Chapter I
The Burden of Rulership
Old Romanian: "La ușea mea o oaste de fiare zăbovește ca să vă pună capețile în țepe și să împle fântânele cu sângele vost!"
Modern Romanian: "La ușa o armată de bestii abia așteaptă să vă pună capetele-n țepe și să umple fântânile cu sângele vostru!"
English: “There is an army of beasts at my door. An army that will be here to put your heads on spikes and fill the wells with your blood."
Act I
“You stand before Grigore, Ban of Severin, of Târgu Jiu and Caraș-Severin. You may kneel before your liege and then you may speak.”
The young man could not avert his gaze. His eyes were firmly locked upon the man sitting on his throne, a glorified chair if he were to comment on it. But that chair… how much power did that oak wood thing hold. In it the power to send young peasants to their death, to destroy the hopes of a generation. The man in the chair, his father, had aged considerably the last few years. The scruff of his beard had become visibly white and large, deep lines were now etched into his forehead. The resolute, firm look did not help his face in the slightest. By his side, on a smaller, less ornate throne stood a younger man, Teodor, a boy for the standards of the age.
Teodor de Severin, heir to the Oak Throne
His older brother, the hopeful heir apparent to the throne had not been in any war until now, the year of our Lord, 867. The only bleeding wound ever inflicted on him was from playing with wood swords and running around in the small woodland behind the small castle. But he was there, sitting beside the Ban, so close to power he could whisper to it, while the young man that now sat way behind in a dark corner of the room, the second born was destined to fade into nothingness.
Ioan de Severin, second-born to Ban Grigore
At best, he would marry a young noble girl and would be given a small domain to live off and if he were particularly good at some sort of high craft he would be summoned to serve at the pleasure of the Tsar. He would die a noble death on the field of battle for his Tsar and his people and no one would remember his name. At worst, he would die young, in the war to come. What a great achievement! To have your blood seep into the land for nothing. To die against dirty barbarians who marry amongst their own and live only to pillage and rape and murder.
The old man frowned and loudly ground his teeth.
“By all that is holy, will you shut up about your damned pigs…?!”
His voice felt like a thunder hitting a large heavy stone. The man before him dropped to his knees, shielding his head with his arms as if someone were to chop it off.
“There is an army of beasts at my door. An army that will be here to put your heads on spikes and fill the wells with your blood. I will not have this! You will endure your tithes and you will serve your Tsar and your land.”
The man that now clutched himself like a newborn was a petty noble, a boyar. He thought he could convince the Ban to lessen the heavy burden of taxation that had been placed upon him. The Ban was usually a reasonable man but this was not the time to test his patience and the young man knew this better than anyone in this room.
The realm had been, for some time, under pressure from the northern tribes of Avars that constantly raided the border counties. In the east, the Magyars also loomed and it was expected they would mount an attack at any moment. Tsar Boris, had grown tired of them and prepared to launch a campaign against the northern tribes as soon as the snow would start to melt. The Tsar was an old friend to Ioan’s father and was soon to arrive at the court in Severin to discuss battle plans. He would stay there until spring came and then they would all march to the border and launch the offensive. Both Ioan and Teodor were expected to prove themselves as capable warriors on the field of combat.
The audience ended shortly afterwards and Ioan watched his father leave the throne room with the look of someone who had to eat a rather large lemon.
“The Tsar will be here any minute, pup. Are you ready to meet your liege master?”
Teodor was light-hearted and he was very liked at the court. His ability to make people laugh and his overall charisma and cheerfulness made people gravitate towards him. He and Ioan maintained a friendly rivalry, the two siblings being envious of the other one for his position. Teodor had confessed to his brother many times that the burden of rulership had changed his father and he did not want to experience something like that. Ioan on the other hand wanted to have Teodor’s burden, he loved the attention, he craved power and would have done almost anything to even be close to it. Ioan knew in his heart that his envy ran deeper than his brother’s, though. While Teodor had resigned himself with the idea that he will one day rule the lands of his father, Ioan could not so easily give up his ambition.
“Well, you’re the one who’ll meet him first, so I’d go and grab my prettiest dress if I were you. Maybe he’ll take you as a concubine.”
Teodor laughed.
“It’s treason to badmouth the Tsar and your future liege, Ioan, unless no one hears you.”
Act II
Tsar Boris was a lively man and he certainly had a knack for diplomacy. Ioan had just met that man, but he admired him greatly not only for his disposition but for his humbleness in front of his vassals. Before the feast had started, Teodor joined his father and the Tsar in a council meeting. Ioan, naturally, did not attend and his curiosity was not satiated by Teodor’s claim that it was a “boring talk about how to reinforce flanks”. The Tsar mentioned Ioan’s absence at one point, alluding that the custom was that the land was to be split between siblings at the time of the lord’s death. Grigore would did not want to hear such a thing. His first-born and only him would succeed him to all of his titles and not even the Tsar could convince him.
“I do remember the time when I found God. When I started feeling the strength of his light pushing inside my entire existence. This monk from Constantinople had just arrived at the court with an absolutely stunning icon portraying the Judgement Day. And I could feel it – the sheer power of that image. Since that day I feared the power of our merciful and almighty God.”
Ioan was not the greatest supporter of the church, he did believe in the Lord’s existence but other things were more important for him. At this time, however, he absorbed all of the Tsar’s words and did not question any of it. Teodor seemed rather skeptical of the Tsar’s astonishment and subsequent conversion and Grigore later mentioned in private that the Tsar tells the same story at all feasts, but no one believes it. Rather, his move to convert was seen as a very calculated political move.
Act III
Ioan sighed in relief. When the emissary arrived from Khagan Baghatur’s camp beyond the Carpathians that he would henceforth submit to Tsar Boris as a tributary it was already march. Apparently, the Khagan had caught wind of the Bulgarian Tsar’s decision to storm his realm and not only did he, together with his clan, decide to cease all border raids, but in order to get Boris’ good will he submitted to him. Boris was evidently pleased and he quickly decided to return to his court in Pliska.
During his stay in Severin, Ioan was sure he managed to get on the Tsar’s good side and his hopes were that he would be able to profit from such a connection in the future. In the north things were now peaceful, but the real threat still loomed in the east.
Teodor, Lord of Severin and of Ohrid
