Ætheling - An Anglo-Saxon CK2+ AAR
- Thread starter Andrzej I
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Good to have you back sir! Great update too. I'm glad that some of our young king's Earls are cognisant of the authority he wields as King. It seems there are also some who are overmighty. We will see how that plays out eh?
Ahem, you still have readers.
All too kind
Time will tell in regard to how many wars Edgar engages in, much less wins, but as for becoming a warrior...
Yes and no. That tier one person combat skill remains until 1094, which is as far as I've played yet, but his martial raises up some from the 6 or so it's at.
Definitely so. It's interesting how only Waltheof, Earl of Huntingdon, is not of the Houses Godwin or Leofric (or Hwicce as the game names it), while all the other earls are. Fortunately, the random events at coronation gave Edgar friends in Edwin and Morcar, and Harold has passed, making the Cerdicing hold on the throne a bit more secure... even if Edgar still only holds Middlesex.
Monmouth: 1075 - 1079
Sheets of rain drove hard against the earth, a fierce torrent of wind buffeting any foolish enough or unfortunate enough to have not sought shelter against the storm. Riding alone, clutching his cloak tightly about himself, Idwal Griffithsson was a man without a home. His eldest brother, Meredith, had been left a shallow husk of a man from a pox, and his sister, Nest, had been given in marriage to the nephew of the petty king of Leinster and Dublin, a self-righteous and arrogant man, whose uncle was occupied with the strife to the north, several chiefs having risen up against Aidan the Fourth, the mad King of Aileach. After many years in Dublin, his wife had approached him, rebuking him that a true prince would not rest so easy while their father's legacy was sullied by incapable and immoral rulers. And so it was that he journeyed for Westminster, braving the stormy English winter to plead with the hated Saxon for aid.
The doors to the great hall swung open, the warmth of great hearthfires beat against Idwal's face, giving him pause as several thegns rushed forward. In a loud voice, one of them declared to the Saxon court, "Idwal, son of Griffith, Prince of the Britons!" His hazel eyes drifted over the many earls and thegns that attended the young King of the Angles and of the Saxons, men who were rumoured to be the true force of governance in the kingdom while their zealous king buried his nose in holy scripture. Amongst these powerful figures in Saxon society were certain to be kinsmen of Harold Godwinson, the man who set his father to flight, where he was slain by one of his own men in treachery. Swallowing his pride, Idwal strode forward and cast himself before the raised dais.
Silence immediately filled the hall as attention slowly fell upon this foreign guest. Even the drunken rambling of a few reeves was stilled by their neighbors, all waiting to see how the son of the only King of All the Britons would be received. One of the nobles leaned over towards the king, slight of build and with a sharp cunning in his eyes and in his smile. Whispering soft words to Edgar Edwardsson, there was little doubt in Idwal's mind that this was Edwin, Earl of Mercia, one of the men who had brought the young Cerdicing to the throne and the son of Ælfgar, an ally of his kingly father. Rising up from his throne, the young man spread open his arms, saying, "Idwal, son of Griffith, you are welcome in this place. Tell me, what troubles have you so distraught, have harried you to lead your feet to this place?"
Remaining low before the Saxons, the descendants of men who had treacherously slain his forefathers, Idwal rose up to his knees. Before he could speak, a certain figure caught his eye - a fellow youth, sitting aloof from the king and his closer supporters. Dressed in rich, crimson linen embroidered in gold thread, he drank with a shrewd and fidgeting man of similar appearance. When this gaze was noticed, and the young man turned a scowling look upon him, Idwal quickly directed his attention away, bowing his head briefly before replying to the King, "My heart has been heavy with the plight of my people, whose princes rule without justice and without righteousness."
"It is so," Edwin of Mercia soon remarked in that voice full of whispers, "Cerdic, the Prince of Gwent, has greatly increased his number of retainers, and has time and again raided into the lands of Hereford. Is that not so, Harold, thegn?" With a smile sharp as a knife, the Earl of Mercia looked to the young man, the god-child of Harold Godwinson, the late Earl of Wessex. Grumbling into his cups, the thegn of Hereford gave a begrudging nod, having had to fight bitterly against the Welsh to defend the tomb of Saint Æthelberht. "And neither he nor Cadogan, King of Glywysing, hold any care for Christian virtues, but instead seek to oppress the Church," Edwin continued, subtly eying as the King's righteous anger against these princes of the Welsh was kindled further.
"Tell me, o men of wisdom, why should we help this dog?" declared Godwine, Earl of Wessex, as he rose from his chair. Gesturing then to Idwal, who cowered before such spiteful words, Godwine continued, "This son of Griffith, King of the Welsh, who but twenty years ago harried our towns? Do you think he desires anything save but to unite the Welsh against us as his father had?" Then, shooting a sharp look at Edwin, this eldest son of Harold Godwinson scowled, rebuking him, "And you, Edwin, Earl of Mercia, should know best, for it was at Griffith's hand your great-uncle was slain, the very man for whom you were named!"
Rising to his brother's defense, Morcar, Earl of Northumbria thundered out, red-faced and moved with a fury, "Then we should think about what your grandfather did, slaying Alfred Ætheling, supposedly at Harold Harefoot's bidding!" Godwine began to speak, but Morcar would not allow him, slamming his tankard down against the table, ale sloshing free from the cup as he continued, "And who was exiled when he defied the orders of Edward, King. Tell me, boy, do you then intend to follow your forefather's example as you claim this man will?!" At once there was an uproar, the hall divided between the partisans of these two great houses. It was only when the King called for order, and when Gyrth, Earl of East Anglia supported him, that the conflict was stilled.
Taking a moment of silence in which to murmur a silent prayer for guidance, Edgar Edwardsson then looked intently to the Prince of the Britons, saying, "The Earl of Wessex raises a troubling concern. Is it that you have arrived here at my hall to beg me to make war upon all the princes of the Welsh?" There was a brief pause before the King emphasized further, "Even those who have acknowledged me as King of England, such as Meredith, Prince of the Southern Welsh, or Bleddyn, King of Powys and Gwynedd, showing me naught but friendship?"
At this, Idwal hesitated, gritting his teeth. Meredith had became known as 'the Clueless' for his unjust rulership, oft cruel and moved easily to fury, and Bleddyn had become a man given over unto the pleasures of the flesh. As the Prince of the Bretons struggled for words, it was then that Waltheof, son of Siward and Earl of Huntingdon, spoke in that quiet, uncertain voice of his, "Surely what the Prince meant was that he desired our aid in rescuing his people from the misrule of some of his father's successors - such as Cerdic of Gwent." Looking then to Edgar, Waltheof pled, "Is it not our place as Christian brothers to aid the foreigner amongst us, as if he were native to our people?"
Ever the voice of compromise, Gyrth, Earl of East Anglia then spoke up, seeing profit in this opportunity, "It would benefit our people to see Cerdic of Gwent thrown from power, my King, for even now the church at Monmouth shuns him." Gesturing then to Idwal, who remained kneeling before the dias, Gyrth continued, "But we do not need Griffith's son to restore order. Griffith became King of the Welsh at the point of a sword, and that led him to strive to conquer 'til he could no more. It would be a fool to allow the son to follow in his father's belligerent footsteps."
"Then it is agreed, we should see him put to death," sneered Godwine, eying Idwal with eyes full of malice, "For he seeks only to bring strife, and surely as the Lord lives, by allowing him to live, he will only bring bloodshed, both to his people and, in time, our own as well." Bolting up to his feet now, Idwal staggered back a few steps, fearful that his wife's schemes would now bring an end to him, and with him, the royal Briton house of Seisyll. But then the King of the Angles and of the Saxons spoke again.
"Fear not! For surely as the Lord lives, I shall not harm you, Idwal, son of Griffith," declared Edgar Edwardsson, his voice full of conviction. With another scoff, Godwine then took his seat, returning to his drink with his uncle, Leofwine, both men who held their king in low regard. With a sigh and shake of his head, the young king looked aside for a time, brow furrowed in deep reflection upon the matter. The Earl of Mercia leaned in again, whispering into Edgar's ear, counseling the King in private. Taking these hushed words into consideration, the young Cerdicing nodded, stating, "We shall help you, Idwal, son of Griffith-"
"Surely you don't-!" spat out Godwine, Earl of Wessex before a stern look from his uncle, the Earl of East Anglia, stilled him back to silence.
Giving a faint shake of his head at the interruption, Edgar Edwardsson continued, clarifying, "But it shall not be to make you as King of All the Britons. No, though we shall deliver your people from their wicked princes, it shall only be those who have strayed far from God who shall have cause to fear our arms." With a brief glance over towards the Thegn of Hereford, the young king nodded to himself in affirmation, soon declaring, "And it shall be Cerdic of Gwent who shall be cast first from his throne, for his inequities are great before the Lord." Looking then to the Protector of England, Edgar ordered, "Gyrth, I shall entrust to you the humbling of the Prince of Gwent, with the fyrds of Mercia and of Wessex soon." The king did not bother to look to Godwine for his reaction.
"We shall write to the Holy Father to seek his blessing in this endeavor," continued Edgar Edwardsson, over the quiet clamour of his court at so bold a move, "That we take lay low the castles of Gwent, and see the town of Monmouth brought into our dominion." With an emphatic nod, the young king then took his seat again, and servants prepared a place for Idwal, once Prince of the Britons, now a member of the Saxon court, perhaps not entirely by his own will. Though rebuffed in his attempt to succeed his father as King of All the Britons, Idwal did feel assured that Edgar's righteous rule would be a marked improvement over the petty, bickering princes that had stolen his inheritance.
Months passed, and the House of Godwin maneuvered subtly to gain further support from the thegns and earls of England. When the wife of Waltheof, Earl of Huntingdon, passed from illness early in the summer of our Lord 1076, Godwine gently offered out the hand of his sister, Gytha, as a bride. Though possessed of an ill-temperament as sharp as the axes she was fond of wielding, Waltheof saw no cause to make an enemy of the powerful House of Godwin. Neither did Harduin, Thegn of Norfolk, whose brother, Ralf, had perished within the King's dungeons for his treacherous support of William the Bastard years before, soon accepting the hand of Godwine's sister Gunhilda in marriage.
Yet, even as the House of Godwine gained new allies, the House of Cerdic grew as well. Not only would Cristina come to bear two more children for her lord husband, a daughter, Cristina, in August of the year of our Lord 1076, followed by another son, Sigefrith, in November of 1077, but at Edgar's suggestion, she became a cherished companion of her husband as well. Making use of her love of socialization, it was not before long that Cristina would come to be the public face for Edwin, Earl of Mercia, winning over his subjects with her eloquence and piety. As Cristina bore more children into the extended royal house, Edgar's own grew, and as his eldest matured, the young Ætheling Æthelwine was given over to Gyrth, Earl of East Anglia, for fostering, that he might grow to be as steadfast and prudent a warrior as he. But a few months later, Edgar Edwardsson took Gyrth's second son, Edgar, as a ward of his own, vowing to raise the child up in the ways of the Lord.
The coming of the new year, 1078, would bring with it troubling news. Discontent with the rule of Bleddyn, King of Gwynedd and Powys, Theodore, the Prince of the Midlands, rose up in rebellion against his king. Though his armies would be crushed, and his vassalage forcibly restored, Bleddyn would find himself wounded in the fray and would die of his wounds within a matter of weeks. With his passing, the kingdoms of Gwynedd and Powys were split between his children, with his eldest elected as the King of Gwynedd while his second inherited Powys, further dividing the Welsh amongst themselves. The timing was right, and so, in March of the year of our Lord 1079, Edgar Edwardsson commanded Gyrth, Protector of England, to take command of the fyrds of Mercia and Wessex, leading them towards the rich kingdom of Gwent.
Though Gyrth had become a trusted right hand to the King, neither earl was willing to part with their fyrds, but instead bade the Earl of East Anglia that they be allowed to accompany their countrymen into the fray. Seeing no cause for concern, for Edwin was an experienced leader of men, and Godwine had shown some promise in his youth and become an avid scholar of military strategy as he matured, both earls were allowed to join him upon the campaign. Absent, however, would be the King of the Angles and of the Saxons himself, for Edgar had decided to show caution in light of the words that Morcar had told him years ago, instead remaining in Westminster to oversee the stewardship of the realm, much to the delight of his wife, who was rearing the young Princess Leofe.
Nor would the royal couple be alone. While Edwin and Godwine marched alongside Gyrth, the descendants of Leofric had brought to the royal court a new figure. Owning a fair few estates around the town of Bolingbroke, Thorold had been a reeve of that town for some time before Edwin had called him up into service as his thegn. When he departed for the campaign against the Kingdom of Gwent, that Earl of Mercia saw it prudent to commit Thorold into the King's service, vowing that Thorold was a prudent and capable advisor, a man of great piety, much to the King's delight. It was not before long that Edgar took a liking to the wise man from Bolingbroke, and soon his youngest child, Æthelfrith, was committed into his care.
Over the years, the Kingdom of Gwent had prospered under the rule of Cerdic, son of Griffith. Generous and well-beloved by the common man beneath his rule, he had brought traders from near and far to Monmouth, and soon it had become a burgeoning hub for the wool trade, with a charter being given to form a weaving guild within the city proper. Though the Church had indeed moved against him, and even excommunicated him, Cerdic was no friend of the Church and paid little heed. Little did he know that the writ of excommunication, delivered by papal emissary, would be the harbinger of darker things to come.
When word arrived that the fyrdmen of Wessex were gathering in Gloucester, and that the Earl of Mercia was said to be calling upon his fyrd as well, Cerdic sent word across the Irish Sea. The prosperity of his little kingdom had given him great riches, and it would be with these riches that he would seek to defend his kingdom, knowing well that against either earldom alone he would be hard-pressed to match their numbers. And so it was that he bought the loyalty of a band of Norsemen, sellswords that sailed about the isles, calling themselves the Sons of Ireland. Having already worked for Cerdic in the past, guarding some of his ships as they sailed to distant ports, Einar, the Captain of the Sons of Ireland, was a ready choice for the King of Gwent.
Unfortunately for the Welsh Prince, it would prove to be insufficient. While the Norsemen could bolster his numbers to some two and a half thousand men, the fyrds of the Saxons were three times that number, and led by the veteran Gyrth 'the Eagle', the armies of England easily triumphed over the Welsh and their Norse mercenaries. Fortified town after town fell before the Saxons, but by royal writ, no slaughter was permitted, and Gyrth managed to keep the army in line. As the Saxons drew near to Monmouth, Cerdic was overtaken with despair, and sending out a messenger with word of surrender, he fled into hiding, joining the court of Bleddyn's third son in Merioneth.
Riding to Monmouth when word of triumph arrived at Westminster, Edgar was well-pleased with what he found. Joining him was not only his wife, but also his sister Cristina as well, concerned over the well-being of her husband. Age not diminishing her beauty, the fiery Princess embraced her husband fiercely, this show of affection managing to break Edwin's usually mild demeanor. For the time being, as Spring waned on in the year of our Lord 1079, all seemed right with the world. The young king was making plans for a campaign later in the year with the aid of the House of Leofric against the weakened Kingdom of Gwynedd, forcing it further into subjugation. Little did he know what the following months would bring, what turmoil would fall upon Christendom and upon the isle of Britain, and how these happy moments in Monmouth would be the last for many years to come.
Sheets of rain drove hard against the earth, a fierce torrent of wind buffeting any foolish enough or unfortunate enough to have not sought shelter against the storm. Riding alone, clutching his cloak tightly about himself, Idwal Griffithsson was a man without a home. His eldest brother, Meredith, had been left a shallow husk of a man from a pox, and his sister, Nest, had been given in marriage to the nephew of the petty king of Leinster and Dublin, a self-righteous and arrogant man, whose uncle was occupied with the strife to the north, several chiefs having risen up against Aidan the Fourth, the mad King of Aileach. After many years in Dublin, his wife had approached him, rebuking him that a true prince would not rest so easy while their father's legacy was sullied by incapable and immoral rulers. And so it was that he journeyed for Westminster, braving the stormy English winter to plead with the hated Saxon for aid.
The doors to the great hall swung open, the warmth of great hearthfires beat against Idwal's face, giving him pause as several thegns rushed forward. In a loud voice, one of them declared to the Saxon court, "Idwal, son of Griffith, Prince of the Britons!" His hazel eyes drifted over the many earls and thegns that attended the young King of the Angles and of the Saxons, men who were rumoured to be the true force of governance in the kingdom while their zealous king buried his nose in holy scripture. Amongst these powerful figures in Saxon society were certain to be kinsmen of Harold Godwinson, the man who set his father to flight, where he was slain by one of his own men in treachery. Swallowing his pride, Idwal strode forward and cast himself before the raised dais.
Silence immediately filled the hall as attention slowly fell upon this foreign guest. Even the drunken rambling of a few reeves was stilled by their neighbors, all waiting to see how the son of the only King of All the Britons would be received. One of the nobles leaned over towards the king, slight of build and with a sharp cunning in his eyes and in his smile. Whispering soft words to Edgar Edwardsson, there was little doubt in Idwal's mind that this was Edwin, Earl of Mercia, one of the men who had brought the young Cerdicing to the throne and the son of Ælfgar, an ally of his kingly father. Rising up from his throne, the young man spread open his arms, saying, "Idwal, son of Griffith, you are welcome in this place. Tell me, what troubles have you so distraught, have harried you to lead your feet to this place?"
Remaining low before the Saxons, the descendants of men who had treacherously slain his forefathers, Idwal rose up to his knees. Before he could speak, a certain figure caught his eye - a fellow youth, sitting aloof from the king and his closer supporters. Dressed in rich, crimson linen embroidered in gold thread, he drank with a shrewd and fidgeting man of similar appearance. When this gaze was noticed, and the young man turned a scowling look upon him, Idwal quickly directed his attention away, bowing his head briefly before replying to the King, "My heart has been heavy with the plight of my people, whose princes rule without justice and without righteousness."
"It is so," Edwin of Mercia soon remarked in that voice full of whispers, "Cerdic, the Prince of Gwent, has greatly increased his number of retainers, and has time and again raided into the lands of Hereford. Is that not so, Harold, thegn?" With a smile sharp as a knife, the Earl of Mercia looked to the young man, the god-child of Harold Godwinson, the late Earl of Wessex. Grumbling into his cups, the thegn of Hereford gave a begrudging nod, having had to fight bitterly against the Welsh to defend the tomb of Saint Æthelberht. "And neither he nor Cadogan, King of Glywysing, hold any care for Christian virtues, but instead seek to oppress the Church," Edwin continued, subtly eying as the King's righteous anger against these princes of the Welsh was kindled further.
"Tell me, o men of wisdom, why should we help this dog?" declared Godwine, Earl of Wessex, as he rose from his chair. Gesturing then to Idwal, who cowered before such spiteful words, Godwine continued, "This son of Griffith, King of the Welsh, who but twenty years ago harried our towns? Do you think he desires anything save but to unite the Welsh against us as his father had?" Then, shooting a sharp look at Edwin, this eldest son of Harold Godwinson scowled, rebuking him, "And you, Edwin, Earl of Mercia, should know best, for it was at Griffith's hand your great-uncle was slain, the very man for whom you were named!"
Rising to his brother's defense, Morcar, Earl of Northumbria thundered out, red-faced and moved with a fury, "Then we should think about what your grandfather did, slaying Alfred Ætheling, supposedly at Harold Harefoot's bidding!" Godwine began to speak, but Morcar would not allow him, slamming his tankard down against the table, ale sloshing free from the cup as he continued, "And who was exiled when he defied the orders of Edward, King. Tell me, boy, do you then intend to follow your forefather's example as you claim this man will?!" At once there was an uproar, the hall divided between the partisans of these two great houses. It was only when the King called for order, and when Gyrth, Earl of East Anglia supported him, that the conflict was stilled.
Taking a moment of silence in which to murmur a silent prayer for guidance, Edgar Edwardsson then looked intently to the Prince of the Britons, saying, "The Earl of Wessex raises a troubling concern. Is it that you have arrived here at my hall to beg me to make war upon all the princes of the Welsh?" There was a brief pause before the King emphasized further, "Even those who have acknowledged me as King of England, such as Meredith, Prince of the Southern Welsh, or Bleddyn, King of Powys and Gwynedd, showing me naught but friendship?"
At this, Idwal hesitated, gritting his teeth. Meredith had became known as 'the Clueless' for his unjust rulership, oft cruel and moved easily to fury, and Bleddyn had become a man given over unto the pleasures of the flesh. As the Prince of the Bretons struggled for words, it was then that Waltheof, son of Siward and Earl of Huntingdon, spoke in that quiet, uncertain voice of his, "Surely what the Prince meant was that he desired our aid in rescuing his people from the misrule of some of his father's successors - such as Cerdic of Gwent." Looking then to Edgar, Waltheof pled, "Is it not our place as Christian brothers to aid the foreigner amongst us, as if he were native to our people?"
Ever the voice of compromise, Gyrth, Earl of East Anglia then spoke up, seeing profit in this opportunity, "It would benefit our people to see Cerdic of Gwent thrown from power, my King, for even now the church at Monmouth shuns him." Gesturing then to Idwal, who remained kneeling before the dias, Gyrth continued, "But we do not need Griffith's son to restore order. Griffith became King of the Welsh at the point of a sword, and that led him to strive to conquer 'til he could no more. It would be a fool to allow the son to follow in his father's belligerent footsteps."
"Then it is agreed, we should see him put to death," sneered Godwine, eying Idwal with eyes full of malice, "For he seeks only to bring strife, and surely as the Lord lives, by allowing him to live, he will only bring bloodshed, both to his people and, in time, our own as well." Bolting up to his feet now, Idwal staggered back a few steps, fearful that his wife's schemes would now bring an end to him, and with him, the royal Briton house of Seisyll. But then the King of the Angles and of the Saxons spoke again.
"Fear not! For surely as the Lord lives, I shall not harm you, Idwal, son of Griffith," declared Edgar Edwardsson, his voice full of conviction. With another scoff, Godwine then took his seat, returning to his drink with his uncle, Leofwine, both men who held their king in low regard. With a sigh and shake of his head, the young king looked aside for a time, brow furrowed in deep reflection upon the matter. The Earl of Mercia leaned in again, whispering into Edgar's ear, counseling the King in private. Taking these hushed words into consideration, the young Cerdicing nodded, stating, "We shall help you, Idwal, son of Griffith-"
"Surely you don't-!" spat out Godwine, Earl of Wessex before a stern look from his uncle, the Earl of East Anglia, stilled him back to silence.
Giving a faint shake of his head at the interruption, Edgar Edwardsson continued, clarifying, "But it shall not be to make you as King of All the Britons. No, though we shall deliver your people from their wicked princes, it shall only be those who have strayed far from God who shall have cause to fear our arms." With a brief glance over towards the Thegn of Hereford, the young king nodded to himself in affirmation, soon declaring, "And it shall be Cerdic of Gwent who shall be cast first from his throne, for his inequities are great before the Lord." Looking then to the Protector of England, Edgar ordered, "Gyrth, I shall entrust to you the humbling of the Prince of Gwent, with the fyrds of Mercia and of Wessex soon." The king did not bother to look to Godwine for his reaction.
"We shall write to the Holy Father to seek his blessing in this endeavor," continued Edgar Edwardsson, over the quiet clamour of his court at so bold a move, "That we take lay low the castles of Gwent, and see the town of Monmouth brought into our dominion." With an emphatic nod, the young king then took his seat again, and servants prepared a place for Idwal, once Prince of the Britons, now a member of the Saxon court, perhaps not entirely by his own will. Though rebuffed in his attempt to succeed his father as King of All the Britons, Idwal did feel assured that Edgar's righteous rule would be a marked improvement over the petty, bickering princes that had stolen his inheritance.
Months passed, and the House of Godwin maneuvered subtly to gain further support from the thegns and earls of England. When the wife of Waltheof, Earl of Huntingdon, passed from illness early in the summer of our Lord 1076, Godwine gently offered out the hand of his sister, Gytha, as a bride. Though possessed of an ill-temperament as sharp as the axes she was fond of wielding, Waltheof saw no cause to make an enemy of the powerful House of Godwin. Neither did Harduin, Thegn of Norfolk, whose brother, Ralf, had perished within the King's dungeons for his treacherous support of William the Bastard years before, soon accepting the hand of Godwine's sister Gunhilda in marriage.
Yet, even as the House of Godwine gained new allies, the House of Cerdic grew as well. Not only would Cristina come to bear two more children for her lord husband, a daughter, Cristina, in August of the year of our Lord 1076, followed by another son, Sigefrith, in November of 1077, but at Edgar's suggestion, she became a cherished companion of her husband as well. Making use of her love of socialization, it was not before long that Cristina would come to be the public face for Edwin, Earl of Mercia, winning over his subjects with her eloquence and piety. As Cristina bore more children into the extended royal house, Edgar's own grew, and as his eldest matured, the young Ætheling Æthelwine was given over to Gyrth, Earl of East Anglia, for fostering, that he might grow to be as steadfast and prudent a warrior as he. But a few months later, Edgar Edwardsson took Gyrth's second son, Edgar, as a ward of his own, vowing to raise the child up in the ways of the Lord.
The coming of the new year, 1078, would bring with it troubling news. Discontent with the rule of Bleddyn, King of Gwynedd and Powys, Theodore, the Prince of the Midlands, rose up in rebellion against his king. Though his armies would be crushed, and his vassalage forcibly restored, Bleddyn would find himself wounded in the fray and would die of his wounds within a matter of weeks. With his passing, the kingdoms of Gwynedd and Powys were split between his children, with his eldest elected as the King of Gwynedd while his second inherited Powys, further dividing the Welsh amongst themselves. The timing was right, and so, in March of the year of our Lord 1079, Edgar Edwardsson commanded Gyrth, Protector of England, to take command of the fyrds of Mercia and Wessex, leading them towards the rich kingdom of Gwent.
Though Gyrth had become a trusted right hand to the King, neither earl was willing to part with their fyrds, but instead bade the Earl of East Anglia that they be allowed to accompany their countrymen into the fray. Seeing no cause for concern, for Edwin was an experienced leader of men, and Godwine had shown some promise in his youth and become an avid scholar of military strategy as he matured, both earls were allowed to join him upon the campaign. Absent, however, would be the King of the Angles and of the Saxons himself, for Edgar had decided to show caution in light of the words that Morcar had told him years ago, instead remaining in Westminster to oversee the stewardship of the realm, much to the delight of his wife, who was rearing the young Princess Leofe.
Nor would the royal couple be alone. While Edwin and Godwine marched alongside Gyrth, the descendants of Leofric had brought to the royal court a new figure. Owning a fair few estates around the town of Bolingbroke, Thorold had been a reeve of that town for some time before Edwin had called him up into service as his thegn. When he departed for the campaign against the Kingdom of Gwent, that Earl of Mercia saw it prudent to commit Thorold into the King's service, vowing that Thorold was a prudent and capable advisor, a man of great piety, much to the King's delight. It was not before long that Edgar took a liking to the wise man from Bolingbroke, and soon his youngest child, Æthelfrith, was committed into his care.
Over the years, the Kingdom of Gwent had prospered under the rule of Cerdic, son of Griffith. Generous and well-beloved by the common man beneath his rule, he had brought traders from near and far to Monmouth, and soon it had become a burgeoning hub for the wool trade, with a charter being given to form a weaving guild within the city proper. Though the Church had indeed moved against him, and even excommunicated him, Cerdic was no friend of the Church and paid little heed. Little did he know that the writ of excommunication, delivered by papal emissary, would be the harbinger of darker things to come.
When word arrived that the fyrdmen of Wessex were gathering in Gloucester, and that the Earl of Mercia was said to be calling upon his fyrd as well, Cerdic sent word across the Irish Sea. The prosperity of his little kingdom had given him great riches, and it would be with these riches that he would seek to defend his kingdom, knowing well that against either earldom alone he would be hard-pressed to match their numbers. And so it was that he bought the loyalty of a band of Norsemen, sellswords that sailed about the isles, calling themselves the Sons of Ireland. Having already worked for Cerdic in the past, guarding some of his ships as they sailed to distant ports, Einar, the Captain of the Sons of Ireland, was a ready choice for the King of Gwent.
Unfortunately for the Welsh Prince, it would prove to be insufficient. While the Norsemen could bolster his numbers to some two and a half thousand men, the fyrds of the Saxons were three times that number, and led by the veteran Gyrth 'the Eagle', the armies of England easily triumphed over the Welsh and their Norse mercenaries. Fortified town after town fell before the Saxons, but by royal writ, no slaughter was permitted, and Gyrth managed to keep the army in line. As the Saxons drew near to Monmouth, Cerdic was overtaken with despair, and sending out a messenger with word of surrender, he fled into hiding, joining the court of Bleddyn's third son in Merioneth.
Riding to Monmouth when word of triumph arrived at Westminster, Edgar was well-pleased with what he found. Joining him was not only his wife, but also his sister Cristina as well, concerned over the well-being of her husband. Age not diminishing her beauty, the fiery Princess embraced her husband fiercely, this show of affection managing to break Edwin's usually mild demeanor. For the time being, as Spring waned on in the year of our Lord 1079, all seemed right with the world. The young king was making plans for a campaign later in the year with the aid of the House of Leofric against the weakened Kingdom of Gwynedd, forcing it further into subjugation. Little did he know what the following months would bring, what turmoil would fall upon Christendom and upon the isle of Britain, and how these happy moments in Monmouth would be the last for many years to come.
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Another cracking good chapter-I really like your troubadour writing style!
I wonder what dark days portend for the young King and his ilk? Looking forward to the next installment
I wonder what dark days portend for the young King and his ilk? Looking forward to the next installment
Breidden Hills: 1080
As Edgar continued his planning within the burgeoning town of Monmouth, he sent riders to Westminster, summoning the court to attend to him in this once Welsh kingdom. Thus it was that for the first time since his election as King of the Angles and of the Saxons that the royal court departed from the vicinity of London, returning to the old tradition of trailing after the king as he toured his dominion. Not only did the number of thegns and churchmen come to the former kingdom of Gwent, but so too did a number of hopeful commoners, having heard of the great promise and prosperity that could be found within the newest shire added into the Saxon domain. And so within a matter of years after its annexation, the once Briton kingdom of Gwent lost its Welsh culture, now dominated by its Saxon conquerors like in the days of old.
Not all took well to the new clime, however, for after enduring weeks of stormy weather in the beginnings of the mountainous terrain that the Welsh had come to call home, Cristina took severely ill and had to be taken back to Warwick to recover and be close to her five children with the Earl of Mercia. Though worried for the fate of his wife, Edwin recognized the King's need for his counsel, being one of the nobles most intimate with the ways of the Welsh. His father had once allied with Griffith, King of All the Britons, and even now, as Earl of Mercia, he bordered the many bickering principalities and kingdoms that made up the Welsh fiefdoms. And so it was that Edwin, Earl of Mercia, remained in Monmouth, continuing to plan the campaign against the Kingdom of Gwynedd, currently the greatest of the Welsh principalities, even with the loss of Powys to a brother. However, even as Edgar Edwardsson and his trusted advisors planned the subjugation of the Kingdom of Gwynedd, in hopes to forever bring the rebellious Welsh to heel, the two halves of Christendom would find the year of our Lord 1079 to be a pivotal year for differing reasons.
In the East, the Empire of the Greeks had been in turmoil ever since the death of Constantine X, succeeded by his eldest son, Michael VI, whose hedonism and greed saw him called 'Parapinakēs' (or 'Minus a Quarter' for devaluing the rich Greek economy) and 'the Fat'. Recognizing the incompetence of his nephew, John, Caesar of the Greeks, moved to depose him, but the damage had been done. Manuel, a nephew of Isaac Komnenos, rose in rebellion in the provinces of Asia, deposing the conniving aristocrat and ascending to the purple in the year of our Lord 1072. Though crowned by the Ecumenical Patriarch, the reign of Manuel was plagued by partisans of the Ducas family, and himself was overthrown four years later in favour of Michael VI, who returned to the throne for but a matter of months before being overthrown yet again, this time by his younger brother, Constantius IV.
Yet, the Komnenoi would not be so easily cowed. With the eldest son of John Komnenos languishing within the prisons of the Emperor of the Greeks, prisons that had once housed a number of Ducas pretenders to the throne, the opposition to this new Emperor of the Greeks came to centre around a brilliant younger brother by the name of Alexius. Blessed with a powerful eloquence that made some claim he was a second coming of the famed orator Cicero, Alexius easily won supporters to his cause through his courage and virtue, despite his young age. And so it was, upon the ninth of March, the year of our Lord 1079, that he proceeded into the Hagia Sophia, and was coronated as the Emperor of the Greeks, finally bringing an end to the constant strife and politicking of the Greeks that had crippled their empire for the past twelve years.
Even as one half of Christendom found itself unified, the other found itself yet further divided. For years, Henry IV, King of the Germans, had sought to subjugate the Bishop of Rome to his will, much as the Emperor of the Greeks had with the Ecumenical Patriarch. However, the Patriarch of the West would not be so easily subdued, and at every turn, Alexander II tactfully turned aside the German ambitions to dominate the Roman curia. Upon the fifteenth of May, the year of our Lord 1079, Henry IV convened a synod at Würzburg, consisting of many of the German bishops, though Helferich, the Patriarch of Aquileia, and Siegfried, Archbishop of Mainz, were two of several bishops who refused to attend. A damning speech by Hugh of Remiremont swayed the synod against Alexander II, and so it was that he was declared deposed. In his place, Henry IV raised up his father's former court chaplain and Imperial Chancellor, Gebhard of Helfenstein, who was consecrated as Pope Gregory V at his diocese of Salzburg.
When word arrived of this intrigue to Edgar, King of the Angles and of the Saxons, he was moved greatly with an anger against the King of the Germans. Alexander II had long been a friend of his, a man of great and abounding virtue, worthy to sit upon the throne of Saint Peter. Though he greatly desired to see Henry IV humbled from his wicked ambitions, Edgar knew within his heart that the might of the Germans was great, and without great support from the other kings of Christendom or strife within the Kingdom of Germany, there was little hope that this renegade king would submit to the Vicar of Christ. And so it was that Edgar was left to do but pray, and pray fervently he did that the Lord would deliver the Church from the temporal scheming of the King of the Germans.
In early May of the year of our Lord 1079, the Kingdom of the Angles and of the Saxons called up the fyrd of Northumbria to see to it the sons of Bleddyn, King of Gwynedd, would acknowledge Edgar Edwardsson as their suzerain. Unlike the war against the Kingdom of Gwent, in this campaign, the young King would join his thegns in their fight, daring again to enter into the fray against his foes. Dividing the fyrd roughly into thirds, some three thousand men on either flank while the Cerdicing King led the centre of just over two thousand men, the army gathered in Shropshire before marching west into the Welsh highlands. The two grandsons of Leofric led the Saxon left, while Waltheof, Earl of Huntingdon, was given the honour of leading the Saxon right.
It did not take the Welsh long to gather up their forces to oppose the sudden invasion by the powerful Saxon army, gathering at the commanding heights of the Breidden Hills, overlooking both the Shropshire Plains and the Midlands of Wales. Making use of a series of hillforts dating back to the Romans, said to be used by the legendary Caractacus, a Briton King who resisted Roman rule, the Welsh patiently awaited the arrival of the Saxons, knowing that in this fortified position, the Saxons would be forced to ascend the heights to proceed further into the Welsh Highlands. Even though he could only summon four and a half thousand men to his banners, half the number the Saxons were bringing, Cadogan, King of Gwynedd, felt confident the walls his ancestors had defended would prove sufficient to repel the Saxons.
And yet the Saxons did not advance, marching to Rowton near the border before coming to a halt. Little did the Welsh know, but word of a tragedy had arrived to the Saxon camp - Cristina, sister to Edgar, King of the Angles and of the Saxons, and wife of Edwin, Earl of Mercia, had passed from her illness. Few were more distraught than the young king, who had always been close to his spirited sister, beloved by so many with her captivating tresses of deep red hair and fierce piety. For many days, Edgar was inconsolable, weeping bitterly for his loss. His heart moved with compassion, Waltheof Siwardsson, Earl of Huntingdon, came to visit the young king. With gentle words of comfort, many quoted from Scripture, Waltheof soothed Edgar Edwardsson's spirit, and before long he had regained some of his regal composure.
Yet not all was well with Edgar, for he knew his brother-in-law surely grieved as well. When he came to visit Edwin, Earl of Mercia, he found his trusted mentor and counselor deep in thought, silent as ever. Struggling to conjure up his voice, to help soothe Edwin's woes, Edgar Edwardsson was surprised when Edwin spoke instead, looking to him with a faint and sorrowful smile as he recited from the book of Ecclesiastes, "And the dust returns to the earth as it was, and the spirit returns to God who gave it." As he saw how deeply this quote of Scripture moved the young Cerdicing, Edwin could not help but give a soft chuckle, soon drawing Edgar into a gentle embrace.
"Your sister was very dear to me," Edwin began after a time, his voice soft as a whisper, "And I shall remember her for as long as I live…" He trailed off for a time, that composed facade breaking for but a moment. Taking a deep breath, the Earl of Mercia then continued, his voice wavering, "There… there is the matter of our children, however... " Glancing sidelong to Edgar Edwardsson, Edwin pursed his lips, then blatantly asked, "With your permission, my King, I would seek to remarry, that my children might have a mother again." Though hurt that the Earl of Mercia would seek a new wife, that he might forget the passionate sister of the king, Edgar could not deny Edwin's reasoning, for none of his children had come of age, his eldest son, Æthelred, being but five years of age.
And so it was that a hasty ceremony was arranged in the small town of Rowton, with Edwin, Earl of Mercia, being wed to Ealhflæd, a charming young daughter of a local reeve. Many days passed, but eventually the Saxons began to ready themselves again for the bold assault upon the Breidden Hills. It would be upon a dour, overcast morning, late in the month of June, the year of our Lord 1079, that the Saxons would march to subjugate one of the greatest Welsh principalities. Slowly, the fyrdmen of Northumbria formed up their ranks, with Waltheof, Earl of Huntingdon being entrusted to take his three and a half thousand men and seize the heights of Bausley Hill, the easternmost summit of the five peaks of the Breidden Hills. Meanwhile, the remainder of the Saxon army would march along the southern slopes, assaulting the heights of the hill the Welsh called Cefn y Castell before heading north, with both armies bringing their might to bear upon Breidden Hill itself.
Riding alongside the two brothers that had been such trusted companions to him, Edgar Edwardsson felt assured that victory would be theirs this day, and that he would survive the horrors of the fray to come. Morcar, Earl of Northumbria, boldly volunteered to lead the leftmost flank personally, bringing his fyrdmen in a wide arc to hopefully crash into the Welsh flank. Meanwhile, Edwin, Earl of Mercia, would hold the rightmost flank of this division of the Saxon army, leaving the young king with the distinguished responsibility of commanding the centre. Scarcely had they begun to ascend the slopes of Cefn y Castell when the Welsh made their defiance known, arrows and javelins raining heavily down against the stout Saxon shieldwall from behind the old stones of the Briton hillfort, the banner of Theodore, Prince of the Midlands, waving boldly overhead. Even over the clamour of men crying out from their wounds, the sound of metal embedding itself into hardwood, Edgar could hear the booming orders of Morcar, emboldening his men to hasten up the slope.
Along the summit of the hill, Edgar could see the crimson tunics of the Welsh warriors, the spearheads levelled against the oncoming Saxons. Gesturing with his sword, the young king called for his men to not lose hope, that the Lord was surely with them this day, and that they were accomplishing what their forefathers had sought to do. As he looked to his right, he could see that Edwin, Earl of Mercia, was doing much the same, eyes keen to the subtle maneuvering of the Welsh, attempting to discern any opening that he could try to direct his men to exploit. Fondness swelling in his heart, Edgar could not help but smile as he looked upon the man who had been his brother-in-law for so many a year.
And then, in a blink of an eye, the Earl disappeared, thrown from his horse.
Shock overcoming the young king, he cried out to Edwin, fearful for the man's fate as the soldiers continued to press onwards, many unaware that their commander had been struck by one of the countless Welsh arrows. Abandoning his command, Edgar rode hard for where he had last seen Edwin, his huscarls barely able to keep up with him. As word spread of the Earl's injury, and without their king to command them, the Saxons began to give ground as the Welsh spearmen, accustomed to warfare, charged downhill into their ranks, crashing against the Saxon shieldwall. Swinging from his horse as the brothers had trained him in his youth, Edgar raced for Edwin's side, seeing the Earl of Mercia still yet breathing.
But the arrow had struck him grievously, embedding itself in the upper part of the Earl's cheek, while yet another arrow had lodged itself in Edwin's chest. Blood trickling down his face, not only from his wound, but also from his lips, Edwin groaned weakly out as he recognized the arrival of his king, his ward. Raising a hand towards Edgar, the Earl of Mercia strove to speak, to give the young Cerdicing one last word of counsel, but with a rattling breath, the hand fell, and Edwin, Earl of Mercia was no more.
Distraught at the death of the man who had been like a brother to him, it was only the urgent actions of one of his huscarls, Ceolwulf of Huntingdon, that saved the young king from being caught up in the fray, with the Welsh spearmen breaking through the shieldwall. Of a stout build with a thick and dark beard, Ceolwulf seized Edgar by the arm, saying to him, "Let not your heart be overcome with trouble, o King! There is a time to grieve, but first we must ensure your safety, for without you, where would our victory be?" As the other huscarls fended off the bold Welsh warriors, Ceolwulf and Edgar drew away from the fray. It was in that moment that Morcar brought his men to crash into the rear of the Welsh army, scattering the men of Theodore, Prince of the Midlands.
And so it was that though victory was won at Cefn y Castell, it had come at a grievous price. Having lost his sister but weeks before, Edgar was beside himself at the loss of Edwin, Earl of Mercia. There was even little joy when word arrived that Waltheof had managed to take Bausley Hill, and that together with Morcar, the Saxons had overcome the remainder of the Welsh forces at Breidden Hill, even capturing Cadogan, King of Gwynedd, in the fray. Having the Welsh prince thrown before him, Edgar Edwardsson forced a vow of vassalage from Cadogan, forcing him to acknowledge the young Cerdicing as his suzerain and to deliver tribute to Westminster. Satisfied with this promise and wishing to leave the lands of the Welsh behind, Edgar soon departed with Westminster, allowing his earls and fyrdmen to leave him.
When he arrived in Westminster, Edgar secluded himself in the chapel of the great Westminster Abbey, praying fervently to the Lord for solace in so troubling a time. For many hours a day he wept, striving to find comfort in the presence of the Lord, but finding naught but silence and emptiness. For the first time in his young life, Edgar Edwardsson felt doubt enter into his mind, overcome with the tragedy of losing both his cherished sister and her husband, his friend, and all in so short a span of time. It was only upon reading the words of David in the thirteenth psalm, in how that King of Israel, too, had felt the Lord had hidden his face from him, yet trusted all the same, were these doubts cast away, and Edgar Edwardsson's zeal renewed. Upon that very day, late in the evening, he received word that a noble guest had arrived from afar, hoping to find a strong supporter amongst the Saxons for his cause.
Stripped of the lands that had long been in the hands of his family, Malcolm, once King of the Scots, had been released from Máel-Snechtai's dungeons, allowed to bring his family to join his wife in the courts of the Saxons. Recalling the great and grievous sins Malcolm had committed in his vain attempts to retain the Scottish throne, Edgar was moved with a fury upon hearing that Malcolm had journeyed to Westminster. At once, he sent Gyrth, Earl of East Anglia, and Ceolwulf of Huntingdon with several huscarls to seize the excommunicate former king, and to have Malcolm brought before him without delay. Though his sons, Donald and Duncan were bold warriors, neither could defy the might of so many Saxon warriors, and so it was that Malcolm of Dunkeld was arrested.
Cast before the raised dais, with only Edgar and but a few of his closest earls in attendance, Malcolm realized the severity of his situation. "For what cause do you charge me? And where has the great hospitality of the Saxons under your illustrious great-uncle gone?" asked Malcolm, brazenly rising up to his feet, looking Edgar Edwardsson in the eye.
With his closest advisor dead, and moved with passion from his losses, the King of the Angles and of the Saxons sought no counsel, but instead answered with a tone as cold as winter itself, "You shall find no hospitality in these halls, Malcolm, son of Duncan, save should you repent of your wickedness."
"What sins have I committed?" cried out the former King of the Scots, not out of ignorance, but out of conviction, "Save that I spared the son of Lulach." With a shake of his head, vehement in his argument, Malcolm continued, "I was the King of the Scots, yet even so, he forsook his vow and raised his arm against me! By what right has a man to strike a king?"
"When a man turns against God, he is to be struck down!" shouted Edgar, spiteful venom in his tone to his brother-in-law. Rising from his throne, he gestured to Malcolm in accusation, "All of Christendom knows what you have done, how you have transgressed against the Lord your God!" Taking a moment to compose himself, the King then quoted from Leviticus, "It is written: 'The man who turns to mediums and familiar spirits, I will set My face against them and cut him off from his people.' And so it is that justice shall be done, and recompense made for the sins you have committed."
As Edgar was about to speak to Gyrth, Earl of East Anglia and Protector of England, Malcolm cried out again, desperate to save himself, "Do you not recognize me as your brother, o King?! And is it not written, 'Whosoever hates his brother is a murderer, and no eternal life abides in him'?!"
Looking askance to Malcolm for but a moment, the young king declared in quotation, "'If anyone comes to you and does not bring the Good News, do not receive him into your house nor greet him; for he who greets him shares in his evil deeds.'" Looking to Gyrth, Edgar gave a solemn nod, and as Malcolm was dragged from the hall, the king loudly proclaimed over the protests of the former King of the Scots, "'As for the cowardly, the faithless, the detestable, as for murderers, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars, their portion will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur, which is the second death.'"
Chuckling as Malcolm was dragged off to his death, Morcar, Earl of Northumbria strode up towards Edgar, patting him upon his shoulder. He then asked, "And what about his whelps?" ignoring the fact that that three sons of Malcolm were of a like age to the young king, all men grown.
With a stern look, Edgar cast Morcar's hand from his shoulder, causing the Earl to immediately lose his wry grin, and quoting Scripture as he was so fond of doing, the King of the Angles and the Saxons declared, "'The son shall not bear the guilt of the father, nor the father bear the guilt of the son. The righteousness of the righteous shall be upon himself, and the wickedness of the wicked shall be upon himself.'" Staring firmly up into Morcar's eyes, making sure his Earl understood and would obey his command, Edgar then ordered Morcar, who served as Chancellor, "See to it that His Holiness is informed of what has transpired this day." Saying no more, Edgar then turned and strode away, further cementing his reputation for zealotry as word spread of the execution of Malcolm, son of Duncan, once King of the Scots.
As Edgar continued his planning within the burgeoning town of Monmouth, he sent riders to Westminster, summoning the court to attend to him in this once Welsh kingdom. Thus it was that for the first time since his election as King of the Angles and of the Saxons that the royal court departed from the vicinity of London, returning to the old tradition of trailing after the king as he toured his dominion. Not only did the number of thegns and churchmen come to the former kingdom of Gwent, but so too did a number of hopeful commoners, having heard of the great promise and prosperity that could be found within the newest shire added into the Saxon domain. And so within a matter of years after its annexation, the once Briton kingdom of Gwent lost its Welsh culture, now dominated by its Saxon conquerors like in the days of old.
Not all took well to the new clime, however, for after enduring weeks of stormy weather in the beginnings of the mountainous terrain that the Welsh had come to call home, Cristina took severely ill and had to be taken back to Warwick to recover and be close to her five children with the Earl of Mercia. Though worried for the fate of his wife, Edwin recognized the King's need for his counsel, being one of the nobles most intimate with the ways of the Welsh. His father had once allied with Griffith, King of All the Britons, and even now, as Earl of Mercia, he bordered the many bickering principalities and kingdoms that made up the Welsh fiefdoms. And so it was that Edwin, Earl of Mercia, remained in Monmouth, continuing to plan the campaign against the Kingdom of Gwynedd, currently the greatest of the Welsh principalities, even with the loss of Powys to a brother. However, even as Edgar Edwardsson and his trusted advisors planned the subjugation of the Kingdom of Gwynedd, in hopes to forever bring the rebellious Welsh to heel, the two halves of Christendom would find the year of our Lord 1079 to be a pivotal year for differing reasons.
In the East, the Empire of the Greeks had been in turmoil ever since the death of Constantine X, succeeded by his eldest son, Michael VI, whose hedonism and greed saw him called 'Parapinakēs' (or 'Minus a Quarter' for devaluing the rich Greek economy) and 'the Fat'. Recognizing the incompetence of his nephew, John, Caesar of the Greeks, moved to depose him, but the damage had been done. Manuel, a nephew of Isaac Komnenos, rose in rebellion in the provinces of Asia, deposing the conniving aristocrat and ascending to the purple in the year of our Lord 1072. Though crowned by the Ecumenical Patriarch, the reign of Manuel was plagued by partisans of the Ducas family, and himself was overthrown four years later in favour of Michael VI, who returned to the throne for but a matter of months before being overthrown yet again, this time by his younger brother, Constantius IV.
Yet, the Komnenoi would not be so easily cowed. With the eldest son of John Komnenos languishing within the prisons of the Emperor of the Greeks, prisons that had once housed a number of Ducas pretenders to the throne, the opposition to this new Emperor of the Greeks came to centre around a brilliant younger brother by the name of Alexius. Blessed with a powerful eloquence that made some claim he was a second coming of the famed orator Cicero, Alexius easily won supporters to his cause through his courage and virtue, despite his young age. And so it was, upon the ninth of March, the year of our Lord 1079, that he proceeded into the Hagia Sophia, and was coronated as the Emperor of the Greeks, finally bringing an end to the constant strife and politicking of the Greeks that had crippled their empire for the past twelve years.
Even as one half of Christendom found itself unified, the other found itself yet further divided. For years, Henry IV, King of the Germans, had sought to subjugate the Bishop of Rome to his will, much as the Emperor of the Greeks had with the Ecumenical Patriarch. However, the Patriarch of the West would not be so easily subdued, and at every turn, Alexander II tactfully turned aside the German ambitions to dominate the Roman curia. Upon the fifteenth of May, the year of our Lord 1079, Henry IV convened a synod at Würzburg, consisting of many of the German bishops, though Helferich, the Patriarch of Aquileia, and Siegfried, Archbishop of Mainz, were two of several bishops who refused to attend. A damning speech by Hugh of Remiremont swayed the synod against Alexander II, and so it was that he was declared deposed. In his place, Henry IV raised up his father's former court chaplain and Imperial Chancellor, Gebhard of Helfenstein, who was consecrated as Pope Gregory V at his diocese of Salzburg.
When word arrived of this intrigue to Edgar, King of the Angles and of the Saxons, he was moved greatly with an anger against the King of the Germans. Alexander II had long been a friend of his, a man of great and abounding virtue, worthy to sit upon the throne of Saint Peter. Though he greatly desired to see Henry IV humbled from his wicked ambitions, Edgar knew within his heart that the might of the Germans was great, and without great support from the other kings of Christendom or strife within the Kingdom of Germany, there was little hope that this renegade king would submit to the Vicar of Christ. And so it was that Edgar was left to do but pray, and pray fervently he did that the Lord would deliver the Church from the temporal scheming of the King of the Germans.
In early May of the year of our Lord 1079, the Kingdom of the Angles and of the Saxons called up the fyrd of Northumbria to see to it the sons of Bleddyn, King of Gwynedd, would acknowledge Edgar Edwardsson as their suzerain. Unlike the war against the Kingdom of Gwent, in this campaign, the young King would join his thegns in their fight, daring again to enter into the fray against his foes. Dividing the fyrd roughly into thirds, some three thousand men on either flank while the Cerdicing King led the centre of just over two thousand men, the army gathered in Shropshire before marching west into the Welsh highlands. The two grandsons of Leofric led the Saxon left, while Waltheof, Earl of Huntingdon, was given the honour of leading the Saxon right.
It did not take the Welsh long to gather up their forces to oppose the sudden invasion by the powerful Saxon army, gathering at the commanding heights of the Breidden Hills, overlooking both the Shropshire Plains and the Midlands of Wales. Making use of a series of hillforts dating back to the Romans, said to be used by the legendary Caractacus, a Briton King who resisted Roman rule, the Welsh patiently awaited the arrival of the Saxons, knowing that in this fortified position, the Saxons would be forced to ascend the heights to proceed further into the Welsh Highlands. Even though he could only summon four and a half thousand men to his banners, half the number the Saxons were bringing, Cadogan, King of Gwynedd, felt confident the walls his ancestors had defended would prove sufficient to repel the Saxons.
And yet the Saxons did not advance, marching to Rowton near the border before coming to a halt. Little did the Welsh know, but word of a tragedy had arrived to the Saxon camp - Cristina, sister to Edgar, King of the Angles and of the Saxons, and wife of Edwin, Earl of Mercia, had passed from her illness. Few were more distraught than the young king, who had always been close to his spirited sister, beloved by so many with her captivating tresses of deep red hair and fierce piety. For many days, Edgar was inconsolable, weeping bitterly for his loss. His heart moved with compassion, Waltheof Siwardsson, Earl of Huntingdon, came to visit the young king. With gentle words of comfort, many quoted from Scripture, Waltheof soothed Edgar Edwardsson's spirit, and before long he had regained some of his regal composure.
Yet not all was well with Edgar, for he knew his brother-in-law surely grieved as well. When he came to visit Edwin, Earl of Mercia, he found his trusted mentor and counselor deep in thought, silent as ever. Struggling to conjure up his voice, to help soothe Edwin's woes, Edgar Edwardsson was surprised when Edwin spoke instead, looking to him with a faint and sorrowful smile as he recited from the book of Ecclesiastes, "And the dust returns to the earth as it was, and the spirit returns to God who gave it." As he saw how deeply this quote of Scripture moved the young Cerdicing, Edwin could not help but give a soft chuckle, soon drawing Edgar into a gentle embrace.
"Your sister was very dear to me," Edwin began after a time, his voice soft as a whisper, "And I shall remember her for as long as I live…" He trailed off for a time, that composed facade breaking for but a moment. Taking a deep breath, the Earl of Mercia then continued, his voice wavering, "There… there is the matter of our children, however... " Glancing sidelong to Edgar Edwardsson, Edwin pursed his lips, then blatantly asked, "With your permission, my King, I would seek to remarry, that my children might have a mother again." Though hurt that the Earl of Mercia would seek a new wife, that he might forget the passionate sister of the king, Edgar could not deny Edwin's reasoning, for none of his children had come of age, his eldest son, Æthelred, being but five years of age.
And so it was that a hasty ceremony was arranged in the small town of Rowton, with Edwin, Earl of Mercia, being wed to Ealhflæd, a charming young daughter of a local reeve. Many days passed, but eventually the Saxons began to ready themselves again for the bold assault upon the Breidden Hills. It would be upon a dour, overcast morning, late in the month of June, the year of our Lord 1079, that the Saxons would march to subjugate one of the greatest Welsh principalities. Slowly, the fyrdmen of Northumbria formed up their ranks, with Waltheof, Earl of Huntingdon being entrusted to take his three and a half thousand men and seize the heights of Bausley Hill, the easternmost summit of the five peaks of the Breidden Hills. Meanwhile, the remainder of the Saxon army would march along the southern slopes, assaulting the heights of the hill the Welsh called Cefn y Castell before heading north, with both armies bringing their might to bear upon Breidden Hill itself.
Riding alongside the two brothers that had been such trusted companions to him, Edgar Edwardsson felt assured that victory would be theirs this day, and that he would survive the horrors of the fray to come. Morcar, Earl of Northumbria, boldly volunteered to lead the leftmost flank personally, bringing his fyrdmen in a wide arc to hopefully crash into the Welsh flank. Meanwhile, Edwin, Earl of Mercia, would hold the rightmost flank of this division of the Saxon army, leaving the young king with the distinguished responsibility of commanding the centre. Scarcely had they begun to ascend the slopes of Cefn y Castell when the Welsh made their defiance known, arrows and javelins raining heavily down against the stout Saxon shieldwall from behind the old stones of the Briton hillfort, the banner of Theodore, Prince of the Midlands, waving boldly overhead. Even over the clamour of men crying out from their wounds, the sound of metal embedding itself into hardwood, Edgar could hear the booming orders of Morcar, emboldening his men to hasten up the slope.
Along the summit of the hill, Edgar could see the crimson tunics of the Welsh warriors, the spearheads levelled against the oncoming Saxons. Gesturing with his sword, the young king called for his men to not lose hope, that the Lord was surely with them this day, and that they were accomplishing what their forefathers had sought to do. As he looked to his right, he could see that Edwin, Earl of Mercia, was doing much the same, eyes keen to the subtle maneuvering of the Welsh, attempting to discern any opening that he could try to direct his men to exploit. Fondness swelling in his heart, Edgar could not help but smile as he looked upon the man who had been his brother-in-law for so many a year.
And then, in a blink of an eye, the Earl disappeared, thrown from his horse.
Shock overcoming the young king, he cried out to Edwin, fearful for the man's fate as the soldiers continued to press onwards, many unaware that their commander had been struck by one of the countless Welsh arrows. Abandoning his command, Edgar rode hard for where he had last seen Edwin, his huscarls barely able to keep up with him. As word spread of the Earl's injury, and without their king to command them, the Saxons began to give ground as the Welsh spearmen, accustomed to warfare, charged downhill into their ranks, crashing against the Saxon shieldwall. Swinging from his horse as the brothers had trained him in his youth, Edgar raced for Edwin's side, seeing the Earl of Mercia still yet breathing.
But the arrow had struck him grievously, embedding itself in the upper part of the Earl's cheek, while yet another arrow had lodged itself in Edwin's chest. Blood trickling down his face, not only from his wound, but also from his lips, Edwin groaned weakly out as he recognized the arrival of his king, his ward. Raising a hand towards Edgar, the Earl of Mercia strove to speak, to give the young Cerdicing one last word of counsel, but with a rattling breath, the hand fell, and Edwin, Earl of Mercia was no more.
Distraught at the death of the man who had been like a brother to him, it was only the urgent actions of one of his huscarls, Ceolwulf of Huntingdon, that saved the young king from being caught up in the fray, with the Welsh spearmen breaking through the shieldwall. Of a stout build with a thick and dark beard, Ceolwulf seized Edgar by the arm, saying to him, "Let not your heart be overcome with trouble, o King! There is a time to grieve, but first we must ensure your safety, for without you, where would our victory be?" As the other huscarls fended off the bold Welsh warriors, Ceolwulf and Edgar drew away from the fray. It was in that moment that Morcar brought his men to crash into the rear of the Welsh army, scattering the men of Theodore, Prince of the Midlands.
And so it was that though victory was won at Cefn y Castell, it had come at a grievous price. Having lost his sister but weeks before, Edgar was beside himself at the loss of Edwin, Earl of Mercia. There was even little joy when word arrived that Waltheof had managed to take Bausley Hill, and that together with Morcar, the Saxons had overcome the remainder of the Welsh forces at Breidden Hill, even capturing Cadogan, King of Gwynedd, in the fray. Having the Welsh prince thrown before him, Edgar Edwardsson forced a vow of vassalage from Cadogan, forcing him to acknowledge the young Cerdicing as his suzerain and to deliver tribute to Westminster. Satisfied with this promise and wishing to leave the lands of the Welsh behind, Edgar soon departed with Westminster, allowing his earls and fyrdmen to leave him.
When he arrived in Westminster, Edgar secluded himself in the chapel of the great Westminster Abbey, praying fervently to the Lord for solace in so troubling a time. For many hours a day he wept, striving to find comfort in the presence of the Lord, but finding naught but silence and emptiness. For the first time in his young life, Edgar Edwardsson felt doubt enter into his mind, overcome with the tragedy of losing both his cherished sister and her husband, his friend, and all in so short a span of time. It was only upon reading the words of David in the thirteenth psalm, in how that King of Israel, too, had felt the Lord had hidden his face from him, yet trusted all the same, were these doubts cast away, and Edgar Edwardsson's zeal renewed. Upon that very day, late in the evening, he received word that a noble guest had arrived from afar, hoping to find a strong supporter amongst the Saxons for his cause.
Stripped of the lands that had long been in the hands of his family, Malcolm, once King of the Scots, had been released from Máel-Snechtai's dungeons, allowed to bring his family to join his wife in the courts of the Saxons. Recalling the great and grievous sins Malcolm had committed in his vain attempts to retain the Scottish throne, Edgar was moved with a fury upon hearing that Malcolm had journeyed to Westminster. At once, he sent Gyrth, Earl of East Anglia, and Ceolwulf of Huntingdon with several huscarls to seize the excommunicate former king, and to have Malcolm brought before him without delay. Though his sons, Donald and Duncan were bold warriors, neither could defy the might of so many Saxon warriors, and so it was that Malcolm of Dunkeld was arrested.
Cast before the raised dais, with only Edgar and but a few of his closest earls in attendance, Malcolm realized the severity of his situation. "For what cause do you charge me? And where has the great hospitality of the Saxons under your illustrious great-uncle gone?" asked Malcolm, brazenly rising up to his feet, looking Edgar Edwardsson in the eye.
With his closest advisor dead, and moved with passion from his losses, the King of the Angles and of the Saxons sought no counsel, but instead answered with a tone as cold as winter itself, "You shall find no hospitality in these halls, Malcolm, son of Duncan, save should you repent of your wickedness."
"What sins have I committed?" cried out the former King of the Scots, not out of ignorance, but out of conviction, "Save that I spared the son of Lulach." With a shake of his head, vehement in his argument, Malcolm continued, "I was the King of the Scots, yet even so, he forsook his vow and raised his arm against me! By what right has a man to strike a king?"
"When a man turns against God, he is to be struck down!" shouted Edgar, spiteful venom in his tone to his brother-in-law. Rising from his throne, he gestured to Malcolm in accusation, "All of Christendom knows what you have done, how you have transgressed against the Lord your God!" Taking a moment to compose himself, the King then quoted from Leviticus, "It is written: 'The man who turns to mediums and familiar spirits, I will set My face against them and cut him off from his people.' And so it is that justice shall be done, and recompense made for the sins you have committed."
As Edgar was about to speak to Gyrth, Earl of East Anglia and Protector of England, Malcolm cried out again, desperate to save himself, "Do you not recognize me as your brother, o King?! And is it not written, 'Whosoever hates his brother is a murderer, and no eternal life abides in him'?!"
Looking askance to Malcolm for but a moment, the young king declared in quotation, "'If anyone comes to you and does not bring the Good News, do not receive him into your house nor greet him; for he who greets him shares in his evil deeds.'" Looking to Gyrth, Edgar gave a solemn nod, and as Malcolm was dragged from the hall, the king loudly proclaimed over the protests of the former King of the Scots, "'As for the cowardly, the faithless, the detestable, as for murderers, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars, their portion will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur, which is the second death.'"
Chuckling as Malcolm was dragged off to his death, Morcar, Earl of Northumbria strode up towards Edgar, patting him upon his shoulder. He then asked, "And what about his whelps?" ignoring the fact that that three sons of Malcolm were of a like age to the young king, all men grown.
With a stern look, Edgar cast Morcar's hand from his shoulder, causing the Earl to immediately lose his wry grin, and quoting Scripture as he was so fond of doing, the King of the Angles and the Saxons declared, "'The son shall not bear the guilt of the father, nor the father bear the guilt of the son. The righteousness of the righteous shall be upon himself, and the wickedness of the wicked shall be upon himself.'" Staring firmly up into Morcar's eyes, making sure his Earl understood and would obey his command, Edgar then ordered Morcar, who served as Chancellor, "See to it that His Holiness is informed of what has transpired this day." Saying no more, Edgar then turned and strode away, further cementing his reputation for zealotry as word spread of the execution of Malcolm, son of Duncan, once King of the Scots.
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As peace within the kingdom is ensured, Edgar seems to have turned his gaze to foreign lands within his sight. Now to seeing what effect his actions will have with other rulers, both Sais and those from the outer realms.
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Unfortunately, only via tributary CB, and so the Welsh remain in their bickering principalities for now!Oh, very nice chapter indeed. soon the Welsh will fall before the Anglo-Saxons.
A surprising amount of death in England and chaos in the rest of Christendom.
Oh ho, you think peace in the Kingdom of the Angles and Saxons is ensured? The death of Edwin has some none-too-insignificant consequences, as you will come to find...
Ithancester: 1080
"I… I can scarce believe it," spoke a man, voice scarce above a whisper in haunted disbelief, "The late King of the Scots… He was no righteous ruler, yes, but yet…" He trailed off, silence filling the the chapel where they had come to meet, this tiny chapel of St. Peter-on-the-Wall in Essex, overlooking where the Blackwater River met the sea. The fading scent of incense still wafted through the air from that evening's mass, all the parishioners and much of the clergy having retired for the day, leaving their distinguished guests to speak in privacy. Overcome with the audacity of the execution, he sank back onto one of the pews, shaking his head slowly.
"Who can stretch forth his hand against the Lord's anointed, and be guiltless?" quoted the other man, young and proud, venom in his tone as he completed his companion's thought. Slowly he turned, his golden locks shimmering in the dim light as he stood before the altar, clad in rich crimson velvet. Behind him hung the famed crucifix featuring St. Cedd in supplication, the flickering candlelight illuminating that holy sight. "Edgar Edwardsson has gone against the teachings of Christ in murdering Malcolm, King of the Scots. Excommunicate and heretic he may have been, but he was seeking refuge, a man in need forced to sojourn in a land not his own." He gave a quiet scoff, scowling at the thought of Edgar Edwardsson.
Again the small chapel built of Roman brick and stone was filled with silence, the man on the pew furrowing his brow in contemplation of the situation at hand. Hesitant, he spoke up again, attempting to second-guess his judgment upon the King, "He… he did release the sons of Malcolm… And they were allowed to join their half-uncle in Atholl…" Though he controlled only the earldom of Atholl, surrounded by the royal demesne of Máel-Snechtai, Malmure held close ties to a cousin, Gospatric, the Earl of Cumbria, whose lands were prosperous and rich.
"You have not heard, then…" remarked the blond, smile sharp as a dagger as he informed his companion, "Near half of the Scottish clans have risen up in rebellion against Máel-Snechtai, seeking to depose him in favour of Malmure, the very same half-uncle that you mention." Clearly having more to say, but not willing to say it just yet, he gauged his companion's reaction with wry amusement.
"So… Malcolm's sons will be able to aid their uncle, and all will be well, yes…?" the timid man naively inquired, wary of how the other man smiled so. Reaching up, he awkwardly brushed a few strands of chestnut brown hair back behind his ear, continuing, "And… and then the line of Macbeth will be… will be cast from Scone to Moray, allowing the line of Duncan to be… restored?" As that young man's smile broadened into a grin, the man sighed with frustration, asking, "What ill could come of this, to make you smile at me as though I were a fool?"
"Because you do not see how this shall play out," replied the blond, shaking his head with amusement, seeing plainly what he thought would occur, thinking the King to be possessed of similar foresight. "Malmure of Atholl is a man full of sloth, given greatly to his appetites. For Máel-Snechtai to starve him in his halls shall be an easy thing." He saw how his companion was about to speak, and thus soon added, "And the men of Cumbria shall avail him little. Gospatric is a man whose battles are fought only in his chambers, while Máel-Snechtai and the men of Moray are well-acquainted with war." With a slight shrug of his shoulder, the young man concluded, "The sons of Malcolm march not to Scone, but only into the dungeons of their usurper."
"Surely it shall not be so," the other man cried out in his distress, " And our King would not send the innocent to their deaths! The Lord would not see it done!" While the sudden execution of Malcolm, once King of the Scots, had rattled his faith in Edgar Edwardsson, the timid man still held hope that the King's famed righteousness would keep him from such villainry as that being laid against him by the young man in crimson velvet.
"Perhaps so," his companion allowed, raking a hand through those locks of gold. His expression soon regained that smug confidence, smirking as he noted, "But the King's close advisor would not be above such intrigues. Why, it was by such underhanded means that Morcar gained Northumbria these many years ago." Slyly, he stole a look at his companion's expression, smirking as he saw he had to say no more.
"Morcar…" the other man began, slumping on the pew even more as he furrowed his brow in despair, "The Earl of Northumbria, who makes war upon his nephews for the shires of Lincoln and Nottingham…" Pursing his lips, he struggled to defend his prior position, eventually offering, voice scarce above a murmur and full of hesitancy, "There is Eadnoth the Staller… He… he might prevail upon our King…"
"Eadnoth has been in poor health, and he is not the childhood companion that Morcar has been to the King," replied the blond firmly. Sighing with vexation, he paced a few steps away, remarking, "The King shall likely be torn with indecision - the children of his cherished sister upon one hand, his friend and mentor upon the other." He shot a glance towards the pews again, and then wryly remarked, "And so justice shall elude us again as the King acts according to his whims rather than his laws - be they from his predecessors or from the Lord."
Fearful for the fate of such young children, so soon bereft of both their parents, the man rose from his seat upon the pews, asking his companion, seemingly in possession of such great foresight, "What… what do you think will become of the sons of Edwin?" Grimacing as a thought crossed his mind, he fearfully inquired, "You do not think that the Earl of Northumbria will… will stoop to slaughtering his kin, do you…?"
"I think Morcar shall prevail over the thegns once loyal to his brother," spoke the young man decisively, soon resuming his pacing before the altar, the flicker of the candles beginning to dim, "The lands of Mercia were once amongst the richest in all the kingdoms of the Saxons of yore. Yet now, they stand divided and under misrule, with Edwin's advisors split amongst his sons." With a sharp laugh, he added, "That fool, Edgar Lockhart, thegn of Nottingham! Why, I think it shall be him who loses it all for the child earl."
Then, stopping suddenly, the young man looked towards his companion, realizing the terror that had seized him over the lives of these children, not even yet nine years of age. Closing the distance, he rest a hand upon the man's shoulder, assuring him, "The King might not do anything to save their lives - or even to save his kingdom, established by his forefathers - but I know one who can…" That cunning smile returned to the young man's face as he saw his words sink in, watching as his companion's doubts and fears gave way to treason, and so he, Godwine of Wessex, knew he had won another partisan to his cause...
"I… I can scarce believe it," spoke a man, voice scarce above a whisper in haunted disbelief, "The late King of the Scots… He was no righteous ruler, yes, but yet…" He trailed off, silence filling the the chapel where they had come to meet, this tiny chapel of St. Peter-on-the-Wall in Essex, overlooking where the Blackwater River met the sea. The fading scent of incense still wafted through the air from that evening's mass, all the parishioners and much of the clergy having retired for the day, leaving their distinguished guests to speak in privacy. Overcome with the audacity of the execution, he sank back onto one of the pews, shaking his head slowly.
"Who can stretch forth his hand against the Lord's anointed, and be guiltless?" quoted the other man, young and proud, venom in his tone as he completed his companion's thought. Slowly he turned, his golden locks shimmering in the dim light as he stood before the altar, clad in rich crimson velvet. Behind him hung the famed crucifix featuring St. Cedd in supplication, the flickering candlelight illuminating that holy sight. "Edgar Edwardsson has gone against the teachings of Christ in murdering Malcolm, King of the Scots. Excommunicate and heretic he may have been, but he was seeking refuge, a man in need forced to sojourn in a land not his own." He gave a quiet scoff, scowling at the thought of Edgar Edwardsson.
Again the small chapel built of Roman brick and stone was filled with silence, the man on the pew furrowing his brow in contemplation of the situation at hand. Hesitant, he spoke up again, attempting to second-guess his judgment upon the King, "He… he did release the sons of Malcolm… And they were allowed to join their half-uncle in Atholl…" Though he controlled only the earldom of Atholl, surrounded by the royal demesne of Máel-Snechtai, Malmure held close ties to a cousin, Gospatric, the Earl of Cumbria, whose lands were prosperous and rich.
"You have not heard, then…" remarked the blond, smile sharp as a dagger as he informed his companion, "Near half of the Scottish clans have risen up in rebellion against Máel-Snechtai, seeking to depose him in favour of Malmure, the very same half-uncle that you mention." Clearly having more to say, but not willing to say it just yet, he gauged his companion's reaction with wry amusement.
"So… Malcolm's sons will be able to aid their uncle, and all will be well, yes…?" the timid man naively inquired, wary of how the other man smiled so. Reaching up, he awkwardly brushed a few strands of chestnut brown hair back behind his ear, continuing, "And… and then the line of Macbeth will be… will be cast from Scone to Moray, allowing the line of Duncan to be… restored?" As that young man's smile broadened into a grin, the man sighed with frustration, asking, "What ill could come of this, to make you smile at me as though I were a fool?"
"Because you do not see how this shall play out," replied the blond, shaking his head with amusement, seeing plainly what he thought would occur, thinking the King to be possessed of similar foresight. "Malmure of Atholl is a man full of sloth, given greatly to his appetites. For Máel-Snechtai to starve him in his halls shall be an easy thing." He saw how his companion was about to speak, and thus soon added, "And the men of Cumbria shall avail him little. Gospatric is a man whose battles are fought only in his chambers, while Máel-Snechtai and the men of Moray are well-acquainted with war." With a slight shrug of his shoulder, the young man concluded, "The sons of Malcolm march not to Scone, but only into the dungeons of their usurper."
"Surely it shall not be so," the other man cried out in his distress, " And our King would not send the innocent to their deaths! The Lord would not see it done!" While the sudden execution of Malcolm, once King of the Scots, had rattled his faith in Edgar Edwardsson, the timid man still held hope that the King's famed righteousness would keep him from such villainry as that being laid against him by the young man in crimson velvet.
"Perhaps so," his companion allowed, raking a hand through those locks of gold. His expression soon regained that smug confidence, smirking as he noted, "But the King's close advisor would not be above such intrigues. Why, it was by such underhanded means that Morcar gained Northumbria these many years ago." Slyly, he stole a look at his companion's expression, smirking as he saw he had to say no more.
"Morcar…" the other man began, slumping on the pew even more as he furrowed his brow in despair, "The Earl of Northumbria, who makes war upon his nephews for the shires of Lincoln and Nottingham…" Pursing his lips, he struggled to defend his prior position, eventually offering, voice scarce above a murmur and full of hesitancy, "There is Eadnoth the Staller… He… he might prevail upon our King…"
"Eadnoth has been in poor health, and he is not the childhood companion that Morcar has been to the King," replied the blond firmly. Sighing with vexation, he paced a few steps away, remarking, "The King shall likely be torn with indecision - the children of his cherished sister upon one hand, his friend and mentor upon the other." He shot a glance towards the pews again, and then wryly remarked, "And so justice shall elude us again as the King acts according to his whims rather than his laws - be they from his predecessors or from the Lord."
Fearful for the fate of such young children, so soon bereft of both their parents, the man rose from his seat upon the pews, asking his companion, seemingly in possession of such great foresight, "What… what do you think will become of the sons of Edwin?" Grimacing as a thought crossed his mind, he fearfully inquired, "You do not think that the Earl of Northumbria will… will stoop to slaughtering his kin, do you…?"
"I think Morcar shall prevail over the thegns once loyal to his brother," spoke the young man decisively, soon resuming his pacing before the altar, the flicker of the candles beginning to dim, "The lands of Mercia were once amongst the richest in all the kingdoms of the Saxons of yore. Yet now, they stand divided and under misrule, with Edwin's advisors split amongst his sons." With a sharp laugh, he added, "That fool, Edgar Lockhart, thegn of Nottingham! Why, I think it shall be him who loses it all for the child earl."
Then, stopping suddenly, the young man looked towards his companion, realizing the terror that had seized him over the lives of these children, not even yet nine years of age. Closing the distance, he rest a hand upon the man's shoulder, assuring him, "The King might not do anything to save their lives - or even to save his kingdom, established by his forefathers - but I know one who can…" That cunning smile returned to the young man's face as he saw his words sink in, watching as his companion's doubts and fears gave way to treason, and so he, Godwine of Wessex, knew he had won another partisan to his cause...
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"The sons of Malcolm march not to Scone, but only into the dungeons of their usurper."
Excellent writing as always, truly deserves its place in Weekly AAR Showcase! God alone can not protect Edgar from the threat that is about to rise. Time to do a little house cleaning, I think.
Excellent writing as always, truly deserves its place in Weekly AAR Showcase! God alone can not protect Edgar from the threat that is about to rise. Time to do a little house cleaning, I think.
Figures move around in the shadows it seems, ready to strike down the pious King Ed. Major housekeeping is needed it seems.
Very kind
And we'll see about that.
But from which angle, one must consider? While Godwine and Waltheof (who went from 100 relations to -43 rather suddenly when I killed his (ahistorical) half-brother Malcolm and when he suddenly went from Zealous to Cynical) conspire to have Godwine seize the throne, Morcar runs rampant in the north. Turning against one opens the opportunity for the other to make mischief.
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Hmmmm I didn't see that coming from the young King-the wanton execution of an anointed King seeking sanctuary. His zealotry seems to be getting the better of him...and all the while the Godwins are plotting
Fantastic writing sir-one of the best AARs on here without a doubt
Fantastic writing sir-one of the best AARs on here without a doubt
No, I've just unfortunately been rather tied up. I moved back in early January, and since then have been busy with schoolwork (having returned to uni after some five years off). I've posted updates for the multiplayAAR I'm in, which has taken some priority over this, given its communal nature (and as such, I don't want to fall behind others). That being said! I have an update that is... somewhat nearing completion for this, it just is a matter of having the time and inspiration for it, which... well, Spring Break begins tomorrow for me, so I am intending to get one up then
Thank you for your concern, also, as it is such expressions of interest that do much to spur on the work
Thank you for your concern, also, as it is such expressions of interest that do much to spur on the work
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