The Curse of Brothers - The history of Alfonso the Wise and his descendants

Tapscott said:

Changing language prononciation/spelling are we? Oh well, i dont read outloud so you have my support! Also... Update? If not today, tomorrow? Pretty please?

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Woho for support! Well, I've got a little bit of it written, mostly been reading up on Spanish geography and climate though since I realized I had virtually no idea of what winter is like in Spain (summer is rather easy though - hot and dry, or hot and a wee bit less dry) which is rather important as we are moving towards war both in the east and the west. Will try to get an update up tonight, but I have a doctor's appointment in a little while so no promises. However as I am nearly recovered by now (Yay me!) doctor's appointments generally gets me in a really good mood, and good mood oft means writing like crazy.

Sorry for the continued delay in updating, been suffering from severe writer's block. Gonna try and see if it'll loosen up tonight though, since I'm wide awake and quite bored anyway. Might choose to do another chapter before we visit Rodrigo though, if things doesn't go well. Hopefully I'll have something up tomorrow though.

On another note: As some of you might have noticed the second round of AARland Choice AwAARds have started, and if you've been reading my work here and like it, well why don't you just pop into this thread and vote for The Curse of Brothers.

Tapscott said:

Spanish geography and climate? In my eyes Summer = hot, and Winter = cold, the details are all sketchy though. You better be happy and healthy from that doc's appointment for updating this AAR! Im getting the shakes of withdrawal! Oh, and I also voted for you. Just thought you'd like to know.

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Well, to sum it up: I knew that there was a lot of mountains in Spain, but not really where they were and to which degree an army could pass through them with ease, which also goes together with the winter-thing regarding whether or not the passes snows shut. In climate the issue was more: I knew that it got cold, but not how cold nor how much snow that falls, which would effect winter-warfare quite a deal.

Haha, yeah, I'm both happy and healthy, still suffering writer's block though, thus the continued delay. Will try to work some this morning.

Thanks for the vote!

Saithis said:

Just caught up and glad to have. The last few chapters were great, and while you find Urraca difficult to write I enjoy hers the most. Perhaps because in many ways I see a lot of myself in her.

If the allegations against Alfonso are true, then he's cold and calculating, but quite deserving nonetheless. I wasn't entirely expecting the violence at the end, but I'm sure in the end there will be good reason for it.

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Oh, welcome back! We'll just have to wait and see about Alfonso, though cold and calculating I think I dare announce him already - to what degree and how it effects him and the people around him will be explored in the future. As for the violence, neither was I actually. The main reason was actually that I had to get rid of Ordoñez from Alfonso's immediate vicinity, and I had envisioned some kind of break between them for this (the divorce-thingy) but planned to drag it out a bit - however i realized shortly thereafter that dragging it out would muck up my continuity and thus something more drastic was required - enter Sisnando.

The count of Coimbra is growing on me though, at first I regarded him a bit too Deus-ex-Machina to be really satisfied, and will do for an interesting addition to the cast methinks (and I might actually use him for some much needed comical relief - all characters are rather somber and austere so far, surely due to the situation at hand but still, I feel the story could do with someone a bit more lively).

Machiavellian said:

Amazing AAR. I still have much to catch up on, but what I have read thus far is great.

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Thanks! Glad to have you aboard!

Tapscott said:

More! More! I demand more!

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My block do seem to be loosening somewhat today - after restarting with a new scenario for the third time (it has evolved from a Rodrigo-chapter, to a Véla-chapter and now to a Sancha-chapter. The others will of course be written in the near future, so I'm not skipping over anything) so hopefully there'll be a post tonight.

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By the way, if anyone knows any good books dealing with warfare - warfare as in the art of war - on the Iberian peninsula during the mid- to high medieval era, be a doll and write me a line. I have a pretty decent idea of the main differences from the continent (i. e smaller armies, heavy emphasis on mobility over defense) but I would love to know more about the equipment-of-choice and so forth. Books on the development of serfdom in the christian kingdoms would be appreciated too!

Just stopping by to say I'm going out of town for a few days - so still no update - but I'll try to have it done by Thursday when I get home.

Tapscott said:

Hmm, I believe that Thursday has come and gone several times now. Any possibility of an update?

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In a few days I would hope - I've been a bit put off writing of late, and have had a lot to do in school, but that is all finished now and I got writing again the day before yesterday

14 November, 1066
South of Soria, Reino de Castilla

The battlefield sparkled in unearthly brilliance. The light of the sun reflected in the steel of armour and arms turned the fighters into spectres drowned in angelic fire, a fire so fierce even the sky itself seemed pale in comparison. Rodrigo could feel the muscles of his mount playing between his knees, a good and familiar feeling. “A true man is never whole out of the saddle” his father had told him once, and Rodrigo had taken those words to heart. In his hand was Tizona, ever faithful Tizona, his true bride and lover and when the sun hit the blade the sword came alive like a lick of flame, nay, a lightningbolt bristling with fury. Wherever the warrior and his bride turned, their enemy shrank and withered away - it made Rodrigo feel live like never before, his blood boiling, heart pounding harder, faster, harder, harder, harder.

At his side rode the king, his king, clad in gold and red and shining brighter than all of the hosts combined. Sancho Fernandez was a mere mortal no longer, the king had taken his place amongst the heroes of days long gone and now his eyes, once considered unworldly strong, burned with the Glory of the Holy Ghost. Sancho held in his hand a great sword, not Valentía, the blade the king hade inherited from his father, with which Fernando had conquered his kingdom, for this was the Sword of God, granted unto the King of Castilla so he could vanquish the all who dared oppose him. For hours they fought together, hours and days and months yet Rodrigo never tired as he basked in the glow of his liege. Still their enemy never broke and even when the king and his host washed the fields with white flame and blood, they returned in even greater numbers, but even so Rodrigo never felt the cold bite of fear tear at his heart.

Their enemy was not more of the mortal world than Sancho was. Faceless grey men charged at them with spears tipped with black iron and when Tizona and Valentía sang together their flesh did not tear open, rather it melted like butter too long in the warmth of day. Rodrigo could not see the end of their host, for it stretched to the horizon and onwards – in his heart Rodrigo knew their lines did not end until the world did. From where could an enemy like this come if not the darkness beyond God's grace?

The fighting suddenly turned against them as the sky darkened with a sea of spears. Black iron bit into Rodrigo's horse and sent it and its rider to the ground. Rodrigo was at his feet again in an instant, sword-in-hand and ready to fight for his life, for he could feel their thirst and eyeless gazes. One enemy tried to skewer Rodrigo with his spear, but Tizona snapped it in two as if it was nothing more than a rotting twig of wood, and in a blink of an eye the blade burned the grey chest. The unflesh began to boil, giving of a thick grey smoke with the stench of burning hair. That enemy was not the last to charge at him though, and Rodrigo soon found himself parrying more than he struck. Where was Sancho? Where were the proud warriors of Christ?

“They've abandoned you.”

The voice startled Rodrigo, near causing him to stumble and fall but as he looked around to find its owner he saw only the silent grey. An enemy without mouths could not speak, could they? Rodrigo spied around him, trying to find anyone – anything – other than yet more enemies. The sky had turned grey.

“They've abandoned you, Rodrigo.”

“Where are you?” Rodrigo's cry sounded oddly muted, as if his scream came from under six feet of dirt.

“I am here, Rodrigo. I have always been here.”

Black iron tore into Rodrigo's thigh and he gave up a yelp of pain, he swung his sword and severed the spear-tip and then whipped the blade across the unface of the foe who had managed the strike. Again the grey boiled, not as wildly as before though, and in a few moments it stopped altogether, leaving only a deep gash not dissimilar a wide smile. Pain again gushed up from Rodrigo's thigh, yet as he looked down no new wounds were visible. He fell to the ground screaming at the top of his lungs, expecting to be dealt the death blow but as he fell the grey host retreated and turned their back on him. The pain gnawed itself upward through his leg and into his abdomen, then in a fountain of thick, red blood a snake erupted from his belly.

The beast was a hideous thing, black scales tinted in Rodrigo's blood, with a thick mane dripping Rodrigo's life unto his body. The snake shook its head, sending tiny droplets into the air and then it opened its eye.

“Don't you recognize me, sweet Rodrigo? I told you that I've always been here, didn't I?”

The snake lunged forward, forcing itself into Rodrigo's mouth. The warrior cried a muffled cry, but neither God nor king answered, for they did not heed the call of those whom consorted thmselves with beasts.

Rodrigo's scream woke him up, sending him from the beddings with a jump, hands immediately going to his mouth. There was nothing there. He stuck out his tongue and ran his finger across it, half expecting it to be scaled like the snake and it was only after checking his thigh and abdomen for traces of the animal that he managed to exhale. It was only a dream. Only a dream. He got out his water-skin and poured a cool trickle down upon his face, rubbing the liquid into the skin. Afterwards he almost felt right again.

“Milord!” The voice startled Rodrigo and made him drop the skin. “Milord, we heard screaming. Are you alright?” Rodrigo rubbed his eyes and then looked upon his hands. They were shaking.

“I-I'm fine. Nothing but night-terrors.” Rodrigo immediately regretted mentioning the dream, knowing that rumours would spread like wildfire in the camp. Everyone knew that dreams were prophetic, and Rodrigo shuddered at the thought of what this implied for the outcome of their expedition. Well, what was I supposed to tell them then? Should I have lied? That made Rodrigo sigh and cross himself. He was turning into a proper little courtier, aye, that be true.

Rodrigo had been but twelve years old when his father, may the Father keep him – he crossed himself as he thought of the old man – had brought him to court. Diego Laínez de Vivar had never been an influential man, residing over a small, if rich, stretch of land north of Burgos. Vivar was a beautiful place, and her green pastures stretched for miles around the village, but the land was not only beautiful and rich. Vivar was safe, too far north to be reached by Moorish raiders, and thus her inhabitants wasn't the match of their southern neighbours. This of course meant that his father, and old man Lain and Nuño for that matter, was rather poor warriors. For sure, Rodrigo's father had never met his match in the saddle, but with a sword he had been no better than Rodrigo had at seven. In Castilla wealth in land and skill at arms was all that mattered, and thus, their line had been of minimal significance. Rodrigo sighed. His father had died before Rodrigo had been old enough to ask why they had went to court in the first place.


With him their stars had changed though. Rodrigo had shown great promise with the blade – such promise that Guillen, a knight whom had followed Fernando west and who's thick, rolling accent had caused the children at court to laugh every time he spoke, had taken an interest in the boy and taught him. At eleven Rodrigo could've beaten every other boy in Burgos. At fourteen most men. That had been when he first tasted battle, and under the walls of Zaragoza he had slain his first man. The fallen had been little more than a boy himself, short and soft-faced, eyes filled with tears as blue steel had bitten into his shoulder. The face still haunted Rodrigo. All of them did.

When Rodrigo stepped out of the tent where he had slept his nostrils filled with the stench of men and horses, but with it came the rich smell and crackle of bacon. His belly roared. Rodrigo made his way to the nearest fireplace and sat down among the men, who quickly made room for him. They all knew him, respected him, trusted him. The memory of the dream made his first mouthful of wine for the day bitter and dry. Should I tell them? He shook his shoulders, trying to rid himself of the unease he felt. Like a thorn in my back. Today was going to be a long day.

Suddenly a horn sounded. Three calls, short and furious. Riders. Enemies. Montañeses. In the blink of an eye the camp was awash with the sound of screaming men and horses as the fires were put out and warriors stretched for spears and swords. It would only be a minute or two before they were ready to fight. Today was going to be a long day.

So yeah, I think the words we're all looking for is "about bloody time". The chapter is a bit snubbed - this because I realized that writing all I wanted in would get it to about double or triple the length and I really wanted to post something. My hope is to get back to my old update-rate of two-three chapters a week from now on.

Next up we visit the hills of western Lleón, and thereafter we'll get back to Rodrigo to finish off his introduction.