Latium, October 780
The Lollard mob was broken, dispersed by the arrival of the Frankish force. Around a thousand heretics were killed or forced to flee that day, scattering away like dust carried upon a wind.
Satisfied with his control over Italia, Karloman Karling dispersed the majority of his army, and encamped his small cavalry contingent outside the walls of Rome. Within a day, Pope Honorius II was inviting him into the city.
He rode beneath the gates accompanied only by a small cavalry bodyguard, dressed in a simple white and blue surcoat, and with only the crown the Pope had once placed upon his head to ornament his status. His horsemen carried his standard reversed, so the people of Rome knew he entered the city not as conqueror, but as friend.
He dismounted before the walls of the Vatican and strode ahead to the centre flanked only by a pair of his most trusted men, also dismounted.
His Holiness Honorius II was waiting for him. The small, mouse-like man with the nervous face greeted him with a tense, but genuine smile.
“Your Holiness, the heretics are dispersed and the King of the Lombards is broken, as you requested. We have arrived to inform you that, by the good grace of Almighty God, we have triumphed, and the orders of Holy Mother Church have been carried out.”
Karloman’s words were strong, and clear, ringing out across the small crowd of cardinals and church officials that waited behind his Holiness.
“And I will not forget it,” the Pope responded, “Nor am I ungrateful to the King of the Franks for his efforts.”
‘King’, the word was spoken softly, but of course, Karloman knew the Pope could not acknowledge his presumption of imperial title… not yet anyway. While the line of Rome still ruled in the east, he could not be publicly acknowledged.
“We only sought to do our duty to your Holiness, and to Almighty God,” Karloman replied smoothly.
“And you shall be rewarded for those efforts,” The Pope replied, dismissing his attendants with a regal wave of his hands.
“Come, walk with me, King Karloman.”
Karloman nodded to his guards to stay put, and took his Holiness by the arm gently at his request. They both strode into the vestibule of the large cathedral, in silence as they moved towards the private chambers of the Papal leadership.
The Pope himself dismissed his servants from his sitting room, and commanded the King to sit.
“I thank you for your assistance Karloman,” The Pope began. Away from the crowd, that mouse-like temperament was back and the nervousness began to re-assert itself. “I knew when I called for your help that I could rely upon the Franks to be true friends of Rome.”
Karloman inclined his head respectfully. “My father’s donations are the ones that confirmed the Your Holiness in it’s current dominions”, he began, “I did not regard the Lombard’s efforts to tamper with those dispositions as legitimate, nor do I condone arming heretics to attack the legitimate representatives of the Church.”
“I am glad we saw eye to eye on such a matter.”
“On that and many other matters I hope, Your Holiness.”
“You have come to receive your reward then?” The Pope asked,
Careful how you answer.
“If Your Holiness deems me worthy.”
“It is God alone that determines worthiness,” the Pope replied, “But as His representative, I am empowered on behalf of Christ to make the bequest.”
“What bequest be that?” Karloman asked.
“As it so happens, I have a bequest greater than any other.” The Pope replied, a sly grin forming across his face, “Have you heard the news from the East?”
“No,” Karloman replied, news travelled slowly from the east these days, and his attention had been elsewhere, “What has happened?”
“The Basileus in Constaninople, Leon IV, has been overthrown, the Patriarch overturned. His widow, Irene of Athens murdered him, and seized the throne for herself on behalf of her son. The imperial throne lies beneath the yoke of a usurper, and a woman at that.”
“You mean…”
“Aye,” the Pope continued, “The line of the Emperors of Rome is broken. The throne of the Empire is vacant, and the Patriarch who might be empowered to choose one under other circumstances is dead. Needless to say, there isn’t even an agreement between Iconoclast and Iconodules as to who the Patriarch even is.” The Pope’s tone was disgusted.
It had indeed been the right decision for Karloman to march south into Italia…
“Then… By what legitimacy does Irene claim to rule the east?”
“By none that I can see,” the Pope agreed solemnly. “Though I confess, her sympathies are decidedly opposed to the Iconoclasts, so that might have even been an improvement were she not completely illegitimate as a contender.”
“So there needs to be a new Emperor.”
“Aye,” the Pope smiled, “And the Patriarch is not fit to provide one. But the Latin priests here in the west who answer to my call have a duty, an obligation to ensure the legacy of the Church and of Christ is protected. How can we protect it when no one worthy sits the holy throne?”
“Only by finding another,” Karloman agreed carefully.
“Aye, by finding another. Another who stands head and shoulder above all the Kings of the west, who has the strength of arms to enforce a claim, and who has the righteousness to stand with the party of God here in this earth. And there is only one,”
“Is there now?” A sly grin crossed Karloman’s face, “Who might that be, your Holiness,”
“One who will guarantee the protection and recognition of the Church,” Pope Honorius continued, “One who will ensure it’s powers of investiture are respected…”
Here comes the price,
“And that the
filoque is maintained, even at the cost of a doctrinal dispute with the Greek churches of the east.”
Karloman already agreed with the second condition, and the first point was a minor concession to begin with. What did it matter if the Emperor appointed bishops, when he had his power from a coronation granted by the Church itself? Leave matters of the priesthood to the priests, so long as those priests were prepared to lend legitimacy to Imperial matters.
“I think any candidate for such an honour would need to respect those conditions, Your Holiness.”
“And I think I’ve found one who will,” the Pope replied.
They spoke about more trivial things for another hour, but both men were pleased by how this meeting transpired. The Pope had secured confirmation that the Donations of Pepin would be restored and guaranteed, the legitimacy of the Papacy over the Latin church respected, and Karloman had security that the legitimacy of his new conquests… and his desire for an imperial title, would be acquiesced to.
Once it was done, Karloman immediately dispatched riders to Toulon, carrying messages informing his mother and family of the victories, and inviting them to come south, to Rome.
His Holiness had a momentous occasion planned…
December 25th 780 anno domini. St Peter’s Basilica,
The Christmas Mass in St Peter’s began like any other presided over by his Holiness. Only once the Frankish men arrived did anything out of the ordinary emerge.
Flanked by his bodyguards, their weapons ceremonial for the day in deference to Papal sovereignty, Karloman Karling entered the basilica clad entirely in a white surcoat. He knelt calmly before the altar. In amongst the worshipping crowd, both his mother Bertrada and all his children stood, watching with pride the ruler of all the Franks receive his prize…
Kneeling before the altar, Karloman’s head remained bowed as Pope Honorius II lifted the golden-jewelled crown from the altar, and, speaking Latin, gently placed the crown upon his head. With this act, the pregnancy of the moment became clear to all present.
As a long silence reigned over the hall, Karloman Karling, who had knelt as King of the Franks and Lombards, rose as
Imperator Romanorum, Emperor of the Franks and Romans, heir to Caesar, and protector of Holy Mother Church.
It was a day long in the making, and would be a day long remembered…
A History of the Carolingian Empire,
Dr Robert Guichard, P.D.
His vanquishing of the Kingdom of the Lombards earned Karloman, now calling himself Emperor, considerable prestige. The traditional enemies of the Franks, even his father, Pepin the Short, had not been able to firmly vanquish them. In a campaign lasting just several months, Karloman destroyed the major Italian rival of the Franks, and removed the principal obstacle to Papal dominion in Central Italy.
Both the Pope Honorius II and Karloman gained from Lombardy’s destruction. Karloman expanded his royal demesne and his kingdom, and removed a major rival in western Europe. The Pope got security on his northern border, a friendly Frankish Empire to protect his interests, and Karloman’s support in the ongoing doctrinal disputes with the Eastern Church.
Though not yet a formal split, the Pope took advantage of the instability within the Eastern Empire to claim that the throne of the Roman Empire was vacant and, usurping the traditional prerogatives of the Patriarch in Constantinople, crowned Karloman as Holy Roman Emperor, effectively a new Augustus in the West.
Howls of protest would soon emerge from Constaninople, and it turns out the legal basis for this action (That Irene of Athens was not a legitimate ruler of the Empire), quickly proved to be no longer valid, as Irene had already been toppled from her throne by the time the coronation of Karloman occurred.
But the damage was done, a new Augustus ruled in the West while the revolving door of pretenders continued in the East… But it would not long until events in both Roman Empires would collide…
Before the Coronation, Early December 780, Rome, Italy.
Bertrada arrived in a covered wagon, carried on her journey by two well-groomed horses. It wasn’t the most ornate mode of transport, and little distinguished it from the other wagons carrying the other courtiers Karloman had summoned to Rome from Toulon, but she preferred it that way. Anonymity suited Bertrada, and her way of operating in the world. She had not been Pepin, Karl and now Karloman’s ears to the wider world without learning discretion and subterfuge.
News that Karloman had vanquished the Lombards and taken the throne of their people for himself had come as no great surprise to her. Whatever his other qualities, her son had always known his way around a battlefield.
And as she arrived in Rome, it became clear that his diplomacy had played as well as his battles. Unexpectedly, her son had secured Honorius II’s backing for his claim to the title of ‘Emperor’, a position usually reserved only for the Emperor in Constantinople.
“But with Irene of Athens having usurped Leon, His Holiness decreed it was best if he took the initiative and crowned a proper Emperor,” her son continued, as the conversation turned to his new title.
“Hmm,” Betrada replied, deep in thought.
“What be your concern mother? Are you well?”
“I am well my son, though curious as to how I know what His Holiness has apparently missed.”
“What?” Karloman asked, a look of alarm crossing his face.
She told him, the grave news her spies had carried upon the western winds, bringing news of renewed turmoil in Constantinople.
“Irene was toppled by a coalition of Iconoclasts and fled the city,” Bertrada informed him, “Christophorus rules as Emperor now, and pursues Irene relentlessly, I am told.”
“So,” the blood drained from his face, “She’s been deposed?”
“Yes,” Bertrada said bluntly, “Rather swiftly, I am told.”
“And who else knows this?”
“So far as I can tell, only myself and my spies, certainly not His Holiness, for if he knew, he would have second thoughts about this coronation.”
“Indeed he would,” Karloman agreed, “Best not to tell him then, wouldn’t you say?”
“Indeed,” Bertrada nodded, pleased that her son was remaining calm despite this disappointing news, she had been prepared for a tantrum, “Though the word will get out eventually.”
“Hopefully only after I am crowned, at which point it will be a
fait’d accompli,” Karloman replied,
“At which point you’ll still have Christophorus to deal with,”
“Perhaps,” Karloman murmured, “Perhaps not,”
A change came over his face, and he grinned widely,
“What?” Bertrada asked warily, she knew that look, an idea had struck him.
“I have a brilliant idea,”
“Oh?”
“Do you happen to have any clue where Irene of Athens fled to after leaving Constantinople?”
“We heard rumours, some say Epirus, as she has supporters there, but not for certain no, Why?”
His grin widened, and he turned away to face towards the door.
“Have one of your scouts carry a message, first go to Epirus, then if she’s not there, keep searching until he finds her. I have a proposition to make.”
Back at the Coronation, December 25th Rome, Italy.
An awed young Pepin Karling watched that great golden crown descend onto his father’s head, too overcome with reverence to really soak in the emotion of the moment. While his father’s absence had temporarily made the boy sad, he had been missing the closer relationship he had been developing with his father until then, he had been proud to hear of his defeat of the Lombards, and overjoyed to receive the news that he and his younger sisters would be travelling to Rome.
Now he stood here, in the Basilica of Saint Peter himself, watching the head of the Latin Church place the crown of the Emperor upon his father’s head. The crown that would be
his one day, if he had any say in it.
Beaming with pride, he clapped with the rest of them, smiled with the crowd, and laughed and played at the subsequent feast. When the mass became a feast, and the feast gave way to darkness, Pepin was unsurprised to find himself summoned to his father’s chambers just before bed time.
His father looked well, refreshed and ready for action, that wondrous crown upon his head seemed to gleam, seemed to make him taller, more radiant than he was before. That normally gaunt, stern face was smiling at him when he entered.
“Pepin my son,” his father smiled when he saw him enter, “It is good to see you again,”
“I am glad to see you as well, father,” the boy replied, conscious that his father was soaking in his appearance, and aware that he had begun another growth spurt recently.
“You are growing tall and strong,” Karloman nodded, his face still happy, “And I’ve been given reports of your progress in your lessons, even on campaign. I am pleased.”
“Thank you father, I have good teachers.”
“As it should be. It’s a son’s duty to learn, and a father’s duty to provide good opportunities for him. If I have done so, then we have both done our duties well thus far.”
“Father, may I ask why you have summoned me?”
“You may,” Karloman replied, “I’m afraid we will not be staying here long Pepin. War will threaten again soon, and I may need to look to our borders to defend them once more.”
“Oh,” was all Pepin said, would his father be leaving again?
“But it is vital that you be permitted to continue your education, and you cannot do that by remaining behind in palaces and playing in the yard,” Karloman continued, “You are near a man now, and must learn to act as one. If war should come, I would have you travel with me, and I’ll take personal charge of your education.”
“You mean, I could come with you?” The excitement in Pepin’s voice was plain.
“Aye, if it should come to war, yes.”
“Father! Thank you!” The boy was overjoyed, forgetting decorum for a moment, he flung his arms around his father. Karloman, after a brief moment of stunned surprise, returned the embrace.
“Now now, it’s not settled yet. We’ll be heading back to Paris for a while first, and there may be some things to settle in Rome before we leave, but next time there is a campaign, you’ll be coming with it, it’s vital you see for yourself how warfare is conducted Pepin, for you’ll need to do it yourself one day.”
The boy released the hug, aware that his father’s mind had now returned to more serious matters, “I know father,” he replied solemnly, “I shan’t try to disappoint you.”
“There’s a good lad,” Karloman smiled, “Now off to bed with you, and do make sure you sleep well.”
So it was a very happy son and heir that trotted off to his bedchamber that night, and Karloman could feel himself resting easy. Well, as easy as any man who wore an Imperial crown could ever rest.
It would not remain so for long…
December 26th 780.
His Holiness got word of the overthrow of Irene the very next day, and summoned Emperor Karloman to him in a shrill panic.
“With an Emperor on the throne, they will doubtless view my coronation of you as an act of usurpation!” The Pope was in a panic, that carefully calculated politician stripped away to reveal the craven that surfaced whenever he believed he might be placed in physical danger. “I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
Ignoring the implication of that sally, Karloman rejoined, “On the contrary, your Holiness, this news from the East changes nothing. In fact, it may rebound to our benefit.”
“What do you mean?” The Pope asked, his panic suddenly subsiding in the fact of Karloman’s calm.
“I mean there is an opportunity here, not only to ensure that we are not punished by Byzantium for this action, but to ensure that, on the contrary, Constantinopolis’s rulers welcome my ascension as
Imperator Romanorum here, and that they agree with your decision to bestow that title upon me.”
“But how?” the Pope shrilly asked, “With Irene deposed, the initial logic of the coronation is gone! The new ruler will never accept your position.”
“Leave it to me, Your Holiness,” Karloman said with a grin, “I can assure you the ruler of the Empire will see things our way… Very soon…”
Within a few days, he received word from Epirus. Irene was in hiding there, and Imperial forces were besieging that small kingdom’s palaces in search of her. But she had once again slipped away, accompanied by the scout his mother had sent east, and was now sailing across the Adriatic to Brundisism. And from there, she would make her way north. To Rome.
OOC: So Karloman is now Emperor of the HRE and Augustus of the West, but with Irene deposed, has the Pope made a boo-boo? And can Karloman extricate them both from it by meeting the deposed Empress who no doubt has plans for those who stole her crown? We shall see!
Pepin and Karloman are also getting along well, as Pepin gets into his teenage years. Plenty more to see from him
