The Song of Wessex
* * *
Westminster, England – October 1351
The two Dukes supped together in Lord Eadgar’s private chambers. It was desired to be alone and mutually agreed. This was a sounding out. One was quite possibly the preeminent Lord within England. The other was the grandson of Emperor Arthur of Britain and once considered second in line for the Imperial throne. Lord Simon chewed at the bone to get at the marrow and spoke through gritted teeth, “A fine affair...the both of them.”
“The visage they placed to the stone looked nothing like my grandfather,” Lord Eadgar suggested as he refilled their cups.
Simon tossed the empty bone aside, “They never do. No good artists to England anymore. Can’t get them unless to France.”
“Shame that,” Eadgar replied as he sat back to hold at his ale.
The Lord of Bedford laughed, “Think to tell me it is any better to Ireland, my young Lord?”
“At least it was better than that bloated body to Westminster as they placed him on display,” Eadgar took a drink, “I know not what they do, but he was scary in life. Far more frightening in death!”
Simon moved to bite into another boar rib, “Always the way. At least the coronation was a prettier picture. The young Emperor is now fully into his own.”
“Is he now?” Eadgar looked sideways before another drink, “I thought that crown would sink him for sure. Take him right off the dais.”
“Heh!” Simon laughed again, “The weight of it, sir. Not sure which holds more pounds.”
Eadgar turned with a wry grin, “Yet you stood right up front. Proud as a papa...as if he were your own son.”
“What would you have me do?” Simon shrugged as he took another bite, “He is Lord of it all, sir. I have mine and he has his and I think to make some hay while the sun still shines.”
“That’s an interesting way to put it,” Eadgar stood and walked to find another pitcher of ale, “Most do not see the sun shine as of now, my Lord. My grandfather is gone and a nine year old boy sits the throne. There are players in Scotland. Players in France. Players right here midst our very nose.”
Simon tossed another bone aside with a question to his face, “What players?”
“My Lord of Bedford...and Gloucester...you did ask for this meet,” Eadgar turned with pitcher in hand, “Happy was I to grant it. I needs must know the way the winds blow in England. I’ve been to Ireland so long...it is hard to gauge.”
“I asked for the meet for you are a revered member of House Wessex, my Lord,” Simon showed a hurt to his face, “That you are asked to travel here...to witness such things...your grandfather’s internment and the lad...the Emperor...”
Eadgar moved to pour, “I think to never get used to it. It was to be my uncle. And then his son. Now?”
“I know...a nine year old boy,” Simon went for another bite, “It must be smarting. Especially at the now.”
“That I am no longer in line?” Eadgar shifted to sit by the window, “Now must look to my cousin in Lancaster?”
Simon chuckled, “Of course you are still in line. Just a longer one. Matilda of Lancaster is just married. And no one wishes another woman.”
“Three sisters, Anselm finds,” Eadgar stated as he looked out to the night, “There remain two more if she should lack issue. It all flows now through my late cousin of Champagne, my Lord.”
“And yet you are descended directly through a male line from Arthur of Wessex, lad,” Simon encouraged through his chews, “If no thing else, it would help you in France. Worry not.”
“I’m not worried,” Eadgar looked to him with a stern eye, “I wish to know why you are here.”
Simon held the empty rib to the air, “Now we get to the meat on the bone, eh?”
“You hold a healthy appetite for one so recently finding disease, my Lord,” Eadgar kept his stare.
The Lord of Bedford placed his palms to the table, “Do you think me healthy, sir? Do you not see the pocks to my face? I have lost my hair. I am bloated and unseemly to look upon, but do I care? I do not. I am the Lord of Bedford and Gloucester. I hold vast lands throughout England and France. My son holds Northumberland and the entire north. When he inherits...there shall be no doubt. Normandy may hang themselves. It will be us and only us.”
“You’re forgetting a rather minor part,” Eadgar suggested with no smile.
Simon allowed his own, “Of course. The Emperor. That nine year old boy you wish to strangle, I might assume.”
“You’ve not the same idea?” Eadgar questioned.
The Duke washed down his last bite with ale, “I’ve barely met the lad. Bit of dust up a few weeks back...but not with him. I saw him as right as you did, my Lord. Gaining a very heavy crown indeed. One you may wish to forget for yourself if you hold any sanity.”
“You didn’t come here to enjoy a meal,” Eadgar stood and returned to the table, “You wished to sound me out...yes?”
“About what, I wonder?” Simon remained cagey.
Eadgar flashed a grin, “About your place or mine. I’m not sure which. You might elucidate if you wish to know my mind.”
“Very well,” Simon wiped his greasy fingers to his coat and leaned in, “The change at court has been rapid. No great schemers...other than mayhap the Lord of Norfolk. Never been one to do so before...yet he did oust the Bishop that claimed the regency and now holds the lad as his own. It’s like a bit of gold, my Lord. Everyone else wants it, sir. Yet who can take it?”
Eadgar caste a curious eye, “Whom do you wish to take it...my Lord?”
“I’m quite happy with the state of things,” Simon smiled, “A young Emperor? A council trying to do all things at once? A far cry from years back, I can tell you.”
“Then what’s your motive...my Lord?” Eadgar leaned in.
Simon backed away with a smile, “Who says I needs must have motive? I come as a friend. A wealthy friend. A powerful friend. You hold your power as blood royal and I hold mine as a great Lord indeed. We two should be friends. That’s all.”
“I know that I’m much younger than you, my Lord,” Eadgar sat back again with a stern eye, “That doesn’t mean that I’m naive. You’ve accomplished great things in your life...a crusader at a young age...many battles to Germany. You’ve served and you’re indeed a great Lord. Very wealthy. Very powerful. Yet there’s something that you want. Something you’re not getting from this current council or regent.”
“You’ve a suspicious mind, my Lord,” Simon grinned, “Is it always that way with Wessex, I wonder? I should ask my son. You know...I too come from that line. Long ago...but a connection. It went wayward...and now here we are. Would you wish the same?”
Eadgar made ready answer, “If I should find your coin and your prestige...mayhap.”
“And yet...you remain a blood royal, my friend,” Simon smiled, “No more power can be had but that. I do wish us to be close…to see this adventure through, such as it is. The winds will blow and we must act. For the Empire...yes?”
“And still there is more that you want,” Eadgar answered quickly.
Simon answered, “I am loathe to say poor words towards your cousin to Norfolk, my Lord...but yes. He comes to me and asks for my support. But then there is more. He wishes to go again to Normandy. And more...he looks to others within France.”
“And now we get to the meat on your bone,” Eadgar grinned, “It is personal...not political. You wish Lord Nicholas to stay his peace within Normandy and France. Is that it?”
Lord Simon replied with a serious eye, “There is more to be had from France than what we gain at the now. I am an English Lord, sir. I care not for the mixing of peoples and all that jot. That was your grandfather in his semi-lucid moments. No. We are English to Paris. Below? They still hold to Frankish ways. This entire election for young Anselm! Preposterous! I shall tell you now that Lord Nicholas has some of the same ideas...yet his are more...dirty?”
“More foul than yours?” Eadgar asked with a skewed brow.
Simon held up his hands, “Get me not wrong, my Lord. I hold a design and we have time to make of it what we will. Yet he...our Lord of Norfolk...I believe to be drunk with the power as much as any other. Do you know that he has designs to...well...I should not say what he has told me.”
“And yet you will anyway,” Eadgar showed a grin.
“You’re too smart for me, sir,” Simon poured another ale, “He sees Alan of Normandy and begs a foe.”
Eadgar answered quickly, “Not surprising. They were at war. One lost and the other won. My grandfather brokered a peace that satisfied none. Go on.”
“It goes beyond that, sir,” Simon moved to pour another for Eadgar, “Now he looks to France. He holds the lad...and his power...and sees trouble with Lord Amedee to Bourbon!”
“Then he’s moved swiftly indeed,” Eadgar grinned, “Is there more?”
“Need there be more?” Simon asked, “Lord Amedee is no friend to any here at court and was less than a hero to Germany. One might say that it was he that caused our poor Lord Jordan his captivity and now his...troubles.”
Eadgar pointed, “He is named Lord Marshal once more.”
“An empty title meant to secure Kent if no thing else, my Lord,” Simon suggested readily, “And you saw him at the coronation. A shell of the former man, would you not say?”
“I’m confused, sir,” Eadgar stated, “Do you not support Lord Nicholas in his efforts...or do you wish to bring me round to his side?”
Simon took a slow drink and then sat down the cup, “I understood there to be many benefits when the move was made to install Lord Stephen as Regent and hand over young Anselm to our Lord of Norfolk. No one wished the Bishop, to be sure. Yet one thing that was promised has not yet come about. We were told that more autonomy would be granted for we great Lords. Do you find it?”
“I’ve little issue to Ireland, my Lord,” Eadgar suggested, “My only threats are Richard of Leinster to Ormond and the Bretons who are once more at war. There remains Scotland to Connacht...but I’ve few sleepless nights about that. Should I wish it...I imagine I could be claimed King in Ireland.”
“And yet...” Simon paused, “...do you wish it?”
Eadgar skewed a brow, “You’re quizzical, my Lord, and much like my late grandfather, I’m not one for tests. If you’ve a point, I would rather hear it outright.”
“You wish to trap me, I think,” Simon stood as if to leave, “I did not gain my seat through duplicity...”
“And yet you do it so well at it now,” Eadgar answered.
Simon stopped and turned, “Very well. I tell you that the Lord of Norfolk makes a play against the Lords of Normandy and Bourbon. He’s asked for my assistance. Neither are long for this world for I said that I would help and I mean what I say...”
“Little duplicity there,” Eadgar taunted.
Simon stood taller, “And so I come here to seek your thoughts, my Lord. The game is changed. You hold the pedigree of Arthur of Wessex, sir. As much if not more than Anselm the lad. It will be years before he comes to his majority and until then...we are ruled by Norfolk and Lothian. Is that something you wish?”
“I needs must ask a simple question, my Lord,” Eadgar suggested.
Simon gave a firm nod, “Go on.”
Eadgar flashed a smile, “Were you loyal to my grandfather?”
“Of course I was loyal!” Simon was adamant, “As much as any man! Yet I held doubts even before His Majesty passed. The grandson...your cousin...no man cared for him in his last days. And now the son? We move to the edge, my Lord, and it is only we that might secure what has been built.”
“I know not what you ask of me,” Eadgar replied, “The simple fact remains that Anselm is given the throne and the crown. His eldest sister is now named his heir for the time being. At least until she has a son of her own. It matters not that I already hold an heir nor that I am descended from the male line. That is how it was designed and that is how it will play out. Unless...”
Simon perked up, “Unless?”
“Every man holds a price, my Lord Simon,” Eadgar stood and moved to him, “I would ask of you...what is yours?”
“York, my Lord,” Simon readily answered, “My son had chance to spend time with our Lord of York and Anjou as they made progress to the south. This Guy...this Lord...a young man of Rose. Seventeen now and newly married. He holds little power here to England but maintains his worth through Anjou and his title. To speak it bluntly...my son desires York and I wish Vermandois. It cannot be more simple than that.”
“I think to like you more when you were cagey, sir,” Eadgar answered with a stern brow.
Simon held tall, “You asked a pointed questioned and you gained a pointed answer. If we are to go off on this adventure...then I would hold you as part of it in every way. You asked my price? I told you. Once the pawns begin falling away, there is a path. Will you follow it?”
“With such honesty, how could I say no?” Eadgar replied with a grin.
Lord Simon stepped back with disgust, “I think you to scoff and begin to rethink approaching you on the subject!”
“My Lord...” Eadgar moved to pour another ale, “...the great Lords of the realm are a fickle bunch. Many are quite young. York...Lancaster...Cornwall...even Berry where Lord Raynaud is mine own age. And then there are the others which you represent. The last of the old guard. Lothian...Hereford...Leinster...Meath...Normandy and Bourbon. And most certainly Norfolk where my cousin resides. To which side do you think I belong?”
“There are no sides were you to be called Emperor,” Simon answered.
Eadgar turned, “And there you are wrong. Did we not just see one coup? You would wish another in so short a time? I will most certainly assist...if that is what you are asking...with Normandy, Bourbon and yes...York. But if you task me with the ultimate quest? It is a heavy crown, as we have seen, and while I am deserving of it...I question the worth.”
“It is a vast Empire,” Simon suggested, “From the north to Scotland all the way to Navarre in Iberia. It is immense power, my Lord.”
The Lord of Munster trained his stern eye to the Duke, “I’ll tell you a secret, though it is likely no secret to you. I was too young to know, but my mother has told me...a terrible fact. My father killed himself. Jumped right off the tower and landed with great prejudice against himself. To what end? His life...and his thoughts of being King. I am not my father. I hold fine lands within Ireland and if some day this crown should pass to me...I would take it up. Begrudgingly and with thoughts of my father and his wasted existence. I saw what it did to my grandfather. I saw what it did to my cousin of Champagne. I can’t say that I don’t hold the desire. Yet I question myself at every turn when my mind does go there.”
“Do you think that your cousin to Norfolk holds the same thought?” Simon questioned immediately.
Eadgar finished his drink and then answered, “He is of Wessex...as much as I am. I imagine he wishes only his own...which I do as well. Which you do, my Lord. There is some time to play and so if you wish to play then I say...make your move. Yet do not make me your cause. I will support Nicholas of Norfolk until the day that I cannot. Until then? I say...keep to Bedford as I will keep to Munster. In due time...we shall find out.”
“You are a young man,” Simon suggested, “You have time. I am to my fifties and may not.”
“Then leave it to your son,” Eadgar waved him away as he moved to pour another, “He holds the north and will gain all that you have and more. Is that not what His Majesty showed us?”
The Lord of Munster filled a second cup and handed it to the Lord of Bedford as he continued, “Fifty seven years, sir. As you might know...a lifetime. That is what Arthur of Wessex built. Took us from Kingdom to Empire. If you wish to tear that down, I will fight you. That I promise. Yet if you hold patience...all things may come.”
