Building a Viking Empire with Modern Industry-Chapter 216: Fractured Crown

By now the news of Emperor Charles the Bald’s death had spread through the palace of Compiègne like a poison wind. Indeed the great halls that had once echoed with the laughter of feasts now rang only with the hushed footsteps of servants carrying black drapes and the murmur of councillors who already sensed the storm about to break.

Apparently the old emperor had drawn his last breath in the night, leaving behind a realm that was more fragile than any of his courtiers had dared admit.

In the private solar reserved for the royal family, the older prince Louis stood at the head of the long table. His mother, the Dowager Empress, sat to his right.

To his left sat his younger brothers and sisters... Charles the Younger, Carloman, and the princesses Rotrude and Gisela.

Despite the solemn hush that had fallen over the chamber, Louis spoke first, "Since then we have known this day would come. Father was never a healthy man. Now the throne is vacant and the wolves are already gathering at the gates. We must act before the dukes and kings arrive in force. I am the eldest. The crown is mine by right and by blood."

His mother lifted her gaze, "My son, you speak the truth of law, yet law alone will not hold the realm together. After all, your father left many enemies and few true friends. The great dukes of Aquitaine, Burgundy, and Neustria will not kneel simply because you bear the name of Charles. They will demand concessions, lands, titles... perhaps even the right to choose their own king."

Charles the Younger, still a youth with fire in his eyes, slammed his palm upon the table. "Then we deny them! By now the army is loyal to our house. We can summon the levies and remind those greedy lords what happens to traitors. They forget that we are the blood of Charlemagne himself!"

Rotrude, the eldest princess, shook her head with quiet exasperation, "You forget that the army is scattered and the treasury is nearly empty. More than a show of force, we need allies. If we offer the dukes generous terms now, before they arrive in hours, we may still bind them to us. To his surprise even the weakest claimant can become emperor if the right hands lift the crown..."

Gisela, the youngest, clutched her mother’s sleeve and spoke, "But what if they refuse? What if they crown one of their own? We have no great army left after the wars in the south... We are alone."

Louis straightened, drawing a slow breath as he looked upon each member of his family in turn.

"Despite this fear, we cannot show weakness. I will be emperor. The law is clear and the Church will support me. Still, we must prepare for the dukes. We offer them peace, trade, and protection from the Northmen... but only if they bend the knee first."

His mother rose slowly, "Perhaps we should send messengers offering marriage alliances or rich fiefs before they even reach the gates. Buy time. Buy loyalty."

Carloman, the middle brother, pushed back his chair and began to pace, "Buy time? While they plot against us? By now half the dukes are already riding here with private armies at their backs. If we appear weak they will tear the crown from your head before the week is out!"

Louis raised a hand, silencing his brother. "Enough. I will not begin my reign by begging. When the dukes arrive, they will find the palace ready and the heir seated upon the throne."

Suddenly the doors at the far end of the solar swung open.

"Your Majesty... the first banners have been sighted on the southern road. Duke Robert of Neustria rides at the head of five hundred knights. Behind him fly the standards of Burgundy and Aquitaine. They will reach the palace gates within the hour."

Louis stared at the herald for a long moment, then turned back to his family.

"The hour has come sooner than we hoped," he said quietly. "Prepare yourselves. When those doors open again, the fate of Francia will be decided in this very room. I will be emperor... or we will all fall together."

Outside the solar the sound of approaching hooves and trumpets grew louder, rolling across the palace grounds.

Louis stood at the head. The dukes... Robert of Neustria, Hugh of Burgundy, and the others filled the remaining seats.

Louis spoke first, "Since then my father has left us, the law is clear. I am the eldest. The throne is mine by blood and by right. We must stand united before the lesser lords tear the realm apart."

Robert of Neustria leaned forward, his scarred face twisted in open contempt, interrupting before the prince could finish.

"United? You speak of unity while your brothers already whisper against you. After all, the army is scattered and the treasury is empty. You think a stammering boy can hold what your father could not?"

Hugh of Burgundy slammed a gauntleted fist upon the table, his voice rising in angry challenge. "The boy is right about one thing... the law names him heir. But law means nothing when the dukes hold the real power. More than a crown, we need a king who can keep the Northmen from our coasts and the peasants from our throats. If you cannot do that, Louis, then step aside before we force you."

The Dowager Empress lifted her veil, "Despite your bold words, you forget that the blood of Charlemagne still flows in my son’s veins. We offer you all generous terms... lands, titles, protection from the Iron Father across the sea. Accept them and kneel."

One of the lesser dukes laughed bitterly and interrupted her with a short, angry bark. "Protection? From the man who just shattered a mountain in Norway? Apparently your son’s army is barely enough to guard his own palace. The Iron Father’s shadow already reaches our borders. If we kneel to a weak king now, we’ll be kneeling to Ragnar tomorrow."

Louis raised both hands, "Enough! I will not beg for what is mine by right. My army stands ready. The levies from Neustria and Burgundy will answer my call. We will march as one and remind the realm who rules Francia."

Robert of Neustria rose slowly, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. "Your army? You mean the scraps your father left you? If you want this crown, you will give us what we demand or we will choose our own emperor before the sun sets."

The younger princes shifted uneasily, while the Dowager Empress gripped the edge of the table until her knuckles whitened.

Suddenly the doors at the far end of the chamber swung open. A herald stepped inside, voice trembling as he announced the arrival of the last great lords.

"The dukes of the south have come. They ride under their own banners and demand audience at once."

Louis stared at the open doors for a long moment. Then he sighed and spoke.

"Let them enter.The crown will be mine, and Francia will kneel. If any man here believes otherwise, let him speak now... or forever hold his peace."

The dukes exchanged glances, their hands hovering near sword hilts while the distant sound of marching feet grew louder outside the palace walls.