Operation Dead Ruskie and other matters of State
It was a fine day in the City of London. Edward, Emperor of Byzantium and Rome, was walking through the wonderful parkland gardens built at great cost for his mother by his father. He was waiting for his third son, the redoubtable Richard. Despite his prodigious mental abilities Richard had inherited from his Grandfather Gerald the immense and insatiable desire for a girl in every village. There were a lot of villages in the Norman Empire, so young Richard was kept busy.
There was a comotion in Edward’s prizewinning cluster of Prince Eustace de Normandie roses. The Prize had been won in the category Roses of the Emperor Edward Horticultural Society’s Annual Flower, shrub and Tree Show. Edward was quite proud of his roses. The falling petals were not making him happy, since he was planning to show the roses again this year. Being Edward, he had a pretty good idea what was causing the commotion.
Edward:
Richard! If you insist on showing your village maidens the gardens, at least show them the shrubbery. It can withstand the exercise better.
The rustling stopped. A somewhat tousled, handsome, boyish head peeked out from among the thorns. It was followed by the naked body of Prince Richard of Byzantion.
Richard:
Hullo dad! You wanted to see me?
Edward:
Well, yes. Not, perhaps, quite as much as I am seeing now, but yes, I wanted to see you. I suggest you ask the probably no longer quite a maiden for some clothes, then we shall take a stroll in the garden. Anyone I should know, by the way?
Richard:
Just some local girl. It think she’s called Hedwig, or something.
Edward:
Hmpph. A piece of advice from my father which I never had reason to use but you apparently will: Always remember whom you wake up next to, or at least next to whom you go to sleep. It saves a great deal of trouble.
Richard:
Yes dad. What did you want to see me about?
Edward:
As you know, your eldest brother is a worthy man. Your second brother is an even worthier man. Both are sober and clean living, straight of limb and faithful in their church attendance. Here Edward paused significantly to stare at his third son.
Richard:
Well I am sober most of the time, and I am clean of limb. And I go to church twice a day!
Edward:
To gawk at the nuns. Apparently you have inherited my father’s weakness for girls in coifs. By the way, the Canon of Westminster wants to know your intentions towards his niece Allisson.
Richard:
Ummm…Who’s she?
Edward:
The Blonde pregnant one.
Richard:
Ah. Um, Eheheh, maybe I should send her some money?
Edward:
Maybe I should have you sealed in a chastity belt until you reach sixteen. With spikes.
Richard:
Sorry dad.
Edward:
Anyway, I have decided that you will get married.
Richard:
Ummm, I am not yet sixteen, dad!
Edward:
True, but the girl you will marry is three years older than you are, so that evens out. I will send out the proposal as soon as you turn sixteen.
Richard:
I see. Who am I supposed to marry?
Edward:
Peryslava Rurikovich, eldest daughter of the Duke of Pereslayvl. The children you beget upon her will be in line for the inheritance of the throne of Pereslayvl.
Richard:
I seem to recall that she has two brothers who would inherit first?
Edward:
If they live, yes.
Richard:
So my children would be the dukes of Pereslayvl?
Edward:
If they live, yes.
Richard:
I see. And I would be the heir to my son, so I would be the duke of Pereslayvl…
Edward:
If you live, yes…
Richard:
DAD!!!
Edward:
A good reason to study hard my son. If you study hard you might be surprised at what you can accomplish… You are the most promising of my sons, if you can live up to that promise, you might even…get to live.
Richard:
Dad, has anyone ever told you you are a complete and utter cold-hearted bastard?
Edward:
Your mother, every time she gives birth. I will make certain that you will have a suitable title before you inherit Pereslayvl, so you will be a part of the Normandie Empire.
Richard:
Gee, great.
Edward:
So glad you’re happy. Now I suggest you find a hardier shrub and leave me to rule.
Richard found a hardy shrub. Edward after his walk, gathered his advisors, toadies and hangers-on.
Edward:
Gentlemen, ladies, I have decided to follow in my father’s footsteps!
Various nobles swiftly moved in front of their daughters and wives. Others hustled them out of the many doors that led into the hall of convocation. Some more forward young women managed to elude the parental pressure to leave and actually slipped forward. Some of the poorer noble parents even pushed the girls forward themselves.
Edward:
Gentlemen, ladies, I have decided to go to war.
There was a general release of pent up emotions. Several young ladies sighed in disappointment.
Edward:
To be exact, I shall go to war against the Emir of Tabriz.
Marshal John de Normandie, the king’s half brother:
Hmmm. 84 years old, three vassals. Personal demesne of three rich provinces. Sad-sack marshal who happens to be severely wounded, depressed and ill.
. Armies still somewhat depleted from a war with the Seljuk Turks some time ago. A good choice your majesty! A very good choice!
Edward:
Thank you. Summon my armies. Admiral Van der Kinderen!
The_ K:
Sire! Command me! I shall ship your armies to the ends of the earth!
Edward:
Actually I wanted some mussels for tonight. But the shipping thing is good too.
The Emir of Tabriz
So a war was started against the Emir of Tabriz. Armies were raised in many of the king’s eastern possessions. And the Duke of Tangiers declared war upon Edward, Emperor of Byzantium and England.
Edward:
So. The Duke has raised his forces against me. My reputation is in the gutter already because of all the revolts I have had to break. Is there anyone here who can tell me why this particular duke decided to revolt?
A nobleman stepped forward, his rich tabard embroidered with the pattern of a ninepin board. Edward recognized him as the champion skittles player of the County of Essex. Though his real name was different, most simply called him the King of Nines.
KoN:
Sire! It is my decided opinion that the King of Minors paid the Duke a considerable amount of cash to revolt against your just and noble rule!
Edward:
I see. That would be annoying. Send a message to the duke asking for an explanation. Meantime, we will advance upon the Emir of Tabriz! Oh, by the way, why do you think this is the case?
KoN:
I played Skittles with a couple of mates and they said they wouldn’t be surprised if the King of Minors would be stirring up trouble again pretty soon!
Edward:
I see. So you are, as a a matter of fact, telling your king to base his policy on what a bloke in a pub told you?
KoN;
Yessir! Wisdom of the streets sir!
Edward:
No doubt.
The war against the emirate of Tabriz went well. Then the Duke of Mazandaran declared war upon the Emir of Khwarizm. The Emir of Khwarizm had a very large army and his provinces were a long way away. Edward summoned the Duke of Mazandaran. The duke arrived with the army that remained to him after his long wars with the sheikdom of Tabaristan. All 109 of them.
Edward:
Ah, your grace! A short word in your shell like ear.
The Duke bent forward so the King could whisper in his ear.
Edward:
WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING YOU IDIOT!!!!!
DoM:
Umm? Mhuhahahah?
Edward:
Not convincing. Not convincing at all. I think you should fight this war on your own.
DoM:
I think you will find the Emir of Khwarizm has declared war upon you as well.
Edward:
I see. And why did he do that? Why actually, did Ramazan Abdullah, the 112 year old Emir of Khwarizm declare war upon you, and now apparently, upon me as well?
DoM:
I told him you told me you thought he was a total wuss and a pig-eating cow rapist. He took it badly.
Ramazan Abdullah. The Enemy of my vassal who is an idiot…
Edward:
No, really? Well, I still think it is your problem first. Have fun my lord.
DoM:
They will eat me alive!
Edward:
That will save me the fees of several torturers.
The Mac:
Skinflint!
The Duchy of Mazandaran was not immediately gobbled up. Regrettably the Emir of Khwarizm did not want a white peace with Edward, and the Emir’s forces began to nibble at the Royal demesne. The armies of Edward were swiftly conquering the lands of the Emir of Tabriz however. Several relief armies under the Archbishop of Tripoli, the King’s half brother, Edmund the Grim, dealt with he large forces under command of the now 113 year old but still quite remarkably active Emir of Khwarizm.
Meanwhile and army under the command of the magnificent Lord de Saint Nylan the IX was conquering the home provinces of Khwarizm.
Another plan was progressing. King Edward was seated inside his tent during the siege of Tabriz. He was waiting for the arrival of his son Richard. Richard, despite finishing his education at the top of his class at the William the Conquering Bastard’s School of World Conquest and becoming a certified genius in money management, was still somewhat of a disappointment to his father, having also finished top of his class in the King Gerald the Womanizer’s College of world Seduction. Second was Farquharson XI. Last was BBBD XVI, who always had to pay. Even for the ones discarded by the others. (The incidence of venereal diseases in this ancient merchant family was so high that the generations followed each other with alarming rapidity, hence XVI vs XI)
The prince was carried into his father’s presence by several soldiers. He was singing a song about hedgehogs and obviously in no condition to make any informed decisions.
Edward:
Hello son!
Richard:
But the Hedgehog can never be bugg….
Edward:
Thank you! That is enough! Cardinal Penny Cinquanta, now please!
CPA:
Do you Richard, Take this woman, Pereslayva, to be your lawful wedded wife?
Richard:
Wha’ woman?
CPA:
This woman here
Richard:
Tha’s a wmmonen? Bludy Heck!
Edward:
Mr. Mac, some pressure on the boy, please! You may use the testicle press, but not too enthusiastically. He will need them later…
Richard:
I DO!! CRIPES!! I DO!!! GET THAT THING AWAY FROM ME!!!
I shall leave the testicle press to your fevered imaginations…
CPA:
Do you Pereslayva, take this drunken, but very rich sot to be your lawful wedded husband?
P:
Da! Hic! Vodka!
Edward:
See? I told you they would make an excellent couple.
CPA:
Ummm. Should they be falling over like that?
Edward:
They’re just eager to get down.
CPA:
And the snoring?
Edward:
Probably the happiness of the occasion mingled with a little too much wine to shatter the walls of shyness.
CPA:
You are certain this is not a forced marriage?
Edward:
Absolutely! May my wife’s immortal soul burn in hell if this is a forced marriage!
CPA:
Your wife is a heretic. Her immortal soul will burn in hell anyway!
Edward:
Hmmmm. Mr Rexus has the contract, signed by both principals, in which they agree to the marriage. Don’t you mr Rexus?
D. Rexus:
Yeah, but the ink isn’t dry yet….
Edward:
Ah. And of course we have the witnesses to that document, mylords Farquharson and Von Bek.
FaP:
Hoots, ye crivens! I hae nae signed anythin’!
MvB:
Shut up you drunken Scott! The King is playing at politics!
FaP:
Ohhh! Politics! Aye! I ‘member signing the wee paper noo!
CPA:
I am very sorry, I shall have to declare the marriage void if better evidence can not be found as to the agreement of both parties involved!
Edward:
Hmmmm. Mr Mac, would you please accompany the good cardinal to the “archives”. Dr. Jestor, please accompany the good cardinal to prevent any fatal….mistakes. Oh, and don’t forget the testicle press, such an unsettling device to have in one’s personal quarters.
CPA very fast:
ActuallyIthinkthatthemarriagewascompletelyvoluntaryonbothsidesandnoreasonexiststoopposeitwhatsover!!!
Edward:
Excellent. Thank you cardinal. Farquharson, Von Bek, Rexus, you may help the lovebirds to get up or at least carry them out. Would you mind sending in those two gentlemen who are waiting outside? Cardinal, you may leave also.
CAP:
Umm, before I go, I should point out that the pope is less than happy about the number of heretics at your court…
Edward:
And you can tell his Holiness that a few less mistresses in the Vatican and the Castello de Angelo would make me happier as well. Not to mention the blocking off numerous secret passages to nunneries.
CAP:
You refuse to act against these heretics?
Edward:
You can have my cousin, Eddy the Sheepshagger, but keep your hands of my wife!
CAP:
Umm. I’ll see if I can convince his holiness….
The Cardinal Legate left. Two men entered. They looked shifty and untrustworthy and always seemed to be sneaking into shadows.
Edward:
Mr Glaurung, mr Murder.
Murmurandus:
Mr Murmurandus, sire!
Edward;
Indeed. My apologies. I have asked you here to talk about murder.
Mr Glaurung:
Murmurandus Sir! It means Whispering Wind sir!
Edward:
No, murder.
Murmurandus:
I really must insist on Murmurandus, sir!
Edward:
I mean that I have ordered you two, Glaurung and Murmurandus, to come here so I can give you an assignment to murder someone.
Mr Glaurung:
Oh. Who’s the lucky man who will get our attention?
Edward:
Count Vasilii of Starya Russa. And do it before he manages to produce an heir!
Murmurandus:
You can count on us sir!
Mr Glaurung:
We will pas through his house like a dark wind and leave death in our wake sir!
Edward:
I am really not interested in your intestinal problems, just make certain the count dies and that he does not procreate!
The castle of Count Vasilii of Starya Russa. It is a foreboding castle, dark and dank and covered in ivy that you just know will cause a rash in even the most non-allergic of people. Despite the sunny spring weather, the castle seems surrounded by perpetual gloom. A cherry orchard lies next to it.
Count Vasilii the Depressed, heir to the duchy of Pereslayvl:
There is no joy in the world! All is dark and gloomy!
Countess Olga the also depressed who happens to be ill and pregnant:
There is joy only in the faces of the young.
Count V:
A pity our little one year old daughter is depressed and ill and always whines.
Countess O:
Also a pity I suffer so badly from morning sickness and pre-natal depression.
Count V:
And the land is covered in plague and utter poverty
Countess O:
I am so glad your father made you count of this horrible place so that we may truly be prepared for the task of ruling the great and depressing duchy of Pereslayvl.
Meanwhile somewhere near Moscow.
Mr Glaurung:
Look, it says right here that we take the first road on the left hand side and then we will end up near Starya Russa!
Murmurandus:
Well, I still think we should have gone by boat. The_K was going this way you know!
Mr Glaurung:
Well, yes, but he was supposed to go to Aleppo…
Murmurandus:
True, there is that.
Mr Glaurung:
And if you just would have asked the way from all those depressed and overworked drunken peasants we have been meeting, we would have been there by now!
Murmurandus:
I did ask!
Mr Glaurung:
Yeah, but the average overworked depressed peasant, drunk or not, gives more understandble information before you kill them and ask them for directions in a whisper!
Murmurandus:
The last one was quite expressive!
Mr Glaurung:
Yes, well, but I don’t call You –ing – ing -ing $#IÎ You fokin’ killed me very informative as to direction and location!
Murmurandus:
Oh? Oh? And I suppose your actions in glaring at all who pass in such a way that small children burst out in tears and old women cross themselves is conducive to getting accurate geographical information?
It was at this point that the two men noticed the presence of a considerable troop of mounted men, led by an elegantly bearded dusky individual.
Greetings weird and noisy strangers! What brings you to my lands?
Glaurung turned to Murmurandus:
I Told you! I bloody told you! We’re not in Russia, we’re in Bloody Mesopotamia! Just look at the damned heretic unbelieving Pig-dogs!
Murmurandus:
Oh? Oh? You think you could have done better? If it had been up to you we would have landed in France and murdered some perfectly innocent bloke like the count of Venaisin or something! And these might very well be anglo-russian steppe Pig-dogs!
Glaurung:
No they’re not! Anglo-Russians steppe Pig-dogs would not wear clothing like that! They would wear good homespun tweed!
The bearded man seemed to be getting annoyed:
Gentlemen! May I point out that the Pig-dogs are sitting here listening? And for your information, I am the Bey of Moskva, a humble vassal of the King of Qarakhnid. And this is my executioner and these are the women of my harem who will be juggling with your dried and quartered balls.
Glaurung looked at Murmurandus. Murmurandus looked at Glaurung.
The Bey of Moskva:
Well. It’s amazing that men who are so stupid can ride so well and that horses that have traveled such a distance can gallop so fast. Make a note forthe Sultan of Qarakhnid please Achmed. The English-Byzantine Empire is showing an interest in this region.
The castle of the count of Starya Russa. The depressed count was looking depressed while looking at the depression that was approaching through the Starya River Valley Depression and would hang like a suicidal teenager around the depressing and pointless cherry orchard, composed of the juicy Depressed Mary Hazel cherry tree species, looking for a branch to end everything. Two men suddenly stepped up behind him. One glared at him. The other seemed to whisper near continuous blasphemous utterances in an undecipherable undertone.
Mr Glaurung:
We have come to kill you, count!
The now even more depressed count of Starya Russa:
Kill me? Why?
Murmurandus:
Because the Emperor of Byzantium wants you dead.
TnemdcoSR perking up considerably:
Really!? I didn’t think I was important enough to be assassinated! That’s cool! I can’t wait till I can tell my wife!
Murmurandus:
I am afraid that telling your wife is not really an option.
Mr Glaurung:
unless she is a Spiritist with an Ouija board.
TnemdcoSR:
No. No she is a depressed, probably suicidal and raving lunatic new mother.
Murmurandus:
New Mother?
TnemdcoSR:
Yes, our first son, Msistislav Rurikovich! He is stressed already at barely 6 months! I am so proud!
Mr Glaurung:
The boss is not going to be happy with this…
Murmurandus:
Not happy at all…
TnemdcoSR:
I know! I know! You will have to kill both of us!
Murmurandus:
Ummm…. Aren’t you upset that we are going to kill you?
TnemdcoSR:
No, not at all! This will save me from buying a silk scarf and doing it myself. Besides, I won’t go to hell if I am murdered and I will if I commit suicide.
Mr Glaurung:
Good Point. Very well. It was nice meeting you sir!
The count of Starya Russa was discovered hanging upside down from a beam with silk scarf around his ankle, his head submerged in a bucket of vodka. A strangely happy expression rested upon his downcast features. His six month old son had died of alcohol poisoning. Allegedly from suckling at the breast of a Russian peasant woman. This was a common reason given for child mortality in Russia at the time.
Meanwhile King Edward was not amused.
Edward:
The King is NOT AMUSED!
Marshal John:
Gee, I would never have noticed. Now, elder brother, why exactly are you not amused?
Edward:
Because, dear younger brother, I have lost Baghdad and Kirkuk to the 112 year old Emir of Khwarizm, who is now conquering the Duchy of Mazandaran. And I was expecting him to first conquer the dukedom of Mazandaran and then attack my lands.
Marshal John:
Well, we shall have to recapture those lands then, won’t we?
Edward:
Well, yes, but regrettably the regiments raised in Kirkuk and Baghdad have disbanded upon the conquests of their respective home provinces. And the Emir of Khwarizm’s regiments do not seem to be disbanding despite the fact that my loyal legions under the Lord St Nylan and Lord King of Nines are capturing their home provinces. So while my armies are shrinking, his are maintaining their ridiculous size!
Marshal John:
Then we will raise the armies of Genoa and Venice!
Edward:
Indeed. And how many men will those two provinces provide?
Marshal John:
Venice 19154 and Genoa 12978.
Edward:
That would seem to be sufficient, but you had better call up some of the forces from Asia Minor as well. No need to take risks.
Marshal John:
Especially since the sheikdoms of Ust Urt and Bahrein have declared war on us.
Edward:
Oh, joy.
Marshal John:
And our ally, the Duke of Pereslayvl, has asked us to help him against the Tribe of Curonians who apparently drove his son to suicide by sending him polluted vodka.
Edward:
Really?Those naughty Curonians. It is horrible what some people will do to other people
Marshal John:
Horrible indeed.
Edward:
Hmmm. Well, we might as well join him. I hardly think the Tribe of Curonian is going to attack us anytime soon. Didn’t father destroy the Tribe of Curonian?
Marshal John:
Well, yeah, but they came back. Very tough those pagans. Can’t keep ‘em dead.
Edward:
Very well. I suppose it is time to unleash the dogs of war.
Marshal John:
Wouldn’t it be wiser to call up a few regiments of armoured knights?
Edward:
Why am I surrounded by idiots?
Marshal John:
Inbreeding, now let’s go kick some Khwarizm butt!
Edward:
And what about Ust Urt and Bahrein?
Marshal John:
Ah. Hmm. Yes. Ummm….
Edward:
Tell Edmund of Tripoli to go conquer Bahrein for me. Mr Brilliant Strategist…
The Empire around 1200
o 
