Lolling About
Lolling About
The News
“My Liege! My Liege!” Oswolf was running in the hallway, screaming from the top of his lungs.
Bohemond stopped and turned around, eyeing the panting archbishop coldly.
“What do you want?” he said in a very measured tone.
“Urgent news, Sire,” the old man wheezed.
“You have been shagging my daughter again and came to brag?” Bohemond said, his voice as venomous as that of a snake.
Inside, he was raging. Fucking Oswolf, cannot keep his cock inside his pants like a good priest should. And of all people, he would shove it inside his daughter. The gall of a man. And he, the all-mighty King, could only imprison her daughter. Something he really did not want to do. Absolute King with an absolute power and he could not even put the damn priest into prison. Or, remove the source of the lechery and cut off the cock of the old man. The thought made the King’s day a little brighter at least.
You lecherous old priest...
At least Oswolf had decency to look really guilty and regretful and mumble something along the lines of misunderstanding and unintentional and mistaken identity.
“Mistaken identity indeed,” thought Bohemond. “You have mistaken my daughter to someone you could fuck.”
“Anyway, what is it,” Bohemond shoved yesterday’s crises aside and focused on the new, interesting crises.
“Lollards, Sire!” panted Oswolf “Lollards about!”
Bohemond shrugged. “Ahh, them heretics, rearing their ugly heads again. Happens all the time. Where this time? Germany? England? France?”
“Gabes!” said Oswulf. “Duke Anfroi has converted!”
Bohemond gasped. “The hell?”
“Anfroi of Gabes had denounced the Pope and Catholicism and claimed that all of his lands are following the lollards now!”
Lollards, much closer to home
“He dares...” said Bohemond. “Send a strongly worded letter at once, demanding that he stops this foolishness at once and returns to the flock!”
After a pause, he added. “There will be no heresy in my lands. Android should know it...”
Oswolf bowed and moved away, glad that King has a next crises turned the King’s attention away from who is fucking whom question.
A strongly worded letter
The Response
A week later, Bohemond was in council as the response arrived.
Bohemond took it, read it and said to his council: “Apparently, the letter wasn’t worded strongly enough. Anfroi refused the salvation and decided to he lolling about instead.”
Anfroi, refusing to give up faith
There was silence. Then, Mernissa spoke up. “So, what are we going to do? We cannot have heretics running about after all...”
“We write another letter,” said Bohemond.
“How is it going to help? He refused the first one already,” said Mernissa
“It depends on what you write,” said Bohemond, with a wicked grin. “And about who delivers it,” he added thoughtfully.
He eyed Duke Alfons, his Marshal. “You shall be our postman this time,” he said.
“Sire?” Alfons said questiongly. “Are you sure he will even accept my letter? Or will he just refuse to see me? And I'm not the most diplomatic man around, as you know.”
“Diplomacy is not what I’m looking for at the moment,” said Bohemond. “I’m more of a looking Alfons taking a few thousand fellow postman, sailing to Gabes and delivering this letter to the heretic Duke.”
Bohemond took the quill and a parchment and scribbled something down. Then, he handed it to Alfons.
Duke of Alexandria read it out aloud:
“Anfroi!
You either come voluntarily or my men shall burn your lands, kill your subjects and take it anyway.
Your King, Bohemond”
“Short and straight to the point,” Alfons commented.
“See it done,” said Bohemond.
Alfons just asked: “And what if he refuses?”
“I thought I was pretty clear on this part,” replied the King. “Start burning and killing.”
Bohemond's response
The Solution
Week later, Anfroi was in the dungeon. No, not the cold, damp and dark one underground, chained to a wall. That is reserved to a common criminal. Instead, he got a one with a view. One of the towers of Castle of Palermo. Only one exit though, locked and guarded all the time. Barred windows. And even if you could break the bars, the fall would kill you. Though more comfortable, this was a dungeon still.
Anfroi head the door open below. Someone taking the steps, energetically. The guards snapped up and said “Sire”, and then someone turned the lock and opened the door. Bohemond stepped in, not looking even a bit exhausted from the climb up to the tower. Though the hair of the King was mostly gray and the lines in his face were deep, the time had been kind to the king. Still got his bright eyes, his energy and confidence. Anfroi flinched.
Even worse, King did not bother to bring any guards. Anfroi could see why. Despite his age, Bohemond could overpower him without breaking a sweat.
“You know whose cell it was?” asked Bohemond without wasting any times on niceties like saying hello, how was your trip, I hope the capture wasn’t too unpleasant?
Anfroi shook his head.
The King, not even expecting a response, continued “Gaufrid’s”
“The Double Duke?” asked Anfroi. Sure, he had heard of the man, though he was just in his teens when the man died.
Bohemond nodded. “He spent more then 30 years here, you know. He was less then 20 when I put him there and he was 52 when he died here.”
Bohemond stepped to the small barred windows. “I am told that every day, he spent hours here, looking outside, looking at the life below, looking at the ships sailing into harbor, people running in the streets.”
He gazed outside, to the magnificent city of Palermo, so full of life. “This little window was his main contact with the outside world. The only way to see himself part of humankind. The only way he could keep himself sane during the decades of captivity.”
Bohemond paused for a minute and added then, “Though i’m told he still got pretty weird in the end”
Anfroi watched with fascinated horror as the King did his little act.
Then, Bohemond turned to him. “You’re still young, Anfroi. And healthy. Do you think you shall last as long as Gaufrid?”
As Anfroi looked for a good answer, the King continued. “You know the difference between you and Gaufrid though?”
Anfroi shook his head.
“Gaufrid did not have a choice. He irked my ire and therefore, he was stripped of his titles and he spent the rest of his life here. A proper punishment, you know.”
“As for you,” the King suddenly focused on Anfroi. “You still have a choice.”
“You can spend the next few decades in this room,” the King made a gesture encompassing the small room. “Or you can live happily in Gabes, along with your family, and enjoy the power that comes with being a powerful Duke of the realm.”
Anfroi realized that thus far, it had been a pretty one-sided conversation. This was actually the first time the King expected him to speak.
“Sire?” he gasped.
“No fool lolling about will rule in my realm,” the King said. “It is either you spend the rest of your life here, while I take away your lands, or you will hear my humble plea and abandon your heretical ways and find your way back to the flock.”
“Humble indeed,” thought Anfroi. But the thought of the fate of Gaufrid sent shivers up his spine. And after all, the Pope wasn’t so bad, now he thinks of it. And he had some questions about the core tenants of the Lollards, like the paficism part. Though mostly, it was the fate of Gaufrid.
“Sire, I,” mumbled Anfroi. “I, I, have seen the error in my ways. I shall denounce heresy and offer myself at your mercy. I want nothing more then to be at your good grace, Sire!”
“Good boy”, said Bohemond with a smile. Then, he patted Anfroi on his back and said “Ok, boy. Let’s go downstairs.”
He even opened the dungeon door for him.
As they walked down, Bohemond thought to himself: “Looks I'm much more effective at this conversion and fighting heresy than any of my priests.”
With this, the initial crises was over.
Anfroi, seeing the error in his ways
Morel Lolling About
Anfroi was the first one. He was not the only one though. The lure of lollardy was strong, and Duke Arnald II of Calabria and Osbern of Tripolitania converted to heresy as well. Just, how the King dealt with Anfroi send a clear message to the other vassals as well.
Two more, but they folded more easily
Strongly worded letters were enough to bring both heretical Dukes back to the flock.
The third one, Radulf of Apulia, needed a bit more. A strongly worded letter and a gift of gold. With this, the heresy problem in Sicily had been dealt with. More swiftly then the Pope could say “Ave Maria”
There is always the greedy one
The appearance of Lollardy, so close to home, altered the Pope though. Again, he gathered all the rulers in Rome and again, he dealt a powerful speech, condemning Lollardy. This time, Lollardy in the North- Scotland had been a hive of lollardy for some time now and King Shaw was considered to be one of the most lolliest of lollards about. So, Clemens urged every Christian to take up the sword and make the Scots see the error of their ways through ample bloodshed and warfare. Again, promising absolution of their sins to anyone partaking in the crusade.
A Crusade for the Kingdom of England...
Going to fight Scotland.. in Englahd?
Bohemond stood up. “You know,” he started “While I agree that the lollardy is a problem we need to deal with. I think our Holy Father approaches the problem in a bit of a wrong way.”
The others looked up as Bohemond spoke. After all, the King of the South, as he was being more and more called in Europe, was the man you better listen to.
“While Scotland indeed has some provinces in England,” the King continues. “I think it is a waste of time and effort to take the war to England alone- I think the problem needs to be addressed directly.”
The King took a pause, while the world listened.
“I think we should go directly to Scotland instead,” said the King.
“But, but, the Scots have haggis!” someone from the audience mumbled. “I want paella! Can’t we do Iberia again?”
It was Griselda who spoke up: “Sorry, we’re full. No room for another Crusader Kingdom in Iberia”
There was a bit of grumbling. But in the end, people saw wisdom in Bohemond’s words and despite the abundance of haggis, decided to liberate Scotland from the heretics.
Bohemond appointed his daughter, Princess Giselle, as the beneficiary for this crusade. At least, she will be really far away from the lecherous old Oswolf.
With the updated target, things make much more sense. And also, meet the future Queen of Scotland. Giselle the Gerontophile!
And nothing much else happened until in February 1142, the Third Crusade began.