IdeasGuy
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Legends Never Die: Grasping (ch. 106)
🕑 Added 2025-01-08 15:58:15 +0000 UTCI had hoped that things would be simple with my departure, but that wasn't the case. The Roman came and went, delivering Irene's message -- a invitation to attend her in Constantinople. An invitation that I couldn't refuse without consequence.
It was tempting to simply ignore the summons. Extremely so. The only thing that held me back from ignoring the summons, and Irene, was one simple thing. An instruction to bring no less than five hundred of my greatest warriors with me to Constantinople.
“I don't like this,” Astrid muttered to me. “It feels like she's baiting you into a trap.”
“I think it might be a trap, but I'm not so sure it's a trap for me,” I replied, five of my longships manned with my warriors. My veterans who had been with me since the beginning. “And if it is a trap, then Irene underestimates me severely.” Irene clearly had a task in mind for me, and as my contract was not yet up, I was honorbound to at least hear her out.
Astrid frowned, her gaze drifting over me before she placed a hand on Gram at my waist, “If it is a trap, hold out for at least a day. We'll rescue you,” she swore on Gram, and my lips curled into a smile.
“I'll do you one better -- if it is a trap, we'll fight our way to the gates, and we'll sack the city,” I said, making Astrid grin. She pressed her lips to mine for a long moment, smiling into the kiss when Ragnar wretched.
Astrid broke it a second later, “In that case, I almost hope you're walking into a trap now.”
“So do I. I'd love to take their library with us,” I replied, giving her a gentle smile before dropping to a knee before Ragnar. He was sullen, clearly not wanting me to go, but I had to. I placed a hand on his shoulder, “Until I return, you must protect your mother. She's likely to get herself into a mess of trouble unless you keep a close eye on her.”
Ragnar offered a solemn nod while Astrid playfully flicked my ear. Standing up, Astrid passed me my helmet. “Come back to us, Siegfried.” It wasn't a request or a plea.
“I plan to,” I told her, giving her one last farewell, just as I did to the others. Astrid, as my first wife, had a ceremonious role to play in my departure, though it was usually reserved for when a warrior sailed off to war. Turning my back to them, I climbed onto my flagship and gave the order to set sail. In the crowd, I saw Jill, Jasmine, and even Morrigan. Yet, when a raven landed on my shoulder, I knew that Morrigan had decided to come with us.
Distance, I knew, strained her power but I also knew that her range had greatly increased since she received the Blessing. Her presence was a reassurance as, despite my confidence, I was unsure what we were sailing into.
My first reaction to the summon was that Tazates had told Irene that I had Greek Fire. But that would only implicate himself. Then I thought she might know about our plans for the Mediterranean sea. Possible, but Hoffer was consolidating his strength in the Balearic islands, so there shouldn't be anything to give him away. Then I wondered if Irene knew of my impending marriage to Jasmine. But, if that was the case, then why ask me to come with five hundred warriors?
I had no idea, and there seemed to be only one way to find out.
The trip to Constantinople was a quick one, and I felt a little sad as we approached the city. The first time I saw it, the city was utterly overwhelming. It barely felt real, even as I gazed upon it. In the years since, the city, while still grand, became more mundane. The cracks began to show, the glamor stopped hiding the filthy streets, the shine couldn't hide the flaws. Now, three years later, I found that I was going to miss Constantinople.
Flaws and all, it was still the greatest city in the world.
“No sign of an ambush,” I noted as we sailed into the dock, our ships lightly thumping against the wood. We went ashore with practiced ease, and it was there that a familiar face was there to great us.
“Lord Wolf-Kissed,” Staurakios greeted me, not a trace of warmth to be found in his voice. Yet, True Sight did not mark him as an enemy, nor anyone on the surrounding dock.
“Staurakios,” I replied, every bit as curtly as I approached. I knew I cut an impressive figure as I now towered over the man. He barely came up to my chest now. I was clad in the armor of my design -- a padded gambeson underneath a suit of chainmail that covered my entire body in function, my body further clad with plate along my arms, legs, and chest. My nasal helm draped more chainmail over my face, protecting my neck, while a white wolf pelt was draped over my shoulders.
Gram rested easily in my belt, as did the two handaxes I had received as wedding gifts. A shield was in a gauntlet clad hand, and in the other was my dane-axe with a long spike jutting out the top to act as a spear.
The armor had to be refitted no less than three times over the past couple of months. I almost wished I would stop growing soon.
“Her Imperial Majesty offers her welcome to our fair city once more,” Staurakios said, offering a polite bow. Temporary lord or not, I was acknowledged nobility within Rome. “She asks that you attend her in the palace. If you would follow me?”
Offering a small curt nod, I led the formation of my men through the streets of Constantinople. There were people marked in red to True Sight, but as Morrigan chose to not alert me of any potential conspiracy between them, it seemed to be a personal dislike of us. We did make for quite a sight as we marched to the palace, though. Olek was rather fond of a saying that proved it's worth first hand -- ‘If you can't walk together, then you can't fight together.’
Though, naturally, my men couldn't come with me into the palace. As a courtesy, I was allowed three guards to accompany me into the palace itself. Despite my caution, my guard was starting to lower as this didn't seem to be what I feared it to be. We were led to a familiar greeting room where the doors swung open to reveal Irene.
She hadn't changed much, for the most part. She had always dressed the part of an Empress, so the only true change was that she wore her son's crown. The crown of the Emperor.
“Lord Wolf-Kissed, Siegfried, it is a blessing to see you once more,” Irene began sweetly. And I could understand why no one wanted to believe she murdered her son in cold blood in a bid for power. She was pretty and charming. “You have my gratitude for the swift arrival when I'm told you're quite busy preparing to leave our shores for the final time.”
She wanted something. “Your thanks are welcome, but unneeded. I am yours to command for my stay in Rome, Empress Irene.” I said, removing my helmet and dropping to a knee at the entrance of the greeting room. A few guards, but none in excess. While most of my weapons were taken, I still had Gram at my side.
I was right. This wasn't a trap. Not for me, at least.
“That is most reassuring to hear,” Irene said while Staurakios walked around the table, and the servants holding obscene treasures. Interestingly, I didn't see Aetios. In the years since he bayed me to conquer Greece in Rome’s name, he had risen through the ranks. I couldn't claim credit for his rise -- I was the one who got him noticed, but everything since then was the result of his own actions. As far as I was aware, he and Staurakios were locked in a battle for Irene's favorite advisor.
I found his absence suspicious.
“For,” Irene continued, “I have need of you one last time.”
“What may I do for you, Empress?” I asked, more curious than cautious. I was even a little amused at her instance to get the last drop of use from me, even as I had been walking out the door.
“You are a longstanding enemy of the Frankish King Charlemagne, are you not?” She asked, though it wasn't truly a question.
I didn't expect to hear his name from her. “I am, your majesty. Starting as a boy in Saxony, I am largely credited for its successful rebellion. More recently, I humiliated him in Iberia by forcing him to pay a fee, else I would give his enemy an important advantage in a pivotal battle.” I explained, and she nodded, a faint smile curling at her lips.
“Yes, that is what I have heard. Would it be safe to say that he is your enemy as well?” She asked, and that question was more prodding.
“It would be. Charlemagne massacred many of my people at Verdun in a gruesome display that violated a holy place. He has threatened to aid King Horrik, the man who murdered my father and brothers, and drove the rest of my family into hiding. I respect him as a king, but we are fated enemies. He will no more suffer my actions than I would his.” I answered, starting to become cautious of where this was going.
That made her smile widen further. It was a calculated gesture, however, but it certainly made my mind begin to race. Was she coming into conflict with Francia?
“Then I believe that you shall enjoy this final task,” Irene continued before she made a gesture, prompting Staurakios to explain just as my holes were starting to rise.
“King Charlemagne has proposed an alliance between Rome and Francia. No, it would be more precise to say that he intendeds to revive the Roman empire to his previous glories,” Staurakios declared, and I had to fight tooth and nail to keep my feelings off of my face. I almost hoped that I had somehow misheard him, but he dashed those hopes by continuing. “His Frankish kingdom shall act as the fallen western half of our empire. The details of such a momentous occasion are still being decided, which is what we require you.”
My first reaction was that the only worst news I had ever received in my life was learning what befell my family at Horrik’s hands. And they were close in how terrible they were.
My second reaction was that the news might actually be worse than learning that my father and brothers had been murdered while the rest of my family had been branded outlaws by a man I had trusted.
My third reaction was more… tempered.
“I will confess, I am at a loss for what you would need me for,” I said, not being entirely honest, my guard slowly rising as I could think of a few things. There were few gifts that Charlemagne would treasure more than my head.
“Your presence shall be an insult to Charlemagne,” Irene answered, her sharp gaze watching me, carefully considering my reaction. I didn’t have to hide this one -- I tilted my head to the side ever so slightly. “The barbarian king wishes to style himself roman when it was his ancestors that feasted upon the carcass of the western half of my empire. It shows that he has some sense, but he forgets himself.”
That proved my third reaction right -- this might not be as terrible as it might seem.
“In every union, there is a greater and a lesser. One who is dominant and one who submits,” Irene continued. “Charlemagne styles himself a conqueror. That he is the greater in this would be alliance. While we entertain his offer, I intend to show him his place.”
That was why it wasn’t as terrible as it might seem. My mind raced as I considered the news, examining it from all angles. As both Irene and Charlemagne were both widowed, I suspected that they would seal the alliance with a marriage. Their marriage. What I had seen of Charlemagne and Irene… That was a disastrous match. They were both too ambitious. Too ruthless. Too clever. They’d scheme and plot against one another endlessly and likely wouldn’t stop until the other was in the grave. Possibly at their hands.
But, they would hardly be the first royal couple that detested each other. It was just the first of many cracks I saw in this alliance.
The second greatest crack was I couldn’t see this lasting. The Franks and Romans were extremely different people with very different cultures. The Romans would despise the idea of being ruled over what they deemed to be a barbarian. Especially one that swelled on the bones of what had been half of their empire. Likewise, the Franks would despise the idea of a foreign empress.
The third greatest crack, and it was a testament to how great the first two was that it was third -- there was a considerable distance between the borders of their empires. Their closest border was to the north, beyond the Bulgarians and Avars, beyond the Balkan tribes. Or, perhaps, if they reconquered Italia, up to the Alps. In either case, it would take a considerable expansion on both of their parts to share a border.
There were great and significant problems with this idea -- large glaring flaws that it was impossible that they hadn’t noticed. However, both of them ignored them for a very simple reason.
Greed.
Irene desired to be the Empress who had restored Rome to its previous glories, to be a Restorer of the World, just as Emperor Aurelian did before her. Charlemagne, however, wanted legitimacy, the legacy. He didn’t want to be a king of the Franks -- he wanted to be an Emperor of Rome.
The result was both of them trying to force this to work to get what they wanted out of it. Regardless of how feasible it was in the long term.
“I will admit, I am agreeable to the idea of tweaking Charlemagne’s nose,” I admitted. I didn’t even have to lie about that. “Though, I am curious about what exactly doing that will entail.”
“Restraint on your part, I suspect,” Staurakios idly remarked. “There shall be a conference in the city of Rome where the broader scope of the alliance, during which you shall attend as one of the Empresses personal guard, along with five hundred of your men. You shall both be as a show of force, and a reminder of his humiliation.”
Hm. The more that it was being explained to me, the more I understood. First, I understood that Staurakios and Irene both were…
I wasn’t a threat to them. To them, despite all of my victories, I couldn’t hope to challenge the might of the Roman empire. Because, soon, I would depart to a desolate kingdom far to the north and there, I would never enter their gaze again. Part of that was their natural arrogance. Another part was how I presented myself from the very beginning. I just didn’t expect for them to underestimate me so severely.
I also understood why. And that was something I would have to consider.
A smile tugged at my lips, “That sounds like an order I’d most enjoy.”
…
Arrangements were made in short order for our departure. From what I gathered, my joining the procession seemed to be a last-minute decision. An impulsive snub. My men and I were quartered, I sent a letter back to Norland telling them where I would be and when to expect my return. Then, the next day, we set sail for Italia.
The trip by sea was a short one, as we landed in Roman territory at the bottom of the landmass, and then began a long march to the city of Rome.
The city that gave birth to an empire.
Despite the circumstances, I was rather excited to visit the great city. I had seen it described in numerous texts, but I hadn’t seen it for myself. It seemed unwise to visit when it was the seat of power for the Christian faith.
Over the night, I pondered the revelation of this attempt at restoring the Roman empire, wondering what it would mean for me and those who came after me. Many thoughts bounced around in my mind, and I doubt I would have been able to sleep even if I had felt the need. Possibilities, opportunities, risks, consequences -- all of them rushing to the fore as my thoughts jumped from one outcome to the next from late in the night to early in the morning.
It made me incredibly grateful that Morrigan was here with me, even in the form of a raven. “It all comes down to if the union will last,” I mused, looking out at the sea as my ships slowed themselves to match the Roman fleet that carried their Empress. I was surprised that she would be going to Rome herself, but I suppose this was her way of checking the quality of a potential husband.
Morrigan brushed her beak against my finger and I swallowed a sigh. It would be easier if she could talk like this. Ravens could speak simple words, but I figured it’d be best to avoid doing that around the Christians. “Short term, this could be very good for us. But, if it lasts beyond a generation…”
That was the crux of the issue.
In the short term, this union could greatly benefit my people. Charlemagne was already dedicating a substantial army to Hispania. The Romans were occupying Bulgaria, but not without difficulty. The Romans would likely have to conquer up to the Franks, with the Franks sending lesser armies to aid them. That would likely delay a war with the Abbasids, but if it didn’t, then Hoffer would be able to aid Harun. Possibly Harun would seek to pounce on the distracted Romans and fulfill the promised conquest of Anatolia.
More than that, Staurakios said it best -- what Irene and Charlemagne were attempting to accomplish was monumentous. If they really attempted to follow through with this restoration of the Roman Empire, then it was a task that they would have to dedicate the rest of their lives to.
History had already given an example of what they were trying to do -- Alexander the Great and his Persianization over the course of his conquest. What Alexander had done was prudent for the most part. The vast majority of his empire consisted of Persians and he was letting them see themselves in him. However, in doing so, he alienated his Macedonian companions. Some supported his efforts, others were staunchly against them. Enough so that there were numerous assassination attempts on what they now saw as a Persian emperor rather than their Macedonian king.
An attempt to bridge Roman culture with Frankish was going to be a long, painful, arduous task worthy of Hercules. Even on the assumption that they were eventually successful, the two would spend decades quelling rebellions of all sizes.
It was what I was trying to do in Hispania, but grander. Charlemagne, in all likelihood, would spend the remainder of his life looking inward rather than expanding outward. He wouldn’t be able to attack my people even if he wished to.
And, odds were, he would fail. Perhaps it would last until his death, but I doubted that his son would be able to maintain such a volatile empire. He wouldn’t possess the same respect, the same reputation. Rome would do as it did throughout its history and chew itself up from the inside out at the hands of great ambitious men.
“But there’s a chance,” I muttered, gazing out at our destination after a few short days of marching. Rome. I saw its outskirts and I saw that it was every bit as grand as Constantinople. “A chance that it will work.” I refused to underestimate Charlemagne. If there was anyone in the world who could pull this off, then I was convinced that it was him.
In that case… Rome was restored. It would take decades for it to unify, but it managed to stick together. And, in that case, a vast empire was but a stone’s throw away from my homeland. From what would be my kingdom. That was a truly disturbing thought. Enough so it made me question what I could do to prevent such a potential disaster from happening in the first place, or preparing for it like an inevitable storm.
“Fool!” Morrigan cried, though she wasn't particularly clear what made me a fool in this situation.
It mattered little as we approached the ancient city of Rome in the form of a long column. The Romans acted as the bulwark of it, arranging themselves around their Empress, who rode in an opulent chariot in its center. My own forces were placed towards the rear of the column as we weren't here to be honored. We were here to thumb our noses at the Franks, so I had few complaints about not being in the center of attention.
I was uncertain to what degree this conference was a secret, but the people of Rome seemed to know something important was happening. The Roman Empress was welcomed into the city, greeted with cheers as people flooded the streets. As far as I could tell, many of them were exactly as Otto had described to me -- beggars, prostitutes, and the lame. The flanking soldiers held them at bay, tossing flower petals over the marching formation as we entered the city.
Constantinople had tempered my expectations of Rome somewhat, but it was still a fascinating city. I could feel the weight of its history -- this was where an empire whose history spanned over a thousand years was born. The fact that it was in a state of decline was disheartening, but it was still a vast and formidable city.
If nothing else, visiting this city made the journey worth it.
The procession took a long view of the city, allowing me to gaze upon the historical buildings of significance—the Forum of Julius Caesar, the Forum of Augustus, and the temples that were converted into churches. I gazed upon the Colosseum with naked awe as the procession passed by the gladiatorial building. Then, there was a hum of excitement in me as we headed to our ultimate destination.
The Curia Julia was the senate building where Rome was ruled. It was the beating heart of Rome, at least until the Romans lost it. It was almost unassuming in appearance for the great history it possessed. It was a wide building made of marble, with a line of pillars acting as an entrance. On one side, the building rose up, standing high with glass windows allowing natural light to stream in.
It was currently half surrounded by Frankish soldiers. A show of force, I knew, just as Irene displayed her own strength. They stood in a formation, staving off a crowd of people who wanted to see what was going on and soon the Roman contingent reinforced them. As did my warriors, though they were placed well away from the Franks.
Despite being amongst the last to arrive, I found that I was right on time.
“Come, Lord Wolf-Kissed,” Empress Irene commanded me easily as the Romans prepared for her entrance. “I shall have you act as my translator. I doubt the barbarians have learned a proper tongue.” She was attended by a small army of Servants, and I suspected at least a few of them could speak Frankish. But that wasn't the point.
She was going to force Charlemagne to speak to me to speak to her.
I nodded, still clad in armor, and falling in line with her servants, we marched towards the double doors that acted as the entrance to the senate building. I stroked Morrigan's plumage reassuringly as she sat on my shoulder, watching as the doors swung open. We were immediately greeted by the sound of young boys singing, a hundred of them standing in the seats where Roman senators had once commanded an empire that had reshaped the world. Harps joined the melody, as did flutes and drums. It was pleasant but mostly distracting.
It was across the hall that I saw Charlemagne for the first time since the Saxon Rebellion.
He was regal. His beard was neatly groomed, his appearance immaculate as he wore kingly robes accented with jewelry. Adorned on his head was a crown of gold, embedded with no less than a dozen precious gemstones along the rim. He did seem a bit older than when I last saw him, but he still struck me as strong. In truth, I was the one who had changed the most since we last saw one another.
Charlemagne stood before a round table that was set at the end of the forum. Standing directly next to him was a man I had purposefully gone out of my way to avoid, but I still recognized him by sight.
Pope Adrian. He wore a serene expression, a painted-on smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, which narrowed ever so slightly when his gaze landed on me.
I wasn't the only one wearing my armor, I swiftly noticed, my gaze sliding to four figures. I didn't know them all, but I knew what they were even if I didn't.
Four of Charlemagne's Paladins.
Astolfo openly wore her surprise in my presence. She stood next to Rinaldo, who did a better job of hiding his. Standing next to him was a Paladin I did not recognize, yet he was openly glaring at me with a blazing anger in his blue eyes. Yet, I ignored him to gaze upon the last of the Paladins in attendance.
Roland.
His gaze was impassive as he took notice of me, betraying nothing. Much like Charlemagne, he was exactly as I remembered him. A tall broad shouldered man who carried a tower shield that was the size of a man grown in one hand, and sheathed in his waist was Durendal. One thing had changed, however, and it was something that I hadn't expected.
I was taller than him now by half a head. So, perhaps, it was worth refitting my armor several times.
Empress Irene strode forward as the rest of her people came to a stop, both sides facing off silently. Despite this being an occasion to restore the empire, it would be an easy mistake to make thinking that they were bitter enemies forced to make peace. The attendants of Charlemagne flanked one side of the room, openly judging the servants of Irene with cynical eyes.
Yet, Irene wholly ignored the tension as she approached along side her chosen guard. I found myself walking behind her as she stopped on the other side of the Pope, gazing at Charlemagne with an indifferent expression. Watching the two stare each other down, neither side betraying what their thoughts were, just helped solidify my own thoughts.
They were entirely too much alike. The only way one would submit to the other is by force.
Yet, Pope Adrian held his hands aloft and spoke in Latin, “Let us rejoice! After three centuries, a Roman Empress has graced Rome!” He announced, and Irene gave nothing away at the subtle dig. The very first words of this attempt at restoration were an insult, which didn’t bode well. Perhaps I was overthinking things and assuming the worst. This might not even take the first step towards success before stumbling and falling.
“And let us rejoice, for Charles the Great, King of the Franks, once more graces the walls of Rome,” Pope Adrian continued, and it was rather clear whose wagon he hitched his horse to. “Let us thank God for this most welcome reunion of West and East and entrust ourselves to His plan. For all are equals underneath the gaze of our Heavenly Father.” Also asserting that Irene and Charlemagne were equals, despite only one of them possessing the title of Emperor.
With that, he clasped his hands together and bowed his head, giving a moment of silence to thank their God. I watched it all, drinking it all in. On the trip over, I had considered what I might have to do to sabotage such a union.
Now, witnessing how it was starting…
I’m not sure if I’d have to do a thing.
Comments
Trevor Ritzke
Somewhat jokingly refered to as Irish Hercules. Cú Chulainn. pretty cool dude.
Metri Boomin
Is there a Hercules in Norse Mythology too?
asdo
Poisonings, poisonings everywhere and sharp metal poisonings in everyone's backs in like a year
Ozymandias
I know that for the plot this they'll probably unify but realistically the sheer egos of Charlemagne and Irene would make a union impossible. The first question of where would the capital be; would tear the union apart
