Prince of Peace (edited) by Faeelin
- Thread starter G.Bone
- Start date
Faeelin
Banned
Many of you have been wondering what’s been going on in Outremer. Today I will attempt to answer that.
After the defeat of Saphadin, or Al-Adil as Saladin’s brother is properly known, the Ayyubid empire simply broke down. While Saladin’s son, Al-Afdal, managed to regain control of Damascus, with Egypt taken the Empire was destroyed.
Fortunately, the Christians of the levant were occupied with subduing Egypt, and lacked anywhere near the capability required to march on Damascus and Baghdad. This is just as well, for in 1224 Khwarazmians fleeing from the Mongols attacked and captured Damascus [206].
Of course, it’s worth noting that the Christians are severely overstretched as well. Egypt, after all, is home to several million people, and the only way to ensure the compliance of the Muslim inhabitants is to guarantee to respect their religion. As in Spain during the reconquista, many governors and important officials for the Kings of Egypt are in fact Muslim, and the Lusignans, as in OTL, are dear friends of the Assassins.
One item that is very important to keep in mind is the effect that the canal through Egypt has on trade. Perversely, it actually weakens the states of outremer, by diverting trade that would have passed through Acre to Damietta and Alexandria. The effect, over time, has been for Egypt to dominate the rest of the Levant.
The addition of Egypt to the European economy has other effects, as well; sugar is grown extensively in Egypt, as is cotton; and by 1240 sugar is as common as other spices in the household of any well to do Christian.
Egypt, like the rest of Outremer, is a demographic mess. A sprinkling of Franks rules Egypt, of course, but there is a substantial Copt population, as well as a few Greeks along the coast. While Saladin and his successors had attempted to suppress the Shi’a heresy that had flourished under the Fatimids, they had only ruled Egypt for two decades; and the Franks had no problem encouraging Shi’a against Sunni.
“Only in Egypt,” as a writer would later say, “would a man whose ancestors came from southern France be known as Baesilus, malik, and king.” Even the Druze are present, as the Christians have no qualms about encouraging them.
Fortunately for that man, Egypt was stupendously wealthy, and it was only natural that Henry VI’s son Constantine would marry his daughter Maria to Louis I of Egypt. Unfortunately for Constantine, he failed to have any sons, and the crown of Jerusalem passed to the Lusignans.
The conglomeration that the Lusignans ruled would be called by future historian the “Egyptian Empire”, but if Louis saw it as an empire he gave no sign of it, and neither did his subjects. As the lawyers of the Kingdom of Jerusalem argued, the subjects of the King of Jerusalem had no duty to defend the subjects of the King of Egypt[207].
What is important in the Kingdom of Egypt is the fact that ever since the reign of the first Christian king, there have been a very active estates. The King was appointed by a pope that many later considered to be a heretic, and when faced with an ambivalent (at best) attitude from the Staufen monarchs, it was important for the Lusignans to secure their throne. Therefore the kings listened to council and advice from their Christian subjects, and also their Muslim ones. Muslims in Egypt also send delegates to meetings of the Estates when the king summons them, something that is noticed by writers such as Ibn Ammar.
Intermarriage is surprisingly common, as the Franks increasingly settle down with Arab women [208], and the offspring of such illegitimate relationships are known as poulains. While these marriages rarely occurred in the upper echelons of the nobility, they were common among the bourgeois. Even the Kingdom’s armies were a mixed force, with Maronites serving as valuable archers.
And, of course, there are the Italians. On the Plains of Tyre Venice alone owned 80 villages by 1240, and a quarter of Alexandria belonged to Pisa. Damascene metalwork, Syrian glassware, and furs from the Caucasus all made their way to the markets of Syria, and Egypt is the center of all European trade with the Orient.
This is the Outremer, as of 1240. Prosperous, relatively peaceful, and united under the wise rule of the Lusignan Kings.
Or at least, that was the case until the invasions of the 2nd half of the 13th century. But that, as they say, is another story.
[206] This is a marked change from OTL, in which they attacked the city but failed to take it.
[207] Jerusalem’s laws are perverse. Because legal records were destroyed when Saladin took Jerusalem in 1187, the lawyers actually argue over what the laws probably said.
[208] Of course, there are a few marriages occurring between Christians and Muslims as well, as occurred in OTL’s Kingdom of Jerusalem.
After the defeat of Saphadin, or Al-Adil as Saladin’s brother is properly known, the Ayyubid empire simply broke down. While Saladin’s son, Al-Afdal, managed to regain control of Damascus, with Egypt taken the Empire was destroyed.
Fortunately, the Christians of the levant were occupied with subduing Egypt, and lacked anywhere near the capability required to march on Damascus and Baghdad. This is just as well, for in 1224 Khwarazmians fleeing from the Mongols attacked and captured Damascus [206].
Of course, it’s worth noting that the Christians are severely overstretched as well. Egypt, after all, is home to several million people, and the only way to ensure the compliance of the Muslim inhabitants is to guarantee to respect their religion. As in Spain during the reconquista, many governors and important officials for the Kings of Egypt are in fact Muslim, and the Lusignans, as in OTL, are dear friends of the Assassins.
One item that is very important to keep in mind is the effect that the canal through Egypt has on trade. Perversely, it actually weakens the states of outremer, by diverting trade that would have passed through Acre to Damietta and Alexandria. The effect, over time, has been for Egypt to dominate the rest of the Levant.
The addition of Egypt to the European economy has other effects, as well; sugar is grown extensively in Egypt, as is cotton; and by 1240 sugar is as common as other spices in the household of any well to do Christian.
Egypt, like the rest of Outremer, is a demographic mess. A sprinkling of Franks rules Egypt, of course, but there is a substantial Copt population, as well as a few Greeks along the coast. While Saladin and his successors had attempted to suppress the Shi’a heresy that had flourished under the Fatimids, they had only ruled Egypt for two decades; and the Franks had no problem encouraging Shi’a against Sunni.
“Only in Egypt,” as a writer would later say, “would a man whose ancestors came from southern France be known as Baesilus, malik, and king.” Even the Druze are present, as the Christians have no qualms about encouraging them.
Fortunately for that man, Egypt was stupendously wealthy, and it was only natural that Henry VI’s son Constantine would marry his daughter Maria to Louis I of Egypt. Unfortunately for Constantine, he failed to have any sons, and the crown of Jerusalem passed to the Lusignans.
The conglomeration that the Lusignans ruled would be called by future historian the “Egyptian Empire”, but if Louis saw it as an empire he gave no sign of it, and neither did his subjects. As the lawyers of the Kingdom of Jerusalem argued, the subjects of the King of Jerusalem had no duty to defend the subjects of the King of Egypt[207].
What is important in the Kingdom of Egypt is the fact that ever since the reign of the first Christian king, there have been a very active estates. The King was appointed by a pope that many later considered to be a heretic, and when faced with an ambivalent (at best) attitude from the Staufen monarchs, it was important for the Lusignans to secure their throne. Therefore the kings listened to council and advice from their Christian subjects, and also their Muslim ones. Muslims in Egypt also send delegates to meetings of the Estates when the king summons them, something that is noticed by writers such as Ibn Ammar.
Intermarriage is surprisingly common, as the Franks increasingly settle down with Arab women [208], and the offspring of such illegitimate relationships are known as poulains. While these marriages rarely occurred in the upper echelons of the nobility, they were common among the bourgeois. Even the Kingdom’s armies were a mixed force, with Maronites serving as valuable archers.
And, of course, there are the Italians. On the Plains of Tyre Venice alone owned 80 villages by 1240, and a quarter of Alexandria belonged to Pisa. Damascene metalwork, Syrian glassware, and furs from the Caucasus all made their way to the markets of Syria, and Egypt is the center of all European trade with the Orient.
This is the Outremer, as of 1240. Prosperous, relatively peaceful, and united under the wise rule of the Lusignan Kings.
Or at least, that was the case until the invasions of the 2nd half of the 13th century. But that, as they say, is another story.
[206] This is a marked change from OTL, in which they attacked the city but failed to take it.
[207] Jerusalem’s laws are perverse. Because legal records were destroyed when Saladin took Jerusalem in 1187, the lawyers actually argue over what the laws probably said.
[208] Of course, there are a few marriages occurring between Christians and Muslims as well, as occurred in OTL’s Kingdom of Jerusalem.
Faeelin
Banned
Alright, guys, the Prince of Peace is essentially finished. After much thought, I've decided that Frederick II was the most important aspect of the timeline, and it would cheapen the timeline to continue it.
I will post epilogues for any places or characters you have questions on, of course.
Without further ado, the epilogue for Ibn Ammar.
Cuba, November 1270
Ibn Ammar looked over the deck of the ship, at the land in front of him. He thanked God that he had lived to see Al-Gharb [1]. He peered at the natives, who were standing on the shoreline in awe of his ship, and looked at their red skin. This was the land that they were calling as-Sin, China. He smiled as he looked at the growing town that had been founded three years ago.
Ibn Ammar thought about what he knew of China. It was supposed to be a vast and rich land, populated by people beyond number. Somehow, every Muslim traveler had neglected to mention the fact that the as-Sinuyyin lived in greater poverty than the Firanji.
No, thought Ibn Ammar, as he surveyed the jungles. This was not China. “This is,” he said to himself, “a new world.”
Ibn Ammar smiled, despite himself. God had willed that the Firanji conquer Egypt and the Coast[1]. But he had given the Faithful a new world, away from the Firanji. A place where impotent caliphs and decadent emirs did not betray the Faithful, leaving them at the mercy of the Firanji. A place where man could live as God intended.
He had heard the rumors of idolators on a mainland to the west; humans ruled by Shaitan who sacrificed men to demons. Already warriors of the Faithful had seized several of their cities, and brought the word of God to the infidels.
That the warriors of God had taken much booty, and discovered new medicines such as cocoa, was also good.
Ibn Ammar stepped off of the boat and onto the docks of the city of Al-Kiba, content. Only God knew what the future would bring. But he, Ibn Ammar of Egypt, felt, for first time in decades, that it would be a good one.
[1] The Muslim name for the Caribbean islands. Although it’s also called China, depending on how stubborn a reader is.
[2] Outremer.
I will post epilogues for any places or characters you have questions on, of course.
Without further ado, the epilogue for Ibn Ammar.
Cuba, November 1270
Ibn Ammar looked over the deck of the ship, at the land in front of him. He thanked God that he had lived to see Al-Gharb [1]. He peered at the natives, who were standing on the shoreline in awe of his ship, and looked at their red skin. This was the land that they were calling as-Sin, China. He smiled as he looked at the growing town that had been founded three years ago.
Ibn Ammar thought about what he knew of China. It was supposed to be a vast and rich land, populated by people beyond number. Somehow, every Muslim traveler had neglected to mention the fact that the as-Sinuyyin lived in greater poverty than the Firanji.
No, thought Ibn Ammar, as he surveyed the jungles. This was not China. “This is,” he said to himself, “a new world.”
Ibn Ammar smiled, despite himself. God had willed that the Firanji conquer Egypt and the Coast[1]. But he had given the Faithful a new world, away from the Firanji. A place where impotent caliphs and decadent emirs did not betray the Faithful, leaving them at the mercy of the Firanji. A place where man could live as God intended.
He had heard the rumors of idolators on a mainland to the west; humans ruled by Shaitan who sacrificed men to demons. Already warriors of the Faithful had seized several of their cities, and brought the word of God to the infidels.
That the warriors of God had taken much booty, and discovered new medicines such as cocoa, was also good.
Ibn Ammar stepped off of the boat and onto the docks of the city of Al-Kiba, content. Only God knew what the future would bring. But he, Ibn Ammar of Egypt, felt, for first time in decades, that it would be a good one.
[1] The Muslim name for the Caribbean islands. Although it’s also called China, depending on how stubborn a reader is.
[2] Outremer.
…. huh… All good things most come to an end, I suppose. It was a good timeline while it lasted, and I hope to see a new TL by you in the future!Faeelin said:
It's a shame, Faeelin, but I see your point! The Prince of Peace was a very, very good ATL, though! Jolly good show, I'd say!Faeelin said:
Btw are you the same Faeelin that has posted the Weltacse AAR, I think it's called, over at Paradox?!
Best regards!
- B.
Faeelin
Banned
Hersfeld, Germany 1274
Ulrich Von Hutten was, like many people, interested in the history of the Roman Empire.
Ulrich Von Hutten sighed as he listened to the monks prattle on. “Yes, yes, I know you have Roman works here. But do you have the one I wrote you about?”
The monk scowled, angry at being interrupted. “Are you sure that you wouldn’t rather view our copies of St. Augustine’s works?”
“Quite,” replied Ulrich. “It is the work about the Germans that interests me.”
The monk rolled his eyes, as if he could not imagine why some one would prefer a pagan Roman’s description of pagan barbarians to St. Augustine’s wish. “If that is what you wish,” said the monk. “I will show you the works of Tacitus.”
Unfortunately, the legacy of Rome can only do so much against the rising tide of nationalism in much of medieval Europe. The rediscovery of Tacitus and his works on the Germans, at the end of the 13th century, helped to inspire the emerging sense of German nationalism[4]. Germans would view the Germans of the past had been a poor, free, and honest people, and were convinced that there had been Christian Germans when the Romans were still sacrificing to Jupiter and other pagan gods. God had rewarded the Germans by giving them mastery over Europe; something that would return to them again, in due time.
Constantinople, November 1242
Michael Kiontes Commenius listened to the words of the ambassador from Genoa. “You wish for your merchants to receive the same rights within the Empire as the Lombards. But you offer nothing of equal value for the Empire.”
The ambassador from Genoa smiled, and gestured to servants, who pulled a cloth off of a gift the Genovese were to present to the Emperor. It was a magnificent ruby, as large as a man’s fist. It was a brilliant crimson color, and several courtiers gasped at the sight of it.
“Surely,” observed Michael, “that is the largest ruby ever found by man.”
“We give this as an offering to you,” said the ambassador. “As a token of our affection for you.”
The Emperor shook his head. “I think,” he said smirking, “you had best return to Genoa with your offering. If you think you can buy the right to trade within the Roman Empire with baubles, and act like I’m a whore you find on a street, you are sorely mistaken.”
The ambassador hesitated, and tried a different argument. “Your predecessor would have taken the gift.”
Michael smiled, despite the memories it brought. “Perhaps, although I have my doubts. But remain in Constantinople; enjoy the city’s marvels. I will think upon your request, in the meantime.”
As Michael watched the senator depart, he could not help but marvel at how fortune had turned. Alexander’s invasion of Italy had failed, as he’d predicted; and when it was time to defend the Empire from an Italian counterattack, he had taken control of the navy. As often happened to victorious generals, he had become emperor.
Michael, however, had taken the mantle of Emperor as a duty and not as a reward; and served the Roman people as best he could. Even Kaiserin Elisabeth had been forced to conceded that “The Greeks were lucky to have a philosopher for an emperor.”
Michael Kiontes would discuss the commercial agreement with Genoa at the next session of the senate, and would, based on their opinion, approve it. But his reign would be witness to so much more, as he brought the Mongols of the Ukraine into the orbit of Byzantium, assimilated the Turks into the Empire, and brought the Empire, for the first time in decades, peace.
It is worth noting that when Constantinople fell in a civil war to the Most Christian House of Osman in 1453, the new Baesilus, as he entered the Imperial Palace, quoted the Dialogues of Michael Kiontes.
“And as good Christians, should we not seek to follow the example of those who are virtuous, and spurn following those who are sinful?”
Nuremberg, March 1246
“I still say,” said Rudolf through a false grin, “that this isn’t worth it.”
“Come now,” replied Elisabeth beside her Emperor, as the two walked into the Reichstag together. “We needed the burghers support against the Wittelsbachs. Better to give up some of the rights of the Emperor than to give up the Empire.”
Rudolf fell silent, and thought about what his wife had said. She was right, of course. But that didn’t mean that he had to be happy that he’d signed the Grand Ordinance.
“There’s no reason to worry,” he said at last. Together, the Kaiserin and her husband walked into the Reichstag, ready to listen to the demands of an empire. “Our children will find a way around it. After all, who would dare oppose the rights of emperors?”
Smiling, Rudolf and Elisabeth Hapsburg, rulers of the Holy Roman Empire, walked forward to face their subjects.
The Grand Ordinance was undoubtedly one of the key documents in the history of Germany. Written in Low German rather than Latin, as if to emphasize who the document represented, it forced the Emperor, as King of Germany, to recognize certain rights held by the burghers of Germany. The Reichstag could assemble periodically at its own volition; a Council of Thirty-six, twelve from the nobles, twelve from the clergy, and twelve from the burghers, was to advice the crown. And, most importantly, no new taxes could be levied by the crown without the consent of the Reichstag.
There would be struggles, of course, over what the Grand Ordnance meant. But the Empire would survive, until the Age of Revolutions swept it, and almost all the monarchies of Europe, away.
Paris, March 1243
It had taken years to get the contenders for the throne of France to come together in one location; none of them trusted one another, and each had been counting on support from another of Europe’s monarchs to assist them. But the Staufens were barely mainting their throne in Germany and Italy, and the chaos in France suited the monarchs of France fine.
It had been the Count of Flanders who had, in the end, proposed a simple solution. The Capetians had been chosen to be the kings of France by an election; why, proposed the Count, could the peers of France not hold another one?
So, after much wrangling over which lords could vote, whether or not being a member of a heresy such as the Waldensians or Franciscans excluded one from voting, and where exactly the election could be held, the great nobles of France had come to Paris, with small armies in tow.
The election could be held, and now the main candidates sat expectantly as they waited for the Count of Flanders to announce the winner.
The Count looked around the room. There was the Capetian boy, Phillip, ready to be a 2nd Charlemagne. The Count of Dreux stood there impassive, not giving away anything. And the Count of Champagne, the last of the great lords who claimed the throne, sat there with a flushed face and acted as if he’d drunk too much of the wine which made his county famous.
“Are we ready or not?” demanded the Count of Champagne. “Who won?”
The Count of Flanders repressed the urge to laugh. “As far as I can tell, Phillip received four tenths of the votes. The Count of Dreux received three tenths, as did the Count of Champagne.”
Phillip smiled. “It is so good to see that my loyal vassals recognize my rights. I, Phillip, King of France, do hereby declare that-“
Phillip was cut off by the Count of Dreux. “Wait a minute here,” he said. “I challenge the validity of this election.”
“What?” said Phillip. “On what grounds?”
The Count of Champagne also protested, slurring his words as he did so. “Rigged!” he said. “The electors were bribed!”
”By you, maybe,” said Phillip. “But how dare you accuse me of interfering in a holy process to confirm that I am your lawful sovereign?”
“How can we trust you?” demanded the Count of Dreux. “Everyone knows you’re in bed with the damned Waldensians. I’d sooner trust a Saracen than you.” The Count reached for his sword, before realizing that it was not there. “I refuse to recognize the results of this election, and you can be sure that none of my supporters will either!”
“Same here!” said the Count of Champagne, who staggered out of his chair. “In fact,” he said, “I demand a recount!”
Phillip drummed his fingers on the table. “You jest.”
“No more than usual,” replied the Count of Champagne. With that, he left the room.
Phillip soon followed after, swearing that the election had merely confirmed what everyone already knew, and that even without it he was the lawful sovereign of France.
The Count of Flanders, who remained behind, thought. The war was going to continue, until God chose to call the contenders to him.
The Count finished off a pitcher of wine as he sat there alone. There were worse things, for a count such as him, than weak and quarreling kings.
Poor France, so far from God, so close to everyone. The interregnum would last until the 1270’s, irreparably damaging the monarchy in France. In Aquitaine would emerge great and free cities, which fought their lords for privileges and won. Normandy and Champagne would remain independent principalities, and the Count of Flanders would, in 14th century, become the lord of much of northern and eastern France. France would spend the next few centuries as a battleground for the armies of the powers of Europe, ravaged by the English, the Germans, the Aragonese, and the Castillians. The crown of France would eventually pass to the Counts of Flanders, but it would in truth be almost worthless.
But, of course, no other outcome could have been possible for France.
Karakorum, March 1243
A world away from The Holy Roman Empire, another emperor was dying. He ruled an Empire that stretched from Persia to China, from Russia to the Himalayas.
His name was Ogedei.
It was he who had sent forth the great armies to the west, but he had not ruled the Empire. Ever since the death of his son Kochu 7 years ago, his court knew, he had been a broken man. He had drunk himself into oblivion, and when he died in the Christian year of 1243, few were surprised. It was just ago, thought many. He was the fool who had listened to Batu about invading the Western lands instead of focusing on China, and all that had gotten them was thousands of dead Mongols.
In truth, the Mongols had begun quarreling over the succession before the sweetmeats from Ogedei’s funeral were cold.
There were three candidates for succession. The first was his son Kaidan, who was still fighting in the west. But Kadan was the son of a concubine, and many were leery of appointing a man who had served in that ill-fated invasion as their sovereign. (And, of course, kadan was dead, but no one in Karaokum knew that immediately) The second candidate was Kuyuk, Ogedei’s son by his wife Toregene. But Kuyuk was disliked even by his father, and only his mother supported him. Therefore Ogedei had chosen his grandson Siremun, son of Ogedei’s favorite son Kochu.
However, the new sovereign must be approved in an election, and as regent Toregene was in a position to throw the election to her son Kuyuk. She had been appointing servants in the Imperial household who were favorites of hers, and the councilors of Ogedei had been replaced, in the last few years, with Muslim supporters of Toregene [5]. The reaction on the part of Batu and Kaidan, who were still fighting in the west, was of course far from amused.
Eastern Europe, April 1243
Why, wondered Batu, did God hate him? What had he ever done to make them oppose him so?
First, the disasters in Romania [6]. Then the war in Europe. He’d lost thousands of men with little plunder to show for it. And now this.
“So,” he said at last. “Toregene demands that I return to Karakorum?” He closed his eyes. “And she wants to withdraw the tumens?”
The messenger spat into the dirt. “Such as remain, after you buggered the invasion of the Franks.”
Batu glared at the messenger. Mongols usually spoke their mind, but such insolence from a messenger only meant that he was not held in high esteem back in Karakorum.
Batu thought for a moment. Something inside of Batu, son of Jochi, snapped. “Very well,” he said at last.
He would go to the election. And he show them all that one did not insult the grandson of Ghengis Khan in such a manner.
Mongolia, July 1243
Sirumen, son of Kochu, thought as Batu’s words sunk in. He looked at the steppes in front of them, endless as the sky. Somewhere to the east of them lay Karakorum. “You ask me to betray my own family.”
Batu smirked. “I do no such thing. I ask you think on what Temujin would have wanted.”
The Mongol Empire would undergo a disastrous civil war, in the 1250’s, with Persia breaking away from the rule of Karakorum and Orda setting up an independent, Christian state in Kiev. With the civil war and the thousands of soldiers who had died in Europe, it was ineveitable that the tide of the Mongol Empire would begin to ebb in the 1270’s, and the long nightmare that had engulfed much of Eurasia began to end.
Singapura, July 1273
Marco Polo took a sip of tea as he listened to a Chinese merchant, Shang. “A hundred augustales for this silk?” He felt some of the purple silk that the Chinese merchant had brought. “Do you wish for my children to starve? If I bought silk at a price like that, I would surely go bankrupt!”
“What?” replied the Chinese merchant in an Italian Chinese pidgin. “I risk my life to sail here, bringing you this silk, and you complain about the price! Surely you must think I’m drunk on rice wine, if you think I would accept less than 90 augustales.”
The two of them settled the deal at 85 augustales, as Marco Polo suspected they would. “Tell me,” he said over tea, “what’s the news from China? I heard that you had trouble with the Tartars.”
Shang snorted. “A bit, yes. But they’re barbarians from the steppes; and they tried fighting like that, too. It might work in Northern China, but when you try that south of the Yellow River you’re asking for sickness. Their army has been devastated, and last I heard they were retreating.”
Marco Polo smiled. “Thank God,” he said. He called for his servant, who came back with some wine from Italy. “News like that deserves something better than tea to celebrate it,” he said. “I’d hate to imagine what it would be like to have to work with the Tartars.”
Nuremberg, Year 40 of the Republic (1750)
Hugh Blair walked through the palace of the Kaisers, snapping photos as he walked. He had gotten to the palace right after it had opened, so he could have a few precious moments alone in its vast halls before the hordes of tourists arrived.
Hugh paced down the hallway, past portraits of battles in France, in Poland, the English Channel, and from Algarve [7], where the Kaiser’s armies had helped Avalon gain independence.
Did Phillip imagine, thought Hugh, that within a decade of his victory against Britannia he’d be facing a revolution at home?
Hugh shook his head, and collected his thoughts. If he wanted to see the throne room before it was mobbed, he would have to hurry. Hugh almost ran down the hallways, past a few of the palace’s staff members.
He walked into the throne room just as it was opening, and froze. The sun was gleaming through the stained glass windows, lighting the phoenix of Hapsburg heraldry with a fiery red. He was almost afraid to take a picture, as if it would mar the sight.
“Impressive, is it not?” came a voice behind him in accented German. He turned and saw an attractive woman standing beside him. She looked vaguely Mediterranean, but somehow difference. “We have nothing like this, in Al-Sharq.” She seemed almost wistful as she spoke. “It’s hard to believe that that glass has existed longer than my country.”
Hugh nodded. “I know exactly what you mean,” he said as he switched to Arabic. “I’m from Avalon, myself.” He smiled.
“It makes you wonder,” said the woman. “What would the man who made that window have thought, if he could see us now?”
Hugh smiled. “I suspect he would be happy that we’re still admiring his work, five hundred years later.”
The woman grinned. “You have a point,” she said. “My name is Malinche, by the way.”
Hugh introduced himself in turn. “I must admit, my interest tends more towards the last Staufen emperor, who came before that window.” He waited, curious to see if Malinche knew who he was talking about.
She did, which earned her a few points in Hugh’s opinion. “Ah, the Stupor Mundi.” She nodded. “Yes, I can see why you would be interested in Frederick II. A fascinating man, really.”
“He lived in interesting times,” said Hugh. “He was a great and terrible man.”
Malinche searched for the words. “We shall not see his like again. Wasn’t that what one of his comrades said, after he died?”
Hugh wasn’t quite sure, but wasn’t willing to admit it. “I believe so, yes. Do you not agree?’
Malinche shrugged. “You will find such men no matter when you live. Umar, Al-Rahman, of if you’d prefer to take some more traditional choices, Caesar, Wallenstein, and Charlemagne.” Malinche smiled. “Or, as the example of Eleanor, Elisabeth, and Khadija showed us, women.”
Hugh nodded genially. “Of course,” he said. He hesitated for a moment, and then asked Malinche a question. “Later today, I plan on visiting the tomb of the First Consul. Would you like to join me?”
Malinche smiled. “I’m leaving tomorrow, but yes, I would like to.” She looked around the throne room at the tourists that were streaming in. “It’s getting a bit crowded in here, and I haven’t had breakfast yet. Would you care to join me for something?”
Together, the two of them walked out of the throne room of the Caesars, and looked to see what other marvels they might find.
[4] Nationalism of a kind, anyway. It tends to view the inhabitants of the Kingdom of Burgundy as being Germans, as well as Italians (Lombards, after all). It’s more noteworthy for who it doesn’t consider to be German, which are the Greeks.
[5] With Ogedei dying a few years before OTL, Tugerene is in a stronger position than she was historically, or so it seems. But she also has a very angry Batu to deal with.
[6] Anatolia
[7] The Americas, as they’re known in Europe.
Ulrich Von Hutten was, like many people, interested in the history of the Roman Empire.
Ulrich Von Hutten sighed as he listened to the monks prattle on. “Yes, yes, I know you have Roman works here. But do you have the one I wrote you about?”
The monk scowled, angry at being interrupted. “Are you sure that you wouldn’t rather view our copies of St. Augustine’s works?”
“Quite,” replied Ulrich. “It is the work about the Germans that interests me.”
The monk rolled his eyes, as if he could not imagine why some one would prefer a pagan Roman’s description of pagan barbarians to St. Augustine’s wish. “If that is what you wish,” said the monk. “I will show you the works of Tacitus.”
Unfortunately, the legacy of Rome can only do so much against the rising tide of nationalism in much of medieval Europe. The rediscovery of Tacitus and his works on the Germans, at the end of the 13th century, helped to inspire the emerging sense of German nationalism[4]. Germans would view the Germans of the past had been a poor, free, and honest people, and were convinced that there had been Christian Germans when the Romans were still sacrificing to Jupiter and other pagan gods. God had rewarded the Germans by giving them mastery over Europe; something that would return to them again, in due time.
Constantinople, November 1242
Michael Kiontes Commenius listened to the words of the ambassador from Genoa. “You wish for your merchants to receive the same rights within the Empire as the Lombards. But you offer nothing of equal value for the Empire.”
The ambassador from Genoa smiled, and gestured to servants, who pulled a cloth off of a gift the Genovese were to present to the Emperor. It was a magnificent ruby, as large as a man’s fist. It was a brilliant crimson color, and several courtiers gasped at the sight of it.
“Surely,” observed Michael, “that is the largest ruby ever found by man.”
“We give this as an offering to you,” said the ambassador. “As a token of our affection for you.”
The Emperor shook his head. “I think,” he said smirking, “you had best return to Genoa with your offering. If you think you can buy the right to trade within the Roman Empire with baubles, and act like I’m a whore you find on a street, you are sorely mistaken.”
The ambassador hesitated, and tried a different argument. “Your predecessor would have taken the gift.”
Michael smiled, despite the memories it brought. “Perhaps, although I have my doubts. But remain in Constantinople; enjoy the city’s marvels. I will think upon your request, in the meantime.”
As Michael watched the senator depart, he could not help but marvel at how fortune had turned. Alexander’s invasion of Italy had failed, as he’d predicted; and when it was time to defend the Empire from an Italian counterattack, he had taken control of the navy. As often happened to victorious generals, he had become emperor.
Michael, however, had taken the mantle of Emperor as a duty and not as a reward; and served the Roman people as best he could. Even Kaiserin Elisabeth had been forced to conceded that “The Greeks were lucky to have a philosopher for an emperor.”
Michael Kiontes would discuss the commercial agreement with Genoa at the next session of the senate, and would, based on their opinion, approve it. But his reign would be witness to so much more, as he brought the Mongols of the Ukraine into the orbit of Byzantium, assimilated the Turks into the Empire, and brought the Empire, for the first time in decades, peace.
It is worth noting that when Constantinople fell in a civil war to the Most Christian House of Osman in 1453, the new Baesilus, as he entered the Imperial Palace, quoted the Dialogues of Michael Kiontes.
“And as good Christians, should we not seek to follow the example of those who are virtuous, and spurn following those who are sinful?”
Nuremberg, March 1246
“I still say,” said Rudolf through a false grin, “that this isn’t worth it.”
“Come now,” replied Elisabeth beside her Emperor, as the two walked into the Reichstag together. “We needed the burghers support against the Wittelsbachs. Better to give up some of the rights of the Emperor than to give up the Empire.”
Rudolf fell silent, and thought about what his wife had said. She was right, of course. But that didn’t mean that he had to be happy that he’d signed the Grand Ordinance.
“There’s no reason to worry,” he said at last. Together, the Kaiserin and her husband walked into the Reichstag, ready to listen to the demands of an empire. “Our children will find a way around it. After all, who would dare oppose the rights of emperors?”
Smiling, Rudolf and Elisabeth Hapsburg, rulers of the Holy Roman Empire, walked forward to face their subjects.
The Grand Ordinance was undoubtedly one of the key documents in the history of Germany. Written in Low German rather than Latin, as if to emphasize who the document represented, it forced the Emperor, as King of Germany, to recognize certain rights held by the burghers of Germany. The Reichstag could assemble periodically at its own volition; a Council of Thirty-six, twelve from the nobles, twelve from the clergy, and twelve from the burghers, was to advice the crown. And, most importantly, no new taxes could be levied by the crown without the consent of the Reichstag.
There would be struggles, of course, over what the Grand Ordnance meant. But the Empire would survive, until the Age of Revolutions swept it, and almost all the monarchies of Europe, away.
Paris, March 1243
It had taken years to get the contenders for the throne of France to come together in one location; none of them trusted one another, and each had been counting on support from another of Europe’s monarchs to assist them. But the Staufens were barely mainting their throne in Germany and Italy, and the chaos in France suited the monarchs of France fine.
It had been the Count of Flanders who had, in the end, proposed a simple solution. The Capetians had been chosen to be the kings of France by an election; why, proposed the Count, could the peers of France not hold another one?
So, after much wrangling over which lords could vote, whether or not being a member of a heresy such as the Waldensians or Franciscans excluded one from voting, and where exactly the election could be held, the great nobles of France had come to Paris, with small armies in tow.
The election could be held, and now the main candidates sat expectantly as they waited for the Count of Flanders to announce the winner.
The Count looked around the room. There was the Capetian boy, Phillip, ready to be a 2nd Charlemagne. The Count of Dreux stood there impassive, not giving away anything. And the Count of Champagne, the last of the great lords who claimed the throne, sat there with a flushed face and acted as if he’d drunk too much of the wine which made his county famous.
“Are we ready or not?” demanded the Count of Champagne. “Who won?”
The Count of Flanders repressed the urge to laugh. “As far as I can tell, Phillip received four tenths of the votes. The Count of Dreux received three tenths, as did the Count of Champagne.”
Phillip smiled. “It is so good to see that my loyal vassals recognize my rights. I, Phillip, King of France, do hereby declare that-“
Phillip was cut off by the Count of Dreux. “Wait a minute here,” he said. “I challenge the validity of this election.”
“What?” said Phillip. “On what grounds?”
The Count of Champagne also protested, slurring his words as he did so. “Rigged!” he said. “The electors were bribed!”
”By you, maybe,” said Phillip. “But how dare you accuse me of interfering in a holy process to confirm that I am your lawful sovereign?”
“How can we trust you?” demanded the Count of Dreux. “Everyone knows you’re in bed with the damned Waldensians. I’d sooner trust a Saracen than you.” The Count reached for his sword, before realizing that it was not there. “I refuse to recognize the results of this election, and you can be sure that none of my supporters will either!”
“Same here!” said the Count of Champagne, who staggered out of his chair. “In fact,” he said, “I demand a recount!”
Phillip drummed his fingers on the table. “You jest.”
“No more than usual,” replied the Count of Champagne. With that, he left the room.
Phillip soon followed after, swearing that the election had merely confirmed what everyone already knew, and that even without it he was the lawful sovereign of France.
The Count of Flanders, who remained behind, thought. The war was going to continue, until God chose to call the contenders to him.
The Count finished off a pitcher of wine as he sat there alone. There were worse things, for a count such as him, than weak and quarreling kings.
Poor France, so far from God, so close to everyone. The interregnum would last until the 1270’s, irreparably damaging the monarchy in France. In Aquitaine would emerge great and free cities, which fought their lords for privileges and won. Normandy and Champagne would remain independent principalities, and the Count of Flanders would, in 14th century, become the lord of much of northern and eastern France. France would spend the next few centuries as a battleground for the armies of the powers of Europe, ravaged by the English, the Germans, the Aragonese, and the Castillians. The crown of France would eventually pass to the Counts of Flanders, but it would in truth be almost worthless.
But, of course, no other outcome could have been possible for France.
Karakorum, March 1243
A world away from The Holy Roman Empire, another emperor was dying. He ruled an Empire that stretched from Persia to China, from Russia to the Himalayas.
His name was Ogedei.
It was he who had sent forth the great armies to the west, but he had not ruled the Empire. Ever since the death of his son Kochu 7 years ago, his court knew, he had been a broken man. He had drunk himself into oblivion, and when he died in the Christian year of 1243, few were surprised. It was just ago, thought many. He was the fool who had listened to Batu about invading the Western lands instead of focusing on China, and all that had gotten them was thousands of dead Mongols.
In truth, the Mongols had begun quarreling over the succession before the sweetmeats from Ogedei’s funeral were cold.
There were three candidates for succession. The first was his son Kaidan, who was still fighting in the west. But Kadan was the son of a concubine, and many were leery of appointing a man who had served in that ill-fated invasion as their sovereign. (And, of course, kadan was dead, but no one in Karaokum knew that immediately) The second candidate was Kuyuk, Ogedei’s son by his wife Toregene. But Kuyuk was disliked even by his father, and only his mother supported him. Therefore Ogedei had chosen his grandson Siremun, son of Ogedei’s favorite son Kochu.
However, the new sovereign must be approved in an election, and as regent Toregene was in a position to throw the election to her son Kuyuk. She had been appointing servants in the Imperial household who were favorites of hers, and the councilors of Ogedei had been replaced, in the last few years, with Muslim supporters of Toregene [5]. The reaction on the part of Batu and Kaidan, who were still fighting in the west, was of course far from amused.
Eastern Europe, April 1243
Why, wondered Batu, did God hate him? What had he ever done to make them oppose him so?
First, the disasters in Romania [6]. Then the war in Europe. He’d lost thousands of men with little plunder to show for it. And now this.
“So,” he said at last. “Toregene demands that I return to Karakorum?” He closed his eyes. “And she wants to withdraw the tumens?”
The messenger spat into the dirt. “Such as remain, after you buggered the invasion of the Franks.”
Batu glared at the messenger. Mongols usually spoke their mind, but such insolence from a messenger only meant that he was not held in high esteem back in Karakorum.
Batu thought for a moment. Something inside of Batu, son of Jochi, snapped. “Very well,” he said at last.
He would go to the election. And he show them all that one did not insult the grandson of Ghengis Khan in such a manner.
Mongolia, July 1243
Sirumen, son of Kochu, thought as Batu’s words sunk in. He looked at the steppes in front of them, endless as the sky. Somewhere to the east of them lay Karakorum. “You ask me to betray my own family.”
Batu smirked. “I do no such thing. I ask you think on what Temujin would have wanted.”
The Mongol Empire would undergo a disastrous civil war, in the 1250’s, with Persia breaking away from the rule of Karakorum and Orda setting up an independent, Christian state in Kiev. With the civil war and the thousands of soldiers who had died in Europe, it was ineveitable that the tide of the Mongol Empire would begin to ebb in the 1270’s, and the long nightmare that had engulfed much of Eurasia began to end.
Singapura, July 1273
Marco Polo took a sip of tea as he listened to a Chinese merchant, Shang. “A hundred augustales for this silk?” He felt some of the purple silk that the Chinese merchant had brought. “Do you wish for my children to starve? If I bought silk at a price like that, I would surely go bankrupt!”
“What?” replied the Chinese merchant in an Italian Chinese pidgin. “I risk my life to sail here, bringing you this silk, and you complain about the price! Surely you must think I’m drunk on rice wine, if you think I would accept less than 90 augustales.”
The two of them settled the deal at 85 augustales, as Marco Polo suspected they would. “Tell me,” he said over tea, “what’s the news from China? I heard that you had trouble with the Tartars.”
Shang snorted. “A bit, yes. But they’re barbarians from the steppes; and they tried fighting like that, too. It might work in Northern China, but when you try that south of the Yellow River you’re asking for sickness. Their army has been devastated, and last I heard they were retreating.”
Marco Polo smiled. “Thank God,” he said. He called for his servant, who came back with some wine from Italy. “News like that deserves something better than tea to celebrate it,” he said. “I’d hate to imagine what it would be like to have to work with the Tartars.”
Nuremberg, Year 40 of the Republic (1750)
Hugh Blair walked through the palace of the Kaisers, snapping photos as he walked. He had gotten to the palace right after it had opened, so he could have a few precious moments alone in its vast halls before the hordes of tourists arrived.
Hugh paced down the hallway, past portraits of battles in France, in Poland, the English Channel, and from Algarve [7], where the Kaiser’s armies had helped Avalon gain independence.
Did Phillip imagine, thought Hugh, that within a decade of his victory against Britannia he’d be facing a revolution at home?
Hugh shook his head, and collected his thoughts. If he wanted to see the throne room before it was mobbed, he would have to hurry. Hugh almost ran down the hallways, past a few of the palace’s staff members.
He walked into the throne room just as it was opening, and froze. The sun was gleaming through the stained glass windows, lighting the phoenix of Hapsburg heraldry with a fiery red. He was almost afraid to take a picture, as if it would mar the sight.
“Impressive, is it not?” came a voice behind him in accented German. He turned and saw an attractive woman standing beside him. She looked vaguely Mediterranean, but somehow difference. “We have nothing like this, in Al-Sharq.” She seemed almost wistful as she spoke. “It’s hard to believe that that glass has existed longer than my country.”
Hugh nodded. “I know exactly what you mean,” he said as he switched to Arabic. “I’m from Avalon, myself.” He smiled.
“It makes you wonder,” said the woman. “What would the man who made that window have thought, if he could see us now?”
Hugh smiled. “I suspect he would be happy that we’re still admiring his work, five hundred years later.”
The woman grinned. “You have a point,” she said. “My name is Malinche, by the way.”
Hugh introduced himself in turn. “I must admit, my interest tends more towards the last Staufen emperor, who came before that window.” He waited, curious to see if Malinche knew who he was talking about.
She did, which earned her a few points in Hugh’s opinion. “Ah, the Stupor Mundi.” She nodded. “Yes, I can see why you would be interested in Frederick II. A fascinating man, really.”
“He lived in interesting times,” said Hugh. “He was a great and terrible man.”
Malinche searched for the words. “We shall not see his like again. Wasn’t that what one of his comrades said, after he died?”
Hugh wasn’t quite sure, but wasn’t willing to admit it. “I believe so, yes. Do you not agree?’
Malinche shrugged. “You will find such men no matter when you live. Umar, Al-Rahman, of if you’d prefer to take some more traditional choices, Caesar, Wallenstein, and Charlemagne.” Malinche smiled. “Or, as the example of Eleanor, Elisabeth, and Khadija showed us, women.”
Hugh nodded genially. “Of course,” he said. He hesitated for a moment, and then asked Malinche a question. “Later today, I plan on visiting the tomb of the First Consul. Would you like to join me?”
Malinche smiled. “I’m leaving tomorrow, but yes, I would like to.” She looked around the throne room at the tourists that were streaming in. “It’s getting a bit crowded in here, and I haven’t had breakfast yet. Would you care to join me for something?”
Together, the two of them walked out of the throne room of the Caesars, and looked to see what other marvels they might find.
[4] Nationalism of a kind, anyway. It tends to view the inhabitants of the Kingdom of Burgundy as being Germans, as well as Italians (Lombards, after all). It’s more noteworthy for who it doesn’t consider to be German, which are the Greeks.
[5] With Ogedei dying a few years before OTL, Tugerene is in a stronger position than she was historically, or so it seems. But she also has a very angry Batu to deal with.
[6] Anatolia
[7] The Americas, as they’re known in Europe.
Faeelin
Banned
Mr.Bluenote said:It's a shame, Faeelin, but I see your point! The Prince of Peace was a very, very good ATL, though! Jolly good show, I'd say!
Btw are you the same Faeelin that has posted the Weltacse AAR, I think it's called, over at Paradox?!
Best regards!
- B.
Yep, I am, and thank you.
Very nice TL, Faeelin.
Pity it's come to an end, but I do agree with you: after the death of Frederick, everything would be anti-climactic.
Good luck for your new TL's!
Pity it's come to an end, but I do agree with you: after the death of Frederick, everything would be anti-climactic.
Good luck for your new TL's!
I concur this TL along with KWIII's DoD helped me to really get into AH. It should be placed for all to see it in its full glory.
Burton K Wheeler
Moderator
Besides putting this in the Timelines and Scenarios forum, it would be nice to put something this big and detailed in the wiki.
Also, maps?
Irioth
Banned
And this is another truly excellent Middle Age timeline, this one and Sons of Roland are IMO the final contenders for both Best-Written and Ideal Outcome prizes in Middle Ages timelines.
However, I doom it a pity that it stops so abruptly with Frederick II's death. IMO it would deserve additional development, at least up to moment the Great Powers of ATL Western Europe launched into full-fledged exploration and colonization of the world.
However, I doom it a pity that it stops so abruptly with Frederick II's death. IMO it would deserve additional development, at least up to moment the Great Powers of ATL Western Europe launched into full-fledged exploration and colonization of the world.