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The name of the problem is ‘adolescence’. Hanging out with gals should solve it; though in that century, it may be harder than today. Don’t know, there are too many distractions – battles, swords, farms, castles, banners, plague – all that aristocratic medieval-filth.
‘Your mother is quite particular,’ Jakub told him bluntly. ‘She likes to hold herself aloof. Not all women are like her, and especially not the one you have in front of you! She isn’t an enemy to be feared; you needn’t approach her like one. But if you want to keep her, you need to approach her. Once you do, the rest will come naturally. Do I make myself clear?’
Model adult education, a la 11 century ce. Look, Jakub, the chap is surely in the brainless-phase of his age, so some specifics may have to be given for a clearer explanation.
Feeling the same. To this day, no one knows how they designed these pseudo-random generated events, for what purpose, with which intentions, by whose perspective.
The two halves of the Christian Church—the Byzantine East and the Latin West—had never formally separated, but it was no secret that the Popes of Rome had grown distant from their brothers in the other four Patriarchates.
This is a peculiar explanation for the flow, as there has been already a hint of schism, with the most recent one being the words from Eustach:
‘But she is a barbarian, a severánka,’ Eustach griped. ‘She follows the descendants of the false Emperor, and she writes in Latin – the language of the debased Bishop of Rome. Does she also impiously add the filioque to the Symbol of Faith? Does she also take unleavened bread with the Gifts?’
- indicating that a (or the) schism had already been in effect, engraved in the mindset of lower branches of nobility. Hmmm. Will take a closer look if missed any detail on this. – The friendly nerdic defendertoo opts to remain silent on this one. III - Chapter 6.3
The table of the Hrabě of Sadec was built low in the traditional Turkic style, and covered with a richly-coloured woven dastarkhân, which was laden even more richly with all manner of wonderful delectations from both Khazar and Moravian cultures. In addition to the centrepiece, which was a fatted calf upon a spit, there were platters of both aromatic spiced beef klobása and potent fermented sucuk made from horse-meat. There were rich egg-laden breads, as well as round unleavened loaves meant to be piled up with meat and vegetables. There were chicken dumplings served steamed, as well as flat wheat noodles which were made to be grabbed by the handful. Slices of winter melon and pickled cucumber adorned the table between all of the dishes, and there were deep bowls of lékvař made from Moravian table-grapes and Bülünjar cherries. It was clear indeed that Vratko was something of a gastronomist, and took delight in providing a sensuous repast, as befit the feast.
Jean-Baptiste Éléphantincat removed his cap, and looked at the page on the table once more. The smell of the words lining up on the page, following the paragraphs, shining through the passages, reached his nose, kindling the sparks in his mind, tilting his excitement. The list, the beauty of the list, the charm of the list, the allure of the list, made him paralysed for a moment, before he could stand up. He walked towards the shelves, while saving the bombardment of the ecstasy induced by the list in his memory, he carefully examined the dusty racks, meticulously chose the ingredients, arduously planned the specifics, on how to recreate a similar list, but only for his own purposes, for only his own pleasure, for only to create another list for greater treasure. The lists; the words, each one after another, beautifully following, charming, alluring, exciting, never-ending, tilting, jolting, burning, lusting, engrossing, embracing, enticing, enchanting, invoking, intoxicating, revelling lists.
In the name of God the Father Almighty, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, the unworthy Dolz of Touraine sends her noble husband, Eustach prince heritier of Great Moravia, greeting:
Jakub himself was in his tent at the siege camp. When Eustach entered, his father’s dark brown eyes were bent over the plans of Chios Castle provided to him by Despotēs Hypatios.
The seaside is particularly charming over there, but sure, since it is not a vacation but a war, go ahead and siege some castles, do some medieval stuff.
The limpid blue waters of the Middle Sea lapped placidly beneath a flawless sapphirine sky, and the sun brightened the white stone of the prize they were about to take. Jakub took a deep breath of the bracing salt air – something wholly unfamiliar to the Moravian palate in more peaceful times – and made his way to the siege line.
- From The Guild of Fun-trivia’lists;
Ionian. Even to this day, for the persian, the arabic, the hebrew, and of course for the turkish languages, their neighbours are, instead of greek, or elliniki, or achaeans; they are still ionians – yunan.
(...)The Oöryphas scion’s sword went flying out of his grasp, and the man himself tumbled into the turf. Eustach spread his shield apart from his shoulder and aimed the point of his sword at Iordanēs’s throat.
... well, that was easy. Nothing more than a simple defeat in the end, always a bitter pill, but at least not a great slight on his pride that demands brutal vengeance.
It truly takes a genius to draw up a list of young equally smart children across the whole of Europe at the age of 8. Ah, how great it would be for Moravia if Anna were a boy... Thomas can at least look towards one big sister for guidance. Dosie's example would only be followed if there's a certain type of woman around when he comes of age .
Is the King of Wallachia doing any fighting to preserve his crown? Is Anna's little finger smarter than Dosie? With all the brain-power Anna and her intended have, watch them produce a dolt. God Bless little Jacob! Thank you for the update.
Both very good questions. Let's just say for now that Ioakim Struma isn't above using his marriage to Dosie to its full political advantage, and that Anna is considerably less lucky in love than her father and mother are.
Naturally all aspects of the filcatorium will follow - including the student taking history as non-technical, the notes from the never-future, the nerdic defender of the fictional lores, some other extra filcatisch-pandemonium where applicable, and of course, the watchdog, outcast of fact-checkers of fictional lores.
The name of the problem is ‘adolescence’. Hanging out with gals should solve it; though in that century, it may be harder than today. Don’t know, there are too many distractions – battles, swords, farms, castles, banners, plague – all that aristocratic medieval-filth.
Model adult education, a la 11 century ce. Look, Jakub, the chap is surely in the brainless-phase of his age, so some specifics may have to be given for a clearer explanation.
Fortunately, the chap is a fast learner, with a great teacher.
Feeling the same. To this day, no one knows how they designed these pseudo-random generated events, for what purpose, with which intentions, by whose perspective.
Jean-Baptiste Éléphantincat removed his cap, and looked at the page on the table once more. The smell of the words lining up on the page, following the paragraphs, shining through the passages, reached his nose, kindling the sparks in his mind, tilting his excitement. The list, the beauty of the list, the charm of the list, the allure of the list, made him paralysed for a moment, before he could stand up. He walked towards the shelves, while saving the bombardment of the ecstasy induced by the list in his memory, he carefully examined the dusty racks, meticulously chose the ingredients, arduously planned the specifics, on how to recreate a similar list, but only for his own purposes, for only his own pleasure, for only to create another list for greater treasure. The lists; the words, each one after another, beautifully following, charming, alluring, exciting, never-ending, tilting, jolting, burning, lusting, engrossing, embracing, enticing, enchanting, invoking, intoxicating, revelling lists.
The seaside is particularly charming over there, but sure, since it is not a vacation but a war, go ahead and siege some castles, do some medieval stuff.
It is a bit clearer in salt than the lykian side of the land to the south, but that is still proper good detail. Kudos.
- From The Guild of Fun-trivia’lists;
Ionian. Even to this day, for the persian, the arabic, the hebrew, and of course for the turkish languages, their neighbours are, instead of greek, or elliniki, or achaeans; they are still ionians – yunan.
Ironically, I've always felt I wasn't particularly good at writing action scenes. That's not false modesty, by the way: it really does tend to feel like I'm directing a movie more than crafting prose. Glad this one was enjoyable, though!
... well, that was easy. Nothing more than a simple defeat in the end, always a bitter pill, but at least not a great slight on his pride that demands brutal vengeance.
It truly takes a genius to draw up a list of young equally smart children across the whole of Europe at the age of 8. Ah, how great it would be for Moravia if Anna were a boy... Thomas can at least look towards one big sister for guidance. Dosie's example would only be followed if there's a certain type of woman around when he comes of age .
Yeah, Eustach got off easy there. Still, imprisonment is a fun little narrative framing device that I can use to string together a set of related events.
Okay, it's been too long since I touched this. Time for:
EIGHTEEN A Gangday in Glomiti 7 September 1040 – 2 August 1041
‘Milord,’ Nitrabor approached the King.
‘What? What is it?’ snapped Eustach. He wouldn’t perhaps have been so sharp if Nitrabor didn’t make him so skittish. This disconcerting elderly knieža of the Silesians who knew so much about his… activities with Dolz, and hadn’t hesitated to use them to his advantage, might be capable of anything.
‘No need for that, O Kráľ. I merely wished to remark how well you look after your hunting trip. Relaxed. Even cheerful. I trust it was enjoyable?’
‘That’s none of your business.’
Nitrabor gave Eustach a knowing smirk. Eustach wasn’t about to give the old man the satisfaction of knowing that Dolz had indeed taken full advantage of the opportunity with him. Dog collar, chain and all.
‘I merely wish to suggest,’ the one-eyed old man went on placidly, ‘that if you truly do set your out-of-doors time that highly, perhaps it might be put to the use of the realm. Many of the Sorbian lands remain unknown to us and unreckoned; and those of them we do have doom-books for are… very much out-of-date. It might be a good opportunity for you, milord, to exercise both body and mind, and put the results to good use.’
Eustach didn’t want to admit it, but Nitrabor Rychnovský had a point. Although they had been ruled by the Rychnovský family for four generations, there were still a number of parcels which were unclaimed and unknown, in particular the heaths and marshes around Kamenec, which were inhabited by the Glomiti tribe of Sorbs. Taking Nitrabor’s advice, Eustach rode by himself through the Bohemian lands and across the northwestern Ore Mountains into Milčané.
Mihail, his šafár and his young vojvoda in those lands—the lords of Milčané had taken for themselves that title as ‘march-lords’ rather than ‘princes’—sent out one of his knights to meet his liege. The tow-headed, level-browed fighter riding assuredly in his saddle gave the king a hail when he came within sight of the town.
‘Lord Kráľ!’ cried the knight. ‘God greet you, and welcome to Kamenec!’
‘God save you!’ returned the king. ‘Mihail sent word of my arrival?’
‘He did,’ the knight answered. ‘I am Rajnar. I am of the Glomiti myself and know this area as well as anyone; milord Vojvoda thought I could be most use to your Majesty in his stead. You are welcome to stay as long as you like, and I will assist you as long as is necessary.’
‘That’s very thoughtful,’ Eustach nodded.
‘And is this the young následník you’ve brought with you?’ asked Rajnar.
The boy he was addressing, a chubby, cherub-faced youngster with a messy thatch of mouse-brown hair, rode forward. ‘I am Tomáš,’ he addressed Rajnar.
‘Welcome! Welcome indeed!’ said the Sorbian knight. ‘I hear I am to congratulate you on your recent betrothal. I take it you’ve met the lucky girl?’
Tomáš gave a non-committal shrug. He’d met the girl once. The red-braided chit hadn’t seemed to him anything special, but at least she could speak French to him with a reasonably civilised accent. It wasn’t that he didn’t like girls; it’s just that he wasn’t quite ready to think of a wife yet. Tomáš was actually more excited to learn, with his father, about the Sorbian lands they were about to survey. It was left to his father to answer Rajnar in words.
Eustach glanced proudly at his son. ‘Her father is Conte Raol da Castro Arquato del Polesine.’
Rajnar cottoned onto the odd-sounding name. ‘French, or Italian?’
‘Both,’ Eustach answered – not in boast, but rather in thought, ‘and more. Rather multi-cultural family. His wife is Swabian and Saxon, and I suspect one of his grandmothers was a Hagarene. On the whole I’d say they’re Italian, though his kin are from Emilia rather than Venice. Tomáš and Ricciarda will get along well together, I think – Tomáš has the brains; she has the social graces.’
‘Lucky deal on your part, then, your Majesty,’ Rajnar grinned, tapping his nose. ‘Now there’s someone to interpret for you if you go hobnobbing around those Western courts! Dangerous places, those. We Sorbs know better than to turn our backs on a Frank.’
‘Well, it’s too soon to say yet. We’ll see how the lass turns out.’
‘Your son doesn’t look like he’s in too much hurry to start,’ Rajnar said teasingly. ‘Marriage or survey! Chlapec, I’ve known ten-year-olds bolt like squirrels when grown-ups start talking like we have – and you have a horse. I’m impressed you haven’t!’
‘Kto si počká, ten sa dočká,‘ Tomáš answered placidly.
Rajnar laughed out loud at that. ‘Been borrowing your father’s wisdom on that one, have you? Smart one you have there, Lord Kráľ. And in this case, those who wait will be those who see. Shall we get underway?’
The region on whose southwestern edge Kamenec lay, between Drážďany and Chotebuz-na-Spréve, was a thick, low marshland dotted with forests and dozens of little lakes. Today this area is called the Oberlausitzer Heide. In Eustach’s day, this area lay largely unclaimed. The party documented and made their way past Rakecy and Minakal. They progressed forward into this marshland in early autumn as the bright orange and yellow leaves were falling from the trees, and rustling with satisfying crunches on the (for now) dry road. As they made their way toward the marsh, though, the blanket of leaves beneath their horses’ feet became thicker and wetter, and began to take on a deep, rich, earthy smell.
One thing that Tomáš noticed, to his delight, was that once they had left the main road and left the vicinity of Kamenec, everything suddenly seemed peaceful. The hoarse whit-whit-whit song of reed warblers who hadn’t yet flown south toward their warmer winter home, and the high airy whistle of the stubbornly resident kingfishers could be heard—they must be near water, then. Tomáš first saw the rippling movement of the dark reflections of tree branches before he actually saw the edges of the lake through them, but there it was. As their horses neared and the trees thinned somewhat, a massive expanse of water broke open upon their view before them. They had passed other smaller lakes and ponds earlier in the day, but this was truly a wondrous sight. It dwarfed all the other lakes by its sheer size, as well as by its picturesque setting amid the forest.
‘This is the Medvedíles jazero,’ explained Rajnar. ‘It’s one of the larger lakes around here—and one of the prettier ones.’
There was no arguing that. Eustach turned to his son.
‘Tomáš, we’re in no hurry. What do you say to camping here for a night or two? You’ll get to fish, and tomorrow you can also help the clerks chart the boundaries of the lake.’
Tomáš’s face lit up at the prospect. Camping by a lakeshore was of great interest to the young boy, as were fishing and exploring. He helped his father scout out a higher, dry and level patch of ground on which to right the teld, and then sauntered down to the water’s edge with rod, line and flies, and a cloak around his shoulders for warmth in the gathering dark.
The twilight lit up the lake from the southeast lakeshore, in bright pinks and reds, as Tomáš sat by the water’s edge and simply enjoyed the cool of the evening and the relaxing lapping of the water and the swaying and whispering of the yellowed reeds. Tomáš had competition for his prey, though he didn’t mind the company at all. From the branch of an oak on the bank opposite, he saw an erne spread its sprawling dark wings, beat them twice with power for flight, and soar aloft on an updraught, circling the water for the same quarry that Tomáš sought. Tomáš watched the erne with awe and delight as it drew in its shoulders, turned its beak downward and plummeted full speed at the water’s surface. A split-second later, the bird had in its talons its long silver catch. It took Tomáš significantly longer than that to land his and his father’s own dinner, though he did not begrudge the superior angler in all of its feathered beauty.
The following morning, Tomáš gladly kept company with the pages and clerks as they traipsed around the large lake—the clerks themselves keeping busy with vellum and charcoal as they charted the edges and made note of the landscape, its contents and various potential uses. Tomáš merely enjoyed ambling along the water’s edge, perhaps stopping to clamber up a sturdy willow branch to get a better vantage over the lake. The cool air made the ten-year-old shiver, but it was enjoyable all the same. Occasionally he would speak with one of his father’s surveyors.
‘So that’s the lake, I can tell,’ Tomáš remarked to one of the clerks. ‘But what are those symbols you’re making along the edges?’
The gangly clerk Tomáš was addressing gave the young crown prince a friendly tousle of the hair. ‘I’m marking in where we ought to do some further exploring. See? That’s “Д” for firewood[1], “Р” for peat[2]. The “О” represents flat ground that can be drained for farmland[3]. I’m also marking notable hillocks and sites for fishing. There’s a lot one can learn just by beating the bounds, so to speak. You know, I heard there’s actually a rural Czech tradition on the prosebné dni—the minor rogations before the Feast of the Ascension—that involves the folk in a local parish all making a procession all around the borders of the parish. They do a lot of the same things we’re doing out here, surveying and making sure that everyone is familiar with the local landmarks. It’s called a gangday.’
They completed their perambulation around the lake, and spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in relaxed enjoyment of their surroundings. The camping party made a roaring fire to roast the fish, while the Kráľ himself related several tales about his experiences in the field. Rajnar proved an appreciative audience, chuckling or clicking his tongue and shaking his head at all the right parts. Tomáš knew all these tales by heart, but he didn’t mind hearing them again in such settings.
When they set out again at last, they bore south out of the marshland toward Budyšín. On their right they began to notice drier, flatter land which was under cultivation. At this time in the first days of October, the last of the spring wheat harvest had been reaped, tied and winnowed, and the bowers were now in the fields scattering the winter wheat which would weather the snows underground and wait until the following spring to sprout and bolt. The Sorbian bowers who were busy at this work, including women and children, looked up as they saw the royal retinue pass.
‘Who’s that, then?’ asked one of them in an awed whisper.
‘Must be a king,’ another of them answered.
Eustach turned to the two Sorbian women, saluted them from the saddle and addressed them. ‘Don’t mind us,’ he told them. ‘Carry on with what you were doing!’
Eustach observed the bowers closely as they continued working. The Sorbs used different fields, it appeared, for the spring wheat and the winter wheat. In addition to this, they gave the forestland a clear berth, and did not approach with their sowing within a set distance of the forest. Among Moravians, Eustach understood that the limitations on field size and range were largely driven by defensive purposes. Farmers didn’t want to dig and drain and plant and reap too far away from the nearest fortification or enclosed village. But the Sorbs lived in scattered settlements and they lived and worked further from their fortifications than Eustach thought needful.
‘Why do you not sow nearer the woods?’ asked Eustach.
The woman he asked looked at him as though he were stupid, but then shook her head and answered: ‘We live by both farming and hunting. If we farm out too far, and clear too much of the forest, we lose game the next year. Our mothers, their mothers and their mothers figured this out long ago. Hanging all on hunting is trusting to a fool’s luck. And hanging all on farming is not trusting enough in God.’
Eustach nodded. This answer, delivered in a plain peasant’s language, struck the king as being eminently good sense. The Sorbs clearly balanced their land use and had made the best of it for their own needs. It struck Eustach then that he would need to be careful when administering these lands, not to overtax the forests or to encourage new settlements too quickly. When it came time to get underway again, the king occupied himself thinking about this careful balance that the Sorbian peasants lived by, the careful negotiation of the people with the needs of the land and the will of God.
They arrived in Budyšín that night, tired but happy. The village was home to a tavern with a broad hearth and a dedicated cellar for wine and beer, rooms to accommodate all their men, and stabling to accommodate their beasts.
‘And what will it be for you today, gentlemen?’ asked the attractive young woman who seemed to be running the establishment.
Eustach looked back to his clerks, to Tomáš and to Rajnar. All of them looked eager for lodgings that weren’t made of earth and roots, for victuals that hadn’t been smoked or salted, and for a warm hearth and shelter out of the cold. Eustach couldn’t very well deny them now.
‘Rest up and eat hearty, sirs,’ Eustach called behind him. ‘Tonight’s food, drink and lodgings are on me!’
~~~
Eustach and his retinue returned to Kamenec a much wiser and more knowledgeable group, and indeed much more refreshed, than they had left it. The king was well satisfied indeed that they had made such a successful reconnoitre. Speaking for himself, he felt he not only understood the Sorbs much better, but also had a greater appreciation for the traditional Slavic way of caring for the land and living in harmony with the surrounding forests. Perhaps he would see to putting some of the Sorbian peasant’s insights to work in Moravia proper, along the areas where human habitation still bordered on wilderness and forest, in the areas where it already wasn’t.
‘Father,’ Tomáš hugged his father around the middle. ‘Thank you for taking me with you!’
(Vratko and Pravoslav would joke later that Pravoslav should have arrived at Ostrihom first, and Vratko should have been the one to face the Magyar rebels. The results might have been markedly different and a lot smoother!)
Even if this may seem as an amiable exchange between friends, still would like to advise against it; Vratko, Pravoslav, lads – avoid battlefield jokes, no matter what they are.
According to the Secret History of the Mongols, [274] ‘(…) They crossed the rivers Ejil and Jayaq, destroyed the city of Meget, slew the Orusut and plundered them until they were utterly crushed. They ravaged and brought under submission the peoples of Asut, Sesüt, Bolar, Mankerman Kiwa and other cities. Having established resident commissioners and garrison troops they returned home. (…)’.
[275] ‘From the Kibčaq campaign, through messengers, Batu sent the following report to Ögödei Qa’an (…)’
In this report, Batu informed the great khan Ögödei that khan’s son Güyük ridiculed him, Batu, cousin of Güyük, but elder to him (by calling him an old woman but with a quiver). In this ridiculing, Buri and Harqasun joined him. Upon hearing this, Ögödei got furious with his son Güyük for disrespecting his elder cousin. After hearing his counsels, Ögödei Khan said to his son:
[277] ‘It is said about you that when you went on the campaign, in the course of it,
You did not leave unlashed the buttocks
Of any man with buttocks;
And it is also said about you that
You crushed the spirit
Of every man in the army.
Do you imagine that the Orusut people have submitted out of fear of that fury and anger of yours? And thinking as if you alone have brought the Orusut people under submission do you now go on, with pride in your heart, rebelling against a person who is senior to you? In the pronouncements of Our father Činggis Qa’an, was he not accustomed to say that
“The multitudes of people make one afraid,
The depth of water makes one die”?’ [*]
Therefore, by the counsel he got, it was decided that this was a field matter, to be resolved on the field (as opposed to a domestic matter, which should be solved in the ger – yurt – tent); meaning Güyük and Harqasun were sent to Batu, and Buri to his father Chagatai, for punishment.
Now, to further explain: Buri was son of Chagatai, who was already in hatred for the line of Batu. With this incident, the rivalry between cousins became official and expanded to a new front, so Güyük and Batu would never come on terms again.
When Ögödei died, Güyük would become the (third) great khan of the mongol empire; yet Batu did not join the kurultai, despite nominally accepting the reign of his cousin. In his reign, Güyük would aspire to achieve the greatness, yet only in his dreams, as he would not be able to break the influence of his elder cousin, Batu.
After diplomatic altercations between the two, and the delaying tactics of Batu – yes, exactly tactics, as delaying the kurultai, delaying the conquests, etc. by moving his ordo away back and forth – finally Güyük summoned Batu to his ordo in Karakorum. Batu declined, since Sorghagtani, the mother of Möngke, warned Batu of the orders and intention of Güyük. Thus the great khan Güyük started his ride towards Batu to meet him; Batu rallied his ordo towards him, too.
Then, Güyük died before that meeting ever could happen. In the aftermath, Batu favoured Möngke during the kurultai, remembering the aid of his mother. After the violent clashes, Möngke, son of Sorghagtani was elected the Great Khan. This would mark the end of the Ögödei line for the throne, making the Tolui line the great khans.
So yeah, battlefield jokes. They are fun. Beware of those, they may cause unexpected ends. Lol.
To elaborate on some of the names: Chinggis Khan Temujin had four prominent sons. Jochi, Chagatai, Ögödei, Tolui, when lined according to their ages. Jochi was always hated by Chagatai, as his lineage was not certain. That was the reason of the rivalry between Jochi and Chagatai, and of their descendants. Ögödei -third son- becoming the second khagan after Temujin was only a remedy devised by him to avoid any war between siblings.
The above incident is only slightly related to that, but by adding gasoline on the fire, caused another rift, then between Jochi and Ögödei lines. Alas, in the end, Batu was recognised as the most powerful khan – imperial prince among the grandchildren, effectively by being a kingmaker. The line of Tolui, the youngest son, achieved the ultimate power by claiming the throne of the empire, as his son, Möngke, became the fourth khagan, against the Ögödei line after Güyük’s reign was cut short with his unexpected death. Möngke’s brothers became even more famous than him: Kublai Khan of mongol empire (the fifth khagan), Hulagu Khan of ilkhanate, and Ariq Böke, rival of Kublai.
…and the line of Jochi, through Batu, effectively outlived the empire, if only the timespan (including its own successor states) is considered for a comparison.
...yes, Batu was the khan of Jochi Uls after his father, or the Kipchak Khanate. Otherwise known in the west as, The Golden Horde.
[*] Translation by Igor de Rachewiltz, The Secret History of the Mongols: A Mongolian Epic Chronicle of the Thirteenth Century, 2015
While he was neither a great conqueror nor a radical reformer, Jakub was exactly the sort of man the Kingdom needed after the previous few tumultuous reigns, and he took command of the ship with a steady and measured hand, in spite of his personal life being riddles with tragedy.
Concurring that it was a different reign than the predecessor’s nightmare, yet it cannot be regarded as the serene era of the reason and prosperity of the amazing mind. That certainly requires a couple of hundreds of years, truly.
Well, at least he was able to track down the mysterious pseudo-healer, and certainly fearless enough to travel for a pilgrimage alone without a retinue.
The same words will rain down as the sky has seen since eons of the earth embraced the sunshine; Farewell, Jakub.
Doesn’t that line cut through every human heart?’
Živana smiled slightly. ‘So he was human, is what you’re saying.’
Timofei laid a pastoral hand on the young woman’s shoulder. ‘That he was. That’s exactly right.’
While understanding the point, will stand by own position. The matter may seem to involve in distinguishing the good from the evil, and even the existence of such a concept can rightfully be seen as another matter of discussion (as an unreasonable dichotomy of banal simplicity). Yet, the overlooked point is that the fickle nature of reasoning, which changes by who decides what that human heart is or not. Then the heavy absolutes come with the modern era, which consist undeniable certainties, adding more complexity to the discussion.
Will leave it at this point, as the post is already beyond reasonable tolerance by going off the thread. But for the narrative, the development of the perspectives deserves the kudos.
Wow. Was being naïve when considering the situation of Eustach. Apparently the lad is not capable of handling his own mind out of the fantasies of the day. This is… interesting.
The friendly nerdic defender of the fictional lores reports:
Confirming the use of plural forms in the languages the names belong to, as it supports the consistency of the format.
How could Vratko, of all people, have betrayed him?
Heh. The code is still not that much sophisticated to distinguish plausible relationships between any characters. Even after tens of years of experience on design and gameplay, the developers still think this is the way it should be, and it will remain as such until additional details are added such as loyalty, friendship, prejudice, jealousy, meaningful events, etc.
While having high hopes, knowing these are faraway dreams of this tired player. III – Chapter 11
‘Atchwelwynt Wydyl ar eu hennyd.
rydrychafwynt Gymry kadyr gyweithyd.
bydinoed am gwrwf a thwrwf milwyr.
A theyrned Dews rygedwys eu ffyd.
Iwis y pop llyghes tres a deruyd.
A chymot Kynan gan y gilyd.
ny alwawr gynhon yn gynifwyr.
namyn kechmyn Katwaladyr ae gyfnewitwyr…’
Yeah, that is one of the ways how to say that. No business was like Blažena business, but Dolz is whole another level, have to respect. III – Chapter 13
Do not worry lad, as that was far beyond inevitable due to more intriguing (!) matters of discussion. Church burning would remain as a side-track, next to distinguishing who is who in the line, three by nature or separate entities on demand, real serious stuff like that lol. Oh, and of course due to the claim for a dead-beat imperial hegemony.
And Marko, Tsar of Bulgaria, appeared with all his host. Four thousand five hundred strong.
Have to leave the stage once again to comment on this mechanic: Since the launch, have played numerous campaigns, and have seen truly absurd oddities, with each one diminishing every bit of the joy to have with the game, and besides, never observed an excommunicated orthodox, despite it having the communion tenet.
In the dark, he reached for the handle of a bullwhip.
- continuing from above – Joy-killing of the game experience, as expecting higher level of simulation, yet almost all mechanics seem to be designed arbitrarily, making it more of an arcade. This one, flagellant trait, is one of them. It is plausible to see this for that religion, yet it is unusually common. Still all right, but then, it is seen also with the characters of different faiths, which have no familiarity even with the concept. That is absurd.
Then it happens to characters from steppes. Err… you what mate? You whip yourself to cleanse of your sins? -laughing, cynically cringing, closing eyes while holding the forehead- III – Chapter 15
Yeah, the game’s interpretation of deviancy is a bit large (and whatever that is, still unknown, even by the game’s mechanics), yet understanding the context of the writAAR’s labour to diffuse it within the story. That deserves the kudos.
But of course, from the perspective of two-thousand-twenty-two, err… Eustach, mate, you have no idea. Lol.
...and lol again for own wrong guess. Well, it turned out to be completely different, as the darkness of this character seems to be, err... libidinous? yeah. III – Chapter 16
The basket the webster was designing for him was round and flat-bottomed, and large enough to hold, not a common spaniel, but a wolfhound of considerable size.
His wife is Swabian and Saxon, and I suspect one of his grandmothers was a Hagarene. On the whole I’d say they’re Italian, though his kin are from Emilia rather than Venice.
Good job on trying to explain whatever cisalpine may refer to; kudos. They go and distinguish even cornish, even asturleonese, but when it comes to the alps, it is… this, whatever that is. And then there is the rest for their eyes. It is surprising to see the öngüds, tuyuhuns, and buryats; uyghur and yughur in the game, certainly appreciated; yet for example there is Tiele, which is given only a dynasty instead of its own culture. Still, it could be worse, but… Cisalpine? Cheeses.
But understanding and giving credit on this one to the developers, as the culture is one of those poisonous subjects to deal with, which drives the player base… unreasonably mad. All blood and size and hair-eye-skin colours and that kind of banally abhorrent stuff.
The Sorbs are a wise people, clearly. They know not to overburden the land they live on, and they seem to have built some very impressive power plants too
The Sorbs are a wise people, clearly. They know not to overburden the land they live on, and they seem to have built some very impressive power plants too
Samozřejmě, Hamorska Power Station is true inheritance of Slavic integral wisdom, directly intuiting human harmony with nature, completely unspoiled by evil egoist Western rationalism. I rate: 4 out of 5 heads of cabbage.
[Seriously, though--wanted to preserve the image for the effect before I go back and change it. ]
Samozřejmě, Hamorska Power Station is true inheritance of Slavic integral wisdom, directly intuiting human harmony with nature, completely unspoiled by evil egoist Western rationalism. I rate: 4 out of 5 heads of cabbage.
[Seriously, though--wanted to preserve the image for the effect before I go back and change it. ]
The scene reminded me of the Colonial Parkway connecting Jamestown and Yorktown. A beautiful road with limited access points, no commercial trucks, deer graze beside the road and at places a tree filled canopy overhead and then a nuclear power plant across the river from Jamestown (visible from parkway) and a spot near Yorktown where modern naval vessels dock for resupply within fifty yards of the road.
NINETEEN Vatra Dornei 10 December 1040 – 18 July 1042
‘Do not say that, meon espos,’ Dolz told him. ‘You know as well as I do that you would not have been able to live with yourself, knowing what you did about our Dosie’s child and never having told your son-in-law about it. God love you—you are not that kind of a man!’
Eustach sighed. ‘You’re right, of course. But that doesn’t make it all any easier.’
Dolz let her hands run over Eustach’s back, and kneaded with firm pressure wherever she felt a knot. Eustach groaned at the touch, and the ache which spread warmly out from where she pressed, which turned to ease the further out it travelled. The tension melted off him as she did so. She knew her art. It was a different kind of release than their usual ‘play’, but no less welcome for that. Eustach reached a hand back over his bare shoulder and touched his wife’s with his.
‘What is it?’ Dolz asked him.
‘I’m a lucky man,’ Eustach answered.
‘Por quoi?’
‘I’m lucky to have a wife with such a good heart—one who understands me,’ Eustach told her.
Dolz chuckled. ‘You say such things to me. And what should a doctor do, but understand her patient?’
Eustach sighed. ‘Even so, being called to three wars in the space of a month by my in-laws!’
Dolz offered: ‘Well, think of it in this way. You have made Moravia powerful, and you have made Moravia trusted. The spears of the Moravian chevaliers are valued highly. They would not be so, if their king had not honour.’
Indeed, that was true. Ioakim Struma had not been happy to take a wife who was not a virgin, and whose first child was not his. And he had more than made up for it, first by calling Dosie’s father into a war against the same Kulin who had once claimed his throne and was now demanding more lenient laws, and then by calling him into a war against Tereza, the woman who had successfully claimed his throne and was now threatening to cut him down to size. And if that weren’t enough, Conte Raol del Polesine had brought Eustach into a war for the city of Pàdova. There was little he could do to gainsay any of their requests.
Dolz finished massaging her husband’s back and gave him several more words of encouragement. Eustach answered her with a fond, lingering caress, which Dolz answered happily with twining arms. When that threatened to go further, Dolz put him off with a bit of effort.
‘Non. Non. That can wait until you come back. Go—defend the good name of your kingdom!’
Eustach kissed his hand and saluted his wife as he left.
Just before he was about to go into the courtyard, he found his elder son Tomáš conversing with Metropolitan Nifont.
‘Young master, I thank you for the gifts you’ve made. You’re truly a worthy son. But your father will be leaving on campaign soon. Do you not think it better to stay here, and look after things in his absence? I don’t think the outer wall is a good place for the king’s son and heir to be seen.’
‘But I must also know where it is going,’ Tomáš insisted calmly. ‘I do want to see my old clothes given to children younger and smaller than me who have none, and I do want to see my money going to folk outside who have no food or fuel for the winter. I promise I won’t let them know that I’m giving it to them—they have their pride. I promise I will respect it.’
‘May God bless you!’ the Metropolitan told the boy. ‘I see your uncle Jozef has been a good influence on you: you have learned Christ’s lessons well. But that is not the primary issue. I am concerned for your safety. You are the elder of His Majesty’s two boys—and betrothed. You are irreplaceable, and a tempting target for desperadoes and kidnappers.’
Eustach stepped in next to his son. Although motivated more by concern for his fellow humans rather than by any more venturesome spirit, Eustach could not but approve of Tomáš’s boldness. The apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree! ‘That’s no impediment, surely? Nifont, you have deacons and subdeacons who are sturdy enough, and look like they could handle themselves in a scrap. Why not have one or two of them accompany you when you’re on your errand of mercy, and watch after Tomáš, if his safety is a concern?’
Nifont bridled, almost certainly at the suggestion that any one of his subdeacons might do something so unseemly as join a scrap. ‘I will take that request under advisement, O Kráľ. But the young prince may rest assured that his alms will go into the hands of those in need.’ With that answer the gentle-hearted Tomáš had to be satisfied.
Eustach gave his son’s hair a fond tousle before he went out into the courtyard. There his core retinue was already waiting for the ride out to the mustering-grounds in Maramoroš—the furthest natural limit of the Moravian lands. The high mountain meadows of the Carpathian polonina fell behind them as the winding steel snake of the Moravian army crossed over the fresh mountain pass into the foothills, leading out to the steppe-like pasturelands of the bukovina beyond.
‘Lord Kráľ,’ spoke Eustach’s pugnacious, brown-bearded maršal, Zvonimír Bratislavský, ‘the zbrojnošov have discovered a string of thermal pools situated in the foothills. Many of them are eager to take a dip and warm their feet after our march, and in this weather I can’t say I blame them. What do you say to making camp here for awhile?’
‘I don’t mind,’ Eustach told him. ‘Better to have soldiers who are well-rested and whose feet work than the opposite!’
True enough, they soon came within view of the hot springs below, whose colourful, mineral-rich waters steamed and pearled away into the frosty January air. The morale was significantly boosted even by the sight of the thermal pools, as the Moravian soldiers happily did off their gear and sank with pleasure into the more moderate of the swirling mineral baths. But a scout soon interrupted their fun.
‘Majesty,’ Zvonimír informed the king after having spoken with the scout, ‘The rebels supporting Kulin are marching northward against us. They are within three days of here.’
‘Three days is enough time to prepare,’ Eustach assured Zvonimír. ‘We’ll draw up our lines around the hot springs here. Perhaps we can even use the terrain to our advantage.’
Zvonimír nodded approvingly. ‘We’re still solidly in the foothills rather than on the bukovina proper, so there are some solid defensive positions available to us here. We should avail ourselves of them early, just in case.’
‘See it done.’
The Moravian soldiers were drawn up into their lines well in advance of Kulin’s assault, and they were not only ready—they were motivated. Getting between the soldiers and the hot springs together with their delights had not made Kulin any friends among them. The archers on either side swapped volleys, though the Moravians had the better position to make best use of them.
‘Stand,’ Eustach ordered them. Patience and endurance were the watchwords here.
The zbrojnošov stood unshaken and unmoved when Kulin’s riders made their vain uphill sallies. Zvonimír had trained them well. Charge after charge went up the slopes to crash against the line of round Moravian shields, only to fall back broken. Each time there were fewer and fewer riders to make the attempt, and the Moravian line stood firm.
The battle at Vatra Dornei ended with Kulin’s retreat southward—and two heralds came up in quick succession afterwards as the Moravians returned to their relaxation in the thermal baths… solving two of Eustach’s problems without any trouble on his part.
‘Conte Raol da Castro Arquato sends greeting to Eustach, King of Moravia,’ the first herald said. ‘The city of Pàdova is taken, and all resistance has been quelled. The Conte thanks your Majesty for his prompt answer and promise of support, which I’m happy to see you were in the process of providing… but it is no longer needed. Well wishes for your Majesty’s happiness and health, and please give regards also to little Tomáš from his intended, Ricciarda.’
‘I shall, thank you,’ Eustach answered. ‘Please give my congratulations to Raol on his remarkably swift and, I am sure, well-executed and well-deserved victory, and my wishes for his enjoyment of his new title. And you may tell Ricciarda as well that Tomáš thinks of her often.’
That much wasn’t entirely untrue. Tomáš was more… warily curious about Ricciarda than he was solicitous. But one incident had boded well in that direction: Eustach had caught Tomáš practising his Italic Vulgar, and was pleased to note that the phrases he was most insistent on perusing were the high-class, poetic, courtly and chivalrous ones.
The second herald arrived not long after that.
‘Hail, Lord Kráľ! Joyous news!’
‘What news is that?’
‘The pretender Tereza has been overthrown, and your devoted kinsman in Christ Ioakim is once again Tsar of the Vlach lands!’
‘That won’t have been by his hand,’ Eustach remarked shrewdly. ‘Not while he was yet absconded from her court and in open revolt.’
‘Indeed it wasn’t,’ the herald grinned. ‘God would not permit such a wicked asp of a woman to sit long upon the throne of the Vlachs, and it was in fact her own nobles apart from Ioakim who forced her to relinquish it.’
All of these turns and reversals of fortune were welcome news to Eustach, who suddenly found himself with two fewer wars to contend with. The Moravian Army continued southward and aided Ioakim in several sieges, but turned back at Târgoviște now that Tsar Ioakim had matters well in hand. A third source of relief came to Eustach from another direction. His šafár, the elderly knieža Nitrabor Rychnovský, took a wound that had festered and then robbed him of his life. It made Eustach feel guilty to feel such joy and lightness at the death of a kinsman. But Nitrabor had held the knowledge of his and Dolz’s proclivities over him for the past nine years, and even though he had never wagged his mouth about it, it was still an immense relief to know that the secret life shared by Dolz and Eustach in the privacy of their own chambers was no longer under threat.
Now he could hand the office of šafár over to someone who truly deserved it—someone like the vojvoda Mihail, for instance—and attend to more important business on the home front.
Even if this may seem as an amiable exchange between friends, still would like to advise against it; Vratko, Pravoslav, lads – avoid battlefield jokes, no matter what they are.
According to the Secret History of the Mongols, [274] ‘(…) They crossed the rivers Ejil and Jayaq, destroyed the city of Meget, slew the Orusut and plundered them until they were utterly crushed. They ravaged and brought under submission the peoples of Asut, Sesüt, Bolar, Mankerman Kiwa and other cities. Having established resident commissioners and garrison troops they returned home. (…)’.
[275] ‘From the Kibčaq campaign, through messengers, Batu sent the following report to Ögödei Qa’an (…)’
In this report, Batu informed the great khan Ögödei that khan’s son Güyük ridiculed him, Batu, cousin of Güyük, but elder to him (by calling him an old woman but with a quiver). In this ridiculing, Buri and Harqasun joined him. Upon hearing this, Ögödei got furious with his son Güyük for disrespecting his elder cousin. After hearing his counsels, Ögödei Khan said to his son:
[277] ‘It is said about you that when you went on the campaign, in the course of it,
You did not leave unlashed the buttocks
Of any man with buttocks;
And it is also said about you that
You crushed the spirit
Of every man in the army.
Do you imagine that the Orusut people have submitted out of fear of that fury and anger of yours? And thinking as if you alone have brought the Orusut people under submission do you now go on, with pride in your heart, rebelling against a person who is senior to you? In the pronouncements of Our father Činggis Qa’an, was he not accustomed to say that
“The multitudes of people make one afraid,
The depth of water makes one die”?’ [*]
Therefore, by the counsel he got, it was decided that this was a field matter, to be resolved on the field (as opposed to a domestic matter, which should be solved in the ger – yurt – tent); meaning Güyük and Harqasun were sent to Batu, and Buri to his father Chagatai, for punishment.
Now, to further explain: Buri was son of Chagatai, who was already in hatred for the line of Batu. With this incident, the rivalry between cousins became official and expanded to a new front, so Güyük and Batu would never come on terms again.
When Ögödei died, Güyük would become the (third) great khan of the mongol empire; yet Batu did not join the kurultai, despite nominally accepting the reign of his cousin. In his reign, Güyük would aspire to achieve the greatness, yet only in his dreams, as he would not be able to break the influence of his elder cousin, Batu.
After diplomatic altercations between the two, and the delaying tactics of Batu – yes, exactly tactics, as delaying the kurultai, delaying the conquests, etc. by moving his ordo away back and forth – finally Güyük summoned Batu to his ordo in Karakorum. Batu declined, since Sorghagtani, the mother of Möngke, warned Batu of the orders and intention of Güyük. Thus the great khan Güyük started his ride towards Batu to meet him; Batu rallied his ordo towards him, too.
Then, Güyük died before that meeting ever could happen. In the aftermath, Batu favoured Möngke during the kurultai, remembering the aid of his mother. After the violent clashes, Möngke, son of Sorghagtani was elected the Great Khan. This would mark the end of the Ögödei line for the throne, making the Tolui line the great khans.
So yeah, battlefield jokes. They are fun. Beware of those, they may cause unexpected ends. Lol.
To elaborate on some of the names: Chinggis Khan Temujin had four prominent sons. Jochi, Chagatai, Ögödei, Tolui, when lined according to their ages. Jochi was always hated by Chagatai, as his lineage was not certain. That was the reason of the rivalry between Jochi and Chagatai, and of their descendants. Ögödei -third son- becoming the second khagan after Temujin was only a remedy devised by him to avoid any war between siblings.
The above incident is only slightly related to that, but by adding gasoline on the fire, caused another rift, then between Jochi and Ögödei lines. Alas, in the end, Batu was recognised as the most powerful khan – imperial prince among the grandchildren, effectively by being a kingmaker. The line of Tolui, the youngest son, achieved the ultimate power by claiming the throne of the empire, as his son, Möngke, became the fourth khagan, against the Ögödei line after Güyük’s reign was cut short with his unexpected death. Möngke’s brothers became even more famous than him: Kublai Khan of mongol empire (the fifth khagan), Hulagu Khan of ilkhanate, and Ariq Böke, rival of Kublai.
…and the line of Jochi, through Batu, effectively outlived the empire, if only the timespan (including its own successor states) is considered for a comparison.
...yes, Batu was the khan of Jochi Uls after his father, or the Kipchak Khanate. Otherwise known in the west as, The Golden Horde.
[*] Translation by Igor de Rachewiltz, The Secret History of the Mongols: A Mongolian Epic Chronicle of the Thirteenth Century, 2015
Every form of humour has its attendant risks. Though, granted, getting 'cancelled' is nowhere near on par with the rivalries between Mongol clans and the fallings-out of andas. Even our edgy lads have it easy these days.
This is one hell of a sharp-transition, hunting down any readAAR with tired eyes, bringing the attention to full-alarm mode.
Sigh. Farewell, Eirēnē. III – Chapter 9
– and it keeps coming.
It certainly was not long, true to her prophecy.
***
Concurring that it was a different reign than the predecessor’s nightmare, yet it cannot be regarded as the serene era of the reason and prosperity of the amazing mind. That certainly requires a couple of hundreds of years, truly.
Well, at least he was able to track down the mysterious pseudo-healer, and certainly fearless enough to travel for a pilgrimage alone without a retinue.
The same words will rain down as the sky has seen since eons of the earth embraced the sunshine; Farewell, Jakub.
***
III – Interlude 7
Nice (sarcastic).
While understanding the point, will stand by own position. The matter may seem to involve in distinguishing the good from the evil, and even the existence of such a concept can rightfully be seen as another matter of discussion (as an unreasonable dichotomy of banal simplicity). Yet, the overlooked point is that the fickle nature of reasoning, which changes by who decides what that human heart is or not. Then the heavy absolutes come with the modern era, which consist undeniable certainties, adding more complexity to the discussion.
Will leave it at this point, as the post is already beyond reasonable tolerance by going off the thread. But for the narrative, the development of the perspectives deserves the kudos.
***
Pffft.
Human. Your life as it has been is over. Resistance is futile.
I kind of meant that interlude to say: some things Eustach did (like burning the church at Khust) were objectively worse than the cruelties of his predecessor Radomir. However, his penitence for these deeds was (at least that is how I'm interpreting him in gameplay) sincere. Whether that all balanced out, I wanted to leave an open question.
Wow. Was being naïve when considering the situation of Eustach. Apparently the lad is not capable of handling his own mind out of the fantasies of the day. This is… interesting.
The friendly nerdic defender of the fictional lores reports:
Confirming the use of plural forms in the languages the names belong to, as it supports the consistency of the format.
Heh. The code is still not that much sophisticated to distinguish plausible relationships between any characters. Even after tens of years of experience on design and gameplay, the developers still think this is the way it should be, and it will remain as such until additional details are added such as loyalty, friendship, prejudice, jealousy, meaningful events, etc.
While having high hopes, knowing these are faraway dreams of this tired player. III – Chapter 11
Yeah, that is one of the ways how to say that. No business was like Blažena business, but Dolz is whole another level, have to respect. III – Chapter 13
They are already calling themselves tsars? That is fast, have to admit; heh, kudos for the code? III – Chapter 14
Of course. The favourite one is not the perpetrator, he is just happened to be the ruler at the time. All right. Carry on.
Do not worry lad, as that was far beyond inevitable due to more intriguing (!) matters of discussion. Church burning would remain as a side-track, next to distinguishing who is who in the line, three by nature or separate entities on demand, real serious stuff like that lol. Oh, and of course due to the claim for a dead-beat imperial hegemony.
Now THAT is a majestic entry. Or rather, an imperial one.
Have to leave the stage once again to comment on this mechanic: Since the launch, have played numerous campaigns, and have seen truly absurd oddities, with each one diminishing every bit of the joy to have with the game, and besides, never observed an excommunicated orthodox, despite it having the communion tenet.
Sigh.
- continuing from above – Joy-killing of the game experience, as expecting higher level of simulation, yet almost all mechanics seem to be designed arbitrarily, making it more of an arcade. This one, flagellant trait, is one of them. It is plausible to see this for that religion, yet it is unusually common. Still all right, but then, it is seen also with the characters of different faiths, which have no familiarity even with the concept. That is absurd.
Then it happens to characters from steppes. Err… you what mate? You whip yourself to cleanse of your sins? -laughing, cynically cringing, closing eyes while holding the forehead- III – Chapter 15
ἀγάλοχον, eh? Interesting.
Knew it. Knew it that there is that darkness in the mind of this one.
Yeah, the game’s interpretation of deviancy is a bit large (and whatever that is, still unknown, even by the game’s mechanics), yet understanding the context of the writAAR’s labour to diffuse it within the story. That deserves the kudos.
But of course, from the perspective of two-thousand-twenty-two, err… Eustach, mate, you have no idea. Lol.
...and lol again for own wrong guess. Well, it turned out to be completely different, as the darkness of this character seems to be, err... libidinous? yeah. III – Chapter 16
Hmmm.
Hang on –
Wait – oh sht. Lol.
Yeah, kudos, for getting a quick laugh on these from this one. III – Chapter 17
Wonderful cold-opening. Kudos.
Well, this can be considered as a progress, judging by the Rychnovský tradition on extramarital affairs.
Smiling in envy, murmurs to self: Where does he get those wonderful words?
Good job on trying to explain whatever cisalpine may refer to; kudos. They go and distinguish even cornish, even asturleonese, but when it comes to the alps, it is… this, whatever that is. And then there is the rest for their eyes. It is surprising to see the öngüds, tuyuhuns, and buryats; uyghur and yughur in the game, certainly appreciated; yet for example there is Tiele, which is given only a dynasty instead of its own culture. Still, it could be worse, but… Cisalpine? Cheeses.
But understanding and giving credit on this one to the developers, as the culture is one of those poisonous subjects to deal with, which drives the player base… unreasonably mad. All blood and size and hair-eye-skin colours and that kind of banally abhorrent stuff.
It's one of the little joys of writing CK AARs, getting to use Slavic and Turkic naming formats and detailing customs.
But I will say this: I now officially know way more about Central European medieval BDSM practices (including erotic flagellation and pet-play) than I thought was even possible, or ever wanted to. Thanks a heap for that, CK3 'Deviant' trait.
Apart from the bordering-on-X-rated scene in Chapter Fifteen, I've been trying to keep it light and coy... something similar in tone to Secretary or After Hours. And I was deliberately trying to keep it as far the hell away from The-Suburban-Mom-Midlife-Crisis-Twilight-Fanfic-Which-Must-Not-Be-Named as possible. For one thing, I wanted to get across that Eustach and Dolz really do love and respect each other and that the power transfer in the relationship is consensual.
And... yeah, the Cisalpine thing. I was really at a loss as to what to do with that. But Ricciarda herself was such a strange find game-wise that I couldn't help but be intrigued. I looked back into her family tree and indeed found all kinds of cultural cross-pollination there. Not just Cisalpine, but also Swabian, Bavarian, continental and Anglo-Saxon, Occitan and Mashriqi. Sooooo many Mashriqi in her family tree. What all these Syrians and Jordanians and Palestinians were doing in la Italia bella in the first place, though? That remains a mystery to me.
The scene reminded me of the Colonial Parkway connecting Jamestown and Yorktown. A beautiful road with limited access points, no commercial trucks, deer graze beside the road and at places a tree filled canopy overhead and then a nuclear power plant across the river from Jamestown (visible from parkway) and a spot near Yorktown where modern naval vessels dock for resupply within fifty yards of the road.
Quite so! I took my time on Ch. 18 precisely because I find the outdoor / camping / wildlife stuff so fun to write. Though Tomáš is probably not going to be anywhere near as outdoorsy as his father or his more distant forebears.
Bold of you at that point of the run still having-keeping alliances from outside of the realm (never trust the code for an alliance after the initial years in these games; the design is still, after twenty years, ally-and-immediate-calltowar, without warning nor planning. Decline and the player is doomed; accept and the player is forced into years of war- so, doom. Really getting aggravated with the game -all ck, eu series.)
Then again, it is bohemia, so they must be essential for survival.
TWENTY Anna and Ricciarda 13 October 1043 – 12 October 1048
‘That isn’t how I’d have handled it.’
‘I’m not saying that. I’m only saying it was effective.’
Anna and Ricciarda sat together on the wooden bridge going west-east over the Morava, swinging their bare feet out over the edge into the air, and occasionally throwing in a stone just to watch and listen to it plonk in the running water below. Red braids and brown bun, the two heads sat easily and companionably together, heedless of the time.
‘Talk, talk, talk. If they try to shut you up like that, you’ve got to get in their faces, maybe even give ‘em a bit of a bloody nose,’ Ricciarda said, smirking as she pounded one of her fists into her open palm demonstratively. ‘‘Specially with the mean girls. They might act high and mighty in their little group like that. But from what I’ve found, the cattier they are, the quicker they run away when you deck ‘em.’
‘That seems a little extreme.’
‘Not really,’ Ricciarda tilted her head, chucking a stone out as far as she could. ‘People don’t expect a scrawny girl like me to pick a fight. That gives me the element of surprise. Also, once I do get into a fight, being smaller nets me more sympathy. Makes the bigger girls look bad for picking on me.’
Anna gave her younger, lighter friend a broad grin. ‘Remind me never to get on your bad side.’
The redheaded Cisalpine girl crowed at that. ‘Nah, you’re smart. And you’re nice to me. It’s good to have someone to talk to like this – I used to hate coming here because it meant I’d have to dress up pretty and sit still and keep quiet and look nice all the time, before you showed me how to sneak out.’
‘It’s kind of an open secret by now,’ Anna admitted. ‘I wasn’t the first to discover that passage under the outer walls. I know that for a fact because somehow the Bijelahrvatskići all know about it. And I’m sure I won’t be the last to find out, either.’
‘Even so,’ Ricciarda gave her friend a gentle jab with her elbow. ‘You did share it with me.’
‘What sister would do less?’ asked Anna gently.
Ricciarda shoved Anna a little harder, though still in a friendly way. ‘Dio mio! You must have the entire court wrapped around your finger talking like that!’
Anna held up her hands in front of her and crossed herself. ‘I promise only ever to use my powers for good. Like getting my future sister-in-law out-of-doors where she belongs.’
‘Did you ever have to make trips like this? Have you gotten to visit England?’
Anna nodded. ‘I’ve been to Norwich. It’s quite the fair town, if you can stand the… rather mercurial weather. Mostly I was staying at Lady Sæþryþ’s manor, though. And she’s still more a stickler for manners than my mother is!’
‘Pfff!’ Ricciarda blew out a laugh. ‘You probably didn’t have any trouble at all there, honey-tongued as you are. Me, though… I’ve got French and English blood on my mother’s side, but I still have trouble sitting still. Never saw much use for getting all dolled up. Are you moving there, or are you staying here?’
‘Oh, I’m staying right here,’ Anna assured her. ‘That was part of the agreement with Lady Sæþryþ. Father wanted to keep me here, and study Mother’s healing arts.’
‘Good!’ Ricciarda held the older girl’s hand fondly. ‘That means when I leave home and come to stay here, at the very least I’ll have one friend to talk to!’
~~~
The next time Ricciarda came to Olomouc, though, Anna was wearing the mourning white. She ran straightaway to her friend.
‘What happened?’
Anna gave her a sad smile. ‘Beorhtnoþ fell in battle at Bran-Poarta, in the latest war against Tereza. We’d barely been married a year.’
Riccarda flung her arms around Anna. ‘Oh. I am sorry! I am so sorry!’
Anna returned the hug. ‘Well… I liked him, and am not happy to lose him. A widow at seventeen! But I wouldn’t say I even knew him well enough to love him. And it looks as though I’m to be married again, once the formal solemnities have been observed. Mother doesn’t like to waste time. And it’s to be to another of the Struma family.’
‘That doesn’t make much sense to me,’ Ricciarda shook her head slowly. ‘The alliance to Ioakim has already cost your father this dearly. Why would he seek to cement it further?’
‘My guess,’ Anna noted shrewdly, ‘is that he’s hedging his bets. And you’re right that he’s been called into more wars than he likes. But, ironically, I think his seeking to secure another alliance with the Strumas is calculated to make Ioakim less dependent on him. Once Ioakim realises that Eustach is also allied with one of his brothers – and a possible contender for the Vlach throne, at that – he’ll be less likely to view the Moravian armies as an extension of his own.’
Riccarda nodded slowly. ‘That makes sense, I suppose. But do you think it will work?’
Anna clasped Ricciarda’s hands. ‘For Father’s sake… as well as for Beorhtnoþ’s… I will try my level best to make it work. Moravia has lost enough good men to my self-centred brother-in-law’s endless infighting and warmaking against his own vassals.’
‘Well… I wish you luck,’ Ricciarda returned the squeeze.
Anna smirked. ‘You don’t think the solution is still to just give him a bit of a bloody nose?’
Ricciarda lifted her head and straightened her jaw. ‘Well. Sometimes it is. You can’t just let people walk all over you – I think your mother’s right about that, in insisting on your family honour. But I think I’m coming to see the wisdom in your view of things. Usually it’s better to stick to a happy medium. Talk things out. Too many other people lose if one fights for everything in sight.’
Anna nodded. Though others saw in Ricciarda only a contrary, wayward, ill-behaved tomboy, she had very early on seen and valued within her Cisalpine sister a long streak of nobility and fairness of mind.
But Ricciarda regarded her sister-in-law with concern. ‘But you? I know Beorhtnoþ was very much your choice. Is this Struma boy at all to your liking?’
‘I think I’ll be able to live with him,’ Anna told her. ‘I know how to handle a political match.’
Ricciarda chuckled. ‘You said a mouthful to me just now. I do hope Tomáš will turn out to be a bit less of a bookworm than he seems. It would be awfully dull to be stuck indoors my whole life.’
Anna smiled weakly. Her friend hadn’t changed as much as all that, praise be. Still, for Tomáš’s benefit, she ought to drop a word or two in his ear about poking up his head every now and again rather than keeping to his library all the time, if he wanted to keep his future bride happy.
~~~
King Eustach fought Ioakim’s third war against Tereza with care and patience, retaining the bulk of his forces close to Maramoroš while sending out smaller parties to besiege outlying territories. His strategy seemed to be paying off. Despite an early defeat in pitched combat at Filiași, he nonetheless took significant territorial gains and then handed Tereza’s champion Ducele Marco al Munteniai a much solider defeat at Polovragi.
Marco’s surrender came merely three days before Ricciarda da Castro Arquato turned up with her bridal train at Olomouc Castle, with her father Conte Raol in personal attendance to give his daughter’s hand to Tomáš for the crowning.
Once the celebration was in full swing, the newlywed Ricciarda wasted no time seeking out Anna, hugging her happily.
‘Now we are sisters in truth,’ the red-braided one grinned, ‘not only in promise!’
‘As far as I’m concerned, we always were sisters in truth,’ Anna answered her.
‘I promise—I’ll bend my every effort to supporting the Moravian cause,’ she told her. ‘And peace. I owe you that much.’
‘I don’t doubt it! I hope my brother understands how lucky he is to have a woman as devoted and as brave as you at his side. And one who is blessed equally with good sense.’
‘You’re too kind,’ Ricciarda answered her. ‘But I never would have made it this far without your help.’
That captured grandson, I believe, is one of Dosie's and Ioakim's kids. I'm not kidding when I say Wallachia has been constantly at war since the two of them were married. It's kind of ridiculous.
Bold of you at that point of the run still having-keeping alliances from outside of the realm (never trust the code for an alliance after the initial years in these games; the design is still, after twenty years, ally-and-immediate-calltowar, without warning nor planning. Decline and the player is doomed; accept and the player is forced into years of war- so, doom. Really getting aggravated with the game -all ck, eu series.)
Then again, it is bohemia, so they must be essential for survival.
Sigh... yeah. It got to the point where one of my characters down the line essentially just said 'bite me' whenever one of his 'allies' called him up to a blatantly self-serving war. It cost him quite a bit of fame, but Moravia was at peace for about 70 years. That was a fun time.
TWENTY-ONE A Builder’s Reputation 15 October 1048 – 17 March 1050
‘Brothers and sisters,’ intoned Metropolitan Slavomír, the new primate of Moravia, from the amvon on that Feast of the Ascension on the fourth of May, ‘the Gospel reading this day calls us to remember the Great Commission of Our Lord to go and teach, making disciples of all nations. We may recall how the great saints of the Church, the equals-to-the-Apostles, Saint Methodius and Saint Constantine-Cyril, came to this very land—came to Velehrad. It was here, in Velehrad—not in Tărnovo, not in Dlăgopole, not in Kiev—that the Slavs first heard the word of Truth. It was here that they showed us Slavs first the True Light, dispensed to us first the Heavenly Spirit, led us first to the True Faith, worshipping the Undivided Trinity Who has saved us. This is what we sing every Liturgy after we receive the Gifts. The Gospel today is not only a command to go and teach, as they did, but also to remember with gratitude those who have come before, and taught us.
‘We are also called upon to emulate those who have in faith and in fervour for the Truth, worked toward this teaching and making disciples of all nations. If we would learn how to serve the Great Commission in fact and in deed, rather than merely in words, it behoves us to seek a model. And I would have you look, my brothers and sisters, toward none other than our very Kráľ, Eustach.
‘Please do not mistake this for base and idle flattery. The Kráľ is not without fault, and no man may be called good but Christ. I would advise him, for the sake of his soul, that the constant violence with which he prosecutes these civil wars among our neighbours and brothers the Vlachs, on behalf of the fractious Struma, is unseemly in a ruler. In these, brothers and sisters, do not seek to follow Eustach’s example, but instead seek to live in amity and goodwill with each other.
‘What the Kráľ does that is cruel and bloody, is worthy of blame – and for this he must offer answer before the throne of Christ at the Last Judgement. Do not study this. But instead, brothers and sisters, look to what the Kráľ does that is kind and merciful and worthy of praise, and seek to study that. Only recall that winter of the Year of the World 6555, that brutal year of pestilence, when the poor bowers around Čáslav lost the whole of their seed corn to rats! A handful of good men from that town came to Olomouc Castle, with their caps in their hands, and asked Eustach to have mercy upon them and open his stores so that they could have a crop to plant the following spring.
‘And did Eustach make the men of Čáslav into his bondmen, as Pharaoh in Egypt did to his own people when the seven years of famine were upon them? No! Did he take wealth from the priests and trade this to the men of Čáslav? No! What did he do, rather? He opened up his own stores and bade the men of Čáslav take until they had met their need!
‘And how did God answer Eustach for this generosity? Do we not recall the following spring and summer here in the Morava valley? Do we not recall how God sent the rains and made every field to sprout forth abundant green, and how upon every stem He made blossom twenty-fold bud and flower? Do we not recall how God bade every flower bear twenty-fold fruit and seed? And do we not recall how the Kráľ answered, when the men of the Morava valley went of their own accord to him and offered to restock his granaries what the men of Čáslav had taken the prior winter?’
One of the elderly women in the church answered piously: ‘He returned our grain to us! He told us that we had greater need than he had, and that we ought to go and distribute it rather to those among us who suffered want!’
‘Our sister Magda from Olomouc has spoken rightly, out of the truth of her remembrance!’ Metropolitan Slavomír placed a firm and approving hand upon the amvon. ‘And allow me, risking the Kráľ’s wrath thus to speak to you, to reveal to you one more instance of Eustach’s goodwill among the Moravian people under his rule. It will be known to our Czech brothers and sisters that Hraběnka Anna of Žatec and the Hrabě Jakub of Boleslav have been at enmity with each other these several years. And what did Eustach do? He attempted to reconcile the two of them, one with the other. He did not succeed, but Our Lord Himself blessed the peacemakers, and so must we. The angels will count this to his credit, even if the two quarrellers themselves do not.
‘And lastly—may I be so bold as to point out, the blessings and the gifts bestowed from the Kráľ’s worldly goods upon the Church? Only witness: just as God made the rains to come, and the fruits of the earth to spring forth from the soil, so too has there been a new flowering of faith all up and down the Morava River. In Uničov, see where the Church of Saint Philip and Saint James now stands! And in Spyhtiněv? A great Cathedral of the Dormition of the Most Holy Theotokos now stands where before there was only field lying fallow. Behold: at the very source of the Sázava, at the town of Žďar, high in the vysočina, the cornerstone has been laid for a Church of Saint Nicholas the Wonderworker. And again, behold: in Chrudim the foundation of a Church of Saint Catherine the Great-Martyr may be seen! And in the joy of this feast-day I say to you, as you have beheld the glory: Christ is Ascended!’
‘In glory has He ascended!’ exclaimed one man in the nave. ‘V Sláve Vystúpil!’
‘V Sláve Vystúpil!’ answered the others in the congregation. ‘Navždy Sláva Bohu!’
~~~
‘Cil est merveillus,’ Dolz exclaimed to her husband as they surveyed the new Cathedral in Spyhtiněv—built, like Saint Philip and Saint James, on the very banks of the Morava. The three round cupolas, each one ascending in height, were bedecked in red stone shingles. These covered an edifice that likewise ascended the further one went eastward into the nave, built from æthereally-pale Carpathian limestone imported from Štramberk. It was indeed a marvelous sight. ‘You have done a wonderful thing, espos. These new churches will surely inspire a great new surge of faith!’
‘Grant it, O Lord,’ Eustach crossed himself.
‘He shall,’ his wife said fondly to him. ‘Believe me, He shall.’
‘I still wish that I knew if it were right,’ Eustach wondered, ‘uniting the Česi and the Moraváci under one crown like this. It’s not a move that’s likely to make me many friends in that region, and it will certainly cost me some esteem in the eyes of the world. I may well be remembered as a tyrant for this.’
‘That is a small price to pay for the unity of all,’ Dolz assured him. ‘How did the Evangelist put it? “If a house be divided against itself, that house cannot stand”? If Christ and Holy Writ and Church are all with you on this question—who can be against you?’
Eustach hugged his wife to him. ‘And you’re with me.’
‘Bien seür,’ his wife buried her face happily in the hollow of his shoulder.
The two of them went hand-in-hand off the church grounds and side-by-side rode south to Velehrad. As they were making their way toward the ancestral hall of the Mojmírovci, they were hailed down by Knieža Mihail of Milčané, who approached them coming northward from thence upon his horse. He lit down in the road and bowed to the royal couple.
‘Christ is ascended!’
‘In glory has He ascended!’ answered Eustach. ‘You look to be well at ease. Good tidings, I take it?’
‘I will allow your Majesty to see, and judge for yourself,’ Mihail produced in his hand a single silver coin, and handed it to Eustach and Dolz. The coin gleamed white and bright in his fingers, having been newly struck from Hory Kutné silver. On one face there was shown a seated Jesus Pantokratōr, and on the other face could be seen the unmistakeable images of the king and queen in their jewelled robes of office, standing in front of a three-bar cross. Dolz was holding a scroll in her right hand, while Eustach was holding the royal orb in his left. Their free hands were touching in the middle.
Dolz smiled easily. ‘Meon Deu. Do I really look that fat?’
‘Shall I tell the mint-master to remake the die?’ asked Eustach.
‘Non, non,’ Dolz brushed his hand with hers. ‘That the two of us are so close in this depiction… it is very fine. Very true. Do not change it—keep it as it is.’
‘Very good tidings indeed, Mihail,’ Eustach blew upon the edge of the newly-struck denár and held it to his ear. The high, clear reverberation which met the royal ear was proof enough that the mint was true to standard. ‘Is the mint prepared to meet our circulation request by the end of the year – in obolov and silikov as well as denárov?’
‘With ease,’ Mihail told him. ‘The mines at Hory Kutné have never been this busy; they have plenty of metal to work from.’
‘Then the tidings are truly excellent,’ Eustach told Mihail. ‘If the quota can be met, then we will no longer be as dependent as we once were upon Constantinople and Salona for our bullion. We may rely upon good Czech silver!’
‘With no aspersions cast upon the holy city of the East, naturally,’ Dolz pronounced piously.
‘Naturally, naturally,’ Eustach echoed her as he handed the silver coin back to his šafár. ‘Please accept my compliments, and relay them to the mint-master in Brno.’
‘My liege,’ Mihail bowed, and at once set out for Brno.
By that time the crowds had gathered in the streets of Velehrad, having come out from the cathedral where Metropolitan Slavomír had been preaching. His words touching upon the King’s sins had been remembered not nearly so well as his words praising the King’s piety. And the people themselves began to speak as they saw him pass:
The nickname stuck. He was no longer merely Kráľ Eustach, but Kráľ Eustach staviteľ—that is to say, Eustach the Builder, or Eustach the Architect. Occasionally he would be referred to as staviteľ chrámu: the Builder of Churches. Indeed, Eustach had sunk several stone of gold and many years of planning and haggling over details into the several church projects he had begun along the Morava. But in his own mind, this was a small way toward repaying what he owed the Church from the grave act of desecration and arson he had committed in Chust.
