INTRODUCTION
Part 2 – The Shadow of the Merovingians
(Charlemagne’s Achilles Heel)
History teaches how the Merovingian line had fallen into a largely ceremonial role, with the actual power being wielded by the Carolingian “Mayors of the Palace”. Charlemagne’s grandfather, Charles Martel, was the last of the Mayors. He took formal as well as actual power in order to meet the Saracen threat at the Battle of Tours, though he never claimed the title of “king”. Charles Martel died four years later, however, and his hears felt the need for social support. As a result they actually restored a Merovingian to the throne! This was Childeric III, who ruled for about ten years before retiring to a monastery. For story purposes we can assume that Childeric’s retirement occurred just a few years before Charlemagne’s ascension.
History has also attached to the Merovingians a slew of legends, almost all of which make them out to be magicians, sages, seers, etc. For story purposes the word to be used is “Fey.” The Merovingians were kings among men and Lords of the Fey as well. And they weren’t deposed; they more or less abdicated in favor of the carefully groomed and fully human line of the Mayors. This was expected by all but still a bit of a shock. For centuries social status had been largely determined by the proportion of Fey blood a man could claim in his line. All the great houses were thoroughly intermixed. Except the Mayors. And hence the odd conflict. Everyone recognizes that Charles is the King, and all the Lords have sworn the most binding of oaths to be his men. As a social matter, however, his blood is far “lower” than almost anyone else’s. The King knows this better than anyone, and doesn’t like it a bit.
The defaulting Dukes, and Duke Benes in particular, have the “highest” blood of anyone in the land. Benes’ son is Maugis, the closest thing to a Merlin that exists in the Carolingian cycle. His brothers are almost as famous. If you add in their kin the defaulting Dukes have ties to a full half of the greatest nobles in the realm, and certainly form its greatest potential core of opposition. Both Duke Naymon of Bavaria (the King’s main counselor) and Ogier the Dane are first cousins, for example. Duke Aimon (father of the ‘four sons’ who the story is about) is their older brother. But for the Merovingians’ insistence on the Mayors as their heirs someone from this line (probably Aimon) would almost certainly have ended up on the throne. The King knows all this equally well, and likes it even less.
We do not know why the three brother Dukes failed to heed the summons of their King. It was winter, the passes through the Alps were treacherous at best, and it’s possible that the Dukes never even received the word. And Duke Aimon is stained only by association. He was not summoned and has in any event always been more conspicuously loyal to the current reign. Nevertheless. . . it’s a suspicious coincidence that three of those with the most to gain by the fall of the King were the very ones who put him in so much peril.
Charles has his flaws (he is human after all), but he also knows that his reign is fated to be the one in which the fate of the western world will be determined. He, and no one else, is the hand of God. THIS ISN’T JUST EGO. God takes an active, if indirect, role in the Carolingian stories. We can’t know which of Charlemagne’s decisions are divinely inspired until after the fact, but some of them definitely are. This is part of what makes Charlemagne so frustrating and fascinating at the same. He is too big to judge. He seems great at one moment and petty at the next, but you can never be sure of the latter because sometimes the pettiness was Inspired. To confuse things even more, the characters in the stories know this too.
As far as the King and court are concerned, however, if Charlemagne should fall or fail, all of Christendom will follow.
