Before Plantagenet – A House d’Anjou AAR
- Thread starter JabberJock14
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In this meeting between father and son ... I must say at the end of it I rather like Foulques' point, as I saw it, that Geoffrey needs to stand on his own two feet. It is, in some ways, the last bit of training Foulques can give his son. A little humility is no bad thing.
The treatment of Marguerite may be, in a way, deserved; but there is no doubt in my mind he and she are well-matched in more ways than one. They both have the capacity to hurt each other in ways that are hard to defend against, and in ways that sting. Interestingly, despite the apparent imbalance I still think that Marguerite has the stronger cards in that relationship.
The treatment of Marguerite may be, in a way, deserved; but there is no doubt in my mind he and she are well-matched in more ways than one. They both have the capacity to hurt each other in ways that are hard to defend against, and in ways that sting. Interestingly, despite the apparent imbalance I still think that Marguerite has the stronger cards in that relationship.
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Foulques has a very clear mind, even now... his grandson will be greater than him or Geoffrey... but Geoffrey is so desperado to gain his father's respect, he cant see it
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Caught up once again!
Foulkes has to know how cruel this comes across as.
She rebuffed him. That's the end of the matter, right?
Foulkes has been playing this game for quite for time. Putting people into "Tails, I win, heads, you lose" situations. And Geoffrey isn't above doing it himself.
Foulkes has to know how cruel this comes across as.
She rebuffed him. That's the end of the matter, right?
Foulkes has been playing this game for quite for time. Putting people into "Tails, I win, heads, you lose" situations. And Geoffrey isn't above doing it himself.
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At first I wanted Foulques to aid Geoffrey but than as others said maybe Foulques is doing this to make Geoffrey to stand on his own. I do also think that in Geoffrey situation trying to obtain more counties through schemes than war. Now Foulques has placed in position that he has been trying to avoid. Once again Foulques seems to be forcing to make Geoffrey in his own image. However Foulques is correct Geoffrey needs to learn how to stand on his when it comes time to succeed on his own.
Forcing Marguerite to be apart from her children seems to be very cruel. I wonder if it will come back to haunt Geoffrey. I also wonder if Geoffrey can truly trust Marguerite.
Forcing Marguerite to be apart from her children seems to be very cruel. I wonder if it will come back to haunt Geoffrey. I also wonder if Geoffrey can truly trust Marguerite.
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Now you see this is where Geoffrey is diverging from his ancient hero Octavian who was perfectly willing to use force and his Legions to gain the upper hand (though he had better generals command them). As others have said he needs to know when to apply his levies and when to scheme. The balance is not quite right yet.
The more he punishes his wife the more my earlier respect for him dwindles as he sinks further and further into petty vindictiveness. That said she did impugn his manhood...
The last scene with Agnes was touching for his barely suppressed passion as it crashed against the competing elements of her sisterly love and the need for decorum. All in all a great chapter.
The more he punishes his wife the more my earlier respect for him dwindles as he sinks further and further into petty vindictiveness. That said she did impugn his manhood...
The last scene with Agnes was touching for his barely suppressed passion as it crashed against the competing elements of her sisterly love and the need for decorum. All in all a great chapter.
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Another really intriguing chapter. I thought Geoffrey was going to take his family back there. Foulques the younger could become an interesting character, though I wonder who chose struggle as his childhood focus. I never choose that for anyone I'm likely to play as because rowdy can lead to dull. Another thing to consider now, as I understand the rules of the game, it would be entirely possible for Marguerite to get pregnant to Geoffrey even if they are in different courts.
So much going on and still the war with Champgne in the background.
Also, very nice use of Ness and Agnes having the same name. Especially after the scene in which we learn Geoffrey actually does desire Ness as well. These Angevins!
So much going on and still the war with Champgne in the background.
Also, very nice use of Ness and Agnes having the same name. Especially after the scene in which we learn Geoffrey actually does desire Ness as well. These Angevins!
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It was mostly enjoyable, otherwise I wouldn't have kept reading ! Still, it felts sometimes dragging on in those siege wars.Thank you for that level of interest and dedication, along with your kind words! Sorry about the three days, but at least you enjoyed your time reading it?
Well, it's done, here is the start of the story : Tórrblóm Saga
CK2 may be easier than M2TW from a character perspective (I must confess I don't remember much the dynastic dynamics of that game), and certainly has better diplomacy (infinite war until total destruction, any one ? Not an issue though it was a LOTR mod so fitting), but the epic battles where you are overwhelmed and game the AI towards still winning, while not very realistic, have a flavor of their own. Otherwise, it was a simple RP description of what happened in the game, not something close to a true novel like is this AAR.
It's like for CK2 rulers. You do the hard work, but your spouse gives you a key advice when needed
I'm happy to agree with her, this was a serious suggestion.
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I limited myself because I kind of wanted to follow the real Foulques to a degree. He certainly set Anjou up to be major players but I did not wish for him to be overly powerful. Basically, strong enough to cause trouble, achieve some of his goals (I still want Maine!) and resist losing anything to the French king, which can happen.
But yeah, then Geoffrey decided to go and claim his mother's inheritance without my consent. So things moved a bit faster than I planned.
Yeah, I didn't realize it was a bug. But that's why I had to write the "Geoffrey doesn't take Marguerite and his family to Aquitaine" plotline. It shaped up well given what had come before - with Marguerite again cheating on him and having a bastard daughter - but looks like that was all caused by a bug.
Yeah, I gave it a passing mention but had to mention it. Aines dropped it as a mention at one point. It was... something that made me go
!He definitely came off as cowardly here, but the overwhelming thing I wished to convey was a sense of entitlement - he has managed to convince others to fight his battles for him before, he's gotten his father to do as he wished before despite their discord and he's managed to convince most women to have affairs with him. So it stands to reason he might well think he should be able to win easily with Anjou by his side, and his sister would not resist his charms.
He's wrong of course. But it can be fun to write characters you disagree with.
And in this case, I think Agnes is right in that Foulques wants him to prove himself - a test of sorts. Geoffrey will never achieve what he wants anyway if he's not willing to bloody his hands in combat.
Same thing over here , you're making me suspect I am a bit like Foulques, if there's no war in 5 years I just go and make one, Germanic penalties fear me
As for the chapters, amazing work as always you truly never fail to deliver, seems like King Adam's curse could come out in more than one way...
Thank you for such praise! (We'll see how well I deliver with this next update which I'm eh on, but you can be the judge)
Foulques did get some war - he crushed Gilles. But yeah, a war of conquest was not necessarily in the offing. I did start looking for a claim on a certain county around this time, but there will be more on that in a few updates.
Yes, I've had that option during an epidemic but never taken it. But my goodness, the situation is so dire. The poor girl is hungry and pregnant. She sneaks some food, is caught and then killed by her father-in-law, and eaten. I mean... like I said, it's hard to top that level of dark. Thanks CK2!
Agree with both of your assessments of Geoffrey. Like many of my characters I have written him as imperfect, and he often does not choose the right option, as he is guided by his own personal hangups. This is a learning experience for him - a reality that things will not always be handed to him. Foulques is not always a good father to his children - but the lesson he teaches Geoffrey here is a valuable one that he needs to learn.
Admittedly the Geoffrey-Marguerite thing was difficult for me. He isn't normally that mean-spirited, but his wife brings out the worst in him. I basically tried to set it up so that he was in the worst possible of moods - he didn't get what he wanted with his war, his father, his son or his sister, and has long suspected the girl isn't his - to justify him taking that action.
And when I say "justify" I don't mean that you, me or any reader think it was justified in the grand scheme of things. Just so that wouldn't seem completely out of line his character and traits - which are far nicer than he was in that particular conversation. But nice, and charitable doesn't mean pushover. I think he's mean here - he's just lashing out.
Chapter 60, to be precise
Thanks! I was going to go look for it! (I had a vague sense of where it was because it was during Aines short but sweet time in the limelight).
Yup on Foulques. His advice has often been poor to Geoffrey and his actions childish. This time the parental dynamic was much more in line. Foulques is providing an important lesson and Geoffrey is too childish to see it. But after his tantrum, he does end up doing as his father says.
Yes, definitely intended their methods to be similar here. And Marguerite's burn toward him was spoken from experience - she regrets her actions now because she knows the suffering will extend beyond her. "Don't do as me, lest you end up in the same spot." But Geoffrey is too angry and proud to hear it now. Maybe in the future?
Geoffrey does underrate Marguerite's hand. After all, who is the one who is around their son, even if her presence is limited? Geoffrey had not seen him in half a decade!
Foulques sees his grandson as more like him, so his ego definitely thinks he is bound for greatness. But I'll add there's a bit of trying to force Geoffrey into his similar insecurity - Geoffrey could easily end up surpassing Foulques (if he takes Poitou, eventually he'll hold about a quarter of the realm, if not more). So Foulques wouldn't mind having Geoffrey feel his son will surpass him, perhaps sooner than he realizes.
But given Geoffrey has not seen much of his father... he would not see it.
Foulques is cruel at times, especially toward his women. He treats Haldora terribly, and I have wondered how best to give her some respite. I tried to a little in this upcoming chapter.
End of the matter? Why it should be! But surely you don't think I'm going to let something so memorable just fade away so quickly, do you?
Foulques has done this well. Geoffrey aims to be better than him at it because he hopes to win his conflicts without the use of his army. He just fails at it here, because he doesn't have as much leverage on either Foulques, Agnes or Marguerite as he thinks he does.
You lay out the schism between father and son well here. Foulques is trying to shape Geoffrey into what he wants, though at this point he mostly knows it is a lost cause. However, when he can, he will, and making Geoffrey take Poitou fits into that category. Geoffrey isn't wrong to try to win conflicts without force, but he also must learn that sometimes it is necessary. The threat of action can also be a powerful tool in one's arsenal as a means to prevent conflict.
Geoffrey will never be able to trust Marguerite based on her prior actions. Whether he can tolerate her and eventually learn to be better toward her? An answer for a later date.
Correct. This is a learning experience for Geoffrey. He probably read Octavian as not learning his armies as inspiration, but the right read is that you still need to put yourself out there. That Agrippa led the forces at Actium would not have changed Octavian's fate had Antony won the civil war.
His actions against Marguerite are petty and a reminder he strives to be different from his father, but aspects remain. Geoffrey is far from perfect and has plenty of qualities are worthy of derision. Marguerite has hurt him, but if he were a better man, he would have found a better solution.
Thanks! I debated how to handle their last scene. I liked how it worked, but we'll get a bit more on that, from the other side, in the upcoming chapter.
I chose it. I normally choose that or thrift since I tend to want my characters to be really good at war or stewardship. He already was good at martial, and he had Foulques around, so I went with struggle. But yeah, it certainly can end up with bad traits.
Correct, Geoffrey and Marguerite could have children while separated, but the odds are apparently less, I believe. I would just have to have them meet for a time to explain it storyline-wise, which would not be that hard.
I know. The Champagne situation is going to come to a head soon. As in, not the next chapter, but the one after that. But the children of Foulques have been busy, and given their importance to the story, I felt compelled to feature them.
These Angevins is right! He definitely has a thing for Ness - given he's tried his wooing with her. I didn't plan for this, but that bit of name-play sprang to mind at an opportune time, so I used it. Of course, none of that changes that things could be very complicated in the future with Geoffrey's many attractions and desires to women in Anjou...
It was mostly enjoyable, otherwise I wouldn't have kept reading ! Still, it felts sometimes dragging on in those siege wars.
Well, it's done, here is the start of the story : Tórrblóm Saga
CK2 may be easier than M2TW from a character perspective (I must confess I don't remember much the dynastic dynamics of that game), and certainly has better diplomacy (infinite war until total destruction, any one ? Not an issue though it was a LOTR mod so fitting), but the epic battles where you are overwhelmed and game the AI towards still winning, while not very realistic, have a flavor of their own. Otherwise, it was a simple RP description of what happened in the game, not something close to a true novel like is this AAR.
It's like for CK2 rulers. You do the hard work, but your spouse gives you a key advice when needed
I'm happy to agree with her, this was a serious suggestion.
Thanks! And as I said in your thread, good start to your story. I am glad to have inspired you as was done for me, and you may well be on your way to inspiring others. The cycle lives on!
I enjoy M2TW for the battles and the music (Duke of Death, Tally-ho, War of Kings, Darkier Skies... so good). The diplomacy/family relations thing was a bit of a let down in that game though - especially after how incredibly fleshed out and awesome it was in Rome: Total War. (The family trees there were glorious) I think part of the reason I ended up finding CK2 was because I was playing M2TW and wanted more from the dynastic system.
Still, M2TW could still produce some fun "imagined" stories. I remember playing as... I think as France in one game, how my first king had four sons. And those four sons all ended up in different crazy experiences. The one I remember ended up leading crusaders in some crazy, multi-way battle in Lithuania. Henri I think was his name. Good times.
As for the novel - I wrote out multiple versions of a long (over 1,000 pages) story once. But I never was happy with it and never published it. I wish I could incorporate some of this into that, but the style of that story in terms of time frame was very different. (Happening over months, rather than decades). So... we'll see when I'm done with this. Thanks for the compliment though!
All, sorry about the delay in responses and the next chapter. Haven't been able to get to this as much as I wanted, though part of it was likely self-inflicted - I don't know how I feel about this upcoming chapter and I dragged my feet on it. I wanted it, felt it necessary, but the execution... we'll see. (Also finding out what is proper for a late 11th century/early 12th century medieval marriage is not easy - so much is from the 13th and 14th centuries - another thing which made me hesitant)
Hopefully it does the job I intend, but we'll see. If not, don't worry as the grand finale of this section is the next three parts. I'm already saying three because I want the three chapters to have different focuses. And well, as I said, it's grand. Very much like the season finale of a TV show/series.
The should come down next week in full - I have nearly a week off next week and should have time to devote to some serious writing.
As always your comments and feedback are excellent, much appreciated and on-point.
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Chapter 109 - June 1101
Before Plantagenet - Chapter 109
June 1101 - Anjou, France
As Agnes stared at her reflection in the mirror, she did not know how to feel.
When she was a little girl, she dreamed of her wedding. She usually imagined it was to a handsome, youthful duke, or a count, even though her mother had long warned her that may never happen.
“You must realize that your husband may be an older man,” Beatritz had said. “But you must please him all the same.”
When she was a girl, Agnes would smile and nod. When she was a teen, she’d have a retort.
“That did not happen with you,” she’d say.
“I thought I was to end up on a convent,” Beatritz replied. “I was blessed. Your father still presented tests of his own, even if fulfilling certain wifely duties… has always been most enjoyable.”
Agnes remembered how red her mother turned upon saying it. She’d usually blush as well - it was strange to hear her mother talk of coupling with Foulques.
“But every husband will present tests for you,” Beatritz would say. “Whether a high-born lord, or a common man. How you handle such tests will decide whether you are a happy wife, or not.”
“And what are you, mother?”
“I am Duchess of Anjou, and mother to two beautiful children,” Beatritz replied. “I can not have asked for much more.”
She said that in her good moments, of course. When Alearde and Foulques’ bastard daughter Bella was born, Beatritz struck a different tune. But Agnes figured, for the most part, her mother had been happy with her lot in life.
So what awaits me?
To that she had no answer as her ladies attended to her, fixing her dress. Etiennette worked on her hair. Alearde prepared her makeup. She had to look her best for her wedding day.
As her mother had warned, it was not exactly as she had dreamed. It was no duke she was marrying, nor even a count. Instead, it was a mere courtier, Henri, son of her father’s chancellor Godfrey.
He was handsome enough and over a decade her junior though, so she would not be stuck as some others her age had having to please an old, withered husk of a man.
She had heard Henri was actually rather chaste - Alearde had not heard a peep of him even approaching the ladies or the servants. That had made Agnes question if he had other tastes, but they had heard nothing on that either.
It just seemed he was one who followed the strict teachings of the church.
He may struggle to fit in with my family, she thought as a grin formed on her lips.
That looseness would be on display today on her face, as Alearde applied a reddish blush to her cheeks.
“What will Bishop Hildebert say when he sees me with all of this red on my cheeks?” she wondered aloud.
“He will bow his head, think something foul of you and say nothing,” Alearde said. “He already does not have the highest opinion of you.”
“Is he not the one who will be performing the ceremony?” Etiennette wondered.
“He is,” Agnes replied. “He may not like me, but he is a loyal hound. My father instructed it - so it will be done.”
“Makeup seems like a silly thing to worry over,” her aunt Aureade noted. “Should one not look their best?”
“It’s something about vanity being sinful,” Haldora added. “But then, I do not see the bishop walking around in tattered robes. They take great care to look as if they are lords themselves.”
Agnes smirked. She had a full complement of women around her today - almost every noblewoman courtier in Anjou wished to be with her as she prepared for her wedding. She was, after all, the most powerful woman in the duchy.
Not all were admitted, but Agnes did allow a fairly robust group. In addition to Alearde and Etiennette, Agnes’ own daughter Beatrice was present, as was her half-sister Ermengarde, Etiennette’s bastard daughter by Gilles. There was also Aureade, Etiennette’s sister Margot, Alearde’s daughters Bella and Hildegarde, Agnes’ soon-to-be mother by law Helie and Duchess Haldora. The duchess was the only one who did not move about - she remained in her chair, shifting positions to find comfort. Her belly was great with child and she expected to give birth any day now.
“I do wonder what people did before the church,” Agnes continued. “It must have been awful for the people of Rome to be cast down into hell for all of these small sins they had no idea they were committing.”
“I would suspect their worship of heathen gods proved a larger issue,” Helie replied. She looked back to Haldora. “No offense, dear.”
Haldora rolled her eyes. “My family have been Christian for a few generations now, you realize. You Franks believe every story you hear of my people? Did you also expect me to arrive with an axe in one hand, shield in the other?”
Agnes noticed quite a few of the ladies trading glances. Haldora also seemed to take notice and shook her head.
“Terrible,” she replied.
The good news was that Agnes doubted Haldora was too offended. She took things like that in stride - after all, she had far bigger grievances these days.
Agnes would never admit it to her father, but she did rather enjoy her stepmother. They had grown a bit closer since Agnes had vouched on her behalf in Melun - they often dined together now when Foulques was away.
And it was with her in mind that Agnes’ half-sister, and Etiennette’s daughter, Antoinette, was not allowed in the room. Etiennette was displeased, but understood.
There was a knock at the door. As Agnes was being prepared, she motioned for someone to answer it. That someone was Helie, who opened the door to peek her head out. She pulled it back to relay that the visitor was a messenger from Aquitaine. Agnes allowed him in.
He no doubt was sent by Geoffrey, who declined to attend. Her brother claimed he was on campaign in Saintonge - likely a few days away - and had sent word that he could not leave his army.
Believable, if from her father. For her brother, who did not like combat, she had her doubts.
His confession in Anjou loomed large. She wondered what his response was when he learned of the news she would be wed, especially so soon after his visit. But she did suspect his lack of attendance was his response - so what news would this man bring her?
The messenger bowed before her. She nodded in acknowledgement and he rose once more.
“My lady, I come to you from Aquitaine,” the man said. “At the behest of your brother, the duke.”
“What does Geoffrey wish of me?”
“Nothing except to accept his deepest regrets that he is unable to join you on this joyous day,” the man said. “He is with his men in Poitou. But he sends you a gift. You should be able to see it from your window.”
Curious Agnes, she broke free of Alearde and Etiennette and moved her way over to the lone, small opening in the chamber. The other ladies did so as well.
The window was not large, so the view was somewhat limited. But there in the yard were multiple casks of wine. That was hardly a surprise, but what Agnes did not expect to see was a peacock, strutting beside the cart.
“Oh my goodness!” she said as her hand covered her mouth. “Where did he find that?”
“He bought it from a trader who works in Greece, my lady,” the man replied.
“So beautiful,” Alearde said.
“Such a lovely gift,” Etiennette added.
Haldora managed to push her way through. “It looks… delicious.”
The ladies turned to look at her. The Northwoman scrunched her face before arching her back as if to accentuate her pregnant stomach. “I am hungry these days. Every bird looks like food.”
Agnes smirked and turned back to the man. “Thank my brother for this. Alearde, give him some coin.”
The man held his hand up. “My lady, there is more. Your brother has requested I recite a message he has sent for you.”
Agnes felt her stomach clench. “Is… it a private message?”
“No my lady,” the man said. “Lord Geoffrey, sends his regards. He prays for the success of this union and your happiness. And though he regrets that he cannot be beside you on your wedding day, he has no doubt that you are the most beautiful and elegant bride the realm has seen in sometime. As always, you are beloved both here and abroad, my lady.”
It was such a thinly-veiled love note, Agnes could barely restrain herself from chasing the messenger from the room. As it was, her hands shook, her eyes were wide and she could feel herself tremble.
That fool will ruin us.
But as she looked at her ladies, none looked suspicious. Quite the opposite - they all seemed to be swooning.
“Such a charming boy,” Aureade noted.
“Something he must have gotten from his mother,” Haldora added.
Alearde gave the man his coin and Agnes kept her head long enough to thank him again as he departed. The door was closed behind.
“Geoffrey, Geoffrey,” Agnes said as shook her head.
“Honeyed words for you, sister,” Bella said.
“Imagine what he must say to those he beds,” Helie added.
“I would not mind finding out,” Margot said.
Quite a few of the women blushed at that. A couple had sly grins, including Etiennette, who had not been dismissed as Foulques lover, but saw much less of him these days, and, much to Agnes’ surprise, Haldora. In fact, the duchess closed her eyes and a few moments later, her grin became a full-on smile.
Agnes rolled her eyes and then took a peek back at Alearde, who was also grinning. That was enough.
“Ladies,” Agnes interrupted. “That is my brother you discuss. Who is married to a woman in this keep.”
“My apologies, my lady,” Margot said. “I did not mean to insult you, Lord Geoffrey or the Lady Marguerite.”
“It is fine Margot,” Agnes said. “But we must not forget our place as ladies, even in private. We never know who might be listening.”
A true statement, though in this case, it was unlikely she and Alearde did not control that. Little information from the women in the keep, noble or otherwise, escaped their ears. It was merely unnerving to hear such things spoken about her brother.
She held her piece though, at least until she was finished being made up. Then she asked for a moment alone with Alearde, and after the ladies departed the room, she frowned at her old mentor.
“I saw your grin too,” Agnes said.
“Grin?” Alearde asked.
“Over Geoffrey,” Agnes replied. “When Margot said she would not mind laying with him.”
Alearde smirked. “Oh, that.”
“Oh that?” Agnes demanded. “Such glib remarks over my brother. If it were to be acted upon…”
“It won’t because it is idle thought,” Alearde said. “Your brother is handsome, charming and powerful. His discord with his wife is well known. It is no surprise many of the women here have thoughts of him.”
“Margot has already laid with a married man, my cousin in Berry, and has a bastard to show for it,” Agnes replied. “So that she might act on those thoughts is not unheard up. And if nothing else, they are sinful thoughts.”
Alearde glared at her. “How is your makeup, my lady? I know your daughter thought you very pretty.”
Agnes’ frown became a scowl.
Alearde continued. “If they worry about having such thoughts, they can confess them to a priest. But they are thoughts. Nothing more. Do you truly believe Haldora would dare lay with your brother now? Your father would likely kill her for that. Nor do I think Geoffrey would dare risk his alliance with your father in such a manner.”
Agnes raised her brow. Alearde replied with a shrug of her shoulders.
“I doubt he carries the same feelings for Haldora or Etiennette that he does you,” Alearde said.
Agnes noticed Alearde lips were pursed. She wanted to say something else, but restrained herself.
“Speak your mind,” she said.
“It is not something that should be said,” Alearde said.
“I expect you to say everything to me,” Agnes said. “I have never wanted you to hold anything back.”
Alearde sighed. “Did hearing them speak of your brother so, make you jealous?”
Agnes’ eyes widened. “NO! Of course not! It just reminded me of… his already poor behavior with women. And It bothers me others would desire to be used in such fashion.”
“You are surprised the duchess desires a man who might shower her with affection, who is younger than your father, may become as powerful, and has a face?” Alearde asked.
“When you put it like that…” Agnes replied.
“Here is how I shall put it to you,” Alearde continued, “put your brother far from your mind. This is your day, not his. And Anjou is more yours than his, for now. We will deal with Geoffrey when he is duke - and we will know how to deal with him then.”
Agnes was not as certain.
Alearde patted her back and escorted her to the mirror. She stood behind her, but placed her head over Agnes’ shoulder to get a good view.
Agnes looked at herself. Her hair was done up in tight buns with a covering on the top of her head. The makeup had made her cheeks rosy, a contrast to her pale complexion. Red was her theme - she also wore a long dress of that color, though the shawl covering her chest was off-white.
It almost did not seem to be her, as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. That just made her stomach churn even more.
But Alearde smiled.
“So pretty,” she said.
……
The ceremony was all a blur.
One moment, her father walked her down toward where Henri stood. The next minute Bishop Hildebert was delivering some words. The mass took so long that her feet ached, but it seemed to have passed by quickly enough where she did not remember feeling bored. But then she also remembered nothing of what was said, only the nervous look on her new husband’s mustached face.
Is he afraid of marriage? Afraid of me? Afraid of what’s to come? Does he not find me pretty enough?
She tried her best to shake it off. This was a political marriage as much as anything else - a way to shore up her position. Chancellor Godfrey would be steadfast ally now, perhaps as strong as Mayor Guilhem was to her.
In truth, she was surprised her father had approved of the union. Alearde had suggested it to her, and she had in turn suggested it to Godfrey, with the idea of dropping the suggestion to Foulques in casual conversation, perhaps jokingly at first. But Foulques seemed fine with the idea - and here she was.
Perhaps because I grow old, father is settling.
That doubt could not be dismissed, no matter how hard she tried. But she knew this union meant she would remain in Anjou. It meant she would keep her power. And that was the important thing.
And it was not as if Henri was a lowborn man. He was the grandson of the late Count of Boulogne and nephew to the current one on his father’s side. One his mother’s he was the nephew to Hugues of Burgundy. That also made him the great-grandson to the late Duke Robert of Burgundy, and thus great-great grandson to a king.
Still, she could not completely shake her doubts.
“I do not know if this is a wise decision,” she said when she discussed it with Alearde at the time.
“You need a husband,” Alearde said. “Your importance to your father and your brother puts you in peril when you travel outside of Anjou. Many would scheme to abduct you and force you to marry a man of their choice.”
Alearde then lowered her head. “And… it would be good to have an outlet for your desires that will not be looked upon with scorn should a child be born.”
“You seem to have managed just fine,” Agnes noted.
“I am no one,” Alearde said. “It matters who I lay with, not that I do. You, it is the opposite.”
Agnes remembered sighing out of resignation - she knew it was true. As much as she’d prefer to stick to her strapping son of a blacksmith, she knew the problems that could arise.
But she did remember having a question for Alearde. “Did you… ever wish to be married?”
Alearde took a moment before responding. “Once… after your mother died. I wished to be your father’s wife. He obviously chose differently.”
Agnes lowered her head. “I am sorry. You would have been a fine mother to us.”
“I already am,” Alearde said with a small grin. “But I am not bitter over it. It proved for the best. Your father would not look at me as he does now if I was his wife. He wishes he could have me. If I were to return to him… he would treat me worse than he does now.”
“But you would have been duchess…” Agnes blurted out. She grimaced at saying it.
“I think that sometimes,” Alearde said. “Then I look at Haldora and see what that is worth.”
You would not have been Haldora, Agnes thought, though she was wise enough to keep that quiet.
But it was clear now that marriage would not be in Alearde’s future. And despite that also appearing the case for Agnes over the years, it was now very much her present.
The feast was as much a haze as the ceremony. The hall did feature two prominent dignitaries - Hugues of Burgundy had come. That was not the most unexpected - his political situation in Burgundy was perilous with the Countess Almodis putting pressure on him with her rebellion. He likely hoped to find as much favor and friendship as he could, even coming to the wedding of his nephew to the daughter of a man he did not have the most harmonious relationship with.
The other was a bit of a surprise as she had no connection with either family. But Queen Sybille herself was in attendance.
She had come with a guard of knights and her ladies - which meant Ness was present as well - but the king was not with her. The queen had told Agnes she had to join her on this day - after all she had done for the realm. It was a humbling moment - a flush, warm feeling that made Agnes weak at the knees that was also one of the clearer moments of the day.
To have the favor of a queen!
Aside from the queen, she remembered a mess of faces, nothing of what each individual said. She noticed her nephew seated by her father - odd given his age, but she noticed her father beginning to show plenty of favor to the younger Foulques. There were even rumors he might take him back to Melun.
Geoffrey will not be pleased.
But that was his own fault. He shirked his duty to his family. This is the result.
Alearde’s advice again came to mind. She closed her eyes and tried to put him far away.
Easier said than done, she realized.
“He is handsome,” Sybille whispered to her.
It snapped Agnes back from her thoughts. The queen had a sly grin on her lips as she eyed Henri. But her eyes were more… hungry - as if she wished to devour him herself.
“Yes…” Agnes replied. “You think him handsome?”
“Very,” Sybille said. “I think you will enjoy him very much. But one word of advice, my dear - savor it. He will not be young forever.”
As the queen took a drink from her goblet, it was clear it was a not so thinly veiled shot on her husband.
“The king is ill,” Agnes said.
“Yes, a reminder that youth and health are fleeting,” Sybille replied. “Like I said, enjoy him while you can.”
Agnes pursed her lips and then turned to her new husband, seated beside her. At some point he should lead her to their bed to consummate their union. But Henri barely had spoken to her at all - he seemed almost frightened to do it.
He should be eager, Agnes thought. Perhaps he does think little of me.
It would not be the end of the world if he did - she still technically had Cedric after all, even if she had told him her visits would be far less frequent now that she was wed - but her ego was bruised nonetheless.
Her new father-in-law seemed to take notice. The chancellor whispered something to Henri and the boy’s eyes widened. But he nodded before standing up and offering Agnes his hand. She took it and he led her away from the feast in the main hall and toward their chambers for the evening.
The room had been prepared by servants, with candles already lit and the bed made. The one remaining woman bowed before them and then departed, closing the door and leaving them alone.
Henri stood before her, but motionless. Like a statue.
Does he not know what to do, she wondered.
She removed her hair piece and then dropped her dress to reveal her body to him, and his eyes again widened. But he did not do much else. Agnes sighed.
“So, you do not like what you see?” she asked.
“No, I mean yes, I do,” Henri stammered. “You are quite beautiful. I’ve always thought so.”
She could not tell if he tried to save himself with empty flattery.
“Here I am then, your wife,” she replied. “You can act on your desires.”
Henri nodded. He approached slowly and again paused as he came up close to her. His brow furrowed, he appeared in deep thought. Finally he leaned in for a kiss.
Limp, weak… unconfident.
“That is not the most convincing kiss,” she told him.
“I’m sorry,” Henri replied. “I… do not truly know what is proper and right to do in this situation.”
“I am your wife,” Agnes said. “What you desire is ultimately right.”
She regretted saying that - she did not need to cede that much power so quickly when it was unnecessary. And yet, it seemed to do little to change the expression on Henri’s face.
“What… what would you like?” he asked.
And suddenly it dawned on her - he was not saying he did not know what to do because he had too many ideas, he was admitting he had none.
“You have never been with a woman before?” Agnes asked him.
Henri shook his head vociferously. “Never. It would be sinful to couple with someone before marriage.”
Agnes’ brow rose. “So you must think awful things of me.”
Henri gulped. “No, of… course not. You…”
Agnes smirked and brought her hand to his cheek. “You do, and that is fine. You would not be the first. And you shall not be the last.”
“I do not think awful things of you,” Henri said. “I question… but that is the extent. I know you as a fine lady. Your service to Anjou has shown that…”
He trailed off for a moment, trying to gather his words. Then he continued. “I want to please you. I know it is necessary for a woman to enjoy laying with a man for a child to be born of the union.”
Agnes rolled her eyes. She had heard that, but doubted its truth. After all, Haldora certainly did not care for her father, but was about to birth another child all the same.
And it did little to calm her doubts that he did not think well of her. He likely just wanted a son.
Perhaps he was of two minds. He had his qualms, but he also had to know he was not likely to do much better than the daughter of Duke of Anjou, sister to the Duke of Aquitaine.
But she was confident enough her experience could lessen his other concerns…
Just a light touch was enough to cause him to tremble. Pressing herself against him revealed his excitement. A few more gentle kisses later and she was pulling him toward the bed.
“Lay back husband,” she said.
The words were strange, but comforting all the same. She did not expect Henri to be a good lover, not at this point. But Alearde was right about one thing - it would be nice to finally be with a man and not have to worry about the consequences - whether she enjoyed herself or not.
June 1101 - Anjou, France
As Agnes stared at her reflection in the mirror, she did not know how to feel.
When she was a little girl, she dreamed of her wedding. She usually imagined it was to a handsome, youthful duke, or a count, even though her mother had long warned her that may never happen.
“You must realize that your husband may be an older man,” Beatritz had said. “But you must please him all the same.”
When she was a girl, Agnes would smile and nod. When she was a teen, she’d have a retort.
“That did not happen with you,” she’d say.
“I thought I was to end up on a convent,” Beatritz replied. “I was blessed. Your father still presented tests of his own, even if fulfilling certain wifely duties… has always been most enjoyable.”
Agnes remembered how red her mother turned upon saying it. She’d usually blush as well - it was strange to hear her mother talk of coupling with Foulques.
“But every husband will present tests for you,” Beatritz would say. “Whether a high-born lord, or a common man. How you handle such tests will decide whether you are a happy wife, or not.”
“And what are you, mother?”
“I am Duchess of Anjou, and mother to two beautiful children,” Beatritz replied. “I can not have asked for much more.”
She said that in her good moments, of course. When Alearde and Foulques’ bastard daughter Bella was born, Beatritz struck a different tune. But Agnes figured, for the most part, her mother had been happy with her lot in life.
So what awaits me?
To that she had no answer as her ladies attended to her, fixing her dress. Etiennette worked on her hair. Alearde prepared her makeup. She had to look her best for her wedding day.
As her mother had warned, it was not exactly as she had dreamed. It was no duke she was marrying, nor even a count. Instead, it was a mere courtier, Henri, son of her father’s chancellor Godfrey.
He was handsome enough and over a decade her junior though, so she would not be stuck as some others her age had having to please an old, withered husk of a man.
She had heard Henri was actually rather chaste - Alearde had not heard a peep of him even approaching the ladies or the servants. That had made Agnes question if he had other tastes, but they had heard nothing on that either.
It just seemed he was one who followed the strict teachings of the church.
He may struggle to fit in with my family, she thought as a grin formed on her lips.
That looseness would be on display today on her face, as Alearde applied a reddish blush to her cheeks.
“What will Bishop Hildebert say when he sees me with all of this red on my cheeks?” she wondered aloud.
“He will bow his head, think something foul of you and say nothing,” Alearde said. “He already does not have the highest opinion of you.”
“Is he not the one who will be performing the ceremony?” Etiennette wondered.
“He is,” Agnes replied. “He may not like me, but he is a loyal hound. My father instructed it - so it will be done.”
“Makeup seems like a silly thing to worry over,” her aunt Aureade noted. “Should one not look their best?”
“It’s something about vanity being sinful,” Haldora added. “But then, I do not see the bishop walking around in tattered robes. They take great care to look as if they are lords themselves.”
Agnes smirked. She had a full complement of women around her today - almost every noblewoman courtier in Anjou wished to be with her as she prepared for her wedding. She was, after all, the most powerful woman in the duchy.
Not all were admitted, but Agnes did allow a fairly robust group. In addition to Alearde and Etiennette, Agnes’ own daughter Beatrice was present, as was her half-sister Ermengarde, Etiennette’s bastard daughter by Gilles. There was also Aureade, Etiennette’s sister Margot, Alearde’s daughters Bella and Hildegarde, Agnes’ soon-to-be mother by law Helie and Duchess Haldora. The duchess was the only one who did not move about - she remained in her chair, shifting positions to find comfort. Her belly was great with child and she expected to give birth any day now.
“I do wonder what people did before the church,” Agnes continued. “It must have been awful for the people of Rome to be cast down into hell for all of these small sins they had no idea they were committing.”
“I would suspect their worship of heathen gods proved a larger issue,” Helie replied. She looked back to Haldora. “No offense, dear.”
Haldora rolled her eyes. “My family have been Christian for a few generations now, you realize. You Franks believe every story you hear of my people? Did you also expect me to arrive with an axe in one hand, shield in the other?”
Agnes noticed quite a few of the ladies trading glances. Haldora also seemed to take notice and shook her head.
“Terrible,” she replied.
The good news was that Agnes doubted Haldora was too offended. She took things like that in stride - after all, she had far bigger grievances these days.
Agnes would never admit it to her father, but she did rather enjoy her stepmother. They had grown a bit closer since Agnes had vouched on her behalf in Melun - they often dined together now when Foulques was away.
And it was with her in mind that Agnes’ half-sister, and Etiennette’s daughter, Antoinette, was not allowed in the room. Etiennette was displeased, but understood.
There was a knock at the door. As Agnes was being prepared, she motioned for someone to answer it. That someone was Helie, who opened the door to peek her head out. She pulled it back to relay that the visitor was a messenger from Aquitaine. Agnes allowed him in.
He no doubt was sent by Geoffrey, who declined to attend. Her brother claimed he was on campaign in Saintonge - likely a few days away - and had sent word that he could not leave his army.
Believable, if from her father. For her brother, who did not like combat, she had her doubts.
His confession in Anjou loomed large. She wondered what his response was when he learned of the news she would be wed, especially so soon after his visit. But she did suspect his lack of attendance was his response - so what news would this man bring her?
The messenger bowed before her. She nodded in acknowledgement and he rose once more.
“My lady, I come to you from Aquitaine,” the man said. “At the behest of your brother, the duke.”
“What does Geoffrey wish of me?”
“Nothing except to accept his deepest regrets that he is unable to join you on this joyous day,” the man said. “He is with his men in Poitou. But he sends you a gift. You should be able to see it from your window.”
Curious Agnes, she broke free of Alearde and Etiennette and moved her way over to the lone, small opening in the chamber. The other ladies did so as well.
The window was not large, so the view was somewhat limited. But there in the yard were multiple casks of wine. That was hardly a surprise, but what Agnes did not expect to see was a peacock, strutting beside the cart.
“Oh my goodness!” she said as her hand covered her mouth. “Where did he find that?”
“He bought it from a trader who works in Greece, my lady,” the man replied.
“So beautiful,” Alearde said.
“Such a lovely gift,” Etiennette added.
Haldora managed to push her way through. “It looks… delicious.”
The ladies turned to look at her. The Northwoman scrunched her face before arching her back as if to accentuate her pregnant stomach. “I am hungry these days. Every bird looks like food.”
Agnes smirked and turned back to the man. “Thank my brother for this. Alearde, give him some coin.”
The man held his hand up. “My lady, there is more. Your brother has requested I recite a message he has sent for you.”
Agnes felt her stomach clench. “Is… it a private message?”
“No my lady,” the man said. “Lord Geoffrey, sends his regards. He prays for the success of this union and your happiness. And though he regrets that he cannot be beside you on your wedding day, he has no doubt that you are the most beautiful and elegant bride the realm has seen in sometime. As always, you are beloved both here and abroad, my lady.”
It was such a thinly-veiled love note, Agnes could barely restrain herself from chasing the messenger from the room. As it was, her hands shook, her eyes were wide and she could feel herself tremble.
That fool will ruin us.
But as she looked at her ladies, none looked suspicious. Quite the opposite - they all seemed to be swooning.
“Such a charming boy,” Aureade noted.
“Something he must have gotten from his mother,” Haldora added.
Alearde gave the man his coin and Agnes kept her head long enough to thank him again as he departed. The door was closed behind.
“Geoffrey, Geoffrey,” Agnes said as shook her head.
“Honeyed words for you, sister,” Bella said.
“Imagine what he must say to those he beds,” Helie added.
“I would not mind finding out,” Margot said.
Quite a few of the women blushed at that. A couple had sly grins, including Etiennette, who had not been dismissed as Foulques lover, but saw much less of him these days, and, much to Agnes’ surprise, Haldora. In fact, the duchess closed her eyes and a few moments later, her grin became a full-on smile.
Agnes rolled her eyes and then took a peek back at Alearde, who was also grinning. That was enough.
“Ladies,” Agnes interrupted. “That is my brother you discuss. Who is married to a woman in this keep.”
“My apologies, my lady,” Margot said. “I did not mean to insult you, Lord Geoffrey or the Lady Marguerite.”
“It is fine Margot,” Agnes said. “But we must not forget our place as ladies, even in private. We never know who might be listening.”
A true statement, though in this case, it was unlikely she and Alearde did not control that. Little information from the women in the keep, noble or otherwise, escaped their ears. It was merely unnerving to hear such things spoken about her brother.
She held her piece though, at least until she was finished being made up. Then she asked for a moment alone with Alearde, and after the ladies departed the room, she frowned at her old mentor.
“I saw your grin too,” Agnes said.
“Grin?” Alearde asked.
“Over Geoffrey,” Agnes replied. “When Margot said she would not mind laying with him.”
Alearde smirked. “Oh, that.”
“Oh that?” Agnes demanded. “Such glib remarks over my brother. If it were to be acted upon…”
“It won’t because it is idle thought,” Alearde said. “Your brother is handsome, charming and powerful. His discord with his wife is well known. It is no surprise many of the women here have thoughts of him.”
“Margot has already laid with a married man, my cousin in Berry, and has a bastard to show for it,” Agnes replied. “So that she might act on those thoughts is not unheard up. And if nothing else, they are sinful thoughts.”
Alearde glared at her. “How is your makeup, my lady? I know your daughter thought you very pretty.”
Agnes’ frown became a scowl.
Alearde continued. “If they worry about having such thoughts, they can confess them to a priest. But they are thoughts. Nothing more. Do you truly believe Haldora would dare lay with your brother now? Your father would likely kill her for that. Nor do I think Geoffrey would dare risk his alliance with your father in such a manner.”
Agnes raised her brow. Alearde replied with a shrug of her shoulders.
“I doubt he carries the same feelings for Haldora or Etiennette that he does you,” Alearde said.
Agnes noticed Alearde lips were pursed. She wanted to say something else, but restrained herself.
“Speak your mind,” she said.
“It is not something that should be said,” Alearde said.
“I expect you to say everything to me,” Agnes said. “I have never wanted you to hold anything back.”
Alearde sighed. “Did hearing them speak of your brother so, make you jealous?”
Agnes’ eyes widened. “NO! Of course not! It just reminded me of… his already poor behavior with women. And It bothers me others would desire to be used in such fashion.”
“You are surprised the duchess desires a man who might shower her with affection, who is younger than your father, may become as powerful, and has a face?” Alearde asked.
“When you put it like that…” Agnes replied.
“Here is how I shall put it to you,” Alearde continued, “put your brother far from your mind. This is your day, not his. And Anjou is more yours than his, for now. We will deal with Geoffrey when he is duke - and we will know how to deal with him then.”
Agnes was not as certain.
Alearde patted her back and escorted her to the mirror. She stood behind her, but placed her head over Agnes’ shoulder to get a good view.
Agnes looked at herself. Her hair was done up in tight buns with a covering on the top of her head. The makeup had made her cheeks rosy, a contrast to her pale complexion. Red was her theme - she also wore a long dress of that color, though the shawl covering her chest was off-white.
It almost did not seem to be her, as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. That just made her stomach churn even more.
But Alearde smiled.
“So pretty,” she said.
……
The ceremony was all a blur.
One moment, her father walked her down toward where Henri stood. The next minute Bishop Hildebert was delivering some words. The mass took so long that her feet ached, but it seemed to have passed by quickly enough where she did not remember feeling bored. But then she also remembered nothing of what was said, only the nervous look on her new husband’s mustached face.
Is he afraid of marriage? Afraid of me? Afraid of what’s to come? Does he not find me pretty enough?
She tried her best to shake it off. This was a political marriage as much as anything else - a way to shore up her position. Chancellor Godfrey would be steadfast ally now, perhaps as strong as Mayor Guilhem was to her.
In truth, she was surprised her father had approved of the union. Alearde had suggested it to her, and she had in turn suggested it to Godfrey, with the idea of dropping the suggestion to Foulques in casual conversation, perhaps jokingly at first. But Foulques seemed fine with the idea - and here she was.
Perhaps because I grow old, father is settling.
That doubt could not be dismissed, no matter how hard she tried. But she knew this union meant she would remain in Anjou. It meant she would keep her power. And that was the important thing.
And it was not as if Henri was a lowborn man. He was the grandson of the late Count of Boulogne and nephew to the current one on his father’s side. One his mother’s he was the nephew to Hugues of Burgundy. That also made him the great-grandson to the late Duke Robert of Burgundy, and thus great-great grandson to a king.
Still, she could not completely shake her doubts.
“I do not know if this is a wise decision,” she said when she discussed it with Alearde at the time.
“You need a husband,” Alearde said. “Your importance to your father and your brother puts you in peril when you travel outside of Anjou. Many would scheme to abduct you and force you to marry a man of their choice.”
Alearde then lowered her head. “And… it would be good to have an outlet for your desires that will not be looked upon with scorn should a child be born.”
“You seem to have managed just fine,” Agnes noted.
“I am no one,” Alearde said. “It matters who I lay with, not that I do. You, it is the opposite.”
Agnes remembered sighing out of resignation - she knew it was true. As much as she’d prefer to stick to her strapping son of a blacksmith, she knew the problems that could arise.
But she did remember having a question for Alearde. “Did you… ever wish to be married?”
Alearde took a moment before responding. “Once… after your mother died. I wished to be your father’s wife. He obviously chose differently.”
Agnes lowered her head. “I am sorry. You would have been a fine mother to us.”
“I already am,” Alearde said with a small grin. “But I am not bitter over it. It proved for the best. Your father would not look at me as he does now if I was his wife. He wishes he could have me. If I were to return to him… he would treat me worse than he does now.”
“But you would have been duchess…” Agnes blurted out. She grimaced at saying it.
“I think that sometimes,” Alearde said. “Then I look at Haldora and see what that is worth.”
You would not have been Haldora, Agnes thought, though she was wise enough to keep that quiet.
But it was clear now that marriage would not be in Alearde’s future. And despite that also appearing the case for Agnes over the years, it was now very much her present.
The feast was as much a haze as the ceremony. The hall did feature two prominent dignitaries - Hugues of Burgundy had come. That was not the most unexpected - his political situation in Burgundy was perilous with the Countess Almodis putting pressure on him with her rebellion. He likely hoped to find as much favor and friendship as he could, even coming to the wedding of his nephew to the daughter of a man he did not have the most harmonious relationship with.
The other was a bit of a surprise as she had no connection with either family. But Queen Sybille herself was in attendance.
She had come with a guard of knights and her ladies - which meant Ness was present as well - but the king was not with her. The queen had told Agnes she had to join her on this day - after all she had done for the realm. It was a humbling moment - a flush, warm feeling that made Agnes weak at the knees that was also one of the clearer moments of the day.
To have the favor of a queen!
Aside from the queen, she remembered a mess of faces, nothing of what each individual said. She noticed her nephew seated by her father - odd given his age, but she noticed her father beginning to show plenty of favor to the younger Foulques. There were even rumors he might take him back to Melun.
Geoffrey will not be pleased.
But that was his own fault. He shirked his duty to his family. This is the result.
Alearde’s advice again came to mind. She closed her eyes and tried to put him far away.
Easier said than done, she realized.
“He is handsome,” Sybille whispered to her.
It snapped Agnes back from her thoughts. The queen had a sly grin on her lips as she eyed Henri. But her eyes were more… hungry - as if she wished to devour him herself.
“Yes…” Agnes replied. “You think him handsome?”
“Very,” Sybille said. “I think you will enjoy him very much. But one word of advice, my dear - savor it. He will not be young forever.”
As the queen took a drink from her goblet, it was clear it was a not so thinly veiled shot on her husband.
“The king is ill,” Agnes said.
“Yes, a reminder that youth and health are fleeting,” Sybille replied. “Like I said, enjoy him while you can.”
Agnes pursed her lips and then turned to her new husband, seated beside her. At some point he should lead her to their bed to consummate their union. But Henri barely had spoken to her at all - he seemed almost frightened to do it.
He should be eager, Agnes thought. Perhaps he does think little of me.
It would not be the end of the world if he did - she still technically had Cedric after all, even if she had told him her visits would be far less frequent now that she was wed - but her ego was bruised nonetheless.
Her new father-in-law seemed to take notice. The chancellor whispered something to Henri and the boy’s eyes widened. But he nodded before standing up and offering Agnes his hand. She took it and he led her away from the feast in the main hall and toward their chambers for the evening.
The room had been prepared by servants, with candles already lit and the bed made. The one remaining woman bowed before them and then departed, closing the door and leaving them alone.
Henri stood before her, but motionless. Like a statue.
Does he not know what to do, she wondered.
She removed her hair piece and then dropped her dress to reveal her body to him, and his eyes again widened. But he did not do much else. Agnes sighed.
“So, you do not like what you see?” she asked.
“No, I mean yes, I do,” Henri stammered. “You are quite beautiful. I’ve always thought so.”
She could not tell if he tried to save himself with empty flattery.
“Here I am then, your wife,” she replied. “You can act on your desires.”
Henri nodded. He approached slowly and again paused as he came up close to her. His brow furrowed, he appeared in deep thought. Finally he leaned in for a kiss.
Limp, weak… unconfident.
“That is not the most convincing kiss,” she told him.
“I’m sorry,” Henri replied. “I… do not truly know what is proper and right to do in this situation.”
“I am your wife,” Agnes said. “What you desire is ultimately right.”
She regretted saying that - she did not need to cede that much power so quickly when it was unnecessary. And yet, it seemed to do little to change the expression on Henri’s face.
“What… what would you like?” he asked.
And suddenly it dawned on her - he was not saying he did not know what to do because he had too many ideas, he was admitting he had none.
“You have never been with a woman before?” Agnes asked him.
Henri shook his head vociferously. “Never. It would be sinful to couple with someone before marriage.”
Agnes’ brow rose. “So you must think awful things of me.”
Henri gulped. “No, of… course not. You…”
Agnes smirked and brought her hand to his cheek. “You do, and that is fine. You would not be the first. And you shall not be the last.”
“I do not think awful things of you,” Henri said. “I question… but that is the extent. I know you as a fine lady. Your service to Anjou has shown that…”
He trailed off for a moment, trying to gather his words. Then he continued. “I want to please you. I know it is necessary for a woman to enjoy laying with a man for a child to be born of the union.”
Agnes rolled her eyes. She had heard that, but doubted its truth. After all, Haldora certainly did not care for her father, but was about to birth another child all the same.
And it did little to calm her doubts that he did not think well of her. He likely just wanted a son.
Perhaps he was of two minds. He had his qualms, but he also had to know he was not likely to do much better than the daughter of Duke of Anjou, sister to the Duke of Aquitaine.
But she was confident enough her experience could lessen his other concerns…
Just a light touch was enough to cause him to tremble. Pressing herself against him revealed his excitement. A few more gentle kisses later and she was pulling him toward the bed.
“Lay back husband,” she said.
The words were strange, but comforting all the same. She did not expect Henri to be a good lover, not at this point. But Alearde was right about one thing - it would be nice to finally be with a man and not have to worry about the consequences - whether she enjoyed herself or not.
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And that's the consequence of matri-marriage being off. Married to a nobody. Maybe he'll get a county at some point. But for now, i'm kind of disappointed. I get it - nobody important gets the claims. But still disappointed.
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It is nice to see the long-serving chancellor being rewarded - indirectly - with this marriage. Godfrey and Guilhem are the most important men of Anjou after the duke now, and as such I see it as a deserved marriage. In any case, Henri is a better option than Alberic was, and I don't see many other dukes in France which would make a good groom - and outside of France would hit Foulques far harder than Philippe with his daughter.
In that spirit, it is a shame that the old duke hasn't managed to seize enough land to aptly reward Amaury, the de Sémurs or even previously the Karlings. On the other hand, it would have been a good way to destroy their relation.
In that spirit, it is a shame that the old duke hasn't managed to seize enough land to aptly reward Amaury, the de Sémurs or even previously the Karlings. On the other hand, it would have been a good way to destroy their relation
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So young Henri gets to lie back and think of Anjou! At least Agnes gets someone at last, and it doesn’t endanger Geoffrey’s inheritance. Let’s just hope he refrains from another of those pharoaonic urges!
At least Agnes gets someone at last, and it doesn’t endanger Geoffrey’s inheritance. Let’s just hope he refrains from another of those pharoaonic urges! - 1
Foulques should give him a county... the children of that marriage might want Anjou, but never be a menace
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A nice portrayal of the young man’s sexual indecision. Well done. A sensual end to the chapter
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Yeah, I won't disagree this is partially due to matri-marriage being off. Agnes would have been married off far sooner if it hadn't happened. At this point I was not really worried with her kids and inheritance - between Geoffrey, his son, and Foulques two sons, I figured there was very little chance of Agnes inheriting. But by then I also didn't really want Agnes to go and there weren't great options anyway - Toulouse was the best one but I could never time it right - he seemed to get a new wife before I realized he had lost his old one. (In retrospect, I should have tagged Toulouse as important.)
But while that is anti-climatic, it keeps Agnes in the frame, which I hope pays off later. And we'll be playing the marriage game with others - don't worry.
It is nice to see the long-serving chancellor being rewarded - indirectly - with this marriage. Godfrey and Guilhem are the most important men of Anjou after the duke now, and as such I see it as a deserved marriage. In any case, Henri is a better option than Alberic was, and I don't see many other dukes in France which would make a good groom - and outside of France would hit Foulques far harder than Philippe with his daughter.
In that spirit, it is a shame that the old duke hasn't managed to seize enough land to aptly reward Amaury, the de Sémurs or even previously the Karlings. On the other hand, it would have been a good way to destroy their relation
Toulouse was always the best option - if available. But as noted above, I could never get the timing right. The others:
Philippe is Duke of Normandy. He's out.
Geoffrey is now Duke of Aquitaine. He's out (despite his protestations otherwise)
Poitou and Gascony are held by women.
Berry is Gilles. Definitely out.
Arnulf is Duke of Flanders. Is a child - I don't think I explored this one. But he was about six or seven here - Agnes was too old to work for him.
The Duke of Orleans was also married. But there's story reasons why Foulques would not want to bother with him.
Champagne isn't an option - he and his wife are bother middle aged.
Hugues of Burgundy's wife is old - Adelaide. But still kicking. And I think I'd have passed on him anyway. He was too weak for my tastes.
Yeah it's unfortunate on the lack of lands to give, but I have plans. I don't wish to give counties to non-Angevins, but baronies are something we'll be looking into in the future.
So young Henri gets to lie back and think of Anjou!
The best part is it keeps her around! I didn't do all this development with her to send her away! And there are worse fates for poor Henri to be married to the most powerful woman in the duchy, who has had her fair share of admirers over the years. (Granted they all seem to be her blood relatives... which... ugh)
Looking at baronies, of which there are non-available at the moment. But it's something that will be something for the future.
Thank you! I debated how to handle it, and figured a chaste, virginal Henri probably would feel very conflicted and intimidated by a vastly more experienced Agnes - who is far more worldly than he is in all aspects (politics, intrigue and sex).
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The wedding and bedding scene was rather touching. It reminded me of a similar occasion in @Henry v. Keiper's Valyrian Steel AAR, which I also rather enjoyed at the time
I also think that Haldora is growing on me a little. I especially like the way you've managed to make her a source of some light-hearted comedy (however grim the events it may be rooted in are) without making the character herself seem ridiculous or pitiful -- which seem to be unfortunately common when people try to write characters in her position.
And on a related note: Egads -- Alearde, Agnes, and Haldora. Is this work suddenly going to turn into a harem comedy once Geoffrey succeeds his dear old father?
I also think that Haldora is growing on me a little. I especially like the way you've managed to make her a source of some light-hearted comedy (however grim the events it may be rooted in are) without making the character herself seem ridiculous or pitiful -- which seem to be unfortunately common when people try to write characters in her position.
And on a related note: Egads -- Alearde, Agnes, and Haldora. Is this work suddenly going to turn into a harem comedy once Geoffrey succeeds his dear old father?
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Per Silence of the Lambs: “they covet what they see every day”! Let’s hope we don’t get one of those mad Scottish cannibal daughter-in-law-eating kings in France!
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The wedding and bedding scene was rather touching. It reminded me of a similar occasion in @Henry v. Keiper's Valyrian Steel AAR, which I also rather enjoyed at the time
I also think that Haldora is growing on me a little. I especially like the way you've managed to make her a source of some light-hearted comedy (however grim the events it may be rooted in are) without making the character herself seem ridiculous or pitiful -- which seem to be unfortunately common when people try to write characters in her position.
And on a related note: Egads -- Alearde, Agnes, and Haldora. Is this work suddenly going to turn into a harem comedy once Geoffrey succeeds his dear old father?
Thanks. Wedding scenes can be hard because pinning down ritual can be hard without extensive research... so it becomes a balance of seeming somewhat accurate a feeling right. Glad it hit well for you.
I'm also glad Haldora is well-received. I hate what's happened to her so I do aim to show she has a life beyond her miserable marriage. I don't know how much she'll pop in for future chapters, I do keep her in my thoughts. I definitely wanted to use her a bit here.
Haldora would fit Geoffrey's habit of chasing after his father's women. All three would be rather... complex though. That he might go for at least one of them is not something lost on me, however.
And given Philippe's poor reputation, I'm sure some French peasants probably think we already have a cannibal king.
Thanks as always for the comments and feedback. I will do the same for your stories hopefully later today, but I have a few errands to run and just wanted to get this next chapter out before I headed out. It is, as mentioned before, part one of three, which will bring to a conclusion this tumultuous period since the end of Boudewijn's rebellion. Hope you all enjoy!
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Chapter 110 - July 1101
Before Plantagenet - Chapter 110
July 1101 - Near Melun, France
Foulques could already hear the sounds of men emanating from the small lodging as he approached on horseback.
The noise caused him to quicken his steed’s pace, despite the darkness setting in, while his knights, including Herve, followed suit. They made their way to the small stone structure, almost a mini keep of sorts, in a small clearing in the wooded area. Attendants were present to take their mounts from them as they dismounted, leading the horses toward a small stable nearby.
One of the guardsmen by the door opened it to reveal a hall, well-lit by torches, with a long table and benches to each side. Those benches were filled at present by the men of the king’s council and their knights. At the head of the table, in a throne-like chair, sat King Philippe.
Upon the guardsman announcing Foulques’ arrival, the king stood up. The others did so a moment later.
“Duke Foulques!” Philippe exclaimed, with a goblet of wine in hand. “You finally come! Join us, my friend!”
Foulques nodded and walked toward the head of the table. But he quickly realized there was not much space. The king frowned and looked to Hugues of Burgundy who was seated at the end of the bench to his left, closest to Philippe on that side.
“Provide some room to your fellow Duke,” Philippe ordered. “It is a common courtesy.”
Burgundy eyes widened for a moment, but he then scowled at both the king and Foulques before making a half-hearted attempt to push himself up the bench, creating a little space between he and Guillaume, the Duke of Orleans.
Not seeing much room, Foulques moved to the end of the bench and sat, pushing Burgundy further down. The younger man tried to shove back.
The room had fallen silent. Foulques turned to look at Burgundy, the loudest noise the sound of his breathing through the heavy mask he wore. The younger duke’s scowl remained, but there was no determination in his eyes. Just fear.
And so he squished himself further against Orleans, who in turn slid further down the bench himself.
A pleasing sight, Foulques mused. He thought even less of Orleans than he did Burgundy, given that Orleans had the audacity to ask for his support on the council - all while scheming to fabricate a claim on Vendome.
A worthless man, not even deserving of what little space he receives, Foulques thought as a small smile came to his lips. Meanwhile, the king raised his goblet.
“A toast to my council!” he exclaimed. “The finest men of the realm - and those who will help guide her toward the glory of our ancestors!”
That drew a cheer from the hall. And then it descended into a cacophony of voices once more as the men returned to their private conversations.
The king leaned in toward Foulques. “I am glad you were able to make it. I did not know how long that outbreak would delay you.”
Foulques waited a moment as a servant arrived with a goblet and filled it wine. After he was gone, Foulques replied: “We are fortunate, for now. It seems to have stopped in Maine.”
“I would be wary,” Philippe said. “It was just in Evreux for a time, but now it is in Maine and Mortain. It is virulent and deadly. I will not blame you if you take refuge inside your keep.”
The Duke of Anjou sipped his wine. Philippe was right - it was smallpox and not to be taken lightly. Perhaps he should have already locked the gates as Chancellor Godfrey had suggested.
But he hesitated. He did not wish to withdraw yet - not with the king likely preparing for an offensive against Champagne.
Then there was the loss of influence. During his time away from Melun meeting with Geoffrey, Gilles had been released - Bourges still his. Philippe had explained this to Foulques as something that needed to be done - Gilles had sworn fealty and the realm needed as many men as possible.
Still it rang hollow to Foulques and likely was caused by others looking to limit his influence. If he locked himself away in Anjou… how much more say would he lose?
And… in the back of his mind, he remembered the last time the gates were shut - Aines fell ill and died, not of measles as had been the outbreak, but that dreaded cancer. It was superstitious, but part of Foulques worried if he shut the gates again, perhaps another tragedy would befall the family.
“Do you plan to move on Troyes?” Foulques asked, changing the topic toward one he would more likely enjoy.
“Yes,” Philippe said. “The men needed a small respite after reclaiming our lost keeps in Normandy. But they will be ready to move when we return. And then we shall unleash a fitting revenge on Champagne.”
A smile came to Foulques lips. It was good to hear the king speak with such confidence again. Perhaps Adalmode truly had helped him.
Foulques looked across the table to the Duke of Toulouse. “Have I missed the good hunting?”
Toulouse shook his head. “We have been here but a day and we found doe, but no stags.”
“Disappointing,” Philippe added. “But I planned us to be here for a few days yet. And the day was not a total loss - those doe provided the fine meal we have before us. Speaking of which…”
Philippe motioned for a servant to come and then ordered him to bring Foulques some food.
“So, it appears I have not arrived too late,” Foulques said.
“You nearly did,” Toulouse said. “The king had a narrow brush with death today.”
Foulques eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“A stray arrow nearly struck him,” Toulouse said.
“You exaggerate,” Philippe said.
“I saw it with my own eyes, my liege,” Toulouse said. “It nearly struck you in the chest, but it narrowly missed. Too close for comfort.”
“Such is the danger of hunting,” Philippe said. “But we endure.”
Toulouse did not seem enthused by that response but said nothing. Philippe then leaned in to Foulques once more.
“Forgive me,” Philippe said.
“For what?” Foulques wondered.
“I did not congratulate you on your new son,” the king replied. “And did I hear true that you have named him Philippe?”
Foulques nodded. Haldora had birthed a boy just days after Agnes’ wedding. The plan was to name him after the king, which felt like an easy way to continue to keep favor for the family.
“Magnificent,” Philippe said. “I am truly honored. You shall have first chance to kill a beast tomorrow - should it not be the proper stag of course.”
“Of course,” Foulques replied.
Philippe took a drink from his cup and smiled. A servant brought Fouqlues a steak of meat which the duke tore into. The journey had been long and he was hungry.
“You know, speaking your sons,” Philippe continued. “I invited your eldest on this trip. He declined obviously.”
Foulques cocked a brow. “He is not a member of the council.”
“I have noticed,” Philippe said. “But he remains an important man in the realm. He is the Duke of Aquitaine and, soon enough, Poitou. I cannot ignore him.”
“He is not Duke of Poitou yet,” Foulques noted.
“But he will be,” Philippe said.
“You think he will win the duchy?”
Philippe smirked. “I do not think you will let him lose it.”
Foulques rolled his eyes, though such an action was hidden from Philippe due to his mask. “I have already told my son he will win this on his own.”
“Yes, you told him that,” Philippe said. “But if he stumbles, you expect me to believe you will not pick him up?”
“I have told him as much,” Foulques insisted.
Philippe chuckled and sipped from his cup. “This from a man who found himself embarrassed before the realm as his daughter birthed the bastard daughter of her cousin. Yet your beloved Agnes is now your regent.”
“You think I should have punished her more severely?” Foulques demanded. “Is that what you insinuate?”
“Of course not,” Philippe said. “I am very fond of your daughter.”
Philippe paused for a moment but then quickly turned his gaze back to Foulques. “Not in the way of a lover. But as a daughter of sorts. She has done far more for me than my own eldest has, who has brought me nothing more than a worthless alliance through her marriage. I begin to wonder if Danes are as mythical as unicorns - for I have not seen one on our shores yet.”
That managed to draw a small grin from Foulques. Philippe continued.
“My wife, who values my daughter much more than me, also thinks of Agnes as if she were one of her own,” he added. “So no, I am not at all disappointed you were lenient with her. But, I merely point out that you have tolerated far more than your son has done. So you will not abandon him.”
“You do not understand,” Foulques said. “He schemes. He uses me. He thinks himself my better.”
“I think I can understand too well,” Philippe said. “All boys think themselves superior to their fathers. Did you not do so with your father?”
“My father did not give me Tours,” Foulques said. “And can you say he was as great as me?”
Philippe laughed. “That was a poor example. But I can speak from experience. I did not know my father well, as he died when I was a boy. But I still thought myself his better. A weak man, who was a king in name only. I would change that. I would make myself a true king, and bring my vassals to heel. I could… because I was better.”
Philippe lowered his head.
“And now I sit, dying, while my son has spent much of his life in the hands of one of those vassals,” Philippe said. “It shows you what too much pride can bring.”
“Yes,” Foulques said. “Which is why it is good to see my son humbled by me.”
“Not at the expense of everything else,” Philippe said. “I look upon you with envy. Your son grew by yours side. I still remember him with you in Melun. I thought, one day, it would be me. But it never was, and never will be. Even now, if we win this war, Alphonse is nearly a man grown.”
“I am sorry for that,” Foulques said. “You would have been a fine influence on him - though you still can be when he is freed once more.”
“I will not have the time, I am afraid,” Philippe said.
“Do you feel ill?”
“No, your nun is truly blessed,” the king replied. “I feel better than I have in some time! But I am not a fool. My time draws short. I cannot pretend otherwise, or I shall fail to make the best of it.”
The king finished his wine and then stood up. Foulques and the rest of the men in the hall did the same. Philippe then motioned for them to sit.
“I am to retire for the evening my good men,” the king said. “I wish to have all my energies tomorrow when we continue our hunt! But you all may remain in this hall as long as you like! Enjoy yourselves! You have earned it!”
Another cheer went up. As the king moved to leave he stopped by Foulques and whispered into his ear: “I do have a gift for you. You will find it in your lodging.”
And with that the king walked off, leaving Foulques curious - curious enough that he excused himself a little while later. He found it was a personal chamber - the lodge was not big so there were few present. However, he found himself unimpressed by the size - it was nothing more than a tiny room with a bed and barely enough space for a small chest.
But, on that bed, he saw someone sitting. She bounded up off the bed and approached.
It was Ness.
He had not been with her as much lately. She never accompanied him on his trips back to Anjou, of which he had made a few over the past six months. The few times she did, the pair of the times the Queen had come, Foulques did not lay with her out of deference to Haldora and Agnes, who he knew also disapproved.
The room was dimly lit by a single candle, but it was enough to make out her body, which had grown more woman-like after the birth of their son with wider hips, and larger bust - and a slightly fuller version the face which reminded him so much of her mother.
“This… is a surprise,” Foulques told her.
“The king wished for his nobles with vassals who had… lovers… to be able to enjoy them on this trip,” Ness replied. “I came with Isabel de Montfort, who lays with Hugues of Burgundy.”
Foulques eyes widened. He was not aware of that - it was surprising, given that Isabel was Foulques’ sister-by-law - his half-brother Simon’s wife.
“I have missed you… husband,” Ness purred as she pressed herself against him. “The king picked a good time for this trip. I have had a longing for you for days now.”
He had warned her against using “husband” around him after Haldora’s plot against him, but he let it slide here. He wanted her as much as she claimed to desire him.
And as Ness dropped her dress, his chambers suddenly went from cramped to cozy.
….
The barking of the dogs signalled the end of the chase. Hopefully, with more success than the last.
It was the second time this day that they had found a deer. The first time had been a stag, but not the most impressive one as it had been rather young with its antlers not fully grown. Philippe passed on it, and offered it instead to Foulques.
However, his aim with a bow was never the best, and his shot poor, just wounding the animal in the hindquarters. Toulouse had been the one to deliver the shot which brought it down and ended the animal’s life himself.
It had been an unfortunately humbling experience for Foulques, who was unable to blame anything for his miss, as the normal excuse of sunlight was not possible on a cloudy day. As a result, he had to endure the jokes from Philippe.
“I think I shall keep you close to me,” he remarked to Foulques in private. “Not only will my aim look better, but I shall be safe from your errant attempts. After yesterday, I should take no chances.”
It drew an eye roll from Foulques, but he thought better of insulting his king’s lack of martial. He had, after all, brought him Ness for his enjoyment. That was worth something.
And he had permitted Herve to come along with the members of the council, who were all present on horseback except Jaspert, who remained at the lodge. It was a reward for Foulques’ nephew - the king showed gratitude for leading the victory over Champagne over a year ago.
While it was deserved, that did not mean it should be expected. Plenty of rulers proved rather ungrateful toward their vassals.
Herve rode in front of Foulques as they neared the sound of the dogs. As much as the best redemption would be a good kill which he delivered himself, Foulques soon realized that would be unlikely. This time, the dogs had cornered a large stag - strong-looking beast with a magnificent set of antlers. This was clearly the beast the king searched for.
And sure enough Philippe rode forward. He raised his arm, and balled his first, signalling the kill was his. He dismounted his horse and carefully aimed his shot.
But his shot missed wildly, the arrow flying off in the distance well past the stag. Given how proficient Philippe looked in Anjou, Foulques was surprised.
At least until he looked over to the king and saw an arrow sticking out of his abdomen.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man holding a bow, across the field. Unlike the others, his was up, as if he had just fired.
“Grab that man!” Foulques shouted.
“Who?” Herve asked.
The man had started to sprint. It gave enough of a hint for Herve to spur his horse forward. Orleans and Burgundy followed.
Meanwhile Foulques and Toulouse approached Philippe and dismounted. He was leaning up against a tree, grimacing. There was some redness staining his tunic around where the arrow had penetrated, which was in the lower abdomen.
It likely missed his lungs and heart, Foulques realized. He is lucky - had it been a few inches higher, he may well have been done for.
“Yesterday was no mistake,” Toulouse said. “We were fools to remain.”
Philippe gritting his teeth through the pain looked up at Toulouse. “Now is not the time for that. Aid me back to the lodge. Jaspert can examine the wound.”
Toulouse looked to Foulques and nodded. Then the younger duke called for a litter to quickly be prepared, before he and Foulques steadied the king.
Foulques felt a droplet of water on his head. Then another. He looked up.
A light rain had strarted to fall as ravens began to gather.
July 1101 - Near Melun, France
Foulques could already hear the sounds of men emanating from the small lodging as he approached on horseback.
The noise caused him to quicken his steed’s pace, despite the darkness setting in, while his knights, including Herve, followed suit. They made their way to the small stone structure, almost a mini keep of sorts, in a small clearing in the wooded area. Attendants were present to take their mounts from them as they dismounted, leading the horses toward a small stable nearby.
One of the guardsmen by the door opened it to reveal a hall, well-lit by torches, with a long table and benches to each side. Those benches were filled at present by the men of the king’s council and their knights. At the head of the table, in a throne-like chair, sat King Philippe.
Upon the guardsman announcing Foulques’ arrival, the king stood up. The others did so a moment later.
“Duke Foulques!” Philippe exclaimed, with a goblet of wine in hand. “You finally come! Join us, my friend!”
Foulques nodded and walked toward the head of the table. But he quickly realized there was not much space. The king frowned and looked to Hugues of Burgundy who was seated at the end of the bench to his left, closest to Philippe on that side.
“Provide some room to your fellow Duke,” Philippe ordered. “It is a common courtesy.”
Burgundy eyes widened for a moment, but he then scowled at both the king and Foulques before making a half-hearted attempt to push himself up the bench, creating a little space between he and Guillaume, the Duke of Orleans.
Not seeing much room, Foulques moved to the end of the bench and sat, pushing Burgundy further down. The younger man tried to shove back.
The room had fallen silent. Foulques turned to look at Burgundy, the loudest noise the sound of his breathing through the heavy mask he wore. The younger duke’s scowl remained, but there was no determination in his eyes. Just fear.
And so he squished himself further against Orleans, who in turn slid further down the bench himself.
A pleasing sight, Foulques mused. He thought even less of Orleans than he did Burgundy, given that Orleans had the audacity to ask for his support on the council - all while scheming to fabricate a claim on Vendome.
A worthless man, not even deserving of what little space he receives, Foulques thought as a small smile came to his lips. Meanwhile, the king raised his goblet.
“A toast to my council!” he exclaimed. “The finest men of the realm - and those who will help guide her toward the glory of our ancestors!”
That drew a cheer from the hall. And then it descended into a cacophony of voices once more as the men returned to their private conversations.
The king leaned in toward Foulques. “I am glad you were able to make it. I did not know how long that outbreak would delay you.”
Foulques waited a moment as a servant arrived with a goblet and filled it wine. After he was gone, Foulques replied: “We are fortunate, for now. It seems to have stopped in Maine.”
“I would be wary,” Philippe said. “It was just in Evreux for a time, but now it is in Maine and Mortain. It is virulent and deadly. I will not blame you if you take refuge inside your keep.”
The Duke of Anjou sipped his wine. Philippe was right - it was smallpox and not to be taken lightly. Perhaps he should have already locked the gates as Chancellor Godfrey had suggested.
But he hesitated. He did not wish to withdraw yet - not with the king likely preparing for an offensive against Champagne.
Then there was the loss of influence. During his time away from Melun meeting with Geoffrey, Gilles had been released - Bourges still his. Philippe had explained this to Foulques as something that needed to be done - Gilles had sworn fealty and the realm needed as many men as possible.
Still it rang hollow to Foulques and likely was caused by others looking to limit his influence. If he locked himself away in Anjou… how much more say would he lose?
And… in the back of his mind, he remembered the last time the gates were shut - Aines fell ill and died, not of measles as had been the outbreak, but that dreaded cancer. It was superstitious, but part of Foulques worried if he shut the gates again, perhaps another tragedy would befall the family.
“Do you plan to move on Troyes?” Foulques asked, changing the topic toward one he would more likely enjoy.
“Yes,” Philippe said. “The men needed a small respite after reclaiming our lost keeps in Normandy. But they will be ready to move when we return. And then we shall unleash a fitting revenge on Champagne.”
A smile came to Foulques lips. It was good to hear the king speak with such confidence again. Perhaps Adalmode truly had helped him.
Foulques looked across the table to the Duke of Toulouse. “Have I missed the good hunting?”
Toulouse shook his head. “We have been here but a day and we found doe, but no stags.”
“Disappointing,” Philippe added. “But I planned us to be here for a few days yet. And the day was not a total loss - those doe provided the fine meal we have before us. Speaking of which…”
Philippe motioned for a servant to come and then ordered him to bring Foulques some food.
“So, it appears I have not arrived too late,” Foulques said.
“You nearly did,” Toulouse said. “The king had a narrow brush with death today.”
Foulques eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“A stray arrow nearly struck him,” Toulouse said.
“You exaggerate,” Philippe said.
“I saw it with my own eyes, my liege,” Toulouse said. “It nearly struck you in the chest, but it narrowly missed. Too close for comfort.”
“Such is the danger of hunting,” Philippe said. “But we endure.”
Toulouse did not seem enthused by that response but said nothing. Philippe then leaned in to Foulques once more.
“Forgive me,” Philippe said.
“For what?” Foulques wondered.
“I did not congratulate you on your new son,” the king replied. “And did I hear true that you have named him Philippe?”
Foulques nodded. Haldora had birthed a boy just days after Agnes’ wedding. The plan was to name him after the king, which felt like an easy way to continue to keep favor for the family.
“Magnificent,” Philippe said. “I am truly honored. You shall have first chance to kill a beast tomorrow - should it not be the proper stag of course.”
“Of course,” Foulques replied.
Philippe took a drink from his cup and smiled. A servant brought Fouqlues a steak of meat which the duke tore into. The journey had been long and he was hungry.
“You know, speaking your sons,” Philippe continued. “I invited your eldest on this trip. He declined obviously.”
Foulques cocked a brow. “He is not a member of the council.”
“I have noticed,” Philippe said. “But he remains an important man in the realm. He is the Duke of Aquitaine and, soon enough, Poitou. I cannot ignore him.”
“He is not Duke of Poitou yet,” Foulques noted.
“But he will be,” Philippe said.
“You think he will win the duchy?”
Philippe smirked. “I do not think you will let him lose it.”
Foulques rolled his eyes, though such an action was hidden from Philippe due to his mask. “I have already told my son he will win this on his own.”
“Yes, you told him that,” Philippe said. “But if he stumbles, you expect me to believe you will not pick him up?”
“I have told him as much,” Foulques insisted.
Philippe chuckled and sipped from his cup. “This from a man who found himself embarrassed before the realm as his daughter birthed the bastard daughter of her cousin. Yet your beloved Agnes is now your regent.”
“You think I should have punished her more severely?” Foulques demanded. “Is that what you insinuate?”
“Of course not,” Philippe said. “I am very fond of your daughter.”
Philippe paused for a moment but then quickly turned his gaze back to Foulques. “Not in the way of a lover. But as a daughter of sorts. She has done far more for me than my own eldest has, who has brought me nothing more than a worthless alliance through her marriage. I begin to wonder if Danes are as mythical as unicorns - for I have not seen one on our shores yet.”
That managed to draw a small grin from Foulques. Philippe continued.
“My wife, who values my daughter much more than me, also thinks of Agnes as if she were one of her own,” he added. “So no, I am not at all disappointed you were lenient with her. But, I merely point out that you have tolerated far more than your son has done. So you will not abandon him.”
“You do not understand,” Foulques said. “He schemes. He uses me. He thinks himself my better.”
“I think I can understand too well,” Philippe said. “All boys think themselves superior to their fathers. Did you not do so with your father?”
“My father did not give me Tours,” Foulques said. “And can you say he was as great as me?”
Philippe laughed. “That was a poor example. But I can speak from experience. I did not know my father well, as he died when I was a boy. But I still thought myself his better. A weak man, who was a king in name only. I would change that. I would make myself a true king, and bring my vassals to heel. I could… because I was better.”
Philippe lowered his head.
“And now I sit, dying, while my son has spent much of his life in the hands of one of those vassals,” Philippe said. “It shows you what too much pride can bring.”
“Yes,” Foulques said. “Which is why it is good to see my son humbled by me.”
“Not at the expense of everything else,” Philippe said. “I look upon you with envy. Your son grew by yours side. I still remember him with you in Melun. I thought, one day, it would be me. But it never was, and never will be. Even now, if we win this war, Alphonse is nearly a man grown.”
“I am sorry for that,” Foulques said. “You would have been a fine influence on him - though you still can be when he is freed once more.”
“I will not have the time, I am afraid,” Philippe said.
“Do you feel ill?”
“No, your nun is truly blessed,” the king replied. “I feel better than I have in some time! But I am not a fool. My time draws short. I cannot pretend otherwise, or I shall fail to make the best of it.”
The king finished his wine and then stood up. Foulques and the rest of the men in the hall did the same. Philippe then motioned for them to sit.
“I am to retire for the evening my good men,” the king said. “I wish to have all my energies tomorrow when we continue our hunt! But you all may remain in this hall as long as you like! Enjoy yourselves! You have earned it!”
Another cheer went up. As the king moved to leave he stopped by Foulques and whispered into his ear: “I do have a gift for you. You will find it in your lodging.”
And with that the king walked off, leaving Foulques curious - curious enough that he excused himself a little while later. He found it was a personal chamber - the lodge was not big so there were few present. However, he found himself unimpressed by the size - it was nothing more than a tiny room with a bed and barely enough space for a small chest.
But, on that bed, he saw someone sitting. She bounded up off the bed and approached.
It was Ness.
He had not been with her as much lately. She never accompanied him on his trips back to Anjou, of which he had made a few over the past six months. The few times she did, the pair of the times the Queen had come, Foulques did not lay with her out of deference to Haldora and Agnes, who he knew also disapproved.
The room was dimly lit by a single candle, but it was enough to make out her body, which had grown more woman-like after the birth of their son with wider hips, and larger bust - and a slightly fuller version the face which reminded him so much of her mother.
“This… is a surprise,” Foulques told her.
“The king wished for his nobles with vassals who had… lovers… to be able to enjoy them on this trip,” Ness replied. “I came with Isabel de Montfort, who lays with Hugues of Burgundy.”
Foulques eyes widened. He was not aware of that - it was surprising, given that Isabel was Foulques’ sister-by-law - his half-brother Simon’s wife.
“I have missed you… husband,” Ness purred as she pressed herself against him. “The king picked a good time for this trip. I have had a longing for you for days now.”
He had warned her against using “husband” around him after Haldora’s plot against him, but he let it slide here. He wanted her as much as she claimed to desire him.
And as Ness dropped her dress, his chambers suddenly went from cramped to cozy.
….
The barking of the dogs signalled the end of the chase. Hopefully, with more success than the last.
It was the second time this day that they had found a deer. The first time had been a stag, but not the most impressive one as it had been rather young with its antlers not fully grown. Philippe passed on it, and offered it instead to Foulques.
However, his aim with a bow was never the best, and his shot poor, just wounding the animal in the hindquarters. Toulouse had been the one to deliver the shot which brought it down and ended the animal’s life himself.
It had been an unfortunately humbling experience for Foulques, who was unable to blame anything for his miss, as the normal excuse of sunlight was not possible on a cloudy day. As a result, he had to endure the jokes from Philippe.
“I think I shall keep you close to me,” he remarked to Foulques in private. “Not only will my aim look better, but I shall be safe from your errant attempts. After yesterday, I should take no chances.”
It drew an eye roll from Foulques, but he thought better of insulting his king’s lack of martial. He had, after all, brought him Ness for his enjoyment. That was worth something.
And he had permitted Herve to come along with the members of the council, who were all present on horseback except Jaspert, who remained at the lodge. It was a reward for Foulques’ nephew - the king showed gratitude for leading the victory over Champagne over a year ago.
While it was deserved, that did not mean it should be expected. Plenty of rulers proved rather ungrateful toward their vassals.
Herve rode in front of Foulques as they neared the sound of the dogs. As much as the best redemption would be a good kill which he delivered himself, Foulques soon realized that would be unlikely. This time, the dogs had cornered a large stag - strong-looking beast with a magnificent set of antlers. This was clearly the beast the king searched for.
And sure enough Philippe rode forward. He raised his arm, and balled his first, signalling the kill was his. He dismounted his horse and carefully aimed his shot.
But his shot missed wildly, the arrow flying off in the distance well past the stag. Given how proficient Philippe looked in Anjou, Foulques was surprised.
At least until he looked over to the king and saw an arrow sticking out of his abdomen.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man holding a bow, across the field. Unlike the others, his was up, as if he had just fired.
“Grab that man!” Foulques shouted.
“Who?” Herve asked.
The man had started to sprint. It gave enough of a hint for Herve to spur his horse forward. Orleans and Burgundy followed.
Meanwhile Foulques and Toulouse approached Philippe and dismounted. He was leaning up against a tree, grimacing. There was some redness staining his tunic around where the arrow had penetrated, which was in the lower abdomen.
It likely missed his lungs and heart, Foulques realized. He is lucky - had it been a few inches higher, he may well have been done for.
“Yesterday was no mistake,” Toulouse said. “We were fools to remain.”
Philippe gritting his teeth through the pain looked up at Toulouse. “Now is not the time for that. Aid me back to the lodge. Jaspert can examine the wound.”
Toulouse looked to Foulques and nodded. Then the younger duke called for a litter to quickly be prepared, before he and Foulques steadied the king.
Foulques felt a droplet of water on his head. Then another. He looked up.
A light rain had strarted to fall as ravens began to gather.
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