The Eastern Frontier, 817.
Maurice’s men cheered as the King of East Francia held his bloodied sword aloft, dripping down off the flanks of his sweat-flecked horse. The foray into the tribal Pagan kingdom of Greater Poland had been a bloody one, as Maurice had led his outriders into burning several of the outlying villages. But in early April, a response had come from the Polish King. Not in the form of a message, but an army, equipped and eager for battle.
Since this was what King Maurice had hoped for, he pulled back his scouts and placed his men into battle formation atop the western edge of a small plain, flanked by two steep, rolling hills on its left edge. There were few clever tactics or brilliant maneuverers, as the Pagans just swarmed forward to try and storm the Francian positions.
It went badly, and the bloodied Polish tribal king ended the day fleeing on horseback, clutching a wound from a spear thrust in his side. Not lethal alas, but enough to make him think twice before challenging the power of the armies of Christendom.
Enough, certainly, to win King Maurice his place in the council of his imperial brother.
For all the political motives behind the campaign, Maurice found he had quite enjoyed it in spite of himself. He had inherited at least some of his grandfather’s military talent, the skilled and experienced officers from the campaigns of his father elsewhere in the empire notwithstanding and found that the thrill of battle was one he took to well even when in overall command. Many soldiers expressed a newfound confidence in his ability to command, and he had solidified his hold over the lords of East Francia who might have doubted his military mettle or his ability to defend his throne against pretenders or challengers.
But now, to write to Emperor Renaud…
Paris, 817.
The Emperor’s wife was not a happy woman. Queen Radica did not seem to understand her husband, whose changing whims and moods often affected her most deeply. He never seemed to open up to her or to their son, content to keep her ignorant of his comings and goings, barely even speaking to her most days!
It had been vital for the Serbian alliance, he said, when asked why he had married her then, if he hadn’t actually liked her.
“And I like you well enough, for what you are.”
What on earth did that mean? Radica was unsure, for she had done her duty and begat her husband a son and heir, but he had shown no interest in repeating the process since then. Indeed, the very idea seemed to disgust him.
It could not have been known to her that the reasons for this supposed disgust did not bear any reasons to do with her. On the contrary, the problem, such as it was, was with her husband, with the secret that, if revealed, would be considered dark and shameful.
Her husband, far from loving women, was a lover of men.
It was a measure of Renaud’s remarkable discretion that no word nor whisper had ever reached his father Pepin, who would not have approved of what the Church considered vices, nor had it reached his oldest friend and closest brother Maurice, who considered it unmanly and degenerate an affliction. Close knowledge of his most intimate family had taught Renaud to keep this sinful part of himself hidden most closely. His wife, self-centred as she was, considered it her own fault, but he knew better.
So it was another dark mood that overtook him when he heard word that his favourite brother was coming home from the east, flush with the spoils of a successful campaign. From the tone of his message, he seemed to expect that a triumphant celebration would greet him upon arrival.
The Emperor had not ordered his brother’s return… so why would Maurice insist upon it? Had he truly believed that East Francia was meant as a punishment? Or did he play some game of his own? He would not have believed it before he took the throne as Emperor, but things looked different from atop the throne then from below it…
The word came to East Francia as King Maurice was preparing his plans to relocate back to the capital. But the messenger made it clear the Emperor’s wishes… Go away… stay home… you are not needed in the capital.
So much for my beloved brother Maurice thought, crumbling the note into his fist and tossing it aside carelessly. If his brother would leave him to rot here on the cold frontiers in the east, fine! Let him rot! When troubles arose again, Maurice had no doubt he would be needed, and he would be sent for.
In the meantime, he had other issues to attend to, namely, his wedding to Ermessende, new Queen of East Francia…
Paris, Francia.
As 817 became 818, the Emperor, fed up with Loup’s endless scheming, finally made a move designed to contain him. Since he remained both Emperor and King of Aquitaine, many of the lords complained about his lack of personal attention to their affairs. Besieged by the lords of Aquitaine, desiring a king to serve as their liege below the Imperial throne on the one hand, and still receiving entreaties for a throne from his brother Leon on the other, Emperor Renaud solved his dilemma by appointing his brother Leon ‘The Mule’ as King of Aquitaine.
A rather elegant solution it would’ve been, were Leon’s reputation for being mulish and rather stupid not already well-known. Aquitaine complained bitterly of the perceived slight, and at a banquet to mark the new year, the Duke of Gascony slighted the new King before the Emperor. Leon was infuriated when his brother let the comments pass, merely rebuking the Duke for his manners, but did not defend his brother’s competence, nor his intellect.
The spies of King Loup of Italia doubtless heard of this arrangement, so it was that King Loup used this opportunity to sow the seeds of the discord he had been planting…
January 20th 818.
“The King of Italia hereby declares himself and his lords reign over a free and independent kingdom, not subject to the dictates of the Emperor of Paris. He invites the subject kings of all other realms to join him in toppling imperial tyranny and restoring the proper order of Christendom, in the name of the Holy Father, and the name of our own mutual father Pepin the Bold.”
The messenger need not have feared for himself in relaying this decree to the imperial court. Renaud merely nodded, gestured for the guards to press a coin into the fellow’s hand, and then let him pass from the court. Even with such a declaration, harming one who came under a banner of parley would be a poor look…
Italia had declared in open rebellion at least, and it seemed to Renaud that the timing could not be worse. West Francia was suffering under internal strife, as a fight between Burgundy and King Karloman persisted, while Aquitaine, in it’s present grumbling mood, might be more inclined to raise up arms against the Empire rather than in favour of it…
“It’ll have to be Maurice, and the east then, that comes to our aid.” He muttered to himself, summoning his council into session, as he approached the first true test of his reign…
OOC: Apologies for taking so long on this one. Nevertheless, the post is done, and rebellion is in the air! It just remains to be seen how widespread this is, and how Renaud handles it... Thanks to everyone for their forbearance and patience
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