DAY OF THE DOVES
A HISTORY OF THE ILLUSTRIOUS
von DANZIG FAMILY
OF INNSBRUCK, TIROL
A Crusader Kings II After Action Report
County of Innsbruck, 1 January 1187
Revan86
Part One. By the Grace of the Red-Beard
One. The Ledger
The illustrious history of the von Danzig family of Innsbruck, Austria begins not in the snowy Alpine heights, but on the coast of the Baltic Sea, at Budzistowo, where Siemomysł z Pomorski, Duke of the Pomeranians, held court. His closest advisor, outside his own family, was a man named Wratislaw, who hailed from the town of Danzig to the east, which the Pomeranians called Gduńsk. This Wratislaw was blessed with cunning, a keen sense of self-preservation and the conviction – insofar as he was the sort of man to harbour convictions at all – that the ends justify the means. Shrouded in secrecy, Wratislaw was to a great extent responsible for the support that Siemomysł enjoyed, however briefly, from the German Kaiser Heinrich III – managing to manipulate the way both the Kaiser and the hosts of the Pomeranians saw his liege, whether as a Catholic or as a follower of the Romuva ways. Wratislaw was, for the most part, content to stay well behind the scenes – and did, until the cold and the chronic grip to which he was prone took his life.
His son Emil, on the other hand, was not so easily contained. Finding Pomerania too small and too confined for his ambitions, Emil journeyed south to seek employment at greater courts. He did not find a warm welcome, however – for whatever reason, perhaps out of loyalty to his father’s memory, Emil never saw fit to renounce his heathen beliefs. He found service in the court of the Kaiser, and gained some small holdings in the Grafschaft
of Innsbruck in spite of his heathenism, but never attained any great position. His daughter, Richwara, born in Innsbruck, did not manage to attain to any high position, either, though she did marry Franz Dietrich, a serviceable and virtuous yeoman whose estates bordered their own, and converted to his religion. Her children, Karlotte and Rudolf, retained her name and considered themselves part of her lineage, if only on account of the distant memory of Wratislaw and the hope – enshrined in their ancestor’s name – that one day the glory of their house would return.
Rudolf, a notably bookish sort immersed in the study of theology, married late in life, to the Hessian Adalheidis, with whom he had two children: Mathias and Klara. It is with the son, Mathias, that the fortunes of the House von Danzig began to change for the better, beginning with the visit of the Kaiser Friedrich I to his holdings in Tirol for the Christmas Feast…
The room was silent except for the occasional crackle of the brazier, the sole source of light and heat in this miniature universe, the scratching of a quill upon a sheet of paper, and the occasional sniffle from its bearer as he fought off the frigid air. Outside the sky was the deepest and clearest of ultramarines, the sun already having departed long since behind the snowy peaks. The young quill-bearer paused, sniffed again and ran a hand through his long, untidy sheaf of bruin hair. Mathias stood and turned toward the brazier, rubbing his hands together and exhaling a pale, frigid cloud of his relief as the feeling returned to his fingers with the heat. At long last, the accounts were in order, and Mathias was at ease. But tonight he would not be returning to his bed. Tonight, the coldest and darkest night of the year, after months of preparation in Innsbruck, the Red-beard himself would be arriving.
Mathias had heard many tales of Friedrich Red-beard, Kaiser of the
Heiliges Römisches Reich and King of Germany, Italy and Burgundy, who had subdued Italy and who had quelled the ambitions of Heinrich the Saxon. He had heard of his strong and mighty stature, and of his sharp gaze which could cause even the most rebellious and murderous of hearts to falter and quail. Mathias had formed in his mind a vivid picture of the man, to which even now he was wondering how the reality which inspired it would compare. Father had promised him that he would get a chance to meet him personally. Not that Mathias was in any particular rush. He made his way downstairs to the manor’s main hall, where his parents and his younger sister Klara were making ready to go to the castle. The groomsmen had already prepared their mounts; it did not take them long at all to set off.
Mathias’ father Rudolf von Danzig led the party, his large and powerful frame draped with a great black cloak, his round red face shielded from the cold by a heavy scarf; there followed Mathias’ mother Adalheidis, slender and slight, but tougher than old boots for all that, coming not from nobility but from solid Hessian Frankish stock all the same – she weathered these Alpine winters better indeed than many who grew up with them! Her son and daughter followed – dark-haired and blue-eyed fourteen-year-old Klara, and Mathias himself, who found himself sitting awkwardly astride his own mount, which seemed to grudge him his weight. He found he still had trouble keeping up with his own body as it grew ever taller. Rides like this did not come often enough for him to ever get used to them.
Thankfully, the fort at Freundsberg which now housed the Emperor was easier to reach than the town of Innsbruck; so rider and horse both soon enough found respite. As the four of them entered, Mathias tried and failed to keep himself from being awestruck by the great golden banners emblazoned with the triple sable lions which symbolised the majesty, God’s will embodied and enthroned, now resting within these walls. As they entered the castle, they were immediately attended to, and invited to sit at the high table. Mathias and his family were hustled into the great hall, where the feast was already well underway, with the scents of roast meat and fowl, fresh bread and good wine hanging tantalisingly in the air. Rudolf von Danzig took his place and immediately struck up a conversation with Alberto di Morra of Lombardy, with whom he had had a number of theological debates in the past, and with whom he was eager to continue his discussions.
Mathias’ gaze was drawn immediately to the high seat, where a big man with a greying red-blonde beard was seated, laughing amiably as downed a great mug of white wine. Even seated and at ease like this, he still towered over everyone and everything else in the room, it seemed. The Friedrich Red-beard he had constructed in his mind, though a powerful figure of youth and vigour, paled and shrank before the man in the flesh: in addition to all of the statuesque qualities the tales of his exploits had endowed him with, he also had a choleric colour, a liveliness and a dynamism that imagination and stories alone could not truly touch. About him were both his loyal Hohenstaufen retinue, easily recognisable in their golden-and-sable colours, as well as several potentates from several
Reichsfrei cities of Northern Italy, who, while trying to look cheerful, still nonetheless looked ill-at-ease and fearful around the Red-beard. Perhaps with good reason – four invasions later, they had learned the meaning of fear!
‘Hey,’ said a young man at Mathias’ side, ‘have you seen Adela anywhere?’
‘Sorry, who?’ asked Mathias back.
He stood looking at a thin, wiry man – actually just barely a man; he couldn’t have been a day over ten years Mathias’ elder, and probably more like six or seven – with an impudent look in his eye. He was clad in a scarlet tunic with gold trim – a nobleman, then – and the arms of the Otakeren house on him. He held a mug of wine in his hand, which he had apparently only sipped at.
‘Adela of Graz; I brought her here with me from Eppenstein… ahh, well, the bit of skirt can’t have gone too far. Long as she’s not challenging anyone to fights to the death, she’ll be fine. Say, I don’t think we’ve met. What is your name?’
‘I’m Mathias von Danzig, son of Rudolf von Danzig of Innsbruck.’
‘
Servus,’ said the young man, with a flippant salute. ‘I’m Otakar IV, newly-minted
Herzog von Steiermark by the vast grace and beneficence of His August Majesty Friedrich Red-beard. So, you’re a Wend?’
‘My grandmother did hail from Pommern,’ Mathias returned, a little cautiously.
‘Ah, you mustn’t mistake me,’ said Otakar smoothly. ‘This parochial snobbishness some among my countrymen seem to have about Easterners goes entirely too far, if you ask me. Some of the best people I know are Slavs and Wends. One of my court, Kasandra of Sachsenfeld – she’s one of the hill-Slavs, and believe me, she could talk a sow bear out of her cubs, if one could ever pry her away from her meat and drink and—’
A sudden loud slam shook the hall, prompting both Otakar and Mathias to start, glancing toward the high table. Friedrich Red-beard’s fist was on the table, its knuckles white. His beard quivered, and his choleric face was as red as his name. Beside him was a tow-headed young nobleman clad in an austere brown robe, engaging him,
sotto voce, in a nonetheless agitated conversation. Not that it did much good now, as most eyes in the hall were fixed straight on the two of them. Suddenly Friedrich sent his sharp, piercing gaze around the room, until it settled straight on Mathias, who shrank back in spite of himself. His fist lifted itself off the table, and the Imperial finger pointed straight at him. All heads in the now dead-silent hall turned toward Mathias, wondering what offence the youth had committed against his August Majesty. The tow-headed man was now scrutinising him closely as well, and nodded gravely. Friedrich Red-beard made a violent gesture unmistakable in its import –
bring him before me.
Otakar turned to Mathias, giving a worried jerk of his head, and Mathias, too dumbstruck to even think to disobey, followed Otakar out of the hall around to the rear of the castle courtyard.
‘What… what did I do?’
‘Beats me if I know,’ Otakar replied. ‘But you don’t gainsay the Red-beard.’
The two of them waited at the rear of the courtyard, now colder than Mathias had ever felt it for the cold dread which permeated him from his heart. The Kaiser himself was striding across the courtyard now, and Mathias stood quivering before him, not daring to speak.
‘This is the son of Rudolf von Danzig?’ asked the Red-beard to the tow-headed man following him.
‘Yes, your Grace,’ he affirmed.
‘Very well. A pity my steward is not here… this boy will have to do, though if the rumours I heard from him were true, he may not be needed.’
Mathias’ mind tried to keep up.
Rumours? What rumours? About me? What in hell is going on?
‘It is a pity that this matter of business presses upon me upon this Eve of the commemoration of Our Lord’s birth,’ Friedrich said, ‘but I’m afraid it cannot wait. You,
Knabe!’
‘Yes, your Majesty?’ Mathias responded, after Otakar prompted him with a well-disguised elbow to the ribs. His voice cracked. Why the hell
now of all times?
‘In these parts you have, in spite of your green years, a reputation for cleverness and even-handedness, and that you are schooled in matters of governance. This reputation, is it well earned? Speak freely!’
‘I… have some small learning in such matters, your Majesty.’
‘It happens that I need such a clever person, and one who can be trusted to keep quiet. A messenger arrived from Leiningen to tell me that I have several
very large discrepancies between my budget and my records. Large enough, in fact, that this very feast should not even be held at my expense. I trust I needn’t tell you why I do not want this news widely known, especially here?’
‘The Italian mayors dining here might sense weakness… erm, I suppose, your Majesty?’
At that, Friedrich Red-beard let out a mighty laugh. ‘Very well-reasoned,
Knabe. Perhaps you do live up to your reputation after all!’
Friedrich Red-beard stretched out a hand to the messenger at his side, who handed him a bound ledger and several loose sheets of vellum.
‘It would be well if you could discover for me, if you could, when, and if possible, how my monies were so badly misplaced. I have here my official ledger, and the revised figures sent me by my steward. Look them over, and give me your best guess. If you can do this to my satisfaction, you will be well-rewarded.’
~~~
That had not been how Mathias von Danzig had imagined his first meeting with Friedrich Red-beard would proceed. Still, he took the ledger and the messages from his August Majesty’s hands and agreed to look them over, which he was now again doing feverishly by the light of his brazier in his parents’ quarters at Burg Freundsberg. Upon careful, logical inspection, it turned out that the Imperial Steward had not been mistaken: several large sums had gone missing from the Imperial treasury, over a period of several years going all the way back to the Year of Our Lord 1178, when Friedrich Red-beard had been crowned the King of Burgundy. It had to have been done by someone working very closely in his employ for a long time. The numbers were so large, it seemed inconceivable to Mathias that it was simple greed at work, rather than a more focussed malice, but he had little experience in these matters.
He did not answer even his father when he was asked what the Kaiser had wanted with him, and took care to conceal everything related to the matter of Friedrich’s insolvency from his parents and from Klara. His parents, being used to his taciturn and soft-spoken nature, did not press him on the subject, and he had his own ways of deterring Klara’s thumbscrews. Mathias took special care to double- and triple-check his work – it would not do to displease Friedrich Red-beard. Mathias valued the Kaiser’s good opinion, and also spared the occasional thought for his life and limb, as most young men do. On Christmas Eve, he delivered his results in person to the Kaiser’s quarters, whose guards had given him leave to enter.
The Kaiser took the message from him and read it over personally. When he had done, he nodded grimly and scribbled down his own message on the reverse of the vellum Mathias had prepared, giving it to his tow-headed messenger.
‘Take that back to Leiningen, deliver it straight to Heinrich,’ the Kaiser instructed. ‘Be quick about it.’
The messenger bowed deeply, and took his leave.
‘
Knabe, you have done me a great service today, and have shown me great loyalty. I dared not think it possible… At any rate, let it not be said that Friedrich Red-beard does not honour his promises. I had promised to reward you, and it seems fitting that, in saving my position and prestige in this
Grafschaft, and possibly throughout the German lands, that I should give you this
Grafschaft in recompense.’
Mathias, unsure if he had heard correctly, repeated: ‘Give me this…
Grafschaft?’
The Kaiser nodded gravely. ‘Kneel.’
Mathias knelt, dazed, as Friedrich Red-beard withdrew his sword, holding it over Mathias’ head.
‘Do you swear before Almighty God to obey me as your sovereign lord in all things, and devote yourself to my service with all that you hold, and to uphold the laws of the
Reich as a lord of that realm?’
‘I swear.’
The Kaiser touched first one shoulder, and then the other, with the flat of his blade.
‘Rise, Mathias von Danzig,
Graf von Innsbruck. You are hereby given lordship over castle and town, and also over the town of Kufstein and the bishopric of Stams. May you continue to serve me as well as you have already done.’
It was the most bizarre Christmas that Mathias, now
Graf von Innsbruck, had ever passed in his sixteen years of life. As the son of a noble house in decline, decidedly foreign and decidedly poor, most in these parts regarded him as little better than a franklin – worthy of respect, surely, but never of the awe that came with high birth and high office. Now, though, as word of the Kaiser’s new appointment became known, he was greeted with deference and salutes with every turn he took in the castle. Even more bizarre were the reactions from his family – his father, though upset that he had kept the matter so secret even from him, was clearly proud for him, as were his mother and sister. Yet they kept him at more of a distance now, as though he was suddenly transmuted into some different stuff than their son and brother had been made of.
He sought out Otakar, who had been the recipient of similar largesse – though Otakar had started out a
Graf and had been elevated to the position of
Herzog for a similar good turn. Otakar nodded, commiserated, and laughed when Mathias told him of all that had transpired.
‘No, you’re not going mad,’ Otakar had assured him. ‘And there are a number of great responsibilities, true. But you seem a fair-minded sort of fellow; you won’t fare too badly.’
‘I pray God you’re right about that,’ Mathias said.