If the Norse discovered Vinland and you transfer the game to EUIV do they get parts of North America?
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Whiteshirts of England: A History of the Hvitserk Dynasty of Jorvik AAR
- Thread starter tpmcinty
- Start date
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Another nice and interesting chapter
Thanks!
He had his brother killed so the ghost should fit the crime. This may not be the only ghost appearance we see. As the king's mental state detoriartes from his lunacy who knows what mig
That is a good question.
Next chapter will be delayed slightly. After careful consideration I am doing a replay starting about 3 years from the date of this last chapter. Some things were not sittting right with me and I feel I need to change my approach some.
Oof, that bit at the end about the queen. Guilty conscience about his own diminished ability due to age, illness and madness... or a hint of truth? Given how insane Raewald is, it may not matter, sadly.
A nice chapter though and I mention that bit because it highlights something important - I think the best "ghost" chapters are ones where the being could be a ghost or just a figment of the character's own mind. IE, the ghost doesn't tell the character he doesn't already know (even if it can be used to drop new information, like Vinland). The reader should be as uncertain as the character in question whether the being is real - which is the case here. Well done!
A nice chapter though and I mention that bit because it highlights something important - I think the best "ghost" chapters are ones where the being could be a ghost or just a figment of the character's own mind. IE, the ghost doesn't tell the character he doesn't already know (even if it can be used to drop new information, like Vinland). The reader should be as uncertain as the character in question whether the being is real - which is the case here. Well done!
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Thanks. Glad the chapter worked. I will say it was one of the funnest to write. I wa not sure how well it would go over since I had not done a ghost scene before this. There may be one or two more somewhere in Rædwald's future. As he slips further into madness his grip on reality will be challenged as his world starts to unravel.
As far as the queen all I can say is stay tuned.
The next chapter is almost ready. It is written but needs one more read through. It picks up where the previous chapter left off. I hope to post it tomorrow. Real Life has been interfering with hobbies lately. Both home and work have been the culprits. CKII and the AAR have been great avenues of escape but there are only so many hours in a day.
After the next chapter I have a couple in rough draft and then a couple in outline format. The replay I started the other night is going well. Previously as I looked through my notes and screenshots I came to the conclusion that there was little to right about. I basically had done a poor job with the playthrough. The new playthrough is generating quite a bit of good material. It is tough to stay in character at times but it is proving to be fun. It will slow down the posting of next few chapters, however.
Chapter 7.17.2 - May 1022 Bishopric of St. Kentigern, Clydesdale; Jorvikian Siege Camp
May 1022
Bishopric of St. Kentigern, Clydesdale
Jorvikian Siege Camp
Ealdmund stood at the entrance to the tent watching the last act of Rædwald’s conversation. He observed Rædwald speaking to no one. With growing apprehension, he watched as his king struck with his sword at a non-existent tormentor. Ealdmund held his breath as the blade sliced through the air and the king lost his balance. Fearing Rædwald would fall on the blade the spymaster anxiously watched as the blade slipped from the king’s hands and fell several feet from the king as he crashed into the ground. Not wanting to worsen the situation Ealdmund waited in the entrance watching the king. When he was certain whatever vision was driving Rædwald’s actions was gone from the king’s mind he stepped into the tent.
Not sure of Rædwald’s physical condition Ealdmund called out, “Your Highness.”
Rædwald muttered something unintelligible.
Ealdmund stepped back and stuck his head out of the tent. Looking at Rædwald’s squire cowering near the flap Ealdmund ordered, “Get up boy and fetch some wine.”
The squire still shirking away from the tent entrance replied in an unsteady voice, “But, milord.”
Ealdmund stepped out of the tent and placed his hand on the boy’s shoulders guiding him to stand. “I assure you whatever it was is gone, now serve your king.”
Ealdmund gave the squire a look that chilled his blood, “Speak nothing of what has happened here.”
The squire swallowed hard and his eyes widened in fear. Whatever had gone on in the king’s tent was in the king’s mind. Here before him in flesh and blood was the man who could and would do anything to protect the crown. Another murder would be nothing to Ealdmund, Master of Spies.
The squire nodded and ran off to get the wine and get as far as he could from the spymaster. Knowing what he had done Ealdmund chuckled as he watched the boy flee from his presence.
Ealdmund reentered the tent finding Rædwald still on the ground but on his back. Other than breathing heavy the king appeared unharmed. Keeping his eyes looking on the roof of the tent Rædwald asked, “Did you see him?”
Ealdmund shook his head, “No, milord.” Seeing the distress on Rædwald’s face Ealdmund added, “He departed before I arrived.” Ealdmund knew his favor with the king was on a razor’s edge and one slip and he could find himself in the dungeons. Afterall it was Ealdmund’s man who confessed Rædwald was behind the plot to kill Hjalmar. Rædwald had expressed his displeasure over that fact more than once.
Ealdmund helped the king stand on his wobbly legs and led him to a nearby stool. Rædwald sat down heavily on the stool. As a seasoned veteran of many battles Ealdmund quickly looked over the king. Seeing no obvious wounds or injuries Ealdmund breathed a sigh of relief. With sweat pouring off of him Rædwald sat on the stool with his elbows on is thighs and rested his head face down in his hands.
Suddenly Rædwald raised his head out of hands and looked up at Ealdmund. His eyes were so wide with fear that Ealdmund could only see the whites. With fear reverberating in his voice Rædwald asked, “My new babe has he come to harm?” Rædwald grabbed Ealdmund’s arm and said, “You must tell me.”
Ealdmund patted the top of Rædwald’s hand and replied, “Eilif is well. He is safe with Queen Crístina and her court in Gabhrán along with his brothers and sisters.”
The squire arrived with the wine. Ealdmund turned to the nervous boy and ordered, “Wine for the king.”
Shaking the squire filled the king’s goblet, spilling a good deal of the wine in the process. He handed the goblet to Ealdmund who gave it the king saying, “Wine, Your Highness.”
Rædwald took the cup in his unsteady hands and brought it to his mouth. He gulped down the entire goblet in one draught. He handed the goblet to Ealdmund who gave it the squire sharply demanding, “More.”
The squire filled the goblet spilling very little this time, Ealdmund took the goblet and gave it to the king. Rædwald took a long drink emptying close to half and then held the goblet in his lap.
Ealdmund turned to the squire and said, “Leave us.”
The squire bowed and hurried out of the tent. Ealdmund poured himself a goblet. He pulled over another stool and sat down across from his king.
Rædwald lifted his goblet and took a drink. His nerves were settling but his mind was still jumbled. He looked at Ealdmund who could see the confusion on the king’s face. Rædwald asked, “What am I doing here?”
Ealdmund smiled and in a soothing voice, “You are here helping a friend.”
Still confused Rædwald said, “But they are using me, he said so.”
Still smiling Ealdmund responded, “No one is using you, milord. The Scottish asked for aid against England and as their suzerain and friend you came.”
Rædwald was not convinced, “They used that I am suzerain to trick me.”
Ealdmund took a drink knowing this was taking longer than he had expected to bring Rædwald out of his confusion. Later he would need to speak with Beorhthelm and Crístina about this incident. “Have we not said many times any war that harms King Ælfgar is good for the kingdom?”
The confusion dropped some and Rædwald replied, “Yes, we have. We cannot allow Ælfgar to become too strong.”
Ealdmund felt he was getting somewhere and continued, “If King Uhtred takes Clydesdale from King Ælfgar that harms England. For once you do not have to sit by and watch others fail. Here you can ensure Ælfgar is hurt and you have done so by taking Dumbarton”
The confusion appeared to leave Rædwald but deep down the shock remained. The king said, “Yes you speak the truth my friend. I should not have allowed myself to be tricked by his words.”
The color came back to his face and his gleamed again. Rædwald finished his goblet and asked, “What news do have for me?”
Ealdmund finished his wine and stood. He offered to get more for the king who nodded yes. Ealdmund lifted the pitcher and poured more wine in the king’s goblet while the king held it. The spymaster then poured more for himself and sat back on the stool. He took a sip and smirked, “I have good news about England.”
Rædwald finished his sip and chuckled, “Good news for us means bad for King Ælfgar.”
Ealdmund snickered himself and replied, “I will also say that it probably worse news for Ælfgar’s ally King Diogo III of Galicia.”
Still with a grin Rædwald asked, “It is Diogo’s poor showing in his wars that has forced him to bring Ælfgar and his other ally, King Josselin of Burgundy into the wars to save him.”
There was slight anger in his voice as Rædwald said, “King Josselin is another we wish bad luck upon after his treatment of our sister Birgitta. Sending her away from her children.”
Ealdmund nodded, “Yes, milord.”
Rædwald sipped some wine and asked, “What trouble has Diogo gotten himself into?”
Ealdmund smirked, “He has managed to get himself into four wars with the Moslems.”
Rædwald looked surprised, “Four?”
Ealdmund grinned, “He is being bested by Duke Alvar of Gascogne in the Gascognian Holy War for Navarra, by Emir Tifilwit of Aslamid Emirate in the Aslamid Holy War for Galicia, and by Emir Keraja II of Algarve in the 3rd Algarvian Holy War for León.”
Rædwald looked a little confused, “You said four wars, but you stated only three”
Ealdmund chuckled, “The fourth war Diogo has the upper hand.”
Wide eyed Rædwald asked, “Against who?”
Ealdmund shrugged his shoulders and replied, “Sheikh Garçi of Salamanca in the Salamancan Holy War for León.”
Rædwald drank his wine and called for his squire. The squire entered the tent and bowed. Rædwald ordered, “Find us something to eat.”
The squire nodded, bowed, and replied, “Yes, Sire.” He left the tent.
Rædwald looked at Ealdmund, “Since Ælfgar has made alliances with Galicia and if rumor holds true with King Josselin any day, should we not look for an alliance?”
Ealdmund knew with the kinslayer label being so recently placed on Rædwald many would shy away from an alliance with him, but he could not come out and say it. “We have Scotland and the Irish lords do we need more?”
Rædwald shook his head and leaned back on the stool, “They are fine allies but can they equal England allied with Galicia and Burgundy?”
Ealdmund was struggling with trying to stay away from the kinslayer reason, “Does, milord have any in mind?”
Rædwald thought for a few moments and then replied, “We know King Nicolas II of France has no interest. He thinks hiding behind his antipope in Nule, Hadrianus II, will protect him.”
Ealdmund leaned back and said, “It is no longer Hadrianus.”
Surprised Rædwald responded, “Not Hadrianus. Did Nicolas fire him or something.”
Ealdmund shook his head, “No Hadrianus’ health declined, and he passed four or five weeks ago.”
Rædwald noticed the squire had returned with food. He directed the squire to place it on the small table Rædwald used for dining. Rædwald indicated Ealdmund should join him as he stood. As they walked to the table Rædwald asked, “What fool did Nicolas appoint?”
As they sat at the table Ealdmund answered, “His new antipope is Stephanus V.”
The squire positioned bowls of stew before the king and spymaster. He placed a small loaf of bread between them. Rædwald dismissed the squire who bowed and left the tent.
Rædwald tore some bread off the loaf and handed it to Ealdmund. Before dunking it in the bowl he asked, “What of King Thierry II of Aquitaine?”
Ealdmund had torn a piece of bread off and stopped midway through his dipping and raised an eyebrow, “The Monster?”
Now it was Rædwald who raised an eyebrow, “The Monster? That is what they have dubbed him. Do you know why?”
Ealdmund finished chewing his bread and swallowed, “It is said his methods of dealing with his enemies are rather cruel and some say inhumane.”
Rædwald finished his piece of bread and asked, “Is that the only reason you are against an alliance with him?” Ealdmund was startled. He had not raised his objection yet. Rædwald continued, “I could see it in your face.”
Ealdmund reached for his goblet which he had brought with him to the table. “Not entirely.”
Holding another piece of bread Rædwald gestured, “Do go on.”
Ealdmund sat his goblet down, “He is constantly at war with the Muslims in North Africa as they are continually trying to take back what they consider to be their lands. Now he has to contend with a new offshoot of the Islamic faith called Shi’a.”
Rædwald dipped his bread in the stew and asked, “What is this Shi’a?”
Ealdmund tore some bread loose and replied, “I am no religious scholar and as such I know not the specific differences other than to say it’s followers appear to be more willing to fight at this time.”
Rædwald swallowed his chewed bread and said, “Let us discuss King Refr of Norge.”
Ealdmund shook his head, “Too many wars. He has been constantly at war since he ascended the throne. His health is not good these days.”
Rædwald finished a drink from is goblet and said, “He is not that old.”
Ealdmund had to fight with his bread to stay together so that he could get it into his mouth. It took him a moment to chew and swallow, “He is infirmed and not expected to last as king for much longer be it from death or being deposed.”
Rædwald toyed with his bread in the stew and said, “King Konrád of Great Moravia is too distant to be of much use. That leaves King Torgils of Danmark.”
Ealdmund reached for the pitcher and poured more wine for himself, “Wars and stability go against him.”
Rædwald pointed his stew-soaked bread at Ealdmund and said, “Wars I can understand but stability.”
Ealdmund finished his drink and replied, “Torgils only usurped the crown in January. In Danmark of the last eight kings only one was elected. The others have become king through war.”
Rædwald frowned, “Not very promising.”
Ealdmund looked at the king, “What of King Josselin?”
Anger flashed in Rædwald’s eyes, “I would never consider him after what he has done to our family.”
Both men ate in silence for the next few moments. Rædwald was using a piece of bread to clean the bowl of the last of the stew asked, “What can you tell me of my family?”
Ealdmund sat his bowl down. Like Rædwald he was getting the last of the stew, “I must regret to tell you all indications are Eadhburh, wife of Swæfræd, did indeed kill herself.”
Rædwald looked up from his bowl. Rædwald had met Eadhburh on several occasions and felt sorry for her due to his brother’s lechery. He felt sad that she had died, “How?”
Ealdmund looked sternly at Rædwald, “She went for a walk one evening near dusk. She was last seen on the bridge over the river. Her body was pulled from the river three days later.”
With a lump in his throat Rædwald asked, “How did my brother take his wife’s death?”
With a degree of disgust Ealdmund replied, “Two months later he remarried.”
Now it was Rædwald who was disgusted, “Who would marry a drunk leacher such as him?”
Ealdmund replied, “Karaka Falksisdottir, daughter of the late Countess Maria of Hereford.”
Now anger mixed with his disgust Rædwald said, “He does this to aggravate me. Marry the daughter of the bitch who led a rebellion against me.”
Ealdmund shook his head in disgust. He then drank his goblet dry.
Ealdmund coughed and said, “We should prepare for the likely return of your sister Bodil to court?’
Confused Rædwald asked, “Why? What has happened?”
Ealdmund drank more wine in an effort to lessen the tickle in his throat, “Her husband Sigismond Welf has been named heir to the Bishopric of Langres. When he becomes Bishop of Langres the marriage between he and Bodil will be annulled. She will most likely be sent back to your court.”
Feeling sorry for Bodil and concerned the same could happen to her as happened to Birgitta Rædwald sked, “What of her daughters?”
Also feeling sorry Ealdmund replied, “I know not if they will travel with Bodil or remain in the court of King Nicolas in Melun, milord.”
Shaking his head Rædwald took a long drink emptying his goblet. Rædwald took the pitcher and refilled his goblet and took another long drink.
Rædwald took a deep breath and asked, “Anything new of the factions?”
Ealdmund finished a drink and replied, “They come and go. Prince Hlothere for Jorvik, Count Swæfræd for Jorvik, Increased Power for the Council, and Gavelkind Succession. Lords join, lords quit. They are a nuisance at best,”
Rædwald nodded, “Keep them that way.”
Ealdmund bowed, “Yes, milord.”
Rædwald took a long sip and placed his goblet on the table, “Any word from your people in Hereford?”
Ealdmund shook his head and frowned some, “Nothing. The young countess is keeping on the straight and narrow at least in public. In private we have little information. But we are trying.”
Rædwald looked at Ealdmund and said, “Try harder. I want a reason to arrest Katarina soon before she gains influence. I fear she could be the one who finally unites the dissenters.”
Ealdmund nodded a little concerned about his freedom replied, “It will be done.”
Rædwald nodded, “I expect nothing less from my master of spies.”
Ealdmund stood, “If there is nothing else, Sire, I must return to Jorvik to see that your desires are carried out.”
Rædwald waved, “No there is nothing more, you may leave.”
Ealdmund bowed and left the tent in a hurry glad that he still had his freedom and his head upon his shoulders.
Rædwald watched Ealdmund leave. After a few moments of sitting alone the king decided to rise. As he did his stomach grumbled. As he stood straight a sharp pain struck him in the abdomen. The pain took his breath away and he nearly doubled over. He braced himself against the table. Out of no where he was struck by a sudden and urgent urge to defecate. He tried to take a step, but the pain returned. He had no choice. He called for his squire.
The squire entered the tent and seeing the king in pain and leaning on the table rushed to his side.
Rædwald cried out, “Help me boy, now!”
The squire helped the king stand. With the king leaning heavily upon the squire he led them to the privy just in time.
Bishopric of St. Kentigern, Clydesdale
Jorvikian Siege Camp
Ealdmund stood at the entrance to the tent watching the last act of Rædwald’s conversation. He observed Rædwald speaking to no one. With growing apprehension, he watched as his king struck with his sword at a non-existent tormentor. Ealdmund held his breath as the blade sliced through the air and the king lost his balance. Fearing Rædwald would fall on the blade the spymaster anxiously watched as the blade slipped from the king’s hands and fell several feet from the king as he crashed into the ground. Not wanting to worsen the situation Ealdmund waited in the entrance watching the king. When he was certain whatever vision was driving Rædwald’s actions was gone from the king’s mind he stepped into the tent.
Not sure of Rædwald’s physical condition Ealdmund called out, “Your Highness.”
Rædwald muttered something unintelligible.
Ealdmund stepped back and stuck his head out of the tent. Looking at Rædwald’s squire cowering near the flap Ealdmund ordered, “Get up boy and fetch some wine.”
The squire still shirking away from the tent entrance replied in an unsteady voice, “But, milord.”
Ealdmund stepped out of the tent and placed his hand on the boy’s shoulders guiding him to stand. “I assure you whatever it was is gone, now serve your king.”
Ealdmund gave the squire a look that chilled his blood, “Speak nothing of what has happened here.”
The squire swallowed hard and his eyes widened in fear. Whatever had gone on in the king’s tent was in the king’s mind. Here before him in flesh and blood was the man who could and would do anything to protect the crown. Another murder would be nothing to Ealdmund, Master of Spies.
The squire nodded and ran off to get the wine and get as far as he could from the spymaster. Knowing what he had done Ealdmund chuckled as he watched the boy flee from his presence.
Ealdmund reentered the tent finding Rædwald still on the ground but on his back. Other than breathing heavy the king appeared unharmed. Keeping his eyes looking on the roof of the tent Rædwald asked, “Did you see him?”
Ealdmund shook his head, “No, milord.” Seeing the distress on Rædwald’s face Ealdmund added, “He departed before I arrived.” Ealdmund knew his favor with the king was on a razor’s edge and one slip and he could find himself in the dungeons. Afterall it was Ealdmund’s man who confessed Rædwald was behind the plot to kill Hjalmar. Rædwald had expressed his displeasure over that fact more than once.
Ealdmund helped the king stand on his wobbly legs and led him to a nearby stool. Rædwald sat down heavily on the stool. As a seasoned veteran of many battles Ealdmund quickly looked over the king. Seeing no obvious wounds or injuries Ealdmund breathed a sigh of relief. With sweat pouring off of him Rædwald sat on the stool with his elbows on is thighs and rested his head face down in his hands.
Suddenly Rædwald raised his head out of hands and looked up at Ealdmund. His eyes were so wide with fear that Ealdmund could only see the whites. With fear reverberating in his voice Rædwald asked, “My new babe has he come to harm?” Rædwald grabbed Ealdmund’s arm and said, “You must tell me.”
Ealdmund patted the top of Rædwald’s hand and replied, “Eilif is well. He is safe with Queen Crístina and her court in Gabhrán along with his brothers and sisters.”
The squire arrived with the wine. Ealdmund turned to the nervous boy and ordered, “Wine for the king.”
Shaking the squire filled the king’s goblet, spilling a good deal of the wine in the process. He handed the goblet to Ealdmund who gave it the king saying, “Wine, Your Highness.”
Rædwald took the cup in his unsteady hands and brought it to his mouth. He gulped down the entire goblet in one draught. He handed the goblet to Ealdmund who gave it the squire sharply demanding, “More.”
The squire filled the goblet spilling very little this time, Ealdmund took the goblet and gave it to the king. Rædwald took a long drink emptying close to half and then held the goblet in his lap.
Ealdmund turned to the squire and said, “Leave us.”
The squire bowed and hurried out of the tent. Ealdmund poured himself a goblet. He pulled over another stool and sat down across from his king.
Rædwald lifted his goblet and took a drink. His nerves were settling but his mind was still jumbled. He looked at Ealdmund who could see the confusion on the king’s face. Rædwald asked, “What am I doing here?”
Ealdmund smiled and in a soothing voice, “You are here helping a friend.”
Still confused Rædwald said, “But they are using me, he said so.”
Still smiling Ealdmund responded, “No one is using you, milord. The Scottish asked for aid against England and as their suzerain and friend you came.”
Rædwald was not convinced, “They used that I am suzerain to trick me.”
Ealdmund took a drink knowing this was taking longer than he had expected to bring Rædwald out of his confusion. Later he would need to speak with Beorhthelm and Crístina about this incident. “Have we not said many times any war that harms King Ælfgar is good for the kingdom?”
The confusion dropped some and Rædwald replied, “Yes, we have. We cannot allow Ælfgar to become too strong.”
Ealdmund felt he was getting somewhere and continued, “If King Uhtred takes Clydesdale from King Ælfgar that harms England. For once you do not have to sit by and watch others fail. Here you can ensure Ælfgar is hurt and you have done so by taking Dumbarton”
The confusion appeared to leave Rædwald but deep down the shock remained. The king said, “Yes you speak the truth my friend. I should not have allowed myself to be tricked by his words.”
The color came back to his face and his gleamed again. Rædwald finished his goblet and asked, “What news do have for me?”
Ealdmund finished his wine and stood. He offered to get more for the king who nodded yes. Ealdmund lifted the pitcher and poured more wine in the king’s goblet while the king held it. The spymaster then poured more for himself and sat back on the stool. He took a sip and smirked, “I have good news about England.”
Rædwald finished his sip and chuckled, “Good news for us means bad for King Ælfgar.”
Ealdmund snickered himself and replied, “I will also say that it probably worse news for Ælfgar’s ally King Diogo III of Galicia.”
Still with a grin Rædwald asked, “It is Diogo’s poor showing in his wars that has forced him to bring Ælfgar and his other ally, King Josselin of Burgundy into the wars to save him.”
There was slight anger in his voice as Rædwald said, “King Josselin is another we wish bad luck upon after his treatment of our sister Birgitta. Sending her away from her children.”
Ealdmund nodded, “Yes, milord.”
Rædwald sipped some wine and asked, “What trouble has Diogo gotten himself into?”
Ealdmund smirked, “He has managed to get himself into four wars with the Moslems.”
Rædwald looked surprised, “Four?”
Ealdmund grinned, “He is being bested by Duke Alvar of Gascogne in the Gascognian Holy War for Navarra, by Emir Tifilwit of Aslamid Emirate in the Aslamid Holy War for Galicia, and by Emir Keraja II of Algarve in the 3rd Algarvian Holy War for León.”
Rædwald looked a little confused, “You said four wars, but you stated only three”
Ealdmund chuckled, “The fourth war Diogo has the upper hand.”
Wide eyed Rædwald asked, “Against who?”
Ealdmund shrugged his shoulders and replied, “Sheikh Garçi of Salamanca in the Salamancan Holy War for León.”
Rædwald drank his wine and called for his squire. The squire entered the tent and bowed. Rædwald ordered, “Find us something to eat.”
The squire nodded, bowed, and replied, “Yes, Sire.” He left the tent.
Rædwald looked at Ealdmund, “Since Ælfgar has made alliances with Galicia and if rumor holds true with King Josselin any day, should we not look for an alliance?”
Ealdmund knew with the kinslayer label being so recently placed on Rædwald many would shy away from an alliance with him, but he could not come out and say it. “We have Scotland and the Irish lords do we need more?”
Rædwald shook his head and leaned back on the stool, “They are fine allies but can they equal England allied with Galicia and Burgundy?”
Ealdmund was struggling with trying to stay away from the kinslayer reason, “Does, milord have any in mind?”
Rædwald thought for a few moments and then replied, “We know King Nicolas II of France has no interest. He thinks hiding behind his antipope in Nule, Hadrianus II, will protect him.”
Ealdmund leaned back and said, “It is no longer Hadrianus.”
Surprised Rædwald responded, “Not Hadrianus. Did Nicolas fire him or something.”
Ealdmund shook his head, “No Hadrianus’ health declined, and he passed four or five weeks ago.”
Rædwald noticed the squire had returned with food. He directed the squire to place it on the small table Rædwald used for dining. Rædwald indicated Ealdmund should join him as he stood. As they walked to the table Rædwald asked, “What fool did Nicolas appoint?”
As they sat at the table Ealdmund answered, “His new antipope is Stephanus V.”
The squire positioned bowls of stew before the king and spymaster. He placed a small loaf of bread between them. Rædwald dismissed the squire who bowed and left the tent.
Rædwald tore some bread off the loaf and handed it to Ealdmund. Before dunking it in the bowl he asked, “What of King Thierry II of Aquitaine?”
Ealdmund had torn a piece of bread off and stopped midway through his dipping and raised an eyebrow, “The Monster?”
Now it was Rædwald who raised an eyebrow, “The Monster? That is what they have dubbed him. Do you know why?”
Ealdmund finished chewing his bread and swallowed, “It is said his methods of dealing with his enemies are rather cruel and some say inhumane.”
Rædwald finished his piece of bread and asked, “Is that the only reason you are against an alliance with him?” Ealdmund was startled. He had not raised his objection yet. Rædwald continued, “I could see it in your face.”
Ealdmund reached for his goblet which he had brought with him to the table. “Not entirely.”
Holding another piece of bread Rædwald gestured, “Do go on.”
Ealdmund sat his goblet down, “He is constantly at war with the Muslims in North Africa as they are continually trying to take back what they consider to be their lands. Now he has to contend with a new offshoot of the Islamic faith called Shi’a.”
Rædwald dipped his bread in the stew and asked, “What is this Shi’a?”
Ealdmund tore some bread loose and replied, “I am no religious scholar and as such I know not the specific differences other than to say it’s followers appear to be more willing to fight at this time.”
Rædwald swallowed his chewed bread and said, “Let us discuss King Refr of Norge.”
Ealdmund shook his head, “Too many wars. He has been constantly at war since he ascended the throne. His health is not good these days.”
Rædwald finished a drink from is goblet and said, “He is not that old.”
Ealdmund had to fight with his bread to stay together so that he could get it into his mouth. It took him a moment to chew and swallow, “He is infirmed and not expected to last as king for much longer be it from death or being deposed.”
Rædwald toyed with his bread in the stew and said, “King Konrád of Great Moravia is too distant to be of much use. That leaves King Torgils of Danmark.”
Ealdmund reached for the pitcher and poured more wine for himself, “Wars and stability go against him.”
Rædwald pointed his stew-soaked bread at Ealdmund and said, “Wars I can understand but stability.”
Ealdmund finished his drink and replied, “Torgils only usurped the crown in January. In Danmark of the last eight kings only one was elected. The others have become king through war.”
Rædwald frowned, “Not very promising.”
Ealdmund looked at the king, “What of King Josselin?”
Anger flashed in Rædwald’s eyes, “I would never consider him after what he has done to our family.”
Both men ate in silence for the next few moments. Rædwald was using a piece of bread to clean the bowl of the last of the stew asked, “What can you tell me of my family?”
Ealdmund sat his bowl down. Like Rædwald he was getting the last of the stew, “I must regret to tell you all indications are Eadhburh, wife of Swæfræd, did indeed kill herself.”
Rædwald looked up from his bowl. Rædwald had met Eadhburh on several occasions and felt sorry for her due to his brother’s lechery. He felt sad that she had died, “How?”
Ealdmund looked sternly at Rædwald, “She went for a walk one evening near dusk. She was last seen on the bridge over the river. Her body was pulled from the river three days later.”
With a lump in his throat Rædwald asked, “How did my brother take his wife’s death?”
With a degree of disgust Ealdmund replied, “Two months later he remarried.”
Now it was Rædwald who was disgusted, “Who would marry a drunk leacher such as him?”
Ealdmund replied, “Karaka Falksisdottir, daughter of the late Countess Maria of Hereford.”
Now anger mixed with his disgust Rædwald said, “He does this to aggravate me. Marry the daughter of the bitch who led a rebellion against me.”
Ealdmund shook his head in disgust. He then drank his goblet dry.
Ealdmund coughed and said, “We should prepare for the likely return of your sister Bodil to court?’
Confused Rædwald asked, “Why? What has happened?”
Ealdmund drank more wine in an effort to lessen the tickle in his throat, “Her husband Sigismond Welf has been named heir to the Bishopric of Langres. When he becomes Bishop of Langres the marriage between he and Bodil will be annulled. She will most likely be sent back to your court.”
Feeling sorry for Bodil and concerned the same could happen to her as happened to Birgitta Rædwald sked, “What of her daughters?”
Also feeling sorry Ealdmund replied, “I know not if they will travel with Bodil or remain in the court of King Nicolas in Melun, milord.”
Shaking his head Rædwald took a long drink emptying his goblet. Rædwald took the pitcher and refilled his goblet and took another long drink.
Rædwald took a deep breath and asked, “Anything new of the factions?”
Ealdmund finished a drink and replied, “They come and go. Prince Hlothere for Jorvik, Count Swæfræd for Jorvik, Increased Power for the Council, and Gavelkind Succession. Lords join, lords quit. They are a nuisance at best,”
Rædwald nodded, “Keep them that way.”
Ealdmund bowed, “Yes, milord.”
Rædwald took a long sip and placed his goblet on the table, “Any word from your people in Hereford?”
Ealdmund shook his head and frowned some, “Nothing. The young countess is keeping on the straight and narrow at least in public. In private we have little information. But we are trying.”
Rædwald looked at Ealdmund and said, “Try harder. I want a reason to arrest Katarina soon before she gains influence. I fear she could be the one who finally unites the dissenters.”
Ealdmund nodded a little concerned about his freedom replied, “It will be done.”
Rædwald nodded, “I expect nothing less from my master of spies.”
Ealdmund stood, “If there is nothing else, Sire, I must return to Jorvik to see that your desires are carried out.”
Rædwald waved, “No there is nothing more, you may leave.”
Ealdmund bowed and left the tent in a hurry glad that he still had his freedom and his head upon his shoulders.
Rædwald watched Ealdmund leave. After a few moments of sitting alone the king decided to rise. As he did his stomach grumbled. As he stood straight a sharp pain struck him in the abdomen. The pain took his breath away and he nearly doubled over. He braced himself against the table. Out of no where he was struck by a sudden and urgent urge to defecate. He tried to take a step, but the pain returned. He had no choice. He called for his squire.
The squire entered the tent and seeing the king in pain and leaning on the table rushed to his side.
Rædwald cried out, “Help me boy, now!”
The squire helped the king stand. With the king leaning heavily upon the squire he led them to the privy just in time.
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Yes, to be a witness of such things is not always healthy. Still, Ealdmund appears to have managed the situation reasonably well - this time.
And whilst his mind his under assault, now Rædwald finds his bowels in revolt as well.
And whilst his mind his under assault, now Rædwald finds his bowels in revolt as well.
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Ealdmund dodged the executioner's block or at least the dungeon. Rædwald has the option of arresting Ealdmund at any time. Just a little further slip into madness and who knows what will happen.
What will be more troublesome for Rædwald, his mind or his physical health?
Next chapter will post probably tomorrow. I am working on the next couple of following chapters. Took a few days of from writing to replay some of the game. I will say I am glad I did. I felt my previous playthrough left a boring and mundane story. Now I can say there will be several surprises and I look forward to writing about it. It will test me.
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Chapter 7.17.3 - August 1022 Bishopric of St. Kentigern, Clydesdale Jorvikian Siege Camp
August 1022
Bishopric of St. Kentigern, Clydesdale
Jorvikian Siege Camp
Rædwald laid in his bed staring at the roof of the tent. Even with the summer heat he felt cold under the furs thrown across his body. His body ached in every joint. He barely had the energy to pull himself out of bed. He would have remained under the covers, but he had barely left the bed over the last three days. Guilt was motivating him to rise.
With great effort he threw the covers off and with a loud grunt sat on the side of bed. He sat unmoving until his head cleared. He placed his unsteady feet on the ground and placed his hands firmly on the side of the bed and slowly but steadily lifted himself off the bed until he stood upright, He was standing but barely.
Hearing noise in the tent Rædwald’s squire entered the tent. Seeing the king wavering on his unsure legs he rushed to the king’s side. At first Rædwald brushed aside his squire but after almost falling with one step he relied on the young man to escort him to his table. The squire guided him into his chair.
Concerned the squire asked, “Is there anything I can get for you, Sire?”
Rædwald took a few moments to recover responded, “Something to eat would be nice.”
Hesitant at first to leave the king the squire eventually exited the tent.
Rædwald sat at the table resting his elbows on the table. He then held his head up with his chin resting in his hands. He looked over the table and saw the correspondence that had accumulated over the last few days.
As he was reaching for a note the squire reappeared. He placed a bowl of stew and bread before the king. The squired turned and took a mug and pitcher from a servant that had followed him. The servant left after giving the squire his burdens. The squire placed the mug on the table and poured ale from the pitcher into it. He moved the mug closer to the king who was eating ravenously. Rædwald thanked the squire who stepped back and took a seat on a stool near the entrance to the tent.
Rædwald was still recovering from a three-day fast Beorhthelm, the court physician had prescribed for him. Rædwald was not convinced the fast did much good other than make him extremely hungry. Beorhthelm was concerned Rædwald had contracted Smallpox. While there was no general outbreak of the disease there were several isolated cases in villages nearby.
Over the past week Rædwald had become more and more fatigued. He felt constantly tired and slept most of the time. When he was awake his joints were racked with pain. He had little or no interest in what was going on around him. If it had not been Beorhthelm and the king’s squire Rædwald may have starved. Today was the first day he had any ambition and was determined not to waste it. Perhaps the fasting did actually work.
Finished eating his stew he picked up one of the notes on the table and began reading. He read several more reports before stopping. The reports were all about one mundane thing or another, grain production in this county or that county; how much taxes were collected. Rædwald concerned himself little with these affairs. He had counselors who were good at their tasks and the kingdom operated efficiently as a result.
The next note he retrieved from the pile was from Archbishop Eastmund of St Peters. Rædwald read the letter.
Your Highness Rædwald, King of Jorvik
I hope this letter finds you well and I wish to congratulate you on your recent victories.
I write to you to express displeasure with Count Harold of Leicester. Openly and in clear violation of the vows and oaths he swore upon accepting the appointment of Count of Leicester, Harold Hjalmarsson Akra continues to practice the rites and traditions of the Eastern Orthodox Faith of his forefathers and has rejected conversion to the one true Catholic Faith. Not only does he blatantly follow these rites he has gone to great lengths to encourage and strengthen the Orthodox heresy within the county. Bishop Bo of Newark and Bishop Ælfwald of Newcastle practice the Orthodox faith in defiance to our Holy Father Gregorius V. Nearly all the Catholic parishes within the county have been converted to Orthodox. We are aware that several were done so at the point of a sword.
We beseech and humbly request Harold be directed to adhere to the agreements and oaths he took upon becoming Count of Leicester.
Your Servant in Christ
Eastmund Archbishop of St Peters
Rædwald place the letter back on the table and took a deep breath. He had appointed Harold as Count of Leicester based upon the service, he rendered during the Revolt of Countess Maria. Rædwald was aware of Harold’s religious background and the resistance from some to appointing Harold. At the time Rædwald felt it was important to have loyal vassals. However, prior to appointing Harold an agreement was drawn up obligating Harold to convert to Catholic or if he did not convert, he was not to interfere with the Catholic faith in his county. Within two years it was obvious that Harold was not going to follow the agreement.
While Rædwald understood Eastmund as archbishop had concerns and an obligation to address this issue Rædwald did not appreciate the archbishop basically ordering him to act. When he returned to Jorvik Rædwald knew he would need to address not only the issue of Harold but also the Eastmund overstepping his authority.
Rædwald’s thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of someone entering the tent. Rædwald looked up from the table to see Beorhthelm, Court Chaplin and Court Physician crossing the space between the door and the king. Reaching the king Beorhthelm bowed and said, “It is good to see you up and about, Your Highness.”
Rædwald smiled and nodded, “I feel the best I have felt in several weeks. As much as it pains me your prescription of three days of fasting and prayer has helped.”
Beorhthelm smiled, “I am please to hear you say so.”
Rædwald directed Beorhthelm to sit and join him in some ale. Beorhthelm sat on a stool near the table and the squire brought both a mug of ale each. The squire began to lay out the king’s garments in case Rædwald wished to tour the camp.
Beorhthelm looked at the king and said, “I see that while you look better you are troubled.”
Rædwald rustled the papers on the table and replied, “I have been trying to read some of these notes, so I may know what has transpired while I was sick. Several spoke of the camp fever epidemic. I am troubled by it and I wish to know who is suffering.”
Beorhthelm took a long drink of ale. This was a topic he did not wish to speak of currently. He feared it would dampen the king’s good spirits. However, he was aware that ignoring the king’s request would change the king’s mood quicker and more deeply. Beorhthelm took a deep breath and began,” the sickness rages throughout most of the kingdom and unfortunately shows little signs of ebbing.”
Rædwald’s mood did appear to dampen and he asked, “What counties are anguishing under this illness?”
Beorhthelm took a moment to recall the information. Once he was satisfied, he knew which counties he answered, “Suffolk, Norfolk, Northampton, Lincoln, Leicester, Warwick, Worcester, Jorvik, Djuraby, Chester, Shrewsbury, Westmorland, Lancaster, Dunholm, Northumberland, and Cumberland. It has spread to the English counties of Essex and Dunbar.”
Rædwald sat in silence. He sighed and said, “Other than Eadwine of Cumberland who else has secluded themselves in their keeps?”
Beorhthelm took some ale and replied, “Harold of Leicester, Count Wulf of Northampton, and Duchess Ealhswith of East Anglia.”
Rædwald drank some ale and remembering how it was to be locked away in your keep asked, “How is their food. Will it last through the sickness?”
Beorhthelm replied, “Only Eadwine of Cumberland is experiencing a food shortage.”
Rædwald nodded, “That is better than I expected. Anything else I should be aware of ?”
Beorhthelm hesitated but replied, “Eight-year-old Count Wulfstan of Dunholm has contracted the camp fever. I regret to say he is not expected to survive.”
Rædwald did not respond thinking of how sad and unfair for Wulfstan.
Without warning there was loud cheering and the sounds of chaos erupting from the siege camp. Perplexed Rædwald and Beorhthelm looked at one another and then at the tent entrance. The squire stood up and looked outside. He was nearly knocked over by Mayor Uhtræd of Skardaborg as the mayor burst into the tent.
Out of breath and smiling broadly the mayor bowed to Rædwald who along with Beorhthelm were now standing.
Rædwald asked, “What is the meaning of the ruckus going on outside?”
Uhtræd replied, “St Kentigern has surrendered, Your Highness.”
Now it was Rædwald’s turn to smile broadly, “Thank you Mayor Uhtræd. You may return to your troops.”
Uhtræd bowed and replied, “Yes, milord.” The mayor exited the tent.
Rædwald looked at both the squire and Beorhthelm, “I wish to enter the town.”
The squire walked over to the bed where he had laid out the king’s garments in anticipation the king would venture outside the tent. Rædwald walked over to the bed and quickly removed his bed gown and began to dress as Beorhthelm watched.
“Armor, Your Highness?” the squire asked.
Rædwald smiled, “Yes.”
The squire moved off the collect the armor and padding. Rædwald stood beside the bed seeming to be in the best spirits he had been in months. Suddenly the king froze. Fear and confusion spread over his face. Beorhthelm stopped smiling and became very concerned. Rædwald grasped his chest and let out a loud groan. The severity of the pain forced the king to drop to his knees.
After what felt like an eternity Rædwald opened his eyes. In a very low voice he asked, “What happened?”
Beorhthelm looked at the king and replied, “You were overcome with chest pains.”
A weak Rædwald asked, “Why?”
Beorhthelm answered, “I know not why.”
Rædwald accepted Beorhthelm’s answer and closed his eyes.
Beorhthelm took a deep breath and said, “Milord,” Rædwald opened his eyes, “Whatever is going on with your body cannot be determined or treated in the camp of an army. We must retire to a more civilized place.”
Weakly Rædwald opened his eyes and replied, “Bamborg in Northumberland is the closest.” Rædwald again closed his eyes.
Beorhthelm nodded and turned to the squire, “Prepare to move the king to Bamborg.”
Bishopric of St. Kentigern, Clydesdale
Jorvikian Siege Camp
Rædwald laid in his bed staring at the roof of the tent. Even with the summer heat he felt cold under the furs thrown across his body. His body ached in every joint. He barely had the energy to pull himself out of bed. He would have remained under the covers, but he had barely left the bed over the last three days. Guilt was motivating him to rise.
With great effort he threw the covers off and with a loud grunt sat on the side of bed. He sat unmoving until his head cleared. He placed his unsteady feet on the ground and placed his hands firmly on the side of the bed and slowly but steadily lifted himself off the bed until he stood upright, He was standing but barely.
Hearing noise in the tent Rædwald’s squire entered the tent. Seeing the king wavering on his unsure legs he rushed to the king’s side. At first Rædwald brushed aside his squire but after almost falling with one step he relied on the young man to escort him to his table. The squire guided him into his chair.
Concerned the squire asked, “Is there anything I can get for you, Sire?”
Rædwald took a few moments to recover responded, “Something to eat would be nice.”
Hesitant at first to leave the king the squire eventually exited the tent.
Rædwald sat at the table resting his elbows on the table. He then held his head up with his chin resting in his hands. He looked over the table and saw the correspondence that had accumulated over the last few days.
As he was reaching for a note the squire reappeared. He placed a bowl of stew and bread before the king. The squired turned and took a mug and pitcher from a servant that had followed him. The servant left after giving the squire his burdens. The squire placed the mug on the table and poured ale from the pitcher into it. He moved the mug closer to the king who was eating ravenously. Rædwald thanked the squire who stepped back and took a seat on a stool near the entrance to the tent.
Rædwald was still recovering from a three-day fast Beorhthelm, the court physician had prescribed for him. Rædwald was not convinced the fast did much good other than make him extremely hungry. Beorhthelm was concerned Rædwald had contracted Smallpox. While there was no general outbreak of the disease there were several isolated cases in villages nearby.
Over the past week Rædwald had become more and more fatigued. He felt constantly tired and slept most of the time. When he was awake his joints were racked with pain. He had little or no interest in what was going on around him. If it had not been Beorhthelm and the king’s squire Rædwald may have starved. Today was the first day he had any ambition and was determined not to waste it. Perhaps the fasting did actually work.
Finished eating his stew he picked up one of the notes on the table and began reading. He read several more reports before stopping. The reports were all about one mundane thing or another, grain production in this county or that county; how much taxes were collected. Rædwald concerned himself little with these affairs. He had counselors who were good at their tasks and the kingdom operated efficiently as a result.
The next note he retrieved from the pile was from Archbishop Eastmund of St Peters. Rædwald read the letter.
Your Highness Rædwald, King of Jorvik
I hope this letter finds you well and I wish to congratulate you on your recent victories.
I write to you to express displeasure with Count Harold of Leicester. Openly and in clear violation of the vows and oaths he swore upon accepting the appointment of Count of Leicester, Harold Hjalmarsson Akra continues to practice the rites and traditions of the Eastern Orthodox Faith of his forefathers and has rejected conversion to the one true Catholic Faith. Not only does he blatantly follow these rites he has gone to great lengths to encourage and strengthen the Orthodox heresy within the county. Bishop Bo of Newark and Bishop Ælfwald of Newcastle practice the Orthodox faith in defiance to our Holy Father Gregorius V. Nearly all the Catholic parishes within the county have been converted to Orthodox. We are aware that several were done so at the point of a sword.
We beseech and humbly request Harold be directed to adhere to the agreements and oaths he took upon becoming Count of Leicester.
Your Servant in Christ
Eastmund Archbishop of St Peters
Rædwald place the letter back on the table and took a deep breath. He had appointed Harold as Count of Leicester based upon the service, he rendered during the Revolt of Countess Maria. Rædwald was aware of Harold’s religious background and the resistance from some to appointing Harold. At the time Rædwald felt it was important to have loyal vassals. However, prior to appointing Harold an agreement was drawn up obligating Harold to convert to Catholic or if he did not convert, he was not to interfere with the Catholic faith in his county. Within two years it was obvious that Harold was not going to follow the agreement.
While Rædwald understood Eastmund as archbishop had concerns and an obligation to address this issue Rædwald did not appreciate the archbishop basically ordering him to act. When he returned to Jorvik Rædwald knew he would need to address not only the issue of Harold but also the Eastmund overstepping his authority.
Rædwald’s thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of someone entering the tent. Rædwald looked up from the table to see Beorhthelm, Court Chaplin and Court Physician crossing the space between the door and the king. Reaching the king Beorhthelm bowed and said, “It is good to see you up and about, Your Highness.”
Rædwald smiled and nodded, “I feel the best I have felt in several weeks. As much as it pains me your prescription of three days of fasting and prayer has helped.”
Beorhthelm smiled, “I am please to hear you say so.”
Rædwald directed Beorhthelm to sit and join him in some ale. Beorhthelm sat on a stool near the table and the squire brought both a mug of ale each. The squire began to lay out the king’s garments in case Rædwald wished to tour the camp.
Beorhthelm looked at the king and said, “I see that while you look better you are troubled.”
Rædwald rustled the papers on the table and replied, “I have been trying to read some of these notes, so I may know what has transpired while I was sick. Several spoke of the camp fever epidemic. I am troubled by it and I wish to know who is suffering.”
Beorhthelm took a long drink of ale. This was a topic he did not wish to speak of currently. He feared it would dampen the king’s good spirits. However, he was aware that ignoring the king’s request would change the king’s mood quicker and more deeply. Beorhthelm took a deep breath and began,” the sickness rages throughout most of the kingdom and unfortunately shows little signs of ebbing.”
Rædwald’s mood did appear to dampen and he asked, “What counties are anguishing under this illness?”
Beorhthelm took a moment to recall the information. Once he was satisfied, he knew which counties he answered, “Suffolk, Norfolk, Northampton, Lincoln, Leicester, Warwick, Worcester, Jorvik, Djuraby, Chester, Shrewsbury, Westmorland, Lancaster, Dunholm, Northumberland, and Cumberland. It has spread to the English counties of Essex and Dunbar.”
Rædwald sat in silence. He sighed and said, “Other than Eadwine of Cumberland who else has secluded themselves in their keeps?”
Beorhthelm took some ale and replied, “Harold of Leicester, Count Wulf of Northampton, and Duchess Ealhswith of East Anglia.”
Rædwald drank some ale and remembering how it was to be locked away in your keep asked, “How is their food. Will it last through the sickness?”
Beorhthelm replied, “Only Eadwine of Cumberland is experiencing a food shortage.”
Rædwald nodded, “That is better than I expected. Anything else I should be aware of ?”
Beorhthelm hesitated but replied, “Eight-year-old Count Wulfstan of Dunholm has contracted the camp fever. I regret to say he is not expected to survive.”
Rædwald did not respond thinking of how sad and unfair for Wulfstan.
Without warning there was loud cheering and the sounds of chaos erupting from the siege camp. Perplexed Rædwald and Beorhthelm looked at one another and then at the tent entrance. The squire stood up and looked outside. He was nearly knocked over by Mayor Uhtræd of Skardaborg as the mayor burst into the tent.
Out of breath and smiling broadly the mayor bowed to Rædwald who along with Beorhthelm were now standing.
Rædwald asked, “What is the meaning of the ruckus going on outside?”
Uhtræd replied, “St Kentigern has surrendered, Your Highness.”
Now it was Rædwald’s turn to smile broadly, “Thank you Mayor Uhtræd. You may return to your troops.”
Uhtræd bowed and replied, “Yes, milord.” The mayor exited the tent.
Rædwald looked at both the squire and Beorhthelm, “I wish to enter the town.”
The squire walked over to the bed where he had laid out the king’s garments in anticipation the king would venture outside the tent. Rædwald walked over to the bed and quickly removed his bed gown and began to dress as Beorhthelm watched.
“Armor, Your Highness?” the squire asked.
Rædwald smiled, “Yes.”
The squire moved off the collect the armor and padding. Rædwald stood beside the bed seeming to be in the best spirits he had been in months. Suddenly the king froze. Fear and confusion spread over his face. Beorhthelm stopped smiling and became very concerned. Rædwald grasped his chest and let out a loud groan. The severity of the pain forced the king to drop to his knees.
After what felt like an eternity Rædwald opened his eyes. In a very low voice he asked, “What happened?”
Beorhthelm looked at the king and replied, “You were overcome with chest pains.”
A weak Rædwald asked, “Why?”
Beorhthelm answered, “I know not why.”
Rædwald accepted Beorhthelm’s answer and closed his eyes.
Beorhthelm took a deep breath and said, “Milord,” Rædwald opened his eyes, “Whatever is going on with your body cannot be determined or treated in the camp of an army. We must retire to a more civilized place.”
Weakly Rædwald opened his eyes and replied, “Bamborg in Northumberland is the closest.” Rædwald again closed his eyes.
Beorhthelm nodded and turned to the squire, “Prepare to move the king to Bamborg.”
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This illness of the King feels more serious - perhaps just because he is older, perhaps also because of his mental state.
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I'm torn whether Rædwald's death, should it occur, would be a good thing or bad thing. On one hand, he stirs most of the discontent in the realm with his tyrannical/insane actions. The last few chapters have shown he is losing/has lost his mind and is a threat to most around him. On the other hand, there's no guarantee the prince is capable in cleaning up the mess he'll leave behind.
Troubling times indeed.
Troubling times indeed.
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Raedwald is a tyrannical king which will meet his end because he commits many atroacities including killing his half-brother, also realm is affected by all his insane actions, vassals hate so much him
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You will find out more about the illness in the next chapter.
As you stated Rædwald is the source for the discontent but it does not matter as the vassals cannot unite themselves to do something about him. Since Rædwald rules half the counties in the kingdom directly what remains is too fragmented to oppose him. Eadweard has the Groomed to Perfection modifier so that will help with the transition. However, it may not be as big as help as it could be if the realm is in too much turmoil.
A sane king would have left his brother to die in the dungeon. He was half dead any way. But being a lunatic Rædwald did not act rationally. Now he is reaping the bad seeds he has sown and his only recourse is more tyranny.
I hope to post the next chapter (7.17.4) tomorrow. It needs one more read through. Since I having doing a playthrough writing future chapters has fallen off. I have the chapter after next (7.18.1) written in first draft. I am trying to lay out chapters 7.18.2 and 7.18.3.
I am truly glad I did the playthrough. There are some big time events happening with some shocking surprises. Loads of fun. It is also helping with progress Rædwald's story as it provides a direction for it.
In the upcoming Chapter 7.17.4 we learn more of Rædwald's illness. Eadweard begins to step up and become involved. You will have to be the judge if it is good or bad. A couple new characters are introduced and we see more of Rædwald's tyrannical actions.
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Chapter 7.17.4 - October 1022 Bamborg, Northumberland; Ducal Keep
7.17.4
October 1022
Bamborg, Northumberland
Ducal Keep
Slowly and steadily Rædwald walked into what had been his late brother’s ducal room. The duke’s chair atop the small dais now served as a king’s throne. The orange and gold banners of Northumberland still hung from the rafters along with newly added white and red banners of the Kingdom of Jorvik. Suspended behind the throne the black banner with the white shirt of the House of Hvitserk watched over the patriarch of the bloodline.
As he traversed across the cold stone floor, he pulled the fur draped across his shoulders attempting to keep the chill at bay. October was upon the lands with its grey skies and cold winds from the north. The fire in the hearth burned voraciously against the cold. The last couple of months saw the king lose weight to the illness that his body combated.
Cancer. The word sliced through Rædwald’s thoughts like a jagged blade ripping out his existence. Hearing the tales of suffering and lingering death Rædwald fell into a deep dark depression upon hearing the diagnosis from Beorhthelm.
Now more than ever he felt he was on borrowed time, yet he had great deeds undone. Despite a ruinous previous experience when Beorhthelm approached him with an experimental treatment Rædwald jumped at the chance for a cure. Once overcoming the revulsion of the smell of the yellow powder sprinkled over the still tepid gall-bladder of a rabid beaver Rædwald began to feel better. Rædwald was not sure about the whole fight evil with evil thing Beorhthelm championed. However, there must have been something to it as the king felt stronger and more alive than he had in months.
The cancer pains and nausea had greatly subsided, but a dull nagging pain remained. Not debilitating the pain served as a reminder of the sickness and that it could some day rear it ugliness again.
The most pressing concerns were the king regaining his strength particularly in his legs and arms. Confinement to a bed for many long months had sapped the prowess from his muscles. He moved like someone well beyond his forty years as displayed in his slow pace across the room. His extreme weight loss not only hindered his stamina but also left him vulnerable to the cold.
With care Rædwald mounted the steps on the dais. Without any ceremony he sat down heavily on the throne. He looked around the nearly empty room. Formal court with all its trappings and ceremony were a thing of the past. One day when he returned healthy to Jorvik the splendor and pom of court would return. For now, it was just him, Beorhthelm, Eadweard, and a few guards stationed throughout the hall.
With a raspy voice Rædwald ordered, “Let us begin”
In this bare bone court, the 15-year-old crown prince had to act as both messenger and host. Eadweard nodded and walked to the doors at the end of the hall. He spoke with the guards at the door and in a few moments began his trek back to his father. He was accompanied by a man in armor who had obviously been in the saddle riding hard for many days.
Reaching the dais Eadweard continued up the steps and stood to his father’s right. The solider took a knee and bowed. Rædwald directed him to stand and said, “What news do you bare Commander Anlaufr Þorsteinnsson that you rode hard to deliver.”
Anlaufr sheepishly asked, “May I?”
Rædwald nodded and Anlaufr took one step up the dais. Eadweard walked to the commander. Anlaufr held out a pouch and handed it to Eadweard. Anlaufr stepped down and replied, “Dispatches from Clydesdale.”
Eadweard took the pouch and walked it over to his father and handed it to him. Rædwald took the pouch and sat it in his lap and Eadweard returned to his place besides his father. Rædwald looked at Anlaufr.
Anlaufr knew what the look meant and replied, “The dispatches are routine.”
Rædwald looked at Anlaufr and smirked, “Then why ride so hard?”
Anlaufr smiled broadly, “To bring, Your Highness word that Renfrew has been taken. We control all of County Clydesdale.”
Rædwald laughed, “That is good news. Goods news indeed.”
Anlaufr nodded, “The city fell quickly, and we suffered no casualties.”
Rædwald asked, “What of the army? Where is it now?”
Anlaufr replied, “The army moves to join the Scottish at Abercorn.”
Rædwald nodded, “Fine, Fine.’ He looked at Eadweard and winked, “I shall be rejoining it soon.” The prince returned a confused look.
Anlaufr enthusiastically responded, “That would be a joyous occasion.”
Beorhthelm coughed and said, “Now, Your Highness you must not rush these things.”
Rædwald looked at Beorhthelm and replied, “Good physician I shall decide when to rush things. Afterall am I not the king?”
Beorhthelm nodded and gave a subservient look, “You are king, but I am your physician and therefore charged with your health and wish for you to have a long reign.”
Rædwald faked defeat and looked at Anlaufr and said, “You will have to tell Mayor Uhtræd I will be delayed for a short time longer.”
Anlaufar nodded and replied, “I will tell him, Sire. We will look forward to your return and will celebrate it when the day comes.”
Rædwald smiled, “Many thanks, Anlaufr.”
Anlaufr made a sweeping bow extending his right arm.
Rædwald nodded, “Very well now. See the guards and they will see that you are fed and have a place to rest before you return to the army.”
Bowing Anlaufr said, “Thank you, Sire.” He turned and followed a guard out if the hall.
Eadweard looked at Beorhthelm. The physician appeared to be bursting at the seams. Eadweard patted his father on the shoulder and the two exchanged a chuckle as the prince descended the dais to fetch the next guest.
Eadweard returned a few moments later escorting a mountain of a man. His red hair was cut short and his face was like that of a new babe. His cold blue steel eyes, however, were the hard, unyielding eyes of a warrior, of man one did not trifle with if one valued their life. Upon reaching the dais the man took a knee as Eadweard climbed the dais and stood by his father.
Motioning for the man to stand Rædwald said, “Yngvar of Llanelwy.”
Yngvar replied, “You spoke, my king, and I am here.”
Rædwald smiled, “Do you know why I have summoned you?”
Expressionless Yngvar replied, “No, Sire I know not.”
Rædwald chuckled, “I see you are a man of few words. Would you care to surmise why?”
Still with no emotion showing Yngvar replied, “I possess a knowledge or skill that you require.”
Rædwald laughed, “You are very astute.”
Yngvar finally looked directly at the king and asked, “What do you require of me?”
Rædwald responded, “Your sword and your loyalty.”
A hint of confusion crossed the Norse warrior’s face, “You already have both my king.”
Rædwald became serious, “I am aware of that Yngvar. What I need is sword in the front leading men.”
Yngvar was caught off guard, “I understand not.”
Rædwald smirked. He had been told Yngvar was not the brightest, “Your liege, Jarl Ealdmund of Powys spoke of your skill with a blade and axe in battle and how men rally around you. He told of your grasp of battle tactics and daring on the battlefield.”
Slightly embarrassed Yngvar replied, “Jarl Ealdmund overstates matters.”
Rædwald leaned forward and chuckled, “I have known Jarl Ealdmund for many, many years and I trust his judgement and assessment in these manners.”
Still unsure Yngvar said, “if that is so then I own the Jarl of Powys a debt of gratitude.”
Still leaning forward Rædwald loudly clasped his hands, “See my good warrior I am in dire need of good commanders who can lead on the battlefield and are trustworthy. Do you understand?”
Yngvar nodded as he realized what was happening, “Yes, Sire.”
Unclasping his hands Rædwald sat back in his chair, “Good, very good. Orders will be drawn up making you a General of the Realm.”
Humbled Yngvar bowed his head, “Thank you, Your Highness. I will lead your soldiers to the Gates of Hell if you so order.”
Rædwald chuckled, “I hope it does not come to that. For now, the only devil we need to battle is English.”
Yngvar nodded.
Rædwald continued, “You will stay here while the orders are written, and make ready to travel to Abercorn.”
Yngvar bowed and said, “Thank you, Sire. You will not regret your choice.”
Rædwald nodded and indicated Yngvar could leave. The warrior turned and walked with a more confidant step as he left the hall.
Once Yngvar exited the hall Rædwald turned to Eadweard and said, “We need more like him.”
Not sure of what was meant by the statement Eadweard questioned, “Father?”
Rædwald stood and faced Eadweard, “We need strong and skilled Norse warriors and leaders like Yngvar.”
Confused Eadweard said nothing.
Rædwald reached out and placed his hands on his son’s shoulders, “Far too long we have tried to be like the Anglo-Saxons. We have become weak and complacent. We have lost our way. It was through strength and Norse blood this kingdom was carved out of these lands. We have forgotten we are the children of Ragnarr Loðbrok. Do you understand?”
Eadweard proud of his forefathers responded, “Yes, father, I do.”
Rædwald lowered his arms and smiled, “Good, very good.”
Father and son exited the hall and slowly made their way down the corridor toward Rædwald’s chambers.
Anglo-Saxon Beorhthelm followed many steps behind his mind racing. Does the fate and perhaps the survival of the Jorvikians of Anglo-Saxon reside with a mad king? Where will it end?
*****
Rædwald entered his chambers alone. He made his way over to a table and lifted the pitcher. He poured some wine in a goblet. Placing the pitcher down he took several sips from the goblet.
There was a tap on the door. Rædwald instinctively reached for the dagger on the table. He turned to watch the door. The tapping resumed but now there was a pattern to it. Rædwald listen intensely. Once the tapping was done Rædwald continued to listen.
Finally he spoke, “Enter.”
The door opened slowly and quietly. A man dressed in a black coat with the hood raised slithered into the room. He slowly closed the door in such a manner the click of the latch was barely audible. The man removed his hood revealing a man enclosed by a bushy beard and short crop of brownish red hair.
Rædwald smiled and offered the man a goblet, “Tadg mac Broccán. I had long given up hope of ever seeing the Spymaster of Mide again.”
Tadg refused the goblet and said, “I wish not to linger long here.”
Rædwald drained his goblet and placed it on the table, “Then you had better speak of what brought you here.”
Tadg grimaced, “I say what I say out of no love for you, but I am true to God and to Mide.”
Rædwald smirked, “And my gold.”
Tadg glared at Rædwald but then an evil smile came across his face, “Your fears are founded. The Queen does bed another.”
Showing no emotion Rædwald coldly asked, “Who?”
The king’s icy emotionless reaction sent shivers down Tadg’s spine. He began to wonder what he had gotten into. He swallowed now regretting not taking the king’s offer of wine, “Rígán, Marshal of Mide.”
With a stern face Rædwald nodded. The king turned and opened a drawer in the nearby dresser and removed a small pouch. He turned and tossed the pouch to Tadg. Surprised by the king’s action Tadg almost missed the pouch. As he caught it coins could be heard clicking together within the pouch.
Wide eyed and horrified Tadg looked at the pouch and then at the king, “What is this for?”
Now it was Rædwald with the evil smile, “Consider it a down payment.”
Fearful Tadg replied, “A down payment for what?’
Still with the devilishly smile Rædwald answered, “For further information.”
Tadg shook his head and offered the pouch back, “No, no I am done.”
Rædwald walked away from Tadg’s outstretched arm and the pouch. As he neared the shadowy corner of the room near the wardrobe he said, “I am afraid you are not done.”
Tadg dropping the pouch to the floor replied, “No one saw me. I can deny everything.”
With an evil chuckled Rædwald said, “Are you sure?”
Confidently Tadg responded, “Yes I am.”
There was movement in the shadow next to the king. Tadg drew his dagger. Rædwald smiled as Eadweard emerged from the shadow with his sword drawn. Eadweard looked at his father and with the drawn blade pointing at the Irish spymaster took a few steps toward a completely frightened Tadg.
Eadweard stopped and smiled, “It surprises me, father, that a spymaster would walk blindly into a room and speak his secrets without inspecting the room out thoroughly.”
Father and son laughed. The color drained from Tadg’s face. He stood holding the dagger with his shaking hand. Eadweard pointed his sword toward the dagger and Tadg dropped it. Eadweard reached down and picked up the dagger and the pouch.
Handing the pouch to Tadg Eadweard said, “Here you have dropped your thirteen pieces of silver.”
Not knowing what else to do Tadg took the pouch. He scanned the room for an escape and found none. The door to the corridor was now blocked by Jarl Ealdmund who had entered the room unnoticed.
Rædwald moved and stood before Tadg and said, “I look forward to your next report.”
Tadg gave both Rædwald and Eadweard an evil look and turned quickly. Smiling Ealdmund opened the door and Tadg ran into the corridor as fast as he could not caring of the noise he made.
Eadweard sheathed his sword. Rædwald sat down heavily in a chair. Ealdmund approached and said, “He is ours.”
Rædwald looked up at Ealdmund, “I knew the plan would work.”
Sensing the king wished to be alone with his son Ealdmund bowed, “I will see to the next act, if I have your leave.”
Rædwald nodded, “You may go.”
Once Ealdmund left the room Rædwald face collapsed into his hands. A few tears ran down his face. Eadweard poured a goblet of wine and handed it to his father. Eadweard stood watching his father drink and tried to come to grasp what his mother had done.
Finally, Eadweard spoke, “Father.”
Rædwald looked up at his son.
Eadweard continued, “What shall we do?”
Rædwald finished the wine and threw the goblet across the room. It hit the wall with a loud metallic sound and fell to the floor. He watched it until it stopped spinning. He stood and placed his right hand on Eadweard’s shoulder and said, “I know not what at this time.”
Confused and hurt Eadweard said, “She has betrayed you. She betrayed our love.”
Rædwald squeezed Eadweard’s shoulder and removed his hand. Somberly the king crossed the room to the bed. He turned and looked at Eadweard. “My father, King Eilif, always said that the most dangerous person at court is the queen and someday she will betray you.” Looking harder at Eadweard he said, “Remember that.”
A downtrodden Eadweard nodded and replied, “Yes, father.”
Rædwald sat on the side of the bed, “I must rest now.”
Eadweard nodded and walked out the room.
Rædwald sat on the side of bed staring into the void until the shadows overtook the room.
October 1022
Bamborg, Northumberland
Ducal Keep
Slowly and steadily Rædwald walked into what had been his late brother’s ducal room. The duke’s chair atop the small dais now served as a king’s throne. The orange and gold banners of Northumberland still hung from the rafters along with newly added white and red banners of the Kingdom of Jorvik. Suspended behind the throne the black banner with the white shirt of the House of Hvitserk watched over the patriarch of the bloodline.
As he traversed across the cold stone floor, he pulled the fur draped across his shoulders attempting to keep the chill at bay. October was upon the lands with its grey skies and cold winds from the north. The fire in the hearth burned voraciously against the cold. The last couple of months saw the king lose weight to the illness that his body combated.
Cancer. The word sliced through Rædwald’s thoughts like a jagged blade ripping out his existence. Hearing the tales of suffering and lingering death Rædwald fell into a deep dark depression upon hearing the diagnosis from Beorhthelm.
Now more than ever he felt he was on borrowed time, yet he had great deeds undone. Despite a ruinous previous experience when Beorhthelm approached him with an experimental treatment Rædwald jumped at the chance for a cure. Once overcoming the revulsion of the smell of the yellow powder sprinkled over the still tepid gall-bladder of a rabid beaver Rædwald began to feel better. Rædwald was not sure about the whole fight evil with evil thing Beorhthelm championed. However, there must have been something to it as the king felt stronger and more alive than he had in months.
The cancer pains and nausea had greatly subsided, but a dull nagging pain remained. Not debilitating the pain served as a reminder of the sickness and that it could some day rear it ugliness again.
The most pressing concerns were the king regaining his strength particularly in his legs and arms. Confinement to a bed for many long months had sapped the prowess from his muscles. He moved like someone well beyond his forty years as displayed in his slow pace across the room. His extreme weight loss not only hindered his stamina but also left him vulnerable to the cold.
With care Rædwald mounted the steps on the dais. Without any ceremony he sat down heavily on the throne. He looked around the nearly empty room. Formal court with all its trappings and ceremony were a thing of the past. One day when he returned healthy to Jorvik the splendor and pom of court would return. For now, it was just him, Beorhthelm, Eadweard, and a few guards stationed throughout the hall.
With a raspy voice Rædwald ordered, “Let us begin”
In this bare bone court, the 15-year-old crown prince had to act as both messenger and host. Eadweard nodded and walked to the doors at the end of the hall. He spoke with the guards at the door and in a few moments began his trek back to his father. He was accompanied by a man in armor who had obviously been in the saddle riding hard for many days.
Reaching the dais Eadweard continued up the steps and stood to his father’s right. The solider took a knee and bowed. Rædwald directed him to stand and said, “What news do you bare Commander Anlaufr Þorsteinnsson that you rode hard to deliver.”
Anlaufr sheepishly asked, “May I?”
Rædwald nodded and Anlaufr took one step up the dais. Eadweard walked to the commander. Anlaufr held out a pouch and handed it to Eadweard. Anlaufr stepped down and replied, “Dispatches from Clydesdale.”
Eadweard took the pouch and walked it over to his father and handed it to him. Rædwald took the pouch and sat it in his lap and Eadweard returned to his place besides his father. Rædwald looked at Anlaufr.
Anlaufr knew what the look meant and replied, “The dispatches are routine.”
Rædwald looked at Anlaufr and smirked, “Then why ride so hard?”
Anlaufr smiled broadly, “To bring, Your Highness word that Renfrew has been taken. We control all of County Clydesdale.”
Rædwald laughed, “That is good news. Goods news indeed.”
Anlaufr nodded, “The city fell quickly, and we suffered no casualties.”
Rædwald asked, “What of the army? Where is it now?”
Anlaufr replied, “The army moves to join the Scottish at Abercorn.”
Rædwald nodded, “Fine, Fine.’ He looked at Eadweard and winked, “I shall be rejoining it soon.” The prince returned a confused look.
Anlaufr enthusiastically responded, “That would be a joyous occasion.”
Beorhthelm coughed and said, “Now, Your Highness you must not rush these things.”
Rædwald looked at Beorhthelm and replied, “Good physician I shall decide when to rush things. Afterall am I not the king?”
Beorhthelm nodded and gave a subservient look, “You are king, but I am your physician and therefore charged with your health and wish for you to have a long reign.”
Rædwald faked defeat and looked at Anlaufr and said, “You will have to tell Mayor Uhtræd I will be delayed for a short time longer.”
Anlaufar nodded and replied, “I will tell him, Sire. We will look forward to your return and will celebrate it when the day comes.”
Rædwald smiled, “Many thanks, Anlaufr.”
Anlaufr made a sweeping bow extending his right arm.
Rædwald nodded, “Very well now. See the guards and they will see that you are fed and have a place to rest before you return to the army.”
Bowing Anlaufr said, “Thank you, Sire.” He turned and followed a guard out if the hall.
Eadweard looked at Beorhthelm. The physician appeared to be bursting at the seams. Eadweard patted his father on the shoulder and the two exchanged a chuckle as the prince descended the dais to fetch the next guest.
Eadweard returned a few moments later escorting a mountain of a man. His red hair was cut short and his face was like that of a new babe. His cold blue steel eyes, however, were the hard, unyielding eyes of a warrior, of man one did not trifle with if one valued their life. Upon reaching the dais the man took a knee as Eadweard climbed the dais and stood by his father.
Motioning for the man to stand Rædwald said, “Yngvar of Llanelwy.”
Yngvar replied, “You spoke, my king, and I am here.”
Rædwald smiled, “Do you know why I have summoned you?”
Expressionless Yngvar replied, “No, Sire I know not.”
Rædwald chuckled, “I see you are a man of few words. Would you care to surmise why?”
Still with no emotion showing Yngvar replied, “I possess a knowledge or skill that you require.”
Rædwald laughed, “You are very astute.”
Yngvar finally looked directly at the king and asked, “What do you require of me?”
Rædwald responded, “Your sword and your loyalty.”
A hint of confusion crossed the Norse warrior’s face, “You already have both my king.”
Rædwald became serious, “I am aware of that Yngvar. What I need is sword in the front leading men.”
Yngvar was caught off guard, “I understand not.”
Rædwald smirked. He had been told Yngvar was not the brightest, “Your liege, Jarl Ealdmund of Powys spoke of your skill with a blade and axe in battle and how men rally around you. He told of your grasp of battle tactics and daring on the battlefield.”
Slightly embarrassed Yngvar replied, “Jarl Ealdmund overstates matters.”
Rædwald leaned forward and chuckled, “I have known Jarl Ealdmund for many, many years and I trust his judgement and assessment in these manners.”
Still unsure Yngvar said, “if that is so then I own the Jarl of Powys a debt of gratitude.”
Still leaning forward Rædwald loudly clasped his hands, “See my good warrior I am in dire need of good commanders who can lead on the battlefield and are trustworthy. Do you understand?”
Yngvar nodded as he realized what was happening, “Yes, Sire.”
Unclasping his hands Rædwald sat back in his chair, “Good, very good. Orders will be drawn up making you a General of the Realm.”
Humbled Yngvar bowed his head, “Thank you, Your Highness. I will lead your soldiers to the Gates of Hell if you so order.”
Rædwald chuckled, “I hope it does not come to that. For now, the only devil we need to battle is English.”
Yngvar nodded.
Rædwald continued, “You will stay here while the orders are written, and make ready to travel to Abercorn.”
Yngvar bowed and said, “Thank you, Sire. You will not regret your choice.”
Rædwald nodded and indicated Yngvar could leave. The warrior turned and walked with a more confidant step as he left the hall.
Once Yngvar exited the hall Rædwald turned to Eadweard and said, “We need more like him.”
Not sure of what was meant by the statement Eadweard questioned, “Father?”
Rædwald stood and faced Eadweard, “We need strong and skilled Norse warriors and leaders like Yngvar.”
Confused Eadweard said nothing.
Rædwald reached out and placed his hands on his son’s shoulders, “Far too long we have tried to be like the Anglo-Saxons. We have become weak and complacent. We have lost our way. It was through strength and Norse blood this kingdom was carved out of these lands. We have forgotten we are the children of Ragnarr Loðbrok. Do you understand?”
Eadweard proud of his forefathers responded, “Yes, father, I do.”
Rædwald lowered his arms and smiled, “Good, very good.”
Father and son exited the hall and slowly made their way down the corridor toward Rædwald’s chambers.
Anglo-Saxon Beorhthelm followed many steps behind his mind racing. Does the fate and perhaps the survival of the Jorvikians of Anglo-Saxon reside with a mad king? Where will it end?
*****
Rædwald entered his chambers alone. He made his way over to a table and lifted the pitcher. He poured some wine in a goblet. Placing the pitcher down he took several sips from the goblet.
There was a tap on the door. Rædwald instinctively reached for the dagger on the table. He turned to watch the door. The tapping resumed but now there was a pattern to it. Rædwald listen intensely. Once the tapping was done Rædwald continued to listen.
Finally he spoke, “Enter.”
The door opened slowly and quietly. A man dressed in a black coat with the hood raised slithered into the room. He slowly closed the door in such a manner the click of the latch was barely audible. The man removed his hood revealing a man enclosed by a bushy beard and short crop of brownish red hair.
Rædwald smiled and offered the man a goblet, “Tadg mac Broccán. I had long given up hope of ever seeing the Spymaster of Mide again.”
Tadg refused the goblet and said, “I wish not to linger long here.”
Rædwald drained his goblet and placed it on the table, “Then you had better speak of what brought you here.”
Tadg grimaced, “I say what I say out of no love for you, but I am true to God and to Mide.”
Rædwald smirked, “And my gold.”
Tadg glared at Rædwald but then an evil smile came across his face, “Your fears are founded. The Queen does bed another.”
Showing no emotion Rædwald coldly asked, “Who?”
The king’s icy emotionless reaction sent shivers down Tadg’s spine. He began to wonder what he had gotten into. He swallowed now regretting not taking the king’s offer of wine, “Rígán, Marshal of Mide.”
With a stern face Rædwald nodded. The king turned and opened a drawer in the nearby dresser and removed a small pouch. He turned and tossed the pouch to Tadg. Surprised by the king’s action Tadg almost missed the pouch. As he caught it coins could be heard clicking together within the pouch.
Wide eyed and horrified Tadg looked at the pouch and then at the king, “What is this for?”
Now it was Rædwald with the evil smile, “Consider it a down payment.”
Fearful Tadg replied, “A down payment for what?’
Still with the devilishly smile Rædwald answered, “For further information.”
Tadg shook his head and offered the pouch back, “No, no I am done.”
Rædwald walked away from Tadg’s outstretched arm and the pouch. As he neared the shadowy corner of the room near the wardrobe he said, “I am afraid you are not done.”
Tadg dropping the pouch to the floor replied, “No one saw me. I can deny everything.”
With an evil chuckled Rædwald said, “Are you sure?”
Confidently Tadg responded, “Yes I am.”
There was movement in the shadow next to the king. Tadg drew his dagger. Rædwald smiled as Eadweard emerged from the shadow with his sword drawn. Eadweard looked at his father and with the drawn blade pointing at the Irish spymaster took a few steps toward a completely frightened Tadg.
Eadweard stopped and smiled, “It surprises me, father, that a spymaster would walk blindly into a room and speak his secrets without inspecting the room out thoroughly.”
Father and son laughed. The color drained from Tadg’s face. He stood holding the dagger with his shaking hand. Eadweard pointed his sword toward the dagger and Tadg dropped it. Eadweard reached down and picked up the dagger and the pouch.
Handing the pouch to Tadg Eadweard said, “Here you have dropped your thirteen pieces of silver.”
Not knowing what else to do Tadg took the pouch. He scanned the room for an escape and found none. The door to the corridor was now blocked by Jarl Ealdmund who had entered the room unnoticed.
Rædwald moved and stood before Tadg and said, “I look forward to your next report.”
Tadg gave both Rædwald and Eadweard an evil look and turned quickly. Smiling Ealdmund opened the door and Tadg ran into the corridor as fast as he could not caring of the noise he made.
Eadweard sheathed his sword. Rædwald sat down heavily in a chair. Ealdmund approached and said, “He is ours.”
Rædwald looked up at Ealdmund, “I knew the plan would work.”
Sensing the king wished to be alone with his son Ealdmund bowed, “I will see to the next act, if I have your leave.”
Rædwald nodded, “You may go.”
Once Ealdmund left the room Rædwald face collapsed into his hands. A few tears ran down his face. Eadweard poured a goblet of wine and handed it to his father. Eadweard stood watching his father drink and tried to come to grasp what his mother had done.
Finally, Eadweard spoke, “Father.”
Rædwald looked up at his son.
Eadweard continued, “What shall we do?”
Rædwald finished the wine and threw the goblet across the room. It hit the wall with a loud metallic sound and fell to the floor. He watched it until it stopped spinning. He stood and placed his right hand on Eadweard’s shoulder and said, “I know not what at this time.”
Confused and hurt Eadweard said, “She has betrayed you. She betrayed our love.”
Rædwald squeezed Eadweard’s shoulder and removed his hand. Somberly the king crossed the room to the bed. He turned and looked at Eadweard. “My father, King Eilif, always said that the most dangerous person at court is the queen and someday she will betray you.” Looking harder at Eadweard he said, “Remember that.”
A downtrodden Eadweard nodded and replied, “Yes, father.”
Rædwald sat on the side of the bed, “I must rest now.”
Eadweard nodded and walked out the room.
Rædwald sat on the side of bed staring into the void until the shadows overtook the room.
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Another good and interesting chapter in this epic AAR. Raedwald and Eadward are betrayed by Christina, what a shame, I feel sad for them
. Raedwald and Eadward are betrayed by Christina, what a shame, I feel sad for them
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Some real father-son bonding moments here
A very packed episode. Rædwald is coming across as increasingly bitter almost. Bitter isn't quite the right word, but something like that.
A very packed episode. Rædwald is coming across as increasingly bitter almost. Bitter isn't quite the right word, but something like that.
- 1
Another good and interesting chapter in this epic AAR
Thank you! This affair is going to have long lasting impacts.
Some real father-son bonding moments here
A very packed episode. Rædwald is coming across as increasingly bitter almost. Bitter isn't quite the right word, but something like that.
I am trying to bring Eadweard more it the story as he is the hier. The king's madness is showing in many ways.
Next chapter is coming up. The Queen is the center of the story here. This is laying the ground work for somethings that are going to happen in the near future and over the next decade.
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Chapter 7.18.1 - March 1023 Jorvik, Jorvik; Palace of Jorvik
Chapter 7.18
7.18.1
March 1023
Jorvik, Jorvik
Palace of Jorvik
Crístina gripped the reigns tighter as she maneuvered her horse through the gates and into the bailey. The last few miles of the trip had been unnerving for the queen. The roads seemed usually empty and where they did encounter people they shied away from the queen and her entourage. Her stomach turned in knots as she was aware the bailey was empty. This was a very usual welcoming for the return of the queen.
She chuckled to herself. The last eight weeks had been anything but usual. It all began with an unsettling conversation with her Spymaster Tadg mac Broccán. The conversation was still vivid in her mind and it replayed without her thinking.
She was alone in the council chambers troubled. The court physician had confirmed what she had suspected and feared for several weeks. She was with child. Soon she would not be able to hide the fact. She had already overheard several of her ladies talking about the queen’s woman’s time being late. She was sure the rumors had begun.
Sitting at the table lost in her thoughts she did not hear Tadg entered the chamber and quietly approached the queen. Starling her he said, “Excuse the intrusion, my queen.”
So deep in thought the queen jumped at the sound of his voice. Shaken and a little angry over being disturbed she growled, “What is it?”
Realizing what he had done Tadg stepped back and bowed, “I am sorry if I alarmed you.”
She looked at the spymaster and with anger still in her voice replied, “You had better have a good reason.”
Still acting apologetic Tadg replied, “I bring urgent news.”
Her agitation not lessening Crístina responded, “Well then out with it.”
Tadg looked at the queen and said, “I bring word of an assassination attempt.”
Crístina rolled her eyes, “Another. They come daily. That is no news.”
Crístina stood and began to walk away from the spymaster in disgust.
Tadg watched her and said, “This one is different.” Expecting a response Tadg paused. Crístina did not react and continued walking toward the door. “This one is directed not only toward yourself but also your children.”
Crístina stopped in her tracks and spun around. With her fist clenched she marched to Tadg. When she halted her face was only inches from Tadg’s face. “My children. Which one?”
Tadg swallowed hard, “All of them here in court. The princes Sigeberht and Eilif, and the Princess Ælfthryth.”
Crístina stepped back. The color drained from her face, but she quickly recovered her composure. Still glaring at Tadg she asked, “Who?”
Tadg let out the breath he did not know he had been holding, “We do not know exactly who but there are several candidates.”
The queen’s eyes narrowed, she ordered, “Names.”
Tadg hesitated, “We do not have definite proof. Just information that points to certain individuals.”
This with more force Crístina ordered, “I want names.”
Licking his dry lips Tadg replied, “Crown Princess Sifflæd of England, and Eanhere Æthelsigesson Spymaster of England.”
Crístina grumbled, “English, huh.”
Tadg nodded, “Yes, milady.”
Suddenly Crístina suspiciously eyed Tadg and asked, “How did you discover this plot?”
Squirming under his queen’s intense gaze Tadg replied, “A band of bowmen appeared in town and one night several were at a tavern enjoying a drink. One of them got heavily drunk and began to brag about a job he and his friends were hired to do involving killing a highborn lady and her children. Several of his friends tried to forcibly quiet the man. He would not be quiet, and a ruckus broke out. Several of my agents were in attendance that night for a different reason realized the importance of the man and rescued him. Upon questioning he revealed the lady was you.”
Still unsure Crístina asked, “Did he tell who hired them?”
Still unsettled Tadg replied, “He did not. He was not one of the leaders of the band and had no knowledge of it.”
Crístina asked, “What of these leaders?”
Tadg lowered his head and replied, “Regrettably the band disappeared. We have been diligently searching for them.”
Crístina smirked and asked, “What of the captured man can he tell you where they went?”
Tadg avoided the queen’s gaze and said, “Most unfortunately he did survive questioning. His injuries were too severe.”
Crístina sighed, “That is unfortunate.” She then ordered, “Find the leaders and take whatever precautions needed to protect the children.”
Tadg nodded and bowed, “Yes, my queen.”
He then practically ran from the chambers.
*****
A sound brought Crístina out of her thoughts. She noticed a collection of soldiers milling around the steps to the entrance to the keep.
Odd she thought.
She turned to check on her children. She could not see them hidden among her guards.
Good.
She slowed the pace as her mind wandered back to Gabbrán.
After about a week and a half she was thinking Tadg’s assassination plot was just another farfetched tale. She was dwelling more and more on how she was going to hide her pregnancy from Rædwald. Then Jarl Ealdmund of Powys, Spymaster of Jorvik appeared unannounced.
As the servants finished clearing the remains from the evening meal Crístina and Ealdmund washed the last food down with ale. A servant refilled their mugs and Crístina told him to leave the pitcher. He left the pitcher between the two who sat opposite from one another at the dinning table in the hall. The servant bowed and retuned to his station along the wall behind the queen.
Ealdmund smiled and brushed the crumbs out of his beard, “Another fine meal.”
Crístina returned the smile, “Thank you. I am sure the cooks will apricate your assessment.”
Ealdmund laughed as he patted his belly, “If I keep having meals like this, I will get too fat for my horse.”
Crístina laughed, “That would be a site to se. Where else have you been?”
Ealdmund sat back in his chair and said, “Before I came here, I was in Aberffaw as the guest of Prince Hlothere.”
Crístina lost the joy in her face, “Hlothere still has not returned to court?”
Ealdmund too became serious and somber, “No his displeasure with Rædwald runs too deep.” Ealdmund took a quick sip of ale and continued “I fear the brother’s feud poisons the kingdom.” He brightened up, “Perhaps you can encourage Hlothere to reconcile.”
Crístina found her smile again and replied, “perhaps I should.” Becoming somber again she said, “How is Hlothere’s new son? I had heard he was not well.”
With a tinge of sadness Ealdmund replied, “I am afraid what you heard is true. Eadfrith was born sickly and deformed.”
Shocked Crístina asked, “Deformed? In what way?”
Ealdmund responded, “From what I was told he has a hunch back.”
Crístina shook her head, “Sad. That is so sad.”
Crístina finished her ale and poured herself another mug. “I see the war goes well”
Ealdmund nodded, “Yes it does. Abercorn was taken, and Edinburgh fell last month. Victory is not far.”
Trying to sound cheerful Crístina asked, “How does my husband fare?”
Ealdmund smiled, “He does well. The cancer has receded for now. He has returned to Jorvik and begun marriage negotiations for Sigeberht.”
Anger flashed in Crístina’s eyes, “He does so.”
Ealdmund chuckled, “Do not worry you will be included in the final negotiations.”
As anger lessened some Crístina replied, “I had better be. Are there any frontrunners?”
Ealdmund nodded, “Princess Richenza, daughter of King Hermann of Bavaria.”
Crístina smiled, “That would be a good match.”
Ealdmund grinned, “Better than the one he rejected for Bodil.”
Confused Crístina asked, “Bodil?”
Ealdmund responded, “Yes King Hermann of Germany proposed Lothar Lodolfinger.”
Crístina’s face showed her confusion now, “Lothar who?”
Ealdmund chuckled, “He is the grandson of King Hermann but has no lands or chances of inheriting any.”
After a moment Crístina asked, “Bodil? Why is Rædwald rejecting marriage proposals for her?”
Ealdmund finished his ale, “You did not know she has returned to court?”
Upset she did not know Crístina replied, “No I was not told. What transpired?”
Ealdmund poured more ale and answered, “Her marriage was annulled when her husband Sigismond became Bishop of Langers. She was sent from the court of King Nicolas back to Jorvik.”
Concerned Crístina, “What of her daughters?”
Ealdmund frowned as he took sip of ale, “Sadly they remain in Paris.”
Both drank their ale and sat in silence for a few moments and then Crístina spoke, “I know you did not come here to share gossip and family news.”
Ealdmund looked up from his mug of ale, “you speak the truth.”
Curious and apprehensive at the same time Crístina asked, “What brings you here?”
Ealdmund took a deep breath, “Assassination plots.”
Perturbed Crístina remark, “You also.”
In a very serious tone Ealdmund spoke, “I fear it is true. We know of the English plot and captured one of the band of bowmen’s leaders trying to make his way back to England. Before he departed this world, he confirmed the plot came from the court of King Ælfgar of England, Ælfgar wants you and your children’s death as revenge for Rædwald aiding the Scots.”
Crístina looked hard at Ealdmund, “I have known you for many years, Ealdmund. You do not tell all.”
Ealdmund drank some and ale and took a deep breath, “I cannot fool you. They had help from within Mide and possibly this court.”
Eyes narrowing Crístina asked, “Who and why?”
Ealdmund looked at her and replied, “We have suspects but no one clear traitor. The why is easier. Many Irish object to a woman on the throne of Mide and many do not want the House of Hvitserk to inherit the crown.”
Feeling as if she had been punched in the gut Crístina was silent for a couple of minutes. With her voice breaking she asked, “What am I to do? I feel unsafe here.”
Trying to be comforting Ealdmund answered, “The king wishes you to return to Jorvik with the children.”
Crístina chuckled knowing her husband, “Wishes. Don’t you mean demand?”
Ealdmund threw his hands up and laughed, “I cannot fool you.”
Smiling at Ealdmund’s theatrics Crístina asked, “The camp fever?”
Ealdmund returned to seriousness, “It is still there but it is losing its intensity.”
Crístina sighed, “Then we shall prepare to leave for Jorvik.” After finishing her ale, she asked, “will you travel with us?”
Ealdmund shook his head, “Regrettably I have pressing business elsewhere.”
Crístina grinned, “I hope it is not to Burgh. I would hate to see you on the menu if the rumors be true.”
At first Ealdmund did not understand. Then it came to him, “I am afraid the rumors are true. Count Eadwine of Cumberland was locked away in his castle to avoid the camp fever they ran out of food. Starving and desperate they resorted to cannibalism. And no I return to Bedford and handle some duchy business.”
Five days later Crístina left for Jorvik.
*****
Crístina halted her mount at the steps. The soldiers snapped to attention as Crístina dismounted. She followed the Captain of the Guard up the steps and into the keep. Once in the vestibule the children were transferred to the care of their nannies and escorted to their chambers. Crístina, on the other hand, was escorted into the Great Hall.
There she found her husband, Beorhthelm, Jarl Emrys, and Ealdmund. There was at least one company of guards present. She thought that odd but given all the assassination plots she dismissed it as Rædwald being cautious or just paranoid. No telling where his madness had gone.
She reached the dais and began to ascend the steps saying, “My husband.”
Rædwald stood and outstretched his arm signaling her to stop, “No, do not come any closer.”
Stunned Crístina stopped halfway up the steps.
He knows. She asked, “What is the trouble?’
Rædwald walked to the edge of the dais and glared at her, “You dare come here and act like my wife.”
He truly knows. Crístina looked down at her growing belly. It was becoming more difficult to hide the fact. “I know not what you speak of.”
Angrily the king asked, “Do you take me for a fool?”
Fear growing Crístina replied, “No I do not.”
Rædwald glared down at her, “Do not patronize me. You come here with his bastard growing in your belly.”
Crístina swallowed hard and backed down the steps. Tears began to develop. “I am sorry. I was weak and desperate.”
Rædwald shook his head, “I have always been faithful to you and this is how you repay me. I saw the hurt in my mother from my father’s innumerable affairs and swore I would not do the same.”
Crístina knew there was nothing to be gained trying to defend herself. She could only hope for mercy. Through sobs Crístina asked, “What is to become of me?”
Rædwald walked back to the throne and sat heavily down upon it. “You will be taken from this place and placed in the tower until such time that I decide differently.”
Crístina sobbed, “No.”
Dripping venom Rædwald replied, “Be glad you are my wife, otherwise it would be the deepest dungeon for you.”
Crístina began to cry uncontrollably. She looked at Ealdmund with a deep hate knowing he had tricked her into coming to this trap.
Rædwald turned his head away from her and looked down. He gestured with his hand, “Take her away to her new chambers.”
The guards removed a crying Crístina from the hall.
Ealdmund approached Rædwald. Rædwald looked up at him. A tear formed in the king’s eyes. “You were right all along.”
Ealdmund bowed, “I am sorry that I was.”
Rædwald looked across the hall to the doors where his wife had been escorted through. He felt truly heartbroken and betrayed. “Spymaster your plan worked to perfection. Make sure Tadg is compensated accordingly.”
Ealdmund nodded, “He will be in due time once I am through with him. What of her lover Rígán?”
Rædwald wiped a tear from his cheek and responded, “Bring him here alive. I do not care how. Arrest him, kidnap him. I have a nice cell in the dungeon waiting for him.”
Ealdmund replied, “It shall be done.”
Rædwald rose and without waiting for any formalities stormed out of the hall.
7.18.1
March 1023
Jorvik, Jorvik
Palace of Jorvik
Crístina gripped the reigns tighter as she maneuvered her horse through the gates and into the bailey. The last few miles of the trip had been unnerving for the queen. The roads seemed usually empty and where they did encounter people they shied away from the queen and her entourage. Her stomach turned in knots as she was aware the bailey was empty. This was a very usual welcoming for the return of the queen.
She chuckled to herself. The last eight weeks had been anything but usual. It all began with an unsettling conversation with her Spymaster Tadg mac Broccán. The conversation was still vivid in her mind and it replayed without her thinking.
She was alone in the council chambers troubled. The court physician had confirmed what she had suspected and feared for several weeks. She was with child. Soon she would not be able to hide the fact. She had already overheard several of her ladies talking about the queen’s woman’s time being late. She was sure the rumors had begun.
Sitting at the table lost in her thoughts she did not hear Tadg entered the chamber and quietly approached the queen. Starling her he said, “Excuse the intrusion, my queen.”
So deep in thought the queen jumped at the sound of his voice. Shaken and a little angry over being disturbed she growled, “What is it?”
Realizing what he had done Tadg stepped back and bowed, “I am sorry if I alarmed you.”
She looked at the spymaster and with anger still in her voice replied, “You had better have a good reason.”
Still acting apologetic Tadg replied, “I bring urgent news.”
Her agitation not lessening Crístina responded, “Well then out with it.”
Tadg looked at the queen and said, “I bring word of an assassination attempt.”
Crístina rolled her eyes, “Another. They come daily. That is no news.”
Crístina stood and began to walk away from the spymaster in disgust.
Tadg watched her and said, “This one is different.” Expecting a response Tadg paused. Crístina did not react and continued walking toward the door. “This one is directed not only toward yourself but also your children.”
Crístina stopped in her tracks and spun around. With her fist clenched she marched to Tadg. When she halted her face was only inches from Tadg’s face. “My children. Which one?”
Tadg swallowed hard, “All of them here in court. The princes Sigeberht and Eilif, and the Princess Ælfthryth.”
Crístina stepped back. The color drained from her face, but she quickly recovered her composure. Still glaring at Tadg she asked, “Who?”
Tadg let out the breath he did not know he had been holding, “We do not know exactly who but there are several candidates.”
The queen’s eyes narrowed, she ordered, “Names.”
Tadg hesitated, “We do not have definite proof. Just information that points to certain individuals.”
This with more force Crístina ordered, “I want names.”
Licking his dry lips Tadg replied, “Crown Princess Sifflæd of England, and Eanhere Æthelsigesson Spymaster of England.”
Crístina grumbled, “English, huh.”
Tadg nodded, “Yes, milady.”
Suddenly Crístina suspiciously eyed Tadg and asked, “How did you discover this plot?”
Squirming under his queen’s intense gaze Tadg replied, “A band of bowmen appeared in town and one night several were at a tavern enjoying a drink. One of them got heavily drunk and began to brag about a job he and his friends were hired to do involving killing a highborn lady and her children. Several of his friends tried to forcibly quiet the man. He would not be quiet, and a ruckus broke out. Several of my agents were in attendance that night for a different reason realized the importance of the man and rescued him. Upon questioning he revealed the lady was you.”
Still unsure Crístina asked, “Did he tell who hired them?”
Still unsettled Tadg replied, “He did not. He was not one of the leaders of the band and had no knowledge of it.”
Crístina asked, “What of these leaders?”
Tadg lowered his head and replied, “Regrettably the band disappeared. We have been diligently searching for them.”
Crístina smirked and asked, “What of the captured man can he tell you where they went?”
Tadg avoided the queen’s gaze and said, “Most unfortunately he did survive questioning. His injuries were too severe.”
Crístina sighed, “That is unfortunate.” She then ordered, “Find the leaders and take whatever precautions needed to protect the children.”
Tadg nodded and bowed, “Yes, my queen.”
He then practically ran from the chambers.
*****
A sound brought Crístina out of her thoughts. She noticed a collection of soldiers milling around the steps to the entrance to the keep.
Odd she thought.
She turned to check on her children. She could not see them hidden among her guards.
Good.
She slowed the pace as her mind wandered back to Gabbrán.
After about a week and a half she was thinking Tadg’s assassination plot was just another farfetched tale. She was dwelling more and more on how she was going to hide her pregnancy from Rædwald. Then Jarl Ealdmund of Powys, Spymaster of Jorvik appeared unannounced.
As the servants finished clearing the remains from the evening meal Crístina and Ealdmund washed the last food down with ale. A servant refilled their mugs and Crístina told him to leave the pitcher. He left the pitcher between the two who sat opposite from one another at the dinning table in the hall. The servant bowed and retuned to his station along the wall behind the queen.
Ealdmund smiled and brushed the crumbs out of his beard, “Another fine meal.”
Crístina returned the smile, “Thank you. I am sure the cooks will apricate your assessment.”
Ealdmund laughed as he patted his belly, “If I keep having meals like this, I will get too fat for my horse.”
Crístina laughed, “That would be a site to se. Where else have you been?”
Ealdmund sat back in his chair and said, “Before I came here, I was in Aberffaw as the guest of Prince Hlothere.”
Crístina lost the joy in her face, “Hlothere still has not returned to court?”
Ealdmund too became serious and somber, “No his displeasure with Rædwald runs too deep.” Ealdmund took a quick sip of ale and continued “I fear the brother’s feud poisons the kingdom.” He brightened up, “Perhaps you can encourage Hlothere to reconcile.”
Crístina found her smile again and replied, “perhaps I should.” Becoming somber again she said, “How is Hlothere’s new son? I had heard he was not well.”
With a tinge of sadness Ealdmund replied, “I am afraid what you heard is true. Eadfrith was born sickly and deformed.”
Shocked Crístina asked, “Deformed? In what way?”
Ealdmund responded, “From what I was told he has a hunch back.”
Crístina shook her head, “Sad. That is so sad.”
Crístina finished her ale and poured herself another mug. “I see the war goes well”
Ealdmund nodded, “Yes it does. Abercorn was taken, and Edinburgh fell last month. Victory is not far.”
Trying to sound cheerful Crístina asked, “How does my husband fare?”
Ealdmund smiled, “He does well. The cancer has receded for now. He has returned to Jorvik and begun marriage negotiations for Sigeberht.”
Anger flashed in Crístina’s eyes, “He does so.”
Ealdmund chuckled, “Do not worry you will be included in the final negotiations.”
As anger lessened some Crístina replied, “I had better be. Are there any frontrunners?”
Ealdmund nodded, “Princess Richenza, daughter of King Hermann of Bavaria.”
Crístina smiled, “That would be a good match.”
Ealdmund grinned, “Better than the one he rejected for Bodil.”
Confused Crístina asked, “Bodil?”
Ealdmund responded, “Yes King Hermann of Germany proposed Lothar Lodolfinger.”
Crístina’s face showed her confusion now, “Lothar who?”
Ealdmund chuckled, “He is the grandson of King Hermann but has no lands or chances of inheriting any.”
After a moment Crístina asked, “Bodil? Why is Rædwald rejecting marriage proposals for her?”
Ealdmund finished his ale, “You did not know she has returned to court?”
Upset she did not know Crístina replied, “No I was not told. What transpired?”
Ealdmund poured more ale and answered, “Her marriage was annulled when her husband Sigismond became Bishop of Langers. She was sent from the court of King Nicolas back to Jorvik.”
Concerned Crístina, “What of her daughters?”
Ealdmund frowned as he took sip of ale, “Sadly they remain in Paris.”
Both drank their ale and sat in silence for a few moments and then Crístina spoke, “I know you did not come here to share gossip and family news.”
Ealdmund looked up from his mug of ale, “you speak the truth.”
Curious and apprehensive at the same time Crístina asked, “What brings you here?”
Ealdmund took a deep breath, “Assassination plots.”
Perturbed Crístina remark, “You also.”
In a very serious tone Ealdmund spoke, “I fear it is true. We know of the English plot and captured one of the band of bowmen’s leaders trying to make his way back to England. Before he departed this world, he confirmed the plot came from the court of King Ælfgar of England, Ælfgar wants you and your children’s death as revenge for Rædwald aiding the Scots.”
Crístina looked hard at Ealdmund, “I have known you for many years, Ealdmund. You do not tell all.”
Ealdmund drank some and ale and took a deep breath, “I cannot fool you. They had help from within Mide and possibly this court.”
Eyes narrowing Crístina asked, “Who and why?”
Ealdmund looked at her and replied, “We have suspects but no one clear traitor. The why is easier. Many Irish object to a woman on the throne of Mide and many do not want the House of Hvitserk to inherit the crown.”
Feeling as if she had been punched in the gut Crístina was silent for a couple of minutes. With her voice breaking she asked, “What am I to do? I feel unsafe here.”
Trying to be comforting Ealdmund answered, “The king wishes you to return to Jorvik with the children.”
Crístina chuckled knowing her husband, “Wishes. Don’t you mean demand?”
Ealdmund threw his hands up and laughed, “I cannot fool you.”
Smiling at Ealdmund’s theatrics Crístina asked, “The camp fever?”
Ealdmund returned to seriousness, “It is still there but it is losing its intensity.”
Crístina sighed, “Then we shall prepare to leave for Jorvik.” After finishing her ale, she asked, “will you travel with us?”
Ealdmund shook his head, “Regrettably I have pressing business elsewhere.”
Crístina grinned, “I hope it is not to Burgh. I would hate to see you on the menu if the rumors be true.”
At first Ealdmund did not understand. Then it came to him, “I am afraid the rumors are true. Count Eadwine of Cumberland was locked away in his castle to avoid the camp fever they ran out of food. Starving and desperate they resorted to cannibalism. And no I return to Bedford and handle some duchy business.”
Five days later Crístina left for Jorvik.
*****
Crístina halted her mount at the steps. The soldiers snapped to attention as Crístina dismounted. She followed the Captain of the Guard up the steps and into the keep. Once in the vestibule the children were transferred to the care of their nannies and escorted to their chambers. Crístina, on the other hand, was escorted into the Great Hall.
There she found her husband, Beorhthelm, Jarl Emrys, and Ealdmund. There was at least one company of guards present. She thought that odd but given all the assassination plots she dismissed it as Rædwald being cautious or just paranoid. No telling where his madness had gone.
She reached the dais and began to ascend the steps saying, “My husband.”
Rædwald stood and outstretched his arm signaling her to stop, “No, do not come any closer.”
Stunned Crístina stopped halfway up the steps.
He knows. She asked, “What is the trouble?’
Rædwald walked to the edge of the dais and glared at her, “You dare come here and act like my wife.”
He truly knows. Crístina looked down at her growing belly. It was becoming more difficult to hide the fact. “I know not what you speak of.”
Angrily the king asked, “Do you take me for a fool?”
Fear growing Crístina replied, “No I do not.”
Rædwald glared down at her, “Do not patronize me. You come here with his bastard growing in your belly.”
Crístina swallowed hard and backed down the steps. Tears began to develop. “I am sorry. I was weak and desperate.”
Rædwald shook his head, “I have always been faithful to you and this is how you repay me. I saw the hurt in my mother from my father’s innumerable affairs and swore I would not do the same.”
Crístina knew there was nothing to be gained trying to defend herself. She could only hope for mercy. Through sobs Crístina asked, “What is to become of me?”
Rædwald walked back to the throne and sat heavily down upon it. “You will be taken from this place and placed in the tower until such time that I decide differently.”
Crístina sobbed, “No.”
Dripping venom Rædwald replied, “Be glad you are my wife, otherwise it would be the deepest dungeon for you.”
Crístina began to cry uncontrollably. She looked at Ealdmund with a deep hate knowing he had tricked her into coming to this trap.
Rædwald turned his head away from her and looked down. He gestured with his hand, “Take her away to her new chambers.”
The guards removed a crying Crístina from the hall.
Ealdmund approached Rædwald. Rædwald looked up at him. A tear formed in the king’s eyes. “You were right all along.”
Ealdmund bowed, “I am sorry that I was.”
Rædwald looked across the hall to the doors where his wife had been escorted through. He felt truly heartbroken and betrayed. “Spymaster your plan worked to perfection. Make sure Tadg is compensated accordingly.”
Ealdmund nodded, “He will be in due time once I am through with him. What of her lover Rígán?”
Rædwald wiped a tear from his cheek and responded, “Bring him here alive. I do not care how. Arrest him, kidnap him. I have a nice cell in the dungeon waiting for him.”
Ealdmund replied, “It shall be done.”
Rædwald rose and without waiting for any formalities stormed out of the hall.
- 1
Another good and interesting chapter. Adultery in royal and noble houses was common in middle ages
. Adultery in royal and noble houses was common in middle ages- 1
Another good and interesting chapter
Adultery was common, however, after seeing all the problems that arose out his father's numeros affairs Rædwald has been faithful. Bastards create claims and that has been a source of trouble and will be for some time.
At first it appears that way. However, as time goes on Rígán proves to be survivor.
- 1