A Very Bad Way to Die

I want to share with you a tale of foul play today.

In July of 1184, King Henry VI had a problem. Two powerful figures in his kingdom—the Holy Roman Empire—were virtually at one another’s throats.

Archbishop Conrad of Mainz was incredibly influential and powerful. Ludwig III was a wealthy noble who controlled Thuringia, right on the border of the territories under the Archbishop's influence. It was almost inevitable that disputes over land would eventually come to a head.

This was no good for Henry. Turmoil and instability made ruling virtually impossible, so Henry called a meeting of all the nobles—a hoftag—to Petersberg Citadel in Erfurt. All of these towns are in today’s modern Germany, for context.

The nobles all gathered in a large meeting hall within the citadel. It was a huge hall, but the hundred or so nobles, servants, and so forth just about filled it up.

Unsettlingly, the floors began to creak underneath their feet. These old wooden floors had not been designed to support the weight of so many people.

Suddenly, a groan and an unthinkably loud crash emanated from the Citadel, probably heard for miles around. The floor collapsed. Dozens of nobles fell alongside shattering pieces of wood, tables, and heavy furniture.

That’s pretty bad, right?

Well, it gets a whole lot worse.

These nobles didn’t just die a quick ignoble death by falling and expiring. The reason: beneath the floor was the Citadel’s latrine. And this was no Roman latrine, complete with running water or poop sticks.

This was a cesspit, pure and simple.

Accounts vary, but it’s probably fair to say that around 60 people died. It’s probably also fair to say that anyone who survived, carried a fair amount of PTSD with them for the rest of their days.

Some of the nobles (and their servants) certainly died from the gruesome fall itself. Those were probably the lucky ones.

Others simply drowned in the unspeakable filth, or suffocated from its inescapable fumes. I mentioned survivors, but we’re not really sure if anyone who fell down into the pit actually made it back out alive. However, King Henry and a few others were lucky enough to be near windows or alcoves, where they could crouch and survive while the world around them fell apart.

Imagine how much this would have undermined the process of reconciliation. “Hey nobles! Come hang out over at my new castle! I swear, it’s nothing like the other castle. It doesn’t even have a latrine!” For any dispute that come up over the next generation, I’m confident that this memory soiled and diminished any chance for success.

I’m wondering about the stories the surviving nobles and servants told. When they retold this story, how did those cautionary tales influence the way people perceived the Empire and the role of the King? Were castle floors built a little better from this point on? Let’s talk and think!