I always thought it would be appropriate if the Komnenids themselves proved to be their own undoing.
Rome AARisen - a Byzantine AAR
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I always thought it would be appropriate if the Komnenids themselves proved to be their own undoing.
At this point I think it is fair to say that short of a miraculous re-uniting of the Mongol Empire under a very charismatic and tactically inclined Khan, the only realistic threats to Komnenid Hegemony are the Komnenids themselves, (spurned second sons, or mismanagement leading to disintegration of the Empire.) or perhaps a three-four front war, combined with internal dissent leading to armed rebellions. No single power could currently hope to defeat the Empire, without support from the other major enemies of the Roman State.
Sortmark is probably the third most powerful state in the vicinity, (Less powerful than the Mongols, or the Persian Emperor's lands.) and look how they were swept aside, with the Empire fighting on more than just that front.
The Persians likewise would be utterly destroyed if they marched without help.
The Mongols, if the Khan can quickly subdue Japan/negotiate a decent treaty, and reclaim the three western Khaganates for himself, or have loyal vassals control them, might be able to muster an army to match the Romans, but even if this unlikely situation comes to fruition, it would be a hard fought war, and they would have to contend with the Persians first, or Sortmark, depending which route of invasion they took. (Sortmark doesn't like Romanion any more than the Mongols do, but they damn sure aren't going to let mongols through their lands peacefully, the same goes for the Persians.)
Seems like the Komnenids are either going to have to simultaneously piss off the three other major powers, or kill themselves, as far as I can see.
Sortmark is probably the third most powerful state in the vicinity, (Less powerful than the Mongols, or the Persian Emperor's lands.) and look how they were swept aside, with the Empire fighting on more than just that front.
The Persians likewise would be utterly destroyed if they marched without help.
The Mongols, if the Khan can quickly subdue Japan/negotiate a decent treaty, and reclaim the three western Khaganates for himself, or have loyal vassals control them, might be able to muster an army to match the Romans, but even if this unlikely situation comes to fruition, it would be a hard fought war, and they would have to contend with the Persians first, or Sortmark, depending which route of invasion they took. (Sortmark doesn't like Romanion any more than the Mongols do, but they damn sure aren't going to let mongols through their lands peacefully, the same goes for the Persians.)
Seems like the Komnenids are either going to have to simultaneously piss off the three other major powers, or kill themselves, as far as I can see.
We could always have a very early bout of plague. I am not sure, but something here is missing.
Well, if the plague follows the historic route, it'd cripple those powers as much if not more than the Romans. A plague starting in the city, that's a different thing entirely, though.
And that is exactly what i am going at.
At least, at best, it will make sure there aren't so many damned Komnenids everywhere.
And that is exactly what i am going at.
At least, at best, it will make sure there aren't so many damned Komnenids everywhere.
:rofl::rofl:
They are like rabbits...they just BREED and soon they are EVERYWHERE!!!
:rofl:
If not the Turks, it would be appropriate for the Italian Kommnenids (especially a Venetian detachment) to try to "liberate it" (with fire).
I may be wrong, but I took this to mean that by this point Constantinople had already fallen to the Persians, then been retaken. Although now that I look at it it could also refer to Gabriel et al's exile to Persia, which we've already seen.
Just some general reply notes. etc.
1) Haven't replied up to this point because I'd expected to get the update done sooner. Then work/social life/general life happenings occurred, so the update only came tonight. D'oh!
2) On the note about the dates with Eirene and the Spoiler... Nope, birth dates and death dates are different than IRL in the AAR. There are some things about Timur that you will find... different. Once they are revealed, I expect some howling and applause. :rofl:
3) Persia is still alive in 1351, and kicking very well. The ride for the Persians between 1263 (the date of this update) and 1351 is a rocky and interesting one indeed...
4) The big weakness of the Komnenids so far is their military legacy... to be a legitimate Komnenid emperor you almost MUST have a great military record. Such is the legacy of Demetrios and Basil... even Manuel was a skillful battlefield commander. This has lately led to a string of warrior emperors, and the army thrusting people onto the throne who have no business there (Thomas of Many Voices?)... this continues...
5) Welcome vadermath! And yes, Konstantinopolis falls before the end of the AAR. I won't say to whom...
6) At this point, you all are correct. The greatest threat to the Komnenids, barring a Mongol reunification, are the other Komnenids. But that doesn't mean there could be a drastic change in 90 years. After all, Romanion went from the Greece, Thrace, and Anatolia to the gaining the Balkans, Syria, the Levant, and Egypt in the space of 45 years...
And without further ado, the next update!
Το παιδί σου και το σκυλί σου όπως τα μάθεις."
"Your child and your dog (behave) the way you teach them." – Roman proverb.
March 11th, 1263
Konstantinopolis
Andronikos sighed, and sipped on his wine.
The 15 year old Megas Komnenos smiled, enjoying the fact that unlike most other formal state occasions, this banquet by personal fiat he was not confined to the raised dais at the front of the Octagon with the guests of honor. Instead, he’d taken the unexpected (and charming, from the court chatter that buzzed about the room) step of mingling with the guests. His stepfather would have heartily disapproved, but Albrecht von Franken was sidelined by official state business—letters and notes from the Spanish campaign, more than likely. The change in venue made Andronikos feel more a part of the whirl of bright silks, dancing, and music that was the triumphal feast for his best friend. Incidentally, it also meant his ears were closer to the gossip of the court—something the boy found always entertaining, and often immensely useful.
There was a day only a few short years before when Andronikos would have been confined to strict protocol on a day as formal as a state triumph for a successful returning general. It was after all, a sumptuous affair—not as ornate as Andronikos’ own coronation a few years before, but impressive nonetheless. Isaakios Bataczes and Ioannis Angelos, the heroes of the hour, had led the Hetaratoi down to the Hippodrome—their respective commands were still on the Azov frontier, keeping a wary eye on the chastened Danes. Andronikos looked up, and smiled quietly—his friend Ioannis looked sharp in his new red cloak. After Azov, surprisingly few people had made any noise but applause over the youngest strategos in the Imperial Army.
“Majesty?”
Andronikos resisted the urge to frown as he turned to the source of that word, and his eyes fell on Patriarch Thomas Komnenos, whose brilliant red outfit was the only color that matched the scarlet of the generals in the great banquet hall. The man hastily bowed his head, a movement Andronikos echoed, however unwillingly. The young Emperor actually dreaded this more than anything else he’d planned to take place during the banquet.
“Greetings, Holiness,” the Megas Komnenos kept his voice level without cracking. Andronikos had practiced long and hard to make sure the transition from his boyhood soprano to an adult tenor didn’t happen abruptly in public conversation, but the woes of puberty still struck when he was flustered, or caught by surprise. The Patriarch looked flustered as always—the man never functioned well when he was dragged from his element of books and liturgies.
“I…um…” Thomas sputtered, before ignoring all social niceties and proceeding straight to the point. “Majesty, I bear some grave news. As Your Majesty knows, I also serve as personal confessor to your mother, Her Majesty the Dowager Empress. In this capacity…”
“What has happened, Holiness?” Andronikos cut him off. Belatedly, he realized his voice might not have had the worried tone it should have for the ruse to be complete, but the poor Patriarch apparently didn’t notice one bit.
“I feel obliged to tell Your Majesty that your mother has been ill at ease of late,” the Patriarch said, nervously looking around the room. “She is of poor temperament, filled with worries. She lacks sleep due to night hysteria. I thought at first, I must confess,” the churchman went on, “that she might be possessed but…” the Patriarch shook his head, “The confessors who looked her over say she is not, praise be to God.”
Andronikos nodded, now keeping his face glum. “What do you think the cause of it is? What has made her so…uneasy? Worried?”
“I…um…” The Patriarch’s tone suddenly became uneasy, his eyes fearful. Andronikos watched as they flew about the room, until they found the rather portly form of Albrecht von Franken, securely far away with the ambassadors from Scotland. For several seconds, the clergyman’s eyes hung on the distant man, before finally returning to Andronikos. “She says,” he leaned close, his voice dropping to a whisper, “rather, she is convinced, that your stepfather means to poison you.”
“Poison me?” Andronikos said, putting all the umph and sputter he could muster into his voice. “But why? How?” Andronikos added to the sham by looking warily at the hordes of servants that strode by, bustling about the party seeing to their master’s needs.
“She is convinced he plans to use black magic to see your end,” the Patriarch continued, “and that he plans to seat one of his younger sons on the throne in your stead.”
“That’s ludicrous,” Andronikos allowed himself the smirk he’d wanted to do since the conversation started.
“Indeed, Majesty, but Her Majesty will not be dissuaded, and to ease her mind I authorized several intercessors to pray exclusively on your behalf, night and day, that God’s might would protect Your Majesty’s health.” He sighed. “However, it is Her Majesty’s health that more concerns me. I am convinced she is suffering from some natural form of hysterics, imbalanced bile, or something of that ilk,” the Patriarch scratched his head. “I am obviously not a physician, however. So, I have taken the liberty of asking Metropolitan Aquinas to contact as many of his friends in the field of medicine throughout Christendom, asking them about cures for this discomfort and hysteria,” Thomas went on. Andronikos managed to not grin, instead frowning like a concerned son should. “Soon, I hope,” the Patriarch droned on, “we’ll have some medicinal cures for Her Majesty’s ailments, that will ease her nerves.”
“Thank you, Holiness,” Andronikos nodded his head slightly. “I truly do appreciate your care for me and my family.”
The Patriarch took the nod as his cue, bowed, and vanished back into the crowd. No doubt, Andronikos mused, the man was hustling back to his saintly quarters, festooned with books and religious arguments and perfectly safe from the politics and hint of debauchery in an official banquet.
“He leaves as quickly as he comes.”
“Not as suddenly as you appear behind my back, Ioannis,” Andronikos turned and smiled. Angelos was grinning too, smile as wide as the Marmara, his right eye twinkling as he held out a wine goblet for filling. His left had been hidden by a patch of cloth since his return to Konstantinopolis—it was still filled with putrid pus, and the churigeons were sadly confident it would soon be lost.
All thanks to a stupid camp follower and a well aimed rock.
Ioannis had taken the probable loss of his eye well—he’d said in letters it made him look dashing, dangerous, something the women loved. The latter was the usual content of most of his letters to his best friend anyway.
“It sounds like your mother played her role well,” Ioannis held up his glass and clinked it next to Andronikos’ goblet, “but I don’t think the old churchman bought her tale.”
Andronikos, too, watched the Patriarch shuffle off into the crowd, silently pronouncing his own assessment of the man. Thomas Komnenos of Pereschen was many things—a consummate scholar, an impeccable theologian, an admirable spiritual leader. Beneath all those accolades, however, there was one thing the Patriarch was not.
A politician.
“He doesn’t need to,” the Emperor turned to his friend. “The seed’s been planted. We just need water it.”
“Hmmm,” Ioannis nodded, eyes adrift across the room, taking in the sights and sounds of a banquet that was partly in his honor. Finally, his eyes stopped, and his mouth flashed a huge grin. “She’s a fine sample of the female persuasion,” Ioannis said. By the tone of his voice, Andronikos could easily imagine his friend licking his chops like a hungry wolf.
“She is,” Andronikos said simply, admiring the view himself as his official bride-to-be made her own rounds at the banquet.
To call Safiya Komnenos-Hohenstaufen ‘fine’ was a gross understatement, akin to describing the Mediterranean as ‘larger than a lake’ or the imperial army as ‘just a few soldiers.’ As she mingled with the guest at this fete in that low-cut dress, Andronikos couldn’t help but let his eyes follow those curves. The woman was lust incarnate, and she knew it.
“So, milord,” Ioannis smirked, “why is she out here, in this party, when you could have simply taken her to your chamber?”
Andronikos reddened. So, word had gotten to Ioannis’ ears already—it’d be only a matter of time before it spread around court as well. He’d been shocked when Safiya, only minutes after stepping onto the docks of the Golden Horn and bowing before him, whispered in his ear exactly what she wanted to do with him—and it certainly wasn’t reading the Bible.
Andronikos Komnenos, the most powerful man in the world, had been caught, blinking, like a deer ambushed at its watering hole.
His “um,” had probably been too loud, his voice had cracked and stammered, and with the girl’s reputation—just as scandalous as her mother’s—those gathered around probably pieced together what’d been said. She’d only laughed and gently patted his cheek—oh how the servants twittered about that breach of decorum—and Andronikos had been left standing, red-faced, as she swept into the city behind him.
That sting—that iron taste, still hung in Andronikos’ mouth as he looked at her now. The woman was gorgeous, voluptuous, a carnal delight… and that very fact scared him to no end. Her mother’s seductive skills cost Gabriel an Empire that was neatly in his grasp, and she’d already casually embarrassed Andronikos in public. He’d worked so hard to make himself appear cool, collected, calm—he was going to be damned before he let that disappear just because of a woman!
“That heaving bosom will no doubt cause at least one war before the tale is done,” Ioannis mused, before finishing his cup and dragging Andronikos back to the present. “I’d love to taste that honey before the bears begin their fight over it…”
Andronikos blinked, then a smile started to crawl across his face. Yes, that’d be it. She’d embarrassed him. Why not return the favor?
“You should,” he said. He didn’t turn to face his friend, he knew Ioannis was giving him an incredulous look.
“But...”
“You should, Ioannis,” Andronikos downed his own cup in a gulp. “By all means, and the sooner the better.”
“I um...” Ioannis stuttered for a moment, before suddenly his smile matched the one of Andronikos’ face. “You’re up to something clever.” Then serious. “You do know that those bastards out east will…”
Andronikos nodded—only a fool would miss the training camps that sprouted up along the border, or the steady trickle of men, horses, grain and fodder that fattened the stores of Baghdad, Mosul, Tabriz and Shirvan. With Altani Khatun reportedly humbled by some Mongol prince, the Persian gambit was open to see. Andronikos had hoped his cousins might fall on each other, but the trio instead banded up—no doubt saving their planned treachery on each other until after they had his head on a pike.
“My stepfather is a fool if he thinks the marriage will stop them from invading,” Andronikos sighed. She was now bowing before the Patriarch, and even those holy eyes glanced down momentarily. Andronikos smiled slightly as Patriarch Thomas crossed himself a few moments later, after she’d moved on. “Though, Ioannis,” Andronikos turned to his friend, and sipped the wine, “I want them to come.” He held out his cup, and as if by clockwork, the longhaired Ivan poured yet another bumper full of wine.
“New cupbearer?” Ioannis asked, eyes already drifting towards Safiya yet again. He winked at her. Andronikos was only able to look at her a moment before he felt his eyes drifting below her neck, and his face started to heat yet again. He quickly looked back at Ioannis—who smirked openly at his discomfort.
“Yes,” the Emperor blurted out, “He’s new. From some place up north called Prussia. He was recommended by the mystikos of the Palace, in fact.”
“Indeed,” Angelos raised an eyebrow, but said no more. “But,” he held out his own cup, “you were saying, you wanted them to come?”
“Yes, I want Nikephoros, Alexandros, and all those Persians who call themselves Romans to come,” Andronikos said slowly, carefully.
“But save for my father and Tatikios, all your loyal commanders are in the West,” Ioannis said, his face suddenly grim. “If the Easterners come, you’re going to need three armies, Romanos would tell you that. Two for the field, and one to keep order in The City. Who’ll command? Romanos is in the West, as is Konstantinos, and the Egyptian sot, and…”
“I would,” Andronikos answered. At Ioannis’ confused look, the Emperor rolled his eyes. “Oh, not alone!” Andronikos hissed. He’d never seen actual combat, and he knew it! “I’m not going to go lobbing off into this thing like a wayward cow with minstrel’s music stuck in my ears!” The Emperor’s eyes drifted up, past Safiya, towards the nominal place reserved for the other man of the hour. Strategos Prince Isaakios Bataczes was smiling, bowing, enjoying all the well-earned praise and respect the Queen of Cities had to offer.
“I think its time for me to get a measure of Isaakios Bataczes,” Andronikos said slowly.
“Hmm?” Ioannis looked over.
“You are close to Prince Bataczes,” Andronikos said louder, “so I want you to tell him that his Emperor is going to make a special position for him—Archoikon, with pay and privileges beyond that of a mere stratos commander.”
“Hmmm, keep your friends close and your enemies closer?” Ioannis asked.
“I don’t know if he’s an enemy yet,” the Emperor said quickly, “but I need a skilled adviser in the field if I’m to command an army. He has the laurels of glory around his head, I want to take a peek inside his thoughts.” He nodded as the Prussian poured yet another cup. “I’ll keep him close. If he fails, I can always snag Tatikios or your father perhaps—my grandfather is incorrigible, and hasn’t seen the field in twenty years,” Andronikos snorted. “His way of fighting is as probably old as the Persian Sot’s.”
“Gabriel was a great warrior in his day.”
“In his day, yes,” Andronikos nodded. “Now he’s sitting in the cistern of history, something I don’t intend to do. But,” Andronikos slapped his friend on the back, “Congratulations are in order, I hear! Strategos Angelos, it is?”
Ioannis grinned, his face brightening like a child who’d just received some honeybread. “Yes! On the orders of the Megos Domestikos and your stepfather! I suppose you…”
“No actually,” Andronikos shook his head, “I said nothing on the matter. Romanos proposed it by letter, and the Megoskyriomachos agreed. My sealing it was a formality—despite all my protests you were a drunk, a lech, and a general poor human being,” he grinned mischeviously.
“Such harsh words from such a paragon of virtue,” Ioannis gasped in mock horror.
“So they’re sending you to Spain, is it?”
Ioannis nodded. “Romanos’ staff, an ‘Advisor on Alternate Strategy’ is how they put it. I suppose…”
“Yes,” Andronikos nodded emphatically, “that was my…hand at work, I if you will. Listen,” he looked at his friend, “Bataczes did a masterful job, but you sealed the victory. I know there are a few that…disdained…your tactics, but I have a mind where such…” he looked up, trying to find the right word. Aha. There it was. “…unorthodox strategems could work wonders. Especially since Segeo has decided he doesn’t want to meet Romanos in the field.”
“Craven bastard,” Ioannis grumbled. “Has the nerve to start the thing, the nerve to conduct treason and kill your uncle, but when the music begins to play he won’t dance!”
“I have a mind to end that,” Andronikos said quietly.
“And what cleverness do you have up your sleeve…” Ioannis started to ask, before Andronikos actually did reach up his sleeve and pulled out two letters. “Aha, right on cue?” the new Strategos added.
“This,” Andronikos slipped the first letter into Ioannis’ hands, “goes to the Megos Domestikos, to be opened immediately.” Ioannis pocketed the paper without looking, but suddenly frowned.
“One seal on it?” he asked—his fingers were as deft with feeling out details as they were with a lute.
“Just mine,” Andronikos grinned, “it’s not really too important—just some sketches I did for an idea Romanos might find useful. It’s something I intend to try here, let Tatikios and Bataczes mull it through their brain.” The grin turned into a smirk. “No, I’m not turning into my cousin Thomas!”
“Thank God,” Ioannis blasphemed quietly, mock crossing himself.
“This, however, is important,” Andronikos slipped the second parchment over. “Yes, it’s got both my seal and my step…” Andronikos stopped as Ioannis raised his eyebrow. No words needed to be spoken on that—deft fingers were good for many things, including ‘borrowing’ seals. “It…um… needs to get into Romanos’ hands just before Barcelona falls. No sooner, no later!”
“Precisely timed, eh?” Ioannis’ smile turned dangerous.
“Yes, and your…skills…” Andronikos said quietly, “will be useful. Romanos will not have the stomach to do it,” Andronikos said, swallowing hard. He’d wondered long about it himself—questioned the deed to be done, if it was necessary, if it was right, and if it was the best thing to do. Ultimately, no matter how unpalatable it seemed to his mind, and how much it railed against all the teachings of justice and mercy he had absorbed since childhood, he couldn’t see another way that solved so many problems at once. He secretly thanked whatever being was above that he didn’t have to be there to see it done.
As he glanced back at Ioannis, he saw the glint in his friend’s eye. Ioannis was perfect.
“So how shall I encourage him?” Angelos asked, eyes twinkling at the challenge.
“Remind him that his wife and son are here in Konstantinopolis. Nothing specific,” Andronikos said quickly—he didn’t want his friend making too many threats. “Oh, and obviously say…”
“…not you?” Ioannis laughed, a dark, menacing chuckle that made more than a few people avert their gaze from the one-eyed man. “I’m not a fool, of course!”
“Good,” Andronikos said quietly, his voice still a little unsteady. The glee that Ioannis had when doing these things still surprised Andronikos to no end. He looked back out over the party, looking at Safiya again. His nethers stirred some, but not nearly as much as before. There was too much flesh, too much… coarseness. Her curves, once honey to his eyes, now had the taste of salt and iron. Gabriel laid low…
The Emperor glanced over at his friend—Ioannis had followed his gaze, and by his eyes, his nethers held no such compunction.
“Her apartments are being set up in the Boukoleon. I can have my man here,” he nodded to the cupbearer, “show you a secret way to them. You should… introduce yourself,” Andronikos swallowed quietly, “before it’s too late.”
What is Andronikos up to in Barcelona, and with the Patriarch? And why has he told Ioannis to go ahead and bed Safiya? Hmm, a new cupbearer? More plots, more secrets, Spain and Konstantinopolis, next time in Rome AARisen!
1) Haven't replied up to this point because I'd expected to get the update done sooner. Then work/social life/general life happenings occurred, so the update only came tonight. D'oh!
2) On the note about the dates with Eirene and the Spoiler... Nope, birth dates and death dates are different than IRL in the AAR. There are some things about Timur that you will find... different. Once they are revealed, I expect some howling and applause. :rofl:
3) Persia is still alive in 1351, and kicking very well. The ride for the Persians between 1263 (the date of this update) and 1351 is a rocky and interesting one indeed...
4) The big weakness of the Komnenids so far is their military legacy... to be a legitimate Komnenid emperor you almost MUST have a great military record. Such is the legacy of Demetrios and Basil... even Manuel was a skillful battlefield commander. This has lately led to a string of warrior emperors, and the army thrusting people onto the throne who have no business there (Thomas of Many Voices?)... this continues...
5) Welcome vadermath! And yes, Konstantinopolis falls before the end of the AAR. I won't say to whom...
6) At this point, you all are correct. The greatest threat to the Komnenids, barring a Mongol reunification, are the other Komnenids. But that doesn't mean there could be a drastic change in 90 years. After all, Romanion went from the Greece, Thrace, and Anatolia to the gaining the Balkans, Syria, the Levant, and Egypt in the space of 45 years...
And without further ado, the next update!
Το παιδί σου και το σκυλί σου όπως τα μάθεις."
"Your child and your dog (behave) the way you teach them." – Roman proverb.
March 11th, 1263
Konstantinopolis
Andronikos sighed, and sipped on his wine.
The 15 year old Megas Komnenos smiled, enjoying the fact that unlike most other formal state occasions, this banquet by personal fiat he was not confined to the raised dais at the front of the Octagon with the guests of honor. Instead, he’d taken the unexpected (and charming, from the court chatter that buzzed about the room) step of mingling with the guests. His stepfather would have heartily disapproved, but Albrecht von Franken was sidelined by official state business—letters and notes from the Spanish campaign, more than likely. The change in venue made Andronikos feel more a part of the whirl of bright silks, dancing, and music that was the triumphal feast for his best friend. Incidentally, it also meant his ears were closer to the gossip of the court—something the boy found always entertaining, and often immensely useful.
There was a day only a few short years before when Andronikos would have been confined to strict protocol on a day as formal as a state triumph for a successful returning general. It was after all, a sumptuous affair—not as ornate as Andronikos’ own coronation a few years before, but impressive nonetheless. Isaakios Bataczes and Ioannis Angelos, the heroes of the hour, had led the Hetaratoi down to the Hippodrome—their respective commands were still on the Azov frontier, keeping a wary eye on the chastened Danes. Andronikos looked up, and smiled quietly—his friend Ioannis looked sharp in his new red cloak. After Azov, surprisingly few people had made any noise but applause over the youngest strategos in the Imperial Army.
“Majesty?”
Andronikos resisted the urge to frown as he turned to the source of that word, and his eyes fell on Patriarch Thomas Komnenos, whose brilliant red outfit was the only color that matched the scarlet of the generals in the great banquet hall. The man hastily bowed his head, a movement Andronikos echoed, however unwillingly. The young Emperor actually dreaded this more than anything else he’d planned to take place during the banquet.
“Greetings, Holiness,” the Megas Komnenos kept his voice level without cracking. Andronikos had practiced long and hard to make sure the transition from his boyhood soprano to an adult tenor didn’t happen abruptly in public conversation, but the woes of puberty still struck when he was flustered, or caught by surprise. The Patriarch looked flustered as always—the man never functioned well when he was dragged from his element of books and liturgies.
“I…um…” Thomas sputtered, before ignoring all social niceties and proceeding straight to the point. “Majesty, I bear some grave news. As Your Majesty knows, I also serve as personal confessor to your mother, Her Majesty the Dowager Empress. In this capacity…”
“What has happened, Holiness?” Andronikos cut him off. Belatedly, he realized his voice might not have had the worried tone it should have for the ruse to be complete, but the poor Patriarch apparently didn’t notice one bit.
“I feel obliged to tell Your Majesty that your mother has been ill at ease of late,” the Patriarch said, nervously looking around the room. “She is of poor temperament, filled with worries. She lacks sleep due to night hysteria. I thought at first, I must confess,” the churchman went on, “that she might be possessed but…” the Patriarch shook his head, “The confessors who looked her over say she is not, praise be to God.”
Andronikos nodded, now keeping his face glum. “What do you think the cause of it is? What has made her so…uneasy? Worried?”
“I…um…” The Patriarch’s tone suddenly became uneasy, his eyes fearful. Andronikos watched as they flew about the room, until they found the rather portly form of Albrecht von Franken, securely far away with the ambassadors from Scotland. For several seconds, the clergyman’s eyes hung on the distant man, before finally returning to Andronikos. “She says,” he leaned close, his voice dropping to a whisper, “rather, she is convinced, that your stepfather means to poison you.”
“Poison me?” Andronikos said, putting all the umph and sputter he could muster into his voice. “But why? How?” Andronikos added to the sham by looking warily at the hordes of servants that strode by, bustling about the party seeing to their master’s needs.
“She is convinced he plans to use black magic to see your end,” the Patriarch continued, “and that he plans to seat one of his younger sons on the throne in your stead.”
“That’s ludicrous,” Andronikos allowed himself the smirk he’d wanted to do since the conversation started.
“Indeed, Majesty, but Her Majesty will not be dissuaded, and to ease her mind I authorized several intercessors to pray exclusively on your behalf, night and day, that God’s might would protect Your Majesty’s health.” He sighed. “However, it is Her Majesty’s health that more concerns me. I am convinced she is suffering from some natural form of hysterics, imbalanced bile, or something of that ilk,” the Patriarch scratched his head. “I am obviously not a physician, however. So, I have taken the liberty of asking Metropolitan Aquinas to contact as many of his friends in the field of medicine throughout Christendom, asking them about cures for this discomfort and hysteria,” Thomas went on. Andronikos managed to not grin, instead frowning like a concerned son should. “Soon, I hope,” the Patriarch droned on, “we’ll have some medicinal cures for Her Majesty’s ailments, that will ease her nerves.”
“Thank you, Holiness,” Andronikos nodded his head slightly. “I truly do appreciate your care for me and my family.”
The Patriarch took the nod as his cue, bowed, and vanished back into the crowd. No doubt, Andronikos mused, the man was hustling back to his saintly quarters, festooned with books and religious arguments and perfectly safe from the politics and hint of debauchery in an official banquet.
“He leaves as quickly as he comes.”
“Not as suddenly as you appear behind my back, Ioannis,” Andronikos turned and smiled. Angelos was grinning too, smile as wide as the Marmara, his right eye twinkling as he held out a wine goblet for filling. His left had been hidden by a patch of cloth since his return to Konstantinopolis—it was still filled with putrid pus, and the churigeons were sadly confident it would soon be lost.
All thanks to a stupid camp follower and a well aimed rock.
Ioannis had taken the probable loss of his eye well—he’d said in letters it made him look dashing, dangerous, something the women loved. The latter was the usual content of most of his letters to his best friend anyway.
“It sounds like your mother played her role well,” Ioannis held up his glass and clinked it next to Andronikos’ goblet, “but I don’t think the old churchman bought her tale.”
Andronikos, too, watched the Patriarch shuffle off into the crowd, silently pronouncing his own assessment of the man. Thomas Komnenos of Pereschen was many things—a consummate scholar, an impeccable theologian, an admirable spiritual leader. Beneath all those accolades, however, there was one thing the Patriarch was not.
A politician.
“He doesn’t need to,” the Emperor turned to his friend. “The seed’s been planted. We just need water it.”
“Hmmm,” Ioannis nodded, eyes adrift across the room, taking in the sights and sounds of a banquet that was partly in his honor. Finally, his eyes stopped, and his mouth flashed a huge grin. “She’s a fine sample of the female persuasion,” Ioannis said. By the tone of his voice, Andronikos could easily imagine his friend licking his chops like a hungry wolf.
“She is,” Andronikos said simply, admiring the view himself as his official bride-to-be made her own rounds at the banquet.
To call Safiya Komnenos-Hohenstaufen ‘fine’ was a gross understatement, akin to describing the Mediterranean as ‘larger than a lake’ or the imperial army as ‘just a few soldiers.’ As she mingled with the guest at this fete in that low-cut dress, Andronikos couldn’t help but let his eyes follow those curves. The woman was lust incarnate, and she knew it.
“So, milord,” Ioannis smirked, “why is she out here, in this party, when you could have simply taken her to your chamber?”
Andronikos reddened. So, word had gotten to Ioannis’ ears already—it’d be only a matter of time before it spread around court as well. He’d been shocked when Safiya, only minutes after stepping onto the docks of the Golden Horn and bowing before him, whispered in his ear exactly what she wanted to do with him—and it certainly wasn’t reading the Bible.
Andronikos Komnenos, the most powerful man in the world, had been caught, blinking, like a deer ambushed at its watering hole.
His “um,” had probably been too loud, his voice had cracked and stammered, and with the girl’s reputation—just as scandalous as her mother’s—those gathered around probably pieced together what’d been said. She’d only laughed and gently patted his cheek—oh how the servants twittered about that breach of decorum—and Andronikos had been left standing, red-faced, as she swept into the city behind him.
That sting—that iron taste, still hung in Andronikos’ mouth as he looked at her now. The woman was gorgeous, voluptuous, a carnal delight… and that very fact scared him to no end. Her mother’s seductive skills cost Gabriel an Empire that was neatly in his grasp, and she’d already casually embarrassed Andronikos in public. He’d worked so hard to make himself appear cool, collected, calm—he was going to be damned before he let that disappear just because of a woman!
“That heaving bosom will no doubt cause at least one war before the tale is done,” Ioannis mused, before finishing his cup and dragging Andronikos back to the present. “I’d love to taste that honey before the bears begin their fight over it…”
Andronikos blinked, then a smile started to crawl across his face. Yes, that’d be it. She’d embarrassed him. Why not return the favor?
“You should,” he said. He didn’t turn to face his friend, he knew Ioannis was giving him an incredulous look.
“But...”
“You should, Ioannis,” Andronikos downed his own cup in a gulp. “By all means, and the sooner the better.”
“I um...” Ioannis stuttered for a moment, before suddenly his smile matched the one of Andronikos’ face. “You’re up to something clever.” Then serious. “You do know that those bastards out east will…”
Andronikos nodded—only a fool would miss the training camps that sprouted up along the border, or the steady trickle of men, horses, grain and fodder that fattened the stores of Baghdad, Mosul, Tabriz and Shirvan. With Altani Khatun reportedly humbled by some Mongol prince, the Persian gambit was open to see. Andronikos had hoped his cousins might fall on each other, but the trio instead banded up—no doubt saving their planned treachery on each other until after they had his head on a pike.
“My stepfather is a fool if he thinks the marriage will stop them from invading,” Andronikos sighed. She was now bowing before the Patriarch, and even those holy eyes glanced down momentarily. Andronikos smiled slightly as Patriarch Thomas crossed himself a few moments later, after she’d moved on. “Though, Ioannis,” Andronikos turned to his friend, and sipped the wine, “I want them to come.” He held out his cup, and as if by clockwork, the longhaired Ivan poured yet another bumper full of wine.
“New cupbearer?” Ioannis asked, eyes already drifting towards Safiya yet again. He winked at her. Andronikos was only able to look at her a moment before he felt his eyes drifting below her neck, and his face started to heat yet again. He quickly looked back at Ioannis—who smirked openly at his discomfort.
“Yes,” the Emperor blurted out, “He’s new. From some place up north called Prussia. He was recommended by the mystikos of the Palace, in fact.”
“Indeed,” Angelos raised an eyebrow, but said no more. “But,” he held out his own cup, “you were saying, you wanted them to come?”
“Yes, I want Nikephoros, Alexandros, and all those Persians who call themselves Romans to come,” Andronikos said slowly, carefully.
“But save for my father and Tatikios, all your loyal commanders are in the West,” Ioannis said, his face suddenly grim. “If the Easterners come, you’re going to need three armies, Romanos would tell you that. Two for the field, and one to keep order in The City. Who’ll command? Romanos is in the West, as is Konstantinos, and the Egyptian sot, and…”
“I would,” Andronikos answered. At Ioannis’ confused look, the Emperor rolled his eyes. “Oh, not alone!” Andronikos hissed. He’d never seen actual combat, and he knew it! “I’m not going to go lobbing off into this thing like a wayward cow with minstrel’s music stuck in my ears!” The Emperor’s eyes drifted up, past Safiya, towards the nominal place reserved for the other man of the hour. Strategos Prince Isaakios Bataczes was smiling, bowing, enjoying all the well-earned praise and respect the Queen of Cities had to offer.
“I think its time for me to get a measure of Isaakios Bataczes,” Andronikos said slowly.
“Hmm?” Ioannis looked over.
“You are close to Prince Bataczes,” Andronikos said louder, “so I want you to tell him that his Emperor is going to make a special position for him—Archoikon, with pay and privileges beyond that of a mere stratos commander.”
“Hmmm, keep your friends close and your enemies closer?” Ioannis asked.
“I don’t know if he’s an enemy yet,” the Emperor said quickly, “but I need a skilled adviser in the field if I’m to command an army. He has the laurels of glory around his head, I want to take a peek inside his thoughts.” He nodded as the Prussian poured yet another cup. “I’ll keep him close. If he fails, I can always snag Tatikios or your father perhaps—my grandfather is incorrigible, and hasn’t seen the field in twenty years,” Andronikos snorted. “His way of fighting is as probably old as the Persian Sot’s.”
“Gabriel was a great warrior in his day.”
“In his day, yes,” Andronikos nodded. “Now he’s sitting in the cistern of history, something I don’t intend to do. But,” Andronikos slapped his friend on the back, “Congratulations are in order, I hear! Strategos Angelos, it is?”
Ioannis grinned, his face brightening like a child who’d just received some honeybread. “Yes! On the orders of the Megos Domestikos and your stepfather! I suppose you…”
“No actually,” Andronikos shook his head, “I said nothing on the matter. Romanos proposed it by letter, and the Megoskyriomachos agreed. My sealing it was a formality—despite all my protests you were a drunk, a lech, and a general poor human being,” he grinned mischeviously.
“Such harsh words from such a paragon of virtue,” Ioannis gasped in mock horror.
“So they’re sending you to Spain, is it?”
Ioannis nodded. “Romanos’ staff, an ‘Advisor on Alternate Strategy’ is how they put it. I suppose…”
“Yes,” Andronikos nodded emphatically, “that was my…hand at work, I if you will. Listen,” he looked at his friend, “Bataczes did a masterful job, but you sealed the victory. I know there are a few that…disdained…your tactics, but I have a mind where such…” he looked up, trying to find the right word. Aha. There it was. “…unorthodox strategems could work wonders. Especially since Segeo has decided he doesn’t want to meet Romanos in the field.”
“Craven bastard,” Ioannis grumbled. “Has the nerve to start the thing, the nerve to conduct treason and kill your uncle, but when the music begins to play he won’t dance!”
“I have a mind to end that,” Andronikos said quietly.
“And what cleverness do you have up your sleeve…” Ioannis started to ask, before Andronikos actually did reach up his sleeve and pulled out two letters. “Aha, right on cue?” the new Strategos added.
“This,” Andronikos slipped the first letter into Ioannis’ hands, “goes to the Megos Domestikos, to be opened immediately.” Ioannis pocketed the paper without looking, but suddenly frowned.
“One seal on it?” he asked—his fingers were as deft with feeling out details as they were with a lute.
“Just mine,” Andronikos grinned, “it’s not really too important—just some sketches I did for an idea Romanos might find useful. It’s something I intend to try here, let Tatikios and Bataczes mull it through their brain.” The grin turned into a smirk. “No, I’m not turning into my cousin Thomas!”
“Thank God,” Ioannis blasphemed quietly, mock crossing himself.
“This, however, is important,” Andronikos slipped the second parchment over. “Yes, it’s got both my seal and my step…” Andronikos stopped as Ioannis raised his eyebrow. No words needed to be spoken on that—deft fingers were good for many things, including ‘borrowing’ seals. “It…um… needs to get into Romanos’ hands just before Barcelona falls. No sooner, no later!”
“Precisely timed, eh?” Ioannis’ smile turned dangerous.
“Yes, and your…skills…” Andronikos said quietly, “will be useful. Romanos will not have the stomach to do it,” Andronikos said, swallowing hard. He’d wondered long about it himself—questioned the deed to be done, if it was necessary, if it was right, and if it was the best thing to do. Ultimately, no matter how unpalatable it seemed to his mind, and how much it railed against all the teachings of justice and mercy he had absorbed since childhood, he couldn’t see another way that solved so many problems at once. He secretly thanked whatever being was above that he didn’t have to be there to see it done.
As he glanced back at Ioannis, he saw the glint in his friend’s eye. Ioannis was perfect.
“So how shall I encourage him?” Angelos asked, eyes twinkling at the challenge.
“Remind him that his wife and son are here in Konstantinopolis. Nothing specific,” Andronikos said quickly—he didn’t want his friend making too many threats. “Oh, and obviously say…”
“…not you?” Ioannis laughed, a dark, menacing chuckle that made more than a few people avert their gaze from the one-eyed man. “I’m not a fool, of course!”
“Good,” Andronikos said quietly, his voice still a little unsteady. The glee that Ioannis had when doing these things still surprised Andronikos to no end. He looked back out over the party, looking at Safiya again. His nethers stirred some, but not nearly as much as before. There was too much flesh, too much… coarseness. Her curves, once honey to his eyes, now had the taste of salt and iron. Gabriel laid low…
The Emperor glanced over at his friend—Ioannis had followed his gaze, and by his eyes, his nethers held no such compunction.
“Her apartments are being set up in the Boukoleon. I can have my man here,” he nodded to the cupbearer, “show you a secret way to them. You should… introduce yourself,” Andronikos swallowed quietly, “before it’s too late.”
==========*==========
What is Andronikos up to in Barcelona, and with the Patriarch? And why has he told Ioannis to go ahead and bed Safiya? Hmm, a new cupbearer? More plots, more secrets, Spain and Konstantinopolis, next time in Rome AARisen!
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VISHLYYYYY! He's up to something again, probably something that began in a dark alley. Until we know whose bejeweled hand passed on the coin, and if it truly was Vishly in that alley, I can't really guess at his mission. Poisoning the Emperor is the VERY obvious choice, considering he is a cupbearer, but that is precisely why I doubt that so much. It's just so simplistic, it might just work though, I suppose the Emperor might not even expect somebody to be so stupid as to use the most obvious person there is to assassinate him, but I just get the feeling that Albrecht, Konstantinos, and the Danes are all a bit brighter than that. And if the Danes aren't stupid enough to do it, who is?
Safiya doesn't seem quite a match for Andronikos, really, as far as we have seen so far. In fact, Andronikos is wise enough to use her own lust against her, probably telling Ioannis to bed her specifically so the rumors can spread, giving him an excuse to not marry her, making sure the Persians attack, giving him the opportunity to prove himself, and simultaneously opening up the path for bringing back that other girl, instead of being forced to marry for politics.
Ioannis is taking a letter to Romanos, and then he must carry out some unknown deed, which is obviously unsavory enough that Romanos would not do it. Perhaps he's going to slaughter all of Barcelona's populace, perhaps something a little more clandestine. It seems we might witness the advent of total war five centuries early, if Ioannis remains so ruthless and effective. (I believe the first example of actual TOTAL WAR as a strategy would be Sherman's March to the Sea in the American Civil War, but I'm not sure on that.)
Safiya doesn't seem quite a match for Andronikos, really, as far as we have seen so far. In fact, Andronikos is wise enough to use her own lust against her, probably telling Ioannis to bed her specifically so the rumors can spread, giving him an excuse to not marry her, making sure the Persians attack, giving him the opportunity to prove himself, and simultaneously opening up the path for bringing back that other girl, instead of being forced to marry for politics.
Ioannis is taking a letter to Romanos, and then he must carry out some unknown deed, which is obviously unsavory enough that Romanos would not do it. Perhaps he's going to slaughter all of Barcelona's populace, perhaps something a little more clandestine. It seems we might witness the advent of total war five centuries early, if Ioannis remains so ruthless and effective. (I believe the first example of actual TOTAL WAR as a strategy would be Sherman's March to the Sea in the American Civil War, but I'm not sure on that.)
Ooooh!
Ok, first of all, it's good Andronikos wants to teach Safiya a lesson. It would be better if he accidentaly entered Safiyas quarters when Ioannis was 'introducing' himself. That would give Andronikos a good card against Safiya, and the whole thing would make them even. I'm still hoping they'll actually marry and all.
Second, Anastasia as I've been suspecting for long, has finally gone bonkers.
Thirdly, the whole thing with Vishly has been predicted by me. Only that I have new light to shed on the matter! The von Franken hand image could reefer to not to Albrecht, but to his young son back in Germany. Disgruntled roman noble that wants revenge? Good stuff for the Danes.
And what do the red letters mean?! MOAR! Also I like how you can post pics of hawtness every time Safiya appears.
Ok, first of all, it's good Andronikos wants to teach Safiya a lesson. It would be better if he accidentaly entered Safiyas quarters when Ioannis was 'introducing' himself. That would give Andronikos a good card against Safiya, and the whole thing would make them even. I'm still hoping they'll actually marry and all.
Second, Anastasia as I've been suspecting for long, has finally gone bonkers.
Thirdly, the whole thing with Vishly has been predicted by me. Only that I have new light to shed on the matter! The von Franken hand image could reefer to not to Albrecht, but to his young son back in Germany. Disgruntled roman noble that wants revenge? Good stuff for the Danes.
And what do the red letters mean?! MOAR! Also I like how you can post pics of hawtness every time Safiya appears.
Crazy mother isn't really crazy, is she?
So the way to bring Segeo to battle is a chevauchee of epic proportions? Positively...mediaeval...of you.
Prussian assassin is back! And someone let him near the beverages!
Great update as usual!
So the way to bring Segeo to battle is a chevauchee of epic proportions? Positively...mediaeval...of you.
Prussian assassin is back! And someone let him near the beverages!
Great update as usual!
Looks like Spain will get ravaged by war ... again. Guess its the favourite battleground for every CK game.
Wonder what that Prussian is up to. Cannot imagine either Albrecht or Andi giving such a position to a man with dubious loyalty. Perhaps a double agent?
Wonder what that Prussian is up to. Cannot imagine either Albrecht or Andi giving such a position to a man with dubious loyalty. Perhaps a double agent?
Great update BT, stunning work as usual.
Hm, has anyone thought that Segeo would turn out to be such a problem when we first met him? I certainly didn't, I presumed he'd be nothing more than a mild nuisance, a bug to be easily crushed by the Imperial boot. Never thought he'd end up with most of Spain in his possession
Also, am I the only one who thinks it would've been awesome if Andronikos gave into his more...primal instincts, and had his way with Safiya just for the pleasure? The kid is shaming his proud and horny ancestors! Just imagine what Demetrios, or even the Gardener would've done? He seems ridiculously careful and cunning for a 15 year old, reminds of Albie in his youth a bit. And who knows, something good might even come out of a marriage between Andronikos and Safiya! Remember that, while treacherous, the loins of Basileia gave us the Megaloprepis, arguably the most glorious Komnenos of all time.
Hm, has anyone thought that Segeo would turn out to be such a problem when we first met him? I certainly didn't, I presumed he'd be nothing more than a mild nuisance, a bug to be easily crushed by the Imperial boot. Never thought he'd end up with most of Spain in his possession
Also, am I the only one who thinks it would've been awesome if Andronikos gave into his more...primal instincts, and had his way with Safiya just for the pleasure? The kid is shaming his proud and horny ancestors! Just imagine what Demetrios, or even the Gardener would've done? He seems ridiculously careful and cunning for a 15 year old, reminds of Albie in his youth a bit. And who knows, something good might even come out of a marriage between Andronikos and Safiya! Remember that, while treacherous, the loins of Basileia gave us the Megaloprepis, arguably the most glorious Komnenos of all time.
Why am I having the vibe that all this poison thing is a ruse coconted by Andy? He might plan to let 'rumors' slip that his 'father' is having him poisoned. And then he will SUDDENLY fall ill (might as well use the real poison, in a true Manuellanian Ive-got-balls-made-out-of-titanium all-or-nothing move. maybe they even roped in that 'Prussian' unknowingly, to do the 'poisoning'.
Ionanis is taking the letters to the Safiya's rooms. Why am I feeling dread right now?
Also:
Ionanis is taking the letters to the Safiya's rooms. Why am I feeling dread right now?
Also:
Let me guess. He is Atani's son or grandson?
Vishly the harbinger of doom.
The more deceiving your stratagems are, the better.
Burn Barcelona to the ground and the rest of their forts shall surrender.
The more deceiving your stratagems are, the better.
Burn Barcelona to the ground and the rest of their forts shall surrender.
What?! Of course not! He's finally seen the error of his ways and has chosen instead to loyally serve the man who butchered the Danes
Well Andi's up to something, that's for sure. Anastasia has definitely not gone crazy since his unseen reactions were saying "every thing's going according to plan". But what could that plan be? I think he plans to discredit Albrecht with more than JUST a fake assassination attempt. One of the letters had his seal on it and no doubt involves a massacre that will be attributed to Albrecht and not Andi. After all, everyone know who the power behind the throne is
.As for Safiya, it's one nil for her. But there's still plenty of time for the score to change
.
Hmmm...you mentioned the cupbearer for two possible reasons:
1. Andronikos ends up having a sex scandal with him (or Safiya does)
2. He's actually a spy
Either option will destroy the empire.
EDIT: Holy crap! wait a sec, that Danish spy that sold the horse for Nikephoros was also from Prussia!! OOOO!!
1. Andronikos ends up having a sex scandal with him (or Safiya does)
2. He's actually a spy
Either option will destroy the empire.
EDIT: Holy crap! wait a sec, that Danish spy that sold the horse for Nikephoros was also from Prussia!! OOOO!!
Hi, been lurking for about a year, just wanted to say this is the only aar i've been able to read for a very long time. So, I decided to make an account thingy just so I could reply.
Different note, the plague should be very...interesting. Especialy if the emperor dies.
Different note, the plague should be very...interesting. Especialy if the emperor dies.