[SS 6.4] Restoring Rome - Chapter Two: The Tragedy of the Komnenoi

**Schrödinger** · March 02, 2012, 03:00 PM

SS 6.3, Byzantine Empire Early Campaign, M/M, first game for a few years on M2TW, used to be known as Tweety, long time ago but hope a few remember AARs like After Manzikert... this will be a mix of battle/character building, I like to role play but also to fight... hope you all enjoy, quite a demure opener but will build up to something more, C & C welcome

CHARACTER LIST c. 1105 AD

CHARACTER LIST c. 1118 AD

POV CHARACTERS - only a few characters do we see their direct thoughts and actions, these are them

IOANNIS KOMNENOS

the son of the Emperor Alexios, heir incumbent to the seat at Constantinople. Married to Dimitra Balgiarotes. Once a young, impetuous man overly fond of warfare, now away from bloodshed and showing signs of domestication.

NIKOPHOROS VYRENNIOS

the son-in-law of the Emperor Alexios, married to Anna Komnene. Lord of Achaia and Cilicia, also effectively Lord of Cyprus, as he holds the daughter of the Lampinos Lord captive. Known as blood-drinker after tasting the blood of felled Armenian Prince Thoros. Keen chess player.

IAKOVOS PHILLIPUS

lord of Macedonia, brother of Michael Phillipus. One of the most powerful men in the Empire but loth to use his influence in reality, preferring the internecine diplomacy of Constantinople, a scene he is often not considered to have too great a weight on.

MIKHAIL SZEKERES

a Kievan merchant who has become a high figure in the court due to both his vast wealth and connections. Known to be a spymaster of the first degree. Suffers from frequent fits. Secret true father of Yaroslaw Wladimirowic.

DIMITRA KOMNENOS

wife of Ioannis, mother to four children, one of which is trueborn, the rest probably the progeny of the Rus' ward, Yaroslaw Wladimirowic. Daughter of a wealthy silk merchant, wedded only for money.

THE IMPERIAL HOUSE - the current ruling house of the Byzantine Empire, the Komnenoi rose from the ashes of Manzikert

ALEXIOS KOMNENOS - known as the Wise, Basil of the Roman Empire and first of the Komnenos
ANDRONIKOS KOMNENOS - the elder of the younger Komnenoi, with a darker street and keen on military life and the chariots
ISAAKIOS KOMNENOS - the younger young Komnenos, more intelligent than his brother and an eager chess player, but weak.
ANNA KOMNENE - compiler of the famous histories of the Crusades, a well known scholar and also wife to the ambitious Vyrennios

OTHER NOBLES - divide and rule, all great and small bicker beneath the Emperor. See THE MAP

MICHAEL PHILLIPUS - brother of Iakovos, often considered the more competent, and more ambitious
KONSTANTIOS ZIGOPOULOS - militant ruler of Epirus, generally subservient to the Phillipus
GABRIEL GABRAS - lord of Bithynia, a large red-faced man of little respect generally
ROMAN DALASENNOS - cousin of Vyrennios, lord of Caria and also Bulgaria, and his eldest son FLAVIUS
EFSTATHIOS LAMPINOS - lord of Cyprus, subservient to Vyrennios while he holds his daughter captive
JUSTIN DOUKAS - a minor Doukas boy who lives with Andronikos

NOTABLE OTHERS - not important for their land, but for their place in the historic narrative

TATICIUS - a captured Turk, courtly attache to the Basil, former teacher of Ioannis
THE QUAESTOR PHILIP- a eunuch renowned for his fair hand of applying the law and adherence to Justinian
THE PATRIARCH - a new, snide, ambitious and warlike protector of the Orthodox faith
THE BISHOP OF NAPLES - opened the gates of Naples to Ioannis Komnenos
YAROSLAW WLADIMIROWIC - former Rus' ward of Ioannis and lover of Dimitra, now a pronoia in Apulia
IGOR - the houseman at Sofia, who knows much, disfigured and has a lisp
MAURICE - known as the Many Coloured, a troubadour turned Guard at Sofia
STEPHEN - the drunken priest at Sofia
WEASEL - a guard at Sofia
GOLDENWHEELS - an expensive charioteer bought from Baghdad at great expense
THELONIUS - the current flavour of the month as Nikophoros' muscle
GIAMPAOLO PAZZINI - the Venetian ambassador
THE SIROCCO - a courtesan, more famous than her seven sisters.
BONIFATIUS BALGIAROTES - a Greek merchant in Antioch, friend of the Empire
MESUD I - the new Sultan of the Turks
HENRY V - Holy Roman Emperor and friend of the Greeks

DEAD CHARACTERS - many fall by the wayside as the march goes on

TZIMISAS - a double agent between the Vyrennians/Phillipus. Killed by Nikophoros.
MELIK SHAH - former Sultan of the Seljuqs in Anatolia, assassinated
THE QUAESTOR - a eunuch keen on harsh punishment through the Empire

Shankbot12's Imperial Family Tree

Update Quicklinks

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I.

Constantinople, 1100 AD

Ioannis

Ioannis Komnenos stood in the yard, loosing arrows at a target fifty yards away. Next to him, alternating shots, was Yaroslav Wladimirovic, a Rus ward of the Komenoi. The young Kievan was winning easily, his long blond hair blowing across his calm ice eyes as his arrows homed in on the target, while an ever more flustered Ioannis sweated like a pig despite the breeze. Laconically leaning against the wall was a herb-chewing grizzled old man, with weatherbeaten wrinkles, roughly cropped hair and stubble and a dirty cloak. His capbrim was pulled deep over his face, obscuring a glint from underneath it.

“Set to Yaroslav. Again.”

“Next game my call, swordplay.”

The willowy northerner shrugged and threw off his bracers, slinging his bow over his shoulder and turning out of the courtyard ahead of a broody princeling, steadfastly ignoring the dark old man, even as he gobbed on the cobbles in front of him. Not even sniffing, he quit, leaving Ioannis alone with the old man. Scowling, the first wisps of a beard dripping with condensed sweat, the young man made to copy his Rus friend, but this time the man spoke.

“Ioannis, your father would have us talk. Come with me.” The voice growled like a lion and beneath the floor-vibrating rumble there was the faintest hint of a Turk accent.

Unquestioningly and silently, the order was obeyed. The path trodden by the surly foreigner was traced, wending through courtyards into the armoury. A page was helping Yaroslav into light chain mail.

“Leave.”

Again silently, the Kievan noble obeyed, eyes to the floor, his jaw a hard line the only betrayal of emotion. The old man pull up a chest and sat on it, gesturing with a gloved hand for his example to be followed. As it, of course way.

"Ioannis. Your father has sent me to talk to you. Can you guess why? Good. You are young now and have the softness of the brain man has until he develops with age. At the moment your skull is flimsy, like an eggshell and your brain itself is like yolk. All yellow and gluey. I am a Muslim and you know our peoples have the best doctors. Our doctors know this. Ioannis, royal blood or not, there are things you must be told. These are some of them. You are listening? Good.

First, your father is at war. Not with Turks any longer, we have worked our boundaries as you know and for now both sides must bide their time. But in the north are still Bulgars, Serbs, Croats, upstart lordlings who dispute the Imperator Romanum. We must fight them. And Magyars across the Danube too. On the Italian peninuslar Normans, Venetians, Milanese and Genovans. And our friend the Pope.

Except none of these people are friends. They are enemies, and enemies cost money. Who has money? Merchants. Merchants have money, but they do not have titles, land, a claim to anything much. Lords have these things and want money. So, a trade.

Some things are necessary for the realm and if you do not accede to your father's will I shall beat you black and blue with the flat with my sword with the Emperor's blessing. That is your lesson for today."

And the Turk left, his hat slipping slightly as he stood, to reveal a golden nose, burning dark eyes and thick caterpillar brows. Ioannis sat there with the discomforting feeling that the nose had stared at him, daring him to comment, before its owner swept with it out of the room.

**Shankbot de Bodemloze** · March 02, 2012, 03:30 PM

A nice start, well done

I especially liked the detailed description.

Very Good. Looking forward to more

**King William the Conqueror** · March 02, 2012, 03:35 PM

you should include pics.

**Scottish King** · March 02, 2012, 04:11 PM

Great start!

**Schrödinger** · March 03, 2012, 06:39 AM

II.

Constantinople, 1100 AD

Dimitra

Dimitra Balgiarotes smiled a sunlit grin as she saw her fiancé walk into the room with a brooding manner about his imperial visage. Flanked by two Varangians, he was followed in by his father's aide and, surprisingly, a man in a hooded cloak, his dark face shaded aside from a hint of light in the depths. Her father's sweaty palm clutched at hers and she shifted her head to the angle her mother said was most attractive. She resisted the urge to adjust all her clothing and settled from tossing her hair back and standing for the prince. Sighing, he nodded and sat.

“We are to be wed.” his tone was bored, somewhat disinterested as he didn’t even look at her, his betrothed, preferring to examine instead his imperial fingernails. Dimitra maintained her pose, waiting for permission to speak. Rolling his exquisite eyes, her-husband-to-be said “Speak.”

“Yes, we are to be wed, my lord.” She tossed her hair a bit more and smiled her smile. Her mother said her smile was like a sunrise. Ioannis Komnenos did not seem to like the sunrise, scowling and glaring at the hooded man in the corner. Ignoring her, he commanded the aide, Kaiphalas, to talk with her father in the audience chamber, leaving them alone but for the hooded man and his Varangians.

“You are pleasing to behold.” A genuine smile now, she wiggled in her seat, her olive eyes widening and her thick dark hair falling like a waterfall. Her future sighed “Speak.”

“Thank you, my Lord.” Another pause, but Dimitra did not care, she had never been in the company of imperial blood before. Sixteen months her senior, he was well built and had his father’s look, as she had seen from mosaic and tapestry. He had a brooding air which seemed to tauten when he looked at her. She loved everything about him, she decided. Before her betrothal, her mothr had always said she could end up with another merchant child, a Phillipus, a Szekeres, maybe one of the many Venetians who had villa's on the Marmara nowadays. She had not expected, except her wildest of dreams, to be destined to be an Empress. Empress Dimitra. Her children would be Emperors...

"Do you have nothing to say? I look forward to meeting you again on our wedding day then. Good day." as quick as that, Ioannis Komnenos left the room, his doublet swishes as he left. The Varangians swept out behind him, but the hooded man lingered a moment, pulling down his hood. What she saw shocked her, a golden nose, a tapestry of scars and an insolent grin.

"Be sure to please our Ioannis, he doesn't think with his head quite yet." and he left too with a leggy stride. As she sat, her demure smile fading slowly in her solitariness, she heard conversation leaving the villa

"She is so quiet? Is she a fool? A cripple of the head? She is not an ogre to behold, but she seems like she has rocks for brains!"

"Young brains are soft, and her father is the second richest man in the Empire..."

_______________________________

Thanks for comments and rep so far, will be using ingame pics once I've reached an interesting ingame bit

**Shankbot de Bodemloze** · March 03, 2012, 08:52 AM

Another good update, I haven't read too many ARRs from a female charters POV, looking forward to it

A bit short but I understand that you need to set the scene etc. and anyways its 'quality not quantity'

**Schrödinger** · March 03, 2012, 05:27 PM

III.

Thessaloniki, 1101 AD

Iakovos

Reining his horse in, Iakovos Phillipus, master of Thessaloniki, gazed across the valley which was his own, his dry thin lips etching a smile like a scar across his auburn bearded face. Sniffing the easterly wind, he smelt the air of the betrayer Savvas and his usurper castles Arta and Dyrrachium. His smile imperceptibly became a grimace of displeasure and he dismounted, patting the side of his mare as he gracefully swooped onto his knees, into the grass of his homeland. It yielded to his weight pleasurably as his leather breeches sank with him into the dew-heavy ground. Sweet grass and the scent of his horse mingled as he breathed greedily through his nose, ignoring his guardsmen for they knew his habit. Behind him lay the stinking city of Thessaloniki, his wife and children. And behind them was the Co-Emperor Ioannis, his young wife, and a few thousand soldiers straight from the Bosphorus and Dardanelles. They did not love this land, they were not Macedonians, he stroked the Macedonian sun which was his brooch and his sigil. Metal sandals would crush the grass of his homeland. And yet… the stench of Savvas’ rebellion was thick in the air and the Komnenoi had shown themselves well able to fight, as they had already shown at Dyrrachium.

“My Lord, a rider approaches.”

Levering his wiry frame up and mounting, Iakovos pulled the rictus he called a smile, “Ah, news of our young co-emperor…’ his accent drawled and rolled, not dissimilar to a modern-day Texan, a modulated sneer of a voice ‘Let us ride to meet this news so as to act upon it.” He dug his heels into the mare, leading his men towards the grey-cloaked courier on a foam-flecked courser, urging it up the hill at a laboured trot.

They met halfway down the hill, under a beech tree, “You have ridden hard… what is… of such urgency?” drawled Phillipus

“Ioannis will be with you by sunset tomorrow, with two thousand men, prepare for them. My lord, there are bandits in your woodlands, I was accosted and had to slay two to escape.”

“They are not endemic… and those strong enough to… survive will survive… as you did… and Ioannis will… thank you… ride back now… back to Ioannis and tell… him we are ready…’

Phillipus' Hill

Two days later, a seventeen year old co-Emperor sat at a great table, flanked by the hooded man, a blonde-haired fresh-faced Kievan and a wrinkled onion of a man. Across him were the Phillipus men; Iakovos and his brother Michael, their bishop Kristophoros and man-at-arms Mark Zigopoulos. Between them lay a pitcher of fine Greek wine and a bowl of sharpest grapes. Only Ioakovos was eating, juice dribbling through his firey beard as the discussion rang around him. The onion and Zigopoulos were both red faced and tautened, the rest seemed to be biding their time.

"...we can talk to them! Buy them? Persuade them!" this was the onion, fat gold rings on his fingers, "There is no need for bloodshed against our own Greek people who fought for us against Guiscard and his Norman bastards!"

Bishop Kristophoros was nodding and seemed to be about to agree, but was overidden by Zigopoulous, an imposing figure even sitting down, his ham fists clenched white, "We cannot stand betrayal, the theme of Dyrrachium is the realm of my family and we have been closely aligned to the Macedonians. I fought against Guiscard and I know Savvas, he has no steel in his blood, only treachy. A taste of steel will send him fleeing! We must!"

"I would speak." Ioannis was young and his voice new, but his heavy tones spoke of the burden of command eloquently, and the men he might one day rule turned to face him, "if we pay off this cur it sets an example. That if you betray the Basil he will give you money to turn your cloak back again. We cannot afford it and we cannot afford treachery." the hooded man coughed, "We must kill this man and hang his head above the walls as an example to the Empire. These are hard times."

The hooded man coughed again and spoke during Ioannis' pause, "Young princeling is soft in the head and does not understand complexities of Byzantine politics..."

"It seems to me he understands quite well enough!" boomed an enthused Zigopoulous "My lord is wise to councel thusly! Would he commit his forces alongside ours we shall rejoice in the lamentations of Savvas' women!"

Misliking that, Iakovos lifted his eyes to look at his man-at-arms sternly, admonishing him, "We... must not hurt the... people of Dyrrachium... just... the usurper deserves punishment... his people are innocent and need... to know we are kind to them and do not blame... them... at least not the first... time..."

"Nevertheless though, brother, we must march." his brother did not have the stilted speech of his elder, but retained the wry tone

"But not to rape or maim or indulge in the red tide of war." the priest had a sepulchral voice, and Iakovos knew he spent rather too much time in the district of red lights to be as devout as he wished to appear. His devotion to God nevertheless was at least the equal of his devotion to whores and his preaching was popular with the peasants.

"My men do not abuse the rights of Byzantine citizens, priest." the hooded man coughed again as his master spoke "We will march on this Savvas and reclaim his territory for you, Zigopoulous."

"And may... the amity of our people... be remembered... take half of our strength of toxotai..."

"Would we have permission to take them to Italy, lord?" the onion man spoke in untutored tones, "For once we have conquered your betrayer, we march on a similar pretender in Longobardia." the hooded man raised a hand, Ioannis scowled heavily and the silent Kievan's ice cool façade slipped for a moment's scornful smile.

"The Guiscard!?" rumbled Zigopoulos

"Not the Guiscard, no. Boy is soft in head, but not hard in men enough to return our dead to the Guiscard." the hooded man stood, from Iakovos' angle you could see the Golden nose and Turk features, "We march on Savvas, gentlemen, and will depart on the morrow. You will feed our men and provide supplies for us. Good day to you my Lords."

The imperial four left the room after the pleasantries had been done, followed by Zigopoulos once he had filled his goblet with wine and grabbed some grapes, a burning flame lit behind his eyes. The priest and the brothers each took a reasonable amount of wine and leaned back in their chairs.

"We learn that Balgiarotes... is a fool the young... Komnenos bloodthirsty his right-hand... man a mute... Kievan and the Basil has sent Taticius to... be their nanny... what a merry... bunch... go with them... brother... and see if he fights... as badly as he talks... we may have... interesting times... ahead of us..."

"Ecclesiastical letters from Arta inform me that Savvas knows the host is coming for him and is holed up in the fort there." every sentence was a sermon with the priest a natural intoner, "He cannot hope to hold that mass of men with Taticius nagging counsel at the child general."

"Never...theless... brother... Michael would you go with... Zigopoulos and watch for us..."

Merely nodding, the cleanshaven brother stood, "Await my findings with interest. The boy does not understand the complexities of Byzantine politics." he chuckled, stiffly inclined his head and swept out of the same door as the co-emperor had.

________________________________

Brother, the pretender was poorly equipped and his castle full of unrest when the host arrived. Within two days the walls were breached and loyalist men held the outskirts of the city. By the evening, the castle itself belonged to our friend Zigopoulos again

The boy Komnenos and his armoured guard rode into the fight only once Savvas was reduced to a last stand in the main plaza. Whether this was Taticius' brainchild or not, the men sing of him as a great warrior now.

A simple victory for a simple boy, but one which proves him a man who can hear the song of swords rather better than the song of politics. We will not be defeating this one. On the battlefield at least

Yours, Michael

**Scottish King** · March 03, 2012, 08:17 PM

Good update!

**Schrödinger** · March 04, 2012, 06:07 AM

IV.

Dyrrachium, 1101 AD

Ioannis

Autumn leaves tumbled down in the Epirote woods as Ioannis stood naked in his tower room, gazing outwards. The cool breeze pleased him as it rilled through his cropped warrior’s hair, the long heat of summer had lasted for too long. Only bloodletting could relieve the monotony of summer, he had found. As a child he would spend every free moment hunting, running away from the pointless lessons on politics, the grave lecturing of the priests… but not from Taticius. He did not like that his father had sent the golden-nosed Turk with him, but his military advice was invaluable, his insistence on attacking each of Arta’s walls at once had saved many lives, it was doubtless, still, the tactician was insolent of his rank. Better than his father-in-law at council though, the merchant had not made his fortune through learning how to deal with lordlings pride and endless nosiness. And Yaroslav’s approach of safety in silence was just the other side of a worthless coin. Thessaloniki had been a disaster, the Phillipus were not to be trusted, it was a good thing Taticius had wiped their arses that day. Ioannis clenched his fists with the effort of thinking politically with his ‘soft brain’, he clenched his left fist thinking about his father’s friend who rode with him. Would he be sent across the Adriatic with him in spring?

There was a knocking without, "Enter." in his full birthday suit, the co-emperor did not deign to unveil his full manhood to the servant, but remained facing the window. "Speak."

"Milord, a delegate from Constantinople awaits you in the audience chamber." the voice quavered nervously, the boy could only be a year or two younger than Ioannis but treated him like he was a dragon. Which he wasn't, he was a double-headed eagle of Komnenos. And a warrior born.

"I shall see him as soon as I have made myself ready." surely it was news of reinforcements for the attack in Spring on the Apulian pretender at Bari. They would need men if the Guiscard thought to assert his dirty Norman foothold on the Adriatic coast.

When he reached the audience chamber, Taticius had got there already, truly the Turk was like a bad smell. His hood was as always down and the messenger looked discomfited. There was a letter on the desk bearing his father's seal. When the messenger saw he entered, he stood, Taticius leaned back and looked over his head. His golden nose and scarred face looked even more horrendous upside down.

"What news from the city?"

"News from the Emperor, my Lord. In the letter."

Ioannis, I would have you know these things first, before others know them. Make sure Taticius knows, he will have a plan for this... it was in his fathers hand and had his style too... listen to Taticius, always listen to Taticius... firstly, the Kievans and the Novgorodians have signed a defensive military compact with us to further the Orthodox Tryptarchy. Should the Seljuks dare break our ceasefire they will have a lot of angry northerners coming down on Iconium. Therefore we have secured the Anatolian front and can concentrate on the west and Italia.

The Holy Roman Emperor and I have brought an accord. We are military allies and for a nominal fee we have become new masters of Bologna, so we have our foothold on Italy. We are working on bringing the Apulian down by similar means, so sit tight for the moment. It could be I need you to return to Contantinople by the New Year, the Kaiphalas clan are proving a hard nut to crack and I may need to marry Andronikos off to them to placate them.

Ioannis. Make sure that Taticius reads this. Spend the winter at Dyrrachium or Thessaloniki if the Phillipus look rebellious, although you have proved yourself a fighter. Receive any messenger from the Pope courteously and lavish gifts on any Venetians, Milanese or Genovese. If you must fight, fight the Bulgarian bandits who insist on foraging south of Skopje.

Imperator.

Wrinkling his nose in disgust, Ioannis grabbed the letter up and strode over to the fire, tearing the parchment and dropping it piece by piece into the inferno then stoking it. "My father says to prepare for setting sail to Italy as soon as spring is upon us. The Holy Roman Emperor will assist us. Messenger, I shall provide you a letter on the morrow."

He stalked off back to his chambers and the duty of making love to his dimwitted wife. Although she had beauty to launch a thousand ships, she remained a void of conversation and had no interest in the art of war. All Dimitra ever did was smile her smile and flick her hair. Ioannis viciously hoped Andronikos' marriage would prove as dull as his and cursed his father to the seven hells for this. Scowling, he entered the chamber, dismissed the maidservants and did his duty. He would have an heir.

The Bridge at Arta

**Shankbot de Bodemloze** · March 04, 2012, 07:48 AM

I really like this -it is coming along nicely

Just read your last 2 updates and they are really good

How you have portrayed each character and their views etc. I think is excellent, and all in 3rd person. Well Done!
How many more charters are you planning to introduce? (if you can tell me

)

One tiny personal criticism is the battle description was a bit short and (for me) needed more pictures.

Other than that great job.

Looking forward to next update +rep

**Schrödinger** · March 04, 2012, 01:27 PM

Originally Posted by Shankbot12

I really like this -it is coming along nicely

Just read your last 2 updates and they are really good

How you have portrayed each character and their views etc. I think is excellent, and all in 3rd person. Well Done!
How many more charters are you planning to introduce? (if you can tell me

)

One tiny personal criticism is the battle description was a bit short and (for me) needed more pictures.

Other than that great job.

Looking forward to next update +rep

Cheers Shankbot12

good to have a reader

I plan on introducing a few more characters, this is going to be a very Byzantine AAR I hope

Also, on the battles, they aren't very interesting until I reach proper warfare, rebels are sorry fare for the Sons of Rome

Thanks for all the comments and rep, more coming soon

**Shankbot de Bodemloze** · March 04, 2012, 01:57 PM

It's fine

I was wondering about the characters simply because... Well I'm just nosy

Far enough about the battles, can't wait for some epic ones

Keep up the good work

**Schrödinger** · March 04, 2012, 02:27 PM

V.

Constantinople, 1102 AD

Mikhail

The Marmara in spring did not please Mikhail Szekeres the Kievan merchant, he frowned as the scent of lilacs spiralled through his nostrils. That morning he and Alexios had discovered their sons had disobeyed them and were fighting across the Adriatic at Bari. Not that anyone knew that Yaroslaw was Szekeres’ son, but fathering bastards on lordlings ladies had been one of his favourite pastimes at home in Kiev. That this one was now nephew to the High Prince was a peculiar twist of fate. A hunting bird swooped down on a draft and stole an unsuspecting dove above him. It was said of Mikhail Szekeres that he had as many bastards as he did debtors, and that was a veritable army. Accurately, it was also said that Mikhail had an informer in every bar in the City and every coaching house from Trebizond to Corinth. In hushed voices, it was said he was the most powerful man in the Empire and answered to no-one.

Sadly, he did not have divine right, he merely had the right of strength and he was in Constantinople, the seat of power to an Empire whose servants had grown restless as their Basileus remained in his palace. Nikephoros Vyrennios and his sellsword army were making noises about sorting out the upstart Cilicians, thirsting for war as they were denied Italia and the Seljuks. Alexios gazed ever northwards, all too aware the Cumans and Kypchaqs could emulate Pecheneg raiders. The Patriarch wanted to ensure the Croats, Bulgars and Serb petty kingdoms would bow down to him, not to Rome. Mikhail, as every Szekeres did, bowed to the Golden God. The Golden God told him that the cities of the Po Valley and Northern Italy were bursting with money and trade opportunities a wise man would take. And it would annoy his Popeship, which the Kievan considered no bad thing. Except it would bring the hairy Catholics down on them. Mikhail remembered the Crusaders and had no desire for another host of debauched westerners to descend on his adopted city.

1102 AD

The same hairy men his son the bastard was fighting with Ioannis the Warrior a thousand leagues away. If Mikhail cared for all of his bastards he would not have enough care to go around for the rest of his life, but he knew only half of them, and of the half he knew Yaroslaw was the dearest. A tall, intelligent boy, deadly with the boy and just as deadly with quill, he was charming and everything Mikhail could wish for the son of him and the most beautiful in Kiev that day seventeen years ago. And the meanest lover he had ever taken, he thought smirking. If Ioannis sent that boy to his death there would be hell to pay, on Mikhail's vow as a self-interested money-grabbing Rus' womanizer. Taticius would see to it victory was secured, Alexios had assured him, but often it had crossed his mind that Alexios over-estimated his Turk warrior. The thing of the most value on that wrinkle of a man was his golden nose.

That night Mikhail drank heavily and dreamt a peculiar dream. An eagle, he soared above a rudimentary fortified town. A great siege tower rolled towards a wall, fire arrows fizzling out in it's leather hide.

A ram broke down a gate and hundreds of footmen poured in, good spearmen who overwhelmed a ramshackle defence as the walls crumbled underneath the weight of their compatriots. Soon the gatemouth was carpetted with bodies and some heavy horsemen rode in. Ioannis, flanked by a handsome blonde boy and a hooded man with a scimitar.

Swirling up a hill, he saw two bearded crossbowmen, bloodless and alone but for each other, making harsh jokes in a bubbling tongue he did not speak. Beneath their ribald jests there was fear in their eyes, curiosity piqued, Mikhail the eagle turned and swallowed dust

Thousands of stamping feet threw billowing clouds of dust up into the air, masking the sharp smell of blood and iron. Already the carrion crows were descending on the streets of this town, pecking at men who lay dead even as physicians moved among them and the injured tried to stand and screamed in agony.

The invaders outnumbered the defenders by three to one, the latter huddled in a defensive schiltrom, backs to the wall of a hall. Archers were at the windows, but their arrows made little effect on the well armoured troops. Javelins were easily dodged and the enemy came on...

Mikhail woke with a start, shivering all over and finding himself curled up on the grass, alone. The sun was setting behind him and sweat drenched him. As a child these fits and ill dreams had beset him, but the physician at Kiev had treated him and made him better... hadn't he...? He retched drily into the grass damp with evening. Moaning, he levered himself up, shaking and finally achieving two legs. Turning, he saw his horse had not wandered far and mounted her, trotting back to the City, hanging loosely at the saddle, his eyes run red and blonde hair sopping with stress.

At the end of that week, Mikhail had risen from his bed and attended council when news of the fall of Bari greeted him. Apulia was now an Imperial domain again. Alexios greeted the news with a thin lipped smile, Vyrennios with bloodthirsty grin and demands that Alexios send him across the narrow sea to march on Naples. The Patriarch was full of worries about reprisals from His Holiness. Mikhail had no dreams that night.

**Shankbot de Bodemloze** · March 04, 2012, 02:57 PM

Bloody hell slow down a bit I need time to spread some rep around first

Only Joking I like the regular updates , are they to carry on?
I want to know more about this 'Turkish Warrior with the Golden-Nose' he sounds like an interesting character

I like the fact you have included some more battle pics (and pics in general) and I am beginning (slowly) to see how everyone is fitting together, I can't wait to find out. Well done.

**Schrödinger** · March 05, 2012, 01:43 PM

VI.

Bari, 1102 AD

Dimitra

As was her custom, Dimitra spent the day alone in her chambers, gazing out over the narrow sea and watching the flight of gulls, circling in great troops like her husband’s soldiers. Even now he was hunting in the Apulian hills for Norman lords and traitors. As was his wont, every day bar a few since they had conquered this castle. She was very lonely here, she sighed her pretty little sigh, wishing she had a maidservant with better Greek. Only the wrinkled old olive spoke Greek, but she had such a thick peasant accent that she might as well have been gargling stones for all Dimitra understood! Her father had always lavished gifts on her and she had always had friends to play with before, or fellow merchant girls to giggle and gossip with, little boys to embarrass and toy with. She had not expected Imperial blood to be so withdrawn and disinterested. Their lovemaking had always been dutiful, at first every night, grudgingly, but now a scattergun affair, although on the night of victory he had taken her wholeheartedly. Only battle roused her Ioannis into the man she knew he could be.

Other men were not allowed near her, he was fiercely protective despite his disinterest in her and only the Varangians he had assigned to her were ever allowed to see or talk to her. Pouting, ever a poser even alone, she turned and let herself fall facefirst into the feathers of her mattress. It was a fine mattress, although not as fine as the one at her father's house in Constantinople. For some reason there was a scrabbling noise coming from the bed, like the fairytale gremlins her nurse had told her of were crawling from within the goosedown. The bed swore softly, in the voice of a man. Dimitra's heart skipped a beat and started pounding as she realised the noise was coming from outside. Someone was climbing her wall to see her! It was a romance like the stories... or a murderer like in the stories... flummoxed, she opted to roll over the bed and hide behind the other side.

The blaspheming and the scratching grew louder, as a first a handsome blonde face and then a willowy body, garbed in a simple leather tunic and thin trousers, levered itself into her room. Peering over her bed, she recognised one of her husband's friends, the Kievan Yaroslaw Wladimorovic. From afar he had always seemed mysterious, a fierce ally of Ioannis but loath to utter a word. Up close he looked lithe, surprisingly tall, his pale freckled face like a famous statue she had seen but could not recall the name of, his blonde hair falling in golden curls to frame him. Silently, he prowled forward like some great cat stalking it's prey through the savannah. Dimitra bit her lip and hid behind the bed as he made for the door and put his ear to it, not seeing her. She stood and poked his shoulder.

He spun, raising an arm angrily, his face expressionless but his movement rageful but then he saw her face and backpedalled, hitting the door, making an ominous thud. Panic spread across the Rus' face and he made puppy dog eyes at Dimitra, pressing his hands together in silent prayer, as if she were his God. Nodding, she put a finger to her lips and gestured him to move back towards her second room. "Ioannis' Varangians won't disturb us unless I scream." she whispered into his ear "Why have you come here, Yaroslaw?Should you not be out with my husband the Co-Emperor?"

"Yes, my lady" his voice was husky and strong, like a powerful river running into the sea, "I would be hunting but begged leave today from the physician, claiming a damaged spine, he is unskilled and could not naysay me. But the true object for me was to talk to you, beautiful princess." flustered, Dimitra could feel an unseemly flush creeping up her soft cheeks, "I have often seen you from affair, but my friend Ioannis is quite protective of you..." he was in full flow now, gushing with bright eyes, "It is not my place, milady, but I wonder if you are well? He seldom mentions you and lets bawdy jokes pass him by, he is undyingly faithful to you in women, but his true mistress is the battle. Are you content? Truly?"

It was not his place, Dimitra thought, but gazing into his sweet perfect face, he truly looked like he cared. And there was a hunger there she had never seen on Ioannis' face, an intoxicating hunger. She raised her delicate hand to touch his face and the hunger grew, she ran her hands down his arm, felt strong muscles... "My lady?"

"I am content." she smiled her perfected smile and took his hand towards her bed.

The Castle at Bari

**Shankbot de Bodemloze** · March 05, 2012, 02:20 PM

Ooh, that has made things very interesting, I wonder if Ioannis wil find out, and if he does, what he will do, I can't even imagine!

You have got me hooked on this now, I can't to wait too see where this little path leads to, and indeed what consequences it may have. Naughty Dimitra thought, she should know better

Although I do pity her a bit.
Keep up the good work

Shankbot12,

**Scottish King** · March 06, 2012, 12:31 PM

Originally Posted by Shankbot12

Ooh, that has made things very interesting, I wonder if Ioannis wil find out, and if he does, what he will do, I can't even imagine!

You have got me hooked on this now, I can't to wait too see where this little path leads to, and indeed what consequences it may have. Naughty Dimitra thought, she should know better

Although I do pity her a bit.
Keep up the good work

Shankbot12,

I absolutely agree!

**Schrödinger** · March 06, 2012, 04:10 PM

VII.

Constantinople, 1103 AD

Mikhail

The sour taste of the potion his physician gave him to aid him to dreamless sleep clung to inside of Mikhail’s mouth nastily, but he was as ever grateful to wake clean of visions. Visions left him quaking, fitful and sweating unseemly, when he needed to be at his strongest to arrange matters of Empire to his benefit. Ioannis’ return, with his wife fat with child, had asserted Alexios’ position at the head of the state, as had the goodwill towards him after the conquests of Apulia and Epirus. An uneasy peace with the Turks prevailed – good for trade; while the Bulgars in the Balkans bided their time and kept a watchful eye on their southern borders. Byzantium’s own imperial border guard had been strengthened after brigands had been found wandering far south enough to be within leagues of Thessaloniki. Frustratingly, there were no royal marks on them and torture could worm nothing out of them, but his informers were certain that the new King Vladimir was not friendly to the Greeks at all, which pleased his people.

The city of Constantinople had a particularly fine smell in autumn, as the steaming piles of refuse that built up over summer in the Golden Horn disintegrated and flowed away, leaving only the normal reek of tanners, dyers, potmen, rag and bonemen, fishermen, slaughtermen, eggers, fruiterers, grocers, hawkers, whores and lordlings, fighters, slavers, slaves, beasts and dealers, horsemen, mercenaries, merchants, taverners, scribes, monks... and Taticius. Infamously perceptive, infamously insolent, and a less known fact, he really annoyed Mikhail Szekeres. The air the Turk warrior carried of absolute power, absolute knowledge and absolute superiority was his thing, a Szekeres trait, not for Alexios' favourite. And Szekeres was almost entirely sure he knew more than Taticius and his bloody golden nose. Every council he had the awkward feeling the nose was loking at him, deep into his very soul, and judging him as inadequate.

Councils in this time of peace had revolved around placating the warlike instincts of Nikophoros Vyrennios, but now little Co-Emperor Ioannis had added his bloodthirsty harp to this nonsensical tune. They wouldn't accept the Golden God made the world go round, and the thing about war was it made people dead, and the thing about dead people is that they are bloody hard to sell things to on a regular basis. But loot! Ioannis and Nikophoros would protest with their mail fists banging on the oaken table, spilling wine. Selling weapons! Alexios seemed incapable of controlling his child, even sometimes nodding agreement with the blithering idiot. Mikhail supposed it came from having come to Basildom at a time when he had been able to use the Crusades to push the Turks back in Anatolia. That was only four years ago, four short years since the Pope-loving bastards had made their way through Imperial land and then stolen Antioch. It had taken a lot of Szekeres gold to sweeten feelings between Seljuks, Crusaders and Greeks. and Alexios would have his whelp ruin that all by marching on who knows where, some days the boy soldier wanted to take all of Italy, others he agreed with Nikophoros that Anatolia was the priority. Mikhail knew Alexios wanted to make the Danube a natural border all the way to the Alps. Or at least that was what his informers told him.

Sighing, he levered himself out of bed and spat into a silver goblet by his bed. Another day, another council, another spell dealing with both the treasury and diplomacy, an island of sanity in an ocean of fools. Pulling himself into his favourite jerkin, he made his way to the council chambers. He knew how it would go. The Patriarch would agree with every he said as the threat of the Empire discovering his two dozen concubines hovered over him. Mikhail allowed himself a smile as he nodded the Varangians aside before walking in. He was first and went to his chair, clicking his fingers at a serving boy he knew was his own. "Nikophoros will be here first, give it five minutes, sir." dismissing him with a nod, Mikhail steepled his fingers and awaited the monotony.

Four hours later, that morning's meeting adjourned as the nominal Master of the Treasury, an aging and sickly Doukas, had a choking fit and had to be taken away, leaving Ioannis and Vyrennios to badger the Basil about waging war on the Sicilian Normans. Finally, Alexios had pounced on a barbed retort from Taticius to his son, something about 'young softness of the brain and naivete' and expanded it into a ten minute rant which warmed the cockles of Mikhail's heart and reaffirmed his faith in the Emperor. "We cannot afford a child's war quite yet, Ioannis. First we must replenish the coffers and pay off our debts after your little Apulian expedition. Nikophoros, you are old enough to know and understand this. I will not hear your prattlings of war. I will not hear them until my other sons have come of age or an upstart King lays threat to our provinces. Diplomacy is not a game and nor is war. Tomorrow, I hope you come as men who understand the complexity of an empire, not bloodhounds."

It would seem war had been abated for now, Mikhail though, looking up to find he was walking with Ioannis. The two had been battling over the council table for two months now but the Co-Emperor seemed strangely full of humility as he beckoned Mikhail closer. Cautiously, smelling no steel, Szekeres came and held his ear to Ioannis' mouth: "My wife, behaving stranger than normal, do you know anything, Kievan?" Mikhail shook his head soundlessly, questions running through his mind as Alexios' son roughly pushed him away and gave him a sneer with a curled lip, strutting away. Mikhail took a moment to stand still and regain composure when he felt a gloved hand on his shoulder and smelled the sourleaf... he knew only one man who chewed it...

"Your bastard begat the harlot's child, Szekeres. Know that and know how the Empire will love her golden hair and milk-white skin. Good day to you." and Golden-nosed Taticius patted him on the shoulder before turning around and leaving Mikhail stock still again.

Alexios Komnenos

**Robin de Bodemloze** · March 07, 2012, 06:22 AM

Interesting AAR. I like your writing style.

I'll be following - and here's a smidgen of rep for your troubles

**Shankbot de Bodemloze** · March 07, 2012, 10:49 AM

Another great update

The council meeting was interesting, to see everyones different plans etc. I thought the description of Constantinople in Autumn was vivid, Well done!

One line though:

with his wife fat with child

I wonder whose child that is, not Yaroslaw, surely.....

It was also nice to here more about Taticius, defiantly one of the most mysterious characters I have ever met, and one of my favorite

Can't wait for more! +rep

Thread: [SS 6.4] Restoring Rome - Chapter Two: The Tragedy of the Komnenoi

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