Arthur's Tale

Item: THE THIRD GENERATION

Perhaps I ought to mention here that during 1224 I became a grandparent! My daughter Alix gave birth to a son, Louis, and daughter Yolande had a little girl, Ide. The boy Louis of course was heir to the duchy of Bourbon, but he will not rule in Brittany, but I prayed for a long and happy life for each of the little children.

Item: PENTHIEVRE

In 1225 my old vassal and sometime friend, Alain, Count of Penthievre died. He was succeeded by his son Ademar. I sent the usual message of condolence at the time and summoned Ademar to Nantes for him to do homage to me for his new county of Penthievre. He had little choice but to comply, but it was not a fruitful meeting. He clearly resented his position; I merely reminded him that he enjoyed it of my good grace and that if he would rather not have it then there were plenty of others who would be only too willing to become Count of Penthievre. Nonetheless, I was on my guard.

Things were quiet for about a year, but then, not quite out of the blue, word reached me (I was at Rennes I seem to think) that Ademar had rebelled and declared war. I had the Nantes regiment mobilised and despatched forthwith to Penthievre, where on 3 September 1226 Ademar’s forces were soundly defeated, and his castle laid under siege. Everything was under control and I was well on the way to regaining control of the rebel county, when one day in early October, heralds came galloping into camp with news that I had feared – King Phillippe in person had arrived at the head of an army and was to assume control of the siege. I cursed my luck yet again at the fickleness of kings, yet there was naught I could do, and when later on in that same month the castle fell, the county was incorporated into the kingdom of France directly instead of being returned to my rightful control. How I hated King Phillippe.

Peculiarly, this turn of events threw Ademar and me together, and to my surprise, he was willing to come to court at Nantes, bringing with him a host of his own former courtiers which boosted my own flagging court and introduced some much needed new blood and skills. Although Ademar had hardly distinguished himself in his conduct of the rebellion, he was still a better prospect as marshal than anyone else so I duly invested him into that auspicious role. One of his courtiers was named Ingjerd of Norway, and she I appointed as my new steward, for she had promising administrative skills from what I had been told.

Item: LIMOUSIN

During the Penthievre fiasco, a glimmer of hope emerged, for my chancellery unearthed an old claim of the dukes of Brittany to the County of Limousin. I stored this away the time not being right to press this claim against a fellow vassal of King Phillippe’s (although after his actions in Penthievre I felt sorely tempted).

Item: THE GOOD LORD

By January 1227 I was finding it hard to cope with the administration of my extended demesne. I had never been the most gifted of administrators, and with my illness I found it hard to get excited about the routine necessary to ensure the smooth running of my demesne. Heilwiva as steward did all the hard work, and I know my lack of ability and interest used to frustrate her no end. Nevertheless, I did promise to try and multitask more.

I visited Rennes in March 1227, including a trip to the coast at Dinard. Here I was shocked at the poverty and need that I found. When I enquired what the cause was, I was informed bluntly that this is how the poor folk lived most of the time, although matters were made worse due to a particularly bad year’s fishing. Catches were down and all those dependent upon fishing for their livelihood were suffering as a consequence. I made a modest donation of eight and a half pieces of gold for poor relief, whereupon the loyalty of the peasantry rose somewhat.

Speaking of loyalty, that of my vassals seemed a bit unsure at this time, so I sent gifts to both Mathieu Count of Tir Eoghain and Edouard de Donges, Count of Lusignan (his father Louis having died recently).

Did my generosity know no bounds!? In August I decided to hold a great royal feast within Tir Connail to show my good lordship and devotion to my subjects, most of whom were seeing me for the first time (and probably the last – what a god-forsaken hole Tir Connail is! Cold, windy, rainy even in high summer)

Meanwhile I had agreed to King Ridwan’s suggestion of a white peace and thus the long term future of Lusignan seemed secure – or so I thought.


Item: TWO MILITARY ADVENTURES

I must have overplayed the generous lord, for the next thing I knew, Mathieu Count of Tir Eoghain had declared war on the King of Scots and he invited me as his lord and master to join in the fighting. Naturally I felt honour bound to protect my aggressive little vassal.

On the very same day, news reached me at Nantes that Edouard de Donges, Count of Lusignan had risen in arms against me, his lawful overlord. The men of the faithful Nantes regiment were once again arraigned and despatched south to Lusignan. There they quickly won three skirmishes (I shan’t dignify them with the name battle) against the rebel scum, and Edouard’s puny castle was soon under close siege by my men. I knew it was a race against time, for not only had my overlord, the rapacious King Phillippe joined in the war against Lusignan, but his ally, the King of Germany had also joined in and, yes, you guessed it, just as the castle was about to fall back into my hands, Heinrich Hohenstaufen King of Germany arrives on the scene, assumes command and with it control of the castle and county as it fell. It may well have been a breach of protocol, but marshal Ademar snubbed a summons from King Heinrich for a celebratory feast, and I for one did not blame him one iota.

Meanwhile, I had sent an invasion force into the Scottish lowlands, and in September in the year of grace 1229, they captured Edinburgh castle, that mighty fort set atop its granite hill. Quite how they achieved this I know not to this day (some said collusion from within, others said they used secret passages hewn out of the giant stone – it matters not, the castle fell, that was all that mattered). This was to be the high-spot of the Scottish war, for, disillusioned with Mathieu’s lack of interest in hostilities he had started, and having no inclination or right to a Scottish title, I sued for peace with king Roland, and in exchange for 500 pieces of gold, my army returned home to regain its strength.

Item: YORKSHIRE

But I am getting ahead of myself. On the last day of April 1229 a solitary horseman came clattering over the drawbridge and into the inner bailey at Nantes. From an upper window I watched the commotion he caused as he dismounted and flung the reins of his exhausted horse to one of the grooms. He was dishevelled and stained from what appeared to have been a long and hard journey. The accumulated dust and dirt from his ride obscured any trace of livery or badges denoting in whose service he rode. Heilwiva, as steward, had emerged to take charge of the situation, and perhaps some hint of the importance of the message he bore could be gauged by the inaudible gasp that had surely escaped her lips judging by the way in which she threw both hands to her face with alarm.

I watched with mounting curiosity as Heilwiva led the stranger across the bailey towards the external stairs that gave access to the keep at first storey level. Just as they passed out of my sight a small boy from the stables came hurtling around the corner and skidded to a halt by my side.

“Your Grace” he said “you must come quickly. That man has some urgent news for you.”

I patted the lad on the head and made my way towards the narrow stairs, set into the thickness of the wall that led down towards where I assumed Heilwiva had taken our guest. I negotiated two flights of stairs and, pushing aside the velvet curtain that covered the access into the great chamber that occupied the entire second floor of the keep, I entered the room to find the messenger standing with Heilwiva by the fireplace. He had a leather tankard grasped firmly in his right hand, from which he had just drunk deeply judging by the fresh liquid stains upon his jerkin. Heilwiva lifted her face towards me as I approached. Could I detect anything in her dark brown eyes? Suddenly the messenger was aware of my presence. He started and bent down low on one knee as a mark of respect.

“Your Grace” he uttered “My name is Ranulf; Ranulf of Tadcastre. I am a member of his Grace the Earl of York’s household.”

So, a messenger from my father, the old rascal. What could he possibly want after all these years? I motioned the man to his feet.

“Then you work for Earl Geoffrey, my esteemed father, do you?” said I.

“Yes, sire. Er, that is to say I did.”

And here he paused as, I suppose, a look of realisation dawned on my face.

“Sire, his Grace Earl Geoffrey is dead. You are now Earl of York, and I am your humble servant.” He gave a deep bow here in obeisance.

I turned away and padded over to the solitary narrow window and gazed aimlessly through the thick glass. What did I feel? Although I had not seen my father for many years, he was still my flesh and blood, my progenitor, and through his indiscretions the reason why I was Duke of Brittany and not he. If I felt anything it was a pang of guilt – I literally did not know the man, so how could I grieve for him. Nevertheless I crossed myself and snapped my thoughts back to the present.

“Ranulf, my thanks for your sad tidings and for the obvious effort you have expended in bringing them to me so speedily. Heilwiva, have a bed prepared for our guest. Ranulf, you will of course stay with us for a while to rest whilst I prepare a message for my people in York.” I said (or something similar).

And what did I know of my new lands in far away Yorkshire? Very little at the time if the truth be told. I knew it lay in the north of England, a couple of days hard riding from London; that it was the kingdom’s largest county, and that its chief town of York was second only in importance to London itself. Ranulf filled in a few details for me. Its income was on a par with Nantes or Rennes. Its inhabitants were fiercely proud and plain-speaking folk. Its other chief town was Kingston – the county’s principal port and chief town in the East Riding (the county was divided into three sub-divisions called Ridings to ease the administrative burden. Each of these was as large as many counties themselves). Within the West Riding were important settlements at Wakefield, Doncastre, and Sceaf-feld, all three of which had modest fortifications according to Ranulf. And in case you are wondering where Tadcastre is, the town from which Ranulf came, apparently it is but a small place on the road between York and Leodis, another of the West Riding’s lesser settlements. The final third of the county, the North Riding, was the largest by area, but is far more sparsely populated. There are no significant towns of note, but there are several monastic settlements of growing fame and fortune.

My lady, here Arthur is referring to the great Cistercian foundations at Fountains, Rievaulx, Jervaulx and Byland as well as other smaller houses of other Orders at places like Whitby, Thornton, Easby and countless other sites. My own humble house of Roche is somewhat unusual, being in the far south of the county, in the West Riding. Like all Cistercian houses it is set away from habitation; in our case in a wild and wooded valley, under a limestone cliff, the nearest settlements of note being the aforementioned Doncastre and Sceaf-feld. Boniface, prior.

In due course I came to know and love this marvellous county for myself, but that is for another day.

Another update, but a bit of a filler-in on a number of events that happened shortly after Arthur's inheritance, which brought some much-needed freshening up of his court as you will see. It all seems a bit bitty somehow, but you will be able to adjudge from it the events the game threw at me I hope. The next update, which I'm just finishing is a slight departure, but will be one of my better ones I think. Hope to post it in a few days time.

Item: MOTHER

One happy consequence of my inheritance was the reappearance of my mother at court. Although like the rest of us she was ageing, she still retained her earlier beauty, now displayed in a dignified, matronly manner. She brought with her a rather talented family of Scandinavian descent (Yorkshire had been settled by Danes and Norse long before the Conquest). The family originally came from Heligoland, and included four brothers. Gauchier, the eldest, I appointed as my marshal [5]. Torfinn had good diplomatic skills so I appointed him as chancellor, in Ingjerd’s place, partly to teach her a lesson for her insolence, but mainly because of his seemingly more able diplomatic ability [11]. The third brother, Hakon, had had an ecclesiastical education and was admirably suited to the role of my personal chaplain. I had not had anyone suitable for this position for many a long year and I gave thanks to God for sending me a holy man at last. The fourth brother, Skofte, was less gifted and he became just another hanger-on at my growing court.

Item: FAMILY DEVELOPMENTS

In September 1229 my daughter Ide completed her formal court education and was pronounced a flamboyant schemer. Not long afterwards, Heilwiva spoke to me about our daughter’s growing interest in wild parties and, what Heilwiva thought, inappropriate behaviour for a young lady. At the time I ignored it, bit looking back I cannot help but wonder how much my liberal views were responsible for the selfish streak that Ide started to display around this time.

As Ide’s character developed I started to think more and more about finding her a suitable husband, He would have to be firm and steadfast, of good character and background, someone who could hopefully influence my somewhat wayward teenage daughter. A couple of polite enquiries came in, but these came to naught. I cannot now recall whose actual idea it was, but between Heilwiva and myself, Father Hakon emerged as a likely candidate. True, he was a lot older than Ide, but he had spent most of his life in the world, only latterly having been ordained priest and assuming his important role as my personal chaplain. I had come to know him well in the last year or so and the more I thought about it, the more the idea of him as my son-in-law appealed. There were plenty of married priests, and frankly, he was never going to advance to high ecclesiastical office (where marriage might be frowned upon) so a marriage would hardly blight his career (on the contrary as my son-in-law it would enhance it.

And so Hakon and Ide were duly married on 5 August 1230 in the church of St Cyr in Nantes.

Heilwiva, meanwhile, had been taken ill. No-one knew for sure what was wrong with her – she still suffered from her supposed trauma at the hands of Father Gilles (god rest his soul), so it was difficult to identify genuine illness from her normal demeanour. However, over the months a discernible change came over her and it was apparent to all that she was suffering from some unidentified malaise.

Item: A NEW POPE

Pope Gregory had reigned for exactly 10 years when news of his sudden death reached Nantes. By the time the news reached us, the cardinals had already met and elected Konstancia, Bishop of Orava to be Pope. He took the regnal name Celestine.

Item: DEMESNE MANAGEMENT

Marshal Gauchier had settled into his new role well. He embarked upon a full review of my military establishment and training, and soon recommended that I construct some training grounds in Vannes to match the similar establishments in Nantes and Rennes. And speaking of Rennes, I decided to accede to repeated pressure from the moneylenders to allow them to operate legitimately. And so, despite the hit to my piety, I agree to legitimise their activity within Rennes – it would after all increase my income somewhat.

The dukes of Brittany had ruled their lands by traditional custom for as long as anyone could remember. I think that it was during my conversations with Gauchier about the state of my military, that the lack of mounted knights was first raised. Only Nantes of all my counties furnished me with these shock troops at the apex of the modern military machine. More and more realms were adopting feudalism, and thus, after discussing my intentions with my council, on 26 June 1231, by ducal decree, the lands of the dukedom of Brittany became subject to a new feudal contract. Amongst other things this would lead to the creation of a larger knightly class to serve in my armies and if my vassals were uneasy at this change to long-established tradition, I was sure that they would soon get over it. On the same day, by a separate decree, I established monastic supremacy as the governing law of Holy Mother Church throughout my lands.

Item: ON THE DEATH OF KINGS

My uncle Richard had been King of England since my grandfather’s death way back in 1192. Along with King Philippe, he had bestridden western Europe like a pair of colossi. Like his predecessor, Richard was a strong king. He had consolidated his position within England, pursued a policy of peace and alliance with France, and extended English rule in Ireland. After a long reign of nearly 38 years, King Richard passed away in 1230. He was succeeded as King of England by his eldest son, my cousin, Bertrand.

What they had done together in life, so it seemed they would do in death, for early in the next year, 1231, came the sad news of the death of King Philippe. He had reigned for even longer than Richard, and had throughout been a good lord to me if overly acquisitive and interventionist when it came to assisting his vassals in their military adventures. His successor and my new liege lord was his son Robert. I knew of him, but had never met him, and nor was I to do so, for barely 12 months into his reign, King Robert died suddenly aged just 44 – two years younger than I was at the time. Rumour had it that he suffered from an intestinal worm. My new liege was Robert’s son, Bernard, he who still reigns over us God be praised.

Lady, as you are no doubt aware, King Bernard was to be Arthur’s last overlord, for he reigned still at the time of Arthur’s death. Boniface, prior.

One aside, shortly before his death, I got wind of a plot against King Robert. I sent an urgent warning to him, receiving but little thanks in return, although I believe my standing in his eyes rose somewhat (much good it did me when he died so soon thereafter).

Item: THE HUMBLE SCRIBE

My lady Rosamunde, you may be wondering how it was that I, a young monk, barely out of his novitiate, became privy to these great deeds of Arthur. Well, it seems that after his inheritance as Earl of York, Arthur started to spend more and more time each year in his new county, and, as we have seen, he himself said how much he came to know and love it. On one occasion, he was travelling from Doncastre to Sceaf-feld when the weather turned and Arthur and his party got lost. As the storm intensified, he found himself, through God’s infinite providence, led towards the Cistercian monastery at Roche. Here he found shelter and a Christian welcome in accordance with the noble traditions of our great Order. Arthur was, of course, a highly honoured guest – never before had the abbey entertained one of such high status. Abbot Walter took personal charge of the situation, and he and Arthur took an instant liking to one another. So much so that Arthur paid a second visit, voluntarily this time, on his return journey from Sceaf-feld. This was the start of a friendship that was to last for the rest of their lives and Arthur paid the abbey many visits over the years.

Towards the end of his life, Arthur, perhaps sensing that the end was drawing nigh, paid one of his final visits to Roche and to his old friend, Abbot Walter. Both were now old men, but were easy and relaxed in each other’s company, and despite the passing years, their friendship was as strong as ever. On the occasion of this particular visit, I was but a young monk – no longer a novice, but lacking the experience of my older brethren. At the time I worked in the scriptorium under the watchful eye of Brother Simon, the abbey’s librarian. Roche had but a small library, but Simon was proud of the abbey’s few outside books and he ruled the scriptorium with a firm but kindly hand. As the work required a keen eye and a steady hand, most of the copyists were young monks like myself.

One winter’s morning, an especially cold one, Brother Librarian entered the scriptorium as usual, to check upon our work. He wandered over towards me and stood behind my shoulder, overlooking my work as a toiled way in fingerless mittens, my breath condensing in front of me as I concentrated on the job in hand.

“Brother, you have a rare talent” said Simon, “your work is truly beautiful.” (My heart swelled with pride at the time, may God forgive me).

“Tomorrow morning, after we have broken our fast, you are to come here and gather your writing materials in your scapular and meet me in the cloister.”

And he patted me on the shoulder and disappeared before I could think to ask any questions.

So the next morning I did as I was bidden, and after my usual winter fare of oats soaked in warm goat’s milk and a half flagon of small beer, I went to the scriptorium and collected my paraphernalia – my best quill and a spare, my pen-knife, my stone, ink and some fresh vellum – and hastened to the cloister to meet Brother Simon. He was there before me, sitting on a stone bench against the blind arcade that ran around all four sides of the ambulatory.

“Dominus tecum, Frater.” He said. “My son, I have chosen you for a signal service to this house and to the glory of God. The lord abbot has need of a scribe. He asked for my best, and here you are. His lordship has a guest, his friend and his Grace Arthur, the Duke of Brittany. He has expressed a desire to unburden himself of his life story and you, young Boniface, you are to be the unworthy vessel through whose imperfections this tale will be transcribed. God has smiled upon you and now calls you to deploy your formidable skills in His service. I shall accompany you to the abbot’s lodging on this occasion.”

And off we set, around the cloister, down the covered passageway that led towards the Chapter House, but then right through a doorway and out into the open. The abbot’s lodging lay ahead of us across the open grass. It was a modest building, two-storeyed, with a separate kitchen, used for entertaining when the abbot had guests (ordinarily he ate with the rest of the community in the great refectory for which food was prepared in the abbey’s main kitchen). A series of small guest houses lay next to the abbot’s lodging and it was here that Arthur and his retinue were lodged. We strode purposefully across the grass, our footsteps clearly visible on the frosty surface as we passed. Brother John, a rather severe looking man with a long nose and high forehead greeted us – he was the lord abbot’s steward.

“You’re late” he said, and turned on his heel without a further word. We followed in silence; Brother Simon looked at me, raised his eyebrows and winked at me with a generous smile.

Brother John led us up a narrow wooden stair and into the abbot’s parlour. This was a pleasant chamber built in the same style as the rest of the abbey. The walls were thick and had been recently lime-washed judging by the dominant aroma of the room. There were a couple of small round-arched windows (glazed) in each of the side walls, but these admitted precious little winter light, and the room’s main source of light was the many candles that flickered and guttered in the two giant candelabra that flanked the fireplace. The floor was wooden and strewn with fresh rushes (these were abundantly available from the local watercourses) and spread liberally with crushed dried herbs that gave the room a not unpleasant smell, and nearly masked the stench of the lime-wash from the walls. Against the eastern wall was a small altar on which stood a plain wooden cross with an unlit candle on either side. To the left and right of the altar were doorways, giving access I think to the lord abbot’s bedchamber. The fireplace occupied the western wall – this backed on to the kitchen block which shared the same chimney I presume. A roaring fire blazed in the fireplace in front of which was a low table on which the remnants of an early meal still lay – I could not help but notice the fine silver tableware, a far cry from the pottery bowls and wooden spoons the brethren used.

On each side of the table were two high-backed chairs with carved legs and arms occupied by two men. My lord abbot I knew of course – he sat on the left. The other occupant I knew not although naturally I assumed (correctly) that it was Duke Arthur. Both men were elderly (is not everyone when you are but 19 years of age!!?) – about 60 summers old I guessed. Abbot Walter I knew to be tall, well over 5 feet 6 inches in height – Arthur looked shorter, as far as I could tell from his recumbent position. Brother John led us towards the abbot and bowed slightly.

“My lord, Brother Librarian.” He said and backed away.

The abbot stood and smiled at us.

“Simon,” he said “Pax tecum.” And he stretched out his be-ringed hand for Simon to kiss.

They spoke for some time about Simon’s rheumatism, his bad back and many other minor ailments and the abbot made polite enquiries about the library and the latest books acquired. Eventually, Abbot Walter’s gaze settled on me as I stood respectfully a pace or two behind Simon. Following his gaze, Simon spoke.

“ My lord, this is Brother Boniface, a young monk of fine character and exceptional ability. You asked for my best scribe, and Boniface is he. The boy has a God-given eye and talent; he will not let you down.”

The abbot pursed his lips and nodded at the same time.

“Very well, Boniface. May God guide your mind and your pen in the task ahead” he said at length.

Arthur meanwhile sat motionless in his chair, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings.

“Boy,” he barked suddenly “come here and let me gat a good look at you.”

Nervously I approached and bowed low before him so that he must have been staring at my tonsure.

“Hmmm. You look very young for such an important task. Walter, are you sure about this?”

“Your Grace,” replied the abbot “if Simon says he is the best, then I trust his judgement fully. You need have no fears about the boy’s ability.”

Arthur grunted and coughed but seemed satisfied.

A servant had cleared the debris from the table, but this was far too low for me to write on easily so that abbot had a larger, taller table dragged across from under one of the windows, and a couple of high stools were brought for Brother Simon and me. And there we sat, four very different men, the duke, the abbot, the librarian and the humble scribe. I had already laid out my equipment before me on the table and now I offered a silent prayer, picked up my quill and dipped it nervously in the ink as Arthur began his tale. Boniface, prior.

Stnylan, Coz1, Thank you both for your usual kind words of encouragement. I do so love writing the details stuff so it's really great to know that it is appreciated by affionados such as you two. The Yorkshire inheritance was a boon as it enables me to write about the area I know best. Roche itself is only a few miles from where I live so I can write with total confidence of its layout. (It's well worth a visit). Next time I visit I may even see a "Boniface was here graffiti"! Many, many thanks for your continued interest in my story. There's plenty more to come.

Saumarez, Thanks and welcome aboard. I'm so pleased you enjoyed it.
Maccavelli, There is a son, Charles, and don't worry, he'll be featuring soon.

And so after our scribe's interlude, Arthur resumes his tale. A series of rather short items, but some key developments nonetheless.

Item: ALMS

A thieves guild had sprung up in Cornouaille and times were hard for the lower orders in that county. Portents were seen – a flaming star in the sky, visible even in daylight; shadowy figures seen moving amongst the many circles of standing stones; a calf born with two heads. The peasants were ever a superstitious lot, but the clergy had a harder time than usual trying to convince poor ignorant folk that everything would turn out all right in the end. One day in early 1233. Father Hakon told me that he had received a letter from a group of priests in Cornouaille seeking my involvement personally to help quieten the populace. It was some time since I had visited the county so I agreed readily enough and a couple of weeks later, having sent advance notice of the visitation, Father Hakon and I set off for Cornouaille. The highlight of the visit was a service in the church of Our Lady in Quimper during which I distributed alms to the poor and needy and everyone said how gracious and pious I was and what a good lord they all had. [piety +15]

Item: THE LADY INGJERD

On my return to Nantes, the court was buzzing with the latest mischief put about by Lady Ingjerd. With what appeared to me to be thinly veiled contempt for my wife, Heilwiva, Ingjerd made it known to anyone who would listen that in her opinion she would make a better steward than Heilwiva. Annoyed as I was, I took no action for truth to tell, she was a capable aldy with good stewardship ability and I suspected that I might have need of her services ‘ere long.

Item: HEILWIVA

My wife’s state of health showed no sign of improvement. The doctors prodded and poked her, bled her and leeched her, and examined her urine and faeces. It was this last that eventually unearthed her malady – Heilwiva was suffering from an intestinal worm.

Item: THE LORD CHARLES

My son and heir, Charles, meanwhile, completed his education in that hot summer of 1233. He had shown great application in his studies and showed firm promise for the future when he would reign as duke after my death. He was pronounced a most crafty merchant, having shown a particular aptitude for commerce and financial matters. [Charles = 3,10,5,9]

Item: TRAGEDY

On 5 August 1233, Aslak, the infant son of Hakon and Ide, my grandson, died. No-one knew the cause – he simply could not be woken one morning whatever the reason. God in His infinite wisdom had seen fit to call the child home almost before his life had begun. Ide in particular was beside herself with grief. Not long after, Eustachie de Nantes, my ex-spymaster also died aged around 41.

Item: CHARLES AGAIN

Charles was by now an eligible bachelor – the only son and heir of the duke of Brittany. I had spymaster Euphrosine’s agents send back reports from the best courts of Western Europe and indeed further afield. Chancellor Torfinn then sent diplomatic missions to the most promising opportunities, and then, having whittled the list down to three candidates, all within France, he took personal control of the final negotiations. One morning in March 1234, he came to see me with his final recommendation. The lady in question was not of noble blood, although she was very well connected. Her name was Catherine de Vendome and she was the daughter of the Duke of Anjou’s marshal. Apart from not inheriting her father’s martial ability (scarcely a problem for a lady) she had good all round abilities that one day might be passed on to her children, the future heirs to the duchy of Brittany. [Catherine = 2,10,13,4]

I summoned Charles at once and told him the good news! Torfinn had managed to procure a likeness of sorts, a hastily produced portrait painted on wooden boards. This showed her to be not unattractive with long flowing chestnut hair, brown eyes, a firm chin and a distinctive nose. Out of obedience and loyalty Charles accepted by choice of bride, and the two were married in the cathedral church of Rennes on 19 April 1234. My wedding gift was to create Charles Count of Laigin and Tir Connail – at last, someone trustworthy, reliable, competent and loyal to rule my Irish lands.

Item: ON TECHNOLOGY

It was around this time that the benefits of stripe ploughing spread to Rennes and Vannes. This would increase agricultural yields and lead to greater prosperity and possibly a larger and healthier population.

I also decided to construct a sawmill in Cornouaile, for this was a wooded county with an abundance of timber. Essentially this was a facility for the dressing of timber on a more organised scale. Felled trees were dragged to the mill where they were split and sawn before being transported by road and river for use as building material. The steady supply of seasoned timber thus made it quicker for all types of construction, from humble dwellings to the mightiest cathedral.

Item: THE PRICE OF JUSTICE

Criminal activity throughout Brittany was, I suppose, no better or worse than in any other realm. Some felons were caught and dealt with according to the severity of their crime – branding, amputation, execution were the normal sentences for the more serious felonies – but many more evaded capture and thus justice. The situation was particularly bad in Rennes and for some time, the minor nobility there had been agitating for a proper ducal Court of Justice, like the one in Nantes, which was too far away to try their cases. Lack of funds, or more accurately, the need to spend on other more important projects, had hitherto prevented me from addressing this need. Now, as claour for action increased once again, I decided to take action.

Using information from the old survey of rights and customs that I had had conducted some years previously, I decided to undertake a county-wide confiscation of obsolete fiefs (those where the direct male line had died out). This brought in sufficient gold to pay for a Court of Justice. The nobles complained and thought less of me I suspect, but they could not have it both ways.

Item: HEILWIVA, LATE DUCHESS OF BRITTANY

I had already lost one wife and now, on 7 September 1235, I lost Heilwiva. The illness she had bravely borne over the last few years of her life eventually proved too much, and her frail body yielded up its ghost on that late summer’s morning. Hers had perhaps been a rather sad life. Uprooted from her German home in her teens and married to a man she did not know in a far away land where language and customs were so different. But she had acquired status and lived in some style as my wife and duchess. She had given me a string of daughters and one precious son, Charles. I wonder now if it was the pressure to bear more sons that caused the decline in her health – from the early supposed trauma at the hands of Father Gilles (God rest his soul), through stress and depression, and onto her final illness, the worm that killed her aged just 39 years.

She was buried within Rennes cathedral in a splendid service of committal and thanksgiving during which I wept bitterly.

Can I just say to those of you who have taken an interest in this AAR that I do intend to continue it hopefully soon. I've got plenty of notes, but I have been so busy at work the last few months that I have simply not had time or inclination to write them up. o I have missed my writing though so all being well I will resume Arthur's Tale soon. Thank you all for your messages of support in the past and I hope when I do resume you will drop by occasionally.