Ruthenia was doing well... but the glory days are over.
This'll be a disaster - Christianity will almost certainly make a comeback.
This'll be a disaster - Christianity will almost certainly make a comeback.
The Caliphate of al-Rus: A Kievan AAR
- Thread starter Cora Giantkiller
- Start date
-
We have updated our Community Code of Conduct. Please read through the new rules for the forum that are an integral part of Paradox Interactive’s User Agreement.
Mahdi Dmitry of the Russian Caliphate, 1056 - 1086
Mahdi Dmitry Konstaninovich of the Russian Caliphate
Born: 1047
Reigned: 1059 - 1085
The death of Vasilko II threw the security of the caliphate itself under serious threat. The imperial forces were in shambles on the coast of Palestine, and would indeed suffer a third brutal defeat by the crusaders in Jaffa on April 9, 1059. In Kiev, power was nominally held by the new Mahdi Dmitry, Vasilko’s eleven year old son. This young boy had only a few hundred men pledged to him alone: a small imperial bodyguard, a garrison of greybeards and young men manning the walls, a small coterie of warriors in the Mahdi’s Crimean holdings. The council was obsessed with turning around the failing effort in Jerusalem, while Dmitry’s uncles began to gather swords to themselves, eying the throne themselves.
Dmitry might not have survived were it not for the bold efforts of his tutor, Grand Allamah Vasily. Vasily was born of common stock and had few academic talents, but he was practical enough to see what his brother councillors could not: they could not win Jerusalem, but they could quite easily lose Kiev and their heads beside. While the others dithered, Vasily quietly summoned the mahdi’s flagship and had an urgent order sent in Dmitry’s name: the imperial retinue was to abandon its positions outside Jerusalem and return to defend their mahdi.
The Grand Allamah was surely correct in assessing the state of the war, but his pragmatism was not appreciated at the time. Patriarch Terentiy Sigudrovich of Arabia, who could not retreat so easily, cursed Russian perfidy and maintained ever after that Kievan betrayal had lost the war. As Gregorious V claimed victory late in 1059, and the young French lord Adhémar Toulose-Foix was crowned King of a Christian Jerusalem, the Grand Allamah took the blame as the man who lost Jerusalem to the infidels.
On March 9, 1060, the Grand Allamah was stabbed thirty-two times by unknown assailants while he prepared for Friday prayers. He was regarded with contempt by most Russians, but loved by one, young Dmitry Konstaninovich. Mahdi Dmitry learned from his mentor Vasily that being the caliph might mean being unpopular and even hated--and that one must sacrifice even one’s honor in the name of the realm.
Dmitry Konstaninovich was at the time of his ascension a precocious young boy with a delicate constitution. The young prince had convinced a number of tutors that he would be a caliph of uncommon ability, and like Vasily they were prone to dramatic acts of loyalty in defense of their charge. Equally charmed was the late Mahdi Vasilko II, who disinherited two mediocre sons in order to ensure that Dmitry alone would inherit the throne and all of his personal holdings.
Counter-factual scenarios swirl around the story of Mahdi Dmitry, and one common one is this: had Vasilko II held the throne through his son’s childhood, how might Vasilko have been able to mold his son’s character? The new Mahdi, through the incipient rebellions of his uncles and the assassination of his tutor, was exposed to the cruelty of the Kievan court at a very young age. Perhaps, with his father’s guidance, Dmitry would not have developed the pronounced cruel streak and deep memory for grievance that he would later display. Perhaps.
The story has a sentimental appeal, but I personally don’t believe it. Dmitry was shrewd, and unlike his ancestor Dyre Grozny, the Mahdi did not imagine his enemies. The caliphate was beset by the overweening powers of its boyars, and it was quite possible in 1059 to imagine the Almohadi caliphate falling under the thumb of a powerful secular adventurer. Such a fate would have been grave not only for Dmitry himself, but for the institution of the caliphate. In these precarious circumstances, the Mahdi claimed one of the few tools still left to him: the use of terror to intimidate and divide his internal enemies.
The affair of Andrei Lukinich is illuminating in this regard. Lukinich was a poacher of little import, whom Princess Svetlana of Novgorod had bribed to map out the various approaches to Kiev in preparation for a revolt. He immediately began to spend the princess’ gold on wine and women, bringing him to the attention of Mahdi Dmitry’s spies. Dmitry, then only thirteen, saw to the interrogation of Lukinich personally, orchestrating the poacher’s tortures with the patience of a much older man.
Princess Svetlana escaped the capital before she could be arrested, but a highly incriminating cache of letters was found in her rooms detailing a proposed uprising by the northern boyars. Andrei Lukinich was executed before a screaming mob in Kiev in the winter of 1060, while Svetlana’s correspondence allowed the Mahdi’s spies to arrest more than a dozen other conspirators. The great northern conspiracy collapsed as powerful boyars were swift to disclaim any knowledge of Svetlana’s plot.
Dmitry’s eerie poise in the interrogation chamber left a great impression on his courtiers, and it was surely meant to. The Mahdi may have enjoyed suffering for its own sake, but beyond that he knew instinctively the value of a good performance. He was a child with a frail constitution that prevented most of the traditional masculine virtues of a young Russian prince; and his every move was scrutinized for weakness by his courtiers. The Mahdi would thus grow into a man learning that every move he made had to be calculated for effect. He would become a caliph capable of striking fear in the hearts of his enemies, and his enemies were legion.
Dmitry would never forget the loss of Jerusalem. As the great families of Catholic Europe began to forget King Adhémar’s tiny holdings, Muslim nobles came to believe that the holy land might be vulnerable for a recapture. The Mahdi gathered his farsan perhaps once a year to plan the attack. And yet, given the instability of the realm, he would inevitably conclude that it was better to leave the assault for the next year. The next year would never come. However, the Mahdi would not ignore the rising power of Catholic Europe. His true legacy would not lay in contesting the Mediterranean trade routes or claiming the holy cities, however. Under Dmitry, the caliphate’s attentions were to the north and west, as Kiev became swept up in the Baltic Jihads.
For most of its history, Ruthenia had been separated from Catholic Europe across much of its border. The Sunni holdings of Lithuania and Novogorod were separated from the Catholic empires of the Franks by powerful pagan nations. The Slavic nation of Poland commanded central Europe as far west as Holstein, while Scandinavia was ruled by powerful Norse kings who feared no one. Following the death of Vasilko I, Ruthenia made few aggressive moves against their pagan neighbors, choosing instead to conquer the lands of the Greek Christians to their south. But after the unsuccessful Norse invasion of 1003, the might of European paganism began to break down.
The Catholics had a great victory when missionaries from East Francia convinced King Ulfr Markusson of Sweden to take up the cross in 1041. Ulfr’s hold on his realm would be immediately challenged by pagan jarls, but Christianity held in Stockholm. In 1050, the king of Estonia would also convert, although conflicts between Ukonusko pagans and Catholics would destroy Christian Estonia almost before it got started.
The Sunnis were hardly idle during this period either. With an eye for Baltic and North Sea trade, the Patriarch of Lithuania sent out his farsan to claim important ports in the Pomeranian and Prussian coasts, and even as far west as Friesland. Frisian Muslims from Leeuwarden would become a common fixture in the markets of Christian cities of Paris and London, cultivating a reputation for scrupulous honesty in hopes of overcoming religious differences. They maintained a discreet worship in small portside mosques but would occasionally be the target of religious violence.
The greater opportunity for Sunni expansion laid closer to home, however. Constantly succession struggles in pagan Poland split the great kingdom apart into feuding duchies, leaving the ground fertile for foreign adventurers. Most successfully, a chieftess from the Lithuanian Radvila clan was able to consolidate multiple duchies into a new Almohadi Polish kingdom. The new queen took up the language of her adopted people, and henceforth she was known as founder of the Radziwiłł dynasty. Sunni Poland was not as strong as its predecessor, however, and the Radziwiłł queens were plagued by pagan uprisings.
By the second half of the eleventh century, therefore, the lands of the Germans and the Poles were in serious flux. Sunni lords commanded much of the Polish-speaking lands in the esat, but even the most powerful, Matriarch Łucja Radziwiłł, was vulnerable to internal revolt or invasion from the Christian Swedes. Small Slavic pagan lords ruled German holdings in Pomerania and Stettin, where they might be invaded at any time by the Catholic kings of East Francia. In the words of a later historian, central Europe was a dagger lying on the ground; the only question was who would be wielding it.
Mahdi Dmitry was the first ruler of Kiev to take an interest in these contested lands. He was uncomfortably aware of the continued weakness of the treasury, so his strategy was threefold: small Muslim counts and dukes would be obliged to bend the knee to Kiev, through diplomacy or force. Pagan rulers were executed savagely, more acts of exemplary terror to show the danger in opposing the caliph. Łucja Radziwiłł alone was deemed too powerful to challenge, so Dmitry married his son and heir Vasilko Dmitriovich to her daughter Aldona, pledging Kiev’s support to any challenge to her throne.
Mahdi Dmitry’s strategy of exemplary terror was not simply for the edification of Polish pagans. His captives were transported down the Dnieper to Kiev, where their agonizing deaths were displayed for the benefit of the Russian crowds. In this way, Dmitry demonstrated his piety as well as his ability to punish his enemies.
The territorial gains made by Dmitry were modest enough. His largest conquest was in the forced submission of High Chief Budo of Masuria, a Prussian Muslim who ruled part of northeast Poland. His efforts to bring central Europe into the caliphate were cut short by his untimely death, and none know what he might have accomplished had he lived another two or three decades. However, Dmitry’s Polish ambitions would not be forgotten by his successors, and they would, in time, change the face of Europe.
Dmitry’s constitution was notoriously frail, making him a poor warrior. To compensate, perhaps, he was fond of indulging his temper with long harangues at the target of his ire. (Most notoriously, he ended an acrimonious council session by ordering the execution of his brother-in-law, Patriarch Yuriy Janosescu of Wallachia.) His willingness to order the execution of his enemies on the spot no doubt inspired particular dread in anybody who caught the mahdi’s attention. As they increased in bile and frequency, his councilors began to suspect that these outbursts were not only dangerous for his enemies. The Mahdi, in full rage, would be flushed red with a vein throbbing prominently on his forehead. As he approached middle age, his healers became concerned that his rage was more than his heart could bear.
There are many colorful stories of what actually did prompt the Mahdi’s untimely death. Was it perhaps a spilled goblet, or bad luck at a game of chance? Was it a minor slight or a true insult? In my favorite version, the Mahdi discovered to his horror that a young servant had released several valuable prisoners, and literally screamed himself to death before her disbelieving eyes. We may never know for sure.
However it happened, Dmitry Konstantinovich died suddenly on December 16, 1085, at the age of 38. He left a child on the throne and great plans for the future that he would never fulfill. His reign was not as glorious as his son’s or as tragic as his father’s, and for that reason it receives relatively little attention. Given the uncertain condition of the realm upon his ascension, Dmitry’s ability to survive and gradually extend his power were significant victories for the throne.
Born: 1047
Reigned: 1059 - 1085
The death of Vasilko II threw the security of the caliphate itself under serious threat. The imperial forces were in shambles on the coast of Palestine, and would indeed suffer a third brutal defeat by the crusaders in Jaffa on April 9, 1059. In Kiev, power was nominally held by the new Mahdi Dmitry, Vasilko’s eleven year old son. This young boy had only a few hundred men pledged to him alone: a small imperial bodyguard, a garrison of greybeards and young men manning the walls, a small coterie of warriors in the Mahdi’s Crimean holdings. The council was obsessed with turning around the failing effort in Jerusalem, while Dmitry’s uncles began to gather swords to themselves, eying the throne themselves.
Dmitry might not have survived were it not for the bold efforts of his tutor, Grand Allamah Vasily. Vasily was born of common stock and had few academic talents, but he was practical enough to see what his brother councillors could not: they could not win Jerusalem, but they could quite easily lose Kiev and their heads beside. While the others dithered, Vasily quietly summoned the mahdi’s flagship and had an urgent order sent in Dmitry’s name: the imperial retinue was to abandon its positions outside Jerusalem and return to defend their mahdi.
The Grand Allamah was surely correct in assessing the state of the war, but his pragmatism was not appreciated at the time. Patriarch Terentiy Sigudrovich of Arabia, who could not retreat so easily, cursed Russian perfidy and maintained ever after that Kievan betrayal had lost the war. As Gregorious V claimed victory late in 1059, and the young French lord Adhémar Toulose-Foix was crowned King of a Christian Jerusalem, the Grand Allamah took the blame as the man who lost Jerusalem to the infidels.
On March 9, 1060, the Grand Allamah was stabbed thirty-two times by unknown assailants while he prepared for Friday prayers. He was regarded with contempt by most Russians, but loved by one, young Dmitry Konstaninovich. Mahdi Dmitry learned from his mentor Vasily that being the caliph might mean being unpopular and even hated--and that one must sacrifice even one’s honor in the name of the realm.
Dmitry Konstaninovich was at the time of his ascension a precocious young boy with a delicate constitution. The young prince had convinced a number of tutors that he would be a caliph of uncommon ability, and like Vasily they were prone to dramatic acts of loyalty in defense of their charge. Equally charmed was the late Mahdi Vasilko II, who disinherited two mediocre sons in order to ensure that Dmitry alone would inherit the throne and all of his personal holdings.
Counter-factual scenarios swirl around the story of Mahdi Dmitry, and one common one is this: had Vasilko II held the throne through his son’s childhood, how might Vasilko have been able to mold his son’s character? The new Mahdi, through the incipient rebellions of his uncles and the assassination of his tutor, was exposed to the cruelty of the Kievan court at a very young age. Perhaps, with his father’s guidance, Dmitry would not have developed the pronounced cruel streak and deep memory for grievance that he would later display. Perhaps.
The story has a sentimental appeal, but I personally don’t believe it. Dmitry was shrewd, and unlike his ancestor Dyre Grozny, the Mahdi did not imagine his enemies. The caliphate was beset by the overweening powers of its boyars, and it was quite possible in 1059 to imagine the Almohadi caliphate falling under the thumb of a powerful secular adventurer. Such a fate would have been grave not only for Dmitry himself, but for the institution of the caliphate. In these precarious circumstances, the Mahdi claimed one of the few tools still left to him: the use of terror to intimidate and divide his internal enemies.
The affair of Andrei Lukinich is illuminating in this regard. Lukinich was a poacher of little import, whom Princess Svetlana of Novgorod had bribed to map out the various approaches to Kiev in preparation for a revolt. He immediately began to spend the princess’ gold on wine and women, bringing him to the attention of Mahdi Dmitry’s spies. Dmitry, then only thirteen, saw to the interrogation of Lukinich personally, orchestrating the poacher’s tortures with the patience of a much older man.
Princess Svetlana escaped the capital before she could be arrested, but a highly incriminating cache of letters was found in her rooms detailing a proposed uprising by the northern boyars. Andrei Lukinich was executed before a screaming mob in Kiev in the winter of 1060, while Svetlana’s correspondence allowed the Mahdi’s spies to arrest more than a dozen other conspirators. The great northern conspiracy collapsed as powerful boyars were swift to disclaim any knowledge of Svetlana’s plot.
Dmitry’s eerie poise in the interrogation chamber left a great impression on his courtiers, and it was surely meant to. The Mahdi may have enjoyed suffering for its own sake, but beyond that he knew instinctively the value of a good performance. He was a child with a frail constitution that prevented most of the traditional masculine virtues of a young Russian prince; and his every move was scrutinized for weakness by his courtiers. The Mahdi would thus grow into a man learning that every move he made had to be calculated for effect. He would become a caliph capable of striking fear in the hearts of his enemies, and his enemies were legion.
Dmitry would never forget the loss of Jerusalem. As the great families of Catholic Europe began to forget King Adhémar’s tiny holdings, Muslim nobles came to believe that the holy land might be vulnerable for a recapture. The Mahdi gathered his farsan perhaps once a year to plan the attack. And yet, given the instability of the realm, he would inevitably conclude that it was better to leave the assault for the next year. The next year would never come. However, the Mahdi would not ignore the rising power of Catholic Europe. His true legacy would not lay in contesting the Mediterranean trade routes or claiming the holy cities, however. Under Dmitry, the caliphate’s attentions were to the north and west, as Kiev became swept up in the Baltic Jihads.
For most of its history, Ruthenia had been separated from Catholic Europe across much of its border. The Sunni holdings of Lithuania and Novogorod were separated from the Catholic empires of the Franks by powerful pagan nations. The Slavic nation of Poland commanded central Europe as far west as Holstein, while Scandinavia was ruled by powerful Norse kings who feared no one. Following the death of Vasilko I, Ruthenia made few aggressive moves against their pagan neighbors, choosing instead to conquer the lands of the Greek Christians to their south. But after the unsuccessful Norse invasion of 1003, the might of European paganism began to break down.
The Catholics had a great victory when missionaries from East Francia convinced King Ulfr Markusson of Sweden to take up the cross in 1041. Ulfr’s hold on his realm would be immediately challenged by pagan jarls, but Christianity held in Stockholm. In 1050, the king of Estonia would also convert, although conflicts between Ukonusko pagans and Catholics would destroy Christian Estonia almost before it got started.
The Sunnis were hardly idle during this period either. With an eye for Baltic and North Sea trade, the Patriarch of Lithuania sent out his farsan to claim important ports in the Pomeranian and Prussian coasts, and even as far west as Friesland. Frisian Muslims from Leeuwarden would become a common fixture in the markets of Christian cities of Paris and London, cultivating a reputation for scrupulous honesty in hopes of overcoming religious differences. They maintained a discreet worship in small portside mosques but would occasionally be the target of religious violence.
The greater opportunity for Sunni expansion laid closer to home, however. Constantly succession struggles in pagan Poland split the great kingdom apart into feuding duchies, leaving the ground fertile for foreign adventurers. Most successfully, a chieftess from the Lithuanian Radvila clan was able to consolidate multiple duchies into a new Almohadi Polish kingdom. The new queen took up the language of her adopted people, and henceforth she was known as founder of the Radziwiłł dynasty. Sunni Poland was not as strong as its predecessor, however, and the Radziwiłł queens were plagued by pagan uprisings.
By the second half of the eleventh century, therefore, the lands of the Germans and the Poles were in serious flux. Sunni lords commanded much of the Polish-speaking lands in the esat, but even the most powerful, Matriarch Łucja Radziwiłł, was vulnerable to internal revolt or invasion from the Christian Swedes. Small Slavic pagan lords ruled German holdings in Pomerania and Stettin, where they might be invaded at any time by the Catholic kings of East Francia. In the words of a later historian, central Europe was a dagger lying on the ground; the only question was who would be wielding it.
Mahdi Dmitry was the first ruler of Kiev to take an interest in these contested lands. He was uncomfortably aware of the continued weakness of the treasury, so his strategy was threefold: small Muslim counts and dukes would be obliged to bend the knee to Kiev, through diplomacy or force. Pagan rulers were executed savagely, more acts of exemplary terror to show the danger in opposing the caliph. Łucja Radziwiłł alone was deemed too powerful to challenge, so Dmitry married his son and heir Vasilko Dmitriovich to her daughter Aldona, pledging Kiev’s support to any challenge to her throne.
Mahdi Dmitry’s strategy of exemplary terror was not simply for the edification of Polish pagans. His captives were transported down the Dnieper to Kiev, where their agonizing deaths were displayed for the benefit of the Russian crowds. In this way, Dmitry demonstrated his piety as well as his ability to punish his enemies.
The territorial gains made by Dmitry were modest enough. His largest conquest was in the forced submission of High Chief Budo of Masuria, a Prussian Muslim who ruled part of northeast Poland. His efforts to bring central Europe into the caliphate were cut short by his untimely death, and none know what he might have accomplished had he lived another two or three decades. However, Dmitry’s Polish ambitions would not be forgotten by his successors, and they would, in time, change the face of Europe.
Dmitry’s constitution was notoriously frail, making him a poor warrior. To compensate, perhaps, he was fond of indulging his temper with long harangues at the target of his ire. (Most notoriously, he ended an acrimonious council session by ordering the execution of his brother-in-law, Patriarch Yuriy Janosescu of Wallachia.) His willingness to order the execution of his enemies on the spot no doubt inspired particular dread in anybody who caught the mahdi’s attention. As they increased in bile and frequency, his councilors began to suspect that these outbursts were not only dangerous for his enemies. The Mahdi, in full rage, would be flushed red with a vein throbbing prominently on his forehead. As he approached middle age, his healers became concerned that his rage was more than his heart could bear.
There are many colorful stories of what actually did prompt the Mahdi’s untimely death. Was it perhaps a spilled goblet, or bad luck at a game of chance? Was it a minor slight or a true insult? In my favorite version, the Mahdi discovered to his horror that a young servant had released several valuable prisoners, and literally screamed himself to death before her disbelieving eyes. We may never know for sure.
However it happened, Dmitry Konstantinovich died suddenly on December 16, 1085, at the age of 38. He left a child on the throne and great plans for the future that he would never fulfill. His reign was not as glorious as his son’s or as tragic as his father’s, and for that reason it receives relatively little attention. Given the uncertain condition of the realm upon his ascension, Dmitry’s ability to survive and gradually extend his power were significant victories for the throne.
- 2
So at long last, here is Dmitry, the leader that I flagged a little while back who died because I released a bunch of prisoners at once without considering how they would affect his stress. (Turns out, badly.) I still think the whole thing is a little silly, but part of the value of an AAR is the constant flow of events that are too weird or unexpected for fiction, so I left it in more or less as it happened.
I'm glad you liked it! I honestly find the conversion to feudalism to be kind of challenging to write out for exactly that reason--in reality it would happen gradually over a period of decades or centuries and there wouldn't be a point where everybody was like, "We're all Clan government now, right? Cool."
The title bothers me too, to be honest; I believe the subsequent Almohadi caliphs in OTL just titled themselves Caliph, so I would think that CK3 could have the founder be the Mahdi and let the rest be Caliphs.
I suspect that Ivan racked up a lot of debts that Vasilko II had to pay, to the detriment of his rule; his decisions were thoughtful and good for the long-term, but there was a lot to handle in the meantime.
Christianity absolutely has made a comeback, although in the Middle East it's been fairly limited--it was beyond the scope of the AAR but the kingdom of Jerusalem was kind of a basket case. The conversion of Sweden is more significant in my opinion.
And I don't think the glory days are over. I think in the history of Russia, or at least this Russia glory and tragedy are never far away.
I'm glad you liked it! I honestly find the conversion to feudalism to be kind of challenging to write out for exactly that reason--in reality it would happen gradually over a period of decades or centuries and there wouldn't be a point where everybody was like, "We're all Clan government now, right? Cool."
The title bothers me too, to be honest; I believe the subsequent Almohadi caliphs in OTL just titled themselves Caliph, so I would think that CK3 could have the founder be the Mahdi and let the rest be Caliphs.
I suspect that Ivan racked up a lot of debts that Vasilko II had to pay, to the detriment of his rule; his decisions were thoughtful and good for the long-term, but there was a lot to handle in the meantime.
Christianity absolutely has made a comeback, although in the Middle East it's been fairly limited--it was beyond the scope of the AAR but the kingdom of Jerusalem was kind of a basket case. The conversion of Sweden is more significant in my opinion.
And I don't think the glory days are over. I think in the history of Russia, or at least this Russia glory and tragedy are never far away.
Last edited:
Dmitry's rule was another stepping stone for Russia - and it must be kept in mind that he did manage to prevent an uprising through his calculated rage, bringing some much-needed stability. Pragmatism was truly needed here.
Jerusalem might have been a lost cause, but the Almohadis have gained more influence in Europe.
Someone close to rebelling? Just execute a few insignificant prisoners, that'll teach him.
Want to die, but suicide isn't an option? No more need to seek battle or stay at sea and wait for the sweet release of death through scurvy.
Just execute/release a bunch of prisoners!
Jerusalem might have been a lost cause, but the Almohadis have gained more influence in Europe.
Prisoners need some attention, true. They are both the most effective way to off your character and a highly useful way to keep your vassals in check.
Someone close to rebelling? Just execute a few insignificant prisoners, that'll teach him.
Want to die, but suicide isn't an option? No more need to seek battle or stay at sea and wait for the sweet release of death through scurvy.
Just execute/release a bunch of prisoners!
I’m starting to wonder just how many child heirs coming to the throne Russia will be able to bear. From the sounds of it, the caliphal family have enemies just about everywhere.
Part of the reason it feels like the caliphate has a lot of enemies has to do with the dynamics of the new clan government for Islamic rulers. In clan societies, vassals will give taxes and levies to their liege in proportion to how much they like them, bottoming out at 0% taxes and levies for those with -100% opinion. And once your ruler ascends to the throne, their vassals will have two big opinion debuffs: a short reign opinion malus as well as a clan-specific 'my liege doesn't have a marriage alliance with me' malus. So when a new ruler comes to the throne, they will be at their weakest just when their vassals hate them the most.
Of course, when you're a child ruler, you can't use a Sway scheme to up a vassal's opinion, and you won't have children of your own to form alliances with your vassals, so it puts you in a vulnerable position without a lot of tools to defend yourself. Except, it turns out, events can give you Dread if you have the right traits (like Sadistic or Vengeful, both of which Dmitry had).
(And adding on to all of this, my empire level title is technically Khazaria--although I've renamed it--and not Russia, and until I have primogeniture I'm not going to get a second empire-level title. So the kings of Novgorod and the White Rus' are particularly troublesome, along with Wallachia and Bulgaria, because they have an additional malus because I'm not their de jure liege lord.)
I'm really into this, to be honest. Islamic religions gives you a lot of CBs, particularly if you're the head of faith, so the troubles with internal cohesion feel like a necessary counterweight. If anything, I'd like them to be a bit more challenging. By this time in my Nigeria AAR, I'd lost a rebellion already.
I think that's absolutely right. Dmitry wasn't a glorious leader but he kept the realm together and left the throne stronger than he found it.
RIP
Poor bastard.
I remember spotting this AAR and being intrigued by its premise close to when it first came out, but unfortunately real life got in the way before I could really commit to reading it. Just got caught up today; it's definitely been a fine read so far
Preview of coming attractions:
I only thought things were bad before, but the end of the twelfth century is the craziest that things have gotten to date and it's not even close.
But to quote a very astute observer: "[W]hat’s a Russian AAR without a seemingly unending string of monumental setbacks?"
Needless to say, I cannot fucking wait to write this nonsense up.
I only thought things were bad before, but the end of the twelfth century is the craziest that things have gotten to date and it's not even close.
But to quote a very astute observer: "[W]hat’s a Russian AAR without a seemingly unending string of monumental setbacks?"
Needless to say, I cannot fucking wait to write this nonsense up.
Last edited:
- 1
- 1
Answering the age-old question "Is it worse to be impious or insolvent?" with a resounding "I don't know; let's try both!"
- 4
Mahdi Vasilko III of the Russian Caliphate, 1085 - 1118
Mahdi Vasilko III Krasno Solnyshko (lit., “the Fair Sun”) of the Russian Caliphate
Born: 1070
Reigned: 1085 - 1118
Anxiety filled Kiev when it was announced that Mahdi Dmitry had perished from an unexpected heart attack at the age of thirty-eight. The Mahdi had not been loved, was indeed not the sort of man one could love, and yet his cruelty had seemed necessary to contain the divisions of the caliphate. The prospect of a new boy caliph, even a talented young squire like Vasilko III Dmitriovich, was not something to welcome.
To be fair, Vasilko III claimed the throne in far better circumstances than his father. Dmitry had been twelve, with his armies being slaughtered in distant Jerusalem and his uncles plotting for the throne at home. Vasilko was by contrast nearly fifteen, skilled at arms, beloved by young ladies, and possessed of a raw masculine beauty like his grandfather, Vasilko II. The young caliph exuded the martial values of furūsiyya [1] while wearing his spiritual authority lightly. One could not see Vasilko’s eyes twinkling during Friday prayers without reflecting that this was not a man to overturn the religious order of things.
Vasilko III has lived for centuries in the Russian imagination, and one suspects that the Mahdi himself was instrumental in promoting a heroic image. The Tale of Vasilko’s Campaign focuses particularly on his wars in Poland. Evidence suggests, however, that it is a fragment of a larger epic chronicle that describes the entire reign. Legends swirl around the Mahdi’s great love (Princess Agrafena of the White Rus’, who became his mistress and then his primary wife), his famous steed (Zaljanah, named for the horse of Husayn ibn Ali), and even the Mahdi’s beloved cat Plamya (lit., ‘Flame’). Even his early defeats would be captured in myth.
The crusader kingdom of Jerusalem had fallen into factionalism, with half of the crusader lords rejecting the authority of King Adhemar and pledging themselves to the King of France. With Adehemar’s rule weakened, the Almohadi emir Afanasiy II launched a surprise attack and claimed the holy city for himself. In response, Pope Gregorius called a Fifth Crusade in 1092 to drive the Muslims from Jerusalem once more.
The Catholic lords of Europe were dispirited at the notion of a crusade called to salvage the victory of their previous effort. For similar reasons, Russian lords were not as invested in the fate of Jerusalem as they had in previous generations. The Catholics had proved utterly incapable of expanding on their foothold in the Middle East, and the fate of King Adhémar Toulouse-Foix suggested that they could not hold the Holy City for long as it was. Regardless, the Mahdi could not ignore the fate of Islam’s third holiest city, and so Vasilko III called the banners and set sail for Palestine.
The defense of Jerusalem began triumphantly. Vasilko’s Russians defeated the first crusading armies again and again, at Saida (on March 13, 1093), Damascus (on May 9), and Nawa (on June 10). The Almohadi warriors began to hope that the curse of the Fourth Crusade was broken. While Vasilko was winning battles, however, the crusaders were landing more armies, and once again the Catholic nobles had half again the Mahdi’s numbers. As the crusading armies began to coalesce, Vasilko could no longer stand up to their numerical advantage. The Mahdi suffered two terrible losses, at Anjar (July 23, 1093), and Mujib (October 4, 1093), and was driven out of Palestine to regroup. Unlike his enemies, Vasilko did not have endless waves of reinforcements to draw on.
The great struggle would continue for an additional four years, and the Russians were able to win isolated victories here and there; but the strength of the Catholic forces won the day, and on February 21, 1097, Pope Gregorius claimed victory in Jerusalem. It was, for the crusaders, more a saving of face then a triumph in and of itself. For Vasilko, the loss was a momentary setback. He had learned from his father that the true contest between Christendom and Dar al-Islam would be waged in Europe, and there he would make his greatest victories.
According to legend, Vasilko III was planning his next campaign while still on horseback in the Levant. In Sunni Poland, his mother-in-law Łucja Radziwiłł had lost her throne in a palace coup to her niece Pechna, and the division among the nobles sparked a revolt by Slavic pagans led by a charismatic priestess of Piorun [2]. The pagan lords of Pomerania, Mecklenberg and Silesia began to plot their own invasions. Nobles loyal to Matriarch Łucja wrote to Kiev, professing that the Mahdi needed to restore her to the throne in order to save Polish Islam.
Vasilko was concerned that the already weakened kingdom of Poland might fragment further, giving the Catholic kings of Sweden or East Francia an opportunity to invade. Simply restoring Łucja to her throne would not suffice, however. The campaign that Vasilko envisioned would be known to history as the Polish Jihad, and it took place in a number of stages.
First, Vasilko did declare war on Matriarch Pechna Radziwiłł, but it soon became clear that he had no intention of restoring Łucja to the throne. Pechna’s small royal army proved little match for the hardened veterans of the Fifth Crusade. By the fall of 1098, Vasilko had arrived at the captured castle of Kraków to discuss the terms of Pechna’s surrender. To Pechna’s surprise, Vasilko promised to affirm her throne, along with the landed titles of her supporters, once she bent the knee. This was a much more generous deal than she had any right to expect, and so the Sunni kingdom of Poland fell under the rule of Kiev.
Vasilko returned to Kiev during the year 1099, to manage affairs of state, but his thoughts frequently returned to Poland. When his great love Agrafena suffered a miscarriage that spring, the Mahdi returned to his maps as an escape from heartbreak. Missives were sent out that fall, summoning loyal Almohadis from Frisia to the shores of the Caspian to Kiev to hear of the Mahdi’s call for a new jihad. Eighty-four thousand warriors were mustered, more than twice the size of the Almohadi army in the Fifth Crusade; among them, some of the finest warriors in the Muslim world.
When Vasilko appeared before his farsan on January 6, 1100, he had, standing by his side, Matriarch Pechna Radziwiłł. The savage pagans of Pomerania and Mecklenberg were squatting on lands that properly belonged to the Radziwiłłs, he proclaimed, and as Mahdi he would lead a war to claim them for Kraków and for Islam. He left unspoken an equally important consideration: if the prosperous cities of western Poland were not claimed for Islam they would likely fall to the Christians.
Divided and outnumbered four-to-one, the Slavic chieftains had little chance against the finest warriors of Dar al-Islam. Vasilko delivered three savage routs (at Gostynin, Kalisz, and Krajna), shattering the pagan forces and leaving their holdfasts open for Russian assault. Before 1101 was out, the caliphate held all lands east of the Oder river. The Mahdi had a mosque erected in Poznań to make the occasion, where he, his wife Agrafena, and the Matriarch Pechna heard Friday prayers in the summer of 1102.
While most of the mujahideen celebrated the great victory in Poland and departed for home, Vasilko and his retinue stayed in Poznań, putting down rebellions and fighting minor pagan lords. Traditionally the end of the Polish Jihad is marked on June 29, 1113, when the Mahdi’s army triumphed over the child ruler of Pomerania at Santok and a Sunni high chieftain was installed in his place.
As Vasilko rode back to his capital in triumph, he left behind a Poland that was greatly changed. Over the course of the Twelfth Century, Islam would sink great roots into Poland; and the traditional Muslim ethos of furūsiyya would mesh quite well with the Polish cavalry, creating a warrior ethos among the Polish farsan unique in the caliphate. By the end of the century, the power of the Polish martial class would shake the caliphate to its roots--but of course I’m getting ahead of myself.
The people of Kiev were triumphant as their Mahdi returned to them at long last, but privately Vasilko’s mood was anything but. By middle age it was plain that he had inherited the melancholy of the Oskyldr line. Notions of being older than his father had ever been began to plague him. His depression was, if anything, fuel for the fire of his heroic reputation, and it would become transformed in the public imagination to a peculiar wistfulness that made him more appealing as a romantic figure. Vasilko was plainly suffering, but he was ever a man to escape his larger problems by throwing himself into work, and so the Mahdi began to plan his next conquests.
The medieval kingdom of Croatia had long served as a bulwark for Christendom on the southwestern border of Russia. Croatia could command nearly as many warriors as Ruthenia herself, and their storied dynasty of Nitrava was nearly as impressive as the house of Oskyldr. However, in 1113 the Croatian king Rastislav died abruptly and unexpectedly. His son inherited the throne, but the powerful dukes of Bihar and Nitra accused Vid of poisoning his father and rose up in rebellion. With the kingdom divided, Vasilko launched an invasion in January 19, 1115. The conquest was swift and devastating; by November, King Vid was a prisoner of the Ruthenia and surrendered his throne at swordpoint.
Vasilko was far from finished--he had planned a jihad against the southern Slavs to match his Polish jihad. Nitra and Bihar were still independent, and some of King Vid’s loyalists claimed outposts in the Carpathians in the name of their fallen liege. The Mahdi would not live to see it complete, however. While besieging the castle of Spiš, Vasilko III became plagued by a racking cough that quickly revealed itself as consumption. Soldiers were dispatched to find a local healer, but by the time that one was found, Vasilko was too weak to be saved. He died in his war camp on April 17, 1118, at the age of 47.
Perhaps he did, at least. The Russian people say something quite different, that Vasilko Krasno Solnyshko did not die but merely sleeps, in a deep cave in the Carpathians. They say also that in times of great need, he will awake again and ride out on his mighty steed Zulnajah, and in those days Ruthenia’s fair sun will shine down on her again.
[1] Popular in the Muslim world, furūsiyya--like chivalry--evoked not just skill at arms and bravery in combat, but a broader ethos of honorable conduct.
[2] Perun, in Russian paganism.
Born: 1070
Reigned: 1085 - 1118
Anxiety filled Kiev when it was announced that Mahdi Dmitry had perished from an unexpected heart attack at the age of thirty-eight. The Mahdi had not been loved, was indeed not the sort of man one could love, and yet his cruelty had seemed necessary to contain the divisions of the caliphate. The prospect of a new boy caliph, even a talented young squire like Vasilko III Dmitriovich, was not something to welcome.
To be fair, Vasilko III claimed the throne in far better circumstances than his father. Dmitry had been twelve, with his armies being slaughtered in distant Jerusalem and his uncles plotting for the throne at home. Vasilko was by contrast nearly fifteen, skilled at arms, beloved by young ladies, and possessed of a raw masculine beauty like his grandfather, Vasilko II. The young caliph exuded the martial values of furūsiyya [1] while wearing his spiritual authority lightly. One could not see Vasilko’s eyes twinkling during Friday prayers without reflecting that this was not a man to overturn the religious order of things.
Vasilko III has lived for centuries in the Russian imagination, and one suspects that the Mahdi himself was instrumental in promoting a heroic image. The Tale of Vasilko’s Campaign focuses particularly on his wars in Poland. Evidence suggests, however, that it is a fragment of a larger epic chronicle that describes the entire reign. Legends swirl around the Mahdi’s great love (Princess Agrafena of the White Rus’, who became his mistress and then his primary wife), his famous steed (Zaljanah, named for the horse of Husayn ibn Ali), and even the Mahdi’s beloved cat Plamya (lit., ‘Flame’). Even his early defeats would be captured in myth.
The crusader kingdom of Jerusalem had fallen into factionalism, with half of the crusader lords rejecting the authority of King Adhemar and pledging themselves to the King of France. With Adehemar’s rule weakened, the Almohadi emir Afanasiy II launched a surprise attack and claimed the holy city for himself. In response, Pope Gregorius called a Fifth Crusade in 1092 to drive the Muslims from Jerusalem once more.
The Catholic lords of Europe were dispirited at the notion of a crusade called to salvage the victory of their previous effort. For similar reasons, Russian lords were not as invested in the fate of Jerusalem as they had in previous generations. The Catholics had proved utterly incapable of expanding on their foothold in the Middle East, and the fate of King Adhémar Toulouse-Foix suggested that they could not hold the Holy City for long as it was. Regardless, the Mahdi could not ignore the fate of Islam’s third holiest city, and so Vasilko III called the banners and set sail for Palestine.
The defense of Jerusalem began triumphantly. Vasilko’s Russians defeated the first crusading armies again and again, at Saida (on March 13, 1093), Damascus (on May 9), and Nawa (on June 10). The Almohadi warriors began to hope that the curse of the Fourth Crusade was broken. While Vasilko was winning battles, however, the crusaders were landing more armies, and once again the Catholic nobles had half again the Mahdi’s numbers. As the crusading armies began to coalesce, Vasilko could no longer stand up to their numerical advantage. The Mahdi suffered two terrible losses, at Anjar (July 23, 1093), and Mujib (October 4, 1093), and was driven out of Palestine to regroup. Unlike his enemies, Vasilko did not have endless waves of reinforcements to draw on.
The great struggle would continue for an additional four years, and the Russians were able to win isolated victories here and there; but the strength of the Catholic forces won the day, and on February 21, 1097, Pope Gregorius claimed victory in Jerusalem. It was, for the crusaders, more a saving of face then a triumph in and of itself. For Vasilko, the loss was a momentary setback. He had learned from his father that the true contest between Christendom and Dar al-Islam would be waged in Europe, and there he would make his greatest victories.
According to legend, Vasilko III was planning his next campaign while still on horseback in the Levant. In Sunni Poland, his mother-in-law Łucja Radziwiłł had lost her throne in a palace coup to her niece Pechna, and the division among the nobles sparked a revolt by Slavic pagans led by a charismatic priestess of Piorun [2]. The pagan lords of Pomerania, Mecklenberg and Silesia began to plot their own invasions. Nobles loyal to Matriarch Łucja wrote to Kiev, professing that the Mahdi needed to restore her to the throne in order to save Polish Islam.
Vasilko was concerned that the already weakened kingdom of Poland might fragment further, giving the Catholic kings of Sweden or East Francia an opportunity to invade. Simply restoring Łucja to her throne would not suffice, however. The campaign that Vasilko envisioned would be known to history as the Polish Jihad, and it took place in a number of stages.
First, Vasilko did declare war on Matriarch Pechna Radziwiłł, but it soon became clear that he had no intention of restoring Łucja to the throne. Pechna’s small royal army proved little match for the hardened veterans of the Fifth Crusade. By the fall of 1098, Vasilko had arrived at the captured castle of Kraków to discuss the terms of Pechna’s surrender. To Pechna’s surprise, Vasilko promised to affirm her throne, along with the landed titles of her supporters, once she bent the knee. This was a much more generous deal than she had any right to expect, and so the Sunni kingdom of Poland fell under the rule of Kiev.
Vasilko returned to Kiev during the year 1099, to manage affairs of state, but his thoughts frequently returned to Poland. When his great love Agrafena suffered a miscarriage that spring, the Mahdi returned to his maps as an escape from heartbreak. Missives were sent out that fall, summoning loyal Almohadis from Frisia to the shores of the Caspian to Kiev to hear of the Mahdi’s call for a new jihad. Eighty-four thousand warriors were mustered, more than twice the size of the Almohadi army in the Fifth Crusade; among them, some of the finest warriors in the Muslim world.
When Vasilko appeared before his farsan on January 6, 1100, he had, standing by his side, Matriarch Pechna Radziwiłł. The savage pagans of Pomerania and Mecklenberg were squatting on lands that properly belonged to the Radziwiłłs, he proclaimed, and as Mahdi he would lead a war to claim them for Kraków and for Islam. He left unspoken an equally important consideration: if the prosperous cities of western Poland were not claimed for Islam they would likely fall to the Christians.
Divided and outnumbered four-to-one, the Slavic chieftains had little chance against the finest warriors of Dar al-Islam. Vasilko delivered three savage routs (at Gostynin, Kalisz, and Krajna), shattering the pagan forces and leaving their holdfasts open for Russian assault. Before 1101 was out, the caliphate held all lands east of the Oder river. The Mahdi had a mosque erected in Poznań to make the occasion, where he, his wife Agrafena, and the Matriarch Pechna heard Friday prayers in the summer of 1102.
While most of the mujahideen celebrated the great victory in Poland and departed for home, Vasilko and his retinue stayed in Poznań, putting down rebellions and fighting minor pagan lords. Traditionally the end of the Polish Jihad is marked on June 29, 1113, when the Mahdi’s army triumphed over the child ruler of Pomerania at Santok and a Sunni high chieftain was installed in his place.
As Vasilko rode back to his capital in triumph, he left behind a Poland that was greatly changed. Over the course of the Twelfth Century, Islam would sink great roots into Poland; and the traditional Muslim ethos of furūsiyya would mesh quite well with the Polish cavalry, creating a warrior ethos among the Polish farsan unique in the caliphate. By the end of the century, the power of the Polish martial class would shake the caliphate to its roots--but of course I’m getting ahead of myself.
The people of Kiev were triumphant as their Mahdi returned to them at long last, but privately Vasilko’s mood was anything but. By middle age it was plain that he had inherited the melancholy of the Oskyldr line. Notions of being older than his father had ever been began to plague him. His depression was, if anything, fuel for the fire of his heroic reputation, and it would become transformed in the public imagination to a peculiar wistfulness that made him more appealing as a romantic figure. Vasilko was plainly suffering, but he was ever a man to escape his larger problems by throwing himself into work, and so the Mahdi began to plan his next conquests.
The medieval kingdom of Croatia had long served as a bulwark for Christendom on the southwestern border of Russia. Croatia could command nearly as many warriors as Ruthenia herself, and their storied dynasty of Nitrava was nearly as impressive as the house of Oskyldr. However, in 1113 the Croatian king Rastislav died abruptly and unexpectedly. His son inherited the throne, but the powerful dukes of Bihar and Nitra accused Vid of poisoning his father and rose up in rebellion. With the kingdom divided, Vasilko launched an invasion in January 19, 1115. The conquest was swift and devastating; by November, King Vid was a prisoner of the Ruthenia and surrendered his throne at swordpoint.
Vasilko was far from finished--he had planned a jihad against the southern Slavs to match his Polish jihad. Nitra and Bihar were still independent, and some of King Vid’s loyalists claimed outposts in the Carpathians in the name of their fallen liege. The Mahdi would not live to see it complete, however. While besieging the castle of Spiš, Vasilko III became plagued by a racking cough that quickly revealed itself as consumption. Soldiers were dispatched to find a local healer, but by the time that one was found, Vasilko was too weak to be saved. He died in his war camp on April 17, 1118, at the age of 47.
Perhaps he did, at least. The Russian people say something quite different, that Vasilko Krasno Solnyshko did not die but merely sleeps, in a deep cave in the Carpathians. They say also that in times of great need, he will awake again and ride out on his mighty steed Zulnajah, and in those days Ruthenia’s fair sun will shine down on her again.
[1] Popular in the Muslim world, furūsiyya--like chivalry--evoked not just skill at arms and bravery in combat, but a broader ethos of honorable conduct.
[2] Perun, in Russian paganism.
- 3
What a way to go... Well live and learn Cora.
One thing I learned is that it's hilarious when your leader just immediately kicks the bucket for no reason.
I remember spotting this AAR and being intrigued by its premise close to when it first came out, but unfortunately real life got in the way before I could really commit to reading it. Just got caught up today; it's definitely been a fine read so far
I'm glad you're enjoying it! I hope future installments can live up to your expectations.
What can I say? I don't believe in half-measures.
Being remembered as a beautiful, chivalrous caliph lying in a cave in Hungary ready to guide Russia to glory once again in the future must count as an unqualified success story given recent form. Is Vasilko going to prove. nice bit of light relief, or is this something of a turning point for the Oskyldr fortunes?
(Of course not in the long run; we're all patiently waiting for the impious insolvency…)
(Of course not in the long run; we're all patiently waiting for the impious insolvency…)
Quite apropos that someone who's the very image of a legendary warrior-prince would become the subject of a "king under the mountain" legend.
Congratulation Cora, this is the new Weekly AAR Showcase!
I’ve blasted through the story so far over the past week and have really loved your writing here. The idea of Russia becoming Islamic reminds me of the legendary OTL story of how the Rus king brought representatives of all the world’s great religions to his court to decide what faith his people would have but was out of Islam by the fact alcohol is prohibited. We surely have to have an in depth analysis of how Islam’s Prohibitionist views reshape Slavic culture!
I’ve blasted through the story so far over the past week and have really loved your writing here. The idea of Russia becoming Islamic reminds me of the legendary OTL story of how the Rus king brought representatives of all the world’s great religions to his court to decide what faith his people would have but was out of Islam by the fact alcohol is prohibited. We surely have to have an in depth analysis of how Islam’s Prohibitionist views reshape Slavic culture!
- 3
- 2
Building on the work of his lesser-liked ancestors, Vasilko III is another great ruler to grace Ruthenia with his presence. Being remembered in legend is something he's proven worthy of, but also something which (spoiler or not) makes one expect that the next monarchs aren't as great as him.
It is always difficult for an heir to follow in the footsteps of a great monarch, and Ruthenia with all these different strong factions will hardly be an exception.
It is always difficult for an heir to follow in the footsteps of a great monarch, and Ruthenia with all these different strong factions will hardly be an exception.
- 1
Mahdi Yuriy of the Russian Caliphate, 1118 - 1154
Mahdi Yuriy Vasilkovich of the Russian Caliphate
Born: 1089
Reigned: 1118 - 1154
The Pověstĭ vremęnĭnyxŭ lětŭ (lit., ‘Tale of Bygone Years’; known in the West as the Primary Chronicle) is traditionally dated to the 1130s, although the chronicle is a composite work and early sections appear to have been done under the direction of Mahdi Ivan I. Work seemingly ceased during the troubled reigns of Vasilko II and Dmitry, and again during the triumphant conquests of Vasilko III, only for Yuriy to have the work resumed under a faqih known to history as Nestor the Chronicler.
As befits a pious Muslim narrative, the chronicle begins with the Prophet Muhammad receiving the revelation of Allah in the cave Hira in 610 CE, before describing the arrival of the Varangians to the Rus’ and the rise of the Oksyldr dynasty in Kiev. The emphasis of the material changes based on the patron responsible for each section: the eleventh century material that Mahdi Ivan’s scribes prepared contains a defense of Almohadi doctrine generally and the rise of the caliphate specifically, and tends towards the theological. Mahdi Yuriy’s scribes are more interested in burnishing the achievements of Vasilko III. The final passage, describing the prayers said at the great mosque of Poznań in 1102, may well have been based on Yuriy’s own memories.
This, as much as anything, shows us the fundamental nature of Mahdi Yuriy Vasilkovich. Vasilko III was the sun in the sky, and his son merely in orbit around him. Yuriy had little direct experience with his father, having been left in Kiev while Vasilko was campaigning in central Europe; when his father returned home, he would have been moody and distant, increasingly so over time. Yuriy did not know his father, but observed him from a distance and was overawed by him. As caliph in his own right, Yuriy seems to defined his role as maintaining the great edifice left by his father. If there is sometimes a streak of complacency in his thinking, it’s here: he could not quite imagine that the works of the great Krasno Solnyshko would ever pass from the earth.
The Mahdi’s first ten years on the throne were modest, in accordance with his ambitions. His armies rode forth to handle a rebellion of Slovienian Catholics, primarily led by minor nobility loyal to King Vid; and again in a war to enforce an Almohadi claim on Moravia, but otherwise the realm was at peace. Yuriy Vasilkovich was too busy lionizing the conquests of the past in the Primary Chronicles to imagine further conquests in the present. Most significantly, Mahdi Yuriy promulgated a new update of Russkaya Pravda, the first in ninety years, to better integrate the Polish and Croatian lands conquered by his father. The most significant changes were in the area of inheritance law, although the new code incorporated a number of previous decrees that broadly tended to centralize power in Kiev.
The new legal code invited a fresh round of criticism from dissident Grecheskiy clerics, who had long objected to the centralization of religious authority in the hands of a secular prince and now saw an opportunity to broaden their appeal. The Grecheskiy school of Islamic jurisprudence had long objected to the Almohadi caliphate as an institution, and in the twelfth century, this critique was developed further. The Greki envisioned a supreme cleric independent of the court of Kiev, supported by rents and levies from his own land, with the spiritual authority that the Mahdi currently enjoyed.
The name Grecheskiy (“Greek”) was originally used as a term of derision by the Almohadi establishment, who saw the dissident school as just so much crypto-Christian nonsense. While the Greki were more numerous in lands with a historical memory of Christian rule, they eagerly dispute the charge that they were somehow less Islamic than their opponents. Rather, they argued, all the great founders of Islamic schools of jurisprudence had been able to maintain their independence from the political establishment, and it was a subversion to force all clerics to submit to the rule of princes.
The new face of the movement was Mitrofan Vladimirovich of Adrianopolis, a young cleric of noble birth. As a scholar he was mediocre at best, but Mitrofan was charming and able to speak equally well to the commons and the great noble families. While he might adopt a conservative style for the great boyar families, Mitrofan could also be a rabble rouser who would swear to the crowds that Jerusalem would remain in Christian hands until Islam was purged of al-Masīḥ ad-Dajjāl (“the false messiah”), a reference to Mahdi Yuriy. After the furore regarding the Russkaya Pravda, Mitrofan saw an opportunity to court the boyars, arguing that he was their ally against the centralizing forces in Kiev that meant to strip them of their traditional liberties.
Some of Mahdi Yuriy’s advisors urged him to take a firm stand against Mitrofan and his allies, seeing them as a threat to the caliphate. Yuriy was more sanguine. He had deep confidence in his ability to assuage the bruised feelings of his nobles, and in the short term that confidence was justified. However, Mitrofan did not need to worry about dining alone. The great boyars of the realm were, of course, loyal to Yuriy and tied to the caliphal Oskydlr dynasty through ancient ties of blood and marriage; but they also knew that a time may come when they wanted a club with which to beat their liege into submission. If the Greki were willing to be that club, then it was best to keep them around.
The peace of Yuriy’s reign was broken on October 16, 1131, when King Gauthier of Lotharingia declared war on the caliphate. The initial cause was Gauthier’s (somewhat spurious) claim on the Ruthenian port of Lubeck, but the larger object was to lay a claim on the Baltic Sea trade and undermine the Sunni presence there. Gauthier had long resented the competition of Almohadi merchants from Frisia and (more recently) Jutland, and he intended to take the fight to the enemy.
Lotharingia was a vassal of the Emperor of Francia, and commanded no more than eight thousand men himself; and so Mahdi Yuriy ordered an immediate invasion of Guathier’s lands, hoping to end the war swiftly. However, Gauthier had many friends among the nobility in Brittany and England, and his numbers were far more than Kiev had realized. Russian warriors in Dortmund were astonished on January 4, 1133 when Gauthier’s grandson Eudes arrived on the field with twenty-two thousand men behind him. The resulting battle, and a second in Aix-la-Chapelle, cost the caliphate nine thousand lives and forced them to retreat to their German holdings.
The dramatic losses in the winter of 1132-33 raised the alarm back in Kiev. Mahdi Yuriy called upon old family ties to secure the support of Thessalonika. Tsargrad had long stood to one side in Russian affairs, even sitting out the last two crusades; but Yuriy’s prestige was such that the Patriarch declared that his twelve thousand men would defeat the Karling menace no matter what the cost. Back on the Baltic coast, the Russian army adopted a more conservative posture while they awaited the arrival of reinforcements. A contingent of Polish horse routed the Catholic force besieging Lubeck itself on July 1134 and captured the heir to the Breton throne.
In the winter of 1134, King Gauthier died, leaving his grandson on the throne as King Eudes II. Eudes was a cautious youth, and he could see the cost of Guathier’s war plainly enough. Russian forces were able to despoil the Catholic holdings in north Germany and interdict the Elbe river trade, even if Eudes was strong enough to keep them from the Lotharingian heartland. The war was by now nearly four years old, and stuck in an expensive stalemate. Catholic and Sunni lords met in Emden in the summer of 1135, and negotiated a peace on the basis of status quo ante bellum, to the relief of both Eudes and Yuriy.
The invasion of Lubeck was a dramatic wake up call for the court at Kiev. The caliphate’s European holdings had not been under attack since the Norse invasion more than a century before, and the notion that a collection of minor Catholic powers could fight the caliph’s army to a standstill was startling. Gauthier had not even been the most powerful of the Christian princes--his liege, Emperor Savary of the Karling-Melun house, commanded over thirty thousand warriors in his own name and had powerful allies beside.
A great clamor rose from the boyars and ulema alike for a great war of conquest, like those of Vasilko III, to demonstrate the supremacy of the caliphate and strike a blow against the Catholics. A target was even at hand: the German kingdom of Bavaria on the Ruthenian border, which remained diplomatically isolated thanks to the heterodox Christian leanings of King Markwart Ermengardeson, himself a Karling from the Geisenhausen line. Mahdi Yuriy knew that the caliphate already struggled with a large and restive Catholic population in their southern holdings, and he privately doubted the wisdom of adding hundreds of thousands of Bavarians to their number. However, he was also diplomatically attuned enough to know that he would need to give his boyars something, and so in the summer of 1138 he called the banners for Bavaria.
Alarmed, King Markwart called on the support of the ten thousand strong Knights Templar, but even so fortified Bavaria struggled from the start. The western holdings of Friestadt, Krems, and Wien fell swiftly to an invasion from Poland. Superior Russian generalship was able to outmaneuver the Catholic defenders, leading to a series of victories at Hohenhau, Ernstbrunn and Sankt Pölten. Markwart finally gathered his army into a single force over the winter of 1140, but when he faced off against the Russian force at Linz in the spring of 1141, Markwart was captured and the war was over prematurely.
Yuriy’s terms of surrender for the Bavarian king were surprisingly generous. He would remain with his titles and (most of) his land intact as a vassal of the caliphate, provided that the king agree to adopt the Almohadi faith and marry his daughter to one of Yuriy’s sons. The Mahdi hoped that the Karling prestige might help anchor the stability of his new Bavarian holdings, but internecine warfare between Catholic and Sunni Karlings in Bavaria would remain for decades. However, the learned Markwart would prove an asset elsewhere: the Christian convert proved himself a lucid and subtle defender of Almohadi orthodoxy, writing some of the most eloquent defenses of Islam in Latin. (His surviving correspondence with the archbishop of Paris is well worth reading.)
To counterbalance the new influx of Bavarian Catholics and secure his western border, Yuriy sent his warriors to oblige the Sunni kingdom of Bohemia to submit to Kiev. King Zygmunt II was indeed so obliged after a two and a half year struggle, and his surrender in March of 1148 inspired celebrations and a fresh round of acclaim for the Mahdi’s glorious reign. Yuriy considered his true victory to be elsewhere, however: in the death of Emperor Savary of Francia, from a draught of poisoned wine, and the internecine warfare that followed.
By 1150, the learned people of Ruthenia considered themselves to be living in the golden age of the Oskyldr caliphate. The Mahdi had a shrewd political mind and wielded his fighting strength and his prestige adroitly to maintain stability at home and lead to triumph abroad. As his health declined, however, it became clear that the caliphate was facing long-term problems that the Mahdi had been unable to reckon with and had perhaps exacerbated. Bavaria and the southern Slavic holdings were still largely Christian and viewed Kiev as a hostile occupying power. The great boyars were increasingly concerned that power was once again centralizing in Kiev, posing a threat to their traditional liberties, while the influence of Mitrofan Vladimirovich and his fellow Grek clerics gave this divide between court and country a troubling sectarian character.
The Mahdi’s son and heir, Prince Ivan, was a much different character from his father. Ivan was perhaps the most eccentric member of the Oskyldr dynasty: an arrogant rake in his youth that had murdered more than one man on the dueling fields without consequence, before becoming overcome by fear of death in early middle age and devoting himself to an idiosyncratic (and indeed heretical) spiritual practice. As Yuriy slipped into death on August 15, 1154, it was reasonable to wonder if the good times were finally over.
Born: 1089
Reigned: 1118 - 1154
The Pověstĭ vremęnĭnyxŭ lětŭ (lit., ‘Tale of Bygone Years’; known in the West as the Primary Chronicle) is traditionally dated to the 1130s, although the chronicle is a composite work and early sections appear to have been done under the direction of Mahdi Ivan I. Work seemingly ceased during the troubled reigns of Vasilko II and Dmitry, and again during the triumphant conquests of Vasilko III, only for Yuriy to have the work resumed under a faqih known to history as Nestor the Chronicler.
As befits a pious Muslim narrative, the chronicle begins with the Prophet Muhammad receiving the revelation of Allah in the cave Hira in 610 CE, before describing the arrival of the Varangians to the Rus’ and the rise of the Oksyldr dynasty in Kiev. The emphasis of the material changes based on the patron responsible for each section: the eleventh century material that Mahdi Ivan’s scribes prepared contains a defense of Almohadi doctrine generally and the rise of the caliphate specifically, and tends towards the theological. Mahdi Yuriy’s scribes are more interested in burnishing the achievements of Vasilko III. The final passage, describing the prayers said at the great mosque of Poznań in 1102, may well have been based on Yuriy’s own memories.
This, as much as anything, shows us the fundamental nature of Mahdi Yuriy Vasilkovich. Vasilko III was the sun in the sky, and his son merely in orbit around him. Yuriy had little direct experience with his father, having been left in Kiev while Vasilko was campaigning in central Europe; when his father returned home, he would have been moody and distant, increasingly so over time. Yuriy did not know his father, but observed him from a distance and was overawed by him. As caliph in his own right, Yuriy seems to defined his role as maintaining the great edifice left by his father. If there is sometimes a streak of complacency in his thinking, it’s here: he could not quite imagine that the works of the great Krasno Solnyshko would ever pass from the earth.
The Mahdi’s first ten years on the throne were modest, in accordance with his ambitions. His armies rode forth to handle a rebellion of Slovienian Catholics, primarily led by minor nobility loyal to King Vid; and again in a war to enforce an Almohadi claim on Moravia, but otherwise the realm was at peace. Yuriy Vasilkovich was too busy lionizing the conquests of the past in the Primary Chronicles to imagine further conquests in the present. Most significantly, Mahdi Yuriy promulgated a new update of Russkaya Pravda, the first in ninety years, to better integrate the Polish and Croatian lands conquered by his father. The most significant changes were in the area of inheritance law, although the new code incorporated a number of previous decrees that broadly tended to centralize power in Kiev.
The new legal code invited a fresh round of criticism from dissident Grecheskiy clerics, who had long objected to the centralization of religious authority in the hands of a secular prince and now saw an opportunity to broaden their appeal. The Grecheskiy school of Islamic jurisprudence had long objected to the Almohadi caliphate as an institution, and in the twelfth century, this critique was developed further. The Greki envisioned a supreme cleric independent of the court of Kiev, supported by rents and levies from his own land, with the spiritual authority that the Mahdi currently enjoyed.
The name Grecheskiy (“Greek”) was originally used as a term of derision by the Almohadi establishment, who saw the dissident school as just so much crypto-Christian nonsense. While the Greki were more numerous in lands with a historical memory of Christian rule, they eagerly dispute the charge that they were somehow less Islamic than their opponents. Rather, they argued, all the great founders of Islamic schools of jurisprudence had been able to maintain their independence from the political establishment, and it was a subversion to force all clerics to submit to the rule of princes.
The new face of the movement was Mitrofan Vladimirovich of Adrianopolis, a young cleric of noble birth. As a scholar he was mediocre at best, but Mitrofan was charming and able to speak equally well to the commons and the great noble families. While he might adopt a conservative style for the great boyar families, Mitrofan could also be a rabble rouser who would swear to the crowds that Jerusalem would remain in Christian hands until Islam was purged of al-Masīḥ ad-Dajjāl (“the false messiah”), a reference to Mahdi Yuriy. After the furore regarding the Russkaya Pravda, Mitrofan saw an opportunity to court the boyars, arguing that he was their ally against the centralizing forces in Kiev that meant to strip them of their traditional liberties.
Some of Mahdi Yuriy’s advisors urged him to take a firm stand against Mitrofan and his allies, seeing them as a threat to the caliphate. Yuriy was more sanguine. He had deep confidence in his ability to assuage the bruised feelings of his nobles, and in the short term that confidence was justified. However, Mitrofan did not need to worry about dining alone. The great boyars of the realm were, of course, loyal to Yuriy and tied to the caliphal Oskydlr dynasty through ancient ties of blood and marriage; but they also knew that a time may come when they wanted a club with which to beat their liege into submission. If the Greki were willing to be that club, then it was best to keep them around.
The peace of Yuriy’s reign was broken on October 16, 1131, when King Gauthier of Lotharingia declared war on the caliphate. The initial cause was Gauthier’s (somewhat spurious) claim on the Ruthenian port of Lubeck, but the larger object was to lay a claim on the Baltic Sea trade and undermine the Sunni presence there. Gauthier had long resented the competition of Almohadi merchants from Frisia and (more recently) Jutland, and he intended to take the fight to the enemy.
Lotharingia was a vassal of the Emperor of Francia, and commanded no more than eight thousand men himself; and so Mahdi Yuriy ordered an immediate invasion of Guathier’s lands, hoping to end the war swiftly. However, Gauthier had many friends among the nobility in Brittany and England, and his numbers were far more than Kiev had realized. Russian warriors in Dortmund were astonished on January 4, 1133 when Gauthier’s grandson Eudes arrived on the field with twenty-two thousand men behind him. The resulting battle, and a second in Aix-la-Chapelle, cost the caliphate nine thousand lives and forced them to retreat to their German holdings.
The dramatic losses in the winter of 1132-33 raised the alarm back in Kiev. Mahdi Yuriy called upon old family ties to secure the support of Thessalonika. Tsargrad had long stood to one side in Russian affairs, even sitting out the last two crusades; but Yuriy’s prestige was such that the Patriarch declared that his twelve thousand men would defeat the Karling menace no matter what the cost. Back on the Baltic coast, the Russian army adopted a more conservative posture while they awaited the arrival of reinforcements. A contingent of Polish horse routed the Catholic force besieging Lubeck itself on July 1134 and captured the heir to the Breton throne.
In the winter of 1134, King Gauthier died, leaving his grandson on the throne as King Eudes II. Eudes was a cautious youth, and he could see the cost of Guathier’s war plainly enough. Russian forces were able to despoil the Catholic holdings in north Germany and interdict the Elbe river trade, even if Eudes was strong enough to keep them from the Lotharingian heartland. The war was by now nearly four years old, and stuck in an expensive stalemate. Catholic and Sunni lords met in Emden in the summer of 1135, and negotiated a peace on the basis of status quo ante bellum, to the relief of both Eudes and Yuriy.
The invasion of Lubeck was a dramatic wake up call for the court at Kiev. The caliphate’s European holdings had not been under attack since the Norse invasion more than a century before, and the notion that a collection of minor Catholic powers could fight the caliph’s army to a standstill was startling. Gauthier had not even been the most powerful of the Christian princes--his liege, Emperor Savary of the Karling-Melun house, commanded over thirty thousand warriors in his own name and had powerful allies beside.
A great clamor rose from the boyars and ulema alike for a great war of conquest, like those of Vasilko III, to demonstrate the supremacy of the caliphate and strike a blow against the Catholics. A target was even at hand: the German kingdom of Bavaria on the Ruthenian border, which remained diplomatically isolated thanks to the heterodox Christian leanings of King Markwart Ermengardeson, himself a Karling from the Geisenhausen line. Mahdi Yuriy knew that the caliphate already struggled with a large and restive Catholic population in their southern holdings, and he privately doubted the wisdom of adding hundreds of thousands of Bavarians to their number. However, he was also diplomatically attuned enough to know that he would need to give his boyars something, and so in the summer of 1138 he called the banners for Bavaria.
Alarmed, King Markwart called on the support of the ten thousand strong Knights Templar, but even so fortified Bavaria struggled from the start. The western holdings of Friestadt, Krems, and Wien fell swiftly to an invasion from Poland. Superior Russian generalship was able to outmaneuver the Catholic defenders, leading to a series of victories at Hohenhau, Ernstbrunn and Sankt Pölten. Markwart finally gathered his army into a single force over the winter of 1140, but when he faced off against the Russian force at Linz in the spring of 1141, Markwart was captured and the war was over prematurely.
Yuriy’s terms of surrender for the Bavarian king were surprisingly generous. He would remain with his titles and (most of) his land intact as a vassal of the caliphate, provided that the king agree to adopt the Almohadi faith and marry his daughter to one of Yuriy’s sons. The Mahdi hoped that the Karling prestige might help anchor the stability of his new Bavarian holdings, but internecine warfare between Catholic and Sunni Karlings in Bavaria would remain for decades. However, the learned Markwart would prove an asset elsewhere: the Christian convert proved himself a lucid and subtle defender of Almohadi orthodoxy, writing some of the most eloquent defenses of Islam in Latin. (His surviving correspondence with the archbishop of Paris is well worth reading.)
To counterbalance the new influx of Bavarian Catholics and secure his western border, Yuriy sent his warriors to oblige the Sunni kingdom of Bohemia to submit to Kiev. King Zygmunt II was indeed so obliged after a two and a half year struggle, and his surrender in March of 1148 inspired celebrations and a fresh round of acclaim for the Mahdi’s glorious reign. Yuriy considered his true victory to be elsewhere, however: in the death of Emperor Savary of Francia, from a draught of poisoned wine, and the internecine warfare that followed.
By 1150, the learned people of Ruthenia considered themselves to be living in the golden age of the Oskyldr caliphate. The Mahdi had a shrewd political mind and wielded his fighting strength and his prestige adroitly to maintain stability at home and lead to triumph abroad. As his health declined, however, it became clear that the caliphate was facing long-term problems that the Mahdi had been unable to reckon with and had perhaps exacerbated. Bavaria and the southern Slavic holdings were still largely Christian and viewed Kiev as a hostile occupying power. The great boyars were increasingly concerned that power was once again centralizing in Kiev, posing a threat to their traditional liberties, while the influence of Mitrofan Vladimirovich and his fellow Grek clerics gave this divide between court and country a troubling sectarian character.
The Mahdi’s son and heir, Prince Ivan, was a much different character from his father. Ivan was perhaps the most eccentric member of the Oskyldr dynasty: an arrogant rake in his youth that had murdered more than one man on the dueling fields without consequence, before becoming overcome by fear of death in early middle age and devoting himself to an idiosyncratic (and indeed heretical) spiritual practice. As Yuriy slipped into death on August 15, 1154, it was reasonable to wonder if the good times were finally over.
- 1
Vasilko's reign seems in hindsight to be the start of a golden age, but everything ends eventually, I'm afraid.
Yes, it seemed appropriate that a man like Vasilko III would inspire this kind of reverence in his people.
Congratulation Cora, this is the new Weekly AAR Showcase!
I’ve blasted through the story so far over the past week and have really loved your writing here. The idea of Russia becoming Islamic reminds me of the legendary OTL story of how the Rus king brought representatives of all the world’s great religions to his court to decide what faith his people would have but was out of Islam by the fact alcohol is prohibited. We surely have to have an in depth analysis of how Islam’s Prohibitionist views reshape Slavic culture!
Thanks! I said this on the thread, but I'm really honored; your Egyptian and Polish AARs were big inspirations for me when I started writing AARs on here.
Also I really should talk more about alcohol use in the Caliphate; we've discussed it a little bit, but it would be interesting to think through how things had settled out for the population at large.
Under the circumstances, Yuriy was able to do quite well following in his father's footsteps, but those strong factions won't be passive forever.