Stories thread - King of the Romans PBM

[GeneralHankerchief]

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.

[OverKnight]

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.

[econ21]

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.

[GeneralHankerchief]

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:

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.

"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."

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.

[OverKnight]

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

[flyd]

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.

[Warluster]

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.