Subbed! I'm glad I got in before the first update! Give me to catch up on Scotland.
Hey GUG great to have you on board. Going to try and get 1st instalment up in next few days-watch this space
A Dream of Aquitaine (An Old Gods AAR)
- Thread starter Asantahene
- Start date
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Hey GUG great to have you on board. Going to try and get 1st instalment up in next few days-watch this space
Come on Asantahene, I've already got a Prologue and Chapter I for Burg Hohenzollern. Where's your first update‽
What is this? A race?
o Patience my friend-am halfway through the opening chapter but busy working week as well as busy wknds have meant less time than I would have liked to get this up-it's on its way I promiseI will get stuck into your Burg Hohenzollern AAR as that looks good
What is this? A race?
I will get stuck into your Burg Hohenzollern AAR as that looks good
I hear what you say about busy week and weekends, and definitely understand how that can delay things. Finally managed to put a second chapter into Thistle myself, and definitely keeping an eye on this AAR to see how your dreams pan out.
I hear what you say about busy week and weekends, and definitely understand how that can delay things. Finally managed to put a second chapter into Thistle myself, and definitely keeping an eye on this AAR to see how your dreams pan out.
Ooooh! I have just noticed that Khryses-I will get reading-shame on you for not telling me you had a new AAR up haha
What is this? A race?
I will get stuck into your Burg Hohenzollern AAR as that looks good
It is most definitely a race!
No, I'm just surprised that you haven't updated yet. It's nice to know I'm not the only slowpoke around here. Everyone seems to update so quickly that it's disheartening.
Tell me what you think of BH, I'm half proud of it and would like good critique.
I
I'm really enjoying BH Orjasmo! I love the style in its narrative exposition and it's good to see so much happening. I've been a bit confused a couple of times by who's doing what so maybe a little more time with each of the main characters? The only other minor point is watch some of the spelling and Americanisms that sneak in ('quieted down' for instance is not good english and jars somewhat given you're writing about characters from long ago-it's American vernacular.
Apart from that excellent start. Really enjoying it so far. And sorry for being a slowpoke lol I really have been so busy with work. Going to do my best to get 1st chapter up by end of weekend (promiseo)
I'm really enjoying BH Orjasmo! I love the style in its narrative exposition and it's good to see so much happening. I've been a bit confused a couple of times by who's doing what so maybe a little more time with each of the main characters? The only other minor point is watch some of the spelling and Americanisms that sneak in ('quieted down' for instance is not good english and jars somewhat given you're writing about characters from long ago-it's American vernacular.
Apart from that excellent start. Really enjoying it so far. And sorry for being a slowpoke lol I really have been so busy with work. Going to do my best to get 1st chapter up by end of weekend (promise
o)
Take your time with the 1st chapter. Real life always come first and I prefer a delayed, but well done, chapter over a rushed chapter.
Thanks my friend. Yes, one of the reasons it's not up is because I want to make it a great 1st chapter. I need to introduce the main characters and situation in the best possible way. Your words mean a lot though. Thanks
I understand that feeling. I have botched the first chapters of all my AARs and I regret it now. Of course, I, unlike Orjasmo, have plenty of AAR writing to keep me occupied so I can be a lot more patient
.
Americanisms? Ag, nee man, I know nothing of these Americanisms you speak of! I fill up my AAR with naught but lekker Afrikaner praatjies!
In all seriousness, thanks for the critique. When do you get confused though? I'm confused by your confusion.
You tease but my guardian never gave me the patient trait, what can I do about that? It's a serious impediment!
In all seriousness, thanks for the critique. When do you get confused though? I'm confused by your confusion.
I understand that feeling. I have botched the first chapters of all my AARs and I regret it now. Of course, I, unlike Orjasmo, have plenty of AAR writing to keep me occupied so I can be a lot more patient
You tease but my guardian never gave me the patient trait, what can I do about that? It's a serious impediment!
Hehe. Nice. You'll be pleased to know the next chapter will be up later
Chapter 1
Ramnulf II’s Story: A winter of change…January 867AD
My Father had been a stern man-all my life I remember his many admonishments: ‘be a wise man my son, be wary of your friends, keep them close, your enemies closer for you have many.’ Always he had fixed me with that steely stare as my lessons had continued, first as a child when the stare was usually followed by a beating and then into my adulthood when the icy gaze of those cold grey eyes could still reduce me to childlike wonder. Saintes, the seat of our power, was a place of both wonder and terror: I was as apt to spend sunny, warm afternoons on the banks of the Charente, gazing at the soaring spires and towers of our fortress city as I was to be cowering in some hiding place, desperate to evade the baleful attentions of my Lord and master. Even the tempering effect of my saintly mother Duchess Adaltrud, a lady who put even the monks and nuns to shame with her charity and kindness, was often not enough to still his demons.
‘I had a dream my son-a powerful and pressing vision!’ He once assailed me in his solar, when I had not yet passed fourteen summers, eyes feverish with passion, his sword hand grasping my shoulder in a vice-like grip that reminded me, all at once, that he was thrice the soldier that I would ever be. I was much better suited for the battle of books than the field or tourney-my weapons, whisper and scandal rather than the axe or spear.
‘Listen close boy for I know not whether I will have leave to tell you again.’
‘I am listening mon père.’ I said trying my hardest to keep the pain from my voice as his grip intensified.
‘I dreamt a dream that a golden lion was roused-roused in a scarlet field. It roared and roared until it seemed that I would be swallowed up into its gaping maw. And do you know what I saw as I shrank back from it’s wrath?’
I did not, of course-a mute shake of my head, though I opined the lion in a scarlet field had something to do with Aquitaine, as it was our sigil.
‘Its mouth was full of flowers son…’ He paused looking intently into my eyes to see whether comprehension dawned. My azure ones met his grey…I was none the wiser.
‘FOOL!’ A cuff to the head swiftly followed, ‘a curse upon me that I have whelped three simpletons as sons and you the pick of the bunch! Think boy think!’
But I was not able to encompass what it was of which he spoke, earning me a thrashing. It was only when he was done and I a wrack upon the floor, my arse and back bloody from his belt, that he let up and told me, at last, in whispered tones that the flowers were the lilies of West Francia and the dream an omen of the rise of our noble house to the very pinnacles of power in our lands.
He now addressed me sombrely in the Lenga D’Òc, ancient language of the people of Aquitaine, ‘You will chronicle all of this son and you will solemnly entreat all of your successors to do the same.’
There was a touch of madness about my father but the oath he had me make on that winter's day, in the year of our Lord 854: one of blood and more than a hint of dark, ancient customs, was one I vowed that myself and all who come after me into the Duchies of Aquitaine and Poitou, would execute from that day hence and forever…
I remembered well the last time that I had seen my sire and tormentor-it was a warm autumnal day, last October-hailing me from his horse as he mounted up in our muster yard, with his levies. He was ready to go and aid his friend and ally, Robert the Strong, Margreve of Neustria, whose solemn Frankish duty it was to protect the marcher lands that had been invaded by an unholy alliance between the would be King of Brittany, Duke Saloman and his acolyte, Hastein, a pagan Norse Chief who some whispered was a son of the legendary Ragnar Lodbrok. Ramnulf I of Aquitaine and Poitou was a man of action rather than words and so he had not hesitated after news reached us of the sack of Le Mans at the hands of the heathen and Breton despoilers.
Weeks later I was informed of the death of my father besieging the attackers in a church at Brissarthe, of all places! He had been hit by an arrow and the leader of their war band, Robert, also struck down with their Lieutenant, Hervé. Utter disaster and folly, such that Duke Saloman has now become King Saloman of Brittany and the pagan Hastein controller of the County of Nantes. That was the ‘accommodation’ that my Liege Lord, Charles the Bald of West Francia, came to with my father’s murderers and if the memory of such still rankles and burns in my heart I am careful not to let it show. Dissembler, I hear you say-I say I do what I must to curry favour with my King and make it seem that all is well, at least, with one of his most powerful and influential Lords-such that I am now. I will bide my time until the moment is ripe and then mayhap I will become a man of more than just dark thoughts and intent but a man of action, more like my little brother, Gauzbert, a man who mislikes me but on whom I must still, perforce, rely as my strong right hand and Chancellor.
But this sorry event was last October-it is early January now, the winter is hard and I must grapple with the task of ruling my demesne…and plotting for its future. To that end I had summonsed, towards Yuletide, those who would be my Chief Advisors to the first of my Privy Councils. My Chief Chaplain was to be Bishop Aubry of Charroux, a prelate who none in my domains could match for learning. He had long looked askance at me, bemoaning, whilst my father was alive, my lack of piousness that bordered, he often said, on heretical. He was my father’s man-now he would be mine, regardless of how he esteemed me. I had tasked him with increasing my standing with the Holy Father in Rome, Pope Nicholas. He would do what he could, the priestly man had responded, provided I would indicate a greater desire to turn to God’s teachings back here. I demurred thinking the face I will show without will be different from my innermost thoughts within.
Liop, the Mayor of the second city in Lusignan, Niort, was to take command of all martial matters. A confidante of my own he, we had grown up together: this was not a man whose loyalties were suspect. The same could sadly not be said of my own brother, Gauzbert, a passionate yet humble young man of only twenty one summers who I had made my Chancellor on hearing of my accession to the twin Duchies of Poitou and Aquitaine. One might think that he would be grateful and put aside the jealousy that had marred our relationship ever since…well ever since our mother’s passing these six years past-it seems that my father’s soul was not the only one that she had poured her saintly balm on…
Gauzbert had started his duties well enough and provided a clear and confident report on where we stood. ‘My Lord you are well acquainted with our allies, our Uncle Geraud, Count of Limousin and our sister's brother in Law the Duke of Toulouse, both of great use to us being vassals of the King of Aquitaine, for in that man we have a powerful enemy: he covets our Duchies for himself brother.’ He had warned solemnly.
‘Think you his father, our Liege lord will rein in his avariciousness?’ I asked, concerned. We all knew that King Louis of Aquitaine, that man who was not even governor of his own speech and was derided as a stammerer-hardly the stuff of Karling legend people had scoffed in derision.
‘For now…yes but I would think carefully before launching any attempts to win back our de jure lands of Bordeaux and Agen. Any such will have their Lords puling to their King and will give Louis all the reason that he needs to himself war against us.’
‘Noted brother-I am not sure we have the manpower or the funds to be fighting wars of acquisition at this stage-am I not in the right of this Alphonse?’ I said turning to a humbly dressed man at the other end of the great oaken table that was the centrepiece of the Council Chamber.
‘Aye my Lord but we will see if the taxes that you have asked me to levy from your vassals and the church will improve the situation of coin within our demesnes. And there are always the Jews…’
This last had several of my councillors crossing themselves ostentatiously, whilst Bishop Aubry visibly snorted in disgust before adding superciliously, ‘I would remind you, your grace, that Usury is a sin.’
I merely smiled-sin be damned! If it came to it I would not hesitate to call upon the services of the sizeable numbers of Jewry that had made their homes in our city and that of Lusignan. Let the holy and zealous worry about the state of their immortal souls-I was more concerned at the colour of their gold!
It was time to change the subject to something more amenable: ‘and what of your recent embassage to Navarre brother?’ I asked smiling, I knew already what the answer would be.
My brother, for once, smiled back at me, ‘My Lord is it my great pleasure to announce to all here that the King of Navarra has accepted our offer of a marriage to his daughter, Ximena-he has promised that she will arrive here in Saintes after the Yule celebrations.’
I was pleased to accept the congratulations from all present. They, for their part, were relieved and pleased because firstly it was a useful political alliance with a Basque speaking peoples and would bring influence to bear on the people of Bordeaux who were of the same culture. Secondly, it was useful dynastically for though I had no spouse I did have a son, a bastard who I had been forced by my furious father to acknowledge as my own. This I had done but the boy, now seven, was a stranger to me and had been placed, on my father’s orders, under the wardship of a lowborn commoner, Aubry of Châtellerault. I had only these last few weeks given orders for the boy and his Guardian to be lodged in dwellings within the city walls-best to keep the lad close especially as it was likely that he would soon have rivals for his claims to my lands and titles.
One of these Gauzbert coveted. I was the Count of Poitiers, Lusignan and Saintonge and had been minded to bestow one of these lordships on the lad-that was until Geoffrey of Thouars-the lord of the last of the vassal counties in my Duchy of Poitou, warned me against it in a quiet moment not long before my nuptials. I had been much enamoured of my dusky bride, though she was decidedly cool towards me on our first meeting and since, in spite of my clumsy attempts to inveigle her away from her Navarrese Ladies in waiting. Never mind-she would soon be my spouse-I would be content to wait to win her heart. So it was that I was not pleased to be reminded by my Lord of Thouars, whilst yet a loyal vassal, but to whom I had also entrusted the safety of the secrets of my dominion. If an expert in whispers I was, Geoffrey was a master and he came bearing troubling news that frosty January morning.
‘My Lord put not your faith or trust in your brother.’
‘Which one?’ I had retorted sharply, ‘I have two my lord of Thouars and neither bears me much love.’
‘The one who could most harm you your Grace-the one who sits at the head of your Council…’
I gestured for him to take a seat near the roaring fire in my spacious chambers-it had been an unusually cold January. ‘Pray go on my lord.’
Geoffrey of Thouars was a young man-four years my junior in fact but behind his affable exterior was an iron mind. He was already building a network of informers and spies that could rival that of the Byzantine Court. It was as I willed it-I had no intention of being caught cold by faction and plot.
‘Your Grace I have it on good authority that your brother has given his tacit support to Wulgrin of Perigord..’
‘Gods blood-you jest sir!’ I spluttered, the colour rising in my cheeks. Wulgrin of Perigord and Angouleme, to give him his proper honorific, was one of my few Occitan vassals, he controlled the Aquitanian part of my demesne-was wholly a creature of my father and had been known to be plotting against me for some time-but my brother! How had he ensnared him into his machinations?
‘I tell you true my Lord-as things stand their faction, which aims to cast you aside in his favour can muster more men to their banners than we can-a third as many again by my reckoning.’
I blanched, ‘a third as many think you? And they have more popular support? How is my brother involved? Tell me all.’
And so we had turned the matter over-on further discourse it seemed that, at best my brother was guilty of being too trusting, at worst an accomplice, willing or no, to the naked posturing of a powerful Occitan Lord. We all, my two younger brothers, Gauzbert and Ébles and my younger sister, Adélaïde possessed both the blood of the Franks and also those of the Pais d’Òc but as Lords of Aquitaine we were more proud of the latter. Mayhap this was how the young man had allowed himself to be so embroiled?
For now it mattered not-I was assured that that the faction was not at the point of action…yet-meantime I had a marriage to conduct, a beautiful Spanish wife to woo and my vassals to impress.
‘Watch them like a hawk my Lord of Thouars and let me know when they mean to act-oh and bring Alphonse to me-we have a Jew to go and meet with.’
Thus did our nuptials go by without incidence and maybe it was only me that noticed that my sibling was just a little too merry, perchance showing just a bit too much fraternal love to a man who he had always professed to esteem not. Well two can play at that game brother, I had thought, matching him grin for grin and hug for hug: and when you are ready to strike at me, like a snake from within, I shall be ready for you…
Ramnulf II’s Story: A winter of change…January 867AD
My Father had been a stern man-all my life I remember his many admonishments: ‘be a wise man my son, be wary of your friends, keep them close, your enemies closer for you have many.’ Always he had fixed me with that steely stare as my lessons had continued, first as a child when the stare was usually followed by a beating and then into my adulthood when the icy gaze of those cold grey eyes could still reduce me to childlike wonder. Saintes, the seat of our power, was a place of both wonder and terror: I was as apt to spend sunny, warm afternoons on the banks of the Charente, gazing at the soaring spires and towers of our fortress city as I was to be cowering in some hiding place, desperate to evade the baleful attentions of my Lord and master. Even the tempering effect of my saintly mother Duchess Adaltrud, a lady who put even the monks and nuns to shame with her charity and kindness, was often not enough to still his demons.
‘I had a dream my son-a powerful and pressing vision!’ He once assailed me in his solar, when I had not yet passed fourteen summers, eyes feverish with passion, his sword hand grasping my shoulder in a vice-like grip that reminded me, all at once, that he was thrice the soldier that I would ever be. I was much better suited for the battle of books than the field or tourney-my weapons, whisper and scandal rather than the axe or spear.
‘Listen close boy for I know not whether I will have leave to tell you again.’
‘I am listening mon père.’ I said trying my hardest to keep the pain from my voice as his grip intensified.
‘I dreamt a dream that a golden lion was roused-roused in a scarlet field. It roared and roared until it seemed that I would be swallowed up into its gaping maw. And do you know what I saw as I shrank back from it’s wrath?’
I did not, of course-a mute shake of my head, though I opined the lion in a scarlet field had something to do with Aquitaine, as it was our sigil.
‘Its mouth was full of flowers son…’ He paused looking intently into my eyes to see whether comprehension dawned. My azure ones met his grey…I was none the wiser.
‘FOOL!’ A cuff to the head swiftly followed, ‘a curse upon me that I have whelped three simpletons as sons and you the pick of the bunch! Think boy think!’
But I was not able to encompass what it was of which he spoke, earning me a thrashing. It was only when he was done and I a wrack upon the floor, my arse and back bloody from his belt, that he let up and told me, at last, in whispered tones that the flowers were the lilies of West Francia and the dream an omen of the rise of our noble house to the very pinnacles of power in our lands.
He now addressed me sombrely in the Lenga D’Òc, ancient language of the people of Aquitaine, ‘You will chronicle all of this son and you will solemnly entreat all of your successors to do the same.’
There was a touch of madness about my father but the oath he had me make on that winter's day, in the year of our Lord 854: one of blood and more than a hint of dark, ancient customs, was one I vowed that myself and all who come after me into the Duchies of Aquitaine and Poitou, would execute from that day hence and forever…
I remembered well the last time that I had seen my sire and tormentor-it was a warm autumnal day, last October-hailing me from his horse as he mounted up in our muster yard, with his levies. He was ready to go and aid his friend and ally, Robert the Strong, Margreve of Neustria, whose solemn Frankish duty it was to protect the marcher lands that had been invaded by an unholy alliance between the would be King of Brittany, Duke Saloman and his acolyte, Hastein, a pagan Norse Chief who some whispered was a son of the legendary Ragnar Lodbrok. Ramnulf I of Aquitaine and Poitou was a man of action rather than words and so he had not hesitated after news reached us of the sack of Le Mans at the hands of the heathen and Breton despoilers.
Death of Robert the Strong at the Battle of Brissarthe and contemporary painting of Battle of Brissarthe 866AD
Weeks later I was informed of the death of my father besieging the attackers in a church at Brissarthe, of all places! He had been hit by an arrow and the leader of their war band, Robert, also struck down with their Lieutenant, Hervé. Utter disaster and folly, such that Duke Saloman has now become King Saloman of Brittany and the pagan Hastein controller of the County of Nantes. That was the ‘accommodation’ that my Liege Lord, Charles the Bald of West Francia, came to with my father’s murderers and if the memory of such still rankles and burns in my heart I am careful not to let it show. Dissembler, I hear you say-I say I do what I must to curry favour with my King and make it seem that all is well, at least, with one of his most powerful and influential Lords-such that I am now. I will bide my time until the moment is ripe and then mayhap I will become a man of more than just dark thoughts and intent but a man of action, more like my little brother, Gauzbert, a man who mislikes me but on whom I must still, perforce, rely as my strong right hand and Chancellor.
But this sorry event was last October-it is early January now, the winter is hard and I must grapple with the task of ruling my demesne…and plotting for its future. To that end I had summonsed, towards Yuletide, those who would be my Chief Advisors to the first of my Privy Councils. My Chief Chaplain was to be Bishop Aubry of Charroux, a prelate who none in my domains could match for learning. He had long looked askance at me, bemoaning, whilst my father was alive, my lack of piousness that bordered, he often said, on heretical. He was my father’s man-now he would be mine, regardless of how he esteemed me. I had tasked him with increasing my standing with the Holy Father in Rome, Pope Nicholas. He would do what he could, the priestly man had responded, provided I would indicate a greater desire to turn to God’s teachings back here. I demurred thinking the face I will show without will be different from my innermost thoughts within.
Liop, the Mayor of the second city in Lusignan, Niort, was to take command of all martial matters. A confidante of my own he, we had grown up together: this was not a man whose loyalties were suspect. The same could sadly not be said of my own brother, Gauzbert, a passionate yet humble young man of only twenty one summers who I had made my Chancellor on hearing of my accession to the twin Duchies of Poitou and Aquitaine. One might think that he would be grateful and put aside the jealousy that had marred our relationship ever since…well ever since our mother’s passing these six years past-it seems that my father’s soul was not the only one that she had poured her saintly balm on…
Gauzbert had started his duties well enough and provided a clear and confident report on where we stood. ‘My Lord you are well acquainted with our allies, our Uncle Geraud, Count of Limousin and our sister's brother in Law the Duke of Toulouse, both of great use to us being vassals of the King of Aquitaine, for in that man we have a powerful enemy: he covets our Duchies for himself brother.’ He had warned solemnly.
‘Think you his father, our Liege lord will rein in his avariciousness?’ I asked, concerned. We all knew that King Louis of Aquitaine, that man who was not even governor of his own speech and was derided as a stammerer-hardly the stuff of Karling legend people had scoffed in derision.
‘For now…yes but I would think carefully before launching any attempts to win back our de jure lands of Bordeaux and Agen. Any such will have their Lords puling to their King and will give Louis all the reason that he needs to himself war against us.’
‘Noted brother-I am not sure we have the manpower or the funds to be fighting wars of acquisition at this stage-am I not in the right of this Alphonse?’ I said turning to a humbly dressed man at the other end of the great oaken table that was the centrepiece of the Council Chamber.
‘Aye my Lord but we will see if the taxes that you have asked me to levy from your vassals and the church will improve the situation of coin within our demesnes. And there are always the Jews…’
This last had several of my councillors crossing themselves ostentatiously, whilst Bishop Aubry visibly snorted in disgust before adding superciliously, ‘I would remind you, your grace, that Usury is a sin.’
I merely smiled-sin be damned! If it came to it I would not hesitate to call upon the services of the sizeable numbers of Jewry that had made their homes in our city and that of Lusignan. Let the holy and zealous worry about the state of their immortal souls-I was more concerned at the colour of their gold!
It was time to change the subject to something more amenable: ‘and what of your recent embassage to Navarre brother?’ I asked smiling, I knew already what the answer would be.
My brother, for once, smiled back at me, ‘My Lord is it my great pleasure to announce to all here that the King of Navarra has accepted our offer of a marriage to his daughter, Ximena-he has promised that she will arrive here in Saintes after the Yule celebrations.’
I was pleased to accept the congratulations from all present. They, for their part, were relieved and pleased because firstly it was a useful political alliance with a Basque speaking peoples and would bring influence to bear on the people of Bordeaux who were of the same culture. Secondly, it was useful dynastically for though I had no spouse I did have a son, a bastard who I had been forced by my furious father to acknowledge as my own. This I had done but the boy, now seven, was a stranger to me and had been placed, on my father’s orders, under the wardship of a lowborn commoner, Aubry of Châtellerault. I had only these last few weeks given orders for the boy and his Guardian to be lodged in dwellings within the city walls-best to keep the lad close especially as it was likely that he would soon have rivals for his claims to my lands and titles.
One of these Gauzbert coveted. I was the Count of Poitiers, Lusignan and Saintonge and had been minded to bestow one of these lordships on the lad-that was until Geoffrey of Thouars-the lord of the last of the vassal counties in my Duchy of Poitou, warned me against it in a quiet moment not long before my nuptials. I had been much enamoured of my dusky bride, though she was decidedly cool towards me on our first meeting and since, in spite of my clumsy attempts to inveigle her away from her Navarrese Ladies in waiting. Never mind-she would soon be my spouse-I would be content to wait to win her heart. So it was that I was not pleased to be reminded by my Lord of Thouars, whilst yet a loyal vassal, but to whom I had also entrusted the safety of the secrets of my dominion. If an expert in whispers I was, Geoffrey was a master and he came bearing troubling news that frosty January morning.
‘My Lord put not your faith or trust in your brother.’
‘Which one?’ I had retorted sharply, ‘I have two my lord of Thouars and neither bears me much love.’
‘The one who could most harm you your Grace-the one who sits at the head of your Council…’
I gestured for him to take a seat near the roaring fire in my spacious chambers-it had been an unusually cold January. ‘Pray go on my lord.’
Geoffrey of Thouars was a young man-four years my junior in fact but behind his affable exterior was an iron mind. He was already building a network of informers and spies that could rival that of the Byzantine Court. It was as I willed it-I had no intention of being caught cold by faction and plot.
‘Your Grace I have it on good authority that your brother has given his tacit support to Wulgrin of Perigord..’
‘Gods blood-you jest sir!’ I spluttered, the colour rising in my cheeks. Wulgrin of Perigord and Angouleme, to give him his proper honorific, was one of my few Occitan vassals, he controlled the Aquitanian part of my demesne-was wholly a creature of my father and had been known to be plotting against me for some time-but my brother! How had he ensnared him into his machinations?
‘I tell you true my Lord-as things stand their faction, which aims to cast you aside in his favour can muster more men to their banners than we can-a third as many again by my reckoning.’
I blanched, ‘a third as many think you? And they have more popular support? How is my brother involved? Tell me all.’
And so we had turned the matter over-on further discourse it seemed that, at best my brother was guilty of being too trusting, at worst an accomplice, willing or no, to the naked posturing of a powerful Occitan Lord. We all, my two younger brothers, Gauzbert and Ébles and my younger sister, Adélaïde possessed both the blood of the Franks and also those of the Pais d’Òc but as Lords of Aquitaine we were more proud of the latter. Mayhap this was how the young man had allowed himself to be so embroiled?
For now it mattered not-I was assured that that the faction was not at the point of action…yet-meantime I had a marriage to conduct, a beautiful Spanish wife to woo and my vassals to impress.
‘Watch them like a hawk my Lord of Thouars and let me know when they mean to act-oh and bring Alphonse to me-we have a Jew to go and meet with.’
Thus did our nuptials go by without incidence and maybe it was only me that noticed that my sibling was just a little too merry, perchance showing just a bit too much fraternal love to a man who he had always professed to esteem not. Well two can play at that game brother, I had thought, matching him grin for grin and hug for hug: and when you are ready to strike at me, like a snake from within, I shall be ready for you…
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Hooray! First chapter is out. It is well written and I like the atmosphere you set up. Looking forward to the next update and will save my questions until then.
I was never given the trait by a guardian either. Some random event in my life bestowed it upon me.
I was never given the trait by a guardian either. Some random event in my life bestowed it upon me.
Hey that was quick blklizard! Thanks for the comments though-always well appreciated. Yes I think this will be a cracking story-there has already been much of note for our Duke, mainly in the upheavals between the Karlings-watch this space my friend!
I was trying to catch up on all my readings and noticed your post was updated. I will watch this space but I really need to get back to updating my own AARs .
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I was trying to catch up on all my readings and noticed your post was updated. I will watch this space but I really need to get back to updating my own AARs
Actually I need to start reading yours-which would you suggest as a 1st up?
Wow, thanks for the offer! I'm hesitant to suggest my AARs since I still see them as poorly written. If you dare to have a crack at my awful writing, you could try this. This is where I feel my writing becomes more tolerable for readers. Read at your own peril
. I'm still improving but it takes time.
Great Read so far, hopefully you can oust the Karlings from Aquitaine and bring your house back from the brink. I shall keep an eye on this.