Before Plantagenet - Chapter 30
February 1077 - Melun, France
It felt like deja vu all over again.
A feast in Melun. A wedding for the king of the Franks. The gathering of all the important men in the realm.
Actually, Foulques realized,
that was a bit different than last time.
This time, all the dukes were present, including the Count Bourges, who had been recently raised to the Duke of Berry.
An annoyance, that, Foulques thought as he stared at the duke with his new wife, the youthful Duchess Aude, who he had married after Hildegarde had died birthing his son. Berry now claimed Tours as part of the duchy, and while he did not have the means to seize it from Foulques, it was a loose end he did not wish to see dangling.
Meanwhile, Foulques drank alone. Beatritz had already left him to mingle with some of the other duchesses, though she preferred to spend most of her time around her sister in law Matheode. Perhaps because they were close in age - Beatritz was the oldest duchess present and Matheode the second oldest, separated by seven years. Beside them there was Duchess Adelaide of Champagne, who was 32, Duchess Aude, who was 24 and the 16-year-old Duchess Aelis, the Duke of Toulouse’s third wife.
Alearde outshines them all, he thought. Though it was fair to wonder if some of the dukes had pretty lovers as well. Foulques shook his head.
A foolish thought. Of course they do.
Oddly enough, Foulques noticed wherever Duke Guilhem went, his wife was never far away. At times, she seemed to practically be joined at the hip with him.
Perhaps he is sicker than he lets on.
A tap on the shoulder brought Foulques out of his thoughts. Beside him was Duke Hugues of Burgundy and another young man, who could not have been much older than 16.
“Duke Foulques,” Hugues said, “Allow me to introduce me Philip of Blois, the son of the Duke Champagne.”
Foulques nodded and shook the teen’s hand.
“It… it is an honor,” Philip said. “Your reputation is well-known.”
“Philip here is set to inherit Blois when his father passes,” Hugues said. “He wished to meet you.”
“My brother will receive the duchy however,” Philip said.
The pudgy-faced teen lowered his head. Foulques shrugged before giving him a pat on the arm.
“I was once held but a single county myself,” Foulques said. “And now I have taken territory from the King of the Bretons. Fate can change quickly.”
Philip smiled. “Your words are kind my lord. I would hope to be as successful as you.”
“Philip,” Hugues said. “I plan on having a few words with Duke Foulques. If you will excuse us.”
Philip nodded and wandered off. Foulques watched him for a bit, noticing the teen stopped near Countess Adelaide, his mother.
“Interesting boy,” Hugues said. “I have high hopes for him. But I thought you may wish to know him, since he will soon be your neighbor in Blois.”
“Soon?” Foulques asked.
“Look at his father,” Hugues said, pointing toward the elder Thibault. The duke appeared gaunt, his grey hair thinned and his complexion somewhat sickly. “He cannot have long left on this Earth.”
“If you say,” Foulques said. He looked over at another man standing by Thibault. “Is that his eldest?”
Hugues sighed. “Yes, Etienne.”
“You do not like him?”
“Like him? He is my step father,” Hugues said. “He married my mother after my father’s murder. He is an ill-tempered, gluttonous, greedy boor. No, I do not care much for him."
Hugues paused.
"But I would not do anything to upset my mother, so perish such thoughts. I merely wish Philip were in line to inherit.”
“What is so special about him?” Foulques asked. "Philip?"
“He… has potential,” Hugues said. “I have spoken to his mother. She thinks the world of him. Etienne is an impulsive soldier. Philip has vision. I feel we would work well together.”
Foulques looked at Duchess Adelaide. She did not appear old enough to be Etienne’s mother. But Philip…
“She says such things because she wishes her child to inherit,” Foulques said.
“And if she does?” Hugues asked. “It is natural for a mother to wish for such things.”
Foulques smirked. “You defend her as if you desire her.”
While he did not mean it as more than a quip, Hugues’ reddening cheeks told Foulques plenty.
“I see,” Foulques said.
“As I said, Thibault will die soon,” Hugues said. “The duchess… requires a younger man for certain things. And Duke Foulques, I thought you would understand the value of an older, wiser woman.”
If she brings an alliance, Foulques thought, though he did have to admit, Beatritz had given him all he could have hoped for and more as a wife.
“Look at them,” Hugues said. “Old men. All around us. Thibault, Boudewijn. Guilhem. They hold the reigns in the king’s court, while we, the future, sit at bay.”
“The king has spoken of his desire to see myself, yourself and the Duke of Toulouse by his side in the future,” Foulques said.
“Yes, the king says many things,” Hugues said. “But I find his words as platitudes. He does not actually act upon them. I thought perhaps I would receive my father’s place when he died. But I remain left out, despite sharing blood with the king.”
You are a whole 20 years old, Foulques wished to say. But he thought better of it. Hugues could think himself entitled. It mattered little to Foulques’ ambitions.
“I am surprised you are not frustrated,” Hugues said. “You are clearly more capable than Guilhem.”
“The king and I… have an understanding,” Foulques said.
Hugues raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“I remain his loyal subject,” Foulques said. “He understands that.”
“The king grows confident,” Hugues said. “And more ambitious. I would not assume anything.”
You seek to turn me against him for your own gains, Foulques thought. Hugues must have thought himself a puppet master when he was anything but.
Perhaps that is why the king does not place you on the council.
“I will keep that in mind,” Foulques said.
“Good,” Hugues said. “Remember, we not share blood, but we are family, Duke Foulques. After all, your brothers and sisters are my aunts and uncles. And speaking of which… excellent job on reigning in my overly ambitious aunt.”
Foulques narrowed his gaze. “Did you know something of that?”
“No, not until after you had dealt with the matter,” Hugues said. “I learned from the Count of Charolais, who heard it whispered in his court. He is here as my guest in fact, so if you would like to speak with...
Hugues stopped as his eyes found the count. He was standing next to the Duke of Toulouse, and in a very heated conversation.
“Excuse me,” Hugues said.
As the Duke of Burgundy moved toward the two men, Foulques, curious, followed.
“You mind your words, boy,” Charolais said.
“I mind them to some,” Toulouse said. “To you? Why should I? You come as the pet of the Duke of Burgundy after doing the bidding of Duke Foulques. You are a lap dog, chasing a master who will make you the man I already am - and at half your age.”
“Gentlemen!” Hugues interrupted. “We are at a feast for the king. We must behave ourselves.”
“Forgive me, my lord,” Charolais said.
“Yes, that’s right, beg before your master,” Toulouse said.
The old count glared at the duke, and his hand drifted toward the sword at his side.
But that was all it did.
“Is everything all right?” a man asked. The four men nodded. “Good. Duke Foulques, the king requests your presence.”
Foulques nodded. As he bid the men goodbye, Toulouse pulled him close.
“We must talk your daughter. I believe she would be a fine match for one of my sons.”
Foulques did not wish to think of that at the current time - his reservations about the boorish, impulsive nature of Toulouse had not changed. This incident with Foulques ally in the Count of Charolais did not help matters either.
As he ascended the steps to join King Philippe at his dining table, he noticed that while the king’s brother, Hugues, was present, his sister Emma was not.
Married off to the King of the Danes, Foulques remembered.
Poor girl.
Philippe motioned for his brother to leave them as Foulques arrived. After a quick embrace, the two men sat down.
"It has been too long," Philippe said. "And yet... not long enough."
"I am sorry for your loss," Foulques said.
The King of the Franks gulped down his wine. One of the servants refilled his goblet before stepping away.
“What do you think of her?” Philippe asked, pointing to the queen.
“Pretty,” Foulques said. “But I confess to knowing little else of her.”
That was not entirely true. He heard this Sybille was also lowborn - the daughter of a local knight whom the king had bedded. That he also was marrying her made the suspicion that she was with child spread like wildfire, but Foulques did not know if that last rumor was true. After all, Aliyah had never been pregnant.
“She is a just woman,” Philippe said. “With a good head on her shoulders. She also… has a voracious appetite, if you understand me.”
The king sipped his goblet as Foulques raised an eyebrow.
“I did not take much offense to your last wife,” Foulques said. “So I can find little wrong with this one.”
“Yes, she is of the faith, as if that is the only thing which matters,” Philippe said. “She was kind to them all, and they hated her regardless. Part of me thinks she was poisoned, and if I did not trust my physician so, I would have a mind to start putting some of the more outspoken lords on trial.”
Foulques did not know what to say to that. Instead he sipped his drink.
“On the talk of wives,” Philippe said. “How is yours?”
“Pleased to be at this feast,” Foulques said. “She is well otherwise.”
“Good for that,” Philippe said. “She is one of the more experienced duchesses in the realm these days. Perhaps the queen should speak with her. Sybille may a learn or thing or two from speaking with her.”
“I think she would be most flattered by that,” Foulques said.
Philippe smiled and motioned for one of the men near him to come forth. He whispered into the man’s ear, who then hurried off to get the attention of the queen and direct her to Beatritz.
“I did not realize you meant so soon,” Foulques said.
“The sooner the better,” Philippe said. “Sybille is a good woman, but I fear she has much to learn of how a woman of her stature must act. My mother draws some suspicion given she follows the Patriarch of Constantinople. I would say your wife and her sister in law would make excellent teachers, but Duchess Matheode has much on her mind these days.”
“Is that a reference to Duke Guilhem?” Foulques asked. “Is he ill?”
“He is, but it is not his physical body which fails him,” Philippe said. “I have concerns over his mind. That is why the duchess stays by him. To make certain he does not say something he should not.”
Foulques scratched his beard. “He is senile?”
“No,” Philippe said. “But prone to bouts of… I would call it madness. It is troublesome and comes at a difficult time for the realm.”
Could he be ready to make me marshal, Foulques wondered. He practically slurped his wine.
“My armies are being prepared,” Philippe said. “I plan to make war on England by the end of the month. I will reclaim Normandy for the realm.”
“To make the Normans your vassals once more?” Foulques asked.
“No,” Philippe said. “Robert had his chance. When he did not inherit the crown, his loyalty should have been to myself. Instead, he bowed to Morcar. I take the territory for the crown.”
Foulques had one thought. “Maine?”
“As I said,” Philippe said. “I plan to take Normandy for the crown.”
Foulques did not like that. If Normandy fell to the king, it would be near impossible for him to take back. Though, to this point, he did not know he would ever be able to muster an army strong enough to reclaim it from the English, even if the Normans rebelled.
“I believe we will have the advantage,” Philippe said. “But I need good commanders to lead my armies. So, I ask you once more, if you will accept the role.”
Finally, battle, he thought. But that impulse was quickly replaced by disappointment - he promised he would lead the king’s armies when he was made marshal, or at least put on the council. Philippe had seemed to agree. Yet here they were.
“Am I to be on your council, my liege?” Foulques asked.
“I have explained why you cannot, at this time,” Philippe said.
“Then, I must keep my word,” Foulques said. “I will remain your loyal servant, but I will not lead your armies.”
Philippe did not look at Foulques. “I tire of this game, Duke Foulques. Your professions of loyalty are welcome, but they do not advance the cause of the realm. I have obliged you for over a decade. It is time for you to provide the service pledged under your oaths of homage.”
Foulques returned the favor by not looking at the king. “I provide you with men, as promised.”
“I require more,” Philippe said.
“As do I,” Foulques said. “I feel as though my loyalty is being taken for granted.”
“A threat?”
“No threat,” Foulques said. “I ask you my king, why do you not make me your marshal if you are concerned so greatly with the mind of Duke Guilhem?”
“Guilhem can still function,” Philippe said. “And he controls the largest army in the realm. If I were to remove him, with his hunger for war, he would certainly incite rebellion. I need not that while I battle a capable king in Morcar.”
“That is why I feel as I do,” Foulques said. “You look to me and do not question whether I will cause trouble. You assume I will not.”
“Or that you are not fully capable of causing the trouble Guilhem would,” Philippe said as he gulped his drink.
It almost felt like a challenge. “Do you wish to find out?”
They said nothing for a few moments, with the music and chatter of other conversations filling the air.
“You would be wise to mind your words and actions Duke Foulques,” Philippe said. “I have looked the other way on many of your adventures. Perhaps I will have to keep a closer eye on Anjou in the future.”
With his blood hot, Foulques wished he could tell the King of the Franks what he really thought. That he may turn toward Hugues of Burgundy if necessary. Or aim for an alliance with the Duke of Toulouse.
“And you will continue to see your loyal vassal,” Foulques said. “But one who will defend himself if forced to.”
Philippe said nothing. Foulques realized there was nothing left to say. He pushed himself up and moved to back toward the others. After a few steps, he made a beeline for his wife. He excused her from the conversation with the queen and pulled her away.
“What is this?” Beatritz demanded as they walked alone in a hallway. “My conversation with the queen was growing splendid.”
“Mine with the king did not,” Foulques said. “We should leave quickly.”
“What happened?”
“He would not make me his marshal,” Foulques said. “Despite his lack of trust in your brother. Instead he merely wishes me to serve as his commander, as if I were the same man as ten years past.”
Beatritz frowned. “I understand your frustration husband, but perhaps it would have been wise to take his offer. My brother will not live forever.”
“We had an agreement,” Foulques said. “He ignored it. I stand by it.”
“He is the king,” Beatritz said.
“A king who fears his vassals,” Foulques said. “He treats me so because he does not fear me enough.”
“You… plan to oppose him? Join factions against him?” she asked.
“I do not know,” Foulques said. “I think he blusters and will not act. But if he forces my hand…”
“Please be careful, husband,” Beatritz said. “I do not have faith in my brother to keep us safe should the king turn on us.”
“I do
not need his help to protect our family,” Foulques said. "I will not lose our gains."
And he meant it. Philippe’s hold on the realm was more tenuous than it appeared. A war would only further unsettle it. If the king pushed too far, Foulques would be in position to push back.
And he suspected he would not be alone.
.
