Argh Aeromechanics II!
Homelands
Chapter Sixteen: Winters of War
Part 1
Prelude:
In 1171 King Gunvald signed the Æthelsræchtæs, or the “Noble’s Rights”. Prussia’s feudal contract ensured that vassals of the King were guaranteed their lineage without due process and proper cause to remove them. It also ensured their right to tax their own lands and divide their lands as they wished. But for the King it ensured his right to levy troops from vassal’s lands (which before he could not legally do if the owner refused) as well as to tax his vassals directly. The most important part, though, for the Leofricsons was the abolishment of the noble’s right to approve or disapprove of an heir. Only the King could appoint the title “Prince of Prussia”, the traditional title of the heir apparent. In Prussia the heir was chosen from merit, not from birth order, though it was always to a male. Female succession was illegal in Prussia, though the legal systems were far more lax on its women subjects then in neighboring countries. Daughters of the Prussian King often were quickly married off as peace offerings to neighboring countries. It was in this way that many of the monarchs were all descendent of Earl Leofric. Their names, like the multiple wives that a Prussian King might end up having, would often fall through the cracks of history. Forgotten forever.
Sviendorog Leofricson as Prince of Prussia
March 21st, 1171
On the equinox nobles from around the Kingdom travelled to the great church in Marienscír. There a great document lay before them, the Æthelsræchtæs. It had been meticulously designed by Sviendorog and then penned by monks from Eadbert’s monastery.
“Princes of the Kingdom, before you sits the rights of all here, penned on paper for all eternity,” Gunvald said, passing his arm over the paper dramatically. The nobles gathered around and began reading over the cleverly disguised contract. Sviendorog provided translations to the mainly Saxon and Russian nobility who could not yet read the official church tongue. The nobles were torn, they had expected a major victory over the King in the signing of this paper, but instead found out what it meant to compromise. But more so, not agreeing to the document was the same as treason. It was a trap, they were to agree with these new terms or face destruction at the hands of the Prussian army, which was strong from fighting wars without much help from the vassals.
Aethelmaer, one of the Saxon Leofricsons, had become the head of the nobles at the meeting. He was a vain, weak-willed scholar who was nothing more than a puppet of the nobles. But as one of the heads of the Leofricson houses, he had some authority in the eyes of the Kingdom. He approached Gunvald directly, though he was three years younger than Sviendorog.
“Your majesty, this is nothing what I and the other nobles expected!”
“I noticed through your reactions, but the question is, what can you do about it? You wanted rights; I have them laid out before you. I believe that my son has drafted a good compromise. The problem is you were expecting to hold sway over me, turn Prussia into some sort of mob-ruled patchwork of Dukes vying for power like Poland. I thought that our… my defeat of Poland proved that system wrong.” Gunvald was silent, but his voice hung thick in the room.
“Does family mean anything to you Gunvald? Does right and privilege mean anything?”
“Aethelmaer, you forget the one-sidedness of our beliefs. You want to be able to choose my heir, but I cannot choose yours?”
“My heir doesn’t rule over all of us.”
“Yes, but I still have to deal with the little piece of shit.” Again his final word echoed in the church.
“This is not what it means to be a Saxon warrior, Gunvald,” Aethelmaer said, quietly.
“I am afraid to tell you, but I am no Saxon. And neither are half of my nobles. Nor are my heirs. We are not Saxons, Aethelmaer, we are Prussians. We are a different stock. Now, I know my family name might be a Saxon name and I know most of its wearers are Saxon, but I am not Saxon. I. rule. as. I. see. fit.”
Aethelmaer was stunned, he had expected his statement to work, but here it was; the truth many Saxons feared. Prussia was not a Saxon entity. It was its own.
“So that is how it is? You right a paper, bring us around it, belittle me, and give us no choice but to sign it?”
Gunvald said one word, but he said it with a quiet grace and dignity that gave it the power of a roar, “Yes.”
July 7th, 1172
King Gunvald and his son Sviendorog and his sons Valikaila and Meinekinus travel along the western-most roads of the Kingdom. Beyond them, in the distance, lay the rump Kingdom of Poland. The poles had done well to fortify their few remaining towns. The Prussian army was stationed across the river from the new Polish capital of Opole.
“What do you think of what our neighbors have busily been building these last few years?” Gunvald asked his son.
“Unimpressive. They trust too much that the river will provided the needed protection while they haphazardly build towers and forts. They mean nothing. A fort that is protecting only itself is protecting nothing.” Sviendorog mused.
“What do you think will happen?” Gunvald asked.
“I believe we shall attack, their army shall abandon the city and occupy the fort. We shall then take the city and burn the fort down with the Polish army still in it.”
“You sound confident, son.”
“I am. We’ve crushed them in the past and we’ve only gotten bigger since then.”
Gunvald nodded. He stopped his horse and looked into Opole. The Polish kingdom suffered and this city showed the extent of the cancer.
“So I assume we shall be moving out this time next year?” Sviendorog asked.
“Yes. Next year begins a new series of war and conquest for Prussia.”
