cunimund2

...The Byzantines were disorganized. Narses, their beloved general, disgraced by the Roman populace and by his own emperor and emperess, abandoned Italy to it’s fate. He remembered the fierce Lombards, and called on them to bring their wrath upon the miserable Romans. Perhaps he didn’t know the extent of what he was doing, but I surmise that he knew exactly what would happen – he knew the condition of his troops, and knew what chaos would befall when they lost their leader and faced an organized and hot-blooded horde of foes. I think he knew well that he gave the Lombards Italy, and deemed it his last word against he complaining Romans, who had pleaded that they had preferred the rule of the Goths over the “eunuch general”.

The populace and armies melted before the onslaught of the Barbarians. Pavia alone, that proud capitol of the Goths, held it’s own, and for 3 years the Lombards could enter not it’s strong gates. But they prowled outside, like wolves around a dying stag, waiting to rush in a find the jugular when it’s head dropped. Such frustration and impatience breathed into them a furious desire for bloodshed, and they vowed not to leave a single breath alive within it’s walls, not man, woman or child. The city could not hold out forever. It was weakened by famine. At last the Lombards broke through the defences, but as Alboin rode across the threshold of the gates, his steed stumbled and fell to the ground. The Lombards took this as a sign of Divine anger, and the king relented. They sheated their swords, telling the embattled populace that they shall live, by the grace of the King, and be his obedient subjects. They readily agreed
The king so loved this city which beheld him as a bold and honorable conquerer, that he chose it as his very capitol

In Verona, Alboin met his end. He celebrated wildly the fertile lands of his enemies which now lay in his hands. He drank himself into foolishness, and in his frenzied mood, called for the cup of victory to be brought forth – the carved skull of Cunimund. In his fey mood, the king bid the cup be filled to the brim, and placed before his queen. “May you celebrate my victory with your father”
She groaned the words “let the will of my lord be obeyed.” And touched the wine to her lips. Yet even as she did so, her mind was enflamed with bitterness and burned with fury and indignance. She would not be so treated by this foul brute.
She found a one to fulfill her vengeance. Helmichis, the king’s armor bearer, whom she incited with promises of her love. He, however, trembled at the thought of his Lord’s valor in battle, and pleaded that another be added to their conspiracy. Peredeus, the champion of the Lombards was brought into their circle, but not by his choice. Rather he was decieved, and when he lay with his accustomed maid in the darkness, he was shocked to find that it was the queen herself, who then warned him that such an act would result in either his death, or the Kings. He chose his life, and joined them reluctantly.

After this the queen sought a time, and found it when the king became drunk. As he reposed to his bed, she went with him and saw to it that his arms were removed, and his attendants dismissed. She sat beside him as he lay sprawled on the bed, perhaps stroking his hair and beard until he dozed off. Then she arose and hurried to the door, undid the bolt on the door, and ushered in the assassins. The king, suddenly aware of their presence, sat up from his wine, and attempted to draw the sword from his scabbard, but could not because Rosamund had secured it while he slept. Only a small stool came to hand, and with this he defended himself from the deadly spears of his foes, yet not long could that protect him, for he was overcome by his wine, and fell beneath their weapons in a pool of blood.

The bloody queen had the body buried beneath the staircase, and then took rule of the city. With an iron hand she took it, and the people were awed by her power. She was backed by a knot of loyal Gepid survivors drawn from the ranks of the Lombards. The faithful Lombards fled the city and gathered together. iNstead of submitting to her power, the Lombards united and cried out for justice to their slain Lord, and she could not stand against their might, but was forced to flee. She perished at the hand of her lover. Thus ends the tale of Alboin, king of the Lombards.

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