Chapter 51: The Emperor turns toward God
27 March 1714, Imperial Throne Room, Rome
Francis III felt his head spinning. His Marshal and Chief of the General Staff sat quietly and waited for him to speak, but it was all too much for the Emperor to take in.
He'd been delighted by the progress Italian forces had made in their invasion of Bohemia, and the first battle was an easy victory.
That had deluded him into thinking that Bohemia would not be a serious challenge, that like every other foe Italy had faced that Bohemia would collapse without any effort. Then he got the casualty report for the third Battle of Dresden; the second battle had been so horrific that the casualty report itself was smeared in blood and completely unreadable.
The Bohemians had even negotiated an access treaty with Austria, who was only too eager to punish Italy's transgressions against her. That enabled Bohemia to invade Transdanubia
provincia.
Francis III simply couldn't control himself any longer and vomited into a nearby urn. After a few sips of wine to wash out the taste of bile, he turned angrily to his commanders. "I was told this war would be won easily, gentlemen. Nearly four thousand dead in one battle is hardly easy!"
Marshal de Ruyter looked curiously at the Emperor. This was the same Emperor that killed his own father, yet couldn't handle what was in reality a very reasonable casualty rate? He knew he had to be especially careful with his words, but was nonetheless completely confused. "Emperor, sir, none of us here are happy about the dead soldiers, but they did inflict nearly three times as many casualties upon the enemy. Field Marshal Visconti preferred far better than expectations. I'm not certain how things could have gone better."
Francis III looked up from another retching fit, his eyes bleary. "Oh, I suppose you're right, Marshal. I must be getting too soft."
"Are you sure you're okay, Emperor? You don't look well."
Francis attempted a chuckle, but that only brought upon another episode.
The Marshal waved over a couple of guards. "Emperor, you are in no position to rule in this state. Shall I send for the Prince?"
The Emperor waved frantically, which was just as well. Giuseppe had a nasty habit of ignoring even his least important responsibilities in Constantinople. He more often spent the night with all manner of women, except, ironically, the one he was married to.
"I shall ask the Chancellor, then. Get some sleep, Emperor."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
1 May 1714, Chancellor's office, Rome
Antonio di Farnese looked at his deputy. "Claudius, how is my cousin today?"
Claudius Germanicus marveled at how much his life had changed. Ettore di Medici had not only been his biggest client, but his last one. It was hardly the young lawyer's fault that his client had tried to escape custody, but his father, the Proconsul of Aegyptus
provincia, had had enough of his son's antics and relieved him of his position. When his close friend Antonio offered him a job and a promotion to Baron, Claudius had no choice.
"Chancellor, he's still pretty sick. The word is that he's asked for a priest. I hope it is not the worst."
"As do I, my friend. The last thing I want to think about is Giuseppe trying to run an Empire."
Both men shared a shudder at that. The Chancellor carefully studied the two latest battle reports and smiled. "Perhaps this will cheer him up."
Claudius laughed. "That is good news. Why don't you tell the Emperor? I can handle things here until you return."
"I do believe I will, Claudius."
As the Chancellor reached the palace and made his way to the Emperor's chambers, he was startled by what he found. At first he was pleased that the Emperor was standing, but he was dressed in all black. Francis nodded towards a chair and handed a small slip of paper to him.
Antonio,
I want to thank you for all of your service to this Empire, and I know your father would have been proud of you. However, I do not have the courage to continue as Emperor any longer. I cannot take the nightmares or the horrors of the dead any longer. I have taken a vow of silence and intend to enter a monastery. I will still remain Emperor to the rest of the world, but to my most trusted friends and advisors, you and the Marshal shall be co-Emperors. Do not tell Giuseppe; I have a feeling he will not bother to find out if he is not told. Please inform Constantijn and have my carriage made ready. I sail for Nova Italia tomorrow.
PS: Do not call me Emperor or Francis any longer; I have adopted the name Brother Benedict.
Antonio tried to protest, but a faint smile on the ashen face of the Emperor dissuaded him from arguing. All he could do was tell the Marshal.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
27 October 1714, Crete
Colonel Vittorio Vico smiled at the latest reports he received. Placed in charge of the prestigious Legio XXXV 'Magnus', his orders were to seize Crete and annex it to the Empire of Italy, and he'd done exactly that.
The resulting battle had not been bloodless, but it had been a great victory.
Vittorio had earned his colonelcy at great cost, literally. He'd spent over 1000 ducats of his family fortune to be named a colonel. He first tried to buy the commission from the Marshal, but Constantijn de Ruyter would not tolerate any such notions. Fortunately for Vittorio, Prince Giuseppe was more powerful and much more flexible. The Vicos were a very new family in the Empire; in fact, his older brother had been the first to attain hereditary nobility for serving as the Emperor's personal priest. His brother, who went by the name Brother Paul but was born Paolo Vico, didn't even use his rank in public, donated his salary to the Church, and in general misspent it, at least in his younger brother's eyes. Vittorio had no such plans; he wanted to be wealthy and powerful, and he would be, especially since he'd won this great victory. Of course, most of his troops preferred to think that the victory had been won by Colonel Jean-Louis de Lafayette, who had actually raised and trained the Legion, but he paid to no mind to mere peasants like them.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
27 January 1715, Ratibor, Bohemia
Benedetto Visconti, Field Marshal of the Empire of Italy, sighed. It was bad enough that he had to share the theater with the wunderkind Vittorio Vico, who'd been promoted to General for "heroism in Crete." The navy effortlessly eliminated the Bohemian fleet, which increased their prestige, probably at his expense as well.
He thought angrily of his friend Lafayette, who was the real man behind the quick subjugation of Crete, but still stuck at Colonel. How did an ass like Vico get promoted over a genius like Lafayette? He might even get to be Marshal someday, especially since Benedetto's own stock was falling.
The loss of an entire legion, in the eyes of many, outweighed his considerable skill at taking the majority of Bohemia's lands with quick and forceful sieges. He'd already sent his report to Marshal de Ruyter, but even he seemed more harrowed than usual.
What was going on back in Rome?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
3 May 1715, Marshal's office, Florence
Constantijn de Ruyter didn't even feel like a co-Emperor. He felt like a private again. Only Malaspina, Antonio, and de Neuchâtel knew of the Emperor's choice. He actually admired the Emperor for recognizing his limits and acting on them. Not many had that kind of moral courage. Of course,
he didn't have to deal with the ensuing mess, and a mess it was. Antonio and Claudius were handling things fine in Rome for the most part, but the hard part of running an Empire was coordinating the troops, especially during the war. Brutus Contadino was a superb officer, and made his job a little easier, but the truth was that the Emperor had done an excellent job of protecting the Marshal from criticism, and the third Battle of Bohemia only engendered more criticism.
Yes, the Italian forces had prevailed, but the Burgundian General was an idiot and a butcher. Especially when compared with the other great successes the Empire experienced in Africa and Hungary, many nobles were angrily asking why their sons had been sacrificed for no good reason.
The invasion of North Africa by Bohemian forces, despite the successful repulsion at the Battle of Atlas, had drawn even more anger. They'd simply avoided the navy's patrols, who'd forgotten about Bohemia's African holdings. Whether his fault or not, the Marshal was responsible.
"Brutus, why wasn't Vico in charge for that battle?"
Brutus Contadino scoffed at the General's name. "Permission to speak freely, Marshal?"
A wry grin spread across Constantijn's face. "Of course, General."
"He's an arrogant ass who didn't want to get put in the position to damage his sterling reputation. Sir, why did you promote him?"
It was now the Marshal's turn to scoff and scowl. "I had no choice. The Prince demanded it, and without the Emperor, I can't overrule him. I wish he'd just formally abdicated, honestly."
"Yeah, but then Giuseppe would be Emperor and completely unstoppable."
Constantijn groaned. "Don't remind me, General. Do you know, I heard he's even been talking to some criminals in Constantinople? He keeps losing all of his money in the gambling halls and wants to borrow money."
Brutus shook his head sadly. "This may sound crazy, sir, but I kind of miss Peter."
Constantijn chuckled, but looked forlorn. "You know what General? I do too."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
20 February 1716, Bohemia
Francesco Malaspina, Foreign Minister, thanked the King of Bohemia for his time while privately worried about how the King would take not meeting with the Emperor directly. Still, peace was signed, although the war had really ended with the Second Battle of Erz.
The only problem left now was a new war with Persia, but there was no serious threat made from them, and the Marshal hadn't even bothered sending a general east to deal with the supposed threat.
With no more serious wars, Francesco hoped that Antonio and Constantijn would be able to handle affairs in the Empire. A kind note from the Emperor had improved morale somewhat, but since only the three most trusted in the Empire ever got to read it, it was small consolation.
What would be best for the Empire at this point would be if something happened to Giuseppe. I know it's terrible to think that, but it really would be best. But then who would be Emperor?
Francesco wouldn't have to wait long to find out.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
That's all for now. I hope you liked it!