1. Will Germany/East Francia and Italy stay relatively united? I'm hoping that Germany, in particular, doesn't become the feudal mess it eventually turned into.
2. How will Poland's fate differ from OTL's? Their partition between three different territorially expansive countries is definitely not guaranteed. Even if it's just bumped up to "not totally screwed" it'd still be a major improvement for Poland.
3. Is it possible that the potentially less violent expansion of Christianity into the Baltic coast could lead to a surviving Old Prussian culture?
 
The partition of Poland is so far out from the PoD and so dependent on the most contingent of the great powers (prussia), that you're basically asking about Napoleon. Hell even the Mongol conquests are butterflied at this point which would probably help as IIRC Poland was about o reunification around Silesia before the Piast Duke died. that's before we consider what happens to Russia. she's probsbly still unify without the Mongols but it would look very different.

The Pagans are going to get holy warred eventually. From the fall of Saxony to Charlemagne on the eventual conversion of all the Baltics basically became inevitable, if a matter of centuries. That said both Poland and Denmark squabbled over the region in addition to the Germans, and it wasn't until the 13th and 14th centuries that it swung decisively in the latters favor due to demographics and Poland being a feudal mess. Hell that's where Denmark gets her flag IIRC, something about a battle standard in Estonia.

That said Poland is almost certainly going to have her ups and downs, and even without the Mongols there are plenty of horse nomads that could wreck things.

"Germany" has a much better shot at unifying early here, at least a good of a shot of France managing to centralize like OTL and not losing Toulouse/Burgundy etc. The HRE wasn't particularly less messy than France, England, or Iberia in this period, it's not until the 1600s and especially the 1600s that it started going downhill.
 
Well, so far the butterfly net seems to be keeping the big changes confined to Christiandom; we'll see if and when the ripples spread out to Central and East Asia.
 
It's actually intended to be a semi-serious bit of experimentation with TTL-Italian, based on a few very tenuous assumptions made by a non-linguist (me).

1. The most "conservative" Romance language IOTL is Sardinian; that is, it's changed the least from Late Latin. ITTL, I figure that Tusculani "Italian" is going to be more conservative and less influenced by French/Provencal/Germanic langauges than IOTL, and thus it should look more like Sardinian (but without Sardinian's pre-Latin Nuragic roots).
2. Although the Tusculani and their empire are Latinate, they sometimes adjust their pronunciations and/or spellings to be a bit more Greek. This is going to be particularly true if the word is borrowed from Greek or also exists as a Greek word - like, say, the name John. John in particular is a very Greek name at the time; it only became really popular in Latin Europe in the High Middle Ages, possibly as a result of Latin-Greek contact during the Crusades.

In modern Italian, John is usually written as "Giovanni," but shorter versions like "Gian" are also used, and in modern Sardinian the name is "Giuanne." In both languages the G is pronounced dʒ (as in "jam").
In Latin, of course, there is no dʒ sound; it's "Io[h]annes." The same is true of Greek (Ioannis/Iohannes).
So, if we take the Sardinian Giuan[ne] and make it a touch more Greek-sounding by clipping off the dʒ, we get Iuanne or just Iuan.

As for Aureu, another feature of Sardinian is that the Latin -us/um ending tends to become -u, unlike in modern Italian where it's often -o. (See, for instance, "wine:" Latin vinum, Italian vino, Sardinian binu, and for good measure Corsican and Sicilian vinu - or "wolf:" Latin lupus, Italian lupo, Sardinian/Corsican/Sicilian lupu.) Rather than translating "Aureus" ("golden"), I figured it would be more likely for it to be treated as a proper name, and thus the alt-Italian version of it is Aureu or something similar.

As I said, I'm not a linguist; I don't claim any special expertise here, or really any at all. I just like to try these things for fun sometimes. :)
I have the barest inkling of an education in linguistics, so I woul leave a comment on this; Sardinian is the most conservative derivative of Latin because one of the few general laws of linguistics is that isolated and periferic areas evolve less and slower, so Italian wouldn't remain significantly more archaic unless somehow everybody started avoid the Peninsula. Moreover, very significant injections of germanic lexicon have already happened with the Goths and Langobards, while commerce would ensure further exchanges. A third notable point is that modern official Italian was born around the 14th century but never spoken by the general public and kept almost under stasis as a sort of literary language for some five hundred years while the dialects kept evolving, so it was already more conservative than other romance languages because it was a historical relic.
 
Makes sense. Perhaps at some point it would be nice to work on how a TTL-Italian might actually look; I certainly don't have the expertise to do it, which is why I've avoided it so far save for trying out a single name. As mentioned, it's probably premature given that the TL has only proceeded to 1027 so far.
 
The partition of Poland is so far out from the PoD and so dependent on the most contingent of the great powers (prussia), that you're basically asking about Napoleon. Hell even the Mongol conquests are butterflied at this point which would probably help as IIRC Poland was about o reunification around Silesia before the Piast Duke died. that's before we consider what happens to Russia. she's probsbly still unify without the Mongols but it would look very different.

The Pagans are going to get holy warred eventually. From the fall of Saxony to Charlemagne on the eventual conversion of all the Baltics basically became inevitable, if a matter of centuries. That said both Poland and Denmark squabbled over the region in addition to the Germans, and it wasn't until the 13th and 14th centuries that it swung decisively in the latters favor due to demographics and Poland being a feudal mess. Hell that's where Denmark gets her flag IIRC, something about a battle standard in Estonia.

That said Poland is almost certainly going to have her ups and downs, and even without the Mongols there are plenty of horse nomads that could wreck things.

"Germany" has a much better shot at unifying early here, at least a good of a shot of France managing to centralize like OTL and not losing Toulouse/Burgundy etc. The HRE wasn't particularly less messy than France, England, or Iberia in this period, it's not until the 1600s and especially the 1600s that it started going downhill.

Thanks for answering in a way that makes me feel like an absolute simpleton. I'm still grateful for the information, but my ego still stings a little bit.
 
XXXIII. Eagle's Fall
XXXIII. Eagle’s Fall

fnX8cau.png

Byzantine silk tapestry from Italy depicting Alexander the Great ascending to heaven
with the aid of two eagles, 11th century

Arnulf's Invasion

In 1027 the catepanus of Trento was a certain comes named Ursus Videlianus. Ursus, according to the chronicler Egidius of Florence, had come under suspicion of financial malfeasance, probably involving the sale of imperial lands within the catepanate. The emperor recalled him to Pavia. Unlike in the case of John Aureus, however, the emperor’s words were apparently delivered by messengers rather than an armed force of the milites Ungarorum. Instead of either appearing in Pavia to face the allegations or fleeing the country, Ursus chose instead to make an overture to Arnulf II, Duke of Bavaria. Presumably Ursus was offering up Italy, or at least part of Lombardy, to Arnulf; it was hardly the first time a Bavarian duke had attempted such a conquest in the last century.

That Arnulf thought this opportunity good enough to act upon suggests that the empire of Constantine did not seem to its contemporaries as formidable as a map might suggest. Perhaps despite all the emperor’s purges, there were still powerful discontents in Lombardy. Alternatively, perhaps the fact that Constantine had not seriously led an army since his teenage years led others to assume that he possessed no great martial strength. Indeed, the performance of the Italian army of the early 11th century was generally underwhelming, with most of its victories gained by peripheral marcher-lords against relatively feeble opponents. The emperor’s Magyars performed admirably throughout Constantine’s reign, but they did not constitute an army, and were more often used as bodyguards or special enforcers than in proper war.

The treachery of Ursus threw open the door to Arnulf, who led an army plundering through Lombardy. An attempt by catepanus Antonius of Bergamo to arrest the progress of the Bavarians evidently failed, and Antonius was forced to take refuge behind the walls of Bergamo while the invaders laid waste to the countryside. The Bavarians reached as far as Cremona on the Po river, causing such great devastation that at least one Italian writer compared them to the Magyars of the previous century.

Italy, however, was not as brittle as it seemed. Brescia surrendered to the Bavarians, but Bergamo and Cremona resisted; their bishops and civic militiamen stood fast. The chroniclers make no mention of any parallel rebellion or uprising among the Lombard nobility in favor of Arnulf and Ursus, and the other catepani presumably remained loyal or at least failed to throw their support to the invaders. With an underwhelming reception in Lombardy and the approach of Constantine at the head of a large army, Ursus and Arnulf withdrew to Brescia. Brescia’s bishop, however, had since thought better about his appeasement. In the absence of the Bavarians, the Brescians drove out the garrison Ursus had left and barred their gates to the retreating invaders. Turning upon the city, the Bavarians succeeded in storming the walls and subjected Brescia to a sack. The citadel, however, remained in control of the bishop and his men, rendering the city indefensible against the advancing imperial army. Arnulf and Ursus were compelled to withdraw further into the Trento catepanate.

A European War

It is difficult to imagine that Arnulf would have undertaken this enterprise were he not convinced of the support, or at least the ambivalence, of the recently crowned King Henry III of Germany. Henry’s older brother, Liudolf II, had maintained a peaceable relationship with Constantine. The death of the queen-mother Helena, however, had weakened the position of the pro-Italian party, and the marriage of prince Constantine to princess Mathilde of France in the year of Henry’s coronation seems to have turned Henry against his uncle. The emperor had no doubt hoped to gain further legitimacy for his son and likely successor, but in the process had alienated his most dangerous neighbor.

Whether Henry originally intended to materially support Arnulf is unknown, but soon he would be dragged into the conflict regardless. Although the arrest and death of John Aureus may have damaged relations between the Hungarians and the Italians, King Stephen of Hungary nevertheless clearly perceived the danger which German ambitions in Italy posed for him. Twenty years before, Arnulf had made a similar attempt to invade Hungarian Carinthia, and there had likely been smaller skirmishes in the intervening period. Stephen responded to the Bavarian invasion of Lombardy by launching his own raid over the border into Bavaria. Arnulf withdrew to protect his own territory, leaving Ursus to fend for himself. Trento was well-fortified, but this turned out to be irrelevant when the renegade catepan was murdered by his own men (who, at least one source claims, were paid off by Constantine).

Henry did not leave Arnulf to his fate as his brother had. He made his winter quarters at Augsburg with a large Saxon army, and there received emissaries from Constantine. Although Arnulf had not held Lombardy, he had caused great damage, and he and Henry might have expected some manner of conciliatory appeal from Constantine. Instead, however, the chief imperial envoy, Bishop Silvanus of Florence, demanded reparations and allegedly insulted the German king. Upon leaving the king’s presence, or possibly on his journey back to Italy, Silvanus was abducted. A German account, while not disputing the bishop’s arrest, claims that Silvanus had attempted to meet in secret with the king’s feudatories at Augsburg to encourage a rebellion against him, while Italian sources merely describe the bishop’s arrest as an outrageous kidnapping and claim that Arnulf demanded ransom.

Constantine’s response was to lean on Pope Demetrius to demand the release of Silvanus, although the pope probably needed little encouraging. With a possible threat of anathema hanging over him, Henry probably decided one bishop was not worth a confrontation, and prevailed upon Arnulf to release him. Nevertheless Henry remained defiant on all other issues, and Constantine was in a dangerous position. Henry still had a large army at Augsburg, and Arnulf was pushing Henry towards taking advantage of the apparent weakness of Lombardy to use that army against the king’s uncle.

The next step in Constantine’s playbook was to turn Henry’s attention elsewhere. This was done in a particularly dramatic fashion by a new imperial delegation, this time bound for Poland. The great Polish duke Boleslaw had recently died, but the emperor now offered his son, Mieszko, what Boleslaw had long desired: a royal crown and an autonomous archbishopric. What the emperor desired in exchange was Miesko’s fealty – and, presumably, for Mieszko to support Stephen and Constantine against their common foe. As spring arrived, Henry thus learned that his uncle had performed yet another flagrant act of treachery against him, in one stroke both undermining the German church in “Sclavinia” and granting kingship to a man Henry viewed as his own vassal. Emboldened by a crown and by his new alliance with the Hungarians and Italians, Mieszko joined Stephen in an invasion of Bohemia, thus touching off a general war.

The conflict did not end quickly. Despite initial success, the Polish and Hungarian forces were driven out of Bohemia by Henry, who despite his relative youth demonstrated himself to be a tactician of considerable skill. As Poland itself came under threat, Miszko reached out to his old pagan allies, the Lutici, who took up arms once more and savagely raided into Saxony and Meissen alongside the Poles. Henry was thus prevented from undertaking a proper invasion of Poland, but he retaliated in the following year by inducing the Prince of Kiev to take some belated revenge for Boleslaw’s attempt in the previous decade to foist his son-in-law upon the Kievan throne. A Kievan army invaded Poland from the east and installed Mieszko’s half-brother as a pro-German proxy in Poland. Even the Lutici were checked, clobbered from both sides by Henry’s Saxons and the Obodrites, a neighboring pagan confederation which Henry had courted as his own ally among the Wends.

Constantine’s contribution to this conflagration was not decisive. He launched an attack on Bavaria in the vicinity of Brixen in 1028, but it seems to have accomplished little. While his catepani in the north prosecuted the war to a limited extent by border raids and Italian milites served under Stephen, the emperor’s personal commitment amounted to little. Italian chroniclers criticize Constantine for doing too little and being too cautious, but war-by-proxy was always the emperor’s favored strategy, and Germany was not the emperor’s only concern in these years.

The Venetian Coup

The revered Doge of Venice, Peter Urseolus, had made grand plans for the succession of his son John Urseolus. John had been made the governor of Dalmatia (still acknowledged as a Byzantine protectorate) after its recovery from the Bulgarians and their allies by Doge Peter, and John’s connections to the east were further strengthened by his marriage to a Byzantine noblewoman, Maria Argyre. His father secured John’s election as co-doge and thereafter abdicated and retired to a monastery around 1008, leaving John as sole effective ruler.[A] John’s close association with the Byzantines might have offended Emperor Octavian, but Constantine does not seem to have taken any particular offense to John’s eastern connections. Venetian merchants, after all, still paid tolls to Constantine, and Constantine and Peter had always maintained a good relationship.

After a decade of peaceful and prosperous rule, John was confronted by the renewed hostility of the co-kings of Croatia, the brothers Kresimir III and Gojslav, who sought to restore Croatian control over the Dalmatian cities comprising the ducatus Dalmatiae. Croatia too was a Byzantine satellite state – Kresimir held the same title of patrikios that John Urseolus did – but when the Dalmatian cities called upon John to defend them from Croatian aggression, John could rely on powerful friends outside the empire to support him. Margrave Marinus Candianus of Istria was John’s nephew thanks to his father’s marriage to Hicela, John’s sister, while John’s younger brother Peter had married a sister of King Stephen of Hungary. Both Marinus and Stephen supported their Venetian kinsman, and the Croatian kings were soon compelled to relent and vacate any portions of the Dalmatian coast which they had occupied.

Although he found prosperity at home and victory abroad, Doge John eventually created his own domestic problems. His Greek titles, wife, and wealth caused him to act more like an imperial prince than an elected magistrate. He treated himself to rare luxuries and attempted to make his own household a miniature imitation of the Constantinopolitan court by surrounding himself with servants and eunuchs. Having acquired the dogeship through his familial ties, he saw no problem with ruling the city as a family enterprise, and fresh from his victory over the Croats in 1019 he selected his younger brother Ursus for the position of Patriarch of Grado. His other brothers, Peter, Vitalis, and Constantine (Emperor Constantine’s godson) also received plum positions in the government and church hierarchies. The final straw appears to have been John’s attempt to associate his eldest son Basil (b. around 1005) with the dogeship in 1023. Evidently John had forgotten that the very same sort of attempt to continue a string of father-to-son successions had caused the ouster and near-destruction of the previous ruling family of Venice, the Candiani.

John remained secure for the moment, but the death of Emperor Basil II in 1025 gave his opponents the confidence to attempt his overthrow. In the following year, he and his family were chased from the city and took refuge in Istria. The Venetians elected Peter Centranicus, a nobleman whose family had never held the dogeship, as their new leader, but the deposition of a doge with such extensive ties to Venice’s neighbors had severe and immediate consequences. In protest of the coup, Constantine of Italy and Stephen of Hungary revoked all Venetian trading privileges. Kresimir of Croatia, who now ruled alone after the death of his brother, took the opportunity to wage another war for Dalmatia (and to renounce his Byzantine vassalage as well).

For two unhappy years, Venice limped along as a near-pariah state, with the Byzantines as their only remaining friends. John fared little better at first – perhaps concerned that his nephew and host Margrave Marinus did not have his best interests at heart, he fled with his family to Constantinople in 1027 or 1028. In that latter year, however, Emperor Basil’s brother Constantine VIII died, bringing an end to the male line of the Macedonian dynasty. His successor was Romanos III Argyros, the husband of Constantine’s daughter Zoe, who was also a kinsman (probably a brother) of Maria Argyre, the wife of John Urseolus. John, already present at the imperial court, convinced Romanos to withdraw his support for Venice and complete the city’s alienation from every last one of its neighbors. This spelled the end of the career of Peter Centranicus, who was deposed by the Venetians.

In his moment of triumph, however, John’s distrust of his nephew Marinus was proven quite well-founded. John’s return to Venice was pre-empted by the quick action of the Margrave of Istria, who presented himself (along with his army and navy) to the Venetians as an alternative candidate. He had his own serious problems – although they had not ruled for decades, the Candiani had themselves run into trouble for attempting to create a dynasty, and there was some concern that Marinus could not be an independent doge given that he still held Istria as a fief of the western emperor. Nevertheless, his Tusculani ancestry promised a restoration of relations with Emperor Constantine, and his forces and fleet in Istria would be of great value in protecting Venice’s Dalmatian possessions from the Croats (which he demonstrated soon thereafter by a successful raid against the Croats). Marinus was elected doge in early 1029, becoming the fifth Candiani doge (but the only one not to be named Peter). The election of Marinus ended the row with Constantine, but not with Stephen or Romanos, both brothers-in-law of the deposed John Urseolus.

Although John gnashed his teeth and raged against the injustice of it all, the more immediate concern of Emperor Romanos was the east, where his governor in Antioch had been soundly defeated after an ill-conceived attack against the Emir of Aleppo around June of 1029. Romanos prepared an expedition to return Aleppo to the status of Byzantine protectorate which it had held under Basil II. His expedition in the spring of 1030, however, failed in large part due to his own inexperience.[1]

The Empires in the South

Constantine VIII had dispatched the protospatharios Orestes to “Sicily” (probably meaning Langobardia rather than the actual island of Sicily, which was entirely in Saracen hands) with an army, presumably to defend against Sicilian raids or to keep hope alive for the invasion of Sicily which had faltered after the death of Basil. He was still there upon the accession of Romanos III, but like his emperor Orestes evidently had little military experience, and his army was surprised and slaughtered by the Saracens just a few months before the emperor’s own defeat in the east. This debacle inspired a new rebellion by the Lombards of the catepanate, whose insurrection was actively abetted by the southern Italian dukes. Now well into middle age, the “Wolf of Salerno” – Duke Leo – had lost much of his hair (we are told he was quite bald) but none of his guile or ambition, and felt no great shame at breaking the peace which had been made between Constantine of Italy and Basil II.

Romanos, learning of this situation after his return from the east, intended to dispatch a new army but was hampered by the coup in Venice. The Urseoli doges, as acknowledged Byzantine subjects, had been ready and willing to provide the empire with their services at sea and in fact had been obligated by treaty to ferry the empire’s troops to Italy when the situation demanded it. Although Doge Marinus hoped to repair relations with Romanos, he was not prepared to transport a new Greek army on to Italian shores knowing that Romanos still hoped for the restoration of his brother-in-law in Venice. Although the Byzantine fleet was considerable, the Adriatic had been neglected in the reign of Basil II based on the assumption that the Venetians would ably look after the empire’s interests there. An attempt to take back Bari from the rebels by the protospatharios Michael in September of 1030 seems to have suffered from logistical problems and ended up with a defeat on both land and sea, as the Salernitans and rebels surprised Michaels’ army as it approached the city and the Greek fleet was scattered by a storm.

Although the victory of his vassals in the south and the accession of his cousin Marinus in Venice were seemingly positive developments for Emperor Constantine, his diplomatic position was rapidly collapsing. The matter of Venice had severely damaged his relations with the Hungarians and Greeks, and his vassals’ support for the rebels in the south had brought him to the brink of war with Romanos. Moreover, in the same year his ally Mieszko had been driven from Poland, a pro-German duke had been restored to Bohemia, the Wends had collapsed into their own civil war, and Stephen was now exploring the possibility of a separate peace with King Henry. The emperor sent out emissaries to both the Germans and the Greeks looking for a way out.

Henry haughtily dismissed Constantine’s appeal. He was considering a new Italian invasion of his own, and the emperor’s eagerness for an end to the war only demonstrated weakness. Romanos, however, was receptive. Unlike Basil, who sought military solutions everywhere, Romanos was a career bureaucrat who had aspirations of military greatness but also fancied himself a man of culture and reason. Perhaps more importantly, he was also still embroiled with the war against the Arabs in the east, and southern Italy had proven to be only a source of loss and embarrassment. Constantine offered to reign in Duke Leo and renew the treaty between himself and Basil if Romanos would reconcile with Doge Marinus. Romanos, who had been rather quickly spending Basil’s great treasury, insisted on an extraction of an indemnity and a new pledge of allegiance from Venice, as well as a recognition that Dalmatia was held only on the sufferance of Constantinople, but in the end agreed to the rest of Constantine’s terms. A new catepan, Pothos Argyros (no relation to the emperor is attested), landed in the south in early 1031 by way of a Venetian fleet, and with Leo muzzled by his sovereign the Byzantine forces managed to stamp out the rebellion and restore order once more, albeit with the province still plagued by the Sicilians.

The Fall

The German problem remained, and Constantine could no longer even count on Stephen, once his closest ally. Henry, however, was to be diverted yet again, this time by the enterprise of the young King Lothair II of France, the son of the late Louis V. Possibly to fulfill his marital alliance with the emperor, but more likely to assert his family’s own longstanding claim to Lotharingia, Lothair invaded Henry’s kingdom in 1032. The attack was more of a raid than an attempt at conquest, and its chief objective was symbolic – the sacking of Aachen, demonstrating that Henry was not the unchallenged master of Charlemagne’s capital. Having made his point, Lothair did not stay long, and when Henry rode west with an army the French went home without offering battle.

The Aachen raid meant little in terms of the strategic situation. In the same year, Stephen and Henry agreed to a truce, and if a pinprick raid was the best Lothair could offer then he was unlikely to be a real impediment to an invasion of Italy. After the winter of 1032-3, however, German fortunes took an abrupt turn for the worse. The Poles deposed their Kievan-backed usurper and restored Mieszko, reigniting the war in the east, while tensions between the Obodrites and Saxons caused the confederation to switch sides and temporarily join the Poles and Lutici against their common foe. King Stephen, who had been compelled to surrender some Carinthian lands as part of the truce, reneged on the agreement scarcely a year after its creation and rejoined the war against Henry.

The German king continued to outmaneuver and outfight his enemies, but he could not put out the fires springing up along every border all at once. He campaigned with a furious and frenetic pace in 1033 and 1034, driving the Wends back from Meissen and checking the Hungarians near Brno. A general and warrior of great skill, his later chroniclers – and perhaps his contemporaries as well – dubbed him “Henry the Eagle,” a tribute to his swiftness, daring, and commanding aspect. Even his energy, however, was drained by the great exertions he demanded of himself and his army, and at winter quarters in 1034-5 his health gave out.. Hearing of a midwinter raid by the Hungarians into Bavaria, he insisted on leading the repulse, but had some sort of attack or fit (a seizure or heart attack has been suggested) and fell from his horse into the snow. His men recovered him, but attempts to nurse him back to health were in vain, and he died shortly thereafter.

Henry left no children. The closest dynastic successor was his nephew Otto, the son of Liudolf II, but Otto was a young boy. Duke Arnulf, himself an Ottonian albeit of the cadet Bavarian line, put forward his own candidacy and attracted many lords who may have preferred a grown and experienced man to a mere child. Many Saxons, however, resisted the Bavarian duke’s ambitions, and in the midst of war Germany had to undergo a succession crisis. The conflict was not extended – Arnulf soon triumphed over his nephew’s backers – but it was now the German king who was forced to buy peace. The war ended with the recognition of an independent Polish kingdom under Mieszko and the reciprocal recognition of Bohemia as a German vassal, albeit shorn of Silesia (annexed by the Poles) and Moravia (by the Hungarians).

King and Duke

Although King Arnulf had sued for peace, this was a temporary expedient only. He was, if anything, even more interested in southern expansion than Henry. In the early years of his reign, however, it was already becoming clear that he was not in a strong position to achieve his loftiest ambitions.

Bernard, the Billung Duke of Saxony, had originally favored the young Otto to succeed King Henry. At length and after some military clashes Bernard had accepted the coronation of Arnulf, but he kept Otto from Arnulf’s grasp and successfully demanded the recognition of Saxon customary law in his territory as part of the price for his loyalty. Bernard’s drive for autonomy had solid support from within his own country. Despite his Ottonian blood, Arnulf’s branch of the family had been solidly based in Bavaria for generations. Those Saxons on the Wendish frontier had also objected to the concessions which Arnulf had made to the pagans as part of his immediate post-election effort to staunch the kigndom’s bleeding and bring the destructive and costly war to an end.

Arnulf had sat upon the throne for barely a year when King Rudolph III of Burgundy died with no male heir. His neighbors and relatives, King Theobald of Provence and Duke Hermann III of Swabia, were inevitably thrust into conflict for control of the realm. Constantine predictably backed Theobald, his client and brother-in-law, while Arnulf supported his vassal Hermann. This Burgundinian Crisis, unlike the one at Rudolph’s accession, is not well-attested in the historical literature, but the German tradition maintains that Hermann defeated Theobald and his Italian allies at the Battle of Martiniacum in 1036. Theobald did not come away empty-handed, as he was apparently able to take possession of Lyons and some other border territories which had previously been under Rudolph’s nominal control, but the crown of (Upper) Burgundy and the lion’s share of its territory fell to Hermann. The result was the establishment of a geographically unusual Alpine territory, a personal union of a duchy and kingdom usually referred to in modern texts as the “Swabian Kingdom of Burgundy.”

At first this seemed like a promising development for Arnulf. Burgundy’s strategic importance to the German monarchy was significant; it opened new routes (most notably the St. Bernard pass) into Italy and further extended the Alpine front which Constantine was obligated to fortify and defend. Once again, the emperor’s military effectiveness was shown to be disappointing. Having gained a royal crown, however, Hermann began to see Arnulf more and more as his equal rather than his sovereign, and his pride was only encouraged by Constantine and Lothair II of France, who immediately and quite correctly perceived that Hermann might be cultivated into a formidable rival of Arnulf. The emperor and the French king not only recognized Hermann but dispatched emissaries and gifts worthy of a king. Arnulf had hoped to seamlessly inherit the power and authority of the senior Ottonian kings, but as the growing ambitions of Hermann and Bernard demonstrated, the provincial interests of its great dukes were proving too difficult to control.[B]

End of an Era

Constantine had outlasted his latest adversary, but he would not survive Henry by long. His health was already declining, possibly due to a heart condition. One morning in March of 1037, his servants entered his bedchamber only to find that their emperor had died quietly in the night.

The “Most Just Emperor” had lived to the age of 59 and logged a record-breaking 48 years of rule as the reigning emperor in the West. He wore the imperial crown for longer than any Roman Emperor, either Carolingian or ancient, who had ruled in the west, and he had ruled Italy longer than any single Lombard or Frankish monarch before him.[2] The realm had not grown much in size under his care (aside from Duke Leo’s conquest of Lucania and the acquisition of Sardinia as a loose protectorate), but for most Italians his era had been one of peace and prosperity. He had ground down much of the restless Lombard nobility, supervised the return of the written Roman law to Italy, and given much fruitful attention to such varied internal matters as the maintenance of roads, the suppression of bandits, and regulation of the currency. Constantine was no great commander of men, but he had weathered serious threats to his crown and outlasted foes far more skilled in the art of war than himself.

Constantine’s death marks the end of the dynastic era scholars refer to as the period of the “Early Tusculani,” comprising the reign of three emperors which – with a few interruptions – spanned 90 years between the election of Alberic as King of Italy and the death of his grandson. Under Constantine, the early Italo-Roman state had arguably risen to the apex of its power and prosperity, but the emperor’s successes as a ruler and administrator were imperiled by his failures as a father. Having deliberately isolated his sons from power and responsibility after the rebellion and death of his eldest, Romanus, Constantine was succeeded by men who had no experience with rule and knew little outside of the comfortable life of the imperial palaces.


Map of Italy and its neighbors around the death of Constantine in 1037. Istria is colored
as being separate from Venice, as it was held as a dependency of Rome while Venice and
Dalmatia were vassals of Constantinople, but in 1037 these territories were all held by the
same man.

Next Time: Pride Before Destruction

Footnotes (In Character)
[1] Before becoming emperor, Romanos’ career had been in the civil service as a judge and administrator.
[2] He nevertheless just barely failed to best the longevity of his contemporary Basil II, who ruled the Byzantine Empire for a month less than 50 years following the death of John Tzimiskes.

Endnotes (Out of Character)
[A] IOTL, John and his wife were killed by a plague before the end of his father’s rule, and Peter was succeeded by a younger son, Otto. ITTL, the plague has been butterflied away.
[B] There's an interesting parallel here to William the Bastard, who IOTL conquered himself a kingdom while still paying homage to another king for a duchy. Being an island does a lot to help you keep your independence, however, and Swabia-Burgundy is likely to be a transitory amalgamation ITTL.
 
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I'm taking it Romanos III Argyros is still alive at the time of (Italo) Emperor Constantine's death in 1037? That means he lived longer than OTL, and hasn't been killed by his wife, Empress Zoe? Does this mean we don't see the Macedonian Dynasty running into problems and eventually being supplanted? Can we expect the Byzantine court to be in better shape in about, oh, say 30 years?
 
Swabia-Burgundy could evolve into Super (and royal) Switzerland, albeit shorn of some of the northern and western most bits. It would make a decent buffer state if nothing else.

I'm kind of surprised the raid on Aachen didn't get played up more, especially if the king had th chance to nab some of Charlemagne stuff, ie his crown or even his corpse. The French and Germans ads still arguing about Charlemagne today, back then it was much more important and holding the physical regalia conveys much of the legitimacy. In time the Rhenish lords might well defect to France.
 
I'm taking it Romanos III Argyros is still alive at the time of (Italo) Emperor Constantine's death in 1037? That means he lived longer than OTL, and hasn't been killed by his wife, Empress Zoe? Does this mean we don't see the Macedonian Dynasty running into problems and eventually being supplanted? Can we expect the Byzantine court to be in better shape in about, oh, say 30 years?

Romanos III isn't mentioned in the update after 1031. I haven't made a determination yet as to whether by Constantine's death he's still on the throne or has been replaced by Michael or an equivalent beau of Zoe. I hadn't made plans to deviate from OTL much in Constantinople yet, but whatever I do will have some immediate effects, as in the next year (1038) George Maniakes historically led the last serious Byzantine attempt to reconquer Sicily, an event which - if it happens in some form ITTL - will be of obvious significance for this story.

Swabia-Burgundy could evolve into Super (and royal) Switzerland, albeit shorn of some of the northern and western most bits. It would make a decent buffer state if nothing else.

Possibly, and I haven't decided exactly how long it will last, but it seems like a rather tenuous state to me. Geographically, there's a lot of mountains there to make ruling that territory challenging, and politically it's totally surrounded by powerful neighbors who have various claims on its constituent parts. Switzerland, of course, is a demonstration that a polity of roughly that location/extent can exist, but Switzerland developed and gained its independence under very different political and social conditions than ITTL Swabia-Burgundy.

I'm kind of surprised the raid on Aachen didn't get played up more, especially if the king had th chance to nab some of Charlemagne stuff, ie his crown or even his corpse. The French and Germans ads still arguing about Charlemagne today, back then it was much more important and holding the physical regalia conveys much of the legitimacy. In time the Rhenish lords might well defect to France.

It's inspired by the OTL raid of Lothair I of France on Aachen in 978 against Otto II (which did not happen ITTL). That raid too had symbolic meaning, although its purpose was probably less to stick a finger in Otto's eye than to capture him, as he was at Aachen at the time. Otto avenged it by waging war against France with some success, and eventually Lothair came to the table. Lothair did allegedly take a lot of plunder from Aachen, including the crown jewels, but that they were there at all may have had as much to do with the fact that Otto was there and only escaped by the skin of his teeth. I'm not sure how much of the Carolingian regalia was actually kept at Aachen permanently, aside from the body of Charlemagne itself (which IOTL Lothair did not touch).

ITTL, Henry III didn't really have the capability to invade France considering his renewed wars with pretty much all his other neighbors, and he died before having the chance to gain his revenge. As we will see, Lothair II has certainly noticed the failure of the Germans to respond to his provocations, and his unexpected success has certainly boosted his stature both at home and potentially among some of the Lotharingian magnates who may not be entirely thrilled with the accession of Arnulf. Lothair will be back, and next time his plans are to stay for good.
 
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Amazing chapter as always. I especially liked this bit:

Constantine’s death marks the end of the dynastic era scholars refer to as the period of the “Early Tusculani,” comprising the reign of three emperors which – with a few interruptions – spanned 90 years between the election of Alberic as King of Italy and the death of his grandson. Under Constantine, the early Italo-Roman state had arguably risen to the apex of its power and prosperity, but the emperor’s successes as a ruler and administrator were imperiled by his failures as a father. Having deliberately isolated his sons from power and responsibility after the rebellion and death of his eldest, Romanus, Constantine was succeeded by men who had no experience with rule and knew little outside of the comfortable life of the imperial palaces.

I enjoy the fact that you aren't intending to make it a "Tusculani wank". But I can only hope that the divergent cultural paths in Italy survive long enough to make a completely different Middle Age.
 
Excellent update as always. I am interested in the silk depiction of Alexander the Great. It is very reminiscent of the story from Leo of Naples' Historia de preliis Alexandri magni (itself a translation of an earlier Greek version), wherein Alexander wants to examine the heavens, so he hitches a couple of griffons, with food attached before them, to a chariot and does so.
 
Excellent update as always. I am interested in the silk depiction of Alexander the Great. It is very reminiscent of the story from Leo of Naples' Historia de preliis Alexandri magni (itself a translation of an earlier Greek version), wherein Alexander wants to examine the heavens, so he hitches a couple of griffons, with food attached before them, to a chariot and does so.

It's exactly this story that the tapestry is portraying, although in this version they seem to be eagles rather than griffons. The actual tapestry is a late 10th century Byzantine work which can be found in the Mainfränkisches Museum in Würzburg, Germany. I have read that it may have been a gift to Otto III by Samuel, the Bulgarian Emperor, as part of his attempt to gain foreign recognition/help in his war against Basil II.
 
It's exactly this story that the tapestry is portraying, although in this version they seem to be eagles rather than griffons. The actual tapestry is a late 10th century Byzantine work which can be found in the Mainfränkisches Museum in Würzburg, Germany. I have read that it may have been a gift to Otto III by Samuel, the Bulgarian Emperor, as part of his attempt to gain foreign recognition/help in his war against Basil II.
If only there was a Alexander-in-glass-submarine companion piece, as per the tale. The only ones I could find are later.
 
This continues to be brilliantly detailed and incredibly complex. It looks like the trend of Byzantine decline has begun in earnest. Is the Emir of Aleppo Salih ibn Mirdas?

(Edit: I suppose depending when in 1029, it could be his son, although it seems like his battle with the Fatimids probably didn't occur.)

Is the weakness of the Italian army due to some structural flaw or just Constantine's leadership? Your previous posts on the Italian army didn't really hint at poor performance, although they didn't hint at greatness either.
 

Faeelin

Banned
This is always a treasure. So far, unless I have missed it, there hasn't been much of a discussion of the Normans. Are they going to show up?
 
This continues to be brilliantly detailed and incredibly complex. It looks like the trend of Byzantine decline has begun in earnest. Is the Emir of Aleppo Salih ibn Mirdas?

The target of the "ill-conceived attack" by the governor of Antioch in 1029 ITTL is his son Nasr ibn Salih. I haven't spent much time detailing the conflicts between the Byzantines and Fatimids except for occasional passing mentions, as they aren't central to the "plot" so to speak, but in general Muslim and Byzantine history has not yet been greatly altered from OTL. The latter, however, is probably going to start changing in the next update or soon thereafter.

Is the weakness of the Italian army due to some structural flaw or just Constantine's leadership? Your previous posts on the Italian army didn't really hint at poor performance, although they didn't hint at greatness either.

There are a variety of problems here, one of which is Constantine himself. Innately cautious, he tends not to commit "his own" forces to his wars, preferring to let his frontier catepans/governors take independent actions despite the fact that the catepanate forces are mainly garrison-duty infantrymen. Being a sensible autocrat, Constantine tends to choose these governors based on loyalty rather than ability, and withdraws or relieves commanders who he fears are doing too well or otherwise trigger his paranoia. His best commanders are all either muzzled (Leo of Salerno), relieved (Adenus), or destroyed (John Aureus).

There are also logistical issues involved. Italy (well, northern Italy) has great interior lines - the Roman road system and the Po river valley are wonderful for moving men and supplies around. Once you move beyond that, however, you have the Alps and the sea, both of which pose significant challenges for moving and supplying armies. The HRE IOTL was never able to project anything close to its "full strength" south of the Alps, and the same is true in reverse for the Italo-Romans, which is in part why their attempts to intervene in Burgundy or Germany are often rather feeble. As for the sea, it's worth noting that there is no such thing as an "Italo-Roman Navy" at this time - there is a Pisan navy, and a Genoese navy, and a Neapolitan navy, and even these are not really "navies" so much as conscripted merchant ships. Pisan, Genoese, etc. sailors are very skilled, but this decentralized, ad hoc, conscription-dependent naval structure is not ideal for power projection, and it should be remembered that the very same cities that provide the empire with its ships are also rivals with one another and have their own conflicting interests involved in every overseas venture the empire embarks upon. The Sardinian Expedition represents something near the limits of the state's abilities at this time, and that was a one-time attack on Mujahid and his army with considerable native (that is, Sardinian) support rather than an attempt at conquest or a raid into hostile territory.

The result of all this is that the Italo-Roman state, while not weak, punches well below its weight on the international stage. If challenged on his own territory, Constantine can (and will) raise a rather large and reasonably formidable army: Arnulf's invasion of Lombardy made good progress initially thanks to the betrayal of Ursus, but once Constantine summoned his full force the invaders withdrew to Brescia without offering battle. In foreign engagements, however, Constantine has neither the will nor the organizational/logistical capacity to use that force to its full extent.

Edit: Which reminds me, I've been thinking about making another "intermission" feature in the near future on the Italo-Roman military, sort of like a miniature Osprey book (without the pictures). There are a few changes in military kit and organization compared to OTL that might be interesting enough to warrant their own post.

This is always a treasure. So far, unless I have missed it, there hasn't been much of a discussion of the Normans. Are they going to show up?

Normans were mentioned as part of the Sardinian Expedition, and those who settled on the island - the "Sardo-Normans" and their leader Malgerius - will show up again soon. In general, the Normans aren't going to be anywhere near as prominent ITTL than they were IOTL, but there's always a place for mercenaries and freebooters in the 11th century Mediterranean.
 
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XXXIV. Pride Before Destruction
XXXIV. Pride Before Destruction

AnD1ZPf.png

Modern illustration of early 11th century Bavarian and Magyar riders

The Brothers’ Reign

Despite having never crowned his sons as co-monarchs, Constantine’s succession was orderly and uncontested. His sons, Constantine II and Theodorus – 32 and 30, respectively, at the time of their father’s death – were not rivals for their father’s crown, and opted to share in the imperial title as Basil II and Constantine VIII had in the east some decades past. Constantine, being the eldest, was crowned first and was the acknowledged senior emperor throughout their joint reign.

Most accounts of Constantine II and Theodorus dwell on their perceived faults. In the words of late 11th and 12th century chroniclers, Constantine was indolent, pleasure-seeking, and had a certain air of the effeminate; he wore silks and – most disagreeable to western observers – surrounded himself with eunuchs, whose presence was far more controversial in the Latin west than in the Greek east. Theodorus gets a better portrayal than his brother from the chroniclers of that time, but he is still presented as constitutionally unfit; he is described as erudite and pious, exceedingly gentle and meek “like a lamb,” a man well-equipped to be a saint but not for the rigors of rule. These are undoubtedly caricatures: Constantine does indeed seem to have had a taste for luxury and did indeed purchase many eunuchs for the imperial household, while Theodorus does come off as the fervent and bookish type (perhaps owing to his possible early schooling for the clergy), but the difficult circumstances of their reigns led to the exaggeration of these predilections. Even so, it is undeniable that the tight reigns by which Constantine I held the government and the nobility began almost immediately to slacken under the rule of his sons, who were either uninterested or incapable (or both) of accomplishing between them what one man alone had done for decades before them.

Constantine and Theodorus were thrust into a number of serious international crises in the first years of their reign. Burgundy had fallen to Hermann III of Swabia less than a year before their father’s death despite imperial aid to his rival Theobald of Provence, and at the time of their succession a German invasion of Italy appeared imminent. The imperial position was further shaken in the following year by the death of Stephen, King of Hungary. Stephen had arranged for the succession of his son Constantine,[A] then 29 years old, but the succession was contested by Vazul (or Basil), Stephen’s first cousin, who advanced his own claim based on the old principle of dynastic seniority. Constantine chased his cousin out of his territory of Nyitra and the claimant thereafter fled to Bavaria, where King Arnulf of Germany was only too happy to receive him.

Arnulf’s Wars

This was the pretext for a German invasion of Hungarian Carinthia in the following year. Vazul took control of Nyitra and Gyor while the Germans recaptured most of their Carinthian territory, but the harassment and scorched earth tactics of Constantine of Hungary prevented Vazul and the Germans from taking Székesfehérvár, and when the Germans returned to Bavaria for the winter the loyalist Magyars and their Italian allies attacked Nyitra, captured Vazul, and summarily executed him. The fight continued under Vazul’s sons, but Arnulf proved more interested in restoring the old borders of Carinthia than in propping up his allies. He succeeded in reconquering Carniola from the empire and raided Istria, and although the rebel cause in Hungary was flagging the German king seemed to be in a better position than ever before to deal the death-blow to Tusculani Italy.

King Lothair II of France, the brother-in-law of Constantine II, once more came to the (possibly inadvertent) rescue of the Italo-Roman empire from German aggression. The long quest of the Carolingian monarchy to restore their reign over the old Frankish heartlands of Lotharingia had been buoyed by Lothair’s raid in 1032, in which he had ravaged his way through the territory and sacked Charlemagne’s capital of Aachen. Then-king Henry III had compelled him to hastily return to France without making any permanent conquests, but it had been a moral victory for Lothair and a sign to the Lotharingian nobles that the German king was not fully capable of defending his domains. Their faith in Arnulf, a Bavarian duke who as king seemed to be chiefly interested in the Bavarian frontier, was lesser still. In 1040, pro-French counts in Lotharingia launched a rebellion against Arnulf, and Lothair entered the province with an army as their patron and liberator. Lothair seems to have successfully persuaded Hermann, King of Burgundy and Duke of Swabia, a one-time ally of Arnulf, to stand aside instead of supporting his sovereign against the invaders. Arnulf’s forces were still strong, but he had been obligated to leave some of his most loyal Bavarian soldiers behind to protect Carinthia and the devotion of the Saxons to his cause was questionable.

Arnulf’s first action was to lay siege to Cologne, whose archbishop Ezzo had defected to Lothair and may have encouraged the French king to invade. An attempt by Lothair to relieve the city was thwarted and the city was surrendered after a siege of two months; Ezzo himself managed to flee. With Cologne fallen, Lothair deemed Aachen indefensible and withdrew to Liege. Arnulf, however, was facing problems within his own army. Much of the Saxon contingent, considering their service to be over, departed for their home country. Lothair had evidently considered withdrawing after his failure at Cologne, but news of Magyar raids into Carinthia bolstered his confidence, as he believed that by simply delaying he could gain at least some territorial concession from Arnulf whose presence was dearly needed on his south-eastern frontier. Even without his Saxons, Arnulf resolved to push on against the French, liberating Aachen and reaching the river Meuse in September. While attempting a crossing of the Meuse downriver of the city, however, the Germans were opposed in force, and a bloody battle ensued at the Roman bridge there. Arnulf urged his men to press through and drive off the French, who were numerically inferior to his own army, but the press of men on the ancient bridge evidently caused one of the spans to give way. “Hundreds” were said to have been killed in the collapse, which also left the advance guard of the German army cut off from reinforcements and any means of retreat. They were butchered, captured, or drowned to a man, among them Arnulf’s own nephew Henry who reportedly jumped into the river and was pulled to his death by the weight of his armor rather than surrendering to Lothair.[B]

Collapse

Arnulf had lost a quarter of his remaining army and the confidence of many of his men. Rumors circulated that the collapse was the retribution of God, perhaps for Arnulf's usurpation of his cousin Otto. Lothair now took the offensive and attacked the Germans near Andernach in October, where Arnulf had encamped his army to await reinforcements. This engagement seems to have been tactically inconclusive, perhaps no more than a skirmish, but it caused Arnulf to retreat into Franconia and was followed by a rash of defections to Lothair among the Lotharingian nobility. Arnulf made his winter quarters in Worms and sent out messengers to assemble a new army for the coming campaign season, but he had run out of time. Sensing Arnulf’s vulnerability, Duke Bernard II of Saxony once more rallied the Saxons to the old cause of Prince Otto. The Duke had been assured of the support of King Hermann of Burgundy, who doubtless preferred a distant, teenage Saxon to a meddlesome Bavarian as his nominal overlord. In mid-December the Saxon nobility declared Arnulf to be deposed and elected Otto as their king. Entering northern Franconia with an army thereafter, the youth was crowned as Otto III at Fritzlar on Christmas Eve.

Early 1041 saw the complete disintegration of Arnulf’s power. Threatened by the Saxons and Swabians on opposite sides, it was all Arnulf could do to escape Franconia with his remaining loyalists and withdraw to Bavaria. In March, the Italians and Magyars swept into Carinthia, and a royal Hungarian army under the leadership of Count-Palatine John Octavian – the son of John Aureus – entered Bavaria proper and besieged Passau. Arnulf was compelled to make peace with the two Constantines, relinquishing all his conquests in Carinthia and Carniola. Freed of this threat at his back, Arnulf doggedly held on in Bavaria where his power remained considerable, and Otto’s war to remove him consumed much of the rest of 1041. As the year dragged on and the noose slowly tightened around him, Arnulf's hope finally began to wither, and in October he fled the country and went into exile in Poland.

The brief Bavarian supremacy in Germany had ended, and with it ended the period of intermittent war that had gripped the kingdom since the death of Otto II in 1003. The main Ottonian line had re-asserted itself on the throne, albeit initially under Billung tutelage. Germany, however, had paid enormous costs for the ruinous wars of the early 11th century. Whole swaths of the country, particularly in Bavaria, had been impoverished by raids and scavenging armies. The supply of manpower had dwindled too: one Thuringian monk observed that it was no longer possible in his day (c. 1045) to raise the sort of army which had followed “Henry the Eagle” into battle, as men of fighting age were too hard to come by. The kingdom had now lost Lotharingia to the jubilant Lothair, who commemorated his victory by exhuming the body of Charlemagne at Aachen and removing a tooth from the corpse to serve as a new relic.

The kingdom itself had shrunk, but the political horizons of the German monarchy had also grown smaller. Bavaria, henceforth divided between Bavaria “proper” and a new autonomous march consisting of the Nordgau, was given to Ottonian in-laws whose loyalty was difficult to ensure. Worse still was Swabia, for although Hermann continued to pay homage to the German king for his duchy, the overthrow of Arnulf marked his effective independence from central rule. Thereafter the German monarchy – or, perhaps more aptly, the Saxon monarchy – was more concerned with its Wendish, Danish, and Frankish neighbors than with the Italians or Hungarians. The kingdom was still a power to be reckoned with, but the days in which Otto the Great had been hegemon over all of Latin Europe seemed a rapidly fading memory.

The Argyros Connection

Constantine II had been married to Mathilde of France since 1024, but Theodorus waited some years longer for his bride. There is some suggestion that he was being prepared for an ecclesiastical career. Nevertheless, tensions with the Byzantines in Venice and southern Italy led Constantine I to marry his youngest son to Helena Argyre, a niece of Emperor Romanos III Argyros, in 1032.[C] This was not a particularly high-status marriage for the Tusculani – the Argyroi were merely an aristocratic family, and had not been closely associated with the imperial throne before the marriage of Romanos and Empress Zoe – but Constantine may have seen it as a necessary price for a lasting peace. Romanos, for his part, needed the continued cooperation of the Italians and Venetians to protect southern Italy while he was busy in the east. It was in any case in line with his policy for securing his borders elsewhere; another niece of Romanos was married to the Armenian king Smbat III in the same year.

Unfortunately this marital alliance was short-lived, as Romanos died under suspicious circumstances in 1034. It was widely alleged that the empress Zoe had arranged his assassination in order to replace him with her lover, whom she married before the body of Romanos was even cold. This new emperor, Michael IV, was a man of no real pedigree or distinction save that he was the brother of John, the chief palace eunuch. If Zoe hoped to make a puppet of him, however, she was to be disappointed, as Michael and John kept her from power. John, the more capable of the two brothers, thereafter was the power behind the throne in Constantinople.

Soon after the death of Henry III in the winter of 1034-5, Duke Leo of Salerno launched a devastating raid into Apulia and then joined his neighboring allies in besieging Amalfi. He was certainly acting with the permission of Constantine, and quite possibly his direct instruction; it seems likely that Constantine, angered by the stories of the scandalous death of Romanos and the remarriage of Zoe, decided once he was free of Henry to let the “Wolf of Salerno” slip his leash and exact some vengeance for the Argyroi. The Amalfitans had always scoffed at attacks from land, but with Pisa and Naples at his side and a pro-Italian doge in Venice it seemed quite possible that Amalfi might fall.

The immediate years after Michael’s accession were plagued by internal plots, provincial rebellions, and foreign crises which included Arab attacks in the east and a considerable Pecheneg incursion in the Balkans. Beset by these difficulties and with no reasonable means to support the provincial forces in southern Italy, particularly given that the Venice was uncooperative, Michael and John opted to try appeasement instead. Amalfi’s loyalty to Constantinople was little more than nominal anyway, so it did the empire no great injury when its leaders looked the other way as the Duke of Amalfi, Manso II, was exiled and replaced by his brother John II who was subsequently lavished with Italian titles and gave his allegiance to Pavia. Duke Leo was well-compensated for his service as Constantine’s attack dog, receiving tribute from the new Amalfitan duke and “precious stones and silks, and many fine horses” from the emperor. Later Latin writers would occasionally claim that Amalfi was in fact the “dowry” of Helena Argyre, but this is a rather facile justification of Italian aggression and Byzantine sources mention no such cession by Romanos III.

The restored peace between the empires did not secure the stability of Venice, where Constantine’s cousin Marinus Candianus had grown deeply unpopular. The citizenry drove him from the city in 1035, and he required Constantine’s aid to effect his return. Constantine’s death occasioned his second flight from the city in 1037, in which he barely escaped with his life, and Constantine’s sons were less interested in his restoration. The time was now right for John Urseolus to return from exile; his marriage to the Argyroi which had made him unacceptable to the western emperor years before was now an asset, as the Argyroi were out of power in the east and the marriage of Theodorus made John an in-law of the new junior emperor in Pavia. The Venetians, who had driven John out for his nepotism and pride, were not keen to have him back, but compared to Marinus – an obvious stooge of Pavia who had become infamous for greed and the brutish suppression of his political foes – John was a mildly preferable alternative, and one whom both Constantine II and Michael IV could at least tolerate in the position. For the moment there was peace, but Venetian rulers were clearly having difficulty navigating the city’s paradox of power – a “middle way” between the two empires was difficult to chart at the best of times, and the very dynastic stability that might have helped maintain the city on a prudent course was sabotaged by citizens fearful of tyranny. More violence and unrest lay in the city’s future.

i51U4zu.jpg

George Maniakes lands in Sicily, 11th century illustration

The Sicilian Invitation

In 1037, the Emirate of Sicily fractured into civil war. Although the immediate cause seems to have been a dynastic dispute between rival claimants of the Kalbid family, the underlying cause was the longstanding tension between the Arab urban elite and the Berber peasantry. The emir, Ahmad al-Akhal ibn Yusuf, succeeded in crushing a rebellion led by his brother in 1038, but the victory of al-Akhal and his Arab faction caused the Sicilian Berbers to appeal to the Zirids of Africa, who were themselves Sanjaha Berbers. The Zirid emir, al-Mu’izz ibn Badis, dispatched his son Abdallah ibn al-Mu’izz to Sicily to support the Berber rebels and take control of the island. Emir al-Akhal, in need of an ally, appealed to Constantine II for assistance. An appeal to Michael IV may also have been considered at this time, but in the years since the “peace of Amalfi” in 1035 the Greek catepans had been steadily taking back the piratical outposts in Calabria and al-Mu’izz may have seen the Italians as a more “neutral” party.

Whether Constantine II actually received or responded to this appeal is unclear; he could not have done much at any rate, as the death of Stephen of Hungary in that year and the subsequent wars of Arnulf prohibited any grand expedition to the south. The emir did, however, gain the assistance of Duke Leo of Salerno and Duke John V of Naples, who landed in Sicily in 1038. Abdallah was driven out of central Sicily and the dukes were paid handsomely for their efforts, but the Berbers retained a foothold on the western coast, and as soon as the Lombards withdrew from the island Abdallah renewed his offensive. The Lombards returned to the island in 1039, but not in time to save Palermo, which fell to the Africans. The unfortunate Al-Akhal was captured and beheaded, and his Lombard allies extricated themselves from the island. Reportedly the dukes plundered the country as they left, which included robbing many Greek communities in eastern Sicily. Al-Akhal’s younger brother and successor, Hasan ibn Yusuf, now led what remained of the Arab faction in Sicily. Having soured on the Lombards after their spoliation of his territory and precipitous departure after al-Akhal’s death, Hasan turned to the Byzantines for aid.

Despite getting off to a rough start, Emperor Michael IV and his brother and “prime minister” John weathered the early crises of their reign reasonably well. By 1039, they felt secure enough in their position to order the organization of a major effort to intervene in Sicily. Nominally the intent of this expedition was to prop up Hasan, who declared his willingness to be a vassal of the “Romans,” but the emperor may have hoped to fulfill the last dream of Basil II and retake the whole of Sicily for the empire. A force of some 5,000 veterans from the Opsician, Thracesian, and Anatolic themes (that is, northwestern and central Anatolia) were devoted to the cause, along with a force of the elite Varangian guardsmen (probably no more than 1,000 strong) and several hundred cavalry of assorted Macedonian, Armenian, and Paulician origin. The man chosen to lead the ground forces was George Maniakes, a veteran of the Arab conflicts who had been instrumental in the conquest of Edessa some years previously. He would coordinate with Nikephoros, the catepan of Langobardia, and Stephanos, the emperor’s brother-in-law, who commanded the fleet.

Once in Italy, the expeditionary force was joined by several thousand “Italioi stratiotai,” probably Lombard and Italo-Greek thematic forces and kontaratoi (the spear-armed local levies of the catepanate). Despite the fact that Hasan had turned to the Byzantines precisely because of the unreliability and rapacity of the southern Italian dukes, Maniakes considered their forces to be essential to his enterprise, and Leo and John joined the fight once more as Greek allies. Whether they had the explicit permission of their own emperor to do so is uncertain; imperial control over the southern duchies, which had never been terribly strong, began to erode soon after the death of Constantine I. Certainly there seems to have been no effort to stop Maniakes from recruiting southern Lombards and even Romans in the lead-up to his invasion.

Maniakes

The Greek expeditionary force gained an early victory with the capture of Messina, but its commanders soon began to quarrel over objectives. Hasan, wishing to liberate his capital at Palermo as soon as possible, urged a strike westward, but Maniakes insisted on moving south along the eastern littoral. The towns and fortresses in this region were still under Kalbid control, and under the pretext of protecting them Maniakes demanded that Hasan turn them over to his own garrisons. At first Hasan complied, but soon came to fear that Maniakes was less interested in a Kalbid restoration than a Byzantine reconquest and abandoned the expedition. Reluctantly but with no better alternative, he attempted to entice his brother’s old allies Leo and John into remaining with him instead. Leo did so, but lacked the forces to retake the capital on his own. After thoroughly sacking the glittering suburbs of Palermo, he returned to the Greek host and Hasan was left to fend for himself.

Syracuse fell to Maniakes in early 1040. Abdallah, bolstered by reinforcements from Africa, attempted to eject the Greeks from the island, but was defeated that summer by a joint Greco-Italian army. A second encounter in 1041, prompted by an attempt by the Greeks to push inland, met with another success for Maniakes, and it was matched by another victory at sea. By 1041 the Pisans were now involved in the enterprise as well, and had managed to defeat and scatter an African fleet off the coast of Agrigento which had been attempting to evacuate Abdallah’s beaten army.

In December of 1041, Emperor Michael IV – an epileptic whose health had been precipitously declining for some time – finally died. His successor was his nephew, the son of the admiral Stephanos, who was adopted by Empress Zoe and crowned as Michael V.[1] The new emperor resented the influence of his remaining uncle, John the eunuch, and had him banished to a monastery. Stephanos, having graduated from brother-in-law of the emperor to the emperor’s father, returned to Constantinople and began immediately intriguing against George Maniakes, whom he seems to have been at odds with on campaign. Michael ordered Maniakes to be removed, although it is unclear if he intended for him to be arrested or merely recalled.

Maniakes might have acquiesced to the emperor’s request under other circumstances, but Stephanos erred by igniting the general’s famously hot temper. Maniakes had already learned that Stephanos had attempted to claim all the credit for the successes of the expedition once he had returned to Constantinople, and Stephanos openly maligned Maniakes as a traitor. This turned out to be a self-fulfilling prophecy, for Maniakes was not one to quietly accept slander and mockery levelled against him by a man he considered a fool and a coward. When Stephanos landed in Sicily to assume control of the expedition and place Maniakes under arrest, he was instead seized by soldiers loyal to Maniakes and delivered to the general, who had him ferociously beaten and ultimately tortured to death.[2]

Having just murdered the emperor’s father, there could be no turning back for Maniakes. His popularity among his men was such that the imperial soldiers, including even the Varangians, immediately proclaimed him as emperor. Together with Leo and John, Maniakes landed in Apulia and utterly crushed the army of the loyalist catepan there. Using the thematic fleet, he then crossed over to Epirus, declared his intent to wrest the empire from the unworthy Michael, and marched on the capital with his veteran army of Greeks, Armenians, Varangians, and Italians. It was the ultimate response to the slight against him, and it came at a time when the imperial regime was at its most fragile.[D]


Next Time: The Giant and the Secretary

Footnotes (In Character)
[1] Michael V was known popularly as Michael Kalaphates (“Michael the Caulker”) after the trade of his father Stephanos, who had built ships before he had commanded them.
[2] Some accounts claim that Maniakes personally beat or even killed Stephanos, which is not impossible give the general’s well-established reputation for violent outbursts and tremendous physical strength.

Timeline Notes (Out of Character)
[A] Stephen’s son IOTL was named Imre or Emeric, a derivation of Henry, Stephen’s OTL brother-in-law. ITTL, Stephen’s brother-in-law is Constantine, and thus the child is given his uncle’s name in the same manner as IOTL. This Constantine, unlike the historical Emeric, does not predecease his father, and thus – for the moment at least – the political crisis resulting from Stephen’s lack of issue is averted. Thanks to his different spouse, we’re actually going to get (for now) direct successors to Saint Stephen, as opposed to OTL where the early death of Emeric led to a period of dynastic chaos before the crown was taken up by Vazul's descendants.
[B] This is inspired by a similar incident in about the same place in the 13th century, when a Roman bridge near Maastricht collapsed under the weight of a communal procession, killing hundreds. It might be a touch unlikely, but hey, it’s mildly more interesting than the usual “he lost a battle.”
[C] IOTL Helena was married to Bagrat IV, King of Georgia, but died within a year of her marriage (in 1033) and had no children with Bagrat. Marrying her to Theodorus thus doesn’t really create any significant butterflies in the east.
[D] So what’s different about Maniakes in this timeline? Small differences, mostly. While the dates are a bit different, the story somewhat altered, and his force compositions slightly changed, the expedition of Maniakes to Sicily ITTL bears a pretty close resemblance to that of OTL. The key difference is, arguably, a relatively minor detail – the involvement of Pisa. According to legend, Maniakes was recalled after a violent altercation with Stephanos, which itself stemmed from the failure of the admiral to stop the escape by sea of the defeated African army. ITTL, the African fleet is defeated by a roving Pisan fleet, and Stephanos – although still as incompetent as IOTL – does not suffer this particular historical failure. While tensions still mount between Maniakes and Stephanos, a slight delay in the complete collapse of their relations means that Michael IV dies before deciding to recall Maniakes. Correspondingly, Maniakes isn’t actually cashiered until Stephanos, returning to the capital for his son’s coronation, decides that this would be an opportune time to poison the new emperor against his rival in Sicily. As IOTL, Maniakes marches on Constantinople, but he has a somewhat different force (owing to his Italian auxiliaries) and he’s doing it a few months earlier ITTL, which also means he’s confronting a different emperor (Michael V instead of Constantine IX). Things might turn out a bit differently for him.
 
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