Kriegsritter Johannes Braun – Imperial Knight
Copyright© 2026 by Vonalt
Chapter 11: The Court of Louis VII
The night before he left for Paris, Johannes wrote a letter to his adopted uncle, Oddone Frangipani.
He wrote:
Uncle,
I grieve with you at the passing of Apollonia. I also bear responsibility for her death. At the time, travel by ship seemed the quickest and most prudent means of returning her to our family in Rome.
Apollonia deeply resented accompanying me to the imperial court. Her constant complaints about associating with those she considered beneath her, coupled with her contemptuous treatment of those who offered us food and lodging, embarrassed not only me, as a representative of the imperial crown, but also our hosts. Her tantrums at convents and monasteries, where she dismissed their accommodations as beneath her station and invoked my proximity to the Holy See to belittle the heads of those religious orders, won us little favor. She showed the same disdain toward high-ranking city-state officials and guild masters. I feared her conduct would undermine the alliances the Emperor had carefully forged and bring dishonor upon my office.
After consulting Marcus and the Master of the Merchant Guild of Genoa, I resolved to send her back to Rome before greater harm could be done. I feared not only the damage her conduct might inflict upon the Emperor’s alliances but also how it would be received at court. At best, it would cost me my office and send me home in disgrace; at worst, should she insult the Emperor himself, she might face public whipping or imprisonment. For these reasons, I deemed it necessary to send her back to Rome by sea.
That decision now weighs heavily upon me. Though I acted according to what I believed was the wisest course, I bear almost full responsibility for her death, for it was my judgment that placed her aboard that ship. I therefore ask your forgiveness for the decision that brought about so grievous a loss.
Johannes Braun
When he finished writing, Johannes sealed the letter, addressed it to Oddone Frangipani in Rome, and entrusted it to an imperial scribe along with the other correspondence bound for the city. With that done, he retired to his quarters to rest before the long day ahead.
Johannes shared a room with Marcus and several members of his guard. By the time he entered, Marcus and the others were already asleep. Quietly preparing for bed, he lay awake, longing for sleep to bring a brief release from the guilt and sorrow he carried over the loss of Apollonia and the others.
Marcus jostled him awake before dawn, reminding him that they needed an early start if they hoped to reach Maastricht by evening. The others were already up, dressing and preparing for the long journey ahead.
Johannes stretched, struggling to summon the strength to leave his bed. It took Marcus and two of the guards physically hauling him to his feet. Their encouragement, followed by threats to dump a bucket of cold water over him, accomplished what gentle persuasion could not.
Before long, they had eaten, mounted their horses, and set out along the old Roman road leading west from Aachen. The first light of dawn broke behind them as they rode toward Maastricht, the road stretching ahead beneath the morning sky.
Johannes and his comrades spent a long day in the saddle, following the great road that threaded through the Empire. They shared the way with merchants leading packhorses and ox-drawn wagons laden with Flemish cloth, English wool, French wine, and fine metal goods from the Rhineland. Many of these merchants traveled in small caravans for protection against the robbers who haunted the highways.
They also encountered bands of pilgrims making their slow progress along the road, leaning heavily upon their staffs as they walked. To ease the miles, they passed the time chanting prayers and singing familiar hymns. From time to time, Johannes and his company met noblemen and knights journeying between castles and princely courts.
Those knights invariably offered Johannes and his companions a courteous greeting when they recognized the imperial black eagle displayed upon the yellow field of his crest—the emblem of the Holy Roman Emperor. The red shoulders of Johannes’s surcoat, echoed in those of his companions, identified him as an Imperial Knight and them as his sworn retainers.
When they stopped to rest and allow their horses to cool, they often found themselves joined by messengers and local lords who hoped there would be safety in numbers, especially when those numbers included a knight and his men. Seeking favor with the Emperor, they would attempt to draw Johannes into conversation until Marcus or one of the others eventually sent them on their way.
It was much the same with the clergy. Once they learned of Johannes’s identity, several bishops and abbots asked him to intercede on their behalf with the Pope the next time he returned to Rome. Not all churchmen, however, came seeking favors. Many offered to share their meager rations with Johannes and his men, and the offer was gladly accepted. In return, the men shared their own provisions and enjoyed the fellowship of their fellow travelers. Among these churchmen were theological students making the journey to Paris to continue their studies.
Not all travelers were journeying great distances. There were also locals making their way along the road, including tradesmen traveling from village to village. Among them were stonemasons, carpenters, builders, blacksmiths, and armorers, all practicing the crafts that sustained the towns and settlements of the Empire.
The road was not always busy. There were long stretches where no one could be seen except Johannes and his men. The closer they came to towns, the more travelers they encountered. Out in the remote countryside, they occasionally saw peasants making their way between the fields.
Where roads crossed, beggars often gathered to ask charity from passing travelers. Johannes thought of the monk who had accused him of defying Church law and later had his tongue removed for insulting the Emperor. He wondered whether he would encounter that same monk on his journey, and if he did, what he would do. Would he offer the man a few copper coins?
As predicted, they reached Maastricht by evening. After crossing the Meuse River by way of the old wooden bridge, Johannes and his men looked for an inn that catered to travelers on imperial business and noblemen journeying between the cities of the Empire. Once they had found a suitable inn, they secured rooms for the night and were promised a hearty evening meal of rich stew, fresh bread, and cheese. To accompany the meal, the innkeeper served a local wine.
After the evening meal, Johannes and Marcus sat on a bench, watching the fire roar in the great hearth. Each enjoyed a local white wine that the innkeeper served in ceramic mugs, which he kept filled from a green-glazed jug. It had been some time since Johannes had tasted a wine this good and this potent. He had drunk only half a mug, yet he was already feeling its effects.
Marcus did not want to admit it, but he was feeling the effects as well.
“Marcus, after we finish this mug, we should head off to bed. An early morning awaits us. If my memory is not being affected too much, we will be stopping in Liège tomorrow evening. I do not want to be in the saddle with my head spinning because of this fine wine,” Johannes said.
“Yes, Brother, I agree. A foggy head is not something I would want to endure either,” Marcus replied with a laugh.
After finishing their mugs, they both stumbled up the stairs, fell into their beds, and were almost immediately asleep.
Remarkably, Johannes awoke before Marcus and was already preparing to leave before his companion had even stirred. As Johannes left their shared room, he deliberately kicked the side of Marcus’s bed, startling him awake.
“Do wake, Brother. We have a long ride ahead of us, and I want to be on the road before the merchants and their ox carts clog it and slow us down.”
It was still before dawn when the last of their men joined them in the common room. Johannes and Marcus were served wooden bowls of peas-and-barley stew, each containing bits of pork. The innkeeper also provided hard-boiled eggs, cheese, and coarse bread served with butter and onions for anyone who wanted something besides the stew. To finish the meal, each man was given a dried apple for something sweet. A ceramic mug of watered wine completed the morning meal.
When they were ready to leave, Johannes settled the bill with the innkeeper and promised that they would stop again on their return to the imperial city of Aachen. He expressed his satisfaction with the food and lodging. He did so partly out of guilt as he remembered the tantrums and ill behavior Apollonia had repeatedly directed at their hosts on the journey to Aachen.
With everyone ready, Johannes gave the signal for his men to follow. They rode through the streets among the city’s residents, who were slowly making their way to their daily labors. Farm workers shouldered their tools as they walked toward the fields. Craftsmen carried their tools to their workshops. Blacksmiths lit their forges in preparation for the day’s work. Other artisans likewise went about their daily tasks as the city settled into its normal workday. Just as they passed the town church, the bell rang, marking the beginning of the day’s labor.
During the first hours on the road, the number of travelers was small. They passed several groups of pilgrims who waved as they rode by. The pilgrims were a jovial bunch, singing hymns and reciting passages from Scripture as they walked. Johannes was certain that many of the pilgrims were also bound for Paris, completing their pilgrimage by visiting monasteries, performing penance, and praying before the relics of saints. Many also intended to visit the Cathedral of Saint Étienne.
As the morning wore on, more and more travelers appeared, just as they had the day before. At noon they stopped briefly to eat and rest their horses. Marcus had their men spread out to discourage other travelers from bothering Johannes. For this, the imperial knight was grateful for the consideration his men showed him. When the opportunity arose, Johannes would show his appreciation, hopefully later that evening.
That night, when they stopped in Liège after riding roads choked with pilgrims, merchants in ox carts, and travelers—most of them on foot—Johannes wondered if the journey to Paris would be like this the entire way. If so, he would have to consult someone more knowledgeable about alternative routes they could take.
That night in Liège, as on the night before, Johannes and his men found lodging at an inn that catered to traveling merchants and knights. Their evening meal was good, though not as hearty as the one they had enjoyed the previous night. It consisted of beef stew thick with barley, cabbage, coarse bread, and several mugs of fresh local ale. The fare was not as varied, but it filled hungry bellies, and the ale was excellent.
Again, as on the night before, they turned in early so they could once more be on the road before sunrise.
As they settled down and waited for sleep to come, Johannes asked Marcus, “Brother, are you glad that you accompanied me on this journey to Paris? I would have found no fault in your choosing to return to Rome.”
Marcus smiled. “Brother, from the moment I befriended you, I knew I would have more adventures and witness more wonders than if I had remained in Rome. Being your friend has been a blessing, never a burden. Both our men and I are honored to accompany you. Not everyone can say they once served the ‘Right Hand’ of the Holy Roman Emperor.”
It was into this rhythm that Johannes and his men settled. They rose before dawn each morning, usually eating a breakfast provided by their hosts before setting out. The towns passed one after another—Namur, Dinant, Rocroi, Laon, and Senlis. When they could not find a suitable inn, they relied on local lords or churches for lodging. A generous donation to the local church’s poor box ensured that the priests could provide hearty evening meals and breakfast the following morning, especially once it became known that Johannes was a close confidant of Pope Adrian IV.
On the ninth day after leaving Aachen, Johannes and his men arrived on the outskirts of Paris. Tired but excited, Johannes and his companions stopped at a local inn to rest and plan their official entrance into the city and their presentation at the court of Louis VII.
That night, Johannes and his men gathered in the inn’s common room, and over ceramic mugs of ale, he discussed with them how he wanted the next day to unfold. Johannes wanted to reinforce that they were representing the Holy Roman Emperor at the court of Louis VII and that it was important to make a favorable impression.
He told them to expect to be escorted with much fanfare; after all, they were representatives of the Emperor, and their hosts would want to make a favorable impression. In turn, as the Emperor’s representatives, they were expected to impress their hosts. Johannes instructed his men to wear their finest surcoats, each displaying the imperial eagle. They were to bathe before departing in the morning. He joked that it was far more impressive if one did not smell of a sweaty horse when being presented to the king. His men laughed at the remark.
When he had finished, they went about preparing for the morning’s final ride into Paris and the court of Louis VII.
Johannes and his men left the inn well after the sun had risen. For a company of men who had spent the last nine days in the saddle, they looked impressive. Their horses had been groomed at the inn, the men had bathed, and all of them proudly wore the surcoats of the Holy Roman Emperor. On the road, they were an impressive sight.
At the gate to the city of Paris, they were challenged. When asked who they were, Johannes responded, “I am Imperial Knight Johannes Braun, Imperial Representative of Emperor Frederick Barbarossa of the Holy Roman Empire, here to seek an audience with King Louis VII. I bear a missive from my Emperor to your king.”
Johannes was asked to wait while the proper authorities were notified. The wait was not long, as Johannes and his men were soon escorted by a company of French knights dressed similarly to Johannes and his men, though in the colors of King Louis VII.
The French knights escorted them to the Palais de la Cité, the Paris palace of Louis VII. Johannes and Marcus were given quarters in the palace, while the others were housed in buildings on the palace grounds. Their horses were taken to the royal stables, where Johannes was assured they would be properly cared for. The court official who met Johannes at the palace assured him that he would be granted an audience with the king and would have ample time to prepare for it.
The meal Marcus and Johannes were served was unlike any Johannes had experienced before. The bread had been cut from a long loaf and was white in color. All the bread Johannes had eaten previously had been dark and coarse by comparison. Marcus commented that it looked fine but had little taste, an opinion with which Johannes agreed.
The French cooks served a fowl that neither man could identify. It was all dark meat and rather bony. They were also served a soup made with peas and a vegetable the server called a leek. It resembled an onion but was much milder in flavor. The soup was heavily seasoned with garlic, a seasoning with which Marcus was familiar. After eating it, however, one’s breath was left quite foul. They also served delicate cheeses that complemented the watered-down wine they were given. Marcus declared that the cooking at Louis’s court was better than that at Aachen, though not as good as the food in Rome.
The court official who had welcomed Johannes and his men visited them after they had finished eating and informed them that Louis VII would receive them the following morning after breakfast. Until then, they were free to wander the gardens and courtyards, where other members of the court gathered and socialized.
Marcus and Johannes decided to explore the palace grounds and see what the court of Louis VII was like. Johannes noticed that the members of the court seemed unusually interested in whatever he and Marcus said to one another. Whenever they paused to admire the gardens or the architecture, a courtier or lady-in-waiting always seemed to be nearby, close enough to overhear their conversation.
Annoyed by this obvious eavesdropping, Johannes suggested they switch to the common street language of Rome, a heavily accented and highly localized Italian dialect. Johannes was far from fluent, but he understood enough that he and Marcus could communicate without fear that their conversations would be understood by those around them.
With the change in language, Johannes felt more secure that what he and Marcus discussed would not be reported to Louis VII or his ministers. Eventually, they made their way to the central courtyard, where several knights entertained members of the court with mock combat using wooden practice swords.
Both Johannes and Marcus were impressed by the swordsmanship displayed by the two knights, but Marcus remarked to Johannes that he believed he was the better swordsman. He had fought in actual combat, whereas he doubted the men giving the demonstration had ever done more than perform before an audience. This caused Johannes to laugh.
One of the knights noticed Johannes laughing and assumed he was ridiculing his skill, taking it as an insult to his honor.
The knight immediately demanded to know who Johannes was.
Johannes responded, “I am Imperial Knight Johannes Braun of the court of the Holy Roman Emperor, as you can see by the imperial eagle on my surcoat, and a protector of His Holiness, Pope Adrian IV. In the Empire, I am known as the ‘Hammer.’ And who might you be?”
The French knight replied in Latin so that Johannes could understand him. “Perhaps the ‘Hammer’ needs a lesson in etiquette at Louis’s court.”
The people who had been watching the exhibition were shocked by the insult hurled at the king’s guest. It was an affront directed at the representative of a foreign monarch and, by extension, reflected poorly upon Louis himself.
Johannes, however, did not see it that way. Instead, he took the remark as a challenge to his skill, much like the challenges he had faced as a young squire.
“So be it,” Johannes replied.
He removed his sword belt, along with the sword that had been given to him by the Holy Roman Emperor, and handed both to Marcus.
One of the other knights noticed the weapon and admired it.
“Where did you acquire such a fine sword, Sir Johannes?”
As Johannes prepared to face the other knight, he replied, “It was a gift from the Holy Roman Emperor and was blessed by Pope Adrian IV on the day he celebrated my marriage to my wife, Apollonia Frangipani, a member of one of the most powerful families in Rome and a steadfast supporter of His Holiness.”
Johannes stood facing the French knight wearing only his chain mail. He had removed his surcoat for fear that it would become dirty or damaged. He was handed a wooden practice sword similar to the ones he had trained with since his days as a page.
Johannes stepped forward, making it clear that he was ready whenever the French knight chose to display his skill. The knight attacked, but the contest was nearly over before it had truly begun.
His opening move was a thrust aimed at Johannes’s midsection. Johannes calmly stepped aside and tripped him as he passed. As the knight stumbled by, Johannes brought the flat of his wooden sword down hard across his shoulder blades, driving him to the ground. Before the knight could recover, Johannes struck the side of his helmet with the flat of the blade, just behind the ear. The blow rendered the knight unconscious.
Realizing the contest was over, several knights rushed to their companion’s aid. Johannes returned the wooden practice sword to its owner and rejoined Marcus, who was holding his surcoat, sword, and sword belt. Johannes calmly put on his surcoat, then buckled on his sword belt and fastened his sword.
Concerned about his opponent, Johannes walked over to where the knight still lay. His helmet had been removed, and it was obvious that it would be some time before he regained consciousness.
Johannes turned to one of the unconscious knight’s companions and said, “Tell him that I found his technique impeccable, but without experience it is of little value. When he has survived actual combat, I believe he will become a formidable opponent.”
The unconscious knight’s companion nodded and saluted Johannes before turning back to see how his friend was recovering.
Johannes decided it would be best for them to return to their quarters in the palace, take their evening meal there, and retire early in anticipation of their audience with Louis VII the following morning.
Both men awoke early, washed, and dressed in freshly laundered surcoats. A servant assigned to them had arranged to have their surcoats cleaned. Johannes was appreciative and gave the servant a copper coin for his efforts.
Breakfast consisted of the tasteless white bread, butter, sliced onions to accompany the bread, fruit, and watered-down wine.
Johannes was nervous and relied on Marcus to help calm his nerves. He repeatedly reviewed the items he had been entrusted to deliver to Louis VII. They consisted of a letter from Emperor Frederick and another from Pope Adrian IV identifying Johannes and confirming his authority, along with an invitation to form an alliance between their two realms. It was not an alliance of military power but one founded on mutual respect and peaceful trade.
Marcus was thoroughly enjoying seeing Johannes nervous and laughed at his friend and brother-in-law. He continued teasing him, warning him not to trip over his own feet when it came time to be introduced to the monarch seated upon the French royal throne. Finally, taking pity on Johannes, he offered some advice: Johannes should simply move slowly and speak slowly. Perhaps Louis VII would take pity on him.