label as my greatest failure, will soon fall back into our hands. The fighting and sacrifices of our generations will bring peace and prosperity for the next thousand years.
Kaiser Heinrich"
Finally, once the Kaiser had finished, he allowed last rites to be performed. After Otterbach had completed them, Heinrich, breathing his last breaths, pulled the Cardinal in close.
"You must... be elected..." he said, struggling, "This must... end... For all of us... get elected... reconcile us... give the Prinz... room to move..."
Otterbach, tears in her eyes, nodded.
"Never... stop... fighting..."
The Kaiser slumped back into his bed, hand grasping his wife's. He stared at the ceiling for a few moments before departing, leaving the Reich behind forever.
https://i113.photobucket.com/albums/...R/kotr_111.jpg
Kaiser Heinrich, before his death. Word spread quickly through the city about the Emperor's passing, possibly impacting the College of Cardinals' decision. Three hours later, in the Papal Election, the Cardinals elected Domingo the Warmonger of Spain to the Seat. The Reich continues to be excommunicated.
Croatia, 1170
Prince Henry walked through the camp at night. The dark air was chill, but the many fires provided convenient refuges of warmth and light during his wanderings.
The crusade was getting off to a slow start. The rearguard, which Duke Otto and Henry commanded, was still near Zagreb - waiting for the arrival of Henry’s son, Hans. Aside from one of the priests going wild and turning heretic, there had been little incident or excitement. It was as if the nearby hostile Venetian and Hungarian armies respected the crusaders zeal. Or more likely, thought Henry cynically, they were only too happy to see the better part of Germany’s armies march away as they, the invaders, marched in.
For if the crusade’s progress had been slow and calm, all hell had broken lose back home. Enemies without count, settlements besieged. And yet the Chancellor and the Emperor seemed to be holding up well enough so far. Henry smiled and shook his head as he recalled the account of his father’s most recent battle: another Pope slain; was there no stopping the man?
Henry looked up and saw a lone figure watching him by a tent. The figure was unarmed and apparently without armour, but was staring boldly at the Prince. Henry was disconcerted by this lack of etiquette - no man was supposed to meet the gaze of the Prince without bowing. Henry raised his shoulders, puffed out his chest and strode towards the figure.
“You there, who are you, Sir?” Henry demanded.
Only then did the lone figure bow, an extravagant low bow, with a flourish of his black cape:
“Dusan Kolar, your Highness. It is an honour to meet you.”
Etiquette re-established, Henry visibly deflated and had to struggle to find something meaningful to say:
“Ahh, good, a local I take it? What brings you here? Come to join the crusade, what? You don’t look much like a soldier or a camp follower. Not one of those monks or fanatics are you?”
The man smiled knowingly:
“The world is too full of monks and fanatics, is it not?”
Henry smiled back, conspiratorially. A year or two, he might have taken umbridge at such a lack of piety. He had prayed by the body of the murdered Pope Gregory, sought to nurture his own faith - to turn from an opportunistic supporter of peace with the Papacy to a position of principled devout support. He had sought to follow Maximillan Mandorf, in the Bavarian’s spiritual conversion. But what had it got him? Trial by inquisition, within months of arranging the burial of Gregory. Even his father Heinrich’s disposal of the latest Pope had stirred little inside Henry. All this, he thought, but dared not speak.
The man was watching Henry intently, as if understanding and then looked up at the stars.
“Don’t misunderstand me, Sire. I respect the spirituality of the monks and the fanatics. But their understanding is so … limited. They speak of heaven and foreswear worldly goods, but their vision is blinkered and their preoccupations are often with things of this earth. A crown, a mitre, an Empire, a Holy City… They do not take the time to stop and look up, to see how small they and their concerns are.”
Henry stared at the man. What the hell was the fellow doing, blathering on like this to him, the Prince? As if I don’t have better things to do! But the man continued, oblivious to the incredulity on Henry’s face:
“But you, your Highness, you are finally free, are you not?”
Free? What on God’s earth was this nutter talking about? Henry stared harshly at the man, who merely registered the Prince’s look and gave another extravagant bow:
“I see I have taken up too much of your time. Until we meet again, your Highness.”
Henry watched the man leave and then heard a commotion in the camp. Guards were rushing around until they spotted the Prince. A Bavarian knight ran forward to Henry and fell onto one knee, whispering in mournful reverence and profound awe:
“Grave news, your Highness: your father has passed away. The Emperor is dead, long live the Emperor!”
Henry felt as if he had been punched in the stomach and took a deep breath. Flustered, he looked around. The camp was awake and humming with excitement. Already he could see Duke Otto rushing to approach him. Henry tried to compose himself, a million things crowding in his mind at once. And yet one thing stood out above the rest: you are finally free, are you not?. Henry turned to the Bavarian knight:
“I have a special duty for you: there was a man here, just now. Dusan… Kolar, I think his name was. Find him and bring him to me. However, hard it is - just do it.”
Otto stared into the flames of a camp fire. The news of Kaiser Heinrich's death had reached the army earlier that day, it had cast a pall over the camp as night had fallen and it was eerily quiet. Otto could hear Elsebeth weeping from his tent, she was inconsolable and he had left her to her women after a few hours. He needed time for himself, to think, to process the news that had shaken him. So now he was seated in front of a fire, drinking from a flask of wine and going over the dire messages brought that day.
The Kaiser is dead, the new Pope is not our choice and refuses to negotiate with us, a huge Hungarian army is rampaging through northern Italy, Metz has rebelled to the French and Dijon, Venice, Vienna and Hamburg are besieged. Of course, on the positive side, the Kaiser killed another Pope before he shuffled off the mortal coil.
"Did he put in a good word for you, my lord?", asked Otto to the sky.
Taking a swig from the wine, Otto raised the flask, "A toast to the Kaiser, Heinrich Pope-Bane, a man of insurmountable will and equal stubbornness. The man who made me everything, everything, I am today."
Otto shook his head to clear the cobwebs. A disappointment, Otto thought, is what he called me on his death bed. I guess that means I am part of the family, if he's humiliating me publicly. "Friend and an ally"? Hah! If by friend he means servant, and by ally he means lickspittle, than yes that is what the Kaiser wanted. I fulfilled my end of the bargain, he got Rome and Gregory. That was the deal. I served him better than anyone else. Just because I wouldn't follow him into Hell itself by slaughtering the College of Cardinals doesn't mean I'm disloyal.
Otto thought back to the last Diet in Rome, when the Kaiser's armed guards had woken him up in the middle of the night to deliver an ultimatum. Yes, that is how one treats an ally and a son-in-law. If he knew me any better, He would have known that was the worst approach he could have taken. Perhaps if the Kaiser's allies hadn't dropped like flies, he would have had more.
Otto sighed, despite the Kaiser's failings, the Reich could use a man of his singular will at this point. There were enemies on all sides. Henry was a good man but Otto was worried about his approach to the Swabian succession. Von Salva as Prinz, Hummell as Duke and his own son to accompany him on Crusade. I do not doubt Henry's motives, but this could cause conflict among the Swabians. They might be at each other's throats while the French are at their doorstep.
Thinking of the grim situation at home, Otto wished he could return to help set things right. But I have taken the Cross, that is my duty now. I have helped bring this disaster on the Reich, and I must take Jerusalem to balance the scales.
Otto stood up and turned to face his tent. I must put my feelings aside. Elsebeth sees her father through a daughter's eyes and I will not disappoint her.
Shoulders slumped, and with a bit of a stagger, he walked into the tent to try to comfort his wife.
In DIjon, 1168 AD.
boom
The ground shook in the Castle of Dijon, one of the servants staggered towards the New Prinz's Room,
boom
ANother rock hit the Castle, and screamign started outside. The servant toppled over but got up and knocked on the Prinz's door. It opened, but no one was seen. the Prinz was standing by one of the only windows in his chambers. The servant spoke up,
'is there anything you need sir?' he asked, the Prinz muttered something.
boom
The servant staggered but remained upright.
'Sir?'
'Give... Bring...bring me Heidindrudis, it is not safe outside' said Jobst, the servant scurried off, and left the prinz standing there in a breakign Castle.
THis is where it starts. The next stage of our great Reich's Historythought Jobst
boom
Heidindrudis, Jobst's wife came striding in, a smiled at Jobst,
'I was called, what is wrong?' she asked, Jobst made a motion which meant the servants were to leave, then bowed his head
'The French are...'
'yes?'
'so much stronger' finished Jobst, Heidindrudis storked his arm,
'We can fight back, remember what happened at AUstria, they beat them back time and time again' said Heidindrudis,
'But I am no great general, I do not think I am even great enough for this position of Prinz! Compared to the other great generals!' said The Prinz,
'Their time is over, it is the start of the next generation, you shall become great one day'
'I mourn for the old Kaiser' said Jobst
'We all do'
boom
'The my decision has been stated, we shall sally forth when Ulrich comes!
boom
The particular blast sent them sprawling, as if a answer to his queries.
Late Winter 1169
Hans stood alone by the narrow window of the plain room that he had been allocated in one of the towers at Castle Zagreb. The winter landscape outside had been slowly but steadily melting away over the past weeks revealing the tender first grass of the imminent spring. To anyone who would have observed him gazing out the window, he would seem a youngish man who was admiring and appraising the change in seasons, but Hans was not one to be easily read. He was lost in thought - thoughts about what he had talked to his uncle, the Chancellor Duke Leopold, about.
Several weeks back, Leopold had approached Hans and asked him whether he would want to accompany and join him against the Hungarians that had recently invaded north of Castle Zagreb - an offer Hans was too eager and curious about to refuse, but ever since he had not heard from his uncle, he grew restless and pondered whether he should leave on his own or continue waiting for Leopold to arrive. It did not make matters easier that his father, the Prince turned Emperor, requested his attendance at the crusader camp - something Hans secretly wanted to put out of his mind, at least until he had seen, and felt, the concert of battle that he had read so much about in the dusty old tomes in the castle library at Zagreb and back in Swabia. Swabia. The thought of his birthplace made him shiver. Not because he felt an aversion to it, but because he had overheard the guards talk about the recent betrayal of Metz and the invasion of the French at Dijon. Hans knew that as the newly appointed Count of Bern, he had a duty to defend his county against aggressors, but he also knew that his lack of combat experience, as well as the time he would need to gather a considerable force and march it to Swabian lands, were against him. Experience, he thought to himself, that is what I need to gather quickly if I want to stand a chance against the enemies of the empire.
Just at this moment, the door slammed open. It did not startle Hans as much as it would have any other man, for he felt a familiar presence entering the chamber. He was proven right when he heard the welcoming voice of his uncle resonate from the walls.
Leopold, who feigned a cough to draw Hans attention, began to speak. "My son, word has reached me from your father." He had a sympathetic look on his face and remembered too well the vigour Hans had shown at the prospect of campaigning against the Hungarians. Leopold would have loved to grant him the wish.
"He requests that you join the Crusade immediatelly. The route to the Crusading Army is too dangerous to travel alone and I have to agree with your father. I have arranged for something to be prepared for you though. A parting gift. Should make the travel easier." He drew a deep breath. "Good luck, my son. Your father is proud of you and so am I, teach those heathens some manners when you arrive!"
Hans did not reply. His stare had become blank when the last sounds of his uncle's resonated through his mind. His hopes, all vanished this very one moment and he felt betrayed by the one man he felt he could entrust his life with.
Leopold, noticing how Hans did not move nor respond to his words sighed and turned to leave, taking a last look at his young nephew, possibly the last for many years, if not in his life.
Hans blinked. He stared the the last words on the paper he had just written.
I hope you understand my motivations,
Your dear son,
It took him a moment before he could bring himself to sign his name and fold the letter, before sealing it. He knew his father would not be happy about what he was about to do, but Hans knew that he had to do things his own way - at least this one time. He wondered whether Henry would understand or ride after him personally. The thought of the latter brought a wry smile to his tired young face. It had been a few months since Leopold had visited Hans and word had reached him that the present would arrive in the early hours of the morning. As he sealed the letter with hot wax, he knew he had sealed his fate at the same time. Things would not be the same anymore, but then he was no longer the child he used to be. He was now old enough to take up sword in the name of the empire and defend it to the last breath. Knowing this, he slowly walked towards his bed and fell on it, falling into a deep yet dreamless sleep for several hours.
"My lord!" Hans woke up to the constantly knocks and thuds and shouts outside his door. He stretched and tried to blink away the weariness of last night, while the servant outside continued to cause a commotion. Finally awake, Hans looke around and noticed that the candle had long since burned down and the servant had not entered because he had barred his door. Slowly and sleep-drunk, Hans walked to the door and lifted the heavy plank of wood off the iron holds. His head still hurt from the constant banging against his door, and standing right next to it did not help. As he finally opened the door, the servant almost hit his fist against Hans' chest, but stopped dangerously short of doing so. Out of his breath, the servant immediately bowed and asked for permission to speak, which Hans gave using a gesture of his hand.
"My lord, there are knights waiting down in the courtyard wishing your attendance. They only had me tell you they were sent by his highness the Duke of Austria." Hans nodded and dismissed the servant, again with a gesture of his hand, but not before advising him to inform the knights that he would be with them shortly. As the servant turned and sped down the stairs to obey Hans' orders, Hans grimaced and could not but smile to himself. "Perfect. Absolutely perfect. An entourage of knights is exactly what I needed to get through to Leopold without having to worry about bandits along the way. A most useful present to be true." With this in mind, Hans donned his chainmail that he had left in his personal chest at the foot of his bed and belted his sheathed sword. Before he followed into the footsteps of the servant, who had long since arrived by the knights, he absent-mindedly grabbed his helmet and tucked it under his arm.
The rays of sunlight almost hurt in his eyes. Hans had not left the solace of his chamber for at least a week, and it felt as if the sun wanted gaze at him with all its glory. He could barely make out the knights at the other end of the courtyard readying their weaponry and horses due to the reflections off their Imperial armour. Hans paced towards them with the dignity and confidence that is laid into the cradle of anyone of noble birth. One of the knights, most likely their captain, spoke a last few words to his comrades in arms before turning and walking toward Hans. The aged yet proud soldier stopped at about 6 meters distance from Hans, identifying himself as captain Adalberth, and that he had been ordered by Leopold to bring along an entourage of no less than 120 Teutonic knights and a handful of capable knights who would make up Hans' bodyguard. Hans however was only half-listening to the man's speech as he was again lost in his thoughts about the upcoming journey north towards Leopold's position. Adalberth had long since finished briefing Hans about the situation and was patiently waiting for him to give the order to depart, which Hans, realizing that he was not alone, gave immediately. Little did he know that Adalberth had been ordered to escort Hans not to Leopold but to Henry.
A few weeks had passed since the company of horsemen had left Castle Zagreb, which Hans did not turn to look back at when they departed the castle gate. He was never quite fond of that place, which had only fairly recently been captured by soldiers of the empire and was therefore not as organized nor homely as Staufen or Rome. It did not matter anymore however as he probably would not experience a more comfortable place for a long time. "Maybe not even in my lifetime?" he wondered to himself. His thoughts did not continue much further however as Adalberth had strode his horse next to his and announced that they would have to turn east at the upcoming road if they wanted to reach Leopold in time. A shortcut, as he not so eloquently explained. Hans however did not quite believe what Adalberth said, as he did not miss the opportunity to glance over the strategic maps of the eastern part of the empire after his last encounter with Leopold. His yearning for Hungary had taken every minute of his time for many weeks to study the paths he could travel, possibly even alone, to Leopold's probable campsites. The road ahead to the east was not one of them. In contrast, it led to Henry's camp.
Noticing how Hans' narrowed his eyes, Adalberth gulped. He immediately realized that his facade had been seen through and his true intentions discovered. He could not however afford to openly admit to them, as he did not know what kind of man Hans was. Even though he appeared young enough to be no more than an innocent boy, his gestures and behavior spoke otherwise. Hans was not one to blurt out what he thought of Adalberth and his plans, and as such, measuredly yet confidently informed the captain that they would continue north on the road ahead. The aged knight knew that as a man of low birth, he could not possibly contradict a noble, even one as young and inexperienced as Hans was, without risking incarceration, or worse, execution for treason, and thus nodded in silence, returning to the formation.
The road ahead was more or less uneventful, and days passed without any notable interferences, while Hans sought the captain's company to discuss stories of great battles and generals and satiate his thirst for knowledge. Adalberth could tell that Hans was becoming increasingly reastless as they closed in on Leopold's position. The young noble was forcing his horse to move faster and kept looking towards the sun that slowly descended down towards the road. Hans even insisted that they rise earlier in the mornings and ride until late into the night, without fear of bandits that may be on the look out for weary travellers. It was not until long that they could finally see towers and then tents cropping up on the horizon, which inspired Hans to a bright smile, while the shadows over Adalberth's eyes grew darker - the captain knew that the Chancellor would not take it lightly that he had failed his mission to bring the young prince to his father, but instead headed back to his camp.
Within minutes of being spotted by the watchtowers, guards at the camp started hurrying about like busy ants to announce the arrival of a company of knights and readied their weapons in case the knights were not what they seemed. Before Adalberth could bring his horse forward to speak to the nearest guards, Hans had already dismounted and sped forward - maybe it was even better that way the old knight thought to himself, as there would be a lot of explaining to do. Without wasting much time, Hans raised his hand towards the guard captain, openly displaying the signet ring of the House of Swabia, and motioning him to bring him post haste to his highness the Duke Leopold.
The moment the cloth of his tent parted to reveal his nephew Hans, Leopold's face showed both perplexion and joy. Joy, because Hans had decided to aid him in the siege of Budapest alongside several able knights, perplexed, because he had not expected him to show up after their last meeting and his direct orders for captain Adalberth. Adalberth! That man was supposed to lead Hans to Henry! Leopold noticed him behind Hans, but before he could scold the captain, his nephew had raised his hand and exclaimed:
"My dear uncle, it is good to see you" , Hans said, not without a smirk on his face "it surely must surprise you that against your orders I decided to join you here at your camp. As you may know, it is now too late to still turn me back, so you might as well use me for the upcoming battle." He grinned "Oh, and about captain Adalberth"Adalberth felt as if struck by lightning but could not bring out any word in his own defense "I request your permission to have him join my personal bodyguard. He is a capable knight and can teach me quite a bit more about combat, what say you?" Leopold had not expect Hans to speak this bluntly to him, but at the same time he was relived he would not have to go through all kinds of formalities when his mind was needed elsewhere. As such, he replied "I shall think about it Hans, but for now, let me brief you on the situation at hand..."
Co-op story with Ituralde
He could no longer lay it off. All these past months he had put it off his mind and shoved it back in to the farthest recesses of his mind. The youth had been clever arriving just with the first snow. He could not possibly send him away in the midst of Winter, and the young man knew it. He should have done it anyway, but he had done it before. How Captain Adalberth had failed to deliver him to his father was beyond him. He had to admit that young Hans had a knack with people. Even he had not been able to resist him.
Might as well make himself useful, if he's around. That's what he had thought, and that was the reason why he had involved him, and shown him around. Hans was still young but he was a fast learner. He had shown him the peculiarities you had to deal with in a siege. The provision of the men the lay out of a camp. To always be ready for the defense. Of course he had also talked about the Reich with the boy. It's current situation and the dangers that had to be taken in order to defend it on all fronts. He should have just sent him back the moment he arrived, but he couldn't force himself.
He knew that he had to talk to him though. That's why he now strode into the tent of the young man as if it belonged to him, which it actually did, just like back then in Zagreb castle.
"You know I will have to tell him eventually! I can't keep it from him forever. He will already be wondering why you haven't arrived. He's your father goddamnit!
I sent you to him but you wouldn't obey. You wouldn't obey his command or mine!"
He paced a few steps to and fro letting his mind wander, before Hans could respond though he continued: "I have recieved word from my informant in the city. He won't be able to open the gates in time. Now it's the hard work, like I told you. Build rams, build towers, ladders and knock down the walls, the old and bloody way. I could use your help, and I could use those Teutonic Knights I gave you. You don't have the time though. If you stay now for the siege you'll never make it to the Crusaders. They will be gone too far. Either you go now or you stay here, forever."
He looks Hans straight in the eye: "You were man enough to disobey our orders, now be man enough to make a decision. Stay or Go, but you will have to take the consequences!" And I will have to tell your father. He knew why he had put this off for so long. Angering the Emperor seemed to something he was good at.
Hans, taken aback by the harshness of his uncle's words, stumbled back a few steps and almost tripped over the log of wood he had been sitting on before Leopold had barged into the tent.
He had never expected to find his uncle this enervated and was not sure whether his question was just a trick to get him to leave on his own terms and be rid from the siege forever or whether he really meant it. He knew, however, that this was not the time to question the duke on that so he spent a few moments pondering, drops of sweat starting to form on his face as Leopold continued the stare.
Should I stay? He asked himself. He then thought of his father and wondered what would happen if he did not join him, support him. But he also knew that his father had brought men on foot as well, and he only had the small mounted entourage Leopold gave him.
Decisions, decisions. Just at this moment, he could feel Leopold wanting to burst out another sentence, possibly in anger, and thus he quickly answered, if not fully convinced, "Yes, my chancellor, I will stay for the siege."
In the back of his mind, however, the battle of emotions continued, and he knew he might have to sneak away from the camp to join his father, if Leopold would have him stay.
Leopolds anger seems to have subsided a little. After pacing some more he turns on Hans again and raises a finger, this time speaking a little softer though.
"Do not make this decision lightly. I heard your words well. Stay for the siege or stay? I will have to send your escort back to the Crusade as soon as possible. There is already uproar in the Diet. It will be hard enough explaining what has happened. If you stay now, you will stay in the Reich. I will not let you travel alone to join the Crusaders. Worse than keeping you from your father would be to get you killed and I don't intend to do this."
"I ask you once again. Go on the Crusade or stay in the Reich, the choice is yours."
Hans blinked a few times at Leopold's question. Am I that easy to see through he thought to himself. What am I to tell him? What will he think when I sneak away after the siege Hans looked at his feet for a moment. He wasn't sure whether he could confide his plan to his uncle - whether he would understand. Hans sighed. His father truly wanted him to follow the crusade eastwards, and who was he to disobey the emperor's orders? I have disobeyed him already by coming here he immediately realized, but it wasn't the same. One was temporary, the other would be permanent. He had to take a chance. Maybe the last chance in his life if it did not work out and he was captured by rebels on the long road. But he had to. It was in his blood, as it had been in Heinrich's. Steadily, he responded: "I will stay in the empire..."
Leopold gave his nephew one last intent look, before nodding curtly.
He seemed to have made up his mind and he didn't feel like there was anything he could do about. Without further words, he left the tent, making his way through the camp to his own. Already his mind was occupied by the formulations he would have to use to bring this news to his brother.
in cooperation with FactionHeir
A warm breeze hung in the air and the distant sounds of celebration could be heard. A smug smile on his face Leopold warmed his hand over the long fireplace in the Great Hall. Just yesterday the Hungarian dignitaries of Budapest had occupied this room. Probably contemplating the organization of the defense or the rationing of food. Now Chancellor Leopold, Duke of Austria had set up his temporary headquarters in the Council Chambers. He knew it would not be for long, but hopefully he could once return, if Emperor Henry recognized his deeds.
Withdrawing his hands he turned around to face the man that was waiting on him. Hans was standing across the room, his face still showing some of the vigours of the previous battle. "You fought well today, my son! Your father would have been proud of you. You have rightfully been knighted." He waited a moment to let his words sink in, before continuing.
"I will be leaving tomorrow. For Rome. The Diet demands an explanation why 120 Teutonic Knights were 'obducted' from the Crusade." He slowly shakes his head. "It still amazes me how they followed your orders instead of mine. Either way, I think it would be fitting if you accompanied me. This should give extra weight to my explanations. But don't be afraid, I will not cast your actions into an uneccessary bad light.
What do you say?"
"Thank you for the praise my duke" Hans responded, with a somewhat proud smile, trying not to sound too familiar to his uncle to avoid alienating the few other knights that were drinking beer at the far end of the hall. "I do not quite know why the knights disobeyed your orders, but I did spend a while pondering about it and have come to the conclusion that they could not possibly have abandoned me in the woods and ride all the way to my father with good conscience. Although... the crusade would aid them in repenting their sins, so they really would not have had to worry much now, would they?" he ended on a lighter note.
"I suppose that either way I am part of the problem that caused you much injury with the diet, so I will try to come up with a better explanation" he paused for a moment, considering his next words. "but maybe you would allow me to retreat to my tent and have a word with captain Adalberth to clarify the circumstances?" Hans looked at Leopold expectingly.
Leopold chuckled lightly: "You're sure right. Go ahead and consult with Captain Adalberth. I'll expect your response soon though. I'll be here for a few more hours."
Hans nodded at Leopold's words and bowed half-way before turning towards the large wooden door leading to the outside. He raised his right hand to both signal the guards to open the door as well as a gesture of farewell to his uncle as he strode out into the cold and clammy streets of the city.
Once outside, he noticed the men carrying the packed tents to the storage halls, as Leopold seemed to have given the order for all men to take up residence in the barracks. That could make things easier Hans thought to himself or maybe more difficult as he realized soldiers on the battlements igniting torches to prepare for the night guard. Now where would I find Adalberth.. he continued his thread of thought. Walking along the street absentmindedly, he realized that he was heading towards the barracks himself.
As he got closer, the guards saluted and held the door opened for the young noble to enter. Before Hans even reached the door, he could hear the clamor of festival and the stench of cheap wine and sweat. It disturbed him slightly, but he could not show his disgust openly for it was one of the few joys the simple folk had - it would only make his task more difficult if he did. "Guardsman, where is captain Adalberth?" he asked the soldier holding the door for him. "The captain is on the second floor, your illustriousness" the guard responded with correct ettiquette as Hans contently noted. Nodding to his words, Hans finally entered the barracks and headed up the creaking wooden stairs. Those stairs would truly be effective in announcing intruders he thought to himself while walking.
He did not have to search long for the wereabouts of the veteran soldier for he could already hear him give commands for the rest of the night to a pair of soldiers. Noticing Hans' approach, the aged captain quickly dismissed the men and turned towards him and spoke heartily "Well well, young count. I see you have returned for more stories, aye?" Hans couldn't but smile at the directness and familiarity of this man. "Indeed good captain, a story I have come for, but of a slightly different kind." Adalberth raised his eyebrows "Ah, really? Well then please join me in the comfort of my humble room, away from the many ears then." Motioning towards the chimney in the room, Aldalberth continued "So, what can I help you with this day? It has been a long battle and I may need to rest my old bones soon". Hans, closing the door behind him, replied with the same directness "Hmm do tell me why you disobeyed the duke-chancellor and escorted me to his camp..."
After a lengthy conversation, Hans rose from the stool and walked to the lectern, dipping a feather into the well of ink and writing on a note a letter. Adalberth looked at the young count and wondered what he was writing, and to whom, but of course it was not in his position to know everything about him, even though they had become fairly good friends during the past few weeks. A seemingly endless minutes later, Hans scattered some sand onto the letter, sealed it with wax and pressed his signet ring against the seal. Without turning, he spoke "Adalberth, friend, can I trust you with a matter?" Not knowing whether it was a trick question or not, the captain replied "My young count, I would hope that you could." "Please, just answer the question. It is important." Hans grew restless. The night had already advanced and Leopold surely would soon wonder why he still hadn't reported back to him. Just at this moment, Adalberth spoke "I..yes you can trust me" Hans was relieved. He could only hope that Adalbrth had spoken the truth. "I do not know how my uncle will react to this, but please, hand him this letter and tell him that I am sorry." Adalberth stared at him with some confusion. "Wh..why should you be sorry my count? You have done great deeds today in battle?" "Maybe so, but I shall have to leave this place tonight still and head to the east. My father will need me at his side when he faces the many heathens on his crusade." Adalberth finally began to understand why the young man had seemed so distressed these weeks, always lost in thoughts and very irritable. "The journey east will not be easy alone, my count. The teutons have already left two days ago and who knows what rebel scum hides in these woods. Are you sure you do not wish to talk to the duke about this?" Hans laughed, and with a sad expression, he told Adalberth "I wish he would understand, I really do, but he will insist I accompany him to Rome. Please do not press this matter my friend for time is running short and I must leave the city soon, before he notices my absence. Just do what I tasked you to, please" Adalberth nodded "Count Hans, please allow me to accomapny you then, as your personal bodyguard. I believe the duke will have be hung and quartered if he knew I disobeyed him again. Maybe I can atone for my sins by fighting against the heathens before I die... I could even help you get out of the city, for the night captain is a man from my home village." Hans did not know whether he should be happy or not, but he did not have much of a choice. He could not argue endlessly over this matter and only said "Well, then so it shall be. Ready your weapons and we will meet at the south gate shortly. Please do hurry." The grizzled soldier agreed and opened the door for him. Now who should I task with handing this letter to good Leopold he wondered, and immediately remembered a rather annoying young man from the spear regiment. Adalberth almost felt sorry for the lad, but someone had to bring the news to the duke...
in cooperation with FactionHeir
Bridge over the Morava River, 1174
The 240 mailed and Teutonic knights had just encamped near the western end of the bridge when a sentry gave warning, riders were coming from the east. Captain Lucas, the new commander of the detachment, looked past the bridge. Apprehension filled him, had the Hungarians already gotten their scent? Squinting at the banners of the incoming horsemen, he made out the gold eagle of the Reich and relief filled him. However, when he saw the standard of Bavaria next to the Imperial arms, anxiety sprang up again. He remembered the same standard when he had left the Crusade with Captain Adalberth and the others to go to Zagreb and bring the son of Kaiser Henry back to the army. That had been four years ago.
As the Bavarians galloped into the camp, a horseman made his way to Lucas. "Where is Adalberth?!", growled the man looking about, "I want to. . .talk to him!"
Lucas noticed the vivid scar winding down the right side of the rider's face. He knew now who this was, and began to wish the Hungarians had found him first.
"Duke von Kassel, what an honor. . .umm Adalberth has left the order to serve Count Hans. I am Sir Lucas, I was Adalberth's second, I command here now."
The horseman's gaze fell on Lucas, "Indeed? That would explain a great deal. Tell me Captain, is the boy here with you?"
Looking up, Lucas swallowed hard, "No my lord, he decided to stay for the assault on Budapest."
Otto's eyes narrowed and he swore loudly, "A pity, I wished to meet the Princeling, we have much to. . .discuss. So Captain, let me see if I understand, you and your men, a sworn brotherhood, failed to return to the Crusade and now that you have, you failed to bring the boy with you. Is that correct?"
"Your grace, Adalberth felt that the safety of Count Hans was paramount. . .he did not wish to go on the Crusade so. . ."
Otto cut off Lucas, "God's Blood! Then you brain him with the hilt of your sword, throw him over the saddle like a sack of wheat and follow your damn orders! Do you know the difficulties your tour of the Reich has caused the Crusade?! Here are 120 Teutonic Knights, the fiercest horsemen of the Reich, hundreds of miles away from the Kaiser's army, which lacks a cavalry screen while surrounded by Magyars!"
Lucas shrunk from Otto's onslaught, but managed to speak, "Hundreds of miles? The army hasn't come to meet us!? How are we to get to them?"
Otto leaned in over Lucas from the saddle while chuckling darkly, "By this time, Brother Lucas, the Crusade is in Thessaly. The Kaiser thought as you did and it took all my influence to convince the Council to follow my plan. I will not have our holy endeavor slowed by stragglers. They will continue on, and we will catch up. I have ways to motivate your men to great speed."
Otto glanced around the camp, "Get your men mounted, we leave as soon as they're ready."
Lucas's mouth dropped open, "But my lord, we just made camp, it will be night soon."
Otto's jaw clenched and he spoke harshly, "Get your men ready Lucas, or I will find someone who can. The path back to the Crusade is dangerous, and we will be travelling under cover of darkness to avoid our enemies. There is no more time for delay. If you can follow a teenager and whatever minstrel's tale he fogged your minds with, than you will most certainly do as I say."
With that the Duke of Bavaria reined in his horse and began trotting through the camp yelling orders.
Lucas, wishing he had remained in Budapest, went to gather his gear.
(OOC: This is a backstory of sorts to Conrad Salier, as well as an explanation to why he was absent in the Diet for such a long period of time. Written by TinCow and myself.)
Genoa, 1160
Conrad Salier, a young squire of Bavaria and member of Chancellor Maximillian Mandorf's escort, was travelling along with the rest of the men to Rome in order to attend the upcoming Imperial Diet session. This would most likely be the last Diet for Mandorf, who would be embarking upon a Crusade to Jerusalem along with several other esteemed Electors. Their stay in Genoa was just a rest stop, but it was an important one nonetheless. The city had become something of a target for pilgrims ever since Kaiser Heinrich had slaughtered Pope Gregory here six years before.
Young Salier was a deeply religious man and the recent actions taken by the Kaiser and his Duke, Otto von Kassel, had torn him inside between duty to Nation and duty to God. In this time, he also observed that Mandorf seemed to be experiencing the physical strain of managing the Reich as well as his own emotions. When Mandorf attended one of the many secret funerals for the late Pope, he seemed ready to crack and go mad at the end of it.
Thank you, Lord, for seeing fit to see Count Maximillian's Chancellorship through without any serious personal harm. Now that he is focused on one singular goal I believe that he - and I - may be able to serve you better.
Aside from attending Mass regularly, like a good Christian, Salier prayed alone regularly. After all, if he did not gain direction and guidance from God, then the only other options were those who could have been tainted by Satan.
Outside of Conrad's room for the night, another one of Mandorf's entourage knocked on the door. Conrad opened it and smiled. Staring at him was a friend, Sergeant Wolfgang.
"The Chancellor wishes to speak to you alone, Conrad."
Salier was a bit surprised. What could the Chancellor possibly want?
After being led down a series of hallways, Conrad and the others arrived at Maximillian Mandorf's study. The place's decoration could only be described as Spartan. The walls were sparsely adorned with crucifixes, and the chairs were straight-backed with absolutely no leeway. Two bookcases were present; one contained military material, maps, books on tactics and the like. The other held many works on Christianity, including several Bibles.
Mandorf was sitting in one of the uncomfortable chairs, holding a map of Italy. When he looked up and saw that Conrad had arrived, and smiled. A motion of his hand dismissed his escort; it was now only he and Conrad.
"Welcome, Conrad Salier. Please have a seat."
Conrad did as he was told and sat in one of the chairs.
"I must ask you some questions that are rather more personal than polite conversation between gentlemen would allow. I apologize in advance if this causes you any offense. It is not my wish to pry, but I will be departing the Reich soon with the Crusade and I may never return. I simply must know these answers before I go. Where did you grow up?"
"Do not worry, Lord Mandorf," said Conrad. "I forgive you for asking. I wish I could say that I grew up in a noble house, surrounded by loving parents and lots of siblings, but that was not the case. Unfortunately, I never knew my family." Conrad did not seem uncomfortable in the least, as if he readily accepted this fact. "I was raised by the nuns, in an abbey in the mountains west of Nuremburg."
"I see," said Mandorf. "Did the ever speak about your parents?"
Conrad once again answered with little sign of discomfort. "The nuns discouraged me from discussing such affairs. They said that my parentage was unimportant, and that I was now to be a Child of God. Like a good, obedient child I did not pursue the matter."
Mandorf sat back, sighing and studying his young subject carefully. After several seconds, he spoke again. "Did anyone ever taken an unexpected interest in you when you were young? Perhaps a traveling priest who visited more often than he should? Perhaps a generous benefactor who aided you for no discernible reason? Has anyone ever asked you about your mother and father?" Mandorf smirked. "Well, other than me of course."
Finally Conrad was starting to show signs that he was thinking that this was a particularly odd conversation. Why was Mandorf asking him this? But still, he acted like a good Bavarian and answered his lord.
"Now that you mention it, Cardinal Otterbach, back when he was Father Otterbach, visited here a lot in between his Stettin Mission and other assignments. However, on the occasions that he did visit, we barely saw each other. It was almost as if he was avoiding me. It is strange that you ask me these things. When I came of age the nuns took me to a room that I had never been in before. Inside was a large pile of money that they said was mine to use for whatever purpose I wished. I had always found the military exploits of Kaiser Heinrich, Dietrich von Saxony, and the other great generals of the Reich fascinating so I bought some armor, learned how to fight, and joined up with you. I believe that the nuns were saddened to see me go yet for some reason knew that I would follow the path that I did. It's quite odd, really, but I never questioned it."
At the mention of Cardinal Otterbach's name, Mandorf glanced away sharply. He listened to Conrad's words, but was clearly deep in thought. Several long moments of uncomfortable silence passed before Mandorf spoke again.
"You are a good man, Conrad. I can see it in your face. You have a purity of spirit and a sense of purpose that most in this world lack. Yes. You are a true servant of Christ and a defender of Christendom."
Mandorf turned and looked Conrad Salier directly in the eye.
"I am proud to be your father."
It took several seconds for Conrad to grasp what had just been said. Finally, it clicked. My... what?
This could not be true. Maximillian Mandorf was a defender of Christendom, and a celebate one at that! There was no way... it was impossible...
Yet, at the same time, Conrad knew that Mandorf would not have summoned him to his study to make jokes. Suddenly sick to his stomach, he waited for his father to say more.
"I did not know for certain that this was true until our conversation today, but I have suspected it for several years. I regret not pursuing the matter further at an earlier stage in my life, but your heritage is a... difficult... subject for me. I have not always been the pious servant of Christ that I am now. In my youth I was corrupt and immoral. Yet, it seems now that even those proclivities may have had a higher purpose."
Mandorf smiled and nodded, unaware of Conrad's sudden nausea.
"Yes, it seems the Lord works in mysterious ways."
Conrad bored his eyes into the floor. This is not the conversation that he had in mind.
"You know," he said, not making eye contact with anything aside from the floor, I never asked about my parents, but I was still always curious. I figured that they were just some poor peasants that couldn't support me and had no choice but to give me up. I figured that the money was nothing but the generosity of the nuns."
Conrad finally looked up, staring his father in the face.
"But you, you were different! You had the means to keep me! You abandoned me! Whatever happened to 'Behold, children are a blessing from the Lord'? You keep me in the dark for all of these years, and now you finally tell me, now! Days before you leave the Reich forever! What am I supposed to say to that?!"
During Conrad's (deserved) tirade, Mandorf's smile had gradually been replaced by a look of sympathy. He tried to interrupt, but Conrad wasn't done.
"Tell me, are you even aware of who my mother is? Or were you just so full of concubines back before Hildegard came and saved your soul that you only have the choices narrowed down to five?!"
Mandorf's look of sympathy vanished and his face clouded.
"I am perfectly aware of who your mother is, as is she. However, that is not for me to say. Your mother has kept her identity hidden from you throughout your life for good reasons. She has sought to protect herself, but she has also protected you. If your parentage were to become public knowledge, it could destroy you both."
Conrad looked at Mandorf in disgust. It was only through his many years of training in the abbey that he managed not to do anything more.
"I said before that I was always curious about who my parents were," he said in a monotone. "Now, I wish I didn't know. I realize that this happened before you were saved, and I am not mad about that, but to know for all those years and not tell me! Even if you only had an inkling, you could have at least expanded upon it."
Mandorf sighed, sensing that the conversation was wrapping up.
"I regret that this relationship has begun when I am on the verge of departing for the Land of Christ. It is fitting penance for my past sins that I leave behind the only family I will ever have in order to serve the Lord. I will write to you while on Crusade, but I doubt it I shall live long enough to see the Reich again. Before I go, I would like to publicly acknowledge my parentage of you. You are a nobleman of true Bavarian blood, highborn in right as well as character. I hereby adopt you as my true son and heir and name you as the successor to my estates in Nuremburg. When I die, you shall inherit my titles and lands. If you have already earned your own by that point, you may choose how to dispose of Nuremburg for yourself. If Duke von Kassel permits it though, I would greatly wish for you to rule over Nuremburg after I am gone, and in turn to pass it down to your children. Nothing would make me happier than to be entombed in a great Cathedral in Nuremburg, with pious Christians of my blood forever protecting the city."
Conrad, finally calmed down, addressed Mandorf. "I sincerely wish that you complete your task and absolve yourself as well as the Reich while Crusading," he said. "In the meantime, I shall abide by your wishes pertaining to Nuremburg. I will try to be a better son to you than you were a father to me. Goodbye, Father, and good luck."
Both men got up to leave. As Mandorf departed, he turned to his son one last time, a grave look on his face.
"Beware of involvement with Kaiser Heinrich and the Papal conflict. There are things at work here that are greater than you know. If you find yourself leading an army against a Pope, especially a German Pope, you risk eternal damnation."
Mandorf bowed low, and then strode off. It was the last time Conrad Salier would ever see his father.
A monastery east of Milan, 1170
Conrad Salier arose from his bed very early in the morning, at the same time he had done nearly every day for the past ten years. His life was one of ritual and habit ever since that fateful night in 1160, when he was informed that his father was Maximillian Mandorf by Mandorf himself. While he had managed to keep his composure through that unpleasant conversation, the next few days were one large downward spiral.
Although by right he was a Bavarian Elector, he had skipped the Diet session, opting instead to hole himself up in several churches in Genoa and taking many long walks in the hills outside of the city. He missed the passage of all of the Electors heading north after the session had concluded, including the Crusaders. He was unaware of much during that time, with the thoughts of “MANDORF IS MY FATHER” being drilled into his brain constantly.
Eventually, he departed the city, mumbling and reciting old prayers. He trekked the northern part of the Italian Peninsula on foot, carrying no possessions aside from the clothes on his back and his Bible. He walked for days on end, barely stopping for food, water, or sleep. After forty days, he finally collapsed under the Italian sun, starving and incoherent. He was within sight of a large, ornate building, but at that point Conrad was in such bad shape that he assumed it was just a mountain.
Luckily, that building happened to be a monastery, and he was nursed back to health under the care of the monks that resided there. After some time, he decided to join them. The world out there is too complicated and too corrupted, he said to himself as justification. I am more likely to be a good Servant of God if I leave that world behind. And for ten years, he did.
Today, however, things were to be different. As he made his way down to the chapel for Lauds, he noticed that the monks were a bit more animated than usual. Apparently, someone of importance had arrived during the night. Once he had taken his seat, Conrad scoured the pews for a new face, but the only one he was not used to seeing seated was the abbot himself. A figure in fancy white robes had taken the pulpit in his place. Conrad made out the “guest preacher” to be Cardinal Charles Otterbach.
During the sermon, Conrad took an eager interest in the man who was nearly Pope. For once, the Cardinal seemed to be speaking with power and conviction, as compared to the other occasions Conrad had seen him preach, when he seemed nervous and not quite focused on the sermon. This time, however, Otterbach was eloquent and convincing. In addition, the Cardinal seemed to be staring right at Conrad for most of the time, as if the mass delivered was specifically aimed at him.
After the mass let out, Conrad was walking alone in a hallway to his study, when the Cardinal came out of nowhere and spoke to the surprised monk.
“Brother Conrad,” he said, “What did you think of the sermon?”
“It was excellent, Your Eminence,” Conrad said respectfully. “I must admit that it is refreshing to hear a different take on Scripture than the Abbot’s version.”
Otterbach laughed. “I regret that this is the only time you will hear a fresh voice at mass, at least, coming from my mouth. I am returning to the heartland of the Reich after my time in Rome, a short but eventful stay.” The Cardinal was referring to his giving Last Rites to Kaiser Heinrich and then the disastrous Papal election three hours later. “My time here was only an overnight stay. However, before I leave this place, I would be honored to hear your confession.”
Conrad gave the Cardinal a sad smile. “I am afraid you are out of luck, Cardinal. I gave it just last night, did my penance, and went right to sleep. The first things I have done since waking up were preparing for and attending Lauds, and now talking to you. I do not believe that I have sinned at all since I last confessed.”
Otterbach arched an eyebrow at this last comment. “Indeed? And there are no sins, older sins, that you have forgotten to mention in past confessions?”
“If there are, I am not aware of them. I have no reason to compromise my chances of eternal salvation.”
“I maintain that there have been things that you have forgotten. Every moment you spend in this place is a sin, Brother Conrad. Walk with me.” Conrad, slightly befuddled that a Cardinal, especially one so revered as Otterbach, would be denouncing a monastery, had no choice but to follow along.
“Conrad, Kaiser Heinrich is dead. The new Kaiser, Henry, is off on a Crusade along with much of the Reich’s senior leaders. Heinrich’s preferred choice of Pope, myself, did not win the Seat, so we are faced with a hostile Pope and almost no chance of reconciliation unless an Imperial Cardinal somehow manages to win. The four Houses, depleted both in manpower and leadership thanks to the Crusade, are being invaded by Venice, Poland, France, Milan, England, and Hungary. The last country is especially a threat. If they get past the Bavarian Household Army, then any Imperial city in Italy is ripe for the taking.”
All of this news had troubled Conrad. This is exactly what he wanted to leave behind. “Your Eminence, why are you telling me of all this? I, along with you, have left the material world behind.”
“Brother Conrad, I learned long ago not to restrict myself to spiritual matters,” said Otterbach smartly. “You are qualified to assist the Reich in these hard times, both by blood and by merit. But you ran here to shut yourself away forever the first time you heard something that you did not like.”
Conrad’s mood shifted from troubled to annoyed. “Cardinal Otterbach, with all due respect, you do not know what was said, how it affected-“
Otterbach cut the young monk off. “With all due respect, Brother Conrad, I know exactly what was said. Maximillian Mandorf told me when I traveled to Zagreb to give the Crusaders my blessing.”
Maximillian Mandorf. The mention of that name brought back the whirlwind of the old memories. His Spartan study. The ever-present smile on his face when he casually told Conrad the most sensitive thing possible. Those forty days wandering through Italy, half-insane.
Otterbach, either unaware of Conrad’s emotions or uncaring, continued. “He told me that he was acknowledging his parentage of you. He told me that he made you his heir. He told me that he was giving you a position in the Diet and his titles in Nuremburg! Why can you not accept who you are and take a position in the Reich’s nobility?”
Conrad, defiant, responded with a phrase that he had used to reassure himself that what he had done was right. “Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also,” he said, using the same reading of Matthew that the late Cardinal Peter Scherer had used in Sigismund der Stolze’s funereal.
Otterbach seemed mildly amused. “Honor thy mother and thy father,” he fired back. “Don’t even try to win an argument against a Cardinal by quoting Scripture.”
Conrad, defeated, tried one last defense. “But I choose to have this life! I want nothing of the Reich or Nuremburg. All I wish to do is remain here in solitude.”
“Then that, Brother Conrad, is a sin. You may not realize it now, but you are being extremely selfish by remaining here. There are other ways that you can be a good Servant of God aside from staying in this place and watching your life waste away for nothing. I will have no more of this. Your penance is to leave this monastery immediately. I will inform the Abbot of your departure. You are to go to the Diet, introduce yourself, and apologize for your ten-year absence. Once that has been accomplished, you are to join Gerhard Steffin and the Bavarian Household Army, and assist them in the task of driving off the Hungarian invaders. Do you understand me?”
Conrad looked at the Cardinal with a sigh. “Yes, Your Eminence.”
Otterbach smiled. “Good, my son. May the rest of your life be fulfilling in more ways than one, Conrad Salier.”
Two hours later, Conrad Salier mounted an old brown horse and departed the monastery for the first time in ten years, heading south. He was finally ready to live up to his identity.
East Anglia, England, 1182
Cardinal Aston, called the Righteous, shivered in his private chambers. This winter was particularly harsh, or perhaps his age, 60, caused him to feel that way. The Cardinal stared at the letter before him, the man who had written him had quite the dark name among the priests of Europe.
Yet the offer was tempting, the schism between the Empire and Church had lasted longer than anyone had foreseen. Aston had heard that the the new Chancellor, the man who had written the letter before him, had made a massive offer for peace to the Pope. Yet it had been rejected. Aston wondered why Florence and 10,000 florins had been cast aside by the Holy Father. Still Aston had never understood Domingo when they were in the College of Cardinals together. He hated to admit it, but Aston had suffered from the sin of envy when the younger man had been elevated.
Before him on the table lay a way he could be the Pope. An offer that he should refuse out of hand, yet the current Pontiff was harming the Church by his stubbornness. The Empire was on a self-proclaimed Crusade to the Holy Land and had shown a willingness for atonement. The Kaiser himself had been found innocent of heresy by the Inquisition when he was a prince, and Aston had heard rumors that Henry had mourned Pope Gregory and assisted in his burial. Having defied the late Kaiser like that, the English Cardinal wondered if the sins of the father should be visited on the son. This should be considered.
Making a decision, the Cardinal called for ink and paper.
West of Hamburg
Captain Humphrey shook Wilhelmus Becker's hand.
"To be honest good sir, I had not thought an alliance to be possible. Until, of course, I received the letter from the King and the Cardinal. The florins don't hurt either I suppose."
Becker smiled, "Florins always help negotiations, Captain. But so does mutual need and the recognition of that fact. I wish you luck against the Danes."
Rome
Conrad Salier shook his head. Why was he being ordered by the Chancellor to oversee the building of a watchtower on the coast of Italy? The letter mentioned a need to keep an eye on the Milanese, but Conrad wasn't convinced. Something odd was going on. Still, orders were orders.
Only after the Count of Milan had left the city, did the Chancellor's messenger hand a second letter over to Captain Friedrich, the man left in charge of the Garrison. It was an order he had been expecting, yet Friedrich had no enthusiasm for it. Sighing, he began to issue orders for the troops to assemble.
South of Rome
The camp of Pope Filippus was centered around a small village church, which was now the seat of his Holiness. A guard ran into the church seeking the Pontiff.
"My lord, the sentries have spotted Imperial banners."
The Pope turned from his prayers, "They come to negotiate again? How long will it take those apostates to realise they must return Rome to me? Yet they mewl about Florence and florins. Once the Princes of Europe heed my call for a Crusade, then we will see them beg!"
Exiting the church, the Pope turned his gaze north, looking for the Imperial envoys.
There were banners, but behind them rose a large dust cloud raised by the marching of many men. The Reich had negotiated with the Pope for the last time.
Anatolia, East of the Hellespont
Chancellor Otto von Kassel stared into the flames of the camp fire. His plan was in motion, all that was left to do was to await damnation if he was wrong, or salvation if he was right. It was the greatest risk he had ever taken in his life. Only time would tell if it would succeed.
Near Hellespontos 1182
Dietrich´s day was saved.Few letters from home had arrived and he was sitting on a rock and trying to read carefully. His eyesight wasnt what it was used to be and water filled his eyes as he tryed to make out the letters from the pergament. He tryed to to bring the letter closer to his eyes,but the letters remained blurry. For a moment he stared at the letter and hoped that his eyes could focus better,but to no avail.
He dropped the letters to his lap and scratched his head for a while.After that he raised his head and looking at the distance thought.
"Here i am in the middle of nowhere trying to read the news from home and cant even succeed in that simple task".
To Dietrich these letters were even more important then others, becouse he didnt receive too many these days to begin with. At the vanguard army of the crusade were besides him Count Von Mandorf and knight Von Mahren. While Mandorf had been busy with Reich´s politics and was constantly in contact towards home,the affairs of the two Franconians were something completely different. Dietrich had retired from public life and had even rejected to read some letters,becouse of their political nature. Mandorf had been thoughtfull and tryed to avoid discussing any topics concerning Reich and Dietrich had started to think that Mandorf might even be thinking that he had become bit wierd or atleast turning little bit senile.
Knight Von Mahrens actions didnt help much in that,since the young knight had isolated himself almost completely from others and spent most of his time alone wondering around the crusade,sometimes hunting,sometimes just riding around alone.
"Im sure that Mandorf thinks now that we Franconians are grazy. Old fool and young man who is acting like already dead man."
The decision to withdraw from public life and go to crusade at his advanced age hadnt been an easy one for Dietrich. Basicly no one had been happy about it. Not his political allies like Leopold,his counts,his wife and least his daughter. Grim smile passed on Dietrichs face when he remembered his wifes reaction about his decision.
"You fool! You stupid old kinight!How dare you abandon your family and Duchy and go to some quest when you dont even have a chance to reach its target!Abandoning your fragile wife and daughter who love you the most in this god forsaken world!"
Dietrich could easily still remember how furious Agnes had been before bursting into tears.It was easy to regognice who´s daughter she was.
"How much i miss them. I could give up my life for seeing my family even once more before the end."
Dietrich knew deep down that the worse thing about this crusade was that in matter of fact he wasnt even himself happy about beeing part of it.What was here for him in this journey? Salvation? Salvation from the sins committed by the old blood hound Kaiser?
"God have mercy on his soul in hell."
The old warhorse had really got us into trouble.Trouble so deep that even now that Henry was the Kaiser,it was like the old Kaiser´s ghost was still haunting the Reich and casting a shadow on Henry´s reign,becouse of the magnitude of the deed´s done by the old Kaiser. Dietrich was sure that those troubles would surely outlive Dietrich himself easily.
Dietrich woke up from his thoughts as his personal scribe adressed him.
"Sire, would you like to give answers to the new letters?"
Dietrich responded.
"Answer,yes answers. My good man i need you to read these letters so i can give answers, becouse without knowing the questions it is hard to answer them."
Scribe read the letters to Dietrich. One was from his wife and two others were from Steward Von Kastillien and Count Von Hamburg. Agnes had wrote a long letter about things at home.About Hedewigis,how she was growing up and how they both missed him. For Dietrich each of his wife´s letters felt heart braking and comforting at the same time. He knew that Agnes would take care of everything,but also the sorrow for beeing apart from her and Hedewigis made the old knight feel each time even older.
The letters from the steward and Count Hamburg were not good news.
Franconia was struggling to survive. Enemies harassed her now more then ever and the internal situation was far from good. As two of the power figures in Franconia had departed on the crusade, Franconia had been left vulnerable and also after a short while it seemed that the adopted brothers,Von Kastillien and Von Hamburg didnt come along too well.
Dietrich knew that the situation was bad and it was his fault that it had gone that way. It was Dietrich´s decision to abandon everything and take the cross. But it was others who suffered from it.
There was always the option to get back into politics,nothing could deny his right to take the leads once more,also there was the possibility to change the Steward,but then the current one would be disgruntled and would be against the politics of the new one.
"This is all my doing and it is my task to solve the situation. I have been avoiding my responsibilities for far too long.I have to do decisions to solve this situation,the sooner the better."
Dietrich nodded to himself and then sayed to the scribe.
"Let us start writing some letters. It seems we have some work to do."
Avignon, France, 1184
Pope Filippus was dead, and the College of Cardinals had convened to select the next Vicar of Christ. The Cardinals, over objections of the Imperial delegation, had decided to meet in this small French city rather than Rome. The fate of the previous four Popes, all meeting their ends in Italy, had made this seem a prudent course of action.
The candidates for elevation:
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
It was an interesting situation. Cardinal Herden had the votes of his fellow Imperial clergy at his disposal, but his Empire was excommunicated and at war with many of the other Catholic nations.
Cardinal Aston was the most respected of the Preferati, but there were no other English Cardinals to support him. He had seniority but little clout.
Cardinal Frederik was considered a favorite by many, he had support within his own faction, but not as much as those of the Reich. The Danes hungered to elevate another Pope after the fall of Andreas, killed in Kaiser Heinrich's last battle.
The Venetians, though favored by the Church with three Cardinals, had none among the Preferati. Their votes would be influential, and most likely go against the Empire. Sicily had two votes, and many wondered, that without a candidate of their own, if they would support Cardinal Herden. The Hungarians and the Papal States, an entity that currently only existed on paper, each had one vote. Their Cardinals would most likely vote for anyone but the Imperial candidate.
The College gathered in Avignon's Cathedral to reach a decision. The faithful outside waited for the puff of white smoke from the chimney of the rectory, produced by the burning of the counted ballots, that would indicate the elevation of a new Pope.
to be continued
Part II
Cardinal Herden sighed as he listened to the sermon in the Cathedral before the Papal conclave officially began. Usually the rituals of the Church were of great comfort to him, but not today. Typically, the sermon given before the conclave concerned the challenges facing the Church, and a zealous French priest, one of the hosts, was railing against the Empire. If he was to be believed, the Reich was the dominion of the Beast, it's Kaiser the anti-Christ and the end of days was approaching. The priest wanted a Pope to be elected who would immediately call a Crusade to liberate Rome from the clutches of Satan.
Of course, Herden wryly thought to himself, the priest failed to mention that the French had attacked the Empire four years before the second investiture crisis. Still, it was to be expected. Looking around at his fellow Cardinals and their attendants, he noticed several of them nodding in agreement. That was not a good sign. Herden hoped the Chancellor knew what he was doing.
It was Otterbach, his fellow Imperial Cardinal, who had approached him first with the proposal from the Chancellor. Herden was not surprised, Charles had always possessed a keen political eye, and his defeat in the last Papal conclave had incensed him, pushing him further into the pro-Imperial camp. Herden remembered that a whispering campaign had been started against Otterbach by Domingo, the future Filippus, or so it was rumored. Gossip had arisen that Charles was a eunuch, of all things, and therefore unfit to be Pontiff. When Herden had informed Charles, he had been angry and asked if any other accusations were being mentioned. Having been told no, he replied, "If that's the worst they say, let them talk."
When Filippus had died, it was rumored that his former opponent had offered a prayer of thanksgiving.
Still Otterbach had been defeated and now he had proposed a plan to Herden, who stood for the Papacy himself. It required that Herden abandon his own candidacy, a sacrifice, but he was practical enough to realize that it was most likely doomed anyway. Still, the plan required a level of subterfuge he found distasteful. Yet if the Reich was to be reconciled, and of course his chances of attaining the throne of Peter in the future revived, it was necessary. It didn't hurt that the Chancellor had promised to advance the military career of the grand-nephew of his departed mentor, Peter Scherer.
The sermon ended, and with the invocation "Extra Omnes", everyone who was not a Cardinal or one of their attendants was ushered out of the Cathedral. The conclave had begun. It was time for Cardinal Herden to play his part.
Wait for him to come to you, Otterbach had advised him. Sure enough, an hour into the conclave, Herden was approached by Cardinal Frederik the Missionary.
"Karl, by God, it is good to see you again. I am sorry about the change of venue, but some of our brothers felt safer here."
Herden put on his best smile and replied, "Of course Frederik, we must not let temporal concerns intrude on our holy task."
The Danish Cardinal nodded in agreement, "Yes, exactly, quite astute. You must understand that the conditions that compel us not to meet in Rome, also imperil your own candidacy."
Herden maintained his smile with great effort, "I am aware of this Frederik, but I feel compelled to continue. I may be the only candidate who could ease the spiritual suffering of my people."
"Of course, your concern for your flock is to your credit. What if I was to tell you that if I was to be elevated, I would accept the penance of the Reich, in the name of our Lord, that our dear departed Filippus refused. There would be peace, and of course reconciliation with the Church after further signs of atonement."
"I would be intrigued", Herden responded, trying to fake interest, "If indeed another candidate could care for my flock better than I, I would be a fool not to elevate him to a position where he could do so."
The Imperial Cardinal could see the gleam of ambition alight in the other Cardinal's eyes as he replied, "Yes, it would be foolish not to support that candidate. Do we have an understanding, Karl?"
In response, Cardinal Herden, sacrificing his candidacy and his pride, took the hand of Cardinal Frederik and kissed his ring. Offering a silent prayer for forgiveness, he tried to make the gesture as ostentatious as possible.
The Danish Cardinal, well satisfied with the show of subservience, passed on to other possible supporters after a few pleasantries.
Sparing a quick glance around him, Herden could see the Venetian delegation staring at him. Their gaze then followed the departed Dane. They quickly fell back into an animated discussion.
If Charles is right, Herden thought to himself, the Venetians, lacking a candidate themselves, will want to be the power behind the throne. They can hardly be that if it looks like the Danes are beholden to us. It's a good thing the voting is by secret ballot.
As if to confirm his thoughts, the Venetians moved over to speak with Cardinal Aston. The poor man had been left alone up until now, but as the day wore on he became quite popular.
The election only took one ballot:
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
As the ballots burned in the hearth of the rectory, white smoke poured forth from the chimney, proclaiming the new Pope, Lanbertus of England.
Epilogue
South of Nicea
Otto von Kassel smiled, the message about Aston's elevation had reached him as he was sorting through the final orders for the attack on the Egyptians.
I hope Pope Lanbertus is a man of his word, thought Otto, and more upright than some of his fellows.
With Cardinals on the mind, Otto's thoughts turned to the Imperial clergy. It's odd, with Herden I needed to have a family friend promoted and speak to his ambition to gain his cooperation. All that I needed to do for Otterbach was to promise that Count Salier would not take part in an attack on Filippus. I know he was raised in a nunnery, but for a Cardinal to take such personal interest in one man's soul is peculiar.
Shaking his head, Otto's thoughts turned to the attack, I've done all I can, now I wait. I best get to the task at hand.
Otto motioned over a messenger.
"Tell Duke von Saxony he may attack, and may God aid him in his battle."
Of course, Otto thought, God helps those, who help themselves.
Metz, 1180
"Ulrich Hummel, Duke of Swabia, Elector of the Reich.
To Otto von Kassel, Chancellor of the Reich, Duke of Bavaria, Elector of the Reich.
Mein Chancellor, it is with great difficulty that I profess my loyalty to you. You have flagrantly disregarded the interests of mein Duchy. Here I am with all these Swabians, to be willing to be content with cowering behind our walls and repelling these Franks. Our lands are constantly pillaged, plundered, and desolated. The city of Dijon is crowded with homeless peasants whose homes have been destroyed by the French. Prinz Jobst is scarcely able to maintain order in the city due to their uproar.
And what, may I ask of you, are you concerned about? Italy? The east? Bah, may I remind you that there are many men in Swabia who are now questioning your leadership. And not yours only, they are also beginning to doubt the wisdom of the Diet to invest the leadership of the Reich to such a man as you.
I warn you to reconsider your actions carefully; there are those who would be not afraid to reject one who is off in the east.
Written in Metz, in the year of our Lord, 1080."
"Duke Hummel,
You had the opportunity to address the needs of Swabia during the past Diet session. You and some of your fellow Swabians did not, that is not my fault.
With all respect, Duke, if you bothered to view the election results, you would see that the Diet has given me a mandate for my goals, not yours.
I agree Swabia has endured much, but so have the other Duchies of the Reich. I will take steps to address the unrest in Dijon. I will make sure that your Duchy is well guarded against the French, but that is all I can do at the moment. Peace and reconciliation with the Church is my priority, all other goals are secondary.
I would ask that you consider your own actions carefully. The Kaiser, who is with me in the east I must remind you, appointed you Duke. It would be a shame if he came to regret his decision.
Look to the defense of your realm, my Lord, and remember your oath of fealty to the Kaiser and all shall be well.
Chancellor von Kassel"
Rheims, 1186
"Mein Gott! So that's their game, is it?" sighed Ulrich, as he read the lastest dispatch from the Imperial Diet.
It had looked so promising. After marching across the border into Champagne, Ulrich and the depleted Swabian army had reached the city of Rhiems. It was an impressive sight, surrounded by thick stone walls, flanked by towers. After blockading the city's four main gates, Ulrich was hopeful that the fate of the city was now sealed. Reports had filtered through the camp that though the city was well supplied, the French had but a weak garrision quartered here. After setting his engineers to construct siege equipment, Ulrich was confident that an brief assault would carry the city.
But then the besiegers became the besieged. After surveying his men, a party of horsemen rushed back towards the Duke.
"Mein lord Duke, the French are here!" shouted the leader, Rupert von Hapsburg, a knight from the Tyrol.
Ulrich turned with a start. He had not counted on another French army in the vicinity of Rheims. Was not a large army already besieging Dijon? Quickly regaining his composure, Ulrich signalled the men to come to his tent.
Once they had entered, Ulrich began to question them.
"Where are the French camped?" he began, "How many men do you estimate march under the Fleur de lis?"
"They are but four miles distant, mein Duke." answered Rupert. "Herr Lothar and I reckon that they are over 700 men strong, though we had difficulty in concealing ourselves from the French sentries."
"You have done well, gut ritters." replied Ulrich, "You have the gratitude of your Duke and Swabia"
As the knights exited Ulrich's tent, a page bowed before entering. When he entered he silently handed Ulrich a missive bearing the unmistakeable seal of the Imperial Diet.
A discreet cough interrupted his train of thought. As Ulrich looked up, he saw Jan van Ghent, his Flemish military advisor.
"They have forced mein hand; I must pull back. Those fools in the Diet care more about following rules, rather than serving the Reich. I have just heard that they will call upon mein men to desert, unless I withdraw. Mein men would remain loyal, but I cannot lead them into a life of inglorious exile.
Besides, there are the French to consider. They have now surrounded us. Regardless of mein actions, I shall have to fight mein way out of thier encirclement. The losses will be heavy, but I trust that on this field we will deal them such a blow that will break the spirit of all those who swear loyalty to the French King.
But the further insult comes unabated. They now demand my abdication as Duke of Swabia. For what? For marching across a border of our enemies? I have little pride left this day, for they have trampled Swabia into the dirt."
"Your course is decided? asked van Ghent, "What shall you do, and where shall you go?"
"I shall take a loyal band of Swabians with me to the Holy Land. Perhaps there I can make a name for myself, but I cannot remain in Swabia as a disgraced knight, though it was unjustly deserved."
"Very well, I shall go with you!" exclaimed van Ghent, "But first, we have a French army to scatter."
Ulrich smiled and buckled on his sword.
Peace
It was a a quiet evening in the crusader camp. Dietrich was sitting alone on his camp stool outside of his tent,watching how a warm breeze from the Mediterranian Sea shook the grass and little trees on the small hill his tent was positioned. The warm breeze felt good on Dietrich´s old wrinkled skin. He liked the Southern weather, but maybe it was just the aging that made him like more hospital enviroment of the Mediterranian.
Dietrich sipped some red wine from a cup he was holding and took a look on the surrounding camp. To the smaller tents of pilgrims on the outskirts of the camp,going through the larger individual tents showing where Counts and Knights had their spots on this huge war camp stopping in the end to an single huge tent in the middle of the camp, the Kaiser Henry´s tent with its bright Imperial colours and swarm of soldiers,messengers and scribes besieging it.
Dietrich was happy that Henry was with them. He liked the Kaiser very much and had many times wondered how different the father and son were. Where Heinrich had been an autocrat and very jealous of his personal power, Henry was more kind,calm and was more of an mediator as Kaiser. Maybe some felt that the good character of Henry was sign of weakness,but Dietrich didnt agree on such opinions.
For him fighting together with Henry had been a real honour,commanding the right wing of the army was position of great honour. Dietrich had witnessed also the commanding abilities of Kaiser in that battle and he was pleased on what he had seen.Dietrich thought.
"I hope that the Kaiser will be safe and one day will return to the Reich. Under his leadership and bit of luck,the reich could be heading towards a golden age."
Dietrich streched his legs on the camp stool a bit and continued thinking about the current situation. One man had completely suprised him in the last few years.That man was Chancellor Von Kassel.
"In the end of the reign of Kaiser Heinrich i became to think that Von Kassel was nothing but an upstart who was ready to betray anyone or anything to climb the latters towards larger power. Now this man has completely suprised us when he finally got the power´s of Chancellor. Nothing pleases me more then that we are now back on the lap of mother church. I think that this huge effort made by Von Kassel will turn us once more towards more peacefull times.Unfortunately im not sure that i will witness that time"
During the last battle something had happened. At the middle of the fight when Dietrich and his knights were charging on the right wing,suddenly when Dietrich was gallopping towards the enemy, a swift pain had crossed the left side of Dietrichs body. First he had thought that he had been hit by an arrow,but soon he realized that the pain was coming from inside. Dietrich had crashed on the enemy,but for a moment he couldnt bare even the weight of his shield and he had thrown it to the ground. Soon his veterans had surrounded him,becouse they had thought that the Duke was wounded,but as the pain gave away, Dietrich had commanded his men forward.
When the battle had ended and Dietrich had undressed his armour he felt like his whole body was covered on cold sweat. At that moment he understood that the Lord had told him that soon his time on this earth would be over.
Dietrich had acted like nothing had happened,but his close men knew something was wrong. Maybe becouse of their respect towards their leader they had not bothered asking questions, in which they knew they would have not gotten answers anyway.
As months had passed,Dietrich had felt how his stength started to vanish,little by little. He still could walk and do normal things,but as the time passed he was getting slower and slower. The kingdom of heaven was coming closer and closer towards old Dietrich.
As he sat on his camp stool in the diminishing light of the evening,his thoughts turned into Franconia. To the dark forests and hills covered on morning mist. To the shores of the wild northern sea. Oh how he missed his land,the land he wouldnt see anymore. As the last rays of sun disappeared behind the horizon,the old knight raised slowly from his seat and walked to his tent. A page came inside and offered Dietrich´s evening meal. Tasty roast with bread and some more wine. When Dietrich was finished with his suppers and the page had cleared the table,Dietrich opened an scroll.
"I have been avoiding this decision for far too long.Well now the decision is made.I hope its the right one."
Dietrich thought as he casted his seal ring on hot red wax and pushed the mark of the Duke of Franconia on the pergament.
For a while Dietrich just sat there looking at the scroll.Then he wrapped it up and placed on the draw where he put all his letters and documents that were to be dispatched. Dietrich tasted the last few drops from his wine glass and then undressed and layed down to his bed. With his eyes closed he prayed a silent prayer.
"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul:
he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies:
thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. "
During the last sentences of the prayers,Dietrich felt like he was getting lighter. He saw his family, the faces of his wife and daughter smiling to him,he saw how light was starting to shine around their faces and with silent voice Dietrich sayed.
"Im coming home."
A letter written to Gunther of Eichstadt from Chancellor Otto von Kassel in 1190
Gunther,
You have done well in the Diet, my Chancellorship would not be possible without you serving as my liaison. I hope you have passed on my call for more nobles to come to Outremer. Even when the Crusade ends, the Reich must remain here in the Holy Land. The Church will need us as their protector from the infidel. The Papacy reigns supreme in spiritual matters, but they will need our assistance in their temporal defence.
That is how the special relationship between Empire and Church began you see. Pope Leo needed a protector from the Lombards, Charlemagne assisted him, and so was made Emperor, putting him above all the other sovereigns of Europe. This balance held for many years, but as the threat receded, the Papacy sought more temporal power, secure in their support from the other Catholic nations of Europe. Soon enough, as the Empire weakened and the Church gained in strength, we lost our role as the protector. Other nations vied for it, and the Church began interfering in the succession of the Reich and picking away at our lands in Italy. The delicate balance between the two fell apart, as the Popes would not keep to their proper sphere.
This led to the investiture crisis. The Papacy tried to become a Kingdom of Earth as well as Heaven. As we had once helped choose the Pope, they tried to choose the Emperor. Kaiser Heinrich, to his credit, sought to restore the old balance, to return the Popes to the spiritual realm. Unfortunately he did so with brute force, and I was young, prideful and greedy enough to help. Our long night under interdiction showed me the error of my ways. Yes, we did eventually reconcile but how could we make sure this would never happen again? There had to be a different, more subtle way to restore the balance. Yet if we gave them territories in Europe, they would always have the other Catholic realms to call upon. Our role as protector in return for primacy among the nations would never be guaranteed.
So we come to the Holy Land. We will give the Pope Jerusalem, and we ourselves will take the rest of Palestine and the Levant. We will be the protectors again, the shield against the Saracen, first among the Catholic nations, first in the favor of God and Church. And there will be no one else for the Popes to turn to for protection, no one else to play us off against, for we are the only Catholic presence in this heathen land. The balance will be restored, and so it will stay. The Popes will pray, we will fight and all will be well under Heaven.
Give my best to your lovely wife,
Otto
Rome, 1192
Conrad Salier snapped up the latest reports on the Crusade. The governor of the Reich's capital had been little more than an administrator for the past years, but he didn't mind. Work, he learned, could be delegated rather easily. And unlike in battle, if someone screwed up, the consequences didn't put everyone's lives in danger.
After telling an adept young fellow, Fritz von something or other (Conrad would have to try harder to learn names) to appoint a committee to inspect the condition of the ancient Roman aqueducts in the city, Conrad turned to the Crusade reports.
"Two large Jihad armies beaten back, the Crusaders have reached the Levant, excellent, excellent." Conrad flipped the paper to the back and read the next report (having spent most of life around nuns and monks, he was quite literate). His expression quickly clouded.
“Duke von Saxony has died. Unbelievable. What a loss.”
Dietrich was the kind of man who seemed immortal. He was supposed to live forever, fading into obscurity, enjoying the better life that he helped create. Instead, the Lord had seen fit to end his life with his greatest objective, Jerusalem, in sight.
The Lord does work in mysterious ways, Conrad thought with a chuckle as he mulled over the Duke –no, former Duke- of Franconia’s accomplishments. And there were many. He really seemed to come into prominence during the first years of Kaiser Heinrich’s Chancellorship, when the Reich had been at its lowest point. There were many records of his brilliant victory at Hamburg and subsequent marriage to the Kaiser’s daughter, propelling him to Dukedom in what amounted to an amazing rise.
Unfortunately, he fell just as quickly when he got into a relatively minor argument with Heinrich. The hot-tempered Kaiser took offense at what he saw as disloyalty (he had, after all, given him a title and a wife) and sentenced Dietrich to watchtower duty for a number of years. For that time, von Saxony’s name was dirt in the Diet.
However, time passed and Dietrich eventually returned to the Diet, a more mature man. He came back into favor with the Diet quickly with more stunning victories against the Poles, and became known as a voice of reason and an “old warhorse” up to the very day of his death.
“He will definitely be missed.” More missed than most of the Reich would suspect, if Maximillian Mandorf’s letters were not exaggerating. Conrad’s father had recently been fearful of the company that Kaiser Henry kept. Maximillian spoke of a Pagan magician, evidently the same man that the Kaiser picked up in the Balkans, who was exercising his influence over Henry daily. The most recent letter from Mandorf gave the inclination that the Steward of Bavaria now had the same opinion of Kaiser Henry as he did the Kaiser’s father.
I worry for the future of the Reich if its leader becomes less pious while embarking on a journey to save his country’s soul, the last letter had concluded. After ominous news such as that, Conrad was glad to be back in Rome. There was little point on going on a Crusade if it was tainted.
“And so,” Conrad said to himself, “I shall stay in Rome for the time being, and continue to be a prepared leader.” For, even in these times, the monsters of unrest and disaster lurked below the surface of prosperity. It would only be a matter of time before a large enough monster broke the surface.
The scruffy man looked expectantly up to his master from his make-shift wooden stool. He despised being here in the countryside, but travelling with Duke Leopold had carried him to far worse places in the past. As a writer it had been hard enough to make a living, so he had used the fact that his father was one of the more influential persons in the Austrian court, to persuade Leopold that he needed a biographer that would mark down all his achievements for the ages to come. It had come as a surprise how happily Leopold had accepted the offer, if he had only committed half the atrocities of his master he would not want any of them to be known. What made his job worse was the fact that Leopold insisted on reading bits of his biography, to find errors in them or to bask in it, he could only guess.
Leopold turned to walk up and down again, still studying the parchment in his hand, before finally turning to the man sitting in front of him. While Leopold had never been interested in reading much, he had obtained a level of literacy that was useful for his everyday affairs in governing the Duchy. He never read for pure enjoyment, but he understood the importance of a legacy. That's why he decided to read what his biographer wrote from time to time, lest the man proclaim him mad or worse to the afterworld.
"'Thus he swung down mightily with his sword, decapitating fifty of the prisoners with his own hands, that the blood flowed in rivers upon the green meadows.'"
Leopold had read a small excerpt aloud and now looked at the man.
"So I personally executed fifty unarmed prisoners? Is that what you are saying?"
The scribe was taken aback by the harshness in his masters words, but tried to keep his composure while answering. "Well, that is what they say at least... " he stammered nervously.
"That is what the say? Well maybe you would not have to rely on hearsay if you hadn't spent the time after the battle, retching your guts out. Personally decapitated. How does that make me look. The Venetians had to be killed, there's no use in letting them go and having to fight them over and over again. I fear that's not something you understand though."
He tossed the piece of parchment away and the scribe hurried to catch the piece, before it drifted into the mud. He should make a habit out of copying the stuff he gave the Duke to read. "I am sorry your Highness. I write down what I see and for those parts I don't see I have to rely on other sources. I will change the passage immediately."
"No, no. Leave it be. It's not that big of a difference anyways, don't you think. I killed them alright."
Leopold waved at the man dismissively, his concentration had already shifted to the rider approaching his little encampment. Building watchtowers, especially overseeing it was an ordous job, but he had to make sure that the border with the Hungarians was secure. And more importantly he had to be seen by the newly claimed Hungarian subjects. While Budapest was under his firm control the peasants living out here seemed to care little who was in charge in the far away city.
The rider halted his horse, jumped down and walked over to Leopold, casting a quick salute. His manner made it clear that he was used to talk to Leopold and although there was quite a difference between them in rank and formalities had to be observed he knew the Duke like few other men did.
"Rainer, what brings you here so early? Surely arranging a marriage should take longer than that, shouldn't it?"
"My lord, I am sorry to be back this early, but... well... Permission to speak honest my Lord?"
Leopold smiled and gave a brief nod: "When have you ever not been honest to me, hm?"
"The truth is, that although you sent me out to arrange a suitor for your daughter, I am afraid there is none who will marry her. Well none that you would approve of that is."
Leopold looked at his retainer in disbelief: "What do you mean man? Speak clearly. I know I refused to hear from all those high-nosed arrogant fools from the court in Vienna, but didn't we settle on young... young what was his name again?"
"Markus, my Lord!"
"Yes, Markus. Decent lad I heard, good family from Friaul. Can hold a sword and has shown some aptitude in the late campaigns. Wasn't he the one to lead that charge against those Croatian rebels? I thought it was settled?"
"Well, you see it's not quite as easy as that, my Lord."
"But of course it's easy. You take them, you marry them. Finished. What's there to worry about. I hear Meckil is a docile young woman, that Markus has nothing to fear of her."
Rainer coughed uneasily: "Well I don't think it's her that he's afraid of." he cast an uneasy glance sideways then rushed on quickly to get it all out: "He is more afraid of you my Lord. The men are talking and word goes round, fact is that most people are afraid of having you as their father-in-law, it gives them nightmares my Lord. That's why no officers have come forward. They know how you fight and they're afraid of ever having to fight you."
Leopold casts an angry towards the scribe, who is still busy gathering up all his papers, before he looks back at Rainer. "So they're afraid, ey? Afraid of me?" He looks at Rainer intently.
"Last I heard they call you 'the Mean' my Lord, no disrespect intended."
Leopold looks past Rainer, his thoughts taking over. "No, no. I'm sure there is no disrespect intended. Leopold the Mean. Well I can't say there's no reason, but war is war and someone has to do it." Leopolds look trails further off.
"Well, if you want I could put a stop to it. They respect you, it's just that tales go round and some things get a little exaggerated in the process."
Leopold focuses once again on Rainer, this time wearing a knowing smile. "No don't. Leopold the Mean, I rather like the sound of that, let's just see what it takes for them to call me the Cruel or the Gruesome shall we." He turns a finger towards the scribe who flinches under the sudden attention. "And you! Be sure to write it all down will you. Just listen to what the people tell you and write it down."
Leopold's smile broadens has he returns his gaze to Rainer. They called him Leopold the Mean now, well he would show them just how mean he could be.
South-east of Antioch, 1200
The Teuton watched a dishevelled and exhausted Duke Ulrich enter the Kaiser’s headquarters.
“Do you think the Kaiser is punishing Swabia?” the Teuton asked.
Kurt Altman, veteran warrior and the Kaiser’s new confidante on military matters, looked thoughtfully at the Teuton, who continued:
“I mean, Duke Ulrich made landfall with over 600 crusaders; he now as only 200. At least Chancellor Otto reinforced him with my regiment. The Kaiser made him attack the Egyptian siege train without reinforcements.”
Kurt laughed at the tall young Rhinelander: “You do not know your Duke, son. No one can “make” him do anything. And the one thing no one need “make” him do is attack the enemy.”
The Teuton smiled. “I suppose you are right. But I cannot help wondering, not after Swabia was so short-changed at the recent Diet. Every House received more provinces, except the Kaiser’s own.”
“The Kaiser has no house now. But still, he would not seek to punish his old friends. No, if the Kaiser is guilty of anything, it is over-optimism. He should have seen the mauling Ulrich took in his first battle and not sent him off in that weakened state for a second one, whatever the Duke’s enthusiasm.”
“And he is guilty of it again, bringing us outside Antioch?” the Teuton probed.
Kurt looked away. It was undeniable. The Kaiser had marched into a lion’s den: three strong Egyptian armies were gathering around Antioch and now were poised to strike. Henry had ordered a band of Turcopoles to interdict supplies going into the great city. It was like kicking a bee’s nest. Soon all three Egyptian armies in the province would soon be roused and marching together on the Kaiser’s position. Kurt spat on the ground. What was the Kaiser thinking?
A tall figure in a black cloak stormed out of the Kaiser’s Headquarters. The hairs on Kurt’s back prickled and his hand reached for his sword hilt. Yet inside, the Kaiser could still be heard talking to Duke Ulrich. Kurt relaxed and Dusan Kolar met his gaze.
“Chivalry gone mad.” the pagan magician exclaimed and then slipped outside into the night.
Acre, 1202
Ashes, it had all turned to ashes. The victories, the triumphs, the praise from friends and past foes alike. It was gone, burned away in a few fleeting years.
Lowering his head into his hands, the last words of Kaiser Heinrich came to Otto unbidden and unwelcome, "You disappoint me. No matter what you stood for, I wanted a friend and an ally. You were both, for a short period of time. However, when it became clear that I was on my way out in the world you threw our bond aside, forgetting all that I had done for you. While I can do nothing about you now, you will surely remember this betrayal sometime into the future."
The future was now. Otto could feel the sting of betrayal turned on him. It coursed through his veins like poison. It burned.
"Why?", Otto asked in a coarse whisper, "What have I done to deserve such harsh words from the Kaiser?"
Elsebeth, having entered the room with a letter, came up behind him and placed a consoling hand on his shoulder, "You defied my brother. Whatever the wording of the edict, when you insisted it be followed, you defied his will. What else did you expect my dear?"
"I thought. . .I had earned better. I thought I had explained why we must put down the Milanese. I did not complain, I did not threaten, I merely asked that the edict be enforced."
Otto's wife shook her head and leaned in to wrap her arms around the distraught Duke.
"You do not ask something of a Kaiser, Otto, and expect him to go against his wishes without consequences. Henry might appear more reasonable than our father, but the same iron will lies underneath. They are more alike than either would ever have admitted. He has ensured, in calling you out publicly, that if the Corsica adventure fails, it will be your fault, not his. If it succeeds, than he will have won a victory despite your stubborness, and the credit goes to him."
Otto stood, breaking out of his wife's embrace, and began pacing the room.
"But why? I am not his enemy. Hell, he voted for the edict! I have aided him, during my term, I had the Reich reconciled. . .the Crusade completed. . .an alliance with the Church. Why am I now the villain?"
Elsebeth smoothed her dress and watched Otto fume.
"It is because you accomplished these things that the Kaiser moved against you. Tell me Otto, why did he not assume the Chancellorship for your term? It was the first one after father's death."
Otto stopped and turned toward his wife with a creeping realization coming to him, "He felt the Crusade wouldn't arrive in Jerusalem until this term. He wanted a caretaker Chancellor. . .But I. . ."
"But you did bring the Crusade to completion", said Elsebeth, finishing his thought, "You were much more successful than he could have imagined. Perhaps too successful. His Chancellorship was supposed to have seen the culmination of the Crusade. The crowning glory of his term and reign. Instead, an upstart General took that from him. He might not admit it, but he resents you for it."
Otto approached Elsebeth and grasped her by the shoulders, "The Kaiser is not that kind of man! He was overjoyed to hear of the reconciliation, to hear that the Crusade had been sanctioned."
"Yes I'm sure he was. But he might also have been thinking that it could have been him. That it should have been him to accomplish these triumphs. Do not act so surprised, look at my brother with the same eyes you used to discern the vanities of the Cardinals."
Otto turned from Elsebeth to gaze out the window, "No, it is not like that, it is merely a. . .misunderstanding. I am still high in his favor. He promised. . .I am his best General here, he knows this, there is no way. . ."
"Do you think your martial skill or accomplishments as Chancellor shield you? Belisarius was Emperor Justinian's best General. He never lost a campaign and restored the Byzantines to Italy and much of their lost Empire. Yet, the Emperor withdrew him from Italy at key moments, delaying the conquest, and his career ended in a trial for corruption even after he had saved the Empire from the Bulgars. He was a better General than you yet he still suffered. Rulers grow wary of accomplished Commanders with too much power. They do not wish their own accomplishments to be overshadowed or their own power superseded."
Otto had slumped in a chair by the time his wife had finished. Circling him, she spoke again.
"Tell me, if you are the most skilled General in Outremer and close confidant to my brother, why are you here in Acre, sitting in another man's castle? Why are you not in the north? Or leading an army on Damascus? Why is Ulrich Hummel the Prince of Antioch?"
"Enough!", yelled Otto, rising from his chair, "I do not know! I have no answers for you. I serve the Reich, I always have and I always will. That should be enough."
Cupping Otto's scarred face with her left hand, Elsebeth replied, "I hope it is enough, my love, but I would be surprised if you led an army into battle in my brother's term, or if Corsica is taken quickly. Otto must fall, so that Henry might rise. Tread carefully."
Bowing his head, Otto covered his wife's hand with his own and smiled sadly, "I thought you wanted me to be Roland, to be a good man and a chivalrous knight. When did you become so cunning and cold hearted?"
"I grew up Otto. You have changed for the better, but I have still learned from watching you. We can hope for a just world, but we must deal with it the way it is."
Otto sighed, "I will write Maximillian, he will know what to do. He's always been there for me. . ."
Elsebeth looked down at the message in her hand, "I had forgotten, I have a letter from Adana that just arrived."
Taking the letter Otto opened it and read the contents. Dropping it he paled and staggered as if from a heavy blow. Elsebeth rushed to steady him.
Otto clung to his wife, his head buried in her shoulder.
"He's dead! He's dead.", Otto moaned, "My God, we're all alone."
It had all turned to ashes.
OOC: Kaiser Henry's message on running for Chancellor in 1180:
https://forums.totalwar.org/vb/showp...&postcount=361
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Aleppo, 1204
“It is here?” Henry asked, trembling.
Horst Mueller, the young Teuton nodded sombrely as he opened the door to the catacombs under Aleppo.
Henry stepped cautiously into the dark and dusty vault. By the light of the torches on the walls, he could make out a large chalice on the central table. In the shadows, he could see the tall dark figure of Dusan Kolar.
“I told you it was here.” Dusan purred. “That is why it had to be you that came, not Otto or Ulrich. This prize is for you alone.”
Horst closed the large door behind them.
“Who else knows about this?” Henry asked.
“Just the three of us.” murmured Dusan. “Let us keep it that way. The chalice can only be found by true bastions of chivalry.”
“Are you sure it is genuine?” Henry asked quietly.
“One only has to touch it to know. It has special divine powers. They say it can bring back the dead.”
“And these powers, you know them to work?”
“Horst, leave us now.” said Dusan authoritatively. The Teuton looked at Henry for confirmation. Henry nodded.
Once the young knight had left, Dusan continued: “Oh yes, the powers work. Let me provide you with a demonstration.”
*****
Henry sat on the other side of the round table, facing Dusan Kolar. The chalice was between them.
“The chalice can bring back the dead, but only their souls.” said Dusan. “Their bodies are long decayed and gone. The chalice forms a holy passage between this world and the next. The deceased may return, but they should not stay. They have found their final resting place, for better or for worse, and are best left there. To trap one of the saved on this earth would be sacrilegious. For the fallen, well - there are enough of such men on earth already, we do not need to add to their number.”
“Who will you bring back?” asked Henry, his voice dry and breathless. His mind was spinning. Maximillan, who had just departed? Dietrich, his old war horse? Henry hoped it would be Sigismund - his brother and adopted son, who had been dragged from this world by French devilry.
Dusan shrugged: “Do you think I can command the heavens?”
Gingerly, Dusan wrapped his fingers around the cup. Henry gasped as Dusan’s body seemed to shake violently on contact with the golden chalice. Dusan’s head flicked back violently, and fell down with a lifeless shudder. Slowly, silently, Dusan lifted his head up - opening his eyelids to reveal white, pupil-less balls. Henry shuddered.
Dusan then opened his mouth to speak, but the voice was not his own. Henry gasped. This was not the voice he had expected, not the voice he had hoped for. As a matter of fact, it was a voice that Henry believed himself rid of, one that he had never wanted to hear again.
It was the voice of his deceased father, Heinrich.
"Ahh, Prinz Henry, we meet again." The voice, while sounding fairly like Heinrich's, had taken on a slight ethereal, echoing quality. However, there was no mistaking the tone. Not even Kolar dared call Henry anything but Kaiser.
Henry stammered: “Who? … What trickery is this?” Kolar was motionless and unresponsive, his blind eyes staring forward at Henry. Henry continued: “Damn it, I don’t know who you are pretending to be but there is no Prinz Henry here. I am your Kaiser and you will address me as such!”
"Are you really, Henry? Do you deem yourself worthy of the title of Kaiser? It is something to be earned, boy, not inherited. So far, the only notable thing you have done in your entire career is beat those Egyptians at Antioch. Commendable, but not nearly enough to redeem yourself for all those years of nothingness, for all those years of not seizing opportunity."
Henry sat back, as if slapped in the face, and struggled to think of any thing to rebut the terrible accusing voice. “I, err, I have reformed the Reich. As Prinz, I devised our current system of Household Armies; as Kaiser, I drafted a constitution for Outremer, as Kaiser I have modernised our forces…”
A bitter laugh cut him off. The laugh emanating from Kolar was shrill and unnatural, but most definitely Heinrichian. "Really? HAH! If that is so then why do continue to take counsel from this man that I speak to you through? Do you just miss someone pointing out your many flaws? Why is it that there is always great conflict in yourself? Why is it that you always shy away from the greatest of glories and responsibilities? Why do you think that *I* was chosen to speak to you and not someone you wished for, such as Sigismund, Dietrich, or Mandorf? You still have extra baggage to carry, my son, and you are most definitely not free of anything or anyone."
Kolar's eyes now appeared to start flickering, as if the apparition was wearing off. However, the voice of Heinrich took no notice, and continued to speak.
"As much as you wish that this wasn't true, you're not so different from me. The only time that either of us were Chancellor was when we exercised our rights as Kaiser. Both of us have (or had) obstacles in their path to greatness. Unfortunately for you, your obstacles are internal, and those are the more difficult to overcome.
"However, the path is now set for you to become the greatest leader of people since Caesar Augustus himself. Jerusalem is no longer Papal; the Pope is overseeing all of Christianity from a boat. As Kaiser and Chancellor, there is nothing to stop you from retaking the city and claiming it is your own. The edicts on the Crusade have all expired. You have a lapdog in Prinz Ulrich; he will do anything you ask. Take Jerusalem for yourself. Take Outremer and make it your own personal land. The people who would cry out in the Diet are now few. Mandorf and Dietrich have now joined me. Salier is in Rome and cannot possibly hold up against your influence. No one can."
“Duke Otto governs Acre, he commands the wealthiest House in the Reich…”
"Von Kassel? HAH! Von Kassel is weak. At heart, all he desires is acceptance and friendship with those in power. If you assert yourself, he will follow you like he never followed me."
By now Kolar's pupils were flickering on and off. Heinrich finally seemed to realize that his time was growing short.
"Take Jerusalem, my son. Keep Jerusalem. To hell with the Pope. He is in your pocket already. Once you have Outremer, you will have a free land to exercise absolute power over. No outside influence from the Pope; he cares not for how many Muslims you kill. Use that power. Expand. You will have Rome and the Holy Land under your direct control with the Pope little more than a figurehead. And then, my son, you will finally fulfil your destiny. You will become Henry V, Master of all Christianity."
Henry looked appalled as Heinrich’s laugh echoed around the room. Kolar’s pupils came down and the man collapsed onto the roundtable.
*****
Henry kicked back his own chair and raced round to grab Dusan. He lifted the dark figure back and shook him violently.
“You bastard!” he screamed. “You said I would be free of him! You said this was my time! But you’ve brought him back! Back to govern me!”
Dusan’s eyes were closed and his body was inert. Henry held Dusan for a moment, then calmed and gently put him back in his seat. Take back Jerusalem? And keep it for the Reich? The Diet would hang him. But he was Chancellor and this was his hour. He knew what must be done. He marched out of the crypt, past Horst.
“Guard the chalice with your life.” Henry hissed at the young Rhinelander. The knight nodded meekly.
Henry continued on until he found an apprehensive Kurt Altman, walking with the Kaiser's bear-like bodyguard Dirk Freihafen.
“Thank God, your Majesty. I feared for you.” said Kurt with relief: “I heard you went down to the crypt with that… man, Kolar.”
Henry smiled at his veteran warrior, then the expression on his faced hardened. “Jerusalem has fallen. Leave the infantry here - we make haste for Acre via the sea.”
Kurt looked stunned. Abandon the army that had triumphed at Antioch?
“But Kaiser, Duke Otto is tasked with defending Acre and protecting Jerusalem, surely he…”
“This is something I must attend to personally.” Henry said, “It is my destiny.”
Staufen , 1204
The great Iron city gates of Staufen opened, creaking as the sun overhead failed, and storm clouds tried to overcome the sun.
But through the Great City gates of Staufen, was Prinz Jobst's escort, heading mainly for Staufen's Barracks. Peasents sprung out of the way, as heavily armored knights came galloping through ths treets, and the air boomed with thunder.
'Make way, make way! We're in a hurry!' yelled Jobst's Second in Command,Fritz.
The bodyguard stopped abruptly out the front of the barracks. And the Captain in charge came racing out, wondering who the visitor would be.
The sky flashed, and rain came pouring down. Rattling armor everywhere, and the air rung.
Jobst got down from his armored horse, lifted his visor and looked at the Captain hard, scanning his face.
'We did not know you were coming my lord" muttered the Captain nervously,twiddling his thumbs.
"I thought I might've created that affect" whispered Jobst, "But no.Captain, I did not want many too know I am here, I was just dropping in... to discuss urgent matters" continued Jobst. And he strided past the captain, and into the calm of the barracks. Fritz nodded to the convoy and followed Jobst and the Captain.
Fritz walked in to find Jobst sitting at one of the tables, the Captain standing nervoulsy.
"Sit" commanded Jobst, and the Captain and Fritz sat. Jobst leaned forward.
"I have some orders to discuss with you Captain, which you shall tell no one, on pain of death" whispered Jobst, The Captain nodded fearfully.
"If you tell someone who should not know, some French, Italians or even the Papal Bull, the Kaiser himself shall be angry" said Jobst with raised eyebrows.
"I want the best trained Knights,soldiers you can get from Staufen ,Captain.
" whispered Jobst, "And they shall assemble outside the City,where I shall wait, for a new army being formed by the Kaiser." said Jobst.
"What new army sir? I have heard nothing of any new armies" muttered the Captain.
"Because peasents and those of not high status don't know!" said Jobst, his voice louder. Jobst leaned forward to speak in the Captain's ear.
"The new European Imperial Army" whispered Jobst, and he leaned back,smiling. Fritz smiled as well.
"I shall leave you some 10-20 years to form this army Captain, and some personal money" Jobst handed him some coins "So you don't get off track"said Jobst with a wink, then left, but Fritz did not.
"And Captain, if you fail, I shall execute you myself" said Fritz, and he followed in Jobst's footsteps,smiling to himself. The Captain shook violently, watching them disappear. Then strode out ot the back.
"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!" he roared.
Acre, 1208
Kurt Altman, the veteran warrior in Kaiser Henry's retinue, was not surprised by the summons he had received. Whatever had happened in the bowels of Aleppo had left Henry a changed man. He had been watching Dusan Kolar as the Duke had requested, and over the years the man in black's influence had grown over the Emperor.
So now, Altman found himself entering Otto's chambers at Acre. The Duke was in bed, stripped to his small clothes, a broken off Saracen spear protruding from his right thigh. The wound had been hastily bandaged on the battlefield, but the gauze was soaked with blood and Otto looked pale and in pain. A local healer hovered over the wound as Princess Elsebeth looked on, her expression a mixture of concern and anger.
Before Altman could announce himself, the healer spoke, "The spearhead must be removed immediately, and the wound treated with boiling wine and sewn up or we risk putrefaction."
Elsebeth hissed in frustration, "All thanks to my brother, he would not let you lead the army, but he was content to send you into a wall of spears."
Otto looked up and noticed Kurt, he spoke in a weak voice, "Enough Elsebeth. Maimonides, you may treat me in a moment, but first I must speak to Sir Altman. If you could leave us for a moment."
The physician left the room, and Otto waved Kurt close to him.
"It is good to see you again Sir. Tell me, what news of the Kaiser and his magician?"
Altman swallowed hard, loyalties warring in him, but spoke, "It is rumored that Kolar has obtained the Chalice of Christ for the Kaiser, and that he shows him visions of the dead through it. Since the taking of Aleppo, my lord spends more time with that black spider, forsaking his other advisors. There are whispers that he plans to take Jerusalem, and this time keep the city for the Reich."
Otto made the sign of the Cross.
"Good God, it is worse than I thought. This must be Dusan's influence. The Kaiser Henry I know, or thought I knew, would not do this. The magician's hold over his Majesty must be broken."
Elsebeth snorted but stayed silent. Otto glanced up at her with a small smile, but his gaze returned to Kurt.
"Tell me Sir Altman, as the Kaiser's trusted warrior, do you know where the chalice is kept?"
Kurt thought for a moment, "The Kaiser's tent is guarded at all times, even when he is not present. I think it is there."
Otto nodded, "If the chalice is the source of Kolar's hold on the Kaiser, it must be removed. It might be more direct to silence the magician, but the results would be more in doubt. I ask that you procure the item and have it sent far away, out of the reach of Kolar. You and others guard the Kaiser, and while there are threats in battle to keep him safe from, there are worse things in his own court from which we must protect him. Will you do this for the Reich and for the Kaiser?"
Kurt clenched his jaw. He was a knight, not a thief or turncoat, but he hated Dusan, hated the dark cloud that hung over the Kaiser. Action must be taken. He nodded his head, "I've just the man for the job. He thinks as we do."
Relief mixed with pain flashed across Otto's face.
"Good man! Elsebeth will instruct you in what must be done. Now go, you have a chalice to steal, and I have a thorn to be removed. Send in the healer on your way out."
As Elsebeth and Altman made their way down the corridor, the stifled screams of the Duke of Bavaria echoed behind them. Neither of them looked back.
-----
Outside Acre
Dirk Freihafen, the mountain of a man who served as Henry's bodyguard, approached the Kaiser's tent. Torches ringed it to keep out the night. Horst Mueller, the Emperor's Teutonic escort, stood guard outside.
"Evening Horst," said Dirk as he came closer, "Is the Kaiser inside?"
"Nein," replied the knight shaking his head, "He's off somewhere with Kolar again."
Dirk spit on the ground in response and asked, "Stuck with sentry duty again?"
"Ja, the rest of the army is celebrating driving off the Egyptians and I get to watch an empty tent."
Dirk grunted in sympathy, "Well I may as well stand your watch with you, least I could do for a comrade in arms."
Proffering a flask of wine, he added, "As for the celebration, why don't we have some wine?"
Mueller gratefully took the flask and drank. Handing it back, he gave Dirk a mock salute, "My thanks, guard duty is thirsty work."
The next few minutes passed in idle conversation between the two knights until Horst trailed off and began to slump. Dirk braced him and guided him to the ground. Soon, he was snoring loudly.
Dirk waved over a figure in the shadows. It was Altman, who had been watching all the time.
"I see the Princess's drugged wine did it's job. Where is the chalice?"
"It should be in the chest next to the camp bed," replied Dirk, "A pity to waste wine like that."
After Kurt was gone, and the mission done, Dirk raised his flask to the prone body of Mueller.
"I'll see you in the morning, Horst. It seems we both had too much wine to drink and neglected our duties. I'm not looking forward to the headache."
With that he raised the flask to his lips and drank deeply.
The docks at Acre
Although it had only been a short trip from Adana, Hans was glad to get off the ship and onto dry land. He scanned the harbour at Acre, but was disappointed to find no sign of the large entourage that would have marked the presence of his father here to greet him. Disappointed, he set off down the pier towards the fortress.
Two men approached him, both powerfully built and clearly warriors. One was older, but sharp eyed, the other was a large bear of a man. The older man bowed, and the big man awkwardly followed.
“Your highness, I am sorry your father could not be here in person.” said the older man. Despite his grizzled appearance, there was compassion and understanding in his voice. He moved close to Hans, talking conspiratorially, while the big man stood back and appeared to be acting as a lookout.
“Ever since you came of age, your father has always been distant to you, he knows that. He also knows that, by right, it should be you who inherits after him, not Prince Jobst.”
Hans looked shocked at the familiarity and presumption of older man. The older man stopped and smiled apologetically.
“Your highness, indulge me. There is not much time and there is much at stake. I must speak candidly. Believe me, I mean you and your father no harm. Indeed, I am part of his retinue.” the grey haired warrior stopped, thoughtfully: “I would die for him.”
Hans felt uncomfortable with the man’s intimacy and affrontery, but stayed silent. Hans had long learned to watch and wait, to let the other reveal his hand, before revealing his own.
“Have you every wondered why your father was so distant? Why he has kept you away from him? Why you are not heir?”
Hans had his own thoughts on these questions, but was certainly not going to disclose them to a complete stranger. The young prince felt more and more awkward at this extraordinary meeting.
The older man looked sharply at Hans and said severely: “There are dark forces at work behind the throne. Your father feels powerless to resist. If he brings you too close, they may drag you down with him.”
Hans stared at the warrior - was he insane? The older man continued doggedly:
“Your father believes it is in his blood. The office of the Emperor is damned. It began with the unspeakable murder of Pope Gregory at the hands of Heinrich. And it is resurfacing now. Blood will out.”
A Papist fanatic? Hans wondered, but the eyes of the man in front of him were observant and thoughtful, not the unblinking lenses of the dogmatist.
“You share the same blood. Do not deny it. You believe in hard justice, winning first and are fierce in battle. These traits may be admirable in themselves, but they lead you towards the path of darkness. Like your father, coming here on the great crusade may have temporarily brought you back to the light. But if you were to take the office of Emperor, you too would be cursed. Every Imperial assassin’s blade would cut into your immortal soul, every deceit by our agents would condemn you in the eyes of the Lord, every settlement put to the sword would drag you into the pit. What does it profit a man to gain an Empire, if he loses his immortal soul?”
Hans found it hard to breath, his head was swimming but the older man pressed on:
“Your father fears he cannot save himself. He fears he is destined to join your grandfather in the life hereafter. But he does not want to take you with him. You are to be saved. You are to break this curse on the family.”
The veteran warrior paused and summoned his large companion.
“Here, this will aid you in your personal quest.”
Hans realised the larger man had been carrying something in a small bag, strapped round his back but held carefully as if it were a great treasure. The big man opened the bag and pulled out a wrapped object, gingerly unveiling it to reveal an old golden goblet.
“Do you know what it is?” said the older man.
Hans had received a fine education - he was familiar with the legends and the stories of the crusaders. Could this really be it? Was it possible? But given all the extraordinary things the veteran had just told him, to believe one more impossible thing before lunch seemed but a trifle.
"How did you get it?" said Hans, breathlessly.
For the first time, the big man spoke out: "Well, let's just say there is one Teuton with a hell of a sore head this morning."
The older man clasped his hand on the shoulders of his companion, amiably:
“And this fellow, he too shall go with you. He is roughly hewn, but will serve you well.”
The big man looked indignantly at the veteran warrior: “Roughly hewn? Rugged, is what the ladies say”.
The veteran laughed and turned back to Hans. “I am sorry you did not get to see your father today. But you must leave now, go to Adana - gather your expedition to Constantinople. Leave your father to battle his demons. I will fight by his side. I do not know if we will ever meet again, young master, but I wish you well.”
The veteran looked at the bag that Hans was now holding.
“Do not touch the chalice. But keep it secret; keep it safe.”
With that, he bowed. Scanning the area around him, the veteran warrior turned and left. Hans thought he saw a dark cloaked figure in the shadows by the docks, but given the excitement of the morning, gave it no further thought.
A cave outside Jerusalem
Horst screamed in pain. Why hadn’t he listened to Dirk? He should have known to pay attention when the fellow, normally so carefree and lackadaisical, had approached him so earnestly after the battle outside Acre. Why hadn’t he listened then?
Horst screamed again, as Dusan Kolar extracted yet another of the young Teuton’s fingernails.
*****
“It is not safe for you to stay. You must go. Leave this place - tonight!” Dirk had entreated.
At the time, Horst had been wracked with guilt and self-criticism: “No, I have failed terribly. I cannot flee. I must stay and be punished for my failure.”
“You do not know what is at stake here” Dirk had implored. “Hell, even I don’t know what is at stake here. But I do know if you stay, it will be very, very bad.”
“I don’t know what is at stake? I do not know? You have no idea what I was guarding that night!” Horst looked at his sheepish companion. “You and your drinking. I had a mission. I was entrusted with something, something more important than you can ever imagine. And I lost it, lost it because of you.”
Horst had continued, rounding accusingly on Dirk: “Yes, you must go. You should leave this place! You are not fit to be the Kaiser’s bodyguard. You are not fit to the Kaiser’s dog’s bodyguard! Go, get out! Run!”
And still Dirk had tried to persuade him, pleading helplessly: “Horst, they will kill you if you stay.”
Horst looked uncomprehendingly at the big man and then said shallowly: “It would be no better than I deserve for my failure. You said you are leaving. Well then, just leave.”
Dirk had moved away reluctantly, gave one last imploring look at Horst but been rebuffed by the young Teuton’s accusing glare.
*****
“You should not scream so much.” said Dusan patiently. “It is not that anyone will come. I chose this cave because it is far away from anyone. And very well sound proofed. The Hashashin provide such excellent facilities and for such a modest price. But you should not scream so much. It is most unbecoming for a knight.”
With heavy eyelids, Horst looked at the loathsome man in front of him. Damn it, he would not scream so much if only each act of torture was not so excruciatingly painful!
“Just tell me one thing, young knight, and then you are free to go. Who did you tell about the chalice?”
Horst’s head slumped down on his chest, his arms hanging from chains hammered into the cave walls. “I have already said a thousand times: I told no one. I swear by the virgin Mary, I told no one.”
Dusan looked at the young man, dripping in sweat and blood. He almost believed him.
“But you see, that is simply not possible. Only three of us knew. You, me and the Kaiser.” Dusan explained patiently. “Do you think the Kaiser stole his own Holy Grail? Do you think I stole it and am torturing you just for fun?”
Horst looked up hopelessly: “But I swear, I did not… AAARGH!”
*****
When Horst was revived, he had a few minutes to recuperate. Dusan was preparing to leave the cave.
"Why don't you ask me where the chalice is?" Horst asked in a moment of lucidity.
Dusan turned around surprised: "Why? Do you know?"
Horst shook his head: "No, of course not: I keep telling you, I know nothing about the chalice's disappearance! It was stolen from me! But if you suspect me, why don't you ask me where it is?"
Dusan laughed: "Does it matter? It is just a goblet. I can find another one just like it. The Kaiser will never know."
Horst collapsed in despair. He knew then he would never leave the cave alive.
Outside Jerusalem
Otto and his retainers rode into the Kaiser's siege camp. A swarm of men were working constructing rams, towers and ladders, the assault would happen soon. In the distance, Otto could see the Kaiser and his court gathered in front of his tent, no doubt planning the assault.
As he dismounted along with his men, Otto felt pain shoot up his right leg. The wound from two years ago still troubled him and the ride from Acre had not helped. As Otto reached behind him to pull a cane from the saddle, Kurt Altman approached him.
"Quite a surprise to see you here your Grace," Kurt said, "The Kaiser is not expecting you."
"Expected or not, I must speak with him. I must know the truth about the fate of Jerusalem. It is time to see who is in power, the Kaiser or his spider."
Kurt nodded grimly and looked at Otto's retainers, "You won't get within fifty feet of him if you keep your men with you."
"I know, I will go to see him alone and unarmed."
Awkwardly unbuckling his sword belt with his left hand while leaning on the cane in his right, Otto handed his weapon to his squire.
"I'm just an old man with a cane, how could I be a threat?"
Bringing up the cane, Otto twisted the handle and drew two feet of sharpened steel from out of the wood of the barrel. Jamming the narrow dagger back in, he took a few steps toward the camp, and then began limping in a pronounced fashion as he brought the cane back down to support him.
"Lead on Sir Altman, I have business with our lord."
Following the knight, Otto tried to walk with dignity through the camp despite his ruse. The men he passed looked at him with a mixture of emotion. Some viewed him with scorn or indifference, a product of the past few years. Others, veterans he had served with, with pride as they bowed their heads. In a few eyes, Otto even saw pity for a scarred old man. That cut him to the quick more than the derision.
Still, he thought, this needs to be done. I must see if the Kaiser will listen to reason, to keep to his original vision of Outremer and not betray the Church.
Otto chuckled wryly to himself at the last thought, who would have ever thought he would be an advocate for the Papacy? Fate was strange and God's will sometimes ineffable. His expression however quickly darkened.
What if he won't listen? What if, despite the loss of the chalice, Kolar still has his claws in him?
Otto's grip tightened on the cane. Then I will kill the magician. No doubt I will die in the attempt, but if I can remove him, end this madness, I will gladly do it.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Outside Jerusalem, 1210
Otto came to the assembled court. It was strangely empty. There were few German nobles – so many knights had fallen in the battle outside of Acre. Instead, there were small groups of unfamiliar men – men of Slavic appearance and Arabs too. He could see Dusan Kolar to the Kaiser's right. The Germans in the gathering fell into a nervous hush as they became aware of the Duke of Bavaria's presence. The Slavs and Arabs looked sullenly at him, with disdain.
Gripping the cane for support, Otto went down on bended knee in the dirt of the camp and bowed his head.
"Your Majesty, I must speak with you. My letters have gone unanswered, my counsel unheeded. So now I must come to you for the truth. I have heard dark rumors mein Kaiser. Things I not thought possible. Yet, I must ask."
Otto raised his head and glared at Dusan Kolar, his gaze then swung to the Kaiser.
"Do you intend to forsake our agreement with the Church and take Jerusalem for the Reich? Have you decided to abandon your dream of Outremer and set forth like Alexander out into the eastern desert to conquer? Will you be Kaiser, Chancellor and King? It is time that all this be brought into the light, your Majesty."
Henry spoke superciliously. “We fulfilled our agreement with the Church and gave them Jerusalem. It is not our fault they were so careless as to lose it.”
Dusan snickered at the Kaiser’s caustic words.
“March into the desert you said?” the Kaiser continued. “Now, there’s a thought. You have heard about the horse lords approaching? I am getting old. Perhaps I should meet them on my way out of this tiresome world.”
Otto could not recognise the cold indifferent man in front of him. This was not the solicitous facilitator who had accompanied him to on the great crusade. He looked sideways at Dusan, and tightened his grip on his cane, a few strides, a thrust, and it would be over, one way or the other.
“And will I be King?" asked Henry, rhetorically: "I am already King of the Romans; you don’t want to take that away from me do you? But you mean King of Outremer I suppose. Outremer, my dream, you said. A dream of what? Death and the desert?”
The Kaiser paused. “Dusan, you tell Otto what we plan.”
The pagan magician looked stunned. He was never called out of the shadow and required to speak in public at the court. And yet now that Henry was speaking with Dusan’s voice, to come out at this point seemed appropriate.
“Duke Otto.” began Dusan cautiously. “You ask to know the Kaiser’s plans. But that is the wrong question. In future, no one will ask the Kaiser’s plans. They will wait. And when the Kaiser speaks, they will execute those plans.”
Dusan watched as Otto’s jaw clenched:
“You look shocked. But think on this: how many times has the Kaiser consulted the Council of Crusaders during his reign as Chancellor? How many times has he consulted you privately?”
The questions were purely rhetorical – Otto bade his time while Dusan continued, enjoying each blow against the Duke: “And yet you consider yourself special. You believe that when the Kaiser steps down as Chancellor, you would become King of Outremer.”
Henry interrupted definitively: “I am sorry, Otto, there's been a change of plan: it will not happen.”
Otto replied in a flat tone, trying to keep despair from his voice, "It is yours to bestow mein Kaiser and yours to take away. I did not ask for it, you offered it to me. I would ask how the Diet will react to your new autocratic approach? You are not an eastern Potentate, you must consider the Electors, you could be impeached if you defy their will."
Henry looked thoughtful. “Dusan, tell Otto what we plan for the Diet.”
Dusan straightened his shoulders and spoke with disdain: “The Diet is a bunch of old women. Divided into four petty Houses who are given a single province each to conquer and drool appreciatively over. Fools who cluck and squawk over every development and opportunity. They see nothing, understand nothing. They forget this is the Roman Empire, not the scelorotic Roman Republic of Marcellus Aemilius and Numerius Aureolus. It will operate as the dynamic Empire of Caesar and of Augustus. When the Kaiser says march, his generals will march. When he says fight, they will fight. The generals do not tell the Kaiser who to attack, when to fight. That way lies anarchy and impotence.”
Otto rose to his feet, careful to appear that he needed the cane to do so. If he was to kill Dusan, he could strike quicker from a standing position.
"This is madness!", said Otto as his gaze bored into the Kaiser, "I can't believe you, of all people, would listen to the ravings of this fool. You might have the rest of your term to run wild, but as soon as it over, they will clamp down. What of the city before us? How long will you hold it before they know you won't let it go?"
Henry smiled. “Jerusalem? This was never about Jerusalem, was it Dusan? Jerusalem is just a tool, a device to lever us free of the Diet. To ensure there will be no end of my term, to force a confrontation that will prevent the Diet from ever “clamping down” on its Kaiser.”
Rome, 1208
For the past several months, a general malaise had seemed to be settling over the Reich's capital city. This could not be attributed to anything physical; Rome had never seen better days. But despite this, the mood of its denizens had been down. As Governor of the city, Conrad Salier attributed it to an unhappy God. In his studies he had read one play by the Greeks, Oedipus Rex, where a similar, albeit deadlier, malaise fell upon the city of Thebes. Eventually it was determined that the heathen gods were dismayed at the city's ruler, Oedipus, and his previous actions. Conrad was determined that the malaise in Rome not evolve into a plague.
His advisors, those who were still Catholic yet did not believe as fervently as Conrad did, tried to convince the Governor that it was nothing, just a case of boredom. It was, after all, the first time in a while that the city was fairly safe from attack.
However, Conrad would have none of it. As if to illustrate his point, last week a murder of crows had made a nest on top of the steeple of the city's tallest church, atop a cross. When Conrad ordered the nest dismantled upon first seeing it, the crows had returned with a new nest a day later. Clearly, the Lord was displeased.
The question was, why?
Clearly, it was not his fault. While delegating perhaps a bit more responsibility than he should to his subordinates, Conrad did take part in many of the city's affairs, and continued to attend Mass regularly. He did not sin, at least, not to his knowledge. No, the source of this uneasiness had to have come from elsewhere.
"If I am not at fault, who is to blame for this?" Conrad mused aloud. "Surely not anyone else in the Four Houses, for they are all doing their duties and we are now at peace with the Pope. Perhaps it is Swabia and their preparing to destroy France, waiting for the Papal edict to run out. But no, for we have done much worse things than that and face few consequences. I do not believe that Swabia is the problem."
A messenger, clad in dusty armor, entered Conrad's study without knocking. He carried a sealed envelope with him, which Conrad did not immediately notice.
"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded. "I was busy attaining to deep spiritual matters!"
"Cry your pardon, sir, but I believe that there be bigger spiritual matters going on than you're aware of," the messenger said. "I bring this message from Outremer, from Duke Otto himself."
Conrad immediately brightened. Otto was his main source of correspondence from Outremer ever since his father, Maximillian Mandorf, had passed on. The only real bad news that he had brought back so far was the Maximillian had died.
"Thank you for the letter, Sergeant. I apologize that I was short with you earlier. Please make your way to the barracks, I'm sure that you'll be able to get a good rest after a long journey." Then man bowed and departed, leaving Conrad alone with the letter. He broke the seal and read what Duke Otto had to say with increasing horror:
1208
Count Salier,
I do not know if the news has reached you in the west, but all is not well here in Outremer. The Kaiser is a changed man, and I sense the treachery of Dusan Kolar in this matter. I wish I had more information, but I have been pushed aside and left to rot in Acre.
I fear Kolar may be pushing the Kaiser to abandon our agreement with the Church and take Jerusalem permanently. This would be folly. The Magician must be stopped, I will try, but I may fail.
We have had our disagreements, but Maximillian had always spoken of you very highly. He is gone, more the pity, but I need your help. Come what may, Bavaria will need a represenative in the Holy Land after I am gone. Someone to succeed me if I'm successful, or avenge me if I fail. I ask that you take ship to Outremer as soon as possible. You are needed in the Holy Land.
I will not command you to do this, but I hope you will.
It is God's work.
Farewell,
Otto von Kassel
So. This was the source of it all. The physical Crusade had succeeded but the spiritual one was in grave danger. With two great religious figures gone in Dietrich and Mandorf, Kaiser Henry and Duke Otto were the only two figures left in Outremer with significant influence. And apparently, the Kaiser's was fast losing his to a man in black.
Conrad, clutching only the letter, immediately departed his study and made his way towards the outskirts of the city. His time in Rome was done, one way or another. Charles Otterbach's words, once again relevant, echoed in his mind as he left the Eternal City: "There are other ways that you can be a good Servant of God aside from staying in this place and watching your life waste away for nothing." Besides, business needed to be done anyway. There was the matter of returning his father's body to Nuremburg and claiming the Holy Vorpal Sword as his own.
On the way out, he was waylaid and questioned by the Deputy Governor of Rome, who was surpervising the construction of a new church.
"My Lord, where are you going? I had no notice that you were taking leave; when will you return?"
Conrad simply smiled and waved. "You're in charge, Wilhelm. I'm going to get rid of those crows once and for all."
Outside Jerusalem, 1210
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Henry smiled. “Jerusalem? This was never about Jerusalem, was it Dusan? Jerusalem is just a tool, a device to lever us free of the Diet. To ensure there will be no end of my term, to force a confrontation that will prevent the Diet from ever “clamping down” on its Kaiser.”
Dusan looked quizzically at Henry, but the Kaiser went on:
“We will keep Jerusalem. Not because it matters, but to show that we can. Isn’t that right, Kolar?”
Dusan shuffled uncomfortably, but nodded agreement.
Otto looked sharply from the Kaiser to Kolar. The man behind the throne had been brought out into the light. By speaking for himself, and not through the Kaiser, his own ambitions and plans had been laid bare for the Court to see. Otto readied the cane and took a step toward the magician, but when he met the eyes of the Kaiser he stopped. Anger burned in them, but also awareness.
Henry continued. “One man cannot rule over a Diet of many proud independent nobles; certainly not the son of a peasant from Croatia. But with guile one man could rule over another one man, a King, and thereby rule by extension. And there is the rub. Everything Kolar has done, everything he has schemed for has been to that end – a simple power grab.”
In alarm Dusan turned and began to run. Leaping forward, Otto swung his cane upward smashing it into the magician's jaw sending him sprawling backwards. Reversing his grip, Otto drew the blade and stabbed it down through the prone man's right leg and into the dirt, pinning him to the earth.
"The Kaiser did not give you leave to go," growled Otto as the magician howled in agony.
“And what you have done to engineer that grab for power, Kolar! What a performance! How much time and thought and effort you have poured into it. Such virtuosity! When we first met in Croatia and you “foretold” my father’s death: what chutzpah! Finding the Holy Grail: was ever such a wondrous object put to such a low use! You played on my foolish beliefs – played on my superstitions, my crisis of faith and my self-doubt.”
“But, oh Kolar, you blew it at the end: enlisting my father for your cause. What were you thinking? If I opposed everything my father stood for in his life, why ever would I follow him after his death?”
Henry stopped and remembered tending to the brutalised corpse of Pope Gregory.
“Even if my father did speak to me after death, even if he commanded every spectre and demon from hell, I would throw myself on the fire before listening.”
Henry laughed sardonically. “At least then the two of us might share something, I suppose.”
Otto, kneeling over Kolar as he writhed in the dirt, looked up to the Kaiser, "What should be done with this schwein, mein Kaiser?"
“Done with him? Nothing. He can go. Send him back to Croatia, to live in his parent’s mud cottage. In the light, he has no power. Alone, he is nothing; just an insignificant charlatan. I remove him from my retinue, but I will not sully my hands with his blood.”
Otto, with a quick pull, removed his blade from the magician's leg, Kolar screamed again. Sheathing the blade, and throwing the cane aside, Otto stood and faced the Kaiser.
"What is to be done now, your Majesty? I assume you will still take Jerusalem? I can take this trash back with me to Acre and send him on the first leaky boat to Croatia."
“Oh, Otto!” exclaimed Henry, in exhaustion, clasping the Duke by the shoulders. “I am so sorry for all I have put you through. I wanted to test Dusan, to find out his intentions, to get him to show his hand. I confess I did not know if he was an agent of the devil or the talented fraud he is revealed to be now. I had to keep you distant, to push you away by petty reprimands and neglect. I sent Hans away too. If Dusan thought either of you still held my trust, your lives would have been in danger.”
“But now this affair is over, we will start afresh and do things right. You will take command of this army and lead the siege of Jerusalem. After all, as King of Outremer, it is only fitting that the honour should fall to you. I did not lie when I said there has been a change of plan – your reign as King will start now, not when I leave office as we had planned."
Otto looked downward with shock and gratitude playing across his face, "Kaiser. . .I would be honored to accept the position and to lead the attack."
"The aim of my Chancellorship has been to establish Outremer under a proper constitution. To prove to the Diet that the Kingdom works, we must run it as it will be run – with a King who is separate from Kaiser and Chancellor. You will return Jerusalem to the Papacy, as we have pledged. Me, I will head north. You will guard Acre and Jerusalem. I will see what else needs to be done in the east. Securing Damascus, perhaps? Or even attending to those horse lords I mentioned. Not everything I said was in jest.”
Otto bowed to the Kaiser.
"As you command, your Majesty. I serve you and the Reich."
Slowly Otto's mouth quirked up in a lop-sided smile and he thought the next time you want to smoke out a rat, mein Kaiser, I would appreciate a messenger.
*****
“I don’t care what the Kaiser said: if Horst is dead, so are you.” Kurt hissed at Dusan in private afterwards.
Dusan looked at the veteran warrior, the magician’s eyes dulled, whether by his disgrace or by the pain caused by Otto’s sword cane: “Relax: I was not through with him.”
Kurt smashed his mailed fist onto Dusan’s leg wound.
“You should be proud of your Teuton.” Dusan grimaced, enduring the pain stoically. “He consistently denied telling you about the chalice, whatever I did to him. The Hashashins with me swore they had never seen a man hold out so stubbornly.”
Kurt fought back the urge to strike Dusan again. “Why did you think he had anything to do with the disappearance of the chalice? That was my work – Horst was not involved!”
“Yes, that’s what he said. But he had to be lying: only he and I knew about the chalice.” Dusan mused. The light came back into pagan magician’s eyes, as he narrowed them in puzzlement: “Tell me, exactly how did you come to learn about the existence of the grail?”
Kurt looked at the wounded magician with contempt and produced a ruffled note from his pocket: “I received this note anonymously. It warned me that you were using a magical chalice to control the Kaiser.”
Dusan snatched the note and cried out in frustration. The note was in Henry's hand.
The sea, 1214
Hans leaned his arms against the massive railing of the holk that was to transport him to Constantinople. It was not going to be a friendly trip to the eastern Christian allies as one would have thought, as the city had recently fallen to the invading Magyar hordes.
Magyar. Barbarians. thought Hans. He remembered only too well his last encounter with these Barabarian turned Christian horse lovers back when he traversed their lands to join the crusade to Jerusalem. He had been travelling with only a small entourage selected by his now close assoiate Adalberth and the Hungarians managed to find their camp after a blunder one of his men made.
It cost him dearly. Even to this date, Hans remembered the young soldiers who fought to the last breath to help him fight a way through the vast lines of spears and horses and reach Byzantine territory safely. Every single one of them died, save Adalberth who was severely wounded, and Hans also took away some marks of battle. Subconsciously, Hans rubbed one of the scars that a bolt inflicted on his arm.
He knew that he couldn't keep thinking back to this grim day where he was responsible for the men he was leading and failed. He had to be optimistic, look towards the future and prepare a battle plan for the upcoming siege of Constantinople. Yet it was difficult. He would face his old foes again, this time with an army of his own, but would he succeed? He didn't know, but deep inside, he could feel a burning hatred towards these Hungarians.
They weren't fit to breathe the same air as honest Germans and one day the empire would make them its servants...one day. But until then, much would have to be done. He thought back to the days in the outremer, crusading with his father and uncles, the first victory he savored and how he felt ill afterwards spilling so much blood. It was nothing but heathen blood, he corrected himself, but he knew it was blood nonetheless, and spilling it was an offence.
Some less pious men would say that it is necessary and it was done to establish god's peace, but he was not sure whether this was true. He had left not a single survivor, not a single prisoner then, but at his second battle north of Adana, Hans had more mercy with the heathens. He actually captured over three hundred of them, yet all for naught. The Turks would not pay and he knew he could not let them live. Not after what they had done to his men. His soldiers who lost a father, brother or friend would not look kindly upon a man who lets a heathen go so he could string his bow anew and spit more venom.
He looked away when they were executed and had one of his subordinates give the order to perform the grisly work, for he could not let the dark curse Altman spoke of get the better of him. That was before the conversation at Acre. Yet even then Hans knew that being chivalrous would not be easy yet would be necessary. And now ... Hans looked over to the bear of a man to his left. Dirk Freihafen was his name. Once his father's loyal bodyguard and now his own.
Hans wondered what compelled him to join him on this quest or even for the rest of his life. The man had not spoken much and was one of few words even when spoken to. A mysterium and maybe better so. Talkative subordinates would only spell doom for their masters he noted, but could he be sure of Dirk's loyalty without knowing anything about him?
He was about to find out. "Dirk" Hans opened, getting the man's attention. "How is it you joined me?" but there came no answer, just a grimace. "And why is it that you and Altman seemed rather...spooked at the docks?" Another grimace. Hans was determined to get his answers and so he dug further, "What did you mean when you said that someone woke up with a headache after giving me this...grail?" At the mention of grail, Dirk seemed somewhat uneasy and slowly, with Hans' gaze prodding him, began to speak.
"Well, your ... highness, let's just say I had to do something necessary so the empire would not succumb to the corruption of its emperor." Hans, becoming both nervous and curious certainly was not satisfied with that answer, and inquired "And why would I not have you hung for saying such things about my father?" Dirk did not seem all too disturbed by Hans' threat, thinking that he was but a young and inexperienced man, yet replied in earnest "You know of Kolar?" Hans nodded "Altman said he was controlling the emperor and corrupting his personality to take Jerusalem for himself. The emperor has recently acted increasingly strange and improper"
Hans raised an eyebrow. That cannot be true can it? If this is true, we shall set sail and return immediately so I can see my father and slay this snake. "Nnn..no, you must not your highness, it must be taken far away from him, it must not go back!" Dirk exclaimed, showing signs of worry on his rugged face. "And why is that? Do you not know that this chalice is the holy grail the books of old tell about? How can such a holy object be abused for an act this perverse?" Hans grew restless. Could this grail really be corrupted and even change him for the worse after all he had been through? "This magician has powers my lord, only after your father had the chalice in his posession did he grow darker!"
"If that is the case, maybe we should throw it overboard now." Hans noted. "I ...I don't know if that would be wise young sir. Maybe it was only the magicians influence?" Hans had to agree. he did not know what this object was capable of and how it could be abused, but throwing a holy object of Christianity overboard certainly could be a sin Slowly Hans nodded, "Maybe...for now I shall hold onto it and see what happens, but I still do not know how it got into your posession" Dirk became somewhat embarassed at the last few words and quietly responded how he had drugged the teuton guarding the chalice using Otto's wine and stole it the very night to bring it to Acre.
Hans was surprised. How could Otto know about all this and not tell me? Am I really this unwanted as Altman said, being passed over at all times such as when Henry chose his heir or when he chose the Duke of Swabia? He had not told him too much about his ambitions either. "This story Altman spoke of, of this dark curse on the family, is it true? Am I as accursed as my father and grandfather? Am I destined to be like them? Or will I break the curse but be forgotten, passed over, ignored?" Dirk did not know what to say. In fact, he was not sure if anything he said would or could be positive and whether this young noble, who suddenly seemed much more dangerous than he had initially estimated would have his head for an inappropriate remark.
Nevertheless, he knew he had to say something, and maybe Hans would appreciate an honest opinion? "Uhh... well that was Altman who said it. I don't know much about politics but if you asked him..." "I want to know what you think." Hans quickly countered. "Well...um... I think Altman is probably right. He is much closer to the Duke of Kassel and your father than I am, and he knows many things....I mean he even planned this heist" Hans nodded again, confirmed in what he had thought. "Then maybe I will need to prove that I can both break the curse and not be forgotten", speaking more to himself than to Dirk, "maybe, if I can take Constantinople back, it is time for me to enter politics proper. May this be a test of both my faith and my fate."
~~~
Later that night, as Hans lay on his makeshift bed, he wondered to himself whether it was not his father and his legacy that was to blame but himself. Had he not alienated the other nobles by his actions? Afterall, he disobeyed his dear uncle Leopold by joining him at Budapest and 'abducting' the teutons that were supposed to escort him to his father's crusading army and then shows disloyalty towards Leopold by leaving him during the night when he had told him he would stay in the empire proper. He had also not supported Hümmel actively during the diet and voted against him as chancellor and even been more of a rogue player in Swabian politics, in an effort to stay more neutral, for better or worse. He had acted as if he was the prince and not Jobst and dreamed of becoming emperor one day, he thought. In those few years however, he had managed to alienate Leopold, his house and the crusaders, and he could feel the disdain the older men felt for him when he finally joined them, even though they were rather merry after the victory against the heathen army. Before the taking of Acre, he could feel how they had all allied against him and it was only for Otto's kindness that he was allowed to take Acre while Otto battled the hordes to the south. Maybe it was time to set things right...to atone for his young pride and hunger for adventure. Maybe...it was time he apologized and worked towards the future of the empire...not as emperor, but maybe as chancellor? It would certainly be a test of whether anyone still had some faith in him or not. But what if they don't? he prodded himself. Then I will just have to do what I feel is in the empire's best interest and be a good servant and just have to hope I do break this curse Altman spoke of. The curse. Maybe he should also write his father about it? Confront him? Hans pondered. The time for that was maybe not yet. But can I really leave this thought to plague me, to influence me and to eat away at my soul? Infused with new will, Hans jumped out of bed and walked over to the small desk. It would be a long night...
Florence 1212
Dear Father,
I enjoyed your last correspondence and I am sad to hear that you are carrying that cough from the winter. I hope your health holds so we can meet in Ragusa; it has been awhile since we last sit and talked.
I am told that things are going well with the wedding arrangements. When you told me of this proposition several years ago I thought it I thought you were crazy your son being married into the Royal Family. I hear that Meckil is a beautiful woman with grace and charm and thought she would have found a suitor long ago. I guess the Duke has his standards.
I have done considerable travel in Northern Italy since my days here at Seminary school. I know there are still some hurt feelings of me not finishing and doing my work within the church. I have learned from my travels that I can work for God outside of the church and possible have more influence then a priest in a local parish. I followed up your advice and met some of the Reich’s nobles here in Italy. One particular noble was Conrad Sailer the Governor of Rome. A very interest fellow; rather pious when I observe his mannerism at the table or in Mass he shows that of formal training but does not speak of attending any seminary school. I also learned that I will be travelling with him to Ragusa. He is an interesting conversationalist and hopefully will pass the time on that dreaded ship.
It is with regret that I did not get to Venice to meet the Count and discuss the viability of some business deals. I know this was another option I missed out on with the family business and travelling abroad trading exotic goods and wares. I do remember long back when I was very young and went with Uncle Ziggy with his caravan East. Those years spend there are still vivid with the strange customs, food and people.
This is why I felt compelled to write before our meet in case we don’t. I am truly grateful for what you have done for me and knowing that your legacy will continue. I am eager to accept this new responsibility in my life. However, my sense of adventure is still with me. I am no longer a wander looking and drifting around without purpose. I have recognized my calling and am finding the Lord’s work back in that mysterious land of the East. I know you are thinking it is time to settle; I will have a new wife and family should be the next priority. My responsibility should be at home managing the lands.
However, I feel compelled to the Kaiser’s calling and Duke Leopold is looking for Austrian nobles to fight in the East. I have learned many things in my travels and educated in some fine institutions but it is learning and not doing. I can ride a horse well but can I lead men into battle? I have studied the strategies and tactics of our military men but have not fought a battle. How can I prove to the Duke that he has a worthy son and provider for his only daughter if I cannot fight in battle? He is the greatest General in the Reich! I do not want to show that he has a son who is a good administrator managing crops and taxes. I have to be able to demonstrate that I am capable to taking arms and fighting for Reich. You have learned me a great deal in life skills and the art of war was not to your liking. I will now take on a new mentor and learn what I can to protect everything that you have believed and worked in your life. The Duke's reputation precedes him but I am not concerned. I have met meaner men within our Church!
When I get to Ragusa I will ask the Duke’s permission to be a representative for the Austrian House in the East.
I pray that your health holds so that we may meet once more.
Your Faithful and Loving son,
Karl
Letter to the Count of Zagreb from his son Karl Zirn
Thessalonica, 1212:
This is a coop story between Kagemusha and Ituralde
It was a small hill just to the north of Thessalonica, where the Duke of Austria had set up the main camp of his besieging army. The city was well-defended so with the prospect of a prolonged siege the battlements of the besiegers have also grown in size to prevent a possible counter-attack. In the middle of the camp on a small outcrop sat the largest tent by far, guarded by soldiers with messengers entering and leaving. It was clear that here all the generals and officers sat together to plan the future strategies. A little off to the right was a smaller tent, undistinguishable from the others if it hadn't been for the single guard standing outside.
It was this tent that Jonas von Mahren had been ordered to shortly after his arrival. As he entered he could see the spartan interior. Besides a cot, a stout chest and two chairs around a makeshift table the only thing of interest in the room was the man he was here to meet, Duke Leopold of Austria
Leopold looked up as the younger man entered his tent outside of Thessalonica. Putting away for the moment his thoughts about the siege and eventual assault, he raises and turns to the newcomer.
"Welcome Jonas von Mahren! I am glad you could join us here on the way back to the Reich. Sit down."
Pointing to a makeshift chair in front of the table, Leopold had been sitting at. Slowly Leopold walks to a small chest where a decanter containing wine and two cups had been placed. Filling them he walks over to the table and hands one over to von Mahren before settling in front of him. Taking a small sip from his goblet he eyes the younger man in front of him. Waiting a little he finally breaks the silence.
"I envy you Jonas von Mahren, I do. You had the honour of travelling with Dietrich von Saxony all the way to the end. He was a great man and a dear friend to me. I wonder what it was like with him on the Crusade?"
He waits a second but before the other man can respond he goes on: "But that's neither here nor there. We have no time today to reminisce about the past. I see you have returned from the Crusade safely? Much has happened since you left. Things change."
Von Mahren takes a long sip from his wine and replies.
"Mein Duke. To be honest I think it was honorable quest, but the reality of the journey wasnt what I expected when we departed from the Reich.
Truly we were successful and fought many great battles destroying the heathens that we faced, but for me personally it was a campaign among campaigns. For Dietrich, God bless him in heaven, it was some kind of meeting with destiny. I must say that Levant wasnt for my liking, filled with heathens and their strange habits. Most of the time I just waited for the time for me to get back to my family.
If I can ask sire, have you heard any news from Magdeburg about my family?"
Leopold looks questioningly: "I thought that visiting Jerusalem is supposed to be uplifting for every Christian? Well, I'm not here to discuss the spirituality of the Holy Land. I hope in time I will be able to see it for myself and make my own judgement."
"I have indeed news from your family. This is in fact the main reason for our talk today. When you left for the Crusade you were in charge of Prague and did a formidable job of defending Austria. Once you left your family decided to stay and in return for your services I have given them a fair share of Austrian land to call their own. In fact the entanglement of your family with Austria and your past achievements have led me to propose the title of Count of Prague to your eldest son Ehrhart von Mahren which would elevate him to Austrian nobility."
Leopold smiles a thin smile awaiting the mans reaction. Then he quickly raises his hand:
"Before you say anything. I have talked about this with your sons and they seemed quite willing to accept. As you know the House of Austria has grown large but is lacking nobles of suitable quality, whereas Franconia has plenty of young men at their disposal. There is ample opportunity of advancement. Your oldest sons are currently staying in Ragusa and await your word on this matter. They feel your consent is necessary and I agree with them. Choose your words wisely though, this is a great opportunity for your family and I hope you seize it.
Von Mahren mutters to himself.
"In Prague? I wonder why my wife has not mentioned that."
Then he raises his head,looks Leopold in the eyes and continues.
"It has been long since I have been home and I regret that I didnt have the opportunity to witness my sons growing up as men.
Mein Duke, if you see that my son´s have served your house so well that they have earned titles and lands. Who am I to question your judgement in that matter. I am fully aware that my boys are not children anymore and they should carve their own path in this world."
Jonas scratches his head for a moment and then continues.
"You know that I hold the title of Count of Magdeburg myself and the laws of the reich say that I can't hold titles in two Houses simultaneously. I will have to talk with my own Duke Von Kastillien, so I will know what he thinks about these matters. But basically I understand that you are in need of able young men and it seems that my sons have decided to align themselves more to Austria than to Franconia. So I will not prevent them from serving you. I hope this answer is enough for you."
Jonas takes a quick sip from his wine and continues.
"My journey on sea was a bit long and I couldn't receive any news during it. Has there been any matters of importance after I boarded my ship in Jerusalem. The only rumours I have heard have been about Kaiser Henry and that there has been some strange happenings around him. Have you received any news concerning that?
Leopold sighs deeply: "I don't know when you boarded ship, but the way I understood it, Emperor Henry seems to have recovered from whatever mood he was in. Some advisor of his has been replaced. Further than that I can't offer any information."
Leopolds lips curve in a slight smile: " But let us focus on your decision: I am glad that you will not hinder your children from advancement within the House of Austria." He raises his goblet in a toast.
"You don't need to worry about your allegiance to Franconia or your Duke. Your title as Count of Magdeburg will remain uncontested. This deal is for now limited to your children, unless you want to join Austrian Nobility too? Although this might cause even more problems with Duke von Kastillien than the current arrangement."
Von Mahren stands up, shakes Leopold´s hand and says.
"Well then it is settled. My sons will help you protecting Austria and I will continue fighting for Franconia. I hope my sons will serve you honorable and will give great prestige to the Von Mahren name."
Jonas smiles a bit and continues.
"If you will excuse me now,i would like to leave from here and travel to Prague to see my wife and children. It has been far too long since i have seen them the last time."
Leopold rises too and smiles at the younger man in front of him:
"There is actually one last favour I would have to ask you. I will be leaving on a second Crusade for Damascus and with the situation it is know, I'm the only Austrian who knows how to lead an army." He chuckles lightly as this. "I would be honoured, and I think it would only be fitting for your services, if you got command over the Austrian Household Army. You will either be joined by your sons here in Thessalonica or return to Ragusa. I find it only fitting that you should be the one to acquaintance your sons with the trade of leading an army. What do you say to this? As a last service to the House of Austria? This should give you a lot of time with your family too."
He looks at Jonas expectingly, who replies:
"Of course. I understand that there is no time to waste and you must hurry so you wont be late for the Crusade. I will take over the siege, but you of course have to understand that once the city has fallen I must leave to Franconia via Prague. I hope you best of luck on the Crusade. Give my best regards to the Kaiser and the nobles in the Levant. If this will be the last time we meet, farewell and may God be with you."
Leopold nods solemnly, taking another step forward he shakes hands with Jonas von Mahren for the last time. "And may God be with you!" Before the younger man leaves the tent again.
The road to Damascus, south of Baghdad, 1218
The riders seemed so at ease with their short mounts, it was as if they were centaurs - man and horse joined at the hip. Athalwolf Engel watched their casual movements and easy control with admiration. The horsemen in front of him appeared far more formidable than the mercenary Turcomans that the Imperials employed as mercenaries. The closest comparators Athalwolf could think of were the elite Mameluk archers. But these small men in front of him were mustering in such numbers, it was clear they were far from “elite”.
“How many armies are there?” Athalwolf asked the marsh Arab.
“Five. That we know of.” said his informer.
Athalwolf nodded - making a quick headcount of the size of the Imperial forces in Outremer. Even if the Germans were not spread over five provinces, the horse lords outnumbered them by as much as two to one. War with them would be difficult - but not impossible. Eventually, the crusade on Damascus would arrive, and Prinz Hans’ expedition would return from Constantinople. Given time, the Germans could match the horse lords.
“Five armies that have been sent here.” clarified the marsh Arab.
“Yes, I’ve heard their lands are extensive. These men, here - they are just part of their great horde?”
“The power of the horse lords cannot be exaggerated.” said the Arab. “Your Empire is the mightiest in Europe. But it is tiny compared to that of the horse lords. Their realm stretches east as far as the world extends.”
“Desert and steppe” said Athalwolf dismissively.
The marsh Arab shrugged; he was paid to provide information, not debate his employer’s prejudices.
Athalwolf turned to the one question above all that Henry wanted to know: “Where are they heading? North to Baghdad? Northeast to Edessa?”
The marsh Arab shook his head: “I do not know. They are too wily to announce their intentions. And I am too wily to ask.”
“But you suspect…?” inquired Athalwolf.
“Sir, they are marching up this desert road, yes?”
Athalwolf nodded.
“And where does this road lead?”
The Imperial spy looked uncomfortable - the Arab was making him look like an idiot. But Damascus? Why Damascus? The Reich wanted Damascus to screen Jerusalem…
Athalwolf looked in alarm at the marsh Arab. “Mother of God, they are not heading for the Holy City are they?”
The marsh Arab shrugged again. “I said - I do not know; they do not broadcast their intentions. But Jerusalem is a huge city - the largest city in the Near East until Constantinople. Your Kaiser helped see to that - sparing the multitude when he took it. And the Papacy has fed the crowd, lowering taxes in a desperate attempt to buy loyalty. The city has thrived on low taxes and pilgrims.”
“How come you know so much?” said Athalwolf, with a mixture of surprise, admiration and resentment.
“If I did not know so much, you would not pay me so well.” smiled the marsh Arab, extending his open palm to the Imperial spy.
After paying his informant, Athalwolf slipped out of the desert town and began to head back north quickly. The Reich had to know - Duke Leopold was not just racing the Spanish and the Danes for Damascus. And Henry and Otto had to know - their mission of protecting Jerusalem had just gotten a whole lot harder.
Stockholm, 1218
Prince Hakkon eyed his visitor carefully: “The Kaiser said what?”
The Prince’s guest consulted some parchment: “He said ‘I have a mind to find the young Prince and assassinate the cur instead, but no doubt father and son deserve each other’”
Hakkon bridled: “Insufferable, ignorant fool!”
To the guest, it was not clear which angered Hakkon most: Henry’s death threat; being called a dog; or the fact that the Kaiser's reference to a "young" Prince revealed he had been ignorant of 54 year old Haakon’s existence.
“Just because the Reich is so large, they believe they can do anything, say anything. And he said that in a public report to the Diet?”
“Yes, but such reports are not public - only a few of the most influential Electors are privy to those reports. I doubt your King has been informed.”
The Prince sat down. The Danish King Charles was in Antwerp, fighting a long war with the English and Scots. But even so, if the Prince’s treason were common knowledge, Haakon’s position in Stockholm would be under threat. Civil war would be the probable result.
The Prince’s guest said cautiously: “There may be a way you can remove the King. And avenge the Kaiser’s insult.”
Hakkon examined his guest watchfully: “I am listening.”
“You have loyal men in the General Harald’s crusade? Men you can trust?”
“I have loyal men everywhere.”
“Good. My associates have people with Prinz Jobst. Perhaps something can be arranged?”
*****
Swabia, 1218
They were coming - Luka Radman had to work fast. The Danish crusade was marching blind - Prince Hakkon’s men had seen to that. Likewise, Luka had diverted Prinz Jobst’s patrols. The Danish crusade was lumbering unknowingly towards the Imperial army resting peacefully at camp.
Carefully, he led his band of men - clad in red and white - towards the Imperial pickets outside the Prinz’s camp.
“Kill all but one. Let one escape. Make sure he sees you. But make his escape look genuine. How’s your Norse?”
“Not so bad.” the ruffian replied, in passable Norse.
“Good - make sure he hears you too then.” smiled Luka.
*****
Prinz Jobst could not believe it. Here he was, in the heart of the Reich, leading his Army of the Interior to hunt down rebels and suddenly, there was a hostile Danish army bearing down on him. He turned to the wounded survivor in front of him:
“You are sure the men that attacked our pickets were Danes?”
“They wore the Danish livery. And I heard one talking after they had killed everyone else. I could understand some of the words - they are common to our tongue too - but others were different. It was Norse; I’ve met Norsemen before.”
“But why?” asked the Prinz, “It makes no sense? Why would a Danish army be here? Attacking us?”
Luka spoke up: “With Duke Scherer tied up in Rheims, the entire western front is open. Anyway, with the war on France, our frontier with Danish held Antwerp has never been watched carefully.”
Prinz Jobst looked at his advisor: “That may explain the how, but not the why?”
Luka shrugged: “When a man is trying to cut your throat, do you stop and ask why?”
The Prinz nodded reluctantly. “What do we know about the Danish army?”
“They are double your strength. Your only chance is to strike fast and surprise them.”
Prinz Jobst looked at the wounded soldier in front of him: “Sound the call to arms - deploy for battle!”
*****
Stockholm
Prinz Haakon watched his guest leave. Had he gone too far? Conspire to cause a war between his country and the mighty German Reich? When the battle came, who would prevail? The Danish crusade or the Imperial Army of the Interior?
And then, how would the Germans respond? Would they take Antwerp, finishing King Charles, as his mysterious guest had promised? Or would they march north and threaten Stockholm as Haakon feared?
“May God have mercy on my soul.” thought Haakon as he gave a last look at his guest leaving the palace - a tall figure in a swirling black cloak, walking with a limp.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Western coast of Smyrna, Winter 1219
Hans had planned to disembark this year still off Constantinople so he could engage the Hungarians forces guarding it. That plan had been delayed by his father's orders to have his fleet wait off Iraklion for the merchant expedition to join his. He shook his head at this move. How could my father delay a mission of such importance only to merge these fleets? Either was large enough to not have to fear the pirates that scoured these waters and the Byzantine navy that was guarding the passages around Greece would come to our aid if someone were so bold as to attack us.
It would certainly delay his plans and he could only hope that the Byzantines were on schedule, for when he docked near Smyrna a week back, he had forged a new plan with the Imperial allies for taking back Constantinople. A cunning plan indeed.
Hans had sent messengers to spread rumors that a large Imperial fleet was about to land south of Constantinople to retake the city for Christendom, hoping to prompt the Hungarians to leave their newly acquired city in a less defended state while diverted their attention southwards to fend off the invasion force. In the meantime, the Byzantines would lurk in the mountains east of Constantinople and watch the Magyar movements, striking if everything went like plan, waiting if the Hungarians were to hold on to their city so they could engage together with Hans' force. Truly a loss-loss situation for the poor barbarians, Hans smirked, finally spotting the sails of the small merchant fleet that was to merge with his, and giving orders to sail north for Constantinople.
Shores of Constantinople, Spring 1220
It seemed quite like his plan worked out. Before his fleet even disembarked onto the coast, the lookout had called down that some Hungarian banners could be spotted on a hill overlooking the coast. Good, they seem to think they can make me turn back by showing their presence. They will be disappointed, Hans thought to himself. But this also meant that the Byzantines had probably taken Constantinople or were at least laying siege to it. Hans was not too happy about this. He had hoped to claim Constantinople and give it back to the Byzantines as a show of good faith, but this would no longer be possible. However, his allies would still be just as glad about regaining their former capital, for it was only because of Hans' plan that they achieved this. Now it would be time for Hans to keep to the second part of his plan: To drive the barbarians back into their lands for good. Although the enemy host was considerably larger and better trained, he would not show cowardice and turn back now, not after reading Leopold's letter.
OOC note: It is assumed that in 1220, Hans fleet already moved north to stop just off the coast of Constantinople near the Hungarian army.
Rome, Autumn 1220
It was a cold Autmn night in this capital of the empire, the wind howling as if in agony, taking yellow leaves with it where it went. Citizens were far and few on the streets that night, and those that were, hurried with cowls over their head from here to there.
Yet for one man, the shiver that this night ran over the backs of others was absent. Hans was oblivious to the world around him as he strode towards a small villa where he had taken up residence. The ballot seemed clear, I am now chancellor. was what went through this young man's mind as he walked. But I now also bear the responsibility of leading this empire, to prevent it from crumbling, to defend it with all costs. The taverns were filled with thirsty men and those who dared not go outside as a storm was anticipated on the horizon. The locals seem not too concerned about their fate and what is happening in our empire. All they care about is cheap wine, women, and a place to stay. Hans sighed. Sometimes I wish life was this easy too, but.... Shaking his head at his improper thoughts No. I must not lose focus now. Too much is in my hands to lead, it was my own choice to stand and now it must be me who honors the trust all these men put in me. Hans accelerated his movement at these words in his mind. But what to do first? The crusade? The conquest of France? The investigation near Staufen? The buildings? Or even the taking of Thorn? His eyes narrowed. Thorn. He wanted to retake it. Yet Franconia voted united against him. Should he leave this to the last? Show them their insolence would lead nowhere? A truly ironic name that. Like a thorn in my side. Maybe I should take it myself and gift it back to the Franconians with them begging at my feet? Hans smirked subconciously But no, I must keep to the ideals that I have been taught. It is much too easy to fall from the path of chivalry. Muttering to himself, he continued yet what of revenge? Was that acceptable? What would his father, or Leopold say if they heard him like this? Hans took a deep breath in... Henry would tell him to do what is best for the empire, as any emperor would, as he himself had taught to be like. Leopold. He would call him a coward for being so indecisive, pondering all the time and not acting....and out....Coward. He only too well remembered those words when he read them. And were they not true, in this extended meaning? Hans clenched his fists It would be upon him to prove otherwise. He would retake Thorn immediately for chivalry's sake and utterly destroy the Hungarians that pillaged their Byzantine ally's lands. And maybe make his own way to Sofia. The citadel he had once passed with only his small entourage and the Hungarians pouring out the gates to pursue him. It would only be too fitting to finally take this place to hold the borders better. But was it also for revenge? Hans stopped. He seemed to have gotten off the road home and now stood at the cathedral of Rome. Maybe it would be a good idea to pray and reconsider these thoughts, or maybe get god's blessing for them. And with this in mind, he slowly pushed open the heavy doors to the holy interior.
He was sweating heavily. The thick woolen padding prevented any crippling damage from the blunted practice blades, but it was not designed for comfort during the hot Roman summers. Lothar took a step back, away from his circling opponent, and quickly shifted the three foot arming sword to his left hand. He wiped his hand on his thigh pad, then scooped up a fistful of dirt and ground it into his palm. It took only a moment, but it was an opening he knew would not be ignored.
The tip of the man’s sword flicked out to the right, but the weight on his left foot showed his true intent. With dirt still filling his right hand, Lothar dropped the tip of his still, angling the sword across the front of his torso. His left arm was not strong enough to stop the blow, but he kept his wrist loose and stepped into the attack with his left foot, turning his body outwards at the same time. The man’s blade slid off his own with a shriek, the force of his blow carrying his arm down and across Lothar’s right side.
In the blink of an eye, the young Bavarian flipped his weapon back into his right hand and lashed out with a wicked cut. He put all of his strength into the back handed slash. The blow would have taken the man’s right arm off below the armpit, had the blade been sharpened. With his mind’s eye he saw a fountain of blood erupting from the severed limb; the shocked expression on the face of a man who did not yet understand that he was dead. At least that was what would have happened, had the man’s arm had still been there. Instead of hitting padded armor and flesh, his blade met only air.
With his sword swinging wide into empty space, it would take precious seconds to reverse the momentum and bring it back to guard his now wide-open body. Seconds he did not have. In desperation, Lothar backpedaled, but it was useless. Before he had managed half a step, he felt cool steel sliding up the right side of his throat. Even though the edge had been rounded off, the sheer speed of the thrust drew a long line of blood. He shouted in pain and dropped his sword.
The man stood up from the crouch and threw a dirty rag in his face. “Arrogance!” He spat on the ground. “What did you think you were doing?!”
Lothar clasped the cloth to his neck and breathed heavily. “Your right was open. You put in too much weight to pull back.”
“But not too much to go forward!” Adelman, weapons master to the House of Bavaria, growled. “Never move without planning for failure as well as success!” He stepped forward, his grizzled face towering over the still growing teenager, and slapped Lothar hard on the side of the head. “You did not think, dummkopf! You celebrated victory when the battle was not yet over!”
The young Steffen bit back an acidic retort. Of all his teachers, Adelman was the only one he respected, but even so it was difficult to restrain himself. Strategy, tactics, combat, these he excelled at beyond all his peers. Few adults could best him in combat, let alone war games, yet for all that there was the indisputable fact that had the battle been real, he would have less than a minute to live before he died of blood loss.
Adelman snorted. “Good, at least you’re learning when to keep your mouth shut. Go clean yourself up, we’re done for today.” Lothar bowed and left. The weapons master was low born, peasant stock, but on the practice field he outranked even a Duke. His first day of training with Adelman had been on his tenth birthday, over six years before, but he still remembered the first lesson clearly. Though he had yet to experience the flush of manhood, Lothar had stood at the edge of the field and ordered Adelman to kneel. He had been rewarded with a laugh and a boot to the chest. The Bavarian weapons master had stood over him, his eyes cold and disparaging. “On this field, nobility is earned, not inherited. You will bow to me at the beginning and end of every lesson. Until you can best me in combat, you are not worthy of respect.” Six years later, Lothar was still bowing.
He left the practice field in a foul mood and stalked the dark halls of the manor. It was a cavernous place, built for a corrupt Milanese Cardinal who had decorated it with paintings and friezes of the most appalling nature. The grand bedroom had been adorned with a disturbingly large number of scenes of the Virgin Mary, nude. His father had stripped the place bare and replaced all religious scenes with dark tapestries and captured weapons and armor. There were rumors that one particular sword, hung over Gerhard’s bed, was the very weapon Pope Gregory had wielded in his final battle with Kaiser Heinrich.
A few servants approached him in the hallway, but the sneer on his face kept them at bay. It was with relief when he finally reached his bed chamber and shut the door behind him. I am the eldest son of the Steward of Bavaria. My father leads the greatest House in the Reich and rode with Kaiser Heinrich in his war against Pope Gregory. By the time I was thirteen, I already knew more about combat and military command than most nobles will ever hope to understand in their entire lives. Yet none of them take me seriously. The Diet disregards me; they laugh at me. They think I am a child still.
His eyes were drawn to a shape resting on the corner of his writing desk. It was a large bundle, wrapped in rough burlap and tied with twine. Lothar loosened the knot and opened the package. Inside was a smooth, folded cloth; black as pitch and soft as silk. As he lifted it, the layers opened to reveal a thick, body-length cloak with a cavernous hood. On the inside of the cowl was a small red marking, no larger than his thumbnail. When worn, it would be invisible to all, pressed against the back of his head. He raised the mark to the light and gazed at it. In small, exquisitely embroidered stitching was an all-seeing eye.
I am not a child any longer.