Brotherly Love

Okay. This is partially an exercise in "making M-i-T read chronicles at a slightly more rapid rate." But that hasn't happened yet, so I'm starting with what I know.

And I know St. Gregory, Bishop of Tours. As time goes on, I will mix and match, but for now you get some of my favorite stories from my favorite Medieval (okay, very, very Early Medieval) historian. Anyway, on with the show.

Things are going pretty well for King Theuderic. He's just convinced his brother Lothar to hand him Thuringia on a silver platter by killing King Hermanfrid. All it took was some sob story about women being drawn and quartered or being tied to train tracks road-ruts for trains carts to run over. Lothar was always kind of a pansy. Even better: his brother's share of the booty, the beautiful Radegund (more on her later!), becomes a nun when Lothar has her brother murdered.

So, Theuderic's sitting on his new land, establishing his generic administrative control, when he has a realization. Maybe the cleverest realization ever, if you ask Gregory. It's quick, ruthless, and efficient.

He can double his land if he just kills his brother!

It's so simple. Why didn't anybody think of it before? (Note: They did, and Gregory had a good deal to say about it earlier. Less now, conveniently.)

All Theuderic has to do is lure his brother into his home. He has another secret scheme that he wants to discuss: Thuringia was only the tip of the iceberg; Lothar must come at once.

This is where it gets good: on the day that Lothar agreed to come to Theuderic's home, everything's ready. The courtyard has been exquisitely decorated, everyone is in their Sunday best, and a giant cloth surreptitiously stretches across the entire space to hide the dozens of heavily armed soldiers behind it who are waiting for a signal to jump out and stab the visitor repeatedly.

When Lothar enters, and Theuderic politely asks him to send his body guards away so that they might talk in secret.

"No," says Lothar, "I don't think I will."

Shit. Theuderic looks behind him, and notices that the cloth cutting off half of the room doesn't actually stretch from floor to ceiling. In fact, all the legs of all the soldiers are pretty clearly visible.

"So."

"So."

"How's Radegund? Is she liking the convent?"

"Oh, she loves it there. Can't get enough of the praying and the charity and the no men."

"That's really great." Think, Theuderic, think! You can't keep him here forever; you don't even have a meal planned. "And it sure was nice of mom to remind us to destroy the Burgundians, wasn't it?"

"Oh, yes, very nice. Too bad about our brother Chlodomer dying and all, but it turned out well enough."

"Yes, very well. Anyway, do you remember that secret plan I mentioned? Well, you see, it's... it's this tray! It's made of silver. It's really great for... you know. Food."

"Oh, Theuderic! It's lovely. I'll cherish it for as long as I live."

"Yes... well, that's everything! Why don't you and your men just head back."

Lothar finally leaves, and Theuderic collapses into his chair, surrounded by his family. "What a waste of a day. We still only have the people we started out with, and I gave away our best serving dish for no reason. One of my sons - yes, Theudebert, you'll do - go get that tray back. I'm not going to dole out precious dishes as pretend payment for favors I don't owe.* Ask nicely!"

Later that night, tray safely tucked in the arms of the sleeping king, the house is at rest.

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* I kind of assume that that's what's up here. I haven't read my Mauss or studied gift economy especially extensively, but I am going to guess that there's a reason that this plays out the way it does.