Change (3)
Quiet prayer room. Pope Nicholas II sat there, lost in thought for a moment. Before him lay a single letter, elevated on a stand. It bore purple ornamentation and a seal stamped with the double-headed eagle signifying the East Roman imperial house. A letter from Emperor Rogerius and Empress Zoe across the sea.
"Emperor Rogerius..."
Pope Nicholas II remembered their first meeting vividly. A plunderer from Normandy. A barbarian who had boldly seized Reggio Calabria at the head of dozens of Vikings alongside his brothers. When he had fallen into crisis due to Duke Gerard of Lorraine's sudden actions, he had sought the pope's aid. The pope had struck a deal on the condition of conversion, and the Norman Vikings accepted, converting to Catholicism and becoming guardians of southern Italy against the heathens.
After that incident, a figure he had erased from memory. A few years later, that same figure—not as Robert, but as Rogerius—had become emperor of the fractured East Roman Empire. An absurd achievement. It was enough to make even the pope wonder if he was chosen by God.
In any case, a letter from such a Rogerius. Its contents brimmed with fury toward the heathens, laying out reasons why Sicily must be reclaimed at once.
"He who converted for gain now proposes a Muslim extermination in tones overflowing with piety."
The pope's murmur to himself. As the pinnacle of Western church power, he was no mere servant of God. A politician who had survived the treacherous currents of international intrigue.
Thus, he immediately grasped Rogerius's intentions.
"He wants to use Duke Gerard."
One element mentioned repeatedly in the letter: If Duke Gerard's cavalry were used to ravage the Muslims in Sicily, all the land would return to God's side. This was both a call to subdue the duke who had once defied the pope's orders and a demand for vengeance on behalf of the Norman Vikings who had suffered under him.
From the pope's perspective, it was no bad proposal. With Holy Roman Emperor Heinrich IV nearing adulthood, his rivalry with regent Anno II had surfaced. One might ask what that had to do with the pope, if ignorant of the details. But Nicholas knew: the young emperor was backing a new pope to topple his regent.
Nicholas II sensed his own retirement was mere months away. For a near-lifelong pope to contemplate stepping down implied his God-ordained lifespan was nearing its end. He knew his time was short.
With secular powers still influencing the church, if he died and Heinrich's supported Alexander II ascended, the church's fate was clear.
In such circumstances, Rogerius's proposal was most timely.
"If we rally forces under God's banner to conquer Sicily, the emperor's power will wane, and the church's influence will grow."
The way to expand church influence: weaken secular might and seize practical gains. If the pope proclaimed a holy war in God's name and levied troops, few could refuse. Above all, reclaiming Sicily—long Rome's territory—would be glorious. Many would eagerly join a sacred battle in God's name.
"And Duke Gerard is a devout Christian loyal to the pro-emperor faction."
One of Heinrich IV's followers. His participation would ease Sicily's conquest and perfectly counter the emperor for the pope.
"No reason to refuse Emperor Rogerius and Empress Zoe's plan."
At that moment, a single ray of light shone down upon him. Seeing it, the pope slowly traced the sign of the cross along its path, then unrolled a parchment.
Let it be known that a sacred battle shall be waged against the infidels defiling the Mediterranean.
The Count of Reggio Calabria, Geoffrey, is hereby recognized as Duke of Calabria and appointed Supreme Commander of this crusade.
All faithful are summoned to reclaim Sicily in God's name.
* * *
Dozens of ships casting shadows along the coastline. A man watching them scowled deeply.
"Must I truly sail with these people?"
He was none other than Count Gérard, brother to Duke Gerard of Lorraine.
The reason for his scowl: He had to act alongside the Vikings, whom his brother despised.
"It is His Holiness's command—and His Grace the Duke's."
A proclamation had come down suddenly one day. It ordered the purging of Muslims disrupting the Mediterranean, by papal decree. The target of this holy war: Sicily. Not Mahdia, the pirates' stronghold, because Mahdia lay in North Africa—part of the Islamic empire proper. Unlike Sicily's minor lords, attacking it risked full-scale war. And across the Mediterranean, the losses would be immense.
Thus, they chose to strike Sicily instead. With Christian realms suffering under Muslim pirates, the pope's call garnered full support. As papal commander, Duke Gerard had no choice but to respond.
The duke, nursing grudges against the Normans, agreed to send his brother instead of leading personally—and the papal side accepted.
That was why Count Gérard was at Reggio Calabria's harbor.
"God's will, I understand. But does that mean I must obey those savages' orders?"
The pope had granted command of the Sicily reclamation to Calabria. Vikings excelled at naval battles and coastal assaults, after all. Lorraine, where Count Gérard hailed from, was inland—unused to sea fights. He couldn't outright defy the pope.
"Endure it, my lord. Once we cross to Sicily, they can't touch whatever you do."
His aide's counsel. As he said, past the Messina Strait, no more Viking meddling. On land, the count's cavalry would dominate.
Duke Gerard had deliberately massed horse there. The count planned independent action the moment ground war began.
"That might prove difficult."
A voice from somewhere. The count scowled at it.
"The Duke of Calabria's deputy."
Geoffrey, once a mere count. But by force-merging nearby cities, he wielded power over one of southern Italy's duchies. With his brother Rogerius enthroned as East Roman emperor's viceroy, he was duke in all but name. The pope had formally recognized it, granting him commander status.
And Geoffrey's brother, Humphrey, commanded the vital strait battle in this Sicily expedition.
"It'd be nice if you followed our orders."
"I refuse."
Count Gérard's curt reply. Humphrey shrugged and pressed on.
"Did His Holiness permit free action after safely crossing the sea?"
"Not His Holiness—His Grace the Duke."
Humphrey scowled at the mention of Duke Gerard, recalling how he'd cornered the three brothers during Reggio Calabria's conquest.
"Where's that exalted duke of yours?"
"Mind your tongue toward His Grace, barbarian."
As the count drew his sword, his aide stepped forward.
"Calm yourself, my lord. Battle begins soon."
The count ground his teeth and retreated.
"...Think God's mercy spared you."
"The mercy came not from God—but from me."
The two showed no sign of backing down. Then Geoffrey arrived, reining them in.
"Everyone, stand down."
Humphrey yielded at Geoffrey's appearance. The count vented.
"Your deputy is arrogant, Your Grace."
"Explain what happened."
The count recounted events. Geoffrey rebuked Humphrey.
"Your rashness shattered alliance unity. Normally, punishment—but with battle imminent, stand out in this fight to atone."
"Understood, Your Grace."
A slap on the wrist, really. Battle loomed, so the count couldn't press.
But he wouldn't yield easily. He pivoted.
"I seek no further discord before battle, but if such biased judgments continue, we cannot keep following your command."
"Cannot follow? You think you can cross the strait without us?"
"Not that. But on land, we hold the edge. Once ground fighting starts, we'll move separately."
A unilateral declaration. As Humphrey surged forward at the rudeness, Geoffrey raised a hand.
"Whatever the reason, I accept. But this is wholly your choice—swear before God you'll bear all consequences."
"I swear."
The count pledged at once. Geoffrey proffered a parchment.
"Vikings don't trust oaths, it seems."
At the count's sneer, Geoffrey shrugged nonchalantly.
"We're warriors and merchants—we leave evidence."
"Fine. No great matter."
I, Count Gérard, swear upon pain of divine judgment to bear full responsibility for all actions taken independently after crossing to Sicily, absolving the Norman commanders of liability.
Violation forfeits all claims to command and invites papal censure.
Bodewin Count Gérard signed without a second thought. Watching his name go under the oath, the duke faintly lifted the corner of his mouth.