Song of the Karlings: Karloman's Legacy

[LPDK 356]

Through February and March, the Emperor’s forces harried and harassed the Saxons, pushing them out of the few remaining areas of the country under their control. On March 1st, Clothaire sent word that he had crossed the Elbe into Holstein, to ensure the area was completely subjugated, and to inspect and if necessary shore up the border defences with the Norsemen.

Karloman remained on Widukind’s tail, almost catching him on March 12th in an ambush near Bunschweig. He followed that up with an assault on the two thousand remaining Saxons under Widukind’s command at Verden on March 16th.

Since Karloman had the advantage of both numerical and tactical supremacy, he was in no hurry, his skirmishers pelted the Saxon line with slings and arrows while his infantry and horse slowly encircled them. Widukind, perhaps realising that they were cornered if they remained, personally led the Saxon heavy infantry into a charge of the Frankish line to attempt to break free. As the Frankish skirmishers fell back, the infantry met the charge.

Departing from his usual practice, Karloman was unhorsed, standing with an infantry reserve behind the spot at which Widukind’s charge was concentrated. Even tired and suffering from desertion and low morale, Saxon huscarls were formidable, and as the Frankish front began to buckle, the Emperor ordered his reserve forward and plunged headlong into battle itself.



It was pure accident he ran into Widukind himself, who was trying to rally some of his fleeing troops. Karloman rushed straight towards him, and with a snarl, the Saxon rebel launched across the field at him, meeting the Emperor face to face with blade and snarls.



Karloman blocked the first blow, so the Saxon King tried another, but his sword bit into the soft leather beneath the Emperor’s shield and was caught. Pushing his blade forward into an uppercut, Karloman thrust at Widukind’s face. A cry came up as the Emperor staggered back, pulling his shield free, and slashed with all his might…



The headless corpse sprayed blood and fell, lifeless to the ground, as a roar from the witnessing Franks went up. Seizing Widukind’s head as a triumphal trophy, the Emperor ordered his forces to mop up the survivors as they routed. No prisoners were taken, and no wounded were spared. Battered, bruised and bloodied from the duel, but victorious, Karloman returned to camp that night to accept the triumphant accolades of his troops. His personal slaying of the Saxon leader had already inspired many a tall tale as to how he bravely faced down the giant brute of a men and personally sliced off his head with his broadsword, cleaving a death blow to Widukind and the Saxon Rebellion in one fell swoop. Karloman ordered the head of the slain rebel to be sent to Melun, in Paris, where it would adorn a spike on the walls of the city, to remind all who would defy the Emperor of the price of that defiance.



The Third Saxon War ended, and the invader from the west had finally achieved complete victory…

Pavia, Kingdom of the Lombards, Italy, 776





It was on that same day, though further south that Desiderius, King of the Lombards finally rose from his sickbed. To his overjoyed son and heir, it was proof that his prayers were answered.



Once he had eaten and recovered, it was left to Adelchis to explain everything to his father, the ambush by Karloman, the betrothal pact that had been forced upon him, and the implicit threat of Frankish retaliation should that pact be broken.



“I see…” Desiderius had murmured, stroking his whitened beard in deep thought.



“You did what had to be done,” he said finally after long moments of consideration, “Defying Karloman when you were at his mercy would not have been wise. From what I know of him, he would’ve been quite capable of having you cut down there and then if you had displeased him, laws of hospitality be damned. But you are right, this engagement with his sister is a position from which we need to extract ourselves.”

Adelchis breathed a sigh of relief. His father had understood his position after all, and after almost a full year in command of his future kingdom, he was relieved to see his father back in command again. No more would the fractiousness of petty nobles, the squabbling with the Roman pontiff and the probing of the Frankish warlords be his concern, but his father’s once more. Of his health, Adelchis no longer had any concern. His father had dealt with it all before, for decades, he would again…





Saxony, April 776



Within a month, the Emperor was ready to depart. The Saxon rebellion was quelled, the populace pacified, ordered to take the worship of the One True God and the One True Church into their hearts, and the lands that were conquered had been divvied and distributed, as had the booty from the campaigns.

The Emperor’s victory feast the night before he left for home was a great banquet, roasted salmon, great platters of fruit and meats of all descriptions. Karloman, as was his want, ate sparingly and took his wine watered down, but even he smiled at some of the entertainment and laughed at the jester’s japes.



Leaving the following day, the Emperor of the Franks was confident that Saxony was once again secure. At long last, the Saxon Wars had come to an end, and the region was at peace once again. And if the new Frankish Emperor felt any regret at it largely being the peace of the grave, he gave no sign of it as he rode with his vanguard silently back across the Rhine, back towards home.

 

[Midnite Duke]

Great Victory! Duels are scary! I have lost leaders while suffering single digit casualties. The Biggest Winner . . . The Saxon Populace for now they can worship The One True God and enjoy Emperor Karloman's protection.

 

[Idhrendur]

Finally the Saxons have been constrained.

 

[slothinator]

Wow! I was not expecting that epic duel! Good on Karlomann being in the front lines and ending the war with one stroke.
And now on to bigger and greater things!

 

[LPDK 356]

Wow! I was not expecting that epic duel! Good on Karlomann being in the front lines and ending the war with one stroke.
And now on to bigger and greater things!

It ended fittingly indeed, and completely at random. Sometimes the RNG just throws up something perfect.

 

[JSB217118]

Sad to see the Saxons go. Their saga had some of your best writing.

 

[LPDK 356]

Sad to see the Saxons go. Their saga had some of your best writing.

Hopefully the next batch of it will be just as good!

 

[LPDK 356]

August, 776.



The day had come, Princess Gisela of Francia, sister of Karloman and Karl, and daughter of Pepin the Short was to be sent south under an honour guard, to be escorted to the court of King Desiderius of Lombardy, where she would marry Adelchis, his son and heir. Under the terms of the agreement Karloman had made with the Prince, their children would be Karlings, meaning that after Adelchis’s reign, the line of Karl ‘The Hammer’ Martel would sit upon the throne of Italy as well.



Gisela had cried a little upon her leaving, but it was her conversation with her mother that had eased her mind. She had long been prepared for this day, raised that she must do her duty by her House and wed when she was told and whom she was told. For Gisela, this duty had come later than most, but it had now come to her.



Even Karloman seemed a little uneasy at the prospect of sending his sister south. Not a man given to big displays of public affection, he surprised his sister by publicly embracing her before she was due to leave.



“Be careful,” he had counselled her, “And write me often. If he is not good to you, I will hear of it.”



She didn’t have time to ponder what might have prompted that ominous remark, nor the meaning behind the venom in Karloman’s words as he spoke of Adelchis, but it was when she arrived in Pavia that she began once again feeling alone. The Lombard court was a suspicious, unfriendly place, particularly for a princess of the Franks, whose engagement had, in their eyes, been unduly forced upon them while King Desiderius had not been able to refuse it.



But of course, this was the dilemma, for Prince Adelchis and his father desperately did not want the engagement, knowing full well that, as soon as Adelchis wedded this Frankish princess and gave her a son, a Karling son, he would no longer be of any use to Karloman. Desiderius was formidable, but he was old and his powers were flagging. With his death fast approaching due to the slow decay of time, he knew that if his son took this Frankish princess to bed, it would doom the Lombards to annexation from the north.



But simply breaking the engagement was not an option. It would provide a pretext for Karloman to go to war, in defense of his sister’s besmirched honour… which of course was exactly what Karloman was hoping they would do. Desiderius knew better than most that nobody in Europe would blink twice at Karloman raising his banners in defense of his family and his sister’s wounded honour, especially if they were the ones perceived as having done the insult to the Franks. Likewise, they couldn’t simply marry her and then secure a divorce later, as that would require Papal permission, and in his present allegiance, the Pontiff Honorious II was far more inclined to side with the Franks than the Lombards in any such dispute, especially since it was the donatives of Pepin the Short, Karloman’s father, that had given him his present domains in Italia.



How then, to walk the careful path that Karloman had laid for them without falling into its traps? Father and son had strategized for weeks, to no avail. Then, just before Gisela’s arrival, Adelchis had hit upon his brainchild.



“I know she has to come father, and she does have to stay with us, but we made no promises as to precisely when the wedding would be held.” He explained carefully, “Why not delay it? There will be some excuse, especially with the Venetian delegation coming tomorrow. Drag that out for weeks or months, and we play for time. If the Franks protest, then we insist that any wedding that is held must be fit for the grandeur of a Frankish princess, and we would not do Gisela the dishonour of insulting her by hosting a hasty or ill-prepared event.”

Desiderius cracked a wide smile, “It’s brilliant!” He exclaimed, then frowned thoughtfully, “It doesn’t solve the problem long term, but it does give us time, potentially a lot of time to play with. Karloman will know what we’re doing of course, but he won’t be able to publicly construe it as an insult to his family or sister, nor will he have the pretext for war that he so desperately wants.”


So a strange, unspoken duel for the fate of the Kingdom of the Lombards began, with poor lonely Gisela a pawn on the board. She quickly made herself busy when told that the wedding would not be immediately, walking around the gardens, exploring the city of Pavia, talking to the townsfolk and craftsmen that lined its streets. Because she was a rather pleasant and quick-witted girl, many whom she spoke to remembered her afterwards, and pitied her predicament.



But it was a different sort of dilemma that was engaging the minds of her closest relatives further north…



Paris, Melun. Court of Emperor Karloman Karling.



The news that the Lombards were attempting to delay Gisela’s nuptials came as no surprise to Karloman, who had anticipated treachery of this kind. Adelchis no doubt felt as though he had been bullied into the betrothal in the first place. But the Emperor saw fit to bide his time. Desiderius was old and ailing and would not live forever, and from what Karloman had seen of him, the son was not the equal of the father who had so legendarily quarrelled with his own father, Pepin the Short.



So the Emperor whiled away his days with plans for new constructions and opening of trade. He made contact with some moneylenders, some Jews who were prepared to finance some of his building projects in Saxony and in Northern Francia, and from there turned for aid to his Steward, Duke Rodolf in planning the projects.



It was a petition from some of his subjects that first brought fourth the disturbing allegations. Rumours of raiding parties. Soldiers, bearing the Emperor’s banner seizing the goods and money of his subjects without authorisation. The Emperor’s investigation led him to the source of these outrages… his own Marshal, the Blind Lion Maurad…



It was with a seething, cold fury that Karloman ordered the Marshal brought before him in chains in open court. Deprived of his attendants, who normally guided his steps through his day, the Marshal was forced to his knees before the throne, empty eyes gazing upwards where he knew the Emperor was sat.



Karloman angrily had him stripped of all titles and powers, ordered him to pay a fine to the Treasurey, which the Emperor promised would be returned to those affected by the thievery once the surveyors had calculated the amount that had been damaged or stolen from them. Then he ordered him banished. Where he went, Karloman did not care. He would not imprison a man who would not survive the experience, and he could not in good conscience execute a man who had done him unimpeachable service before this point.



So it was that Karloman lost one of his most useful supporters… And the danger around him begun to close in…



December, 776.



A chance meeting, a tavern rendezvous, a few clandestine words spoken under the cover of the song and entertainment of a formal banquet. The plot, begun in secret some months prior to the Third Saxon War, had been building now for many months. Some were former loyalists of King Karl, and they despised Karloman the Cruel, the usurper, as they called him.

The plan was to strike at him, kill the would-be Emperor and place Karl’s bastard, Pepin the Hunchback on the throne. He had been sent to Escuens after Karl’s death, to serve as a page. Not really suited to be a King, but those who thought to make him one were fully aware that unsuitable Kings often gave full power to their advisors…



It was just a matter of dealing with Karloman…


OOC: A dispute with the Lombards heats up, will Adelchis and Desiderius extricate themselves? And what about poor Gisela? And is Karloman about to face an unpleasant situation closer to home?

 

[Midnite Duke]

To those who thought that you were an one trick pony with your excellent Saxon saga, I say 'Balderdash'! Lombardy, slippery as an eel. Ambitious nobles, venomous as a nest of vipers. Will you keep an eye on the blind marshal? May God Bless You, My Emperor.

 

[Idhrendur]

Plenty of people who want him dead, but he's wily.

 

[LPDK 356]

To those who thought that you were an one trick pony with your excellent Saxon saga, I say 'Balderdash'! Lombardy, slippery as an eel. Ambitious nobles, venomous as a nest of vipers. Will you keep an eye on the blind marshal? May God Bless You, My Emperor.

Many thanks for your confidence in me!

Plenty of people who want him dead, but he's wily.

He is that. But will it be enough?


Thanks as always to those who are reading and commenting, it means a lot to get such interest in something you wrote. This is, by far, the biggest personal writing project I've undertaken, with close to 40000 words produced so far and much, much more to come. I'm so thankful for those whose interest and support has helped keep this story going.

As a treat while we wait for the next post, I'd like to give up another screenshot. Some people were asking about stats and traits, so I thought I'd show off Karloman's circa the late 770s.

As you can see, he has decent Martial and Personal Combat Skills, but it's in Diplomacy (16) and Intrigue (18) where he's really excelling. He also started with the Grey Eminence trait, giving him much better diplomatic prowess than he might otherwise have. That said, his Stewardship is his biggest weakness, with it only being 8. He's Temperate, Diligent, Just and Ambitious but also Cruel and Envious, which makes for a fascinating mixture of traits to use and play upon in the story, since I'm trying to draw him as close to what the in-game character was like as possible. On the military side of things, he's got both Cavalry Leader and Inspiring Leader traits developed during the Saxon Wars, so that's why he's often leading the reserve on horseback.


But it's his mother Bertrada who of course really excels in the Intrigue...

An Intrigue score of 21... Yikes. That said, her skills in Intrigue are only a bit better than Karloman's, but she's far less diverse in other areas, with not a lot of diplomatic or money-making potential. That's why she's the spymaster, and seems to spend every waking hour plotting. Still though, her motives are in securing Pepin's legacy, so she's not going to turn on Karloman unless something... really drastic happens, since he's kind of the only son she's got left.


Just thought that would be an interesting few tidbits to chew upon while you wait for the next post. My coursework and thesis will be kicking me down the road if I don't finish some of that first, so the next post will be up in a few days.

 

[Midnite Duke]

Bertrada is fascinating! On a personal level, one notices her losses as she is a mother who has had four of her six children die, the youngest three in childhood. While intrigue of 21 is scary good, it could easily be more. Her minimal education (naive appeaser) added nothing to intrigue, while elusive shadow would have pushed her to legend level of 30. A seduction or intrigue focus could have been another two or three. Her intrigue base (before traits) is probably higher than the total for any other stat (martial high at 10). She is a natural figure of the shadows. Good luck with your courses.

 

[slothinator]

I feel bad for poor Gisela being jerked around by these political considerations.
It's a shame to hear about Maurad but he should have known better than to embezzle from Karlomann.
Oooh that's an exciting ending, I'm looking forward to finding out more about this plot, I'm sure the Lombards would be happy to help out.

Good luck with the thesis!

 

[LPDK 356]

January 777,

Melun, Paris

“Pepin,” Father Geraud tapped the parchment with his long, spindly fingers, “Concentrate please,”

The young boy shook his head, “Sorry, I was just thinking…”

“You are troubled,” the old priest said softly, “And when the mind is troubled, the body is distracted as well. You must learn to leave your troubles to the side when it is time to work. A King doesn’t allow troubles to distract him from his duties.”



And what about Emperors? Little Pepin wondered to himself, for he knew that was his father’s title now. Will I be an Emperor too? As he is now?



As if summoned on the wind by a stray thought, at that moment, the wooden door to the study swung open, and there stood Pepin’s father, Karloman, Emperor of the Franks.



“Your Majesty,” old Father Geraud stiffly went down on his old knees, “My apologies, I did not hear them announce your arrival.”

“They did not announce it, it was unplanned,” Karloman gave a small, strained smile, “Please stand Father, I’ll not have your old knees creak on my account when your services are still necessary.”

The old man straightened gratefully, “My thanks to you sire, what can we do for you?”


“If I may, I would like to have a few moments with my son.” The Emperor replied.



Geraud’s eyes widened in surprise, but he concealed it quickly. It was rare for Karloman to take such a direct interest in Pepin’s lessons as to arrive in the middle of them. “Of course, I shall leave you alone for now.”


“It shan’t be for long,” Karloman assured him kindly, and the old man stiffly made his way towards the door.



“Stand son,” Karloman commanded softly, when the old man was gone.



Pepin rose to his feet, rather nervous about the presence of this near-stranger who was his father, so often away on campaign and so often distant when he was present physically. He shifted nervously on his feet as he felt that unsparing, critical gaze in those pale eyes that ran over him.



He had grown, had young Pepin, and his limbs were stockier than he had remembered. Bertrada said the boy did well in his early sparring, and Karloman could see well. He would not inherit the shortness that his father and grandfather had been cursed with. Pepin would be tall and muscly, more akin to Karloman’s late brother Karl.

The hair and eyes were those of Gerberga, his late wife, warm and brown and soft wavy hair in a mop, unlike the sparse blonde that populated Karloman’s head. His face was brighter too, the skin more coloured and red than Karloman’s pale complexion that burned in the heat. The boy looked more like the mother Karloman had ordered slain than he did himself. Even more than he looked like his brother Karl in his youth.



Karloman was not sure he liked the resemblance.



“You’ve grown since I last saw you,” was all he said to the little boy before him.



“Grandmother says it’s my first growth spurt” the nine-year old replied.



“She’s probably right,” was all the Emperor said in response.



There was an awkward silence for some moments. How was an Emperor who commanded the lives of thousands to address the changes that would soon need to be made in the life of the son he barely knew? The son who reminded him of the wife who had betrayed him, and the brother he had murdered, merely by his appearance.



Best get over that fact swiftly, he admonished himself, If he’s to be your heir, you’d better get used to looking at him.



“How do you like your lessons?”

“I enjoy them father.”

“Which ones do you like best?”

“My numbers, arithmetic, and geography Father,” little Pepin replied.



“Not reading and writing?”



“No Father,” the boy’s face went a little red at that, “I’m not as good at those,”

“Interesting…” For Karloman himself, it had been the other way around.



“Keep working on them then. Father Geraud is skilled at those subjects, and he was my tutor before he was yours, so don’t forget to keep asking him to help.”

“I will, father.”


The boy got the strangest feeling that his father felt just as nervous speaking to him as he did in speaking to his father.



“I will not interrupt your lessons further today Pepin, but I hope to start seeing you more frequently in the coming months,” Karloman stated, “Maybe I can try to make some of your weapons training sessions. Would you mind if I did?”


“No father,” the boy replied, and was surprised to find that he spoke the truth.



“Very well, I’ll speak to Father Geraud and see what else I can arrange.” He paused, those pale, piercing eyes softened a little and a small smile crossed that strained white face. “Keep working son.”


And then the Emperor was gone, swept from the room as though he had never been.



April, 777. Pavia, Kingdom of the Lombards



The day that Adelchis had feared had come again. His father had taken ill to his sick bed a second time. The negotiations with the Venetians, and then with the Africans had been enough to delay the marriage to Gisela for some months, but his father’s returned illness had disrupted the ploy.



And suddenly, it all felt like it might fall upon him… If his father fell, Karloman would be riding over the border, with all the might of the Frankish armies behind him in a second. There would be no choice soon but to either go through with this forced engagement and marry Gisela, giving up the kingdom to Frankish rule, or to fight…



And if he fought, he was not sure he could win.



Seeing the look upon his face, Frederico gently touched his arm. “Steady my good prince. Your father is not done for yet.”



“But he soon will be,” Adelchis replied glumly. “He’s not long for this world.”


His best friend patted his arm comfortingly. “It’s in the hands of God now, only he can decide. All we can do is pray he delivers Lombardy to a better fate than the one the Franks plan for us.”

And be thankful I have you, Adelchis thought, For you are my rock in the wind, the bit of floatsam that I cling to in the storm. Without you as my sword arm and shield, I could not face the thought of ruling alone old friend.



The two young men sat quietly, side by side together until the early hour of the dawn, when King Desiderius of Lombardy finally breathed his last, shuddering sigh.



“The King is dead,” the medicus said softly, after checking the old man’s body for any fleeting signs of life. “Long live the King.”



And so it begins…





Gascogne, Frankia, late 777.



For Duke Theodoric of Burgundy and Duke Loup of Gascogne, the meeting was fraught with significance.



All of them, assembled in one place, finally at last.



Seven men stood in that room, of which Theodoric and Loup were the unofficial leaders. The few that had little love for each other were united only by their greater dislike of Karloman…



As for Duke Loup, he knew his own motives as well as ever. He had been one of the few whom had originally conspired to ensure Karloman’s elevation over his elder brother in the first place, and played a critical role in the plot that brought him to the throne. And what had it bought him? A measly advisory seat on the King’s council, advice given, which Karloman mostly ignored, and continued attention from that bitch, the Queen Mother and her spies.

He had hoped Pepin’s old widow might be moved on after Karloman’s rise, but Karloman not only pardoned her, he kept her around, brought her back to spy for him, and there she still was, eyes always searching and mind always turning, in the background of every feast, every hunt, spies always burrowing through the castles and holdfasts of every lord in the realm. Nothing escaped her, and nobody was safe from her.



As for Theodoric, he had risen higher, Duke of Burgundy was not a mean posting, but his motives were far more personal. It had been his brother, the Count of Charlois, whom had been intended to inherit this current position. A position he never would receive, since Karloman had chopped his head off for intriguing with the old Queen Gerberga.



So these two men, brought together by regret, dissatisfaction and fear, contrived to end what one of them had played such a key role in beginning, the end of the reign of Karloman.



“We could do it at the feast of Saint Matthias, ” (Feb 24th) Loup stated, that unsettlingly lopsided wolfish smile coming to form. “Karloman has a different cupbearer every couple of months, and his current one is nearing the point at which he’d remove them, so probably best to wait until then.”


“So we’re agreed on it being poison?” Theodoric asked,



“I’ve managed to acquire the toxin,” Loup nodded, “A few drops in the wine, and he’ll be dead in a few hours. Doesn’t taste great if you drink it in large quantities either, but a few drops is all you’d need for it to be quite fatal.”



“Then all that remains is finding a way to bribe the cupbearer not to notice when we drop the poison in.”


“And finding a way to make sure his bitch of a mother doesn’t notice” Loup replied darkly. It was Bertrada whom he primarily hated. Hated and feared.



“That too,” turning now to the others, the Duke of Burgundy raised his formidable black eyebrows in a scowl.



“Is everyone else agreed and understood on their parts?” They all nodded, wordlessly. Not that many of them had much choice. Theodoric and Loup were the prime movers of this little play.



“Perfect,”



Whether it actually was ‘perfect’ for the conspirators was a revelation that would soon come to pass.


OOC: Apologies for the slowness of this post. I really wanted to introduce Pepin well as a character and flesh out the major players of the conspiracy to some degree, is anyone surprised Loup now plots against Karloman as he once plotted for him? RL work of course is of big importance too, so it took a little while to get things to a standard I was happy with. Happy reading and for those who have it, I hope you've had a happy Holiday weekend

 

[Midnite Duke]

Beware my emperor, for every closet conceals a knave.

 

[Idhrendur]

All the schemes are in full flight.

 

[slothinator]

Nice to finally meet Pepin! Karlomann is not at all a loving father but hopefully, Pepin will manage to become a good ruler in any case.
Poor Adelchis, he's in quite the unenviable situation, I fear he shall not stay king for long.
Oh...this plot might throw a wrench into things...

 

[LPDK 356]

September 26th 777,

Constantinopolis, City of the World’s Desire. Hagia Sofia.



It was beneath the great dome of that most magnificent Hagia Sofia that Leon IV was proclaimed Basileus of the Empire of Romanion.



Alongside his wife, Eirene of Athens, Leon made through the motions of the coronation ceremony that were traditional before the Patriarch of Constantinopolis.



Those observers who were beneath that dome might have noted the peculiar tension that underlined the event however, for all was not well within the Empire. The Iconoclast Controversy was raging on and, like his father, the new Emperor shared the sentiments of those who felt that depictions of the holy figures was blasphemy.



Which made his choice of bride all the more curious, for Eirene’s family was not known for it’s sympathy of the Iconoclasts. Many courtiers had speculated the alliance was a peace offering. A gesture of reconciliation, meant to bridge the gap between the new Iconoclast movement and those who had opposed them, to end the destructive religious infighting, at a time when the Bulgars were pressing on the borders, and had even seized territory on the south side of the Danube.



Whether the wedding would lead to a new era of peace, or was merely a pause in the inevitable sectarian bloodletting to come was not something those present felt compelled to speculate on.





February 778, Melun, Paris.



It started with a whisper in the dark, a whiff of danger which Queen Mother Bertrada’s ears were well-practiced at receiving by now. One did not serve as spymaster for three Frankish Kings and not become well-practiced at being alert to signs of danger. From there, a chance meeting of one of her agents, and then an induction, a swearing to secrecy…

Before long, one of her spies had an ringside view of the conspiracy against Emperor Karloman.



Loup and Theodoric of Burgundy, she thought, face contorting into the bitterest of smiles, No surprises in those names. My son’s past misadventures come back to haunt him. Theodoric’s brother had been executed for his intrigues with Karloman’s first wife, Gerberga, and Loup had been a turncoat, who had pledged his allegiance to Karl, then conspired in his downfall


Loup, Duke of Gascogne, it was his treachery that had ensured Karl’s death. Bertrada was hardly blind, Loup’s hatred of her was rather well-known, and it wasn’t surprising that Karloman’s decision to bring her back might have prompted his enemity.



But to push him to murder? Clearly he was more desperate than she had credited.



As was her custom when such things were discovered, the Queen Mother shut herself inside her chambers, had her servants refuse entry to all visitors, even to her son, the Emperor. And plotted.



Pavia, Kingdom of Lombardy



The struggle for Lombardy began before Desiderius’s corpse was cold.



The now King Adelchis knew full well he needed the legitimacy of a Papal coronation to justify his upcoming conflict with the Franks. A coronation that the pro-Frankish Pope Honorius II was unlikely to grant him, especially under Karloman’s pressure.



It was fortunate then that the stars aligned as they did, for it was early in the year that the Fraticelli heresy had once again emerged in Northern Italy, seeking to challenge Papal legitimacy in Italy. An opportunity, for the King who dared to seize it.



If it was surprising that the Fratacelli in the south of the Kingdom suddenly appeared better armed than before, and if they suddenly began launching attacks on the borders of the petty state ruled by the Roman Pontiff, well, the price was small, for the pressure such a conflict would put upon the Pontiff. Crowning Adelchis however, would make the problem disappear for him, as quickly as it had begun.



It was over those first weeks that Gisela was convinced that word would come from her betrothed, surely he would marry her now? But days turned to weeks and then a month, and no such word came. Eventually the princess had stopped her walks, taking instead to pacing impotently around her rooms.



King Adelchis, with his new Seneschal, Frederico instead had turned his mind to war with the Franks. He had no wish to marry Gisela, but he knew as soon as he turned her out, Karloman would come, bearing the might of all the Frankish armies at his back.



And we cannot withstand them unless we can expose their invasion as lacking legitimacy, for which we need Papal support. One can only hope Honorius sees the error of his ways when a Fraticelli mob is breaking down his gates…



“Cheer up Highness,” Frederico said, giving the King an easy grin, “You’ll work things out for the best, you always do.”


“Father was better at this than I am,”


“Your father had longer to learn than you did,” Frederico replied, “I’m sure you’ll manage, even if you have to marry the Frankish girl.”

Was that a trace of melancholy in Frederico’s tone?

“I don’t want to marry the Frankish girl,” Adelchis replied, “And I won’t.”

“Fair enough,” Frederico replied, relief in his voice, “But you’ll have to marry someone,”


“Eventually, probably,” Adelchis admitted, stomach clenching at the thought, “But not tonight,” his face softened, “Tonight, I want to stay up and… pray. Would you accompany me, as your sovereign?”


Frederico stared at him, a matching grin stretching across those handsome features, “Aye, I would, as my King commands,”


Adelchis was about to smile further when a knock on the door interrupted them, cursing inwardly, he tartly replied, “Enter.”



A servant poked his head around the door, “Highness, the Duke of Milan has sent a visitor here, under escort. He has said you will want to meet him.”


“Very well,” Adelchis sighed, suppressing his irritation with an apologetic glance at Frederico, “I’ll meet him now.”



Their ‘visitor’ as it turned out, was anything but. A large, burly man with tattered clothes, but a bearing that marked him as someone of nobility of character and with the strength of an ox. Most remarkable however, were the eyes, as two blank, empty orbs stared out at him from within the man’s tanned face.



“And who might this be?” Adelchis demanded of his guards.



After conferring for a moment with his fellows, his Guard Captain responded, “Sire, he claims to be Maurad, the Blind Lion of Frankia, and former commander of the armies of King Karloman…”


OOC:
Did I just plant a gun on the wall with the Byzantines, Chekov style? Yep! Will I fire it? You betcha, at some point. Just threw that one in there for some tantalising hints about the future, but for the moment, all eyes are on Frankia and Lombardy, and the duel between Karloman and Adelchis. It's Adelchis who has the worse position, but a few schemes and turns of fortune are conspiring to try and ruin Karloman's day. Whom will triumph? We shall see.

 

[LPDK 356]

Nice to finally meet Pepin! Karlomann is not at all a loving father but hopefully, Pepin will manage to become a good ruler in any case.
Poor Adelchis, he's in quite the unenviable situation, I fear he shall not stay king for long.
Oh...this plot might throw a wrench into things...

He's trying, but 'doting dad' is not really in Karloman's character, and he's had a lot on his mind of late. We'll see if he gets any better at it as he goes along.

All the schemes are in full flight.

Aye, but Bertrada's onto the plotters now, and having her on the tail of your scheme is never a good spot to be in.

 

[Midnite Duke]

One needs to arise early, to be able to outplot Bertrada. Are the Lombards suicidal or just crazy? My Emperor, trust your mother.