Ooh fascinating... I always suspected that Ancel and mother dearest killed Folquesson... As for Toda, well it's rough for the poor girl, but at least Guilhem will protect her... That cliffhanger ie certainly something....
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Before Plantagenet – A House d’Anjou AAR
- Thread starter JabberJock14
- Start date
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It looks like this story's moved on quite a bit since the last time I poked my head in here. A far bit of a backlog for me to get through, but I'm sure I'll enjoy every moment of it, JabberJock 
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I suspected that aunt thing, and wanted to comment on it - but then I thought, no, Geoffrey I is dead too long for that to be the case... Guess I was wrong then.
Ohhh, Ancel. Motive and opportunity are clearly there, so it shouldn't be a surprise after all.
While Guilhem has a friend in Savarics, he is not and won't be as capable as Bérard. And if he won't have Toda as a lover, there's nothing preventing him from having her as a good friend - just like he promised.
Speculation time! Clearly, Margo is betrothed to some Anglo-Saxon heir as Elf looks for some support to keep her unstable kingdom together.
Guilhem though - I think Geoffrey would be perfectly willing to let the English lords rise up so that he can put them in their place once and for all, so my bet's on another option.
Aquitaine doesn't offer any notable options that aren't already family.
Scotland to better control England? Clearly not, the Scots are dangerous, as Louis as Duke of Albany can attest to.
Iberian nobility? Curse or no curse, they are not an attractive option for a marriage.
French nobles? Well, definitely not the crown and not Normandy. But even with a marriage, it would be hard to keep them out of the coming conflict.
The HRE - too unstable. The ERE - too far.
We've seen another candidate. A wise king, broken free of the Kaiser's excommunicated hold. So there's my bet - a princess of the combined Bohemian-Sardinian kingdom.
Ohhh, Ancel. Motive and opportunity are clearly there, so it shouldn't be a surprise after all.
While Guilhem has a friend in Savarics, he is not and won't be as capable as Bérard. And if he won't have Toda as a lover, there's nothing preventing him from having her as a good friend - just like he promised.
Speculation time! Clearly, Margo is betrothed to some Anglo-Saxon heir as Elf looks for some support to keep her unstable kingdom together.
Guilhem though - I think Geoffrey would be perfectly willing to let the English lords rise up so that he can put them in their place once and for all, so my bet's on another option.
Aquitaine doesn't offer any notable options that aren't already family.
Scotland to better control England? Clearly not, the Scots are dangerous, as Louis as Duke of Albany can attest to.
Iberian nobility? Curse or no curse, they are not an attractive option for a marriage.
French nobles? Well, definitely not the crown and not Normandy. But even with a marriage, it would be hard to keep them out of the coming conflict.
The HRE - too unstable. The ERE - too far.
We've seen another candidate. A wise king, broken free of the Kaiser's excommunicated hold. So there's my bet - a princess of the combined Bohemian-Sardinian kingdom.
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Indeed. And beware the wedding feast if there is one of those cannibalistic Scottish kings in attendance!
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Apologize for the delay in responding to comments. For some reason, I couldn't get this next chapter working the way I wanted and decided to take a few days away from the story to hopefully get a look at it with fresh eyes.
Yeah, it was quite the shock for the prince. And oddly, it probably would put off Geoffrey II, but not anyone else in the family.
On Geoffrey's anger - we know he doesn't have a problem with murder. But in this case, it's more of a complete loss of trust. If Ancel would murder his father, then he'd murder Geoffrey. And there's been quite a few shady things that have gone on around Brittany over the past 5-10 years... and Geoffrey is beginning to suspect that it might have been Ancel all along.
For the past decade, Geoffrey's been in a comfort zone. There's not been a huge threat to his throne in a long time. But now Ancel has both a claim fairly high up the line of succession, the intrigue ability to pull off the murder of a high-profile lord, and the ruthlessness' to kill his own father. He has a threat and one not easily dealt with.
Margo's future husband might be a distant cousin of hers, but they are not closely related. But Guilhem has the "anglo-saxon" genetics despite being wholly Occitan in culture. So he's got the same portrait as many of the other Saxon kids.
The weather was rough, but we have gotten through it. Hopefully that's last snowstorm of the winter/spring. Thanks for your concern!
Thank you for your high praise! I thought this came out fairly well, but still, the substance of this update can always make it a bit touchy. And getting some sympathy/affection for Geoffrey! It helps being a decent parent!
You know Geoffrey well! He did go to do so, obviously, though it was more an acceptance that he couldn't stop his son. Even if, for once, he had good reason.
Foulquesson was a prick and a half. A embittered, angry man. And I think Beatritz could be forgiven, as opposed to Aines. Of course, Ancel, who did not ever seem to be in the same line of fire as his mother... probably deserves less sympathy.
Hey, I never said you were wrong!
Yeah, when it came to Toda, I wondered if anyone would remember. Aside from the fact Geoffrey I reveled in Benoite's pregnancy toward the end of his life as proof of his ability to best even leprosy, I believe I had thrown a singular reference to Toda's in the past chapter (ironically, the chapter Geoffrey discovers Alias is gay - that was complete coincidence, since when I had written that, I didn't know Toda was as well). In this case, a big benefit to the Guilhem POV is he doesn't know what his father does, so certain things could have greater impact.
Geoffrey remains kind of the exception in that regard. He has certainly enjoyed inappropriate relationships with his aunts by marriage, but he's avoided his blood relatives. At least besides his massive crush on Duchess Anna, who was secretly Duke Gilles daughter. But Geoffrey II never found out about that secret.
Yeah, sometimes I realize I wish I had included things earlier in the story and I have to creatively figure out ways to include them. The growth of Aquitaine's bard culture has been one of them. Your commentary helped spur that along, so thank you!
There's always a twist. And I feel like his mother heavily influenced a lot of this - his more accepting attitudes for women who step out of traditional roles is almost certainly because that's what Ælfflæd has kind of done.
Guilhem will probably avoid being hated like his parents because the story will end before he gets to really rule. That said, I've tried to write him a bit more... sympathetic than his father. Even his vices, which continue in the family tradition, I hope to portray a little differently.
Oh no, the marriage is something I arranged. After the next chapter, I'll explain more.
How relevant his bride is, I suppose, is up to interpretation. She certain has a fairly important parent. Whether it was necessary... that will be up to you all to decide.
Thanks again for your comment and high praise!
You make a good point about that. So I guess Geoffrey will have to go outside the realm to find his son's future wife...
It is, but also very teenage. Or just kids in general. My son thinks that all the time. And he's six. And not an Angevin, to my knowledge.
In theory, yes, it should. On the other hand, I was a teen once. And I'm not sure what I'd have accepted my crush telling me in that position.
There will be ups and downs for Guilhem. But I the moral compass of the family trends upward.
Emperor you say? I think that's an inspired suggestion. Might have to pass that along...
Your suspicions were good, as you can see! I left clues, but they were obscure, and you'd have to really look for them. But I did want it so that if you looked back, you'd certainly see things and go "ahh, yeah, I see what he was up to now."
Toda's situation is not great, though I think it works out decently enough for her. And despite her fears about being unwanted, she gets a pretty high-profile husband.
It will be answered next chapter!
The timeline does seem off, and I had to double check to make sure I had it right. But yeah, Toda was born six months before Geoffrey I's death. She is a good marker for Geoffrey II's reign as a result. Don't worry - like I said, I had to double check myself to make sure.
I won't say how things progress, but I think Toda provides valuable experience for Guilhem in the future. And perhaps, he does for her as well, given her own future.
Yep, Margo is promised to an Anglo-Saxon. As for Guilhem, your speculation/analysis is quite good as always. There is a marriage with that Bohemian-Sardinian kingdom in the future. But is it this marriage? You shall see....
Yep. Beware those Canmores! And that's not just my years of watching Gargoyles talking.
To all - as always great commentary and feedback! I mentioned at the top, this next chapter has been a pain to write. It's pretty big both in length and event. But getting it right has been hard. I wrote a bunch of it, then finished it, didn't love it, then waited a few days and went back to do some edits. Still am working on those edits and deciding if I like it. Hopefully it's good for Wednesday or Thursday.
Thanks for your patience as well as your continued support! And I hope everyone is doing well as we already move into the third month of 2021!
Yeah, it was quite the shock for the prince. And oddly, it probably would put off Geoffrey II, but not anyone else in the family.
On Geoffrey's anger - we know he doesn't have a problem with murder. But in this case, it's more of a complete loss of trust. If Ancel would murder his father, then he'd murder Geoffrey. And there's been quite a few shady things that have gone on around Brittany over the past 5-10 years... and Geoffrey is beginning to suspect that it might have been Ancel all along.
For the past decade, Geoffrey's been in a comfort zone. There's not been a huge threat to his throne in a long time. But now Ancel has both a claim fairly high up the line of succession, the intrigue ability to pull off the murder of a high-profile lord, and the ruthlessness' to kill his own father. He has a threat and one not easily dealt with.
Margo's future husband might be a distant cousin of hers, but they are not closely related. But Guilhem has the "anglo-saxon" genetics despite being wholly Occitan in culture. So he's got the same portrait as many of the other Saxon kids.
The weather was rough, but we have gotten through it. Hopefully that's last snowstorm of the winter/spring. Thanks for your concern!
This was such a wonderful chapter. You truly are a god at this, putting mere mortals such as myself to shame. To top it all of this chapter really made me like Geoffrey 2.
The first thing I thought of would be that if that was the case then Geoff would congratulate his son for finding his next mistress. Ironic given later events in this chapter.
In fairness Foulquesson was an asshole (and I say that as someone who liked the guy, and he was on his way out anyways. Wheras Guilhielm was just a baby.).
THATS WHAT I SAID!!
At first I thought it was a metaphorical thing, comparing her to Anna. What is so good about this chapter is how it trends towards one thing before heading in a completely different direction.
Not that this has stoped the Angevinns before, but those things have never worked out well.
Nice touch.
Hahahahahaha at least I got the part where she wanted to be with one of Gui's parents right. I just got the wrong one. Toda will make a good friend for young Gui, and it speaks highly of him that he hasn't thrown some sort of temper tantrum.
Gui is so very precious and such a good boi. No matter what he does I don't think I will be able to hate him as much as the others.
Is this the dumb thing the AI makes Elf do?
Quite the cliff hanger. Who will it be. I'd almost wish for it to be either someone really bad or politically irrelevant just to make the congratulations son thing darkly ironic.
Thank you for your high praise! I thought this came out fairly well, but still, the substance of this update can always make it a bit touchy. And getting some sympathy/affection for Geoffrey! It helps being a decent parent!
You know Geoffrey well! He did go to do so, obviously, though it was more an acceptance that he couldn't stop his son. Even if, for once, he had good reason.
Foulquesson was a prick and a half. A embittered, angry man. And I think Beatritz could be forgiven, as opposed to Aines. Of course, Ancel, who did not ever seem to be in the same line of fire as his mother... probably deserves less sympathy.
Hey, I never said you were wrong!
Yeah, when it came to Toda, I wondered if anyone would remember. Aside from the fact Geoffrey I reveled in Benoite's pregnancy toward the end of his life as proof of his ability to best even leprosy, I believe I had thrown a singular reference to Toda's in the past chapter (ironically, the chapter Geoffrey discovers Alias is gay - that was complete coincidence, since when I had written that, I didn't know Toda was as well). In this case, a big benefit to the Guilhem POV is he doesn't know what his father does, so certain things could have greater impact.
Geoffrey remains kind of the exception in that regard. He has certainly enjoyed inappropriate relationships with his aunts by marriage, but he's avoided his blood relatives. At least besides his massive crush on Duchess Anna, who was secretly Duke Gilles daughter. But Geoffrey II never found out about that secret.
Yeah, sometimes I realize I wish I had included things earlier in the story and I have to creatively figure out ways to include them. The growth of Aquitaine's bard culture has been one of them. Your commentary helped spur that along, so thank you!
There's always a twist. And I feel like his mother heavily influenced a lot of this - his more accepting attitudes for women who step out of traditional roles is almost certainly because that's what Ælfflæd has kind of done.
Guilhem will probably avoid being hated like his parents because the story will end before he gets to really rule.
That said, I've tried to write him a bit more... sympathetic than his father. Even his vices, which continue in the family tradition, I hope to portray a little differently.Oh no, the marriage is something I arranged. After the next chapter, I'll explain more.
How relevant his bride is, I suppose, is up to interpretation. She certain has a fairly important parent. Whether it was necessary... that will be up to you all to decide.
Thanks again for your comment and high praise!
As others have noted already, hardly an impediment in that family. More of a distant relative. And being closely related via Geoffrey I could disqualify a significant proportion of the realm’s marriageable women for Gui!
Very Angevin.
Now those disclosures should be enough to allow the moral compass to droop south, for certes! Even for an Angevin.
Ditto.
Ah, he transcends his family curse and shows there’s some genuine mettle in there. Let’s hope he does indeed survive to become the brave and wise King of the United Kingdoms of Aquitaine and England. Or perhaps an emperor, even. Geoff I would appreciate it.
And I agree with @JSB217118 that Geoff II also emerges from this quite well.
Now all Ancel needs is a waxed moustache, black cape and shifty eyes to become the kinslaying pantomime villain of the story!
You make a good point about that. So I guess Geoffrey will have to go outside the realm to find his son's future wife...
It is, but also very teenage. Or just kids in general. My son thinks that all the time. And he's six. And not an Angevin, to my knowledge.
In theory, yes, it should. On the other hand, I was a teen once. And I'm not sure what I'd have accepted my crush telling me in that position.
There will be ups and downs for Guilhem. But I the moral compass of the family trends upward.
Emperor you say? I think that's an inspired suggestion. Might have to pass that along...
Your suspicions were good, as you can see! I left clues, but they were obscure, and you'd have to really look for them. But I did want it so that if you looked back, you'd certainly see things and go "ahh, yeah, I see what he was up to now."
Toda's situation is not great, though I think it works out decently enough for her. And despite her fears about being unwanted, she gets a pretty high-profile husband.
It will be answered next chapter!
The timeline does seem off, and I had to double check to make sure I had it right. But yeah, Toda was born six months before Geoffrey I's death. She is a good marker for Geoffrey II's reign as a result. Don't worry - like I said, I had to double check myself to make sure.
I won't say how things progress, but I think Toda provides valuable experience for Guilhem in the future. And perhaps, he does for her as well, given her own future.
Yep, Margo is promised to an Anglo-Saxon. As for Guilhem, your speculation/analysis is quite good as always. There is a marriage with that Bohemian-Sardinian kingdom in the future. But is it this marriage? You shall see....
Indeed. And beware the wedding feast if there is one of those cannibalistic Scottish kings in attendance!
Yep. Beware those Canmores! And that's not just my years of watching Gargoyles talking.
To all - as always great commentary and feedback! I mentioned at the top, this next chapter has been a pain to write. It's pretty big both in length and event. But getting it right has been hard. I wrote a bunch of it, then finished it, didn't love it, then waited a few days and went back to do some edits. Still am working on those edits and deciding if I like it. Hopefully it's good for Wednesday or Thursday.
Thanks for your patience as well as your continued support! And I hope everyone is doing well as we already move into the third month of 2021!
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It looks like this story's moved on quite a bit since the last time I poked my head in here. A far bit of a backlog for me to get through, but I'm sure I'll enjoy every moment of it, JabberJock
I wasn't always consistent in updates but when I did, they were long, so plenty to read, for sure. Take your time, and hope you enjoy these as much as you have the others!
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Chapter 280 - February 1141
Note: This chapter takes place essentially concurrently with the last two chapters, though it finishes a few weeks after.
Before Plantagenet - Chapter 280
February 1141 - Lydford, Kingdom of England
“They are coming for us.”
Ælfflæd Thoræddohter felt a chill run down her spine as she heard her father speak those words.
She could not see him - not while she hid just around the corner from the solar in her father’s keep in Wiltshire. But with night bringing the keep into an eerie silence and calm, Ælfflæd could hear every word clear as day.
In fact, it was hard to keep quiet. But the sight of her older sister Æthelræda with her finger over her lips was enough to keep both Ælfflæd and her brother Eadwulf silent.
“How many?” Wulfrun asked him. “A caliphate?”
“The entirety of the Muslim world,” Thoræd said, his voice sounding exasperated. “The two different sects Sunni and Shia both attack us.”
“It is… like they crusade against us,” Wulfrun said.
“They call it a Jihad,” Thoræd said.
“God save us,” Wulfrun said. “We cannot fight them alone.”
“I think it will not be as bad you fear,” Thoræd said. “Good news already - Robert of Mercia has sent word he will put his differences aside to fight against the heathens.”
“I’m sure Gunny has helped with that,” Wulfrun said. “She has been trying to get him to see reason.”
“Your sister can be convincing… when she wants to be,” Thoræd said. “But I have already received word from many of the lords of the Isles they will fight.”
“What of Rome?” Wulfrun asked. “The Holy Father will surely come to our aid.”
“I have yet to hear anything directly,” Thoræd replied. “We will see when the archbishop sends word from Rome.”
“What of the Duke of Aquitaine?” Wulfrun asked. “Perhaps we should condition Rae’s marriage to their son on an alliance.”
Rae grew wide-eyed at the mention of both her name, and the situation of her marriage. Ælfflæd knew her sister looked forward to her marriage to the heir of the Duke of Aquitaine and Anjou and likely did not want such things cancelled.
“It is late on that,” Thoræd warned. “But in truth, why would he not want to aid us? We fight for a holy cause. And his family, above all, would benefit from such things.”
“I do not know,” Wulfrun said. “I have heard most distressing things about the family as well as the man.”
“Don’t listen to everything you hear,” Thoræd warned. “I did not see them drink the blood of virgins nor bathe in fire. And I met the man’s father, the Iron Duke of the Franks, who was seen as far more vile than Lord Geoffrey.”
“It is no laughing matter,” Wulfrun said.
“It will be fine my dear,” Thoræd assured her. “We will see this through. England will bleed. As it has before. The Northmen. The Danes. The Normans. And as it was before, we will come out even stronger - as the leaders of Christendom with a unified England behind us.”
Ælfflæd believed her father that night. What reason did she have not to? They had defeated the heathens before. Their cause was righteous. Holy. Christendom would unite behind them.
Her sister clearly believed it. Rae smiled and nodded to her father’s words. Eadwulf did too.
And so the six-year-old Ælfflæd felt at ease. They were coming yes, but England was ready. And they would drive back the invaders to the sea, as they had done before.
…
Ælfflæd was not in Wiltshire today. In theory, those days were long behind her - a memory from thirty years in the past. She had her own six-year-old with her in Lydford, who probably would have been listening herself if Ælfflæd had not sent her with Lida and Benoite outside for this court.
In truth, no one but the highest of lords were permitted to listen to the arguments of this specific court, which would all pertain to the Mercian invasion of Lancaster. It was a special session of the nobility - only they and their closest advisors were permitted within. There would be no reactions from the gallery. No playing to the crowd, as her husband sometimes liked to try, emulating his father. It would just be messy, insular business.
Before Ælfflæd, who was seated upon her throne, stood the nobility. On one side of the hall was Duke Sigeric of Essex, Duchess Maud of East Anglia, her husband Earl Eadmund of Lancaster and Duchess Ecgwyn of Cornwall. On the other side, Duke Jordan, the youthful consort to Duchess Adelise cut a lonely figure. And between them, Æfric, Archbishop of Canterbury.
With her on the dais were her councilors Duke Osmund, Duke Hlothere and Duke Æthelsige of Somerset, along with Bishop Cytelbearn.
It was ironic then, but perhaps not all that surprising, that the only two ladies absent were the ones at the center of the dispute in question.
Duchess Aevis of Lancaster likely would have been present if she were able. But heavily pregnant and expected to give birth shortly, she was unable to travel.
In her place was Eadmund of Lancaster, who acted as regent for Aevis and could double as a liaison between her and his wife, Duchess Maud.
Likewise, Adelise was the other absent party, but no physical barrier kept her away. Instead, it was an abundance of caution, as she expected the other nobles of the realm to line up against her. And it also suggested she did not fully trust Ælfflæd not to throw her to the wolves in order to save her skin.
And given that it seemed the anti-Mercian nobles had found an ally in the Archbishop of Canterbury, Adelise’s avoidance made sense. All of this was meant to apply the maximum amount of pressure to the queen by showing where Adelise stood in the eyes of the rest of the realm… and get Ælfflæd to abandon her.
It was something Ælfflæd did not wish to do. But she also knew that if she was to avoid the church’s ire, as well as keep the whole of her nobility from rebelling, she would be forced to at least entertain them.
It was clear from the outset, however, keeping that balance would be hard, if not impossible.
“Duchess Adelise’s actions are a threat to us all,” Sigeric argued. “She conjures up weak pretexts to justify seizing Lancaster from her sister.”
“Inheritance disputes are hardly weak,” Duke Osmund replied. “And it does not bring me joy to say that - given this conflict has left my poor sister Gunhilda in a miserable state.”
“There is no question over the inheritance,” Sigeric replied. “Aevis has been Duchess of Lancaster since six months after her birth. After three decades, this matter has long been settled.”
“Time is no excuse,” Duke Jordan replied. “My wife petitions the queen for the simple fact that Aevis should never have been given Lancaster. Lady Aevis was born after their father’s death, meaning all his lands should have gone to my wife.”
“But it all went first to their brother,” Sigeric noted. “Until he too died tragically as a babe. It was then that the duchies were partitioned.”
“In which case, all lands should have gone to Adelise as the only remaining child who was born when their father passed,” Jordan said. “How could her father grant lands to a child not yet born? And certainly a babe of two years could not either. Therefore, as no one was of legal age to change the inheritance, it should have all gone to Adelise.”
“Preposterous,” Sigeric said. “Aevis is the legitimate daughter of Duke Robert and thus holds claim.”
Archbishop Æfric cleared his throat. “The church certainly does find Duchess Aevis a legitimate child of the late Duke Robert and thus entitled to his lands in Lancaster. If there was a challenge it should have come years ago. Now, we are understanding that Duchess Adelise was but a small child herself when she inherited, but she could have pressed matter when she came of age, or when her sister did. But as she did not, the church considers the matter settled.”
Ælfflæd thought that a fair point. She knew Adelise only pressed matters because she held an advantage.
“She does it out of greed and avarice,” Ecgwyn added. “Preposterous pretext and troublesome, for if she would backstab her own sister, against the wishes of her fellow nobles, the church and her own mother, why would she not look to seize the lands of other lords or ladies next?”
“It is true,” Sigeric said. “My men are wary of any incursions into my lands that border hers. And Hlothere, I know that my daughter has suggested the same of you.”
Hlothere swallowed hard. “Aye. I have my men on watch.”
His uneasiness was due to the uncertainty over Ælfflæd’s position. It was true Ælfflæd had said she did not think well of Adelise’s actions, but she had stopped short of strongly condemning it, for she was in no rush to force a situation where she had to intervene directly against her closest ally among the nobles. So Hlothere, especially, held off speaking too strongly against her.
But she knew Hlothere and his wife, Duchess Ealflaed, supported Aevis’ claim. And it was that uncertainty which had prevented them from agreeing to a union of one of their sons to Princess Margo.
“I am inclined to agree with you all,” Ælfflæd finally said. “Adelise has wronged her sister. But this is not a matter for the crown to intervene in. Should any one of you been in her place, I doubt you would approve of the crown telling you to stop.”
“Thank you for your wisdom, my queen,” Jordan said. “Opportunistic hypocrites stand before you.”
“Please,” Sigeric scoffed as he eyed the young duke-consort. Turning his gaze back to the queen he said: “This is a matter of great importance. It is not as simple as two Saxon lords fighting. It is a Norman lady, seeking to seize control of the realm.”
Ælfflæd rolled her eyes. “It is a Norman lady, yes, seeking to seize control of her Norman sister’s lands. If you seek to argue that our Saxon lives and rights are under threat, you will not find any ears here, Duke Sigeric. I have no interest in discussing falsehoods.”
“It is no falsehood,” Sigeric said. “It is no secret that Adelise does not approve of her sister’s close friendship with us, the Saxon lords and ladies. It is the main reason she does this - to eliminate one who seeks peace and conciliation, and prepare for war. She will slowly chip away at our power, until we are too weak to resist.”
“She will never be queen,” Ælfflæd promised. “So your fears are unfounded.”
“If she pulls at your strings, then it hardly matters,” Ecgwyn said.
“Pulls at strings?!” Ælfflæd exclaimed. “You have nerve to speak of such things, given your father usurped a crown from my family. From a child.”
“It brought him no joy,” Ecgwyn said. “But it was not his decision. It was that of the nobility. The same nobility that stands before you today. The nobility that is ready to defend England again if necessary.”
Ælfflæd narrowed her gaze. “Is that a threat, Lady Ecgwyn?”
“It is no threat to a true defender of the realm,” Ecgwyn said. “As I’m sure you, or any fair and just queen would be.”
Of course, Ælfflæd knew better. All of this was a threat - one against Adelise to be sure. But also, one against her. To remind her the nobility was unified against this… as well as what happened the last time they were so dead set against their sovereign.
But her nephew Æthelfirth was just a boy who could claim bloodlines and nothing more. Ælfflæd was a woman approaching 40 years… who had already defeated a powerful enemy.
“There is no truer defender of the realm than me,” Ælfflæd said. “You can ask the former sheik of Acre… or the Caliph of the Fatimids.”
“The great liberator of the Holy Lands,” Sigeric said. “Though one who needed her own home liberated by her husband.”
Ælfflæd narrowed her gaze. “It is no shame to have allies, Duke Sigeric. It speaks to my strength. My husband’s men defending you and yours here while our brave knights and huscarls defeated heathens in the Holy Lands. England is stronger as a result.”
“A true Saxon lord needs no allies from beyond our shores,” Sigeric replied. “Did the lords of Wessex need any one but Saxons to drive out the sons of Ragnar? Did the Godwins need anyone but Saxons to push the heirs of Canute back to Danemark? Did they need anyone else to send Harald the Hard Ruler back to sea? And even when defeated, for a time, did the lords require others to force the Bastard to recognize he had no choice but to submit to our will?”
“Times have changed,” Ælfflæd noted. “You speak of singular threats, none of who compare to the lords of Egypt. A great many in England have already learned that lesson the hard way.”
“Your father’s failings are his own,” Sigeric replied. “I hold no ill will toward him, but I will not lie to preserve some false, happy memory.”
It was hardly happy for anyone, Ælfflæd thought. But it was all a lie anyway, for Sigeric painted a false picture of prior Saxon successes.
“Yet you speak of false things that did not happen,” Ælfflæd said. “The sons of Ragnar passed of their own accord or were killed facing others, and the descendants of their armies live as Englishmen in York… which takes its name from the kingdom. The Normans? They rule more of England than they did during the days of the Bastard! Burgheard was the man’s grandson! And Lady Ecgwyn, you have as much blood of the Bastard in your veins as Adelise and Aevis do! You would all tear England apart for some purity which does not exist!”
“If it were purity, then we would have already been beaten,” Sigeric argued. “But this is about a way of life. Our culture. If we do nothing, our grandchildren will be speaking that Occitan drivel as you and your children do. All that we have fought for… it will be gone, or driven to some small corner of the world, like the by-gone peoples from the annals.”
“Your path will do exactly that,” Ælfflæd warned. “If you challenge my rule, I will fight you alongside my husband. And he will take no mercy upon you all. Nor Saxon culture. Is that what you wish?”
“You would not stop him?” Ecgwyn demanded. “You would not defend your homeland against such a man?”
“I am to fight him and you at once?” Ælfflæd snapped. “What fool game do you play at, girl?”
“My queen,” Osmund interrupted. “My fellow lords, we lose our purpose here. This is not the time to discuss such things, for we know they shall not occur. We are all loyal subjects of the queen and king, and thus will not need Occitan knights on our shores any time soon.”
“Yes,” Hlothere added. “Let us return to the matter at hand.”
“The matters are all related,” Sigeric said. “Will the queen defend this Saxon realm from the encroachment of outsiders? And it is a fair question whether a woman who has spent more of her life away from these shores, and has embraced the world of Bordeaux, can do such a thing.”
“I will always defend England,” Ælfflæd swore. “As my father and grandfather did. As did the kings before me did. As I proved against the heathens… without your help, despite the justness of the war, and God’s favor in it, Duke Sigeric.”
Once more, the archbishop cleared his throat. “I believe this meeting has run its course for now. Queen Ælfflæd, thank you for your time. I know you will deliberate on this matter and return a just decision.”
“Thank you my queen,” Duke Jordan added.
That was the last thank you that Ælfflæd received. None of the other lords offered her anything but the slightest of bows before they departed the hall, leaving Ælfflæd with her councilors.
“They will not accept anything less than a complete rebuke of Adelise,” Duke Æthelsige of Somerset said. “I see no point in delaying such a move. Waiting will only enflame their tensions further.”
Ælfflæd turned her gaze on her uncle by marriage. Not only was it troubling to see how quickly he wished to capitulate, but Ælfflæd was disgusted by the fact Æthelsige was also Adelise’s stepfather, and likely had carried on an affair with her, siring a child. To betray her after that…
“I do think we will be forced to choose,” Osmund said. “And it would be in our interest to do it sooner, rather than later.”
Ælfflæd didn’t want to hear that talk. Looking at Cytelbearn, she asked: “I know the archbishop backs Aevis. How strong is that support?”
“Rock hard,” Cytelbearn said. “The archbishop sees it in the realm’s interest to keep Adelise at bay, if not remove her entirely.”
Ælfflæd frowned and shook her head. “And what of you Hlothere? Have you an opinion yet?”
Hlothere swallowed hard. “I… I do think it would be wise to put Adelise in her place. She is disrespectful not only to her sister and her mother… but also you, my queen.”
“Agreed,” Æthelsige said. “She did not appear before you today. Aevis could not, but Adelise would not. Such insolence should not be tolerated.”
But it must be from Sigeric and Ecgwyn, who practically threw down a gauntlet of back them or face rebellion, Ælfflæd thought.
And yet, voicing it was pointless. She knew where Æthelsige stood. She knew where Hlothere stood, even if he was too craven to say it. Even Osmund seemed willing to abandon Adelise.
Was there any point of delaying the inevitable?
“I cannot make a decision today,” Ælfflæd said. “I still wish to meet with Adelise personally. She remains a member of this council. I think she will listen to reason.”
She didn’t believe that. But she needed to buy time.
“I doubt that,” Æthelsige said. “The woman is stubborn as a mule.”
“I would agree,” Osmund said. “It will simply make you look weak.”
Ælfflæd was not hearing it. She would not be forced into abandoning her ally so easily. Not for these lords, who almost all looked for a good opportunity to betray her.
“I have spoken,” Ælfflæd said. “I will meet with her. And we will take it from there.”
…
As frustrating as the talks were, Ælfflæd was buoyed when she finally received good news - though it didn’t have to do with England directly.
News arrived from Rome that Cardinal Emmanuel had been selected as the new pontifex, and for the first time in some time, Ælfflæd found herself hopeful when it came to matters of the church.
Surely now I shall have my crown, Ælfflæd thought. Emmanuel will encourage them, if not press them to move forward. And once that happens, I will have renewed strength to resolve the mess here peacefully.
She did not expect news right away, for it would take time for Emmanuel’s first orders to reach England’s shores. But a few days after the news arrived, Ælfflæd summoned the archbishop to her solar anyway, for surely he could see as well as she could that with an Occitan pope who was friendly with Geoffrey at the head of the church, his resistance would soon be at an end.
The meeting was just between the two of them. It was a calculated risk - Ælfflæd wouldn’t have Osmund present to diffuse anything contentious, but she also figured Æfric might be more willing to reveal what he wanted in a private setting. If it was gold, perhaps a piece of land for the church, in order to settle matters quickly, then Ælfflæd was ready to talk.
They met in the solar, Ælfflæd choosing to dress up for her meeting. There were times where Ælfflæd did not wish to show off her affluence. A meeting with a man who clearly sought to lessen her was not one of those times.
She wore rings on her fingers, a crown with a small ruby in the center - one she had received as Geoffrey’s queen. Her dress was a purple bliaut with golden trim around the sleeves. The gold was not exclusive to that either, as the ribbons that held her long pigtails in place were of a similar color.
The archbishop was in no simple clothing either, as he might have had more jewelry on his person than the queen. His minter was also adorned.
“Queen Ælfflæd,” he said as he entered. “I am glad you have summoned me. We have much to discuss.”
“A few things stand out,” the queen replied. “Primarily my coronation, seeing as I have defeated the heathens and Acre and returned from Bordeaux. And surely there is no objection from Rome, as Pope Emmanuel has given his blessing for it before.”
“Straight to the point, I see,” Æfric said. “I should add the new Holy Father is now known as Lucius, second of his name. It is customary to take a new Latin name after ascending to the papacy, my lady.”
“I’m certain my husband’s late father would have enjoyed such a tradition,” Ælfflæd joked, as she remembered how Geoffrey portrayed his father as a Romanophile.
“Uh, yes, my lady,” Æfric said.
“So then,” Ælfflæd continued. “I have done as you asked. Rome is behind me. When can we move forward? Such things could well be the key to solving the realm’s current difficulties without bloodshed.”
“Well, my lady, we must be reasonable,” Æfric said. “You have done much. And Lucius has much reason to support the matter. But we must wait for guidance still. Even if it is a formality, we cannot move forward without it.”
Ælfflæd’s small smile disappeared and her gaze narrowed. “Another delay?”
“Certainly it will not be long,” Æfric said. “I will send an emissary to Rome on the morrow and we should know in a few months whether to proceed.”
“You have not sent for permission?” Ælfflæd asked, her heart beginning to race.
“I would have assumed you or your husband would have,” Æfric replied. “But since it appears that was not a consideration, I can take that action for you.”
“You blame…” Ælfflæd began. But she stopped. He was trying to antagonize her. As he always did. As the church always did. At least the higher officials on the Isles Bishop Cytelbearn was good to her - he’d warn her the church plotted against her.
It was probably why Cytelbearn found himself excluded more and more from the archbishop’s affairs.
“But let us be honest, my lady, it is hardly a time to proceed,” Æfric added. “Even if we had Pope Lucius’ blessing. The realm seems on the verge of civil war. Imagine attempting to be crowned… only to be attacked by those who would proclaim another as queen! It would not look good upon anyone - yourself, England, and the church.”
“Coronating me as soon as possible could prevent such a thing,” Ælfflæd reminded him. “Showing the church backs my rule. That God favors me.”
Æfric smirked… which led to Ælfflæd biting her lip.
“Please understand, my lady, as archbishop I must be mindful of both religious and political matters,” Æfric explained. “And the political situation is problematic. Once that is dealt with… proceeding will be easier.”
“Another… test?” Ælfflæd asked. “After Acre…”
“The situation has changed,” Æfric said. “Do not get me wrong - Acre was very helpful. There would be no appetite to crown you without it. Now, many begin to come round to the idea.”
“Come round?” Ælfflæd asked. “I have been Queen of England for seven years! If they are any slower in ‘coming round’ they’ll accept me right in time for my son to be crowned!”
Which, Ælfflæd realized after speaking those words, was probably the point. There would be no coronation until Guilhem marched into London at the head of 20,000 men and practically forced the archbishop to do it at sword point.
Or perhaps Guilhem would simply ignore England. The Occitan clergy would crown him king of both and move on. England would not like that… but England would be in no position to challenge.
But Æfric would likely cross that bridge when he got there. For now, he could stymie Ælfflæd until he got everything he wanted. And then find new things to want, as to stymie her further.
“It has been a difficult process,” Æfric said. “What with the voluntary abdication of your nephew, tragic as it was. And then the death of King Burgheard… murdered.”
Æfric frowned. “You know, I cannot think of anyone who would have wished to harm the man. He was beloved by almost everyone in England.”
“He would plot to murder my son,” Ælfflæd instinctively replied.
Æfric’s brow rose, and his gaze fixated on her. “I was aware of no such thing. Where would you hear such slander?”
Ælfflæd realized she had said too much already. This was not an argument to win minds. It was a trap, meant to make life harder for her.
“England is not the only realm with spies, archbishop,” Ælfflæd said. “It pains me that Ed lost his life. But let us not insult our memories by claiming the man was a saint who could do no wrong. He betrayed my father’s memory by usurping the crown from my nephew, after all.”
“It sounds as if you did not care for him,” Æfric said. “Curious. I pray your husband has not poisoned the memory of the man to you.”
Ælfflæd should have let it lay. But she replied; “He called my son, when he was just a babe, a demon. An innocent child, a demon. Nothing my husband could say of him would ruin him in my eyes more than that.”
Her voice was strong, her gaze fixated on the archbishop. She added: “Now, I will not discuss ghosts any longer. I grow tired of excuses when it comes to my coronation. I will not accept them any longer. What is it that you want to finally end this wait? And if it is nothing, then so be it. I will do what I must.”
“The situation with the sisters, and with it the realm, must be resolved,” Æfric said. “But the church wishes one outcome in particular - Duchess Adelise punished harshly for her acts.”
“Then punish her with excommunication,” Ælfflæd replied. “I will not stand in the way of the church’s actions with her. She has made her bed.”
“Excommunication will hardly be enough,” Æfric replied.
“It won’t be?” Ælfflæd asked. “What is the purpose of it then?”
“It is serious, yes,” Æfric said. “But she is a greedy opportunist. She has a chance to deal with her sister and to secure herself as the unquestioned strongest lord or lady in the realm. She will not pass on the opportunity, asking for forgiveness, rather than begging for permission. And Rome… Rome tends to favor the strong.”
“I know Cardinal… Excuse me, Pope Lucius,” Ælfflæd said. “I think he will champion the weak if they are righteous.”
Æfric chuckled. “It is not just him, Queen Ælfflæd.”
Given how Geoffrey talked about Emmanuel and what his elevation would mean, either Æfric or her husband was to be in for a rude awakening soon enough. But that was neither here nor there for Ælfflæd at the moment, who was trying to decipher what the archbishop was after from her.
“What is it that you want for me to do?” Ælfflæd demanded.
“To enforce realm peace,” Æfric said, “punishable by revocation of titles. In addition, you are to strip Adelise of her place on her council and replace her with her sister.”
Ælfflæd’s mouth dropped open. “You what?”
“Her actions cannot be tolerated,” Æfric said. “And must be dealt with in the harshest of terms.”
“You would have me practically declare her an enemy of the realm!” Ælfflæd exclaimed. “I would be forced to war against her, for she would never stand for this! And I could hardly blame her! Not one of the other lords or ladies would stand for such things if they were in her position!”
“As you say,” Æfric began, “she has made her bed. And I’m certain your husband will help. Would you not agree?”
To that, Ælfflæd was practically speechless. The gamble with Acre had paid off in victory, but with great risk to herself. And while Geoffrey had said he was willing to put one of the sisters, or both, down if they were uncooperative, she guessed this was not what he meant.
And given the Saxon lords complained of Geoffrey’s presence, they would not like this either.
“So that Sigeric and the others can complain of having my husband’s men in England again?” Ælfflæd demanded.
“You make it sound more simplistic than it actually is,” Æfric told her. “They object to the influence he holds, both over you and especially the prince. As a matter of fact, I have discussed the matter with Lord Sigeric, and he has interest in helping solve this problem.”
Ælfflæd eyed the archbishop. “Does he now?”
“The problem is the prince is to rule this land yet has no idea what it means to be Saxon,” Æfric explained. “He has spent the whole of his life in an Occitan court. It is fine for when he is to rule his father’s lands. But these? It is a problem.”
“You are mistaken,” Ælfflæd blurted out. “For I have been teaching my son the ways of our people since he was a babe at my breast. He speaks our language perfectly. He knows of our traditions. Our history.”
“My lady, allow me to finish,” Æfric told her. “It is one thing to be told of our ways. But another thing to live it. He must spend his time in the court of a Saxon lord. And for that, Duke Sigeric is the perfect choice. He is the most respected Saxon lord of the realm and it is a way to show some humility after his unfortunate dismissal.”
“He was dismissed for blocking the war you wanted!” Ælfflæd shouted.
“He did not need to be dismissed for that,” Æfric noted. “You chose to after you began your war because of his harsh tone against you.”
Ælfflæd was wide-eyed and practically seething at this point. She wanted to grab Æfric and throw him out of the solar by his ear. Only the fact he was the archbishop of Canterbury kept her from doing so.
But he kept talking.
“I understand your husband does not care for Duke Sigeric,” Æfric noted. “No matter. I believe you should send an emissary to your son and encourage him to press his father on allowing him to go to England. Given he is… 13 years of age now, is it, he can make such decisions. Surely he understands what is required to prove himself a true King of England, and not merely the heir to Aquitaine. Don’t you agree?”
Ælfflæd was motionless in her chair, her breathing shallow while her left eye twitched. Her hands gripped the arm rests of her wooden chair so tightly, they turned white.
Finally she commanded: “Get out.”
Æfric’s expression changed in an instant. Smug before, his brow raised, seemingly surprised by what he’d just heard. “What… what did you say?”
“OUT!” Ælfflæd shouted as she jumped from the chair and vehemently pointed toward the solar’s exit. “Get out! Get out of my keep.”
“You cannot talk to a man of the church in this manner!” Æfric shouted back.
“I can speak to a wolf in sheep’s clothing any way I please!” Ælfflæd retorted. “Get out. Now! Or I will have my guards drag you out!”
“Think about your words,” Æfric warned. “You shall never have a crown if this is how---”
“GUARDS!” she shouted.
The archbishop’s face grew pale at first as the two guardsmen, armed with spears, entered the solar. He traded glaces with them, and the room fell still.
“Take him!” Ælfflæd ordered. “I want him removed from Lydford! Now!”
The guards seemed hesitant, but one did place a hand on the archbishop, who wrested himself free, his face now turning a purplish-red.
“Unhand me!” he ordered.
The guards recoiled, taking a few steps back but then pointing their spears at the archbishop, all while Ælfflæd’s heart raced. Again Æfric’s face grew pale.
“I want him gone,” Ælfflæd ordered. “Until such time that he will accept my coronation. Until then, I do not want to see him.”
“You will be thrown from the church for this,” Æfric told her. “The holy father will have no stomach for this. Not even your husband will protect you. No, he will burn alongside you!”
“TAKE HIM!” Ælfflæd shouted at her guards.
One of the guards dropped his spear and motioned for Æfric to move. The other marched behind him, the point close, but not touching the archbishop’s person.
At that moment, Ælfflæd realized the gravity of the situation. One wrong move and these guards might well skewer the archbishop.
Æfric would become a martyr. Geoffrey or not, Emmanuel would throw the highest level of rebukes for her - and there would be nothing her husband could do to save her. A man might get away with this… but a woman, and one who already had many enemies, could not.
Geoffrey would be forced to abandon her. The English lords could pounce, and she would be forced to abdicate to them, or in favor of her son. England would burn. England would die. And all she would be capable of doing would be fading into the shadows… a failure of the highest order.
All Æfric had to do was be willing to become that martyr - the first blood in freeing Saxon England from the tyranny of its Occitan despots and their Stawell puppet.
But the archbishop had no stomach for that kind of sacrifice.
Instead, red faced, he turned and marched his way from the solar, the guards following in behind. And then, as quickly as it had come, the moment was over, and all that remained in Ælfflæd’s solar was silence.
…
“Surely the pope can send something.”
Hidden under a mess of blankets and pillows on the bed in the solar, Ælfflæd listened to her mother’s voice. It sounded fearful, almost desperate. But she was usually nervous in those days.
The heathens were relentless. And seemingly everywhere. They had attacked and harried England’s forces in the Holy Lands. But their ships and raiders had now come to England’s shores.
It was enough that the lords of the Isles, even many of the Irish ones, had pledged themselves to defend their homeland.
And yet, Europe remained silent.
No one - not the Germans, the Danes nor the Franks - had offered assistance. Not the Duke of Aquitaine, who’s son Ælfflæd’s sister Æthelræda was married to.
And worst of all, nothing from Rome.
“Calm yourself, my dear,” Thoræd said to Wulfrun. “Surely the archbishop can explain what must be done.”
“The Holy Father has dithered for months,” Wulfrun said. “Forgive me father, but I begin to wonder if his holiness cares anything for us!”
“Rome finds itself in a difficult position,” Archbishop Wulf of Canterbury said. “The Pope wishes to call for England’s defense. But the cardinals are hesitant to try to push their lords into the conflict. So they encourage them to join us, but make no demands.”
“That was attacking the Holy Lands,” Wulfrun noted. “This is defending a Christian realm!”
“For some, that is even less incentive,” the archbishop explained. “His holiness advises that if you continue to win victories, surely the other lords will find cause and reason to join.”
“So they will join us after we have won?!” Wulfrun snapped.
“Wife!” Thoræd exclaimed. “Mind yourself.”
“Forgive me husband,” Wulfrun said. “But they are here. Even as we see some success in our defense in the Holy Lands, there are those here in England who have been hauled off by raiders. I worry for the realm. I worry for our family.”
“The church has not abandoned you,” the archbishop swore. “In time, help will come. I know Prince-Bishop Emmanuel of Aquitaine has some interest in our conflict and may help push Duke Geoffrey toward us. In time though. Other priests may do the same. For now, we must stand on our own. God stands with us, as evidenced by our victories. And with His aid, we will drive the heathens back. Then others will join."
“I…” Wulfrun stammered.
“Thank you,” Thoræd said.
The archbishop made his exit from the solar, leaving king and queen alone. Wulfrun’s hand was over her face while she shook her head.
“Forgive me husband,” Wulfrun said. “I think he offers us nothing.”
“He offers us a path,” Thoræd said. “Now, I must ride it. I will take our men and ride out to meet the raiders, where I can.”
“They might overwhelm you,” Wulfrun said. “No, you must remain here. Where it is safe.”
“Nowhere will be safe,” Thoræd told her. “Not until we can receive the aid we need.”
“I just… I do not believe him,” Wulfrun said. “He delays because Rome has told him no.”
“Rome will help if it can,” Thoræd said. “I am hearted though by what the archbishop said of Aquitaine. Duke Geoffrey is an opportunist. If this Emmanuel can convince him that he will increase his standing by aiding us, and he will surely emerge victorious, then he shall aid us. We must make it appealing for him though.”
“He sees opportunity in his lands, not ours,” Wulfrun said. “Rae sent word that he leads a group of lords who seek to establish realms independent of the Frankish king. He will not aid us husband.”
“Then we will win without him,” Thoræd said. “And he shall miss a chance to redeem his family name across Christendom.”
Wulfrun sighed. “Perhaps Rae can work on her husband. He is a lord in his own right, after all. Lord Foulques does not boast the largest of levies but every little bit can help in the defense of England. And perhaps we can promise Elf to a lord in Germany. Maybe the Emperor’s son. With his aid...”
Ælfflæd’s heart skipped a beat. Her? The Empress of the Romans? Truly?
“There is no need for all of that,” Thoræd assured her. “God blessed us in granting us Jerusalem. Our victories thus far in its defense proves we still hold His favor. It will be fine.”
“But England already suffers---”
“England bleeds,” Thoræd said. “But as I have said, it will emerge stronger.”
“I want to believe that, husband,” Wulfrun said. “But…”
“But nothing,” Thoræd said. “It will be fine.”
…
Ælfflæd remembered her father’s confident words, and to this day she could not tell if it was false bravado, denial of the reality or a good plan that just did not go as intended.
News of victories stopped coming. And the defeats began to mount. None were greater, of course, than the sacking of Wiltshire.
Help never did come. Victories, defeats… none of it mattered. The British Isles stood alone… and suffered that way as well. By the time anyone did give aid - the Germans after Rae had been remarried to the Imperial prince after the death of Lord Foulques, it was far too late to matter.
Ælfflæd never forgot the church’s betrayal. True, Aquitaine could have sent aid, but Geoffrey’s father wasn’t invested in any of it. And as she learned more about the man, she realized if there was good buried deep within his opportunistic nature, it was silenced when his eldest son had perished. Perhaps in a different world, Rae and Lord Foulques could have been the saviors of England. But it was not this world.
But the church. England had done as the church had asked, answering the call to take back the Holy Lands when most of Europe’s lords had ignored it. When it came time to repay them, the church simply turned its back on them. On her. On her mother.
It was one thing for a selfish lord to do it. It was another for the church to do so.
Now she felt it again. She did as the church had wanted - taking back lands in Jerusalem. Yet it refused to aid her. No, it did the opposite. seeking to undermine her.
They are no different than Geoffrey’s father… except he did not cloak himself in the cover of the cross.
But she did not expect others to share her frustrations. So she was not surprised when her uncle stormed into the solar, announcing himself even before he threw the door open by his loud disagreement with the queen’s guards.
“What have you done?!” he demanded of her when he entered.
Ælfflæd sat at a table, her hands rested on the surface. Her eyes met his.
“I refused to play along with his games any longer,” Ælfflæd said.
“You turn the church against us!” Osmund shouted. “Marching the archbishop from here at spearpoint?!”
“The church is already against us!” Ælfflæd shouted back. “Æfric led me to a war promising me a crown. And after winning the war, he finds another reason to deny me! He now demands that I abandon my cousin, my closest ally, and give her lands to the cousin who has already been caught scheming against me. And he says I cannot guarantee my ceremony unless I send the crown prince to Sigeric’s court. A demand Geoffrey will never agree to, and if I somehow do, it will drive a further wedge between us. Can you not see what this is?”
“You must accept that this is his test,” Osmund said. “If you wish to be crowned then---”
“NO!” Ælfflæd shouted. “NO! There is NO test! There are just barriers. Walls, meant to stop me. Meant to stop my children.”
“This is God’s will,” Osmund said.
“It is a man’s desire!” Ælfflæd replied. “It is politics. Opportunism! It is no different than Sigeric. Or Ecgwyn. Or Aevis. Or Geoffrey. Or Geoffrey’s father. The church wants me gone. It wants my son nowhere near the throne. So they do everything they can to make that happen. I thought… I thought I could prove myself worthy. But they do not look for proof, uncle. They just look to deny. So I will not play any longer.”
“He will throw you from the church,” Osmund said.
Ælfflæd shook her head. “Emmanuel will not allow me to be excommunicated. Geoffrey will not allow it. It is an empty threat.”
“You know nothing of them,” Osmund said. “Or of these matters.”
“No, it is you who know nothing, uncle,” Ælfflæd argued. “It is not you who was abandoned, and left to rot in Tunis. It is not you who were the desire of the Holy Father, who wished to have you forsake your martial vows to satisfy his sinful desires. It is not you who’s defiance of such disgusting demands nearly got your husband excommunicated. It is not you who faced the wrath of perhaps Christendom’s most powerful kings, to do the bidding of the church, only to see your hard-earned success downplayed and mocked! It is not you who has been told that you must abandon the only cousin who supported you, or again challenge your kingly husband to win a crown that can’t be won. Not like that.”
“And when they come for you?” Osmund demanded.
“They are coming for me anyway!” Ælfflæd shouted. “They just seek to isolate me before they shove me off a cliff, so that neither Geoffrey nor Adelise will be there to pull me back. But it will not happen.”
“You will destroy yourself,” Osmund swore. “It is madness.”
“No, I save myself,” Ælfflæd said. “My sister could not save herself. My brother could not save himself. My nephew could not save himself. You saw to that one. But I will not share their fate. I will fight. And I will not voluntarily sheath my sword any longer. They can fight me. They can fight Adelise. And they fight Geoffrey. And if England, bleeds it, it bleeds. And if it dies, then it is on their heads!”
“Listen to yourself!” Osmund shouted. “Is this what you want? You are willing to let England be destroyed if it keeps you in power? Is that what your mother and father would want?”
Ælfflæd grew wide-eyed. “They would not stand for a pathetic show of timidity. Tell me, uncle, do you think they approved of you abandoning my nephew to the lords after they and Ed betrayed my father. I do not think they would approve of you handling matters when you have spent your day drinking ale, wine and whatever you can get your hands on.”
“You have some---” Osmund started.
“I can smell the ale on you uncle, even now,” Ælfflæd interrupted. “Tell me, were you drinking when the archbishop complained to you, or did you drink to find the courage to face me? Or was it both?”
Osmund was wide-eyed then, and Ælfflæd was ready for the battle to continue. If he quit now, so be it. She didn’t need him. Her ally was her husband. Geoffrey was as opportunistic as the rest of them, but it suited her needs. It suited her children’s needs. And that would be enough.
But Osmund’s expression suddenly grew sullen. His head dropped and his eyes fell from her. It was as if Ælfflæd could see the fight suddenly leave him.
And when he spoke, his voice was soft, though unwavering.
“When your mother lay dying, she was… lucid at times,” Osmund said. “She did not know for certain that your brother had left us. But she suspected something was wrong and we had not told her. So she implored me to guide her grandchildren, and protect them from threats in the realm and beyond. She entrusted me because of your father’s age… that I would be able to see them through to when they were old enough to stand on their own.”
Osmund closed his eyes and shook his head.
“But instead, I feared for my holdings,” Osmund said. “When they came to me, to tell me of the plan to replace your nephew with Burgheard, I did not wish to back a losing cause. So I… negotiated his abdication. I said to myself that I protected him. But all I did was protect myself.
“What did I gain for all of that?” Osmund asked. “I kept my lands, but lost my position. And then when it came time to defend my beloved sister’s children or grandchildren again, it was I who led the attack on Bordeaux. Prove yourself, Sigeric told me. As if I had not proven enough. But your husband utterly defeated me… all it proved was that I could not even betray my sister’s last request effectively.”
Osmund sank his face into his hand. “And now I offer you nothing, failing Wulfie again. My other nieces fight and I can do nothing to help Gunny out of her misery. I am worthless - a man who waits until the end and prays that his son can do better.”
Osmund stood and bowed. “I shall trouble you no longer, niece. You should find yourself a better man than me for this. Your husband’s cousin… he will be suitable, I think. In time, he will be your son’s chancellor anyway. Let him come, and learn England now. What there will be to learn… when this is all finished. It would suit us all better than I would.”
He looked at her and bowed. “By your leave, my queen.”
Osmund turned to go, trudging slowly toward the door, his shoulders slumped. It was clear Ælfflæd had won this verbal joust, but it brought her no joy. Just guilt and pity that she had done this to her uncle, who, despite his problems, had not abandoned her.
Until now. Until her words drove him away.
“Wait,” Ælfflæd said. “Uncle, wait.”
Osmund turned back to her. “It is fine. It is better this way.”
“No,” Ælfflæd said. “This is what my enemies want. You are my ally as well. And I do not wish to drive you away.”
“You just point out what is already there,” Osmund replied. “I have failed. And I am not fit for my role.”
“Uncle, please,” Ælfflæd said. “Sit. Let us talk. If not because your queen commands it, but because your beloved sister’s youngest daughter wishes it.”
Osmund looked heavenward for a moment, but he did nod and return to her. They sat, in silence, as Ælfflæd tried to find the words.
Finally she spoke: “I carry the burden of two mothers.”
Osmund eyed her. “Two mothers? I understand your mother but---”
“Uncle, please, let me finish,” Ælfflæd said. “Yes, my mother is one. When I had drawn the eye of the Emir’s son in Tunis, she offered herself. The Emir’s son was less interested, but the Emir accepted the trade. Had she not done that… I would not be here today. I do not know where I would be, or even I would be alive at all… but I would not be queen today.”
Osmund’s eyes lowered. “Your mother… she was a saint.”
“She was,” Ælfflæd said. “My husband’s mother on the other hand. She was not. She was cruel, short-sighted and nasty. She hated the world. She hated her family. And for a time, I am fairly certain she hated me.”
“I have heard tales of the woman,” Osmund said. “Though I only met her a few times. So it is---”
“Uncle, please, I ask you again, let me talk,” Ælfflæd said.
Osmund held up his hands and fell silent, so Ælfflæd continued.
“But despite all of that, I carry her burden,” Ælfflæd said. “For when we went to Rome, and my husband’s defense of me threatened to see him excommunicated, she offered herself to protect him and my son.”
Ælfflæd shook her head. “That it was her fault that we were in that position is not lost on me. But she still realized her mistake, and was willing to sacrifice herself for her son. Which, if not for that sacrifice, I would not be here. Perhaps I still would be Queen of Aquitaine, but my husband and my son’s future would not be as bright.”
Osmund stroked his beard. “I am not sure I understand.”
Ælfflæd nodded. “I carry with me the burdens of those two women. Painful traumas of the past. I sometimes ask myself if there was something I could have done differently to avoid it. Perhaps, I could have chosen my words better. Or been silent when the Emir’s son came near, rather than antagonizing him when he spoke of desiring me. But then I realize… it is the past. There is nothing I can do to change it. All I can do… is work to make sure the sacrifices of the past are not for naught.”
“But those were not your fault,” Osmund told her. “You did not ask to be captured. And Martinus was a lecherous man.”
“And my nephew was in a difficult position for many reasons,” Ælfflæd said. “Your decision to oppose me was no simple matter. And your fears now… I understand them.”
The queen paused for a moment before adding: “It is not the past alone that defines us uncle. But how we handle it. And learn from what has come before. If you regret your choices, remember them so that you do not venture down a similar road again.”
Ælfflæd rose from her chair and walked toward the small window. “That is what I do now. I have many regrets. Many things I feel should have gone differently. Some were my fault. Others were not. But I look at why they happened… and I swear they will not happen again. Not to me. And not to my children.”
She shook her head. “God is good. But men are often not. And the church is made up of men. Some, like I pray Emmanuel, emulate the Lord’s will. But others are lords with the same and will and desire as lay men. They want power. Power over land. Power over men. Power over women. Power to do as they please… raise who they wish, destroy who they detest… and bend the world to their will.”
She sighed and returned to her seat. “I am not naive to their powers. I know Æfric will not take this quietly. And I know that he will likely use this with Ecgwyn and Sigeric to claim I am unfit to rule. He will use every tool available to him. Every weapon. Every shield. And so will I.”
Osmund sat, still stroking his beard. His gaze never left her, though he did not say anything at first.
“You speak with your father’s voice,” he finally replied. “But your mother’s wisdom.”
A small smile broke through on Ælfflæd’s lips. She nodded in reply.
“I know you though, my queen,” Osmund said. “I know you care for our homeland. You do not wish to see it destroyed. So we must not let it happen.”
“Then you must help me stop it, for I don’t know how,” Ælfflæd said. “The only way to save England is to cut out the worst of them - Ecgwyn and Sigeric, along with one or two of the rest. But they will not be foolish enough to rebel if they are isolated. So it will be the whole of England that rebels, and is destroyed, or none of it.”
“Then it seems as though they must think they are stronger than they are,” Osmund noted. “So that they stumble into a trap.”
“But how could we spring it?” Ælfflæd asked. “They will not move separately.”
“It may not be as difficult as you fear,” Osmund said. “They itch for a fight, especially as Adelise threatens Aevis. If Adelise triumphs, she will control the whole of the midlands and all but cut the north from the south. It will make her difficult to deal with if she remains on your side. If you support her, war is certain.”
“But if I back Adelise, they will all align against me,” Ælfflæd replied.
Osmund stroked his beard. “Perhaps… Northumbria. Hlothere fears your husband. But Ealflaed is Sigeric’s daughter. Her loyalties and his caution…”
“Loyalties,” Ælfflæd said. “So long as she receives Essex. If her father had a son then she would be tempted to abandon him.”
“Then… why not give him one?” Osmund asked.
Ælfflæd eyed her uncle. “I do not quite understand what you mean.”
“Your son,” Osmund said. “Sigeric has nothing but daughters. Perhaps Guilhem could be offered as a husband to one of them. If he agreed, Ealflaed’s inheritance would be endangered, since it might be hard to deny the future queen of some of her father’s lands.”
“Would Sigeric go along with it?” Ælfflæd asked. She paused. “Do I even wish to do that?”
“Sigeric would, with conditions,” Osmund said. “And that would be enough, for we just need Ealflaed and Hlothere to think it’s a strong possibility to get them to the table. It is, after all, how your late father-by-law convinced your father to agree to your marriage. He threated to have Geoffrey marry Adelise or Aevis.”
Ælfflæd knew the story and had long made peace with it. “Another thing I must thank my cousins for. But what is the thought then? That it gets Northumbria on our side?”
“They have resisted our marriage offers of Princess Margo,” Osmund said. “The possibility of her father agreeing to a union with the king should break their obstinance. And once they have joined us… we let it slip that if Northumbria stays loyal… and Essex does not, then Ealflaed shall be guaranteed to inherit her father’s lands.”
“Which gives her reason to entice her father to rebel against us,” Ælfflæd said.
Osmund nodded. “Then your cousins. If you back Adelise, Aevis will have no choice but to align against you for she will lose her lands otherwise.”
Ælfflæd hated throwing Aevis to the wolves, even after her plotting. But she had to choose one, and ultimately, Adelise had been her ally for longer.
“Then we will back Adelise,” Ælfflæd said. “Then there is Ecgwyn, Maud and Æthelsige.”
“Ecgwyn will go with Sigeric and Aevis,” Osmund said. “She hates you and your husband and itches for a fight. The other two… I think Æthelsige wishes to align with them. Maud… Maud never backs anyone for the crown other than herself, so she may hesitate to ally with Ecgwyn openly. That said, her husband is one of Aevis’ bannermen, so she may lean toward them.”
“If I can keep Mercia and Northumbia on our side, along with your lands in Kent, uncle,” Ælfflæd began, “then it is a risk I am willing to take.”
“Then let us take it,” Osmund said. “We speak to Sigeric, and once Hlothere and Ealflaed agree to the union, we can announce your decision to side with Adelise. That will likely spur the lords into action.”
“Then that is the plan,” Ælfflæd said. “May God see to its success.”
Osmund nodded. “I will begin preparations at once. But you too should speak with Duchess Ealflaed. I think she will listen to you more than she would any of us.”
“I’m not one for words, uncle, especially sweet ones,” Ælfflæd said.
“You know what is needed,” Osmund told her. “Draw on that and you will be fine.”
...
For all their planning, Ælfflæd still was left to remain on edge for the next month.
Archbishop Æfric did not return to Canterbury, instead heading to Duke Sigeric’s court, and there was talk he might look for a foreign realm to flee if things did not change soon.
Meanwhile talks to avoid a realm-wide rebellion progressed in all directions. Some roads were soon closed off - Duchess Aevis birthed a boy, and thus her potential plans to marry Prince Guilhem with Lancaster as the bait were lost. But others opened, as Osmund had promised.
Things initially seemed more complicated when Geoffrey’s chancellor, Duke Adhemar, arrived from Aquitaine. But that worked in Ælfflæd’s benefit, for it gave her another negotiating voice to use - and one who implicitly spoke with Geoffrey’s as well.
Osmund and Adhemar initially went to Duke Sigeric to discuss a possible marriage between the prince and his youngest daughter. It went about as well as expected, with Sigeric demanding the prince spend time in his court as part of the agreement.
That was a non-starter, for Geoffrey would never allow it. But Ælfflæd counseled Adhemar not to completely end negotiations, for the sake of pushing Northumbria toward their side.
Meanwhile, Ælfflæd herself was talking to Ealflaed, trying to convince her of the merits of Margo marrying one of her sons. In addition, Ælfflæd impressed upon Ealflaed that should her father betray the crown, she would be in position to recognize her as the heir to Essex over any future male children Sigeric might have… provided Ealflaed and Hlothere remained loyal to the crown.
And it worked, for Hlothere, Osmund and Adhemar eventually agreed to the marriage of Margo to the third son of Hlothere and Ealflaed, and the promise of loyalty, on the exact terms Ælfflæd and Ealflaed had negotiated prior.
Once that was done, and Northumbria was nominally tied to the crown with the promise of Essex, Ælfflæd went about setting the kindling ablaze by dealing with Mercia.
Adhemar had been communicating with Adelise during the talks with Essex and Northumbria, telling her Ælfflæd and Geoffrey favored a marriage of her only daughter, Avelina, to Prince Guilhem. The price of that marriage, as well as Ælfflæd remaining out of the Lancaster situation, was two fold. First was her loyalty. The second was an oath to break off any attack on Lancaster and come to Ælfflæd’s defense should rebellion break out - whether or not Aevis was involved.
Adhemar reported Adelise was hesitant to agree to the last part, but the talk of a marriage with Sigeric may well have spooked her as much as it did Ealflaed. So the duchess accepted Ælfflæd’s terms, though they could not be officially announced until Ælfflæd had secured Northumbria’s allegiance.
Meanwhile, Osmund and Adhemar also paid visits to Duchess Maud and Duke Æthelsige. These were more courtesy calls ans very little was promised to either. Ælfflæd did not trust them not to backstab her, so she sent the two representatives to decipher where Maud and Æthelsige stood, more than to secure any agreement.
Then in early March, Ælfflæd welcomed Adelise back to Lydford, announcing not only that the crown would not intervene in the Lancaster conflict, but also that she was to remain her advisor and her daughter was to marry the crown prince.
That Ælfflæd had not only refused to stop Adelise, but elevated her instead, had the desired effect. Emissaries from across the realm bringing condemnation of queen’s decision made their way to Lydford - and Ælfflæd dismissed them all, declaring she had heard their arguments already and ruled in favor of the duchess.
Though she tried to project an air of confidence, Ælfflæd found herself being kept up at night with worry.
She had done what she could, including marrying off her two eldest children, but she could not help but fear such arrangements could fall apart at the last moment.
Someone could grow ill - perhaps Geoffrey would be laid up and unable to provide help quickly. Lords or ladies could renege on their promises at the last moment. The church could excommunicate her for her words toward Æfric. Something, somewhere would provide an ill-fated surprise.
...
It was a sunny day in Mercia when word came. Ælfflæd was not holding court, but with her daughter, her ladies and Duchess Adelise in the solar.
In fact, since it was warm that day, Ælfflæd wished to venture outside. She was about to suggest a ride to her ladies when she heard a commotion in the stairwell.
Then Osmund burst into the chamber, breathing heavily. The pale look on his face gave away his concern and caused a chill to run down the queen’s spine.
“Uncle,” she said. “What is it?”
“Rebellion,” he got out through his rushed breaths. “A town watch was beaten by men of Cornwall and Essex. They were sent back here to deliver a message - to surrender your crown to Duchess Ecgwyn and depart the Isles, or face the wrath of the realm.”
Even if she knew what was coming, the words still made Ælfflæd’s stomach clench. But she also knew she could show no fear - not in front of her ladies. Not in front of two of her councilors. And not in front of her daughter.
“Then they have declared themselves traitors,” Ælfflæd said. “And will be dealt with accordingly. Who stands with us?”
“I have sent calls to all the other lords and ladies of the realm,” Osmund said. “We will see who responds.”
“Lancaster will not,” Adelise insisted. “I suspect Aevis’ men were among those who attacked ours, my queen.”
Ælfflæd suspected as much. But her greater concern was the others of the realm. Especially since two of her councilors, Dukes Hlothere and Æthelsige, were not present in Lydford at the moment.
The wife of the former, however, was present. So Ælfflæd turned her gaze toward Duchess Ealflaed.
“Where is your husband, my lady?” Ælfflæd asked.
Ealflaed’s face was pale, for the implication was clear. “I… I am uncertain. He said he was to take care of certain business today and… our son is here, my queen. And we have an agreement. I am certain he will arrive shortly.”
Ælfflæd would not expect a Hlothere to abandon his wife and son, but she could not rule it out entirely. Men sometimes treated their wives as disposable assets. And the son set to marry Margo was not the heir of Northumbria, even if Ælfflæd hoped one day he would rule Essex.
As for Duke Æthelsige of Somerset, Ælfflæd didn’t trust him to be alone with her ladies, let alone to not betray her if a better offer came round. Though if he feared reprisals from Geoffrey, he might tread cautiously. The same was likely said for Duchess Maud, who was always squirrely in her power plays.
But that would shake out in time. For now, Ælfflæd knew she had more important lords and ladies to alert.
“Uncle,” Ælfflæd said. “Send word to my husband, if you have not already, that Cornwall and Essex rebel.”
“It will be done immediately, my queen,” Osmund said.
Osmund moved quickly out of the solar, while Ælfflæd then turned to Adelise. “I want your knights down here, immediately, as per our agreement. They will likely move to strike at Lydford quickly.”
Adelise nodded. “Shall I ready Avelina to travel to Bordeaux then?”
“No,” Ælfflæd said. “I assume my son will travel with his father to England. We can hold the ceremony here, once they have arrived. I will have Bishop Cytelbearn make preparations.”
“Thank you, cousin,” Adelise said. “And I will send word to my knights immediately that they are to come south and join with our uncle’s men from Kent.”
Then hurried footsteps bounding up the stairs drew the queen’s attention once more. This time it was Duke Hlothere who came through the doorway, which was somewhat of a relief at first, for it suggested he did not plan on betraying her.
But his words were far from encouraging.
“They are coming for us,” Hlothere said. “Men from Cornwall, Essex, joined by knights from Lancaster are marching toward Lydford. They intend to lay siege and take the town before help arrives.”
And they likely hoped to take it quickly and capture her in the process, Ælfflæd realized. Which would put Geoffrey’s willingness to treat her as a disposable asset to the test.
“Should we plan to escape?” Adelise asked.
“No,” Ælfflæd said. “I will not run from Ecgwyn. And unlike with the heathens, I know the king has interest in this conflict. He has practically asked for it. He will come and do so quickly. We are at a greater risk if we flee and are captured. Behind these walls, we will be safe.”
It didn’t feel quite right to have to rely on others so heavily, for a nagging doubt in Ælfflæd’s mind left her wondering if she was stumbling into the same trap her father had.
But this wasn’t like the Crusade. Abstract ideas of honor and reputation were not driving her allies. Adelise wanted Lancaster - this would help her get it. Osmund wanted to be on the winning side, while keeping his promises to her mother. Hlothere and Ealflaed received a tie to the royal family, all while likely securing Essex in case Sigeric had any more children.
And of course, the most important ally of all, Aquitaine, was not as it was 30 years ago. It was ruled by a man who was at least nominally King of England, and who fully intended to make certain his son was. Geoffrey would never accept losing control of the crown.
But though Ælfflæd was able to reassure herself, she saw her daughter seemed fearful at the moment, as Margo stood by Benoite de Bourges, her hands wrapped together tightly. She frowned and Ælfflæd noticed she was trembling.
The irony of this was not lost on Ælfflæd - to be left to reassure her daughter as she would have liked to have been reassured as a girl. Not that it would have mattered in the end in her case.
“You are worried,” Ælfflæd said.
“What if they are too quick?” Margo wondered. “Before father comes?”
Ælfflæd shook her head. “No. It will not happen. It would only fall due to treachery. And anyone who would consider such a disgraceful act would know that your father would unleash a punishment beyond their worst nightmares if he were to find out. Protections and honor are lost when treachery enters the fray.”
Margo swallowed hard and nodded. Ælfflæd could see her daughter did not believe her.
“You are nervous with good reason,” Ælfflæd reassured her. “One can never know how any of these things will go. My father once believed he would defeat his enemies… only to find himself unable to meet the challenge.”
Ælfflæd stood up. “But I am not him. I am not relying on the goodwill of others nor vague promises of honor. Your father will come because he wants to keep England for your brother. These other vassals remain because they realize going against us will lead to their destruction. It is not romantic. It may not be honorable. But it is effective.”
Margo, still frowning, nonetheless nodded.
“England will bleed again,” Ælfflæd told her. “But it will emerge stronger. So I swear.”
Note:
I couldn't resist the opportunity to throw in portraits of the old, mostly departed characters. We never got to see them in their "prime" in with the new portraits for one. And it's kind of fun to see how things have progressed in those 30 years. Geoffrey II isn't even *in* that character portrait of his father, since Marguerite was pregnant with him at the time.
And this is where I had to take control of Elf to make certain things happen properly. I'll get into this more in the comments but basically she accepted the demands of the rebels because the AI doesn't take Geoffrey into account. So I arranged the two marriages, refused the rebel demands, then switched back to Geoffrey.
Before Plantagenet - Chapter 280
February 1141 - Lydford, Kingdom of England
“They are coming for us.”
Ælfflæd Thoræddohter felt a chill run down her spine as she heard her father speak those words.
She could not see him - not while she hid just around the corner from the solar in her father’s keep in Wiltshire. But with night bringing the keep into an eerie silence and calm, Ælfflæd could hear every word clear as day.
In fact, it was hard to keep quiet. But the sight of her older sister Æthelræda with her finger over her lips was enough to keep both Ælfflæd and her brother Eadwulf silent.
“How many?” Wulfrun asked him. “A caliphate?”
“The entirety of the Muslim world,” Thoræd said, his voice sounding exasperated. “The two different sects Sunni and Shia both attack us.”
“It is… like they crusade against us,” Wulfrun said.
“They call it a Jihad,” Thoræd said.
“God save us,” Wulfrun said. “We cannot fight them alone.”
“I think it will not be as bad you fear,” Thoræd said. “Good news already - Robert of Mercia has sent word he will put his differences aside to fight against the heathens.”
“I’m sure Gunny has helped with that,” Wulfrun said. “She has been trying to get him to see reason.”
“Your sister can be convincing… when she wants to be,” Thoræd said. “But I have already received word from many of the lords of the Isles they will fight.”
“What of Rome?” Wulfrun asked. “The Holy Father will surely come to our aid.”
“I have yet to hear anything directly,” Thoræd replied. “We will see when the archbishop sends word from Rome.”
“What of the Duke of Aquitaine?” Wulfrun asked. “Perhaps we should condition Rae’s marriage to their son on an alliance.”
Rae grew wide-eyed at the mention of both her name, and the situation of her marriage. Ælfflæd knew her sister looked forward to her marriage to the heir of the Duke of Aquitaine and Anjou and likely did not want such things cancelled.
“It is late on that,” Thoræd warned. “But in truth, why would he not want to aid us? We fight for a holy cause. And his family, above all, would benefit from such things.”
“I do not know,” Wulfrun said. “I have heard most distressing things about the family as well as the man.”
“Don’t listen to everything you hear,” Thoræd warned. “I did not see them drink the blood of virgins nor bathe in fire. And I met the man’s father, the Iron Duke of the Franks, who was seen as far more vile than Lord Geoffrey.”
“It is no laughing matter,” Wulfrun said.
“It will be fine my dear,” Thoræd assured her. “We will see this through. England will bleed. As it has before. The Northmen. The Danes. The Normans. And as it was before, we will come out even stronger - as the leaders of Christendom with a unified England behind us.”
Ælfflæd believed her father that night. What reason did she have not to? They had defeated the heathens before. Their cause was righteous. Holy. Christendom would unite behind them.
Her sister clearly believed it. Rae smiled and nodded to her father’s words. Eadwulf did too.
And so the six-year-old Ælfflæd felt at ease. They were coming yes, but England was ready. And they would drive back the invaders to the sea, as they had done before.
…
Ælfflæd was not in Wiltshire today. In theory, those days were long behind her - a memory from thirty years in the past. She had her own six-year-old with her in Lydford, who probably would have been listening herself if Ælfflæd had not sent her with Lida and Benoite outside for this court.
In truth, no one but the highest of lords were permitted to listen to the arguments of this specific court, which would all pertain to the Mercian invasion of Lancaster. It was a special session of the nobility - only they and their closest advisors were permitted within. There would be no reactions from the gallery. No playing to the crowd, as her husband sometimes liked to try, emulating his father. It would just be messy, insular business.
Before Ælfflæd, who was seated upon her throne, stood the nobility. On one side of the hall was Duke Sigeric of Essex, Duchess Maud of East Anglia, her husband Earl Eadmund of Lancaster and Duchess Ecgwyn of Cornwall. On the other side, Duke Jordan, the youthful consort to Duchess Adelise cut a lonely figure. And between them, Æfric, Archbishop of Canterbury.
With her on the dais were her councilors Duke Osmund, Duke Hlothere and Duke Æthelsige of Somerset, along with Bishop Cytelbearn.
It was ironic then, but perhaps not all that surprising, that the only two ladies absent were the ones at the center of the dispute in question.
Duchess Aevis of Lancaster likely would have been present if she were able. But heavily pregnant and expected to give birth shortly, she was unable to travel.
In her place was Eadmund of Lancaster, who acted as regent for Aevis and could double as a liaison between her and his wife, Duchess Maud.
Likewise, Adelise was the other absent party, but no physical barrier kept her away. Instead, it was an abundance of caution, as she expected the other nobles of the realm to line up against her. And it also suggested she did not fully trust Ælfflæd not to throw her to the wolves in order to save her skin.
And given that it seemed the anti-Mercian nobles had found an ally in the Archbishop of Canterbury, Adelise’s avoidance made sense. All of this was meant to apply the maximum amount of pressure to the queen by showing where Adelise stood in the eyes of the rest of the realm… and get Ælfflæd to abandon her.
It was something Ælfflæd did not wish to do. But she also knew that if she was to avoid the church’s ire, as well as keep the whole of her nobility from rebelling, she would be forced to at least entertain them.
It was clear from the outset, however, keeping that balance would be hard, if not impossible.
“Duchess Adelise’s actions are a threat to us all,” Sigeric argued. “She conjures up weak pretexts to justify seizing Lancaster from her sister.”
“Inheritance disputes are hardly weak,” Duke Osmund replied. “And it does not bring me joy to say that - given this conflict has left my poor sister Gunhilda in a miserable state.”
“There is no question over the inheritance,” Sigeric replied. “Aevis has been Duchess of Lancaster since six months after her birth. After three decades, this matter has long been settled.”
“Time is no excuse,” Duke Jordan replied. “My wife petitions the queen for the simple fact that Aevis should never have been given Lancaster. Lady Aevis was born after their father’s death, meaning all his lands should have gone to my wife.”
“But it all went first to their brother,” Sigeric noted. “Until he too died tragically as a babe. It was then that the duchies were partitioned.”
“In which case, all lands should have gone to Adelise as the only remaining child who was born when their father passed,” Jordan said. “How could her father grant lands to a child not yet born? And certainly a babe of two years could not either. Therefore, as no one was of legal age to change the inheritance, it should have all gone to Adelise.”
“Preposterous,” Sigeric said. “Aevis is the legitimate daughter of Duke Robert and thus holds claim.”
Archbishop Æfric cleared his throat. “The church certainly does find Duchess Aevis a legitimate child of the late Duke Robert and thus entitled to his lands in Lancaster. If there was a challenge it should have come years ago. Now, we are understanding that Duchess Adelise was but a small child herself when she inherited, but she could have pressed matter when she came of age, or when her sister did. But as she did not, the church considers the matter settled.”
Ælfflæd thought that a fair point. She knew Adelise only pressed matters because she held an advantage.
“She does it out of greed and avarice,” Ecgwyn added. “Preposterous pretext and troublesome, for if she would backstab her own sister, against the wishes of her fellow nobles, the church and her own mother, why would she not look to seize the lands of other lords or ladies next?”
“It is true,” Sigeric said. “My men are wary of any incursions into my lands that border hers. And Hlothere, I know that my daughter has suggested the same of you.”
Hlothere swallowed hard. “Aye. I have my men on watch.”
His uneasiness was due to the uncertainty over Ælfflæd’s position. It was true Ælfflæd had said she did not think well of Adelise’s actions, but she had stopped short of strongly condemning it, for she was in no rush to force a situation where she had to intervene directly against her closest ally among the nobles. So Hlothere, especially, held off speaking too strongly against her.
But she knew Hlothere and his wife, Duchess Ealflaed, supported Aevis’ claim. And it was that uncertainty which had prevented them from agreeing to a union of one of their sons to Princess Margo.
“I am inclined to agree with you all,” Ælfflæd finally said. “Adelise has wronged her sister. But this is not a matter for the crown to intervene in. Should any one of you been in her place, I doubt you would approve of the crown telling you to stop.”
“Thank you for your wisdom, my queen,” Jordan said. “Opportunistic hypocrites stand before you.”
“Please,” Sigeric scoffed as he eyed the young duke-consort. Turning his gaze back to the queen he said: “This is a matter of great importance. It is not as simple as two Saxon lords fighting. It is a Norman lady, seeking to seize control of the realm.”
Ælfflæd rolled her eyes. “It is a Norman lady, yes, seeking to seize control of her Norman sister’s lands. If you seek to argue that our Saxon lives and rights are under threat, you will not find any ears here, Duke Sigeric. I have no interest in discussing falsehoods.”
“It is no falsehood,” Sigeric said. “It is no secret that Adelise does not approve of her sister’s close friendship with us, the Saxon lords and ladies. It is the main reason she does this - to eliminate one who seeks peace and conciliation, and prepare for war. She will slowly chip away at our power, until we are too weak to resist.”
“She will never be queen,” Ælfflæd promised. “So your fears are unfounded.”
“If she pulls at your strings, then it hardly matters,” Ecgwyn said.
“Pulls at strings?!” Ælfflæd exclaimed. “You have nerve to speak of such things, given your father usurped a crown from my family. From a child.”
“It brought him no joy,” Ecgwyn said. “But it was not his decision. It was that of the nobility. The same nobility that stands before you today. The nobility that is ready to defend England again if necessary.”
Ælfflæd narrowed her gaze. “Is that a threat, Lady Ecgwyn?”
“It is no threat to a true defender of the realm,” Ecgwyn said. “As I’m sure you, or any fair and just queen would be.”
Of course, Ælfflæd knew better. All of this was a threat - one against Adelise to be sure. But also, one against her. To remind her the nobility was unified against this… as well as what happened the last time they were so dead set against their sovereign.
But her nephew Æthelfirth was just a boy who could claim bloodlines and nothing more. Ælfflæd was a woman approaching 40 years… who had already defeated a powerful enemy.
“There is no truer defender of the realm than me,” Ælfflæd said. “You can ask the former sheik of Acre… or the Caliph of the Fatimids.”
“The great liberator of the Holy Lands,” Sigeric said. “Though one who needed her own home liberated by her husband.”
Ælfflæd narrowed her gaze. “It is no shame to have allies, Duke Sigeric. It speaks to my strength. My husband’s men defending you and yours here while our brave knights and huscarls defeated heathens in the Holy Lands. England is stronger as a result.”
“A true Saxon lord needs no allies from beyond our shores,” Sigeric replied. “Did the lords of Wessex need any one but Saxons to drive out the sons of Ragnar? Did the Godwins need anyone but Saxons to push the heirs of Canute back to Danemark? Did they need anyone else to send Harald the Hard Ruler back to sea? And even when defeated, for a time, did the lords require others to force the Bastard to recognize he had no choice but to submit to our will?”
“Times have changed,” Ælfflæd noted. “You speak of singular threats, none of who compare to the lords of Egypt. A great many in England have already learned that lesson the hard way.”
“Your father’s failings are his own,” Sigeric replied. “I hold no ill will toward him, but I will not lie to preserve some false, happy memory.”
It was hardly happy for anyone, Ælfflæd thought. But it was all a lie anyway, for Sigeric painted a false picture of prior Saxon successes.
“Yet you speak of false things that did not happen,” Ælfflæd said. “The sons of Ragnar passed of their own accord or were killed facing others, and the descendants of their armies live as Englishmen in York… which takes its name from the kingdom. The Normans? They rule more of England than they did during the days of the Bastard! Burgheard was the man’s grandson! And Lady Ecgwyn, you have as much blood of the Bastard in your veins as Adelise and Aevis do! You would all tear England apart for some purity which does not exist!”
“If it were purity, then we would have already been beaten,” Sigeric argued. “But this is about a way of life. Our culture. If we do nothing, our grandchildren will be speaking that Occitan drivel as you and your children do. All that we have fought for… it will be gone, or driven to some small corner of the world, like the by-gone peoples from the annals.”
“Your path will do exactly that,” Ælfflæd warned. “If you challenge my rule, I will fight you alongside my husband. And he will take no mercy upon you all. Nor Saxon culture. Is that what you wish?”
“You would not stop him?” Ecgwyn demanded. “You would not defend your homeland against such a man?”
“I am to fight him and you at once?” Ælfflæd snapped. “What fool game do you play at, girl?”
“My queen,” Osmund interrupted. “My fellow lords, we lose our purpose here. This is not the time to discuss such things, for we know they shall not occur. We are all loyal subjects of the queen and king, and thus will not need Occitan knights on our shores any time soon.”
“Yes,” Hlothere added. “Let us return to the matter at hand.”
“The matters are all related,” Sigeric said. “Will the queen defend this Saxon realm from the encroachment of outsiders? And it is a fair question whether a woman who has spent more of her life away from these shores, and has embraced the world of Bordeaux, can do such a thing.”
“I will always defend England,” Ælfflæd swore. “As my father and grandfather did. As did the kings before me did. As I proved against the heathens… without your help, despite the justness of the war, and God’s favor in it, Duke Sigeric.”
Once more, the archbishop cleared his throat. “I believe this meeting has run its course for now. Queen Ælfflæd, thank you for your time. I know you will deliberate on this matter and return a just decision.”
“Thank you my queen,” Duke Jordan added.
That was the last thank you that Ælfflæd received. None of the other lords offered her anything but the slightest of bows before they departed the hall, leaving Ælfflæd with her councilors.
“They will not accept anything less than a complete rebuke of Adelise,” Duke Æthelsige of Somerset said. “I see no point in delaying such a move. Waiting will only enflame their tensions further.”
Ælfflæd turned her gaze on her uncle by marriage. Not only was it troubling to see how quickly he wished to capitulate, but Ælfflæd was disgusted by the fact Æthelsige was also Adelise’s stepfather, and likely had carried on an affair with her, siring a child. To betray her after that…
“I do think we will be forced to choose,” Osmund said. “And it would be in our interest to do it sooner, rather than later.”
Ælfflæd didn’t want to hear that talk. Looking at Cytelbearn, she asked: “I know the archbishop backs Aevis. How strong is that support?”
“Rock hard,” Cytelbearn said. “The archbishop sees it in the realm’s interest to keep Adelise at bay, if not remove her entirely.”
Ælfflæd frowned and shook her head. “And what of you Hlothere? Have you an opinion yet?”
Hlothere swallowed hard. “I… I do think it would be wise to put Adelise in her place. She is disrespectful not only to her sister and her mother… but also you, my queen.”
“Agreed,” Æthelsige said. “She did not appear before you today. Aevis could not, but Adelise would not. Such insolence should not be tolerated.”
But it must be from Sigeric and Ecgwyn, who practically threw down a gauntlet of back them or face rebellion, Ælfflæd thought.
And yet, voicing it was pointless. She knew where Æthelsige stood. She knew where Hlothere stood, even if he was too craven to say it. Even Osmund seemed willing to abandon Adelise.
Was there any point of delaying the inevitable?
“I cannot make a decision today,” Ælfflæd said. “I still wish to meet with Adelise personally. She remains a member of this council. I think she will listen to reason.”
She didn’t believe that. But she needed to buy time.
“I doubt that,” Æthelsige said. “The woman is stubborn as a mule.”
“I would agree,” Osmund said. “It will simply make you look weak.”
Ælfflæd was not hearing it. She would not be forced into abandoning her ally so easily. Not for these lords, who almost all looked for a good opportunity to betray her.
“I have spoken,” Ælfflæd said. “I will meet with her. And we will take it from there.”
…
As frustrating as the talks were, Ælfflæd was buoyed when she finally received good news - though it didn’t have to do with England directly.
News arrived from Rome that Cardinal Emmanuel had been selected as the new pontifex, and for the first time in some time, Ælfflæd found herself hopeful when it came to matters of the church.
Surely now I shall have my crown, Ælfflæd thought. Emmanuel will encourage them, if not press them to move forward. And once that happens, I will have renewed strength to resolve the mess here peacefully.
She did not expect news right away, for it would take time for Emmanuel’s first orders to reach England’s shores. But a few days after the news arrived, Ælfflæd summoned the archbishop to her solar anyway, for surely he could see as well as she could that with an Occitan pope who was friendly with Geoffrey at the head of the church, his resistance would soon be at an end.
The meeting was just between the two of them. It was a calculated risk - Ælfflæd wouldn’t have Osmund present to diffuse anything contentious, but she also figured Æfric might be more willing to reveal what he wanted in a private setting. If it was gold, perhaps a piece of land for the church, in order to settle matters quickly, then Ælfflæd was ready to talk.
They met in the solar, Ælfflæd choosing to dress up for her meeting. There were times where Ælfflæd did not wish to show off her affluence. A meeting with a man who clearly sought to lessen her was not one of those times.
She wore rings on her fingers, a crown with a small ruby in the center - one she had received as Geoffrey’s queen. Her dress was a purple bliaut with golden trim around the sleeves. The gold was not exclusive to that either, as the ribbons that held her long pigtails in place were of a similar color.
The archbishop was in no simple clothing either, as he might have had more jewelry on his person than the queen. His minter was also adorned.
“Queen Ælfflæd,” he said as he entered. “I am glad you have summoned me. We have much to discuss.”
“A few things stand out,” the queen replied. “Primarily my coronation, seeing as I have defeated the heathens and Acre and returned from Bordeaux. And surely there is no objection from Rome, as Pope Emmanuel has given his blessing for it before.”
“Straight to the point, I see,” Æfric said. “I should add the new Holy Father is now known as Lucius, second of his name. It is customary to take a new Latin name after ascending to the papacy, my lady.”
“I’m certain my husband’s late father would have enjoyed such a tradition,” Ælfflæd joked, as she remembered how Geoffrey portrayed his father as a Romanophile.
“Uh, yes, my lady,” Æfric said.
“So then,” Ælfflæd continued. “I have done as you asked. Rome is behind me. When can we move forward? Such things could well be the key to solving the realm’s current difficulties without bloodshed.”
“Well, my lady, we must be reasonable,” Æfric said. “You have done much. And Lucius has much reason to support the matter. But we must wait for guidance still. Even if it is a formality, we cannot move forward without it.”
Ælfflæd’s small smile disappeared and her gaze narrowed. “Another delay?”
“Certainly it will not be long,” Æfric said. “I will send an emissary to Rome on the morrow and we should know in a few months whether to proceed.”
“You have not sent for permission?” Ælfflæd asked, her heart beginning to race.
“I would have assumed you or your husband would have,” Æfric replied. “But since it appears that was not a consideration, I can take that action for you.”
“You blame…” Ælfflæd began. But she stopped. He was trying to antagonize her. As he always did. As the church always did. At least the higher officials on the Isles Bishop Cytelbearn was good to her - he’d warn her the church plotted against her.
It was probably why Cytelbearn found himself excluded more and more from the archbishop’s affairs.
“But let us be honest, my lady, it is hardly a time to proceed,” Æfric added. “Even if we had Pope Lucius’ blessing. The realm seems on the verge of civil war. Imagine attempting to be crowned… only to be attacked by those who would proclaim another as queen! It would not look good upon anyone - yourself, England, and the church.”
“Coronating me as soon as possible could prevent such a thing,” Ælfflæd reminded him. “Showing the church backs my rule. That God favors me.”
Æfric smirked… which led to Ælfflæd biting her lip.
“Please understand, my lady, as archbishop I must be mindful of both religious and political matters,” Æfric explained. “And the political situation is problematic. Once that is dealt with… proceeding will be easier.”
“Another… test?” Ælfflæd asked. “After Acre…”
“The situation has changed,” Æfric said. “Do not get me wrong - Acre was very helpful. There would be no appetite to crown you without it. Now, many begin to come round to the idea.”
“Come round?” Ælfflæd asked. “I have been Queen of England for seven years! If they are any slower in ‘coming round’ they’ll accept me right in time for my son to be crowned!”
Which, Ælfflæd realized after speaking those words, was probably the point. There would be no coronation until Guilhem marched into London at the head of 20,000 men and practically forced the archbishop to do it at sword point.
Or perhaps Guilhem would simply ignore England. The Occitan clergy would crown him king of both and move on. England would not like that… but England would be in no position to challenge.
But Æfric would likely cross that bridge when he got there. For now, he could stymie Ælfflæd until he got everything he wanted. And then find new things to want, as to stymie her further.
“It has been a difficult process,” Æfric said. “What with the voluntary abdication of your nephew, tragic as it was. And then the death of King Burgheard… murdered.”
Æfric frowned. “You know, I cannot think of anyone who would have wished to harm the man. He was beloved by almost everyone in England.”
“He would plot to murder my son,” Ælfflæd instinctively replied.
Æfric’s brow rose, and his gaze fixated on her. “I was aware of no such thing. Where would you hear such slander?”
Ælfflæd realized she had said too much already. This was not an argument to win minds. It was a trap, meant to make life harder for her.
“England is not the only realm with spies, archbishop,” Ælfflæd said. “It pains me that Ed lost his life. But let us not insult our memories by claiming the man was a saint who could do no wrong. He betrayed my father’s memory by usurping the crown from my nephew, after all.”
“It sounds as if you did not care for him,” Æfric said. “Curious. I pray your husband has not poisoned the memory of the man to you.”
Ælfflæd should have let it lay. But she replied; “He called my son, when he was just a babe, a demon. An innocent child, a demon. Nothing my husband could say of him would ruin him in my eyes more than that.”
Her voice was strong, her gaze fixated on the archbishop. She added: “Now, I will not discuss ghosts any longer. I grow tired of excuses when it comes to my coronation. I will not accept them any longer. What is it that you want to finally end this wait? And if it is nothing, then so be it. I will do what I must.”
“The situation with the sisters, and with it the realm, must be resolved,” Æfric said. “But the church wishes one outcome in particular - Duchess Adelise punished harshly for her acts.”
“Then punish her with excommunication,” Ælfflæd replied. “I will not stand in the way of the church’s actions with her. She has made her bed.”
“Excommunication will hardly be enough,” Æfric replied.
“It won’t be?” Ælfflæd asked. “What is the purpose of it then?”
“It is serious, yes,” Æfric said. “But she is a greedy opportunist. She has a chance to deal with her sister and to secure herself as the unquestioned strongest lord or lady in the realm. She will not pass on the opportunity, asking for forgiveness, rather than begging for permission. And Rome… Rome tends to favor the strong.”
“I know Cardinal… Excuse me, Pope Lucius,” Ælfflæd said. “I think he will champion the weak if they are righteous.”
Æfric chuckled. “It is not just him, Queen Ælfflæd.”
Given how Geoffrey talked about Emmanuel and what his elevation would mean, either Æfric or her husband was to be in for a rude awakening soon enough. But that was neither here nor there for Ælfflæd at the moment, who was trying to decipher what the archbishop was after from her.
“What is it that you want for me to do?” Ælfflæd demanded.
“To enforce realm peace,” Æfric said, “punishable by revocation of titles. In addition, you are to strip Adelise of her place on her council and replace her with her sister.”
Ælfflæd’s mouth dropped open. “You what?”
“Her actions cannot be tolerated,” Æfric said. “And must be dealt with in the harshest of terms.”
“You would have me practically declare her an enemy of the realm!” Ælfflæd exclaimed. “I would be forced to war against her, for she would never stand for this! And I could hardly blame her! Not one of the other lords or ladies would stand for such things if they were in her position!”
“As you say,” Æfric began, “she has made her bed. And I’m certain your husband will help. Would you not agree?”
To that, Ælfflæd was practically speechless. The gamble with Acre had paid off in victory, but with great risk to herself. And while Geoffrey had said he was willing to put one of the sisters, or both, down if they were uncooperative, she guessed this was not what he meant.
And given the Saxon lords complained of Geoffrey’s presence, they would not like this either.
“So that Sigeric and the others can complain of having my husband’s men in England again?” Ælfflæd demanded.
“You make it sound more simplistic than it actually is,” Æfric told her. “They object to the influence he holds, both over you and especially the prince. As a matter of fact, I have discussed the matter with Lord Sigeric, and he has interest in helping solve this problem.”
Ælfflæd eyed the archbishop. “Does he now?”
“The problem is the prince is to rule this land yet has no idea what it means to be Saxon,” Æfric explained. “He has spent the whole of his life in an Occitan court. It is fine for when he is to rule his father’s lands. But these? It is a problem.”
“You are mistaken,” Ælfflæd blurted out. “For I have been teaching my son the ways of our people since he was a babe at my breast. He speaks our language perfectly. He knows of our traditions. Our history.”
“My lady, allow me to finish,” Æfric told her. “It is one thing to be told of our ways. But another thing to live it. He must spend his time in the court of a Saxon lord. And for that, Duke Sigeric is the perfect choice. He is the most respected Saxon lord of the realm and it is a way to show some humility after his unfortunate dismissal.”
“He was dismissed for blocking the war you wanted!” Ælfflæd shouted.
“He did not need to be dismissed for that,” Æfric noted. “You chose to after you began your war because of his harsh tone against you.”
Ælfflæd was wide-eyed and practically seething at this point. She wanted to grab Æfric and throw him out of the solar by his ear. Only the fact he was the archbishop of Canterbury kept her from doing so.
But he kept talking.
“I understand your husband does not care for Duke Sigeric,” Æfric noted. “No matter. I believe you should send an emissary to your son and encourage him to press his father on allowing him to go to England. Given he is… 13 years of age now, is it, he can make such decisions. Surely he understands what is required to prove himself a true King of England, and not merely the heir to Aquitaine. Don’t you agree?”
Ælfflæd was motionless in her chair, her breathing shallow while her left eye twitched. Her hands gripped the arm rests of her wooden chair so tightly, they turned white.
Finally she commanded: “Get out.”
Æfric’s expression changed in an instant. Smug before, his brow raised, seemingly surprised by what he’d just heard. “What… what did you say?”
“OUT!” Ælfflæd shouted as she jumped from the chair and vehemently pointed toward the solar’s exit. “Get out! Get out of my keep.”
“You cannot talk to a man of the church in this manner!” Æfric shouted back.
“I can speak to a wolf in sheep’s clothing any way I please!” Ælfflæd retorted. “Get out. Now! Or I will have my guards drag you out!”
“Think about your words,” Æfric warned. “You shall never have a crown if this is how---”
“GUARDS!” she shouted.
The archbishop’s face grew pale at first as the two guardsmen, armed with spears, entered the solar. He traded glaces with them, and the room fell still.
“Take him!” Ælfflæd ordered. “I want him removed from Lydford! Now!”
The guards seemed hesitant, but one did place a hand on the archbishop, who wrested himself free, his face now turning a purplish-red.
“Unhand me!” he ordered.
The guards recoiled, taking a few steps back but then pointing their spears at the archbishop, all while Ælfflæd’s heart raced. Again Æfric’s face grew pale.
“I want him gone,” Ælfflæd ordered. “Until such time that he will accept my coronation. Until then, I do not want to see him.”
“You will be thrown from the church for this,” Æfric told her. “The holy father will have no stomach for this. Not even your husband will protect you. No, he will burn alongside you!”
“TAKE HIM!” Ælfflæd shouted at her guards.
One of the guards dropped his spear and motioned for Æfric to move. The other marched behind him, the point close, but not touching the archbishop’s person.
At that moment, Ælfflæd realized the gravity of the situation. One wrong move and these guards might well skewer the archbishop.
Æfric would become a martyr. Geoffrey or not, Emmanuel would throw the highest level of rebukes for her - and there would be nothing her husband could do to save her. A man might get away with this… but a woman, and one who already had many enemies, could not.
Geoffrey would be forced to abandon her. The English lords could pounce, and she would be forced to abdicate to them, or in favor of her son. England would burn. England would die. And all she would be capable of doing would be fading into the shadows… a failure of the highest order.
All Æfric had to do was be willing to become that martyr - the first blood in freeing Saxon England from the tyranny of its Occitan despots and their Stawell puppet.
But the archbishop had no stomach for that kind of sacrifice.
Instead, red faced, he turned and marched his way from the solar, the guards following in behind. And then, as quickly as it had come, the moment was over, and all that remained in Ælfflæd’s solar was silence.
…
“Surely the pope can send something.”
Hidden under a mess of blankets and pillows on the bed in the solar, Ælfflæd listened to her mother’s voice. It sounded fearful, almost desperate. But she was usually nervous in those days.
The heathens were relentless. And seemingly everywhere. They had attacked and harried England’s forces in the Holy Lands. But their ships and raiders had now come to England’s shores.
It was enough that the lords of the Isles, even many of the Irish ones, had pledged themselves to defend their homeland.
And yet, Europe remained silent.
No one - not the Germans, the Danes nor the Franks - had offered assistance. Not the Duke of Aquitaine, who’s son Ælfflæd’s sister Æthelræda was married to.
And worst of all, nothing from Rome.
“Calm yourself, my dear,” Thoræd said to Wulfrun. “Surely the archbishop can explain what must be done.”
“The Holy Father has dithered for months,” Wulfrun said. “Forgive me father, but I begin to wonder if his holiness cares anything for us!”
“Rome finds itself in a difficult position,” Archbishop Wulf of Canterbury said. “The Pope wishes to call for England’s defense. But the cardinals are hesitant to try to push their lords into the conflict. So they encourage them to join us, but make no demands.”
“That was attacking the Holy Lands,” Wulfrun noted. “This is defending a Christian realm!”
“For some, that is even less incentive,” the archbishop explained. “His holiness advises that if you continue to win victories, surely the other lords will find cause and reason to join.”
“So they will join us after we have won?!” Wulfrun snapped.
“Wife!” Thoræd exclaimed. “Mind yourself.”
“Forgive me husband,” Wulfrun said. “But they are here. Even as we see some success in our defense in the Holy Lands, there are those here in England who have been hauled off by raiders. I worry for the realm. I worry for our family.”
“The church has not abandoned you,” the archbishop swore. “In time, help will come. I know Prince-Bishop Emmanuel of Aquitaine has some interest in our conflict and may help push Duke Geoffrey toward us. In time though. Other priests may do the same. For now, we must stand on our own. God stands with us, as evidenced by our victories. And with His aid, we will drive the heathens back. Then others will join."
“I…” Wulfrun stammered.
“Thank you,” Thoræd said.
The archbishop made his exit from the solar, leaving king and queen alone. Wulfrun’s hand was over her face while she shook her head.
“Forgive me husband,” Wulfrun said. “I think he offers us nothing.”
“He offers us a path,” Thoræd said. “Now, I must ride it. I will take our men and ride out to meet the raiders, where I can.”
“They might overwhelm you,” Wulfrun said. “No, you must remain here. Where it is safe.”
“Nowhere will be safe,” Thoræd told her. “Not until we can receive the aid we need.”
“I just… I do not believe him,” Wulfrun said. “He delays because Rome has told him no.”
“Rome will help if it can,” Thoræd said. “I am hearted though by what the archbishop said of Aquitaine. Duke Geoffrey is an opportunist. If this Emmanuel can convince him that he will increase his standing by aiding us, and he will surely emerge victorious, then he shall aid us. We must make it appealing for him though.”
“He sees opportunity in his lands, not ours,” Wulfrun said. “Rae sent word that he leads a group of lords who seek to establish realms independent of the Frankish king. He will not aid us husband.”
“Then we will win without him,” Thoræd said. “And he shall miss a chance to redeem his family name across Christendom.”
Wulfrun sighed. “Perhaps Rae can work on her husband. He is a lord in his own right, after all. Lord Foulques does not boast the largest of levies but every little bit can help in the defense of England. And perhaps we can promise Elf to a lord in Germany. Maybe the Emperor’s son. With his aid...”
Ælfflæd’s heart skipped a beat. Her? The Empress of the Romans? Truly?
“There is no need for all of that,” Thoræd assured her. “God blessed us in granting us Jerusalem. Our victories thus far in its defense proves we still hold His favor. It will be fine.”
“But England already suffers---”
“England bleeds,” Thoræd said. “But as I have said, it will emerge stronger.”
“I want to believe that, husband,” Wulfrun said. “But…”
“But nothing,” Thoræd said. “It will be fine.”
…
Ælfflæd remembered her father’s confident words, and to this day she could not tell if it was false bravado, denial of the reality or a good plan that just did not go as intended.
News of victories stopped coming. And the defeats began to mount. None were greater, of course, than the sacking of Wiltshire.
Help never did come. Victories, defeats… none of it mattered. The British Isles stood alone… and suffered that way as well. By the time anyone did give aid - the Germans after Rae had been remarried to the Imperial prince after the death of Lord Foulques, it was far too late to matter.
Ælfflæd never forgot the church’s betrayal. True, Aquitaine could have sent aid, but Geoffrey’s father wasn’t invested in any of it. And as she learned more about the man, she realized if there was good buried deep within his opportunistic nature, it was silenced when his eldest son had perished. Perhaps in a different world, Rae and Lord Foulques could have been the saviors of England. But it was not this world.
But the church. England had done as the church had asked, answering the call to take back the Holy Lands when most of Europe’s lords had ignored it. When it came time to repay them, the church simply turned its back on them. On her. On her mother.
It was one thing for a selfish lord to do it. It was another for the church to do so.
Now she felt it again. She did as the church had wanted - taking back lands in Jerusalem. Yet it refused to aid her. No, it did the opposite. seeking to undermine her.
They are no different than Geoffrey’s father… except he did not cloak himself in the cover of the cross.
But she did not expect others to share her frustrations. So she was not surprised when her uncle stormed into the solar, announcing himself even before he threw the door open by his loud disagreement with the queen’s guards.
“What have you done?!” he demanded of her when he entered.
Ælfflæd sat at a table, her hands rested on the surface. Her eyes met his.
“I refused to play along with his games any longer,” Ælfflæd said.
“You turn the church against us!” Osmund shouted. “Marching the archbishop from here at spearpoint?!”
“The church is already against us!” Ælfflæd shouted back. “Æfric led me to a war promising me a crown. And after winning the war, he finds another reason to deny me! He now demands that I abandon my cousin, my closest ally, and give her lands to the cousin who has already been caught scheming against me. And he says I cannot guarantee my ceremony unless I send the crown prince to Sigeric’s court. A demand Geoffrey will never agree to, and if I somehow do, it will drive a further wedge between us. Can you not see what this is?”
“You must accept that this is his test,” Osmund said. “If you wish to be crowned then---”
“NO!” Ælfflæd shouted. “NO! There is NO test! There are just barriers. Walls, meant to stop me. Meant to stop my children.”
“This is God’s will,” Osmund said.
“It is a man’s desire!” Ælfflæd replied. “It is politics. Opportunism! It is no different than Sigeric. Or Ecgwyn. Or Aevis. Or Geoffrey. Or Geoffrey’s father. The church wants me gone. It wants my son nowhere near the throne. So they do everything they can to make that happen. I thought… I thought I could prove myself worthy. But they do not look for proof, uncle. They just look to deny. So I will not play any longer.”
“He will throw you from the church,” Osmund said.
Ælfflæd shook her head. “Emmanuel will not allow me to be excommunicated. Geoffrey will not allow it. It is an empty threat.”
“You know nothing of them,” Osmund said. “Or of these matters.”
“No, it is you who know nothing, uncle,” Ælfflæd argued. “It is not you who was abandoned, and left to rot in Tunis. It is not you who were the desire of the Holy Father, who wished to have you forsake your martial vows to satisfy his sinful desires. It is not you who’s defiance of such disgusting demands nearly got your husband excommunicated. It is not you who faced the wrath of perhaps Christendom’s most powerful kings, to do the bidding of the church, only to see your hard-earned success downplayed and mocked! It is not you who has been told that you must abandon the only cousin who supported you, or again challenge your kingly husband to win a crown that can’t be won. Not like that.”
“And when they come for you?” Osmund demanded.
“They are coming for me anyway!” Ælfflæd shouted. “They just seek to isolate me before they shove me off a cliff, so that neither Geoffrey nor Adelise will be there to pull me back. But it will not happen.”
“You will destroy yourself,” Osmund swore. “It is madness.”
“No, I save myself,” Ælfflæd said. “My sister could not save herself. My brother could not save himself. My nephew could not save himself. You saw to that one. But I will not share their fate. I will fight. And I will not voluntarily sheath my sword any longer. They can fight me. They can fight Adelise. And they fight Geoffrey. And if England, bleeds it, it bleeds. And if it dies, then it is on their heads!”
“Listen to yourself!” Osmund shouted. “Is this what you want? You are willing to let England be destroyed if it keeps you in power? Is that what your mother and father would want?”
Ælfflæd grew wide-eyed. “They would not stand for a pathetic show of timidity. Tell me, uncle, do you think they approved of you abandoning my nephew to the lords after they and Ed betrayed my father. I do not think they would approve of you handling matters when you have spent your day drinking ale, wine and whatever you can get your hands on.”
“You have some---” Osmund started.
“I can smell the ale on you uncle, even now,” Ælfflæd interrupted. “Tell me, were you drinking when the archbishop complained to you, or did you drink to find the courage to face me? Or was it both?”
Osmund was wide-eyed then, and Ælfflæd was ready for the battle to continue. If he quit now, so be it. She didn’t need him. Her ally was her husband. Geoffrey was as opportunistic as the rest of them, but it suited her needs. It suited her children’s needs. And that would be enough.
But Osmund’s expression suddenly grew sullen. His head dropped and his eyes fell from her. It was as if Ælfflæd could see the fight suddenly leave him.
And when he spoke, his voice was soft, though unwavering.
“When your mother lay dying, she was… lucid at times,” Osmund said. “She did not know for certain that your brother had left us. But she suspected something was wrong and we had not told her. So she implored me to guide her grandchildren, and protect them from threats in the realm and beyond. She entrusted me because of your father’s age… that I would be able to see them through to when they were old enough to stand on their own.”
Osmund closed his eyes and shook his head.
“But instead, I feared for my holdings,” Osmund said. “When they came to me, to tell me of the plan to replace your nephew with Burgheard, I did not wish to back a losing cause. So I… negotiated his abdication. I said to myself that I protected him. But all I did was protect myself.
“What did I gain for all of that?” Osmund asked. “I kept my lands, but lost my position. And then when it came time to defend my beloved sister’s children or grandchildren again, it was I who led the attack on Bordeaux. Prove yourself, Sigeric told me. As if I had not proven enough. But your husband utterly defeated me… all it proved was that I could not even betray my sister’s last request effectively.”
Osmund sank his face into his hand. “And now I offer you nothing, failing Wulfie again. My other nieces fight and I can do nothing to help Gunny out of her misery. I am worthless - a man who waits until the end and prays that his son can do better.”
Osmund stood and bowed. “I shall trouble you no longer, niece. You should find yourself a better man than me for this. Your husband’s cousin… he will be suitable, I think. In time, he will be your son’s chancellor anyway. Let him come, and learn England now. What there will be to learn… when this is all finished. It would suit us all better than I would.”
He looked at her and bowed. “By your leave, my queen.”
Osmund turned to go, trudging slowly toward the door, his shoulders slumped. It was clear Ælfflæd had won this verbal joust, but it brought her no joy. Just guilt and pity that she had done this to her uncle, who, despite his problems, had not abandoned her.
Until now. Until her words drove him away.
“Wait,” Ælfflæd said. “Uncle, wait.”
Osmund turned back to her. “It is fine. It is better this way.”
“No,” Ælfflæd said. “This is what my enemies want. You are my ally as well. And I do not wish to drive you away.”
“You just point out what is already there,” Osmund replied. “I have failed. And I am not fit for my role.”
“Uncle, please,” Ælfflæd said. “Sit. Let us talk. If not because your queen commands it, but because your beloved sister’s youngest daughter wishes it.”
Osmund looked heavenward for a moment, but he did nod and return to her. They sat, in silence, as Ælfflæd tried to find the words.
Finally she spoke: “I carry the burden of two mothers.”
Osmund eyed her. “Two mothers? I understand your mother but---”
“Uncle, please, let me finish,” Ælfflæd said. “Yes, my mother is one. When I had drawn the eye of the Emir’s son in Tunis, she offered herself. The Emir’s son was less interested, but the Emir accepted the trade. Had she not done that… I would not be here today. I do not know where I would be, or even I would be alive at all… but I would not be queen today.”
Osmund’s eyes lowered. “Your mother… she was a saint.”
“She was,” Ælfflæd said. “My husband’s mother on the other hand. She was not. She was cruel, short-sighted and nasty. She hated the world. She hated her family. And for a time, I am fairly certain she hated me.”
“I have heard tales of the woman,” Osmund said. “Though I only met her a few times. So it is---”
“Uncle, please, I ask you again, let me talk,” Ælfflæd said.
Osmund held up his hands and fell silent, so Ælfflæd continued.
“But despite all of that, I carry her burden,” Ælfflæd said. “For when we went to Rome, and my husband’s defense of me threatened to see him excommunicated, she offered herself to protect him and my son.”
Ælfflæd shook her head. “That it was her fault that we were in that position is not lost on me. But she still realized her mistake, and was willing to sacrifice herself for her son. Which, if not for that sacrifice, I would not be here. Perhaps I still would be Queen of Aquitaine, but my husband and my son’s future would not be as bright.”
Osmund stroked his beard. “I am not sure I understand.”
Ælfflæd nodded. “I carry with me the burdens of those two women. Painful traumas of the past. I sometimes ask myself if there was something I could have done differently to avoid it. Perhaps, I could have chosen my words better. Or been silent when the Emir’s son came near, rather than antagonizing him when he spoke of desiring me. But then I realize… it is the past. There is nothing I can do to change it. All I can do… is work to make sure the sacrifices of the past are not for naught.”
“But those were not your fault,” Osmund told her. “You did not ask to be captured. And Martinus was a lecherous man.”
“And my nephew was in a difficult position for many reasons,” Ælfflæd said. “Your decision to oppose me was no simple matter. And your fears now… I understand them.”
The queen paused for a moment before adding: “It is not the past alone that defines us uncle. But how we handle it. And learn from what has come before. If you regret your choices, remember them so that you do not venture down a similar road again.”
Ælfflæd rose from her chair and walked toward the small window. “That is what I do now. I have many regrets. Many things I feel should have gone differently. Some were my fault. Others were not. But I look at why they happened… and I swear they will not happen again. Not to me. And not to my children.”
She shook her head. “God is good. But men are often not. And the church is made up of men. Some, like I pray Emmanuel, emulate the Lord’s will. But others are lords with the same and will and desire as lay men. They want power. Power over land. Power over men. Power over women. Power to do as they please… raise who they wish, destroy who they detest… and bend the world to their will.”
She sighed and returned to her seat. “I am not naive to their powers. I know Æfric will not take this quietly. And I know that he will likely use this with Ecgwyn and Sigeric to claim I am unfit to rule. He will use every tool available to him. Every weapon. Every shield. And so will I.”
Osmund sat, still stroking his beard. His gaze never left her, though he did not say anything at first.
“You speak with your father’s voice,” he finally replied. “But your mother’s wisdom.”
A small smile broke through on Ælfflæd’s lips. She nodded in reply.
“I know you though, my queen,” Osmund said. “I know you care for our homeland. You do not wish to see it destroyed. So we must not let it happen.”
“Then you must help me stop it, for I don’t know how,” Ælfflæd said. “The only way to save England is to cut out the worst of them - Ecgwyn and Sigeric, along with one or two of the rest. But they will not be foolish enough to rebel if they are isolated. So it will be the whole of England that rebels, and is destroyed, or none of it.”
“Then it seems as though they must think they are stronger than they are,” Osmund noted. “So that they stumble into a trap.”
“But how could we spring it?” Ælfflæd asked. “They will not move separately.”
“It may not be as difficult as you fear,” Osmund said. “They itch for a fight, especially as Adelise threatens Aevis. If Adelise triumphs, she will control the whole of the midlands and all but cut the north from the south. It will make her difficult to deal with if she remains on your side. If you support her, war is certain.”
“But if I back Adelise, they will all align against me,” Ælfflæd replied.
Osmund stroked his beard. “Perhaps… Northumbria. Hlothere fears your husband. But Ealflaed is Sigeric’s daughter. Her loyalties and his caution…”
“Loyalties,” Ælfflæd said. “So long as she receives Essex. If her father had a son then she would be tempted to abandon him.”
“Then… why not give him one?” Osmund asked.
Ælfflæd eyed her uncle. “I do not quite understand what you mean.”
“Your son,” Osmund said. “Sigeric has nothing but daughters. Perhaps Guilhem could be offered as a husband to one of them. If he agreed, Ealflaed’s inheritance would be endangered, since it might be hard to deny the future queen of some of her father’s lands.”
“Would Sigeric go along with it?” Ælfflæd asked. She paused. “Do I even wish to do that?”
“Sigeric would, with conditions,” Osmund said. “And that would be enough, for we just need Ealflaed and Hlothere to think it’s a strong possibility to get them to the table. It is, after all, how your late father-by-law convinced your father to agree to your marriage. He threated to have Geoffrey marry Adelise or Aevis.”
Ælfflæd knew the story and had long made peace with it. “Another thing I must thank my cousins for. But what is the thought then? That it gets Northumbria on our side?”
“They have resisted our marriage offers of Princess Margo,” Osmund said. “The possibility of her father agreeing to a union with the king should break their obstinance. And once they have joined us… we let it slip that if Northumbria stays loyal… and Essex does not, then Ealflaed shall be guaranteed to inherit her father’s lands.”
“Which gives her reason to entice her father to rebel against us,” Ælfflæd said.
Osmund nodded. “Then your cousins. If you back Adelise, Aevis will have no choice but to align against you for she will lose her lands otherwise.”
Ælfflæd hated throwing Aevis to the wolves, even after her plotting. But she had to choose one, and ultimately, Adelise had been her ally for longer.
“Then we will back Adelise,” Ælfflæd said. “Then there is Ecgwyn, Maud and Æthelsige.”
“Ecgwyn will go with Sigeric and Aevis,” Osmund said. “She hates you and your husband and itches for a fight. The other two… I think Æthelsige wishes to align with them. Maud… Maud never backs anyone for the crown other than herself, so she may hesitate to ally with Ecgwyn openly. That said, her husband is one of Aevis’ bannermen, so she may lean toward them.”
“If I can keep Mercia and Northumbia on our side, along with your lands in Kent, uncle,” Ælfflæd began, “then it is a risk I am willing to take.”
“Then let us take it,” Osmund said. “We speak to Sigeric, and once Hlothere and Ealflaed agree to the union, we can announce your decision to side with Adelise. That will likely spur the lords into action.”
“Then that is the plan,” Ælfflæd said. “May God see to its success.”
Osmund nodded. “I will begin preparations at once. But you too should speak with Duchess Ealflaed. I think she will listen to you more than she would any of us.”
“I’m not one for words, uncle, especially sweet ones,” Ælfflæd said.
“You know what is needed,” Osmund told her. “Draw on that and you will be fine.”
...
For all their planning, Ælfflæd still was left to remain on edge for the next month.
Archbishop Æfric did not return to Canterbury, instead heading to Duke Sigeric’s court, and there was talk he might look for a foreign realm to flee if things did not change soon.
Meanwhile talks to avoid a realm-wide rebellion progressed in all directions. Some roads were soon closed off - Duchess Aevis birthed a boy, and thus her potential plans to marry Prince Guilhem with Lancaster as the bait were lost. But others opened, as Osmund had promised.
Things initially seemed more complicated when Geoffrey’s chancellor, Duke Adhemar, arrived from Aquitaine. But that worked in Ælfflæd’s benefit, for it gave her another negotiating voice to use - and one who implicitly spoke with Geoffrey’s as well.
Osmund and Adhemar initially went to Duke Sigeric to discuss a possible marriage between the prince and his youngest daughter. It went about as well as expected, with Sigeric demanding the prince spend time in his court as part of the agreement.
That was a non-starter, for Geoffrey would never allow it. But Ælfflæd counseled Adhemar not to completely end negotiations, for the sake of pushing Northumbria toward their side.
Meanwhile, Ælfflæd herself was talking to Ealflaed, trying to convince her of the merits of Margo marrying one of her sons. In addition, Ælfflæd impressed upon Ealflaed that should her father betray the crown, she would be in position to recognize her as the heir to Essex over any future male children Sigeric might have… provided Ealflaed and Hlothere remained loyal to the crown.
And it worked, for Hlothere, Osmund and Adhemar eventually agreed to the marriage of Margo to the third son of Hlothere and Ealflaed, and the promise of loyalty, on the exact terms Ælfflæd and Ealflaed had negotiated prior.
Once that was done, and Northumbria was nominally tied to the crown with the promise of Essex, Ælfflæd went about setting the kindling ablaze by dealing with Mercia.
Adhemar had been communicating with Adelise during the talks with Essex and Northumbria, telling her Ælfflæd and Geoffrey favored a marriage of her only daughter, Avelina, to Prince Guilhem. The price of that marriage, as well as Ælfflæd remaining out of the Lancaster situation, was two fold. First was her loyalty. The second was an oath to break off any attack on Lancaster and come to Ælfflæd’s defense should rebellion break out - whether or not Aevis was involved.
Adhemar reported Adelise was hesitant to agree to the last part, but the talk of a marriage with Sigeric may well have spooked her as much as it did Ealflaed. So the duchess accepted Ælfflæd’s terms, though they could not be officially announced until Ælfflæd had secured Northumbria’s allegiance.
Meanwhile, Osmund and Adhemar also paid visits to Duchess Maud and Duke Æthelsige. These were more courtesy calls ans very little was promised to either. Ælfflæd did not trust them not to backstab her, so she sent the two representatives to decipher where Maud and Æthelsige stood, more than to secure any agreement.
Then in early March, Ælfflæd welcomed Adelise back to Lydford, announcing not only that the crown would not intervene in the Lancaster conflict, but also that she was to remain her advisor and her daughter was to marry the crown prince.
That Ælfflæd had not only refused to stop Adelise, but elevated her instead, had the desired effect. Emissaries from across the realm bringing condemnation of queen’s decision made their way to Lydford - and Ælfflæd dismissed them all, declaring she had heard their arguments already and ruled in favor of the duchess.
Though she tried to project an air of confidence, Ælfflæd found herself being kept up at night with worry.
She had done what she could, including marrying off her two eldest children, but she could not help but fear such arrangements could fall apart at the last moment.
Someone could grow ill - perhaps Geoffrey would be laid up and unable to provide help quickly. Lords or ladies could renege on their promises at the last moment. The church could excommunicate her for her words toward Æfric. Something, somewhere would provide an ill-fated surprise.
...
It was a sunny day in Mercia when word came. Ælfflæd was not holding court, but with her daughter, her ladies and Duchess Adelise in the solar.
In fact, since it was warm that day, Ælfflæd wished to venture outside. She was about to suggest a ride to her ladies when she heard a commotion in the stairwell.
Then Osmund burst into the chamber, breathing heavily. The pale look on his face gave away his concern and caused a chill to run down the queen’s spine.
“Uncle,” she said. “What is it?”
“Rebellion,” he got out through his rushed breaths. “A town watch was beaten by men of Cornwall and Essex. They were sent back here to deliver a message - to surrender your crown to Duchess Ecgwyn and depart the Isles, or face the wrath of the realm.”
Even if she knew what was coming, the words still made Ælfflæd’s stomach clench. But she also knew she could show no fear - not in front of her ladies. Not in front of two of her councilors. And not in front of her daughter.
“Then they have declared themselves traitors,” Ælfflæd said. “And will be dealt with accordingly. Who stands with us?”
“I have sent calls to all the other lords and ladies of the realm,” Osmund said. “We will see who responds.”
“Lancaster will not,” Adelise insisted. “I suspect Aevis’ men were among those who attacked ours, my queen.”
Ælfflæd suspected as much. But her greater concern was the others of the realm. Especially since two of her councilors, Dukes Hlothere and Æthelsige, were not present in Lydford at the moment.
The wife of the former, however, was present. So Ælfflæd turned her gaze toward Duchess Ealflaed.
“Where is your husband, my lady?” Ælfflæd asked.
Ealflaed’s face was pale, for the implication was clear. “I… I am uncertain. He said he was to take care of certain business today and… our son is here, my queen. And we have an agreement. I am certain he will arrive shortly.”
Ælfflæd would not expect a Hlothere to abandon his wife and son, but she could not rule it out entirely. Men sometimes treated their wives as disposable assets. And the son set to marry Margo was not the heir of Northumbria, even if Ælfflæd hoped one day he would rule Essex.
As for Duke Æthelsige of Somerset, Ælfflæd didn’t trust him to be alone with her ladies, let alone to not betray her if a better offer came round. Though if he feared reprisals from Geoffrey, he might tread cautiously. The same was likely said for Duchess Maud, who was always squirrely in her power plays.
But that would shake out in time. For now, Ælfflæd knew she had more important lords and ladies to alert.
“Uncle,” Ælfflæd said. “Send word to my husband, if you have not already, that Cornwall and Essex rebel.”
“It will be done immediately, my queen,” Osmund said.
Osmund moved quickly out of the solar, while Ælfflæd then turned to Adelise. “I want your knights down here, immediately, as per our agreement. They will likely move to strike at Lydford quickly.”
Adelise nodded. “Shall I ready Avelina to travel to Bordeaux then?”
“No,” Ælfflæd said. “I assume my son will travel with his father to England. We can hold the ceremony here, once they have arrived. I will have Bishop Cytelbearn make preparations.”
“Thank you, cousin,” Adelise said. “And I will send word to my knights immediately that they are to come south and join with our uncle’s men from Kent.”
Then hurried footsteps bounding up the stairs drew the queen’s attention once more. This time it was Duke Hlothere who came through the doorway, which was somewhat of a relief at first, for it suggested he did not plan on betraying her.
But his words were far from encouraging.
“They are coming for us,” Hlothere said. “Men from Cornwall, Essex, joined by knights from Lancaster are marching toward Lydford. They intend to lay siege and take the town before help arrives.”
And they likely hoped to take it quickly and capture her in the process, Ælfflæd realized. Which would put Geoffrey’s willingness to treat her as a disposable asset to the test.
“Should we plan to escape?” Adelise asked.
“No,” Ælfflæd said. “I will not run from Ecgwyn. And unlike with the heathens, I know the king has interest in this conflict. He has practically asked for it. He will come and do so quickly. We are at a greater risk if we flee and are captured. Behind these walls, we will be safe.”
It didn’t feel quite right to have to rely on others so heavily, for a nagging doubt in Ælfflæd’s mind left her wondering if she was stumbling into the same trap her father had.
But this wasn’t like the Crusade. Abstract ideas of honor and reputation were not driving her allies. Adelise wanted Lancaster - this would help her get it. Osmund wanted to be on the winning side, while keeping his promises to her mother. Hlothere and Ealflaed received a tie to the royal family, all while likely securing Essex in case Sigeric had any more children.
And of course, the most important ally of all, Aquitaine, was not as it was 30 years ago. It was ruled by a man who was at least nominally King of England, and who fully intended to make certain his son was. Geoffrey would never accept losing control of the crown.
But though Ælfflæd was able to reassure herself, she saw her daughter seemed fearful at the moment, as Margo stood by Benoite de Bourges, her hands wrapped together tightly. She frowned and Ælfflæd noticed she was trembling.
The irony of this was not lost on Ælfflæd - to be left to reassure her daughter as she would have liked to have been reassured as a girl. Not that it would have mattered in the end in her case.
“You are worried,” Ælfflæd said.
“What if they are too quick?” Margo wondered. “Before father comes?”
Ælfflæd shook her head. “No. It will not happen. It would only fall due to treachery. And anyone who would consider such a disgraceful act would know that your father would unleash a punishment beyond their worst nightmares if he were to find out. Protections and honor are lost when treachery enters the fray.”
Margo swallowed hard and nodded. Ælfflæd could see her daughter did not believe her.
“You are nervous with good reason,” Ælfflæd reassured her. “One can never know how any of these things will go. My father once believed he would defeat his enemies… only to find himself unable to meet the challenge.”
Ælfflæd stood up. “But I am not him. I am not relying on the goodwill of others nor vague promises of honor. Your father will come because he wants to keep England for your brother. These other vassals remain because they realize going against us will lead to their destruction. It is not romantic. It may not be honorable. But it is effective.”
Margo, still frowning, nonetheless nodded.
“England will bleed again,” Ælfflæd told her. “But it will emerge stronger. So I swear.”
Note:
I couldn't resist the opportunity to throw in portraits of the old, mostly departed characters. We never got to see them in their "prime" in with the new portraits for one. And it's kind of fun to see how things have progressed in those 30 years. Geoffrey II isn't even *in* that character portrait of his father, since Marguerite was pregnant with him at the time.
And this is where I had to take control of Elf to make certain things happen properly. I'll get into this more in the comments but basically she accepted the demands of the rebels because the AI doesn't take Geoffrey into account. So I arranged the two marriages, refused the rebel demands, then switched back to Geoffrey.
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great! could you please load a map of England? so we can see who is who... btw, sorry I have been not posting in a while, was first on vacations and then starting in a new job away from home (and mi notebook)
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(UPDATE: Realized I made a slight mistake on Lancaster/Merica, so I updated with a new map and explanation)
No worries and congrats on your new job! Here's the map, which hopefully isn't too confusing:
As you can see, Mercia holds a third of the land in England (as well as Middlesex - London). Plus, in addition to Mercia, Adelise also holds York. Hlothere is cut off from everyone else in the north.
Aevis in Lancaster holds that bit surrounded by Adelise on three sides, while sharing a border with Essex in the south. She also holds isolated lands bordering Adelise and Hlothere in the northwest of England.
Ecgwyn holds one county, which borders Elf's. Funny that the two claimants are also the weakest ladies/lords of the realm.
Somerset holds much of the South. Osmund, despite not holding a lot of land, has a lot of value out of that area, and can muster close to the largest levy of any of the lords/ladies.
Essex is in contact, or close to, almost all the lords, save Northumbria, who his daughter is married to.
Maud is a bit isolated.
The Earl of Oxford is a direct vassal to Elf. I believe he also rebelled, even though I didn't talk about him.
And Wiltshire is still held by Elf's nephew, the King of Jerusalem.
Hope that helps!
No worries and congrats on your new job! Here's the map, which hopefully isn't too confusing:
As you can see, Mercia holds a third of the land in England (as well as Middlesex - London). Plus, in addition to Mercia, Adelise also holds York. Hlothere is cut off from everyone else in the north.
Aevis in Lancaster holds that bit surrounded by Adelise on three sides, while sharing a border with Essex in the south. She also holds isolated lands bordering Adelise and Hlothere in the northwest of England.
Ecgwyn holds one county, which borders Elf's. Funny that the two claimants are also the weakest ladies/lords of the realm.
Somerset holds much of the South. Osmund, despite not holding a lot of land, has a lot of value out of that area, and can muster close to the largest levy of any of the lords/ladies.
Essex is in contact, or close to, almost all the lords, save Northumbria, who his daughter is married to.
Maud is a bit isolated.
The Earl of Oxford is a direct vassal to Elf. I believe he also rebelled, even though I didn't talk about him.
And Wiltshire is still held by Elf's nephew, the King of Jerusalem.
Hope that helps!
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Bloody hell, no wonder the English Crown is so weak. It won't be after this war though. G cab sweep sweep dry, and the Queen can pick out her own duchy at least. At least get some form of crown land going.
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thanks!!! I agree with TheButterflyComposer, the Queen needs more land of her own... and also is that problem with Jerusalem holding that tiny county...
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Jordan has missed his calling ... as the guy in short shorts who “Is just here to clean your pool, maam”!
That moustache looks like it is glued on.Excellent! I’m glad she gave the knave the bum’s rush.
This is very logical, but sounds almost like some Lollard ‘heresy’
A nice line from Osmund. He’s not so dumb as his character trait implies.
And so the circle begins to close with those flashbacks. Nicely done.
Let us trust in Geoffre’s bigger battalions, if it comes to that. Nice to see Ælfflæd in armour, two. Boudicca indeed.
Enjoyed them. Like looking back at an old family album: “And this is your uncle Ed, when he still had hair!”
The story comes first in this AAR: it is narrative first, so AI fails in gameplay need to be corrected once in a while.
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Good chapter. Is the thing with the Emir an explanation for an in game even or your interpretation?
The former Queen had her chance. The best thing that can happen to her is a loss of her lands. At worse I expect her and her entire family to be killed. Geoff 2 hated fighting them last time and will not want to fight a third English war.
Also, is Scotland still fighting it's civil war? If not who won?
I wish you and yours all the best.
The former Queen had her chance. The best thing that can happen to her is a loss of her lands. At worse I expect her and her entire family to be killed. Geoff 2 hated fighting them last time and will not want to fight a third English war.
Also, is Scotland still fighting it's civil war? If not who won?
I wish you and yours all the best.
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Ælfric's demands were made to be denied, certainly. The archbishop thought himself unassailable, though, and that was his first mistake. The second one was to drive Ælfflæd beyond the edge, making her realize that the time has come to destroy her enemies once and for all.
Thoræd's words fit well here, even if England tears itself apart, the snakes unleashed from their pit.
Well, Margo was an easy guess, but I wouldn't have expected Guilhem to marry English (well, Norman). Still, one of two, good enough, I guess.
And oh yes, that's a very understandable takeover of Ælfflæd to salvage the AI's doings. It's very frustrating whenever that happens, especially if you fought a difficult war to install your kin and the new monarch is thrown out within a few months.
Taking allies into account, as well as having some kind of loyalist faction, would help there.
Thoræd's words fit well here, even if England tears itself apart, the snakes unleashed from their pit.
Well, Margo was an easy guess, but I wouldn't have expected Guilhem to marry English (well, Norman). Still, one of two, good enough, I guess.
And oh yes, that's a very understandable takeover of Ælfflæd to salvage the AI's doings. It's very frustrating whenever that happens, especially if you fought a difficult war to install your kin and the new monarch is thrown out within a few months.
Taking allies into account, as well as having some kind of loyalist faction, would help there.
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Yeah. Sadly, installing claimants on foreign thrones usually results in that because they only get the one county. Like, had I my druthers, I'd have taken the whole of Cornwall from Ecgwyn and/or Kent from Osmund (since Elf has a weak claim on Kent as well). But that's not how the game works.
I will say Elf makes a play for more land. But the AI doesn't always seem to revoke lands. I know it can - Essa did that in this save by revoking and seizing Narbonne from a child vassal. But I don't know that it does as punishment for rebellion.
She sure does. Had I been in control, I'd have seized a great deal more. I also did want Wiltshire too, since it would tie back to the family lands and legacy. But the AI had other plans.
Jordan has missed his calling ... as the guy in short shorts who “Is just here to clean your pool, maam”!
Excellent! I’m glad she gave the knave the bum’s rush.
This is very logical, but sounds almost like some Lollard ‘heresy’
A nice line from Osmund. He’s not so dumb as his character trait implies.
And so the circle begins to close with those flashbacks. Nicely done.
Let us trust in Geoffre’s bigger battalions, if it comes to that. Nice to see Ælfflæd in armour, two. Boudicca indeed.
Enjoyed them. Like looking back at an old family album: “And this is your uncle Ed, when he still had hair!”
The story comes first in this AAR: it is narrative first, so AI fails in gameplay need to be corrected once in a while.
I mean he's already kind of in that calling. Adelise plucked him right when he came of age. She's nearly twice as old as he is - being a powerful duchess has it's perks, I guess. But yeah, he lacks the immaculate facial hair of many of the other characters in this story.
My wife wanted her to do more. But oh did I dislike the English church this save. I mean it wasn't just them... but they were annoying. And continue to be over the next little bit.
Yeah, Osmund's dull trait does him no favors, but if he dropped the drunkard trait and had ambitious instead of content, he'd actually be pretty solid. Of course, then he'd be a different character.
I make him out to be a man who has been through a lot and he feels older than he is. If you notice, he and Ælfflæd are closer in age than Ælfflæd and Geoffrey - so they're hardly different generations, even if it seems that way at times. But he's also been chancellor for most of his life, a duke since before he came of age, had a sister who was a queen, a sister who was married to the most powerful lord in the realm... and is one of the realm's strongest figures in his own right. He's seen a lot, done a lot, and has a lot of regrets.
The flashbacks are interesting to write but always a bit scary because I have a general idea of what happened, but I tend to fill in the blanks a bit each time. So I have to remember to stay consistent. But I do like them and this one was possibly my favorite. I enjoyed a brief look of what Aquitaine/Geoffrey I looked like from outside of the Angevin world. And also a brief look when Thoræd was riding higher than we found him when this generation's tale began.
Part of these flashbacks is also a growth in Ælfflæd. She views her father differently now than she did a decade ago, and a large part of that is being a queen in her own right. I don't want to say she forgives him for not ransoming her sooner... but there's much more of a "oh, that's why this happened" than before. And, as she says here, a reminder of how to do better.
I'm glad you enjoyed them as well! I almost wanted to throw a few more in there. I kind of did with Emmanuel - a reminder of how long he's been in this story now, even if for much of it, he was on the periphery. (He rose in Agen about a year after Geoffrey I inherited Anjou, if I remember correctly.)
Yep, will explain more below. I'm not a fan of gaming the system for an unrealistic outcome, but I felt the alternative was far more unlikely.
It was an invention of the story. Wulfrun was pretty much broken (incapable) when she returned to England, so I decided to give her a rationale for it. Nothing in the game happens like that, of course.
Ecgwyn did have her chance, though if I'm being fair, she was a child and was dealt an unwinnable hand. That said, she could have prospered well in Cornwall. Heck, had she cozied up to Ælfflæd enough, she probably could have had her daughter marry Guilhem, unifying the two claims.
You're right though - Geoffrey intends this to be the last war in England he fights - at least against these vassals. So it does not bode for any of the rebels if they lose.
Scotland *is* still fighting the civil war. Damn thing is never ending. I keep meaning to throw an update to it in there but I never find the space. Louis is still going strong as the duke consort of Albany. Him and his legion of children with the duchess. The pair have had a pretty productive marriage - kind of a pity I didn't find a way to marry her into the Angevin family tree. She'd have done well.
Thank you! We have our ups and downs. Hopefully we're on our way to more of the former than the latter!
If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. It's very likely the archbishop never intended his first demands with Acre to ever succeed, hoping Elf would torch her vassal relationships and be humiliated while her husband was away. Whoops! Turned out Elf was more resilient than he expected and Geoffrey had a friend with a vested interest in not letting his wife get hauled off to Egypt or Acre.
But trying it again with a much more confident Elf was a big mistake. Especially since that confident Ælfflæd has a far more willing and eager Geoffrey behind her. That said, things aren't done with the English clergy yet.
Thoræd is a figure I tried to provide a bit more... roundness to, for lack of a better description. He came off as an undiplomatic blowhard to Geoffrey I and Marguerite, but there was more to him than that. And there's even more to him than Ælfflæd initially conceded. I hope to convey her opinion of him is becoming more nuanced as she goes through somewhat similar trials.
Guilhem's choice of bride was admittedly difficult. There were a few women who might make for good claimant wars in the future. Or even some who might inherit lands outright. That said, this is where story/narrative/characterization felt more right than gameplay. Adelise is a powerful lady in England. Securing Mercia/York and possibly Lancaster would go a long way to locking down Guilhem as King of England. And Adelise was Ælfflæd's first real backer in England. It made sense Ælfflæd would lean in that direction.
Which brings me to the further explanation of how this all went down.
So to all - I've long hinted at the fact I had to do some shenanigans to get this to work. I had two annoyances - I have next to no influence on the AI's decision making, and the fact I have no control over Guilhem and Margo, despite having complete control the other kids Geoffrey and Ælfflæd had.
If I were in control of Ælfflæd, with Geoffrey's influence, it felt clear to me both Margo and Guilhem would be used to secure loyalty/alliances within England. Both are invested in seeing out their children in power on the Isles. This helps secure it. The AI had no problem with either union - in other words, had Margo and Guilhem been in my court, I'd have been able to get the same marriages no problem, so I went about doing it.
With the AI decision making - for whatever reason the AI simply doesn't take alliances into play. Or maybe it does but it didn't feel confident I would accept the call to arms? Either way, there was no way I could write Ælfflæd giving up the crown and Geoffrey accepting it. Perhaps I could have spun it as the Anarchy, with Ælfflæd struggling to maintain power before Guilhem eventually wins himself the crown, but the claim system in CK2 doesn't really support that.
For one, Elf wouldn't return to Aquitaine, she'd stay in Lydford, just as Ecgwyn's subject. I wouldn't be able to help her regain anything. Nor even would Guilhem, even if I gave him land or he inherited. He also couldn't take it himself with his mother alive, since he doesn't get a claim until she dies.
In any case, the way I've written Geoffrey would preclude any of this. He'd never just let Ælfflæd surrender. If she did, he'd sail across the channel and just make Guilhem king.
So yeah, this was the best way I could do it - switch into Ælfflæd's control, do the two marriages, get the rebellion demand, refuse and then switch back to Geoffrey and offer to join the war.
The rebellion is next chapter, with more clarity on who is siding with who and where a few thing stand. As usual with this time in the gameplay, there's other things going on in addition to the rebellion, which I will look to touch on at points in the coming chapters. Toulouse! Poitou! Chalorais and Burgundy! And of course, that new Occitan pope deciding on that Crusade. All of those areas feature in the next few updates, even if they are not all at once. Hopefully I can balance them where they all get fair play but don't get out of hand with this whole long awaited English revolt happening.
Hope every is doing well. Thanks as always for reading, commenting and your continued support, through long chapters and less-consistent updates! You all remain much appreciated!
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Thank you for reminding us of the history. Geoffrey was a diplomatic savant to have a 23 with only a D3 education and a Seduction focus. Geoffrey's diplomacy base score must have exceeded the total score for any of his other four stats. 'Slow' Aveis easily outstats big sister Adelise, trailing in only one and receiving four to one education stars. Margo's young boy seems to have a nice basis with 9 points at age 5. But Guilhem's girl has work to do with only 13 points at age 10 and being willful. Elf has two rare occurrences. The number of her traits is exceeded by both the stars in her education and the number of her modifiers. This is probably the result of her childhood captivity as one gains most traits in childhood while education is determined by your guardianship on the day before your 16th birthday and modifiers accumulate in adulthood.
Thank you for your honesty in explaining the tag out to help the AI make the proper decision about defending England. While I play on Ironman, my only goal is surviving and taking the time to look at every interesting roadside attraction on route 66. This may be England being ruled by an imbecilic Mongol Nestorian child after the murders of his English royal uncle and aunt or a Sunni HRE Kaiser ruling from Powys, Wales. You have invested four years in recreating history with a specific result: Taking the Anjou family from one French county to ruling the Kingdom of England. Your vacation succeeds if one and only one condition is met. No matter the number of times backseat passengers scream "Are we there yet?" spending a day at the magic kingdom will make the vacation a success but getting detoured to watch Shamu jump through hoops would be a great but failed vacation.
I applaud and thank you for your labors. Let the light that we see be the end of the tunnel and not an approaching train.
Thank you for your honesty in explaining the tag out to help the AI make the proper decision about defending England. While I play on Ironman, my only goal is surviving and taking the time to look at every interesting roadside attraction on route 66. This may be England being ruled by an imbecilic Mongol Nestorian child after the murders of his English royal uncle and aunt or a Sunni HRE Kaiser ruling from Powys, Wales. You have invested four years in recreating history with a specific result: Taking the Anjou family from one French county to ruling the Kingdom of England. Your vacation succeeds if one and only one condition is met. No matter the number of times backseat passengers scream "Are we there yet?" spending a day at the magic kingdom will make the vacation a success but getting detoured to watch Shamu jump through hoops would be a great but failed vacation.
I applaud and thank you for your labors. Let the light that we see be the end of the tunnel and not an approaching train.
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England is in for a huge shock when a strong monarch who is incapable of being intimated by an English revolt comes to power. Not only is their power base across the channel, but they're also much stronger, richer and better connected than the English forces combined. Add on aqutiane as a whole...England is going to get 'reorganised' OTL Norman style I think.
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I've been reading the classic Nigerian novel "Things Fall Apart" and the main character has a surprising similarity to Foulques. It's neat to find glimpses of things you read in other works.
Scottish history in this setting is messed up. A king ate his pregnant daughter-in-law and now this eternal civil war. Mind you they are not the first country to have this problem, France had a running series of conflicts during the reign of Philip I. Here's hoping the country doesn't disintegrate. I've also had some nasty running civil wars in my own games.
Scottish history in this setting is messed up. A king ate his pregnant daughter-in-law and now this eternal civil war. Mind you they are not the first country to have this problem, France had a running series of conflicts during the reign of Philip I. Here's hoping the country doesn't disintegrate. I've also had some nasty running civil wars in my own games.
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Honestly, I'm surprised we didn't see even more vassals join the revolt. At the least I thought East Anglia and Somerset would join in. This'll be interesting, since even after the traitors have been culled there will still be lots of potential for intrigue with the remaining Saxon lords. I do feel slightly bad for Aevis, since she was essentially abandoned by her liege in all this. Adelise seems untrustworthy and opportunistic to me, so we'll see if these coming events are enough to retain her loyalty.
Thanks for another great update.
Thanks for another great update.
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I was re-reading the old chapters. It really made me miss the characters of Foulques era. I hope you will revisit them in some for with that new project you planned to work on. Your characters are the best part of your writing. You are a superb storyteller and will be even better when you don't have to cover for stupid AI things. Take however long you need.
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