Bastions
Chapter Forty One: Aeterna Rege Europa
Part 1
Prelude:
While Holstein fought multiple wars in the north and other states seemed to have trouble keeping their people united, the Caliphate was hoping to enter a time of peace and rebuilding. Their relationships with the other Muslim states were strained. The on-going Frandist heresy was a large player to this. European Muslims' seeming unwillingness to complete the Hajj was another major divisor. Especially after years of warfare against the Christians, which forced thousands of men to miss the Hajj, many European Imams announced that the blood of their warriors had paid off the need to go on the Hajj. This was the first major issue between European Islam and Sunni Islam. Next was a series of reforms allowing for the consumption of alcohol (often the only safe drink in Europe) and for the semi-deity status of Jesus. Eventually many of these reforms collected into a form of Islam known as "Frandism" or "Franda Islam", Franda from Arabic and meaning "Frank". Essentially it was French Islam, though many historians and Franda Imams say that Frandism arose out of Iberia. Wherever it started, Frandism quickly grew popular in the Caliphate where ever a large, placated, Christian community existed. By the time Islam reached Germany, it was almost entirely in Frandist form. Frandism was known for its willingness to convert the masses. Sunnis already in the Caliphate found it much easier to reaffiliate with the Frandist movement rather than protest its existence. In 1360, the Caliph of the West was dead, and his son, a young boy at the age of 13 and a staunch Frandist, was elected "Aeterna Rege Europa", the Eternal King of Europe.
August 1st, 1360
It was the first day of Ramadan in the Frandist solar calendar, marking the day that Ramon III Mohoma bin Abbas would be crowned Caliph, so-called King of Europe. The boy was young, still trying to make sense of the death of his father and his current calling. He had just barely been elected. France gave its two votes to itself; Holstein did the same with its two. His regent cast Aragon's vote to itself. This was supported by Navarre and Rum, giving Ramon three votes... not a majority but it put him ahead. As he stood waiting to be crowned, a swarm of tailors and assistants moved around him: putting the last touches on his regalia for the crowning. He had been fitted for a special hat that would allow the large crown to fit snugly on his head, though it still weighed far too much for him to hold. Duke Txomin sat off to the side, watching with his right leg on his left, his hand up to his face. But he was perfectly silent. It was a moving day for many. The Caliphate would officially schism from Sunni Islam. Ramon III was a Frandist, unlike his father. And like many people in the Caliphate, Txomin thought of today as a momentous, if not monumental, point in time.
"Txomin, what am I to do as Caliph?" the boy asked, a question he oft repeated to his mentor and his regent.
"I do not know, my lord. That is up to you to decide when you come of age in three years. And it is not my place to say what you should do. So I will end on that," Txomin said, his voice seemingly weary and dislocated. The Duke of Navarre was dealing with his own loss, but mostly he was worried that this day would not be what he hoped it would, or that he would not be the man his father had hoped he would. Txomin watched the Caliph's face through the mirror in front ofthem.
"Txomin, I do not know who to believe. You say the East can be our ally, despite their strange ways and lack of progress in the sciences and the maths... but Duke Mohammad says they can only be an enemy... one to be fought and crushed for the glory of God," the boy said, stating exactly what was on his mind, "Who is right?"
"Neither of us," Txomin said quickly, almost in a hushed voice.
"Neither of you? But a coin must either be heads or tails."
"Not every question is a flip of a coin... there is exists middle ground, a red sky between the black of night and the blue of day," Txomin said, repeating a line oft said to him by his father.
"Fair enough," the boy-King said. He looked straight ahead as the tailors made sure the skirt of his shirt was of the proper length. He turned around to Txomin, "How do I look?"
"Kingly, my lord."
"I think it looks stupid. I don't like red... I like green more." Ramon turned around and looked in the mirror again, "Green is a Kingly color; it is the color of life and Islam. Red is a warrior's color; it is the color of blood and Christians."
Txomin detected a hint of anger in that statement. "What do you mean the color of the Christians?"
"We bring them civilization, and they revolt. We bring them science and medicine and they run to dens to practice their non-sense. We send Imams to organize their lands and they send back the heads of converts. What makes you think Prussia is different?"
The Vasque knew his lord had been in the company of the Duke of Holstein recently. His words were not his own, rather the rantings of the power-hungry Zähringer. "Do you really believe that, my lord? Or did the Duke Zähringer say that? You know he covets your mantel more than anything. He will do anything to take it from you. Duke Mohammad is a warrior; all he sees is the violence of the Christians. But he has never tried to be at peace with them. He only wages wars against them, even when there is no war to be fought. He does not try to convert people through the love preached to us by God and his prophets; he does it only through the sword and through pain. That is why they reject God's love, and your authority." Txomin was quiet for a second, his ton was very unbecoming a Duke when speaking to his master. "I fear what he plans," the Duke said quietly.
Ramon carefully studied his regent, but it was a chancellor that asked the question on everyone's mind, "What do you think the Duke Zähringer is planning?"
"I believe he would incite the Germans into a religious revolt, and then try to pin the problem on the Iberian rulers, gain support for a more drastic and controlling Caliph based in Germany so that the Christians would be pacified."
There was a silence as the tailors left the room so the Caliph could speak to his advisors in private. The Chancellor, an old ally of Txomin, nodded. He understood that it was very possible that the Zähringers would do something of the sort. "You think he will invade Austria soon: increase the number of Germans even further, push more of their collective buttons?"
"I do, and we must be ready to react. Iberia needs to send Imams into Germany to begin pacifying the populace the way God intended: through a caring hand. We need to remove some of the power from the Zähringers, give one of their votes to the Bishop-Prince in Würzburg. He is at least sympathetic to our cause and we are able to appoint his successor," Txomin answered. When the gravity of the situation was realized, all eyes turned to the young Caliph who was standing there, forgotten and bewildered by what he was being forced into. Txomin placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and then lead him over to the tailors to get his final gown and cap for the crowning. Without a word, Ramon exited his palace and headed to the great Mosque of Barcelona to be crowned Caliph of the West and King of Europe. Txomin followed him the entire way. With wars in the east flaring up, the Duke knew the young boy was in way over his head. But such was the way of the world.