Fires of the West

[Lordling]

A blue-red flower unfolds to drink in the light of the dawn. It is a masterpiece of nature, and its delicate petals shimmer, speckled with glittering dew.

On the hill above, horses nicker, impatiently awaiting the battle to come.

A horn blows and the flower is gone - crushed beneath a iron-shod hoof.

"Hold! HOLD, YOU THRICE-BURNED FOOLS!"

The voice recognizes its impotence even in its anger. The charge cannot be stopped. Not now.

On the plain below two great armies are arrayed, arrows whistling back and forth as though merely a sport, shields raised against the possibility of anger. The once-polished shields are bloodied. Corpses litter the field, untouched by the hands of looters. Basileus Diogenes has committed his last reserves, after three full days of battle.

At the head of the other army, a man sits atop his horse, eyebrow raised. He is swarthy, but he is clean-shaven, and his bearing speaks of nobility.

"So. He was a worthy foe, but he fell into my trap. It is a pity, is it not?"

The glowering man next to him does not speak.

"Come now, Alexios. Come. You were a worthier foe. Holding me off for two weeks with but a thousand men! Allah himself must have smiled upon you!"

"I see the end of the greatest empire in the world, and you expect me to be soothed by flattery?"

"It is not so bad as that. I shall not take as much as you think - not when you have fought so honourably and so well. I shall leave your own theme of Kappadokia as the border against my land, so that you may exalt yourself as defender of your Empire's borders."

The cavalry hammer down into the left flank of the Turkish army, but it is too little, too late. The pikes had prepared for such an eventuality, and, while
the cavalry is surrounded. The Roman army is forced forward, else it must leave the cavalry to destruction. The kataphraktoi are too valuable to be sacrificed in such a way. The Romans surge forward, their heavier arms of great use in such a combat. Arp Aslan has been harrying them for weeks, and now appears to be trapped - unable to retreat - as he is pinned by the Byzantine cavalry.

He has, however, been waiting for this very chance. Thousands of Turkish cavalry thunder over nearby hills, springing the very trap on the Romans they had hoped to use against the Turk.

All that is left now is a hope to luck and God, that lightning may strike the Sultan out of a clear sky.

The issue was never really in doubt.

As the dust begins to settle, the last great army of Christendom is vanquished. Many lay dead, others are fleeing even now. The Emperor is slain, lying in a pile of his own innards.






A thousand miles away, a man slams his fist down on the table, his eyes reddened by lack of sleep. He speaks, and his voice croaks out the words in despair, though to whom he does not know.

"No aid will be forthcoming from Constantinople this year."

 

[unmerged(81979)]

Ooohhh! Interesting beginning! You have me hooked!

 

[phargle]

Interesting. I will read it for three reasons:

1) the aforementioned interestingness
2) by Lordling
3) Rome gets its comeuppance

darn those Romans!

Seriously, I am intrigued. Is there some sort of weird cooperation going on between Turk and Roman? Or did Rome just get thrashed and that's the negotiation? I like the language used to convey the hopelessness of the situation, and wonder why this is Fires of the West, and where the story will lead - a thousand miles away.

 

[Lordling]

A letter is flung angrily off the table.

"They ask for my men. The scant two thousand I can gather."

"Father, what is-"

"While the Normans surround us, the Bishop of Rome has called for our removal from the peninsula, and we have but two thousand against a score of thousands!"

"The Basileus asks for your aid?"

"Yes. My last letter from Diogenes states that he is soon to crush the Turk. For my assistance with ships and men against the Normans, he would be more than willing to name me hyperexarch of all Sicily and Naples - perhaps all Italy, if we are strong enough."

"I know this, father. But why do they ask for your aid?"

"Arp Aslan has crossed the Bosphorus. Diogenes is dead."

"Then Constantinople is-"

"No, it has not yet fallen. Not yet. Thankfully, the fleet kept some order, and his initial landings were repulsed. The Sultan is a demon. He has crushed the greatest army in all Christendom, and reputable word states that he has another army of the same size in reserve."

"Who is on the throne?"

"A Komnenos. Apparently Arp Aslan's toy - he was captured during the war, and is now his puppet. He'll probably live long enough to sign a treaty giving away the whole Empire."

"What are we to do?"

For in Naples, as in Constantinople, all was not well. A fairly wealthy city, her power had been greatly reduced by the removal of the Roman Empire from the peninsula, and her wealth had suffered as trade declined. Preyed on by Normans, Genovese, and Arab pirates, her fleet was barely sufficient to defend the city's harbour. Her men were weary - many were Italians, despite the flourishing Greek population, and most were Catholic, unlike her rulers.

It was the last holdout of Greek rule in Italy, and it was not well-loved. The bare room of the Count - a Latin title that he had adopted only grudgingly - had no space for another cupboard, let alone vain hope.

A bitter laugh came from the older man.

"Against the world? What can we do?"

He gave a great, heavy sigh.

"Gather the few fools who still stand by me."

The boy looked up, worried. Decision with such haste was unlike his father.

"Father?"

"We sail to Constantinople."

The Central Mediterranean, 1068​

 

[Enewald]

Spartenos?
Wooot!!!
Another romaaar!!!!

 

[General_BT]

"We sail for Constantinople."

I hope the Count means that he is going to aid in the defense of the city... unless...

...maybe we could soon have a Spartenos Emperor?

 

[unmerged(81979)]

To Konstantiyye and beyond! KUTGW!

 

[IamWhoa]

Nope, nope. Too many Turks. Better off just staying home.

 

[phargle]

The Spartenos family are pretty bad-ass. When I was playing the Orsinis, they were close family friends, and I made sure to install them all over my conquests in Sicily. Totally bad-ass guys with lots of marshal skills and loyalty. I dig 'em. There's no way that crappy crap crap Byzantine empire can withstand an assault by a Spartenos.

 

[Devin Perry]

Constantinople is still in Greek hands. That's a refreshing change.

 

[unmerged(31881)]

Ah... Spartenos... my first game was with them. Little did i know that having 0% efficiency was a bad thing... but it was nevertheless plenty of fun. Your rendition of their family saga looks to be well-written, so count me a reader.

 

[Lordling]

To quote Knud Knytling, nnnnnnngggg. It seems every time I start an AAR, something goes wrong. This time, my internet asploded, which is a nice change from complete computeral destruction. I've actually written a fair bit - I'll just see what I can do about the internet and whatnot before I actually post anything.

 

[unmerged(109735)]

Just started reading your AAR, and then I happened upon this:

To quote Knud Knytling, nnnnnnngggg. It seems every time I start an AAR, something goes wrong.

At first I feared that your intriguing story was already at an end, but then I saw that it was only delayed. Good! That's an interesting setup you've got here, and I'd love to see what the Spartenoi (wich is btw the proper Greek plural of Spartenos, should you ever need it o) can do. Even though I fear this won't in the long run bode well for the Apulian Normans.

 

[Lordling]

“Across the Hellespont, an army gathers. They are hordes innumerable by any standard. The Turk has risen in the east, and we have been unable to stop him. I do not lay the blame on any one lord, for we all are equally guilty. We warred amongst ourselves when we needed unity to slay this beast that now threatens our very city. Sword struck on sword where shield should have been next to shield. We are paying the price for our foolishness.”

Alexios gestured across the sea, having chosen this location to give a fine view of the sea.

“Anatolia is entirely lost. If this persists, our empire is no more. Rome shall be shattered, and her proud history laid to rest. Will the annals of the future read thusly? That Rome, greatest of all empires, was powerful and wealthy, but in her hour of need, no giants strode forth? Shall we read in a thousand years that only greedy dwarves came to serve, and only in hopes of gaining the throne?”

The small council of war was silent. Among them was the rulers of Epirus, Athens, Sparta – Crete. Most of the lords in the east were dead or captured, their lands taken.

“Sergios, stand forth.”

“Basileus?”

“You, my good and loyal friend, could not have been expected to come to my aid. I did not expect it, in truth. You have troubles enough in Italy, and to come, and with such an army is a boon that has lifted my heart greatly.”

Six months ago, Sergios Spartenos, lord of Naples, had begun the arduous task of gathering an army. A motley collection of Italians, Greeks, and mercenaries stood before the gates of Constantinople, augmenting the shattered Byzantine forces. He had gathered a thousand of his own men, and two thousand mercenaries, northmen of sturdy build and with harsh axes. They had come south to serve the Normans, but Roger Borsa had turned them away, claiming that he needed no such men under his command.

This foolish move had profited Sergios, who had indebted his very city to hire them. Now, with three thousand at his call, his force was a full tenth of the remaining Byzantine army, larger than any other individual lord.

“Your loyalty is unlike that of the Moslems, who are torn just as we are. In the south, Arp Aslan found himself overstretched. Egypt and her wealthy rulers saw a chance to become even greater, and to claim the Caliphate for themselves. The Fatimid rulers have sent messengers to me, and they have told us of their intention to strike even as we recover the Hellespont. Some fifty thousands from Egypt are gathered, and we have thirty thousands here, and another five once the remaining lords gather their men. This is a sign, my friends. God has seen fit to grant us another chance, in his infinite mercy. We are unworthy, but he will not let his true followers fall so easily.”

Sergios stood.

“My lord, have you considered the possibility of betrayal? That these Moslems are working together in order to bring you down?”

Alexios laughed, as if he would otherwise weep.
“I have considered it. I have known sleepless nights, but this remains our only chance. Two weeks ago, my spies informed me that Arp Aslan is building a fleet, intending to sail across to Greece. He does not need Constantinople, he can cut open our veins, and watch as we bleed to death. The day has long passed that we could easily stop him. If the Egyptians are perfidious, then Christendom is perhaps lost. But it remains our only hope.”

Theodoros Paililogos, megas domestikos, swathed in a simple cloak of red, stood. His eyes were reddened with lack of sleep, and his hands shook, haggard. Some of his stubble still remained, as if he had not had time to properly shave. He spoke, and his voice was tired and dull.

“There is no other choice. Arp Aslan is brilliant, but his sons will not be so. He holds his empire together with force of will. If we can stop him now, we may pick up the pieces of his designs after his death. If not, we perish. He has two armies of forty thousand, one in the north, one heading into the south. He leads the southern army himself, considering us vanquished. If we can shatter his forces in the north, which are dispersed, capturing those fortresses of ours which have held out, he will be forced to split his southern army to face us. With that in mind, the Fatimids may well beat his southern force.”

Alexios looked across the Hellespont, the light from ten thousand campfires glowing dimly in the evening sky.

“We can protect the City without our armies, for now. His fleet is not complete. If we sail to the south, behind his main force, we can cut that army off and destroy it. That.. would give us a fighting chance.”

The lord assorted looked dubious. No doubt, Sergios thought, they were thinking that it would be easier to give up the east, and remain in the west, with their armies and wealth intact.

He stood.

“I am with you, basileus. To the gates of Hell itself. No man here would deny our last chance of saving Christendom! No man here would be cowardly enough to stay behind, indeed, we all count it a great honour to be beside you!”

Theodoros stood, revitalized by Sergios's sudden energy.

“Death! Death for the Turk, and glory for the Romanoi!”

Unwilling to appear recalcitrant, lord by lord stood, shouting their approval.

Alexios smiled.

“The fleet is ready, my good friends, and messengers have been dispatched for you men to assemble. We sail tonight.”

Sergios blinked, flabbergasted. The Emperor was a lot more wily than anyone gave him credit for. Now he was just showing off. Though that sort of flamboyance was needed, he supposed, to survive as the ruler of the Roman court for any length of time.

March 18, 1076. ​

It had been a lightning campaign. Two years in the field, Sergios mused, and not a single great battle. This was not to say there had been no victories, rather only that the basileus's great genius had shone through. Forty thousand men had opposed them but a few months ago, now there were five, shivering across the Hellespont, staring hatefully at Constantinople.

Arp Aslan had expected an attack on his troops near the Hellespont, and had fortified the position there, ready to slaughter the remainder of the Romanoi. This was not to be, however. Alexios had merely split his army, going after the small forces chasing down even smaller Romanoi bands. Forty thousand split into three or four thousand apiece were no challenge, and, by the time Arp Aslan had gotten wind of the Emperor's plan he had been overly busy with the Egyptians. By the time the message to gather the troops had been given, thirty thousand were dead or captured. Five thousand opposed them at Kappadokia, and there, in his former theme, the Emperor had shown no mercy. While almost four thousand of the Turks had been captured, each one had been executed, and their corpses buried with their hands cut off and eyes put out.

The Sultan's son had been leading them. Here, Alexios Komnenos had proven somewhat merciful. He had not executed the man, but had rather acted to cripple the Turks in years to come. His right hand – his sword hand – had been cut off, as had his ears. While he was still a good general and a clever politician, it remained to be seen if the Turks would accept a crippled, mutilated failure as a ruler.

Sergios had left that day. His forces had been bearing the brunt of almost every assault, as every lord in the Empire was not willing to take that chance, and while loyal, his city was under threat. And now.. the Emperor had mutilated the son of the man who had shown him such mercy. He had reminded the Emperor of this -

“My lord, he let you go free! You cannot do this to his son!”

“To the contrary, Sergios. I can, and I will. I will not let such a valuable chance pass up. Arp Aslan is losing in the south, I hear, and I will not see his empire revitalized.”

Sergios looked at him, unable to believe the words he was hearing.

“My.. lord.”

“Be quiet, Sergios. Remember who is lord here, and who is not. You owe your loyalty to me, and your support for whatever I deem necessary.”

Sergios grimaced.

“I have fought for you, my lord. Out of three thousand, two hundred remain. My coffers are empty, my city lies under threat from the Normans. In return for such service, I am to remain silent?”

“Very well. Ten thousand solidus I will gift you. My armies will march against Italy once Anatolia is secure. You will be exarch there, second greatest lord in the Empire!”

“You will spare his son?”

“What does it matter to you? You have not even met him!”

“Perhaps. Christ would not have done this, my lord.”

“Christ was the Son of God, Sergios. I cannot perform miracles, so I must need perform perfidies.”

Sergios turned away.

“I will return to Italy. I cannot sanction this.”

“Fine. You'll not see aid from me, though. Not a penny or a man. May all of Italy burn for your foolishness!”

Sergios did not speak, but left the tent. It had been a miracle that he had survived that day, that the Emperor's temper had not extended to prevail on his life. He would return to Naples. He shook his head bitterly.

Two years. Twenty battles. He had served more faithfully than any scheming lord of the Empire, and for what? For some ideal of the Emperor, the Vice-Gerent of Christ. That was all gone, now. He would return to Naples and watch his doom descend upon him. It was what he deserved, for such idiocy. For such blind trust. He thought of his son, and his wife.

He turned, and left.

Historical Note
Sergios Spartenos, lord of Naples, served as a commander of the Byzantine army from early 1074 to March 1076. A generally pious man, he disagreed with some of the brutal measures Emperor Alexios was taking. While his moral stance is commendable, especially considering the barbaric age from which he hailed, there is no doubting the mutilation of Arp Aslan's son contributed greatly to the destruction of the Turkish empire, especially considering the defeat of the Turks by the Fatimids at the Battle of Alexandria, and the death of Arp Aslan there. The civil war that ensued did not allow greater Byzantine incursion, but it ensured that the Byzantine strength recovered without further assault. Under a capable commander, the depopulation of Anatolia and the massive losses in the reconquest of such would have left Constantinople even more open to an incursion than before.

This is also generally considered the earliest point a distinct Napolitean culture emerged, distinct from the Greek of the Byzantines, and the Italian of the peninsula at the time. What we consider the modern-day Naples evolved primarily from this formerly Byzantine area. Sergios's disillusionment with the war left him with barely the will to defend his own city. It was during this time he penned “The Morality of Lords”, a hugely important work that formed the basis of Napolitean law from the foundation of the Serene Kingdom onwards.​

 

[Lordling]

The_Guiscard: No. No it does not. Actually, I wanted to recover Italy as the Greeks - but I didn't want to use the Byzantine Empire, which is overly easy. I ended up having buckets of fun, and spending most of my time.. well, you'll see.

 

[unmerged(81979)]

Well, I'm glad it was only your internet! Good work, sir!

 

[Lordling]

Yeah, it's a troublesome device. Thankfully, I'm going off to university which has awesome internet, and there's a week before I have to go - in which I have all of one five-hour shift at work. So I might just make up for lost time.

 

[Enewald]

Funny, Napoleon actually was named after a rug which had been made in Napoli, because he was born on it.
But now we shall see a greater Neapoli, I wish!

 

[unmerged(109735)]

"I cannot perform miracles, so I must need perform perfidies." Very nice, that.

I had feared that this interestingly set-up and well-written AAR had perished, and now I'm glad to see it still going.

 

[Lordling]

A prince is not lord by the grace of the sword, but rather by the grace of God. God grants this power to a prince that he may watch over his people.
Sergios Spartenos, The Morality of Lords


The foundations for the modern Napolitean state was laid with the death of Sergios Spartenos, and the inheritance of his son - also named Sergios. His son was a much less spirited man, being given to long thought as opposed to swift action. However, this capacity for thought made him the most influential lord in the formation of the state.

In mid-June, 1077, Sergios II took the throne, such as it was, and quickly began assembling plans for increasing the power and security of his own state. Seeing the various Norman lords, all of whom were fractitious in nature, he formulated a plan to take the city of Capua. While not particularly wealthy, he knew that attempting to seize any cities from the De Hautevilles was suicide - the military ability and numbers of the Normans would see him crushed nigh-instantaneously, and Salerno was equally matched in strength with Naples. A single mistake against Salerno could well see him lose his city and throne.

He gathered over one thousand men, mainly levies from the city, and demanded that the lord of Capua, a Norman himself, pay a tax due to the increasing number of Norman raids on his soil. This was not uncommon - occasionally offended rulers demanded recompense, especially on such a minor scale, and the Norman raids had been damaging during his father's sojourn in Anatolia - but it was presumptuous.

No Greek lord had dared threaten the Normans since their invasion, and despite the infighting between Capua and Apulia, the lord of Capua was confident that the other Normans would not threaten allow the loss of their hegemony.

Sergios preempted such a plan. In fact, one of the letters he wrote to Robert de Hauteville has been recovered, and the contents below give us great insight into how he managed to snatch the city with no outcry.

My good lord Robert. Of late, your cousin in Capua has given great offense to me, refusing to pay recompense for raids he most grievously inflicted upon my people. This is of little note to you, of course, excepting that I am holding a piece of most valuable power that you may be interested in. Basileus Alexios Komnenos is planning to recover Roman lands in Italy or Sicily, in order to re-establish his control over trade in the Mediterranean. As his firm ally, I have great input into where this expeditionary force lands. If he is convinced that no threat comes from the Normans, he will most certainly direct his force towards Sicily, which is a more valuable prize in any case. However, if I am threatened, he will be required to secure the supply port of Naples, and, in addition, most if not all of southern Italy. I come to you as a friend, wishing to offer favour for favour. In return for deflecting such a blow from your fine realm, I merely wish for your lenience when I exact punishment on a disreputable criminal who has insulted me in such a way that no man of honour such as ourselves could stand.

Think my offer over.

Indeed, the entire Napolitean force marched into Capua within three weeks, sweeping through the poorly-mustered defensive force, and taking the city within minutes. The native Capuans were not enamoured with the Normans in any case, and so there was no real popular resistance to the change. The city fell, and, claiming it as a prize in return for the slight on his honour, Sergios added the city to his dominion.

This strategy served him well when the lord of Benevento split away from Robert's dominion, Robert threatening to leave him to the tender mercy of the Napoliteans unless he returned to the fold. Of course, no Norman lord would expect such treatment, but Robert had given his word in public, and Sergios used this cunningly. His force had not even returned to Naples, but rather hired mercenaries from Capua, and continued on to Benevento, seizing the second unexpecting city within a month. The capture of both cities left Sergios in a commanding position on the peninsula, having expanded his power from that of a minor lord to that greater than any beyond Robert de Hauteville.

Having done this, Sergios named himself exarch of Benevento, ostensibly under the authority of the Roman Emperor. Of course, the massive rebellion against Alexios Komnenos's authority after the victory against the Turk meant that a reasonable gratuity of men and gold was enough to purchase the title legally, although the Emperor was still estranged from the Spartenos family.

Sergios had by this time married, and had a son, who he named Alexios. (It is theorised that this was to improve relations with the Roman Empire, who's support he dearly wished to win) He granted his son the revenues of Capua in perpetuity, to be held by Sergios until his son turned sixteen.

It is notable that both Capua and Benevento's lords were fabulously wealthy by the standards of the time, and when they were captured, their personal treasure hoards were immediately taken by Sergios. This he spent on the construction of a small fishing fleet to be owned by the Spartenos family in Naples, as well as a wharf for the fleet. The investment by the Spartenoi into their demenses' economies was to prove intensely profitable. He also spent a great deal of money to construct a road from Capua to Benevento. While Benevento was his new capital (primarily to ensure the Hautevilles did not attack without his prior knowledge), the town was not overly wealthy, especially since trade with port towns was hard.

The road cost a great deal of money, but the tolls and wealth it brought to Benevento made it a large city briefly in its time as capital of the Spartenoi realm.

With the money remaining, he raised an army of two and a half thousand men, and invaded Salerno. A city as wealthy as Naples, capturing the coast would almost double the wealth of his realm. Sergios at this time showed his competence as a military commander, almost six hundred of his men abandoning him, leaving him outnumbered when his army was to face off against Gisulf of Salerno. Sergios calmly surveyed the situation, and sent runners off at surprisingly speed, maneuvering his army slowly around near marshy ground nearby.

The end result was that Gisulf's cavalry were left bogged down in wet ground, and while they inflicted heavy casualties on the infantry of Naples, the Napolitean cavalry butchered the disorganized Salernan force.

Young Alexios died of pneumonia during this campaign, and Sergios had another child, Anna. He granted her the title of Capua as he had done with Alexios, and, for all intents and purposes, seemed to have been raising her to rule. A second daughter, Eudokia was born, and granted Benevento as her city. While the cities were still defended by Sergios and his army, the revenues accrued to his daughters.

Sergios's odd manner of raising his daughters continues in Spartenoi family tradition to this day. They are not raised to marry into good families - indeed, it is forbidden for Spartenoi daughters to marry into other royal families (this law still exists, but is rarely enforced in the modern-day context of a constitutional monarchy).

Having quadrupled the size of his realm and doubled its incomes, almost tripled his available levies, and built two libraries that remain to this day, Sergios assumed peace and plenty would be quick to follow.

However, he had made one mistake. He had not pacified Robert de Normandie..