Give 'Em the Ol' Basel Razzle-Dazzle - A Habsburg AAR

[Green Rice]

Chapter 1: Werner Gets Hungry for Hungary

Our story begins in the quiet Swiss province of Basel. Count Werner von Habsburg rules a little fief next to that of his brother-in-law, Count Ulrich von Lenzburg of Bern. Werner is a tough soldier, patient, diligent, gregarious, and…content. Well, maybe he’s content with his lands, but Werner seeks to leave the next generation of Habsburgs with more than he alone can give.

Fortunately, the Kingdom of Hungary is in regency for their newly-teenage king, Árpád Salamon, and Werner has two children, Otto and Ida, with which to forge the alliances necessary to take Salamon’s throne for a more worthy candidate.

Hungary has a virtual buffet of attractive, young, and hopefully fertile princesses. There’s only one hiccup in Werner’s plan: he’s already married to a lowborn woman named Reginlind, and even if the Pope cared about a backwater count in Switzerland, Reginlind has given no cause for His Holiness to grant Werner a divorce.

However, the one benefit of marrying a commoner is that no one cares about her life, so Werner hardens his heart and orders Reginlind imprisoned and then hanged, her neck breaking to match her heart. To ease his troubled mind, Werner begins a pilgrimage to Rome. Scholars would wonder for years why Werner didn’t spare Reginlind and order her to join a convent once she was at his mercy in the dungeons, and their colleagues would point to Werner’s low learning skill and to a particularly incompetent advisor who went straight to the prisoner screen instead of the targeted decisions menu.

Returned from Rome with what Reginlind would almost certainly consider an ironic newfound appreciation for charity, Werner begins planning his second marriage. His new bride is the 17-year-old Princess Árpád Mária, a woman with a head for sums and money, although her self-restraint meant she sometimes passed the most lucrative opportunities.

While on pilgrimage, Werner had written back to his regent, Bishop Simon of St-Ursanne, to arrange the betrothals for his children. Ida’s hand was promised to Prince Bretislav Premyslid of Bohemia, eldest son of Duke Vladislav. With this pact Werner gained the backing of the second-largest military force in the empire: 3,400 levy troops and counting. However the Bohemians would be a belated reinforcement should an enemy attack close to home, so Otto, the heir, was matched with Gisele d’Ivrea, third daughter and sixth child in total of Duke Guillaume of the neighboring realm of Franche-Comté. For extra insurance Werner got a written agreement of mutual defense signed by his brother-in-law in Bern.

With these three pacts, Werner now has access to an army six times that which he could have raised on his own. And none too soon, for King Árpád Salamon is drawing near the age of majority and his coronation within the next two years. After that day, his reign will be too legitimate in the eyes of Werner’s new allies, and he will not be able to call them to depose Salamon in favor of his cousin, the new Baroness of Habsburg.

And so, on 21 February, 1067, the fourteen-year-old King of Hungary receives a sealed scroll of cheap parchment informing him that a minor Swiss count is declaring war to press his cousin Mária’s claim to his throne. Salamon promptly snorts with laughter and asks his regent, the Queen Mother Anastasia of Rus, if she was trying to audition for the title of court jester. His mother replies sternly that this is a legitimate diplomatic missive and reads a second letter from the Duke of Bohemia. Salamon’s laughter cuts off abruptly, and within the hour messengers are on their way to every corner of the Carpathian Basin, calling all loyal sons of Hungary to war.

Salamon’s forces manage to win an early victory at Esztergom against Count Werner himself in 1068, but the Lord of Basel regroups his coalition’s forces and leads them to a victorious rematch at the Second Battle of Esztergom in January of the next year.

In February of 1069, while the Habsburg forces are in the process of laying siege to the Hungarian capital of Esztergom, Werner realizes one ally hasn’t yet appeared: the Duke of Franche-Comté. Werner soon discovers why: the treaty of alliance he had meant to send for the Duke’s signature had been left on his desk at Habsburg Castle! One swift horse and one beheaded advisor later (rumored to be the same dullard who had “conveniently” forgotten about the existence of nunneries during the Reginlind debacle) and Duke Guillaume’s banners are crossing the Danube to aid in the capture of King Salamon’s personal holdings.

A third and final battle of Esztergom takes place when the coalition arrives to break a siege against their garrison by King Salamon’s main army, desperate to reclaim the capital. Werner distinguishes himself as a specialist in the skilled deployment of heavily-armored infantrymen, while the king distinguishes himself by losing his right eye in a battlefield duel. Unfortunately for posterity, so many of the allied commanders claimed to be the man who took the king’s eye (some even brandishing macabre trophies ostensibly from the royal head) that the true identity of Salamon’s opponent that day has been lost to history. Salamon himself, rather than offer up any useful information, would instead offer up a jest when asked if he had any idea: “How should I know? He came at me from the right!”


By May of 1070, even the now half-blind Salamon can see the writing on the wall. On the morning of the 15th, he walks into the throne room of Komárom Castle in Esztergom, dressed in full regal attire. He sits on the throne as a board is laid on his lap, a roll of parchment rolled out on it, and a quill placed in his hand. The young king reads the proclamation in Magyar, his voice stirring the audience with its combination of honesty and righteous indignation towards his enemies. Then he signs his name, presses his royal seal in wax next to it, and hands the parchment to the court chamberlain. The board is taken away, Salamon rises, and his court kneels before him one final time as he turns and lays his scepter, his robe, and finally his crown on the throne. Retaking the parchment from his chamberlain, he walks silently to the front steps of the palace, where Mária and her shabbily-dressed husband are waiting. The normally talkative Salamon says not a single word to his cousin, any remaining familial love for Mária buried deep behind an icy stare, as he hands her the official notice of his abdication. He passes by Werner on his right, so as to avoid even the pretense of a glance to acknowledge the count's existence, and begins the journey to his new seat in Sopron, trying not to hear the crowd behind him chanting, “Long live Queen Mária!”

Edited on 2020.5.18 from original to fix typos and inconsistent tense.
Edited on 2020.5.21 to correct Bohemian troop counts, which I had somehow doubled in my head.

Next Time...
Count Werner receives tidings both good and ill, and young Otto begins to walk a path of darkness...

 

[Green Rice]

Chapter 2: Maladies, Mirth, and Mishaps

It was May of 1070 A.D., and the new King Consort of Hungary, Werner of Basel, was relaxing in his new chambers in Komárom Castle, while his wife, Queen Árpád Mária was seeing supplicants downstairs in the throne room. Much had happened during his three-year campaign that he needed to reflect on.

He coughed and felt his stomach churn a little. Early in the year his Court Physician, Siegfried, had given him the grave news: cancer. Siegfried was an excellent healer, and Werner knew that he was as infallible when it came to medicine as the Pope was on religion. He put his head in his hands. Mária had yet to conceive him a child, the future Habsburg king of Hungary, the reason he had sought her hand in the first place and left his two children behind for the past three years, with neither father nor mother to comfort them. If he was to die so soon, it would have all been in vain. Was the Lord punishing him, or the ghost of poor Reginlind?

“Fear not, my liege,” Siegfried had reassured him, “for before I came to Basel I traveled far and wide to study with the greatest medical minds in the world, from Hispania in the west to Baghdad in the east, and I have collected their knowledge on the proper treatment of this disease. If you ask it of me, I will treat you with one of their methods, or…” he trailed off.

“Or what, Master Siegfried?” the count had demanded to know. “Do you see another way in which I might defeat this affliction?”

“It is merely a hypothesis,” Siegfried warned. “I have yet to test it on a patient, but if I am correct, it could combine the benefits of all the various methods I have seen.”

“How confident are you that you are correct?”

“As confident as any general before a well-planned battle, sire. Optimistic but prepared for the enemy to have tricks of his own.”

Werner had sighed. He had risked his life in two battles already and was already on his way to a third. What difference was it if he wagered it on a field of battle or in Siegfried’s tent?

“Then as your liege, I give my blessing to your stratagem, General Siegfried. Go and collect what you need for this experimental treatment at once. I shall remain here until your return.”

Siegfried had bowed his head and left the tent. He returned an hour or two later with a small package wrapped in a small leather satchel.

“Thank you, my lord, for the opportunity to contribute to the advancement of the healing arts by practicing on your noble personage. What I have in this satchel may be…unsettling, but rest assured that its efficacy will outweigh its unpleasantness.”

“Siegfried, just what are you plan—SAINTS ALIVE, WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!”

Werner wasn’t sure which had been more frightening: his first impression of the satchel’s contents or reality. At first glance, he thought that Siegfried had brought a spider of gargantuan size, but Werner had quickly realized that the “spider” had only five legs, and one shorter than the other — it was a hand, black and foul-smelling and distorted from the blood pooling within. No doubt Siegfried had removed it from a wounded soldier some time ago.

“WHAT KIND OF SACRILEGE—“ Werner had continued, but Siegfried had laid a gentle finger to his lord’s lip.

“Hush, lord, it would not do you well in your state to agitate yourself. You have put your trust in me, and I have not misled you about my research. Continue to trust me, and you will live to see your ambitions fulfilled.”

Werner had relented and lain back on the table as Siegfried touched the putrid thing to his bare chest and manipulated the cold, dead fingers to make them press various points. The smell had been horrific, but Werner woke up the following morning feeling much rejuvenated and with fewer symptoms. He had congratulated Siegfried that evening, right before his glorious second victory at Esztergom that had cinched Mária’s ascension.

That was now several months behind him, and Werner was beginning to worry that the cough was returning. Perhaps Siegfried had only bought him time, not a complete cure. If so, all the more reason to give Mária an heir.

There had also been troubling developments back in Switzerland even before the cancer. Werner hadn’t been gone two months from Basel when a messenger had caught up to his army to inform him that on 16 May, 1067, Kaiser Heinrich IV ‘the Young’ had made Count Géraud de Genève of Genfergau and Vaud the first Duke of Transjurania, and given him the counties of Bern, Neuchatel, and Basel as vassals. Included in the announcement was a request for Werner to join his new liege’s council as Chancellor. Werner sent a reply to Genfergau accepting the position but regretfully informing Géraud that he would be Chancellor in absentia for the foreseeable future. It would be an annoyance to have to split his time between his own keep, his wife’s, and his liege’s, but if this Géraud turned out to be a thorn in Werner’s side, it was better to keep him under a close eye.

And what a thorn the new Duke proved to be, immediately writing back to demand Werner join the council in person at once or be declared in rebellion. Werner reluctantly made all possible haste back the way he came. If he was unenthusiastic to be stuck in Genfergau, by the end of his first council session he was ready to break through the walls of the castle at Genf with his bare hands if it meant he could escape. Géraud seemed two men in one body. With his right hand he gave generously to others, later even going so far as to grant the county of Vaud to his spymaster, an Egyptian convert named Ghaysan, in April of 1071. But with the left hand he brutally maintained restrictions on the common folk and his vassal lords. The other painfully obvious contradiction in his character, Werner observed, was that he both coveted that which he did not have, be it another man’s land or his wife, and yet was a trembling coward whenever he was challenged by the same man. On top of that, the Frenchman’s disdain for his Germanic subjects was made plain by the way he dismissed their suggestions with barely a moment’s consideration, and Werner in particular seemed to draw Géraud’s ire whenever he made a contribution to the discussion his liege disapproved of. The Duke regularly mocked Werner’s tentative title of King Consort of Hungary and made lewd comments about Mária. Such conduct came not completely as a surprise to Werner, as Géraud was known to be an occasional rake (he'd later father and acknowledge a bastard by the wife of one of his courtiers in 1071), but were still offensive enough that Werner vowed silently to avenge his wife’s honor.

There were other, less personal reasons to consider supplanting Géraud, Werner realized as he mulled over his thoughts later that evening. Whether or not Mária would provide him with a child was yet to be seen, and in the worst case scenario, if such a child was not to be, or if this gamble of a war failed to pay off, then the next generation of Habsburgs would have no more to inherit than Werner had, and that was not acceptable to him. So over the next two years, while still campaigning, Werner had sent secret letters seeking out other disgruntled persons of note in and around Transjurania. A mayor here, a bishop there. But the strangest bedfellow came in the form of the Duke of Savoy, Pierre. Genfergau had been part of his lands since antiquity, until the Kaiser had elevated its count, and so the Savoyard was intrigued at the possibility of knocking his former vassal back down a peg. It had been difficult, though, to negotiate Pierre down from his initial demand that Genfergau be immediately returned to him upon the successful conclusion of Werner’s coup.

“My lord,” Werner had said, “I can assure you that Géraud will insist I adhere to the gentlemanly rules of warfare and allow him to retain the county and its associated estates, and I would not consider it Christian of myself to thrust upon you an unwilling and untrustworthy vassal such as him. Therefore, let us agree that I will retain him and Genfergau as a vassal until his passing. His heir is still young and moldable, and can likely be educated into a more pliant subject than the father. When he inherits the estate, I shall be more than happy to return him to his rightful liege, but until then, allow me to assume the risk on your behalf.”

Evidently satisfied when they had formalized this secret pact in writing, the Duke of Savoy had worked quickly, delivering on his promise before the war in Hungary had even entered its final stages. Werner was now in possession of documents claiming his mother’s descent from the now-extinct house of Welf that had once ruled Transjurania. And now that that war was behind him, Werner was almost free to pursue his new goal. A couple more years in Hungary were still needed to firmly establish Mária’s authority as queen, and for Werner and his allies to train up fresh levies, but afterwards a return to Switzerland was in order, if only long enough to see this new and hopefully final campaign through. When the day to return to Basel arrive in 1072, Mária is unhappy to leave her homeland for a second time after what was always going to seem too short a stay, but she recognizes that she needs an heir if Hungary is to avoid being torn apart on her death, and thus she needs to stay close to Werner.

Werner declares war on Duke Géraud on 2 May, 1072. Reversing their roles from the Hungarian campaign, this time the Duke of Franche-Comté provides the battlefield support, while the Bohemians, owing to the travel time needed to cross through Bavaria, mainly aid in the sieging of Géraud’s castles.

The Bohemians do see brief action at the Battle of Basel shortly after their arrival. Duke Géraud, soundly driven from his own holdings, decides on a desperate strategy to take Habsburg castle and use Werner’s family as bargaining chips. The garrison, however, fully aware of King Vratislav’s imminent arrival, dig in until they see the Premyslid eagle flying on the horizon. Werner and his red lion arrive at the same time to outflank the Genevans, who are slaughtered.

Werner briefly pauses his campaign to enter his keep and check in on Otto and Ida. Queen Mária was also there, and Werner, exuberant with his victory, makes passionate love to his wife. After several weeks in a besieged castle, even the usually chaste Mária is remarkably eager. Werner has to leave the following morning to resume the last few sieges on Géraud’s lands, but his spirit is notably light. With the surrender of a couple more cities and parishes loyal to Géraud, Werner is ready to declare victory on 12 January, 1073.

Arriving back in Habsburg Castle to celebrate (and throw his predecessor in the dungeon), Werner is met with more good news: a glowing Queen Mária with a swollen belly. The new Duke of Transjurania orders a week of celebration and merriment to honor his twin victories on the battlefield and in the bedchamber.

The peace does not last long, however, as not long afterwards Khan Kegen of Pechenegs declares a war of conquest against Queen Mária of Hungary. The Habsburg forces make the long march back to Hungary, this time to defend it. By the time Werner arrives, however, the Hungarians have already been badly reduced by Kegen’s tribesmen. Now even combined, the defenders are marginally outnumbered.

Werner initially marches to meet the Hungarians in Wallachia, but when the Khan’s forces pass back over the Southern Carpathians to attack the besiegers from the east, he changes tactic. He follows the Pechenegs over the same pass but turns the other direction with the aim of sacking the Khan's personal holdings in Odessa while they are undefended. But once across the mountain pass, his good nature gets the best of him when his scouts report the enemy is about to overtake the Hungarians, who are digging in instead of retreating despite their numerical disadvantage. Hoping he can win the day by attacking the enemy rearguard, Werner changes strategy yet again and orders his men to give chase. But the Tengri Khan proves a more wily foe than Werner had given him credit for. The horsemen circle back on the Transjuranians, catching them by surprise at Târgoviște, forcing them to retreat back over the mountains, and blocking the way to Odessa. It is Werner’s biggest military blunder.

Happier news arrives on 13 August, 1073: Princess Amalie von Habsburg, gifted with a genius mind at the cost of traditional feminine charm (or any feminine charm), is born to King Werner and Queen Mária, securing a Habsburg into the line of succession. She is promptly baptized by Pope Alexander II and betrothed matrilineally to the baseborn but quick-witted Kazimierz, the grandson and namesake of the Piast king of Poland Kazimierz ’the Restorer’ through his second son Duke Wladyslaw of Kuyavia and the duke’s lowborn lover, an ambitious tomboy named Katarzyna.

As the year draws to a close, Werner, having earlier been appointed a commander to Kaiser Heinrich IV, is called away from his ongoing campaign in Hungary to fight the pagans of Pomerania in the Emperor’s Holy War for Obotritia. Queen Mária writes several pleading letters begging Werner to stay in Hungary, but Werner replies that his oath to his Kaiser and his duty to God has to take precedence. Additionally, in private, Werner’s commanders are advising him that after the disaster at Târgoviște , the war is a lost cause. Werner decides to go and fight to claim Pomerania for the Christian church and hopefully repair his military record.

Sadly, the decision proves to be yet another mistake. On 18 February, 1074, Werner von Habsburg, King of Hungary, Duke of Transjurania, Count of Basel, and Baron of Habsburg, is slain in the Battle of Werben against the armies of High Chief Waclaw of Pomerania, by a Finnish Suomenusko mercenary named Voitto Kukkonen. Werner looks at the spear thrust through his chest. “Well,” he notes with a smile, a trickle of blood starting at the corner of his mouth, “At least I don’t have to worry about the cancer anymore.” Saying a silent prayer to God for granting him a soldier’s death, he closes his eyes and drifts into eternal rest, his work on Earth complete, even if he didn’t have much time to enjoy it. Doubtless he would have been happy to know that his troops continued the fight without him and delivered a victory in the name of the Kaiser. After a brief battlefield memorial in his honor, he is sent back to Habsburg Castle to be laid to rest. He was 49 years old.

Author's note: Really sorry I didn't get a screenshot of the succession page to share here, folks! This was pre-AAR decision!

With the heroic passing of King Werner, a regency begins for his son Otto, and the alliance between Transjurania and Hungary breaks down, removing the Swiss from the fight against Khan Kegen. With the Hungarian army already depleted, the path is clear for Kegen to claim victory and County of Szekelyföld on 28 September, 1075.

Otto is eager to see that his father’s legacy is not threatened by his untimely death. Amalie may be Queen Mária’s firstborn child, but a queen cannot not stay a widow for long, and any future sons will displace the Habsburg line from the throne of Hungary. Otto dives into his studies. His father had ordered that his heir receive a thorough education in diplomacy and statecraft, and Otto has an aptitude for it, perfect for the head of a house on a rapid but fragile rise to prominence. On his 16th birthday, New Year’s Day 1076, he assumes full control of the Duchy of Transjurania, although his vassals aren’t quite sure what to make of their handsome and hard-working (frankly, overworked) yet irreverent and malicious new ruler.

On 26 January, 1076, Otto gets an unusual visit from Count Friedrich of Magdeburg and Werben, Spymaster and Regent of Saxony. Friedrich recognizes Otto’s cynicism for the church, after all, if it wasn’t for Werner’s zealotry he would still be alive today. Friedrich reveals to Otto that there exists an…alternative to the rigid and arrogant ways of the Catholic Church. Otto is shocked by Friedrich’s invitation, but he cannot resist the allure of power that promises to help him eliminate the threats to his family. Otto seals his recruitment into Lucifer’s Own on 12 June by losing his virginity to a 48-year-old Castilian maid named Cristina Alfonsez de León.

"100% Legit" screenshot on the right

Emboldened with his newfound powers, both political and supernatural Otto visits Géraud de Genève on 10 July in the oubliette where he has been wasting away since losing the war with Werner.

“I should count myself lucky,” Géraud mutters venomously up to the trapdoor where Otto is peering down, “the new Duke of Transjurania has come to visit me in my lowly prison cell, something his predecessor never bothered to do. But I suppose you have personal experience with your father’s simple-headedness, how his focus was always shifting, leaving behind whatever or whoever he had just seemed so interested in. I’ve always wanted to know: what did he tell you when he sent your mother to the gallows, or when he left you and your sister here while he sent the men of this county halfway across Europe to put that Hungarian whore on her throne? What excuse did he give to justify his vain ambition?”

Otto is unfazed by Géraud’s barbed words. “My father was not a perfect man, I’ll admit,” he began, “but he knew how to lead his house, ensure the family name will live on, and not only live on, but be renowned, and feared.” Géraud can not see the malicious look in Otto’s eye, but he hears the darkness in younger man’s voice and recoils in terror nonetheless.

“You’ll recall,” continues Otto, “that per the Treaty of Varais you and my father signed three years ago, my father agreed to preserve your title of Count of Genfergau for you and your heirs, since you had already stupidly given away Vaud. Well, I am here to inform you that seeing as my father is no longer with us, that treaty is null and void. Additionally, I’ve just gotten the council’s approval for a new law granting me the right to retract the titles of my vassals. I’m sure my uncle Ulrich and the Count of Neuchatel will be less than pleased to hear that I’m taking possession of your lands, but they have nothing to fear, for they have been loyal to me, and I reward loyalty, just as much as I remove those who would plot my undoing. I will never trust you, nor your son. I could just crush either of you in the field, but I would hate to spoil such good land as Genfergau with the tainted blood of traitors. So I will be merciful and take that land off your hands, so that your dynasty may fade peacefully into oblivion. For that is the privilege my father worked so hard for me to have: to watch all those who would try to have us bend the knee wither like leaves in autumn, falling to be ground underneath my boot. Whether he cared more for my mother or me or Ida than he did for my step-mother or for Amalie makes no difference to me. What matters is that the Habsburg colors will be flying over this castle and yours long after your bones have turned to dust.”

With that, the trapdoor was slammed shut, and Duke Otto would speak no more to his prisoner, for a mere eleven days later, the humiliated Duke Géraud de Genève wept until he fell into a sleep that would never end.

Edited on 2020.5.21 to fix a typo and incorrect character information.
Edited again on 2020.5.22 to fix bad French. Thanks to @roverS3 for eagle-eyed proofreading!

Next Time...
Duke Otto protects Amalie's inheritance by any means necessary and continues his descent into darkness. Meanwhile, a succession crisis in Poland opens a door.

 

[Green Rice]

Chapter 3: Polish Politics and Problems of Posterity

The year is 1076, and the reign of Duke Otto von Habsburg is off to a prodigious start. He controls not only his father's castles in Basel, but also the counties of Genfergau and Vaud. Vaud had serendipitously passed to Duke Werner after Count Ghaysan died heirless of poor health only a month after Werner won his bid for Transjurania. With Genfergau revoked from the late Géraud de Genève, Otto has a respectable force of 2,200 levy troops at his command, three-quarters of which come from his own personal demesne. In addition, he has alliances with his soon-to-be brother-in-law Duke Renaud II of Franche-Comté (Duke Guillaume had died of food poisoning in 1071) and the Duke of Bohemia (or rather, King, as of 1074), Vratislav Premyslid. These alliances are worth an additional 1,500 and 4,500 troops, respectively, bringing the bloc’s total strength over 8,000, the strongest triumvirate in the empire. The military Otto has at his disposal is greater than that of his stepmother in Hungary, greater than that of Poland, and is even approaching parity with the Kingdom of France. In a word, Otto is untouchable.

Otto is not the only budding ruler, however. There is a new Kaiser: Gottfried the Tenacious of the Brabantian house of Wigeriche, elected on 18 August 1075 following the death of Heinrich Salian at the hands of a rebellious baron named Martin of Andechs. Truly an unforgettable way for a Holy Roman Emperor to meet his doom.

After some light badgering by Otto, Kaiser Gottfried appoints him as Chancellor of the Holy Roman Empire. Otto is extremely pleased, as he knows his father would have been to see his son on the council of the Emperor.

The first two years of Otto’s reign are uneventful for most of Transjurania, but Otto himself finds some enjoyment in desecrating the church in his own realm’s parish of Thun to prove his worth as a member of Lucifer’s Own. He also at least nominally joins the new Kaiser in a couple of Holy Wars for Sardinia and Tunis. Most notably Otto helped suppress a peasant revolt that originated in Verdun, smashing the poorly-armed rabble at Bar in August 1076. Coincidently, that same month, his father’s killer Voitto Kukkonen becomes Captain of his Finnish mercenary band after the suspicious death of his predecessor, a commoner named Mielitty. Surely it is also coincidental that Voitto has an intrigue education and is a known trickster.

In January 1078, Otto is finally wed to Gisèle d’Ivrea, solidifying the alliance with Franche-Comté. Gisèle is a healthy and surprisingly muscular girl, and this has clearly made her fearless, as she marches down the aisle with her head held high, practically dragging her brother along behind her. She takes her eyes off the altar for just a moment to cast a withering look at Ida in her seat in the pews. Queen Mária had sent her stepdaughter a fine dress of red and yellow silk with accents of cloth-of-gold woven in. The ever-fashionable Ida wore it so well and carried herself with such grace that a stranger walking into the ceremony would have thought her to be the bride, based on the way the other guests crowded around her. Gisèle is less than pleased with her new sister-in-law outshining her on her wedding day. She must think herself better than me, Gisèle thinks, her a daughter of a king—even if a king in address only—and I only the daughter of a mere duke. And yet it will be my child who will rule her homeland one day, God willing.

Ida catches the glance and sees Gisèle’s jealousy for what it is immediately. We shall always have what the other wants, she muses. She will have the power I seek, and I the traditional feminine beauty she longs after. The two young women resume their silent battle at the reception, Ida casting taunting looks Gisèle’s way in between dancing with partner after partner. Gisèle, having discouraged most of the men from seeking her as a dance partner after her husband shuffled off the dance floor with more than one badly bruised toe, sits on the dais and grumpily stuffs her face with delicacies.

Another two years pass, with only the third of Gottfried’s Holy Wars, this time for Holstein, to pass the time.

King Vratislav of Bohemia declares the first War of the Polish Succession in 1080 to place his son Vladislav on the throne of Poland, based on Vladislav’s lineage through his mother, Swietoslawa Piast, sister of King Boleslaw the Bold. But the regent for the current occupant, Boleslaw’s 12-year-old daughter Maria, has had two years to build support for her since Boleslaw’s death at the hands of the pagan chief Wratislaw of Byrcow. The Poles muster a stalwart host in defense of their tween queen. Vratislav calls Duke Otto to assist him in the war, and Otto honors his obligation. Otto supports Vratislav more out of a desire to remain in the king’s good graces should Otto need the favor returned than in any genuine interest in seeing the Premyslids expand their power.

On 18 October, though, Otto gets a bit of unambiguous good news: his first child has been born. Sophie von Habsburg is a small child but endowed with a hardy physique. As Otto and Vratislav celebrate among the troops at camp in Poland, Otto, knowing the king’s reputation as a just and fair man, loosens him up with a few drinks and begins to lament:

“Well, any child is a blessing, but it is a shame she could not have been a son. I worry if this could be an ill omen of things to come. My father had but three children, and I the only male. If God has cursed my house with feeble seed, I fear for our survival. Should I fall in battle tomorrow, doubtless lesser men with vain ambitions would seize the opportunity to dismantle my father’s legacy and steal Sophie’s birthright from her. I doubt that on her own, my wife could defend against them.”

“Nonsense!” sputters Vratislav through his ale. “I would gladly ride to defend your house, as you have ridden here to support mine!”

“I know I can depend on you, my lord, but great and noble as you may be, mortal you remain. Would your brother Konrád* be as willing to send his men to the aid of such a humble estate such as mine? Or his heir when both of you have gone to our Father in heaven? How can I ensure that the houses of Premyslid and Habsburg will stand together in future years as we stand together tonight?”
*The Bohemians practiced succession by seniority, so the next-eldest male Premyslid, the king’s younger brother, was his heir apparent.

“I’ll tell you,” Vratislav answers, raising a finger to ask Otto’s patience as he takes another swig before continuing: “My youngest, Ojír, is not yet promised to anyone. He is beloved by his brothers and his uncle. And he is fair of face and sharp of wit. He will make a fine husband to your Sophie.”

“My dear Vratislav!” Otto feigns offense, “I do believe you seek to beguile me while I am deep in my cup! Clearly you Premyslids enjoy collecting titles. First you declare yourself King of Bohemia, and now, while in the midst of a campaign to seize Poland for one son of yours, you scheme to trick me into giving away Transjurania to another, and leaving my line bereft of even the castle that bears our name!”

“Nonsense!” Vratislav exclaims again. “I would not dare deceive such a loyal friend and ally! I will prove my trustworthiness to you, my lord! SCRIBE! SCRIBE! WHERE THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU?!”

“Yes, sire?” replies a meek-looking man stepping forward into the light of the campfire.

“Fetch pen and parchment! We’ve got a marriage contract that needs drafting!” The scribe returns a few minutes later with the requested items.

“Took you long enough!” complains Vratislav. “I could have won the war in the time you were gone! Write this down: ‘I, Vratislav of the House Premyslid, King of Bohemia’—oh, you know all the titles, just fill them in—‘do give the hand of my son, the Prince Ojír, to the lady Sophie of the House von Habsburg, to be bound in holy matrimony following her sixteenth birthday’—just fill in all the usual stuff— ‘and declare, that any children to come from this union, shall bear the name and heraldry of von Habsburg.’ And throw in a sizable dowry as part of the deal, too. Consider it compensation for your house’s invaluable assistance to mine in this time of need,” he adds to Otto. “Now hurry up so we can sign it!” he barks at the scribe. The scribe, despite his constant shivering, manages to scribble out a legible document. Vratislav signs and seals it, Otto counter-signs and counter-seals, and the pact is made official. Come hell or high water (knowing Otto’s hobbies, likely the former), the Habsburgs will remain in control of their lands for at least one more generation.

The next few days see the Poles fleeing before the combined might of the southern invaders, so with the war entering its final stages, Otto prudently takes a leave of absence (and his copy of the marriage agreement) and rides back to Basel. On the way, however, he stops to visit his sister in Praha. Ida has been married to Bretislav since she turned 16 earlier this year (in fact her birthday is the same as her brother’s: 1 January), and so far the marriage seems to be a relatively happy one.

“We talk for hours and hours with our friends every night,” she tells her brother in her new apartments at the royal palace. “And he’s such a sweet man, always gentle and giving me little compliments. I’ll admit I’m a bit lazy when it comes to running the place, and I’ll snap at him when he tries to remind me of my duties, but we’ve managed to sort it all out every time. Oh, how I wish I could control that temper of mine! Perhaps I should consult with Bishop Ales sometime when he’s not to busy advising the king.”

“You’d do better not to seek that fool’s advice,” Otto blurts out to even his own surprise.

“Dear brother!” Ida exclaims, “What possesses you to say such unkind things of a man of God?”

“You can cease the act around me, Ida,” Otto chides. “I’ve known you longer than anyone now living. You may be able to fool the others around you, but not me. You have no great love for the sermons and sacraments of the Church, same as I, although you were more subtle in your disdain than I. You enjoy the power your anger can give you against spineless pansies like Bretislav. Why should you suppress your emotions, the very things that separate us from the beasts? Why be a sheep, when you can be a lioness?”

“What are you trying to rope me into, Otto?”

“There is a group of people like us, those who have a more…pragmatic view of human nature. Where emotion and desire are not excised from us but embraced and encouraged. Where you can be your truest self, and if you desire, even more.”

“Brother,” Ida whispers, checking the hall outside for eavesdroppers, “do you speak of witchcraft?”

“Some may call it that,” Otto whispers back. “I call it truth. You were always a gossip back home, always searching for the truths hidden among the lies people tell each other. Don’t you want to know what truths men like Bishop Ales have been hiding from us?”

Ida does not answer for what feels like several minutes, although it was probably no more than one.

“If someone were interested in such things, how would one arrange an introduction with these people?” she says slowly.

“Through someone who knows how to find them,” Otto replies smugly, placing a hand over his chest. He leaves to make the arrangements with the head of the Prag chapter, and on 27 November 1080, Lucifer gains a new servant: Ida von Habsburg.

Otto arrives home in Basel in time for Sophie’s first Christmas (not that he cared one bit, but it made Gisèle, who was unaware of her husband’s clandestine activities, happy, and that was important if he was to father a son one day). He receives regular reports from the front in Poland, but the war is all but won at this point, morale is high, and his commanders are leading well even without his direct presence. Thus a letter from his step-mother dated 13 March, 1081 finds Otto still at Habsburg Castle. Mária of Hungary has given birth to a son, Sviatoslav, with her new husband Roman Rurikid. Amalie von Habsburg is now only second in the line of succession behind her baby brother.

“Well, Amalie and I might be disappointed,” Otto muses to his spymaster, Theodorich, that evening in his study, “but one cannot account for the will of God in matters of life or death. One must have faith that He has a plan and hope that His plan aligns with one’s own. Though I’ve personally never treated faith as a substitute for preparedness or…proactive measures.”

“My liege,” replies Theodorich, catching on the subtext, “this talk of the goings-on in Hungary has reminded me of a tale going around court that the air in Esztergom does marvels for one’s health. Might I have your leave to go and see if it might do this humble servant some good?”

“Yes, I think that would be an excellent idea,” Otto agrees with a satisfied tone. The spymaster turns to leave. “And Theodorich,” Otto calls after him before the door closes.

"Yes, my lord?”

"Stay as long as you need to see this endeavor of yours to a successful conclusion. Your health would certainly be ill-served if you were to journey all that way and back again with nothing to show for it.”

Next Time…
Otto meets with unexpected challenges, and even more unexpected opportunities, but faces the consequences of his demonic affiliations.

 

[Green Rice]

Chapter 4: Franche-Comté Chainsaw Massacre (sans Chainsaw)

Spring had arrived in Switzerland. The last of winter’s cold winds were making their final circuits around the Alps before they faded from the world, and with one of them came a strange visiter to Basel: an Orthodox bishop named Ioustinianos of Amphissa. Unlike that of most traveling priests, Ioustinianos’ arrival in Switzerland was heralded not with joyous tidings of an inspiring man of God, preaching wisdom or performing healing, but dark rumors and secret whispers. This Greek was a strange fellow, it was said. A charitable man who gave alms to beggars as he passed, yet also known for speaking in tongues at unpredictable times, and always quick to anger when others inquired about it.

When Ioustinianos arrives at the gates to Habsburg Castle, Duke Otto, intrigued by the rumors and speculation, goes against his councillor’s protests and invites the priest in. Ioustinianos explains that he is on the road with a dual purpose: to serve the people, but also to foster good relations between his hosts and the Count of Thebes, whom he serves as Magistros.

“Count Demetrios must be very wise,” Duchess Gisèle says in her best Greek, “to select a man of the cloth as his trusted diplomat. Who better to speak of wisdom and peace than a clergyman? And what better way for you to serve God than to preach His word on your many journeys?”

“Ah,” Ioustinianos corrects her, “I fear that sermons have never been my strong suit, unlike my noble hosts, I was born on the streets of Thebes, and did not learn to read or write until I joined the priesthood. Although my skill with the spoken word gained me the attention of his lordship, to my shame I have ever struggled to gain the same insights as my betters when I study the written word of God. And so my words to the people are often pulled from the feelings of my heart than directly from the Bible, yet I feel divine inspiration with me as I speak nonetheless, and that reassures me that what I speak is no less truthful or right.”

Gisèle, not quite sure what to make of such a statement, merely nods and resumes eating her roast pheasant.

After dinner, Duke Otto meets with Ioustinianos for a private chat, and is surprised when Ioustinianos pulls up his sleeve to reveal a faded scar in an unmistakable pentagram.

“I had my suspicions from your comments at dinner,” Otto says in a low voice, “but I must admit, they alone were not enough to convince me that a brother could be hiding under the robes of the enemy’s servants. I envy your ability to pull off such a double-act, I doubt I would be able to play the part as well as you. Pray tell, how long has this charade been going on?”

“Fourteen years this month, sir,” replies Ioustinianos. “I am here, as you may now suspect, for a third reason that I could not mention while other ears were present. The High Priest has instructed me to seek you out and instruct you in rituals that as a novitiate you were not previously permitted to partake in, for the faint of heart and doubtful of conviction can seldom suffer them.”

“I assure you no such afflictions ail me,” Otto responds with an edge in his voice. “Show me these rituals. Reveal more secrets to me. I am ready.”

“Very well,” Ioustinianos concedes. “Tomorrow, I will announce my intention to travel on to the court of your brother-in-law. You will then suggest that your wife travel with me, so that she may visit her family, and that you will lead our escort to the borders of your lands. Bring with you a set of common garments that you might disguise your identity and slip out of camp with me unnoticed when the time comes.”

Otto does exactly as Ioustinianos instructed, and on the tenth night of April, he is woken by the false priest in his tent well past sunset. Ioustinianos says no words for fear of their discovery, but he has no need of them, having prepared Otto back in Basel. In peasants’ clothings they skirt past the watchmen and walk in silence towards the nearby hamlet just over the border into the province of Varais.

Ioustinianos stops right in front of a farmhouse on the outskirts of town.

“I went ahead this morning and met this family,” he explains in a whisper so soft Otto has to strain to hear. “Their devotion to the tyrant Jehovah is unyielding, they are examples to their village, and tonight you and I will make them examples of a different kind.” He hands Otto a long, cruel knife that he had hidden under his robes. “I will knock on their door, they will be more likely answer for someone they already know. Hide behind the corner of the house, out of sight from the windows or door. When I draw them outside, you seize whoever answers. If both of them answer, you will take the husband, and I will take the wife.”

Spoiler: Mature Content Advisory

It is the husband who ends up answering. Ioustinianos had not warned of how strong he was, so Otto has to hit him in the temple with the hilt of the knife to stop him resisting. Ioustinianos runs inside to intercept the wife, who had been alerted by her husband’s cries of alarm. She is much more compliant, and so Otto only has to bother with tying up the husband. When that is done, Ioustinianos has him guard the wife while he takes the three children out behind the house. When he returns some minutes later, he and Otto agree that the young wife is very pretty, so Otto cuts away her shift while Ioustinianos rouses the husband. They both take turns while the husband watches, first in rage and then through tears. At Ioustinianos’ urging, Otto finishes his last turn by plunging his knife into her heart. The husband screams, but no one beyond his captors is close enough to hear. Ioustinianos apologizes to the husband for forgetting to give him a turn, so he releases the bindings and laughes as the weeping man makes love to his wife’s corpse at knifepoint. When the man finishes, Otto, feeling inspired, quickly seizes the man by the hair before he has a chance to do anything else, wrenches his head back, and slits his throat in one swift motion. The man collapses on top of his wife.

“Well,” says Ioustinianos, hands on his hips as he admires their handiwork. “I’d say we’ve done good work today, my friend. Let us be gone and return to camp before our absence is noticed.”

“You said we’d make them into examples,” Otto stops him. “With them in this state, it could almost be mistaken for a burglary. Let us make sure that there is no doubt who their souls were sacrificed to.”

By now they had been gone several hours, they reckoned, and although daybreak was still a ways off, the road back to camp was neither straight nor short. So to conserve what time they had, they converted what simple farm tools they could find—pitchforks, hoes, scythes—into makeshift pikes. In front of the house they suspended the family, remarking the good coincidence that there were five members with which they could mark out a pentagram, gouging ruts in the dirt between the stakes to leave no doubts that their design was intentional. With that, Otto was satisfied, and they began the return journey.

“I must admit, Duke Otto,” Ioustinianos remarks, “I have been quite impressed. You took to this mission like a duck to water.”

They arrive back at camp with time yet to spare, so Ioustinianos leads Otto to his tent, where he produces a strange vial from his bags.

“A special toast to the occasion, a liquor reserved for trusted members of our order.” Otto and Ioustinianos divide the contents of the small vial between two flasks and down in all in a single gulp. But as Otto retires to his own tent to see what sleep he can find before dawn, his head aches, and when he does lay down on his bedroll, his dreams are filled with stars and planets. Things stranger still haunt his nightmares, but when he wakes, he remembers nothing save the sensation of fear.

The next day Ioustinianos and Gisèle cross into Varais and depart Otto’s company. The Duke of Transjurania rides for home with his guards, but his mind is restless the whole journey back, filled with strange thoughts and urges. On a day when he finds his woolen trousers uncomfortably itchy, he contemplates banning the garments from the realm altogether. As an advisor drones on while they ride on horseback, he considers giving the horse he is riding the advisor’s job. And every night the only dream he remembers is the same: stars and planets whirling in the heavens, accompanied by other bodies Otto does not recognize.

About a month after parting ways with Ioustinianos, on 29 June, 1081, Vladislav Premyslid is declared King of Poland by his victorious father, Vratislav. All over Poland, heralds proclaim the news, although they do encounter some slight difficulties. A Polish historian living in Poznań at the time gives the following account:

The heralds arrived in Poznań with a fanfare of trumpets, and men-at-arms summoned the residents of the city to the main square to hear the proclamation:

"His Majesty King Vratislav of Bohemia has declared victory over the false queen Maria Piast! The Kingdom of Poland shall be ruled henceforth by Vladislav of the noble house of Premyslid and his descendants, for as long as the grace of God wills it! All hail King Vladislav!"​

To which the people replied:

"All hail King Vratislav!"​

The herald turned red as a beet in embarrassment, and attempted to correct the misunderstanding, yet when he finally moved on still half the denizens of Poznań believed that their land and Bohemia were now ruled by the same person.

Meanwhile, back in Basel, Duke Otto spends most of the summer frantically raving about stars and worlds beyond Earth. His family and courtiers begin to call him mad in private. Finally, on Sunday, 15 August 1081, Otto orders his steward, an African eunuch named Alayaman, to allocate funds for a new observatory, which Otto will personally conduct research from.

Next Time...
Otto uncovers strange and mysterious forces, and both Habsburgs and Premyslids make moves on foreign thrones.

 

[Green Rice]

Chapter 5: Devil’s Due

The people of Transjurania are woken by a fanfare on the morning of 18 March 1083: Albrecht von Habsburg, the firstborn son of Duke Otto, is born. His intellect appears to be somewhat lesser than even the average babe, so Otto arranges a betrothal to a Russian genius named Malfrida de Rusa.

That November brings both joy and sorrow to Otto’s Satanic second family. On the fifth they welcome King Vratislav to their ranks, but on the eleventh they say goodbye to Cristina de León. Having been corrupted in both body and soul following Duke Otto’s carnal initiation ritual, she had contracted cancer and lost her battle following one final Friday night bacchanal. She was only 55.

After nearly three years of planning, Otto’s unspeakable plot against his step-brother goes into action on 2 February, 1084. Sviatoslav Romanovich Rurikid dies at the hands of an apparently mentally unstable maid (at least as far as the Hungarian court is aware). Yet not a fortnight later, on the 13th, Mária of Hungary gives birth to a second son, Yemelyan. In unrelated news, some peasants in Basel were found brutally murdered the next morning. The spymaster Theodorich finds his already-lengthy stay in Hungary extended.

Thankfully for those around him, Otto has too preoccupied with other affairs to bother (fully) taking out his frustrations on his court. In addition to his known ongoing research at the observatory, Otto secretly has been participating in regular orgies hosted by fellow Satanists, and the long nights of carnal delight result in a more lean, muscular physique. However, he continues to indulge in strange brews like the one given to him by Ioustinianos, and as a result he starts to act possessed by some mad demon. He becomes increasingly withdrawn and isolated in the observatory, trying to comprehend the strange phenomena he finds in the universe. Finally, not too long before the night of Sviotoslav’s murder, even Otto has to declare himself to be at his wit’s end. Envoys are dispatched to locate anyone in the world who might have any notes of their own on such things. Finally, in July of 1084, one returns from Mesopotamia with a promising message: An Arab scholar named Ibrahim claims to have detailed research on just the sort of subjects Duke Otto has been studying. However, the old man refused to allow the envoy to so much as copy his notes, or to be escorted back to Basel. The envoy swallows as he works up the courage to relay Ibrahim’s demand: “He says you must go to Baghdad to see him yourself, milord.”

To the envoy’s shock (and later relief), rather than fly into a fit of rage, Otto embraces the envoy and whoops with joy. “My good man,” he exclaims, “You shall be duly rewarded for this invaluable service! I will gift you 50 acres of good land and a hefty sum of money so that you may build a new farm and hire your new workers!”

“Thank you, milord,” replies the the envoy. “I will be overjoyed to tell my wife!”

“Well, about that,” Otto adds in a concerned tone, “I’m afraid you won’t be able to tell her yourself. Guards, seize this man!” The castle guards, who had been dismissed from the great hall along with everyone else when the envoy had arrived, re-entered the room and seizing the man’s arms, forced him to his knees.

“I beg you, milord, spare my life! I have done you no harm, borne you no ill will!”

“Fret not, sir, for your life is not in danger. I specifically picked you and the others because you were illiterate and therefore, once your tongue is removed you will be wholly unable to share what you have just told me with anyone else. A much better arrangement for you than had you the ability to write a book about your quest, would you not say? For in that case I would’ve been forced to remove your whole head and not just the tongue.”

The envoy is speechless at this madman’s logic.

“Well, it seems you won’t miss your tongue, since the cat has already taken it,” the duke observes with a sinister chuckle. And with that he leaves to go prepare for his journey, the man’s screams following after him down the corridor.

The journey is long and difficult, but miraculously, Otto arrives in Baghdad in one piece on the twenty-eighth of October. He seeks out Ibrahim at the House of Wisdom, but no one admits to knowing a man fitting the description Otto was given. Seemingly defeated, Otto retires to sup at a local inn, but is approached by a veiled woman in black.

“As-salaamu alaykum, stranger,” the woman greets him. “It is said that you seek the rajul hakim, the wise man Ibrahim Nazari."

“You know the man?” Otto replies. “You seem to be the first in this city to know that name other than myself.”

“You are mistaken, stranger, for very few in Baghdad do not know the name, but fewer than those would dare to admit it. Nazari was once a respected sufi and scholar in the House of Wisdom, but he began pursuing lines of inquiry that frightened even the mystics and those at the House who claimed to be open-minded. Now he is a pariah of the city, continuing his research in the privacy of his own home on the outskirts of the city.”

“Do you know the way, good lady?” Otto asks eagerly. “I will compensate you fairly to escort me hence.”

“I do,” affirms the woman, “but do not hope to be given entry. Nazari does not have much care left for visitors, having been subjected to raids and ridicule in equal measure since his expulsion.”

“I have not come all this way to be turned aside by fear of rejection. Lead the way, madam.”

The walk from the center of such a large city to its edge was a long one, but at last they arrive at a house the woman claims belongs to Ibrahim Nazari. Otto tosses her a gold coin and sends her on her way. His bodyguards knock loudly on the door. It takes many attempts before the man himself answers.

Ibrahim Nazari’s beard is long, gray, unwashed, and unkempt. His robes look about the same. His face is like cracked leather, but his eyes blaze with an amazing vivaciousness for a man so old he could’ve been mistaken for the first foundation stone laid in the city he called home.

“Who are you to disturb an old man at so indecently late an hour?” he barks furiously. “Begone! or I shall hex the whole lot of you!”

“Master Nazari,” Otto says calmly, “I am Otto von Habsburg, Duke of Transjurania. I understand you spoke to a representative of mine, about a year ago. You told him you have research on phenomena from beyond our world. I am here with research of my own.” He motions, and a bodyguard hands Nazari a bound copy of Otto’s notes, translated into Arabic. “I would be most pleased if we could compare our findings as two curious scholars.”

Nazari glances over the notebook. “This appears to be legitimate,” he concedes, “but I must examine the whole of it and verify that it is an authentic journal from start to finish. You would not be the first to scribble some invented research onto the first page of a blank book in order to trick me into revealing my secrets. Return at midday tomorrow.” Without another word or even a pause to let Otto respond, he closes the door.

At noon the following day, Otto returns to Nazari’s home and the old scholar, having apparently spent the entire night reading Otto’s notes, finally invites his guest inside, but only the duke himself. Otto’s guards look wary but their master orders them to remain posted by the door, only to enter if he calls for them by name. Following Nazari inside, Otto carefully weaves through towering piles of papers and books, discarded food left on the floor, and other items Otto decided against deducing the origin of. Nazari stops in front of a curtain hanging over an alcove set into an interior wall of the house.

“You and I are not the first to investigate the things we have observed,” he explains. “Before even I was born, there was another scholar who became the closest thing to an expert as a mere mortal man can become on these matters. They called him Abdul the Mad, and this is the only surviving work that bears his name.” Reaching behind the curtain, Nazari produces a thick tome with a cover that seems blacker than night. A blood-red leather strap seals it shut.

“This is the Necronomicon. Well, a copy of it, at any rate. The original I keep in a secret location known only to me. You have proven yourself a scholar worthy of reading its secrets, but I must warn you: it is said to drive whomever reads it as mad as the author. I got lucky, as you see,” he remarks, picking a loose crumb of a previous meal from his beard and popping it in his mouth. “So, if you truly want to risk it, I’ll be willing to part with it for a modest sum of gold. Just enough to pay for the materials to recopy it."

“Risk it? My dear fellow, they already call me mad! I have nothing to lose and only untold wealths of knowledge to gain from this book! Here, have your money!” he says with a smile, tossing Ibrahim Nazari his entire purse. “For a book this priceless, any amount of gold I spend on it is a bargain!”

The return journey is prolonged by the onset of winter, but Otto finally returns to Habsburg Castle in the summer of 1085. He is not home long before ill news from Poland: Kazimierz of Gostynin, the husband-to-be of Amalie von Habsburg, has died of leprosy on 15 August, just eleven days shy of his eighteenth birthday. The possibly of uniting the Hungarian and Polish thrones under the Habsburg banner is apparently not to be. Amalie, who just two days before Kazimierz’s death had celebrated her own birthday (her twelfth), is devastated, and refuses to have her hand be given to another.

Fate may have taken one opportunity from Otto and Amalie, but in return she spares them some effort on the first of October, when the sickly Yemelyan dies of natural causes. Amalie’s ascension to the throne of Hungary is now all but secured.

Otto decides that with his family’s ambitions for Hungary secured, it is finally time to open up the Necronomicon and unravel its mysteries. What he discovers is beyond his wildest imaginations. Once he might have doubted in the supernatural before, but now, with the understanding granted him by the Necronomicon, he realizes that there must be divine, cosmic forces at work beyond mere mortal comprehension.

“Great Satan!” he shouts into the void, “Forgive me for worshipping you in name only for my own selfish gain! I will be your faithful servant evermore!”

“Excellent,” replies a malevolent and unseen voice.

With the birth of Werner von Habsburg on 18 February 1087, Otto manages to secure a betrothal to Queen Mária’s daughter Feodosia, re-establishing the Hungarian alliance and allowing him to defend his step-mother’s title against the pretender Princess Ilona and her sponsor, Duke Radovan Trprimirovic of Slavonia, who have been at war for six years at this point. With the extra help, Mária secures a white peace with the High Chief of Bolghar, against whom she was pressing Duke Árpád Gyula’s claim, in 1088. Otto attempts to use his dark Satanic power to kill Ilona with smallpox and end her threat to his step-mother’s (and more importantly, half-sister’s) throne permanently, but she miraculously make a full recovery. For his troubles, Otto is rewarded with a lisp, preventing him from correctly pronouncing “smallpox” ever again. However, the Duke of Slavonia’s luck eventually runs out, as he is cowed into admitting defeat in 1090.

Other exciting events occur for the Habsburg family during the war. On 18 April of the same year as the peace with the Bolghars, Etienette von Habsburg is born and betrothed matrilineally to the young King Humphrey de Hauteville of Sicily, thanks to some sweet-talking of Humphrey’s guardian and great-uncle, Duke Roger of Calabria. Ida von Habsburg also returns home after her husband Bretislav is appointed by the Pope to the bishopric of Plasy, annulling their marriage. As it so happens, her now former father-in-law, King Vratislav, is waging the Second War of the Polish Succession.

King Vladislav had died on an infected wound on September 6, 1087, and his son Nikolaus had succeeded him at only a year old. Fearing a Piast restoration, King Vratislav decided to preemptively depose his grandson in favor of his second son, the unlanded (and unmarried) Boleslav. Mass confusion erupts among the common-folk of Poland as in their confusion they believe that they are being attacked by their recently-deceased king, risen from the dead.

Otto is able to invite Boleslav to Basel and introduce him to Ida. Boleslav is so enamored of Ida that he accepts her brother’s condition that any children of the couple bear the surname Habsburg. A Habsburg-ruled Poland is now back on the table.

Thus the House of Habsburg welcomed a new decade, and what an eventful decade it would turn out to be! On 3 May, 1090, with the help of master diplomat Bishop Guilhelm of Aubonne, Otto manages to secure enough support from Counts Burchard of Neuchatel and Rudolf of Bern to pass a new Succession Act, making the Duchy of Transjurania an elected title. He immediately nominates his half-sister, Amalie, and although the vassal counts aren’t inclined to trust the judgement of a possessed and arbitrary lunatic, Amalie’s brilliance and virtuous nature win over their unanimous support.

That same year, Otto comes to the aid of his step-mother Mária in a war against…somebody. The details are unfortunately lost to historians, historians rumored to be from the same family as the oafish and ill-fated advisor to Werner. The war continues into 1091, at which point Duke Pierre of Savoy decides he has had enough of Otto’s endless list of excuses for not fulfilling his father’s promise to return Genfergau. Pierre declare a war to reclaim the province while Otto is away campaigning in Hungary. Unfortunately, Pierre miscalculates the willingness of the Duke of Franche-Comté and the King of Bohemia to come to Otto’s defense. His army is easily repelled and he surrenders without ever fighting Otto or any actual Transjuranians in the field. 1091 is a good year all-around for allies of the Habsburgs, as Boleslav Premyslid wins his bid to become King of Poland on 8 February.

1092 is a quieter year, marked only by the passing of Kaiser Gottfried on 27 September 1092, in battle against Count Ludwig of Schwaben. The new Kaiser, Heinrich V von Nordheim, Duke of Bavaria, unfortunately decides not to renew Otto’s position as chancellor.

The year 1093 is another busy one for Duke Otto and the Habsburgs. He and Gisèle mark the birth of their fifth and final child, a daughter named Elisabeth, on 18 June before Queen Mária calls Otto to her defense for another unremembered war. Upon discovery of this lapse in historiography and the previous one, the Transjuranian Historical Society gets a new head, as do the pikes outside Habsburg Castle. Amalie is also finally married, to the quick-witted rogue Martín Flaínez of the Castilian House of Osorio.

The only fly in the ointment is Otto’s worsening relationship with his ward, Gundo Lotharling, son of the court chaplain of Amalfi. The fourteen-year-old lad is learning perhaps too well from his tutor, and is developing ambitions of his own. “One day,” he vows to Otto, “I will be even greater than you!” Otto dismisses Gundo’s dream out of hand, but this only serves to fan the flames of Gundo’s growing rivalry with him.

To top the year off, Otto recreates his macabre outing with his now-departed Ioustinianos of Amphissa, passing the torch to Isabel d’Urgell, Dowager Queen of Aragon (her husband, King Sancho Jimena, died a duel with the Emir of Zaragoza in 1067). This time, however, Otto goes one step further than he had originally and out of curiosity prepares a meal out his victims. Sadly, if he gained any profound insights from his cannibalism, we’ll never know, as he foolishly also introduced Isabel to the tradition of drinking Ioustinianos’ strange brew after the fact, and afterwards his mind was permanently dulled.

Amalie and Martin have a son, named Simon, on Valentine’s Day 1095, who inherits Amalie’s genius. At his birth he appears quite sickly, but thankfully he will survive. He is betrothed to Jelena Dukljanin, a Serbian babe with a sharp mind.

The following year, King Boleslav and Queen Ida welcome a son of their own. At 24 inches long, "little" Helferich von Habsburg is anything but. Poland now has a Habsburg heir of its own.

The happy news, however, is not enough to stave off Otto’s growing depression. With his mind no longer what it was, Otto has decided to study the art of rulership in more detail to offset his impaired faculties. For the first time, he begins actually listening to supplicants who come to him seeking redress, but he is increasingly frustrated with his own inability to come up with any solutions for them. He questions what joining the cult of Lucifer got him in the end. All the fear and bloodshed he carried out, and what did he gain other than a corrupted mind and body.

“Even my onthe-hanthome fathe ith turned repulthive,” he remarks to his reflection through his lisp, which makes him cry even more. Of all the afflictions to be cursed with! He, Duke Otto von Habthburg of Tranthjurania!

To add insult to injury, Otto realizes that his work to designate Amalie as heir to both Transjurania and Hungary will come to naught if she should inherit Hungary first. His vassal lords would no longer consider her a worthy successor, fearing she would be a Hungarian queen first and a German duchess second. However, should Otto die before Queen Mária, and Amalie begins her life as a ruler in Transjurania, then the titles could be successfully united in the same branch of the family.

On 20 November 1096, after hearing now the now seventeen-year-old Gundo Lotharling make cruel jests at his expense at a feast in the great hall, Otto has a now-rare spark of genius on how to end his suffering and troubles.

“Gundo, I have endured your dithrethpect for far too long!” he bellows. “You and I will settle this animothity between uth tomorrow at dawn! If you are brave enough to inthult me in my own hall, you thould be brave enough to thwing a thword!”

The two foes meet in the courtyard of Habsburg castle as the sun rises. Otto is decked out in his finest ringmail, with the sigil of his house embroidered on a doublet over top. Gundo has only a simple steel helm, a leather jerkin, and a shield bearing the tripartite orange emblem of the Lotharlings as his protection. When marshal Alberic de Comminges signals the duel to begin, it is immediately apparent to all those spectating that Otto, a diplomat and plotter, is out of his element in a one-on-one fight. The younger Gundo effortlessly blocks and sidesteps Otto’s slow and simplistic attacks. It takes him less than a minute to put his liege on his stomach, prostrate on the ground.

Here it comes, Otto says to himself. Release at last. He closes his eyes right before he feels the blow to the back of his neck and he looses all sensation in his body. Well, he thinks, that was less painful than I thought.

“YOU DISGRACEFUL CUR!” comes a voice out of the darkness. What? wonders Otto, opening his eyes.

Wait…how do I still have eyes that can open?

Otto is mortified to see the flagstones of the courtyard in front of his face again. He tries to scramble to his feet, but nothing happens. He feels the ghost of his body, but all true sensation is gone. Someone turns him over onto his back for him.

“Brother!” It is Amalie. A welcome face, if not the most comely. Otto tries to call her name back, but not even his mouth will obey him and only a gargle escapes his lips. Behind her, Otto just barely catches a glimpse of Alberic and his guards apprehending Gundo. Amalie must see where his eyes are focusing, for she gives a puzzled look to him, then a glance over her shoulder, and rises back to her feet to address the marshal.

“Unhand him!” she commands. The men-at-arms pause but do not comply. Amalie stands up proud and straight, with her head high and her voice clear and confident:

“I am my brother’s heir and designated regent. He has been paralyzed and cannot speak, therefore I shall speak with his voice, and you shall answer and obey it! This man, dishonorable as he may be, has committed no crime. He and my brother were engaged in a lawful duel of honor. Had he the spine to kill his opponent outright, you would be outside your jurisdiction to detain him, and he has done less than that. As much as it pains all of us, you will release him, or else your heads will join wherever you intend to place his.” Reluctantly, the guards obey.

“Thank you, milady,” says Gundo, but Amalie turns her back to him.

“Save your thanks, for I do this not for your sake but for the sake of my own soul and theirs. You are still the lowest of creatures. The Devil had more honor when he deceived Eve in the Garden than you have shown here today. You are no longer welcome in my brother’s domain. Leave at once, or this time I will be within my rights to see you hang.” Stricken by her fierceness of will, Gundo gets to his feet and exits the courtyard. He does not even stop to retrieve his personal belongs from his bedchamber.

Thus Amalie von Habsburg begins her rule of Transjurania as her brother’s regent, a welcome change as in his current state, her skills exceed his in all but Diplomacy. Not to mention she’s a lot more level-headed.

In March 1097, Queen Mária of Hungary declares a Holy War to take the Duchy of Oltenia from the Orthodox Pechenegs hordes. Otto, through blinks and moans, gives his approval to Amalie to send his levies to her mother’s defense one final time, in the hopes that Amalie can inherit an even larger realm. Sadly, the Pechenegs prove as tough a foe as ever, and the war will eventually in a stalemate, but not until after Otto’s passing on 7 November. The Duchy of Transjurania officially passes to Amalie. The dark days of Otto ‘the Devil’ are over. The legendary reign of Amalie ‘the Wise’ has only just begun.

Next Time…
The new Duchess Amalie engages in her own, slightly less occult research while elevating the Habsburgs to new heights of influence in the Empire.

 

[Green Rice]

Chapter 6: Habsburg Hungary Pans Out, but Premyslid Poland Perpetuates Problems

A new day is dawning in Transjurania. Duke Otto has gone to be with...well, someone, at any rate, and his regent, half-sister, and heir Amalie is now Duchess in her own right. Possessed of a powerful physique, a mind to match, a patient and generous heart, a silver tongue, and a work ethic to boot, Duchess Amalie is the steady, responsible leadership her subjects and vassals have long awaited.

Amalie easily takes up the reins of power from her brother. No longer bound to his bedside, she declares her intent to go and join the troops still fighting in Hungary. Her councilors and advisors look quizzical at the suggestion, but despite their best efforts to convince Amalie against this unwomanly idea, she out-debates them all. The Holy War for Oltenia is ultimately a glorified and costly training exercise that results in no clear winner, but Amalie earns the respect of her officers with her sound leadership and understanding of tactics despite not being formally educated in warfare.

On Christmas Eve 1097, Amalie joins the Hermetic Society. She immediately begins work on a theorem paper on fermentation. Despite taking less than a year to conduct, compile, and summarize her research—all done in between leading troops on campaign, no less—the paper is published on 23 August 1098 to universal acclaim, a testament to her ability to multitask as well as her natural genius.

Shortly thereafter, Amalie participates in the summoning of a Divine Being, although the cryptic advice it gives her actually hinders her intrigue skill for a time. Amalie also takes an interest in astronomy, and begins making studies of planetary motion on her free evenings. By no means does her new hobby get in the way of her combat training, however: On 6 March, 1098 at the Battle of Targu Jiu, she maims an enemy bishop in her first significant battlefield duel, leaving him with only half a hand.

But that very same spring also brings a tragedy: Etienette von Habsburg is smothered by her governess on 22 April just four days after her tenth birthday. Whoever hired the woman as their assassin must have disfavored the matrilineal match with King Humphrey of Sicily, but they paid handsomely, for she took her employer’s name to her grave.

The First Crusade officially kicks off in 1099. Amalie is busy neutering threats to her mother’s realm, yet the stubborn, self-important, and short-tempered zealot known as Pope Alexander III decides to get on her case for not abandoning her subjects to go kick Fatimid butt 3,163 kilometers (1965 miles) away.

Spoiler: Author Note

Yes, dear reader, I Google Mapped the exact distance from Budapest to Jerusalem just for you.

Amalie decimates the main forces of her enemies by year's end, notably at the Second Battle of Targu Jiu, where she cements her reputation as a master of combat on flat terrain in the process, and makes a beeline for Jerusalem.

Meanwhile, Poland is recovering from yet more “Wars of the Eagles”, as they are coming to be called in homage to the arms of the various Premyslid and Piast factions wrestling over the kingdom. At this point, anyone asking a town of Poles who their monarch is will get about half a dozen different answers thrown back at them. So sit back and relax as this author tries to unravel the Great Polish Dumpster Fire of the Later 11th Century.

The Wars of the Eagles
1078 - 1100​

When we began our story, Poland was ruled by King Boleslaw II Piast, known as ‘the Bold.’ He died in 1078 in personal combat. Having no male heir, his eldest daughter Maria Piast took the throne, but she was deposed just years later in 1081 by Vladislav Premyslid, her cousin born from the union of Boleslaw’s sister and Vratislav, King of Bohemia. Vladislav died of an infected wound in 1087 and was survived by his heir, Nikolaus and a posthumous daughter, Justina. The King of Bohemia then won a second war in 1091 to replace Nikolaus with Vladislav’s older brother Boleslav, husband of Ida von Habsburg and father of Helferich von Habsburg, the new heir apparent of Poland.

Unfortunately King Vratislav, now a raging alcoholic apparently incapable of keeping a secret, left enough breadcrumbs for Kaiser Heinrich V’s Court Chaplain to follow and unmask him as a Satanist. Vratislav burned at the stake on 30 July 1093, and everything came unraveled all over again. His brother Konrád inherited Bohemia under the laws of seniority succession. Konrád was apparently miffed by the fact that his nephew, King Boleslav of Poland, had no heir of their dynasty. Fortunately, in April 1095, Anna Poraj, Duchess of Greater Poland, declares a revolt against Boleslav to return Maria Piast, now Duchess of Lesser Poland and Mazovia, to the throne. Although Justina has only a weak claim to Poland, the fact that the kingdom is now contested provides a sufficient reason for someone to press it for her. So Konrád spends a year preparing and then declares his own war on her behalf in September 1096. He beats Maria Piast to the finish line in 1100, and Justina Premyslid is crowned Queen Regnant of Poland.

Spoiler: Extra Author Commentary

For those keeping score at home, Poland has now had 5 changes of ruler in the past 22 years. That's a new monarch on average every five to six years (divide by 4 not 5 since you we don't know how long Justina will reign for). Boleslav by sheer luck managed to stay on the throne the longest, and he only reigned about nine years. *sighs deeply* Watch this space, because there will be more chaos in Poland in the future (note that Helferich von Habsburg, Boleslav and Ida's son, has a claim now), but thankfully not quite as complicated...so far as I know.

In other news from the year 1100, Amalie publishes her second paper, this one on heliocentricity. Despite objections to its publication by the Church, many readers are drawn in by how well-explained Amalie’s findings are, even to the layperson reader. She becomes known as ‘Amalie the Wise.’

Having managed to narrowly avoid the complete wrath of the Church, Amalie’s curiosity instead catches up to her in a different way. While raiding another Hermetic’s laboratory, she is captured and imprisoned by the owner, Count Theodoros Monomachos of Kaliopolis. When the news reaches Basel, the people are not entirely surprised by Amalie’s intractable search for ever more knowledge, but are nonetheless outraged that the Count of Kaliopolis would dare imprison their noble duchess.

The Pope declares the First Crusade a success on 7 May 1101, and grants the Kingdom of Jerusalem to Gerardo Fieschi. Amalie is disappointed but not surprised that her contribution proved too small and too late to win any new titles for the von Habsburgs in the Holy Land. It matters not, she tells herself. The Crusade was for the glory of God and his Son Jesus Christ, not my own family. Our ambitions lie closer to home.

While Amalie whittles away her time in Theodoros' dungeon, her liege Kaiser Heinrich V ‘the Frail’ is having his own struggle: he has a severe case of gout. In August 1101 the disease takes his life and the Prince-Electors select the Duke of Swabia, Wenzel von Pommern, as his successor.

On 29 December of 1101, Amalie finally receives a visitor in her dungeon cell. It is none other than Count Theodoros himself, holding a letter in his hand.

“Well, my dear,” he greets her with a sly sarcastic sneer, “I believe both condolences and congratulations are in order, the former for the passing of your mother, and the latter for the passing of her throne to you.” He callously tosses the letter at Amalie’s feet. Amalie, dumbfounded, breaks the seal bearing the sigil of the Árpáds, and reads the letter. It is all too true. According to her mother’s chancellor, Prince Géza, Queen Mária of Hungary passed peacefully in her sleep on 13 November at the age of 51. Pope Alexander III took the decision to beatify her when the news reached Rome.

“I scarcely believe what I am reading,” Amalie says in the faintest of whispers, yet in the stillness of the dungeon air even her muted voice cuts through the silence like a knife.

“I knew if I only bided my time I could get a...queen’s ransom for you,” Count Theodoros remarks wryly. “And now, Queen Amalie of Hungary, I come bearing my offer. Two hundred and fifty gold pieces for your safe return.”

Spoiler: Author Note

The Decline button is missing because I took the lazy approach and used the background of the duel message from last chapter, and both options wouldn't fit. The things you do when you don't feel like spending an hour meticulously erasing the background of a picture in Photoshop

“I am tempted to quote Caesar when he was ransomed by the pirates, but I will not give you the satisfaction to extort me further. Two hundred and fifty and not a penny more, or you will bear witness to the righteous fury of my subjects and our allies. Furthermore, I must correct you in that there is no more Hungary, for I am no Magyar. My realm will take the name it was given by the Romans: Pannonia."

The ransom paid, Amalie rejoins her armies straightaway. The Crusade is over but she has inherited two wars in addition to the crown. The first her mother began to press a claim to the High Chiefdom of Bolghar for Prince Géza, who already holds the Duchy of Neutra. The other was declared by Duke Balc Jianu of Mutentia, a Wallachian vassal of the Pechenegs, to press his nephew Iorghu’s claim on the county of Temes.

As if two wars were not already enough, on the seventh of March 1102, Amalie receives a call to arms from Queen Justina of Poland, their alliance being renewed through the marriage of Amalie’s niece Sophie von Habsburg and Justina’s uncle Prince Ojír, who is now serving Amalie as her steward. Justina is still fighting Anna Poraj, but with her Hungarian helpers the rebels are all but eliminated and Duchess Anna will ultimately be imprisoned in 1104. Before she surrenders to Justina, though, Anna effectively flips the bird at her captor by signing over Poznań to her other foe, High Chief Waclaw 'the Fox' of Pomerania, on March 1st. Anna is locked up for the rest of her life, which turns out to only be another couple months, for she dies in her cell that June. Coincidentally, Maria Piast follows suit in October after contracting pneumonia.

In midsummer 1102, Amalie’s network of spies reports that on the eleventh of June, Captain Voitto Kukkonen died of cancer, the very death meant for his most famous victim, King Werner of Hungary. Amalie smiles and sheds a tear as she notes the irony.

While the loss of Werner might be mourned, the loss of his son Otto is clearly not, as witnessed by the actions of his widow. Gisèle d’Ivrea, still unmarried, gives birth on 25 September 1102 to Julienne de Gran, the baseborn daughter of the Duke of Transylvania, the aptly-titled Borisz ’the Lecher.’

Amalie, however, is too busy between wars and her work with the Hermetic Society to chastise her sister-in-law. About a month after the birth of Julienne, on 29 October, Amalie signs a white peace with chief Ernakh, having no real interest in the Bolghar lands nor expanding the influence of Prince Géza, who already controls a powerful duchy and could potentially claim her throne. The next year is spent mostly crushing the Mutenians, with a slight detour on 3 February 1103 to summon a Divine Being for a second time. Amalie has much more success and receives an epiphany.

11 days later, Prince Simon receives a wondrous present for his eighth birthday: a baby sister named Hildegard. And a big present she is, too, freakishly big, in fact, but the Habsburgs accept her into their family regardless, in fact almost more so for her unusual appearance. (Shocking!)

Over the summer of 1103, Amalie also oversees via correspondence the construction of a state-of-the-art remote laboratory, which is completed on 2 August. The Mutenians finally surrender weeks later on the twenty-fifth.

Her realm at long last at peace, Queen Amalie now faces an important decision. She summons a meeting of her council in Habsburg Castle on the first of April 1104.

“My trusted advisors,” she begins, “through our joint efforts, and at the expense of many brave men, we have procured the security of our lands for the present time. However we must anticipate new threats, and seek to restore what was taken from us. My mother was a fair and wise queen, but even she could not hold off all of the many foes she faced in her time. In the East, the province of Szekelyföld was lost to the Pechenegs in 1075. In the West, Eisenburg was stolen in 1084 by the coward Adelbero Otakeren, the Duke of Steiermark. The restoration of these lands and the liberation of my mother’s people who live there must be a priority.

“Concurrently, we must protect my father’s lands here in Transjurania, which are now in potential jeopardy. As Queen of Pannonia I answer to no liege lord, and thus the Holy Roman Emperor may decide that this land is forfeit to him. I am loath to go to war with all of Germany, especially when our people are already weary from over three decades of near-constant conflict, but I understand if you are reluctant to have me pledge fealty to the Kaiser instead. I seek the wisdom of the council on these matters.”

The towering, hulking frame of Marshal Árpád Gyula, the Duke of Gran, rises first to speak. Perhaps his side of the family is where Hildegard gets her giant’s blood from, Amalie wonders.

“The Kings of Hungary have never bent the knee to another, but I concur with Her Majesty’s assessment of our military readiness. The people are exhausted, and I expect if we continue to siphon off men from the farms to fight in the army we could face a food crisis sooner than later. I also fear that the strength of the Empire is too much for us to handle ourselves, or even with our allies. We can field, as of the last tally, about 5,000 men. Adding in Poland gives us another 2,000. The last time I spoke with Prince Borisz,” he continued, gesturing at the spymaster, who was alternating looking at his reams of notes and staring lustily at Amalie, “he estimated the Kaiser’s total military capacity at 17,000. Unless the crown can afford 10,000 mercenaries, which I doubt, any war with the empire would be a waste of good men.” He sat back down.

“Prince Ojír, what do you have to say in concurrence or disagreement to Prince Gyula’s assessments?” Queen Amalie asks, addressing her steward. The young man takes his cue to stand and speak.

“Prince Gyula speaks accurately of our situation on both counts. Our winter stores were only just adequate. We need plenty of men back on the farms this year if we hope to live to see the next one. As for the suggestion of mercenaries, he is also right, the crown currently cannot take in enough revenue through taxes to support such numbers, nor do we have any reserves of coin anywhere near sufficient to last us through a war of that scale. I would also advise Her Majesty to submit to the emperor on the grounds that once a fellow vassal, she will be in a better position to renew the alliance with my home country and assist her if she requests aid.” He bowed his head respectfully and retook his seat, and Prince Borisz rose to take his place.

“I would like to confirm Prince Gyula’s assessments, as well,” he says passionately. “And concur with him and Prince Ojír that the safest option for the realm would be under the protection of the Holy Roman Empire. It could also open up possibilities to add to our allies, which we will need if we hope to reclaim Szekelyföld, as I regret to inform the council that the Pechenegs are now tributaries to the Greeks and under their protection.”

“I also agree,” cuts in Bishop Adolf of Aubonne, the court chaplain. “Her Majesty will also find more opportunities within the empire than without to reclaim the lost lands.”

“Sit down and wait your turn to speak, little man,” growls Duke Csanád Pongrácz of Temesch, ever quick to anger. “I personally am not inclined to see my home subsumed into the Kaiser’s dominions after centuries of independence and without a fight, but I see I am in the minority on this council, and I am not keen on dying in a hopeless war either. I have faith in my queen that whatever may befall us she will see that no harm will come our way.”

“Here, here!” come the boisterous voice of Prince Géza, the chancellor, his great belly shaking with every word. “I will second that sentiment and that of my colleagues on the council. I am called the Half-Hand,” he notes, displaying the glove on his left hand, the last few fingers of which are empty and hanging limp, “and the Lord help me if I should lose the other fighting the Kaiser, or worse yet, my head!”

“Then it seems the council is unanimous” Queen Amalie observes. “Well then, Chancellor, make good use of that one good hand of yours. You have a letter to write on my behalf.”

And so the following day, 2 April 1104 a courier is sent to Kaiser Wenzel von Pommern informing him of Queen Amalie’s desire to swear fealty.


On 15 September, in the midst of preparing for her coronation by the new Pope, Gregorious VII, Amalie suffers the loss of a partner for the second time. King Martín dies of natural causes at the age of 46. To add to her heartbreak, Amalie has only just recently discovered she is pregnant with their third child. At King Konrád of Bohemia’s suggestion, Amalie betroths herself to his grandson, 13-year-old Prince Ota to renew the old non-aggression pact between their realms, a decision she will later regret.

Without Martín being crowned King beside her, Amalie’s coronation as Queen Regnant of Pannonia on 29 November, 1104 is bittersweet. Her mood is somewhat lightened by thoughts of what her father Werner would have thought of seeing the Pope lay the Crown of Hungary on her head in such a magnificent ceremony. It was everything he had dreamed of.

Now confirmed as queen before God, Amalie’s attention turns to repairing her slightly fractured kingdom. Szekelyföld is out of reach, so long as the Byzantines defend the Pechenegs whom they have also converted to Orthodoxy. That leaves Eisenburg as the first logical target.

Amalie takes her advisors’ words to heart and seeks out a new possible ally: Duchess Romilda von Babenberg of Austria. Romilda is the widow of Adelbero’s late son Burchard, who’d died of dysentery eight years previous. After hosting Romilda in a private feast, the two reigning women become close friends, so close that Romilda is willing to matrilineally betroth her son and heir Alois to Amalie’s infant daughter Hildegard. Already resigned to Austria passing out of her family, Romilda decides to throw a wrench into the schemes of Alois’ grandfather, who controls the rightfully Austrian counties of Steyr and Traungau, and who had already demonstrated a disregard for his own kin by burning his own brother, Count Otakar of Eppenstein, at the stake for apostasy.

Surprisingly, Amalie doesn’t take the opportunity the betrothal provides to form an official alliance, though scholars debate whether this was intentional to avoid jeopardizing a new potential dynastic acquisition or due to an...oversight. Those on the latter side of the debate will also point out that Amalie similarly never formally allied with Konrád of Bohemia, despite Ojír’s request, although their opponents will usually make the counter-argument that Amalie could have already been planning at this early stage to seize Bohemia for her own family, so it was unlikely that she would overlook an ally on her enemy’s doorstep. All this author will say is:

Spoiler

Regardless of her intentions vis-à-vis Austria, Amalie wants to strike a different tone than her brother, so bolstered by her faith in her own rhetorical prowess, she sends a diplomatic missive to Duke Adelbero, requesting that he peacefully return Eisenburg and its attendant lands to the Kingdom of Pannonia. While she waits she gives birth on 14 April to her second son, whom she names Martin, in honor of the father who will never know him.

To call the Duke’s reply on 26 June 1105 unsatisfactory would be an understatement:

To the repulsive Amazon Amalie,

Eisenburg has been my possession for twenty years by right of conquest. I do not welcome war with you, but I will defend my lands the same way I won them from your mother: with the sword and the will of God on my side! Be forewarned, I count among my allies the Duke Heinrich Salian of Franconia, and my wife the Countess Adelaide of Ulm! You shall have to prevail against us all if you truly desire war!

Yours Truly,

Adelbero Otakeren
Duke of Steiermark, Count of Ulm and Count of Eisenburg

Amalie stares with pursed lips at that last title, clearly intentionally placed to provoke her. I’ll concede you the victory on that score, Adelbero. But you’ll find others difficult to come by.

“If Otakeren desires to fight to defend his stolen lands,” she intones calmly, despite the visible crumpling of the paper in her powerful hands, “then Pannonia will be honored to oblige his request.” She tosses the letter into the roaring fireplace behind her seat on the dais of the great hall. Although she turns away from the flames to face her council, they see the reflection of its fire in her eyes nonetheless. Their stomachs turn to stone and all words of objection are stopped in their throats as she gives her orders:

“Summon my officers, raise our levies and call the banners. We are going to war.”

Next Time…
Amalie and Adelbero’s power struggle shakes up the Holy Roman Empire.

 

[Green Rice]

Chapter 7: The Wars of Amalie and Adalbero

For all Adalbero’s many faults, a liar he proves not. The Franconians and the Ulmers answer his calls for aid when Amalie declares her war of reconquest.

However, it comes too little too late. By the time the Heinrich Salian and the armies of Franconia are within sight of the contested lands, Amalie and her generals have already sent the local militias packing.

“My lord, what is your command?” Heinrich’s commander-in-chief asks him. Heinrich pauses to think and stroke his thick black mustache. He is a stout man, not particularly well-suited to combat in any condition, but these circumstances leave no good options. He may be a Prince-Elector, but his forces are too small to break the lines of Pannonia. And yet to turn tail and escape back north would be dishonorable and do lasting damage to his family’s reputation.

“We will do Lord Otakeren no favor by throwing ourselves to the charnel pits outside his walls,” he finally answers. “We ride hard for Esztergom, or Gran as I believe they call it now. If we can cut off her supply lines and besiege a major city of her own, the Habsburg bitch might have to turn around and deal with us before she can think about taking Eisenburg.”

Even Heinrich himself, however, knows that this mission is a long shot, and to no one’s surprise it amounts to nothing. Amalie’s supply lines our rerouted to avoid the Franconians, and by the time Heinrich even arrives at the walls of Gran, she’s within spitting distance of fully occupying Adalbero’s personal holdings in Steiermark. Gran only has to endure a short siege before Heinrich pulls back in early 1106. The war is over, Amalie has won. However in choosing to attack the heart of Amalie’s dominions, he has walked the fine line between death and dishonor.

The next year, 1107, sees Ota Premyslid come of age. He and Queen Amalie marry, but it is apparent to all that with the age difference between them this will not be a passionate union.

The worst news was yet to come, however. In 1108, a new royal council is convened by Chancellor Karl of Bern. His predecessor Árpad Géza had passed away only the month before at the age of 64.

“Count Karl,” the queen inquires to start the meeting, “for what purpose have you deemed it necessary to call the council in person today?”

“Your Majesty, I bring ill news from Swabia. Our noble emperor Wenzel has gone to our Father in heaven. They suspect the flux took him.”

“That throne is cursed,” cut in Ojír, “Ever since Heinrich IV died the Lord has seen to take the lives of each of his successors before their time.”

“Perhaps it is punishment for Heinrich summoning my father away to die far away in the north,” Amalie mused. “Heinrich the Young followed my father to the grave with barely a year between them. But regardless, surely, my lord, there must be something else tied up in this. As my lord has pointed out, the death of a Kaiser is so common in these times that it hardly worth a carrier pidgeon, much less a council meeting. Who is our new liege? Who did the Electors choose?”

“Your Majesty sees straight to the point,” Karl flattered her. “I’m afraid the worst possible man has been selected for the throne: Duke Adalbero Otakeren of Steiermark!”

A gasp sweeps around the council chamber.

“Surely this cannot be true?” says Gyula in disbelief. “Who would find that craven worthy to be named Emperor of the Romans?”

“I’d wager Duke Adalbero’s piety was enough to convince the electors,” Karl explains. “Whatever their reasons, they made their choice and what is done is done. The new Kaiser is demanding his subjects come to Graz and renew their paths of fealty.”

“Even if I were inclined to swear loyalty to that man, I would not risk entering his viper pit,” Amalie bristles. The rest of the council nods their approval. “Send him some excuse but draft a renewal of my oath to send in writing.”

“There is one more thing you should know, my queen, before you make a final decision,” Ulrich objects. “In his request, Duke—erm, Kaiser, Adalbero added that should you refuse to appear in person, that he will declare the county of Gran forfeit.”

“Ridiculous!” shouts Gyula before Amalie can make a reply. “First he demands the princes of the Empire come to him and bend the knee in person, then he threatens to revoke titles? This demands a coordinated response from the princes.”

“it should be easy to sway many of the other lords of the realm to our side,” agrees Mayor Érraud of Nyon, the new spymaster(Duke Borisz had to be let go for getting into one too many scuffles with the married men of the court). “Adalbero is not only a kinslayer and a craven but excommunicated to boot. If other princes have received similar ultimatums, or even if they haven’t but we inform them of the one given us, they will flock to our defense.”

“I approve this approach,” says Gyula. “There is, as they say, strength in numbers, and if Adalbero intends to use strength of arms to enforce his demand we most certainly would not be able to repel him so long as he can recruit levies from the other princes.”

“Very well,” Amalie agrees, “Send out letters to all the other princes of the empire. Ask them to pledge to support me against the Kaiser, in letters only, hopefully, but with swords if necessary.”

It takes some time to send and receive back all the letters, but as Amalie awaits their replies, Adalbero grows impatient, having received no response from Amalie. On 29 November 1108, he sends another letter, declaring Amalie to be willfully flouting his authority and demanding Gran be surrendered or him immediately. The council is reconvened, and Amalie opens the session by asking Chancellor Karl what replies he has gotten already.

“Regrettably, my liege, I have already received a declination from the Duchess of Austria. I struggle to explain her reasoning, given your close personal friendship.”

“Romilda is no doubt biding her time to see whether Adalbero or myself will have the advantage, and even then I think she will hesitate to join us, with Steiermark her direct neighbor. Our enemy could consolidate his forces and attack her sooner than we can, with our forces being drawn from such far corners. Of course, it’s possible I’m entirely overthinking the matter, Romilda is not one for purely rational thought.”

“I’ll move on to the other responses, then, my lady,” Karl continued after waiting to make sure the queen did not start a new train of thought. “Franche-Comté has declined to support us, as have the Duchies of Milan, Baden, and Lower Lorraine.”

“Do you have any promising news, old codger, or are you determined to make the case for you to be replaced on this council by someone who can actually do your job as chief diplomat?” Gyula growls impatiently.

“I was merely saving the good news for last,” Karl insists. “We do have pledges of support from several other princes. The Dukes Guilhèm-Bertrand of Dauphiné and Borel of Provence were quick to reply, no doubt those Franks want to use the opportunity to weaken the empire and create an opening for them to leave, but for now I’m sure the extra three thousand troops will be appreciated. We also have pledges from the young Duke Gilbert of Nordgau and the Princess Christine of Swabia.”

“Ha!” Amalie laughs. “So Kaiserin Adelaide will be quite stuck between a rock and a hard place if hostilities start between her liege and her husband! Pardons, continue, Count Karl.”

“The brother-Dukes of Savoy and Susa have declared their support, as have Duchess Adela of Tyrol and the regent for Duke Meinhard’s son in Thurgau.”

“Meinhard is dead? What a shame,” Amalie interrupts again.

“And the latest positive replies I have as of this morning are from Hildegard of Alsace and Duke Dietrich of Upper Lorraine.”

“Out of all the names you’ve listed, only Dietrich, Guilhèm-Bertrand and Borel are men,” Gyula points out. “This is a rebellion of mostly children as it stands now.”

“Perhaps,” Amalie admits, “but the children do not need to fight themselves so long as the troops they provide can do that. How many of those do we estimate we have now?”

“If my sources are correct, which I trust they are, then to our own six thousand men these lords and ladies will add ten thousand more,” Érraud answers, “an amount equal to that which the Kaiser could summon to him now with all his subjects united.” Amalie turns to look back at Gyula, who is thoroughly gobsmacked.

“It would appear then, that these children taken together are quite the force to be reckoned with,” remarks Amalie smugly. “Very well, then. Even if this is all we can muster then it would appear that we are sufficiently prepared to challenge the Kaiser. Send out a second batch of messages to all the princes, starting with our new allies, and say to them this:

“I refuse Adalbero Otakeren’s ludicrous demand for my mother’s city and declare him to be a tyrant unfit for the throne. I call upon all true Christians and Romans to join me in demanding, by force of arms if necessary, his abdication of the Reichskrone and all his underlying titles, and to ask the Electors to reconvene and select a new Emperor to rule in his place. May God grant us victory in our just and righteous cause!”

Amalie’s declaration goes out, and as expected, Kaiser Adalbero sends out his own call for her capture. However, it appears that between his kinslaying and his excommunication by the pope have not engendered much love for him among his new subjects. In addition to those whom Amalie had already heard from, Bremen, Gelre, Holland, Friuli, the Rhine, Verona, Tuscany, Saxony, and even the Electors of Brandenburg and Bavaria declare for her. Amalie now has a force of 50,000 troops at her disposal. Adalbero has only seven thousand under his own command, but is bolstered by Konrád of Bohemia, who has just as many, Gottfried of Brabant, with another five thousand, Heinrich of Franconia and Alberto-Aziz of Milan with about three thousand each, and several other smaller lords in the north of the empire.

Amalie first makes a pre-emotive strike against Duke Guillaume of Franche-Comté. Guillaume is fighting his own war against Beatrice of Montbéliard, but they are both still loyal to Adalbero and have a sizeable army, so Amalie gathers together 3,000 troops from her own lands and her nearest allies’ and sends both foes fleeing from her borders.

With the rebel capital now in a less threatened position, Amalie further consolidated her army, amassing a force of nearly 17,000. Adalbero has chosen to besiege the archbishop of Mainz with what strength he has, but his main force is attempting to head south into Bavaria and either turn west to threaten Basel or east to join with Adalbero’s native Steiermarkers. Amalie, warned of this by a last-minute letter from the archbishop, wheels her own army north to head them off.

As they approach the Main River from the county of Weinsburg, Amalie’s scouts finally locate the enemy.

“The Kaiser is attempting to ford the river!” the scout reports. “I count about six thousands in his ranks, and when I left they had just begun to cross. If we leave to meet them immediately we can still catch them before they finish.”

“You look familiar, sir,” Amalie says, gazing long and hard at the scout’s red-bearded face. “Is that a Lombard accent which ai detect in your voice?”

“It is, your majesty. I was born in Italy but raised in Germany.”

“Lord above!” Amalie cries in recognition, “you are Gundo Lotharling!” Her guards draw their swords instinctively at the sound of the name. Gundo removes his cap and kneels before the rebel queen.

“I know you have every right to turn me away, or to order your guard to hack my head off here and now. It would be the least I deserve for the pain and suffering I caused you and your late brother. But I beg you, your majesty, grant me an opportunity to serve you and regain your trust. I believe in your cause, and would rather die attempting to protect the legacy of Otto von Habsburg than die without doing penance for my sins.”

Amalie pauses and considers the offer. Finally she signals her guards to sheathe their blades.

“Gundo,” she says, ”I understand you were trained for command and excelled in your studies. If you wish to prove your dedication to our cause, then take the center column and charge down my enemies at the spot you have found. Alberic and I will follow you from the flanks. If I detect the slightest amount of deception from you, if you give me any reason to doubt your intentions, I will ride up to you and ‘hack your head off’ myself, as you say. Do I make myself perfectly clear?” Gundo nods in silent agreement.

“Then go forth, General Gundo. May you find success on the battlefield, or else the death that you desire and which no one here would mourn.”

But if Amalie is hoping to rid herself of Gundo permanently in the battle, she is sorely disappointed in that regard. Quite to the contrary, Gundo thoroughly redeems himself, for the Battle of Weinsburg is a resounding success for the rebellion. Facing nearly thrice their own number whilst fording a river, the Loyalists are easily trounced, taking over 40% casualties, but Adalbero, ever the craven, stayed on the far side of the river and did not cross himself, and instead retreated with them back west to Mainz.

Amalie chooses not to cross the river to pursue Adalbero, despite her overwhelming numerical advantage. Instead she goes west along the banks to meet them at Mainz. The bishopric has already fallen, but outside the castle of Eppstein the Loyalist besiegers continue to hold her allies hostage. Fortunately there are even fewer troops here than at Weinsburg, only a bit over 2,000, and Amalie gives the deposed former King of Poland Boleslav Premyslid the honor of winning a battle (for once). Boleslav surrounds the enemy position and then leads a devastating cavalry charge. A full two-thirds of the enemy is killed or wounded, while the rest flee in terror. Unfortunately Adalbero himself once again slips through Amalie’s fingers, but she can still be proud of losing only 73 of their own troops in the entire battle.

Before recapturing Mainz, however, Amalie decides to address a new threat to the north: Konrád of Bohemia has arrived with nearly 3,500 men in Frankfurt-am-Main, where Adalbero joins him. A quick excursion later and both men and their armies (or rather, 58% of their armies) are sent packing.

Mainz is swiftly reclaimed from its tiny Loyalist garrison, and from this point on the war becomes more of a farce. The 16,000 or so troops that remain after the brief siege of Mainz, alerted by forward scouts, intercept a small contingent of 718 troops moving through Trier under Adalbero’s command and completely eliminate them all save the Kaiser himself, who flees immediately upon spotting the massive army descending on him. Meanwhile a second contingent of near 14,000 rebels similarly destroys a force of over a thousand attacking the city of Nyon in Genfergau county.

But by far the most pathetic loss for the Loyalists comes in the “Battle of Briey” in Metz, if it can be called a battle at all, for the enemy force consisted of Heinrich Salian, the Duke of Franconia, and 37 soldiers escorting him. All of the escorts are swarmed and killed, but Amalie orders the Duke unharmed and sends him on his way back to his primary residence in Wurzburg.

While Amalie has been collecting ludicrously easy victories, most of her Hungarian troops have captured Adalbero’s main castle of Graz. Faced with the surreal reality that he has been utterly defeated in only 10 short months, Adalbero surrenders to the rebel garrison defending his home on 24 September 1109. The Emperorship is given to Heinrich, Duke of Franconia, but Adalbero takes the Reichskrone with him, vowing that one day, an Otakeren will wear it again.

Next Time...
Amalie vastly expands the influence of the Habsburg dynasty, even at the price of breaking old bonds of fellowship.

 

[Green Rice]

Chapter 8: Bohemian Rhapsody

The year is 1110 and Amalie von Habsburg is enjoying her life. She has defeated her unofficial rival Adelbero Otakeren twice and established a reputation as not only a scholar but an unassailable military powerhouse. She has even managed to secure a strategic marriage between her own daughter and the heir to the Duchy of Austria, Alois Otakeren, who since the abdication of his grandfather had become Duke of Steiermark in his own right.

Amalie is on a roll to expand the Habsburg dominions into Austria, and she decides to double-down on that path. South of Steiermark, the Duchy of Krain is ruled by a toddler, Meinhard II, who also holds the title Duke of Thurgau. One letter to the Pope later and Amalie has license to claim Krain for her own. The war is so straightforward and uneventful that most historians in Basel barely mention it. Amalie’s Transjuranian armies capture Thurgau while the Hungarian portion seizes Krain, and with minimal effort the realms of the Habsburgs is expanded yet again.

Amalie also decides to further enhance the family position in Bavaria by breaking off the betrothal between her son Simon and her niece Elisabeth. The previous match between Simon and Jelena Dukljanin had been scrapped in favor of hopefully passing down the combination of Elisabeth’s strong build and Simon’s genius to the next generation, but the opportunity to add Swabia, the seat of the very same Kaiser Amalie has first pledged fealty to, is too good to pass up.

Elsewhere in the Empire, things have gone crazy yet again. Kaiser Heinrich VI, who was promptly excommunicated by the pope after being elected emperor (what else is new?) is facing a rebellion to depose him in favor of Konrád of Bohemia, led by Duke Guilhèm-Bertrand of Dauphiné. The Pope, it seems, may not favor Heinrich but the Lord certainly does not favor the conspirators. Duke Guilhèm-Bertrand dies on the orders of his own sister, Countess Rosa of Traungau, and his son, Guilhèm-Bertrand II, dies of consumption at the tender age of 7 a little more than a year later, on New Year’s day 1113. The new Duke of Dauphiné, 5-year-old Dodon, is directed by his regent and uncle Berenguié, to regain the favor of God for the house of d’Albon by offering terms of surrender to the Kaiser. Heinrich at this point has already captured and imprisoned the one-eyed, one-handed Konràd, so in his kind heart he finds empathy for the young lord of Dauphiné and accepts on 30 January 1113.

The imprisonment of Konrád turns out to be a godsend to the von Habsburg family, as their claims to the Bohemian throne are sketchy, but the regency provides an opening. However, they’ll have to be quick about it, as Konràd is 78 and will not survive long in a dungeon cell. For now, though, Austria has Amalie’s full attention. On 11 November, she restores the county of Pettau to her newly-acquired Duchy of Krain, wresting it from its liege lord, the Prince-Bishop of Salzburg, Cardinal Markward ‘the Purifier.’ Amalie is so confident in her victory she even takes time away from the front lines to organize a Grand Debate in the Hermetic Society, which she wins, and after the war she sets to work on reforming the succession of Pannonia. On April 15, 1114, she promulgates a new succession law, designating Simon as sole heir to all her titles.

With all her own ducks in a row, Amalie can now finally devote some thought to Bohemia. The problem, as her Chancellor Karl points out, is that she is married to Ota Premyslid, Konrád’s grandson, thus enforcing a pact of non-aggression between herself and Bohemia. Amalie weighs her options carefully.

If I do not press Helferich’s claim within his own lifetime, it is unlikely any children of his would be considered a viable candidate to the throne if a future opportunity should present itself, she muses. And with a male-only seniority succession law, a weak claim to Bohemia will not be easy to press. I must act now if Bohemia is ever to go to my family. She calls for her spymaster.

And then in a completely unrelated, unexpected turn of events, King Ota dies of poisoned wine on 3 November, the perpetrator suspiciously never caught.

With the non-aggression pact between her and King Konrád now conveniently null and void, Amalie is free to declare a war to press her nephew Helferich’s claim on Bohemia. She promptly receives a letter from Kaiser Heinrich VI attempting to enforce a peace, but Amalie, an official advisor to the Kaiser, reminds him of her previous assistance on his council, and Heinrich agrees to cancel the proclamation.

Amalie marries her third husband, an Irish bishop’s son named Cynwrig Mathrafal. He is a tall and brilliant soldier, full of ambition and steadfastly dedicated to honing his martial craft, and becomes fast friends with most everyone in his new home, but Amalie notices that he seems not entirely eager to consummate the marriage on their wedding night. Ah, well, she is past 40 now, unlikely to bear anymore children, and her passion was always more in her research than the bedroom anyhow. In fact, it had become a source of tension with Ota and soured their marriage. She’s willing to look the other way when it comes to Cynwrig’s…preferences if it affords her more time to unraveling the secrets of the universe.

That agreement pays dividends on 29 October 1115, when Amalie finishes her Magnum Opus on Transmutative Alchemy, coincidentally 31 years to the day her brother obtained the Necronomicon, which had mysteriously vanished after his passing.

With her book finished, Amalie can devote more time to the war effort, and after a winter’s pause, the war only takes a few more months to wrap up. On 31 May 1116, Amalie and Helferich declare victory in the streets of Praha, now to be called Prag. It takes another eleven months for Konràd, now merely Duke of Bohemia but still an Elector, to pass and be succeeded in both capacities by his nephew and Amalie’s longtime steward, Prince Ojír. Ojír seems rather relieved to have an excuse to leave his council post. His affection for Amalie’s betrayal of the long-standing Habsburg-Premyslid alliance has turned poisonously bitter.

Now with an army of his own, Helferich, reveling in this newfound power, decides in July 1117 to undertake the now-traditional Bohemian War to Replace Whoever's In Charge of Poland. Unlike the previous wars, however, this time the aggressors is making use of his claim to the Polish throne, currently held by his cousin Queen Justina Premyslid. It is said that when the Poles learned that yet another King of Bohemia was seeking to depose their monarch, they either barely seemed to take notice or remarked that he’d better be prepared to stand in line.

While this has been going on, Countess Adelaide of Ulm finally succumbed to the Great Pox which had plagued her for many years on 26 August, 1116, and her son with Adelbero, Otakar, took up her seat and renewed Ulm’s vassalage to Princess Christine of Swabia.

Valentine’s Day 1119 arrives, and in the spirit of love, Amalie’s eldest daughter Princess Hildegard, on that day turned 16, matrilineally marries the Duke of Steiermark, Alois Otakeren. If they should produce an heir, the lands of the once-proud house of Otakeren would be reduced to the single county of Ulm on Alois’ passing. Meanwhile the Habsburgs would control a realm that would stretch from the Carpathians to the borders of Tyrol and from Poland to the Adriatic without interruption.

Apparently this is for some reason distasteful to Prince Ojír, Duke of Bohemia, because in 1120 he declares a war to reclaim his family’s throne. Amalie decides to lend her troops to the cause to tip the scales in Helferich’s favor, personally leading two victories against Ojír’s forces outside the gates of Prag as they repeatedly attempt to besiege the capital.


The same year, Otakar declares himself rightful Duke of Swabia through his mother’s father. Amalie jumps to her daughter-in-law’s defense, personally leading her armies in a successful attempt to break the siege of Württemberg. Otakar and his forces are decimated by the superior numbers.


King Helferich von Habsburg of Bohemia’s reign comes to a premature end on 9 November 1121, when he dies a mangled mess from wounds sustained on the battlefield. According to the succession laws of Bohemia, which are still based on seniority, the throne immediately passes to his cousin Simon, who now stands to be king of three realms: Bohemia, Pannonia, and if he can successfully finish the war his cousin started, Poland.

Simon quickly sets to work establishing himself as the uncontested ruler of his unexpected windfall of a kingdom. On 22 January 1122, he accepts the surrender of Prince Ojír and allows him to retain his lands and titles. Ojír unfortunately also retains his pride, ambition, and stubborn refusal to accept his near miss at the crown.

1122 is a generally good year for the Habsburgs and their allies. Just six days after Simon’s victory over Ojír, his brother Martin celebrates the victory of his fellow Children’s Crusaders in Jerusalem, led by the youngest son of King Konrád of Bohemia, also named Konrád. The Kingdom, which had fallen to a Jihad in 1105, was now back in the hands of the church. Once again, however, the Habsburgs are snubbed when the Holy Land is parceled out to the Crusaders, and Martin remains a loyal courtier of the new King Konràd across the sea, but no more.

More good news comes on the third of April, when Princess Christine accepts the surrender of Otakar ‘the Bear’ and imprisons him under house arrest in Augsburg. Amalie goes to visit him and runs into Adelbero of all people!

“Come to gloat at us, your highness?” he asks, venom dripping in the last word. “See how low you and your family have reduced the house of my forefathers?”

“Fine words from the man who has absconded with a crown he is no longer entitled to wear. Where are you keeping it, Adelbero?”

“Perhaps you will find out one day, my dear, but not today,” he answers with a smirk. “Today I have come to talk with my last remaining son, not to you.”

“I hope you can talk reason into him as his father, and as one who also has experience fighting and losing to my family.”

“I can assure you that his lusts for power, among other things, will be a topic of conversation, but I will not fault him for taking a stand against a family of power-hungry usurpers from the backwaters of the empire. Your crown and your son’s are stolen from the noble families who’ve held them for generations.”

“And the first generation of Premyslids or Árpáds or Piasts or even Otakerens, how did they acquire those crowns?” Amalie inquires rhetorically. “They conquered, just as my family has done.”

“Your father used the Premyslids to subjugate the Árpáds, you’ve used the Árpáds to depose the Premyslids, and now your son is using the Premyslids to depose themselves in Poland. Your conquests were borne on the backs of other families. All your family has done is beguile and betray those around it.”

“And your house’s founder, Otakar, for whom you named your son, did he conquer Steiermark all by his lonesome? Nay, he brought an army. Do you suggest that the families of the men who fought for him deserve a piece of your grandson’s titles? For they bore his ancestor’s conquests the same as my allies bore mine.”

“Do not attempt to compare my family or the families you’ve exploited to the peasant rabble! Consider your present situation, Queen Amalie. Who among the nobility will ally you or your descendants after all this? You are steadily burning every bridge with them, and when there are no more to defend you, will you turn to the peasantry? I think not. Now if you’ll at last excuse me, I’m going to speak with my son.” Amalie lets him go and waits patiently for the next hour or two, passing the time with conversation with her daughter-in-law Christine. She and Simon have already had their first two children, Gertrude, born 28 February 1119, and another daughter, Elisabeth, in August of 1120, and Amalie enjoys fussing over her granddaughters. At last a page comes to inform them that Lord Adelbero has left. Amalie then goes with Christine to talk to Otakar.

“I’m sorry to not present to you as some miserable wretch begging for mercy,” Otakar says, clearly channeling his father’s spite. “In truth, there is something to be said about having all my time to myself now, which I can devote to my prayers and poetry.”

“Prayers and poetry,” Amalie echoes. “I know you and you’re blood better than that. You may feign piety but you are plotting something from behind here.”

“Are you implying I intended to be captured, your majesty?”

“No, I don’t think you would have risked it, even considering my daughter-in-law’s gentle soul. I think your being in here was a product of foolishness, but I doubt you’ll just sit here and write bad verse and be content.”

“Keep a close eye on him always,” she warns Christine in hushed tones as they return to her apartments. “He may be a prisoner, but he has a claim to the emperorship through his father. Be wary, child, the motives he professes are likely a façade, but what his true intentions are, I do not know, nor care to guess, lest I spend too long in the depraved mind of his ilk.”

While the Fourth (!) Bohemian-Polish War drags on, Simon and Christine somehow find time to produce two more children. Irmgard is born in September of 1123, and their first son, also named Simon, comes along in October of 1125. Simon unfortunately never gets to meet Irmgard, for she was a very frail child and had died that previous January. In fact, judging by the timeline, it was his father’s grief over Irmgard that led to the younger Simon’s conception. And the Lord appeared to take pity on the couple in their loss, for He not only blessed them with a son and heir but a handsome, burly, and genius heir at that!

Finally on Christmas Day 1126, Simon finishes the war for Poland his cousin started. After much effort, Poland is now a Habsburg domain and a constituent realm of the Holy Roman Empire. But while all may be good for Simon, like her half-brother before her, Amalie falls into a depression after hearing an endless stream of supplicants. Rather than brew a Draught of Eudaimon as she has done in the past to relieve stress, Amalie decides to instead concoct a poison with her acquired alchemical skills and drinks it on 22 March 1128, closing out her 54 years of life. A fitting end to the greatest Hermetic of her generation.

Spoiler: Author's Note

A number of you are probably grumbling at my decision to again end my own character, especially one as badass as Amalie. My main reason for doing so was that I wanted to take control of Simon and be in a better position to hold on to Bohemia and Poland, plus try to switch succession laws for both of them as soon as possible. Do I consider my reasoning appropriate justification in hindsight? Ehh...somewhat, not entirely.

With that said, I have pledged myself not to repeat this move for any future ruler, so the grumblings I received last time when I engineered Otto’s death have not gone unheard. Unfortunately, by the time that chapter was published I had already offed Amalie, so I was kinda stuck regarding this chapter! Sorry!

Next Time...
King Simon further consolidates his three kingdoms and deals with the fickleness of the Electoral College.

 

[Green Rice]

Chapter 9: Simon Enrolls in the Electoral College

Amalie von Habsburg was buried on the grounds of her family’s castle. Adolf the chaplain led the funeral, as no member of the outside clergy was willing to preside over a service for a radical thinker who took her own life. Despite that, Simon, her heir to both her titles and intellect, insisted that she be buried with full honors. It was not her fault, he kept thinking, she had not been right in her head those last few weeks. She deserves this for the lifetime of good she did,

When the ceremony was over, it was back to business. Amalie had died right in the middle of a vassalization war Simon had started against the Duchy of Nordgau in July of 1127. It would be another year following Amalie’s funeral before he secured victory on April the third 1129.

Simon has barely had time to rest when just weeks later on the twenty-fourth, his spymaster Mayor Lothar of Kakath alerts him to a recently-discovered plot by Prince Ojír to have Simon killed. Simon sends his Marshal and step-father Cwynwrig to arrest Prince Ojír. Ojír escapes capture and raises his armies in rebellion, but with the help of the Swabians, Simon achieves total victory on the ninth of October. Ojír is imprisoned and stripped of his ducal title and its associated position in the Electoral College. For good measure, Simon has Pope Alexander II excommunicate the prince, and Ojír is beheaded on the twenty-fifth of October 1129, in the city of his ancestors, now ruled by his late wife’s cousin, who watches on. Ojír may have been a traitor, but Simon could understand wanting to protect one’s family legacy. Simon had only sought the opportunity to take the Electorate of Bohemia. If Ojír had simply surrendered, he may have lost only his title and kept his head. Now he has neither.

With three duchy titles, Bohemia, Transjurania, and Krain, Simon's vassals that still have heads are beginning to grow wary of his power. To appease them, Simon grants the Duchy of Krain to its Countess, Isentrude von Weimar. He also welcomes a second son just three days after Ojír’s execution, whom he names Martin after the boy’s uncle.

The next pressing issue is the earlier loss of Poznań to the pagans during the 1104 succession crisis. When he attends his first council session as an advisor to Kaiser Theodorich Salian, the emperor brings it up and suggests lending the full might of the Holy Roman Empire to help Simon and Duke Imram Poraj of Greater Poland reclaim the city. Simon appreciates his liege’s shrewd perception and just offer, but he urges the Kaiser not to waste his time, energy, and manpower on a province that Simon has more than enough capability to seize on his own, but the zealous Theodorich insists and on 27 November 1129 declares war against King Glande von Finckenstein of Prussia. Unfortunately, as Simon had tried to forewarn against, the Kaiser neglects to consider the opinions and prerogatives of his councillors. The Imperial steward and Duke of Brandenburg, Meinhard, holds a grudge against Theodorich for spreading slanderous accusations about him, while Chancellor Gottfried of Brabant, Marshal Dieter of Bavaria, Tuscany, and Spoletto, both voted with Simon against wasting the entire empire’s resources on a single province owned by a weak opponent. Prussia, without counting allied vassal forces, could only raise 4,662 troops to Theodorich’s 12,000. Duke Siegfried of Franche-Comté, the other advisor alongside King Simon, was influenced to break the tie by Duke Gottfried.

No idea why it says I voted both for and against the war declaration, but mathematically I had to have voted against it to not create a tie, which would have gone the Emperor's way. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Bug report!

As a result of Theodorich’s declaration of war against the majority of the council’s wishes, the Electors reconsidered their preferences for his successor. King Simon had previously enjoyed near-unanimous support thanks to Theodorich’s endorsement (only Prince-Bishop Michael of Trier held out, supporting a restoration of Adelbero), but now Simon found himself being pushed aside in favor of other candidates. To make matters worse, within a year, on 8 August 1130, Adelbero Otakeren dies a natural and arguably undeservedly peaceful death in Ulm. Otakar, still imprisoned in an apartment in Augsburg, inherits his father’s claim to the Empire and becomes a valid candidate for the Electors to consider. His virtuous and pious nature, gained from spending the past 24 years in the Dominican Order, wins over Theodorich and the Bishops of Köln and Mainz. Their votes, together with the already pro-Otakeren Trier, make Otakar the heir apparent to the Empire, thanks to Saxony and Brandenburg each voting for their own candidates, the Dukes of Friuli and Gelre, respectively. Only Heinrich IV of Franconia, the 20-year-old grandson of Duke Heinrich III (a.k.a. Kaiser Heinrich VI of the HRE), is willing to cast his ballot for a Habsburg emperor.

For now, the succession question in the empire will have to take a backseat, because in March of 1131, Pope Eugenius III declares that in three years the Catholic faith will embark on the Second Crusade. With the Holy Land in Christian hands, their new target will be the Kingdom of Egypt and return it, spiritually if not politically, under the authority of Rome. That said regarding the Holy Land, the Basileus of the Eastern Roman Empire, Frujin Kometopoulos ‘the Strong’, seems to take a slightly perverse inspiration from the Pope and declares war on King Konrád of Jerusalem to liberate the lone Orthodox population in Tiberias in October.

But before that news reaches Basel, something even more disturbing comes to light. When Princess Christine gives birth to her sixth child on 27 April 1131, little Hildegard is very clearly not Simon’s child. With her dark complexion, Simon quickly deduces the true father: the Berber Issam, Count of Wurttemburg, who apparently was granted more than just a title by his liege Christine. Simon is devastated by his wife’s infidelity. He orders her to return to Augsburg and spend more time governing her own people, while he and the other four surviving children remain at Basel. With tears in her eyes, Christine agrees.

After many years of trying, Hildegard and Alois of Steiermark have a son, Burchard von Habsburg, on 2 November 1131, securing the passing of the Duchies of Austria and Steiermark into the house of the late Adelbero’s all-but-official rival. Another fortuitous moment comes on 13 December, when Duke Siegfried von Nordheim of Franche-Comté is killed by Bishop Hans of Saint-Claude in personal combat while waging a revocation war against Hans’ liege, the Countess Henrike of Bar, Escuens, and Montbéliard. Now, in a cruel twist of irony, the Duke, who won his title by pressing a claim against a female heir to the d’Ivrea dynasty (to which he was related on his mother’s side), leaves it open to new claimants, as his only heir is a not-yet-grown daughter named Oda. The possibility now presents itself for Simon to challenge her title with his own claimant: Elisabeth von Habsburg, daughter of Duke Otto and Duchess Gisèle.

But while Simon lays the groundwork for that plan, on 19 August 1132, Kaiser Theodorich dies of an untimely infected wound sustained in battle against the pagan Prussians. Otakar Otakeren, Count of Ulm in absentia, ironically becomes the liege of his captor, Princess Christine, but her stubbornness thankfully outweighs her coward’s heart and she refuses to free him. Simon hopes for a silver lining, that with the Electors now having to prepare to select a new Kaiser he might have a shot. To his disappointment, the College favors the pious Duke Dieter of Bavaria, so on September the 16th, King Simon joins the Dominican Order to improve his relationship to the church and win over the hearts of the other Electors.

On Christmas Eve 1132, Hartwig von Habsburg, son of Elisabeth and grandson of Otto, marries Christine Salian, Christine may be a little off in the head, but she is the sister of the Duke of Franconia, and with luck may provide a path towards adding that title to the list of Habsburg possessions, along with the Iron Crown of Lombardy her family has kept since the passing of Kaiser Heinrich the Young.

Poznań, or Posen as it is often now called to reflect the new Germanic monarchs, is finally recaptured in 1133 and restored to Duke Imram. Simon is now free to turn his attention back to Franche-Comté, but first, Simon takes on a quick side mission: bringing more of Bavaria under his control. On March 3, 1133 he asks Pope Eugenius III for a claim on the Duchy of Tyrol, held by Adela of House Hupoldinger. While her last name might be killer, it is only figurative, and when it comes to the actual fighting, it is no contest. The war is so short it ends December 7 of the same year and becomes known as the Nine Months’ War, although sometimes it’s so short that it misses the first draft of histories altogether. Simon isn't that concerned with holding Tyrol personally, however, so he agrees to restore Adela's title to her as long as she swears fealty to him.

Simon is all ready to declare war on Franche-Comté in December 1133 when word arrives that Romilda of Austria has passed away and left her titles to Alois Otakeren. Austria and Steiermark are now united and only one generation away from being Habsburg possessions, albeit under a cadet branch. Simon is prepared to drop everything to go to the funeral for the woman he considered an honorary aunt, when the rest of the letter from Alois suddenly reminds him: there’s another Crusade starting in 100 days! Alois is planning on burying his mother in a small private ceremony and holding a memorial service after the Crusade. The Crusade also means the war for Franche-Comté will have to be put on hold, as there is no way that Simon is going to pass up an opportunity to create a fourth Habsburg kingdom when he has the armies of the first three all to himself.

As he has only one coastal province and therefore no real navy to speak of, Simon and his troops instead take a long march down the Danube and across Anatolia to reach Egypt. As they march, the Crusade officially begins on 21 March, and in April Simon hears that not only has Kaiser Otakar has been excommunicated by the request of Count Rogier of Venaissin, but due to the recent onset of both stress and depression in Duke Dieter, a majority of Electors, including Otakar himself, now prefer, of all people, Alois Otakeren! What an unexpected and unintended boon to the Habsburgs, as should Alois be elected, his son Burchard von Habsburg will gain a claim to the empire and be eligible for the throne himself in the future, giving the Habsburgs two potential candidates. Simon decides to support Alois for the time being and secretly prays Otakar contracts some illness.

Screenshot obviously taken before I changed my vote!

Later that year as they cross through the Basileus’ lands, the Habsburg forces learn that Fruljin has won his religious war against King Konrád of Jerusalem on August the twenty-third, 1134. The world is stunned when the Greek Basilieus inexplicably picks an unknown Levantine Orthodox nobleman named Musa Nubaid to be installed as King and Sultan of Jerusalem. Simon sees this as an opportunity to patch things up with the Premyslids. He begins sending diplomats to Konrád to hopefully lure him to Habsburg Castle.

The Second Crusade provides Simon with some opportunities for spiritual reflection and growth. He devotes more attention to his recommended readings from the Dominican Order, and decides to be more grateful and humble in March 1135. God appears to be pleased by Simon’s decision, as He presents Simon with many blessings over the remainder of the year 1135. In April Simon gains a new commander, the strong and brave Gerlach. In June he attends a festival and relieves some stress that he had been accumulating, and the very next month his siege party in Cairo finds a Song dynasty painting in the Emir’s treasure vault which he claims as his own. In the new year, Simon redoubles his dedication to the Crusade and to the Catholic church, and becomes known as a zealot.

On the 22nd of January, Konrád Premyslid, ex-King of Jerusalem, finally arrives at Habsburg Castle. Simon, through correspondence, arranges a matrilineal marriage between Konrád’s son Vladimir and Adelheid von Habsburg, eldest granddaughter of Ojír Premyslid and Sophie von Habsburg through their only child Ludwig. As the crusade enters its second summer, Simon’s exploits in seizing Cairo and other personal holdings of the Sultan earn him the distinction of being a true Christian knight, and in October, he celebrates by purchasing a new golden ceremonial sword from a traveling merchant.

But perhaps the greatest blessing comes on 16 November, when Engeltraud von Habsburg is born to Hartwig and Christine Salian. Now there is a possibility of Engeltraud and her descendants to obtain the Iron Crown of Lombardy held by the Salian family, if the right people should happen to meet untimely early deaths.

After another year of crusading, on the 30th January 1137, the new Pope Caelestinus II declares the Second Crusade to be a success, makes peace with the Egyptian Sultan, and selects (at Simon’s suggestion, of course) Simon’s brother Martin von Habsburg to be the new King of Egypt, having already proven himself in reclaiming the Holy Land with the Children’s Crusade. Simon himself receives a blessed war-hammer as a reward for his service to the Church. That same day, Simon declares that the Kingdom of Bohemia shall be passed according to primogeniture, not seniority, effectively merging it with the kingdom with Pannonia. The future generations of Habsburgs would now finally have formal political power in the empire on top of the strength of three kingdoms, and an avenue towards ruling it all.

Next Time…
Simon takes the next steps towards preparing the Habsburg dynasty for the next generation...

 

[Green Rice]

Chapter 10: Babes and Bank Accounts

While King Simon was off crusading, Prince Simon was busy getting a quality education. In December of 1133, his father had assigned Young Simon a tutor, a Jew named Abba of Chachersk. Abba was a good match for Simon, who at 8 years old was a fussy and indolent child, but Abba’s charitable and patient manner would hopefully prove to be a good influence on him.

Hopefully being the operative word, for after barely a year of teaching Simon, Abba was burned at the stake on the orders of Duke Gilbert of Nordgau, allegedly for writing music that was simply too ahead of its time. 839 years ahead, to be precise. It would take a couple years of searching before the king found another suitable tutor, this time Verounica the daughter of the former Marshal, Alberic de Comminges.

Young Simon’s father is not overly concerned with his son’s education, however, as the boy is a natural study and a quick learner. Instead, the king chooses to worry more about Simon’s future bride. He selects the daughter of Helferich, Amalberga von Habsburg, for her strong physique, despite her being a decade the boy’s senior. Young Simon has his father and grandmother’s brains and his mother’s beauty, but his constitution leaves a little still to be desired. Although he was born relatively strong for a babe, Young Simon’s lazy disposition seems to be turning him soft. But that would be nothing to fear if the whims of nature were to be kind to him and Amalberga, yet therein lies King Simon’s second worry, for his son appears rather disinterested in the “fairer sex…”

King Simon, however, manages to find ample distractions to take his mind off of such troubling thoughts. After he finally realizes Verounica’s potential as a tutor for Simon, he decides that if he’s going to be fighting a war for Franche-Comté sometime soon he’ll need better equipment befitting a king with three crowns. He commissions a lance to be forged specifically for his use in November 1137. While he waits to hear back from Reinhold the weaponsmith, the king introduces Young Simon to the royal court, and despite a few stumbles, one moment in particular makes the event all worthwhile.

As the two Simons are making their way around the hall and meeting the guests, they come across Bishop Ondrej of Rajhrad. The Bohemian cleric makes a few simple inquiries into the prince’s Bible studies in broken, heavily-accented German, but young Simon stuns Ondrej by responding not only with an answer, but with several complex questions on the Beatitudes, the parables, and other advanced topics. And he communicates all of it in fluent Czech for the bishop’s understanding! Ondrej is so unprepared for such a grilling that he makes a polite excuse and tells the prince that when Simon is not obligated to his other guests, he will be welcome to invite Ondrej to come and discuss all his questions at length, if the king approves. The King is ecstatic that his son has made such a good impression and gives his blessing for Ondrej to tutor the prince in advanced theology, and goes so far as to tell Ondrej that in exchange his willing to offer anything within reason that the bishop needs, now or in the future.

After the very successful debut of his son in court, the king spends the winter months hosting his vassal lords in private feasts, and strikes up a strong friendship with his distant cousin Árpád Elek, the Duke of Ungwar.

Finally, in the spring, Reinhold requests an audience with the king to update him on the progress he has made on the royal lance. Simon is at first disappointed when he sees that Reinhold is not carrying a finished product with him.

“On the contrary, my king, if I were to present you with your lance now you would regret it in but a few hours’ time, for you would have learned as I have that in Wallachia there is a report that miners there have unearthed a hereunto undiscovered metal, rumored to put steel to shame when forged properly. I am here to request that the crown provide me with the funding to travel to his mine and examine the material myself, to confirm these rumors and if proven true, acquire some to be incorporated into your weapon.”

“Very well,” says King Simon without hesitation. “You shall be given an ample supply of gold from the treasury, but be forewarned, if you aim to deceive me there is not a corner of this world I will not search to find you and bring you to justice.”

“Fear not, my liege,” Reinhold assures him, “I am but your humble servant, and I shall waste not a copper of your generous allowance!”

The very next month, Simon receives word that Duchess Oda, now 17, has gone into seclusion to prepare to give birth to her first child. The temporary regency will be a suitable opening to press Elisabeth’s claim.

“Daniil!” Simon calls to his young and brilliant Russian marshal, “raise the banners and gather the men! We’re going to finally bring Franche-Comté into the fold!”

“I’m afraid not, my liege, unless you have discovered a new cache of gold we were previously unaware of,” interrupts Duke Zdik of Silesia, the steward. “We are currently in debt to the bankers of Praha to finance the smith’s expedition to Wallachia. We have no revenue with which to pay the troops.”

“Can we not borrow more?” Simon demands to know. “After all, as you just admitted, we borrowed money before when needed. Why should this be different?”

“Because if we cannot pay the men upfront they will not be willing to leave their homes and farms right before harvest season,” Zdik explains. “They must be assured of their families’ financial security before they take up arms and leave them, not after.”

Simon is furious to have stymied his own plans, but he manages to get control of his emotions and see Zdik’s reasoning clearly. He relents; the war with Franche-Comté will have to be delayed again. By the time the royal ledger is back in the black, Oda has given birth and retaken direct control of her lands, and Simon no longer has proper justification to press another woman’s claim to the duchy. So it comes as cold comfort when Reinhold returns in midsummer with a finished lance for the king. In memory of his uncle Otto, Simon names the lance Impaler. His mood is also bolstered by seeing Young Simon become a much more diligent young man thanks to his fatherly guidance.

Simon is also on the lookout for other potential outside additions to bolster the Habsburg gene pool. One young prodigy named Sambor Sieradzki in Poland catches his eye. His widowed mother, Anna Brokowic, lives in the court of Count Daniel of Schieratz, and Sambor, as it turns out, is Daniel’s nephew and heir as he has yet to father any children with his own wife Pechna. Anna will not join Simon at court in Basel on her own, so Simon sends Count Daniel a proposal of marriage between Anna and Simon’s commander Gerlach. Daniel accepts and Anna moves to Basel to be with her new husband. Unfortunately Count Daniel insists on Sambor staying in Poland to continue his education, so long as he remains the heir to the county.

But Simon has even more itches to scratch. Unable to declare war on Franche-Comté, he instead turns his attention to Franconia. The Iron Crown of Lombardy would give the Habsburgs much-desired legitimacy in the eyes of the rest of the empire, and now that Christine has a Habsburg daughter (thankfully her two prior children are both bastards), should she inherit her brother’s title the Iron Crown would pass down her and Engeltraud’s line. The only flaw in that plan is that Duke Heinrich has three sons and a daughter who all come first in the line of succession, and simply pressing Christine’s claim would result in a similar situation to when Adelbero Otakeren took the Reichskrone with him after abdicating.

“This sounds like a job for my spymaster,” Simon muses in his private study one night…

First, though, Simon needs to destabilize Franconia to make it easier for his agents to enact their fiendish schemes. Fortunately, he has a lot of rapport with Pope Caelestinus II thanks to the Second Crusade. Convincing the Bishop of Rome to excommunicate Duke Heinrich proves almost as easy said as done. On October 15, 1138, Simon von Habsburg declares a tooootally selfless war to depose the excommunicated Heinrich Salian from the duchy of Franconia. Otakar attempts to step in immediately and prevent Simon from wreaking more havoc on the Electoral College, but Simon has learned from his mother’s experiences. He reminds Otakar of a favor he owes Simon for helping him pass some legal reforms by the council, and Otakar backs off and allows the war to continue. As was becoming routine when the Habsburgs go to war (even before they had three kingdoms within the empire and a fourth without), the fight was very one-sided, and most of it is spent besieging Heinrich’s fortifications.

Simon has enough downtime, in fact, to come to a realization about his problem with Sambor Sieradzki:

“If I can ensure that Countess Pechna bears a son, then Sambor will no longer be the heir and will be free to move to Basel to be with his mother, and I can have him betrothed to whomever I deem in need of passing his genius down to their children! That is the key! I need to seduce Pechna and put a son in her that she can pass off as Daniel’s!”

The day after New Year’s 1140, Heinrich orders the white flag of surrender flown above the ramparts of the Schweinfurt in Würzburg. His eldest son Franz, just turned 8 years old, takes Heinrich’s place as Duke. Now the Habsburgs need only deal with Franz’s siblings…

Next Time…
Simon makes one child and…unmakes a few others. Plus, the war with Franche-Comté finally takes shape!

 

[Green Rice]

Chapter 11: Movin’ On Up (through the Line of Succession)

Spoiler: Author's Note/Mini-Contest Announcement

Bragging rights to the first person who can identify the (dated) pop culture reference in today’s chapter title! Be honest if you used Google, though, or Duke Otto will haunt you from beyond the grave!

King Simon von Habsburg of Bohemia, Pannonia, and Poland may have just won a war, but he doesn’t let that slow him down. Just five days after accepting peace with Franconia, he asks Caelestinus II to excommunicate Duchess Oda of Franche-Comté just as he did Heinrich Salian. While this does not in and of itself allow Simon to press his cousin Elisabeth’s claim to Oda’s duchy, forcing Oda off the throne is the first necessary step to later deposing her young daughter in favor of Elisabeth von Habsburg. The war is formally declared on January 20, 1140. Simon is so confident in his victory that he leaves the front lines to spend more time at a retreat with other members of the Dominicans and make friends with a surprisingly pious mercenary captain named Werner.

Simon’s other current objective, getting Countess Pechna of Schieratz into bed with him, has left his mind consumed with only one thing: sex. And to his dismay there is an abysmal lack of women at this monastery. Although Simon admits to himself that he is curious to know what it would be like to lie with a man for his son’s sake, as it is becoming more and more apparent that Young Simon is not interested in women, he decides against it. If the worst should happen and he were to be caught in flagrante delicto with Werner, not only could he be expelled from the Order, he would lose credibility with the other Electors and most importantly, find it much harder to seduce Pechna! After all, what woman would want to sleep with him if he were to be publicly branded a sodomite?

As February wound to a close, Spymaster Lothar informed Simon that the first plot to “remove” Adela Salian was ready to move forward with the king’s permission. Simon found it difficult to stomach, being a kind-hearted person by nature, but he forced down his reservations and gave the order.

Every Habsburg before me has undertaken a mission to better the family standing before they go on to the next world, he reminded himself. Werner hanged his first wife so he could marry my grandmother and give her and Mother Hungary. Uncle Otto supposedly had Mother’s half-brothers killed to make sure she inherited her throne. Mother had my step-father poisoned so she could give Bohemia to Helferich. Even Helferich died while fighting to claim Poland. I have accepted Franconia and the Iron Crown as part of my mission. So for my family’s sake, I must put aside my childish idealism.

Lothar’s plot goes according to plan. On the fourth of March, Adela Salian is smothered by her maid, and no evidence is left behind to point back to the Habsburgs. Lothar is even able to quickly move on and orchestrate a plot against her brother Theitmar, but while that scheme is underway, the Duchess Katharina gives birth to another son, Erich. After Theitmar meets the same fate as his sister on 21 May (the Salians could really stand to run background checks on their maids), Simon grits his teeth and orders Erich eliminated next. With him gone, it will be only Heinrich himself and his two eldest, Franz and Rutger, between Christine and the Iron Crown.

The plan to kill Erich Salian takes longer to start organizing (apparently even young Franz is starting to realize something is up), so Simon has time to attend to other matters, like his son. Young Simon has already proven himself a hard worker, and Simon the Elder makes sure to instill in his heir the essential Habsburg pride and ambition to become eventual masters of Europe. Simon also discovers that the efforts he’s been making to attract Countess Pechna on his now frequent trips to Schieratz are having some bonus side effects. It appears that one of the scullery maids, Diana, has taken a shine to him. Simon decides to use her as practice for when he makes his big move on Pechna. The young and nubile Diana proves herself a more than adequate bedmate, and offers to serve her king as his eyes and ears among the servants. Considering the growing rumors about him (as it’s becoming more and more obvious who stands to benefit most from the Salian murders), Simon accepts the proposition. It would be a cruel irony if he were to pass it up and receive a taste of his own medicine.

The night before All Hallows’ Eve 1140, on yet another visit to Schieratz, Simon finally gets the opportunity with Pechna he’s been waiting for. After they spend a whole dinner party exchanging stolen glances at each other, Simon leaves the countess a note asking her to meet him later that night in the kitchen for some “extra dessert.” Almost surprisingly, given Pechna’s timid nature, she shows up, and after exchanging pleasantries and a few playful jests, Simon leans in and professes his love to Pechna. The countess of Schieratz is at first taken aback by such a scandalous admission of adulterous thoughts, but as Simon places kisses on her hand and then up her arm to her neck, her indulgent side takes over. Before she fully realizes what she’s doing she’s removing her nightgown and making passionate, vigorous love to the Habsburg king right there on the kitchen floor.

Yep, thinks Simon to himself after he and Pechna have both collapsed on each other in a wave of ecstasy, this is much better than Captain Werner would have been. The wait was well worth it. Two months later, Pechna sends a coded message to Simon to let him know that she is with child and believes him to be the father. As long as Daniel doesn’t get the same idea, Simon prays.

His thoughts are cut short by the entrance of his wife, Princess Christine. They are wintering in Augsburg so to be closer to the front lines of the ongoing war in Franche-Comté and to give Christine a chance to see her children. Simon is beginning to forgive her, both because of his own infidelities and the fact that Christine seems to have reformed since their separation. They are even beginning to talk affectionately to one another again. She is carrying a heavy purse that Simon doesn’t recognize as either of theirs.

“Husband, I bring good news,” Christine says. “The woefully bare treasury of Swabia has been given a generous deposit. Shall I order a feast for tonight?”

“Who has been possessed by the spirit of Christmas to be so charitable and helpful to you, my darling?” Simon asks.

“You could never hope to guess,” she teases.

“His Holiness the Pope?” Simon guesses. Christine shakes her head and tightens her lips. “Um…the Archbishop of Salzburg? The Duke of Austria? The Margrave of Brandenburg? I give up, dear, just tell me already and end my torment.”

“Kaiser Otakar! He finally had saved enough to pay my ransom demand!” Christine squeals with glee, but Simon’s face has drooped so much that he almost fears his mustache falling off.

“Your…ransom demand?” he echoes. “You…you SET HIM FREE?!”

“We—nay, I— have been keeping him under lock and key for nearly twenty years, and bearing all the expenses of keeping him healthy and well-fed. If you wanted him kept under guard for the rest of his life, surely the Three Kingdoms could have spared a few coins? Besides, his being locked up here didn’t prevent his election as Emperor, nor has he done anything other than be a cooperative prisoner. In all this time he has done nothing to take revenge on you or me.”

“Perhaps,” Simon says through gritted teeth, “that is precisely because in all this time he has been monitored day and night? Foolish woman! Now he has full authority to command the empire and its armies. I would wager that gold in your hand that he will use that to rebuild a new seat of power for his sons to inherit and prolong this family rivalry between us.”

Needless to say, this argument sets back the progress Simon and Christine have made in their relationship.

More mixed news reaches Simon’s ears on the 27th of January: Erich Salian was successfully assassinated, but this maid was apparently made of weaker stuff than her predecessors, and she revealed Simon’s involvement. From his exile Heinrich Salian demands that Kaiser Otakar have Simon arrested and put do death, but no action is taken by the emperor. Apparently Otakar has learned from his father’s mistake to make demands of a vassal who rules nearly half the empire.

And so, untouched even by the heinous accusations levied against him, Simon presses on and finally defeats Franche-Comté on 10 May 1141. Oda is forced to abdicate to her daughter Rosalia, only two years old. Simon then turns around and declares a new war the next day to press Elisabeth’s claim, now that the duchy is trapped for the next fourteen years in a regency. By the third of August, Simon and his armies are settling in for yet another series of long sieges when he receives another letter from Pechna. Decoding it, he learns that she has given birth to a son her husband named Jakusz. Daniel is completely unaware that the child he is holding up as his heir is not of his body. One by one the obstacles in the way of incorporating young Sambor into the Habsburg family are coming down.

On the twenty-eighth of October 1141, Young Simon turns 16. His education has turned out decently, all things considered, given his volatile tutor situation. He is kind like his father, but otherwise quite different. Whereas the elder Simon was rather ambivalent in the realms of clothes and decorum, the Crown Prince is a leader in fashion, adding to his natural physical attractiveness to the ladies of the court, not that their attentions are much reciprocated. He maintains his ambition and the necessary work ethic to see it done, and keeps a healthy paranoia to guard against the more mischievous or even downright nefarious courtiers. On top of all that, his father’s influence as a Dominican has inspired Young Simon to live a life of humility. He has become in almost every respect the ideal heir for his father, who happily sees the boy marry his second cousin Amalberga not long after he reaches the age of majority.

But even a life this fortunate cannot be without its hiccups. On 24 May 1142, Elisabeth von Habsburg dies suddenly at age 48. Her son Hartwig inherits her claim to Franche-Comté and Simon renews the war effort, but sadly an exact fortnight later on June the seventh, at the age of 47, Simon follows his cousin to an early grave. A lifetime of stress has been slowly burning through him. His marital problems, the repeatedly foiled attempts to sway the Electors in his favor, and the half-finished schemes with Franche-Comté, Franconia, and Schieratz have all been building up and weighing on him. And so in the summer of 1142, much earlier than he expected, Simon the Younger acceded the thrones of Bohemia and Pannonia as King Simon II. Poland went to Young Martin, as Simon I had been unable to curry enough favor with his Polish subjects to push through a non-gavelkind succession law before his untimely demise.

​

The fourth generation of Habsburgs had arrived to leave their mark on Europe, and what a mark it would be!

Next Time…
Simon II deals with love, loss, and an ultimatum from the Pope!

 

[Green Rice]

—Genealogy Update—​

Four score years ago, we set off on our journey with Werner von Habsburg, Count of Basel. From his three children, his descendants are now quite numerous and spread out across Europe and beyond. Today let’s take a look at our Habsburg family tree and reacquaint ourselves with some of it’s more obscure members.

For those that need reminding, Werner (1025 - 1078)’s story began with his first two children already born: Otto (1060-1097), his heir, and a daughter named Ida (1064 - 1118), both born of his first marriage to Reginlind (1027 - 1066). Werner, after having Reginlind executed on bogus charges, remarried Princess Maria of Hungary (1050-1101) and pressed her claim to the throne of her cousin Salamon (1053 - 1073), installing her as Queen Regnant of Hungary. They had a daughter named Amalie (1073 - 1128).

Otto and Amalie’s stories you know well (or maybe not, in which case go revisit chapters 2-8), but you may now be realizing that we don’t yet know what happened to Ida. And that is because…I don’t really know what happened to Ida. In the late 1110s (I want to say 1117) her involvement in Lucifer’s Own was exposed, and Amalie opted to throw her half-sister (with whom she had been very close until this point) in the dungeon. Then suddenly, on New Year’s Day 1118, the guards found that she had mysteriously vanished from her cell and she was never seen again.

Anyway, on to the family trees! There are a few spoilers in here as these were captured in 1145, not 1142, because as some of you may recall, I originally scheduled Chapter 12 to precede this, but the more I thought of it, the more sense it made to put it in here while we're in between characters than in the middle of Simon II's storyline. So happy Easter egg hunting!

Otto’s Descendants

with Gisèle d’Ivrea (1062 - 1119)

Sofie (1080 - 1107) Married matrilineally to Prince Ojír Premyslid (1075 - 1129), Pretender to the Kingdom of Bohemia, Duke of Bohemia (revoked 9 October 1129), Count of Sudböhmen, Leitmeritz, Grätz, and Pilsen. Died of severe stress.​

Ludwig (1100 - ) Only child of Sofie and Ojír. Married to Constança de Cerdanya (1108 - ).​

Jakob (1126 - ) Married to Natalia Torchitoriu de Ugunale (1128 - )​

Adelheid (1129 - ) Married matrilineally to Count Vladimír Premyslid of Kharibta (1126 - ).​

Serhilda (1131 - ) Betrothed matrilineally to Salluri de Zori (1137 - )​

Ursula (1136 - )​

​

Alberich (1083 - 1114) Married to Malfrida Borisovna. Died of poor health.​

Hildegard (1100 - 1101) Died sickly.​

Werner (1087 - 1104) Married to Marie Premyslid, Princess of Bohemia (1084 - 1135). Died of poor physique.​

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Etiennette (1088 - 1098) Betrothed matrilineally to King Humphrey de Hauteville of Sicily. Murdered on the orders of an unknown party.​

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Elisabeth (1093 - 1142) Married matrilineally to Nicholaus de Comminges (1091 - 1132).​

Hartwig (1116 - ) Married to Christine Salian (1113 - ).​

Engeltraud (1136 - )​

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Inga (1118 - 1139) Married to Daniil of Mykulyn (1116 - ). Died of a heart attack.​

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Ida’s Descendants

with Bretislav Premyslid, Bishop of Plasy (1058 - 1121)

Bretislav Premyslid (1081 - 1099) Secretly a bastard of Duke Ugo of Milan (1053 - 1086). Died of poor physique.​

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Eufemie Premyslid (1086 - 1120) Secretly a bastard of King Vratislav Premyslid (1032 - 1093). Died unable to carry her own massive frame.​

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with Boleslav Premyslid, King of Poland (1063 - 1110)

Reginlind (1090 - ) Princess of Poland. First married to Duke Liutold of Baden (1048 - 1107). Second marriage matrilineally to Obizzo Hucbaldi (1090 - 1143).​

Krystyna (1108 - ) Married matrilineally to Leopold von Auburg (1114 - ).​

Norbert (1142 - )​

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Helga (1094 - ) Princess of Poland. First married to Albino Hucbaldi (1081 - 1114) Second marriage to Bartolomeo Drengot (1055 - 1120). Third marriage to Gábor Guthkeled (1105 - ).​

Enrico Hucbaldi (1113 - 1129) Married to Beatrix von Lorraine (1096 - ). Died of an infected wound.​

Caracosa Drengot (1117 - ) Betrothed to Bishop Salinguerra of Siliana (1116 - ). No clue how she’s still betrothed to a bishop when both of them are approaching 30. Might have something to do with the fact that Siliana is part of the Shia Caliphate.​

Guthkeled Csillag (1122 - )​

Helferich (1096 - 1121) Crown Prince of Poland. King of Bohemia from May 31, 1116 to his death by right of conquest through his descent from his grandfather King Vratislav Premyslid (1032 - 1093). Married to Eufemia von Nordheim (1097 - 1141).​

Agathe (1115 - ) Princess of Bohemia. Married matrilineally to Rostislav (1113 - ).​

Konrád (1140 - )​

Amalberga (1116 - ) Queen-Consort of Bohemia and Pannonia, Duchess of Bohemia and Transjurania, Countess of Habsburg. Married to King Simon II von Habsburg (1125 - ).​

Gertrude (1118 - ) Princess of Bohemia. Married matrilineally to Archambaut Bosonid (1108 - ).​

Magnus (1119 - 1121) Prince of Bohemia. Died sickly​

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Ida (1098 - 1129) Princess of Poland. Married to Berardo di Monferrato (1080- 1138). Died of Cancer.​

Hildeburg von Modena (1116 - 1129) Unacknowledged bastard of Gunzelin von Rotenburg (1098 - ). Died of smallpox.​

Stefan von Rotenburg (1119 - ) Bastard of Gunzelin von Rotenburg.​

Camilla di Monferrato (1120 - ) Secret bastard of Gunzelin von Rotenburg.​

Hartmann von Rotenburg (1123 - ) Acknowledged bastard of Gunzelin von Rotenburg.​

Amalie’s Descendants

with Martín Flaínez Osorio (1058 - 1104)

Simon I (1095 - 1142) King of Bohemia, Pannonia, and Poland. Duke of Bohemia and Transjurania, and Count of Habsburg. Married to Princess Christine von Pommern (1100 - ). Died of severe stress.​

Gertrude (1119 - ) Princess of Bohemia, Pannonia, and Poland. First married to Duke Boleslaw III Piast of Lesser Poland (1086 - 1137). Second marriage to Kyros Macrodoukas (1125 - ).​

Dobrogost Piast (1138 - ) Betrothed matrilineally to Princess Maria Piast of Poland (1130 - ).​

Elisabeth (1120 - ) Princess of Bohemia, Pannonia, and Poland. Married to Humbert Premyslid (1128 - ).​

Baldomar von Augsburg (1137 - ) Uncknowledged bastard of Count Wolfgang of Aschaffenburg (1105 - 1145).​

Irmgard (1123 - 1125) Died of poor physique.​

Simon II (1125 - ) King of Bohemia and Pannonia. Married to Amalberga von Habsburg (1116 - 1145).​

Martin (1129 - ) King of Poland​

Jakusz Sieradzki (1167 - ) Secret bastard by Countess Pechna Wyciszkiewicz. Heir to the County of Schieratz.​

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Hildegard (1103 - 1142) Princess of Pannonia. Married matrilineally to Alois Otakeren, Duke of Steiermark and Austria (1093 - 1145). Died unable to carry her own massive frame.​

Burchard (1131 - ) Duke of Steiermark and Austria. Betrothed to Caterina d’Este of Milan (1108 - ).​

Aldrich (1139 - )​

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Martin (1105 - ) King of Egypt since 30 January 1137. Married to Anna de Hauteville (1100 - ).​

Aldrich (1134 - 1139) Prince of Egypt. Died of an infected wound.​

Brunhilde (1135 - ) Crown Princess of Egypt.​

with Ota Premyslid (1058 - 1104)

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Jaroslava Premyslid (1110 - ) Princess of Pannonia. Married matrilineally to Konstantinos Diogenes of the Byzantine Empire (1109 - ).​

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​

—Map Update—
​

Surprise Bonus Update! Between reflecting on moving this post up in the schedule and reading some responses from you, loyal readers, I figured now was also a good time to show you what the map looks like, since you normally only see bits and pieces. Let's start with Europe, where most of our story has taken place thus far:

​

So as you would expect, the HRE is slowly blobbing into Eastern Europe. Thanks to the Habsburgs, Hungary and Poland are now constituent Kingdoms. Perhaps somewhat surprisingly, perhaps somewhat not, the Obotritian and Prussian pagans are relatively unscathed. Seeing as Kaisers were dropping like flies for a period in the middle, and seeing as a significant portion of the council tend to be Glory Hounds who would prefer the HRE attack bigger targets, those two factors are probably why the pagans haven't been Holy Warred out of existence yet. Looking further north, Denmark is getting the Balkan treatment thanks I assume to some strategic marriages by the French. Holland has been similarly absorbed into the crowns of Castile and Navarra after breaking free somehow as part of the big revolt war between Amalie and Adalbero.

Britannia doesn't look too strange. England and Scotland have their historical border, and England has unsurprisingly been gobbling up Welsh minors, leaving only tiny Powys left to fend for itself. The most interesting things here are the Norwegian holdings in Mann (they also have northern Moray, as you'll see on the full map), Swedish Lancaster, and the various colonies in Ireland by England, Scotland, Breizh, and even Powys!

Over in the east, the Byzantines are holding up relatively well. They've even blobbed into the Naples area a bit, and the resulting decline of the Norman kingdom of Sicily has resulted in Calabria staging a revolt. Genoa has done some blobbing of its own into Sardinia (I forget when this happened, but I'm going to guess during that big revolt war when Sardinia was fighting alongside Amalie). And down in Tunisia, a good chunk of land has been gobbled up into the HRE thanks to Kaiser Otakar Otakeren.

In the west, France is more or less together, with a few small areas being inherited into the realm of Aragon. Guess they got a taste of their own medicine!

But what's probably been catching your eye this whole time has been the giant "Seljuk" stamped over Iberia. For more context, let's check out the full world map:

​

So yeah, I honestly have no clear idea how the Seljuks got into Iberia from so far away, even after trying to do a little research in title histories, but I believe it was mainly due to the efforts of the Sunni Caliph, because he's actually the main title holder over there and a vassal to the Seljuks. The Fatimids aren't doing too shabby, and the Almoravids, giant revolts aside, are similarly not much changed from the 1066 start, with a little more blobbing into west Africa, by the looks of things.

Anyway, that's all the commentary I feel like making on the maps, so just enjoy looking at them and I'll see you back here soon for Chapter 12!

Any questions you have I will do my best to answer! Also let me know if the written format of the family trees is too eye-gouging, I tried to highlight the names without making it too hard to tell generations apart, but I'm not 100% happy with it, so advice on how to improve it is welcomed and appreciated!

Best Wishes,

Green Rice

 

[Green Rice]

Chapter 12: Quid Pope Quo

Simon II sat in the pews in the throne room in Prag, staring silently at the Habsburg coat of arms displayed above the ornate golden seat, hovering below the balcony that overhung the velvet-covered dais. Soon he’d be able to sit properly on that throne, crowned before his court by the Pope himself. Sooner than he’d thought, sooner than he’d hoped…

Amalberga, his new bride of less than eight months, entered into the room from behind him so quietly that she had to make a quiet cough before she walked into his peripheral vision to avoid startling him.

“You miss him, don’t you?” she asked her husband.

“Everyone else saw him as heartless, especially when his involvement in those murders came to light, but around me, he seemed like the nicest man in the world, a great dad. Sure he was busy a lot of the time, when you run three kingdoms you don’t have much leisure time left in the day, but from what I remember and what others have told me, he was better than my grandmother and my great-grandfather, and especially my great-uncle. They more or less ignored their children. My father was different. I think he saw what his mother was like, obsessed with her research, and he knew of my great-uncle who by all accounts was a despicable man in every sense of the word, and he heard about great-grandpa Werner from Grandmother, about how he put aside his wife and even his first two children to an extent, just to get hold of more power. My father wasn’t immune from the ambition in his blood, and neither am I, by any stretch. But my father I think learned how to appreciate what he had better than the rest. Even when he was busy and outwardly continuing in his forebears’ footsteps, he was always looking out for me and my brothers and sisters. Making sure we were happy, well-educated, and well-matched. I wanted to show him just how amazing I was going to be, and now he won’t be here to see any of it.”

“He will see it,” Amalberga corrected him soothingly, stroking Simon’s arm. “He’s watching you right now, from heaven. And I know he’s very proud of you already. I saw the way he looked at you the night of our wedding. I’ve never seen a prouder or happier father than when I saw yours watching you say your vows.”

Heh, Simon thought to himself, I bet he was happy to see me marry you, or any woman for that matter. That alone might account for all that you saw.

“Sire,” came the chamberlain’s voice from the door, where he had silently swooped in, “His Majesty the Emperor has arrived and is asking to speak with you.”

“Kaiser Otakar has clearly wasted no time in getting himself to my father’s funeral, whether to pay his respects or to gloat and revel at the passing of one of his jailers,” Simon whispered to his wife. “Direct His Majesty here so that we may receive him,” he instructed the chamberlain, who bowed before swooping back out into the corridor. “Stand at the left hand of the throne, my love,” he said to Amalberga. “I will stand at the right. I may not yet be crowned, but I will remind the Kaiser that he is the guest of the most powerful lord of the empire nonetheless.”

“I do believe you are already fitting your father’s shoes perfectly, dear.”

Otakar Otakeren did not remark on Habsburgs’ implicit show of force by having him come to them in their throne room like a supplicant, but that did not mean it goes unnoticed. Indeed, he entered with his chest puffed out and a general air of bravado as if to make a point that he was still sovereign over all of Simon’s lands, including this throne room, and display that he was not intimidated by this diplomatic maneuver.

“King Simon,” he greeted his vassal in his rich baritone voice. “I am grieved to hear of the loss of your father. He was an exemplary Christian and king.”

“My mother will be comforted to hear your praises of my father, my lord,” Simon responded slyly. “I am sure she will be happy to see such a familiar face at this solemn occasion.”

“I have come to offer your royal highness a position on my council,” Otakar continued, pretending not to have heard the thinly-veiled jab, “as an advisor to the emperor. From the earliest and humblest days of your house, the Habsburgs have been respected and valued councillors to the throne. Will you continue in the steps of your father, and assist your emperor in the administration of the Roman Empire?”

Simon paused to consider his next words. His father and grandmother had warned him about dealings with the Otakerens, and of the grudges between the houses. Being close to the Kaiser could be risky. On the other hand, being on the council would hopefully give him advance warning if Otakar did try to pull a fast one, and perhaps he’d be able to counteract such attempts by forming relationships with the other members.

“My lord, it would be my honor to join you at your council table,” he finally replied to the man they now called the Bear of Ulm. “Let this be a new chapter of cooperation between our families, and put aside old grievances.”

“I like the sound of that very much,” the kaiser replied. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must check on my chambers. My servants are still learning how I like my things arranged. I hope we will have more opportunities to talk later, Your Majesties,” he finished, bowing shortly to both Simon and Berga.

Yes, Simon mocked him silently, I’ll wager you’re very particular about your room, after having spent eighteen years in the same one.

The kaiser and the king did indeed talk at the dinner following the state funeral, but Simon found it very dry and uninteresting. With wordless signals, he asked Berga to take over the conversation for him. She was much more the talker and socializer than he was, and she seemed to genuinely delight the kaiser and kaiserin with her stories and tasteful jests. Simon instead chats up Kyros Macrodoukas, husband to his eldest sister Gertrude, who while not on quite the same level as Simon, is still sharp-witted and fair to look at. The usually shy Kyros seems to enjoy Simon’s company as well. Gertrude had been diagnosed with syphilis four years prior, and although Simon I had seen her treated straightaway, she could not be cured, as penicillin was approximately a long freaking time away from being discovered. So poor Kyros had become something akin to an adult ward in the Habsburg household, stuck in a dead-end marriage with no hope of producing children. But the more he talked with Simon, the more those somber thoughts seemed to fade from his mind.

The following day was already back to business. Simon was in the midst of a war (why is that always the case when the head of the family dies? he pondered) and had put out word to find a suitable physician who could tend to his wounds should he suffer any in battle. Fortunately, a man named Gottfried arrived as part of a passing mercenary band. The surgeon was already renowned for his lifesaving battlefield treatments, so Simon offered him the post without hesitation. What a stroke of luck!

The war unfortunately dragged on into the next summer. The Burgundians were surprisingly resilient even after being besieged more often than not for the past two years. With their armies routed, Simon felt comfortable in leaving the front lines to attend to matters of state. In the final months of the war, a full year after his ascent to the throne (which due to the war and the risk to the Pope, he could still not sit on), Simon was looking over quartermaster reports late at night when Kyros entered.

“Kyros! This is a pleasant surprise! At least, I hope if you have news of my sister, it is pleasant!”

“Yes, she is otherwise well,” Kyros assures him. “I heard you were locked away dealing with reports from the front and thought I might lend my assistance. I was given a thorough education in military logistics back home.” Simon gladly accepts his friend’s help and together they breeze through the final paperwork.

“Thank you, Kyros,” the king says as he seals the last order. “I hope you did not find this too tedious at this late hour.”

“On the contrary, this was the most exciting part of my day. There is not much else for me to do around this place. I am of use to no one, not even my own wife.”

“Do not blame yourself for my sister’s affliction, you two had not even met when she was diagnosed.”

“If I am being honest, my lord, her condition was a blessing to me. Even before I heard of her suffering, I feared consummating our marriage, and thankfully she’ll never need to know just how…disappointing I’d be. I’m afraid I may be…” his shyness returned to swallow the last word.

“I highly doubt you are incapable in…that regard,” Simon says somewhat nervously, though not as much as he’d expected. Talking to Kyros was surprisingly easy. “I’ll share with you a little secret, I am the same way with Berga. It’s not entirely ill fortune that is the reason she has not conceived yet. In the early months of our marriage, I struggled to perform my husbandly duties as well. The sight of my wife simply doesn’t…do it for me, if you know what I mean, despite her being by all accounts a perfectly handsome woman.”

“You said the early months were like that,” Kyros observed. “What changed?”

“When I lie with Berga,” Simon began to confess, sliding slowly towards Kyros, “I simply pretend she is someone else who I do desire. A certain Kyros Macrodoukas.” And without any further hesitation he kissed Kyros passionately on the lips. When he broke away Kyros was in total shock, and for a moment Simon thought he might call the guards and expose Simon, but in an instant his expression softened and Kyros wrapped his hands behind Simon’s head and pulled him in for a second kiss. Simon felt something hard press against his leg.

“See?” he said, reaching gently down, “I told you you weren’t impotent.”

The remaining three and a half months from that June to the war’s end on 12 October 1143 flew by in a whirlwind with Kyros at his side. The two became inseparable. Simon was more relieved that he had more time to spend with his secret lover than that his cousin Hartwig was now Duke of Franche-Comté. Kyros was even present when Simon wrote to Pope Caelestinus II to inform him that the war was over and he could now safely journey to Basel to perform Simon’s coronation.

While waiting for a response, Gertrude succumbed to her syphilis on the 26th of October. Kyros would soon have to leave Basel and return to Anatolia, where he had been requested by Strategitissa Aigidia Kamateros fo Cilicia.

The answer a month later was not what either of them expected. Simon read the Pope’s letter to the whole court:

To Simon II von Habsburg, Duke of Transjurania and Bohemia and Count of Habsburg,

I am pleased to hear that you have ended the warmongering started by your late father, God rest his soul. He once fought for the good of all Christendom, but in his later years he took up sword against brothers and sisters in faith for his own selfish ends. Before I can intercede on your behalf to have God anoint you as King of Bohemia and Pannonia, I must be assured of your commitment to raise your sword in defense of God’s Holy Church. Sancha de Léon, who styles herself Queen of Castile and Navarra, has been excommunicated for the crime of kinslaying, after she ordered her own cousin, the Countess Aldonza de Lara, burned at the stake.

“Wait a moment,” Kyros interjected, “Wasn’t Aldonza excommunicated for burning her own mother at the stake after she was exommunicated?”

“I seem to recall that,” Simon confirmed. “Seems that HIs Holiness should reconsider excommunicating so many people if he doesn’t want a chain of kinslayings. Or else everybody else needs to reconsider burning excommunicated family members if they don’t want to suffer the same fate.”

“I wonder if that’s a new bug from a recent patch,” muttered Amalberga.

“What did you say?” asked several members of the court.

“Oh…uh, I said that there is a bug flying around in here, and that we should open the hatch to let it out,” recovered Amalberga, moving to a window to open it.

Simon looked at his wife with a raised eyebrow but finished his reading:

Go forth and impress upon Queen Sancha to abdicate her titles, by military force if necessary, and upon your successful completion of this holy quest, I shall deem you worthy of the crowns.

Signed,

Pope Caelestinus II, Bishop of Rome

“Is it worth asking what your orders are?” inquires Marshal Daniil.

“You served my father for many years, sir,” Simon replies, “And I think you are safe to assume that he and I share more than just a name.”

“Well, then,” the Russian general replies, “I’m off to levy the troops. Do svidaniya, everyone.”

“Yes, if you have nothing else to bring to my attention, you are all dismissed. Except you, Lothar.”

After the others clear out, Simon speaks to his spymaster.

“I understand my father made it one of his missions to deliver the Iron Crown of Lombardy into Christine Salian’s hands,” he explains. “I have seen his other mission to acquire Franche-Comté done, and I wish to see this one reach a similar success. What remains to be done on this matter?”

“Well, the Duchess of Franconia gave birth this past May to another child, a daughter named Berta, but Duchess Katharina is reaching the end of her childbearing years. If accidents should befall little Berta and her brothers Rutger and Franz, then Christine would be next in line after Heinrich reclaims his seat.”

“Very good, let us focus our efforts on Rutger for the time being.”

“It will be done, my king.” Within a month, though, Lothar and Simon met while on the road to Castille to talk about a different Salian.

“FRANZ Salian is dead?!” Simon repeated the news in disbelief. “Did you get your orders sideways, you fool? Now that Heinrich is back in power it will be more difficult to take care of the others!”

“I can assure you, your majesty, this was not our doing. Someone else concocted this plot. I recognize your concerns with this unfortunate turn of events, but I will move ahead with our plans and find a way around this issue.”

Two months later brought more bad news, as Kaiser Otaker declared a Holy War for Kabylia, a Fatimid Emirate that had splintered off from the Caliphate. Simon I’s exact fear had come to pass. The tiny realm of Kabylia was no match for the full might of the HRE. Otakar would be more than capable of seizing Carthage for himself.

But there were more immediate concerns to worry about. In September of 1144, under the command of Duke Gilbert of Nordgau, approximately 2,200 Habsburg soldiers met 1,800 Castilians and Navarrese outside the city of Tudela in the enemy capital province of Navarra. The battle was more a strategic victory than anything else, with few casualties, only about 250 on the German side and 500 for the Iberians. Yet it is a valuable early victory nonetheless, as the Habsburgs now could dig in to besiege the capital and gain a base of forward operations. By New Year’s Day 1145, the only holdout in the province is the castle of Tafalla.

Naturally, then, Simon is due for some more bad news to balance out the good. Within days of each other in late February, two conspirators in the plot to kill Rutger Salian blab to the wrong person in a tavern. In April, the second conspirator, Bishop Hartmann, lets it be known again that Simon is still plotting the boy’s death. Needless to say, Simon’s patience with Lothar is beginning to wear thin. And to top it all off, a Piast coup deposes Martin von Habsburg from Poland later that month, though fortunately Martin keeps the county of Krakow and his life. The only bright spot is learning that Alois Otakeren was slain in combat with a Bishop Eginolf of Neuberg (what is it with these bloodthirsty bishops?) and passed both Austria and Steiermark to Burchard von Habsburg. Although the boy is still…well, a boy, Simon puts an early vote in for him in the Electoral College, as for some unknown reason Simon himself is not a valid option to put forth. Speaking of Otakerens and the emperorship, Otakar wins his holy war on May the 16th, 1145, taking the counties of Annaba and Constantine for himself.

While Gilbert’s forces move forward to besiege Sancha’s other holdings in Soria, Osma, and Burgos, the queen and her forces attempt to escape across the Pyrenees into France, but Simon intercepts them with the Hungarian contingent of the army at Dax, reinforced by the Knights Templar, who have been waging their own excommunication war against Sancha since August 1142. The Battle of Dax chews up most of July 1145, but Simon comes out victorious, with a duel victory and an increased knowledge of how to fight on hilly terrain like Dax to boot.

With all this fighting, Simon is becoming more aware of the need to produce his own heir. His brother Martin would not be the worst heir possible, but he doesn’t appear to possess the raw intelligence of his elder brother, and a fourth genius Habsburg dynast in a row (thanks, Improved Genetics Mod!) would be slightly preferable. So Simon decides to recuperate until spring in the captured royal palace of Navarra and invites Amalberga to come and join him. Their relationship has been a little less intimate since Simon began secretly slipping out to spend nights with Kyros, so he uses all the tricks his diplomacy education gave him to rekindle their affection, and Amalberga succumbs to his flattery, telling Simon that she loves him and if he ever needs a favor, he need only ask.

But on the seventh of December, Gottfried the physician informs him that Amalberga has contracted camp fever from traveling through the war-torn Navarrese countryside. Simon rushes to his wife’s bedside.

“Well…” she whispers to him, her voice fading as the fever tightens its grip, “…I suppose that fourth-wall-breaking joke from earlier this chapter pissed off the game engine,”

“Doctor, what is she rambling about?” Simon asks.

“I do not know, my lord,” Gottfried admits. “I believe the fever has made her delirious. It does not bode well for her prognosis. We may not have even a week with her.”

Simon keeps vigil for two days, but by the third, Amalberga is slipping in and out of consciousness regularly, and increasingly more out than in.

“Please don’t go,” Simon begs her while she sleeps. “I’m calling in that favor you owe me. I order you to live. I need you to live. I need you. My wife. My partner. My friend.”

But if Amalberga could hear him, she didn’t answer, nor did she obey her husband’s final request of her, for she passed away in the small hours of the night.

Next Time…
Simon II wins his crown, one dynastic rivalry is put to rest, and a new one emerges from an unexpected place…

 

[Green Rice]

Chapter 13: Omnes Laudate Regem

Simon II of Bohemia woke up on the eleventh day of December 1145 in a chair next to his wife’s bed. Her body was still there, lying so peacefully still. For a moment Simon thought to tickle her or do some other playful thing to tease her awake, but it all flooded back to him half a heartbeat later: this was a sleep he could not rouse her from. Although he had already grievously overslept, he did not leave his wife’s bedchamber for another two hours to break his fast, instead weeping like he had wept himself to sleep late the previous night.

Finally, at noon, he had eaten and was ready to face the council. Doubtless they will want me to quickly find a new wife so that I may produce an heir, he thought on his way to the meeting room. Nevermind if I wish to mourn Amalberga for the rest of my days.

But to his pleasant surprise, the council was warm and kind to him, expressing their deep condolences for his loss. Chaplain Wido led the council in an opening prayer which included a blessing for Amalberga and a request for healing and comfort to Simon, who felt moved to tears once again.

Yet eventually the elephant in the room had to be addressed.

“If I may be so bold, your majesty,” Chancellor Árpád Géza II began, “I have a young daughter named Zsanett who is possessed of an intelligence that I believe may one day rival that of your own family. She is only eleven, but perhaps that is for the best, so that your majesty may have the next five years to properly grieve.”

Simon, who still hadn’t said a word to anyone the whole morning, merely nodded his consent. Géza’s suggestion seems fine enough, and I’d rather get get this over with now than agonize over a decision in my current state.

The Chancellor continued: “There is another opportunity in the realm of matrimony that I wish to bring to your majesty’s attention. The Duchess of Bavaria and the Duke of Brabant have two small daughters. The eldest lives in Bavaria with the mother, but the second daughter, Kunigunde, lives in Brabant. I believe we can make use of the goodwill you and the Duke have from serving together on the Imperial Council to convince the duke to betroth Kunigunde to a Habsburg boy. I was considering Konrad to be a good match, him and the girl I hear are both strong little things.”

Simon gave only a second nod.

Lothar the spymaster spoke next: “Given the…missteps with our plans regarding Rutger Salian, perhaps we’d be better off targeting the daughter, Berta? She is currently in seclusion with her tutor Count Viktor of Esna, but given that Egypt is a friendly power, we should be able to make plenty of contacts on the inside.”

Again, Simon simply nodded his approval.

“Then I believe we have discussed enough for today,” Géza said after an uncomfortably long pause.

“No,” came Simon’s voice at the last moment before the councillors left the room. “We have one last agenda item: how we plan to crush Navarra for taking my Amalberga from me.”

Once the Christmas season concluded, Simon began an uncharacteristically brutal campaign of besieging the Castillian heartland, under the direction of his top siege expert, Mukhtar, an officer recruited from Egypt. The castle of Castrobarte in Burgos was the first to fall on January 22nd, followed closely by the bishopric of El Burgo in Osma. In between those sieges, Simon started on a book themed on relationships to keep his mind occupied in the long, monotonous days of sieging.

Meanwhile, back in Ulm, Kaiser Otakar was losing a battle with the Slow Fever. When he eventually passed on 11 March 1146, the Electoral College was extremely divided as to his successor. Otakar preferred his second son, Wenzel, for the elder son, Karl, was ineligible seeing as he was already the Duke of Faiyum in Egypt. Simon had been too preoccupied with the war to change his vote from Burchard von Habsburg. The Bishop of Mainz voted for Heinrich Salian, a cousin of the Duke of Franconia of the same name. The better-known Heinrich had formed a voting bloc with the Bishop of Trier in support of Duke Magnus of the Rhine. Meinhard Udonen, Margrave of Brandenburg, also received one vote. From himself.

But the Bishop of Köln and Duchess Alda of Saxony successfully pushed their own candidate through: Duke Gilbert Scarponnois of Nordgau. And so the imperial succession had the side effects of seeing the Egyptian Habsburgs gain lordship over all the remaining Otakeren lands as Karl inherited all his father’s personal titles while the Simon saw a former vassal suddenly become his liege lord.

The Habsburg roll through Castile was slowed after the election of the new emperor. The City of Burgos held out until the fifth of April, and would be the last holding to surrender before the start of summer. Meanwhile, dissident factions started blooming even faster than the gardens across the Holy Roman Empire. Konrad von Luxemburg, the 33-year-old Duke of Lower Lorraine, who had sought to put himself on the imperial throne even before Otakar’s death, gained new supporters, including Simon’s mother, the Princess Christine. Meinhard of Brandenburg also had a rapidly-growing list of followers, and even Burgondo of Friuli had his hat tossed in the ring for him by the Duke of Ferrara, Buonconte ’the Wise,’ or perhaps ‘the Not-So-Wise’ given that Burgondo himself endorsed Meinhard.

After a long, hot Spanish summer, the war picks up steam again. Zarazoga Castle surrenders on August the second and the Bishopric of Silos follows suit just two days later, giving Simon full control of the province of Osma. Sadly he does not have the same control over his troops, who loot and damage many artifacts in the parish.

On the fourteenth, Lothar presented an old woman claiming to be a witch to Simon. She said she will help him “take care” of Berta Salian by smuggling some rather dangerous sweets into Esna. Simon was a little skeptical of witchcraft, but he gave the green light at Lothar's insistence. At this point, however, he felt obligated to try out of a sense of duty to his father than anything else.

Some unequivocally bad news came on the twenty-sixth, when a group of officers reported to Simon’s tent late at night to inform him that Marshal Daniil had reportedly been making use of the garrison in Basel to collect an extra “tax” from the peasantry not authorized by the king, and splitting the proceeds between himself and the soldiers. Simon wrote back angrily to Daniil, informing him that he was being demoted to a field commander and that his post as Marshal would hereby be carried out by Duke Nandor of Ungvar.

More news on the witch front came just over a month after she was sent out, on 18 September, but it was not at all what Simon and Lothar had hoped. The witch was caught attempting her candy scheme and worse still gave up Simon’s name. Simon decided enough is enough and ordered Lothar to cancel all plans regarding the Salian children and never to bring up the idea or speak of it again. Much gladder tidings came just weeks later on October 2, 1146. The city of Alagón had fallen. Simon was now indisputably the winner of the war. He sent peace terms to Sancha, who accepted and abdicated her throne to her son Pelayo, just a year old. Simon celebrated his 21st birthday on the twenty-eight of the month as the victor of his first war.

While finishing his father’s attempted purge of the Salian family may have proven too daunting, one of Simon I’s ambitions turned out to be much less difficult: Sambor Sieradzki accepted an invitation to the Habsburg court and arrived on the 8 October, where he was quickly betrothed to Engeltraud von Habsburg, currently still the heir to Franche-Comté (matrilineally, of course). That is the least of October’s big events, however, as the victorious Simon was preparing the realm for his coronation. Monarchs from all over Europe were flocking to attend the event, and Simon as host had to give each one some personal attention. For most of his guests, this proved to be rather a chore, but he struck up an unexpected friendship with Doge Andrea of Venice while showing him around Prag and discussing the merits of living surrounded by mountains versus surrounded by waterways.

November finally arrived, which meant only a week remained until Simon can be officially crowned king. Simon returned for the first time to the throne room where he and Amalberga had talked and intimidated an emperor just four years prior. It felt like a lifetime.

In my dreams you were always standing next to me while I sat on this throne, he mused to himself. His thoughts are interrupted by his mother entering the room.

“Ah, Junior, I’ve found you at last,” she said, calling him by his childhood name. “You know, some sons would have greeted their mother at the front gates of the palace rather than send them on a wild goose chase, but why make such a fuss over little old me, right? Clearly staring blankly at a chair is more important.”

“Mother,” Simon greeted her warmly in an attempt to diffuse her, “I see you made it here alright. How are things in Swabia?”

Princess Christine made a hmph. “You’ll have to ask the new duke,” she informed him haughtily. “Also known as His Imperial Majesty the Emperor.”

“He revoked your title?!” Simon exclaimed. “How did the council approve that?”

“They didn’t, but it made no difference to Gilbert. He also ignored them when they objected to doing the same to Konrad von Luxemburg. He’s Count Konrad now, of merely the county that bears his family name. Fürstenberg and Augsburg are still mine, thank the Lord, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I receive notice soon that I owe my direct fealty to someone else soon. The same will likely happen to Konrad. It’s plain to see what Gilbert is doing: he’s adding extra distance between us and him and trying to limit our standing and influence to draw more supporters to Konrad’s cause.”

“He’s probably held a grudge against you and my father for years now,” Simon thought aloud. “After being forced into vassalage, now the tables have turned and he’s free to have his revenge.”

“True, but remember what I said: the council opposed him on both measures. That means that they might feel compelled to side against Gilbert and support Konrad or another claimant. It also means that Gilbert has sabotaged his reputation with the Electors. He’ll have an uphill battle trying to convince them to back his chosen successor, which means more opportunities for you, my son. Remember that you are the grandson of an Emperor. You have the right to put your own name forward in the College. And if you continue to be the good Christian king you’ve been so far (minus those slip-ups with the Salians), the Electors might just look favorably upon you.” Simon smiled at her.

“And if they don’t, you have half the Empire’s armies at your beck and call,” she added smartly. They enjoyed a laugh together, and Simon felt lighter than he ever had since Amalberga’s death.

“There now,” Christine said after they had regained their composure, “you look a little less stiff and nervous. Get yourself to your chambers and I’ll send Kazimír to give you a massage, that’ll do you a world of good.”

“Mother, I don’t know if you’ve seen Kazimír since you were last here, but—“

“No objections, you’re not officially king yet, so as your mother I still get a say,” Christine insisted. “To your room, with you! Go!” Simon begrudgingly humored his mother, although he could only dread what was to come. The elderly royal masseur Kazimír was rarely called upon for his services, namely because his eyes and ears had failed him some years back, which in turn led to him badly burning his hands by sticking them in a pot of water to wash them, unaware that he was not in the washroom but the palace kitchen and the water in the pot was boiling. As a result he could neither see nor feel what he was doing, nor hear his victims’ moans of pain.

Fortunately Kazimír was having one of his better days, but Simon still felt tender behind his shoulder blades from a few overly-rough presses for a few hours after his torture was over. At least it was brief enough that Simon could quickly return to organizing the coronation and welcoming guests, but as the days went on Gilbert was suspiciously absent despite his RSVP.

Finally, whether out of fear of exposing himself to rebuke or a desire to further express his disdain for the Habsburgs, the new Kaiser conveniently only arrived in Prag late at night on the eve of the coronation, forcing Simon, Christine, and the other important members of court and palace staff to get out of bed and welcome him.

“I do hope to see you in Aachen on the eleventh for my own coronation,” he added after they were done exchanging pleasantries.

“Two days to cross the Empire by carriage?” Simon blurts out. “You’d have to ride nonstop and hope that there are no impediments to block your route. And finding places to switch horses—“

“Thankfully being the emperor makes it easy to requisition horses from anywhere in Germany,” Gilbert interrupted.

“And yet you couldn’t seem to find any to get you here before the eleventh hour,” Christine cut in scathingly. “Or even at the eleventh hour.”

“My apologies, Princess,” Gilbert replies smoothly, “but the fine specimens that pull my carriage were so unused to such…rustic roads as you have here in Bohemia.”

“Well then you must be doubtless sore to the bone from such a ride,” Simon said quickly before his mother could retort. “Novák! Kašpar!” he barked, summoning two footmen. “See His Imperial Majesty to his chambers at once, then wake Kazimír and tell him the Emperor is in desperate need of a long and thorough massage.” The footmen obeyed and the kaiser was summarily whisked away before he could say another word, looking quite pleasantly surprised at such hospitality. Perhaps if he had seen the exchanged glances and suppressed giggles of the palace staff, he would have thought differently.

“Cousin Hartwig,” he called to the Duke of Franche-Comté, who also served as the kingdom’s steward, “have a trustworthy messenger sent out immediately. Have him visit every stable between here and Aachen and pay the stable-masters generously to supply my carriage with fresh horses. I want to be able to welcome the emperor when he arrives, and not the other way round.”

The following morning, the eighth of November, 1146 would be remembered as the busiest and most well-remembered day in the living memory of the residents of Prag. Local shops were overworked catering to the influx of guests, as each lord or lady had brought a considerable entourage to make a good impression on the young king who was second only to the kaiser in power and influence. The kaiser himself, the other attendees noted, looked rather disheveled with heavy bags under his eyes, and one guest later claimed that he caught Gilbert dozing off during Pope Caelestinus’ sermon, although that would have hardly been a shocking revelation about anyone, given how rambling the inebriated priest’s monologue was. Simon had to force himself to avoid looking at the emperor to avoid bursting into laughter in the middle of the ceremony. Instead he focused his eyes on a different face: Kyros Macrodoukas had come all the way from Anatolia to see his beloved crowned. Although this, too, ran the risk of making Simon chuckle as he reflected on how differently the Pope would feel about crowning him if he only knew who Simon was looking at and why.

At long last, after a blessing from the Pope in Latin, partaking in the Eucharist, having the robe placed on his shoulders, the crown on his head, the orb and scepter in his hands, and making vows in Latin, German, Magyar, and Czech, it was over. Simon von Habsburg was officially Simon II, King of Bohemia and of Pannonia and Prince-Elector of the Holy Roman Empire, already called ‘the Affable,’ although a certain emperor with an extremely sore back would take issue with that epithet.

Although he’d rather have gotten on the road to Aachen, Simon had to stay and host his guests at the banquet that evening, but as soon as he had bidden the last one good-night, he changed into traveling clothes and got into his carriage which was already packed and waiting for him. He would sleep very poorly that night, and the night after, as he rode for nearly two days straight, stopping only to change drivers and horses at the stables his advance messenger had located. Late in the evening of the tenth of November he arrived in Aachen, only slightly behind Gilbert, who had of course been the first guest to leave Simon’s coronation banquet in order to get the maximum possible head start.

The coronation of the Emperor was a tad less extravagant than the blowout for Simon, but no less full of pomp and regality, and Simon made a concerted effort to appear alert and energetic as he sat in his pew, even when Gilbert wasn’t looking. At the end, the Pope placed the Reichskrone on Gilbert’s head, declared him King of the Germans and called to the congregation, “Omnes Laudate regem!”

“All hail the king,” Simon echoed. Whichever one you prefer.

Next Time…
Simon walks the razor’s edge with the new kaiser.

 

[Green Rice]

Chapter 14: Victors, Voters, Vexers, and Victims

After his coronation, the new Emperor Gilbert Scarpponois wasted little time in taking advantage of his newfound power. On 15 January of 1147 he invested his firstborn son Onfroy as the new Duke of Nordgau. Onfroy swore allegiance directly to his father and the imperial throne, leaving no room for ambiguity: Nordgau would no longer be a vassal realm of the Habsburg kingdom, even after Gilbert’s death.

April that year started off with a bang, when on the very first of the month, a large group of several thousand Hungarian peasants began a rebellion in the south of Carpathia, declaring that for too long they had been ruled by a foreign, absentee monarch who kept court on the other side of the continent, and that Hungary was now a free and independent kingdom. Simon marshaled his troops, but it would take quite some time to consolidate them from across his spread out lands and deploy them.

Not one to get tunnel vision, Simon kept appraised of the goings on in his extended family. He was mildly annoyed to discover that Burchard of Steirmark, still only who was just months away from his 16th birthday, was betrothed to Caterina d’Este, a 39-year-old Milanese noblewoman. Fearing that Burchard would never have an opportunity to produce an heir, Simon extended her an invitation to Basel, then swiftly ordered her to cancel the engagement almost as soon as she arrived on 11 August.

By the first anniversary of Simon's coronation, he and his army were almost at Bács, followed close behind by a division of the Imperial Army. Despite his grudge against the Habsburgs, Gilbert apparently wasn’t keen on seeing Hungary leave the Empire, either. Simon also caught wind on the 13th of November that Gilbert has also done exactly what Princess Christine had expected: the young Count Thomas von Heiligenberg of Schwaben, a boy of nine, had been granted the Duchy of Swabia.

A foolish maneuver, Simon thought when he read the report. Gilbert has all but given Swabia to me in trying to limit Mother’s influence. He has cut off his nose to spite his face.

The Battle of Bács is joined on the 19th of November, 1147. Simon and Gilbert’s combined armies number over 15,000, two-thirds of which belonging to the former. The peasant army, despite sporting a 500-man cavalry and having had almost a whole year to prepare for this inevitable battle, numbered less than three and a half thousand. Nearly half were wiped out before the rest fled the field. Their leader surrendered to the kaiser’s forces and the rebellion dispersed.

The very next day, Simon applied to join the Hermetic Society. His grandmother’s Magnum Opus on alchemy also contained notes on administering a large realm, notes that he sorely needed, for the 8 castles he already held were beginning to stretch him thin. But the entire volume was written in a code that Simon could not easily decipher without help from the Hermetics, so with no other options he submitted an application. Fortunately the Hermetics were more than happy to welcome Amalie von Habsburg’s grandson to their ranks, and with a little investigation, Simon found a Hermetic cryptologist who helped him decode Amalie’s work.

That December brought two great pieces of news. Firstly, Burchard von Habsburg was engaged again, this time to someone closer to his own age: Ermengard von Nordheim, daughter of Duke Dieter of Bavaria (and also half of Italy). A more perfect match Simon couldn’t have made himself. Ermengard holds many strong claims to Bavaria as well as Tuscany, Spoleto, Abruzzo, Corsica, Modena, and Jerid. Whether or not Burchard or any children he and Ermengard had would push these claims was entirely in their hands, as they were independent of Simon.

The other good news was closer to home: with so many important people coming and going from Basel, plenty of smallfolk were looking to put down new roots in the county to make a living, providing goods and services to the traveling nobility. Yet the dense forests throughout the county were restricting where new homes could be built. A logger’s guild sent a representative to Simon’s court to ask for a royal contract to clear land in Basel for a new settlement. Simon agreed to fund the project so long as he retained the right to dictate how the land would be developed.

As 1147 gave way to 1148, Simon also had to consider the Electoral College. For some mysterious reason he was still not allowed to put his own name forward yet, so he had to select a different candidate, and it was looking increasingly unlikely that Burchard would garner significant support. With Gilbert already in his fifties and Simon recently entered in his twenty-third year, the next selection of emperor would be pivotal if Gilbert died before Christine. Only on her death could her claim pass to Simon and his candidacy for emperor considered. Meinhard of Brandenburg had three votes for him already: Franconia; Saxony, and himself. He was also similarly old and would likely not have a very long reign if elected. Simon decided to wager his dream on Meinhard's lifespan and had his secretary write and send his new vote to the College.

On 3 February, Simon said goodbye to his faithful—albeit incompetent in recent years—spymaster Lothar. In his place Simon selected Duchess Maura of Carniola, an insightful and skilled collector of gossip, and a bit touched in the head, but pure of heart and imbued with an impenetrable sense of loyalty to her king. It was not long, though, before she had to deliver her first piece of bad news to Simon: His apprentice and cousin by marriage Constança de Cerdanya was imprisoned on 11 April trying to break into the lab of the Bishop of Fleurry, Bertrand the Inquisitor! Simon wanted nothing more than to ransom his friend, but the royal coffers were still empty from the expensive logging contract. Constança would have to wait, a shame as she was seven months pregnant with her husband Ludwig von Habsburg’s child. In the meanwhile, Simon needed a new apprentice and picked Duke Ják Dömötör.

In late May, the King summons Duchess Maura to his private audience chamber to discuss domestic affairs. Simon smoothly brings up the kingdom’s financial troubles. Maura picks up the subtext and offers to make a sizable donation to the treasury in return for being granted a favor of her choosing in the future. Simon agrees to the deal.

June of 1148 sees two births: Wolfram von Habsburg, son of Ludwig and Constança; and the birth of a second Hungarian independence rebellion. As before, Simon raises his armies to march into southern Pannonia and suppress the revolt. Meanwhile Dömötör suggests that the two of them require a laboratory to conduct more efficient and effective research for the Hermetic Society. Simon agrees but is still hamstrung by debt for the moment. Before setting out to meet the troops amassing at Esztergom, Simon receives an unexpected guest at Habsburg Castle: Meinhard of Brandenburg!

“My lord!” said Simon, “I am happy to see you! What brings you to my humble family home?”

“The war,” Meinhard told him. The empire was currently defending the Kingdom of Aragon from a Moorish attack. “I’m just passing by on the way to Iberia, and I can’t stay long, but I thought I’d stop by briefly to ask for your support in the Electoral College.”

“Well, if you must be brief, then I can send you on your way already! I already wrote to the College to declare my support for you at the beginning of the year!”

“Forgive me, your majesty, but it appears we are operating on two different sets of facts. I visited Mainz on my way here, and the prince-bishop says that your last recorded vote was for Duke Meinhard of Thurgau.”

“Meinhard of Thurgau? There must be some mistake, I remember giving clear instructions to put your name forth!” Simon calls for his secretary and a copy of the letter sent to the prince-bishop. The trembling secretary hands Simon a piece of parchment with just two words: “Duke Meinhard.”

Simon repeated the words and crumpled the paper in his hands as his lips emphasized each consonant. The secretary swallowed hard. Simon grabbbed him by the scruff of the neck and thrust him in front of their guest.

“This is Meinhard Udonen, the lord of Brandenburg,” he said with a fury rarely seen. “What is the title for the lords of Brandenburg?”

“M-margrave, my king,” stammered the secretary.

“Very good, a margrave. And yet you sent this letter to the Prince-Bishop of Mainz with the word ‘Duke’ written on it and not even so much as a hint of further detail as to which Meinhard you were referring!”

“Forgive me, my lord! The fault was due entirely to my carelessness!”

“Do not ask for my forgiveness, fool! Ask it of the man in front of you, if you can remember how to address him!” He threw the man onto his knees in front of Meinhard.

“I humbly beg your forgiveness…my lord…Margrave,” the secretary said with slow, deliberate caution, desperate not to make another error.

“I suppose there is no harm done,” Meinhard told him. “It’s not like an election happened between now and then. The error can be corrected.”

“Yes, but can the man?” Simon wondered aloud. “You will compose a corrected ballot to be sent out, but it will be shown to me before the messenger takes it to Mainz,” he directed the secretary. “And if you wish to write again on behalf of your king, you will also compose and present to him a list of all the living landed nobility in the empire, complete with titles, styles, family names, epithets, dates of birth and marriage, and familial relationships to one another. Did your simple brain get all that?”

“Yes, your majesty.”

Simon approved and mailed his new ballot on the eighth of August. So, naturally, the Margrave of Brandenburg, Meinhard Udonen ‘the Great,’ died of a heart attack precisely one week later. By September he had a new secretary, and a former one leaving the castle clutching a half-finished book.

The last major event of 1148 was the Battle of Szintarev, sometimes called the second battle of Bács, in middle to late October, which saw King Simon keenly display a growing proficiency in leading flanking maneuvers against the Hungarian separatists. With yet another victory to his name, Simon broke the spirits of the upstarts, and this time the rebels were well and truly scattered to the wind. As spring began, he had the brain wave to mentor his bride-to-be Zsanett, both to get to know her before their wedding day and to mold her into a suitable queen. Despite the unusual request, her father consented on 18 March 1149.

Four days later, Duke Buonconte of Ferrara officially declared that he was going to war against Kaiser Gilbert to put Burgondo of Friuli on the imperial throne. He was joined by Burgundo, as well as Gottfried of Brabant, Agnes of Gelre, Bertrand of Provence, and Torchitoriu of Sardinia. Despite his displeasure with the current kaiser, Simon did not want to jeopardize his own chances at the throne, and so declared his support of the current regime. Sadly, not even a month into the war, Death robbed Simon of his marshal, Duke Nandor, and so Gerlach, the wandering knight, found himself the new marshal of Bohemia on 11 April.

While the Habsburg forces are consolidating outside Prag over the summer, Spymaster Maura comes to the king one morning with a request.

“My king, as you remember, you promised me that in exchange for my financial support I asked that you grant me a request when I had need of it. The day I must make that request has come.”

“What can I do for you, Maura?” asked Simon somewhat nervously, fearing she’d ask for her money back, or land, or something else he’d be reluctant to part with.

“I seek the crown’s consent to marry Pelegrine di Zori.”

Simon had to pause to put a face to a name. Finally it clicked.

“The hunchback?!” he exclaimed in surprise.

“Lord di Zori may not have good looks in the conventional sense, but he is a good man, endearingly shy, and he is of noble blood, being the grandson of a Duke of Sardinia. We love and care for each other. Do I have the crown’s approval?”

“Um…sure,” Simon says, still more than a bit shocked and confused, but most importantly relieved. “The crown wishes you and Pelegrine a lifetime of happiness.”

“Thank you, my lord!” Maura curtsied and left the room.

“Of all the unexpected events in these last seven years, that had to be the most unexpected,” Simon said to the empty room when he was certain Maura was out of earshot. “I’m almost grateful to be going out on campaign again, I think the air here is driving the court insane.”

By September, all 12,000 of Simon’s troops had assembled and were beginning to move north, where the bulk of the enemy was concentrated. Simon managed to catch the slightly larger enemy force of over 13,000 in an ambush outside the city of Magdeburg on the 20th of October. Simon’s right flank was directly across from the enemy left, commanded by Buonconte himself. Despite Simon’s best efforts, the Italian managed to regroup his men and hammer away at Simon’s position, as happened to Commander Rajmund’s flank on the opposite side of the battlefield. Simon faced down an armored bishop named Sesto in a duel, and managed to drive the Impaler through his opponent’s wrist and forced him to make haste for the field surgeon’s tent. The battle was saved by the center, led by Daniil, who managed to break the enemy formation before Simon had to reluctantly start his own retreat. Daniil’s troops pinwheeled around to force back Buonconte’s depleted ranks, then turn round and assaulted the enemy’s right flank. The disgraced former marshal had redeemed his honor and the Habsburgs had won the day, but not without significant loss: 5,000 lives on the Bohemian-Pannonia side were spent, compared to only 4,000 rebels. After the battle, Marshal Gerlach found a commoner who had stepped up to lead a division of the center flank when the nobleman officer in command had been slain by an arrow. The man, named Gottschalk, was awarded a commission and named a commander in his own right, and it would be the start of an illustrious military career for him.

While the battle was going on, on the 25th of October, Simon received word informing him that some young woman named Oda had apparently finished her education while sitting in his dungeon.

“I didn’t even know I had any one in the dungeons!” Simon said to the room in surprise. He discovered that in fact, Oda was one of three prisoners, all female, captured 9 years ago. Simon orders any valuables they have confiscated to the crown and then all three of them are released. The next day, with his coffers replenished thanks to the seizures, he orders his laboratory to begin construction on a remote compound outside Basel.

With the main rebel force in retreat and winter bringing about the end of the campaign season anyway, Simon could devote some more of his time to continue mentoring Zsanett. By the time of her 16th birthday on 21 February 1150, not only has she picked up many military tactics from following the troops, but she has acquired Simon’s work ethic, as well! Simon makes a short detour to Prag to wed for a second time on the first of March, in full royal spectacle. Zsanett is breathtaking as she walks down the aisle, already dressed and made up like a queen before she even can use the title. While she may be suspicious and prone to schemes (or outbursts when the schemes fall apart), she and Simon are nonetheless happy in each other’s company. A small hole remains in Simon’s heart for Amalberga, but when he is with Zsanett, that hole hurts less. Whether or not that would translate to intimate passion was not important to Simon, just like it had been in his first marriage, but he knew he could not rule without a trusted partner, or an heir.

I hope I have not disappointed you, he says in silent prayer to Amalberga as he and Zsanett leave the church to greet the people for the first time as husband and wife, I know you’d want me to be happy, and I confess that I am, despite wanting not to be, as long as you are no longer here. I will take that as a sign of your approval. Know that I still long to be reunited with you in the next world, but for now, I think I’ll stay in this one for just a little longer.

Next Time…
Simon continues to fight to defend the land he hopes to one day rule.

 

[Green Rice]

Chapter 15: Whack-a-Rebel

Newlywed King Simon II had little time to enjoy his second marriage’s beginning. By the 4th of March, less than a fortnight since the wedding, he was back on the battlefield, this time in Münster, facing the rebellious Duke Buonconte’s army. In a rare moment, the Habsburgs were forced into a retreat after Buonconte led his right flank in a brutal assault on Simon’s left, commanded by the Bohemian Count Rajmund of Saaz. Simon was not entirely surprised at this result: the Italian rebels had attacked his 8,700-man force with a whopping near-12,000 of their own.

The rebels pursued Simon into the county of Paderborn, where there was a brief but unbalanced skirmish that sees Simon lose another 534 men on top of the 2,300 he lost at Münster. Buonconte had lost a mere 744 men between both fights.

Not all news is bad, however. On the final day of May 1150, after much time and monetary expense, Simon’s Hermetic laboratory was completed. He eagerly awaited the end of the rebellion so he could actually use it. For now, though, it was time to regroup and re-strategize. Thankfully Buonconte had lost interest in hounding the Habsburgs after word reached him that the Kaiser’s army of 10,000-plus troops was approaching the rebel-aligned Netherlands from the south.

In between managing his army, Simon managed his family. His cousin Burchard, the Duke of Austria-Steiermark, had been diagnosed with the Great Pox in late March. Apparently the 18-year-old was not content to wait until his marriage to the Duke of Bavaria’s youngest daughter, Ermengarde von Nordheim. After Burchard only his younger brother Aldrich stood in the way of an Otakeren restoration, as the boys had a 7-year-old half-sister named Berchte Otakeren. Simon decided to match her with Wolfram von Habsburg, a tall and quick-witted boy who had the potential to be a wise and respected co-ruler if Fate bestowed him the opportunity. One catch, however: Wolfram and his mother Contança were still imprisoned in Fleurry. But by a stroke of luck, Bertrand the Inquisitor had died and the new bishop of Fleurry was more than willing to accept a small ransom for the 2-year-old and his mother. With Wolfram and his mother back in court, his betrothal to Berchte was formalized on August the third, and Habsburg Austria now had an insurance policy.

August also saw Simon revamp his lineup of generals in his army. Rajmond and Daniil were clearly in over their head as the last two battles had demonstrated. While the King remained on the right flank, the Rajmund's left flank was given to Duke Fulöp of Ungwar, and Daniil was removed from command of the center and replaced by the freshly-minted commander Gottschalk.

When the time came to redeploy from Hungary, the war council decided to avoid the rebel capital duchy of Ferrara. Despite being a high-value target and already partially occupied (thanks, Gilbert!), there had been troubling reports of measles in the city and surrounding counties. Instead, they marched to Brabant, to remove Buonconte’s largest supporter from the board and remain closer to Gilbert’s army, which had been forced to pull back to Switzerland following a narrow defeat by Buonconte in the county of Verdun.

The new campaign got off to a good start. In February, the Habsburg army met a rebel scouting division of just 75 men outside the bishopric of Prüm, a parish in the county of Jülich, nestled in the countryside between the cities of Köln, Trier, Luxembourg, and Liege. After wiping out the scouts with their tenfold numbers, the Habsburgs began besieging Brussels just as spring was getting ready to start on 17 March 1151. With winter stores depleted and access to their fields cut off, the Brabantians surrendered after just under a full two months of siege.

So naturally, the time was ripe for more bad news from the home front. The Queen Mother, Christine von Pommern, Countess of Augsburg and Fürstenberg and former Duchess Regnant of Swabia, died a natural death on May the twenty-eighth, at the age of 51. Simon’s heart fell to know that she had died with him away. She was laid to rest in a splendid funeral befitting a queen and the daughter of an emperor.

Simon’s heart fell further upon realizing that he had not the resources to manage both of his mother’s counties in addition to the ones already in his demesne. He decided that he was not willing to part with Augsburg, for it had been his mother’s primary residence and the place she always considered home. As for Fürstenberg, there were simply no adult male Habsburgs at the time who didn't already stand to inherit something. Instead, Simon decided to elevate a minor baron from the county to be its new lord: Friedrich of the minor house of von Hohenzollern, a house Simon was sure would forever be unremarkable but loyal allies of the Habsburgs.

There are, however, two silver linings to the death of Christine. For one, Simon now had a strong claim to the Duchy of Swabia, and another on the entire empire. And thankfully the Electors seemed rather enthusiastic to support that claim, overawed by Simon’s intelligence, prestige, and virtuous nature unblemished by the vices of the material world. The only voices that stood opposed were the Kaiser and the Duke of Franconia, for truly unknowable reasons. Surely the fact that Simon had once tried to murder the Duke's child had no influence on his vote.

Gilbert showed no signs of popping off just yet, despite approaching his fifty-fifth birthday. For the time being, it was the claim to Swabia that Simon had the most opportunity to press. On the 15th of June, 1151, twelve-year-old Duke Thomas of Swabia received a declaration of war. He had fewer than 1,000 troops to raise in his defense against the 13,000 potential levies commanded between Simon and his vassals.

Bellicose feelings were in the air, apparently, as just three days later, a second rebellion sprung up with its own imperial candidate. This new rebellion was led by Duke Lothar-Udo Udonen of Bremen and Meissen, who would become Margrave of Brandenburg eleven days later after defeating his younger brother Siegmund. He declared that he would depose Emperor Gilbert in favor of Duke Gottfried III of Brabant…who was fighting alongside Duke Buonconte to install Duke Burgondo of Friuli…who had previously supported Lothar-Udo’s late father Meinhard for the throne. When Simon (and the author) realized all this, they could only shake their heads. But even that was not the end of the confusion, as Lothar-Udo was still, even in rebellion, an Elector. Despite having started a war for someone else's claim, it appeared that Lothar-Udo's real top pick for emperor might have been someone else, even if that someone was on the other side of the war...

As before, Simon chose to support the status quo. While Gilbert was not yet slowing down, he was the elder to each of the pretenders and therefore Simon’s shortest route to the throne himself, if he stayed in the Electors’ good graces. For now, though, Swabia had his full attention. An extremely small but important battle was held on 17 August, outside Duke Thomas’ castle of Tubingen, in which 1,400 Habsburg troops routed 900 Swabians. The successive siege lasted for exactly two months to the day, and the city of Heiligenberg followed suit in another month’s time. A week and a day after that, on 19 November 1151, Thomas sent a note to Simon declaring his desire to surrender in small, neat handwriting. Swabia was restored.

After all this fighting, Simon was in need of a relaxing holiday season. Returned to Habsburg Castle, he is excited to receive a letter from Kyros Macrodoukas. That is, until he read its contents. After finishing it and burning it in the fireplace, he stormed into Zsanett’s chamber and angrily dismissed her maid.

“I’ve just received a very concerning letter from my friend Kyros,” he began. “He says that you have demanded that he and I no longer correspond.”

“Just your friend?” Zsanett remarked with false concern. “My, my, if poor Kyros could hear you speak, husband! How unjustly you belittle your relationship to him.”

“What do you speak of?” Simon inquired, metering his choice of words and trying hard not to let his face betray his thoughts.

“Come, now, husband, you and I both know perfectly well that putting down these rebellions is not the only factor keeping you from my bed. We will have been married two years come February and yet no heir to your throne grows in my womb. And yet you write so frequently to Kyros, even more than to me. Even one without an intellect such as ours could have put together that puzzle.”

“So how else do you intend to act upon this information?” asked Simon, letting out only a hint of the concern welling up inside him.

“Fear not, Simon, I have no intention of exposing you and Kyros needlessly. I have no evidence other than the fact that Kyros did honor my request and your reaction here in front of me. What I want is simple: I want a child, and I want to be by your side and in your tent when you go off to war again. You know firsthand of my capabilities as a military advisor; you tutored me yourself. Allow me to return the favor instead of being left alone here.”

“I can grant you that but I make no promises on the matter of the child,” Simon told her. “It has been long since I last laid with a woman, and I am no longer sure if I can…complete my full husbandly duties.”

“All I ask is for you to try,” Zsanett said, now suddenly soothing. “If there is something that I can do to make it easier, we will never find out if you continue to estrange yourself from me. You owe this not just to your wife but to your people. If you face Buonconte again and he strikes you down on the field of battle, do you truly think your vassals would follow your brother Martin? A lesser mind who has lost one crown already? What fool would count on him being able to hold two more?”

“One could make the argument that having been robbed of one kingdom, Martin deserves at least one of mine in compensation,” countered Simon, “speaking as one who has just recently reclaimed a stolen birthright.”

“And who would benefit from such an arrangement? Martin, being given a consolation prize instead of the throne he once held and was promised? Your vassals, handed over to a once-failed king? Your family, led by a lesser branch of your house? The realm, bereft of the stability and prosperity you and an heir of your body could provide?” At the last thought her eyes seemed to sparkle with new life. Simon was reminded of their wedding day. The happiness he’d felt on that day had been swallowed up by the chaos he’d spent the past two years trying to put down. It had happened so gradually, he had barely noticed it diminishing. The look in Zsanett’s eyes drew it back out of him and it swelled within his chest, hitting him afresh as it had on that day. The bitter fighting, the loss of his mother, he had so far tried to shoulder all that pain and fatigue on his own. It was time to try a new approach.

“I will make no promises as to the result of your plans, Zsanett, but I will promise to try.” That night he shared her bed for the first time in a long while, and although he still felt nowhere near as comfortable or as himself as he had been with Kyros, Zsanett’s efforts to ease him made the experience better than it had been on previous nights.

Time marched on, and Simon’s armies had to do likewise. Now numbering over 9,000 and growing even more as they passed through the towns of Lombardy, the time had come for them to march on Ferrara. Zsanett, as promised, came with them, despite numerous objections from the kingdom’s generals and other members of court. Waiting for them were 5,200 of Buonconte’s men, attempting to starve out the loyalist garrison. On the 15th of February 1152 the two armies met in battle outside the Bishopric of Commachio. The Habsburg’s numbers were slightly negated by having to cross a tributary of the Po River to attack the rebel position, but thanks to Zsanett’s sharp eye and wise council as Simon reconnoitered the battlefield, a strategy was devised. Simon led his trusty right flank in an initial assault at the narrowest point in the river, where it was easiest to ford. He and Buonconte were directly across each other on the battlefield as was expected, as Buonconte favored leading his left flank as much as Simon favored the right. While the enemy’s resources and attention were devoted to preventing Simon from breaking through, the Habsburg left flank forded the Po at a different location, one more difficult to cross but which secured them a solid position from which to drive through the enemy’s center and connect with Simon’s division. The plan worked seamlessly, and as Buonconte’s right and center columns folded Simon ordered a devastating arrow barrage. Buonconte’s troops lost all heart as their comrades dropped like flies around them, and he was forced to abandon his home to continued enemy occupation. In all over 1,600 losses were suffered by the Italians, while the Habsburg casualties were not even a third that.

Simon declared Ferrara to be firmly secured in the name of the emperor, and decided to backtrack to the city of Treviso and capture it, securing a more direct route back towards Austria and Pannonia. Quite surprisingly, Duke Burchard von Habsburg of Austria-Steiermark had cast his lot with Margrave Lothar-Udo. While the siege of Treviso began, Zsanett approached Simon again with an offer. She had apparently been organizing a plot to…speed up Simon’s ascension to the emperorship. Simon was disturbed at first, recalling his own past embarrassments with such plots, but Zsanett once again proved her persuasiveness. Gilbert’s armies were disorganized and plagued by indecisiveness and cowardice. In fact, they had just sent word that they would be joining in the siege of Treviso despite being totally superfluous and only adding a strain to the supply of food to the besiegers. The sooner Simon became emperor, Zsanett reasoned, the sooner he’d have command over all the empire’s forces and could execute an actual unified strategy to end the rebellions once and for all.

Lothar-Udo decided to take the opportunity while both Simon and Gilbert were at Treviso to besiege Schwaben. The ravaged county fell quickly to the rebel assaults, but Simon was not worried. Once Buonconte was dealt with, Lothar-Udo would no longer have the benefit of the distraction Ferrara provided. But Zsanett was more concerned that if Buonconte was not finished swiftly, many more provinces would need to be liberated before Lothar-Udo would consider laying down arms. So leaving the emperor behind in Treviso, the Habsburgs finally marched on Ferrara itself. Arriving at the castle in late July, over the next month and a half Simon wore down the defenses until they capitulated, then stormed the bishopric of Commachio and the city of Tresigallo. Surprisingly, Buonconte held on and refused to throw in the towel, so Simon decided to take another rebel stronghold in Arles. When the castle surrendered the following February, Buonconte finally offered his surrender. He and all his co-conspirators were quickly arrested and thrown into the emperor’s dungeon.

Simon drank with his men and then retired to his tent to have a quiet cup of wine with Zsanett. Having her on the trail had been better than expected. Not only had her advice proved invaluable, but the intimacy of their marriage had benefitted as well. Simon was learning that perhaps he was not fully disinterested in the female form after all, but could appreciate both in almost equal measure. Almost.

Zsanett seemed happier than she had been the past several days. Her father, Duke Árpád Géza II, Simon’s renowned chancellor, had passed away in mid-August from the stress of his job. His replacement had been Duke Dömötör, who had the golden combination of being both competent and a loyal friend. But now Zsanett seemed to be glowing with newfound happiness.

“Well, my dear husband,” Zsanett said with one hand holding a raised cup and the other her middle, “a toast to both your victories, for I have glad news of my own to tell you.”

Next Time…
Simon finds out that family can be as much a source of drama as a battlefield. But can he end the wars plaguing his homeland?

 

[Green Rice]

Chapter 16: Fishy Situations

Lothar-Udo Udonen was sitting down to dinner in his castle of Stade, overlooking the mouth of the River Elbe where it met the Gulf of Heligoland. It was the eleventh of March, 1153. Fires roared inside the castle to hold off the chills that tried desperately to worm their way in, but even those lingering breaths of winter were getting milder and milder with each passing day. The start of spring was not far off. Hopefully by the end of it his armies out in the field would have captured the Schweinfurt in Franconia or the castle of Weimar and secured major victories against the emperor. They sorely needed it. Their numbers had been thinned slightly in a battle in Alsace the previous August, against Buonconte of Ferrara. A battle that was now less than pointless as Buonconte had caved to the emperor’s calls for him to surrender. Now the Italian and his other conspirators were all in prison: Gottfried of Brabant, Torchitoriu of Sardinia, Bertrand of Provence, and Agnes of Gelre. Lothar-Udo shuddered to think of what terrible possibilities awaited them in the dungeon of the emperor. Word was starting to spread that the emperor was mad, perhaps even possessed by a demon, and that was only enflaming his natural penchant for cruelty. But Lothar-Udo tried not to worry about that too much. He knew he would not meet the same fate.

It was fish for dinner again. Bremen was isolated from his other holdings. On the other side of the Elbe was French Holstein, and just to the east of them, the pagans of Obotritia. Surrounding the rest of the duchy were counties loyal to Gilbert Scarponnois. Supply lines to the capital of the rebellion were an infrequent trickle, so they had to make do with the local resources. That meant many meals of cod, haddock, or, like tonight, mackerel. Lothar-Udo was especially famished that evening, and he ate several helpings with gusto before his wife had the opportunity to make a comment: “Does this fish taste a bit…off to you, husband?”

Indeed, it had tasted a bit different than mackerel they’d had previous evenings. A little sourer. Lothar-Udo asked one of the servants to make an inquiry about when the fish had been caught. It was well-known that mackerel had to be eaten the same day it was caught, unless it was properly cured or put on ice. By the time the servant returned to inform the margrave that the fish was indeed a day old, his master was already suffering from blurry vision, cramps, and respiratory distress inflamed by Lothar-Udo’s asthma. In one of his last moments of lucid thought, he reflected on the irony that the condition that had kept him from serving on the front lines of his armies was going to kill him in his own home instead.

Far away in a military camp in southern France, King Simon II von Habsburg received a messenger.

“So, Lothar-Udo is dead on account of bad fish, and his five-year-old son Filibert now leads the rebellion,” he read. “How opportune. Now Dauphiné, Alsace, and Burchard will be either attempting to usurp the boy or rethinking their allegiance to their cause entirely.”

Three weeks later, Simon arrived in the county of Forez in Dauphiné to try and make the choice clearer to Duchess Mariana di Lucca. He staved off boredom during the monotonous siege by corresponding with the Duke of Franconia, both to keep appraised of the siege there and to mend old wounds. A formal apology is enough to appease Duke Heinrich, who even pledged his vote to Simon in the College! Now the only dissenters to Simon’s ascension were Gilbert, who for obvious reasons was still putting forth his son Onfroy, and newly-appointed Prince-Bishop Michael of Mainz, who preferred Duke Heinrich.

Disturbing news came on the 6th of April, when it was heard that the imprisoned traitor Duke Buonconte had been released by Emperor Gilbert, but at the cost of his right eye. Simon, among many other German lords, is horrified and disgusted at Gilbert’s cruelty.

The castle of Couzan fell on 6 June 1153, followed in quick succession by the parish of Charlieu and the city of Montbrison, severely undercutting the rebellion’s progress, although there was still a way’s to go. Simon wondered why Gilbert would not simply end the rebellion by executing their candidate, Duke Gottfried, who was already in Gilbert’s prison, but then he recalled what had been done to Buonconte. Gilbert was not merely satisfied with defeating the rebellious lords but punishing them. It was surprising, therefore, when Duke Burgondo of Friuli, the man Buonconte had attempted to install in Gilbert’s place, got off with a mere public humiliation in the stockades in May. It seemed even more startling in retrospect when Duke Torchitoriu of Sardinia, whose involvement in the rebellion was relatively minor, had his right eye plucked out by Gilbert’s torturers on July 6th, same as Buonconte.

Spoiler: Author Note

Ignore the fact that some of these people are deceased in the screenshot. I discovered their being butchered after their deaths in many cases and didn't have an earlier save from when they were mutilated but still alive. Sorry!

Simon and Zsanett welcomed their first child on the 4th of September, 1153, a daughter. The look in the girl’s eyes revealed the now famous trademark Habsburg intelligence, and so in honor of that Simon named her Sofie.

A few weeks later, while passing through Mainz, Zsanett went to be cleansed and receive holy communion. Simon stayed back with sweet little Sofie and was playfully blowing her a raspberry when to his horror Zsanett was forcibly dragged into his apartment.

“What the devil is the meaning of this?” he demanded of the guard after setting Sofie down in her bassinet. “How dare you treat your queen in such a manner!”

“Queen or not, a slut is a slut,” remarked the guard with disdain. “She choked on her communion wafer, Bishop Michael said ’twas her sinful body rejecting the body of our Lord. When she came to she was looking all wild-eyed and confessed that the child is not of royal blood.”

The guard walked over to the bassinet and rested a hand on the hilt of his dagger. “Shall I dispose of the bastard for you, Your Majesty?”

“Good heavens, man! Back away from there this instant! I will not condone the murder of a newborn babe who is blameless in this matter! Get out, GET OUT!” As the shocked guards shuffled out, Simon helped his wife to his feet. “Explain all this,” he asked in a tone that was not accusing but firm nonetheless.

“Your man got one thing right,” Zsanett began, “I did choke on the wafer, but because my throat was dry when I swallowed, not for any reason to do with sinfulness. As for the ‘confession,’ I was thrashing about in spasms from not being able to breathe while Bishop Michael was asking me questions I wasn’t fully listening to. I must have appeared to nod at the wrong time. I never said in words that Sofie was not yours.”

“Will you swear before me now that she is mine?” Simon asked.

“If that would put your heart and mind at ease, but would you not agree that she has your temperament? Her mind and soul mirror you as much as her body mirrors mine. Is that not sufficient proof?”

“All babes are sweet and kind when they are newly-born,” Simon countered, “and I am not the only one of us she could have inherited her brains from. You will swear before me that she is indeed my daughter.” Zsanett so swore. “That is all well and good, but unfortunately our word will not be weighted as heavily as that of an Arch-bishop. Michael will no doubt have told his version of events to as many people as he can, and the story will only spread from there. Although the three of us will know the truth, to the outside world Sofie will be marked a bastard all her life.”

That fall ended with more than one shocking discovery, when on 6 October a disfigured Duke Gottfried is released from prison and sent home in disgrace. Although at the rate at which Gilbert is maiming his political opponents, the amount of shock Simon and the other lords feel with each punishment is steadily declining.

Shortly afterward, Schwaben falls a second time to Udonen rebels after a brief liberation thanks to the Imperial Army. However the rebels, who number a little over 7,000 men, have blundered into a poor strategic position. To the west and north, in two divisions, was the Imperial Army of over 13,500 men in total. Coming in between them was Simon with another 8,400 abandoning a march on Bremen to try and sandwich the rebels and destroy their marauding army.

The armies met at Rottenburg on 26 November, 1153. The battle became a protracted campaign unto itself, lasting well into December before Simon observed a crack in discipline in the segment of the army directly across from him and calls for the full army to charge. He was rewarded on Christmas Day with a major victory and a captured enemy commander to boot.

Feelings were dampened somewhat in the new year when the Shia caliph, Ali Fatimid, declared a jihad to reclaim the HRE’s African provinces. Simon’s men knew that as the easternmost realm within the European portion of the Empire, Pannonia would inevitably bear a part of the Islamic attack, but that would have to be a problem for another day. For now, Stade had to fall. Almost a year to the day after Lothar-Udo’s death, a Habsburg army was on his castle’s doorstep laying siege. The stalwart Bremers held out all spring and into the summer, but their exhausted fisheries could only sustain them for so long, and in the final days of June they raised the white flag. Another month yielded the city of Beverstedt.

Three pieces of interesting news arrived as Simon considered his next move. The first and most mundane note concerned his cousin Hartwig, the Duke of Franche-Comté, who had decided to revoke the county of Amous from Benoîte d’Ivrea, ending the landholding days of the very dynasty through which he laid claim to his title. The second contained much more important information on the rebel army, which had decided to try and reclaim Forez. Simon considered rushing back down there, but opted instead to solidify imperial control over the other half of the duchy of Bremen: its archbishopric. But the third note was absolutely mortifying. Gilbert had released Duke Bertrand of Provence in April, but had removed one of Bertrand’s legs as punishment for his treason!

The entire process of besieging the Archbishopric of Bremen lasted until the following April. While that was going on, two big changes shook up the von Habsburg family. On October the eleventh, Simon’s brother Martin, Count of Krakow and former King of Poland, was assassinated on the orders of an unknown party. Simon’s first act as the new lord of Krakow was to order new walls be raised to deter future murder attempts. Happier news came from Zsanett on 10 March, 1155: she was pregnant again! Although the couple was happy to be adding another member to their little family, both were concerned about the child’s gender. They had purposefully held off on legitimizing the falsely-bastardized Sofie (I even checked using the console, she was 100% born IN wedlock) out of concern that it would prove pointless if they had a son at a later point. Ideally a son with just as much intelligence as his sister. Then not only would Simon have an heir that all could agree upon, but one that could potentially inherit the whole empire, if Simon could manage to do so himself.

The final rebel from Buonconte’s War also met her fate during the Siege of Bremen. Duchess Agnes of Gelre died on January 7th after having her leg forcefully amputated. As the only female rebel leader, rumors naturally circulated that Gilbert had either violated her before or after the removal, or even both. Regardless of the truth of those rumors, the concept of the Holy Roman Emperor torturing a woman of noble birth to death was sickening to all who heard. Simon prayed that night for God’s forgiveness for having thrown his support to such a wicked man.

Then on 22 May, the worst possible news reached Simon’s ears: Basel was besieged. Having liberated Forez, the rebel army had turned north to Switzerland. Simon and Zsanett make all possible haste with their armies towards home, stopping only briefly in Mainz where Simon continues to attempt to curry favor with its Archibishop-Elector. Simon was extremely interested in the possibility of a unanimous election, barring Gilbert’s recommendation of his own son, which didn’t technically count as Gilbert did not hold an Electorate and would be too dead to vote anyway on the day of the election. While rubbing elbows with the clergy, Simon learned that as feared, the Muslims were invading Pannonia, starting with Temes, but when it was time to leave he pressed on towards Basel.

The Battle of St-Ursanne began on 16 August, 1155 and was a high point for Simon in the war. Four days in, he encountered one of the enemy commanders, Lambert of Lubusz, the bastard half-brother of a minor baron in Meissen. Simon was shocked by his opponent’s age: Lambert was only 18 and showed it, even through the armor. The battlefield was clearly not his ideal environment, but he made an honest attempt to strike Simon and so the King somewhat reluctantly took out the Impaler and…well, did exactly what the name suggested. Lambert lay on the ground, very much in pain but very much still alive. Simon pressed on and from the right flank rolled his army through the enemy formation to victory. Lambert later sent a letter to Simon praising the king’s skill in combat and handsome looks, but died of his wounds before Simon had sent a response. All in all it was a remarkable feat, with only 340 Bohemian losses and 1,647 for the rebels, nearly half of the 4,100 that had started the battle.

Simon’s second daughter, named Christine in memory of her grandmother, was born on 4 October, 1155. Unfortunately she did not seem to be possessed of the same keen mind as her sister and to make matters worse, was very undersized. The succession issue had now gotten a little more complicated.

After spending the remainder of the fall laying siege to Alsace, Simon was called away to defend Basel once again when the rebels returned. The Battle of Delemont was a more even fight than St-Ursanne, but a victory for Bohemia nonetheless. Basel, paradoxically, was continuing to prosper despite having hosted two battles in quick succession, and Simon was once again asked to sponsor a development scheme, which he agreed to. He to pursued the rebels to Grenoble by mid-March 1156, where despite the disadvantageous terrain, he culled another 600 from their ranks at the cost of only 47 of his own men. As the rebels retreated into France, Simon decided to stay and retake at least part of Forez before moving on. After securing the castle of Couzan and some emergency funds from the Church to relieve the deficit he’d taken on, he turned back north to Alsace at the end of June where the rebels are regrouping.

Commander Gottschalk finally had his opportunity to shine in the battle of Kolmar, in Sundgau county, which began on 16 September, 1156. This time it was his center column that broke the rebel line first (although Simon’s right flank followed suit soon after). At this point the rebels were so weary and discouraged that the Habsburg army felled nearly 20 men for each of their own, which was almost exactly the same as their losses at Grenoble.

Shortly after Christine’s first birthday, on 13 October, Simon finished his book on relationships that he had been steadily working on for the past ten years. Titled “Speculum Regale,” it was widely circulated among the German nobility and became a favorite of children, as it was written as if the author was a father talking to a son, but secretly contained wisdom for the adult reading the book aloud.

Still not slowing down, however, Simon secured the imperial grip on Sundgau by capturing both the parish of Murbach and the city of Kolmar itself, with the help of a new siege commander from Russia named Roman Borisovich Romanov. A former chieftain of Don-Portage in the Rurikid kingdom of Chernigov, Roman had had his authority revoked by the Crown Prince Alexandr Rurikid, later King Alexandr II, who had been invested as High Chief of Sarkel just one day prior. Roman had then served Alexandr and his son Vladimir II as a landless commander for nine years, and had gotten quite good at it, to hear him tell it.

The now all-too-familiar drudgery of sieging was broken up by news that arrived on the first day of December: Burchard von Habsburg had finally managed to produce an heir named Alois, who was strong, smart, and ridiculously long. But as the saying goes, the Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. A little over a fortnight later, Duke Hartwig von Habsburg of Franche-Comté died just days before his fortieth birthday, apparently due to dehydration from excessive diarrhea. The death of Hartwig put Simon in a somber mood for several weeks, as they had developed a strong friendship over the course of Hartwig’s tenure as Steward of the realm.

Now more determined than ever to end the seven years of continuous fighting, Simon marched one last time towards Dauphiné, where the rebels were once again attempting to liberate. This time he intercepted them at Escuens on 19 December 1156. 1,200 rebels were forced to defend against a Habsburg army that was quite diminished from its previous bulk but still outnumbered them five to one. The same pattern at Kolmar played out again to even more unbelievable results. The center collapsed and Simon capitalized on that to break the enemy’s left flank, and then the whole army descended on the third and final rebel column. Habsburg losses were a mere 19. The rebels’ were 654, over 34 times greater. The writing was on the wall. Filibert Udonen surrendered, and the empire was finally—if only internally—at peace. There was still the matter of the jihad to address, as well as a war for Syrte that had been going on since January 1153 that was so static and minor that neither Simon nor Gilbert had paid it any attention for the almost four years of its duration.

The end of the rebellions also meant that Simon could now focus fully on the issue of his succession. It had gone on for far too long. As the laws stood at the moment, Christine, as the only legitimate child (in the eyes of the world), stood to inherit everything but Bohemia, which still used agnatic succession. But now, securely the undisputed king one decade into his reign, Simon was able to get the approval of his vassal lords to expand the law to agnatic-cognatic. He also decided that for the time being, with no son on the way, he had to leave his kingdom in the most capable hands possible. And so, on the ninth of January, 1157, Sofie von Habsburg was legitimized as the trueborn Habsburg she was, and became heir to all of her father’s titles.

“And that’s not all,” Simon told her when she had calmed down a little at being told the news. “I’ve arranged a match for you as well. When both of you are of age, you will wed your second cousin Alois, the future Duke of Austria-Steiermark, and your children will reunite our family’s lands under one banner.”

Next Time…
Simon endures a rough patch but finds a rewarding payoff at the end…

 

[Green Rice]

Chapter 17: The Best Laid Plans

Things are looking positive for the Habsburg family in the year 1157. King Simon II ruled Bohemia, Pannonia, and the Habsburgs’ ancestral seat in Transjurania. He also ruled over Swabia and the county of Krakow. In all, the king had ten castles in his name. Basel and Habsburg were the two original, joined in Transjurania by Genève and Lausanne, also known as Genf and Losanen in German. They resided in the counties of Genfergau (Genevois) and Vaud, respectively. Next came Komaron (Komárom in Magyar), the royal seat of the old Hungarian kings and queens in Esztergom, also called Gran by the Germans. Her sisters were the other royal castles of Prague and Krakow. Lastly there were Vysehrad, also in Prague County, Kempten Castle in Augsburg, and Brno in Brünn, Moravia.

All those castles required administering, however, and now that the two rebellions were over Simon had more time to dedicate to learning what he could about financial management, but it still was too much for one man to handle by himself. And so in March he awarded Vysehrad to a new baron named Jakob.

The change left Simon much more able to balance his time ruling his own lands and advising the emperor he one day hoped to succeed. Shortly after the announcement of Jakob’s elevation, Kaiser Gilbert approached Simon after a council meeting.

“King Simon, you and I may not agree upon much, but we can agree that your word carries much weight on this council. I’m considering proposing a new law that may not be well-received without your support on the matter. If you would help me convince the others to see it passed, I would consider myself in your debt.”

“By my count you are already twice indebted to me,” Simon blurted. “But I will consider your offer nonetheless,” he added consolingly upon seeing Gilbert’s objection to his snide remark. “I only ask that you convey to me the content of this legislation before I give by final approval.”

Gilbert clearly had a sales pitch ready to go before the council that he didn’t mind practicing in front of Simon. “In these tumultuous times, when imperial subjects believe they can defy the will of God through his duly-appointed Electors, it is in the interest of the security and stability of the empire for the emperor to have full authority to denounce and attaint any lord of the empire who harbors and supports treasonous acts and strip said lord of their lands and titles. In so doing, future rebellions like those of Ferrara and Bremen may be stopped before they start.”

Simon scoffed instinctively before he had time to properly consider the idea. Gilbert certainly had had no qualms about taking and giving titles early in his reign. Simon’s late mother and others who had either crossed the Frenchman or simply been the targets of his ire could bear witness to that. For Gilbert to suddenly want to legalize his autocracy after fighting two rebellions it had produced was a bit rich. It would be fairly risky to give him that power, but on the other hand, once Gilbert was no more that authority would be in Simon’s hands. The look Gilbert was giving Simon suggested that he knew this, too, and was hoping that Simon’s realization of this fact would sway him to the emperor’s side of the court. Well played, remarked Simon internally. You can have this round, you slimy old fool. “You make a convincing argument,” he told his liege. “I will proudly advocate for this law on the council at our next meeting.”

It was not to be, unfortunately, as Duke Gottfried III, now known as “the Hideous,” was for some strange reason continuing to serve on the Imperial Council as its Marshal, despite absolutely hating Gilbert’s guts for taking half his face off. He assembled a voting bloc that managed to shoot down the proposed law in the final vote on 11 May, 1157.

The rest of spring and the whole summer passed by in central Europe more or less peacefully, for almost the first time in living memory. Simon spent many clear nights observing the motions of the planets on behalf of his friends in the Hermetic Society. Mars in particular caught his attention as he observed some unusual movements that should not have occurred based on the current models of planetary motion. Well, no matter for a Habsburg! With some mathematical adjustments, Simon managed to correct the old model to better account for Mars, and he is rewarded with the rank of Adept on June 15th. It was none other than Simon’s apprentice and chancellor Dömötör who awarded the King his new rank. Dömötör had taken to the Hermetics like a duck to water, so much so that while under Simon’s tutelage he blew past his master and became an Adept by the time the head of the order, Prince-Bishop Baldassare of Rimini (ironically known as “the Inquisitor”) had passed away in 1156, and Dömötör was selected as the new head Magus(even though paradoxically he still remained Simon’s apprentice). The two friends couldn’t help smiling at each other from ear to ear at Simon’s promotion ceremony.

Summer's only other notable moments were Duchess Adalmode of Alsace being tortured to disfigurement for her support of the Udonen Uprising, followed by August’s ironic announcement by Gilbert that he would be touring the empire to visit with his vassals and repair the division that had plagued the realm. With the (notably perplexed) council’s assistance, he prepared an itinerary, prioritizing the most important flash points from the rebellions. When Simon reported this to his wife, who had hit a wall in her scheme to eliminate Gilbert (which was seeming less and less vile to Simon with each prisoner who walked out of Gilbert’s dungeons) she passionately asked that he supply her with a copy of the itinerary. Simon found himself surprisingly inclined to acquiesce to her request.

On the first day of fall, Zsanett had an interesting update to report:

“Husband, thanks to the information you provided, I was able to identify an inn near several of my trusted friends where the Kaiser will spend an evening in between stops on his tour. We will pack the floorboards with explosives and set it alight. It will appear a tragic accident.”

“Explosives? And where is all the money going to come from to acquire all this gunpowder?” Simon asked, feeling a sudden ache on the hip where he hung his purse.

“Who said anything about gunpowder?” Zsanett answered coyly. “We have a more…affordable explosive in mind.”

While Zsanett continued making preparations, terrible news came on October the 6th: Cousin Burchard, the Duke of Austria-Steiermark, had been arrested and tortured into disfigurement by the Emperor, just like the Duke of Brabant. (Who coincidentally had also been mutilated on the 6th of October, which must have been one of Gilbert’s favorite dates.)

The manure plot went into effect on the 19th, but Gilbert’s nose tipped him off, and he escaped the inn before it was blown to smithereens. Worse, his guards located the man who had set the fuse, and under torture (Gilbert’s favorite pastime, evidently) the would-be assassin revealed Zsanett’s involvement. When Simon learned this, he discovered that this was apparently not the first time one of Zsanett’s murder plots had failed.

The very next day brought news just as bad if not worse: The Sunni Caliph, apparently not wanting to be outdone by his Shia rival, declared his own Jihad, this one against the King Martin von Habsburg of Egypt. Simon debated sending troops to aid his uncle, but the reports of how many Sunni mujahideen were rallying to retake Egypt were discouraging. It was a massive horde, far outstripping even Martin’s 20,000 troops. Simon even adding his own levies to the mix, in was extremely unlikely that they would change the outcome. Most importantly, the people of Simon’s kingdom had had enough of war, and his treasury was still almost 600 ducats in the red. Martin would have to put up the best effort he could.

Instead, Simon remains focused on his more immediate family and affairs, finding quality time to spend with his daughters while freeing his lands in Pannonia from Muslim occupation. Simon let the imperial armies do the heavy lifting in the direct fighting against the Shi’ites. While his army liberated the castle Temesvar during early December, Simon pressed the mayor of Kakath in Gran for a donation to the royal treasury to speed up the journey out of the hole. He came away with 250 ducats more to his name.

Christmas brought a bitter pill along with the presents, however. Dömötör had passed under suspicious circumstances. His place on the council as chancellor was filled by Count Vratislav Premyslid of Leitmeritz and the rest of Bohemia minus Prague and Saaz. The position of Simon’s apprentice, while filled much more slowly, was given to Zsanett in late February. Simon was determined to show his wife more to life than schemes and subterfuge.

With the parish of Lugos reclaimed on 28 March, 1158, the Muslim occupiers were fully pushed out, and the Jihad almost but not completely decided in favor of Christendom. Simon still had no transport ships, meaning that if he were to try and assist in the final push, he’d have to march through the full length of the Byzantine Empire, down through the Holy Land, and across Egypt (how awkward) before he could enter the contested lands. On the other hand, he still had a host of over 4,000 troops already at the southeastern border of the empire. And knowing how invaluable his (and Zsanett’s) wise military strategy had been during the rebellions, perhaps leaving the defense of Africa in Gilbert’s hands alone was a risky proposition.

“Looks like I’ll have to pack a lunch or two,” he remarked to himself when he made his final decision.

Before meeting his troops to begin their long march through Anatolia, Simon left his council and his poor cousin Burchard each a proposal. For the council, a law granting a more equitable status for women, anticipating the high likelihood of having a daughter succeed him (Sofie, he hoped). For Duke Burchard, an offer of a double-bond between their realms by betrothing Simon’s second daughter, Christine, to Burchard’s second son Friederich.

The middle part of 1158 felt both long and short, vanishing in what seemed like one long day of endless marching. April passed by with the Bulgarian countryside, and May was much the same, only marked by the formalization of both the law and the betrothal Simon had arranged. June would have been completely devoid of excitement had the army not passed through Constantinople and remarked on its beauty and size. July and August, however, made up for that by being completely boring, save for yet another sad tale of a former rebel mutilated at the hands of Gilbert Scarponnois. This time it was Duchess Mariana of Dauphiné losing a hand. Simon couldn’t help but begin to feel guilty for having fought on the behalf of the emperor the people called “the Butcher.”

In September, the Habsburg army was in Cappadocia when intelligence reached them that 15,000 Muslim fighters were camping at Acre, guarding the Holy Land from German reinforcements. Simon decided to make a slow, cautious advance in a more easterly direction, hoping to sneak his army to Damascus and use the roads out of that city to circumvent his foes.

Shortly before the new year, while still in Byzantine-held northern Syria, Simon received a coded message from Zsanett, who had remained behind in Prague to continue plotting to off the emperor. Her latest attempt was to use a snake in Gilbert’s bed, but when Simon heard no further news on the subject or a letter informing him of his election to the Emperorship, he took that to mean that this third time had not, in fact, been the charm.

In other mixed news, halfway through January 1159, the Shia Caliph threw in the towel, completely unable to secure a foothold in the kingdom he had tried for five years to conquer for Allah. The good news was that Simon no longer had to worry about skirting around an army almost quadruple his own. The bad news was he had wasted almost a full year marching through Asia Minor only to have the war end before even crossing into Fatimid territory. Fed up, Simon left his men behind and chartered a ship to Cyprus, from where he sailed on to Crete, then Messina, Rome, and finally Genoa, where he took a carriage over the Alps and back home to Basel. While in Messina he learned that the King of Sicily was donating the island of Malta to the Knights of Saint John, made a horoscope for Sofie, and picked up a stray kitten for her and Christine to spoil.

When Simon did finally arrive at his castle, he found quite the unexpected guest waiting for him: Rutger Salian, now 24 years of age.

“Master Rutger!” Simon says with surprise when the Franconian was introduced by the herald to the great hall. “To say I am surprised to find you of all people in my home would be the understatement of a lifetime. I know your father and I have made up, but I would not blame you to hold a certain degree of animosity towards me for my previous…errors of judgement.”

“Oh, believe you me, Your Majesty, I am loathe to be here, for it is not for a friendly visit or a heart-to-heart that I come, but merely out of the demands of duty and honor.” Then, as if his presence and his words were not confusing enough, he bent the knee before Simon. “I am here to swear fealty to you as your vassal, the Duke of Tyrol.”

“I-I must still be reeling from my long voyage at sea,” Simon stuttered, utterly shocked. “Tyrol belongs to Duchess Adela of the House of Hupoldinger. Love that name, by the way. Anyway, I was under the impression that she had a son named Andreas with her first husband, although he died some twenty years ago. What of his line?”

“My uncle Andreas has but two descendants, a daughter, my cousin Yvonne, and her daughter, Jasminne,” Rutger began to explain. “When my grandmother died her titles passed through her eldest daughter, my mother Duchess Katharina, to myself, Adela’s eldest living grandson.”

Simon processed all this and then exploded in laughter.

“Sir?” asked Rutger, now the confused one.

“It’s ironic, you see,” Simon said, moderately composing himself but still chuckling in between words, “M-my father and I tried to bring F-franconia under our thumb by plots and murder, and n-now, thanks to SHEER DUMB LUCK, when your father p-passes, you will become the Duke of Tyrol and Franconia and Verona and Kärnten, and still m-my v-vassal! All our efforts were entirely redundant!” He laughed again. The last year had been stressful, but now things were finally going his way once again.

Next Time…
Simon wages one last internal war to spread the glorious Habsburg dynasty to some new places…

 

[Green Rice]

Chapter 18: Kaiserschaft

It was the summer of 1159. The Holy Roman Emperor Gilbert Scarponnois was in the 13th year of his reign and the 63rd of his life. His empire stretched from Lorraine and Holland in the west to Poland and Carpathia in the east, from Holstein in the bitter north to the blistering deserts of Tunisia and Libya in the south, the latter territory having just been successfully defended from a Shia Jihad. Now the realm was gearing up to defend the Crusader Kingdom of Egypt from a separate Jihad declared by the Sunnis. Against the massive Muslim armies the Christians had a snowball’s chance in hell, but Gilbert had been involved in the Crusade to win Egypt, and he would be damned if he didn’t defend it.

But the man who was truly regarded as the most powerful in the empire was the 35-year-old King Simon II von Habsburg. His family controlled about three-quarters of the empire’s military strength, and had been responsible for much of its eastward expansion. Simon himself held authority over the vast majority of the Habsburg lands and had enough manpower at his command as the rest of the empire combined, but there was one Habsburg who was not directly beholden to the patriarch.

Burchard von Habsburg was the Duke of Austria-Steiermark, commonly called Styria. He was only 28 years old, but the past ten of those had not been kind to him. He suffered from the great pox, which would have been the worst thing to happen to his face had he not lost a good chunk to the torturer’s knife for supporting a pretender to the imperial throne. Despite his disfigurement that required him to hide his face behind a mask in other’s company, he was still reasonably respected and referred to as “the Strong” among supporters, not only as a remark on his physique but as a commentary on his extraordinary resilience to the horrors life had burdened him with. But even the strongest cannot hold out indefinitely. Burchard’s syphilis had progressed to its final stage, and together with the trauma of his torture at the hands of the Emperor, had turned him into a stressed-out lunatic. The disease was also attacking his heart, which was already feeling the strain from the high blood pressure caused from his severe anxiety. On the 22nd of July, 1159, Duke Burchard finally rested and went to his forefathers in Heaven: his father, Alois Otakeren, slain in a duel with a bishop when Burchard was thirteen; his grandfather, for whom he had been named, who had also died young, only 22 when dysentery took him. Not present to welcome Burchard at the Pearly Gates, one could imagine, was his great-grandfather Adalbero, the reviled former Kaiser who had burnt his own brother at the stake and been deposed by Burchard’s maternal grandmother, Queen Amalie von Habsburg.

Simon was grieved to learn of his younger cousin’s passing, but mildly relieved to know that his suffering was at an end. He attended the funeral in modest black attire. Presiding over the ceremony was the court chaplain and newly-appointed regent, Bishop Dietmar of Radkersburg. He gave a stirring sermon about how Burchard had endured thanks to his faith in God and remained brave and humble in the face of adversity, but that sometimes the bravest and humblest act was to accept when the fight was no longer worth the pain. Afterwards Simon went up to the new Duke, little 4-year-old Alois, holding his mother Ermengarde’s hand tight. The Dowager Duchess curtsied and compelled Alois to bow to the king, but Simon waved her off.

“I’m not coming to talk as a king but as a cousin,” he said as he knelt to be on eye-level with the Duke, who was extremely tall for his age but still not yet past Simon’s hip. “I’m sure you’re tired by now of hearing people praise your father,” he told him. “I remember that feeling well. I was much older than you are now when my father passed, but believe me, that did not help dull the pain. If ever you need someone new to talk to, when your mother or Bishop Dieter just won’t do, you are welcome at my home any time.” He gave the little boy a hug. “Now learn well from your mother and Bishop Dieter. When you are sixteen you’ll not only have your own lands to rule but my daughter, my firstborn, to look after. And one day, when I am gone to see your father again, you will be the new King. I’m sorry to have to entrust you with so much, but you are strong like your father, and I hear you’re smart, too. I know you will be great if you try your best.” He gave Alois one more hug, received a brief word of thanks from him and Ermengarde, and walked back to his carriage for the long journey back.

When he returned home on 21 August, he was immediately faced with more somber news, though thankfully not as severe as the loss of a friend and ally. It was his trusted siege commander for the past three years. Roman, who had long since embraced the Roman Catholic Church, now had a desire to leave Simon’s service and join the Knights Templar. Simon was loathe to loose such a faithful and competent general, but Roman seemed genuinely eager, and so he reluctantly accepted Roman’s resignation. In his place, he invited a Frenchman named Gervas de Vassy to take his place.

Now there was the question of what to pursue now that the internal and external threats to the empire were over and done with. His eye turned to Christine von Nordheim, who was Duchess to many, many duchies. Her primary title was Bavaria, but she also reigned over Tuscany, Jerid, Abruzzo, Modena, Corsica, and Spoleto. The latter was claimed by the Pope as part of the Papal States, and so for many years now she had been excommunicated from the Catholic Church. In addition, she was the wife of Gottfried of Brabant, adding yet another duchy to the list of titles her son Otto was set to inherit. And therein lied opportunity, for Otto was a mere boy of five, and his elder sister, Kunigunde, was betrothed to Konrad von Habsburg, Simon’s second cousin once removed. Simon was seized with sudden ambition. After securing the promise of an alliance with young Alois, he declared an excommunication war on Christine of Bavaria on 25 Sept 1159.

The early months of the war consisted mostly of merely collecting the militias raised from around the kingdoms into two armies of roughly 6,500 men each and marching them over to Bavaria. Time was of the essence. Gottfried would be marshaling his own troops, and once he reinforced his wife they would have 14,000 men between them, putting them on equal footing with Simon. With Alois providing an additional 7,300 the Habsburgs would still have the upper hand, but Simon had to think long-term. This would be just like Franche-Comté, the very first war he had fought. His father had fought to overthrow an excommunicated monarch, and he had had to fight a separate war to steal it for the Habsburg candidate. If they wasted all their manpower in the first phase, then there was not point in going to war at all. So despite the Bavarians laying siege to Basel, Simon knuckled down and led his troops to the castle of Landshut in Innsbruck, and the Bishopric of Friesing just south of it. Meanwhile the Austrians and Styrians were directed to capture the county of Passau.

The triple-siege strategy worked well. Friesing and Landshut surrendered within weeks of each other in the early spring. On April 6th, Gilbert felt compelled to intervene and attempt to stop the fighting, but Simon reminded Gilbert of the I.O.U. he had given Simon for attempting to help pass his revocation law, and so the kaiser stepped back and let the war continue after all.

On 25 April, Duke Gottfried laid siege to Furstenberg with over 7,000 men, and it was finally time to do battle. Simon combined his two armies to one in Schwaben and marched them south to Thurgau, from where they could more easily get around the Brabantians and attack. While these maneuvers were being made, the first of May brought the not-unexpected news that King Martin had been deposed by the Sunnis and Egypt returned to Muslim control.

The Battle of Zollern began on the 14th of May and lasted into June. Simon quickly chipped away at the enemy’s left flank, and they were even beginning to retreat when the Bavarians showed up to reinforce their allies. The attackers seemed to be losing the upper hand, but Gottschalk continued to hammer the enemy center until it collapsed. Seizing his chance, Simon launched a final assault on the left, and with only one wing of their army remaining, Duchess Christine and Duke Gottfried ordered a full retreat.

The allied forces split up, with the Brabantians heading south into the Alps and the Bavarians, ironically, turning north towards Brabant. Simon pursued the Bavarians and caught up with them on 18 July outside Sponheim, near Trier. The battle was brief and was not a crushing victory for the Habsburgs, but a victory nonetheless. However, during the battle Geraud de Vassy caught a crippling case of dysentery that left him an invalid. Simon wrote to Roman Romanov, asking if he could return from the Templars long enough to be a siege master once more. While he waited he learned that his poor uncle Martin had died of cancer on August the 7th. Apparently losing his kingdom had broken his will to fight. His spirits were slightly alleviated when he received an epiphany from a Divine Being five days later.

On the sixth of September, a familiar face arrived at the Habsburg camp. Simon embraced Roman and they got straight to work laying siege to Brabant. But it turned out that the entire war would be rendered moot not two months later, when Christine of Bavaria died of a heart attack on November 3rd, presumably when she remembered that her daughter Kunigunde’s wedding to Konrad von Habsburg was the next day.

Simon took the rest of November to reassess the situation. While he had arguably wasted hundreds of lives on the excommunication war, the losses were not enough to discourage him from continuing on with the second phase of his plan. His uncle’s loss of Egypt also provided an opportunity, as the county of Ulm was de facto a province of Egypt owing to Karl Otakeren being the Duke of Faiyum but inheriting Ulm when his father Kaiser Otakar had died. Simon had very much desired to return Ulm to the Holy Roman Empire, but not by waging war with his extremely powerful uncle. But now Egypt was ruled by a Sultan named Arsenios Fatimid, who paradoxically had converted to the Sunni faith, and his grip on power was near non-existant. He had only 733 troops ready at the time.

So Simon declared two wars simultaneously: a de jure war on Egypt to return Ulm to Swabia, and a claim war on behalf of Kunigunde Wigeriche to the Duchy of Tuscany against her brother Otto. He got a good omen three days later, Zsanett was pregnant for the third time! Austria-Steiermark joined in against Bavaria once again, and thanks to Simon’s quick action, this time Brabant would not be joining at least immediately, because there hadn’t been enough time for Otto to officially get an alliance with his father.

The combined campaign against Bavaria and Egypt goes smoothly. The Bavarians blunder into a quagmire at Klatovy in Plzen in late January. Attacking a Habsburg regiment of fewer than 500 men with 3,300 of their own, they are slowly pushed back as more and more levy troops reinforce. By the end of the battle a total of 4,400 troops loyal to Simon have descended upon Klatovy, and the Bavarians are sent packing. Now that his troops are more or less regrouped, Simon orders them to prioritize Ulm before moving on to Bavaria. Meanwhile, he discovers the joy of charity while buying Zsanett something to lift her mood when she begins to feel blue with pregnancy hormones.

By the end of May, Ulm is firmly in Simon’s control. Even better news comes on 13 June, when the man who had deposed (and, as Simon was inclined to believe despite lack of evidence, murdered) Simon’s brother Martin as King of Poland, Siemomysl Piast, was excommunicated on charges of apostasy and burned at the stake by the Kaiser.

On July the 4th, Simon and Zsanett welcomed their first son. As parents, they were thrilled, but as a king and queen, they were a bit disheartened. Their beloved Sofie was no longer first in line to the throne, and her new little brother didn’t quite seem to have the same spark in his eyes as she did. As for a name, Sofie suggested Baldewin, but Simon had a better idea:

July also saw Simon triumph once more on the battlefield, this time at Dachau, where all 12,500 of his troops nearly halved the 4,800 Bavarian defenders. In the interest of time, Simon marched the entire army to Regensburg and stormed the castle of Landshut. By October the 5th he had also taken the city of Regensburg and the bishopric of Ingolstadt. He left the last city in the county to the Austrians, who had just recaptured Passau, while he met the Bavarians for a second time at Klatovy. This time he did halve the enemy force, and more. 1,800 of the 3,000 Bavarians who began the Second Battle of Klatovy did not leave the field.

While the battle at Klatovy had raged, on the first of November a revolt began in Hamburg County, led by a man named Dieter von Altona, who claimed that as a Frenchman, Gilbert Scarpponois had no right to be crowned King of the Germans. Gilbert personally assembled an army and led it north to face the separatists.

Meanwhile, the Brabantians were moving dangerously close to Basel. Simon cornered them at Montbeliard in January. It was a rough and brutal winter battle, but despite taking heavier losses than usual (more than 1,000), Simon won the day once again. The final battle of the war was at Fürstenburg between March 4th and 27th, with 11,000 Habsburg troops slaughtering 1,700 Bavarians until there were only about 600 left. Simon felt the time was right to send terms of surrender to Duke Otto, and he was proven correct. Although for the time being Tuscany was still a domain of the House of Wigeriche, it would only take one child to bring it into the growing list of Habsburg titles.

Almost immediately after Bavaria’s surrender, a peasant revolt broke out in Geneva, and with Gilbert off fighting the German separatists in the north, Simon was tasked with cleaning up the rabble. He took his army, its morale high after such an easy and short campaign, and met the peasant army at Aubonne in May and made an exemplary display of the superiority of properly-armed troops versus farmers with pitchforks. 1,100 revolting peasants paid the ultimate price for their insubordination, while managing to only slay 34 of Simon’s soldiers.

When Simon returned to Habsburg Castle, there was a tenseness in the atmosphere. His entire family and council were assembled to meet him, looking rather serious given the cause for celebration.

“What has happened? What is wrong?” Simon asked the room.

“Nothing for you, cousin,” answered Chancellor Berthold von Pommern, Simon’s relative from his mother’s side. “We have just received word that the emperor was wounded fighting the separatists. The physician amputated the leg, but, at Kaiser Gilbert’s age, it is not looking likely that he will make a recovery. We are expecting the summons from Prince-Bishop Michael of Mainz calling the Electoral College any day.”

Simon exhaled heavily. So the Butcher had been butchered himself. The King of Bohemia regretted not having any skill for poetry, for this was clearly a moment for a poet to shine. The long-awaited day would be soon upon them.

But not as soon as they thought. The first two months of summer felt like one long, held breath, and then on 6 August, 1162, Kaiser Gilbert Scarponnois breathed his last. The summons for the Electors came shortly afterword.

“With the passing of Gilbert Scarponnois, the time has come to elect a new King of Germany and of Rome,” Prince-Bishop Michael opened the ceremony. “In his last will and testament, Kaiser Gilbert expresses his wish that the Lords Temporal and Ecclesiastical consider his son Onfroy, the Duke of Nordgau, as his successor. Are there any here who wish to cast a vote for Onfroy Scarponnois?”

The silence surprised no one.

“If there are no votes for Duke Onfroy, then I invite my fellow lords to submit a nominee of their choosing.”

Young Duke Borel of Saxony spoke up quickly. “I nominate Duke Karl Otakeren of Faiyum, son of Kaiser Otakar Otakeren, may God rest his soul.” There was a collective groan around the room.

“We’ve had Otakeren emperors before,” scoffed Heinrich. “The first was so tyrannical that many of our fathers and grandfathers, including the one for whom you’re named, had to remove him from the throne. And the second spent the first half of his reign under house arrest and was never properly crowned. Now you suggest a third, one that currently serves a Muslim liege and has barely spent any time in this land? Cast a vote for Karl Otakeren if you truly wish, Duke Borel, but do not expect to be in the majority.” Borel sat back down, unwilling to get into an argument with the elder statesman but equally unwilling to change his vote, as Heinrich continued.

“I nominate Simon von Habsburg, King of Bohemia and Pannonia. Through his late mother he claims descent from Kaiser Wenzel von Pommern, may God rest his soul. And he not only has the blood to claim the throne but the strength of arms and character as well. I can personally vouch for his growth as a man since he took his father’s throne, and we are all aware of how he defended the empire from two false kings. My lords, although we have not been so unfortunate, we have heard too many stories of Kaiser Gilbert’s cruelty. I promise you this day, we will have no such need to worry under King Simon’s leadership! Thank you!”

“Are there any other nominations?” Prince-Bishop Michael asked, but when none were offered he announced that the time had come to vote. Duke Borel remained steadfast in voting for Karl Otakeren, but one-by-one the votes came in for someone else:

“Simon von Habsburg.”

“Simon von Habsburg.”

“Simon von Habsburg.”

“Simon von Habsburg.”

“Simon von Habsburg,” said Prince-Bishop Michael, looking at the man himself, who was the only one left to vote.

“Well, it would seem a betrayal of your confidence in me to not show any in myself,” Simon conceded humbly, rising from his bench. “I cast my vote for myself, not for want of glory or power but as a promise to you, that I shall carry out my duties with the same conviction that led you to cast your votes.” He retook his seat to a round of applause and Michael spoke one last time.

“Prince-Electors of the Roman Empire, we have a new King, and with the blessing of the Bishop of Rome, a new Emperor. Simon of the House von Habsburg, on behalf of the College of Electors I name you King of Germany and King of Rome. Long live the Kaiser!”

 

[Green Rice]

Epilogue

Kaiser Simon von Habsburg reigned as Holy Roman Emperor for 32 years. He successfully retook Ulm for his new empire on 29 December 1162. He revoked the county of Schwaben from Thomas of Schwaben, giving the land and the title Duke of Swabia to his cousin Aldrich, younger brother of Burchard of Austria-Steiermark. He had a new top-quality suit of armor made for him, dubbed the Angelic Guardian, by the master smith Michael, although the extreme expense temporarily put the empire into debt. To help alleviate it, he sold the County of Genfergau back to the Duke of Savoy, finally making good on his great-grandfather Werner’s promise. In exchange he revoked the Barony of Bochnia from Kojata Premyslid, a descendant of Queen Justina.

In August of 1165 Simon declared war on the Pechenegs and would reclaim Szekelyföld almost exactly two years later. While he campaigned, Pope Ioannes XX excommunicated Simon for possessing the duchies of Ferrara and Spoleto as vassal states. Simon took a break from personally leading his troops to perform a public act of contrition in front of the Papal Palace, only for the Pope to re-excommunicate him four days later. Simon is infuriated but is too preoccupied to make a retaliation.

The third Simon von Habsburg, the Kaiser’s second son, was born on 4 October 1166. The adult Simon was glad to see his namesake shared his genius.

The Third Crusade was called to reclaim Egypt in July of 1167, right before the end of Simon’s war with the Pechenegs. The Pope re-lifted Simon’s excommunication upon receiving his pledge to fight in the crusade, this time for good.

Egyptian Crusade 2: Habsburg Boogaloo officially began a year later, Simon had preemptively moved his army to the county of Rasheed, which one of his vassals possessed, allowing him to easily take the lead in the campaign. Parallel to this, using his newfound influence as a reinstated Catholic, he successfully persuaded Pope Ioannes to excommunicate Rutger Salian, who then raised a rebellion when Simon tried to use that as justification for imprisoning him. Ultimately it was a futile effort, of course, as Simon won the crusade for the Pope in November 1169, got his cousin Martin, son of the former King of Egypt, restored to his rightful throne, and quickly returned to Germany to defeat Rutger in 1171. Somehow in all of that, Simon found time to produce a third daughter, Margarete, on 12 March 1169, write a Magnum Opus on a Universal Panacea from start to finish, and revoke the Kingdom of Poland from its infant King Géraud Piast, whose father had been killed in a battlefield duel with (who else?) a bishop in November 1170. Rutger spent the final 174 days of his life in Simon’s prison before passing away. Ironically (or perhaps just confusingly), Rutger was beatified after his death by the very same pope who’d excommunicated him. His daughter and heir Konstanze had been betrothed to Giselbert von Habsburg, the lone son of Sambor Sieradzki and Engeltraud of the Franche-Comté line of Habsburgs. When she passed in 1194 her son Berengar von Habsburg inherited her titles and the Iron Crown of Lombardy.

In April of 1175, Simon undertook a quest to prove his descent from the legendary Macedonian warrior-king Alexander the Great. The journey took almost two whole years, but proved ultimately successful. Towards the end of the adventure, in late 1176, Simon took some time off to go on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem.

Very shortly afterwards, Simon was elected Magus of the Hermetic Society. That same day he declared the first of what would eventually become three Genoese Wars. This first one, from 1177 to 1178, added the province of Nice to the HRE. The Second and Third would add Logudoro and Arboréa, lasting between 1184-1185 and 1191-1192, respectively.

During the First Genoese War, Franz Ferdinand came of age and, as difficult as it was for Simon, was sent to a monastery to live out the rest of his days, disinherited from his father’s kingdoms. When the war ended, Simon summoned his fellow Hermetics to a Grand Debate (which he later won) and began work on a family history book.

In June of 1178 he received a message from Queen Aziza of Kanem, requested the Empire’s aid in converting her subjects to Christianity. Simon accepted and traveled to Kanem in 1181 to see the progress that the Queen had made, and was highly impressed, striking up a strong friendship with her.

A year after the end of Simon’s trip to Africa, in 1182 he again convened the Hermetics, this time to create the Radius Astronomicus, which was completed that September. Almost three years to the day later, in the midst of the Second Genoese War, Simon completed his book on his family history.

During the first half of the 1180s, Simon also finally made use of the land in Basel that had been cleared over 35 years prior and built the cities of Aarau and Pruntrut.

Simon followed up the end of the Second Genoese War with the Invasion of Prussia, which began in February of 1186 and would last a surprisingly long time, not finishing until almost July of 1189. Although Simon should have been overjoyed, his reaction to the surrender of the Prussians was muted. Zsanett had passed away peacefully but suddenly on 4 June 1188, only 54 years old. As if that wasn’t enough Prince Simon, a still-boyish 22, also died unexpectedly, of severe stress, in January 1189.

Simon remarried to Thana Nubaid, the daughter of Musa Nubaid, the previous Sultan of Jerusalem, who’d been murdered by the Hashshashin in 1162. They had two children together: Frida, born 11 April 1190, and Leopold, born 11 December 1191.

On 30 January 1193, just six months after ending the Third Genoese War, Simon went to war for the final time. This time, it was actually not a war of his own making, but one of his vassals’. Count Obizzino of Westfriesland had found the audacity to declare war on the King of Castille, Pelayo de León, whose family had inherited the county of Holland almost exactly 60 years prior from the House of Luxemburg. It turned out to be the perfect bookend to his military career, which had started by fighting a papal war to depose Pelayo’s mother Queen Sancha.

Simon began by driving away the Castilian army from the Netherlands and liberating Obizzino’s occupied counties of Westfriesland and Zeeland before fully occupying Holland. When the Castilians returned to attempt to retake Zeeland, Simon pounced on them with 10,000 troops to their 7,400. The battle was going well, but on the morning of 26 March, 1194, Simon did not emerge from his tent. When an aide-de-camp went to fetch the Emperor, he found him lying in bed as if asleep. The aide tried to rouse Simon, but quickly discovered that his body was cold and without a pulse. Simon von Habsburg had departed the mortal plane at the age of 69.

In the end, he managed to secure the succession for Sofie just as he’d wanted. He was so well-beloved that he actually managed to change the Imperial Succession Law to Agnatic-Cognatic in August of 1175, and similarly changed the succession laws in the Three Kingdoms to elective monarchy, even going so far as to temporarily destroy and recreate the Kingdom of Bohemia (he had already changed it once to be Agnatic-Cognatic before Franz Ferdinand was born). All it took after that was a lot of bribes (truly a lot) and Sofie became the first-ever Empress Regnant of the Holy Roman Empire. She was crowned by Pope Silvester V almost a year to the day after her father’s death, on 21 March, 1195.

Roman Romanov stayed at King Simon’s court until his death from cancer in 1181 at the age of 60. He died not long after his third daughter, Praxida, was murdered by a Prussian minor noble. He was survived by his three other daughters, Tatyiana, Feodosia, and Pribislava. Pribislava, the youngest, was the only one to marry, becoming the Russian Queen-Consort of the Norwegian king of Sweden Eystein Gautur. They had one son, Prince Harald.

Kyros Macrodoukas was granted the Themes of Cilicia and Paphlagonia in 1159 by the Byzantine Emperor Konstantinos II. He married a countess matrilineally and had two sons and a daughter, all born into the Palaiologos dynasty. His eldest son, Tryphon, was given the same titles by the Emperor when Kyros died of Great Pox in 1174. He was barely 49 years old.

Simon was beatified on 10 August 1195 and canonized by Pope Silvester’s successor Marinus III as Saint Simon of Basel on 11 January 1197. He was given the epithet ‘the Apostle,’ to add to his list alongside ‘the Affable’ and ‘the Crusader.’ Although his passing marked the end of an era for the Holy Roman Empire, one marked by relative internal peace coupled with external expansion, many among the nobility saw it as a beginning as well as an end. For if the last 130 years had taught them anything, it was that the rise of the Habsburgs would never truly end.

A.E.I.O.U.

Finis