Kriegsritter Johannes Braun – Imperial Knight
Copyright© 2026 by Vonalt
Chapter 8: The Union of Empire and Papacy
As promised during the formalization of the alliance between the Frangipani family and the Holy Roman Emperor, a wedding was held at St. Peter’s Basilica on a quiet Thursday afternoon. The elaborate ceremony was officiated by Pope Adrian IV, assisted by the Archbishop of Trier, His Excellency Hillin of Falmagne, and the Abbot of Tholey.
The wedding united Imperial Knight Johannes Braun and his bride, Apollonia Frangipani, the niece of Oddone Frangipani, head of the Frangipani family. The Frangipani were one of the most powerful families in Rome, steadfast supporters of Pope Adrian IV and, now, it would seem, of the soon-to-be-crowned Holy Roman Emperor, Frederick Barbarossa.
The ceremony itself proceeded smoothly, though Johannes would later admit that he had been overwhelmed by its grandeur, the distinguished participants, and the assembled guests. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that his marriage would be officiated by the Pope, with the future Holy Roman Emperor and representatives of Rome’s most powerful families among those in attendance.
There was, however, one notable absence: the Pierleoni. They openly opposed both Pope Adrian IV and King Frederick, the soon-to-be-crowned Holy Roman Emperor. Giordano Pierleoni, Patrician of the Romans, must have been seething when word of the marriage and the alliance reached him.
Johannes took great pleasure in listening to the Abbot of Tholey deliver the homily. The sermon itself was unremarkable, but the manner in which it was delivered—through tightly clenched teeth—was extremely entertaining. After all, it was the Abbot who had first brought Johannes to King Frederick’s attention.
Now fate, with a little help from the King, seemed to have come full circle. The poor Abbot had been compelled to take part in the wedding of the very man he loathed. Johannes could not prove it, but he strongly suspected that King Frederick had orchestrated the entire affair for his own amusement.
If anything cast a shadow over the day’s celebrations, it was the execution of Arnold of Brescia on a hastily erected gallows behind the Lateran Palace. Johannes was aware of it, but he was grateful that his presence had not been required. Such a grim spectacle would have marred an otherwise perfect day.
After the ceremony, the wedding feast was held outside the basilica. Among the guests was a special visitor: Crescentia. Somehow, she had learned that it was Johannes’s compassion and concern that had delivered her from her family’s cruelty and secured her a place in a nearby convent.
Determined to express her gratitude, she sought Johannes out and thanked him personally. She told him that, should he ever need her assistance, he had only to send for her, and she would help in any way she could.
Johannes was embarrassed by such heartfelt gratitude. No one had ever expressed such sincere thanks to him before—no one except the King.
When the feast concluded, Johannes returned with his new bride to the Frangipani estate, where they spent their first night as a married couple in what would later become known as the Imperial Apartments. The next morning, the full realization that he was now a married nobleman overwhelmed him. Coupled with the responsibilities of caring for a wife who depended upon him and managing the affairs entrusted to him, Johannes found himself, for the first time in his life, unsure of what to do first.
It did not take him long to decide. He may have been a newlywed, but his duty to the Emperor and the Empire called him away.
The following morning brought Johannes his first crisis as a married man. It was a minor dispute, but one serious enough to delay King Frederick’s coronation. The quarrel itself was petty and, in Johannes’s opinion, rather foolish. Yet it was enough to cause the two leaders to behave like children, each refusing to yield.
The problem was a dispute over protocol. Pope Adrian refused to bestow the Kiss of Peace until King Frederick observed the traditional custom of holding the Pope’s stirrup and leading his horse. This ceremonial act was known as the strator rite. After much pleading and cajoling on Johannes’s part, Frederick finally complied. Johannes even went so far as to offer to perform the duty himself in the King’s place, if only it would put an end to the foolish bickering.
On Friday morning, King Frederick was crowned Holy Roman Emperor by Pope Adrian. Although the ceremony had been intended to remain secret within St. Peter’s Basilica, members of the Church who opposed Frederick’s elevation revealed what had taken place. News of his coronation quickly spread throughout Rome.
Opponents of the coronation, joined by a mob led by the Roman Patrician and hastily assembled republican forces, attacked the imperial troops at Castel Sant’Angelo. Originally constructed as the magnificent mausoleum of the Roman Emperor Hadrian, the structure had long since been transformed into a fortress and now served as the stronghold of Frederick’s forces.
A fierce battle ensued, and the imperial troops loyal to the Holy Roman Emperor and Pope Adrian crushed the rebellion. In the midst of the fighting rode Imperial Knight Johannes and his fellow royal knights, making it clear to the Roman populace that the city of Rome was the seat of the Church, under the spiritual authority of Pope Adrian IV and the temporal authority of the Holy Roman Emperor, Frederick Barbarossa. For any who still questioned that authority, the Hammer of Imperial Authority stood ready to enforce it. Unfortunately, it took the deaths of more than a thousand Romans during the uprising for that lesson to be learned.
This was one aspect of his office that Johannes hated, and he held many long discussions with the Emperor and his new mentor—and uncle by marriage—Oddone Frangipani. Together, the Emperor and Oddone spent countless hours helping the young Imperial Knight adjust to the added responsibilities of his position.
There were further disputes, with the citizens of Rome demanding greater autonomy and less imperial interference. As if that were not enough, tensions between the Pope and the Emperor continued to escalate, forcing Johannes and Oddone to mediate between the two sides, often with only limited success.
Eventually, Johannes suggested that Emperor Frederick leave Rome and return north to his capital at Aachen. In his stead, Johannes would ensure that imperial law was observed and continue mediating disputes between the Emperor and the papacy. After a few months, he would rejoin Frederick at court.
While he remained in Rome, Johannes stayed at the Frangipani estate with his wife. He had grown so close to Oddone that he addressed him as “Uncle Oddone” out of both respect and affection. The elder Frangipani returned that affection and often spent time with Johannes and Marcus. Marcus had become the brother Johannes never had, and it was rare to see one without the other.
At first, Johannes enjoyed married life, but after the wedding his bride seemed to change. Before the ceremony, Apollonia had been quiet, shy, and demure, rarely drawing attention to herself. Afterwards, however, she underwent a striking transformation. She began to complain about their living arrangements. When, she demanded, could they expect an estate of their own? She wanted servants of their own, rather than relying on the Frangipani household staff. One complaint led to another, and before long every conversation ended in grievance or dispute.
She was now married to one of the most powerful men in Rome—an exceptionally young man who enjoyed the confidence of the Pope, the Emperor, and many of Rome’s most influential families. Why, then, was he not pursuing the wealth, status, and privileges she believed should accompany his position?
The irritating questions and complaints were unrelenting.
“Why can’t we live on an estate befitting your station? Can’t you ask the Pope or my uncle to secure one for us?”
“Can’t you get us servants of our own? I’m tired of my uncle’s servants, and his steward doesn’t like me. I was told he complained about me to my uncle.”
“Must you spend so much time with those barbaric friends of yours—those knights?”
Johannes often consulted Oddone on matters of state and, at times, on the difficulties of his marriage. Oddone would smile and tell him that time away at war often made the heart grow fonder. He also urged patience. Apollonia had led a privileged life, and her parents had indulged her. After their deaths, Oddone had done the same for both her and her brother, Marcus. Marcus had become a capable lieutenant and field commander of the Frangipani forces. Apollonia, however, had never been given responsibilities and had grown into a demanding, self-indulgent woman. Just how far that tendency had gone was something everyone was only beginning to understand.
Afraid of straining the fragile alliance, Johannes chose to ignore her tantrums and demands, even when her brother and uncle urged him not to tolerate them. At times, when he could no longer bear it, he would remain with the imperial forces at Castel Sant’Angelo, where he could enjoy a decent night’s sleep and respite from her complaints.
Eventually, matters became so difficult that Johannes consulted a canon law scholar serving as an advisor to Pope Adrian IV about the possibility of ending the marriage. He had worked with Brother Felix before and had come to respect the learned canonist and biblical scholar. Johannes explained the circumstances of the marriage and how he had tried his best to love Apollonia, but without success. He even asked Brother Felix to speak with her and attempt to counsel her into embracing the role of a wife. The attempt failed; the good brother endured the same onslaught that Johannes regularly faced.
After hearing Johannes’s account and consulting canon law, Brother Felix presented several options. Johannes could endure the marriage and be assured of his salvation. He could seek a legal separation if Apollonia’s behavior continued to worsen, though mere nagging or a difficult temperament would not constitute sufficient grounds. Finally, he could attempt to prove that the marriage had been invalid from the outset, though this would require legitimate canonical grounds—not simply unhappiness. Given who had officiated the ceremony, such an outcome was highly unlikely. The best counsel Brother Felix could offer was endurance and prayer that Apollonia might yet change her ways.
In the meantime, Johannes immersed himself in his duties, ensuring that the joint government of Rome functioned smoothly and that each faction retained representation in its administration. He maintained a careful ear for the concerns of the city’s inhabitants and sought, as far as possible, to act with fairness and restraint in carrying out his duties as the Hammer of the Emperor.
It was widely acknowledged that Johannes took his responsibilities seriously, as none of the great families could find fault with his administration. Even the Pierleoni admitted as much—though Giordano Pierleoni remained an exception. He openly sneered that Johannes was nothing more than a puppet of Pope Adrian IV, a man without spine or honor. He alleged that Johannes favored his allies at every turn, disguising weakness as fairness, and insisted that, as Patrician of Rome, he would have ruled far more decisively and justly than the Pope’s lapdog ever could.
While Johannes earned praise for his governance and cooperation with Rome’s leading families, his marriage continued to deteriorate. Apollonia made increasingly extravagant demands. She wanted a summer palace in the hills like those of other noble families, as well as a tower house within the city. She insisted on servants of their own to manage these properties, arguing that Johannes’s influence should easily secure such comforts. She could not understand why her status as the wife of one of Rome’s most powerful young men did not bring the privileges she believed were her due.
Johannes grew increasingly frustrated and uncertain. How could the quiet, timid woman he had once known have changed so completely in so short a time? He longed for the simplicity of his days in Saarbrücken and Trier, when life had been quieter and far less burdened.
Seven months after Emperor Frederick’s departure, a sealed imperial mandate arrived instructing Johannes to travel to Aachen without delay. He was commanded to depart by the fastest means available and bring sufficient escort to protect himself and his household. The Emperor granted him one month to complete the journey.
Working quickly to meet the deadline, Johannes sought the assistance of his wife’s uncle in arranging Apollonia’s travel in a manner that would provoke as few complaints as possible. An enclosed coach seemed the best solution. She would travel within it, while he rode on horseback—at least sparing him her constant presence.