Prince of Peace (edited) by Faeelin
- Thread starter G.Bone
- Start date
Faeelin
Banned
Mahdia, September, 1228
At long last, in July of 1228 the army of the kingdom of Aragon prepared to storm the beaches of Tunisia. Led by the king himself, a party of 800 knights supported by archers and foot soldiers set forth to claim the beach. The rowers pushed the landing craft over the calm sea towards the shore, and when they reached the shore, lowered the ramps. Off of each landing vessel came twenty horses, whose knights sallied forth with their lances in hand. It was a grand and glorious sight, all agreed, that would surely lead to a climactic battle against the Tunisians.
Unfortunately, no one had bothered to notify the Tunisians of the battle. The Berber ruler, the Hafsid emir, had wisely decided that it was better to let the hosts of Aragon die of disease than waste his time fighting them.
This was, of course, no problem for the warriors of Christ. They set up a city of tents for the army, with the King’s pavilion at the center. Mahdia was blockaded by the sea and by the land, but the city had access to fresh water and had stored provisions. The invaders were encamped in hot tents in the desert; the defenders had fresh water and did not always have to wear stifling armor.
On the fourth day a force of Berbers raided the camp, but were thrown back. This was declared to be a sign of the great victory to come by the priests, who of course remained in the center of the camp.
Ships from the Kingdom of Aragon were allowed to buy supplies from the Emperor’s Kingdom of Sicily, but they were irregular, and the ships were often harassed by pirates. Dysentery broke out, and, the heavy wine from Sicily led to fighting.
This could of course be tolerated. But when the king caught it, it was over.
Sore, exhausted, thirsty, and miserable, he told his council the new. “We’re going home,†he said. “ I have had enough of this foolish war in the desert for a worthless city, especially when Murcia awaits. And at least there I can get a Jewish doctor.â€
The Lord of Albaraccin spoke up against the act. “Nonsense,†he said. “Our catapults are about to break down the walls. One more week, and if God has not given us the city by then, I agree that we shall leave.â€
â€No!†said the king. “I have spoken. I am the king. I….†he trailed off, and put his hand on his stomach. “I will…†he paused again, and finished his sentence. “I will be right back,†and with that, the King of Aragon fled the tent as fast as possible.
There was a long silence in the tent, as the leading nobles of Aragon waited for the King to finish with his duty. After about ten minutes, the Lord of Albaraccin cleared his throat, and said, “so, we are agreed, only one more week, yes?â€
Five days later a fleet of Pisan and Genoese galleys arrived outside of the city and destroyed the fleet of Aragon. The King was trapped, and a prisoner of the Godless heretics of Italy.
As he was led onto the galley, James, King of Aragon, smiled innocently at Pedro. “Cheer up,†said James, as the Lord was brought below and slapped into chains. “it’s quite comfortable down there, I’m told, once you get past the rats, lice, and wastes.†The king himself closed the door on Pedro, as he said, “Mind the water. It might go bad, and I’m afraid there’s not enough wine for everyone.â€
Pedro felt something nibble on his toe, and screamed.
Alange, March, 1230
Ibn Hud drank from a leather bag full of water, rinsed, and spat it out. This was a land of vast plains, of an endless blue sky that stretched as far as the eye could see. It was a desolate land, but the Faithful had carved a home here. The people here raised cows and sheep, and they had built canals to irrigate their crops. A hard life, but a good one.
Then the Christians had come from the north. The raiders had destroyed the canals and killed the farmers. Badajoz was a shadow of its former self, like an old woman who had once been beautiful.
He looked over the army of the King of Castile, Enrique, and nodded. It was as he expected; smaller, but with heavier armor and heavy cavalry. He only had the jinettes. They were useful for scouting, but he had heard about what had happened at Las Navas de Tolosa. The jinettes had charged the Christian knights, ready to fight and die for the faith.
When the battle was over, the bodies of the jinettes had lain trampled beneath the Christian horses.
Ibn Hud’s army was, of course, larger than that of the Christian King Henry. But they were farmers and townsmen, the people of the markets, not men trained for war as he was. They had been armed and trained, but they were afraid. He could almost smell it.
He had to do something to rally them, something to restore their confidence. He lifted up the banner he had chosen, the old Umayyad banner. On it, the words “There is no God but Allah, and Mohammed is his prophet†lay on a field of white. Carrying this banner, he rode before his army.
He looked at the men before him. Farmers with short swords, men from the frontiers with the Christians with crossbows, merchants from the cities in armor they had never before worn. His heart swelled with pride to see them joining the jihad.
“They say,†yelled Ibn Hud, “that we are women. The Christians and the Almohad both call us that. They scorn our ways, saying we would do better to spend our time on swordfights than on poetry. They say our blood is weak, that we have forgotten our pride and dignity.â€
The Christians were preparing to charge, he saw. Their King would come and kill and destroy, leaving nothing but a desert between here and Seville. “They call us women,†he continued. “But I know otherwise.â€
â€They call us women,†he repeated, “but know this. I, Ibn Hud, know that you are truly warriors of the prophet, and that he would have led men such as you with pride.†Ibn Hud lifted the banner high in the air, and roared to his army. “They shall not pass!â€
Enrique, King of Castile and Leon [119] looked through his telescope at the Moors. “God,†he muttered. “Where’s the glory in beating peasants?â€
“I’ll make this brief,†said Enrique, as he prepared to charge. “They’re Moors. We’ve beaten them before and we’ll do it again. Once they are defeated, Badajoz is ours. And remember,†he said, as he grabbed his horses reins, “if the Catalans †he said, sneering, “could take Valencia, then we should have no problems at all.†Enrique and his knights lowered their lances, and they charged.
The battle began in the usual manner for battles in Spain. Jinettes from both army skirmished on the outskirts of the battle while the Christian knights charged the Moors’ line. Crossbowmen on both sides fired volleys into the enemy’s ranks, cutting down horses and men alike. The confused melee continued, as Andalusi spearmen ran through Castilian knights and Castilians trampled the Andalusis beneath their horses. [121]
There tales enough for both sides, that day. There was a Castilian knight who died with his sword in hand, taking down half a dozen Moors despite having an arrow through his chest. Ibn Hud himself slew a dozen Castilians, earning the respect of even the surviving Almohads.
But slowly, painfully, the Andalusis gained the upper hand. The Andalusis were better archers, and it was their home ground. As night fell, the Castilians withdrew, chastened. Ibn Hud felt for his bag of water and was shocked to realize it was empty. It was amazing what one didn’t realize in a battle. He looked over the field, and nodded. It was a victory. Not a great one, but a victory. They had bought some time.
That night, as the light from a crescent moon shone down upon his camp, as the people of the market celebrated their victory, Ibn Hud thought. The crossbowmen of Al-Andalus were famed throughout the Abode of Islam, but there was no way to defend them against the heavy cavalry of the Christians. As he poked a fire with a stick, he thought about this.
If only, thought Ibn Hud, as he drank a cup of coffee by the fire, there was a way to create a wall of spikes around the crossbowmen. One of the Italians had once told him of an English warrior, who had defeated an army of cavalry with archers. What had he done again? Ibn Hud took another sip, and then dropped his cup.
The next time the armies of Ibn Hud “The Victoriousâ€, Emir of Al-Andalus, went off to battle, the Spaniards would realize that things had changed.
Valencia, May 1231
Valencia, according to some, was the land of flowers, where all sweet things blossomed and perfumed the air. The land consisted of a ribbon of fertile coastline surrounded by forbidding mountains. It was a land of bustling ports, prosperous villages, and well-traveled roads. Into this land, James, King of Aragon, had erupted.
James had taken the northern towns of Burriana and Puig, and had made Abu Zayd, the ruler of Valencia, his vassal [122]. But with the King of Aragon in captivity, the Moors of Valencia revolted against Abu Zayd, who had fled north to Catalonia for help. They appealed to Ibn Hud to come to their aid, and he had marched to the city with his army.
Ibn Hud himself had taken over the Abu Zayd’s palace, which was truly a marvel. In the courtyard, he had actually diverted a small steam to run through a garden, with the two sides connected by a bridge. Ibn Hud was standing on the bridge when he received word that the Catalans were on the march again.
Two months later, in July, the Catalans and Muslims did battle in the hills to the north of the city. The Catalan leader, Armengol, charged with his men towards the Moorish crossbowmen, whose arrows ran through horses and men alike. But as they got close, he attempted to wheel away.
For each crossbowmen, according to the wisdom of Ibn Hud, carried stakes to drive into the ground before him. If the knights hit them, their horses would die; if they turned away, they would crash into horses behind them. Both, of course, happened.
The next day, Ibn Hud, who had returned to the palace in Valencia, received word while eating one of the famous oranges of Valencia that a most important prisoner had been captured after the battle. That evening, Abu Zayd, the former ruler of Valencia, was brought before him.
Ibn Hud was playing his Kaman when Abu Zayd was brought in. “What do you think?†he asked, as Abu lay before Ibn Hud on his knees.
Abu Zayd sniveled and bowed obsequiously before Ibn Hud. “It is a glorious creation, my Emir. A marvel of the world.â€
Ibn Hud considered this while he played. “And yet had the Christians taken this city, this instrument would have been destroyed, would it not?â€
“Never!†said Abu, not daring to look up. “I would not have allowed it.â€
Ibn Hud smiled as he stopped playing. “So you agree with the rumors that you are an apostate?†He put the instrument down, and drew his sword, cutting off Abu’s head, which rolled onto the floor.
Ibn Hud frowned, looking at the mess. That had been a perfectly good carpet, too. He shrugged. There would be more carpets made in Valencia. He had made certain of that.
[120] For he did not die in 1217 as in OTL. This is probably a bad thing for Castile, actually.
[121] One of the best descriptions of a typical army of Al-Andalus, without its Almohad contingents, is a Muslim army of Castile.
[122] This essentially follows the pattern of Aragon’s acquisition of Valencia OTL.
At long last, in July of 1228 the army of the kingdom of Aragon prepared to storm the beaches of Tunisia. Led by the king himself, a party of 800 knights supported by archers and foot soldiers set forth to claim the beach. The rowers pushed the landing craft over the calm sea towards the shore, and when they reached the shore, lowered the ramps. Off of each landing vessel came twenty horses, whose knights sallied forth with their lances in hand. It was a grand and glorious sight, all agreed, that would surely lead to a climactic battle against the Tunisians.
Unfortunately, no one had bothered to notify the Tunisians of the battle. The Berber ruler, the Hafsid emir, had wisely decided that it was better to let the hosts of Aragon die of disease than waste his time fighting them.
This was, of course, no problem for the warriors of Christ. They set up a city of tents for the army, with the King’s pavilion at the center. Mahdia was blockaded by the sea and by the land, but the city had access to fresh water and had stored provisions. The invaders were encamped in hot tents in the desert; the defenders had fresh water and did not always have to wear stifling armor.
On the fourth day a force of Berbers raided the camp, but were thrown back. This was declared to be a sign of the great victory to come by the priests, who of course remained in the center of the camp.
Ships from the Kingdom of Aragon were allowed to buy supplies from the Emperor’s Kingdom of Sicily, but they were irregular, and the ships were often harassed by pirates. Dysentery broke out, and, the heavy wine from Sicily led to fighting.
This could of course be tolerated. But when the king caught it, it was over.
Sore, exhausted, thirsty, and miserable, he told his council the new. “We’re going home,†he said. “ I have had enough of this foolish war in the desert for a worthless city, especially when Murcia awaits. And at least there I can get a Jewish doctor.â€
The Lord of Albaraccin spoke up against the act. “Nonsense,†he said. “Our catapults are about to break down the walls. One more week, and if God has not given us the city by then, I agree that we shall leave.â€
â€No!†said the king. “I have spoken. I am the king. I….†he trailed off, and put his hand on his stomach. “I will…†he paused again, and finished his sentence. “I will be right back,†and with that, the King of Aragon fled the tent as fast as possible.
There was a long silence in the tent, as the leading nobles of Aragon waited for the King to finish with his duty. After about ten minutes, the Lord of Albaraccin cleared his throat, and said, “so, we are agreed, only one more week, yes?â€
Five days later a fleet of Pisan and Genoese galleys arrived outside of the city and destroyed the fleet of Aragon. The King was trapped, and a prisoner of the Godless heretics of Italy.
As he was led onto the galley, James, King of Aragon, smiled innocently at Pedro. “Cheer up,†said James, as the Lord was brought below and slapped into chains. “it’s quite comfortable down there, I’m told, once you get past the rats, lice, and wastes.†The king himself closed the door on Pedro, as he said, “Mind the water. It might go bad, and I’m afraid there’s not enough wine for everyone.â€
Pedro felt something nibble on his toe, and screamed.
Alange, March, 1230
Ibn Hud drank from a leather bag full of water, rinsed, and spat it out. This was a land of vast plains, of an endless blue sky that stretched as far as the eye could see. It was a desolate land, but the Faithful had carved a home here. The people here raised cows and sheep, and they had built canals to irrigate their crops. A hard life, but a good one.
Then the Christians had come from the north. The raiders had destroyed the canals and killed the farmers. Badajoz was a shadow of its former self, like an old woman who had once been beautiful.
He looked over the army of the King of Castile, Enrique, and nodded. It was as he expected; smaller, but with heavier armor and heavy cavalry. He only had the jinettes. They were useful for scouting, but he had heard about what had happened at Las Navas de Tolosa. The jinettes had charged the Christian knights, ready to fight and die for the faith.
When the battle was over, the bodies of the jinettes had lain trampled beneath the Christian horses.
Ibn Hud’s army was, of course, larger than that of the Christian King Henry. But they were farmers and townsmen, the people of the markets, not men trained for war as he was. They had been armed and trained, but they were afraid. He could almost smell it.
He had to do something to rally them, something to restore their confidence. He lifted up the banner he had chosen, the old Umayyad banner. On it, the words “There is no God but Allah, and Mohammed is his prophet†lay on a field of white. Carrying this banner, he rode before his army.
He looked at the men before him. Farmers with short swords, men from the frontiers with the Christians with crossbows, merchants from the cities in armor they had never before worn. His heart swelled with pride to see them joining the jihad.
“They say,†yelled Ibn Hud, “that we are women. The Christians and the Almohad both call us that. They scorn our ways, saying we would do better to spend our time on swordfights than on poetry. They say our blood is weak, that we have forgotten our pride and dignity.â€
The Christians were preparing to charge, he saw. Their King would come and kill and destroy, leaving nothing but a desert between here and Seville. “They call us women,†he continued. “But I know otherwise.â€
â€They call us women,†he repeated, “but know this. I, Ibn Hud, know that you are truly warriors of the prophet, and that he would have led men such as you with pride.†Ibn Hud lifted the banner high in the air, and roared to his army. “They shall not pass!â€
Enrique, King of Castile and Leon [119] looked through his telescope at the Moors. “God,†he muttered. “Where’s the glory in beating peasants?â€
“I’ll make this brief,†said Enrique, as he prepared to charge. “They’re Moors. We’ve beaten them before and we’ll do it again. Once they are defeated, Badajoz is ours. And remember,†he said, as he grabbed his horses reins, “if the Catalans †he said, sneering, “could take Valencia, then we should have no problems at all.†Enrique and his knights lowered their lances, and they charged.
The battle began in the usual manner for battles in Spain. Jinettes from both army skirmished on the outskirts of the battle while the Christian knights charged the Moors’ line. Crossbowmen on both sides fired volleys into the enemy’s ranks, cutting down horses and men alike. The confused melee continued, as Andalusi spearmen ran through Castilian knights and Castilians trampled the Andalusis beneath their horses. [121]
There tales enough for both sides, that day. There was a Castilian knight who died with his sword in hand, taking down half a dozen Moors despite having an arrow through his chest. Ibn Hud himself slew a dozen Castilians, earning the respect of even the surviving Almohads.
But slowly, painfully, the Andalusis gained the upper hand. The Andalusis were better archers, and it was their home ground. As night fell, the Castilians withdrew, chastened. Ibn Hud felt for his bag of water and was shocked to realize it was empty. It was amazing what one didn’t realize in a battle. He looked over the field, and nodded. It was a victory. Not a great one, but a victory. They had bought some time.
That night, as the light from a crescent moon shone down upon his camp, as the people of the market celebrated their victory, Ibn Hud thought. The crossbowmen of Al-Andalus were famed throughout the Abode of Islam, but there was no way to defend them against the heavy cavalry of the Christians. As he poked a fire with a stick, he thought about this.
If only, thought Ibn Hud, as he drank a cup of coffee by the fire, there was a way to create a wall of spikes around the crossbowmen. One of the Italians had once told him of an English warrior, who had defeated an army of cavalry with archers. What had he done again? Ibn Hud took another sip, and then dropped his cup.
The next time the armies of Ibn Hud “The Victoriousâ€, Emir of Al-Andalus, went off to battle, the Spaniards would realize that things had changed.
Valencia, May 1231
Valencia, according to some, was the land of flowers, where all sweet things blossomed and perfumed the air. The land consisted of a ribbon of fertile coastline surrounded by forbidding mountains. It was a land of bustling ports, prosperous villages, and well-traveled roads. Into this land, James, King of Aragon, had erupted.
James had taken the northern towns of Burriana and Puig, and had made Abu Zayd, the ruler of Valencia, his vassal [122]. But with the King of Aragon in captivity, the Moors of Valencia revolted against Abu Zayd, who had fled north to Catalonia for help. They appealed to Ibn Hud to come to their aid, and he had marched to the city with his army.
Ibn Hud himself had taken over the Abu Zayd’s palace, which was truly a marvel. In the courtyard, he had actually diverted a small steam to run through a garden, with the two sides connected by a bridge. Ibn Hud was standing on the bridge when he received word that the Catalans were on the march again.
Two months later, in July, the Catalans and Muslims did battle in the hills to the north of the city. The Catalan leader, Armengol, charged with his men towards the Moorish crossbowmen, whose arrows ran through horses and men alike. But as they got close, he attempted to wheel away.
For each crossbowmen, according to the wisdom of Ibn Hud, carried stakes to drive into the ground before him. If the knights hit them, their horses would die; if they turned away, they would crash into horses behind them. Both, of course, happened.
The next day, Ibn Hud, who had returned to the palace in Valencia, received word while eating one of the famous oranges of Valencia that a most important prisoner had been captured after the battle. That evening, Abu Zayd, the former ruler of Valencia, was brought before him.
Ibn Hud was playing his Kaman when Abu Zayd was brought in. “What do you think?†he asked, as Abu lay before Ibn Hud on his knees.
Abu Zayd sniveled and bowed obsequiously before Ibn Hud. “It is a glorious creation, my Emir. A marvel of the world.â€
Ibn Hud considered this while he played. “And yet had the Christians taken this city, this instrument would have been destroyed, would it not?â€
“Never!†said Abu, not daring to look up. “I would not have allowed it.â€
Ibn Hud smiled as he stopped playing. “So you agree with the rumors that you are an apostate?†He put the instrument down, and drew his sword, cutting off Abu’s head, which rolled onto the floor.
Ibn Hud frowned, looking at the mess. That had been a perfectly good carpet, too. He shrugged. There would be more carpets made in Valencia. He had made certain of that.
[120] For he did not die in 1217 as in OTL. This is probably a bad thing for Castile, actually.
[121] One of the best descriptions of a typical army of Al-Andalus, without its Almohad contingents, is a Muslim army of Castile.
[122] This essentially follows the pattern of Aragon’s acquisition of Valencia OTL.
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{the flag part is to attract attention and commentary}
It's good- just curious what is an apostate.
D'you think you could do a "global tour" that Decades of Darkness does, capsuling the various kingdoms & nations to summarize what exactly has happen, complete with a map? {i have a weak spot for maps}
It's good- just curious what is an apostate.
D'you think you could do a "global tour" that Decades of Darkness does, capsuling the various kingdoms & nations to summarize what exactly has happen, complete with a map? {i have a weak spot for maps}
Faeelin
Banned
Nuremberg, July, 1227
In the Imperial Palace of Nuremberg, it was thought by many that the greatest room in the entire palace was the Court of Emperors. The Imperial throne sat on a dais, with the pieces of the Cross to the side of the Emperor. The Emperor himself sat on a throne based on the throne of Solomon, with six steps to represent the six cardinal virtues, ivory from Abyssnia the purity of the Emperor, and gold representing his divinity.
Unlike the throne of Solomon or the Byzantine Emperors, however, The Emperor’s throne was flanked by eagles instead of lions, representing the Roman heritage of the Empire and the insignia of the House of Staufen.
The halls of the court were decorated with frescoes painting the Emperors in their greatest scenes. Constantine stood in an awe as timeless as God himself, looking up at the cross in the sky. Henry VI charged towards the infidels in the deserts of the holy land, like the wrath of God himself [122].
And, of course, there was Charlemagne. The Imperial throne was set against the western wall, and above it was a stained glass picture of Charlemagne’s coronation. The painting centered on Charlemagne as he took a crown from the dais in Rome, while the Pope was delegated to a small figure off to the side. It was impressive enough at any time of the day, but towards dusk, when the sun shined directly through it, it was wonder of the world, reminding all who were there of the majesty of Rome.
Needless to say, Robin Hood was tried at dusk.
In any case, it was in this room that Frederick held court, where the assembled lords of the Empire were there to look at him in awe and majesty. And it was in this room that Frederick II was wont to listen to proposals regarding the new legions.
The problem was a relatively simple one, actually. Robin Fitz Odo, a heretic and rebel in the eyes of God, had shown repeatedly that the feudal levies of the Empire were insufficient in this brave new world of warfare, and Frederick had spies within the Greek army.
But more to the point, how could he claim to be the Emperor of Rome if his army consisted of feudal levies? Even the pagan Romans had possessed men who were always prepared for war, and how could he do less? The Emperor needed a standing army, like the one the Byzantines had [124]. He needed… legions.
Some proposals had seemed quite promising, initially. He had had such high hopes for a revival of the Roman legion. But the swords of the legion were incapable of stopping heavy cavalry, and Frederick saw no way around that.
On the other hand, Roman legions had adapted throughout the history of the Empire. Could they not do so today? And so the Emperor had sent out proclamations throughout the Empire, from the Pyrenees to Palermo, that whoever could succeed in convincing the Emperor how to establish a true Imperial army would be rewarded.
And thus William of Altdorf, a loyal ministeriale in the Emperor’s service, came before him.
“My Emperor,†he said, prostrating himself on the ground. “it seems to me that we, the heirs of Rome, would do best to look at how the ancients fought.â€
Frederick leaned forward in his throne. “Indeed?†he said. “Oh, you may rise,†he said a moment later.
“However, as any man who commanded knows, a man on horse will easily defeat some one with a sword and shield on the ground. This made me wonder about if something like this had ever happened before,†said William. “And I thus inquired at the University of Frankfurt about whether or not there had ever been enormous armies of cavalry in the time before Christ. And, as it turns out, there was.â€
Henry, who sat beside his father on a lower throne, caught on first. “The Greeks!â€
William bowed before the King of the Romans. “Indeed, my King. The Greeks under Alexander used armies consisting of men like our knights, on heavy horse, and men carrying long spears. When used together,†said William, before he was cut off.
“They destroyed the armies of Persia, slaughtering thousands,†said Frederick, who was in a jovial mood.
“I shall keep my promise, William of Altdorf. I will grant you your reward, and do more. I,†declared Frederick, “By the Grace of God Defender of the Faith, Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, King of Germany, King of Burgundy, King of Sicily, King of Italy, (and so on and so forth),†hereby declared William to be the new Legatus Legionus of the Imperial army. May the eagles be spread as far as they were in the days of Ceasar.â€
Nuremberg, November, 1230
Frederick II, Emperor of Rome, held the bow from England in his hands as he stood in a clearing near Nuremberg. . He pulled it, was amazed to feel its resistance weaken as he pulled it farther away. “Marvelous,†he said, taking an arrow and preparing to aim. He shot it, and it landed at the edge of the clearing. “Marvelous,†he said Again. “Strange that such a weapon comes from the English. They never struck me, when I ruled there, as being that original.â€
Frederick pulled the bow again, oblivious to the snow falling around him. “The wheels increase the force,†he muttered half to himself. He turned to Henry. “you see this, son? This is what paying attention in school will do for you.â€
â€Build new weapons to kill my enemies?â€
Frederick smiled. “Exactly, son. Exactly.â€
Frederick’s head turned when he heard a horse behind him. It was Elizabeth, of course, riding towards them, wearing furs from the lands of the Rus. “So you wanted to see what was going on?†he asked. He was never able to decide whether he was proud of his daughter for her curiosity and intelligence or to be disappointed that she didn’t listen to him.
She pulled off her riding hood. “Of course, father. I have no desire to spend my days needling.†Frederick realized, briefly, that she reminded him of what they had said about his mother Constance.
“Well, then,†he said. “The English have used learning to build a bow with a pulley. What should we do?†he asked his children.
Henry spoke up first. “ Copy the bow, of course. It’s unchivalrous, but it is well established that when it comes to fighting infidels and heretics, chivalry is unimportant.â€
Frederick nodded. He was planning to do that, actually, with some Frisian archers. “Elisabeth, what say you?â€
His daughter thought for a moment, biting her lip. “We have to make sure this does not happen again. If the English are making new weapons, and it cost us dearly. It seems to me that everyone else who opposes us shall copy their weapon. We have to make sure that we do likewise.â€
She patted her horse absently, and then finished her thought. “We need a place designed for creating and building weapons of war. Imagine if men like our tutor William devised new weapons all the time. An arsenal, isn’t that the word?†She smiled for a moment, remembering his lectures.
Frederick dropped the bow in the snow, and smiled at his daughter. “That’s actually quite brilliant, you know. It warms my heart to know that you two will be here when I am gone, to provide firm hands to guide the Empire.â€
Elisabeth laughed. “Oh father, that will never happen.â€
Poiters, November, 1230
The rain poured down on Guillame des Bares’ visor, making him grunt. Bad enough that God had sent the Emperor against him, now he had sent the weather too? He rode his horse through the mud as he tried to make out the Imperial lines on the top of the hill. Quite a few of them were carrying columns with bronze eagles on the top, for some reason. Not so many knights, but lots of men carrying poleaxes. He nodded and flicked the reins of the horse.
William, Marshal of the Imperial Legions, nodded as he saw the Poitevins advance. “Remember,†he yelled, “We fight for God and the Emperor. Remember what your training and you will survive!â€
Erlach of Freiburg rode up on his horse. A good man, thought William. A ministeriale, like him, and he knew how to use knights. “We await your command, Marshal William.â€
William’s men waited, peering through the rain for their enemy. They could hear the French, but not see them. The hoof beats became louder, and suddenly the French appeared out of the rain.
“Fire!†yelled William, as the crossbowmen launched a volley into the French knights and their horses. Some tumbled and fell back down the hill, knocking down the other knights behind them. Some continued to charge, crashing into the Imperial line, where they were slaughtered.
But the main host of the knights continued to charge, with their swords drawn. They crashed into the line of pikes, creating a horrible wall of horse and iron [124]. But the Germans held. And then the pike men advanced [126].
The knights began to run down the hill, slipping as they fled. The Imperial legion pursued, killing any who fell. They were not just mercenaries in the pay of the Emperor. They were servants of God’s anointed ruler on the Earth, sworn to defend him and the Empire, and showed no mercy to his enemies. Serving the Emperor was an act of God, and therefore his enemies were enemies of God, who deserved no quarter.
In any other circumstance, perhaps, the knights could have escaped. But not this day. The cavalry under Erlach had reached the bottom of the hill, trapping the French between the legions and the German knights. It was said there was so much blood from the French that some of the legionaries were wetter from blood than the downpour.
The slaughter at the battle of Poiters was horrific. Over three thousand knights were slain, devastating Aquitaine’s nobility. Only five hundred Imperial legionaries were slain, and fifty knights. All of Aquitaine lay open to the Imperial army to ravage at will, and there was little to stop them.
The Imperial March had begun.
[123] Although a lot of the work displays heavy Byzantine and Sicilian influences, as befits the origin of the artists, and the Emperor’s view to being the Sovereign of all Christendom.
[124] Although, of course, the Byzantine army is partly based on the thematic system, there is a small professional core.
[125] Long spears are around by this point, as is a tradition of using heavy infantry (notably at Legnano). So I have no real qualms about having them use pikes, given that they’re stealing it from a classical general.
[126] Charging into knights with Pikes? The Swiss did it repeatedly and effectively.
In the Imperial Palace of Nuremberg, it was thought by many that the greatest room in the entire palace was the Court of Emperors. The Imperial throne sat on a dais, with the pieces of the Cross to the side of the Emperor. The Emperor himself sat on a throne based on the throne of Solomon, with six steps to represent the six cardinal virtues, ivory from Abyssnia the purity of the Emperor, and gold representing his divinity.
Unlike the throne of Solomon or the Byzantine Emperors, however, The Emperor’s throne was flanked by eagles instead of lions, representing the Roman heritage of the Empire and the insignia of the House of Staufen.
The halls of the court were decorated with frescoes painting the Emperors in their greatest scenes. Constantine stood in an awe as timeless as God himself, looking up at the cross in the sky. Henry VI charged towards the infidels in the deserts of the holy land, like the wrath of God himself [122].
And, of course, there was Charlemagne. The Imperial throne was set against the western wall, and above it was a stained glass picture of Charlemagne’s coronation. The painting centered on Charlemagne as he took a crown from the dais in Rome, while the Pope was delegated to a small figure off to the side. It was impressive enough at any time of the day, but towards dusk, when the sun shined directly through it, it was wonder of the world, reminding all who were there of the majesty of Rome.
Needless to say, Robin Hood was tried at dusk.
In any case, it was in this room that Frederick held court, where the assembled lords of the Empire were there to look at him in awe and majesty. And it was in this room that Frederick II was wont to listen to proposals regarding the new legions.
The problem was a relatively simple one, actually. Robin Fitz Odo, a heretic and rebel in the eyes of God, had shown repeatedly that the feudal levies of the Empire were insufficient in this brave new world of warfare, and Frederick had spies within the Greek army.
But more to the point, how could he claim to be the Emperor of Rome if his army consisted of feudal levies? Even the pagan Romans had possessed men who were always prepared for war, and how could he do less? The Emperor needed a standing army, like the one the Byzantines had [124]. He needed… legions.
Some proposals had seemed quite promising, initially. He had had such high hopes for a revival of the Roman legion. But the swords of the legion were incapable of stopping heavy cavalry, and Frederick saw no way around that.
On the other hand, Roman legions had adapted throughout the history of the Empire. Could they not do so today? And so the Emperor had sent out proclamations throughout the Empire, from the Pyrenees to Palermo, that whoever could succeed in convincing the Emperor how to establish a true Imperial army would be rewarded.
And thus William of Altdorf, a loyal ministeriale in the Emperor’s service, came before him.
“My Emperor,†he said, prostrating himself on the ground. “it seems to me that we, the heirs of Rome, would do best to look at how the ancients fought.â€
Frederick leaned forward in his throne. “Indeed?†he said. “Oh, you may rise,†he said a moment later.
“However, as any man who commanded knows, a man on horse will easily defeat some one with a sword and shield on the ground. This made me wonder about if something like this had ever happened before,†said William. “And I thus inquired at the University of Frankfurt about whether or not there had ever been enormous armies of cavalry in the time before Christ. And, as it turns out, there was.â€
Henry, who sat beside his father on a lower throne, caught on first. “The Greeks!â€
William bowed before the King of the Romans. “Indeed, my King. The Greeks under Alexander used armies consisting of men like our knights, on heavy horse, and men carrying long spears. When used together,†said William, before he was cut off.
“They destroyed the armies of Persia, slaughtering thousands,†said Frederick, who was in a jovial mood.
“I shall keep my promise, William of Altdorf. I will grant you your reward, and do more. I,†declared Frederick, “By the Grace of God Defender of the Faith, Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, King of Germany, King of Burgundy, King of Sicily, King of Italy, (and so on and so forth),†hereby declared William to be the new Legatus Legionus of the Imperial army. May the eagles be spread as far as they were in the days of Ceasar.â€
Nuremberg, November, 1230
Frederick II, Emperor of Rome, held the bow from England in his hands as he stood in a clearing near Nuremberg. . He pulled it, was amazed to feel its resistance weaken as he pulled it farther away. “Marvelous,†he said, taking an arrow and preparing to aim. He shot it, and it landed at the edge of the clearing. “Marvelous,†he said Again. “Strange that such a weapon comes from the English. They never struck me, when I ruled there, as being that original.â€
Frederick pulled the bow again, oblivious to the snow falling around him. “The wheels increase the force,†he muttered half to himself. He turned to Henry. “you see this, son? This is what paying attention in school will do for you.â€
â€Build new weapons to kill my enemies?â€
Frederick smiled. “Exactly, son. Exactly.â€
Frederick’s head turned when he heard a horse behind him. It was Elizabeth, of course, riding towards them, wearing furs from the lands of the Rus. “So you wanted to see what was going on?†he asked. He was never able to decide whether he was proud of his daughter for her curiosity and intelligence or to be disappointed that she didn’t listen to him.
She pulled off her riding hood. “Of course, father. I have no desire to spend my days needling.†Frederick realized, briefly, that she reminded him of what they had said about his mother Constance.
“Well, then,†he said. “The English have used learning to build a bow with a pulley. What should we do?†he asked his children.
Henry spoke up first. “ Copy the bow, of course. It’s unchivalrous, but it is well established that when it comes to fighting infidels and heretics, chivalry is unimportant.â€
Frederick nodded. He was planning to do that, actually, with some Frisian archers. “Elisabeth, what say you?â€
His daughter thought for a moment, biting her lip. “We have to make sure this does not happen again. If the English are making new weapons, and it cost us dearly. It seems to me that everyone else who opposes us shall copy their weapon. We have to make sure that we do likewise.â€
She patted her horse absently, and then finished her thought. “We need a place designed for creating and building weapons of war. Imagine if men like our tutor William devised new weapons all the time. An arsenal, isn’t that the word?†She smiled for a moment, remembering his lectures.
Frederick dropped the bow in the snow, and smiled at his daughter. “That’s actually quite brilliant, you know. It warms my heart to know that you two will be here when I am gone, to provide firm hands to guide the Empire.â€
Elisabeth laughed. “Oh father, that will never happen.â€
Poiters, November, 1230
The rain poured down on Guillame des Bares’ visor, making him grunt. Bad enough that God had sent the Emperor against him, now he had sent the weather too? He rode his horse through the mud as he tried to make out the Imperial lines on the top of the hill. Quite a few of them were carrying columns with bronze eagles on the top, for some reason. Not so many knights, but lots of men carrying poleaxes. He nodded and flicked the reins of the horse.
William, Marshal of the Imperial Legions, nodded as he saw the Poitevins advance. “Remember,†he yelled, “We fight for God and the Emperor. Remember what your training and you will survive!â€
Erlach of Freiburg rode up on his horse. A good man, thought William. A ministeriale, like him, and he knew how to use knights. “We await your command, Marshal William.â€
William’s men waited, peering through the rain for their enemy. They could hear the French, but not see them. The hoof beats became louder, and suddenly the French appeared out of the rain.
“Fire!†yelled William, as the crossbowmen launched a volley into the French knights and their horses. Some tumbled and fell back down the hill, knocking down the other knights behind them. Some continued to charge, crashing into the Imperial line, where they were slaughtered.
But the main host of the knights continued to charge, with their swords drawn. They crashed into the line of pikes, creating a horrible wall of horse and iron [124]. But the Germans held. And then the pike men advanced [126].
The knights began to run down the hill, slipping as they fled. The Imperial legion pursued, killing any who fell. They were not just mercenaries in the pay of the Emperor. They were servants of God’s anointed ruler on the Earth, sworn to defend him and the Empire, and showed no mercy to his enemies. Serving the Emperor was an act of God, and therefore his enemies were enemies of God, who deserved no quarter.
In any other circumstance, perhaps, the knights could have escaped. But not this day. The cavalry under Erlach had reached the bottom of the hill, trapping the French between the legions and the German knights. It was said there was so much blood from the French that some of the legionaries were wetter from blood than the downpour.
The slaughter at the battle of Poiters was horrific. Over three thousand knights were slain, devastating Aquitaine’s nobility. Only five hundred Imperial legionaries were slain, and fifty knights. All of Aquitaine lay open to the Imperial army to ravage at will, and there was little to stop them.
The Imperial March had begun.
[123] Although a lot of the work displays heavy Byzantine and Sicilian influences, as befits the origin of the artists, and the Emperor’s view to being the Sovereign of all Christendom.
[124] Although, of course, the Byzantine army is partly based on the thematic system, there is a small professional core.
[125] Long spears are around by this point, as is a tradition of using heavy infantry (notably at Legnano). So I have no real qualms about having them use pikes, given that they’re stealing it from a classical general.
[126] Charging into knights with Pikes? The Swiss did it repeatedly and effectively.
It always amazes me that the most simplest tatics that might cripple one's movement is always overlooked.
With that set aside,
So exactly how much of France has gone independent? Is Barcelona still on it's feet as a sovereign nation? Could you explain the ranks within the German government/military? Is a ministeriale = minister or a colonel? Will there be an increase of marriages in family due to the massive size of the Empire and other kingdoms? Is Elizabeth [is the spelling with the s correct?] by Frederick's wife or by other means?
With that set aside,
So exactly how much of France has gone independent? Is Barcelona still on it's feet as a sovereign nation? Could you explain the ranks within the German government/military? Is a ministeriale = minister or a colonel? Will there be an increase of marriages in family due to the massive size of the Empire and other kingdoms? Is Elizabeth [is the spelling with the s correct?] by Frederick's wife or by other means?
Faeelin
Banned
G.Bone said:
Well it's the feudal era. One does not demeen oneself so. And standing armies cost gold. Lots of it.
France is a kingdom of hte Emperor, under Thibaud I. Long may he reign!
Those german troops in Bordeaux and Paris are there to defend the Empire. Honest.
Aragon is, yes.
Which ones confuse you?
Ministeriales get mentioned a while back. Essentially they're serfs with weapons. A german tradition.
Depends how long it lasts.
By Frederick's wife. This is before she goes and tries to kill him for imprisoning her other daughter.
Err, umm... move along.
Faeelin
Banned
It's the typical feudal structure. The legions are based on a roman legion's organization, despite not being based on legions.
“One stamped at birth with valor by the stars,
So that his goodly deeds shall be renowned.
The nations are not yet aware of him
Because his age is tender;
These spheres have wheeled about him and no more….
For he will spurn both money and intrigue. “-Dante’s Paradiso
Verona, 1207
Ezzelino II read the Emperor’s letter and smiled. He had been the Lord of Bassano for years, and he had always been a loyal servant of Emperor Henry. He had led the Montague [126] family against the Guelphs in fair Verona, and in the process he had earned Henry’s favor.
And thus, Ezzelino II, a loyal and faithful servant of the Emperor, opened the letter from the Emperor himself, and smiled as he read it. “It seems,†he said, “that the Emperor wishes for me to take the heavy burden of being the Count of Verona and Vicenza.†Ezzelino looked at his son, Ezelino III, who was thirteen.
The count of Verona and Vicenza smiled at the boy, who was reading through a gift from the Emperor, a work by an ancient Greek known as Herodotus about wars with the Persians.
The Count of Vicenza and Verona smiled at his son. A good lad, really. Perhaps he would send him to visit Nuremberg, eventually.
Castle Hohenstaufen, November 1212
The doe ran through the forest, desperately trying to escape the hunters pursuing it. The hunter stopped chasing, and it seemed as if the doe had escaped.
Then an arrow from Ezzelino went through its eye. He ran up to the deer, and knelt beside it in the dirt.
“A good shot, Ezzelino!†cried Frederick II, who galloped up to him on his horse. “Pity there is no boar around today.â€
Ezzelino pulled the arrow out of the deer, wiping it in the snow. “Thank you, your grace. A pity, indeed.†He shivered slightly. “Shall we return to the castle?â€
Frederick laughed. “Cannot take the weather, can you? It’s fine German weather, you know, not like in Italy, where it’s always too damned hot.â€
Ezzelino nodded dutifully. He had been sent by his father to the court of the Emperor in Nuremberg, and he had become a friend of the Emperor’s.
Ezzelino thought for a second and shook his head. No, Frederick did not have any friends, truly. He was too cold, too distant. Ezzelino was merely a companion. This was why he hunted on foot while the King of the Romans rode.
And as a companion, Ezzelino said, “It is as the King wishes, of course. No doubt he is certain that he will soon slay enough boar to litter the forests for generations to come. No doubt the reason that the boar are nowhere to be found, on this fine day, is because they are hiding in terror.â€
Frederick agreed solemnly. “Certainly. If the Whore of Babylon, the sodomite, the heretic, Innocent fears me, why should not the creatures of the forest?â€
Ezzelino coughed. “Indeed, my king.â€
Just then, a horse galloped towards them. Ezzelino drew his bow, fearful of an assassin. Frederick saw him do so and nodded, while the King drew his sword. But he quickly lowered it when he saw the Staufen livery that the man wore.
“It is a message, my King,†said the man, who handed over a parchment to Frederick.
Frederick read it, and laughed. “Oh, that fool!â€
Ezzelino was now intensely curious. “My King, if I may be so bold as to inquire as to who is the fool?â€
Frederick waved the letter through the air. “It’s John, the King of England. He allied with the nobles to defeat Arthur, and then betrayed them after Arthur was defeated.â€
Ezzelino was momentarily confused. “That seems wise to me, my King.â€
Frederick laughed. “Does it, Ezzelino? Does it indeed?†Frederick handed him the letter, which Ezzelino read quickly, his eyes widening as he did so.
“Tell me, Ezzelino, how would you like to join me in an invasion of England, in order to restore the rights of its nobles?â€
As Frederick laughed, Ezzelino shivered from more than the cold.
London, January 1215
Ezzelino yawned and rolled out of bed, taking care not to wake the woman next to him. The Emperor was carrying out an experiment which he wanted Ezzelino to see this morning, and he knew he should not be late. He stepped out of the Tower and crossed over to the King’s hall.
As he walked, he lay deep in thought. He longed for permission from the King to return home, but so far Frederick had refused. Perhaps, in a year or two, he could, but for now he was stranded in England.
Frederick, apparently, wished to know what helped with digestion. He had, the night before, pardoned two men who were to be killed, and given them an excellent dinner. He sent one to sleep, but had asked the other to stay up all night with him, listening to the music of the minnesangers. Frederick had a bet going with Ezzelino over which one would digest their food better. He wasn’t quite sure how Frederick would solve the problem of judging, but it was just a game.
Ezzelino entered the great hall just as Frederick was welcoming the two men. “Glad you are here,†he said in German, which the two men did not know. “We are just about to determine which one digested his food better.â€
“That may be,†replied Ezzelino, “but I do not see how you could prove this.â€
Frederick drew his sword. “You do not? What a pity,†he said, and in a flash, disemboweled both men. The contents of their stomach splattered onto the floor. Frederick looked at both of them, and nodded to Ezzelino. “It appears you were right,†he said. “You do digest your food better when you rest.†He gave Ezzelino a concerned look. “What, surely you do not pity these men?â€
“Well, my King, it is just that, well,†said Ezzelino, repressing the urge to vomit. “It was just so sudden.â€
“These men,†said Frederick, calmly and rationally, “were murderers. Surely you do not pity those who would kill for pleasure or profit?â€
And with that, with the bodies of the two men still lying there, Frederick sat down for breakfast.
Salisbury Plains, May 1216
Frederick’s band of followers stopped at the ancient ruins near the town of Amesbury in England. He raised his hand.
â€I wish to go and see the ruins of which the locals spoke.â€
â€Sire,†said Ezzelino in German, “perhaps we should continue riding. There are still a few barons who are revolting in the north.â€
â€Barons are always revolting,†said Frederick, with a wry smile. “It’s why they’re barons.†He stepped down off his horse and walked towards the stones. “In any case, they are almost subdued, and I wish to see the memorial of Arthur.â€
Frederick II looked at the ring of stones impassively. “Interesting,†he said, as he walked up and felt one of the blue stones. He was not, frankly, impressed. Sure, they were large, but anyone could put large rocks together. Where was the gracefulness, the culture? Even Hamburg boasted sites more impressive.
“It is said,†said Ezzelino, “that these stones were placed here by King Arthur, to celebrate a victory over the Irish. It showed the superiority of Arthur over the lesser peoples of the isles around him.â€
Frederick walked through the ring of stones, looking at them. There seemed to be something odd about the way they were oriented, but he couldn’t place his finger on it.
“They showed Arthur’s superiority, did they?†said Frederick, smiling. “I think that was a wise decision on his part.â€
Frederick called out to all before him. “Let the word of the King of the Romans be known. It is our imperial will that these stones be broken up, and be transported to Nuremberg. Instead of wasting away in this desolate land, they will be used as a testament to the glory of Rome, for even the rocks of this land come to give homage!â€
By 1218, all that would be left of Stonehenge were imprints in the earth.
Nuremberg, December 1217
Frederick grabbed Ezzelino by the shoulder. “Are you sure you will not stay?†he said. “Think of all that we could accomplish, here.â€
Ezzelino bowed before the Emperor, trying to think of a reply while the hammers of carpenters drowned him out. “You honor me, Lord,†said Ezzelino. “But my place is in my homeland, in Verona. I will be a loyal servant of the Empire there, ensuring that your word is heard even there.â€
Frederick nodded, grinning. “I’m quite certain that you will. In fact,†said the Emperor, “I am so certain that I wish to reward you.†The Emperor clapped his hands, and heralds brought in documents for Ezzelino, piling them on top of the other gifts from the Emperor.
Ezzelino knocked aside a robe of silk to open the document. “Your Grace,†said Ezzelino, stumbling over his words, “I, ah, don’t know what to say.â€
Frederick drew his sword and placed it on Ezzelino’s shoulder. “Say that you will serve me well, Ezzelino, Duke of Padania.â€
Verona, May, 1223
The years had passed, and Ezzelino had proved himself to be a just lord. Perhaps in reaction to Frederick’s attitude towards governing, Ezzelino had always taken a course of moderation and peace between the factions in his Duchy. He could often be seen riding through his cities, wearing a scarlet tunic and a gold chain given to him by the Emperor, stopping to inspect the wares of merchants, or the crops of farmers. If there was ever a problem, he was told about it, and he would dispense justice fairly, if harshly.
Because of this, he was immensely surprised when, from the ancient Roman Coliseum, he heard the cry “Alleluia!†over and over again. Ezzelino finished his business with his tax collectors and rode towards the Coliseum.
When he finally arrived there, Ezzelino saw a man, dressed in a simple woolen robe, barefoot, lecturing the crowd on morals in Italian.
“Where there is hatred,†shouted Francis, “sow love. Where there is injury, pardon. Where there is darkness, hope. This is what the Bible tells us. But the Emperor, despite his love of books, apparently forgot to read that one.â€
The crowd cried Alleluia again.
“But has not the Emperor caused the House of God to fall into ruin? He spends the wealth of the world to glorify a city in his family’s honor. Nuremberg has become a new Babylon, where the notion of a Christian Empire is made a mockery by a man who seeks to rule the world. It is a new Babylon, where the Emperor receives the tribute of the world.â€
“I am,†yelled Francis, as the crowd cheered, “the Herald of the Great King. I am the Herald of the King to whom the Emperor is a subject, though he knows it not. I seek to restore the Church to the faith of the fisherman of Galilee, nothing more. Hear my words, citizens of fair Verona, and realize the truth.â€
The crowd began cheering, and stopped, growing silent. Francis heard footsteps in the dirt behind him, and he turned around. Ezzelino, the Duke of Padania, stood before him. He looked at Francis for a long, long time, and finally came to a conclusion.
“We have been deceived,†yelled Ezzelino, as the wind picked up, blowing clouds of dust through the Coliseum. “It appears that this is nothing more than a madman.†The crowd continued to watch the two of them silent, as Ezzelino walked around, imploring them.
“I will not deny that there have been great changes in Italy. Nor will I not deny that there are some I wish had not happened. But that is the way of the world, and as the wheel of fortune turns, we must take the good with the bad. And, I believe, we have had much more that was good.â€
“Men speak of oppression from the Emperor, yet when did they speak when it was Milan whose armies ravaged Italy? Where were they when Guelphs and Ghibellines slew each other by the score? Where were they when the Pope Innocent held that he was the Lord of the world?†demanded Ezzelino. “Where were they then?â€
“For the first time in centuries, Italy is at peace. Towns are not torn apart by feuding families, cities do not exhaust one another in fruitless wars, and the roads of Italy are safer than they have ever been.†Ezzelino looked over the crowd. “Do you honestly say that you prefer to have tyranny from a man a mile away than justice from one five hundred miles away?â€
Francis laughed, the only sound, in a coliseum of thirty thousand people, beside the wind. “My good lord, I did not know that you were a coward.â€
Ezzelino’s jaw dropped. “What?†he roared. “How dare you say this?â€
“By listening to you,†replied Francis, who smiled. “Changes that you might have hoped to prevent. Italians have given up rights that we have had for centuries. That is worth safer roads to you?†Francis cast an accusing finger at Ezzelino. “We know, all know, that you served with the Emperor in England. What did you see there?†yelled Francis. “You call yourself a lord, but because of men such as you, the Emperor could crush you like an insect. An excommunication by a German Pope, perhaps, followed by an invasion by a Sicilian army. Perhaps he would even send a Greek fleet to attack as well?â€
The Duke of Pada’s gaze hardened. “I saw,†said Ezzelino, “ a realm torn apart by civil war. And I saw what happened to such a realm.†He spat into the dirt. “Get out of my city now, or your head will hang from my walls before nightfall.â€
[127] A real family in Verona, who were Ghibellines (that is to say, pro-Imperial). Ezzelino is in Verona as in OTL, but he has not been kicked out of Vicenza as in OTL. This is due, largely, to the stronger Imperial presence throughout much of Italy.
“One stamped at birth with valor by the stars,
So that his goodly deeds shall be renowned.
The nations are not yet aware of him
Because his age is tender;
These spheres have wheeled about him and no more….
For he will spurn both money and intrigue. “-Dante’s Paradiso
Verona, 1207
Ezzelino II read the Emperor’s letter and smiled. He had been the Lord of Bassano for years, and he had always been a loyal servant of Emperor Henry. He had led the Montague [126] family against the Guelphs in fair Verona, and in the process he had earned Henry’s favor.
And thus, Ezzelino II, a loyal and faithful servant of the Emperor, opened the letter from the Emperor himself, and smiled as he read it. “It seems,†he said, “that the Emperor wishes for me to take the heavy burden of being the Count of Verona and Vicenza.†Ezzelino looked at his son, Ezelino III, who was thirteen.
The count of Verona and Vicenza smiled at the boy, who was reading through a gift from the Emperor, a work by an ancient Greek known as Herodotus about wars with the Persians.
The Count of Vicenza and Verona smiled at his son. A good lad, really. Perhaps he would send him to visit Nuremberg, eventually.
Castle Hohenstaufen, November 1212
The doe ran through the forest, desperately trying to escape the hunters pursuing it. The hunter stopped chasing, and it seemed as if the doe had escaped.
Then an arrow from Ezzelino went through its eye. He ran up to the deer, and knelt beside it in the dirt.
“A good shot, Ezzelino!†cried Frederick II, who galloped up to him on his horse. “Pity there is no boar around today.â€
Ezzelino pulled the arrow out of the deer, wiping it in the snow. “Thank you, your grace. A pity, indeed.†He shivered slightly. “Shall we return to the castle?â€
Frederick laughed. “Cannot take the weather, can you? It’s fine German weather, you know, not like in Italy, where it’s always too damned hot.â€
Ezzelino nodded dutifully. He had been sent by his father to the court of the Emperor in Nuremberg, and he had become a friend of the Emperor’s.
Ezzelino thought for a second and shook his head. No, Frederick did not have any friends, truly. He was too cold, too distant. Ezzelino was merely a companion. This was why he hunted on foot while the King of the Romans rode.
And as a companion, Ezzelino said, “It is as the King wishes, of course. No doubt he is certain that he will soon slay enough boar to litter the forests for generations to come. No doubt the reason that the boar are nowhere to be found, on this fine day, is because they are hiding in terror.â€
Frederick agreed solemnly. “Certainly. If the Whore of Babylon, the sodomite, the heretic, Innocent fears me, why should not the creatures of the forest?â€
Ezzelino coughed. “Indeed, my king.â€
Just then, a horse galloped towards them. Ezzelino drew his bow, fearful of an assassin. Frederick saw him do so and nodded, while the King drew his sword. But he quickly lowered it when he saw the Staufen livery that the man wore.
“It is a message, my King,†said the man, who handed over a parchment to Frederick.
Frederick read it, and laughed. “Oh, that fool!â€
Ezzelino was now intensely curious. “My King, if I may be so bold as to inquire as to who is the fool?â€
Frederick waved the letter through the air. “It’s John, the King of England. He allied with the nobles to defeat Arthur, and then betrayed them after Arthur was defeated.â€
Ezzelino was momentarily confused. “That seems wise to me, my King.â€
Frederick laughed. “Does it, Ezzelino? Does it indeed?†Frederick handed him the letter, which Ezzelino read quickly, his eyes widening as he did so.
“Tell me, Ezzelino, how would you like to join me in an invasion of England, in order to restore the rights of its nobles?â€
As Frederick laughed, Ezzelino shivered from more than the cold.
London, January 1215
Ezzelino yawned and rolled out of bed, taking care not to wake the woman next to him. The Emperor was carrying out an experiment which he wanted Ezzelino to see this morning, and he knew he should not be late. He stepped out of the Tower and crossed over to the King’s hall.
As he walked, he lay deep in thought. He longed for permission from the King to return home, but so far Frederick had refused. Perhaps, in a year or two, he could, but for now he was stranded in England.
Frederick, apparently, wished to know what helped with digestion. He had, the night before, pardoned two men who were to be killed, and given them an excellent dinner. He sent one to sleep, but had asked the other to stay up all night with him, listening to the music of the minnesangers. Frederick had a bet going with Ezzelino over which one would digest their food better. He wasn’t quite sure how Frederick would solve the problem of judging, but it was just a game.
Ezzelino entered the great hall just as Frederick was welcoming the two men. “Glad you are here,†he said in German, which the two men did not know. “We are just about to determine which one digested his food better.â€
“That may be,†replied Ezzelino, “but I do not see how you could prove this.â€
Frederick drew his sword. “You do not? What a pity,†he said, and in a flash, disemboweled both men. The contents of their stomach splattered onto the floor. Frederick looked at both of them, and nodded to Ezzelino. “It appears you were right,†he said. “You do digest your food better when you rest.†He gave Ezzelino a concerned look. “What, surely you do not pity these men?â€
“Well, my King, it is just that, well,†said Ezzelino, repressing the urge to vomit. “It was just so sudden.â€
“These men,†said Frederick, calmly and rationally, “were murderers. Surely you do not pity those who would kill for pleasure or profit?â€
And with that, with the bodies of the two men still lying there, Frederick sat down for breakfast.
Salisbury Plains, May 1216
Frederick’s band of followers stopped at the ancient ruins near the town of Amesbury in England. He raised his hand.
â€I wish to go and see the ruins of which the locals spoke.â€
â€Sire,†said Ezzelino in German, “perhaps we should continue riding. There are still a few barons who are revolting in the north.â€
â€Barons are always revolting,†said Frederick, with a wry smile. “It’s why they’re barons.†He stepped down off his horse and walked towards the stones. “In any case, they are almost subdued, and I wish to see the memorial of Arthur.â€
Frederick II looked at the ring of stones impassively. “Interesting,†he said, as he walked up and felt one of the blue stones. He was not, frankly, impressed. Sure, they were large, but anyone could put large rocks together. Where was the gracefulness, the culture? Even Hamburg boasted sites more impressive.
“It is said,†said Ezzelino, “that these stones were placed here by King Arthur, to celebrate a victory over the Irish. It showed the superiority of Arthur over the lesser peoples of the isles around him.â€
Frederick walked through the ring of stones, looking at them. There seemed to be something odd about the way they were oriented, but he couldn’t place his finger on it.
“They showed Arthur’s superiority, did they?†said Frederick, smiling. “I think that was a wise decision on his part.â€
Frederick called out to all before him. “Let the word of the King of the Romans be known. It is our imperial will that these stones be broken up, and be transported to Nuremberg. Instead of wasting away in this desolate land, they will be used as a testament to the glory of Rome, for even the rocks of this land come to give homage!â€
By 1218, all that would be left of Stonehenge were imprints in the earth.
Nuremberg, December 1217
Frederick grabbed Ezzelino by the shoulder. “Are you sure you will not stay?†he said. “Think of all that we could accomplish, here.â€
Ezzelino bowed before the Emperor, trying to think of a reply while the hammers of carpenters drowned him out. “You honor me, Lord,†said Ezzelino. “But my place is in my homeland, in Verona. I will be a loyal servant of the Empire there, ensuring that your word is heard even there.â€
Frederick nodded, grinning. “I’m quite certain that you will. In fact,†said the Emperor, “I am so certain that I wish to reward you.†The Emperor clapped his hands, and heralds brought in documents for Ezzelino, piling them on top of the other gifts from the Emperor.
Ezzelino knocked aside a robe of silk to open the document. “Your Grace,†said Ezzelino, stumbling over his words, “I, ah, don’t know what to say.â€
Frederick drew his sword and placed it on Ezzelino’s shoulder. “Say that you will serve me well, Ezzelino, Duke of Padania.â€
Verona, May, 1223
The years had passed, and Ezzelino had proved himself to be a just lord. Perhaps in reaction to Frederick’s attitude towards governing, Ezzelino had always taken a course of moderation and peace between the factions in his Duchy. He could often be seen riding through his cities, wearing a scarlet tunic and a gold chain given to him by the Emperor, stopping to inspect the wares of merchants, or the crops of farmers. If there was ever a problem, he was told about it, and he would dispense justice fairly, if harshly.
Because of this, he was immensely surprised when, from the ancient Roman Coliseum, he heard the cry “Alleluia!†over and over again. Ezzelino finished his business with his tax collectors and rode towards the Coliseum.
When he finally arrived there, Ezzelino saw a man, dressed in a simple woolen robe, barefoot, lecturing the crowd on morals in Italian.
“Where there is hatred,†shouted Francis, “sow love. Where there is injury, pardon. Where there is darkness, hope. This is what the Bible tells us. But the Emperor, despite his love of books, apparently forgot to read that one.â€
The crowd cried Alleluia again.
“But has not the Emperor caused the House of God to fall into ruin? He spends the wealth of the world to glorify a city in his family’s honor. Nuremberg has become a new Babylon, where the notion of a Christian Empire is made a mockery by a man who seeks to rule the world. It is a new Babylon, where the Emperor receives the tribute of the world.â€
“I am,†yelled Francis, as the crowd cheered, “the Herald of the Great King. I am the Herald of the King to whom the Emperor is a subject, though he knows it not. I seek to restore the Church to the faith of the fisherman of Galilee, nothing more. Hear my words, citizens of fair Verona, and realize the truth.â€
The crowd began cheering, and stopped, growing silent. Francis heard footsteps in the dirt behind him, and he turned around. Ezzelino, the Duke of Padania, stood before him. He looked at Francis for a long, long time, and finally came to a conclusion.
“We have been deceived,†yelled Ezzelino, as the wind picked up, blowing clouds of dust through the Coliseum. “It appears that this is nothing more than a madman.†The crowd continued to watch the two of them silent, as Ezzelino walked around, imploring them.
“I will not deny that there have been great changes in Italy. Nor will I not deny that there are some I wish had not happened. But that is the way of the world, and as the wheel of fortune turns, we must take the good with the bad. And, I believe, we have had much more that was good.â€
“Men speak of oppression from the Emperor, yet when did they speak when it was Milan whose armies ravaged Italy? Where were they when Guelphs and Ghibellines slew each other by the score? Where were they when the Pope Innocent held that he was the Lord of the world?†demanded Ezzelino. “Where were they then?â€
“For the first time in centuries, Italy is at peace. Towns are not torn apart by feuding families, cities do not exhaust one another in fruitless wars, and the roads of Italy are safer than they have ever been.†Ezzelino looked over the crowd. “Do you honestly say that you prefer to have tyranny from a man a mile away than justice from one five hundred miles away?â€
Francis laughed, the only sound, in a coliseum of thirty thousand people, beside the wind. “My good lord, I did not know that you were a coward.â€
Ezzelino’s jaw dropped. “What?†he roared. “How dare you say this?â€
“By listening to you,†replied Francis, who smiled. “Changes that you might have hoped to prevent. Italians have given up rights that we have had for centuries. That is worth safer roads to you?†Francis cast an accusing finger at Ezzelino. “We know, all know, that you served with the Emperor in England. What did you see there?†yelled Francis. “You call yourself a lord, but because of men such as you, the Emperor could crush you like an insect. An excommunication by a German Pope, perhaps, followed by an invasion by a Sicilian army. Perhaps he would even send a Greek fleet to attack as well?â€
The Duke of Pada’s gaze hardened. “I saw,†said Ezzelino, “ a realm torn apart by civil war. And I saw what happened to such a realm.†He spat into the dirt. “Get out of my city now, or your head will hang from my walls before nightfall.â€
[127] A real family in Verona, who were Ghibellines (that is to say, pro-Imperial). Ezzelino is in Verona as in OTL, but he has not been kicked out of Vicenza as in OTL. This is due, largely, to the stronger Imperial presence throughout much of Italy.
scattered thoughts and reflections
1.Wait a minute....how come King John is bac1k on the throne? i thought it was some other dude that was king of england?
2. Ouch. Removing Stonehenge....that was most definitely cruel.
3. What is Henry, son of Frederick II doing? Has the rift become that large?
4. Just how built up is Germany in 1223? What has happened to the Nordic countries? Is Denmark under German rule? Will an analogue of the Hanseatic League come about, abite under Imperial rule? Has some focusing of German culture come about or is it simply a copy of Roman stuff? [i.e. copying Roman literature]
5. Has the Imperial hold in N. Italy grown in 1223?
6. Good installment- I like the contrast that you have of Frederick II and Ezelino III- a warm dude and a cold guy. Is Frederick II's son more like Ezelino or will you show us that?
1.Wait a minute....how come King John is bac1k on the throne? i thought it was some other dude that was king of england?
2. Ouch. Removing Stonehenge....that was most definitely cruel.
3. What is Henry, son of Frederick II doing? Has the rift become that large?
4. Just how built up is Germany in 1223? What has happened to the Nordic countries? Is Denmark under German rule? Will an analogue of the Hanseatic League come about, abite under Imperial rule? Has some focusing of German culture come about or is it simply a copy of Roman stuff? [i.e. copying Roman literature]
5. Has the Imperial hold in N. Italy grown in 1223?
6. Good installment- I like the contrast that you have of Frederick II and Ezelino III- a warm dude and a cold guy. Is Frederick II's son more like Ezelino or will you show us that?
Faeelin
Banned
G.Bone said:
Check the date. It's a flashback to 1215, when the Emperor just crossed the channel.
2. Ouch. Removing Stonehenge....that was most definitely cruel.
I figured it'd get people's attention.
Depends on the date.
Rather more than OTL; there hasn't been a 25 year civil war, for starters. There's also been greater economic development of the rhineland, as well as saxon mines.
Nordic ones are same as OTL, although the king of norway married a daughter to Alexander II, Emperor of Britain, before conveniently dying without heirs.
They were under german rule OTL, being part of the reich. They're more likely to be like the cinque ports; freedom in exchange for providing certain obligations.
I do wish Carl was reading this, though, for his thoughts.
Both, but a lot of German. Germany is not a backwater in OTL or ATL during the medieval era.
Fairly constant; autonomy for loyal towns in north italy, milan has an imperial governor, and so do most central italian towns as of 1223.
All will be shown.
Faeelin
Banned
Summat silly post, going more to the essence of the Emperor's character. Any thoughts appreciated, as always.
Castle Hohenstaufen, 1228
Frederick flicked his wrist, and the hawk flew off of his hand, soaring through the sky. The bird saw a target, a sparrow flying through the air, and dove towards it. The Emperor laughed as the bird returned with its prey.
William of Holland’s own bird failed to catch anything, returning empty handed. Frederick smiled. “Yet again your bird returns empty handed. You should just give it to your servants to eat. It’s not doing you any good?â€
William put the hood back on his bird. “I suppose you are right, your grace.†William shook his head regretfully. “To be honest, I was hoping that by seeing the bird fly, I would discover how to build a flying machine. But no matter how many times it flaps its wings, it will not take off.†William kicked at a rock. “ I do not understand. Air should support objects like water does boats. And indeed, to an extent it does. A kite will fly, but not a machine for a man [131].â€
Frederick smirked. “There are those who would say that if man was meant to fly, God would have given us wings like angels.â€
William almost glared at Frederick, before remembering that that was inadvisable. “God did not give us explosive powder, silk, or ships. We built these. Would you say that God frowned upon those as well?â€
Frederick thought for a moment and took the sparrow that his falcon had caught. He cracked it, took a knife, and cut it open. “Observe,†he said. “The bones are hollow, and not solid like our bones. These creatures were light.†Frederick thought for a second. “I do not think that flapping is the way to get off the ground, either.â€
William nodded, thoughtfully. “Well, a kite rises when you run. It gets dragged behind you, does it not, and then it is carried up by the wind.†He gave the Emperor a look, in awe. “You are saying that they must reach a certain speed before taking off?â€
The Emperor nodded thoughtfully. “it would make sense, would it not? So they must run fast, and then flap!â€
William thought about this, for he too was caught up in the excitement of the moment. “No, there’s more to it than flapping.†He pointed at the Emperor’s hawk. “It does not flap often, yet it still flies. There must be something more to it.â€
Frederick thought for a few minutes, paying no heed to his other courtiers, who were still falconing. He thought again of the kite. Something was pushing up against it, clearly. “We must built a kite for a man,†said the Emperor. “It will not flap. It will be pushed up, instead.†He thought again. “But we need to find a way to make a man move fast enough.â€
Henry had joined over by this point, and although he had been largely silent, he spoke up now. “Run down a hill,†he said. “Or jump off a cliff. And we will then see if man was meant to fly.â€
Taunus Mountains, 1232
Frederick looked at the criminal again, and nodded. “Be not afraid,†said the Emperor, as the criminal wet his pants in horror. The Emperor looked down the hill. “This is the ultimate test of God’s mercy. If you survive, you will be released. If you don’t, then you are clearly fated to die, as it is ordained by God.†He nodded to William’s student Wolfram, who was controlling the machine.
“Please, my Emperor, I was innocent, I didn’t kill that man, he came at me with a knife, it was dark, please don’t kill me!†whimpered the peasant, who was fastened in. “I have children!â€
“So,†said the Emperor, “did the man you killed. Now we will push you down, and I suggest you pray instead of whine. Perhaps if you soar, so will your soul soar to heaven.†The servants began pushing him, and the man was sent rolling down the hill, screaming.
And then, for the first time in history, a man took flight. It was beautiful, and everyone who was there would remember it for the rest of their life. He soared down over the hill, over the field, screaming in terror as he went. He soared a good five hundred feet, which, naturally, caused everyone who was nearby to turn and look in amazement. The peasant began descending slowly towards the ground, and it looked as if he might make it.
“You see,†said William, “I knew it could work. We may need to adjust it, but we are witnessing the first time man has flown without divine intervention.â€
For the poor criminal, alas, things were not so well. While William was talking, he was pushed, by a wind, off course, and landed in a tree. The man was trapped there, placed there carefully by providence, and was safe.
Then the tree broke, crashing him to the ground and breaking his neck. William turned pale, while Frederick made a sound of disgust. “We lose more criminals that way.â€
William turned a sickly shade of green as Frederick thought to himself. If only there was some way to power the gliders. As his servants removed the wreckage and the body from the tree, an idea struck the Emperor. He thought about what he knew of that shot up into the sky.
“Rockets,†he muttered to himself. “Rockets.â€
[131] Bacon was the one who proposed that something in air let something float, so there is precedent for it in the medieval era.
There's a post continuing the saga of Ezzelino, but that's being worked on right now.
Castle Hohenstaufen, 1228
Frederick flicked his wrist, and the hawk flew off of his hand, soaring through the sky. The bird saw a target, a sparrow flying through the air, and dove towards it. The Emperor laughed as the bird returned with its prey.
William of Holland’s own bird failed to catch anything, returning empty handed. Frederick smiled. “Yet again your bird returns empty handed. You should just give it to your servants to eat. It’s not doing you any good?â€
William put the hood back on his bird. “I suppose you are right, your grace.†William shook his head regretfully. “To be honest, I was hoping that by seeing the bird fly, I would discover how to build a flying machine. But no matter how many times it flaps its wings, it will not take off.†William kicked at a rock. “ I do not understand. Air should support objects like water does boats. And indeed, to an extent it does. A kite will fly, but not a machine for a man [131].â€
Frederick smirked. “There are those who would say that if man was meant to fly, God would have given us wings like angels.â€
William almost glared at Frederick, before remembering that that was inadvisable. “God did not give us explosive powder, silk, or ships. We built these. Would you say that God frowned upon those as well?â€
Frederick thought for a moment and took the sparrow that his falcon had caught. He cracked it, took a knife, and cut it open. “Observe,†he said. “The bones are hollow, and not solid like our bones. These creatures were light.†Frederick thought for a second. “I do not think that flapping is the way to get off the ground, either.â€
William nodded, thoughtfully. “Well, a kite rises when you run. It gets dragged behind you, does it not, and then it is carried up by the wind.†He gave the Emperor a look, in awe. “You are saying that they must reach a certain speed before taking off?â€
The Emperor nodded thoughtfully. “it would make sense, would it not? So they must run fast, and then flap!â€
William thought about this, for he too was caught up in the excitement of the moment. “No, there’s more to it than flapping.†He pointed at the Emperor’s hawk. “It does not flap often, yet it still flies. There must be something more to it.â€
Frederick thought for a few minutes, paying no heed to his other courtiers, who were still falconing. He thought again of the kite. Something was pushing up against it, clearly. “We must built a kite for a man,†said the Emperor. “It will not flap. It will be pushed up, instead.†He thought again. “But we need to find a way to make a man move fast enough.â€
Henry had joined over by this point, and although he had been largely silent, he spoke up now. “Run down a hill,†he said. “Or jump off a cliff. And we will then see if man was meant to fly.â€
Taunus Mountains, 1232
Frederick looked at the criminal again, and nodded. “Be not afraid,†said the Emperor, as the criminal wet his pants in horror. The Emperor looked down the hill. “This is the ultimate test of God’s mercy. If you survive, you will be released. If you don’t, then you are clearly fated to die, as it is ordained by God.†He nodded to William’s student Wolfram, who was controlling the machine.
“Please, my Emperor, I was innocent, I didn’t kill that man, he came at me with a knife, it was dark, please don’t kill me!†whimpered the peasant, who was fastened in. “I have children!â€
“So,†said the Emperor, “did the man you killed. Now we will push you down, and I suggest you pray instead of whine. Perhaps if you soar, so will your soul soar to heaven.†The servants began pushing him, and the man was sent rolling down the hill, screaming.
And then, for the first time in history, a man took flight. It was beautiful, and everyone who was there would remember it for the rest of their life. He soared down over the hill, over the field, screaming in terror as he went. He soared a good five hundred feet, which, naturally, caused everyone who was nearby to turn and look in amazement. The peasant began descending slowly towards the ground, and it looked as if he might make it.
“You see,†said William, “I knew it could work. We may need to adjust it, but we are witnessing the first time man has flown without divine intervention.â€
For the poor criminal, alas, things were not so well. While William was talking, he was pushed, by a wind, off course, and landed in a tree. The man was trapped there, placed there carefully by providence, and was safe.
Then the tree broke, crashing him to the ground and breaking his neck. William turned pale, while Frederick made a sound of disgust. “We lose more criminals that way.â€
William turned a sickly shade of green as Frederick thought to himself. If only there was some way to power the gliders. As his servants removed the wreckage and the body from the tree, an idea struck the Emperor. He thought about what he knew of that shot up into the sky.
“Rockets,†he muttered to himself. “Rockets.â€
[131] Bacon was the one who proposed that something in air let something float, so there is precedent for it in the medieval era.
There's a post continuing the saga of Ezzelino, but that's being worked on right now.