The Munsters

Bishop Otto IV was a man uniquely unsuited for his position. His huge shoulders and arms betrayed the fact of the years he had spent in the quarries. Once he had been thought of as the greatest wrestler in all of Westphalia. Those days were long past. He was not a patient man, nor a humble one. He was given to carnal indulgences, and did not stop after entering the priesthood. In fact his bastards numbered over a dozen. While he did not disdain scholarship, he had an irreverent way of looking at things which ill suited a church father.

There was a rumor circulating when he joined the church that he had killed a man. Whether seeking the aegis of the church against criminal trial or for some other inscrutable reason, Otto never revealed. His elevation to the bishopric was the stuff legends were made of. One day, the Emperor was staying in town, and the roof of a local building caved in on him. The huge priest was the only man powerful enough to dig him out. The grateful Emperor then elevated him. Or was it the Pope? Or maybe he foiled an assassination attempt. Speculation was rampant, and it never fell on his acts of piety and humility.

However, Otto was as devout as any other man of the times. He firmly believed in heaven, hell, and purgatory. He was convinced that confession and penance would ease his inevitable stay in limbo. He sometimes underwent very extreme penances, only to go and commit the same sin as soon as he was finished. He believed in the Church, but found its strictures too confining for his own life.

Father Hansel was a much less colorful man. A youngest son in a family of merchants, he had been raised for the priesthood from a young age, and had taken to it rather well. A skinny man with a rather crooked nose, he was the man in charge of the Bishop's correspondences. Basically his secretary, but also one of his chief(and chiefly unheeded) advisors.

Father Hansel looked askance at the bishop. "Why would we involve ourselves in an alliance with Kleves. Surely there are matters of a more spiritual nature to attend to."

Otto groaned. Father Hansel could really be a prig at times. "If we completely ignore temporal matters, they will intrude themselves. We are not hermits, we can not afford to lock ourselves away from the things of the world. I will hear no more on this matter."

Father Hansel shifted his eyes and went to find the courier. The scene was repeated months later, when the Bishop invited Geldre to join with Kleves and Munster in an alliance.

Then one sunny morning in early June, Year of Our Lord 1419, Father Hansel brought in a letter from Kleves. His petulant expression clearly stated "I told you so." After reading the note, Otto could hardly contain the gleam in his eye.

Germans and beer? Preposterous! Absurd!

I'd appreciate it if someone told me how to stick a link to this thread in my signature.

Next part coming up soon.

Edit- Ah, it works. Thank you.

Bishop Peter of Wurzburg,

How goes your pilgrimage? I pray Your Excellency's journey has not been too fraught with peril. Does the Turk allow you safe passage? Are the holy places in good repair? I look forward to receiving your next missive.

Congratulations for your recent appointment. I trust you will now hie to Wurzburg to take up your office. I am sure you will honor your holy office there as you have in Munster.

Things do not bode well since you left. Without your calming influence, the bishop has been allowing his baser instincts free reign. You surely must have heard how we went to war with Kleves and Geldre against Burgundy at the mere urging of Kleves. They had no pretext for the war, simply figuring Burgundy was weak. Bishop Otto gave nary a thought before throwing his lot wholeheartedly in with his "allies." Since, he has carried a devilish countenance at all times.

He has followed the war extremely closely, dispatching troops to Holland, Zeeland and Flandern. He repeatedly spurned quite generous Burgundian peace offers, and only acquiesced after our forces got soundly defeated in Artois. As a result of the peace, we turned Holland and Flandern back over to Burgundy, keeping Zeeland and receiving an indemnity as well. I fear for the bishop's soul, for he still quite obviously covets the rest of the Low Country. He goes about with a demented air, plotting and scheming as to how he will do so, and making sure to keep military forces up. In fact, he has dilligently been working to make Munster's army a formidable force, I fear it is for the glory of Otto, not of God.

On the last and perhaps most despicable note, there is the matter of the ceremony taking place in the cathedral on February 21, 1422. In a double marriage, two of the Bishop's bastards married daughters of the houses of Geldre and Kleves to seal their "alliance." The bishop not only showed no shame at the evidence of his iniquity, he parades it! He presided over the event himself, which I think makes the sacrilege even worse. The display was not only immoral but vulgar as well, befitting a man who prefers the ferment of the grain to the vine.

In Fellowship and service of Christ,
Hansel Schlibenhoffer

1424 dawned with Burgundy licking its wounds while Munster was celebrating its victory. The celebration proved short lived however...

Otto had been furious on hearing of the loss at Artois. The courier had the impression of an ornate candlestick forever imprinted on his left cheek. Had he been a slower man, the candlestick would have been embedded in his skull. Fortunately for the rest of the bishop's servants and subjects, an emissary from Burgundy arrived soon after. He repeated the previously rejected terms: Burgundy would cede Zeeland and give a sum of money for peace. This time, Otto begrudgingly accepted.

The bishop's lucidity began to fade in and out. He was often heard mumbling about Burgundy and the traitors at Artois. One day he sat discussing the international situation with Father Hansel when he suddenly exclaimed, "That's it! I will be a duke!"

"What?" replied the priest.

"I rule over the Dutch, so I must have a duchy! Ha! Get it? Dutch, duchy?"

"You know I do not speak English, your Excellency," the priest replied in German. The bishop seemed to fade out, and Father Hansel figured he would forget the entire incident. However, within the month the Emperor had granted the title of Duke of Westphalia to the bishop along with most of the powers and tax revenues that had belonged to the bishopric. This of course renewed the speculations on what had happened between Otto and the Emperor. Otto happily renounced his vows and became a lay member of the church. Peter of Wurzburg came to take over duties as bishop.

While outward events seemed to be looking up in the duke's life, his insanity was steadily worsening. Despite the soothing effects of his confessions to the new bishop, and the ministrations of a pair of his favorite courtesans, Otto's rage got progressively harder to control. Any mention of Burgundy in his presence was likely to send someone to the doctor if not the grave. Even oblique references often had this effect, or even statements where no one but him could see the connection.

On a cool afternoon in October, 1424, Otto went hunting with a retinue including his favorite son and designated heir, Heinrich. The father and son rode off separate from the rest of the party and In one of his rare lucid moments he gave his son some fatherly advice. "Son, I do not feel I am long for this world."

"Why would you think that? You seem healthy enough to me, father."

"It is just a feeling. Listen up, I wish to give you three important pieces of advice: First, always go to confession and mass. There is little you can do that the lord can not forgive. And while you're at it, say a few prayers for your old man."

"Of course."

"Second, always listen to Father Hansel. If he gets priggish and fidgety, you must be doing something right. Finally, beware of Burgundy." At this color began to run to his head. "Keep the army up. Don't let them expand any more, for once they control the Low Country, Germany is not safe. And beware of traitors in your midst, like the ones at Artois." He was getting angrier and angrier, but for once Heinrich disregarded the warning signs. Heinrich resented the gag rule on Burgundy, and felt that keeping his mouth shut was an act of cowardice.

"Sir, with all due respect-" began Heinrich.

"Huh?"

"Burgundy is not the devil, and we lost Artois because their general was better than ours, not because we were betrayed, and I think it is time-" continued the son.

Something dark and terrible crept into the duke's countenance as an evil thought clicked in his head. "You were at Artois, weren't you?" Before his son could respond, he continued. "And you always are taking up for Burgundy aren't you?"

Heinrich was stunned by this. For one thing, he had never said anything about Burgundy to his father before. Before he could gather all his thoughts together, he noticed the glint of steel and the pounding footsteps of his father's horse. Instinctively, he leaned over his horse to the left, away from his father's sword. The blow narrowly missed him but nipped off the tip of his horse's ear. There was no time to think about that though, his father was coming right back at him. Heinrich raised his sword to deflect the blow, and his blade lodged squarely in the duke's heart.

Scarcely a few seconds passed before the hunting party came into view. Heinrich was in a daze. What had he just done? Patricide was serious business. Besides being damned to hell, there was the immediate problem of how he could escape punishment from this. He wiped his brow with his sleeve as the leading noble of the party rode up.

"What happened here?"

"My father had . . . an accident."

The man looked over at the body. The stab wound in his chest was quite evident. He gritted his teeth. "The duke is dead," he said wryly. "Long live the duke."

"I have killed my father."

"Why would you do that?"

"I didn't want to, it just happened. He came at me with his sword, and I grabbed mine to fend him off. Somehow it got stuck into his chest."

"Did you wish your father dead?"

"No, of course not! He could be a mean SOB, and his termper was legendary, but he was my father and I . . ."

"Loved him?"

"Well, I didn't wish his death!" Heinrich said defensively.

"If it was an accident, and there was no malice in your heart, there is no sin, and no need for penance," the kindly bishop replied. "If you wish to honor your father, do it thus: Be a just and merciful ruler, slow to anger, quick to forgive. Never act out of spite, always out of love. Now go and sin no more."

Heinrich managed a slight smile at this. "Go and sin no more" was a private joke he had with his confessor. He walked out of the room, determined to be a good duke.

From The History of Economics by Karl Schwartzwald

The reigns of Otto and Heinrich in Westphalia were marked by rapid expansion in trade. They made agreements with many other nations to respect each other's merchants. The 1420s saw Munster begin to sponsor merchants in droves, beginning with the trade centers of Mecklenberg and Flandern, and gradually pushing out to all the markets of Europe. By the end of Heinrich's reign in 1450, Munster had a quarter of the market in nearly every center in Europe.

From The Life of Otto by St Peter of Wurzburg

On one occasion, the new duke was hosting an ambassador from France. The ambassador made the unfortunate remark that sometimes it was wiser to run away and live to fight another day. The duke took this as an allusion to Artois and began to fume. The ambassador noticed this and the effect was so strong, he immediately proved his agreement with the saying, bolting to the window and jumping to a nearby tree. He misjudged his leap, and ended up with his shirt caught on a branch, while he hung suspended from it. The company audibly quieted while this was happening, and all were silent until the duke walked over to the window, looked out, and burst into the heartiest laughter you could imagine. He instructed his guards to go fetch the ambassador down from the tree, and to fetch him a new shirt. The tension lifted, and the company resumed its private discussions.

Thanks for the positive feedback guys. Though I plan on continuing this as long as it is fun for me, every bit of encouragement helps.

Iron, it is fairly safe to say the Netherlands will never exist as an independent entity Don't take it too hard, though. The dukes of Munster do not look down on the Dutch, and consider their state a German/Dutch one. (I didn't give Munster Dutch culture though, that would have made things too easy ) In fact, the rulers will have Dutch blood, as you will soon see, when I introduce Heinrich's duchess. . . and show that he is truly his father's son.

Saskia was well accustomed to getting her way. She had free range of the castle, and her widower father rarely checked up on her. Her governess was pushing 80 and deaf to boot. An idyllic situation for a free spirited lass like herself.

One of Saskia's favorite pastimes was sneaking off to taverns in the nearby villages to drink ale with the commoners, listen to tales both bawdy and heroic, and above all to hear the traveling musicians play. She could listen for hours to a troubadour plucking his lyre and singing softly of knights performing noble deeds to win the favor of a fair maiden. It was a world so far from her everyday life, yet so close she could taste it. . .

It was not a knight errant with a prancing steed who won the favor of young Saskia, but an English minstrel, Percy Woodley. She was intrigued by his strange accent, so she sheepishly went to talk with him after a performance. He was not impervious to her considerable charms, so he did what any young man might do. He regaled her with tales of an England where Arthur and Lancelot were real figures, not legends of a long lost time. He told her of mystical beasts and wizards he had encountered personally, of close shaves with dark knights, and of anything else he could think of. In short, he lied, but it worked like a charm. She sought him out regularly, and when he finally made his move she yielded readily.

They had been clandestine lovers for several months when her father dropped a bombshell on her. He was taking her to Munster, where she was to be wed in a month. Though she had always wanted to see the world outside of Geldre, this was not what she had in mind.

"But Father, I am only 16, surely I should wait another year or two before being wed."

"Honey, you know very well that most girls are married by your age."

"And he's not Dutch! He's a German! They are so crude and unrefined."

"You don't know him yet. Come to think of it, neither do I. But marry him you will."

A steely expression formed on her face. "No, I will not."

Normally, at this point her father figured that forcing his will did more trouble than good and acquiesced, but not this time. "You have no choice in this matter. You are to marry the German."

"NO I WILL NEVER MARRY HIM!" she shouted and ran to her room crying. Her father buried his head in his balled up fists and sighed. After a few moments of bitter reflection, he ordered guards posted outside her door and her window.

As she lay sobbing by her bed, Saskia made a decision. She would leave tonight. Percy would marry her, and he could take her off to this magical England of his. She would miss her father and miss Geldre, but she had no choice.

Saskia poked her head outside the door and saw a large hairy man sitting at the end of the hall wearing a military uniform. A guard. Well, her resolve wouldn't crumble over a small obstacle like this. She went to the window. Damnit, a guard there as well. She sat down to think. She could feign sickness, but that would make him send someone into the room with her. She could seduce one of the guards, but that was a sin and Percy might not understand that she did it to be with him and -- she looked out the window again. No, she could safely rule that one out. Of course! One of the guards was bound to fall asleep, especially if she fell asleep first. After several hours of feigning sleep, she crept to the window and looked out. She could vaguely make out the guard's form in the moonlight, and he was standing. Ok, check the hallway. She crept out past the sleeping guard, only to bump into her father. "Darling, I'd suggest you go back and get some sleep. We have a long journey tomorrow." He had a craftsman with him, there to construct a temporary lock for the door. After placing a bar across it, her father and the craftsman left, and she was locked in.

I have played many games as small Dutch and German powers and I usually have a devil of a time getting military access from France. Normally, Burgundy will offer up Zeeland and Flandern(and sometimes Holland or Artois as well if the French left Artois for you to take. This time however, I had bribed England for a separate peace, but Burgundy somehow got a leader up there, and my forces were routed. I knew I wasn't going to get better terms, barring several loans.

I do hope to put up some screenshots, but the earliest date would be 1459. And my narrative is only up to the mid 1420s, so it should be a while. How do you take screenshots anyway?

Glad y'all are enjoying it.

Well did Heinrich remember the sensations he felt the first time he saw his Geldre bride. Her slim figure, her long blonde hair, her delicate neck, her kissable lips. The sight of this delicate beauty inspired the most intense longing he had ever known. He must possess her; he WOULD possess her. He remembered how he had begged his father to let him marry her. After much debate, Otto had decided it didn't really matter which son was married to Geldre and which to Kleves, and had allowed his sons to settle the matter through a simple test of wills: They would take turns hitting each other in the gut until one relinquished his claim. Heinrich's brother Karl was a huge brute of a man, but Heinrich took everything he could give. Eventually the exhausted Karl agreed to marry the rather plain Kleves noblewoman, settling the matter.

Heinrich still felt the same longing, but it had a bitter flavor to it these days. The change had begun on his wedding night. After much drinking and feasting, he and Saskia had retired for the night. She feigned a headache, but he did not let that deter him. After three vigorous rounds of lovemaking, he started to drift off to sleep. However, sleep was a long time coming with his head in the ecstatic state it was. After a while, his wife thought he had fallen asleep. She took a vial of reddish dye from her belongings, and rubbed it into strategic areas of the sheet. Unbeknownst to her, Heinrich was awake and watching this exercise. DAMN! he thought. After moments of frantic consideration, he decided not to expose her and get an annulment. Instead, he would forgive her past indiscretions while making sure they did not happen in the future. He would become the only lover she ever wanted.

Saskia at first had seemed a bit rankled by the constant intrusions of Heinrich and servants acting as his spies and watchdogs. Lately, though it had seemed she was softening to him. He had done everything he could to win her heart, writing her poetry, asking her opinions, being gentle and tender in his lovemaking, and it seemed to be working.

Everything got much blacker when that damned minstrel came along.

Heinrich hadn't thought anything of it when the duchess revealed a slight expression of surprise on seeing the English musician. Over the following weeks, Heinrich noticed the two talking a few times too many, and seeming quite familiar with each other. His jealous suspicions grew darker and darker.

Tonight, he would find out if he was right. He told his wife that he was going on a hunting trip for the next few days. After an ostentatious departure from the palace, he had clandestinely come back, without his retinue. He had made his way to duchess's chambers, only to find them empty. Now he stood outside the guest room the minstrel was occupying, hearing voices on the other side of the door.

He burst in to see the musician in a naked embrace with his wife. She made a quick movement to cover her nakedness with a blanket, then stopped as recognition came. Her eyes were sad and fearful, while his wore a bestial expression. His eyes took in the entire scene, then in an extraordinarily rapid motion, he leapt toward the wall, picked up an ornamental battle axe, and hurled it at the Englishman. The throw was timed perfectly, and the axe lodged itself deep into the minstrel's skull.

Saskia slumped to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. Heinrich retrieved the bloodied axe, planning on finishing off the unfaithful wife as well. He raised the axe over her head, then gently lowered it back down. He couldn't do it. He reached down and pulled her to him. She kept crying and moaning "You killed him. You killed him," and slapping his hands away. He fended off her weak blows and pushed her onto the bed. He then crawled on top of her and pinned her arms down. The rest you can guess yourself.

She continued crying the whole night. Nine months later, she bore a son. He was named Walram, and became the ducal heir. However, Heinrich was never totally convinced that Walram was his son.

The first years of Heinrich's marriage had been quite rocky, but his reign had been smooth sailing. The Emperor had largely kept himself out of the duke's business, and Burgundy seemed to be ignoring him as well. Heinrich had managed to marry off one of his half-sisters to an important French duke and had successfully obtained trade agreements, dynastic alliances and military access from many of the surrounding states.

The marriage seemed to be getting better as well. The glint of hatred in Saskia's eyes had faded, and she gave herself more readily on the frequent occasions when he claimed his marital rights. Saskia had born him two more children who both died in infancy. Heinrich supposed that the child had blunted her anger. She doted on Walram excessively, quite spoiling the child in his opinion.

In 1430, things got complicated. In June, Burgundy took Friesland. In August, they annexed Brabant. Geldre and the duke's estates in Zeeland now looked quite vulnerable.

The duke still attempted to avoid war, but he stepped up recruitment for his armies as a precaution. He felt that a declaration of war would vindicate his father's obsession, making him all the more culpable for goading the old man.

After a year of his vacillations on Burgundy, Saskia decided the matter for him. She reminded him of the fate of the duke of Friesland, and that her father and his ally could easily be next. She reminded him that his lands in Zeeland would also be a natural target for Burgundy's ambitions. She pointed out that his armies were a match for the Burgundians, but that his income could not maintain them for long. Finally the clincher, "If you would be a man, you must stand up and defend what is yours. You must not cower like a dog and hope that others leave you alone." Heinrich felt sufficiently galled that he declared war the very next day.

On September 3, the duke of Westphalia declared war on the duke of Burgundy. Westphalia's allies Geldre and Kleves, and Burgundy's ally England joined the fray shortly after.

Heinrich sent his armies to siege Flandern and Holland. However, the detachment sent to Holland met a Burgundian force which had invaded Zeeland, and were routed. The army invested in Flandern was unwisely left alone while the Burgundians set up their own siege in Zeeland. In June of 1432, after nearly a year of fighting, Flandern fell to the forces of Munster. Shortly after, the English agreed to make peace for a minor indemnity of 10 ducats. The duke gladly paid. Now, he was free to deal with Burgundy without fear of English intervention. He dispatched his troops from Flandern into Brabant, while mustering new armies in Munster to drive out the Frenchmen sitting outside the walls of Rotterdam. Brabant quickly fell, and with their forces beaten in Zeeland, Arras being surrounded by Westphalian troops, and an army heading toward Burgundian possessions in the northern part of the Low Country, Philip Le Bon sued for peace, offering to allow Munster to keep its gains(Brabant & Flandern). Heinrich accepted, and once again his state had peace.

Heinrich, however, found little. His father had been right, Burgundy had been a great threat to the security of all in the region. And he had died for being right. . .