Chapter 2: Maladies, Mirth, and Mishaps
It was May of 1070 A.D., and the new King Consort of Hungary, Werner of Basel, was relaxing in his new chambers in Komárom Castle, while his wife, Queen Árpád Mária was seeing supplicants downstairs in the throne room. Much had happened during his three-year campaign that he needed to reflect on.
He coughed and felt his stomach churn a little. Early in the year his Court Physician, Siegfried, had given him the grave news: cancer. Siegfried was an excellent healer, and Werner knew that he was as infallible when it came to medicine as the Pope was on religion. He put his head in his hands. Mária had yet to conceive him a child, the future Habsburg king of Hungary, the reason he had sought her hand in the first place and left his two children behind for the past three years, with neither father nor mother to comfort them. If he was to die so soon, it would have all been in vain. Was the Lord punishing him, or the ghost of poor Reginlind?
“Fear not, my liege,” Siegfried had reassured him, “for before I came to Basel I traveled far and wide to study with the greatest medical minds in the world, from Hispania in the west to Baghdad in the east, and I have collected their knowledge on the proper treatment of this disease. If you ask it of me, I will treat you with one of their methods, or…” he trailed off.
“Or what, Master Siegfried?” the count had demanded to know. “Do you see another way in which I might defeat this affliction?”
“It is merely a hypothesis,” Siegfried warned. “I have yet to test it on a patient, but if I am correct, it could combine the benefits of all the various methods I have seen.”
“How confident are you that you are correct?”
“As confident as any general before a well-planned battle, sire. Optimistic but prepared for the enemy to have tricks of his own.”
Werner had sighed. He had risked his life in two battles already and was already on his way to a third. What difference was it if he wagered it on a field of battle or in Siegfried’s tent?
“Then as your liege, I give my blessing to your stratagem, General Siegfried. Go and collect what you need for this experimental treatment at once. I shall remain here until your return.”
Siegfried had bowed his head and left the tent. He returned an hour or two later with a small package wrapped in a small leather satchel.
“Thank you, my lord, for the opportunity to contribute to the advancement of the healing arts by practicing on your noble personage. What I have in this satchel may be…unsettling, but rest assured that its efficacy will outweigh its unpleasantness.”
“Siegfried, just what are you plan—SAINTS ALIVE, WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!”
Werner wasn’t sure which had been more frightening: his first impression of the satchel’s contents or reality. At first glance, he thought that Siegfried had brought a spider of gargantuan size, but Werner had quickly realized that the “spider” had only five legs, and one shorter than the other — it was a hand, black and foul-smelling and distorted from the blood pooling within. No doubt Siegfried had removed it from a wounded soldier some time ago.
“WHAT KIND OF SACRILEGE—“ Werner had continued, but Siegfried had laid a gentle finger to his lord’s lip.
“Hush, lord, it would not do you well in your state to agitate yourself. You have put your trust in me, and I have not misled you about my research. Continue to trust me, and you will live to see your ambitions fulfilled.”
Werner had relented and lain back on the table as Siegfried touched the putrid thing to his bare chest and manipulated the cold, dead fingers to make them press various points. The smell had been horrific, but Werner woke up the following morning feeling much rejuvenated and with fewer symptoms. He had congratulated Siegfried that evening, right before his glorious second victory at Esztergom that had cinched Mária’s ascension.
That was now several months behind him, and Werner was beginning to worry that the cough was returning. Perhaps Siegfried had only bought him time, not a complete cure. If so, all the more reason to give Mária an heir.
There had also been troubling developments back in Switzerland even before the cancer. Werner hadn’t been gone two months from Basel when a messenger had caught up to his army to inform him that on 16 May, 1067, Kaiser Heinrich IV ‘the Young’ had made Count Géraud de Genève of Genfergau and Vaud the first Duke of Transjurania, and given him the counties of Bern, Neuchatel, and Basel as vassals. Included in the announcement was a request for Werner to join his new liege’s council as Chancellor. Werner sent a reply to Genfergau accepting the position but regretfully informing Géraud that he would be Chancellor
in absentia for the foreseeable future. It would be an annoyance to have to split his time between his own keep, his wife’s, and his liege’s, but if this Géraud turned out to be a thorn in Werner’s side, it was better to keep him under a close eye.
And what a thorn the new Duke proved to be, immediately writing back to demand Werner join the council in person at once or be declared in rebellion. Werner reluctantly made all possible haste back the way he came. If he was unenthusiastic to be stuck in Genfergau, by the end of his first council session he was ready to break through the walls of the castle at Genf with his bare hands if it meant he could escape. Géraud seemed two men in one body. With his right hand he gave generously to others, later even going so far as to grant the county of Vaud to his spymaster, an Egyptian convert named Ghaysan, in April of 1071. But with the left hand he brutally maintained restrictions on the common folk and his vassal lords. The other painfully obvious contradiction in his character, Werner observed, was that he both coveted that which he did not have, be it another man’s land or his wife, and yet was a trembling coward whenever he was challenged by the same man. On top of that, the Frenchman’s disdain for his Germanic subjects was made plain by the way he dismissed their suggestions with barely a moment’s consideration, and Werner in particular seemed to draw Géraud’s ire whenever he made a contribution to the discussion his liege disapproved of. The Duke regularly mocked Werner’s tentative title of King Consort of Hungary and made lewd comments about Mária. Such conduct came not completely as a surprise to Werner, as Géraud was known to be an occasional rake (he'd later father and acknowledge a bastard by the wife of one of his courtiers in 1071), but were still offensive enough that Werner vowed silently to avenge his wife’s honor.
There were other, less personal reasons to consider supplanting Géraud, Werner realized as he mulled over his thoughts later that evening. Whether or not Mária would provide him with a child was yet to be seen, and in the worst case scenario, if such a child was not to be, or if this gamble of a war failed to pay off, then the next generation of Habsburgs would have no more to inherit than Werner had, and that was not acceptable to him. So over the next two years, while still campaigning, Werner had sent secret letters seeking out other disgruntled persons of note in and around Transjurania. A mayor here, a bishop there. But the strangest bedfellow came in the form of the Duke of Savoy, Pierre. Genfergau had been part of his lands since antiquity, until the Kaiser had elevated its count, and so the Savoyard was intrigued at the possibility of knocking his former vassal back down a peg. It had been difficult, though, to negotiate Pierre down from his initial demand that Genfergau be immediately returned to him upon the successful conclusion of Werner’s coup.
“My lord,” Werner had said, “I can assure you that Géraud will insist I adhere to the gentlemanly rules of warfare and allow him to retain the county and its associated estates, and I would not consider it Christian of myself to thrust upon you an unwilling and untrustworthy vassal such as him. Therefore, let us agree that I will retain him and Genfergau as a vassal until his passing. His heir is still young and moldable, and can likely be educated into a more pliant subject than the father. When he inherits the estate, I shall be more than happy to return him to his rightful liege, but until then, allow me to assume the risk on your behalf.”
Evidently satisfied when they had formalized this secret pact in writing, the Duke of Savoy had worked quickly, delivering on his promise before the war in Hungary had even entered its final stages. Werner was now in possession of documents claiming his mother’s descent from the now-extinct house of Welf that had once ruled Transjurania. And now that that war was behind him, Werner was almost free to pursue his new goal. A couple more years in Hungary were still needed to firmly establish Mária’s authority as queen, and for Werner and his allies to train up fresh levies, but afterwards a return to Switzerland was in order, if only long enough to see this new and hopefully final campaign through. When the day to return to Basel arrive in 1072, Mária is unhappy to leave her homeland for a second time after what was always going to seem too short a stay, but she recognizes that she needs an heir if Hungary is to avoid being torn apart on her death, and thus she needs to stay close to Werner.
Werner declares war on Duke Géraud on 2 May, 1072. Reversing their roles from the Hungarian campaign, this time the Duke of Franche-Comté provides the battlefield support, while the Bohemians, owing to the travel time needed to cross through Bavaria, mainly aid in the sieging of Géraud’s castles.
The Bohemians do see brief action at the Battle of Basel shortly after their arrival. Duke Géraud, soundly driven from his own holdings, decides on a desperate strategy to take Habsburg castle and use Werner’s family as bargaining chips. The garrison, however, fully aware of King Vratislav’s imminent arrival, dig in until they see the Premyslid eagle flying on the horizon. Werner and his red lion arrive at the same time to outflank the Genevans, who are slaughtered.
Werner briefly pauses his campaign to enter his keep and check in on Otto and Ida. Queen Mária was also there, and Werner, exuberant with his victory, makes passionate love to his wife. After several weeks in a besieged castle, even the usually chaste Mária is remarkably eager. Werner has to leave the following morning to resume the last few sieges on Géraud’s lands, but his spirit is notably light. With the surrender of a couple more cities and parishes loyal to Géraud, Werner is ready to declare victory on 12 January, 1073.
Arriving back in Habsburg Castle to celebrate (and throw his predecessor in the dungeon), Werner is met with more good news: a glowing Queen Mária with a swollen belly. The new Duke of Transjurania orders a week of celebration and merriment to honor his twin victories on the battlefield and in the bedchamber.
The peace does not last long, however, as not long afterwards Khan Kegen of Pechenegs declares a war of conquest against Queen Mária of Hungary. The Habsburg forces make the long march back to Hungary, this time to defend it. By the time Werner arrives, however, the Hungarians have already been badly reduced by Kegen’s tribesmen. Now even combined, the defenders are marginally outnumbered.
Werner initially marches to meet the Hungarians in Wallachia, but when the Khan’s forces pass back over the Southern Carpathians to attack the besiegers from the east, he changes tactic. He follows the Pechenegs over the same pass but turns the other direction with the aim of sacking the Khan's personal holdings in Odessa while they are undefended. But once across the mountain pass, his good nature gets the best of him when his scouts report the enemy is about to overtake the Hungarians, who are digging in instead of retreating despite their numerical disadvantage. Hoping he can win the day by attacking the enemy rearguard, Werner changes strategy yet again and orders his men to give chase. But the Tengri Khan proves a more wily foe than Werner had given him credit for. The horsemen circle back on the Transjuranians, catching them by surprise at Târgoviște, forcing them to retreat back over the mountains, and blocking the way to Odessa. It is Werner’s biggest military blunder.
Happier news arrives on 13 August, 1073: Princess Amalie von Habsburg, gifted with a genius mind at the cost of traditional feminine charm (or any feminine charm), is born to King Werner and Queen Mária, securing a Habsburg into the line of succession. She is promptly baptized by Pope Alexander II and betrothed matrilineally to the baseborn but quick-witted Kazimierz, the grandson and namesake of the Piast king of Poland Kazimierz ’the Restorer’ through his second son Duke Wladyslaw of Kuyavia and the duke’s lowborn lover, an ambitious tomboy named Katarzyna.
As the year draws to a close, Werner, having earlier been appointed a commander to Kaiser Heinrich IV, is called away from his ongoing campaign in Hungary to fight the pagans of Pomerania in the Emperor’s Holy War for Obotritia. Queen Mária writes several pleading letters begging Werner to stay in Hungary, but Werner replies that his oath to his Kaiser and his duty to God has to take precedence. Additionally, in private, Werner’s commanders are advising him that after the disaster at Târgoviște , the war is a lost cause. Werner decides to go and fight to claim Pomerania for the Christian church and hopefully repair his military record.
Sadly, the decision proves to be yet another mistake. On 18 February, 1074, Werner von Habsburg, King of Hungary, Duke of Transjurania, Count of Basel, and Baron of Habsburg, is slain in the Battle of Werben against the armies of High Chief Waclaw of Pomerania, by a Finnish Suomenusko mercenary named Voitto Kukkonen. Werner looks at the spear thrust through his chest. “Well,” he notes with a smile, a trickle of blood starting at the corner of his mouth, “At least I don’t have to worry about the cancer anymore.” Saying a silent prayer to God for granting him a soldier’s death, he closes his eyes and drifts into eternal rest, his work on Earth complete, even if he didn’t have much time to enjoy it. Doubtless he would have been happy to know that his troops continued the fight without him and delivered a victory in the name of the Kaiser. After a brief battlefield memorial in his honor, he is sent back to Habsburg Castle to be laid to rest. He was 49 years old.
Author's note: Really sorry I didn't get a screenshot of the succession page to share here, folks! This was pre-AAR decision!
With the heroic passing of King Werner, a regency begins for his son Otto, and the alliance between Transjurania and Hungary breaks down, removing the Swiss from the fight against Khan Kegen. With the Hungarian army already depleted, the path is clear for Kegen to claim victory and County of Szekelyföld on 28 September, 1075.
Otto is eager to see that his father’s legacy is not threatened by his untimely death. Amalie may be Queen Mária’s firstborn child, but a queen cannot not stay a widow for long, and any future sons will displace the Habsburg line from the throne of Hungary. Otto dives into his studies. His father had ordered that his heir receive a thorough education in diplomacy and statecraft, and Otto has an aptitude for it, perfect for the head of a house on a rapid but fragile rise to prominence. On his 16th birthday, New Year’s Day 1076, he assumes full control of the Duchy of Transjurania, although his vassals aren’t quite sure what to make of their handsome and hard-working (frankly, overworked) yet irreverent and malicious new ruler.
On 26 January, 1076, Otto gets an unusual visit from Count Friedrich of Magdeburg and Werben, Spymaster and Regent of Saxony. Friedrich recognizes Otto’s cynicism for the church, after all, if it wasn’t for Werner’s zealotry he would still be alive today. Friedrich reveals to Otto that there exists an…alternative to the rigid and arrogant ways of the Catholic Church. Otto is shocked by Friedrich’s invitation, but he cannot resist the allure of power that promises to help him eliminate the threats to his family. Otto seals his recruitment into Lucifer’s Own on 12 June by losing his virginity to a 48-year-old Castilian maid named Cristina Alfonsez de León.
"100% Legit" screenshot on the right
Emboldened with his newfound powers, both political and supernatural Otto visits Géraud de Genève on 10 July in the oubliette where he has been wasting away since losing the war with Werner.
“I should count myself lucky,” Géraud mutters venomously up to the trapdoor where Otto is peering down, “the new Duke of Transjurania has come to visit me in my lowly prison cell, something his predecessor never bothered to do. But I suppose you have personal experience with your father’s simple-headedness, how his focus was always shifting, leaving behind whatever or whoever he had just seemed
so interested in. I’ve always wanted to know: what did he tell you when he sent your mother to the gallows, or when he left you and your sister here while he sent the men of this county halfway across Europe to put that Hungarian whore on her throne? What excuse did he give to justify his vain ambition?”
Otto is unfazed by Géraud’s barbed words. “My father was not a perfect man, I’ll admit,” he began, “but he knew how to lead his house, ensure the family name will live on, and not only live on, but be renowned, and feared.” Géraud can not see the malicious look in Otto’s eye, but he hears the darkness in younger man’s voice and recoils in terror nonetheless.
“You’ll recall,” continues Otto, “that per the Treaty of Varais you and my father signed three years ago, my father agreed to preserve your title of Count of Genfergau for you and your heirs, since you had already stupidly given away Vaud. Well, I am here to inform you that seeing as my father is no longer with us, that treaty is null and void. Additionally, I’ve just gotten the council’s approval for a new law granting me the right to retract the titles of my vassals. I’m sure my uncle Ulrich and the Count of Neuchatel will be less than pleased to hear that I’m taking possession of your lands, but they have nothing to fear, for they have been loyal to me, and I reward loyalty, just as much as I remove those who would plot my undoing. I will never trust you, nor your son. I could just crush either of you in the field, but I would hate to spoil such good land as Genfergau with the tainted blood of traitors. So I will be merciful and take that land off your hands, so that your dynasty may fade peacefully into oblivion. For that is the privilege my father worked so hard for me to have: to watch all those who would try to have us bend the knee wither like leaves in autumn, falling to be ground underneath my boot. Whether he cared more for my mother or me or Ida than he did for my step-mother or for Amalie makes no difference to me. What matters is that the Habsburg colors will be flying over this castle and yours long after your bones have turned to dust.”
With that, the trapdoor was slammed shut, and Duke Otto would speak no more to his prisoner, for a mere eleven days later, the humiliated Duke Géraud de Genève wept until he fell into a sleep that would never end.
Edited on 2020.5.21 to fix a typo and incorrect character information.
Edited again on 2020.5.22 to fix bad French. Thanks to @roverS3 for eagle-eyed proofreading!
Next Time...
Duke Otto protects Amalie's inheritance by any means necessary and continues his descent into darkness. Meanwhile, a succession crisis in Poland opens a door.