The TOSCGA -- Torrechiavenna of Snow-Capped Grisons AAR (Old Gods)
- Thread starter fabiolundiense
- 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.
The San Benogno Manuscript (continued)
Lady Gabriella’s new Chancellor took up the Zachlumia portfolio where the previous Chancellor had left it. Furthermore, he extended his diplomatic skills to the Duke of Venice, the single useful ally of the Count of Zachlumia. There was much exchange of friendly letters, friendlier compliments and exquisite presents. It was believed that these courtesies would endear the Duke to Duchess Gabriella and deter him from taking sides in the future conflict.
The Duchess made her move in 925. Not all her allies rose to the occasion. One -- out of seven -- abstained. Consternation turned into more concentrated efforts when the devious Duke of Venice, despite his protestations of affection and esteem, declared war on the Duchess for the sake of Zachlumia. There then followed a moment of confusion when sentinels espied another unexpected foe on the scene. The Duke of Croatia, seeing his chance, had also declared war on Zachlumia with the same intent of conquest.
It mattered not. With Sardinia, Corsica, Monferrato, Ancona and her other allies, the Duchess swept Venice and Croatia aside. A year later, the banners of Genoa and Lotharingia proclaimed to the world that Gabriella the Noble was the new mistress of Zachlumia. The title was immediately conferred upon her youngest son Filippo. Snow-capped Grisons had become master of two maritime provinces -- Genoa and Spalato -- with their sea-port cities, plus more elevated Zachlumia hundreds of leagues away but inseparable from the name of Torrechiavenna.
At this time, King Arnault, the Duchess’s liege lord, possessed a demesne reckoned the largest in Karling Europe. West Francia came second, followed by East Francia. It was a subject of layman debate, however, whether the Karling brothers’s empire wielded more power than the vast empire of the various sultans and emirs. The Duchess would fain have sought alliance without the Karling family circle, but few other rulers could live up to Lady Gabriella’s demanding expectations.
In her more mature years, Lady Gabriella learned to face up to the sorrows that afflict all men, whatever their station, alleviated occasionally by happier if short-lived events. In 927, Lord Odalrico of Monferrato, her beloved husband of forty years, passed away. The title passed to their first-born son Giordano. The Duchess donned the mourning dress which she would bear to the end of her days. Masses and prayers were offered for the late Count’s eternal rest, thanks to an endowment made to the monks of Saint Benedict established at San Silvestro Abbey.
It was also around this time that Sir Luca and Lady Hedwig christened their new-born daughter Gabriella. She was the first in the new generation of Torrechiavennas to receive that now illustrious name. At the behest of her youngest, the Count of Zachlumia, she betook herself to his demesne to spend time with her other grandchildren. She was present there when that province made their allegiance to Rome.
She returned to Grisons for the final stages of Master Giordano’s -- the son of her heir Sir Giordano, Count of Monferrato -- tutoring. She was not displeased with his overall achievements, remarking only that he appeared to have inherited his father’s penchant for cruelty. Upon his coming of age, he was betrothed to Hemma of the House Welf, daughter and heiress of the Comte de Genève.
In 932, King Arnault perished in honourable combat against Danish traitors. To the last had he attempted to persuade Lady Gabriella to abandon her Italian cause, proposing to take one or another of her grandsons as hostage in the Frankish world. Sure of the prerogatives with which her prestige endowed her, she always dismissed the king’s overtures.
King Arnault the Noble was succeeded by all his sons, in that Karling way. The kingdom split into four realms. Italy fell to Hélie, the eldest son. The newly-crowned princes wasted no time in declaring war upon each other. Lady Gabriella had no choice but to involve herself in this latest Karling madness, for Josselin Karling, the king of Burgundy, was claiming as his birthright the county of Grisons.
The war for Grisons lasted two years. From the start, Burgundy was hopelessly outnumbered. The Duchess nonetheless deemed it prudent to presume nothing about her new liege lord King Hélie. An independent Grisonais host invaded the province of Valais whilst Burgundian forces melted under the onslaught of King Hélie’s infantry and archers.
Victory notwithstanding, Grisons was not entirely out of danger. The House Torrechiavenna stood close to becoming a victim of its own shimmering renown. Lords within and without Italy coveted the county of Grisons. Perhaps too sought they to soar to glory, in imitation of Lord Ermenulfo and Lady Gabriella. Be that as it may, claims to Grisons were being fabricated everywhere.
Josselin of Burgundy -- not one to let a lost cause deaden his taste for intrigue -- persuaded one of his vassals to pretend to the coveted title. His brother the king of Bavaria did likewise. Lady Gabriella’s Councillors were of the opinion that drastic measures were in order. An edict was published, offering a reward for the head of the Flavio, Mayor of Mentone, Chancellor of Nice, the man responsible for fanning the fires of invasion. But nothing was to come of so much plotting. King Hélie himself, despite his ardent desire that Grisons remain in the hands of his vassal, in no wise involved himself in the affair. His main concern, where the Duchess was concerned, was the taking of hostages. But even that Karling obsession was forgotten when Bavaria declared war not just for Grisons but for the entire kingdom of Italy.
Lady Gabriella abstained from that conflict. Defending her demesne, guiding it ever forward towards greater heights of science and sophistication, took precedence over Karling in-fighting. When travelers returning from the Holy Land recounted tales of similar fratricide even amongst Muslim rulers, she chided herself over not having the manpower to declare her own Holy War, that more and more innocent folk might be freed from the yoke of tyranny and misguided faith.
~~~
Lady Gabriella’s new Chancellor took up the Zachlumia portfolio where the previous Chancellor had left it. Furthermore, he extended his diplomatic skills to the Duke of Venice, the single useful ally of the Count of Zachlumia. There was much exchange of friendly letters, friendlier compliments and exquisite presents. It was believed that these courtesies would endear the Duke to Duchess Gabriella and deter him from taking sides in the future conflict.
The Duchess made her move in 925. Not all her allies rose to the occasion. One -- out of seven -- abstained. Consternation turned into more concentrated efforts when the devious Duke of Venice, despite his protestations of affection and esteem, declared war on the Duchess for the sake of Zachlumia. There then followed a moment of confusion when sentinels espied another unexpected foe on the scene. The Duke of Croatia, seeing his chance, had also declared war on Zachlumia with the same intent of conquest.
It mattered not. With Sardinia, Corsica, Monferrato, Ancona and her other allies, the Duchess swept Venice and Croatia aside. A year later, the banners of Genoa and Lotharingia proclaimed to the world that Gabriella the Noble was the new mistress of Zachlumia. The title was immediately conferred upon her youngest son Filippo. Snow-capped Grisons had become master of two maritime provinces -- Genoa and Spalato -- with their sea-port cities, plus more elevated Zachlumia hundreds of leagues away but inseparable from the name of Torrechiavenna.
At this time, King Arnault, the Duchess’s liege lord, possessed a demesne reckoned the largest in Karling Europe. West Francia came second, followed by East Francia. It was a subject of layman debate, however, whether the Karling brothers’s empire wielded more power than the vast empire of the various sultans and emirs. The Duchess would fain have sought alliance without the Karling family circle, but few other rulers could live up to Lady Gabriella’s demanding expectations.
In her more mature years, Lady Gabriella learned to face up to the sorrows that afflict all men, whatever their station, alleviated occasionally by happier if short-lived events. In 927, Lord Odalrico of Monferrato, her beloved husband of forty years, passed away. The title passed to their first-born son Giordano. The Duchess donned the mourning dress which she would bear to the end of her days. Masses and prayers were offered for the late Count’s eternal rest, thanks to an endowment made to the monks of Saint Benedict established at San Silvestro Abbey.
It was also around this time that Sir Luca and Lady Hedwig christened their new-born daughter Gabriella. She was the first in the new generation of Torrechiavennas to receive that now illustrious name. At the behest of her youngest, the Count of Zachlumia, she betook herself to his demesne to spend time with her other grandchildren. She was present there when that province made their allegiance to Rome.
She returned to Grisons for the final stages of Master Giordano’s -- the son of her heir Sir Giordano, Count of Monferrato -- tutoring. She was not displeased with his overall achievements, remarking only that he appeared to have inherited his father’s penchant for cruelty. Upon his coming of age, he was betrothed to Hemma of the House Welf, daughter and heiress of the Comte de Genève.
In 932, King Arnault perished in honourable combat against Danish traitors. To the last had he attempted to persuade Lady Gabriella to abandon her Italian cause, proposing to take one or another of her grandsons as hostage in the Frankish world. Sure of the prerogatives with which her prestige endowed her, she always dismissed the king’s overtures.
King Arnault the Noble was succeeded by all his sons, in that Karling way. The kingdom split into four realms. Italy fell to Hélie, the eldest son. The newly-crowned princes wasted no time in declaring war upon each other. Lady Gabriella had no choice but to involve herself in this latest Karling madness, for Josselin Karling, the king of Burgundy, was claiming as his birthright the county of Grisons.
The war for Grisons lasted two years. From the start, Burgundy was hopelessly outnumbered. The Duchess nonetheless deemed it prudent to presume nothing about her new liege lord King Hélie. An independent Grisonais host invaded the province of Valais whilst Burgundian forces melted under the onslaught of King Hélie’s infantry and archers.
Victory notwithstanding, Grisons was not entirely out of danger. The House Torrechiavenna stood close to becoming a victim of its own shimmering renown. Lords within and without Italy coveted the county of Grisons. Perhaps too sought they to soar to glory, in imitation of Lord Ermenulfo and Lady Gabriella. Be that as it may, claims to Grisons were being fabricated everywhere.
Josselin of Burgundy -- not one to let a lost cause deaden his taste for intrigue -- persuaded one of his vassals to pretend to the coveted title. His brother the king of Bavaria did likewise. Lady Gabriella’s Councillors were of the opinion that drastic measures were in order. An edict was published, offering a reward for the head of the Flavio, Mayor of Mentone, Chancellor of Nice, the man responsible for fanning the fires of invasion. But nothing was to come of so much plotting. King Hélie himself, despite his ardent desire that Grisons remain in the hands of his vassal, in no wise involved himself in the affair. His main concern, where the Duchess was concerned, was the taking of hostages. But even that Karling obsession was forgotten when Bavaria declared war not just for Grisons but for the entire kingdom of Italy.
Lady Gabriella abstained from that conflict. Defending her demesne, guiding it ever forward towards greater heights of science and sophistication, took precedence over Karling in-fighting. When travelers returning from the Holy Land recounted tales of similar fratricide even amongst Muslim rulers, she chided herself over not having the manpower to declare her own Holy War, that more and more innocent folk might be freed from the yoke of tyranny and misguided faith.
~~~
- 1
The San Benogno Manuscript (continued)
The last years of Lady Gabriella’s life were shadowed by sorrow and loneliness. The Year of Grace 940 saw her son Luca and her granddaughter Gabriella leave Court to take up residence in Istria, for the Lady Hedwig, Sir Luca’s wife, had become Countess of Istria on her father’s death. The following year, her daughter the Basilissa Theodora died prematurely in Constantinople. Some weeks later, courtiers arrived from the kingdom of Georgia bearing the horrific tidings of the murder of her granddaughter Gulvardi, Crown Princess of Georgia, at the hands of one of her paternal uncles.
Lady Gabriella found affection in the person of a vassal, Master Tibaldo Orseolo, son of the Count of Spalato. Their relationship was a subtle combination of filial respect and friendship, not so uncommon betwixt the very old and the very young. But 942 witnessed the deaths, in rapid succession, of Sir Luca, the same Count of Istria, in circumstances that pointed clearly at foul play by persons unknown ; of her brother Umberto, Comte de Châlons ; and of her elder sister Alessandra who, after a period of exile in Treviso, had become Countess of Corsica.
The hour had come for Lady Gabriella to relinquish the reins of government, that her offspring might take up the role of Grisons’s ruler. Her passing, on the tenth day of August 942, was as peaceful as her reign had been glorious. She was laid to rest beneath the stones of Bellinzona chapel, the same chapel where as an infant she was christened, next to Bellinzona Castle where she grew up and spent the greater part of her life.
It is the privilege of such remarkable men and women that their departure from this life should create a paradox. Assuredly, there was much grieving at the Duchess’s demise. And yet there was much cause for noble rejoicing. The foundations of a Great House had been laid. Thanks to Lady Gabriella, the future of that House, and the future of its demesne, promised future generations years of honourable advancement, felicity, virtue and prosperity.
So may it be with your own House, dear friend, your own sons and daughters, and their children after them.
~~~
Editor’s note. Concerning the literary detective work mentioned in the foreword, this editor wishes to make the following observations.
The manuscript has been found to date to around mid-eleventh century, roughly one hundred years after the death of Duchess Gabriella.
Authorship of the unsigned folios points to someone not of the House Torrechiavenna. The reasoning is that nowhere in the text is a first-person possessive pronoun used in connection with that dynasty (“our House” ; “my ancestors”).
On several occasions, the author speaks scathingly of the Karling royal family. This degree of uncensored speech vis-à-vis a powerful dynasty suggests either a person enjoying equal power, or else one immune from the threat of retaliation. It seems unlikely that a powerful King or Emperor would not affix his name to such a writ. Therefore, the second hypothesis must prevail.
Persons enjoying immunity from the actions or decrees of the Karling dynasty could only exist outside the Karling realms. Yet such detailed and precise knowledge of the life of a Karling vassal implies access to official documents -- of which several are quoted in the text. Such documents were only rarely, if ever, made available to foreign potentates.
The author makes several references to Gabriella Torrechiavenna’s so-called Italian cause, and appears to recommend her for it.
Lastly, the use of occasional Italianate, French and Latin locutions points to someone of the privileged classes as opposed to a poet or bard. Yet there is no evidence that the author was particularly versed or interested in the finer points of feudal warfare. This could suggest a person of clerical status.
Who in eleventh-century Europe could be a very well educated italianophile, enjoy immunity from the reach of the Karling dynasty, yet have access to documents reserved for those most intimate with the House Torrechiavenna ? This editor has the temerity to propose a solution : the Lord Cardinal Mastino, Bishop of Casale and Court Chaplain to Maurizio Torrechiavenna, Duchess Gabriella’s great-great-grandson. As a bishop and Court Chaplain to the House Torrechiavenna, he would have access to documents emanating from his liege lord’s Archives. As a Cardinal, he would enjoy immunity from a Karling, or any monarch other than his own.
~~~
The last years of Lady Gabriella’s life were shadowed by sorrow and loneliness. The Year of Grace 940 saw her son Luca and her granddaughter Gabriella leave Court to take up residence in Istria, for the Lady Hedwig, Sir Luca’s wife, had become Countess of Istria on her father’s death. The following year, her daughter the Basilissa Theodora died prematurely in Constantinople. Some weeks later, courtiers arrived from the kingdom of Georgia bearing the horrific tidings of the murder of her granddaughter Gulvardi, Crown Princess of Georgia, at the hands of one of her paternal uncles.
Lady Gabriella found affection in the person of a vassal, Master Tibaldo Orseolo, son of the Count of Spalato. Their relationship was a subtle combination of filial respect and friendship, not so uncommon betwixt the very old and the very young. But 942 witnessed the deaths, in rapid succession, of Sir Luca, the same Count of Istria, in circumstances that pointed clearly at foul play by persons unknown ; of her brother Umberto, Comte de Châlons ; and of her elder sister Alessandra who, after a period of exile in Treviso, had become Countess of Corsica.
The hour had come for Lady Gabriella to relinquish the reins of government, that her offspring might take up the role of Grisons’s ruler. Her passing, on the tenth day of August 942, was as peaceful as her reign had been glorious. She was laid to rest beneath the stones of Bellinzona chapel, the same chapel where as an infant she was christened, next to Bellinzona Castle where she grew up and spent the greater part of her life.
It is the privilege of such remarkable men and women that their departure from this life should create a paradox. Assuredly, there was much grieving at the Duchess’s demise. And yet there was much cause for noble rejoicing. The foundations of a Great House had been laid. Thanks to Lady Gabriella, the future of that House, and the future of its demesne, promised future generations years of honourable advancement, felicity, virtue and prosperity.
So may it be with your own House, dear friend, your own sons and daughters, and their children after them.
~~~
Editor’s note. Concerning the literary detective work mentioned in the foreword, this editor wishes to make the following observations.
The manuscript has been found to date to around mid-eleventh century, roughly one hundred years after the death of Duchess Gabriella.
Authorship of the unsigned folios points to someone not of the House Torrechiavenna. The reasoning is that nowhere in the text is a first-person possessive pronoun used in connection with that dynasty (“our House” ; “my ancestors”).
On several occasions, the author speaks scathingly of the Karling royal family. This degree of uncensored speech vis-à-vis a powerful dynasty suggests either a person enjoying equal power, or else one immune from the threat of retaliation. It seems unlikely that a powerful King or Emperor would not affix his name to such a writ. Therefore, the second hypothesis must prevail.
Persons enjoying immunity from the actions or decrees of the Karling dynasty could only exist outside the Karling realms. Yet such detailed and precise knowledge of the life of a Karling vassal implies access to official documents -- of which several are quoted in the text. Such documents were only rarely, if ever, made available to foreign potentates.
The author makes several references to Gabriella Torrechiavenna’s so-called Italian cause, and appears to recommend her for it.
Lastly, the use of occasional Italianate, French and Latin locutions points to someone of the privileged classes as opposed to a poet or bard. Yet there is no evidence that the author was particularly versed or interested in the finer points of feudal warfare. This could suggest a person of clerical status.
Who in eleventh-century Europe could be a very well educated italianophile, enjoy immunity from the reach of the Karling dynasty, yet have access to documents reserved for those most intimate with the House Torrechiavenna ? This editor has the temerity to propose a solution : the Lord Cardinal Mastino, Bishop of Casale and Court Chaplain to Maurizio Torrechiavenna, Duchess Gabriella’s great-great-grandson. As a bishop and Court Chaplain to the House Torrechiavenna, he would have access to documents emanating from his liege lord’s Archives. As a Cardinal, he would enjoy immunity from a Karling, or any monarch other than his own.
~~~
- 1
Giordano I Torrechiavenna
From the Enciclopedia Italiana [Ed. Paradossi, Torino, 1885]
TORRECHIAVENNA, Giordano I, b. 890 in Monferrato, d. 961 in Monferrato.
Count of Monferrato, Count of Grisons, Count of Zadar, Count and Duke of Genoa, Duke of Dalmatia
Giordano I Torrechiavenna was an Italian nobleman, third ruler of the Torrechiavenna dynasty founded in AD 867 in the Alpine province of Grisons. At times dubbed Giordano the Unready, he is most remembered for having completed the conquest and annexation of the Duchy of Dalmatia initiated by his mother, Duchess Gabriella the Noble of Genoa (see entry TORRECHIAVENNA Gabriella, above).
I. Early Life
Most of Giordano’s youth was spent at Castello Moncalvo, feudal seat of his father Count Odalrico d’Asti of Monferrato. He moved to Castello Bellinzona, the feudal seat of his maternal grandfather Count Ermenulfo Torrechiavenna of Grisons, for the completion of his education at the Court of his mother Duchess Gabriella of Genoa. He returned to Moncalvo upon coming of age.
The longevity of both parents meant that he was denied his own fief until well into maturity. Private correspondence has revealed that Giordano was a restless soul, eager to hold his own Court and exercise justice with the attending privileges of a feudal lord, but finding only frustration. Some time in his thirties, he made a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostella, perhaps in an attempt to rein in his impatience.
At age eighteen he married Sofie von Kempten, eldest daughter of the Count of Kempten, a province of Bavaria. The couple had five children. The eldest, a son, was named Giordano. The next four children were daughters. Each of them was named Clara. Later in life, all five children are known to have laid the cause for this uncommon behaviour at the door of their father’s resentment against not receiving his own fief to govern.
In 927, in his thirty-seventh year, Giordano became Count of Monferrato upon the death of his father. An older brother inherited the lands and titles Count of Piemont and Duke of Susa.
Official portraits of the Count and Countess of Monferrato, circa 929
II. Military Career
The next few years were devoted to improving horsemanship, with all the other martial arts expected of a medieval cavaliere.
Count Giordano of Monferrato became Duke of Genoa at the age of 52, upon the death of his mother. His father having contracted a matrilineal marriage, the titles Count of Grisons and Count of Genoa, together with the ducal crown, became his primary titles. Moreover, these titles were not inherited since the Law of Succession in his mother’s demesne was one of Elective Monarchy. Rather, he was elected as his mother’s legitimate successor by Duchess Gabriella’s vassals.
A change of life came swiftly upon that succession. Before becoming Count of Monferrato, his liege lord, Arnault of the House Karling, King of Lotharingia-Bavaria-Italy-Burgundy, had died, dividing the Karling empire between the four Karling princes. His new liege lord was Hélie, King of Italy. This prince was soon at war first with his brother Josselin, the king of Burgundy, then with his brother King Günter of Bavaria. His cousin King Louis V of West Francia, and an allied prince, King Hamish of Scotland, were also drawn into the Karling family conflict.
Despite his advanced age, Duke Giordano was promoted by King Hélie of Italy to the corps of Commanders of the Royal Militia. The appointment visibly affected the Duke, whose military prowess contemporaries esteemed mediocre. Nonetheless, he acquitted himself passably well on the battlefield. His successes are almost certainly due in part to his discreet relationship with a courtesan named Francesca. This woman of apparently French origin is mentioned by few chroniclers of the period. Her relationship with the Duke appears to have remained platonic.
The Italo-Burgundian War had originated in a sentence of excommunication pronounced over Hélie’s younger brother in Burgundy. When the sentence was lifted a year later, the brothers laid down their arms. The Karling Empire reverted to virtually the same configuration (five kingdoms) it had represented seventy years earlier. The kingdom of West Francia stretched over most of today’s French Republic ; the kingdom of Lotharingia covered the Rhineland and today’s Swiss Confederation, plus the Duchy of Spoleto in Central Italy ; the kingdom of Burgundy consisted of Savoy and Provence and the valley of the Rhone ; the kingdom of Italy stretched over the southern Alps (with the Grisons Passage into Switzerland) down to region of Latium minus the independent Papal States and the Duchy of Spoleto, plus the islands of Corsica and Sardinia ; the kingdom of Bavaria covered the Central Alpine region of the Dolomites, the eastern Alps, Austria, Carinthia and southern Bohemia. The only notable changes from the mid-ninth century were the incorporation of the duchies of Barcelona and Majorca into West Francia, and that of three Croatian provinces into Italy.
Following the end of the Karling war, Duke Giordano focused his energies on fulfilling a family dream : the conquest of the Croatian province of Diadora and the ducal crown of Dalmatia. To that end, he improved defenses at Castello Moncalvo. Siege machinery evolved significantly thanks to improved techniques learned from Greek engineers. Duke Giordano’s Chancellor, Sir Arding of the House Supponidi, paved the way for military conquest through shady diplomatic maneuvers. Feudal barons of the Middle Ages often had recourse to such tactics, and the sudden appearance of ”ancient” claims to territory fooled no one.
Duke Giordano began the annexation of Diadora in 947. Croatian levies were less than one-fourth the size of the Alpine attackers’ force. The Battle of Diadora all but decided the outcome. By mid-February 949, the Croatian Count conceded defeat. Three months later, an old Torrechiavenna ambition was realised : Duke Giordano assumed the title of Duke of Dalmatia on his own merit, needing neither the permission nor the intervention of any liege lord.
Duke Giordano’s third season on the battlefield began the following year. The summer of 950 saw an influx of barbarian Slavic raiders. They marched across the Danubian plains into Bavaria and thence into northern Italy in an attempt at taking over the region of Friuli.
At this time, the Karling dynasty was going through another period of mutual estrangement. None of Hélie’s siblings helped defend against the invaders. Fortunately for Italy, the king could count on aid from other allies : Scotland, Bulgaria and even the Byzantine Emperor.
Thanks to their combined efforts, the Slavic horde was repulsed after just six months.
Early in 954, at the age of 64, Duke Giordano accepted a new promotion as Lord Marshal of Italy. The nomination entailed frequent appearances at the Royal Castle in Pavia. There he supervised the training of all King Hélie’s men-at-arms, and the recruitment of fresh troops.
Despite these new responsibilities, he never neglected to provide for continual fortification of the family castles.
Duke Giordano prepared for but eventually took no part in two other military campaigns. Some years before his promotion as Lord Marshal in 954, Pope Clemens II launched a Crusade for Andalusia, a region then controlled by the Moslem Sultan of Mauretania. Of all the Karling princes, only Louis V of West Francia answered the Pope’s call. The Sultan’s hold on the Iberian peninsula had withered after a previous Crusade to drive the Moslems out from Aquitaine. Northern Africa mattered more to the Sultan than his vast but thinly-stretched European holdings. Andalusia was liberated in the autumn of 954 and the region given in fief to the Knights of the Teutonic Order.
The Andalusian Crusade did not entirely eliminate Moslem holdings in the Iberian peninsula. In accordance with feudal custom, the Sultan’s holdings elsewhere than in de jure Andalusia were untouched by the conquest.
The other campaign concerned King Trpimir of Bulgaria, an ally of Duke Giordano’s liege lord Hélie of Italy. That alliance was practically sundered when the Karling prince declined to go to his ally’s help. The Bulgarian War eventually ended with a victory for the legitimate monarch.
III. Dynastic Affairs
The Duke’s only son, also named Giordano, became heir apparent from the moment of his birth. He was sent to Grisons to be brought up at the Court of his grandmother Duchess Gabriella. The young Giordano was married to Hemma of the House Welf. In 946 Hemma became Countess of Geneva, having inherited the title from her brother, Count Ruprecht. She and the young Giordano moved to a castle above the Bodensee that same year.
From the Enciclopedia Italiana [Ed. Paradossi, Torino, 1885]
TORRECHIAVENNA, Giordano I, b. 890 in Monferrato, d. 961 in Monferrato.
Count of Monferrato, Count of Grisons, Count of Zadar, Count and Duke of Genoa, Duke of Dalmatia
Giordano I Torrechiavenna was an Italian nobleman, third ruler of the Torrechiavenna dynasty founded in AD 867 in the Alpine province of Grisons. At times dubbed Giordano the Unready, he is most remembered for having completed the conquest and annexation of the Duchy of Dalmatia initiated by his mother, Duchess Gabriella the Noble of Genoa (see entry TORRECHIAVENNA Gabriella, above).
I. Early Life
Most of Giordano’s youth was spent at Castello Moncalvo, feudal seat of his father Count Odalrico d’Asti of Monferrato. He moved to Castello Bellinzona, the feudal seat of his maternal grandfather Count Ermenulfo Torrechiavenna of Grisons, for the completion of his education at the Court of his mother Duchess Gabriella of Genoa. He returned to Moncalvo upon coming of age.
The longevity of both parents meant that he was denied his own fief until well into maturity. Private correspondence has revealed that Giordano was a restless soul, eager to hold his own Court and exercise justice with the attending privileges of a feudal lord, but finding only frustration. Some time in his thirties, he made a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostella, perhaps in an attempt to rein in his impatience.
At age eighteen he married Sofie von Kempten, eldest daughter of the Count of Kempten, a province of Bavaria. The couple had five children. The eldest, a son, was named Giordano. The next four children were daughters. Each of them was named Clara. Later in life, all five children are known to have laid the cause for this uncommon behaviour at the door of their father’s resentment against not receiving his own fief to govern.
In 927, in his thirty-seventh year, Giordano became Count of Monferrato upon the death of his father. An older brother inherited the lands and titles Count of Piemont and Duke of Susa.
Official portraits of the Count and Countess of Monferrato, circa 929
II. Military Career
The next few years were devoted to improving horsemanship, with all the other martial arts expected of a medieval cavaliere.
Count Giordano of Monferrato became Duke of Genoa at the age of 52, upon the death of his mother. His father having contracted a matrilineal marriage, the titles Count of Grisons and Count of Genoa, together with the ducal crown, became his primary titles. Moreover, these titles were not inherited since the Law of Succession in his mother’s demesne was one of Elective Monarchy. Rather, he was elected as his mother’s legitimate successor by Duchess Gabriella’s vassals.
A change of life came swiftly upon that succession. Before becoming Count of Monferrato, his liege lord, Arnault of the House Karling, King of Lotharingia-Bavaria-Italy-Burgundy, had died, dividing the Karling empire between the four Karling princes. His new liege lord was Hélie, King of Italy. This prince was soon at war first with his brother Josselin, the king of Burgundy, then with his brother King Günter of Bavaria. His cousin King Louis V of West Francia, and an allied prince, King Hamish of Scotland, were also drawn into the Karling family conflict.
Despite his advanced age, Duke Giordano was promoted by King Hélie of Italy to the corps of Commanders of the Royal Militia. The appointment visibly affected the Duke, whose military prowess contemporaries esteemed mediocre. Nonetheless, he acquitted himself passably well on the battlefield. His successes are almost certainly due in part to his discreet relationship with a courtesan named Francesca. This woman of apparently French origin is mentioned by few chroniclers of the period. Her relationship with the Duke appears to have remained platonic.
The Italo-Burgundian War had originated in a sentence of excommunication pronounced over Hélie’s younger brother in Burgundy. When the sentence was lifted a year later, the brothers laid down their arms. The Karling Empire reverted to virtually the same configuration (five kingdoms) it had represented seventy years earlier. The kingdom of West Francia stretched over most of today’s French Republic ; the kingdom of Lotharingia covered the Rhineland and today’s Swiss Confederation, plus the Duchy of Spoleto in Central Italy ; the kingdom of Burgundy consisted of Savoy and Provence and the valley of the Rhone ; the kingdom of Italy stretched over the southern Alps (with the Grisons Passage into Switzerland) down to region of Latium minus the independent Papal States and the Duchy of Spoleto, plus the islands of Corsica and Sardinia ; the kingdom of Bavaria covered the Central Alpine region of the Dolomites, the eastern Alps, Austria, Carinthia and southern Bohemia. The only notable changes from the mid-ninth century were the incorporation of the duchies of Barcelona and Majorca into West Francia, and that of three Croatian provinces into Italy.
Following the end of the Karling war, Duke Giordano focused his energies on fulfilling a family dream : the conquest of the Croatian province of Diadora and the ducal crown of Dalmatia. To that end, he improved defenses at Castello Moncalvo. Siege machinery evolved significantly thanks to improved techniques learned from Greek engineers. Duke Giordano’s Chancellor, Sir Arding of the House Supponidi, paved the way for military conquest through shady diplomatic maneuvers. Feudal barons of the Middle Ages often had recourse to such tactics, and the sudden appearance of ”ancient” claims to territory fooled no one.
Duke Giordano began the annexation of Diadora in 947. Croatian levies were less than one-fourth the size of the Alpine attackers’ force. The Battle of Diadora all but decided the outcome. By mid-February 949, the Croatian Count conceded defeat. Three months later, an old Torrechiavenna ambition was realised : Duke Giordano assumed the title of Duke of Dalmatia on his own merit, needing neither the permission nor the intervention of any liege lord.
Duke Giordano’s third season on the battlefield began the following year. The summer of 950 saw an influx of barbarian Slavic raiders. They marched across the Danubian plains into Bavaria and thence into northern Italy in an attempt at taking over the region of Friuli.
At this time, the Karling dynasty was going through another period of mutual estrangement. None of Hélie’s siblings helped defend against the invaders. Fortunately for Italy, the king could count on aid from other allies : Scotland, Bulgaria and even the Byzantine Emperor.
Thanks to their combined efforts, the Slavic horde was repulsed after just six months.
Early in 954, at the age of 64, Duke Giordano accepted a new promotion as Lord Marshal of Italy. The nomination entailed frequent appearances at the Royal Castle in Pavia. There he supervised the training of all King Hélie’s men-at-arms, and the recruitment of fresh troops.
Despite these new responsibilities, he never neglected to provide for continual fortification of the family castles.
Duke Giordano prepared for but eventually took no part in two other military campaigns. Some years before his promotion as Lord Marshal in 954, Pope Clemens II launched a Crusade for Andalusia, a region then controlled by the Moslem Sultan of Mauretania. Of all the Karling princes, only Louis V of West Francia answered the Pope’s call. The Sultan’s hold on the Iberian peninsula had withered after a previous Crusade to drive the Moslems out from Aquitaine. Northern Africa mattered more to the Sultan than his vast but thinly-stretched European holdings. Andalusia was liberated in the autumn of 954 and the region given in fief to the Knights of the Teutonic Order.
The Andalusian Crusade did not entirely eliminate Moslem holdings in the Iberian peninsula. In accordance with feudal custom, the Sultan’s holdings elsewhere than in de jure Andalusia were untouched by the conquest.
The other campaign concerned King Trpimir of Bulgaria, an ally of Duke Giordano’s liege lord Hélie of Italy. That alliance was practically sundered when the Karling prince declined to go to his ally’s help. The Bulgarian War eventually ended with a victory for the legitimate monarch.
III. Dynastic Affairs
The Duke’s only son, also named Giordano, became heir apparent from the moment of his birth. He was sent to Grisons to be brought up at the Court of his grandmother Duchess Gabriella. The young Giordano was married to Hemma of the House Welf. In 946 Hemma became Countess of Geneva, having inherited the title from her brother, Count Ruprecht. She and the young Giordano moved to a castle above the Bodensee that same year.
~~~
Last edited:
- 1
Giordano I Torrechiavenna (continued)
From the Enciclopedia Italiana [Ed. Paradossi, Torino, 1885]
TORRECHIAVENNA, Giordano I, b. 890 in Monferrato, d. 961 in Monferrato.
Count of Monferrato, Count of Grisons, Count of Zadar, Count and Duke of Genoa, Duke of Dalmatia
III. Dynastic Affairs
The Duke’s only son, also named Giordano, became heir apparent from the moment of his birth. He was sent to Grisons to be brought up at the Court of his grandmother Duchess Gabriella. The young Giordano was married to Hemma of the House Welf. In 946 Hemma became Countess of Geneva, having inherited the title from her brother, Count Ruprecht. She and the young Giordano moved to a castle above the Bodensee that same year.
The succession of Geneva became a cause célèbre throughout the Alpine baronies, and in particular at the Court of King Josselin of Burgundy. In 939, Ruprecht, only son of Sir Leopold Welf of Geneva, orchestrated the assassination of his father and seized control of the county. In spite of unanimous condemnation of the crime by all his other vassals, King Josselin abstained from passing sentence on the usurper, with whom he was on excellent terms. Seven years later however, the usurper himself perished from a fall from the parapet of one of his castles.
Only recently has it come to light that Sir Ruprecht’s fall was no accident but the result of a plot set into motion by Duke Giordano. Courtiers at the time however were aware of an earlier attempt at poisoning the young lord. That plan had not succeeded. Historians speculate that the failure of this first attempt on Sir Ruprecht’s life gave rise to Sir Giordano’s epithet the Unready.
The presumption of foul play in the death of Sir Ruprecht infuriated King Josselin. He would have disputed the succession, but was in no position to make a fuss after his tacit approval of the murder of Sir Leopold. Relations between Lady Hemma and her liege lord deteriorated rapidly. Unfortunately for her claim, she surrounded herself with incompetent advisors. Only a year after her succession, Lady Hemma played into King Josselin’s hand by raising the banner of rebellion.
Lady Hemma’s insubordination was easily quashed. She had presumed too much of Duke Giordano’s protection. While the crime of parricide cried out for retribution, the sin of lèse-majesté could lay no claim on universal adhesion. Duke Giordano refused to countenance a war against a legitimate, although perfidious, overlord. Lady Hemma was imprisoned for a while by King Josselin, then released after being stripped of her title. Thus did the House Karling annex one more county into the Royal Demesne. The disinherited couple removed to Monferrato.
Another unfortunate accident, similar to the one suffered by Sir Ruprecht, occurred around this time. Some were quick to accuse Duke Giordano, for the victim had in fact been employed in the fabrication of a claim on Grisons. Although the incident is mentioned in several medieval chronicles, it is impossible to prove or disprove criminal involvement.
The turmoil over the Succession of Geneva did serve to underline one of the weaknesses of Duke Giordano’s rule : the fragility of the dynasty. There were several cousins and nephews to carry on the family name, but there was only one male heir in direct line.
Duke Giordano did seek to improve the family’s political situation in the first years of his reign. Less than a year after becoming Duke of Genoa, he moved the entire Court to Castello Moncalvo in Monferrato. He then arranged a matrilineal marriage for his youngest daughter with another Italian family. All his other daughters had already been married or betrothed.
With the return of the heir apparent and his family to Monferrato, Duke Giordano weighed in on marital arrangements for his grandchildren. With the aid of a brilliant Court Chancellor, relations with King Josselin of Burgundy were so improved that the young Lady Agnese, first-born daughter of the former rebel Lady Hemma of Geneva, was accepted as consort for Prince Sigismond Karling, third in line to the throne of Burgundy. In time, Duke Giordano forged other strategic alliances. Monferrato and Grisons were separated by the territory of the Count of Lombardy. Antonella, another grand-daughter, became the bride of the heir to that county. A third became the bride of the Duke of Gascogne in the kingdom of Aquitaine.
As useful or honourable as these marriages were, Duke Giordano became embittered over the fact that his Oriental relatives had chosen to distance themselves from their Italian cousins. Through the diplomatic efforts of his mother the Duchess Gabriella, the Byzantine Emperor Leon VII and King Davit III of Georgia were both nephews of the Duke, children of his sisters Theodora and Fausta. In spite of abundant correspondence, neither of these monarchs would consent to a union between any vassal of theirs and any of the Duke’s grandchildren.
In 953, Duchess Sophie passed away after a long illness. Duke Giordano soon exchanged vows with Princess Bérengère of the House Karling, a daughter of the King of Lotharingia. Nine years of marriage produced no offspring.
IV. Cultural Renaissance
Duke Giordano’s rule is universally credited with maintaining an advanced level of science in the kingdom of Italy. Students and spies were despatched to various centres of higher learning and returned with treatises and books found in no other Karling realm. The Courts of Castello Moncalvo, Castello Bellinzona in Grisons and Castello Luna in Genoa attracted not only bards and poets but also philosophers, architects and men of vision. Nor did the Church remain idle : within four years of the Dalmatian conquest, the province of Diadora had pledged allegiance to the Papacy.
Unlike the majority of his peers, the Duke neglected horsemanship and the skills associated with tournaments in favour of administrative acumen.
No doubt was it an instance of necessity being the mother of invention. When Duke Giordano died in December 961, few vassals in Italy could boast a demesne as disparate or vast as Duke Giordano’s. The provinces of Grisons, Genoa, Monferrato and Diadora (later known as Zadar) were his personal fiefs, while the Croatian provinces of Split and Zachlumia and were held by vassals. Vestiges of medieval Italian architecture, painting and sculpture in these territories bear witness to the impact of Torrechiavenna rule as early as one thousand years before our time.
~~~
From the Enciclopedia Italiana [Ed. Paradossi, Torino, 1885]
TORRECHIAVENNA, Giordano I, b. 890 in Monferrato, d. 961 in Monferrato.
Count of Monferrato, Count of Grisons, Count of Zadar, Count and Duke of Genoa, Duke of Dalmatia
III. Dynastic Affairs
The Duke’s only son, also named Giordano, became heir apparent from the moment of his birth. He was sent to Grisons to be brought up at the Court of his grandmother Duchess Gabriella. The young Giordano was married to Hemma of the House Welf. In 946 Hemma became Countess of Geneva, having inherited the title from her brother, Count Ruprecht. She and the young Giordano moved to a castle above the Bodensee that same year.
The succession of Geneva became a cause célèbre throughout the Alpine baronies, and in particular at the Court of King Josselin of Burgundy. In 939, Ruprecht, only son of Sir Leopold Welf of Geneva, orchestrated the assassination of his father and seized control of the county. In spite of unanimous condemnation of the crime by all his other vassals, King Josselin abstained from passing sentence on the usurper, with whom he was on excellent terms. Seven years later however, the usurper himself perished from a fall from the parapet of one of his castles.
Only recently has it come to light that Sir Ruprecht’s fall was no accident but the result of a plot set into motion by Duke Giordano. Courtiers at the time however were aware of an earlier attempt at poisoning the young lord. That plan had not succeeded. Historians speculate that the failure of this first attempt on Sir Ruprecht’s life gave rise to Sir Giordano’s epithet the Unready.
The presumption of foul play in the death of Sir Ruprecht infuriated King Josselin. He would have disputed the succession, but was in no position to make a fuss after his tacit approval of the murder of Sir Leopold. Relations between Lady Hemma and her liege lord deteriorated rapidly. Unfortunately for her claim, she surrounded herself with incompetent advisors. Only a year after her succession, Lady Hemma played into King Josselin’s hand by raising the banner of rebellion.
Lady Hemma’s insubordination was easily quashed. She had presumed too much of Duke Giordano’s protection. While the crime of parricide cried out for retribution, the sin of lèse-majesté could lay no claim on universal adhesion. Duke Giordano refused to countenance a war against a legitimate, although perfidious, overlord. Lady Hemma was imprisoned for a while by King Josselin, then released after being stripped of her title. Thus did the House Karling annex one more county into the Royal Demesne. The disinherited couple removed to Monferrato.
Another unfortunate accident, similar to the one suffered by Sir Ruprecht, occurred around this time. Some were quick to accuse Duke Giordano, for the victim had in fact been employed in the fabrication of a claim on Grisons. Although the incident is mentioned in several medieval chronicles, it is impossible to prove or disprove criminal involvement.
The turmoil over the Succession of Geneva did serve to underline one of the weaknesses of Duke Giordano’s rule : the fragility of the dynasty. There were several cousins and nephews to carry on the family name, but there was only one male heir in direct line.
Duke Giordano did seek to improve the family’s political situation in the first years of his reign. Less than a year after becoming Duke of Genoa, he moved the entire Court to Castello Moncalvo in Monferrato. He then arranged a matrilineal marriage for his youngest daughter with another Italian family. All his other daughters had already been married or betrothed.
With the return of the heir apparent and his family to Monferrato, Duke Giordano weighed in on marital arrangements for his grandchildren. With the aid of a brilliant Court Chancellor, relations with King Josselin of Burgundy were so improved that the young Lady Agnese, first-born daughter of the former rebel Lady Hemma of Geneva, was accepted as consort for Prince Sigismond Karling, third in line to the throne of Burgundy. In time, Duke Giordano forged other strategic alliances. Monferrato and Grisons were separated by the territory of the Count of Lombardy. Antonella, another grand-daughter, became the bride of the heir to that county. A third became the bride of the Duke of Gascogne in the kingdom of Aquitaine.
As useful or honourable as these marriages were, Duke Giordano became embittered over the fact that his Oriental relatives had chosen to distance themselves from their Italian cousins. Through the diplomatic efforts of his mother the Duchess Gabriella, the Byzantine Emperor Leon VII and King Davit III of Georgia were both nephews of the Duke, children of his sisters Theodora and Fausta. In spite of abundant correspondence, neither of these monarchs would consent to a union between any vassal of theirs and any of the Duke’s grandchildren.
In 953, Duchess Sophie passed away after a long illness. Duke Giordano soon exchanged vows with Princess Bérengère of the House Karling, a daughter of the King of Lotharingia. Nine years of marriage produced no offspring.
IV. Cultural Renaissance
Duke Giordano’s rule is universally credited with maintaining an advanced level of science in the kingdom of Italy. Students and spies were despatched to various centres of higher learning and returned with treatises and books found in no other Karling realm. The Courts of Castello Moncalvo, Castello Bellinzona in Grisons and Castello Luna in Genoa attracted not only bards and poets but also philosophers, architects and men of vision. Nor did the Church remain idle : within four years of the Dalmatian conquest, the province of Diadora had pledged allegiance to the Papacy.
Unlike the majority of his peers, the Duke neglected horsemanship and the skills associated with tournaments in favour of administrative acumen.
No doubt was it an instance of necessity being the mother of invention. When Duke Giordano died in December 961, few vassals in Italy could boast a demesne as disparate or vast as Duke Giordano’s. The provinces of Grisons, Genoa, Monferrato and Diadora (later known as Zadar) were his personal fiefs, while the Croatian provinces of Split and Zachlumia and were held by vassals. Vestiges of medieval Italian architecture, painting and sculpture in these territories bear witness to the impact of Torrechiavenna rule as early as one thousand years before our time.
~~~
- 1
Actually, nothing super spectacular, but a slow build-up to Greater Things.
For Giordano II though, I'm doing a 3rd-party narrative/role-play (see below).
THE MÉMOIRES OF GIULIO BONIFAZI
Giordano II Torrechiavenna, Duke of Genoa and Dalmatia, Kingdom of Italy
“Don’t be a stranger to your other family,” my mother whispered as she lay on her bed gasping for breath. “Uncle Giordano will always look after you.”
Those were the last words my mother said to me. I was only seven years old, too young to realise how unsettled my life was about to become. My father pulled me away and I was ushered out with my tutor. Mama died sometime during the night.
I believed what Mama told me just as firmly as she did. Uncle Giordano ended up not looking after me at all, but it wasn’t entirely his fault. Too many other people got in the way. Nevertheless, I managed to not lose touch with him or my cousins of Genoa. Thanks to them, I felt almost a part of some very exciting events in the history of the realm. That is why, when Grandfather Genoa, Mama’s father, passed away in my twenty-second year, I decided to start writing about events of my uncle’s life, and to record those of his successor. By writing about my uncle and my cousin, I could escape the soporific dreariness of my clerical life in Ancona and sail upon the waves of adventure conjured up by my kinsmen the Dukes of Genoa.
My mother died in the summer of 946. There had been some question of my being sent to my uncle, her brother Giordano in Genoa, for my education. A few weeks later, that idea was abandoned completely. The Count of Genève died unexpectedly, Uncle Giordano’s wife, Aunt Hemma, became Countess of Genève, but there were rumours that Grandfather Genoa had played a hand in the succession. Then Aunt Hemma became a rebel and was thrown into the dungeon of King Josselin of Burgundy before being allowed to go into exile at my grandfather’s Court. Meanwhile, my other grandfather died, and Father had just become Count of Ancona.
“You’re not going to be tutored at the Court of a suspected assassin,” Father said to me. In other words, Grandfather Genoa wasn’t good enough for us Bonifazi. He didn’t know that I had overheard him saying during my grandfather’s funerary banquet that he thought Grandfather Genoa had balls because he took care of a lowlife Count who had murdered his own father. It was hard to believe anything my father said after that.
Anyway, the province of Ancona had a new liege lord after our own king died. We were now part of the Kingdom of Lotharingia. Genoa was in the Kingdom of Italy. I liked my grandfather’s castle high up in the Alps, but going to Grisons or to Monferrato became complicated. Luckily, Uncle Giordano spent much time in his province of Zadar which was just half a day away by ship, across the Adriatic Sea. That’s where we were allowed to visit him and my cousins. Those visits occurred during christenings or other such family events. It was also easier for him there to ignore his liege lord who keep wanting to turn all us Italians into Frankish peasants.
Uncle Giordano was forty-seven years old when he became Duke of Genoa and Duke of Dalmatia. It was a few days before Christmas, in the Year of Grace 961. He had three sons -- Antonio, Giordano and Gaspare -- and three daughters -- Agnese, Antonella and Albina. Cousin Antonio became heir apparent to half of my uncle’s titles. I thought that automatically made him someone special. I soon learned that such was not the case. He remained the lazy, unintelligent bore he always had been. Cousin Giordano was set to inherit the Duchy of Dalmatia, and Cousin Gaspare one county. Cousins Agnese, Antonella and Albina were like me : they would inherit nothing from their father.
Uncle Giordano had something of a wrothful nature and a definite cruel streak. The former got him appointed Commander for the King of Italy’s troops. The latter caused simple folk to complain and occasionally cause problems for the landed gentry.
Less than a year after becoming Duke of Genoa, Uncle Giordano became the object of gossip all over Italy. There were two reasons for that. First, the Countess Ida of Bourbon made more and more conspicuous visits to Monferrato, giving rise to rumours that she and my uncle were having an affair -- which they were not. Second, his daughter Agnese was ungraciously divorced by her husband, Prince Sigismond of Burgundy. She went back home to Monferrato. Prince Sigismond preferred chastity to my cousin Agnese, so he became a Knight Hospitalier. But Uncle Giordano surprised everyone by negotiating the marriage of Agnese with Prince Sigismond’s younger brother Hélie. Not only did he rescue Cousin Agnese from perpetual shame and mockery, but he managed to keep his alliance with King Josselin of Burgundy intact.
Affairs of the heart were not Uncle Giordano’s main preoccupation. He wanted to continue what his father and his grandmother had done before him : conquer territory in Croatia. He had his Chancellor fabricate a claim on the province of Varazdin. In 963, with the aid of Cousin Antonella’s husband the Count of Lombardy, he took his fighting men across the Adriatic to wage war. I managed to sail across to Zadar to be near the fighting. Thus did I become a witness to the surrender of Varazdin after a single battle. Uncle Giordano’s levies annihilated the Count of Varazdin’s fighting force. He then created a new vassal for that province, the first Croatian to become vassal to an Italian Duke.
Father tried to look unimpressed when I returned to Ancona and told everyone all about it. It was easy to forgive him however because our own Casa Bonifazi was going through a rough period. Family relations were strained. One of Father’s cousins, Guilhem, Duke of Tuscany, was making war on his nephew Ascanio for the province of Lucca. Early in 964 he evicted Ascanio and annexed his province. Lucca sits on Genoa’s eastern border. Uncle Giordano seized his chance and sent an embassy to the usurper. The result : the betrothal of Cousin Giordano to my kinswoman Denise, who was now heiress to Lucca. They were married in the spring of the following year, 965, in Zadar, where the castle township was rapidly becoming a marvel of new architecture under the supervision of one of Uncle Giordano’s famed Master Builders.
Father attended the wedding as well. It would have been grossly discourteous not to be present at this strengthening of the bonds between the Casa Bonifazi and the Casa Torrechiavenna.
A few months later, it was announced that Cousin Giordano had been appointed Regent of Genoa. The reason for this appointment was Uncle Giordano’s decision to make a pilgrimage to that most holy place, the tomb of Saint James the Apostle in Santiago de Compostella.
“I shall be away for a year or so,” I informed my father. “To accompany Uncle Giordano to Compostella.”
“What makes you think he wants you tagging along ?”
“He invited me and I have accepted.”
“For heaven’s sake, you’ll be gone for ages !”
“I thought you might appreciate it if I brought some of your things along -- some clothes, some swords, some images -- to be placed on the Apostle’s tomb so that he can bless them.”
Father’s eyes lit up immediately. I knew he would like my plan.
The pilgrimage to Compostella revealed to me Uncle Giordano’s profoundly pious character. On one occasion, as were making our way to Genoa to board one of my uncle’s ships, he generously opened his purse in some isolated, backward village to pay for the construction of a sturdy stone bridge. On board the ship bound for Galicia, he kept mostly to himself, refraining from the company of the rowdier sailors with their bawdy talk, incessant gambling and other dirty habits. We encountered one rather violent storm on the approach to Gibraltar, but Uncle Giordano made an indelible impression on the entire crew when he seemingly prayed the storm away. Most of all though, he was just contriving to be left entirely alone.
In Santiago itself, I lost count of the number of hours that Uncle Giordano spent on his knees in silent adoration, or attending the plainchant services of the monks. In the meantime, I had ample opportunity to haggle with all kinds of peddlers, arrange for Father’s things to spend a night in the Apostle’s tomb, and make my own private devotions.
We stayed one week in Compostella. On the return voyage -- there was a ship that would take us to Genoa after stopping along the way in Cadiz, Barcelona and Nice -- my thoughts focused on my family in Ancona, my Genoese cousins and whether much, if anything, had changed during our absence.
Giordano II Torrechiavenna, Duke of Genoa and Dalmatia, Kingdom of Italy
“Don’t be a stranger to your other family,” my mother whispered as she lay on her bed gasping for breath. “Uncle Giordano will always look after you.”
Those were the last words my mother said to me. I was only seven years old, too young to realise how unsettled my life was about to become. My father pulled me away and I was ushered out with my tutor. Mama died sometime during the night.
I believed what Mama told me just as firmly as she did. Uncle Giordano ended up not looking after me at all, but it wasn’t entirely his fault. Too many other people got in the way. Nevertheless, I managed to not lose touch with him or my cousins of Genoa. Thanks to them, I felt almost a part of some very exciting events in the history of the realm. That is why, when Grandfather Genoa, Mama’s father, passed away in my twenty-second year, I decided to start writing about events of my uncle’s life, and to record those of his successor. By writing about my uncle and my cousin, I could escape the soporific dreariness of my clerical life in Ancona and sail upon the waves of adventure conjured up by my kinsmen the Dukes of Genoa.
My mother died in the summer of 946. There had been some question of my being sent to my uncle, her brother Giordano in Genoa, for my education. A few weeks later, that idea was abandoned completely. The Count of Genève died unexpectedly, Uncle Giordano’s wife, Aunt Hemma, became Countess of Genève, but there were rumours that Grandfather Genoa had played a hand in the succession. Then Aunt Hemma became a rebel and was thrown into the dungeon of King Josselin of Burgundy before being allowed to go into exile at my grandfather’s Court. Meanwhile, my other grandfather died, and Father had just become Count of Ancona.
“You’re not going to be tutored at the Court of a suspected assassin,” Father said to me. In other words, Grandfather Genoa wasn’t good enough for us Bonifazi. He didn’t know that I had overheard him saying during my grandfather’s funerary banquet that he thought Grandfather Genoa had balls because he took care of a lowlife Count who had murdered his own father. It was hard to believe anything my father said after that.
Anyway, the province of Ancona had a new liege lord after our own king died. We were now part of the Kingdom of Lotharingia. Genoa was in the Kingdom of Italy. I liked my grandfather’s castle high up in the Alps, but going to Grisons or to Monferrato became complicated. Luckily, Uncle Giordano spent much time in his province of Zadar which was just half a day away by ship, across the Adriatic Sea. That’s where we were allowed to visit him and my cousins. Those visits occurred during christenings or other such family events. It was also easier for him there to ignore his liege lord who keep wanting to turn all us Italians into Frankish peasants.
Uncle Giordano was forty-seven years old when he became Duke of Genoa and Duke of Dalmatia. It was a few days before Christmas, in the Year of Grace 961. He had three sons -- Antonio, Giordano and Gaspare -- and three daughters -- Agnese, Antonella and Albina. Cousin Antonio became heir apparent to half of my uncle’s titles. I thought that automatically made him someone special. I soon learned that such was not the case. He remained the lazy, unintelligent bore he always had been. Cousin Giordano was set to inherit the Duchy of Dalmatia, and Cousin Gaspare one county. Cousins Agnese, Antonella and Albina were like me : they would inherit nothing from their father.
Uncle Giordano had something of a wrothful nature and a definite cruel streak. The former got him appointed Commander for the King of Italy’s troops. The latter caused simple folk to complain and occasionally cause problems for the landed gentry.
Less than a year after becoming Duke of Genoa, Uncle Giordano became the object of gossip all over Italy. There were two reasons for that. First, the Countess Ida of Bourbon made more and more conspicuous visits to Monferrato, giving rise to rumours that she and my uncle were having an affair -- which they were not. Second, his daughter Agnese was ungraciously divorced by her husband, Prince Sigismond of Burgundy. She went back home to Monferrato. Prince Sigismond preferred chastity to my cousin Agnese, so he became a Knight Hospitalier. But Uncle Giordano surprised everyone by negotiating the marriage of Agnese with Prince Sigismond’s younger brother Hélie. Not only did he rescue Cousin Agnese from perpetual shame and mockery, but he managed to keep his alliance with King Josselin of Burgundy intact.
Affairs of the heart were not Uncle Giordano’s main preoccupation. He wanted to continue what his father and his grandmother had done before him : conquer territory in Croatia. He had his Chancellor fabricate a claim on the province of Varazdin. In 963, with the aid of Cousin Antonella’s husband the Count of Lombardy, he took his fighting men across the Adriatic to wage war. I managed to sail across to Zadar to be near the fighting. Thus did I become a witness to the surrender of Varazdin after a single battle. Uncle Giordano’s levies annihilated the Count of Varazdin’s fighting force. He then created a new vassal for that province, the first Croatian to become vassal to an Italian Duke.
Father tried to look unimpressed when I returned to Ancona and told everyone all about it. It was easy to forgive him however because our own Casa Bonifazi was going through a rough period. Family relations were strained. One of Father’s cousins, Guilhem, Duke of Tuscany, was making war on his nephew Ascanio for the province of Lucca. Early in 964 he evicted Ascanio and annexed his province. Lucca sits on Genoa’s eastern border. Uncle Giordano seized his chance and sent an embassy to the usurper. The result : the betrothal of Cousin Giordano to my kinswoman Denise, who was now heiress to Lucca. They were married in the spring of the following year, 965, in Zadar, where the castle township was rapidly becoming a marvel of new architecture under the supervision of one of Uncle Giordano’s famed Master Builders.
Father attended the wedding as well. It would have been grossly discourteous not to be present at this strengthening of the bonds between the Casa Bonifazi and the Casa Torrechiavenna.
A few months later, it was announced that Cousin Giordano had been appointed Regent of Genoa. The reason for this appointment was Uncle Giordano’s decision to make a pilgrimage to that most holy place, the tomb of Saint James the Apostle in Santiago de Compostella.
“I shall be away for a year or so,” I informed my father. “To accompany Uncle Giordano to Compostella.”
“What makes you think he wants you tagging along ?”
“He invited me and I have accepted.”
“For heaven’s sake, you’ll be gone for ages !”
“I thought you might appreciate it if I brought some of your things along -- some clothes, some swords, some images -- to be placed on the Apostle’s tomb so that he can bless them.”
Father’s eyes lit up immediately. I knew he would like my plan.
The pilgrimage to Compostella revealed to me Uncle Giordano’s profoundly pious character. On one occasion, as were making our way to Genoa to board one of my uncle’s ships, he generously opened his purse in some isolated, backward village to pay for the construction of a sturdy stone bridge. On board the ship bound for Galicia, he kept mostly to himself, refraining from the company of the rowdier sailors with their bawdy talk, incessant gambling and other dirty habits. We encountered one rather violent storm on the approach to Gibraltar, but Uncle Giordano made an indelible impression on the entire crew when he seemingly prayed the storm away. Most of all though, he was just contriving to be left entirely alone.
In Santiago itself, I lost count of the number of hours that Uncle Giordano spent on his knees in silent adoration, or attending the plainchant services of the monks. In the meantime, I had ample opportunity to haggle with all kinds of peddlers, arrange for Father’s things to spend a night in the Apostle’s tomb, and make my own private devotions.
We stayed one week in Compostella. On the return voyage -- there was a ship that would take us to Genoa after stopping along the way in Cadiz, Barcelona and Nice -- my thoughts focused on my family in Ancona, my Genoese cousins and whether much, if anything, had changed during our absence.
~~~
- 1
THE MÉMOIRES OF GIULIO BONIFAZI
Giordano II Torrechiavenna, Duke of Genoa and Dalmatia, Kingdom of Italy (continued)
The first thing we learned upon our return from the pilgrimage to Compostella was that my cousin Antonio and his wife Stefania had, just ten weeks before, been blessed with the birth of a daughter named Martina. She was Uncle Giordano’s second grandchild, three years younger than her brother Leopoldo. On a similar note, we could see that my kinswoman Denise was heavy with child. Indeed, within that very week, she was delivered of her first-born. It was a boy. He was christened at once, and Cousin Giordano named him Niccolò.
Uncle Giordano’s Spymaster, who happened to be his eldest grand-nephew, was also recently returned to Court after a lengthy absence. He had travelled almost as far as Jason and the Argonauts -- to Trapezous on the Black Sea ; he had slipped incognito into the lands of the Sultan of Egypt -- to Jerusalem and Quena. All for the sake of bringing back parchments in Arabic and Greek, founts of mathematical, architectural and poetical treatises over which Uncle Giordano’s scholars waxed ecstatic and rushed to translate into Latin.
Even his Court Chaplain brought welcome news in the form of yet another learned philosopher who desired nothing more than to serve His Grace of Genoa. Uncle Giordano offered him employment in Zadar. The man accepted without demur.
The only sombre note came from the Lord Chancellor. He reported that a vassal of the King of Hungary had made war and conquered the Croatian province of Krizevci.
The exploit of having successfully paid homage to Saint James in far-off Compostella increased Uncle Giordano’s fame and prestige a hundredfold. It also inspired a zealous monk from the nearby Benedictine Abbey of Santa Maria delle Grazie to make an audacious request. The Casa Torrechiavenna had in its possession a holy relic, a gift from the king. Would it not behoove a great pilgrim such as the Duke -- and be pleasing to all the Holy Church -- if that relic were to find a new home where everyone could benefit from its sanctity and grace ?
Uncle Giordano acceded to the monk’s request.
The entire abbey, and a hundred more clerics from all over Uncle Giordano’s demesne, pressed into Genoa’s Cathedral in early September for a Te Deum. Afterwards, the whole city was treated to a serving of twelve roast boar and twelve vats of wine. Uncle Giordano, however, did not make an appearance. He dined in private with a Papal Legate who had come especially from Rome to inform him of the Pope’s extreme satisfaction with Uncle Giordano’s munificent public gesture.
“I pray My Lord’s indulgence if I say it was no small sacrifice,” my uncle said to the legate. “A ducal House needs heaven’s graces as much as peasants do.”
“Infinitely better to give than to receive,” the legate shot back.
“Then I rejoice, My Lord, for there is one small thing I would implore His Holiness to give to me, seeing that I have given so much to the Church.”
Uncle Giordano had shared with me his intention of asking a boon from the Pope in exchange for giving up the relic. He had wanted my opinion on his chances of success. I could only reply that one could never be sure of a Pope’s reply.
He went ahead and asked. What he desired was another Croatian province. Rama, namely.
The request infuriated the Pope, but it was granted nonetheless.
Genoa immediately began preparing for another Croatian campaign. What no one expected was that the Royal Karlings would choose the same time to plunge us all into war.
It began in the spring of 967 between Aquitaine and West Francia. Aquitaine wanted all the western territories reunited under one crown. King Hélie of Italy declined to take sides. King Josselin of Burgundy sided with his brother in West Francia. My own liege lord -- Lotharingia -- sided with Aquitaine. For that reason I was commanded to quit Italy and return home.
I managed to delay a fortnight more in Genoa. Tragedy had struck my uncle’s family. Cousin Antonella, Countess of Lombardy, died giving birth to a daughter. It was to be a year of sorrows for Uncle Giordano. Six months later, Cousin Albina, Duchess of Gascogne, lost her husband to fever.
Tragedy came to us too. No one in the family died suddenly. Our king, on the other hand, fell on the field of battle, together with his brother Josselin of Burgundy. The repercussions went far beyond personal loss.
At the age of eight years, Crown Prince Benoît became King of Lotharingia under a regency. The succession provoked much murmur and displeasure because he was the result of one of our king’s adulterous adventures, legitimized by Royal Decree. King Hélie chose to disregard his brother’s wishes. He declared war on us for the crown of Lotharingia towards the end of the summer. He was joined by two other Karling princes -- the Duke of Baden and Josselin II, the new king of Burgundy -- and two foreign princes.
As Commander of the King’s Militia in Italy, Uncle Giordano was now officially our enemy. Being however engaged in his own war of conquest, of which his liege lord approved, he managed to elude active participation in the war on little Benoît. He moved his Court to the province of Zadar, the better to oversee the Croatian campaign.
It was a virtual replay of the conquest of Varazdin. Genoa outnumbered Rama four to one. One battle and one castle’s defenses breached were all that was required. Rama capitulated. The failure of the Duke of Lesser Poland, allied with the liege lord of Rama, to arrive in time to join battle, lent a particularly bitter taste to the Croatian lord’s loss.
Not as bitter was the defeat of our bastard-king Benoît. Hélie of Italy quickly routed our meagre fighting force. Benoît surrendered after just thirteen months of war. Hélie assumed the crown and immediately switched titles : Lotharingia absorbed Italy, not the other way around. As for Benoît, he was suffered to retain the duchy of Apulia as vassal.
West Francia and Aquitaine continued to lay siege to each other. No other Karlings joined. In unified Lotharingia and Italy, family relations could resume.
“What nonsense is this about you going to Zadar ?” my father exclaimed one afternoon. “What did that messenger want ?”
“He delivered an invitation. Our kinswoman Denise is hosting a birthday banquet for her nephew and her son.”
“What’s that to do with you ?”
“With us, Father. She’s kin. She will one day be Countess of Lucca.”
“We’ll see about that,” said Father obscurely.
“Cousin Antonio hasn’t seen you since Denise’s wedding. I think you should do everything in your power to remain on cordial terms with the future Duke of Genoa.”
“I wish you would see about cordial terms with your own brother, the future Count of Ancona,” Father grumbled.
“We’ll see about that.”
Giordano II Torrechiavenna, Duke of Genoa and Dalmatia, Kingdom of Italy (continued)
The first thing we learned upon our return from the pilgrimage to Compostella was that my cousin Antonio and his wife Stefania had, just ten weeks before, been blessed with the birth of a daughter named Martina. She was Uncle Giordano’s second grandchild, three years younger than her brother Leopoldo. On a similar note, we could see that my kinswoman Denise was heavy with child. Indeed, within that very week, she was delivered of her first-born. It was a boy. He was christened at once, and Cousin Giordano named him Niccolò.
Uncle Giordano’s Spymaster, who happened to be his eldest grand-nephew, was also recently returned to Court after a lengthy absence. He had travelled almost as far as Jason and the Argonauts -- to Trapezous on the Black Sea ; he had slipped incognito into the lands of the Sultan of Egypt -- to Jerusalem and Quena. All for the sake of bringing back parchments in Arabic and Greek, founts of mathematical, architectural and poetical treatises over which Uncle Giordano’s scholars waxed ecstatic and rushed to translate into Latin.
Even his Court Chaplain brought welcome news in the form of yet another learned philosopher who desired nothing more than to serve His Grace of Genoa. Uncle Giordano offered him employment in Zadar. The man accepted without demur.
The only sombre note came from the Lord Chancellor. He reported that a vassal of the King of Hungary had made war and conquered the Croatian province of Krizevci.
The exploit of having successfully paid homage to Saint James in far-off Compostella increased Uncle Giordano’s fame and prestige a hundredfold. It also inspired a zealous monk from the nearby Benedictine Abbey of Santa Maria delle Grazie to make an audacious request. The Casa Torrechiavenna had in its possession a holy relic, a gift from the king. Would it not behoove a great pilgrim such as the Duke -- and be pleasing to all the Holy Church -- if that relic were to find a new home where everyone could benefit from its sanctity and grace ?
Uncle Giordano acceded to the monk’s request.
The entire abbey, and a hundred more clerics from all over Uncle Giordano’s demesne, pressed into Genoa’s Cathedral in early September for a Te Deum. Afterwards, the whole city was treated to a serving of twelve roast boar and twelve vats of wine. Uncle Giordano, however, did not make an appearance. He dined in private with a Papal Legate who had come especially from Rome to inform him of the Pope’s extreme satisfaction with Uncle Giordano’s munificent public gesture.
“I pray My Lord’s indulgence if I say it was no small sacrifice,” my uncle said to the legate. “A ducal House needs heaven’s graces as much as peasants do.”
“Infinitely better to give than to receive,” the legate shot back.
“Then I rejoice, My Lord, for there is one small thing I would implore His Holiness to give to me, seeing that I have given so much to the Church.”
Uncle Giordano had shared with me his intention of asking a boon from the Pope in exchange for giving up the relic. He had wanted my opinion on his chances of success. I could only reply that one could never be sure of a Pope’s reply.
He went ahead and asked. What he desired was another Croatian province. Rama, namely.
The request infuriated the Pope, but it was granted nonetheless.
Genoa immediately began preparing for another Croatian campaign. What no one expected was that the Royal Karlings would choose the same time to plunge us all into war.
It began in the spring of 967 between Aquitaine and West Francia. Aquitaine wanted all the western territories reunited under one crown. King Hélie of Italy declined to take sides. King Josselin of Burgundy sided with his brother in West Francia. My own liege lord -- Lotharingia -- sided with Aquitaine. For that reason I was commanded to quit Italy and return home.
I managed to delay a fortnight more in Genoa. Tragedy had struck my uncle’s family. Cousin Antonella, Countess of Lombardy, died giving birth to a daughter. It was to be a year of sorrows for Uncle Giordano. Six months later, Cousin Albina, Duchess of Gascogne, lost her husband to fever.
Tragedy came to us too. No one in the family died suddenly. Our king, on the other hand, fell on the field of battle, together with his brother Josselin of Burgundy. The repercussions went far beyond personal loss.
At the age of eight years, Crown Prince Benoît became King of Lotharingia under a regency. The succession provoked much murmur and displeasure because he was the result of one of our king’s adulterous adventures, legitimized by Royal Decree. King Hélie chose to disregard his brother’s wishes. He declared war on us for the crown of Lotharingia towards the end of the summer. He was joined by two other Karling princes -- the Duke of Baden and Josselin II, the new king of Burgundy -- and two foreign princes.
As Commander of the King’s Militia in Italy, Uncle Giordano was now officially our enemy. Being however engaged in his own war of conquest, of which his liege lord approved, he managed to elude active participation in the war on little Benoît. He moved his Court to the province of Zadar, the better to oversee the Croatian campaign.
It was a virtual replay of the conquest of Varazdin. Genoa outnumbered Rama four to one. One battle and one castle’s defenses breached were all that was required. Rama capitulated. The failure of the Duke of Lesser Poland, allied with the liege lord of Rama, to arrive in time to join battle, lent a particularly bitter taste to the Croatian lord’s loss.
Not as bitter was the defeat of our bastard-king Benoît. Hélie of Italy quickly routed our meagre fighting force. Benoît surrendered after just thirteen months of war. Hélie assumed the crown and immediately switched titles : Lotharingia absorbed Italy, not the other way around. As for Benoît, he was suffered to retain the duchy of Apulia as vassal.
West Francia and Aquitaine continued to lay siege to each other. No other Karlings joined. In unified Lotharingia and Italy, family relations could resume.
“What nonsense is this about you going to Zadar ?” my father exclaimed one afternoon. “What did that messenger want ?”
“He delivered an invitation. Our kinswoman Denise is hosting a birthday banquet for her nephew and her son.”
“What’s that to do with you ?”
“With us, Father. She’s kin. She will one day be Countess of Lucca.”
“We’ll see about that,” said Father obscurely.
“Cousin Antonio hasn’t seen you since Denise’s wedding. I think you should do everything in your power to remain on cordial terms with the future Duke of Genoa.”
“I wish you would see about cordial terms with your own brother, the future Count of Ancona,” Father grumbled.
“We’ll see about that.”
~~~
- 1
THE MÉMOIRES OF GIULIO BONIFAZI
Giordano II Torrechiavenna, Duke of Genoa and Dalmatia, Kingdom of Italy (continued)
It was another three years before I went back to spend any time at Uncle Giordano’s court. Father tried to liven up his own, but many preferred the ostentatious luxury of our kinsman the Duke of Tuscany. I persuaded him to include my cousins in his list of welcome nobles. Cousin Giordano and kinswoman Denise did stay with us one Easter. They sailed over from Zadar with Cousin Gaspare, not yet come of age. I was given a letter in which Uncle Giordano hinted at getting his youngest son betrothed to a suitable Italian maid.
His eldest, Cousin Antonio, caused him greater concern. Antonio breathed indolence and tedium. In the two wars of conquest his father had waged, he had taken little interest and shown even less prowess in combat. Uncle Giordano swallowed his pride and obliged Antonio — already a grown man — to practise his swordsmanship with him and with other knights. The exercises resulted in Uncle Giordano gaining himself even more expertise with horse and sword.
Cousin Anotonio learned nothing.
Zadar was growing so quickly that it soon turned into one of the busiest ports on the Adriatic, as large almost as Ancona. The treasury could barely keep up with expenses, and the Croatian-Italian population became resentful and disruptive for commerce. Uncle Giordano met with an assembly of burghers. Crisis was averted. But Uncle Giordano needed something to cool tempers in Zadar.
Early in 971, Pope Clemens II died. The new Pope, Callistus II, was elected within the month. Uncle Giordano invited him to Zadar to consecrate a new chapel in the Cathedral. A legate was sent in his stead.
Uncle Giordano seized the opportunity to solicit another favour from Rome, of the same nature as the one requested previously. To wit : a claim to another Croatian province, Zagreb. He made his disappointment and utter incomprehension known when, less than a fortnight later, the Pope declined to give him satisfaction.
“It matters not, I shall obtain my claim on Zagreb with neither blessing nor hindrance from Rome !” my uncle thundered. “Pope or no, he shall come to realise his foolishness when he sees he has no place in my inevitable triumph.”
“It may be that some people in Rome fear you grow too powerful,” I observed.
“Who would think that ?” he asked.
“Anyone who might realise that your control over Zadar, Split, Zachlumia, Varazdin and Rama already makes you ipso facto lord of half of all Croatia.”
As I suspected, Uncle Giordano had not taken the full measure of his hegemony in the Croatian territories.
He duly despatched his Lord Chancellor to Zagreb. In spite of all efforts at discretion, the whereabouts of his minister quickly became common knowledge all over Italy, starting with King Hélie and his Court.
It happened that all debate, conjecture, analysis and gossip about Uncle Giordano’s ambitions in Croatia ceased abruptly in the spring of that year. In May, Cousin Gaspare, come of age only a year before, succumbed to pneumonia. Uncle Giordano’s grieving induced him to retire from all connection with society not less than three months.
This sad event was somewhat tempered by the birth of a second daughter to Cousin Antonio later in the year. But Uncle Giordano had begun to give much thought to the succession. He took to the road, visiting his duchies and provinces, fulfilling his role as chief justice of his demesne. Less overtly, he was also consulting his vassals on the subject of certain laws.
In January 972, he published a decree that spelt out the terms of a slightly more centralised mode of governance. At the same time, he caused a stir by proclaiming that he was reestablishing the custom, first promulgated by Ermenulfo of Grisons, founder of the Casa Torrechiavenna, of Elective Monarchy.
Cousin Antonio kicked up a fuss. In all honesty however, I could see that he was inwardly relieved that someone other than himself might possibly be called upon to take over his father’s responsibilities. His brother Giordano, for instance. During the length of his Regency, whilst Uncle Giordano had journeyed to Compostella, none had found fault with Cousin Giordano’s stewardship.
Shortly afterwards, Croatia suddenly shot once again to the fore of courtly conversation. It began with the arrival in Zadar of an emissary from none other than the Emperor of Constantinople. Uncle Giordano and Emperor Leo VII were related in that both were grandsons of the famous Duchess Gabriella of Genoa. But the business at hand had nothing to do with family niceties. The Emperor considered himself to be the de jure sovereign of all Croatian provinces. As such, he considered all de facto holders of Croatian titles to be his potential vassals. The emissary had come merely to inform Uncle Giordano of new decrees promulgated throughout the Byzantine Empire and which therefore concerned all his vassals, including potential ones.
Whilst these laws changed nothing in Uncle Giordano’s territories, the imperial emissary’s visit provoked a minor tempest at King Hélie’s Court. One other Italian noble, the Duke of Friuli of the powerful Casa Supponidi, held the title to a Croatian province — namely, Veglia. Between these two vassals of our king, more than half of all Croatian provinces were under the crown of Lotharingia-Italy. In March 972, the king exercised his feudal privilege and assumed for himself the title of King of Croatia.
That was not all. Word soon spread that the Royal Chancellor was in Zagreb. Nothing more was made public, but we all assumed that the king was preparing to annex that province. Aquitaine assumed the same thing. The war that had been occupying the two Karling princes in the west promptly ended with an agreement to a truce. There could be no doubt that King Hélie’s triple crown inspired more consternation than dynastic vainglory amongst his kin.
The following year, that assumption turned into quasi certainty when new Commanders of the Royal Militia were appointed. Uncle Giordano accepted that very same honour. Then, in a curious circumstance of both prestige and embarrassment, Uncle Giordano’s Chancellor returned to Zadar with a claim on Zagreb.
Uncle Giordano had been preparing for precisely this development. Recruits had joined his ranks to swell his fighting force, notably in the cavalry. He could have declared war to press his claim had it not been for the fact that King Hélie had joined a war to help his ally the King of Bulgaria. A portion of Uncle Giordano’s fighting force was taking part in that conflict. Uncle Giordano decided to wait until he could call up all his men before unleashing them on Zagreb.
In the summer of 974, Uncle Giordano took seriously ill. His physicians insisted that he confine himself to bed. He responded by defying them completely. At the age of sixty, he donned his armour and led a portion of the king’s fighting men in the Bulgarian War. However, he took the precaution of casting his vote for his successor. He chose not Cousin Antonio his first-born, but Cousin Giordano. Three of the four other Electors of Genoa followed suit.
Uncle Giordano remained in the field until the middle of December, fever notwithstanding. It was tragedy that brought him home. On the fifteenth of that month, Cousin Agnese, a favourite at the court of her husband Prince Hélie of Burgundy, died giving birth to her third child.
Uncle Giordano confined himself to bed at last. The fever broke at the end of January. But he had lost the better part of his strength and willpower. The claim to Zagreb got lost under a sea of other documents. He ceased to appear in public.
The lustre of life at Zadar faded. Kinswoman Denise found herself with child and gave birth to a daughter in September 975. I was invited to the christening. By then, Uncle Giordano could scarcely stand on his feet. He passed away peacefully three weeks later.
At home in Ancona, everyone seemed surprised at the depth of my sorrow when Uncle Giordano died. Looking back, I believe that my sorrow stemmed from his being not only my mother’s brother, but the one whom she had hoped would become my mentor and tutor. He was thus a link to my mother’s dying wish, and to her. Perhaps I grieved for her again when Uncle Giordano died.
Cousin Giordano understood none of this. Having something of a cynical streak, he also held in somewhat low esteem my standing as cleric and Court Chaplain of Ancona. But blood counted for much in his eyes. He valued the fact that we were doubly related : his father and my mother were brother and sister, whilst his wife and myself shared common ancestors. Nor could he guess how deeply his spontaneous attempt at consolation moved me.
“Thou art part of the family. Roof and board shall be thine whenever and as long as thou shouldst wish. Wait not for further invitation. Be not be a stranger.”
~~~
Giordano II Torrechiavenna, Duke of Genoa and Dalmatia, Kingdom of Italy (continued)
It was another three years before I went back to spend any time at Uncle Giordano’s court. Father tried to liven up his own, but many preferred the ostentatious luxury of our kinsman the Duke of Tuscany. I persuaded him to include my cousins in his list of welcome nobles. Cousin Giordano and kinswoman Denise did stay with us one Easter. They sailed over from Zadar with Cousin Gaspare, not yet come of age. I was given a letter in which Uncle Giordano hinted at getting his youngest son betrothed to a suitable Italian maid.
His eldest, Cousin Antonio, caused him greater concern. Antonio breathed indolence and tedium. In the two wars of conquest his father had waged, he had taken little interest and shown even less prowess in combat. Uncle Giordano swallowed his pride and obliged Antonio — already a grown man — to practise his swordsmanship with him and with other knights. The exercises resulted in Uncle Giordano gaining himself even more expertise with horse and sword.
Cousin Anotonio learned nothing.
Zadar was growing so quickly that it soon turned into one of the busiest ports on the Adriatic, as large almost as Ancona. The treasury could barely keep up with expenses, and the Croatian-Italian population became resentful and disruptive for commerce. Uncle Giordano met with an assembly of burghers. Crisis was averted. But Uncle Giordano needed something to cool tempers in Zadar.
Early in 971, Pope Clemens II died. The new Pope, Callistus II, was elected within the month. Uncle Giordano invited him to Zadar to consecrate a new chapel in the Cathedral. A legate was sent in his stead.
Uncle Giordano seized the opportunity to solicit another favour from Rome, of the same nature as the one requested previously. To wit : a claim to another Croatian province, Zagreb. He made his disappointment and utter incomprehension known when, less than a fortnight later, the Pope declined to give him satisfaction.
“It matters not, I shall obtain my claim on Zagreb with neither blessing nor hindrance from Rome !” my uncle thundered. “Pope or no, he shall come to realise his foolishness when he sees he has no place in my inevitable triumph.”
“It may be that some people in Rome fear you grow too powerful,” I observed.
“Who would think that ?” he asked.
“Anyone who might realise that your control over Zadar, Split, Zachlumia, Varazdin and Rama already makes you ipso facto lord of half of all Croatia.”
As I suspected, Uncle Giordano had not taken the full measure of his hegemony in the Croatian territories.
He duly despatched his Lord Chancellor to Zagreb. In spite of all efforts at discretion, the whereabouts of his minister quickly became common knowledge all over Italy, starting with King Hélie and his Court.
It happened that all debate, conjecture, analysis and gossip about Uncle Giordano’s ambitions in Croatia ceased abruptly in the spring of that year. In May, Cousin Gaspare, come of age only a year before, succumbed to pneumonia. Uncle Giordano’s grieving induced him to retire from all connection with society not less than three months.
This sad event was somewhat tempered by the birth of a second daughter to Cousin Antonio later in the year. But Uncle Giordano had begun to give much thought to the succession. He took to the road, visiting his duchies and provinces, fulfilling his role as chief justice of his demesne. Less overtly, he was also consulting his vassals on the subject of certain laws.
In January 972, he published a decree that spelt out the terms of a slightly more centralised mode of governance. At the same time, he caused a stir by proclaiming that he was reestablishing the custom, first promulgated by Ermenulfo of Grisons, founder of the Casa Torrechiavenna, of Elective Monarchy.
Cousin Antonio kicked up a fuss. In all honesty however, I could see that he was inwardly relieved that someone other than himself might possibly be called upon to take over his father’s responsibilities. His brother Giordano, for instance. During the length of his Regency, whilst Uncle Giordano had journeyed to Compostella, none had found fault with Cousin Giordano’s stewardship.
Shortly afterwards, Croatia suddenly shot once again to the fore of courtly conversation. It began with the arrival in Zadar of an emissary from none other than the Emperor of Constantinople. Uncle Giordano and Emperor Leo VII were related in that both were grandsons of the famous Duchess Gabriella of Genoa. But the business at hand had nothing to do with family niceties. The Emperor considered himself to be the de jure sovereign of all Croatian provinces. As such, he considered all de facto holders of Croatian titles to be his potential vassals. The emissary had come merely to inform Uncle Giordano of new decrees promulgated throughout the Byzantine Empire and which therefore concerned all his vassals, including potential ones.
Whilst these laws changed nothing in Uncle Giordano’s territories, the imperial emissary’s visit provoked a minor tempest at King Hélie’s Court. One other Italian noble, the Duke of Friuli of the powerful Casa Supponidi, held the title to a Croatian province — namely, Veglia. Between these two vassals of our king, more than half of all Croatian provinces were under the crown of Lotharingia-Italy. In March 972, the king exercised his feudal privilege and assumed for himself the title of King of Croatia.
That was not all. Word soon spread that the Royal Chancellor was in Zagreb. Nothing more was made public, but we all assumed that the king was preparing to annex that province. Aquitaine assumed the same thing. The war that had been occupying the two Karling princes in the west promptly ended with an agreement to a truce. There could be no doubt that King Hélie’s triple crown inspired more consternation than dynastic vainglory amongst his kin.
The following year, that assumption turned into quasi certainty when new Commanders of the Royal Militia were appointed. Uncle Giordano accepted that very same honour. Then, in a curious circumstance of both prestige and embarrassment, Uncle Giordano’s Chancellor returned to Zadar with a claim on Zagreb.
Uncle Giordano had been preparing for precisely this development. Recruits had joined his ranks to swell his fighting force, notably in the cavalry. He could have declared war to press his claim had it not been for the fact that King Hélie had joined a war to help his ally the King of Bulgaria. A portion of Uncle Giordano’s fighting force was taking part in that conflict. Uncle Giordano decided to wait until he could call up all his men before unleashing them on Zagreb.
In the summer of 974, Uncle Giordano took seriously ill. His physicians insisted that he confine himself to bed. He responded by defying them completely. At the age of sixty, he donned his armour and led a portion of the king’s fighting men in the Bulgarian War. However, he took the precaution of casting his vote for his successor. He chose not Cousin Antonio his first-born, but Cousin Giordano. Three of the four other Electors of Genoa followed suit.
Uncle Giordano remained in the field until the middle of December, fever notwithstanding. It was tragedy that brought him home. On the fifteenth of that month, Cousin Agnese, a favourite at the court of her husband Prince Hélie of Burgundy, died giving birth to her third child.
Uncle Giordano confined himself to bed at last. The fever broke at the end of January. But he had lost the better part of his strength and willpower. The claim to Zagreb got lost under a sea of other documents. He ceased to appear in public.
The lustre of life at Zadar faded. Kinswoman Denise found herself with child and gave birth to a daughter in September 975. I was invited to the christening. By then, Uncle Giordano could scarcely stand on his feet. He passed away peacefully three weeks later.
At home in Ancona, everyone seemed surprised at the depth of my sorrow when Uncle Giordano died. Looking back, I believe that my sorrow stemmed from his being not only my mother’s brother, but the one whom she had hoped would become my mentor and tutor. He was thus a link to my mother’s dying wish, and to her. Perhaps I grieved for her again when Uncle Giordano died.
Cousin Giordano understood none of this. Having something of a cynical streak, he also held in somewhat low esteem my standing as cleric and Court Chaplain of Ancona. But blood counted for much in his eyes. He valued the fact that we were doubly related : his father and my mother were brother and sister, whilst his wife and myself shared common ancestors. Nor could he guess how deeply his spontaneous attempt at consolation moved me.
“Thou art part of the family. Roof and board shall be thine whenever and as long as thou shouldst wish. Wait not for further invitation. Be not be a stranger.”
~~~
Definitely, Idhrendur. As stated in my goals in the first post of this AAR, I'm planning an evaluation post circa 1066, and will probably reset my goals. Anyway, between now and 1066, there will be more than enough reasons to post one or two world updates
THE MÉMOIRES OF GIULIO BONIFAZI
Giordano III Torrechiavenna, Duke of Genoa and Dalmatia, Kingdom of Italy
Cousin Giordano’s open invitation came as no surprise to my own household. They had had ample opportunity to get to know his virtues and vices over the years. Most of all, they were well acquainted with his aristocratic nonchalance, having never witnessed his arbitrary fits of temper, stories of which predominated in the gossip of surly courtiers. Other members of the Casa Bonifazi also frequented Zadar or Castello Bellinzona in Grisons on a regular basis. His welcome stemmed not merely from his natural kindness, but from that fundamental nobility of spirit which took for granted that there was always plenty of everything in his castle for anyone who stepped over the threshold.
There was never any doubt that he prided himself at having been chosen over his elder brother to succeed to his father’s duchies. But rather than boast and swagger, he decided that it behooved him to prove the wisdom of his father’s choice. For that reason, the first year of Cousin Giordano’s governance passed in all sorts of “study” -- in fact, a rather haphazard excursion into the family library, with an occasional venture into eccentric experimentation.
He was in awe of the advanced learning of the Greeks, which his father’s spies continued to extract and smuggle away to his Court. In the spring of 976, he became obsessed with a plan to outdo Aristotle. Specifically : to demonstrate that he could pierce the secret of flight.
Half his entourage feigned stupefaction at his energetic pursuit of learning, all the while secretly bemoaning their lord’s insanity.The other half openly declared he had gone mad. An experiment at flight was arranged high in the hills above Zadar. It was almost aborted when a dog he had “recruited” was rescued by its owner. Cousin Giordano apologised in his breezy way and leapt off the cliff in the animal’s place.
The experiment was a failure. Cousin Giordano had to be carried away in a litter, grievously wounded.
The news of Cousin Giordano’s severe wounds inflamed a certain coterie close to Cousin Antonio. For them, the new Duke was without doubt on his deathbed. During celebrations over the birth of another daughter to Antonio and Stefania later that spring, people were overheard to speculate on when my older cousin would “finally” assume his rightful place. Alas, they were to become sadly disillusioned. For at the start of the summer, Cousin Antonio was taken ill. He passed away in July. He was aged only thirty-six years. The tragedy marred the whole summer.
Cousin Giordano remained in convalescence. Eventually, the wounds healed, leaving him with some ghastly scars. His stamina when holding a sword or riding a war horse inevitably suffered. But the king took notice of his aptitude for study. A few days after the feast of blessed Saint Luke, Cousin Giordano was offered the highest position in the realm : that of Royal Chancellor.
We did not appear at the king’s Court in Pavia for any sort of ceremony. The king required only that Cousin Giordano make all arrangements to guarantee etiquette and subsidies for an immense fighting force, a gift of the Emperor of Constantinople. For the king had already decided to declare war on the King of Great Moravia. The object : invade and annex the province of Zagreb. Once the war had commenced, my cousin was given leave to repair to Castello Bellinzona for the remainder of his convalescence.
Cousin Giordano was more than happy to settle down in the crisp Alpine air of his ancestral home. His corps of Master Builders and other workers were put to work to improve everything around the family seat. In no time at all, a new town had sprouted around the castle.
“Ironic, is it not,” my cousin observed late one evening in front of a roaring fire.
“What is ?” I said, looking up from my writing.
“Father had a claim on Zagreb first. And I needs had to help arrange the war for someone else to take it.”
“Thou darest not say it so openly after this night, I hope ! Walls have ears.”
“Dear Giulio, always worrying about spies. One other thing might I say this night, then nevermore make mention of it.”
“What ?”
“Of another war in Croatia, for another province.”
With almost childlike eagerness, he revealed his secret. There was a woman in Zadar, a relation of a Croatian lord, long since deposed by King Ales of Great Moravia. This woman had a claim on the province of Usora. My cousin intended to win the province back for her.
“To what purpose ?” I exclaimed. “Thou art not her legal lord.”
“Not yet !” he laughed.
The secret remained a secret just one day more. King Hélie’s invasion of Zagreb seemed to have stalled. Unable to rest, Cousin Giordano summoned his own fighting force and declared his own war. One other person had been privy to the secret : my kinsman of Tuscany, Denise’s father. He too levied archers and horse for my cousin’s courtier’s claim.
Only then did an unforeseen event befall all these warriors sent to wrest not one but two provinces from the King of Great Moravia. King Hélie died. The Karling Royal Demesne was sundered. The king’s eldest son, now Hélie II, became King of Italy -- mine and Cousin Giordano’s new liege lord. The second son, young Othon, became King of Lotharingia and Croatia.
Within a month, several of King Othon’s vassals rebelled against their sovereign. The war for Zagreb was all but forgotten. Even so, the boy-king found himself abandoned by most, including his brother the new king of Italy. His partisans fought bravely, but had to concede defeat. Only then was peace restored to Lotharingia-Croatia.
The rebellion granted the Moravian king enough leeway to levy more forces. Cousin Giordano and his Bonifazi ally pressed on. At least, their Generals did. My cousin and his wife remained in Zadar. I joined them there in 981 when Denise gave birth to their second son, whom they christened Maurizio. Giordano further busied himself by pestering his corps of philosophers and other learned men of Zadar, and trying to impart his knowledge to his daughter Berta. She, wisely, paid more attention to the art of living a virtuous life.
That same year, Cousin Antonio’s eldest son, Giordano, became a father. Cousin Giordano had outdone himself the year previously in arranging as prestigious a match as possible whilst taking care not to put the boy in a position to press a claim on Genoa or Dalmatia. He had been wed to the Lady Richwara von Cloppenburg, a lovely maid from the Court of the Duke of Meissen. Six weeks after the birth of Maurizio, Giordano and Richwara had a son. To the bemused satisfaction of all, this babe was christened Giordano. There were now three Giordano Torrechiavennas living at Cousin Giordano’s Court !
But evil had begun seeping into the realm, at first undetected, then brazenly manifesting itself in town and countryside alike. Its victims -- erroneously styling themselves apostles -- became known as Cathars. Blind followers of a madman who, inexplicably, was convincing more and more simple folk that all fleshly pleasures guaranteed nought but eternal damnation. One such misguided soul sought audience with Cousin Giordano. She then stunned the Court by demanding that my cousin adhere to Cathar ravings ! She was immediately apprehended.
Her own confusion became evident to all when she presumed to complain about my cousin’s dungeon.
“Do not these Cathars despise their own flesh, the warmth of human desire and the nourishment of red-blooded beast ?” my cousin asked jocularly one day.
“They do.”
“Then mine is a heretic to her own heresy !” he cried. “She hath declared her cell quite inapt at providing satisfaction.”
“At providing what ? By the Blessed Virgin, perhaps the spell that bound her breaketh.”
“She’s been removed to the oubliette. Told her she should practise what she preached.”
“Most consistent of thee.”
But my cousin was more concerned about the province of Usora than a simple or double heretic. At last, the King of Great Moravia’s advantage slipped. Usora was surrendered early in 982. It became an independent province, and my cousin’s former courtier its new mistress.
“Not quite the outcome I thought thou wert desiring,” I murmured.
“It will do.”
“She is old and childless.”
“Precisely. Her heir is a niece already betrothed to a Torrechiavenna. A distant cousin from Zachlumia.”
I was doubtful of the pertinence of this betrothal, but kept my peace. My cousin and my kinsman of Tuscany disbanded their men and horse. King Othon of Lotharingia, for his part, continued his war for Zagreb.
Giordano III Torrechiavenna, Duke of Genoa and Dalmatia, Kingdom of Italy
Cousin Giordano’s open invitation came as no surprise to my own household. They had had ample opportunity to get to know his virtues and vices over the years. Most of all, they were well acquainted with his aristocratic nonchalance, having never witnessed his arbitrary fits of temper, stories of which predominated in the gossip of surly courtiers. Other members of the Casa Bonifazi also frequented Zadar or Castello Bellinzona in Grisons on a regular basis. His welcome stemmed not merely from his natural kindness, but from that fundamental nobility of spirit which took for granted that there was always plenty of everything in his castle for anyone who stepped over the threshold.
There was never any doubt that he prided himself at having been chosen over his elder brother to succeed to his father’s duchies. But rather than boast and swagger, he decided that it behooved him to prove the wisdom of his father’s choice. For that reason, the first year of Cousin Giordano’s governance passed in all sorts of “study” -- in fact, a rather haphazard excursion into the family library, with an occasional venture into eccentric experimentation.
He was in awe of the advanced learning of the Greeks, which his father’s spies continued to extract and smuggle away to his Court. In the spring of 976, he became obsessed with a plan to outdo Aristotle. Specifically : to demonstrate that he could pierce the secret of flight.
Half his entourage feigned stupefaction at his energetic pursuit of learning, all the while secretly bemoaning their lord’s insanity.The other half openly declared he had gone mad. An experiment at flight was arranged high in the hills above Zadar. It was almost aborted when a dog he had “recruited” was rescued by its owner. Cousin Giordano apologised in his breezy way and leapt off the cliff in the animal’s place.
The experiment was a failure. Cousin Giordano had to be carried away in a litter, grievously wounded.
The news of Cousin Giordano’s severe wounds inflamed a certain coterie close to Cousin Antonio. For them, the new Duke was without doubt on his deathbed. During celebrations over the birth of another daughter to Antonio and Stefania later that spring, people were overheard to speculate on when my older cousin would “finally” assume his rightful place. Alas, they were to become sadly disillusioned. For at the start of the summer, Cousin Antonio was taken ill. He passed away in July. He was aged only thirty-six years. The tragedy marred the whole summer.
Cousin Giordano remained in convalescence. Eventually, the wounds healed, leaving him with some ghastly scars. His stamina when holding a sword or riding a war horse inevitably suffered. But the king took notice of his aptitude for study. A few days after the feast of blessed Saint Luke, Cousin Giordano was offered the highest position in the realm : that of Royal Chancellor.
We did not appear at the king’s Court in Pavia for any sort of ceremony. The king required only that Cousin Giordano make all arrangements to guarantee etiquette and subsidies for an immense fighting force, a gift of the Emperor of Constantinople. For the king had already decided to declare war on the King of Great Moravia. The object : invade and annex the province of Zagreb. Once the war had commenced, my cousin was given leave to repair to Castello Bellinzona for the remainder of his convalescence.
Cousin Giordano was more than happy to settle down in the crisp Alpine air of his ancestral home. His corps of Master Builders and other workers were put to work to improve everything around the family seat. In no time at all, a new town had sprouted around the castle.
“Ironic, is it not,” my cousin observed late one evening in front of a roaring fire.
“What is ?” I said, looking up from my writing.
“Father had a claim on Zagreb first. And I needs had to help arrange the war for someone else to take it.”
“Thou darest not say it so openly after this night, I hope ! Walls have ears.”
“Dear Giulio, always worrying about spies. One other thing might I say this night, then nevermore make mention of it.”
“What ?”
“Of another war in Croatia, for another province.”
With almost childlike eagerness, he revealed his secret. There was a woman in Zadar, a relation of a Croatian lord, long since deposed by King Ales of Great Moravia. This woman had a claim on the province of Usora. My cousin intended to win the province back for her.
“To what purpose ?” I exclaimed. “Thou art not her legal lord.”
“Not yet !” he laughed.
The secret remained a secret just one day more. King Hélie’s invasion of Zagreb seemed to have stalled. Unable to rest, Cousin Giordano summoned his own fighting force and declared his own war. One other person had been privy to the secret : my kinsman of Tuscany, Denise’s father. He too levied archers and horse for my cousin’s courtier’s claim.
Only then did an unforeseen event befall all these warriors sent to wrest not one but two provinces from the King of Great Moravia. King Hélie died. The Karling Royal Demesne was sundered. The king’s eldest son, now Hélie II, became King of Italy -- mine and Cousin Giordano’s new liege lord. The second son, young Othon, became King of Lotharingia and Croatia.
Within a month, several of King Othon’s vassals rebelled against their sovereign. The war for Zagreb was all but forgotten. Even so, the boy-king found himself abandoned by most, including his brother the new king of Italy. His partisans fought bravely, but had to concede defeat. Only then was peace restored to Lotharingia-Croatia.
The rebellion granted the Moravian king enough leeway to levy more forces. Cousin Giordano and his Bonifazi ally pressed on. At least, their Generals did. My cousin and his wife remained in Zadar. I joined them there in 981 when Denise gave birth to their second son, whom they christened Maurizio. Giordano further busied himself by pestering his corps of philosophers and other learned men of Zadar, and trying to impart his knowledge to his daughter Berta. She, wisely, paid more attention to the art of living a virtuous life.
That same year, Cousin Antonio’s eldest son, Giordano, became a father. Cousin Giordano had outdone himself the year previously in arranging as prestigious a match as possible whilst taking care not to put the boy in a position to press a claim on Genoa or Dalmatia. He had been wed to the Lady Richwara von Cloppenburg, a lovely maid from the Court of the Duke of Meissen. Six weeks after the birth of Maurizio, Giordano and Richwara had a son. To the bemused satisfaction of all, this babe was christened Giordano. There were now three Giordano Torrechiavennas living at Cousin Giordano’s Court !
But evil had begun seeping into the realm, at first undetected, then brazenly manifesting itself in town and countryside alike. Its victims -- erroneously styling themselves apostles -- became known as Cathars. Blind followers of a madman who, inexplicably, was convincing more and more simple folk that all fleshly pleasures guaranteed nought but eternal damnation. One such misguided soul sought audience with Cousin Giordano. She then stunned the Court by demanding that my cousin adhere to Cathar ravings ! She was immediately apprehended.
Her own confusion became evident to all when she presumed to complain about my cousin’s dungeon.
“Do not these Cathars despise their own flesh, the warmth of human desire and the nourishment of red-blooded beast ?” my cousin asked jocularly one day.
“They do.”
“Then mine is a heretic to her own heresy !” he cried. “She hath declared her cell quite inapt at providing satisfaction.”
“At providing what ? By the Blessed Virgin, perhaps the spell that bound her breaketh.”
“She’s been removed to the oubliette. Told her she should practise what she preached.”
“Most consistent of thee.”
But my cousin was more concerned about the province of Usora than a simple or double heretic. At last, the King of Great Moravia’s advantage slipped. Usora was surrendered early in 982. It became an independent province, and my cousin’s former courtier its new mistress.
“Not quite the outcome I thought thou wert desiring,” I murmured.
“It will do.”
“She is old and childless.”
“Precisely. Her heir is a niece already betrothed to a Torrechiavenna. A distant cousin from Zachlumia.”
I was doubtful of the pertinence of this betrothal, but kept my peace. My cousin and my kinsman of Tuscany disbanded their men and horse. King Othon of Lotharingia, for his part, continued his war for Zagreb.
~~~
THE MÉMOIRES OF GIULIO BONIFAZI
Giordano III Torrechiavenna, Duke of Genoa and Dalmatia, Kingdom of Italy (continued)
The incident of the Cathar heretic roused Cousin Giordano’s propensity to harsh and sometimes cruel repercussion. He imagined -- rightly -- that the woman was not one of a kind, that she had to have connexion with others. One seance of torture sufficed to wrest the truth out of her : the bishop in Antibes, vassal of the king of Burgundy, was giving protection to a whole coven of heretics. Thereupon Cousin Giordano resolved to take matters into his own hands. To my dismay, he found two conspirators more than willing to despatch the offending bishop to Final Judgment.
He provided them with glass phials copiously filled with poison. The conspirators operated with less efficiency than they claimed to have, but after two years, they succeeded with their dreadful mission.
“Look not so stricken, Cousin,” he said to me when he could no longer contain his satisfaction. “Thou of all people shouldst rejoice that an enemy of the Almighty is no more.”
“It is not the ends that pain me, but the means,” I sighed.
“Heaven grant that the Pope be not likeminded.”
“What carest thou of what His Holiness might think ?”
“Dear Giulio, I care more than thou wouldst believe.”
Fortunately, such displays of expedited problem-solving were the exception rather than the rule. Cousin Giordano spent much more time on the education of his young family and the advancement of the next generation. He doted on his daughter Bertha, trying to preserve her from the taint of cynicism that so characterized himself. For his nephew Leopoldo he negotiated a betrothal to Princess Heilwiva, daughter of the king of Burgundy. When the princess came of age in 981, the couple were married in an extravaganza of feasting and merriment. The following year he gave his niece Martina in matrimony to a son of his vassal the Count of Varazdin. That same year also saw the wedding of his first-born son Niccolò to Agostina, daughter of his kinsman and vassal the Count of Zachlumia. As a result of that round of festivities, he begat another child. Denise gave birth the following year to another son. Not surprisingly, Cousin Giordano desired to have him christened Ermenulfo, after the founder of the dynasty. A newly-arrived pair of troubadours were pressed into service to celebrate the occasion, the gains from which surpassed their wildest dreams.
Looking back, one might say that all these happy events were sent to presage what would be Cousin Giordano’s greatest achievement. He was in the prime of his life. His family prospered. The office of Royal Chancellor made him the envy of many an ambitious lord. Rewards of this world he possessed in abundance. What was to come gave him leave to hope for rewards in the next.
King Othon of Lotharingia-Croatia finally won his claim on the province of Zagreb in the spring of 984. His Holiness Pope Callistus II had paid virtually no attention to that conflict. Once it was over, however, he wasted no time in summoning the princes of Christendom to a higher cause : the liberation of the Holy Land from the grip of the Infidel. Cousin Giordano leapt at the opportunity to prove his worthiness.
Fifty vessels were equipped to convey Cousin Giordano and his levies to the East. The fleet sailed from Genoa in November. They reached the Sinai in January 985. As yet, too few noble princes had responded to the Pope’s call. The majority of the Crusaders hailed from the northern isles. Most could muster only a few hundred men-at-arms. Cousin Giordano spent almost a year rallying these smaller companies to his banner. Few heeded his invitation. But in the spring of 986, a battle at Darum from which he emerged victorious over thirty-five hundred Muslim warriors propelled him to glory. Before the year’s end, Cousin Giordano’s men had invested the fortress of Ascalon. Only the Duke of Wessex, fighting battles closer to Jerusalem, had thus far achieved like results.
By the summer of 987, Cousin Giordano had rallied others to his side. The enemy could do nothing but surrender fortress after fortress.
The Crusaders redoubled their efforts. Fighting went on for another year. Then, the day after the Feast of Saint John the Baptist, the Caliph of Egypt and Africa surrendered. Jerusalem was liberated ! Those who had taken part in this jubilant conquest agreed unanimously : the hero of the Crusade was Cousin Giordano.
That summer, my cousin returned home victorious to crowds gone wild with enthusiasm. Bells rang, trumpets blared, men, women and children shouted “Evviva ! Evviva !” until their vocal chords cracked. Wine flowed, man and beast danced, the sun glowed with especial vigour.
As honour required, the first thing Cousin Giordano did was to present himself before his liege lord, King Hélie of Italy, to throw himself on bended knee and renew his vows of homage. He did so in the presence too of Pope Callistus II and many other noble Crusaders who had stopped in Italy on their homeward journey. Their attendance and witness to the valiant deeds of Cousin Giordano in the Holy Land left all the king’s courtiers speechless. The King, though exceeding proud of his Royal Chancellor, felt obliged to treat him virtually as his peer.
The Pope recognising my cousin as the conqueror of Jerusalem, it was suggested that he retain all titles gained. These amounted to forty-five in number. He would retain them in fief for his liege lord, needless to say. King Hélie gave his assent.
Many were those present -- myself included -- who secretly believed that the king would not keep his word. No monarch in his right mind could permit a vassal to amass so much power and wealth and feel secure on his throne. Cousin Giordano sensed the delicacy of his position only too well. For that reason, he decided to refrain from assuming the title Duke of Jerusalem. In any case, the Caliph of Egypt and Africa was still at war with some of his own kin.
King Hélie found a way to humiliate his exalted vassal whilst making a show of showering him with glory and praise. A Grand Tournament was announced. Such an achievement as the liberation of Jerusalem merited nothing less. All men of noble birth were required to enlist. Giordano had never excelled at the jousting arts. He tactfully made light of his less than honourable performance, in view of how greatly it amused the king and his Court.
At long last, almost nine months after his return from the Holy Land was my cousin able to grant himself rest from his conquering labours. Castello Bellinzona was where he wanted to be, he declared, high in the Alps, at the antipodes of the dust and heat of Judea. He transferred his Court more or less permanently to Grisons.
Not much had changed there during his absence, with the notable exception of family members. His son Niccolò and his nephew Giordano had both begotten children. His young son Maurizio, aged only four when he left, was now a brilliant and inquisitive lad of eight years and hungry for his father’s company. Giordano doted on him shamelessly and immediately took charge of his instruction.
Weeks flew by as he sought out capable young gentlemen on whom to bestow the fiefs acquired. Ships plied continuously between Genoa, Zara and Judea. A number of worthy knights received landed titles. They soon proved their valour by ridding their provinces of the Infidel. Grateful Christians, having long awaited the day of their liberation, proudly proclaimed their allegiance to the Church.
The most prestigious fiefs, however, he granted to his nephews and son.
His nephew Giordano he created Count of Kerak.
His nephew Leopoldo he created Count of Darum.
His first-born son Niccolò he created Count of Jerusalem.
Cousin Giordano’s spies had not idled during the conquest. One had managed to sneak into the Caliph’s territories in Tunis and smuggled out precious manuscripts. Another brought yet more trophies from the inexhaustible libraries of the Greeks. His fascination for this higher learning rekindled following a visit to a Benedictine Abbey where the monks toiled at translating the Greek and Arabic parchments. Soon a new cabinet adorned the library at Bellinzona, filled with newly acquired and translated volumes.
The expanding family celebrated Christmas in 990 like never before. Only one discordant note was heard when his eastern vassals reported news of a new Muslim Order of religious friars : the Bektashi. Although nominally a group of mystics, all feared that this new creation would not abstain from taking arms -- in particular against the Christian populations.
But it was neither the Bektashi nor the Caliph of Egypt and Africa who was about to introduce a serpent into Cousin Giordano’s paradise. It was the Royal Family and their never-ending family dynastic quarrels.
King Hélie II of Italy passed away suddenly in May 991. He left no male heir. His daughter Princess Gerperga, the eldest of six princesses, was crowned Queen of Italy.
Giordano III Torrechiavenna, Duke of Genoa and Dalmatia, Kingdom of Italy (continued)
The incident of the Cathar heretic roused Cousin Giordano’s propensity to harsh and sometimes cruel repercussion. He imagined -- rightly -- that the woman was not one of a kind, that she had to have connexion with others. One seance of torture sufficed to wrest the truth out of her : the bishop in Antibes, vassal of the king of Burgundy, was giving protection to a whole coven of heretics. Thereupon Cousin Giordano resolved to take matters into his own hands. To my dismay, he found two conspirators more than willing to despatch the offending bishop to Final Judgment.
He provided them with glass phials copiously filled with poison. The conspirators operated with less efficiency than they claimed to have, but after two years, they succeeded with their dreadful mission.
“Look not so stricken, Cousin,” he said to me when he could no longer contain his satisfaction. “Thou of all people shouldst rejoice that an enemy of the Almighty is no more.”
“It is not the ends that pain me, but the means,” I sighed.
“Heaven grant that the Pope be not likeminded.”
“What carest thou of what His Holiness might think ?”
“Dear Giulio, I care more than thou wouldst believe.”
Fortunately, such displays of expedited problem-solving were the exception rather than the rule. Cousin Giordano spent much more time on the education of his young family and the advancement of the next generation. He doted on his daughter Bertha, trying to preserve her from the taint of cynicism that so characterized himself. For his nephew Leopoldo he negotiated a betrothal to Princess Heilwiva, daughter of the king of Burgundy. When the princess came of age in 981, the couple were married in an extravaganza of feasting and merriment. The following year he gave his niece Martina in matrimony to a son of his vassal the Count of Varazdin. That same year also saw the wedding of his first-born son Niccolò to Agostina, daughter of his kinsman and vassal the Count of Zachlumia. As a result of that round of festivities, he begat another child. Denise gave birth the following year to another son. Not surprisingly, Cousin Giordano desired to have him christened Ermenulfo, after the founder of the dynasty. A newly-arrived pair of troubadours were pressed into service to celebrate the occasion, the gains from which surpassed their wildest dreams.
Looking back, one might say that all these happy events were sent to presage what would be Cousin Giordano’s greatest achievement. He was in the prime of his life. His family prospered. The office of Royal Chancellor made him the envy of many an ambitious lord. Rewards of this world he possessed in abundance. What was to come gave him leave to hope for rewards in the next.
King Othon of Lotharingia-Croatia finally won his claim on the province of Zagreb in the spring of 984. His Holiness Pope Callistus II had paid virtually no attention to that conflict. Once it was over, however, he wasted no time in summoning the princes of Christendom to a higher cause : the liberation of the Holy Land from the grip of the Infidel. Cousin Giordano leapt at the opportunity to prove his worthiness.
Fifty vessels were equipped to convey Cousin Giordano and his levies to the East. The fleet sailed from Genoa in November. They reached the Sinai in January 985. As yet, too few noble princes had responded to the Pope’s call. The majority of the Crusaders hailed from the northern isles. Most could muster only a few hundred men-at-arms. Cousin Giordano spent almost a year rallying these smaller companies to his banner. Few heeded his invitation. But in the spring of 986, a battle at Darum from which he emerged victorious over thirty-five hundred Muslim warriors propelled him to glory. Before the year’s end, Cousin Giordano’s men had invested the fortress of Ascalon. Only the Duke of Wessex, fighting battles closer to Jerusalem, had thus far achieved like results.
By the summer of 987, Cousin Giordano had rallied others to his side. The enemy could do nothing but surrender fortress after fortress.
The Crusaders redoubled their efforts. Fighting went on for another year. Then, the day after the Feast of Saint John the Baptist, the Caliph of Egypt and Africa surrendered. Jerusalem was liberated ! Those who had taken part in this jubilant conquest agreed unanimously : the hero of the Crusade was Cousin Giordano.
That summer, my cousin returned home victorious to crowds gone wild with enthusiasm. Bells rang, trumpets blared, men, women and children shouted “Evviva ! Evviva !” until their vocal chords cracked. Wine flowed, man and beast danced, the sun glowed with especial vigour.
As honour required, the first thing Cousin Giordano did was to present himself before his liege lord, King Hélie of Italy, to throw himself on bended knee and renew his vows of homage. He did so in the presence too of Pope Callistus II and many other noble Crusaders who had stopped in Italy on their homeward journey. Their attendance and witness to the valiant deeds of Cousin Giordano in the Holy Land left all the king’s courtiers speechless. The King, though exceeding proud of his Royal Chancellor, felt obliged to treat him virtually as his peer.
The Pope recognising my cousin as the conqueror of Jerusalem, it was suggested that he retain all titles gained. These amounted to forty-five in number. He would retain them in fief for his liege lord, needless to say. King Hélie gave his assent.
Many were those present -- myself included -- who secretly believed that the king would not keep his word. No monarch in his right mind could permit a vassal to amass so much power and wealth and feel secure on his throne. Cousin Giordano sensed the delicacy of his position only too well. For that reason, he decided to refrain from assuming the title Duke of Jerusalem. In any case, the Caliph of Egypt and Africa was still at war with some of his own kin.
King Hélie found a way to humiliate his exalted vassal whilst making a show of showering him with glory and praise. A Grand Tournament was announced. Such an achievement as the liberation of Jerusalem merited nothing less. All men of noble birth were required to enlist. Giordano had never excelled at the jousting arts. He tactfully made light of his less than honourable performance, in view of how greatly it amused the king and his Court.
At long last, almost nine months after his return from the Holy Land was my cousin able to grant himself rest from his conquering labours. Castello Bellinzona was where he wanted to be, he declared, high in the Alps, at the antipodes of the dust and heat of Judea. He transferred his Court more or less permanently to Grisons.
Not much had changed there during his absence, with the notable exception of family members. His son Niccolò and his nephew Giordano had both begotten children. His young son Maurizio, aged only four when he left, was now a brilliant and inquisitive lad of eight years and hungry for his father’s company. Giordano doted on him shamelessly and immediately took charge of his instruction.
Weeks flew by as he sought out capable young gentlemen on whom to bestow the fiefs acquired. Ships plied continuously between Genoa, Zara and Judea. A number of worthy knights received landed titles. They soon proved their valour by ridding their provinces of the Infidel. Grateful Christians, having long awaited the day of their liberation, proudly proclaimed their allegiance to the Church.
The most prestigious fiefs, however, he granted to his nephews and son.
His nephew Giordano he created Count of Kerak.
His nephew Leopoldo he created Count of Darum.
His first-born son Niccolò he created Count of Jerusalem.
Cousin Giordano’s spies had not idled during the conquest. One had managed to sneak into the Caliph’s territories in Tunis and smuggled out precious manuscripts. Another brought yet more trophies from the inexhaustible libraries of the Greeks. His fascination for this higher learning rekindled following a visit to a Benedictine Abbey where the monks toiled at translating the Greek and Arabic parchments. Soon a new cabinet adorned the library at Bellinzona, filled with newly acquired and translated volumes.
The expanding family celebrated Christmas in 990 like never before. Only one discordant note was heard when his eastern vassals reported news of a new Muslim Order of religious friars : the Bektashi. Although nominally a group of mystics, all feared that this new creation would not abstain from taking arms -- in particular against the Christian populations.
But it was neither the Bektashi nor the Caliph of Egypt and Africa who was about to introduce a serpent into Cousin Giordano’s paradise. It was the Royal Family and their never-ending family dynastic quarrels.
King Hélie II of Italy passed away suddenly in May 991. He left no male heir. His daughter Princess Gerperga, the eldest of six princesses, was crowned Queen of Italy.
~~~
THE MÉMOIRES OF GIULIO BONIFAZI
Giordano III the Great, Duke of Genoa and Dalmatia, Kingdom of Italy (continued)
“Our virgin Queen shall not remain so for much longer, I warrant,” my cousin smirked as his valet pulled off his boots. He had just returned from Bologna where the Queen was holding Court. “Suitors are swarming like wasps around rotting fruit.”
I couldn’t help but wince at the simile.
“Thy tongue shall be thine own undoing. Who’s the favourite ?”
“None can guess,” he replied. “Her Majesty knows better than to show her cards too soon.”
“We shall have war, as surely as night follows day,” he grumbled.
“Wherefore this prophecy ?” I asked.
“Frankish custom,” he laughed. Servants had brought in a platter of steaming venison and jug of wine for his supper. “They believe that Karling women taint the bloodline. All her menfolk must be plotting against her as we speak.”
Cousin Giordano proved to be only half a prophet. Less than a month into her reign, Queen Gerberge was at war. Not, however, because one of her kin was claiming Italy, but because she was claiming the province of Cagliari in the south of Sardinia, held by her uncle King Othon of Lotharingia. One ally raised his banner in her favour -- the Karling King of Burgundy.
The present war for Cagliari did not preclude a claim to Italy in the future, Cousin Giordano insisted. What worried him was not so much who sat on the throne of Italy, but who would put up serious resistance if ever Burgundy or West Francia or even Bavaria claimed Grisons. These fears dictated his politics. He immediately dove into the business of choosing spouses for his children that would carry with them pledges of allegiance in the event of war.
The first arrangement concerned his daughter Berta. Like King Hélie II, my kinsman of Tuscany had passed away leaving no male heir. The title had passed to Denise’s elder sister, whose children were Berta’s cousins. A betrothal was negotiated between Berta and her cousin Sciarra Supponidi. Just as she came of age, her future husband inherited Tuscany. Cousin Giordano sent a handsome gift to every monastery in the land to thank Providence for that succession.
Whilst the Queen’s men laid siege to Cagliari, Cousin Giordano discreetly fortified his own demesne. Zadar became a magnet for new recruits wishing to bear arms for Genoa. He granted more land to the town around Castello Moncalvo in Monferrato, allowing more foyers to be built -- for which privilege the townsmen were duly tithed, which paid for more armament.
But the Queen’s war did nothing to endear her to her vassals. In the spring of 993, Tuscany, Sardinia and others raised the banner of rebellion.
Two wars in Italy need not concern you, my cousin said to his vassals in the East. They took heed of his edict and carried peacefully on with building up the Church and their own resources.
Meanwhile, despite the massive workload incumbent upon a Royal Council faced with two wars, Cousin Giordano kept his son Maurizio close at hand. Living at Court -- and in an atmosphere soaked in violence -- inevitably left some impression on Master Maurizio. His father did everything he could to correct any vices the boy picked up. He soon learned on which side his bread was buttered.
In the spring of 925, Maurizio being thirteen and a half years old, Cousin Giordano pulled off a magnificent coup. He betrothed his son to Princess Eglantine, the youngest sister of the Queen.
Three months later, the prophecy about war over Italy drew one step nearer to becoming reality. Queen Gerberge passed away suddenly. Her four-year-old son, Prince Aymar de Menthon, became our king.
“Foul play !” The whispered words were upon every tongue the length and breadth of Italy.
“Is it true ?” I asked Giordano.
“There is not the slightest piece of evidence that it is,” he replied. “But it is.”
The realm sank into chaos. King Othon’s men had already resisted Italy for five years ; they showed no signs of tiring. The rebels succeeded only in hampering the larger war effort. At the same time, as if unleashed by Queen Gerberge’s passing, the decay of heresy swept over entire villages. Country and townsfolk turned en masse to strange tenets that mocked common sense and reason. Young noblemen too strayed into error.
We survived one of the bleakest winters I can remember. Then, in the spring of 996, Italy’s men-at-arms were infused with reborn valour. A surprise attack against a rebel stronghold in Firenze brought down the insurrection. King Aymar put Berta’s husband, the Duke of Tuscany, in chains. Five months later, in the month of July, King Othon’s forces buckled under a thunderous attack and dispersed. He conceded defeat and surrendered Cagliari to his grand-nephew.
The victory was short-lived. For what had been hidden behind the veil of combat now burst forth into plain view. The Lord Regent had turned his back on the Church to embrace Lollard preaching. King Aymar lent his infant signature to demands on his vassals that they follow his example and repudiate the Church.
“You see, my dear Giulio, another war waits upon us.”
“What sayest thou ?”
“My son-in-law was released from the royal dungeon, but the price to pay was a public adherence to the king’s pet faith. The Karlings will not stand for it. And the king’s House is so small as to make him homeless.”
“Almighty Lord have mercy !”
But Cousin Giordano was nothing if not rash and audacious. He made known as widely as possible his fidelity to the Church, and summoned all like-minded nobles to avail themselves of his protection. Lollards, Cathars and other rogues in his demesne would be pursued and hanged from the nearest tree. And so that His Majesty should not misread his loyalties, my cousin resigned from the Royal Council.
Over the winter of 996, the realm was neither at war nor at peace. At Grisons, nerves were shattered when a desperate messenger braved another bleak winter of snowstorms and ice to deliver unexpected news : Cousin Giordano’s first-born, Count Niccolò of Jerusalem, had succumbed to fever. His grandson Antonio was now Count.
Death paid another call on Italy. King Aymar, aged six, also succumbed to fever. He was succeeded by his brother Jean de Menthon, aged five.
“Madness ! The Royal Council lives and breathes madness !”
“What new calamity awaits us ?”
“They have induced King Jean to tempt me back to his palace as Royal Chancellor. And to suggest that my youngest son become a heretic !”
It was indeed incomprehensible. But Italy was spared further misery a while longer. The Karlings were all at war. Everywhere -- Aquitaine, West Francia, Bavaria, Lotharingia -- rebels were taking up arms against the tyranny of the Frankish House. None of them had time to bother with a heretic boy-king.
Cousin Giordano’s second-born, Master Maurizio, came of age in the autumn of 997. He had been sent away to be tutored by a learned steward-monk. For having lost his first-born Niccolò, my cousin at last made known whom he wished to have as his successor : his second-born.
Italy was not at war, but Giordano never wavered in his belief that it would come, and that he had to protect Grisons and his other possessions. The epidemic of rebellion soon passed out of the Karling realms. Giordano, though shorn of the mantle of Royal Chancellor, nonetheless pulled off another magnificent coup : he betrothed his youngest son, Ermenulfo, to Princess Adalmode, a daughter of the King of Aquitaine.
With so many Lollards running amok, my brother, Count of Ancona, required my unfailing vigilance as Court Chaplain to seek out and-or extinguish any hint of heresy in his demesne. I spent two whole years away from my cousin’s castles. Only once did he send me written word. It was a few days before Christmas 998. He had just learned that a spying mission to Damascus had failed. The Caliph’s men had apprehended his spymaster. He sent me a copy of the notification.
At the end of the parchment he had scribbled : Most unfortunate. What else can this be but a prelude to misfortunes still more terrible ?
Giordano III the Great, Duke of Genoa and Dalmatia, Kingdom of Italy (continued)
“Our virgin Queen shall not remain so for much longer, I warrant,” my cousin smirked as his valet pulled off his boots. He had just returned from Bologna where the Queen was holding Court. “Suitors are swarming like wasps around rotting fruit.”
I couldn’t help but wince at the simile.
“Thy tongue shall be thine own undoing. Who’s the favourite ?”
“None can guess,” he replied. “Her Majesty knows better than to show her cards too soon.”
“We shall have war, as surely as night follows day,” he grumbled.
“Wherefore this prophecy ?” I asked.
“Frankish custom,” he laughed. Servants had brought in a platter of steaming venison and jug of wine for his supper. “They believe that Karling women taint the bloodline. All her menfolk must be plotting against her as we speak.”
Cousin Giordano proved to be only half a prophet. Less than a month into her reign, Queen Gerberge was at war. Not, however, because one of her kin was claiming Italy, but because she was claiming the province of Cagliari in the south of Sardinia, held by her uncle King Othon of Lotharingia. One ally raised his banner in her favour -- the Karling King of Burgundy.
The present war for Cagliari did not preclude a claim to Italy in the future, Cousin Giordano insisted. What worried him was not so much who sat on the throne of Italy, but who would put up serious resistance if ever Burgundy or West Francia or even Bavaria claimed Grisons. These fears dictated his politics. He immediately dove into the business of choosing spouses for his children that would carry with them pledges of allegiance in the event of war.
The first arrangement concerned his daughter Berta. Like King Hélie II, my kinsman of Tuscany had passed away leaving no male heir. The title had passed to Denise’s elder sister, whose children were Berta’s cousins. A betrothal was negotiated between Berta and her cousin Sciarra Supponidi. Just as she came of age, her future husband inherited Tuscany. Cousin Giordano sent a handsome gift to every monastery in the land to thank Providence for that succession.
Whilst the Queen’s men laid siege to Cagliari, Cousin Giordano discreetly fortified his own demesne. Zadar became a magnet for new recruits wishing to bear arms for Genoa. He granted more land to the town around Castello Moncalvo in Monferrato, allowing more foyers to be built -- for which privilege the townsmen were duly tithed, which paid for more armament.
But the Queen’s war did nothing to endear her to her vassals. In the spring of 993, Tuscany, Sardinia and others raised the banner of rebellion.
Two wars in Italy need not concern you, my cousin said to his vassals in the East. They took heed of his edict and carried peacefully on with building up the Church and their own resources.
Meanwhile, despite the massive workload incumbent upon a Royal Council faced with two wars, Cousin Giordano kept his son Maurizio close at hand. Living at Court -- and in an atmosphere soaked in violence -- inevitably left some impression on Master Maurizio. His father did everything he could to correct any vices the boy picked up. He soon learned on which side his bread was buttered.
In the spring of 925, Maurizio being thirteen and a half years old, Cousin Giordano pulled off a magnificent coup. He betrothed his son to Princess Eglantine, the youngest sister of the Queen.
Three months later, the prophecy about war over Italy drew one step nearer to becoming reality. Queen Gerberge passed away suddenly. Her four-year-old son, Prince Aymar de Menthon, became our king.
“Foul play !” The whispered words were upon every tongue the length and breadth of Italy.
“Is it true ?” I asked Giordano.
“There is not the slightest piece of evidence that it is,” he replied. “But it is.”
The realm sank into chaos. King Othon’s men had already resisted Italy for five years ; they showed no signs of tiring. The rebels succeeded only in hampering the larger war effort. At the same time, as if unleashed by Queen Gerberge’s passing, the decay of heresy swept over entire villages. Country and townsfolk turned en masse to strange tenets that mocked common sense and reason. Young noblemen too strayed into error.
We survived one of the bleakest winters I can remember. Then, in the spring of 996, Italy’s men-at-arms were infused with reborn valour. A surprise attack against a rebel stronghold in Firenze brought down the insurrection. King Aymar put Berta’s husband, the Duke of Tuscany, in chains. Five months later, in the month of July, King Othon’s forces buckled under a thunderous attack and dispersed. He conceded defeat and surrendered Cagliari to his grand-nephew.
The victory was short-lived. For what had been hidden behind the veil of combat now burst forth into plain view. The Lord Regent had turned his back on the Church to embrace Lollard preaching. King Aymar lent his infant signature to demands on his vassals that they follow his example and repudiate the Church.
“You see, my dear Giulio, another war waits upon us.”
“What sayest thou ?”
“My son-in-law was released from the royal dungeon, but the price to pay was a public adherence to the king’s pet faith. The Karlings will not stand for it. And the king’s House is so small as to make him homeless.”
“Almighty Lord have mercy !”
But Cousin Giordano was nothing if not rash and audacious. He made known as widely as possible his fidelity to the Church, and summoned all like-minded nobles to avail themselves of his protection. Lollards, Cathars and other rogues in his demesne would be pursued and hanged from the nearest tree. And so that His Majesty should not misread his loyalties, my cousin resigned from the Royal Council.
Over the winter of 996, the realm was neither at war nor at peace. At Grisons, nerves were shattered when a desperate messenger braved another bleak winter of snowstorms and ice to deliver unexpected news : Cousin Giordano’s first-born, Count Niccolò of Jerusalem, had succumbed to fever. His grandson Antonio was now Count.
Death paid another call on Italy. King Aymar, aged six, also succumbed to fever. He was succeeded by his brother Jean de Menthon, aged five.
“Madness ! The Royal Council lives and breathes madness !”
“What new calamity awaits us ?”
“They have induced King Jean to tempt me back to his palace as Royal Chancellor. And to suggest that my youngest son become a heretic !”
It was indeed incomprehensible. But Italy was spared further misery a while longer. The Karlings were all at war. Everywhere -- Aquitaine, West Francia, Bavaria, Lotharingia -- rebels were taking up arms against the tyranny of the Frankish House. None of them had time to bother with a heretic boy-king.
Cousin Giordano’s second-born, Master Maurizio, came of age in the autumn of 997. He had been sent away to be tutored by a learned steward-monk. For having lost his first-born Niccolò, my cousin at last made known whom he wished to have as his successor : his second-born.
Italy was not at war, but Giordano never wavered in his belief that it would come, and that he had to protect Grisons and his other possessions. The epidemic of rebellion soon passed out of the Karling realms. Giordano, though shorn of the mantle of Royal Chancellor, nonetheless pulled off another magnificent coup : he betrothed his youngest son, Ermenulfo, to Princess Adalmode, a daughter of the King of Aquitaine.
With so many Lollards running amok, my brother, Count of Ancona, required my unfailing vigilance as Court Chaplain to seek out and-or extinguish any hint of heresy in his demesne. I spent two whole years away from my cousin’s castles. Only once did he send me written word. It was a few days before Christmas 998. He had just learned that a spying mission to Damascus had failed. The Caliph’s men had apprehended his spymaster. He sent me a copy of the notification.
At the end of the parchment he had scribbled : Most unfortunate. What else can this be but a prelude to misfortunes still more terrible ?
~~~