Your heirs are going to get bored if you keep going conquering in such a fast way... They won't have anything to do.
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What a pace! I can barely keep up with it. I do rear a single realm duress and he empire will crumble.
I've been processing the screen captures up to Sancho's dramatic death and Luis's first years (33 chapters! I think the story will have to be compacted in places, or it will be a mess to tell 
). And Luis will definitely need your counsel.
@ Kurt, I think growing that fast needs either heathens (prefarably caught sleeping) or a lot of prestige and money... or an outrageous luck. At this point Sancho has run out of two of them at least. So...
... being Sancho, who knows.
@ Gabor, yes, that's the risk if ever the BB rises... or the stability goes down... or some rebellions coincide... or the sucession is not swift... so I guess it will eventually happen. By the way, I've started reading and enjoying your merchant Navarra AAR.
). And Luis will definitely need your counsel.@ Kurt, I think growing that fast needs either heathens (prefarably caught sleeping) or a lot of prestige and money... or an outrageous luck. At this point Sancho has run out of two of them at least. So...
... being Sancho, who knows
.@ Gabor, yes, that's the risk if ever the BB rises... or the stability goes down... or some rebellions coincide... or the sucession is not swift... so I guess it will eventually happen. By the way, I've started reading and enjoying your merchant Navarra AAR
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January 1078-August 1079. The controversy of the three rites, part I (or, Treason, lies, and monastic scrolls)
Hello again. Isn't it a lovely day? Will you join me in the palace balcony? Drag your own chairs, will you? No ceremony today.
Indeed I've had as much of ceremonies as I can stand for a long, long, time. I suppose you've heard of all the trouble we had with the three rites? You haven't? Well, one can say that all's well that ends well, but we've had some trying times.
You see, after the Second Frankish War, I was feeling like some peaceful months. You know, building up the provinces, leaving one's mark on the land, reorganising a bit the territory. Usual kingly things. But there were a couple of issues. First, I didn't have any money. And then, we almost had a couple of civil wars. And to top it all up, there was León.
It's a long story, so let's start at the end. You probably haven't heard, but since the time of my grandfather, Sancho the Great, we have had a sort of legal controversy here. Grandad, being either king or suzerain of every christian kingdom in Hispania save León at the time, would have liked to be called "Emperor of Hispania". Indeed he got some of the clergy to back this. But there was a tradition of the kings of León being "Emperors". A stupid one, since at that time León was a sliver of land between the Galicians and the (Navarra-ruled) lands of Castilla. But most of the clergy, wanting to limit grandad's powers, still insisted on calling the Leonese king "Emperor of Hispania", and grandad just "Emperor of the Navarran Hispanias". Which didn't make much sense, but there it was.
This wouldn't have really mattered except because after my little reunification of historically Navarran territory (Visigoth Hispania and Gascony, with some bits added on for variety's sake, let's say) I ruled a really diverse territory. And some bits of it were less keen on unification than others. In short, they were trying to find a way to limit my power. Again.
The Controversy started in 1078. Almost unnoticed in the tide of goodwill and sicophancy, the Count of Asturias de Santillana chucked my sovereignty on the grounds that I was "not upholding the rites of the Church" in my domain, which the monks in Santo Domingo de Silos said was bad manners and also an ungodly and unkingly thing to do.
When I received the news I readied troops before I called for the scholars, as I thought it was just a made-up excuse. But then I got news that the Santillanans were not the only ones growing restless, and decided to settle the matter in a formal way. I had the Borg round up the relevant experts (she packed them into my father's favourite monastery, in Rioja, and called it the "Council of Nájera" which was suitably impressive) and then I sat down to be instructed.
It seems the Santillanans had a point. They were the remaining, hardest-boiled representatives of what was known as the "Visigoth rite" or "Old Hispanic rite", a way that has been with us since the Council of Toledo in 633. It is nice, archaic, and quaint, and quite out of touch with the current "Roman rite" which we've been using in Navarra for a century. It is the one that the Papacy is promoting, and so is widely used in our northern territories across the Pyrenees (since Charlemagne, the Franks love everything Roman), and also in the Catalan Duchy (remember they used to be a Frankish domain).
The Prior of Santo Domingo de Silos at the time had a naughty streak. And a way with the knife. We got him sent to England after the Controversy.
The emissaries of the Count of Santillana (the prior of Santo Domingo especially) defended that the Visigoth rite was the correct way to pray in any visigoth kingdom, and since Navarra's crown was visigothic, it either supported the Visigoth rite or became illegitimate.
Now, let us not forget that while the Jimenez dinasty has the compulsory visigoth origins, our land is a pretty mix of basque, celtic, and iberian blood, with a sprinkling of franks, and our way of doing things is none of them but our own. In short, the way we pray was mostly the Roman rite but it was an informal situation, and I couldn't care less for matters of ritual (well, since the Pope accepts half a dozen of them, why should I care?). But the Council, once started, kept discussing it for weeks. They seemed to like the idea that my legitimacy was something they could decide, instead of accepting at the hand of my troops.
And the Roman ritualist had a good defender too. Sent by my dear cousin, the king of León, the Abbot of San Pedro de Cardeña argued that any rite but the Roman was an abomination, and (now that we mention legitimacy) the Roman rite should be defended by the legitimate Hispanic Emperor, and should in turn reinforce the authority of the same Emperor. This Emperor (here it gets tricky) being a certain Alfonso of León.
To complicate it all, the vast majority of our new iberian territories are still half-converted, and even there the christian population (and that includes the rulers, most of the times) likes to worship in what they call "Mozarabic rite", which is an evolution of the "Visigoth rite" that has grown in the muslim-dominated areas. It is less formal than the Roman and less keen on Latin prayer. The Pope John X gave a bull in 918 approving it, so it is a good Christian rite, but it is different from the Roman one. And both our Roman-praying and our Visigoth-praying provinces feel revolted that we're tolerating it. They say, and not without reason, that the Mozarabite rite was permitted because it was the only way Christians could pray when under a Muslim state, but that now, a proper rite should be established. While the Mozarabites claimed that they had a perfectly clear, Pope-recognised right to pray as they did.
While all this was quite entertaining, it seemed that it was taking us nowhere. And I was not the only one to think this way. People started getting nervous all over the Peninsula. By February we had to quell a Mozarabite rebellion in the Algarve, at Silves.
In early April, my cousin Sancho (ex of Castilla, and a staunch Visigothic) was growing very restless. I tried to placate him sending one of my nieces as a fosterling, but it didn't help much. A bit of money would probably have been better, but I had none.
Hardly a week later, a rider arrived at Nájera with news that the Catalan duchy had decided to secede. There was a terse letter explaining that the only rite they recognised was being questioned by my Council of Najera, and that it was a challenge to the Papal authority with which they didn't want to be involved.
Unfortunately for the Duke, neither my Iberian Mozarabite nor my Frankish Roman vassals saw any problem with following my banners, so we answered the letter with a swift invasion of the Duke's domain. His vassals, surprisingly, stood apart after the first clashes...
... And then in July, things started to get wormy. Fosterling or not, Sancho of Burgos rebelled (in the name of Visigoth rite and his brother's Emperor rights), while my other ex-king cousin at Aragón made suspicious friendly moves.
All these independences were loading me with claims and unsettling the kingdom, and still the Council of Nájera didn't arrive at a conclusion. Plus, the monkish mountain airs were affecting me and wearing my patience thin.
The way of the pickaxe seemed to be the only one that worked, and thus I bashed Asturias de Santillana into the fold again in late July. I tried to cajole the count of Burgos into rejoining too, but to no avail.
And (as I suspected and Laura had foretold) the moves of the count of Jaca were exposed as a smokescreen. He seceded on August the 4th, offering his support to "the lawful Emperor". Tellingly, he didn't offer also his allegiance, or if he did, Alfonso of León was smart enough to avoid accepting it.
While I tried to settle Jaca by diplomatic means, the siege engines were at work in Barcelona and Lleida. The Catalan troops had gathered in the mountains and refused battle.
This attitude prevented bloodshed, and thus, after the sieges had finished, I was minded to give the rebel Duke the same treatment that I'd offered to the Count of Santillana. But Catalonia is too powerful: like Badajoz and Aquitaine, I dread the damage they could do if they rebelled at the wrong moment.
So I took the Duchy and the province of Barcelona, and left Pedro Ramón with the countship of Lleida. I received vassalage from the Catalan counts, and received their assurances that they backed whatever rite the Navarran throne should prefer.
In January 1079, with the Catalan rebellion ended I was able to call the Estates General. We gathered at Nájera too, mostly to enable the attendance of those bishops who were in session at the Council. Seeing the monkish bickering had the secondary effect of impressing on the nobles the need for unity and a common law, and thus we managed to squeeze an impressive contribution from them (the mountain cold undoubtedly helped too).
Craving a large contribution got us out of the red, but to do it we had to make them afraid of the alternatives. And shaking their confidence was bad for stability.
But it was a gift of fear, not of confidence. The stability of the kingdom was shaken. Nobody could see a way forward in the Controversy, and the road to civil war seemed still open. The nobles were hoping that money would be used to avoid it.
And it was. Not much later, the Count of Jaca (ex King Sancho of Aragón) folded up and accepted to renounce both his claim to the kingdom of Aragón and his independence. I expect that will be the last time I hear of him, except at family occasions.
Which freed my hands to take care of the other Sancho at Burgos...
In July 2nd, I had warning that my considerate dealings with the Visigothic side were not being appreciated by the Mozarabites. The main Mozarabite province, Toledo, violently objected to the idea of being forced to adopt either Visigothic or Roman rites.
Unfortunately, the warning came too late to act on it, and early next month Toledo was close to revolt and Palencia was up in arms, led by their Emir, Yahya al-Qadir. Thankfully the Emir had already been shorn of all vassals in the Iberian Wars, so this uprising was not especially dangerous.
... oh yes, it looked like the Controversy would peter out soon (if we could tear the monks off the wine and canapés at the Council of Nájera). But it wasn't through yet.
Hello again. Isn't it a lovely day? Will you join me in the palace balcony? Drag your own chairs, will you? No ceremony today.
Indeed I've had as much of ceremonies as I can stand for a long, long, time. I suppose you've heard of all the trouble we had with the three rites? You haven't? Well, one can say that all's well that ends well, but we've had some trying times.
You see, after the Second Frankish War, I was feeling like some peaceful months. You know, building up the provinces, leaving one's mark on the land, reorganising a bit the territory. Usual kingly things. But there were a couple of issues. First, I didn't have any money. And then, we almost had a couple of civil wars. And to top it all up, there was León.
It's a long story, so let's start at the end. You probably haven't heard, but since the time of my grandfather, Sancho the Great, we have had a sort of legal controversy here. Grandad, being either king or suzerain of every christian kingdom in Hispania save León at the time, would have liked to be called "Emperor of Hispania". Indeed he got some of the clergy to back this. But there was a tradition of the kings of León being "Emperors". A stupid one, since at that time León was a sliver of land between the Galicians and the (Navarra-ruled) lands of Castilla. But most of the clergy, wanting to limit grandad's powers, still insisted on calling the Leonese king "Emperor of Hispania", and grandad just "Emperor of the Navarran Hispanias". Which didn't make much sense, but there it was.
This wouldn't have really mattered except because after my little reunification of historically Navarran territory (Visigoth Hispania and Gascony, with some bits added on for variety's sake, let's say) I ruled a really diverse territory. And some bits of it were less keen on unification than others. In short, they were trying to find a way to limit my power. Again.
The Controversy started in 1078. Almost unnoticed in the tide of goodwill and sicophancy, the Count of Asturias de Santillana chucked my sovereignty on the grounds that I was "not upholding the rites of the Church" in my domain, which the monks in Santo Domingo de Silos said was bad manners and also an ungodly and unkingly thing to do.
When I received the news I readied troops before I called for the scholars, as I thought it was just a made-up excuse. But then I got news that the Santillanans were not the only ones growing restless, and decided to settle the matter in a formal way. I had the Borg round up the relevant experts (she packed them into my father's favourite monastery, in Rioja, and called it the "Council of Nájera" which was suitably impressive) and then I sat down to be instructed.
It seems the Santillanans had a point. They were the remaining, hardest-boiled representatives of what was known as the "Visigoth rite" or "Old Hispanic rite", a way that has been with us since the Council of Toledo in 633. It is nice, archaic, and quaint, and quite out of touch with the current "Roman rite" which we've been using in Navarra for a century. It is the one that the Papacy is promoting, and so is widely used in our northern territories across the Pyrenees (since Charlemagne, the Franks love everything Roman), and also in the Catalan Duchy (remember they used to be a Frankish domain).
The Prior of Santo Domingo de Silos at the time had a naughty streak. And a way with the knife. We got him sent to England after the Controversy.
The emissaries of the Count of Santillana (the prior of Santo Domingo especially) defended that the Visigoth rite was the correct way to pray in any visigoth kingdom, and since Navarra's crown was visigothic, it either supported the Visigoth rite or became illegitimate.
Now, let us not forget that while the Jimenez dinasty has the compulsory visigoth origins, our land is a pretty mix of basque, celtic, and iberian blood, with a sprinkling of franks, and our way of doing things is none of them but our own. In short, the way we pray was mostly the Roman rite but it was an informal situation, and I couldn't care less for matters of ritual (well, since the Pope accepts half a dozen of them, why should I care?). But the Council, once started, kept discussing it for weeks. They seemed to like the idea that my legitimacy was something they could decide, instead of accepting at the hand of my troops.
And the Roman ritualist had a good defender too. Sent by my dear cousin, the king of León, the Abbot of San Pedro de Cardeña argued that any rite but the Roman was an abomination, and (now that we mention legitimacy) the Roman rite should be defended by the legitimate Hispanic Emperor, and should in turn reinforce the authority of the same Emperor. This Emperor (here it gets tricky) being a certain Alfonso of León.
To complicate it all, the vast majority of our new iberian territories are still half-converted, and even there the christian population (and that includes the rulers, most of the times) likes to worship in what they call "Mozarabic rite", which is an evolution of the "Visigoth rite" that has grown in the muslim-dominated areas. It is less formal than the Roman and less keen on Latin prayer. The Pope John X gave a bull in 918 approving it, so it is a good Christian rite, but it is different from the Roman one. And both our Roman-praying and our Visigoth-praying provinces feel revolted that we're tolerating it. They say, and not without reason, that the Mozarabite rite was permitted because it was the only way Christians could pray when under a Muslim state, but that now, a proper rite should be established. While the Mozarabites claimed that they had a perfectly clear, Pope-recognised right to pray as they did.
While all this was quite entertaining, it seemed that it was taking us nowhere. And I was not the only one to think this way. People started getting nervous all over the Peninsula. By February we had to quell a Mozarabite rebellion in the Algarve, at Silves.
In early April, my cousin Sancho (ex of Castilla, and a staunch Visigothic) was growing very restless. I tried to placate him sending one of my nieces as a fosterling, but it didn't help much. A bit of money would probably have been better, but I had none.
Hardly a week later, a rider arrived at Nájera with news that the Catalan duchy had decided to secede. There was a terse letter explaining that the only rite they recognised was being questioned by my Council of Najera, and that it was a challenge to the Papal authority with which they didn't want to be involved.
Unfortunately for the Duke, neither my Iberian Mozarabite nor my Frankish Roman vassals saw any problem with following my banners, so we answered the letter with a swift invasion of the Duke's domain. His vassals, surprisingly, stood apart after the first clashes...
... And then in July, things started to get wormy. Fosterling or not, Sancho of Burgos rebelled (in the name of Visigoth rite and his brother's Emperor rights), while my other ex-king cousin at Aragón made suspicious friendly moves.
All these independences were loading me with claims and unsettling the kingdom, and still the Council of Nájera didn't arrive at a conclusion. Plus, the monkish mountain airs were affecting me and wearing my patience thin.
The way of the pickaxe seemed to be the only one that worked, and thus I bashed Asturias de Santillana into the fold again in late July. I tried to cajole the count of Burgos into rejoining too, but to no avail.
And (as I suspected and Laura had foretold) the moves of the count of Jaca were exposed as a smokescreen. He seceded on August the 4th, offering his support to "the lawful Emperor". Tellingly, he didn't offer also his allegiance, or if he did, Alfonso of León was smart enough to avoid accepting it.
While I tried to settle Jaca by diplomatic means, the siege engines were at work in Barcelona and Lleida. The Catalan troops had gathered in the mountains and refused battle.
This attitude prevented bloodshed, and thus, after the sieges had finished, I was minded to give the rebel Duke the same treatment that I'd offered to the Count of Santillana. But Catalonia is too powerful: like Badajoz and Aquitaine, I dread the damage they could do if they rebelled at the wrong moment.
So I took the Duchy and the province of Barcelona, and left Pedro Ramón with the countship of Lleida. I received vassalage from the Catalan counts, and received their assurances that they backed whatever rite the Navarran throne should prefer.
In January 1079, with the Catalan rebellion ended I was able to call the Estates General. We gathered at Nájera too, mostly to enable the attendance of those bishops who were in session at the Council. Seeing the monkish bickering had the secondary effect of impressing on the nobles the need for unity and a common law, and thus we managed to squeeze an impressive contribution from them (the mountain cold undoubtedly helped too).
Craving a large contribution got us out of the red, but to do it we had to make them afraid of the alternatives. And shaking their confidence was bad for stability.
But it was a gift of fear, not of confidence. The stability of the kingdom was shaken. Nobody could see a way forward in the Controversy, and the road to civil war seemed still open. The nobles were hoping that money would be used to avoid it.
And it was. Not much later, the Count of Jaca (ex King Sancho of Aragón) folded up and accepted to renounce both his claim to the kingdom of Aragón and his independence. I expect that will be the last time I hear of him, except at family occasions.
Which freed my hands to take care of the other Sancho at Burgos...
In July 2nd, I had warning that my considerate dealings with the Visigothic side were not being appreciated by the Mozarabites. The main Mozarabite province, Toledo, violently objected to the idea of being forced to adopt either Visigothic or Roman rites.
Unfortunately, the warning came too late to act on it, and early next month Toledo was close to revolt and Palencia was up in arms, led by their Emir, Yahya al-Qadir. Thankfully the Emir had already been shorn of all vassals in the Iberian Wars, so this uprising was not especially dangerous.
... oh yes, it looked like the Controversy would peter out soon (if we could tear the monks off the wine and canapés at the Council of Nájera). But it wasn't through yet.
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August 1079-November 1080. The controversy of the three rites, part II (or, a Gordian solution to every trouble)
In early August I led a Navarran Army against Burgos and faced my cousing, albeit briefly. He was swept aside by a cavalry charge, which was not a bad thing since he's always had a better sword arm than I.
At almost the same time, my army in Soria was fighting Rodrigo "El Cid" Díaz. We had twice as many casualties as them, but we won the day. They tell me half of our dead were personally slain by Rodrigo.
In short, they fought (in November Rodrigo tried to break the siege of Burgos) but they lost.
As soon as I could leave the battlefield, I rode for Rioja and Nájera. On November the 7th, as the Council was in session and no answer was in sight, I decided to cut the matter to the quick. I had my royal ermine brought, with the Crown of Sancho the Great and one particularly large and wicked sword (placed on an equally outsize red velvet cushion), and had a long conversation with the Borg. Then I summoned the captain of my guards and the abbot of the monastery.
"Gentlemen", I said while I climbed into the royal vestments, "this Controversy has lasted enough, and has cost us enough. We need to put an end to it, and we will do it today".
The abbot looked flustered. The guard captain merely nodded and looked tough.
"This is what I want you to do. My lord abbot, I want all your monks dressed in Christmas robes and arrayed in the cloisters in twenty minutes. In two columns. Captain, I want your men to spruce up and shine their armor until they look almost civilised, and to form in the same lines, before and after the monks. Abbot, I want you to get your processional cross. Captain, get yourself the largest flag we've got. And two trumpeters".
They did. And so, just after the bells tolled Sext (and thus noon, at this time of the year) and the Council prepared to adjourn, we rocked them a bit. First, the trumpeters started blasting as if they wanted to bring down the walls. Then, we ritually knocked on the Council doors, and opened them without waiting for permission. And then we walked in.
The abbot with his cross, the captain with his large, red flag, and then myself in full regalia. Then the columns of monks (singing something suitably solemn, of course, although I don't remember what) and guards. The second half of the guards, upon coming in, blocked the doors and surrounded the room. The first formed a cordon between the seats of the attendants and the middle ground, which I held. And the monks went towards the other end of the room, where they kept playing the choir until I raised a hand.
We had got their attention. After that, it was quite easy.
I explained that the Controversy was over. The lands of Navarra would henceforth use the Roman rite, except those Mozarabite parishes that explicitly petitioned us and the Pope to keep their customs. The Visigoth rite was no longer recognised by the Pope, and thus would no longer be allowed to be performed in the lands of Navarra. And anybody carrying on the controversy after the close of the Council would be considered a felon and heretic, and dealt with as such.
The prior of Santo Domingo de la Calzada rose from his seat among the general silence, harrumped, and said:
"Sire, may I ask with what authority you speak thus at the Council?"
"You may", I say, as the Borg and I had also expected this question. "My authority is simple: I am the Lord's appointed King in all the lands subject to this decision. And I have the means to enforce it".
The prior straightened as if stung, and murmurs rose everywhere.
"So you would put your wish above the knowledge of the Council? Your crown weights more than all our wisdom?".
"It does", I said. "As did the crown of Constantine in his day. Your wisdom has made you consume years debating endlessly on a useless matter. The Visigoth rite is dead. Its successor, the Mozarabite rite, is approved by the Pope, but he prefers the new, Roman one. There it is, and there is no further room for negotiation. Indeed", I said, raising my voice to quell a hundred objections, "you have led your flocks astray with these meaningless questions, and given reason for rebellions and wars. You are personally responsible for the uprisings in Barcelona, in Burgos, in Jaca, in Toledo. You have caused the death of good Christians with this infantile quarrel about rites."
I looked around the room for effect.
"And now... you will help me correct it. You will all sign a Conclusion that will be sent to the Pope, with the unanimous recommendation that things should be as I have told you. You will return to your parishes, monasteries, cathedrals and universities... yes, and palaces. And you will uphold those Conclusions as if you had written them. You will knit together again what you have been trying to unravel with your Controversy. Does anybody object to this?"
I looked around again. Many councillors looked actually happy, many more were morosely inspecting their feet. Nobody dared answer.
The Borg produced the document, and the Council dissolved within the week. It was hailed as a resounding success, and it was. Relations with the Church did get a bit frosty after the event, and the Borg had a hard time polishing the story. But the result was an effective end to the Controversy and an increase in stability throughout the realm.
The (other) good side of it is that when the Pope called to Crusades, he thought it useless to call on me.
On December the 6th, we conquered Soria, the last stronghold of Sancho of Burgos. I offered him his life and Soria in exchange for renouncing his rights on the throne of Castilla. To defang him, I kept the province of Burgos, which was closer to home and made a nice capital. I would miss winters in Córdoba, though.
I was afraid all these annexations were going to raise hackles, but my vassals seem to have appreciated the reasons.
On February 18th, the fortress of Plasencia fell and the Emirate of Toledo with it.
I followed the same procedure than in Catalonia: I stripped the Emir of his title, left him the province, and forced him to renounce every claim on me.
And then, as my army was raising the siege, we saw another army marching toward Plasencia. I sent my scouts and they arrived with greetings from Alfonso of León, and a short letter.
In the letter, Alfonso said that he was sorry to have arrived late at the siege of the province, but that he intended to punish and vassalize it in very short order.
I sent another letter telling him that we had already done that and the matter was settled.
He answered that it was all right, he didn't mind. But since he was already there, he intended to finish the work.
I told him to leave the province at once.
He refused, saying that not only it was his right to pursue a legitimate war, but that the enemy was an infidel. And he requested, as Emperor of Hispania, that I should either leave or join his army.
I declared war on him.
Well, what would you have done? I couldn't have a repeat of my old Mallorcan ally's antics.
By April we were fighting in all his main provinces (yes, I did allow him to waste his time in Plasencia).
It was not an easy war. My cousin's generals were often as good as mine. It was at this time, also, that I reorganised my government and put the Borg in charge of the newly-created Ministry of Truth.
And they tried to take the war to us in Burgos, but there, again, the Lord saw fit to lend me a hand.
By the end of November, we had managed to conquer both domain provinces of Alfonso.
Which (after a little finger work at the Borg's new Ministry) resulted in Alfonso losing his crown and becoming a vassal.
Yes. You have noticed it too. When he signed and sealed the treaty, I felt a great weight lifting from my shoulders. As Granny used to say, "there could only be one". And I was the one.
Hispania was unified.
I had restored the kingdom to solvency. I had solved the Controversy. I had eliminated the rivalry of Hispanic emperors (and got myself a nice new province). And I had got rid of the Curse of Doña Muña for good.
Or maybe not. Cousin Sancho of Soria inherited the duchy of Galicia, and thus had muscle enough for further rebellions. If he found a motive.
A further result of this was that Navarra was getting some recognition abroad as more than just a flash in the pan. They began to believe that we were here to stay.
Now, if only I could convince myself of that too. But somehow I still don't feel safe.
You may wonder, what was Granny doing all this time?
Well... so do I. But I can't help thinking that this last bout of trouble from all the players of the Jimenez Stakes must have had something to do with her books.
In early August I led a Navarran Army against Burgos and faced my cousing, albeit briefly. He was swept aside by a cavalry charge, which was not a bad thing since he's always had a better sword arm than I.
At almost the same time, my army in Soria was fighting Rodrigo "El Cid" Díaz. We had twice as many casualties as them, but we won the day. They tell me half of our dead were personally slain by Rodrigo.
In short, they fought (in November Rodrigo tried to break the siege of Burgos) but they lost.
As soon as I could leave the battlefield, I rode for Rioja and Nájera. On November the 7th, as the Council was in session and no answer was in sight, I decided to cut the matter to the quick. I had my royal ermine brought, with the Crown of Sancho the Great and one particularly large and wicked sword (placed on an equally outsize red velvet cushion), and had a long conversation with the Borg. Then I summoned the captain of my guards and the abbot of the monastery.
"Gentlemen", I said while I climbed into the royal vestments, "this Controversy has lasted enough, and has cost us enough. We need to put an end to it, and we will do it today".
The abbot looked flustered. The guard captain merely nodded and looked tough.
"This is what I want you to do. My lord abbot, I want all your monks dressed in Christmas robes and arrayed in the cloisters in twenty minutes. In two columns. Captain, I want your men to spruce up and shine their armor until they look almost civilised, and to form in the same lines, before and after the monks. Abbot, I want you to get your processional cross. Captain, get yourself the largest flag we've got. And two trumpeters".
They did. And so, just after the bells tolled Sext (and thus noon, at this time of the year) and the Council prepared to adjourn, we rocked them a bit. First, the trumpeters started blasting as if they wanted to bring down the walls. Then, we ritually knocked on the Council doors, and opened them without waiting for permission. And then we walked in.
The abbot with his cross, the captain with his large, red flag, and then myself in full regalia. Then the columns of monks (singing something suitably solemn, of course, although I don't remember what) and guards. The second half of the guards, upon coming in, blocked the doors and surrounded the room. The first formed a cordon between the seats of the attendants and the middle ground, which I held. And the monks went towards the other end of the room, where they kept playing the choir until I raised a hand.
We had got their attention. After that, it was quite easy.
I explained that the Controversy was over. The lands of Navarra would henceforth use the Roman rite, except those Mozarabite parishes that explicitly petitioned us and the Pope to keep their customs. The Visigoth rite was no longer recognised by the Pope, and thus would no longer be allowed to be performed in the lands of Navarra. And anybody carrying on the controversy after the close of the Council would be considered a felon and heretic, and dealt with as such.
The prior of Santo Domingo de la Calzada rose from his seat among the general silence, harrumped, and said:
"Sire, may I ask with what authority you speak thus at the Council?"
"You may", I say, as the Borg and I had also expected this question. "My authority is simple: I am the Lord's appointed King in all the lands subject to this decision. And I have the means to enforce it".
The prior straightened as if stung, and murmurs rose everywhere.
"So you would put your wish above the knowledge of the Council? Your crown weights more than all our wisdom?".
"It does", I said. "As did the crown of Constantine in his day. Your wisdom has made you consume years debating endlessly on a useless matter. The Visigoth rite is dead. Its successor, the Mozarabite rite, is approved by the Pope, but he prefers the new, Roman one. There it is, and there is no further room for negotiation. Indeed", I said, raising my voice to quell a hundred objections, "you have led your flocks astray with these meaningless questions, and given reason for rebellions and wars. You are personally responsible for the uprisings in Barcelona, in Burgos, in Jaca, in Toledo. You have caused the death of good Christians with this infantile quarrel about rites."
I looked around the room for effect.
"And now... you will help me correct it. You will all sign a Conclusion that will be sent to the Pope, with the unanimous recommendation that things should be as I have told you. You will return to your parishes, monasteries, cathedrals and universities... yes, and palaces. And you will uphold those Conclusions as if you had written them. You will knit together again what you have been trying to unravel with your Controversy. Does anybody object to this?"
I looked around again. Many councillors looked actually happy, many more were morosely inspecting their feet. Nobody dared answer.
The Borg produced the document, and the Council dissolved within the week. It was hailed as a resounding success, and it was. Relations with the Church did get a bit frosty after the event, and the Borg had a hard time polishing the story. But the result was an effective end to the Controversy and an increase in stability throughout the realm.
The (other) good side of it is that when the Pope called to Crusades, he thought it useless to call on me.
On December the 6th, we conquered Soria, the last stronghold of Sancho of Burgos. I offered him his life and Soria in exchange for renouncing his rights on the throne of Castilla. To defang him, I kept the province of Burgos, which was closer to home and made a nice capital. I would miss winters in Córdoba, though.
I was afraid all these annexations were going to raise hackles, but my vassals seem to have appreciated the reasons.
On February 18th, the fortress of Plasencia fell and the Emirate of Toledo with it.
I followed the same procedure than in Catalonia: I stripped the Emir of his title, left him the province, and forced him to renounce every claim on me.
And then, as my army was raising the siege, we saw another army marching toward Plasencia. I sent my scouts and they arrived with greetings from Alfonso of León, and a short letter.
In the letter, Alfonso said that he was sorry to have arrived late at the siege of the province, but that he intended to punish and vassalize it in very short order.
I sent another letter telling him that we had already done that and the matter was settled.
He answered that it was all right, he didn't mind. But since he was already there, he intended to finish the work.
I told him to leave the province at once.
He refused, saying that not only it was his right to pursue a legitimate war, but that the enemy was an infidel. And he requested, as Emperor of Hispania, that I should either leave or join his army.
I declared war on him.
Well, what would you have done? I couldn't have a repeat of my old Mallorcan ally's antics.
By April we were fighting in all his main provinces (yes, I did allow him to waste his time in Plasencia).
It was not an easy war. My cousin's generals were often as good as mine. It was at this time, also, that I reorganised my government and put the Borg in charge of the newly-created Ministry of Truth.
And they tried to take the war to us in Burgos, but there, again, the Lord saw fit to lend me a hand.
By the end of November, we had managed to conquer both domain provinces of Alfonso.
Which (after a little finger work at the Borg's new Ministry) resulted in Alfonso losing his crown and becoming a vassal.
Yes. You have noticed it too. When he signed and sealed the treaty, I felt a great weight lifting from my shoulders. As Granny used to say, "there could only be one". And I was the one.
Hispania was unified.
I had restored the kingdom to solvency. I had solved the Controversy. I had eliminated the rivalry of Hispanic emperors (and got myself a nice new province). And I had got rid of the Curse of Doña Muña for good.
Or maybe not. Cousin Sancho of Soria inherited the duchy of Galicia, and thus had muscle enough for further rebellions. If he found a motive.
A further result of this was that Navarra was getting some recognition abroad as more than just a flash in the pan. They began to believe that we were here to stay.
Now, if only I could convince myself of that too. But somehow I still don't feel safe.
You may wonder, what was Granny doing all this time?
Well... so do I. But I can't help thinking that this last bout of trouble from all the players of the Jimenez Stakes must have had something to do with her books.
Indeed .
Sancho's pretty consistent (he goes for threats and good seaside spots... and any soft expansion opportunities), so I'm sure you will guess it without any more hints.
.Sancho's pretty consistent (he goes for threats and good seaside spots... and any soft expansion opportunities), so I'm sure you will guess it without any more hints.
That was a very kingly display from Sancho at the Council. Just goes to show you that monks are not to be trusted!
Very nice work on the realistic details, by the way!
Very nice work on the realistic details, by the way!
Glad you liked it .
And happy that you spotted it. The conflicting claims of Iberian Emperorship between Navarra and León existed at the time (although after the death of García de Nájera, Sancho's father, they subsided with Navarra's importance) and the Controversy between the Roman and Mozarabic rites existed too. It was settled, after much councilling and even a trial by fire (they put a tome with each Rite to see which was saved), by a papal bull in 1085 which read almost as Sancho dictates in the story.
I just grabbed the events and fitted them with the game. Dates, places, and names of participants and rebels are wildly changed to suit the storyline and the characters, of course. The whole Council of Nájera affair is invented too.
.And happy that you spotted it. The conflicting claims of Iberian Emperorship between Navarra and León existed at the time (although after the death of García de Nájera, Sancho's father, they subsided with Navarra's importance) and the Controversy between the Roman and Mozarabic rites existed too. It was settled, after much councilling and even a trial by fire (they put a tome with each Rite to see which was saved), by a papal bull in 1085 which read almost as Sancho dictates in the story.
I just grabbed the events and fitted them with the game. Dates, places, and names of participants and rebels are wildly changed to suit the storyline and the characters, of course
. The whole Council of Nájera affair is invented too.
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November 1080-August 1081. Cautious expansion (or, the pleasures of "low-intensity war")
Hello again. Come in. Do you like the new rugs? I brought them from my last winter campaign. That, and a few other souvenirs. Nothing too heavy to carry, just in case.
Ah well, the story...
Back in November of last year, when we managed to close the Council, I had a meeting with García, Laura and the Borg. I wanted to find a way to keep my vassals thinking of more interesting things than religious issues.
"... so, if persecuting the jews and the moors is off, and that kick-the-ball game is too complicated, what other entertainment can we give them?"
"Well, Sire, we could try..."
"Yes, García?"
"We could try this thing the Romans did. It's a thing called 'low-intensity war'..."
"Like, hitting the enemy but not too hard?"
"Ahem. No, Sire, it means a series of small wars that don't really bother the population but keep the armies busy and the conquest cash flowing."
"You mean, like being at peace but having a little war always going on?"
"Yes, Sire".
"And do you also have any idea of where we can find some nice targets?".
He didn't, so I spent a couple of fun weeks poring over our maps. Finally, I chose to go for the closest Muslim country that remained: the Emirate of Tangiers. It did seem a reasonable target...
As usual, it backfired a bit.
But despite its resounding name, the Kingdom of Egypt didn't seem to have an army. So I sent a couple of divisions across the straits (and since you ask me, yes, it did give me a certain thrill to reverse the al-Tarik invasion, more than three centuries later) and didn't have much difficulty in quashing the Tangerines. I had time to watch over the family and be surprised at the sharpness of little Pons...
... and to indulge in a bit of hunting with my ex-court bishop. I don't go in much for hunting because I find it hard to kill anything (you may remember I dreamed I had a bad end while hunting with the family, so I always bring a hundred or two armoured knights with me... and the venison don't appreciate the noise) but the bishop proposed using hawks, and I had a really good time.
But I'm afraid I overdid the fun. In February we staged an international tourney that, while greatly entertaining for all, left García with a serious wound. He has a habit of leading with his chin; I keep berating him for that but he won't listen, and this time, he found a pickaxe stronger than his chin. Or rather, the enemy champion found it, and used it. We finished second.
In March, without a squeak, the Emir of Tangiers conceded defeat. I offered him the standard vassalization package, which he accepted, and I congratulated him on a very pleasant war. His smile was a bit strained, but I think he was happy too. He said it was better being a vassal of a mad infidel than being under the heel of "those heretical, war-crazy al-Murabitid fanatics". I suppose that was a compliment.
Anyway, the "low intensity war" idea was working: we gathered new lands, the people enjoyed themselves, and no rebellions showed their ugly faces. I took the time to find a tutor for young Pons at the court, and then set out to try and sign a peace treaty with the Kingdom of Egypt...
... which happened almost too fast for good manners.
But while we were negotiating, I received another surprise. Our recent enemies, the kingdom of France, actually offered to become allies.
I accepted. It's true that my previous alliances (Mallorca, León) hadn't worked, but the Franks were the descendants of Charlemagne. What could go wrong?
In May, García had a fall down the palace stairs and landed on his wound. It was bad for the flagstones, but it was worse for his health. We had to force him to keep bed.
To improve his spirits, and also to have something to talk about at the upcoming Estates General, I decided to try again a bit of "low intensity warfare". Since I was quite reluctant to go rampaging in Africa (it is traditional Vandal country, and not Visigoth... don't go thinking that I was afraid of any "war-crazed al-Murabitids" or something) I decided to pacify a corner of the German kingdom that was currently revolting, and indeed invading its ex-liege's land. A bad example, I said, that needed curbing.
The Estates General agreed it looked like fun, and ponied some nice new taxes.
So in June I mobilized the Duke of Toulouse (who very gallantly complied), took him into the secret of the "Jimenez Breakfast" strategy, and sent him for Provence.
Once he was parked on the Provençal domain, I had the Ministry of Truth miraculously find some really impressive parchments to back a claim on it... and, just as soon as the San Fermín festival was over, declared war. The Estates dissolved early so everyone could join the fun. We even brought some of the bulls with us.
The only dark spot in those days was the death of my mother, Doña Estefanía de Foix, ex guardian and regent of Navarra, and a person I hadn't ever managed to feel any close to (it might have been due to the way she kept me from the throne for years and squandered the kingdom's money in building monasteries... or again, it might not). So, well, it was bad news. And I had to find another count for Almería, which was a bother, let me tell you.
In mid-August, we breached the walls of Provence and proceeded to wring a peace treaty from the Duke.
It was the usual soft agreement. One reason was that I wanted Provence to remain strong enough to continue its war against Germany (and if it landed me some more provinces, so much the better). The other was that I wanted some heavy counterweights to the Aquitanians, and thus needed some rich dukes nearby.
And, well, the final reason is that I was feeling quite happy and contented at the time.
I mean, I had got seven new provinces in less than a year with hardly any effort. No uprising, no troubles, no ruinous cost. My second son (legitimate) was showing a healthy interest in intrigue. Mom had died, but hey, so will we all, and it was one less present to bother about at Christmas. And García had a new cleft in his chin, but I was quite sure he would recover.
And yes, of course, there were the rugs you noticed. I brought them from Tangiers. Nice, aren't they? The Emir said they were quilim, or kilim, or something like that. The coffee isn't bad either.
Hello again. Come in. Do you like the new rugs? I brought them from my last winter campaign. That, and a few other souvenirs. Nothing too heavy to carry, just in case.
Ah well, the story...
Back in November of last year, when we managed to close the Council, I had a meeting with García, Laura and the Borg. I wanted to find a way to keep my vassals thinking of more interesting things than religious issues.
"... so, if persecuting the jews and the moors is off, and that kick-the-ball game is too complicated, what other entertainment can we give them?"
"Well, Sire, we could try..."
"Yes, García?"
"We could try this thing the Romans did. It's a thing called 'low-intensity war'..."
"Like, hitting the enemy but not too hard?"
"Ahem. No, Sire, it means a series of small wars that don't really bother the population but keep the armies busy and the conquest cash flowing."
"You mean, like being at peace but having a little war always going on?"
"Yes, Sire".
"And do you also have any idea of where we can find some nice targets?".
He didn't, so I spent a couple of fun weeks poring over our maps. Finally, I chose to go for the closest Muslim country that remained: the Emirate of Tangiers. It did seem a reasonable target...
As usual, it backfired a bit.
But despite its resounding name, the Kingdom of Egypt didn't seem to have an army. So I sent a couple of divisions across the straits (and since you ask me, yes, it did give me a certain thrill to reverse the al-Tarik invasion, more than three centuries later) and didn't have much difficulty in quashing the Tangerines. I had time to watch over the family and be surprised at the sharpness of little Pons...
... and to indulge in a bit of hunting with my ex-court bishop. I don't go in much for hunting because I find it hard to kill anything (you may remember I dreamed I had a bad end while hunting with the family, so I always bring a hundred or two armoured knights with me... and the venison don't appreciate the noise) but the bishop proposed using hawks, and I had a really good time.
But I'm afraid I overdid the fun. In February we staged an international tourney that, while greatly entertaining for all, left García with a serious wound. He has a habit of leading with his chin; I keep berating him for that but he won't listen, and this time, he found a pickaxe stronger than his chin. Or rather, the enemy champion found it, and used it. We finished second.
In March, without a squeak, the Emir of Tangiers conceded defeat. I offered him the standard vassalization package, which he accepted, and I congratulated him on a very pleasant war. His smile was a bit strained, but I think he was happy too. He said it was better being a vassal of a mad infidel than being under the heel of "those heretical, war-crazy al-Murabitid fanatics". I suppose that was a compliment.
Anyway, the "low intensity war" idea was working: we gathered new lands, the people enjoyed themselves, and no rebellions showed their ugly faces. I took the time to find a tutor for young Pons at the court, and then set out to try and sign a peace treaty with the Kingdom of Egypt...
... which happened almost too fast for good manners.
But while we were negotiating, I received another surprise. Our recent enemies, the kingdom of France, actually offered to become allies.
I accepted. It's true that my previous alliances (Mallorca, León) hadn't worked, but the Franks were the descendants of Charlemagne. What could go wrong?
In May, García had a fall down the palace stairs and landed on his wound. It was bad for the flagstones, but it was worse for his health. We had to force him to keep bed.
To improve his spirits, and also to have something to talk about at the upcoming Estates General, I decided to try again a bit of "low intensity warfare". Since I was quite reluctant to go rampaging in Africa (it is traditional Vandal country, and not Visigoth... don't go thinking that I was afraid of any "war-crazed al-Murabitids" or something) I decided to pacify a corner of the German kingdom that was currently revolting, and indeed invading its ex-liege's land. A bad example, I said, that needed curbing.
The Estates General agreed it looked like fun, and ponied some nice new taxes.
So in June I mobilized the Duke of Toulouse (who very gallantly complied), took him into the secret of the "Jimenez Breakfast" strategy, and sent him for Provence.
Once he was parked on the Provençal domain, I had the Ministry of Truth miraculously find some really impressive parchments to back a claim on it... and, just as soon as the San Fermín festival was over, declared war. The Estates dissolved early so everyone could join the fun. We even brought some of the bulls with us.
The only dark spot in those days was the death of my mother, Doña Estefanía de Foix, ex guardian and regent of Navarra, and a person I hadn't ever managed to feel any close to (it might have been due to the way she kept me from the throne for years and squandered the kingdom's money in building monasteries... or again, it might not). So, well, it was bad news. And I had to find another count for Almería, which was a bother, let me tell you.
In mid-August, we breached the walls of Provence and proceeded to wring a peace treaty from the Duke.
It was the usual soft agreement. One reason was that I wanted Provence to remain strong enough to continue its war against Germany (and if it landed me some more provinces, so much the better). The other was that I wanted some heavy counterweights to the Aquitanians, and thus needed some rich dukes nearby.
And, well, the final reason is that I was feeling quite happy and contented at the time.
I mean, I had got seven new provinces in less than a year with hardly any effort. No uprising, no troubles, no ruinous cost. My second son (legitimate) was showing a healthy interest in intrigue. Mom had died, but hey, so will we all, and it was one less present to bother about at Christmas. And García had a new cleft in his chin, but I was quite sure he would recover.
And yes, of course, there were the rugs you noticed. I brought them from Tangiers. Nice, aren't they? The Emir said they were quilim, or kilim, or something like that. The coffee isn't bad either.
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Yay!
...
GO FOR FINLAND, CONVERT THEM TO CATHOLIC AND GIVE VOITTO (or his descendants) THE THRONE :C
...
GO FOR FINLAND, CONVERT THEM TO CATHOLIC AND GIVE VOITTO (or his descendants) THE THRONE :C
@ Kurt. Empire? Which Empire ? Sancho's already eaten one rival "Emperor"...
@ Doctor Z. Sadly Sancho didn't think of that... but we can put it on his son Luis' to-do list. Last I heard of him, he had a real problem figuring out what to do next (no, he hasn't run out of things to conquer but he has to choose a new strategy).
Nop, Sancho's next step is going to be forced upon him. Well, most of it . Any guesses?
? Sancho's already eaten one rival "Emperor"...@ Doctor Z. Sadly Sancho didn't think of that... but we can put it on his son Luis' to-do list
. Last I heard of him, he had a real problem figuring out what to do next (no, he hasn't run out of things to conquer but he has to choose a new strategy).Nop, Sancho's next step is going to be forced upon him
. Well, most of it . Any guesses?
By the way, I just realized the load size that these pages have. I'll try and use smaller files for the captures...
August 1081- May 1082. Pirates! (or, a blue year)
What? Ah! It's you. Well, well, wait in the antechamber a minute if you don't mind. I'll be with you shortly. You're early today...
Now, where were we? Last time we talked, I was still trying to cover Mom's loss. I remember I gave her countship to our court bishop. Always good to stay on the friendly side of the church...
It was about that time that we had finished the conquest of Provence,
It was also about that time when many of the old German provinces (olive brown) started switching allegiances to the king of Poland (deep brown). Not something I enjoyed, but I was not feeling very assertive at the time. Or rather, the Navarran court wasn't. You see, our long-time Marshall, García, was not getting better.
Not having him leading my army was a strange feeling. Seeing him walk around the palace with his bandaged chin and his limp was quite dispiriting. Not for everyone, of course: the count of Jaca learned of it and decided, again, to try for independence. It didn't last long.
And the relationship with our dear new ally, France, was souring. We had helped them pacify Auxerre (OK, we had gone and vassalized them ourselves) and they had waited until our armies were out of the fortress to launch their own attack and revassalize it themselves.
So I was not too eager to act when the delegates of the merchant cities first asked. You see, the Navarran empire now comprised most of the trading cities on the West Mediterranean... and most of them were very recently muslim lands. So many of their merchant captains were muslim, and sailed typically muslim craft. Also, since they were not stupid, they were all trying to make the most of their belonging to a Christian power, and set trading routes to central Europe and the East.
But there was a snag. Genoa, Pisa and Venice, the three Italian sailing nations, were having a field day hunting them down in the name of the Crusade, saying that a muslim ship was a muslim ship even if it sailed under the red flag. And they were even attacking Catalan vessels too, on general principles.
In the end, the brought such proof of Genoese atrocities that I had to send the Provence expeditionary force to Genoa.
García was not consulted. By November he was down with pneumonia and I had to substitute him as Marshall.
Indeed, I was so gloomy than when my spymistress reported that the Duke of Badajoz was involved in a disloyal conspiracy, I bought him instead of seizing the chance to cut his duchy to size.
By January, the expeditionary force was in Genoa. I visited the Ministry of Truth, where they most surprisingly unearthed a Roman parchment proving my right to rule that land. So I let the Republic know that they held it unlawfully. Or in other words I declared war.
The war was very short. By February the Republic had seen the evident historical truth of my claims, or maybe had had enough of my armies' cluttering the city landscape, and took the standard vassalization package without a whimper.
Business is business with those Genoese... and the moment they were on board, they joined the other Navarre merchant cities asking me to take action with Pisa and Venice. Indeed, if I remember well, it was the Genoese who first mentioned it would be nice to be able to pass Sicily without being attacked by the local sheiks either.
The month was not enlivened by the news that the Navarran empire was not the most beau... I mean, the most prestigious in the land. The Eastern Roman Empire was getting all the attention now. Such is the fickleness of the public...
So it was without any feeling of fun that I sent the combined expeditionary force to the capital of the Milanese duchy, Lombardia.
I didn't get any enjoyment of the well-preserved, beautifully engraved document by which Charlemagne himself entrusted the Duchy to the Kings of Navarre, unearthed by the marvelous archaeologists of the Ministry of Truth in late February.
Although I must confess a certain satisfaction when the Duke of Toulouse sent me a report of the first battles. Our expeditionary force was not losing any skill.
But, all in all, I was not in a very mollified mood when I got news that the peasants in Córdoba were agitating for the return of the Mullahs to old Mosque, which I was turning into a Cathedral. More than a hundred of them, with a leading imam, had barricaded themselves inside the atrium of the Mosque and refused access to the workers. I ordered the governor to block the outer and inner doors of the atrium from the outside too (closing the way out and the way into the main building), bar every other exit, surround the place with troops to prevent anybody from entering or throwing anything inside, and go home for a month.
After ten days, the agitation ceased. After twenty, there were mass conversions. After a month, the doors of the Cathedral were reopened, and the surviving agitators were hanged and burned for cannibalism. Not long after that, it was hard to find a Cordobese without his crucifix.
In mid-April, Jaca fell (again) and I let cousin Sancho off the hook again. Probably I should have have him beheaded, as Granny suggested the first time, and he was probably expecting it. But I could not bring myself the make the effort. Standard vassalization package, and on to the next matter.
The war in Lombardy was going well, but I was quite dejected. I asked the Ministry for a well-aged, undoubtably authentic title to another of the Duke's provinces, and offered him peace straightaway, without waiting for the sieges to be decided. He bought and promptly burned the titles. Of course, part of the price was his vassalage.
So by May of 1082 we had gathered in six more provinces (not counting Auxerre).
But between García's bad health, the Borg's immersion in her work, and my wife Agne's celibate habits, it has not been a cheerful time. Laura's as shy as ever and the rest of the new team is not half as fun as the old. And some of my Muslim vassals look at me in a funny way.
Not to mention my magic mirror says we've sunk a bit in the global ranking.
Well... I hope the next time we meet, I'll have better news.
What? Ah! It's you. Well, well, wait in the antechamber a minute if you don't mind. I'll be with you shortly. You're early today...
Now, where were we? Last time we talked, I was still trying to cover Mom's loss. I remember I gave her countship to our court bishop. Always good to stay on the friendly side of the church...
It was about that time that we had finished the conquest of Provence,
It was also about that time when many of the old German provinces (olive brown) started switching allegiances to the king of Poland (deep brown). Not something I enjoyed, but I was not feeling very assertive at the time. Or rather, the Navarran court wasn't. You see, our long-time Marshall, García, was not getting better.
Not having him leading my army was a strange feeling. Seeing him walk around the palace with his bandaged chin and his limp was quite dispiriting. Not for everyone, of course: the count of Jaca learned of it and decided, again, to try for independence. It didn't last long.
And the relationship with our dear new ally, France, was souring. We had helped them pacify Auxerre (OK, we had gone and vassalized them ourselves) and they had waited until our armies were out of the fortress to launch their own attack and revassalize it themselves.
So I was not too eager to act when the delegates of the merchant cities first asked. You see, the Navarran empire now comprised most of the trading cities on the West Mediterranean... and most of them were very recently muslim lands. So many of their merchant captains were muslim, and sailed typically muslim craft. Also, since they were not stupid, they were all trying to make the most of their belonging to a Christian power, and set trading routes to central Europe and the East.
But there was a snag. Genoa, Pisa and Venice, the three Italian sailing nations, were having a field day hunting them down in the name of the Crusade, saying that a muslim ship was a muslim ship even if it sailed under the red flag. And they were even attacking Catalan vessels too, on general principles.
In the end, the brought such proof of Genoese atrocities that I had to send the Provence expeditionary force to Genoa.
García was not consulted. By November he was down with pneumonia and I had to substitute him as Marshall.
Indeed, I was so gloomy than when my spymistress reported that the Duke of Badajoz was involved in a disloyal conspiracy, I bought him instead of seizing the chance to cut his duchy to size.
By January, the expeditionary force was in Genoa. I visited the Ministry of Truth, where they most surprisingly unearthed a Roman parchment proving my right to rule that land. So I let the Republic know that they held it unlawfully. Or in other words I declared war.
The war was very short. By February the Republic had seen the evident historical truth of my claims, or maybe had had enough of my armies' cluttering the city landscape, and took the standard vassalization package without a whimper.
Business is business with those Genoese... and the moment they were on board, they joined the other Navarre merchant cities asking me to take action with Pisa and Venice. Indeed, if I remember well, it was the Genoese who first mentioned it would be nice to be able to pass Sicily without being attacked by the local sheiks either.
The month was not enlivened by the news that the Navarran empire was not the most beau... I mean, the most prestigious in the land. The Eastern Roman Empire was getting all the attention now. Such is the fickleness of the public...
So it was without any feeling of fun that I sent the combined expeditionary force to the capital of the Milanese duchy, Lombardia.
I didn't get any enjoyment of the well-preserved, beautifully engraved document by which Charlemagne himself entrusted the Duchy to the Kings of Navarre, unearthed by the marvelous archaeologists of the Ministry of Truth in late February.
Although I must confess a certain satisfaction when the Duke of Toulouse sent me a report of the first battles. Our expeditionary force was not losing any skill.
But, all in all, I was not in a very mollified mood when I got news that the peasants in Córdoba were agitating for the return of the Mullahs to old Mosque, which I was turning into a Cathedral. More than a hundred of them, with a leading imam, had barricaded themselves inside the atrium of the Mosque and refused access to the workers. I ordered the governor to block the outer and inner doors of the atrium from the outside too (closing the way out and the way into the main building), bar every other exit, surround the place with troops to prevent anybody from entering or throwing anything inside, and go home for a month.
After ten days, the agitation ceased. After twenty, there were mass conversions. After a month, the doors of the Cathedral were reopened, and the surviving agitators were hanged and burned for cannibalism. Not long after that, it was hard to find a Cordobese without his crucifix.
In mid-April, Jaca fell (again) and I let cousin Sancho off the hook again. Probably I should have have him beheaded, as Granny suggested the first time, and he was probably expecting it. But I could not bring myself the make the effort. Standard vassalization package, and on to the next matter.
The war in Lombardy was going well, but I was quite dejected. I asked the Ministry for a well-aged, undoubtably authentic title to another of the Duke's provinces, and offered him peace straightaway, without waiting for the sieges to be decided. He bought and promptly burned the titles. Of course, part of the price was his vassalage.
So by May of 1082 we had gathered in six more provinces (not counting Auxerre).
But between García's bad health, the Borg's immersion in her work, and my wife Agne's celibate habits, it has not been a cheerful time. Laura's as shy as ever and the rest of the new team is not half as fun as the old. And some of my Muslim vassals look at me in a funny way.
Not to mention my magic mirror says we've sunk a bit in the global ranking.
Well... I hope the next time we meet, I'll have better news.
Converting pagans in the far North? Rebuilding the Western Roman Empire, or usurping the Eastern ?
Either could be interesting. Sancho is defensive (despite misleading appearances) and his game is played, but Luis... is a different story. We'll start hearing of him very shortly.
On the other hand, there is always Ireland.
Update:
One question. I've never tried to meddle seriously with the Papal States, but I read in these forums that if you conquer them, the Pope keeps asking for land. Does he ask the holder of Rome, or the Papal Controller, or...? Can the Pope himself be vassalized?
I've just thought of a land swap that may be interesting to play, if Luis can force the Pope's hand. But I don't see how.
?Either could be interesting. Sancho is defensive (despite misleading appearances) and his game is played, but Luis... is a different story
. We'll start hearing of him very shortly.On the other hand, there is always Ireland
.Update:
One question. I've never tried to meddle seriously with the Papal States, but I read in these forums that if you conquer them, the Pope keeps asking for land. Does he ask the holder of Rome, or the Papal Controller, or...? Can the Pope himself be vassalized?
I've just thought of a land swap that may be interesting to play, if Luis can force the Pope's hand. But I don't see how.
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