Chapter 1~ Early March (1043 AD)
The Normans. A people that have earned their place in history from the moment Charles the Simple and Rollo the Walker negotiated a treaty, granting the latter and his followers the land that would eventually be known as “Normandy”. Famous for their Conquest of England under the leadership of William the Conqueror.
But before the Conqueror there were other Normans, those that sought fortune and glory in the lands of a politically fractured Italy, the southern portion which had become a battleground between the Lombards, Greeks and Moslems. They conquered Sicily, eventually giving rise to the Kingdom of Sicily in 1130 under the reign of Roger II.
There were many adventurers, the most prominent families being that of the Drengots and de Hautevilles. Robert and Roger de Hauteville earned their place in history, but this is not their story. Of all the de Hauteville brothers...this is a tale of the founder of their fortunes, William, known to his Norman contemporaries as Bras-de-fer, or “Iron Arm”. The year is 1043 AD, and the rising son of Tancred de Hauteville stands alone with his fellows amongst the sea of Lombard princes and the Greeks that style themselves as Romans.
___________________________
Welcome to Arm of Iron, a HIP AAR set during the life of William Iron Arm. I thought I would pick up once again with the Normans of Southern Italy, but before Robert and Roger I's spotlight in history, focusing on one of their brothers instead. It was a difficult choice between William, Drogo, and Humphrey, yet in the end I went with the Iron Arm to see what he could've done in a world where he survived a little longer.
I'll mostly be playing to the character's traits as well as a blend of events and gameplay. I'm coming into this with several objectives, though a few are optional. One of these objectives is to forge the Kingdom of Sicily. Failing that, taking it by conquest or other means. This start in HIP makes it a little more difficult to forge Sicily, and you have several threats in the way of that.
The second is to participate in the Crusades. Mostly that is for Antioch, but anything can happen in this game. As far as optional objectives go, creating Roger II's dreamed empire that stretches from North Africa to the Levant. There really isn't any pressure to create that, but if the opportunity arises...I doubt these Normans will complain .
That's all I have in mind other than this being a narrative AAR. I'll gladly take criticism to improve. It's been a long time since I've written anything, and this should prove a good start to move on to something else in the future. I accidentally ended up posting the thread before I finished pasting the chapter and forgot how to delete a thread.
In any case, without further adieu, let us begin the chapter that sets the stage!
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"We overthrew Exagustus. Basileios should prove much the same. In time, all of Apulia could be in our grasp." William said.
"Tempting...but I must turn my attention elsewhere I'm afraid. My fellow prince, Pandulf, rules Molise..that which belonged to the princes of Capua. As I have claimed that title, I am sure you know where this leads." Waimar's grin widened.
William stared. "And you wish my aid in this endeavor?"
Waimar shook his head. "We have asked much of you Normans. Fighting in our wars dutifully. At times with us...and at times against us. I merely wish to inform you that I cannot devote time to the Greeks as of now."
William and Drogo exchanged looks. "I...see. Then the matter of your daughter? Gaitelgrima, was it?"
Waimar sipped his wine, savoring the taste before setting the cup down. "I had hoped to betroth her to your brother Drogo, but that is no longer feasible. My lords protest at the thought of a girl of her blood marrying a man with neither land nor Lombard blood. I have done my best to assuage their fears, but that makes them protest louder."
Drogo's eyes narrowed, but William nodded. "Then your brother has refused my offer of being wed to his daughter Wida when she comes of age as well?"
Waimar appeared somber. "He tells me he has already offered her hand. It pains me that I did not relay the offer earlier. The joining of our families would strengthen us immensely. We could free the north from the Germans!”
William offered a weak smile. "Prince, you must excuse me. My brother as well. I fear the wine takes hold of us both...and Drogo is most terrible when drunk."
He looked to his brother. "Would you not agree?"
Drogo nodded. "I find women to be so pleasing that I lose control of my wits with the drink in me. I wake with terrible headaches as well. Best to quit before I do something I regret."
Waimar waved them off. "Let us dispense with the formalities. We've known each other for quite some time. Drogo, let us preserve your honor."
The brothers descended the dais thereafter, the eyes of Waimar and Gemma not leaving them once until they were beyond the old, giant doors.
"The audacity...to ask to be betrothed to my sweet Grima," Gemma said. The woman shook her head. "Spending her life...rutted by some barbarian. I could not take it. They say they are descended from savages to the north of the Germans."
Waimar took another sip of his wine, the sweet contents running down his throat. Thirst quenched, he gazed upon the chatter that drowned all sound from the outside.
"You view them as a threat, woman, but the Normans are indebted to us. William would not be a count without us. He is a warrior, but it remains to be seen if he can rule as well as he fights."
Away from the noise of the feast, William and Drogo walked the halls of their host. "A fine liar," Drogo began. "I see why women bed him. A whisperer of sweet nothings."
"He did not promise us, merely spoke of. We will have to look for friends in other places then."
"Where?" Drogo demanded. "Where shall we find these friends you speak of, William? Perhaps we should do as Argyrus did. Take coin in exchange for titles and land."
"So we should become Lombards then? No, that is not the Norman way. If there is no way, we find one." William said.
Drogo snorted. "God willing, it will come soon. Waimar has left us in pursuit of his ambitions. Discarded till he has a use for us."
William frowned. Waimar had not been wrong when he mentioned their unique relationship. It had brought what William sought when he, Drogo, and their brother Humphrey departed Normandy, seeking a far greater inheritance than that of what their father could ever hope to give them.
Their family was far too large to parcel out land between them, and so they hearkened to their ancestral calling. The same which had saw Rollo come to glory and success.
William cloaked himself in his thoughts. Drogo shifted on his feet as his brother peered at him. It was as though he focused on him...yet did not, seeing beyond him.
A look William had carried from his youth well into manhood. Pensive, that was how Drogo described it.
William blinked. “We’ve come a long way from mere mercenaries. Almost comparable to Rainulf. If we cannot enlist the aid of these Lombards, then we shall look elsewhere.”
Drogo’s fingers combed through his beard. "So we shall fight the Greeks? Without these Lombards and their support...we take a great risk."
"In time, yes. They have many enemies...and the Germans would be interested in extending their reach further south. With enough land...we could be our own princes and kings.”
The end of their conversation neared when they reached the chambers that had been set aside for William. The brothers bid each other farewell, and as Drogo left, William made his way to the flagon of wine from the night prior. He poured himself a cup and raised it to his lips.
He seated himself, allowing his shoulders to slump as he took in the quiet. He would have preferred to feast with di Salernos in private, but Waimar had other plans. No greater cause for celebration than the death of an ally turned foe.
Southern Italy was to see itself change once more. It had no say in the matter, forced to watch history unfold at its own pace. In the end, one could only wonder who would be the masters of it. An old and mighty empire once ruled it, and before them the Greeks.
Was the victor to be German, Lombard, Norman, or Roman?
William intended to find out.
But before the Conqueror there were other Normans, those that sought fortune and glory in the lands of a politically fractured Italy, the southern portion which had become a battleground between the Lombards, Greeks and Moslems. They conquered Sicily, eventually giving rise to the Kingdom of Sicily in 1130 under the reign of Roger II.
There were many adventurers, the most prominent families being that of the Drengots and de Hautevilles. Robert and Roger de Hauteville earned their place in history, but this is not their story. Of all the de Hauteville brothers...this is a tale of the founder of their fortunes, William, known to his Norman contemporaries as Bras-de-fer, or “Iron Arm”. The year is 1043 AD, and the rising son of Tancred de Hauteville stands alone with his fellows amongst the sea of Lombard princes and the Greeks that style themselves as Romans.
___________________________
Welcome to Arm of Iron, a HIP AAR set during the life of William Iron Arm. I thought I would pick up once again with the Normans of Southern Italy, but before Robert and Roger I's spotlight in history, focusing on one of their brothers instead. It was a difficult choice between William, Drogo, and Humphrey, yet in the end I went with the Iron Arm to see what he could've done in a world where he survived a little longer.
I'll mostly be playing to the character's traits as well as a blend of events and gameplay. I'm coming into this with several objectives, though a few are optional. One of these objectives is to forge the Kingdom of Sicily. Failing that, taking it by conquest or other means. This start in HIP makes it a little more difficult to forge Sicily, and you have several threats in the way of that.
The second is to participate in the Crusades. Mostly that is for Antioch, but anything can happen in this game. As far as optional objectives go, creating Roger II's dreamed empire that stretches from North Africa to the Levant. There really isn't any pressure to create that, but if the opportunity arises...I doubt these Normans will complain .
That's all I have in mind other than this being a narrative AAR. I'll gladly take criticism to improve. It's been a long time since I've written anything, and this should prove a good start to move on to something else in the future. I accidentally ended up posting the thread before I finished pasting the chapter and forgot how to delete a thread.
In any case, without further adieu, let us begin the chapter that sets the stage!
_____________________________
CHAPTER 1
Eboli, Salerno
March, 1043 AD
Eboli, Salerno
March, 1043 AD
William had scarcely seen a feast this large, but then he had seen few in all his summers. The great-hall of the castle was filled to the brim with the Lombard nobility, as well as that of his Normans, brought together by the most prominent of the Lombard princes, Waimar, second of his name. In time, perhaps the title of prince would be insufficient to describe his power.
The dais was a fine place to sup on wine and become a drunken mess. He smiled into his cup, watching the madness that was a drinking contest between one of his own and a Lombard nobleman. Well, it would have been one had the latter not downed his fourth cup and promptly passed out.
The former stood, placing a foot on the bench, letting out a roar of laughter as he was congratulated by other Normans before they proceeded to mock the poor sod. In the end, he, too, swooned before crashing face first into the table.
From William’s right, his brother Drogo leaned in. “Where is Waimar?”
William shrugged, taking his eyes off the spectacle and the ensuing commotion. "He's no great cause for concern, Brother.”
The dais was a fine place to sup on wine and become a drunken mess. He smiled into his cup, watching the madness that was a drinking contest between one of his own and a Lombard nobleman. Well, it would have been one had the latter not downed his fourth cup and promptly passed out.
The former stood, placing a foot on the bench, letting out a roar of laughter as he was congratulated by other Normans before they proceeded to mock the poor sod. In the end, he, too, swooned before crashing face first into the table.
From William’s right, his brother Drogo leaned in. “Where is Waimar?”
William shrugged, taking his eyes off the spectacle and the ensuing commotion. "He's no great cause for concern, Brother.”
As if to answer Drogo’s question, moments later the prince entered the hall, weaving through the crowd to the dais. He struggled through that raucous bunch until he was able to take his place in the center chair, then called for wine. A servant attended him shortly. Not long after, a fetching woman entered, face flushed but no worse for wear, beady eyes surveying her surroundings.
William laughed, garnering Waimar's inquisitive gaze, and proceeded to shake his head, eyes filled with mirth. Drogo took a sip of his drink, clearing his throat beforehand. To William’s far left, that of the left of Waimar himself, sat Gemma di Capua, the man's wife. though a smile was plastered on her face, her eyes trailed the woman. If she was displeased, her face betrayed her not.
For a man that espouses the belief of God and that of being Christian so fiercely, he is unable to escape the flesh, William thought.
William laughed, garnering Waimar's inquisitive gaze, and proceeded to shake his head, eyes filled with mirth. Drogo took a sip of his drink, clearing his throat beforehand. To William’s far left, that of the left of Waimar himself, sat Gemma di Capua, the man's wife. though a smile was plastered on her face, her eyes trailed the woman. If she was displeased, her face betrayed her not.
For a man that espouses the belief of God and that of being Christian so fiercely, he is unable to escape the flesh, William thought.
"Our newest servant. I have heard much about her," Gemma spoke, toying with her food. "All good things."
"So have I. Shy woman, quick to doubt herself. I assured her that her work does not go unnoticed." Waimar replied, eyeing his wife. He took a bite of his lamb leg and wiped his mouth.
Gemma eyed him in turn, but shrunk back from his gaze, finding a sudden interest in her food. "Yes...assured indeed." She muttered.
Whether Waimar heard her or not was left up to interpretation, for he turned to the brothers. "We have a good cause to celebrate. The Romans have lost perhaps their most capable general. He met a fitting end. Cruel and sudden...yet God shall take him all the same."
"So have I. Shy woman, quick to doubt herself. I assured her that her work does not go unnoticed." Waimar replied, eyeing his wife. He took a bite of his lamb leg and wiped his mouth.
Gemma eyed him in turn, but shrunk back from his gaze, finding a sudden interest in her food. "Yes...assured indeed." She muttered.
Whether Waimar heard her or not was left up to interpretation, for he turned to the brothers. "We have a good cause to celebrate. The Romans have lost perhaps their most capable general. He met a fitting end. Cruel and sudden...yet God shall take him all the same."
"George Maniakes? Dead?" Drogo lowered his cup, stunned. "A man of his caliber...one would have thought he would be the next emperor."
Waimar grinned. "Good that it did not come to be then. All of Italy would be his. Sicily as well. A fatal wound during the battle. In his place the emperor has granted command of his armies here to a man named Basileios."
William exhaled a breath he did not recall withholding when the late George's name had been mentioned. Maniakes was more monster than man. He had towered over any normal man, built in a way most men could only aspire to. A body fit for war. If that had not been enough, then it was his penchant for war that insured all that got in his way were swatted aside before being thoroughly crushed.
It had been half a decade since they met, but the Norman remembered him all the same. The Lombard Arduin, leader of a combined Lombard-Norman army, had learned firsthand his cruelty during the expedition of Sicily. Syracuse had been the first and finall straw for the Normans. The city of greeks had fallen after an arduous siege, but there were few spoils to be had, and if there were, it went to the general. At least...that was the tale of the rumors swirling about the camp at that time, along with others of him sending a local saints body to the emperor in Constantinople as a gift.
Those under William had approached their fellow Norman to complain about what was their proper due, and he had brought it to Arduin in hopes their leader could negotiate with the Greek giant. George’s fury had been a tempest, it was said, and Arduin was stripped and beaten whilst the general cited his justifications. Among those had been the refusal of a horse Arduin had captured after Syracuse. Humiliated and furious, Arduin withdrew his support, and William had no issue withdrawing his own, nor the Varangians.
George had been recalled to the City of the World's Desire, and that had been the last they heard of him, save word of his rebellion not long after his return to Southern Italy.
A formidable warrior, but a terrible man.
Waimar grinned. "Good that it did not come to be then. All of Italy would be his. Sicily as well. A fatal wound during the battle. In his place the emperor has granted command of his armies here to a man named Basileios."
William exhaled a breath he did not recall withholding when the late George's name had been mentioned. Maniakes was more monster than man. He had towered over any normal man, built in a way most men could only aspire to. A body fit for war. If that had not been enough, then it was his penchant for war that insured all that got in his way were swatted aside before being thoroughly crushed.
It had been half a decade since they met, but the Norman remembered him all the same. The Lombard Arduin, leader of a combined Lombard-Norman army, had learned firsthand his cruelty during the expedition of Sicily. Syracuse had been the first and finall straw for the Normans. The city of greeks had fallen after an arduous siege, but there were few spoils to be had, and if there were, it went to the general. At least...that was the tale of the rumors swirling about the camp at that time, along with others of him sending a local saints body to the emperor in Constantinople as a gift.
Those under William had approached their fellow Norman to complain about what was their proper due, and he had brought it to Arduin in hopes their leader could negotiate with the Greek giant. George’s fury had been a tempest, it was said, and Arduin was stripped and beaten whilst the general cited his justifications. Among those had been the refusal of a horse Arduin had captured after Syracuse. Humiliated and furious, Arduin withdrew his support, and William had no issue withdrawing his own, nor the Varangians.
George had been recalled to the City of the World's Desire, and that had been the last they heard of him, save word of his rebellion not long after his return to Southern Italy.
A formidable warrior, but a terrible man.
"We overthrew Exagustus. Basileios should prove much the same. In time, all of Apulia could be in our grasp." William said.
"Tempting...but I must turn my attention elsewhere I'm afraid. My fellow prince, Pandulf, rules Molise..that which belonged to the princes of Capua. As I have claimed that title, I am sure you know where this leads." Waimar's grin widened.
William stared. "And you wish my aid in this endeavor?"
Waimar shook his head. "We have asked much of you Normans. Fighting in our wars dutifully. At times with us...and at times against us. I merely wish to inform you that I cannot devote time to the Greeks as of now."
William and Drogo exchanged looks. "I...see. Then the matter of your daughter? Gaitelgrima, was it?"
Waimar sipped his wine, savoring the taste before setting the cup down. "I had hoped to betroth her to your brother Drogo, but that is no longer feasible. My lords protest at the thought of a girl of her blood marrying a man with neither land nor Lombard blood. I have done my best to assuage their fears, but that makes them protest louder."
Drogo's eyes narrowed, but William nodded. "Then your brother has refused my offer of being wed to his daughter Wida when she comes of age as well?"
Waimar appeared somber. "He tells me he has already offered her hand. It pains me that I did not relay the offer earlier. The joining of our families would strengthen us immensely. We could free the north from the Germans!”
William offered a weak smile. "Prince, you must excuse me. My brother as well. I fear the wine takes hold of us both...and Drogo is most terrible when drunk."
He looked to his brother. "Would you not agree?"
Drogo nodded. "I find women to be so pleasing that I lose control of my wits with the drink in me. I wake with terrible headaches as well. Best to quit before I do something I regret."
Waimar waved them off. "Let us dispense with the formalities. We've known each other for quite some time. Drogo, let us preserve your honor."
The brothers descended the dais thereafter, the eyes of Waimar and Gemma not leaving them once until they were beyond the old, giant doors.
"The audacity...to ask to be betrothed to my sweet Grima," Gemma said. The woman shook her head. "Spending her life...rutted by some barbarian. I could not take it. They say they are descended from savages to the north of the Germans."
Waimar took another sip of his wine, the sweet contents running down his throat. Thirst quenched, he gazed upon the chatter that drowned all sound from the outside.
"You view them as a threat, woman, but the Normans are indebted to us. William would not be a count without us. He is a warrior, but it remains to be seen if he can rule as well as he fights."
Away from the noise of the feast, William and Drogo walked the halls of their host. "A fine liar," Drogo began. "I see why women bed him. A whisperer of sweet nothings."
"He did not promise us, merely spoke of. We will have to look for friends in other places then."
"Where?" Drogo demanded. "Where shall we find these friends you speak of, William? Perhaps we should do as Argyrus did. Take coin in exchange for titles and land."
"So we should become Lombards then? No, that is not the Norman way. If there is no way, we find one." William said.
Drogo snorted. "God willing, it will come soon. Waimar has left us in pursuit of his ambitions. Discarded till he has a use for us."
William frowned. Waimar had not been wrong when he mentioned their unique relationship. It had brought what William sought when he, Drogo, and their brother Humphrey departed Normandy, seeking a far greater inheritance than that of what their father could ever hope to give them.
Their family was far too large to parcel out land between them, and so they hearkened to their ancestral calling. The same which had saw Rollo come to glory and success.
William cloaked himself in his thoughts. Drogo shifted on his feet as his brother peered at him. It was as though he focused on him...yet did not, seeing beyond him.
A look William had carried from his youth well into manhood. Pensive, that was how Drogo described it.
William blinked. “We’ve come a long way from mere mercenaries. Almost comparable to Rainulf. If we cannot enlist the aid of these Lombards, then we shall look elsewhere.”
Drogo’s fingers combed through his beard. "So we shall fight the Greeks? Without these Lombards and their support...we take a great risk."
"In time, yes. They have many enemies...and the Germans would be interested in extending their reach further south. With enough land...we could be our own princes and kings.”
The end of their conversation neared when they reached the chambers that had been set aside for William. The brothers bid each other farewell, and as Drogo left, William made his way to the flagon of wine from the night prior. He poured himself a cup and raised it to his lips.
He seated himself, allowing his shoulders to slump as he took in the quiet. He would have preferred to feast with di Salernos in private, but Waimar had other plans. No greater cause for celebration than the death of an ally turned foe.
Southern Italy was to see itself change once more. It had no say in the matter, forced to watch history unfold at its own pace. In the end, one could only wonder who would be the masters of it. An old and mighty empire once ruled it, and before them the Greeks.
Was the victor to be German, Lombard, Norman, or Roman?
William intended to find out.
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