The Battle of Cedynia (24 June 972) – medieval history with a communist twist

dni_cedyni_cpzh_2015_11-1030x687
Living History-buffs at the Cedynia Days festival. Pic: Dni Cedyni 2015

Some 50 miles east of Berlin lies the Polish town of Cedynia. Since the 1960s, on every 24th of June it is the scene of a festival commemorating the Battle of Cedynia, which took place there in 972 CE. Reenactment aficionados replay the battle in mediaeval costumes, there are open air concerts, and blacksmiths and potters display their trades.

The battle itself, then, took place over 1000 years ago, between the forces of German count Odo I and Polish warlord Mieszko. Odo was as a vassal of German emperor Otto I. His attack on Mieszko’s lands was against the wishes of the Kaiser, as Mieszko himself, the first documented ruler of Greater Poland, also paid tribute to the empire. Odo was unable to beat his Polish opponent and the battle ended in a truce. A year later, Otto, the old emperor, would lay down a judgement settling the matter, but the conflict was only fully resolved when Mieszko married a German noblewoman some seven years later.

But why does this ancient and forgotten battle (at least until after World War Two) get so much attention now? The reason is Cedynia’s situation on the Oder river, part of the famous Oder-Neisse line.

IMG_1707
The bridge on the Oder river at Cedynia. This frontier crossing was reopened as late as 1993. Pic: Robin Oomkes

When Stalin demanded that Poland should be shifted westwards at the end of World War Two, this happened at the expense of German territories like the easternmost part of the Prussian province of Brandenburg. The town of Cedynia (which was called Zehden until 1945) became Poland’s most westerly city. All German-speaking citizens were deported from the area, and the town became the new home of refugees that Stalin had chased from the east of pre-war Poland.

Map_of_Poland_(1945)
The Polish shift from East to West. The red line on the left is the Oder-Neisse line.

The selection of the Oder-Neisse line as the new Polish-German frontier had a long diplomatic aftermath. The GDR accepted the new border as soon as 1950, but the Federal Republic (or West Germany) didn’t formally agree until 1970. The German reunification treaty of 1990 again acknowledged the border specifically, hoping to assuage Polish fears of German expansionism. So, in the 1950s and 60s, it is understandable that Poland’s communist regime was not quite certain of the status quo of its new western frontier. Politicians knew perfectly well that the area had been German for a long time, and the state did its best to justify its claims on the territory. Clearly they weren’t fully convinced that the atrocities inflicted upon Poland by the Nazis during the war were justification enough for some compensatory annexation.

IMG_1698
1972’s Polish eagle monument, on a hilltop half way between Cedynia and the Oder river. Pic: Robin Oomkes

So, Polish politicians started looking for any historical sources that could justify their


Continue reading

A year in the saddle – Emperor Henry II’s 1017 itinerary

How utterly exhaustive a mediaeval itinerant king’s life must have been (and how blessed we motoring tourists are today) is shown by this map of the travels that Emperor Henry II undertook throughout his territory in 1017 alone.

Map of Henry II's 1017 itinerary
Emperor Henry II’s 1017 itinerary. From: Ehlers, C. (ed.), Mitteralterliche Königspfalzen (Göttingen 2002).

Kings and emperors travelled their realms from palace to palace until the late Middle Ages, accompanied by the whole court. They did this to confirm their authority over the local rulers governing in their names, to rule as judges, show themselves to the people and gain legitimacy, to meet the lords of the realm, often to wage war but also simply because agriculture in those days did not produce enough surplus to feed a large and demanding court in one place for too long.

As we can see, Henry started his itinerary in the mountainous Harz region in middle Germany. We have more detailed information on some parts of his trip than for others as much of the data comes from the chronicle of Thietmar, the Abbot of Merseburg, who probably recorded the nights spent in his own vicinity (eastern Saxony and the Harz) more precisely than those in other parts of Germany. Moving away from the Harz area, Henry travelled southwest to Ingelheim and Mainz, where he celebrated Easter. After that, the Emperor sailed down the river Rhine and visited an important meeting with the grandees of the realm. He subsequently made his way East, back to the Harz mountains, following the ancient royal road known as the Westphalia Hellweg. On the way, Henry attended Pentecost celebrations at the Werden monastery near Essen.

Emperor Henry II entering a church, accompanied by two bishops. Staatsbibliothek Bamberg, Msc. Lit. 53, fol. 2v
Emperor Henry II entering a church, accompanied by two bishops. Staatsbibliothek Bamberg, Msc. Lit. 53, fol. 2v

The large distances the Emperor travelled towards Ingelheim (in Spring) and Frankfurt (in December) show that royal attendance to important feasts like Easter and Christmas was planned long in advance. Towns and abbeys vied with each other to have the monarch spend important religious festivals at their location.

Emperor Henry spent the summer, as was often the case, waging war. In the year 1017 he campaigned against Poland – unsuccessfully. The campaign is indicated on the map in dotted lines – but doesn’t show the full extent of the army’s eastwards travels.

Returning from Poland, the Emperor again visited Saxony and the Harz, and then started on a southwestern tack towards Frankfurt for Christmas, with a wide diversion via Bamberg and Würzburg. All together, Henry and his court would have travelled a minimum of 2600 km in this year. Estimating daily progress at 25 km, this means over a hundred days spent in the saddle.

Despite the fact that historians have been able to reconstruct royal itineraries for most individual years of the early German imperial era (usually based on royal charters from archives, which were always signed with a date and place), it is often not quite clear why the court chose a specific itinerary and places of lodging. Possibly palaces and abbeys were selected based on available dwellings, a good relationship with a host, such as an abbot, available food stores, or just the personal preference of the Emperor. An important factor was also whether the  palace was part of the royal domain, thus belonging to the King himself, or was the property of some other authority. The importance and prestige of a palace could be judged by the number of visits paid by the monarch over the years, and, as we’ve seen, the religious festivals attended there.

Just as we do not really know why the court selected certain routes of travel, we are not sure why certain parts of the realm were skipped, sometimes for years on end. Were they too insecure for royal travel? Or was the King so sure of his authority in those places that he could afford to leave them unvisited?

You may have noted that I use “King” and “Emperor” intermittently here. “King” would be proper, as the perambulating mode of government was part and parcel of being German King, whether the King would eventually be crowned Emperor or not. The palaces of the royal domain also fell to the King upon his election. But obviously “Imperial” has a ring of its own (explaining why German Kings went to such great lengths to get the Pope to crown them as Emperors), and many stopping places on the Emperor’s itinerary started calling themselves “Imperial Palaces” from an early date. Certainly repeat visits by Emperors lent a special appeal to such palace town. This, for example, explains why Henry III’s palace at Goslar, restored at the height of the 19th century mediaeval revival, is referred to as the “Kaiserpfalz” (imperial palace), not “Köningspfalz” (royal palace).

What fascinates me about itinerant Kingship is how any man could be capable of sustaining this exhausting way of life, repeating this great journey throughout a very large empire year upon year, continuing to reconfirm their authority to their imperial grandees, while maintaining focus on governing the country as a whole.  Of course, the fame and respect that the office of King or Emperor commanded would have helped, as would the fact that royal authority was very much based on ancient magical and sacred traditions, and most people were honoured by a royal visit.

Just by following mediaeval Kings along their itinerary for a bit, driving along provincial roads from town to town, you start realising the mind-boggling tenacity these people must have had to up this rate of travel, on horse-back, in wind and weather. The modern traveller’s reward, as it may have been the ancient Emperor’s, is to discover yet another of Germany’s spots of beauty, whether it’s an ancient cathedral, a monastery or a royal palace, hidden in provincial towns that are insignificant today, but whose treasures bear witness to a culturally rich and diverse past.