But it's not being used that way. And he would himself have grown up being called "freeman" so would it have bothered him so much? His father's name meant "shorty" afterall.
His name happens to derive from the same Germanic root word is all.
The Amalingian Empire: The Story of the Gothic-Roman Empire
- Thread starter DanMcCollum
- Start date
His name happens to derive from the same Germanic root word is all.
Damn toneless internet!Well my post was meant to be taken as a joke, so I won't bother arguing.
- BNC
Well, should Charlemagne be able to peer between the veil of worlds, he might be somewhat offended. But, I think we can all deal with that possibility when it happens 
Although, maybe I will have to give the Franks a King Karl who the Goths like to refer to as the "Peasant King" or something No one said the Goths were against being snide!
Although, maybe I will have to give the Franks a King Karl who the Goths like to refer to as the "Peasant King" or something
No one said the Goths were against being snide!
Chapter 53 Family Matters
Chapter 53
Family Matters
Modern Day Image of the Peristyle
Lombard Palace, Dornperg [OTL: Split, Croatia]
June 635
Theodebert strode into the Peristyle Square of the Lombard palace, with a a sense of purpose and maturity which would have been shocking to anyone who had seen the frail and wounded young man who had first arrived three years prior. At the time, he had been at least forty pounds thinner, wracked with the pain from his still healing injuries and further sapped by a particularly rough sea voyage. There were those who questioned whether or not he would live out the week. If he were being honest with himself, he had been one of them.
The white marble of the palace never failed to impress the young prince; a memory of a past age when giants of men walked the earth. He knew that it had been built by Diocletian, the great Emperor of centuries past. Although Theodebert held the blood in his veins of those men who claimed to be the successors of Diocletian, he also knew that few could dare to measure up to thoe Emperors of the past. Possibly Theodemir or Amalaric I, but even those great Goths were beginning to fade now into the fog of the past and legend. Shadowy figures whose exploits were recorded by scholars, and of whom tales were told around countless hearths and campfires throughout the Empire.
The palace was crowded today. It had been nearly deserted when the Lombards had first come to Dalmatia as federates of the Empire, with the Roman population of nearby Salona claiming the entire complex was haunted. The Lombards had quickly realized the strategic and political strengths of occupying a palace that had once been fit for one of the greatest of Roman Emperors, and had moved in to take up residence. Many still lived within the walls itself – Theodebert’s nose was assaulted by the smells from numerous shops and stalls along the way – but many more had begun to settle outside the palace’s walls and giving birth to the town of Dornperg.
As he strode down the street, the crowd parted to make room for him. Even if Theodebert hadn’t been dressed in full armor, there is every chance that the people would have moved to make way for him. He was well known here, although not by his own name. In Lombardy, he was known as Frithareiks – Frithareiks the Foreigner or Frithareiks the Quiet. During his first months in the land, he had spoken Lombardic with a thick accent that marked him as a foreigner; a fact which had caused laughter and scorn in the other warriors in King Grimoald’s court. As a result ‘Frithareiks’ had grown silent, partially in order to avoid the laughter which caused his cheeks to burn red in humiliation, but also because his accent marked him as an uppercrust Goth. Although King Grimoald had told everyone that he was the youngest son of a Gothic noble family, Theodebert had not desire to draw too much attention to his past. As far as the world was concerned, he had died at Reikistahaith, and dead he would remain until the time had come for him to take his birthright.
He had some hope that that time would be soon.
As he approached the royal residence within the palace, two guards stopped their idle conversation and rose to their feet. “Who goes there,” one asked.
Theodebert took off his helm and felt the sweat trickle from his now-exposed brow and down into his beard – he had taken to following the Lombard practice of allowing one’s whiskers to grow long. Before he could declare his name, the second Guard bowed deeply, “Frithareiks, my lord. I’m sorry, we didn’t recognize you in your armor. What brings you from the Nordmarka back to the capitol so soon?”
Theodebert smiled. He had recognized the Guards from his time in the capitol, “How is that wife of yours, Rotaric? Last I had seen her, she must have been nine months pregnant if she was a day. I hope that the birth went well.”
The guard smiled, “Oh, yes. She gave birth six months back to the largest baby I’ve ever seen. A boy and he looks just like me. So my Mother and Father have both said.” He beamed at this, and his pride in the child was evident to all. Then his smile faltered, “But, I’m afraid the King had told us that he isn’t to be disturbed this afternoon. Even by one of his closest friends.”
Theodebert repressed a growl of frustration. Word of Adela’s release and her mutilation of her own son had reached him while commanding forces in the Nordmarka. This was his chance to avenge the life of his brother and the countless others who had fallen to that women’s tyranny. He had left the region in control of his friend Alareik and galloped back to the capitol as fast as his horse could take him. And here he was, being stopped by a guard. [FN1]
He bit his tongue, literally, and had to repress a sudden yelp of surprise at the pain. Instead, he forced himself to smile, “But wouldn’t the King want to know what urgent business brings his friend and foster-brother all the way back to the capitol?”
The Guard, Rotaric, cast an anxious look to his cocompatriot and, finding no support there, sighed. “Well, I suppose that is so.”
Theodebert reached for the purse that was tied around his waist and pulled out two coins. Both were gold and emblazoned with the face of Emperor Theodemir II with that asnine epitath “Victor Francorum” on the reverse. “Here, take this for your troubles. Make sure that your wife and son and well taken care of. King Grimoald won’t mind but, even if he does, this should make it worth your while, wouldn’t you say?”
Rotaric’s eyes gleamed almost as bright as the gold itself, so much so that Theodebert considered the possibility that the guard had likely never held this much gold in his own hands before. “Well,” the Rotaric said, “I suppose you’re right. It couldn’t hurt to let him know that you are here. But,” he said, “I can’t promise he will see you today.”
“No,” Theodebert said, “I suppose you can’t. But you can make an effort and that’s all I ask. If he says no, I would never hold it against you, my friend. And, if he says yes, it maybe that you and I might yet ride to battle and win glory; and you will see riches farbeyond those pieces I just gave you. I’m not that type to forget my friends, you know.”
Rotaric looked down at the gold in his palm one last time, as if to convince himself that it was real and hadn’t disappeared like some witch’s glamor from a children’s tale. “I’ll announce you and let you know what he says shortly.” Then he turned a hurried into the palace far quicker than he had moved in many years.
Theodebert sighed, trying to repress the urge to throw the mighty doors open and storm into the palace on his own. Impatience was a trait he had inherited from his own father. He just hoped that rashfullness wasn’t, as well.
The Kuni Wars and the Birth of the Middle Empire
By: Offa Armstrong
Chapter from: The Rise and Fall of the Gothic-Roman Empire
[Halig Athlerad University: New Wintanastir, Republic of New Sexland]
The castration of Theodemir seems to have caused less of a stir than a modern reader might have expected it to. Certainly, opposition against Adela continued to exist as depicted by later events but, for the time, her strong actions had cowed even her loudest detractors. Suddenly deprived of a rallying point in the form of the Emperor, the opposition was at the loss. If they openly moved against Theodemir, they would appear to be hypocrites who were turning against their own legitimate lord. Furthermore, they had no viable candidates to replace the emasculated monarch as all of the viable heirs were other children of Adela herself and underage to boot – they would have been replacing one figurehead with another. Even if another strong lord had offered himself up to become Emperor, the Goth’s loyalty to the Amaling line remained strong and, moreover, there was little agreement over a suitable lord that all factions could agree on. No one, it seems, wished to rise up without strong backing, fearing the fury that Adela would unleash upon a rebel. [FN2]
They had right to be scared. Although Adela had spent much of her career as a adroit administrator and reformer, the betrayal by her son and imprisonment appears to have brought out the worst in her personality. Adela’s reign prior to her retaking power was not clean of any major atrocities – the Black Feast stands out in particular, if it really occurred - but this was a rough age and she showed no great love of a bloody spectacle. In fact, one could argue that Adela’s reign was marked by her penchant for forgivness and dedication to the wellbeing of the Empire at large. Rather than kill her opponents, she often chose to marry them to members of the family and turn potential enemies into allies. Her own marriage to Amalaric II set the tone for her reign.
This changed after her release from imprisonment. The Queen now seems to have seen enemies everywhere and she began the construction of a great spy network which operated throughout Ravenna and the countryside, dedicated to rooting out traitors anyone who questioned the legitimacy of her rule. Some modern scholars, especially those attempting to rehabilitate Adela’s reputation for political purposes, aften try to cast doubt upon the veracity of the accounts of her subsequent atrocities. They argue that Sigisbaihrt, our main source for this period, is unreliable as he shows a marked anti-Adela bias. This is true and has been mentioned many times within this article.
However, this argument overlooks several key points. First, even Sigisbairht mentions the change in Adela’s demeanor, stating “after she gained her freedom, it was as if she became possessed by demons, for she lashed out at those close to her. Whereas before she took the council of many, she now refused anyone to raise their voice in front of her. Family members she trusted least of all and the only thing which spared her younger sons from imprisonment as their minority.” Secondly, Gregory of Massalia backs up this account. Enough of Gregory’s account remains to us that we might stitch together his feelings about the later years of Adela’s reign. Although he paints a much more positive impression of the Queen throughout the fragments that we have, even he ruminates that “a great darkness fell over Adela, in the years following her imprisonment.” Furthermore, in the last decade a fragment of Gregory’s work has reappared which confirms one of the most famous incidents depicted in Sigisbairht – the Murder of Reiks Valamir of Provincia.
According to Sigisbairht, and also depicted in Gregory of Massalia, Valamir of Provincia had been one of Adela’s oldest allies. It had been he who had helped organize the resistance to the initial ascention of Alamaric II on behalf of Adela’s son Theodemir. Despite returning to Provincia following the conclusion of the conflict and Adela’s marriage to Amalaric, he must have remained a powerful ally, as he was named the godfather of the royal couple’s first son. None of this would be enough to save him, however. Sigisbairht records that Valamir had a son by the name of Agiwulf who had been sent to court and grown up along with Amalaric II and Theodemir II. Agiwulf apparently had been one of those convinced that Adela had ordered the murder of her husband, Amalaric II, and had encouraged Theodemir to have her arrested. After Adela’s rescue and the subsequent castration of Theodemir, Agiwulf fled the capitol and sought sactuary in the lands of his father.
The Queen, taking Agiwulf’s betrayal especially hard due to the close relationship she had with his father, sent a small cohort of soldiers to arrest the young man. According to Gregory of Massalia, though not Sigisbairht, Valamir refused to turn his son and over heir over, but did offer to pay the wereguild for Adela’s torture as well as Theodemir’s castration. This offer was flatly refused by Adela and she ordered her soldiers to place Valamir’s villa under siege. The siege would last for many months and eventually the father and his children, running low on supplies, made an desperate attempt to flee before being caught. Adela had given orders to her soldiers to take n prisoners and so Valamir, Agiwulf and the other male relatives were immediately executed and their bodies sent back to Ravenna. The women and children of the family remained in the villa. However, if they hoped for mercy, it was not coming. Shortly thereafter Adela’s soldiers broke into the villa and slaughtered every woman, child and servant present. The bodies of the entire family were displayed outside the imperial palace of Ravenna until they were eventually given a proper burial in their native Provincia by Theodebert II upon his assumption of the throne. If any doubt of the story still exists, a small family tomb was uncovered by Gothic farmers in the 19th century and the inscriptions clearly reveal that they were the bodies of Valamir and his entire family – the bodies showed evidence of violent death from sharp objects that may have been swords of spears. One body, that of a toddler of two or three years of age, appears to have had his or her head smashed open in some manner. [FN3]
The murder of Valamir was the first of many if our sources are to be believed. Sigisbairht mentions that this was a time of great fear within the Empire and that anyone who spoke out against Adela were likely to meet an unsavory end. This did not apply only to Reiks and the upper class; indeed, he gives the accounts of several peasants and freemen who met similar fate due to lax tongues. A deep sense of paranoia began to descend upon the Empire. At the same time, in the East, young Theodebert began to marshall his own forces.
…
Lombard Palace, Dornperg [OTL: Split, Croatia]
June 635
“I can’t,” Grimoald stated as he paced his personal rooms. “I can’t, not yet.
Theodebert felt his stomach clench and bile rise in his throat. “Grimoald,” he yelled, “how can you pass up this opportunity!”
The Lombard King wheeled about, the blood rising to his cheeks and brow furrowed. “Watch your tongue, boy,” he said, “lest it lead your places you don’t want to go.”
“I am your Emperor,” Theodebert said in response, his own blood riding to the occasion.
Grimoald was suddenly across the room in the blink of an eye, his finger extended and placed upon Theodebert’s lips, “Not here, you’re not” he said, his voice sounding like the steam the escaped from the old heating in the palace. “You are Frithareiks the Quiet, the young son of the Goths who came here to serve at my pleasure. Unless you’ve forgotten. Perhaps you should take a lesson from your name and keep your lips pressed together for a moment. Unless you want anyone passing by these chambers to suddenly realize that Theodebert, son of Amalamir is alive and well, and not rotting in an unmarked grave.”
Theodebert’s face brightened and this time it wasn’t from anger. He bowed his head, “I,” he began, “I’m sorry. I forgot my place.”
“You forgot a hell of a lot more than that. You forgot that these walls all have ears. You forgot who it was that took you in, at great risk to his own life, and gave you a place to win honor. You forgot who it was that gifted you with a new name, a new identity, and who has kept you alive for over three long years. You forget who is willing to forget the fact that you abandoned your post along the frontier, bribed one of my guards, and is now trying to encourage me to commit treason. And you are not the Emperor yet – the Ga-Run did not elect you to the position.”
“But!” Theodebert caught himself and lowered his voice, “but you’ve already committed treason by housing and carrying for me. And you have no love for Adela in any case. And don’t you think I would repay your kindness when I do sit upon the throne? I am in your debt, we both know this, but just imagine what I could do for you when I’ve taken my rightful throne. My god, she killed my brother, she sent my Mother to the monastery, she imprisoned me. She cut the manhood off of her own son! You can’t tell me you sleep easily as night with that bitch on the throne.”
Grimoald sighed and leaned forward as if another fifty pounds of care had been laid on his back. “Maybe not, but do you think that the strength of the Lombards alone can wrest the throne away from her and her son?”
“All we need in one victory! One victory, and then the Reiks of the Empire will rally to my side and we can put an end to her tyranny.”
“Theodebert”, Grimoald said, his voice dropping even lower when he spoke Theodebert’s true name, “you’re a gifted commander. I took you in out of loyalty to your Father. We served together against the Franks and the Persians and he was a good man. Not great.” The elder King chuckled to himself, “he had his faults and vices as you well know. But I didn’t make you a commander out of loyalty to his memory. You won that on your own. You have a gifted military mind and are far better with people than he ever was. He could win the loyalty of a man on the battlefield, and totally lose them in the council chamber. In many ways, you’re a better man that he was, and certainly a better one than your brother. But you’re got a lot to learn about politics and the world.”
“How much longer am I supposed to wait,” Theodebert said, his voice wailing in frustration.
“A bit longer,” Grimould said. He placed his hand upon Theodebert’s shoulder and squeezed it gently. “For instance, if I’m going to help you, I need something to show my own Reiks in return. Men may risk their lives for what’s right, or honor, or glory, or what ever you want to call it, in stories. But you’ve been on the field of battle and know it well enough. If I’m going to tell them to stand by yourside, I’m going to have to show how it benefits them.”
“But I know many of the Reiks, they’re my friends. They’ll fight for me, because I’ve fought for them.”
“Some, maybe. There will be a few – especially the younger ones. But all? Not likely.”
“Then what do you need to convince them?”
Grimould shrugged, “I don’t know. Not yet at least. You burst into my chambers in the middle of the day with this grand story of Adela castrating her own son, demanding I raise an army to help set you upon the Imperial Throne, and ask me to come up with terms off the top of my head? I wasn’t that quick as a young man and I’ve only slower as I’ve grown older.”
Theodebert looked up with his eyes ablaze, a sudden thought having hit up, “But you will help, won’t you. You want to, at least. I just haven’t given you enough reason to go back to your men and have them follow you, right?”
“That may be the case. But, you’re forgetting two other things. Even if I want to help, and can convince all of the Lombards to follow me into battle for you, that may not be enough. You are going to need moe than just the armies I can provide if you want to take your throne.”
Theodebert began to speak up, but the King made a slashing movement through the air with his hand. “No. Listen. Remember – you’re dead. At least as far as the world is concerned, Theodebert died in battle against Adela and her forces.”
“But, when I declare myself …”
“They’ll think that you’re lying to them about who you are. For some, that won’t matter at all – there are always men willing to follow anyone who promises them riches for glory. If you want to take the throne, you’re going to need to prove to people beyond any doubt that you are who you say you are. And then you’re going to have to convince them – myself included – that its in their best interest to fight for you.”
Theodebert nodded, “But, if I can do that. You’ll follow me?”
Grimoald smiled and hugged the young man, “Theodebert, you’ve been like a son to me these past few years. I’ve seen you grow from a frail and wounded young man into a strong warrior who his real father would have been proud of. I’ll do everything I can for you. But, this is politics son, and you’ve got to be able to do the same for me. You understand?”
“I – I think so.”
“Good. Then lets think about this a while and figure out a way to wrest the throne back from that demon-possessed she-devil.” [FN4]
Nunnery of Saint Kristina, outside Niuwlperg [OTL: Novigrad, Slovenia]
May, 637
The Old Woman struggled through the gates the nunnery towards the hill. In the distance, smoke from the town of Nuiwlperb could be seen. It reminded the Old Woman of warmth, family and comradery; all of which seemed like such a distant memory for her. She was Old and knew it, but not as old as many would have thought. Life, since the death of her husband, had been hard – she had been cast down from the highest honors a woman could dream of off and sent to this desolate corner of the world. Once, she had been Sigisguntia, Queen of the Goths and Empress of Rome. Now, she was just Sister Sigisguntia. Her husband was dead, here children were dead, and the world had moved on.
There, ahead, on the hill stood the men. It was a small cohort, no more than two dozen if he guessed. She had no reason why they might be there, nor why they had asked for her in particular. A year earlier a plague had erupted in Niuwlperb and she, of all of the Sisters of Saint Kristina, had risked her life to give aid to the sick and dying when others had turned away their faces in fear. Yes. It was probably that. She had heard that the Fatar in Ravenna occasionally looked for Monks and Nuns who had done good works in order to exhault them for their virtue. The Old Woman laughed, though it came out more as a dry wheeze in her chest. If they had expected virtue, the Fatar would be disappointed indeed. Yes, she had felt some sympathy for the peasants and townfolk but, more than that, she had simply wished to die. Her life was over, it had ended almost nine years previousl y when her son was married to that wolf, and now she just sought to embrace death and let it all end.
She came to the top of the hill and one of them stood forward, “Are you Sigisguntia, wife of Amalamir and Queen of the Goths?”
The Old Woman looked the man over and didn’t like what she saw. He was lazy. The way he grasped his spear and leaned against it. How her husband would have berated him for such softness. Now there had been a true Emperor! “Maybe I was once, but that was a long time again. Now, I’m just Sister Sigisguntia. If you doubt it, just ask our prioress. She tells me every day.”
Suddenly there was a flurry of motion and the Old Woman would have laughed if she wasn’t caught so utterly bu surprise. The lazy man who leaned against his spear was suddenly sent sprawling as a young man pushed him aside and ran towards her. “Mother,” he cried, “oh my god, Mother, it’s you.” The Young Man wrapped his arms around her with such passion that she feared the breath would be pushed from her lungs.
“Wha,” she coughed, “I don’t know you,” and then trailed off as she caught a glimpse of the young man’s eyes and his lips. “Theodebert,” she said, her hand flying to her mouth. “Theodebert,” she said again as she felt the warm rivers flow from her eyes and down her creviced cheeks. “But how? They said you were dead.”
“I’m alive, Mom,” the young man, who looked so much like her son that she wanted it to be true, said. “I let them think I was dead. I knew if Adela knew I was alive she would come for me. So I let everyone think I was dead. I’m so sorry.”
Vaguely the Old Woman was aware of an indecisive murmering from the men on the hill, and she was acutely aware that everything (though she didn’t know exactly what) was riding on her response. One man, who spoke Gothic with a noticeable Gepid accent, said “See, she doesn’t recognize him. I knew it.”
Sigisguntia was a political animal and had been since her youth – growing up in court, marrying a King who became Emperor. She had stood by his side during his long years of captivity, and stayed faithful. She had birthed him sons and daughters and her heart had broken when her eldest was sent away. For nearly a decade she had languished in this holy prison, had felt that her life and its importance was over. But now, in a moment of inspiration, she understood everything and knew what she had to do.
She pushed the young man away. “If you are my son. If you are who you say you are, then there is a mark that I can use to identify you. Theodebert had a birthmark on the small of …” she trailed off.
The Young Man had already tossed his chest armor aside, turned around and was lifting up his shirt to reveal the blood-red splotch which dyed the skin of his lower back. “My god,” she cried – forgetting herself for a moment – and threw her arms around the young man; her SON. “My god, it is you! Theodebert!”
Theodebert smiled again, that radiant smile she had always remembered him having as a young boy. She was so glad to know that, no matter what ills and evils he had seen in the world, he hadn’t lost the ability to smile. “It’s me, Mom. It’s me. And we’re going to punish the woman that did this to our family. And then I’m going to get you out of here.”
Sigisguntia fell down to her knees and did something she had not allowed herself to do for years. She cried, howling out her thanks to the Lord and his Son that at least one of her sons had been spared. She would have her family again, she would have her revenge.
Behind Theodebert the men stood numb with silence. Then the man with the Gepid accent raised his first in the air “All Hail Theodebert, King of the Goths and Emperor of the Romans!” The rest picked up the chant and soon the hills boomed with its cry. But Sigisguntia didn’t care. Her only thought was that her son had been returned from the dead. [FN5]
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[FN1] The Nordmarka roughly consists of the OTL Duchy of Lower Pannonia. It is the region of the Lombard Kingdom which directly borders the Gepidreik. Although the Gepids and Lombards are both diplomatically linked to the Goths – the Lombards are a Federated Kingdom within the Empire and the Gepids are close allies – the two peoples continue to view each other with suspicion. The old feud which began generations earlier when the Gepids drove the Lombards from the Carpathian basin continues with both sides raiding one another a routine basis. As one might draw from this story, the Gothic Empire has difficulties in reigning in its federated subkingdoms (the Suebi, Lombards and the Breton peoples) during the best of times. We will explore this further in future updates.
[FN2] Once suspects that the average opponent of Adela’s response was “Jesus! She just castrated her own son. Just think what she would do to us!”
[FN3] As you know, I like to play around in this timeline with the idea that sources have been lost and that historians and writers in this ATL are hampered in the same manner that modern historians are – they are forced to rely on less than omnipotent sources, physical evidence and the like. Also, important soruces that may have once existed have long since disappeared. Despite this, sometimes Fate throws historians a bone in OTL as well as the ATL. So, we see the discovery of the tomb of Valamir, confirming a rather nasty and bloody incident in Adela’s reign. Also, I apologize for the violence depicting in this passage but – its fairly historically accurate for the time period.
[FN4] This dialog, obviously, takes place before the Murder of Valamir and Adela’s crackdown on any dissent.
[FN5] Obviously a bit more is happening here than Sigisguntia is able to pick up – though she picked up enough to play her part well. An observant reader might notice the accent of one of the men in the group and put them together with other information from the chapter and the footnotes
Okay, this was an exceedingly difficult chapter to write - largely because its largely a bridge chapter and focuses primarily upon narrative. I hope that everyone enjoyed it and I apologize for the length of time it took to finally get it done. I'm hoping to finish up with the Kuni Wars in the next chapter, where we will reveal the final fate of Queen Adela and her supporters. I may then spend a chapter showing the after effects of the Wars. However, what I really want to do after that is turn my attention to showing the current status of Gaul and Hispania within the Empire. Although things may look pretty clean cut on a map, the reality of the situation is much more complicated - and this will play an important role as we now move into the Empire's "Middle Period."
As always, any thoughts and questions are not only welcome, I'm pretty much requiring them (blame it on the instructor in me )
Thanks again to all of my readers who have stuck with me this far!
Family Matters
Modern Day Image of the Peristyle
Lombard Palace, Dornperg [OTL: Split, Croatia]
June 635
Theodebert strode into the Peristyle Square of the Lombard palace, with a a sense of purpose and maturity which would have been shocking to anyone who had seen the frail and wounded young man who had first arrived three years prior. At the time, he had been at least forty pounds thinner, wracked with the pain from his still healing injuries and further sapped by a particularly rough sea voyage. There were those who questioned whether or not he would live out the week. If he were being honest with himself, he had been one of them.
The white marble of the palace never failed to impress the young prince; a memory of a past age when giants of men walked the earth. He knew that it had been built by Diocletian, the great Emperor of centuries past. Although Theodebert held the blood in his veins of those men who claimed to be the successors of Diocletian, he also knew that few could dare to measure up to thoe Emperors of the past. Possibly Theodemir or Amalaric I, but even those great Goths were beginning to fade now into the fog of the past and legend. Shadowy figures whose exploits were recorded by scholars, and of whom tales were told around countless hearths and campfires throughout the Empire.
The palace was crowded today. It had been nearly deserted when the Lombards had first come to Dalmatia as federates of the Empire, with the Roman population of nearby Salona claiming the entire complex was haunted. The Lombards had quickly realized the strategic and political strengths of occupying a palace that had once been fit for one of the greatest of Roman Emperors, and had moved in to take up residence. Many still lived within the walls itself – Theodebert’s nose was assaulted by the smells from numerous shops and stalls along the way – but many more had begun to settle outside the palace’s walls and giving birth to the town of Dornperg.
As he strode down the street, the crowd parted to make room for him. Even if Theodebert hadn’t been dressed in full armor, there is every chance that the people would have moved to make way for him. He was well known here, although not by his own name. In Lombardy, he was known as Frithareiks – Frithareiks the Foreigner or Frithareiks the Quiet. During his first months in the land, he had spoken Lombardic with a thick accent that marked him as a foreigner; a fact which had caused laughter and scorn in the other warriors in King Grimoald’s court. As a result ‘Frithareiks’ had grown silent, partially in order to avoid the laughter which caused his cheeks to burn red in humiliation, but also because his accent marked him as an uppercrust Goth. Although King Grimoald had told everyone that he was the youngest son of a Gothic noble family, Theodebert had not desire to draw too much attention to his past. As far as the world was concerned, he had died at Reikistahaith, and dead he would remain until the time had come for him to take his birthright.
He had some hope that that time would be soon.
As he approached the royal residence within the palace, two guards stopped their idle conversation and rose to their feet. “Who goes there,” one asked.
Theodebert took off his helm and felt the sweat trickle from his now-exposed brow and down into his beard – he had taken to following the Lombard practice of allowing one’s whiskers to grow long. Before he could declare his name, the second Guard bowed deeply, “Frithareiks, my lord. I’m sorry, we didn’t recognize you in your armor. What brings you from the Nordmarka back to the capitol so soon?”
Theodebert smiled. He had recognized the Guards from his time in the capitol, “How is that wife of yours, Rotaric? Last I had seen her, she must have been nine months pregnant if she was a day. I hope that the birth went well.”
The guard smiled, “Oh, yes. She gave birth six months back to the largest baby I’ve ever seen. A boy and he looks just like me. So my Mother and Father have both said.” He beamed at this, and his pride in the child was evident to all. Then his smile faltered, “But, I’m afraid the King had told us that he isn’t to be disturbed this afternoon. Even by one of his closest friends.”
Theodebert repressed a growl of frustration. Word of Adela’s release and her mutilation of her own son had reached him while commanding forces in the Nordmarka. This was his chance to avenge the life of his brother and the countless others who had fallen to that women’s tyranny. He had left the region in control of his friend Alareik and galloped back to the capitol as fast as his horse could take him. And here he was, being stopped by a guard. [FN1]
He bit his tongue, literally, and had to repress a sudden yelp of surprise at the pain. Instead, he forced himself to smile, “But wouldn’t the King want to know what urgent business brings his friend and foster-brother all the way back to the capitol?”
The Guard, Rotaric, cast an anxious look to his cocompatriot and, finding no support there, sighed. “Well, I suppose that is so.”
Theodebert reached for the purse that was tied around his waist and pulled out two coins. Both were gold and emblazoned with the face of Emperor Theodemir II with that asnine epitath “Victor Francorum” on the reverse. “Here, take this for your troubles. Make sure that your wife and son and well taken care of. King Grimoald won’t mind but, even if he does, this should make it worth your while, wouldn’t you say?”
Rotaric’s eyes gleamed almost as bright as the gold itself, so much so that Theodebert considered the possibility that the guard had likely never held this much gold in his own hands before. “Well,” the Rotaric said, “I suppose you’re right. It couldn’t hurt to let him know that you are here. But,” he said, “I can’t promise he will see you today.”
“No,” Theodebert said, “I suppose you can’t. But you can make an effort and that’s all I ask. If he says no, I would never hold it against you, my friend. And, if he says yes, it maybe that you and I might yet ride to battle and win glory; and you will see riches farbeyond those pieces I just gave you. I’m not that type to forget my friends, you know.”
Rotaric looked down at the gold in his palm one last time, as if to convince himself that it was real and hadn’t disappeared like some witch’s glamor from a children’s tale. “I’ll announce you and let you know what he says shortly.” Then he turned a hurried into the palace far quicker than he had moved in many years.
Theodebert sighed, trying to repress the urge to throw the mighty doors open and storm into the palace on his own. Impatience was a trait he had inherited from his own father. He just hoped that rashfullness wasn’t, as well.
The Kuni Wars and the Birth of the Middle Empire
By: Offa Armstrong
Chapter from: The Rise and Fall of the Gothic-Roman Empire
[Halig Athlerad University: New Wintanastir, Republic of New Sexland]
The castration of Theodemir seems to have caused less of a stir than a modern reader might have expected it to. Certainly, opposition against Adela continued to exist as depicted by later events but, for the time, her strong actions had cowed even her loudest detractors. Suddenly deprived of a rallying point in the form of the Emperor, the opposition was at the loss. If they openly moved against Theodemir, they would appear to be hypocrites who were turning against their own legitimate lord. Furthermore, they had no viable candidates to replace the emasculated monarch as all of the viable heirs were other children of Adela herself and underage to boot – they would have been replacing one figurehead with another. Even if another strong lord had offered himself up to become Emperor, the Goth’s loyalty to the Amaling line remained strong and, moreover, there was little agreement over a suitable lord that all factions could agree on. No one, it seems, wished to rise up without strong backing, fearing the fury that Adela would unleash upon a rebel. [FN2]
They had right to be scared. Although Adela had spent much of her career as a adroit administrator and reformer, the betrayal by her son and imprisonment appears to have brought out the worst in her personality. Adela’s reign prior to her retaking power was not clean of any major atrocities – the Black Feast stands out in particular, if it really occurred - but this was a rough age and she showed no great love of a bloody spectacle. In fact, one could argue that Adela’s reign was marked by her penchant for forgivness and dedication to the wellbeing of the Empire at large. Rather than kill her opponents, she often chose to marry them to members of the family and turn potential enemies into allies. Her own marriage to Amalaric II set the tone for her reign.
This changed after her release from imprisonment. The Queen now seems to have seen enemies everywhere and she began the construction of a great spy network which operated throughout Ravenna and the countryside, dedicated to rooting out traitors anyone who questioned the legitimacy of her rule. Some modern scholars, especially those attempting to rehabilitate Adela’s reputation for political purposes, aften try to cast doubt upon the veracity of the accounts of her subsequent atrocities. They argue that Sigisbaihrt, our main source for this period, is unreliable as he shows a marked anti-Adela bias. This is true and has been mentioned many times within this article.
However, this argument overlooks several key points. First, even Sigisbairht mentions the change in Adela’s demeanor, stating “after she gained her freedom, it was as if she became possessed by demons, for she lashed out at those close to her. Whereas before she took the council of many, she now refused anyone to raise their voice in front of her. Family members she trusted least of all and the only thing which spared her younger sons from imprisonment as their minority.” Secondly, Gregory of Massalia backs up this account. Enough of Gregory’s account remains to us that we might stitch together his feelings about the later years of Adela’s reign. Although he paints a much more positive impression of the Queen throughout the fragments that we have, even he ruminates that “a great darkness fell over Adela, in the years following her imprisonment.” Furthermore, in the last decade a fragment of Gregory’s work has reappared which confirms one of the most famous incidents depicted in Sigisbairht – the Murder of Reiks Valamir of Provincia.
According to Sigisbairht, and also depicted in Gregory of Massalia, Valamir of Provincia had been one of Adela’s oldest allies. It had been he who had helped organize the resistance to the initial ascention of Alamaric II on behalf of Adela’s son Theodemir. Despite returning to Provincia following the conclusion of the conflict and Adela’s marriage to Amalaric, he must have remained a powerful ally, as he was named the godfather of the royal couple’s first son. None of this would be enough to save him, however. Sigisbairht records that Valamir had a son by the name of Agiwulf who had been sent to court and grown up along with Amalaric II and Theodemir II. Agiwulf apparently had been one of those convinced that Adela had ordered the murder of her husband, Amalaric II, and had encouraged Theodemir to have her arrested. After Adela’s rescue and the subsequent castration of Theodemir, Agiwulf fled the capitol and sought sactuary in the lands of his father.
The Queen, taking Agiwulf’s betrayal especially hard due to the close relationship she had with his father, sent a small cohort of soldiers to arrest the young man. According to Gregory of Massalia, though not Sigisbairht, Valamir refused to turn his son and over heir over, but did offer to pay the wereguild for Adela’s torture as well as Theodemir’s castration. This offer was flatly refused by Adela and she ordered her soldiers to place Valamir’s villa under siege. The siege would last for many months and eventually the father and his children, running low on supplies, made an desperate attempt to flee before being caught. Adela had given orders to her soldiers to take n prisoners and so Valamir, Agiwulf and the other male relatives were immediately executed and their bodies sent back to Ravenna. The women and children of the family remained in the villa. However, if they hoped for mercy, it was not coming. Shortly thereafter Adela’s soldiers broke into the villa and slaughtered every woman, child and servant present. The bodies of the entire family were displayed outside the imperial palace of Ravenna until they were eventually given a proper burial in their native Provincia by Theodebert II upon his assumption of the throne. If any doubt of the story still exists, a small family tomb was uncovered by Gothic farmers in the 19th century and the inscriptions clearly reveal that they were the bodies of Valamir and his entire family – the bodies showed evidence of violent death from sharp objects that may have been swords of spears. One body, that of a toddler of two or three years of age, appears to have had his or her head smashed open in some manner. [FN3]
The murder of Valamir was the first of many if our sources are to be believed. Sigisbairht mentions that this was a time of great fear within the Empire and that anyone who spoke out against Adela were likely to meet an unsavory end. This did not apply only to Reiks and the upper class; indeed, he gives the accounts of several peasants and freemen who met similar fate due to lax tongues. A deep sense of paranoia began to descend upon the Empire. At the same time, in the East, young Theodebert began to marshall his own forces.
…
Lombard Palace, Dornperg [OTL: Split, Croatia]
June 635
“I can’t,” Grimoald stated as he paced his personal rooms. “I can’t, not yet.
Theodebert felt his stomach clench and bile rise in his throat. “Grimoald,” he yelled, “how can you pass up this opportunity!”
The Lombard King wheeled about, the blood rising to his cheeks and brow furrowed. “Watch your tongue, boy,” he said, “lest it lead your places you don’t want to go.”
“I am your Emperor,” Theodebert said in response, his own blood riding to the occasion.
Grimoald was suddenly across the room in the blink of an eye, his finger extended and placed upon Theodebert’s lips, “Not here, you’re not” he said, his voice sounding like the steam the escaped from the old heating in the palace. “You are Frithareiks the Quiet, the young son of the Goths who came here to serve at my pleasure. Unless you’ve forgotten. Perhaps you should take a lesson from your name and keep your lips pressed together for a moment. Unless you want anyone passing by these chambers to suddenly realize that Theodebert, son of Amalamir is alive and well, and not rotting in an unmarked grave.”
Theodebert’s face brightened and this time it wasn’t from anger. He bowed his head, “I,” he began, “I’m sorry. I forgot my place.”
“You forgot a hell of a lot more than that. You forgot that these walls all have ears. You forgot who it was that took you in, at great risk to his own life, and gave you a place to win honor. You forgot who it was that gifted you with a new name, a new identity, and who has kept you alive for over three long years. You forget who is willing to forget the fact that you abandoned your post along the frontier, bribed one of my guards, and is now trying to encourage me to commit treason. And you are not the Emperor yet – the Ga-Run did not elect you to the position.”
“But!” Theodebert caught himself and lowered his voice, “but you’ve already committed treason by housing and carrying for me. And you have no love for Adela in any case. And don’t you think I would repay your kindness when I do sit upon the throne? I am in your debt, we both know this, but just imagine what I could do for you when I’ve taken my rightful throne. My god, she killed my brother, she sent my Mother to the monastery, she imprisoned me. She cut the manhood off of her own son! You can’t tell me you sleep easily as night with that bitch on the throne.”
Grimoald sighed and leaned forward as if another fifty pounds of care had been laid on his back. “Maybe not, but do you think that the strength of the Lombards alone can wrest the throne away from her and her son?”
“All we need in one victory! One victory, and then the Reiks of the Empire will rally to my side and we can put an end to her tyranny.”
“Theodebert”, Grimoald said, his voice dropping even lower when he spoke Theodebert’s true name, “you’re a gifted commander. I took you in out of loyalty to your Father. We served together against the Franks and the Persians and he was a good man. Not great.” The elder King chuckled to himself, “he had his faults and vices as you well know. But I didn’t make you a commander out of loyalty to his memory. You won that on your own. You have a gifted military mind and are far better with people than he ever was. He could win the loyalty of a man on the battlefield, and totally lose them in the council chamber. In many ways, you’re a better man that he was, and certainly a better one than your brother. But you’re got a lot to learn about politics and the world.”
“How much longer am I supposed to wait,” Theodebert said, his voice wailing in frustration.
“A bit longer,” Grimould said. He placed his hand upon Theodebert’s shoulder and squeezed it gently. “For instance, if I’m going to help you, I need something to show my own Reiks in return. Men may risk their lives for what’s right, or honor, or glory, or what ever you want to call it, in stories. But you’ve been on the field of battle and know it well enough. If I’m going to tell them to stand by yourside, I’m going to have to show how it benefits them.”
“But I know many of the Reiks, they’re my friends. They’ll fight for me, because I’ve fought for them.”
“Some, maybe. There will be a few – especially the younger ones. But all? Not likely.”
“Then what do you need to convince them?”
Grimould shrugged, “I don’t know. Not yet at least. You burst into my chambers in the middle of the day with this grand story of Adela castrating her own son, demanding I raise an army to help set you upon the Imperial Throne, and ask me to come up with terms off the top of my head? I wasn’t that quick as a young man and I’ve only slower as I’ve grown older.”
Theodebert looked up with his eyes ablaze, a sudden thought having hit up, “But you will help, won’t you. You want to, at least. I just haven’t given you enough reason to go back to your men and have them follow you, right?”
“That may be the case. But, you’re forgetting two other things. Even if I want to help, and can convince all of the Lombards to follow me into battle for you, that may not be enough. You are going to need moe than just the armies I can provide if you want to take your throne.”
Theodebert began to speak up, but the King made a slashing movement through the air with his hand. “No. Listen. Remember – you’re dead. At least as far as the world is concerned, Theodebert died in battle against Adela and her forces.”
“But, when I declare myself …”
“They’ll think that you’re lying to them about who you are. For some, that won’t matter at all – there are always men willing to follow anyone who promises them riches for glory. If you want to take the throne, you’re going to need to prove to people beyond any doubt that you are who you say you are. And then you’re going to have to convince them – myself included – that its in their best interest to fight for you.”
Theodebert nodded, “But, if I can do that. You’ll follow me?”
Grimoald smiled and hugged the young man, “Theodebert, you’ve been like a son to me these past few years. I’ve seen you grow from a frail and wounded young man into a strong warrior who his real father would have been proud of. I’ll do everything I can for you. But, this is politics son, and you’ve got to be able to do the same for me. You understand?”
“I – I think so.”
“Good. Then lets think about this a while and figure out a way to wrest the throne back from that demon-possessed she-devil.” [FN4]
Nunnery of Saint Kristina, outside Niuwlperg [OTL: Novigrad, Slovenia]
May, 637
The Old Woman struggled through the gates the nunnery towards the hill. In the distance, smoke from the town of Nuiwlperb could be seen. It reminded the Old Woman of warmth, family and comradery; all of which seemed like such a distant memory for her. She was Old and knew it, but not as old as many would have thought. Life, since the death of her husband, had been hard – she had been cast down from the highest honors a woman could dream of off and sent to this desolate corner of the world. Once, she had been Sigisguntia, Queen of the Goths and Empress of Rome. Now, she was just Sister Sigisguntia. Her husband was dead, here children were dead, and the world had moved on.
There, ahead, on the hill stood the men. It was a small cohort, no more than two dozen if he guessed. She had no reason why they might be there, nor why they had asked for her in particular. A year earlier a plague had erupted in Niuwlperb and she, of all of the Sisters of Saint Kristina, had risked her life to give aid to the sick and dying when others had turned away their faces in fear. Yes. It was probably that. She had heard that the Fatar in Ravenna occasionally looked for Monks and Nuns who had done good works in order to exhault them for their virtue. The Old Woman laughed, though it came out more as a dry wheeze in her chest. If they had expected virtue, the Fatar would be disappointed indeed. Yes, she had felt some sympathy for the peasants and townfolk but, more than that, she had simply wished to die. Her life was over, it had ended almost nine years previousl y when her son was married to that wolf, and now she just sought to embrace death and let it all end.
She came to the top of the hill and one of them stood forward, “Are you Sigisguntia, wife of Amalamir and Queen of the Goths?”
The Old Woman looked the man over and didn’t like what she saw. He was lazy. The way he grasped his spear and leaned against it. How her husband would have berated him for such softness. Now there had been a true Emperor! “Maybe I was once, but that was a long time again. Now, I’m just Sister Sigisguntia. If you doubt it, just ask our prioress. She tells me every day.”
Suddenly there was a flurry of motion and the Old Woman would have laughed if she wasn’t caught so utterly bu surprise. The lazy man who leaned against his spear was suddenly sent sprawling as a young man pushed him aside and ran towards her. “Mother,” he cried, “oh my god, Mother, it’s you.” The Young Man wrapped his arms around her with such passion that she feared the breath would be pushed from her lungs.
“Wha,” she coughed, “I don’t know you,” and then trailed off as she caught a glimpse of the young man’s eyes and his lips. “Theodebert,” she said, her hand flying to her mouth. “Theodebert,” she said again as she felt the warm rivers flow from her eyes and down her creviced cheeks. “But how? They said you were dead.”
“I’m alive, Mom,” the young man, who looked so much like her son that she wanted it to be true, said. “I let them think I was dead. I knew if Adela knew I was alive she would come for me. So I let everyone think I was dead. I’m so sorry.”
Vaguely the Old Woman was aware of an indecisive murmering from the men on the hill, and she was acutely aware that everything (though she didn’t know exactly what) was riding on her response. One man, who spoke Gothic with a noticeable Gepid accent, said “See, she doesn’t recognize him. I knew it.”
Sigisguntia was a political animal and had been since her youth – growing up in court, marrying a King who became Emperor. She had stood by his side during his long years of captivity, and stayed faithful. She had birthed him sons and daughters and her heart had broken when her eldest was sent away. For nearly a decade she had languished in this holy prison, had felt that her life and its importance was over. But now, in a moment of inspiration, she understood everything and knew what she had to do.
She pushed the young man away. “If you are my son. If you are who you say you are, then there is a mark that I can use to identify you. Theodebert had a birthmark on the small of …” she trailed off.
The Young Man had already tossed his chest armor aside, turned around and was lifting up his shirt to reveal the blood-red splotch which dyed the skin of his lower back. “My god,” she cried – forgetting herself for a moment – and threw her arms around the young man; her SON. “My god, it is you! Theodebert!”
Theodebert smiled again, that radiant smile she had always remembered him having as a young boy. She was so glad to know that, no matter what ills and evils he had seen in the world, he hadn’t lost the ability to smile. “It’s me, Mom. It’s me. And we’re going to punish the woman that did this to our family. And then I’m going to get you out of here.”
Sigisguntia fell down to her knees and did something she had not allowed herself to do for years. She cried, howling out her thanks to the Lord and his Son that at least one of her sons had been spared. She would have her family again, she would have her revenge.
Behind Theodebert the men stood numb with silence. Then the man with the Gepid accent raised his first in the air “All Hail Theodebert, King of the Goths and Emperor of the Romans!” The rest picked up the chant and soon the hills boomed with its cry. But Sigisguntia didn’t care. Her only thought was that her son had been returned from the dead. [FN5]
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[FN1] The Nordmarka roughly consists of the OTL Duchy of Lower Pannonia. It is the region of the Lombard Kingdom which directly borders the Gepidreik. Although the Gepids and Lombards are both diplomatically linked to the Goths – the Lombards are a Federated Kingdom within the Empire and the Gepids are close allies – the two peoples continue to view each other with suspicion. The old feud which began generations earlier when the Gepids drove the Lombards from the Carpathian basin continues with both sides raiding one another a routine basis. As one might draw from this story, the Gothic Empire has difficulties in reigning in its federated subkingdoms (the Suebi, Lombards and the Breton peoples) during the best of times. We will explore this further in future updates.
[FN2] Once suspects that the average opponent of Adela’s response was “Jesus! She just castrated her own son. Just think what she would do to us!”
[FN3] As you know, I like to play around in this timeline with the idea that sources have been lost and that historians and writers in this ATL are hampered in the same manner that modern historians are – they are forced to rely on less than omnipotent sources, physical evidence and the like. Also, important soruces that may have once existed have long since disappeared. Despite this, sometimes Fate throws historians a bone in OTL as well as the ATL. So, we see the discovery of the tomb of Valamir, confirming a rather nasty and bloody incident in Adela’s reign. Also, I apologize for the violence depicting in this passage but – its fairly historically accurate for the time period.
[FN4] This dialog, obviously, takes place before the Murder of Valamir and Adela’s crackdown on any dissent.
[FN5] Obviously a bit more is happening here than Sigisguntia is able to pick up – though she picked up enough to play her part well. An observant reader might notice the accent of one of the men in the group and put them together with other information from the chapter and the footnotes
Okay, this was an exceedingly difficult chapter to write - largely because its largely a bridge chapter and focuses primarily upon narrative. I hope that everyone enjoyed it and I apologize for the length of time it took to finally get it done. I'm hoping to finish up with the Kuni Wars in the next chapter, where we will reveal the final fate of Queen Adela and her supporters. I may then spend a chapter showing the after effects of the Wars. However, what I really want to do after that is turn my attention to showing the current status of Gaul and Hispania within the Empire. Although things may look pretty clean cut on a map, the reality of the situation is much more complicated - and this will play an important role as we now move into the Empire's "Middle Period."
As always, any thoughts and questions are not only welcome, I'm pretty much requiring them (blame it on the instructor in me
)Thanks again to all of my readers who have stuck with me this far!
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Yep. Don't know about others, but I am going to stick with this intriguing story to its end, whenever it may be.
I have to say, I'm a bit worried. I just realized I started this over six years back and have made it less than two hundred years in the timeline. Now, there were some pretty long breaks in there (and I still can't say how amazed I am by people sticking with it, despite this!) but I've always had an idea of closing the timeline about the year 800 with some epilogues to follow. At this rate, I may still be at this by the year 2024
Hopefully you don't have to wait that long to see where its all going 800... is that to go with the supposed end of the world that was meant to occur then?I have to say, I'm a bit worried. I just realized I started this over six years back and have made it less than two hundred years in the timeline. Now, there were some pretty long breaks in there (and I still can't say how amazed I am by people sticking with it, despite this!) but I've always had an idea of closing the timeline about the year 800 with some epilogues to follow. At this rate, I may still be at this by the year 2024
Brilliant chapter as always! I may need to go and update my own TL now.
- BNC
There seem to be a few typos on the names of the towns/cities. Can you update us on the actual names and the reasoning?
Well, _a_ world will seem to be ending around that time - at least for some.
Since the beginning I've always said that there would be a natural ending point towards the beginning of the 9th century. As to what that is, I've given hints and clues, but never stated it outright.
I've always figured that, after that point, I could do some epilogue chapters that jump around the timeline more and explore some interesting events in the world post-800s. I might even do a sequel timeline, after a bit of a break (I would need to develop the world in my head for a bit and get a good sense of where it is going. Obviously I have some notions, since I have chapters take place close to the *present, but not enough.)
All the ones in the current update will be fine
Dornperg is the capitol of the Lombard Kingdom and the analogue of OTL Split. It translates as "Thorn Hill/Mountain" which is actually pretty much how the name Split came about. Since Lombardic in OTL seems to have shifted the Germanic B to a P sound, I figured that their version of 'berg' would end up becoming 'perg'
Niuwlperg translates directly as "New City" (much as the Croatian name Novigrad means ... New City.) This in turn is a direct translation from the earlier Greek name for the city, Neapolis. The town was founded by refugees of Aemona which had been destroyed by the Huns. Since Lombardic was a language related to Old High German, and since Lombardic likely has not survived down to the modern times, nor has it left us written texts, I decided to use the OHG word for new - "Niuwl" and then attached 'perg' which can mean either city, fort or hill/mountain. Ah, you might be asking yourself, but wouldn't Lombardic eventually develop out of its old form and Niuwl would change as well? Yes - yes it likely would. But I'm not a linguist, and so - barring anyone being able to suggest a way that word might evolve - I'm going to say that Lombardic is oddly conservative, at least in its form of 'new'
So rather than Lombardise Spalathos (Spalz?) they translated it instead?
edit: I think you misread niuwiNiuwlperg translates directly as "New City" (much as the Croatian name Novigrad means ... New City.) This in turn is a direct translation from the earlier Greek name for the city, Neapolis. The town was founded by refugees of Aemona which had been destroyed by the Huns. Since Lombardic was a language related to Old High German, and since Lombardic likely has not survived down to the modern times, nor has it left us written texts, I decided to use the OHG word for new - "Niuwl" and then attached 'perg' which can mean either city, fort or hill/mountain. Ah, you might be asking yourself, but wouldn't Lombardic eventually develop out of its old form and Niuwl would change as well? Yes - yes it likely would. But I'm not a linguist, and so - barring anyone being able to suggest a way that word might evolve - I'm going to say that Lombardic is oddly conservative, at least in its form of 'new'
I suspect TTL Lombard will use latinate script so Niviperg. "Modern" varieties would probably call it Niuperg or Neuperg if iu>eu /oi/.
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So rather than Lombardise Spalathos (Spalz?) they translated it instead?
edit: I think you misread niuwi
I suspect TTL Lombard will use latinate script so Niviperg. "Modern" varieties would probably call it Niuperg or Neuperg if iu>eu /oi/.
Well, the Online Etymology Dictionary (one of my favorite websites!) does say niuwl for OHG - but its entirely possible that that was a typo on their part as well. But I trust your linguistic knowledge and skill, so Niuiperg it is!
Well I did wonder if it was a local extension akin to nouvelle but couldn't find a source that isn't the OEtd so likely a typo!Well, the Online Etymology Dictionary (one of my favorite websites!) does say niuwl for OHG - but its entirely possible that that was a typo on their part as well. But I trust your linguistic knowledge and skill, so Niuiperg it is!
I tend to compare the OEtd with wiktionary and my Chambers Et. D. to get the best version.
I've been becoming more familiar with Wiktionary myself, recently, but wasn't aware of Chambers Et. D.
By the way, I realize that I hadn't answered your question in regards to Dornperg. Yes, in this case, the Lombards just translated Spalato into their own native language. As for justification - much as in OTL, Salona was brutally sacked, but much earlier (in 553/54 to be exact) by the Emperor Photius in his preemptive war against Theodemir. Photius destroyed the city utterly and burnt the crops, chasing the survivors out to the surrounding islands. When the Lombards take control of the lad as Federates of the Gothic Empire, there are few Romans left around Spalato. Although its often common to not greatly alter place names when humans move into a territory, it does happen on occasion. In this case, it was a political decision by the Lombard King of the time to show that this was truly a Lombard homeland (this was less of a slight against the former Roman population and more of an internal move - the Lombards had been chased out of their last home by the Gepids and wandered for sometime. The use of a name in the Lombard tongue was meant to show to his followers that they had finally found a true home to settle in.)
I know! I was reading through some earlier chapters and came upon your posts. I'm grateful!
Have just discovered this... Am working my way through slowly. So far so great!!!