Chapter three
Facing the Behemoth
It was nearly nightfall before Baldwin's host arrived, and Raoul found himself thanking the Lord Christ for the rain. If Baldwin had brought his archers, and he was sure to have done so, fine weather would have been their death but now the evening was almost as dark as the deepest night and the perpetual rainfall should leave the archers all but useless.
He had positioned his host at the top of a small hill on the eastern side of the road, in reality it was little more than a slight elevation of the field but it would simply have to do, Raoul could only hope that the muddy sludge the grasslands had turned into would work in their favor when the enemy horse arrived. He had even ordered his own men to un-horse, trying to become the anvil that breaks the hammer rather than the sword he usually favored, yet no matter what he did he knew they had little hope of standing against this enemy.
The thing that really worried Raoul though, was not what he viewed as his imminent death, he had long since reconciled himself with dying in the service of his king, but rather the fact that this death would not only be useless but thouroughly pointless. When he fell the road would lie open to Paris, and Philippe would have little hope of raising any kind of defense before Baldwin stood beneath his gates. The realm would bleed and for what?
A proud man's folly, that is the cause of this. Ever shall pride lay kings and serfs down into dust, or so the priests says. It would be a long war, and one that would have no true winner, at least not if Philippe couldn't sway the other High Lords to join him. Robert would raise his banners, of course, and so would Raoul if he was still alive, but Folque and de Blois? No, they would not come.
Not now, not to him. He rubbed his hands together in an attempt of getting the blood running through them again. He would really have preferred to die with warm hands.
** * **
Robert had not felt so alive in years. There truly was something energizing in finally having a plan, a goal to work towards. It had soon been clear to him that Philippe would have to wed a daughter of one of the High Lords, the king had devestated their hesitant support in this fool's errand against Baldwin and only a marriage could serve to strengthen their bonds to him again, however he would face one great problem – there were few unwed daughters among the Great Houses. Raoul had three daughters, all unwed and all ideal candidates if it was not because Raoul already supported the king, and such a marriage would most likely serve to further alienate the nobility. However among the other houses there was a near total lack of suitable matches. De Anjou had no daughters, and his sisters and his nieces were all wed, and so was the daughters of de Blois. Robert's own daughter would be no different from Raoul's and thus there truly was but one choice. Ainés de Poitou.
Robert had met the girl just one year ago and she seemed amiable enough but more importantly she was heir to half of the realm. A union between the monarchy and de Poitou had been one of his brother's more brilliant plans and shortly before his passing it had actually seemed like he was going to persuade Guillame to agree to it. Could such a thing come to be?
Well, Guillame has not gotten any younger, and neither has his wife. He must know that his death would be the end of his family if Ainés is not tied to a strong man. Robert had dispatched an emissary to Bourdeaux this very morning. The whole affair had left Robert with a feeling of great satisfaction, and for the first time in many weeks ha actually looked forward to speaking with his nephew that day.
He found the king in the throne room, sitting langingly upon the throne while Hugues and a few of his cronies surrounded him. The chair the king sat upon was of heavy oak, inlaid with golden lilies, and the slouching figure of Philippe made the chair seem gigantic, towering over the crowned head of the man. At the sides of the king stood two guardsmen, both dressed in fine blue garments with hand at swords.
He has bodyguards this close even here? Does he not realise most men would see this as weakness and not strength? Robert shook his head. Philippe was constantly finding new ways of doing the wrong things. As he approached the throne he caught the king's eyes and Philippe lifted his arms, silencing the young peacocks around him.
"Dear uncle! To what do we owe this pleasure? My man Louis brought us news from the emperor's court just this day. It seems Heinrich is having some trouble in Saxony. It appears that the high Caesar cannot even keep the barbarians of his own nation in line." Philippe looked around at the men around him and they all laughed at this apparent jerp of his. "But I'm sure you wouldn't have come unless there was something important to speak of? What
are you doing here?
Robert could not help to notice the strange tone of Philippe's voice.
It seems I might be overstaying my welcome now when he believes he has the realm in his hand.
"Your majesty," Robert kneeled in front of the throne. He had long ago learned the power kneeling could give. "I came to thinking last night. You are now a man grown, and through your coronation you have been made one with the realm." These words seemed to please the king.
I think I got him. "Yet a man is not whole without a woman at his side, one to bear his progeny and birth his legacy to the world. And as the man now in question is one with the realm neither can the kingdom be whole without a queen besides it's king."
Philippe looked... amused. Or at least he was smiling.
"Yes, good uncle, I do believe that you are right." Philippe rose and walked down the steps leading from the throne. "And am I right when I say that you have now seeked through all the realm and wishes to propose a bride for me?"
"Ainés de Poitou, my liege. To heal the wounds..." Robert never got to finish his sentence before the king sprung around, the smile replaced with a contemptous mask.
"Leave us!" Philippe shouted at the nobles in the room. "LEAVE US! I must speak to my uncle alone."
The young men quickly left the room. Robert did not believe that this was all that uncommon to them, or at least their faces showed little surprise at this outburst. He himself could not understand what had happened. It had all been going so smoothly, had it not?
"Uncle, uncle uncle dear." Philippe sounded as if he was speaking to a child.
What is this? Is the boy mad? "You cannot truly expect
me to marry that whore's child of de Poitou? To defile my own bloodline with that House? No, surely you must jest."
"I do not understand, your majesty. Guillame de Poitou is your vassal and one of the most powerful men in the west. What could possibly be wrong..."
"What could be wrong? WHAT COULD BE WRONG?" The shout took Robert completely off guard. "Guillame is a traitor to the realm, uncle, and the only fact preventing me from dealing with him at the moment is this betrayal of Baldwin's. The moment Raoul return I will send him against Bordeaux to depose that maggot of a man and drown him in his precious wine. The men can have his cow of a daughter after that."
Robert did not hear his king continuing. He was silently praying in his mind.
Lord Christ who art in heaven, protect us...
** * **
The three men approaches Raoul's forces as the downpour finally stopped, they were riding carefully across the muddy field, leaving behind the safety of their army's lines. Raoul did not really know what to think, but he finally saw the possibility of living to see yet another dawn. I was dark now, and Baldwin could not want a nightfight any more than he did, yet dawn was still sure to bring death, and maybe an even quicker one if the rain stopped. He would however have to ride out to meet these men, and parley with them although his orders left him little hope of gaining anything with words.
"Charles, Henri, with me!" The two men flanked him, carrying torches to light their way across the field.
As they approached Baldwin and his two retainers Raoul felt glad he would get the chance of speaking to van Vlaanderen one last time before his death. The two had not always seen eye to eye, and many little conflicts had marred their relations as their demesnes bordered eachother, but still Raoul had always had a profound respect for the man that had served as Philippe's regent for all those years. He had only wished that the king himself could share an ounce of that respect.
But then again kings will be kings.
"Ah, Lord Valois. I thought I recognised your banners. Bloody hard in this light is it not? How is our dear king?"
"My Lord," Raoul nodded in recognition.
"Short for words, de Valois? Well, I would too have a hard time keeping myself from vomiting if I was on a quest such as your's." There was something reckless in the man's voice. Something which had not been there only a few weeks past. "Well, why are you here Raoul? Bringing an army unto my land is not what I would call furthering the peace between neighbours."
"I am here under orders from our king, Philippe, son of Hugues, the first of his name, to place you and all those who follow you under arrest and bring you to Paris to face the king's justice." He had almost choked on the words. Baldwin's calling him out like that had brought him off balance and he wished for a chance to speak with the man in private.
"Well, I do not recognise the legality in this arrest, and neither do I recognise any superiour force being able to drag me to our liege," Baldwin paused, apparently hesitating. "Look here, I want this no more than you and you know this, but I cannot just meekly go before the king when he lifts his blade against my throat but... but neither do I want to see our realm bleed. I kept it together for ten years while that king of your's spent his days chasing washer-women around the courtyards."
"I know, my Lord, but I cannot go against my king when he ordered me to do this."
"Ever the king's man, eh Raoul?"
"Ever."
Baldwin sighed heavily. "Then this is how we are going to do this. You and I will send our armies back to their homes, except the king's men and one hundred of my own guard. Then, when they have left we shall march slowly down the road to Paris, together, the men serving as our honor guards. When we arrive in Paris I will humble myself before Philippe, as much as I can without losing face in front of my own vassals," he looked sharply at Raoul. "Does this in any way contradict your orders?"
"No, my Lord, I believe not," Raoul found himself smiling. "And I see a few weeks away from court had not dulled your senses."
Baldwin spat. "I wish. That place has ruined me for life. I used to be a happy man, can you imagine that?"
Raoul laughed heartedly before they parted and rode back to their men to arrange for matters on the morrow. Now maybe he could even get those bloody hands warm again.