#barlette

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Friday 13th; ahhh a time of spookiness, bad tidings, and  Jason Voorhees freezing your head in a tub of liquid nitrogen.

Orrrrrrrrrr, 500 years ago, it was a great time for slamming down your wine, pointing to the guy opposite you, and challenging the cowardly fucktard to a duel! ‘Cos, yeah, *grrrr* REASONS!

And that’s pretty much exactly what happened back in 1503 at a little place called Barletta.

Ahhh, peaceful and tranquil … clearly a place to sit, relax, and perhaps muse on the finer points in life.

Or, or … war … we can do war as well, that’s cool.

You see, Barletta, Italy, is right here, and thats right in the heart of “History on fucking steroids,” and you don’t get to be a sleepy little town on the Adriatic Sea without also having a long lineage of warfare and getting fucked over.

I’m talking Saracen attacks, Normans, Germans … you name it. Oh, and a little scrap call Cannae. Yeah, that battle.

Barletta predates even the fucking Romans, as the Phoenicians originally established it as a little trading post with the local tribes. During this trading, it dawned on them that the area was actually pretty freaking fertile and would make a perfect spot for grapes. So much so, that as time went by this area became known as “The Land of Wine,” (which, granted, is hardly imaginative, but what can you do?)

The whole “Roman thing” happened, and into the Middle Ages Barlette is doing just fine and dandy, and is still well known for its wine. After a brief  moment with visiting Normans and Lombards, it became an important staging area  for the Crusaders, Teutonic Knights, Templars, as well as the Knights of St.John. I mean, seriously, HISTORY, right here.

But then we come to the beginning of the 16th Century, and – as befitting these times – things were pretty fucking complicated when it came to “borders.” The French and the Spanish were at war over possession of Southern Italy. Yeah, I know, it doesn’t actually belong to either of them, and yet they’re fighting over it.

Now I won’t get too deep into the whole “Italian Wars” of 1494 to 1559, because – quite frankly – they’re a bit of a cluster-fuck that involved everyone. No, seriously, EVERYONE: Italy, the Papal States, France, Spain, the Holy Roman Empire, England, Scotland, and even the bloody Ottomans. It was a dynastic dispute – of course! – that kind of got a little out of control, and the whole affair rapidly escalated into a land grab and alliances, counter-alliances, betrayals, Facebook blockages, thrown drinks, name calling, tantrums, you name it. It was messy.

In July of 1499 the French are marching into Italy with 27,000 mace-wielding, face-pulverizing men, to lay claim to the Duchy of Milan, because it belonged to a mate down at the pub, and they’d had a bet over a game of pool, and his mate had gotten drunk, and … well … long story short, the pink slip for Milan now belonged to Louis XII, and that’s all there is to it, really.

And 27,000 men and a whole bunch of artillery was actually more than enough to get the job done, because by September of that year the entire Duchy is his. France is now in Italy, HUZZAH!

Except Louis XII came under pressure from his ally - the Florentine’s - to help conquer Pisa, “you know, while you’re here and all,” and – because they were best buds – he agreed. But while the French guns knocked the fucking Pisa walls FLAT in just a day, the actual inhabitants were somewhat different, and the Pisa defenders kicked in the teeth of the French attackers.

The French army and their Florentine allies were forced to scamper north to lick their wounds.

Which is when old Louis did something quite odd: he reached out for help from King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella of Spain. Why “odd?” Well, he actually didn’t need the help on the Italian Peninsular, he really didn’t, but here he was inviting the Spanish to come and join him; he was inviting them to share up Italy, which – ultimately – would have Spain meddling in future affairs.

By 1502, there’s a combined French and Spanish force tea-bagging the Kingdom of Naples, and Louis XII appointed Louis d'Armagnac, Duke of Nemours as viceroy. But there was a problem with d'Armagnac: he was a bit of a tool.

d'Armagnac proceeded to expand the French share of the kingdom, purely at the expense of the Spanish, and the Spanish – surprise, surprise – were none too happy about it. In fact, they were so irked by d'Armagnac’s actions, that they declared war on France.

See what I mean about “messy?”

In 1503, the two sides went at each other on Italian soil, and Louis was getting the worst of it, in fact eventually he’d be forced to withdraw from Naples altogether and leave it under Spanish control. But at the beginning of all of this, the French made an incursion up to Canosa di Puglia, where they had a small fight with Spanish troops, and the Spanish pretty much beat them senseless, capturing a handsome collection of French prisoners in the process. These they took back to Barletta.

Among the French was a nobleman called Charles de Torgues, also known as Monsieur Guy de la Motte, and la Motte didn’t know when to keep his fucking mouth shut.

I mean, keep in mind here that la Motte is a prisoner; la Motte just had his fight, and la Motte lost. So here he is, sitting at a Spanish dinner table, drinking the famous wine, and in a semi-drunken stupor he starts to call into question the manhood of the local Italians allied with the Spanish. There’s no record of what was said, so let’s roll with “you’re a bunch of nancey poofters without the capability to hold onto you own lands. In a fight between you and Justin Beiber, Beiber would beat you fucking senseless. Oh, and Mussolini hasn’t been born yet, but he’s going to be a right twat.”

And these words kinda got the Italians all riled up. And when I say “Italians,” I am – of course – referencing Italian knights led by none other than Ettore Fieramosca, an Italian condottiero and all round fucking badass.

Ettore invited the French to put up, or shut up. A duel was afoot!

The French got to pick the terms: 13 French knights would fight 13 Italian knights, and they picked “thirteen,” because they knew that the Italians were all kinds of superstitious about that number and they figured that they’d refuse the challenge.

They were wrong.

The winner would get the arms, armor, and horses from the losing side – which back then was absolutely no small amount of change – PLUS 100 ducats per knight.

Ettore agreed, immediately became the captain of his team, and picked out his best guys, who then promptly kicked the living crap out of the entire French team in a all-out mounted tourney; mount up, grab a lance, and charge the other side. Knocked off your horse? Pick yourself up, grab an axe, and cave in someone's skull!

The French lost.

And I can only assume that the entire French side – as they were handing over money, horses, and their own fucking armor, were glaring at la Motte with a total “you fuckwad!” expression.

The winning Italian knights:

Francesco "Knuckles" Salamone

Marco "Ball-Buster" Corollario

Riccio da Parma Claude "Face-Plant"

Guglielmo "Knuckle Sandwich" Albimonte

Mariano "The Headbutter" Abignente

Giovanni "Nuts of Steel" Capoccio

Giovanni "The Hammer" Brancaleone

Ludovico Aminale da Terni "Gunshow"

Ettore "A Bastard Sword in Each Hand" Giovenale

Fanfulla da Lodi "Reaperman"

Romanello "This is a Vorpal Sword" da Forlì

Miale da Troia "A-Bomb"

 More Romps Through History:

http://alyssafaden.tumblr.com/archive

Sources:

http://www.madeinsouthitalytoday.com/barletta.php

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barletta

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Italian_Wars#The_Second_Italian_War_or_King_Louis_XII.27s_War_.281499-1504.29

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Challenge_of_Barletta

http://www.disfidadibarletta.net/english/

http://sussle.org/t/Challenge_of_Barletta

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