So, slightly off topic - is matri-marry off so that you could run the Beatritz gambit? Thought i'd try Foulques for the survivor achievement and she isn't an option at all.
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Before Plantagenet – A House d’Anjou AAR
- Thread starter JabberJock14
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Coming to comment on the last chapter a bit late, after the last few days writing updates furiously myself.
I'll just say it was a cracker. I think the madness with Geoffrey and Alphonse is dramatic plot-twist gold and you dealt with the left-fielder very well! Very much stranger and sillier things have happened in power politics for millennia, for sometimes unknowable, arbitrary or hare-brained reasons. So while perhaps illogical from the god-like perspective of the rational game-player, I don't think it's unrealistic at all. A good bit of human factor chaos thrown in by an AI: sheer artistry!
As it did with Foulques when he was thrown off the council, it gives Geoffrey free reign again. Though given you don't control him yet, that could bring up some more equally 'interesting' events ... you must have been sweating a bit by this stage.
Very interested to see where this went next.
Glad you liked it! Yes, crazier things happened in real life, but when things like that happen, you always feel it is... gamey. And in a narrative, you always worry about trying to justify it.
Yes, I was sweating a bit. The last thing I needed was Geoffrey starting a rebellion and then getting tossed in the dungeon or killed. I could prevent that by joining him if he joined a faction, but the AI chooses some dumb factions and Foulques joining, at this point, is basically guaranteeing it fires. So... it's a tough spot.
And we will get to the next twist the chapter after next.
Just adding to what has been said before, we players have an objective way of assessing people's skills through the stats, in real life that would not be the case of course and young people tend to think they can always do it better (now I feel like my grandma) so what happened is not unrealistic whatsoever.
Yes you're right about that. We do tend to evaluate everything by statistics, and also value certain statistics more. For example, I've undervalued the diplomacy skill for my time playing this game - martial and stewardship were everything. But Geoffrey's incredible diplomacy skill and its effects have changed my opinion on it! But the king is motivated by things other than stats and Geoffrey's behavior... I tried to show he wasn't entirely blameless. Philippe let Foulques slide on a lot, with both him and Geoffrey, but Hugues is a different man and a different king.
Nah, I turned off Matri-marriages for realism. I've since kind of regretted it, since in game Foulques himself is the product of what would be classified as a matri-marriage. His mother's house is Anjou, his father's isn't. But in previous games I've felt kind of bad about destroying other houses by stealing their sons and marrying them to my characters daughters. So I decided not to do it this time. Of course, it just leads to stress with not actually losing the royal house to bad luck.
I don't think Matri-marriage makes a difference. But Beatritz is not guaranteed to be a marriage option. Foulques being a count at the start actually limits his options when marrying into the family of dukes. I don't think I've ever successfully convinced Guilhem to part with Aines at the start, for example. Beatritz is not always guaranteed either, even though she's a lower value option. There were test games I did where she wasn't a marriage option. Then I usually went with Aenor de Thouars in that situation, who sometimes will net your descendant Thouars. And even without Guilhem, you can crush Geoffrey pretty easily if you get Duke Robert's alliance along with the troops of your father-in-law.
So... you've got a few options. If you want Beatritz, you can reload your start until she's a marriage option. Or you can choose someone else. (Or you could try to alter history and play as Foulques' brother Geoffrey - who should have marriage options for any ducal character in France available!)
To all, the next chapter follows. As I said, it's based off a singular event that I decided to go with. We'll see how it goes!
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Chapter 119 - June 1103
Before Plantagenet - Chapter 119
June 1103 - Anjou, France
Agnes lay in her chamber, her eyes closed.
A low rumble snapped her eyes open and her gaze fixated on the ceiling.
Again.
Look at the ceiling. Examine every little detail. See how it has changed since the last time you stared at it… Moments ago.
Ignore the pains in your belly. Ignore how you wish to eat something… anything.
But her stomach continued to rumbled. She heard the sounds from within her belly over her own thoughts. And she wished again that she could succeed in her original reason for laying in her chamber bed despite it being the middle of the day - to fall asleep and temporarily escape this miserable prison.
Some days it worked better than others. Today was not a good one as she had been in her chambers for over an hour, trying and failing to find relief in dreams or at least a different experience in her nightmares.
Agnes pulled herself upright. It was no use. Her body would not oblige her.
And so it was these miserable days in the keep. Barely enough food in the evening to drive the pangs away and fall asleep. Awaken to the same rumblings in her stomach and be filled with the desire for anything to sate it. Even rats had begun to look appealing enough where she suggested her father cook them. He was receptive, much to her relief, though she noticed little change in the portions.
It had been going on for months now, and it had taken a toll on them all. While Agnes had never been a heavy woman, she had grown incredibly thin as of late. When she would change and see herself in the mirror, her ribs had become easy to spot. Her hair thinned and started to gray, her face grew gaunt.
And it was more than just her physical appearance. Her energy waned, as did almost everyone else's in the keep. Her desires dwindled and she could not bring herself to actually be with Henri - it would just leave them hungrier for actual food than before. Not that he was bothered - her husband just did not seem very interested in coupling.
That irked her early on - he had duties as her husband - but by now she was far too miserable to care. Besides, she feared actually conceiving a child at this point. It was terrible enough now. Imagine if she were pregnant as well?
Her only relief came in her dreams, when sometimes she would find herself next to her handsome, strong son of a blacksmith lover, Cedric. When her eyes closed, he be there to ravish her, as he used to. In the days before she was wed. In the days before she feared starvation.
She looked to her pitcher, where some wine was left. It was ironic - the wine had not gone bad like the food, so it remained plentiful. But she could not drink much of it. Without food, it left her drunk too easily. So it sat there unused, for the most part, except at supper.
Torment, she thought. Perhaps it would be better outside the gates.
A thought that came to mind often, but one she quickly dismissed. To be afflicted with that disease, to have the pox cover your body, to have it scar you, if you were lucky, to have it kill you if you were not… no, this suffering would prove worth it.
Provided… we actually survive.
She sighed, as a knock came at her chamber door. She prayed it would be someone to tell her it was over - the gates were being opened and they could move around the world once more… eat food, see different faces, enjoy the finer pleasures…
But she knew that was unlikely. She sat on council meetings. She knew the state of things. And the state… was poor.
It was, in fact, Alearde. Her mentor had not been immune from this misery either - the lack of food and loss of weight appeared to hasten her aging. The lines in her face grew more numerous every day. Her dress hung looser on her frame and her complexion was paler than it had been.
“Something important?” Agnes asked.
“I… bring a message for you,” Alearde said. “It was passed to one of my people.”
“What is it?”
“Cedric is very ill,” Alearde said.
“How ill?” Agnes asked.
“He… he wished to pass along to you that he was grateful for the time you two spent together,” Alearde said. “He has missed you… but that he understands why you could not be with him. And that he will always love you.”
Agnes gulped. “He sounds… he sounds as if he is dying.”
Alearde did not reply and Agnes felt her stomach clench.
Despite her better judgments, she had seen Cedric since she was married… but rarely. They took similar precautions as before - she did not wish the uncertainty of parentage for any child she would carry. But she could not resist the temptation either - at least until the keep was locked down from even the town.
Henri had not been the best of lovers. Even with her guidance, he was timid, and meek. He simply did not excite her - not like barrel-chested lover did.
And now… Cedric lay dying? Telling her of his love without being able to receive any in return?
“I must go to him,” Agnes said.
“You cannot,” Alearde said.
“You can sneak me out of here,” Agnes said.
“I will not,” Alearde said. “I will not risk your life over this matter.”
“I care for him!” Agnes said.
“His fate will not change regardless,” Alearde replied. “Yours, however might. You would bring death to yourself to be sentimental?”
Agnes frowned. “He has excited me unlike any other. I have known him for years now… is it wrong to care for him?”
“No,” Alearde said. “But you cannot throw your life away to say goodbye.”
“I may not catch the illness,” Agnes said.
“But you risk it,” Alearde said. “I cannot, in good conscience, help you and expose you, then let you return. It would put everyone in this keep in jeopardy. Not just you, but your father, your brothers, your sisters, your daughter, my daughter… No, I will not.”
“Then I will go myself,” Agnes said as she stormed past her.
“I will tell your father,” Alearde said.
Agnes grew wide-eyed and turned back to Alearde. “You would not.”
“I will not let you put this over the health of everyone else in the keep,” Alearde said. “I do not wish to do this, but I will.”
Agnes scowled. She trusted Alearde with everything… had she known she would not help her, she would have never have told her.
“I cannot believe you would betray me like this,” she grumbled.
“I have betrayed nothing,” Alearde said. “I seek what is best for you and everyone here. If you wish to leave, speak to your father. Perhaps he will permit it. But… he will no doubt wonder what Cedric is to you.”
It was an argument and warning meant to end matters. Alearde never would have expected Agnes to be willing to admit her affair to her father.
But Agnes was angry, hungry, frustrated and guilty.
She marched from her chambers, seeking her father. He was not present in his own chamber. Instead, he was found in the strategy hall, looking over a map of the realm, alone.
It had changed in recent months. Poitou was now under Geoffrey’s control. A positive development for her family, though one that could not be fully celebrated until they actually had food stores once more and would be tempered by her brother's dismissal from the council.
He probably reached for something he should not, she thought when she heard that news.
Foulques glanced up as he heard the door close. His eyes returned to the map when he saw it was Agnes.
She looked at him and her sadness grew stronger still. Her father had not been immune to the effects of this mess either. His robes hung loosely off him, his gray hair thinned and he had lost another couple of teeth. Perhaps for the first time in her life, Agnes saw Foulques as old - a reminder that his time may be nearing an end.
But she steeled herself. It was a reminder that all their time was fleeting. Like Cedric.
“Do you come to tell me the epidemic has begun to abate?” Foulques asked without looking up.
“No,” Agnes replied. She felt the adrenaline coursing through her. She held her head up, and stood straight, her arms at her side, her whole body at attention.
“Then what is it?”
“I wish to leave the keep,” Agnes told him.
That was enough to bring Foulques’ gaze back to her. But it was momentary, his eyes soon returned the map. “No one leaves or enters the keep. It is simple enough, I thought.”
“I am aware,” Agnes said. “And I am requesting that I be allowed to depart.”
“You would not be permitted to return until the epidemic passes,” Foulques said. “If you survived.”
“I am aware,” Agnes said. “I still wish to go.”
“You wish for death?” Foulques asked. “You desire food that badly, I see.”
“No…” Agnes said. “I have… a friend. Who is ill. I wish to see them before… if… they pass.”
That was enough to draw Foulques eyes to her again. He pushed himself up from the table.
“Who is he?” Foulques asked.
“As I said, a friend,” Agnes said.
Foulques shook his head and looked down once more. “I thought it was just your brother who believed himself far more clever than he is. Now I see you both have that nature. Perhaps your mother had a greater influence on you than I thought.”
“You insult mother?” Agnes demanded.
Foulques' eyes returned to her. But it was no passing glance. He pinned her with his gaze.
“No, I insult my daughter who thinks herself so clever she can attempt to justify her leaving the safety of the keep, with no promise of return, over a mere friend,” Foulques said. “Who is he and how long has it been going on?”
Agnes lowered her head. This was foolish. But she was in now. There was no way to back out of it.
Her head came up again. “He is the son a blacksmith. It has gone on for years now. Since before I was married.”
“And does it continue since?”
“Rarely.” she answered.
“Rarely, but it does.”
Agnes bit her lip before replying: “Yes.”
Foulques moved from the table and approached her. His body had grown thin, but his walk remained heavy, his boots echoing in the empty strategy hall. He stopped in front of her, and peered down, through his mask - close enough Agnes could feel his breath on her face.
“You learned nothing,” Foulques said. “Sixteen years, and you learn nothing.”
“This was not Gilles,” Agnes said. “Cedric cares for me. He loves me. He---”
“He is not your husband,” Foulques said. “You seek to embarrass me again?”
“No,” Agnes insisted. “It was never about you.”
“No, it was only about you,” Foulques said. “Selfish. Inconsiderate. Stupid. Qualities I should not have in one ruling in my name.”
And there it was. The thing she should have feared by coming in here. The thing, in some ways, she feared worse than death. To lose everything she had worked so hard to build…
She was tempted to throw it back in his face. Etiennette. Ness. He was one to lecture her on matters of selfish behavior? He had sired two bastards which had pushed her further down succession in Anjou! Potentially made life more difficult for her brother when he came to power here…
Geoffrey would have said that. But she was not Geoffrey. She was not a man. She did not have Aquitaine and Poitou.
Instead, she restated the obvious: “You would strip me of my powers?”
“I should,” Foulques said. “But I will leave such matters up to you.”
“Up… to me?” Agnes asked.
“You lust after this man,” Foulques said. “But I think you lust after power more. I permit you to leave the keep. You will not be allowed to return until after the epidemic ends, if you survive. And your title will not remain, regardless of your fate."
Agnes looked square at the eye holes in his mask. “You would strip me… of it permanently?”
“If you leave,” Foulques said. “If you remain, I will consider your service to Anjou in the past and deem this matter forgotten.”
“I… I will think on this,” Agnes replied.
“There is no thought,” Foulques told her. “You will decide now.”
“I… I cannot decide that quickly,” Agnes said.
“You will decide,” Foulques said. “Or you shall remain here and lose your title. Decide.”
Agnes shut her eyes tightly. She saw Cedric. The sweet young man who had quenched her thirst so often… perhaps the only man who cared for her that she could care for back.
Say it.
She had to go. She had to be by his side.
Say it.
If she didn’t, she knew she would regret it forever.
Say it.
“I will remain here, father,” Agnes replied. “I should not have put myself over the needs of Anjou. I apologize to you, first and foremost, for this behavior. It shall not happen again.”
It took every fiber of her being to say the words without her voice cracking. She held herself so upright and so tightly, her body began to tremble. All the while her father circled her, his warmth of his heavy breathing and smell of his sour breath around her.
“The matter is dropped,” Foulques said. “I do not wish to hear of it again. From you, or anyone else.”
“Understood, father,” Agnes replied.
She turned to leave. Her father called back to her.
“If I hear of anything else between you and someone other than your husband ever again, I will not be so forgiving,” Foulques warned.
With that he returned to the map. And she was free.
Free to return to her chambers.
Which Agnes did. She closed the door and once more threw herself upon the bed and began her stare at the ceiling.
Her stomach churned, in hunger, but also in anxiety, anxiety over the thought of Cedric dying, thinking she did not care.
Look at the ceiling. Examine every little detail. See how it has changed since the last time you stared at it.
Ignore the pains in your belly. Ignore that you have left him to die alone. Ignore that you chose your power over his happiness.
She could not ignore the pain before. And she could not ignore it now.
Agnes turned to her side, curled into a ball and sobbed.
June 1103 - Anjou, France
Agnes lay in her chamber, her eyes closed.
A low rumble snapped her eyes open and her gaze fixated on the ceiling.
Again.
Look at the ceiling. Examine every little detail. See how it has changed since the last time you stared at it… Moments ago.
Ignore the pains in your belly. Ignore how you wish to eat something… anything.
But her stomach continued to rumbled. She heard the sounds from within her belly over her own thoughts. And she wished again that she could succeed in her original reason for laying in her chamber bed despite it being the middle of the day - to fall asleep and temporarily escape this miserable prison.
Some days it worked better than others. Today was not a good one as she had been in her chambers for over an hour, trying and failing to find relief in dreams or at least a different experience in her nightmares.
Agnes pulled herself upright. It was no use. Her body would not oblige her.
And so it was these miserable days in the keep. Barely enough food in the evening to drive the pangs away and fall asleep. Awaken to the same rumblings in her stomach and be filled with the desire for anything to sate it. Even rats had begun to look appealing enough where she suggested her father cook them. He was receptive, much to her relief, though she noticed little change in the portions.
It had been going on for months now, and it had taken a toll on them all. While Agnes had never been a heavy woman, she had grown incredibly thin as of late. When she would change and see herself in the mirror, her ribs had become easy to spot. Her hair thinned and started to gray, her face grew gaunt.
And it was more than just her physical appearance. Her energy waned, as did almost everyone else's in the keep. Her desires dwindled and she could not bring herself to actually be with Henri - it would just leave them hungrier for actual food than before. Not that he was bothered - her husband just did not seem very interested in coupling.
That irked her early on - he had duties as her husband - but by now she was far too miserable to care. Besides, she feared actually conceiving a child at this point. It was terrible enough now. Imagine if she were pregnant as well?
Her only relief came in her dreams, when sometimes she would find herself next to her handsome, strong son of a blacksmith lover, Cedric. When her eyes closed, he be there to ravish her, as he used to. In the days before she was wed. In the days before she feared starvation.
She looked to her pitcher, where some wine was left. It was ironic - the wine had not gone bad like the food, so it remained plentiful. But she could not drink much of it. Without food, it left her drunk too easily. So it sat there unused, for the most part, except at supper.
Torment, she thought. Perhaps it would be better outside the gates.
A thought that came to mind often, but one she quickly dismissed. To be afflicted with that disease, to have the pox cover your body, to have it scar you, if you were lucky, to have it kill you if you were not… no, this suffering would prove worth it.
Provided… we actually survive.
She sighed, as a knock came at her chamber door. She prayed it would be someone to tell her it was over - the gates were being opened and they could move around the world once more… eat food, see different faces, enjoy the finer pleasures…
But she knew that was unlikely. She sat on council meetings. She knew the state of things. And the state… was poor.
It was, in fact, Alearde. Her mentor had not been immune from this misery either - the lack of food and loss of weight appeared to hasten her aging. The lines in her face grew more numerous every day. Her dress hung looser on her frame and her complexion was paler than it had been.
“Something important?” Agnes asked.
“I… bring a message for you,” Alearde said. “It was passed to one of my people.”
“What is it?”
“Cedric is very ill,” Alearde said.
“How ill?” Agnes asked.
“He… he wished to pass along to you that he was grateful for the time you two spent together,” Alearde said. “He has missed you… but that he understands why you could not be with him. And that he will always love you.”
Agnes gulped. “He sounds… he sounds as if he is dying.”
Alearde did not reply and Agnes felt her stomach clench.
Despite her better judgments, she had seen Cedric since she was married… but rarely. They took similar precautions as before - she did not wish the uncertainty of parentage for any child she would carry. But she could not resist the temptation either - at least until the keep was locked down from even the town.
Henri had not been the best of lovers. Even with her guidance, he was timid, and meek. He simply did not excite her - not like barrel-chested lover did.
And now… Cedric lay dying? Telling her of his love without being able to receive any in return?
“I must go to him,” Agnes said.
“You cannot,” Alearde said.
“You can sneak me out of here,” Agnes said.
“I will not,” Alearde said. “I will not risk your life over this matter.”
“I care for him!” Agnes said.
“His fate will not change regardless,” Alearde replied. “Yours, however might. You would bring death to yourself to be sentimental?”
Agnes frowned. “He has excited me unlike any other. I have known him for years now… is it wrong to care for him?”
“No,” Alearde said. “But you cannot throw your life away to say goodbye.”
“I may not catch the illness,” Agnes said.
“But you risk it,” Alearde said. “I cannot, in good conscience, help you and expose you, then let you return. It would put everyone in this keep in jeopardy. Not just you, but your father, your brothers, your sisters, your daughter, my daughter… No, I will not.”
“Then I will go myself,” Agnes said as she stormed past her.
“I will tell your father,” Alearde said.
Agnes grew wide-eyed and turned back to Alearde. “You would not.”
“I will not let you put this over the health of everyone else in the keep,” Alearde said. “I do not wish to do this, but I will.”
Agnes scowled. She trusted Alearde with everything… had she known she would not help her, she would have never have told her.
“I cannot believe you would betray me like this,” she grumbled.
“I have betrayed nothing,” Alearde said. “I seek what is best for you and everyone here. If you wish to leave, speak to your father. Perhaps he will permit it. But… he will no doubt wonder what Cedric is to you.”
It was an argument and warning meant to end matters. Alearde never would have expected Agnes to be willing to admit her affair to her father.
But Agnes was angry, hungry, frustrated and guilty.
She marched from her chambers, seeking her father. He was not present in his own chamber. Instead, he was found in the strategy hall, looking over a map of the realm, alone.
It had changed in recent months. Poitou was now under Geoffrey’s control. A positive development for her family, though one that could not be fully celebrated until they actually had food stores once more and would be tempered by her brother's dismissal from the council.
He probably reached for something he should not, she thought when she heard that news.
Foulques glanced up as he heard the door close. His eyes returned to the map when he saw it was Agnes.
She looked at him and her sadness grew stronger still. Her father had not been immune to the effects of this mess either. His robes hung loosely off him, his gray hair thinned and he had lost another couple of teeth. Perhaps for the first time in her life, Agnes saw Foulques as old - a reminder that his time may be nearing an end.
But she steeled herself. It was a reminder that all their time was fleeting. Like Cedric.
“Do you come to tell me the epidemic has begun to abate?” Foulques asked without looking up.
“No,” Agnes replied. She felt the adrenaline coursing through her. She held her head up, and stood straight, her arms at her side, her whole body at attention.
“Then what is it?”
“I wish to leave the keep,” Agnes told him.
That was enough to bring Foulques’ gaze back to her. But it was momentary, his eyes soon returned the map. “No one leaves or enters the keep. It is simple enough, I thought.”
“I am aware,” Agnes said. “And I am requesting that I be allowed to depart.”
“You would not be permitted to return until the epidemic passes,” Foulques said. “If you survived.”
“I am aware,” Agnes said. “I still wish to go.”
“You wish for death?” Foulques asked. “You desire food that badly, I see.”
“No…” Agnes said. “I have… a friend. Who is ill. I wish to see them before… if… they pass.”
That was enough to draw Foulques eyes to her again. He pushed himself up from the table.
“Who is he?” Foulques asked.
“As I said, a friend,” Agnes said.
Foulques shook his head and looked down once more. “I thought it was just your brother who believed himself far more clever than he is. Now I see you both have that nature. Perhaps your mother had a greater influence on you than I thought.”
“You insult mother?” Agnes demanded.
Foulques' eyes returned to her. But it was no passing glance. He pinned her with his gaze.
“No, I insult my daughter who thinks herself so clever she can attempt to justify her leaving the safety of the keep, with no promise of return, over a mere friend,” Foulques said. “Who is he and how long has it been going on?”
Agnes lowered her head. This was foolish. But she was in now. There was no way to back out of it.
Her head came up again. “He is the son a blacksmith. It has gone on for years now. Since before I was married.”
“And does it continue since?”
“Rarely.” she answered.
“Rarely, but it does.”
Agnes bit her lip before replying: “Yes.”
Foulques moved from the table and approached her. His body had grown thin, but his walk remained heavy, his boots echoing in the empty strategy hall. He stopped in front of her, and peered down, through his mask - close enough Agnes could feel his breath on her face.
“You learned nothing,” Foulques said. “Sixteen years, and you learn nothing.”
“This was not Gilles,” Agnes said. “Cedric cares for me. He loves me. He---”
“He is not your husband,” Foulques said. “You seek to embarrass me again?”
“No,” Agnes insisted. “It was never about you.”
“No, it was only about you,” Foulques said. “Selfish. Inconsiderate. Stupid. Qualities I should not have in one ruling in my name.”
And there it was. The thing she should have feared by coming in here. The thing, in some ways, she feared worse than death. To lose everything she had worked so hard to build…
She was tempted to throw it back in his face. Etiennette. Ness. He was one to lecture her on matters of selfish behavior? He had sired two bastards which had pushed her further down succession in Anjou! Potentially made life more difficult for her brother when he came to power here…
Geoffrey would have said that. But she was not Geoffrey. She was not a man. She did not have Aquitaine and Poitou.
Instead, she restated the obvious: “You would strip me of my powers?”
“I should,” Foulques said. “But I will leave such matters up to you.”
“Up… to me?” Agnes asked.
“You lust after this man,” Foulques said. “But I think you lust after power more. I permit you to leave the keep. You will not be allowed to return until after the epidemic ends, if you survive. And your title will not remain, regardless of your fate."
Agnes looked square at the eye holes in his mask. “You would strip me… of it permanently?”
“If you leave,” Foulques said. “If you remain, I will consider your service to Anjou in the past and deem this matter forgotten.”
“I… I will think on this,” Agnes replied.
“There is no thought,” Foulques told her. “You will decide now.”
“I… I cannot decide that quickly,” Agnes said.
“You will decide,” Foulques said. “Or you shall remain here and lose your title. Decide.”
Agnes shut her eyes tightly. She saw Cedric. The sweet young man who had quenched her thirst so often… perhaps the only man who cared for her that she could care for back.
Say it.
She had to go. She had to be by his side.
Say it.
If she didn’t, she knew she would regret it forever.
Say it.
“I will remain here, father,” Agnes replied. “I should not have put myself over the needs of Anjou. I apologize to you, first and foremost, for this behavior. It shall not happen again.”
It took every fiber of her being to say the words without her voice cracking. She held herself so upright and so tightly, her body began to tremble. All the while her father circled her, his warmth of his heavy breathing and smell of his sour breath around her.
“The matter is dropped,” Foulques said. “I do not wish to hear of it again. From you, or anyone else.”
“Understood, father,” Agnes replied.
She turned to leave. Her father called back to her.
“If I hear of anything else between you and someone other than your husband ever again, I will not be so forgiving,” Foulques warned.
With that he returned to the map. And she was free.
Free to return to her chambers.
Which Agnes did. She closed the door and once more threw herself upon the bed and began her stare at the ceiling.
Her stomach churned, in hunger, but also in anxiety, anxiety over the thought of Cedric dying, thinking she did not care.
Look at the ceiling. Examine every little detail. See how it has changed since the last time you stared at it.
Ignore the pains in your belly. Ignore that you have left him to die alone. Ignore that you chose your power over his happiness.
She could not ignore the pain before. And she could not ignore it now.
Agnes turned to her side, curled into a ball and sobbed.
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An extremely tense and emotionally charged chapter, that one. It's tempting to blame Foulques for being callous, or Agnes for losing her head, but really you can't blame either one too much -- Foulques has to do what he can to ensure the people under his protection survive, while Agnes is clearly under a great deal of stress already, and everyone is suffering from the cut rations.
The thing that I'm most worried about is that Agnes isn't the only one there who must be thinking like this. The longer this goes on before the epidemic finally burns itself out, the more chances there will be that someone does something stupid like sneak out and bring the sickness back with them, or try to sneak an infected loved one in without permission, or forget to close the postern door behind them, or something silly like that. Even if that doesn't happen, the castle will eventually run out of food entirely, and even the rats won't be enough to make up the difference. Either way, Foulques is going to be left with some hard choices if things don't let up outside his gates...
The thing that I'm most worried about is that Agnes isn't the only one there who must be thinking like this. The longer this goes on before the epidemic finally burns itself out, the more chances there will be that someone does something stupid like sneak out and bring the sickness back with them, or try to sneak an infected loved one in without permission, or forget to close the postern door behind them, or something silly like that. Even if that doesn't happen, the castle will eventually run out of food entirely, and even the rats won't be enough to make up the difference. Either way, Foulques is going to be left with some hard choices if things don't let up outside his gates...
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A worthy chapter, I think. It helps to drive home the reality of the disease outside the keep and the lack of food inside. The insights into Agnes' character are also welcome. Not to mention Alearde. It's not just about the key plot points but also the experience of the characters and chapters like that one are crucial in conveying it. And of course Foulques' hypocrisy is on display again.
Recent chapters have also drawn another thing out which is the difference between Foulques' relationships with his two children by Beatritz and his relationship with his grandson Foulques the younger. Perhaps it's more because Foulques the younger has been everything Foulques IV could have wanted in a son where his actual son was not, but also perhaps deep down he understands that his grandson represents a chance to do it differently.
Recent chapters have also drawn another thing out which is the difference between Foulques' relationships with his two children by Beatritz and his relationship with his grandson Foulques the younger. Perhaps it's more because Foulques the younger has been everything Foulques IV could have wanted in a son where his actual son was not, but also perhaps deep down he understands that his grandson represents a chance to do it differently.
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Difficult choices and difficult consequences- either way. And the desperation of the circumstance well illustrated.
On the diet: plenty of wine, rats, ... rat au vin? The sommelier could be consulted on the best drops for both cooking and quaffing. Mmmmm
On the diet: plenty of wine, rats, ... rat au vin? The sommelier could be consulted on the best drops for both cooking and quaffing. Mmmmm
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This is a great portrayal of Foulques, distant and aloof.
All in all an excellent scene showing the desperation of the times.
All in all an excellent scene showing the desperation of the times.
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What, no! I've been reading this whole story from the start over the last few days, lost track of the page number and so got to the end thinking there was still more. Now I'm impatient to see what happens next...
Brilliant story and the characters are all fleshed out so well!
I love it!
Brilliant story and the characters are all fleshed out so well!
I love it!
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Foulques will be Foulques, her father or not, having the Iron Duke stare her down from behind his mask must be quite unsettling, even for someone as brave as Agnes. Alsó, I imagine our duke must have felt a reassuring feeling when Agnes suggested eating rats and if it where not him i'd say even pride at his daughter's pragmatismo.
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This really drives home the desperation that sets in once a disease has been ravaging the countryside for a couple of years. Those event chains are relentless. But... poor Agnes. She's had a rough go of it in this AAR.
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What a chapter! I loved it. So descriptive and evocative both. From the description of how the isolation and seclusion has affected all to the torment in Agnes's mind...to Darth Foulques really channeling his inner Sith Lord in all sorts of ways. The tension and menace and authority of the man-you really do convey it so well @JabberJock14. This is why this is truly, for me, one of the best AARs I've ever had the pleasure of reading. Bravo!
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This chapter truly captures how desperate things are getting in the keep. How rhyme and reason are disappearing. Of course it takes Foulques to remind Agnes that in his family power, prestige, and appearances are more important than love.
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The possibilities you bring up were becoming real fears for me at this point. It had been near six months since food began to run out, and two full years in seclusion. I was also concerned because normally I get a few events where people try to steal food, but I guess we were light on gluttonous people in the keep this time around (Good thing Bella left - would have been tough to have Foulques' bastard daughter eat them out of house and home).
I will be honest though - the epidemic FINALLY burned out not long after this event. I kind of felt terrible for Agnes knowing that within a month Anjou was finally clear of the plague - I mean I denied her a matter of life and death and she probably would have been fine. Story-wise I probably should have put some hint that it was nearly finished, but... unfortunately I didn't think of a good way to do it.
Thank you. I have made Agnes an important character, and I felt this was a way to close out an arc of sorts of hers since we had known she had a lover on the side. Plus it puts a different light on her and Foulques relationship, though that conversation was tricky to write. (and yes, Foulques the hypocrite on full display)
I think you hit on quite a few different things in the relationship between Foulques and his eldest children and his grandson that all have merit. Even with the pride he's felt for Agnes (and though he'd probably not admit it, Geoffrey), that they are both smart, charismatic and confident characters tend to find them crossing him much more than he'd like. In Foulques the Younger, he likely sees someone who he feels will understand him, his way of life, and grow up as he would have envisioned Geoffrey. A rosy view of things of course, and not likely to happen as he'd like.
Difficult choices and difficult consequences- either way. And the desperation of the circumstance well illustrated.
On the diet: plenty of wine, rats, ... rat au vin? The sommelier could be consulted on the best drops for both cooking and quaffing. Mmmmm
Desperation, frustration, misery. It's a situation that is foreign to characters who have, by and large, gotten their way. Agnes has been no exception to that as she may have paid prices for her actions (Gilles comes to mind) she usually went and did what she wanted anyway. This is one of the rare times she has been blocked from doing it. But Foulques in his own way, deserves credit this time - he simply presents her with a choice. He finally figured out a way to check her. Now he just needs to do that with Geoffrey...
LOL. I wonder if it's better than the job in Scotland. At least there the menu is more varied
. Thanks. Foulques in his own world but able to function when recalled to it. And function effectively too, I think.
I'm glad the miserable nature of their situation came through.
What, no! I've been reading this whole story from the start over the last few days, lost track of the page number and so got to the end thinking there was still more. Now I'm impatient to see what happens next...
Brilliant story and the characters are all fleshed out so well!
I love it!
Why thank you! I applaud your commitment to blaze through it so quickly. There's a lot there! I mean, reading one chapter a day would give you a chapter to read for nearly a third of the year at this point! But don't worry, there will be some more updates coming soon enough. I try to keep them frequent and I'm really trying to power through until the end of Foulques' life.
I am glad you enjoy both the story and the characters. The latter is the advantage of the slow moving AAR - gives plenty of time to give them life and flesh them out.
It was, just because of the situation for her. Agnes has accomplished much, but Foulques is still her father with a whole lot of control of her life. Ultimately she could have ended up with nothing she wished for in that situation. I would have been quite worried had I been in her shoes.
I threw that little note in there about the rats for a bit of humor. I suspect he both felt pride and quietly applauded her ingenuity that she'd come to the same idea as him. Great minds and all that.
She's had it rough and she's been fortunate. Balance, just at the extremes. She is a smart, charismatic and ambitious woman who pushes boundaries and isn't easily cowed. That has led her to heartbreak and embarrassment with Gilles, or here, but has also seen her achieve great things. She, more than anyone else in the realm, humbled Champagne. She won the friendship of a queen! She basically negotiated her own marriage. It is an interesting set of trade offs for her. Things could have gone better, but they could have gone worse.
Of course, her role in this tale is not over. In fact it continues to evolve. Suffice to say, she'll still be around when Foulques departs for good. And I'm not entirely sure how it will turn out for her in the end.
I am glad you enjoyed it! And once more, I am flattered by your high praise. I'm not the best descriptive writer (I feel my dialogue is far better) but I thought the descriptions of Foulques basically trying to intimidate Agnes worked quite well. And the misery of isolation, hunger and just suffering. It was a different type of chapter. But I'm glad I did it, and it turned out well.
Yes, it was an interesting return to the keep after a few chapters away, just to see how lousy things have gone. Thankfully, they don't last forever.
And Foulques may not have been able to instill martial in his children, but he certainly will drill home the realities of power to them.
It was close! Probably would have been cough to compete on half rations. Not sure who would have won either. (assuming the immediate family + Herve are excluded)
To all, I am very glad you guys enjoyed that chapter. It was a little different, but it was interesting to see how far I could take a singular event. I had this idea in my head from not long after I introduced Cedric (who came about after I played this and got this event), and this is how it all shook out on paper.
One minor plotpoint done, but another more pertinent one follows in the next chapter - the king's council. More happenings are coming there as you'll see in the update which should drop sometime on Thursday.
Thanks, as always for the feedback and commentary! It gives me the confidence to deviate a little from the standard stuff and try new things.
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Honestly, I think it works better without any hints. The desperation and uncertainty of the situation is what gives that chapter -- and Agnes's choice -- such heft to it.
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Agree: neither she nor Foulques would have known for sure in advance, so it is more realistic that way. No need to second guess oneself here.
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Agree: neither she nor Foulques would have known for sure in advance, so it is more realistic that way. No need to second guess oneself here.
Thanks for the feedback on that. Sometimes I feel wrong having something happen with no set up because it almost feels like a misleading tease. But I won't stress about this one if you guys don't have an issue.
And now, after delays because my image hosting service didn't want to work for most of the day, the next part.
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Chapter 120 - August 1103
Before Plantagenet - Chapter 120
August 1103 - Melun, France
In some ways, it felt like a triumph.
Foulques, on horseback, leading a procession of Angevin knights through the gates in Melun, their banners flying in the warm, August breeze.
The warmth of the day should have made him uncomfortable. The duke was in full armor, leathers underneath his hauberk, helmet and iron mask on his face. But he could not keep the smile off his face as he moved into the keep itself - the courtiers having begun to gather to see him arrive.
Was it reverence? Was it fear? Did it matter?
He descended from his horse and gave the reins to a stablehand. Then he began his walk up the stairs. It took him a moment - he felt a greater fatigue than the last time he had ascended them. He tried not to think of his age but more of the fact the seclusion had drained them all.
His armor and mask hid his weight loss well. Even though seclusion had ended weeks before as the disease finally abated at the end of July, it would likely be a while before he and his courtiers fully recovered. Food had never tasted so good as it had when they celebrated the passing of the disease - though the mood of his hall proved more relief than joy. They would live - and after months of meager food, hunger pangs and maddening seclusion, it was a reward that almost did not seem worth it.
But as Foulques entered the main hall, he was reminded precisely why it was. His life was not over - he still had honors to receive.
He walked forward, armor rustling, boots hitting against the floor, his knights following a few paces behind. He reached the dais, where King Hugues sat with Queen Aude by his side. So too, grouped on the second stairs, was the king’s council - most of them anyway.
Alphonse was officially away on business, supposedly meeting with the Duke of Burgundy. Foulques heard the prince and Duke of… Valois… rarely ever set foot in Melun. He did not trust his uncle, and conducted most of his business with the king as chancellor through messengers.
Also missing was Philipp of Champagne. But there was good reason for that.
Foulques dropped to a knee before the king, who rose from his throne and descended the dais. Standing on the bottom step, he instructed Foulques to rise.
“You have summoned me, my king,” Foulques said.
“I have, Duke Foulques,” the king replied. “The realm has need of you once more.”
“What would you have me do, my king?” Foulques asked.
“There has been no finer man to grace the position of marshal than you, Duke Foulques,” the king said. “You have served the realm with honor, and brought it glory. And now that God has lifted the plague that befell Anjou, I would ask that you once more take up the mantle.”
Foulques knew this was coming. He had been informed of the offer to replace the now-fired Champagne in July, just as the disease had begun to abate. And he knew this performance was also coming - messengers had informed him while he was en route. It was why he presented himself as he did, as a soldier and knight of the highest order.
And yet, the smile would not leave his face.
“It would be my honor, and privilege,” Foulques replied.
“Then, Duke Foulques,” the king began, “take your place among my councilors, as Marshal of the Franks.”
And so Foulques did, ascending the dais and standing at the forefront, ahead of all others, closest to the king. The mask hid his joy and his pride.
Back where I belong.
…..
In truth, it was not exactly as it was before.
For one, there was no Ness. He debated trying to get his lover among Queen Aude’s ladies, but it was not to be. He did bring one lady for the queen, however - his granddaughter Beatrice.
Foulques was learning the king had less of an issue with bastards themselves, and more the actual presence of adultery. Perhaps it should not have been surprising, given the rumors his first wife, the Lady Euphrosine de Bachaumont was unfaithful to him. Thus Ness was a bridge too far - as was any other lover he would have brought.
But Beatrice was acceptable. She was a few years younger than the queen, well-mannered and suited to serve a lady well - she was trained by Alearde had done so for her mother, Agnes, and the Duchess Haldora.
And the king also enjoyed that Beatrice, now a woman grown, was married.
It was a strange sight for Foulques when he first saw Edouard. The boy, now a young man, who he knew was his son, but the world treated as his nephew, looked quite bit like him - perhaps even more than Geoffrey or Agnes did.
Foulques was uncertain how much Edouard knew of his true parentage. He knew the whispers existed, and they were likely heard. How much he believed them? It was a question Foulques was not willing to broach yet. Not before he got to know Edouard as a man.
And Foulques intended to do that, which is why Edouard accompanied his new wife to Melun. He did so as a member of the knights, though he heard the young man’s martial skills paled in comparison to Herve’s. A disappointment, for certain, but Foulques could not fault him - after all it was his brother that raised him.
But Edouard, nonetheless, seemed eager to please his new lord, and appeared taken with the sights of Melun.
“I had never seen a king before, my lord,” he said after Foulques had been confirmed as marshal.
“You will see one quite frequently now,” Foulques told him. “It is best to show respect, but do not appear overawed. He is a king. Not God.”
Edouard smirked and nodded. “Of course not, my lord.”
Foulques then could not resist his curiosity, even though he knew it was a subject he should stay far away from. “How is your father?”
Edouard’s face lost its smile. He did not frown but he appeared saddened. “He is a broken man, my lord. He sits and sulks. He grew irate when I told him I would leave there to join you here… claiming I had betrayed him.”
Foulques hid his smile by taking a long sip of his drink. It may have been cruel, but his brother had tried to kill him for decades.
“And that does not bother you?” Foulques asked.
“I am saddened to hear he feels that way,” Edouard said. “I understand… what happened between you two. But… but it is the past. We can fade away into nothing, surrounded by Germans, or we can again reach for glory with the Franks, among our cousins.”
Practical boy, Foulques thought. A good sign for his future.
“I am surprised you hold no animosity toward me,” Foulques said.
“It happened long before I was born,” Edouard said. “And… I have heard you treated my mother with dignity despite you being her captor. That you even made her your wife’s lady… after my father abandoned her.”
Foulques felt a strange, hollow feeling at that. Lithuaise… he rarely remembered her anymore. Treated her with dignity? He was not certain she would agree.
“Your mother… she was a noblewoman,” Foulques said. “An innocent of any wrongdoing. It would have been… wrong to treat her below her station.”
Edouard nodded. “And for that I thank you. Had my father shown the same respect for her, perhaps I would not be here.”
Foulques’ eyes widened. Boy, you have no idea how true that is.
One day he might tell him, but that was not the day to do it.
“It is because of that, that I look forward to serving you, my lord,” Edouard said.
“Uncle is fine,” Foulques said. “It is what your cousin Herve calls me.”
Edouard smiled. “As you wish... uncle.”
…..
A day later Foulques stood in the king’s strategy hall.
It was a hall where he had spent much of the past 15 years. It was mostly the same as it had been under Philippe… in fact he almost expected Philippe to enter when the door opened.
But it was King Hugues who came forth, smile on his face, announcing his eagerness to begin the meeting.
“You look pleased, my king,” Foulques said.
“I am,” the king said. “It is time to win a great victory in Iberia, as my brother once did to cement himself as king years ago.”
When Philippe took Mallorca, Foulques thought. The less said of his last Iberian adventure the better.
The king was not after Valencia though, as had felled Philippe in the end. He attacked over Murcia.
“I am surprised,” Foulques said. “Given it was just a year ago where you warned against challenging the united Moslems.”
“United, yes,” the king said. “But currently, against our friend the Duke of Toulouse. It gives us an opportunity to strike and drive the heathens further back into Iberia.”
Foulques could not resist. “So you use Toulouse as a decoy?”
The king frowned. “Never. I would think he would be grateful for it. The many Emirates of Iberia and Africa line up against him. They will be compelled to aid their fellow Emirate against us - and together we will crush them.”
“What if they do not aid their fellow Emirate?” Foulques asked.
“Then it does not change Toulouse’s situation at all,” the king said. “He can only be helped, not harmed.”
Foulques was not certain about that, but he found it pointless to rile up the king over a hypothetical. Whether it helped or hurt would be proven in time. And it mattered little to him either way.
“Who do you have commanding the armies?” Foulques wondered.
“My choice would be Toulouse, but he is busy at the moment,” the king said. “I also inquired of your son, given he has just won a war. But it appears he is non receptive toward my calls, even though I recently named him Master of the Horse.”
Hardly a surprise. Geoffrey being fired from the council did not sit well with him. He would not accept a paltry honorary title now, not when he had tasted power.
“We have need of a proper lord,” the king said. “So I have selected my cousin, Hugues of Burgundy.”
“Burgundy?” Foulques asked. “His only notable battlefield trait is that he has lost - battles and his hand.”
That level of bluntness worked well with Philippe. But it quickly drew a frown from the current king, whose complexion even began to redden.
“You question my choice?” he demanded.
“Yes,” Foulques replied. “I am your marshal. Do you not wish for my input?”
“Do you have suggestion, then?” the king asked.
“Myself,” Foulques said.
Hugues said nothing at first, simply leaning forward and then stroking his beard.
“You have not led men in battle in quite a few years, Duke Foulques,” the king finally said. “And you have just recovered from your ordeal. Given your age…”
“I know battle more than any man of this realm,” Foulques replied. “My age is no hindrance.”
The king was unmoved. “You may feel certain, but I do not think it a wise idea.”
“But you would put a man who continues his tradition of defeat even now against his rebels and think that is wise?” Foulques demanded.
“You will mind your place, Duke Foulques,” the king said. “I am the king, not you. Others have made that mistake including your predecessor. And he, like they, is no longer here.”
It was jarring only because Foulques was not used to it. Philippe and he had not had an argument like this in decades. They had fought, but it rarely involved such a blatant attempt to pull rank.
“If you wish servants who will agree with your every decision, then you should name them to your council,” Foulques said. “If you wish a true council, then you would be wise to heed it.”
The king turned redder. “Your counsel has been heeded. And it has been dismissed. Duke Hugues of Burgundy will command the army as it marches south. That is final.”
Foulques thought about levying a demand… but decided against it. If the king wished this course of action, he was free to take it. And when Burgundy performed as he always did, it would be the king who suffered the consequences, not Foulques.
In fact, I shall be stronger.
“Is that all, my king?” Foulques asked.
The king nodded slowly. And with that Foulques walked out of the hall, not glancing back at his liege, but certain he was turning all sorts of shades of purple in rage.
Foulques returned his chambers with Chancellor Godfrey already waiting. When Foulques did not say anything and simply poured himself a cup of wine, the chancellor’s brow rose.
“Did everything go well with the king?” he asked.
“He is a fool,” Foulques said. “Blinded by ego. But weak. He hides behind his crown.”
“So it did not go well then?” Godfrey asked. “Do you remain marshal?”
“Yes, but he would not send me to battle,” Foulques said. “He would rather send Burgundy, even as the Lady Almodis embarrasses him. She would be a better choice than him!”
Foulques did not laugh, instead sipping on his wine. He had found it funny. But saying it aloud aggravated him. He had led men before as marshal. Why not now?
“Did he give you a reason?” Godfrey asked.
“That he thinks I am too old,” Foulques said.
Godfrey stroked his goatee before replying: “I wonder…”
“You wonder what?”
“Perhaps he is fearful the campaign would be too stressful on you,” Godfrey said. “Your death at this time would be problematic.”
“I am his most powerful vassal,” Foulques said. “He should be wary of antagonizing me.”
“But he has already antagonized the one man who could become more dangerous than you,” Godfrey replied. “Should you fall in Iberia in the next few months, the man he just fired off the council will have the levy of Anjou… and the levy of Aquitaine and Poitou… at his disposal.”
Foulques grunted before taking another drink. He did not like to think of Geoffrey surpassing him. And the idea that Geoffrey was more threatening than him seemed almost laughable.
“A levy of his size is nothing if he can’t command it,” Foulques said.
“Only if there is a great commander in the realm to oppose him,” Godfrey said. “And… well… the king chooses Hugues of Burgundy to lead his armies now.”
A small smirk cracked Foulques’ exterior. It was funny if it wasn’t so depressing.
“If I may make a suggestion, my lord,” Godfrey said. Foulques motioned for him to continue. “We should look to Lord Geoffrey.”
“Look to him? Now he is our superior?” Foulques demanded.
“I do not mean in that way,” Godfrey said. “We must keep an eye out for him. I suspect the king wishes to weaken him for the time when you do… leave us. We must not allow that, my lord, so that your legacy is properly preserved.”
“You will ensure Geoffrey’s legacy, not mine,” Foulques replied.
“What is one’s legacy but what he leaves to his children?” Godfrey asked. “My lord, you are a great man who will leave his son much for which he can build off. It is something to be proud of. As a man who has little more than friendships to pass on to my son, I can say it is nothing to scoff at.”
Foulques grunted once more. It was hard to be angry with Godfrey when that sounded so sad and pathetic.
He put his hand on his chancellor’s shoulder and then gave him a drink. “Friendship is nothing to scoff at. It has taken me… some time to realize that.”
“Of course my lord,” Godfrey said. “I did not mean…”
“Drink,” Foulques said. “And then I will send you off.”
“Send me off?” Godfrey asked.
“As you said, we must look to my son,” Foulques said. “My son who already has enough suspicion from the king that he would endanger his holy war to make certain Anjou does not become his now.”
Foulques took a long drink and then put down the cup hard on the table. He looked Godfrey eye to eye.
“And so I entrust it to you, my chancellor, this mission - make certain my son’s rashness and scheming does not cost him his legacy... or mine.”
August 1103 - Melun, France
In some ways, it felt like a triumph.
Foulques, on horseback, leading a procession of Angevin knights through the gates in Melun, their banners flying in the warm, August breeze.
The warmth of the day should have made him uncomfortable. The duke was in full armor, leathers underneath his hauberk, helmet and iron mask on his face. But he could not keep the smile off his face as he moved into the keep itself - the courtiers having begun to gather to see him arrive.
Was it reverence? Was it fear? Did it matter?
He descended from his horse and gave the reins to a stablehand. Then he began his walk up the stairs. It took him a moment - he felt a greater fatigue than the last time he had ascended them. He tried not to think of his age but more of the fact the seclusion had drained them all.
His armor and mask hid his weight loss well. Even though seclusion had ended weeks before as the disease finally abated at the end of July, it would likely be a while before he and his courtiers fully recovered. Food had never tasted so good as it had when they celebrated the passing of the disease - though the mood of his hall proved more relief than joy. They would live - and after months of meager food, hunger pangs and maddening seclusion, it was a reward that almost did not seem worth it.
But as Foulques entered the main hall, he was reminded precisely why it was. His life was not over - he still had honors to receive.
He walked forward, armor rustling, boots hitting against the floor, his knights following a few paces behind. He reached the dais, where King Hugues sat with Queen Aude by his side. So too, grouped on the second stairs, was the king’s council - most of them anyway.
Alphonse was officially away on business, supposedly meeting with the Duke of Burgundy. Foulques heard the prince and Duke of… Valois… rarely ever set foot in Melun. He did not trust his uncle, and conducted most of his business with the king as chancellor through messengers.
Also missing was Philipp of Champagne. But there was good reason for that.
Foulques dropped to a knee before the king, who rose from his throne and descended the dais. Standing on the bottom step, he instructed Foulques to rise.
“You have summoned me, my king,” Foulques said.
“I have, Duke Foulques,” the king replied. “The realm has need of you once more.”
“What would you have me do, my king?” Foulques asked.
“There has been no finer man to grace the position of marshal than you, Duke Foulques,” the king said. “You have served the realm with honor, and brought it glory. And now that God has lifted the plague that befell Anjou, I would ask that you once more take up the mantle.”
Foulques knew this was coming. He had been informed of the offer to replace the now-fired Champagne in July, just as the disease had begun to abate. And he knew this performance was also coming - messengers had informed him while he was en route. It was why he presented himself as he did, as a soldier and knight of the highest order.
And yet, the smile would not leave his face.
“It would be my honor, and privilege,” Foulques replied.
“Then, Duke Foulques,” the king began, “take your place among my councilors, as Marshal of the Franks.”
And so Foulques did, ascending the dais and standing at the forefront, ahead of all others, closest to the king. The mask hid his joy and his pride.
Back where I belong.
…..
In truth, it was not exactly as it was before.
For one, there was no Ness. He debated trying to get his lover among Queen Aude’s ladies, but it was not to be. He did bring one lady for the queen, however - his granddaughter Beatrice.
Foulques was learning the king had less of an issue with bastards themselves, and more the actual presence of adultery. Perhaps it should not have been surprising, given the rumors his first wife, the Lady Euphrosine de Bachaumont was unfaithful to him. Thus Ness was a bridge too far - as was any other lover he would have brought.
But Beatrice was acceptable. She was a few years younger than the queen, well-mannered and suited to serve a lady well - she was trained by Alearde had done so for her mother, Agnes, and the Duchess Haldora.
And the king also enjoyed that Beatrice, now a woman grown, was married.
It was a strange sight for Foulques when he first saw Edouard. The boy, now a young man, who he knew was his son, but the world treated as his nephew, looked quite bit like him - perhaps even more than Geoffrey or Agnes did.
Foulques was uncertain how much Edouard knew of his true parentage. He knew the whispers existed, and they were likely heard. How much he believed them? It was a question Foulques was not willing to broach yet. Not before he got to know Edouard as a man.
And Foulques intended to do that, which is why Edouard accompanied his new wife to Melun. He did so as a member of the knights, though he heard the young man’s martial skills paled in comparison to Herve’s. A disappointment, for certain, but Foulques could not fault him - after all it was his brother that raised him.
But Edouard, nonetheless, seemed eager to please his new lord, and appeared taken with the sights of Melun.
“I had never seen a king before, my lord,” he said after Foulques had been confirmed as marshal.
“You will see one quite frequently now,” Foulques told him. “It is best to show respect, but do not appear overawed. He is a king. Not God.”
Edouard smirked and nodded. “Of course not, my lord.”
Foulques then could not resist his curiosity, even though he knew it was a subject he should stay far away from. “How is your father?”
Edouard’s face lost its smile. He did not frown but he appeared saddened. “He is a broken man, my lord. He sits and sulks. He grew irate when I told him I would leave there to join you here… claiming I had betrayed him.”
Foulques hid his smile by taking a long sip of his drink. It may have been cruel, but his brother had tried to kill him for decades.
“And that does not bother you?” Foulques asked.
“I am saddened to hear he feels that way,” Edouard said. “I understand… what happened between you two. But… but it is the past. We can fade away into nothing, surrounded by Germans, or we can again reach for glory with the Franks, among our cousins.”
Practical boy, Foulques thought. A good sign for his future.
“I am surprised you hold no animosity toward me,” Foulques said.
“It happened long before I was born,” Edouard said. “And… I have heard you treated my mother with dignity despite you being her captor. That you even made her your wife’s lady… after my father abandoned her.”
Foulques felt a strange, hollow feeling at that. Lithuaise… he rarely remembered her anymore. Treated her with dignity? He was not certain she would agree.
“Your mother… she was a noblewoman,” Foulques said. “An innocent of any wrongdoing. It would have been… wrong to treat her below her station.”
Edouard nodded. “And for that I thank you. Had my father shown the same respect for her, perhaps I would not be here.”
Foulques’ eyes widened. Boy, you have no idea how true that is.
One day he might tell him, but that was not the day to do it.
“It is because of that, that I look forward to serving you, my lord,” Edouard said.
“Uncle is fine,” Foulques said. “It is what your cousin Herve calls me.”
Edouard smiled. “As you wish... uncle.”
…..
A day later Foulques stood in the king’s strategy hall.
It was a hall where he had spent much of the past 15 years. It was mostly the same as it had been under Philippe… in fact he almost expected Philippe to enter when the door opened.
But it was King Hugues who came forth, smile on his face, announcing his eagerness to begin the meeting.
“You look pleased, my king,” Foulques said.
“I am,” the king said. “It is time to win a great victory in Iberia, as my brother once did to cement himself as king years ago.”
When Philippe took Mallorca, Foulques thought. The less said of his last Iberian adventure the better.
The king was not after Valencia though, as had felled Philippe in the end. He attacked over Murcia.
“I am surprised,” Foulques said. “Given it was just a year ago where you warned against challenging the united Moslems.”
“United, yes,” the king said. “But currently, against our friend the Duke of Toulouse. It gives us an opportunity to strike and drive the heathens further back into Iberia.”
Foulques could not resist. “So you use Toulouse as a decoy?”
The king frowned. “Never. I would think he would be grateful for it. The many Emirates of Iberia and Africa line up against him. They will be compelled to aid their fellow Emirate against us - and together we will crush them.”
“What if they do not aid their fellow Emirate?” Foulques asked.
“Then it does not change Toulouse’s situation at all,” the king said. “He can only be helped, not harmed.”
Foulques was not certain about that, but he found it pointless to rile up the king over a hypothetical. Whether it helped or hurt would be proven in time. And it mattered little to him either way.
“Who do you have commanding the armies?” Foulques wondered.
“My choice would be Toulouse, but he is busy at the moment,” the king said. “I also inquired of your son, given he has just won a war. But it appears he is non receptive toward my calls, even though I recently named him Master of the Horse.”
Hardly a surprise. Geoffrey being fired from the council did not sit well with him. He would not accept a paltry honorary title now, not when he had tasted power.
“We have need of a proper lord,” the king said. “So I have selected my cousin, Hugues of Burgundy.”
“Burgundy?” Foulques asked. “His only notable battlefield trait is that he has lost - battles and his hand.”
That level of bluntness worked well with Philippe. But it quickly drew a frown from the current king, whose complexion even began to redden.
“You question my choice?” he demanded.
“Yes,” Foulques replied. “I am your marshal. Do you not wish for my input?”
“Do you have suggestion, then?” the king asked.
“Myself,” Foulques said.
Hugues said nothing at first, simply leaning forward and then stroking his beard.
“You have not led men in battle in quite a few years, Duke Foulques,” the king finally said. “And you have just recovered from your ordeal. Given your age…”
“I know battle more than any man of this realm,” Foulques replied. “My age is no hindrance.”
The king was unmoved. “You may feel certain, but I do not think it a wise idea.”
“But you would put a man who continues his tradition of defeat even now against his rebels and think that is wise?” Foulques demanded.
“You will mind your place, Duke Foulques,” the king said. “I am the king, not you. Others have made that mistake including your predecessor. And he, like they, is no longer here.”
It was jarring only because Foulques was not used to it. Philippe and he had not had an argument like this in decades. They had fought, but it rarely involved such a blatant attempt to pull rank.
“If you wish servants who will agree with your every decision, then you should name them to your council,” Foulques said. “If you wish a true council, then you would be wise to heed it.”
The king turned redder. “Your counsel has been heeded. And it has been dismissed. Duke Hugues of Burgundy will command the army as it marches south. That is final.”
Foulques thought about levying a demand… but decided against it. If the king wished this course of action, he was free to take it. And when Burgundy performed as he always did, it would be the king who suffered the consequences, not Foulques.
In fact, I shall be stronger.
“Is that all, my king?” Foulques asked.
The king nodded slowly. And with that Foulques walked out of the hall, not glancing back at his liege, but certain he was turning all sorts of shades of purple in rage.
Foulques returned his chambers with Chancellor Godfrey already waiting. When Foulques did not say anything and simply poured himself a cup of wine, the chancellor’s brow rose.
“Did everything go well with the king?” he asked.
“He is a fool,” Foulques said. “Blinded by ego. But weak. He hides behind his crown.”
“So it did not go well then?” Godfrey asked. “Do you remain marshal?”
“Yes, but he would not send me to battle,” Foulques said. “He would rather send Burgundy, even as the Lady Almodis embarrasses him. She would be a better choice than him!”
Foulques did not laugh, instead sipping on his wine. He had found it funny. But saying it aloud aggravated him. He had led men before as marshal. Why not now?
“Did he give you a reason?” Godfrey asked.
“That he thinks I am too old,” Foulques said.
Godfrey stroked his goatee before replying: “I wonder…”
“You wonder what?”
“Perhaps he is fearful the campaign would be too stressful on you,” Godfrey said. “Your death at this time would be problematic.”
“I am his most powerful vassal,” Foulques said. “He should be wary of antagonizing me.”
“But he has already antagonized the one man who could become more dangerous than you,” Godfrey replied. “Should you fall in Iberia in the next few months, the man he just fired off the council will have the levy of Anjou… and the levy of Aquitaine and Poitou… at his disposal.”
Foulques grunted before taking another drink. He did not like to think of Geoffrey surpassing him. And the idea that Geoffrey was more threatening than him seemed almost laughable.
“A levy of his size is nothing if he can’t command it,” Foulques said.
“Only if there is a great commander in the realm to oppose him,” Godfrey said. “And… well… the king chooses Hugues of Burgundy to lead his armies now.”
A small smirk cracked Foulques’ exterior. It was funny if it wasn’t so depressing.
“If I may make a suggestion, my lord,” Godfrey said. Foulques motioned for him to continue. “We should look to Lord Geoffrey.”
“Look to him? Now he is our superior?” Foulques demanded.
“I do not mean in that way,” Godfrey said. “We must keep an eye out for him. I suspect the king wishes to weaken him for the time when you do… leave us. We must not allow that, my lord, so that your legacy is properly preserved.”
“You will ensure Geoffrey’s legacy, not mine,” Foulques replied.
“What is one’s legacy but what he leaves to his children?” Godfrey asked. “My lord, you are a great man who will leave his son much for which he can build off. It is something to be proud of. As a man who has little more than friendships to pass on to my son, I can say it is nothing to scoff at.”
Foulques grunted once more. It was hard to be angry with Godfrey when that sounded so sad and pathetic.
He put his hand on his chancellor’s shoulder and then gave him a drink. “Friendship is nothing to scoff at. It has taken me… some time to realize that.”
“Of course my lord,” Godfrey said. “I did not mean…”
“Drink,” Foulques said. “And then I will send you off.”
“Send me off?” Godfrey asked.
“As you said, we must look to my son,” Foulques said. “My son who already has enough suspicion from the king that he would endanger his holy war to make certain Anjou does not become his now.”
Foulques took a long drink and then put down the cup hard on the table. He looked Godfrey eye to eye.
“And so I entrust it to you, my chancellor, this mission - make certain my son’s rashness and scheming does not cost him his legacy... or mine.”
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It seems one can teach an old Foulques new tricks - the lessons regarding Geoffrey actually appear to have stuck. Oh, the old discords are still their clamouring in the background in their disharmony, but Foulques does not always let them deafen him now. It is progress, of a sort.
One can see in this exchange how this new King is weaker than the old - the Son of Satan Phillipe may have been, but with Foulques at least he kept wise counsel. Hughes though ... first he fires Foulques. Then he fires Geoffrey. Now he fires Champagne and re-hires Foulques ... this is not setting out your authority. It is displaying that you have none.
One can see in this exchange how this new King is weaker than the old - the Son of Satan Phillipe may have been, but with Foulques at least he kept wise counsel. Hughes though ... first he fires Foulques. Then he fires Geoffrey. Now he fires Champagne and re-hires Foulques ... this is not setting out your authority. It is displaying that you have none.
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Hughes wishes to compare this war to Phillippe's adventures against the Muslims, but a better comparison, were he being honest, would be the Norman campaign. Taking Murcia would give him a personal duchy and probably triple his personal levy, if not more, the same gambit Phillippe used to elevate himself from a weak king to the match of most of his Dukes.
Unfortunately, antagonizing his Dukes is a sure way to ensure shenanigans at home while he is off getting hammered by the infidels.
I don't foresee any happy endings from this war. Hughes is a weakling attempting to rule with an iron fist, and that can only end poorly.
But let's see what happens!
Unfortunately, antagonizing his Dukes is a sure way to ensure shenanigans at home while he is off getting hammered by the infidels.
I don't foresee any happy endings from this war. Hughes is a weakling attempting to rule with an iron fist, and that can only end poorly.
But let's see what happens!
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