From irony to absurdity, these tales prove fate has a dark sense of humour.
1. Emperor Julian the Apostate (363 AD) – Death by His Own Deflected Sword
The Story:
During the Battle of Samarra against the Persian Empire, the Roman Emperor Julian, known for rejecting Christianity, charged into combat without armour, allegedly declaring, “The purple makes a better shroud!” In the fray, he hurled his sword at a fleeing foe, only for it to ricochet off a shield and pierce his own torso. Some historians argue a Persian spear caused the fatal wound, but the irony of a battle-hardened ruler felled by his own blade persists.
Irony Rating: ⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️
Lesson Learned: Never underestimate Newton’s third law.
2. King Alexander of Greece (1920) – A Monkey Bite, a Sword, and a Fatal Infection
The Story:
King Alexander’s beloved German Shepherd was attacked by his pet Barbary macaque. Drawing his ceremonial sword to intervene, the enraged monkey bit his hand. The king dismissed the wound, but sepsis set in. Three weeks later, he died aged 27, indirectly felled by a blade intended to save his dog. His death triggered political chaos, leading to Greece’s disastrous war with Turkey.
Bizarre Twist: A primate outsmarted a monarch.
Historical Impact: Greece lost 250,000 soldiers in the Greco-Turkish War.
3. Sir Arthur Aston (1649) – Beaten to Death with His Own Wooden Leg
The Story:
A Royalist commander in the English Civil War, Aston lost his leg to a cannonball in 1645, replacing it with a wooden prosthetic. When Cromwell’s troops stormed Drogheda, soldiers, convinced he’d hidden gold in the leg, tore it off and bludgeoned him to death. His actual leg, preserved in alcohol, was later found… but no treasure.
Cruel Irony: Survived cannon fire, died by splinters.
Posthumous Humiliation: His preserved leg became a macabre trophy.
4. King Anawrahta of Burma (1077) – Trampled by a Sword-Wielding Elephant
The Story:
The founder of the Pagan Empire, Anawrahta was a fearsome warrior who unified Burma. His downfall? A palace elephant spooked by a loose ceremonial sword. The panicked beast stampeded, trampling the king and accidentally stabbing him with the blade it carried. A poetic end for a ruler who revered elephants as symbols of power.
Cultural Context: Burmese kings considered elephants semi-divine.
Legacy: His death sparked a succession crisis, weakening the empire.
5. Richard of Conisburgh (1415) – The Botched Beheading
The Story:
The treasonous Earl of Cambridge plotted to overthrow Henry V. Captured, he faced execution, but the axe was mysteriously “misplaced.” A rusty sword served as a substitute. The executioner hacked at his neck five times before succeeding, turning a solemn event into a grim farce.
Aftermath: His son, Richard Plantagenet, later fuelled the Wars of the Roses.
Public Reaction: Chroniclers noted the crowd’s “mirth and horror.”
6. The Italian Duel of 1547 – Tripped by His Own Blade
The Story:
Florentine nobleman Francesco Berni, a known duel cheat, faced rival Giovanni Bandini. Mid-fight, Berni dropped his sword, stumbled over it, and impaled himself on the upturned blade. Bandini was declared victor without striking a blow. Rumours swirled that Berni’s “accident” was divine punishment for rigging past duels.
Duel Etiquette: Cheating included poisoned blades or hidden armour.
Poetic Justice: A self-inflicted coup de grâce.
7. Sir Thomas Urquhart (1660) – Death by Excessive Glee
The Story:
The eccentric Scottish polymath, a translator of Rabelais and veteran duelist, collapsed laughing upon hearing of Charles II’s Restoration. His biographer claimed he “expired in a fit of excessive laughter,” though historians suspect apoplexy. Either way, the man who survived countless sword fights met his end through sheer jubilation.
Legacy: His unfinished translation of Gargantua and Pantagruel was lost.
Epitaph: “He laughed his last.”
These stories, blending dark humour with historical folly, reveal that swords were as much agents of absurdity as instruments of valour. From self-deflecting emperors to leg-bludgeoned commanders, history reminds us that fortune favours neither the brave nor the foolish, just the catastrophically unlucky.
