December 2019 - Altearth

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Otto of Brunswick

Otto was not a failure, he was worse than that. He was the tragic sort of man who had everything going for him except the right things, who grasped the brass ring but couldn’t hold onto it.

He came from a famous and powerful family, has the support of famous and powerful men, and was duly elected to high office. But at every turn, victory slipped away and in the end the man who had everything, lost everything. His story is worth telling.

Otto was of the Welf family. His daddy was named Henry and nicknamed the Lion, duke of Bavaria and duke of Saxony, plus other titles, giving him a large chunk of Germany. Henry the Lion was the second most powerful man in Germany. The most powerful was Frederick of Hohenstaufen, whom the Italians nicknamed Barbarossa (Redbeard). The two men were friends and allies. Henry was married to Matilda, the daughter of another Henry–Henry the Second, king of England. Otto was born to these two.

His Youth

The stars misaligned from early on. Otto was still an infant when his father and Barbarossa had a serious falling out that culminated in Henry’s formal exile for three years, plus the loss of all his lands and titles. When Henry resisted, Barbarossa invaded Saxony and forced his old friend to submit. Conflict continued through the next decade, with peace finally restored in 1194, just before Henry the Lion’s death. He was left with his home town of Brunswick and surrounding territory.

What of young Otto?

When Henry was exiled, he took his family to Normandy, and Otto himself went to the royal court in England. You will recall that his mother, Matilda, was English. Her father was Henry II, her mother was Eleanor of Aquitaine, and among her brothers were John and Richard, both future kings.

In 1190, Richard the Lionhearted was made Otto’s foster father. Richard made Otto the earl of York. Nothing came of that, though, for Yorkshire would have nothing to do with a fifteen year old foreigner, and Richard himself had gone off on crusade. This was only the first humiliation for Otto.

We know little of Otto’s character, but it’s tempting to make guesses. He had two lions for fathers: Henry the Lion, and Richard the Lionhearted. His grandparents were among the most redoubtable figures of the Middle Ages. It would have taken an extraordinary personality to hold his own among these titans. His family possessions had been forcibly taken by Barbarossa, and he himself only got English handouts–York first, then Poitou.

A Change in Fortune

Then came his big break. Emperor Henry VI (Barbarossa’s son) died in 1198. Supporters of the Hohenstaufen family promptly elected his brother Philip, but not all the German princes were happy with that. At the instigation of Richard Lionheart, this rival party chose a rival king: Otto.

Awesome! King of Germany!

But this was Otto, and not even this triumph could go completely smoothly. He was crowned in Aachen, which was the right place, by the Archbishop of Cologne, which was the right person. But Philip had the regalia–the crown, robe, staff, and the rest of the symbols of German monarchy. Philip had been invested with the real deal. Otto had to use fakes. He had plenty of support in the north, but the south was firmly in the Staufen camp.

Otto had his hand on the brass ring, but he hadn’t quite taken a good hold.

At this point, we need to bring in another player, another titan of the Middle Ages, Pope Innocent III. The pope favored Otto, who made extravagant promises. Innocent saw many reasons to support the Welf over the Hohenstaufen, not least of which was the opportunity to gain lands for the papacy in southern Italy (it’s complicated).

So, Otto had the support of England, Denmark, northern Germany, and the papacy. Not bad! France opposed him, of course, because France would oppose anyone England favored.

Which left Philip, duke of Swabia, the rival claimant to the German throne, and son of Barbarossa, who had broken Otto’s father. Defeat Philip, and Otto’s way was clear. With papal support, he’d be assured of securing his hold on Germany and likely would become Roman Emperor as well.

He couldn’t manage it. Otto and Philip fought over the next few years, and while Otto might win a town here or there, he never bested Philip on the field of battle. As the years past, his allies deserted him, and by 1206 he had retreated to Brunswick. He still claimed the title, but Philip was the real king in Germany.

A Reversal of Fortune

Then Philip was murdered in 1208. It was an unrelated matter, a man who believed Philip had unjustly dissolved the man’s betrothal. There were rumors of political motives, but the assassin had a history of violence. Whatever the case, Philip of Swabia had been removed.

Hooray (again)! At a stroke, Otto’s fortunes were repaired. He was elected again, this time unanimously. He married Philip’s daughter as a way to join Welf and Hohenstaufen. Brighter days were surely ahead.

And for a while, so it seemed. Germany was at peace at last, so Otto went south to Italy, where he received the iron crown of Lombardy and became King of Italy as well. From there he went to Rome and was crowned Roman Emperor by Pope Innocent III himself. Of course, this being Otto, that couldn’t go smoothly either. There were riots in Rome (there were always riots in Rome) that got so bad Otto couldn’t remain in the city.

But, never mind. He was now emperor plus king twice over. What could possibly go wrong?

Everything

Now Otto got just plain stupid. The relationship between popes and kings was complex and this isn’t the place to go into it. Suffice it to say that Otto was convinced–by others and by himself–that it would not do to let the pope become a powerful secular lord in Italy at the expense of imperial rights.

Those promises he made to Innocent? Otto proceeded to break them all. He booted out papal representatives in several towns, replaced papal appointees in southern Italy, and even prepared to invade Sicily. To the pope it looked like Otto intended to rule the whole peninsula. Pope Innocent promptly excommunicated Otto.

Now, excommunication was often issued in the Middle Ages and often ignored. The proclamation wasn’t damaging so much in its own right as it gave cover to anyone wanting to rebel, for they could now say they were doing so in support of the Holy Father. All across Germany and Italy, people took sides.

The Boy of Apulia

And now it’s time to meet our final player, Roger Frederick of Hohenstaufen, the young king of Sicily. Frederick (no one ever called him Roger) was an orphan. His father, emperor Henry VI, died before he was born, and his mother, Constance of Aragon, died when he was only three. Before she died, she asked Pope Innocent III to act as the child’s guardian.

So when Otto threatened Sicily, he was also threatening the pope’s ward. Frederick and Innocent didn’t always get on well together (Innocent did not get on well with many people), but being cynical one can say that Innocent at the least saw in Frederick a counter-weight to Otto.

The Germany princes took Otto’s actions, long-standing sympathetic Hohenstaufen loyalties, along with the excommunication, as an excellent excuse to elect yet another king. They chose Roger Frederick of Sicily, son of Henry VI, grandson of Barbarossa. At the time, Frederick was sixteen. The year was 1211.

Word of his election came in January of 1212. Otto had broken off his planned invasion of Sicily and hustled back north to deal with what he saw as rebellion. He didn’t bother with Frederick. After all, the kid was now barely seventeen, he had no army, not much money, and his only real hopes lay up in Bavaria and Swabia. Otto figured the kid would never dare leave Sicily, whose barons would rebel at the drop of any hat, and anyway had no resources with which to threaten Otto.

Otto figured wrong, of course.

Stupor Mundi

Frederick did leave Sicily. He even had a fleet–all of four ships, one of which belonged to a notorious pirate. He managed to evade Pisan fleets (supporters of Otto) and make it to Genoa. Otto closed the passes, still confident. All he needed do was to keep Frederick south of the Alps.

Frederick got across the Alps, in a series of adventures that would surely make a good story to tell. In autumn of that same year, 1212, Frederick had crossed the Alps into northern Switzerland and snatched the city of Konstanz right from under Otto’s nose.

Everything now crumbled for Otto. He retreated north along the Rhine River, losing town after town. In one of them, the citizens even drove him out on their own. Otto hired an assassin to murder Frederick in his sleep, but of course Frederick was tipped off and the attempt failed. The king of France kicked in money and Frederick was no longer poor. And his army was growing by the day.

And if all that weren’t enough, poor Beatrice died childless in that same year of 1212, sundering the Welf-Hohenstaufen tie. There really was no reason for anyone to support Otto of Brunswick any more.

Unless you were English. King John was still propping up Otto, sending him money. After a year of more or less fruitless maneuvering, in 1214 both Otto and John saw an opportunity. King John invaded Normandy while Otto and other allies were to attack from the east. Together they would knock France out, removing one of the major columns of support for Frederick.

There was still time. It was all still good.

Battle of Bouvines

This is one of the most famous battles in medieval history, but most of the attention goes to the great victory won by the French. Less noted is what happened to Otto and the consequences.

Otto lost, of course. He was late to the field, perhaps crucially. His troops were crushed. In typical Otto style, his horse was injured on the battlefield, it panicked, and ran off with him. When his troops saw their leader running away, they ran too.

It wasn’t his fault and it didn’t matter. Otto was broken as thoroughly as had been his father.

A Sad End

After Bouvines, his friends deserted him. Even his brother went over to the Hohenstaufen. Frederick spent a few years putting Germany back in order again, still fending off Otto, who though no more than a nuisance was still a nuisance. Frederick, the Wonder of the World (stupor mundi), had Otto deposed in 1215 and kept him penned up in northwestern Germany.

Otto fell ill in 1218, perhaps of malaria, perhaps of something that ate at his insides. Whatever it was, he died in terrible agony, nearly alone in his castle at Harzburg, loudly confessing his sins. So passed Otto of Brunswick, who died defeated, alone, and childless.

It’s hard not to feel sorry for the man. History dealt him a hand and he wasn’t equal to the task. I get the impression of a man who felt a duty to avenge his father’s humiliation first, then his own humiliations and defeats. A man who grew up around men who were greater than he was, he was forever trying to live up to that. Trying, but failing. Is there anything more bitter?

Notes

No biographies of Otto in English
Wikipedia article on Otto
Lots on Frederick II
David Abulafia, Frederick II, A Medieval Emperor
Wikipedia article on Frederick

Both the Wikipedia articles have a decent bibliography at the bottom.

* About kings and emperors. By the time of these events, it had become traditional that the king of Germany could become Holy Roman Emperor. The king of Germany was chosen by the “electors” of Germany, which eventually was set at seven individuals, but at the time of our story was a bit more flexible. It was more of a consensus of those present.

The king of Germany also had first dibs on being king of Italy, which was really only the king of northern Italy and only if you could make it stick. This title was the descendant of the old Lombard kingdom, back in the time of Charlemagne.

So, we have the king of Germany, elected by great lords; king of Italy, acclaimed by the leading figures of Lombardy; and Holy Roman Emperor, which was a title bestowed by the pope.

See? Medieval politics is easy!

** Staufen is the name of a little town in southern Germany. The castle up on the hill is Hohenstaufen–Upper Staufen. The actual family name was Waibling.

Down in Italy, Welf morphed into Guelf and Waibling morphed into Ghibelline. Just about every town in Italy had a Guelf faction and a Ghibelline faction. Very broadly, Guelfs were pro-papacy and the Ghibellines were pro-imperial, but in practice this shifted around all the time. Mostly you were against whoever the other guy was for.

If you think medieval Germany is complex, it’s the minor leagues compared to medieval Italy!

Queen of Two Kingdoms

Constance of Aragon

Constance was the wife of Frederick at the time of my story, The Falconer. Naturally I wanted to know more about her beyond mere birth and death dates. What I found is worth relating in its own right.

Constance was born the daughter of Alfonso II, the king of Aragon, and Sancha of Castile and Leon. So she had royal blood on both sides of her family. She was born the second of nine children. We know almost nothing of her chidlhood, which surely came to an end in 1196 when her father died. She was sixteen.

Her older brother, Peter became the second Aragonese king by that name, and he soon set about arranging a marriage for his sister. Nothing would do but marriage into another royal family. In this case, it was to Emeric (Imre) the king of Hungary. So, in 1198 at the age of nineteen, Constance became the Queen of Hungary.

It had to have been difficult. Hungary was an entirely different culture from Aragon, and Hungarian is a very different language from Aragonese. The young queen could not have brought with her more than a few ladies-in-waiting to give her some sense of home.

Her time in Hungary was marked by difficulty and tragedy. Her husband and her husband’s brother fought almost continuously, and there were times when it was feared the king would lose that struggle. In the midst of this, Constance bore Imre a son, whom they named Ladislaus (Louis), in the year 1200.

The struggle with Imre’s brother Andrew continued back and forth. In 1204, Imre fell mortally ill, dying in November of that year. Constance was now a widow of twenty-four with a young child to care for and a kingdom that now fell to that same rival brother, Andrew.

From the outset, Constance found herself shunted aside and isolated. Far from helping to rule her husband’s realm, she found herself little more than a prisoner. The situation was so bad, Constance took her boy in hand and fled in disguise, reaching Vienna in the dead of winter. There she was protected by Duke Leopold VI of Austria.

Constance was still queen mother, for Imre in his final months had had young Louis crowned co-emperor. She might have formed a sort of court-in-exile, or at least been able to negotiate better terms for herself and her son. This can only be speculation, however, for Louis died a few short months after arriving in Vienna, on 7 May 1205.

Constance was now alone in a foreign land. Andrew, now legitimately king, demanded and got the body of his nephew, which he buried in his own castle. Leopold of Austria looked at his awkward guest and at his bellicose neighbor and made a political choice: he sent Constance back to Aragon.

You will remember that her father had died almost ten years previously. After his death, his wife had a monastery built, to which she retired for the remainder of her life. It was to this abbey of Our Lady at Sijena that Constance now also went. She lived there for three years and by all accounts was content. At the very least, the convent must have provided opportunity to grieve and heal.

But Constanza was still young and her big brother still had plans. We must first take a short detour to consider Frederick.

This young man (he was born in 1194) was the son of an emperor and a queen he was an orphan by the time he was three. His youth is a story in itself, but here we will note only that before his mother passed away, she asked the pope to be guardian to her son. That pope was Innocent III, one of the most important popes of the Middle Ages.

Innocent was now (1207-1208) considering marriage prospects for his ward, who at fourteen had officially become King of Sicily. Peter of Aragon was looking for papal support for a variety of reasons, and Innocent was looking for a suitable prospect for Frederick. And so a deal was struck. Innocent would annul Peter’s current marriage. In exchange, Constance would marry Frederick, and Peter would send 500 Catalan knights to Sicily to deal with rebellious barons (one of Innocent’s variety of reasons).

Constance’s Sicilian crown So, in 1208, Constance left the convent and sailed with her Catalan knights (commanded by one of her younger brothers) to Sicily. She was about twenty-five (her exact birthdate is a little uncertain). Her groom was barely fifteen. She had already been a queen, a wife, and a mother, and had lost a kingdom, a husband, and a son. She had been a refugee and had crossed the eastern Alps in winter, almost alone. Frederick, on the other hand, was ten years younger, had never been beyond Sicily, and had scarcely been outside of Palermo. It’s hard to imagine a more unlikely couple.

We know very little about these two as a couple, but what we do know points to them being content with one another. We hear that Frederick sought her advice at times. We know that of his three wives, only one is buried in the imperial tomb with him at Palermo: Constance of Aragon. We know further that when Frederick went north to claim the imperial throne, he made her regent in the name of their young son.

Constance did rule in Sicily for ten years, from 1212 to 1222. She dealt with rebels and threats of invasion. She managed to keep peace among the Muslim population at the western end of the island. She kept peace also with the Church, even though her husband repeatedly provoked papal anger, especially of Innocent III. She was eventually crowned Queen of Germany and Holy Roman Empress. She died of malaria in Catania (Sicily) on 23 June 1222.

When I learned all this, I knew I had to include Constance in any story about Frederick. You’ll have to wait for the book to see exactly how I did this. But there was no way I was going to write this remarkable woman out of Altearth.

One postscriptum: Important scenes in Frederick’s story take place in Switzerland, on Lake Constance. Frederick’s mother was named Constance. He himself was originally named Constantius. That was just way too many Constances. So I chose Costanza, instead. That’s actually Italian, which I excuse by pointing out she lived in Sicily. Close enough. Oh, the woes and tribulations of the historical writer.