I enjoy the slight deviation in style. The rise of a new duke brings up so many questions. We have yet to see the response of the king but I'm assuming the next update will get to it.
A Dream of Aquitaine (An Old Gods AAR)
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Revan: good to have you back reading my friend and thanks for the feedback. Yes re Ch 5 I was trying something a bit new re style there to begin with, varying it up. Not entirely sure it worked lol but as you say I'd changed it back by end. Glad you're enjoying it. I have to say I am too-maybe more than Flower but that might because of playing as a vassal of the realm rather than its ruler. Read on!
Specialist290: thanks for the encouraging feedback too. Always good to have you on board and yes that beard has to go haha!
Blklizard: as always thanks for your encouragement. Glad you enjoyed the change of style and yes we will see how the young King accepts our Duke who is now the foremost peer of the realm: watch this space!
Specialist290: thanks for the encouraging feedback too. Always good to have you on board and yes that beard has to go haha!
Blklizard: as always thanks for your encouragement. Glad you enjoyed the change of style and yes we will see how the young King accepts our Duke who is now the foremost peer of the realm: watch this space!
Rest in peace Ramnulf. Let's hope that Gauzbert will have as good reing as his brothed had (or better). Even though his low stewardship could be somehow problematic. It was good update. Nice to read when drinking coffee. By the way it would be nice to see map of Kingdom with direct vassals mode. And I liked that beard...
Hey Mithradates thanks for the feedback and yes I am going to provide a few maps and an update on the situation in Europe (and beyond) for the next update. Watch this space.
Thanks for your continuing support
Chapter 7
Gauzbert’s Story: The snake within
At last my beard looks neater!
The known world AD 888: as you can see I am quite the power in W Francia!
Four years later, as I sat in the Great Hall at Saintes, on a cold November’s night in 892, did I have cause to contemplate the reality of my original promise to my dear departed dead brother, for riding to meet me was a lord who had become the possible architect of the ruination of my succession plans.
In the dim torchlight I espied my lady wife, the Duchess Belleassez, approaching from the north transept, the guards snapping to attention with their lances, as she passed.
‘Good my lord-why do you tarry here? We shall be roused should he arrive this night.’
I surveyed her shifting form in the flickering light. Ours was a match of respect and duty-it had never really been one of passion such as my brother and his Navarrese Princess had enjoyed. She was, nonetheless a handsome woman even now at just shy of forty-two summers.
‘I just contemplate what is to be done my love-it sticks in the craw…’
She looked at me without emotion, ‘he has brought all upon himself Gauzbert-he knew yours and your brother’s wishes and has actively sought to o’erturn them. Harden your heart my lord-the dream of Aquitaine bows not to the capricious desires of one of its minor lords.’
Of course I could not gainsay her-but how had it come to this? Four years-four successful years in which I had advanced the affairs of my demesnes and one in which Aquitaine had flourished. When I had become Duke I had initially called a grand council of all my vassals. All had answered my summons and gathered at Saintes during that sweltering July. Of Counts I could number Geoffrey of Thouars, my brother Èbles of Nantes and Adalelme of Bordeaux as friends. Only the young Count of Angoulême esteemed me not, the reason; the judicial murder of his older brother ordered by Ramnulf some years previously. After these there were the Mayors of Royan, Niort, Châtellerault and Bergerac-again all supportive but all clamouring for a lessening in the taxes that I was now levying from their cities. They were all under pressure from their Burghers they moaned-I was not for vacillating, waving away their entreaties with a practised smile and the admonishment that we must all do our part for the advancement of our affairs. Finally there were my Bishops; Leonard of Saint Jean D’Angely, Ancel of Charroux, Osier of Chancelade and my chaplain Jaspert of Saint-Savin. All would pull towards the common weal, Jaspert had informed me-the lords spiritual of my demesnes were wholly in accord with my kind and humble nature, it would seem.
My Small Council was comprised Bishop Jaspert, Count Geoffrey, my wife, Raynaud de Loudon as Steward and the foreigner Mukhtar as my Lord Marshall and also Tutor to Henri as I wanted to impart some martial skill in the lad. Tidings from Reynaud that the treasury stood at over four hundred gold crowns-a small fortune-was welcome indeed. Finally of allies I could count on the same that my brother had done, namely Foucher of Toulouse, my sister’s husband, Bernat of Toulouse, his brother, Loup of Limousin, my cousin and Èbles. These were propitious times and I announced to my councillors that we would strive to increase our demesne at the expense of the fractious kingdom of Brittany-or Breizh as those Celts preferred to call it-no matter-we would continue to expand north and west: ‘set on it my Lord of Thouars!’ I had commanded.
I have surrounded myself with the great and the good
‘It shall be done your Grace’ was the expedient reply.
And what of the King? Ramnulf’s protégé. The lad-if such he could still be called at twenty-five summers, was now married to Adelaide of Burgundy-a Duchess in her own right and much in her sway-I received no summons to Paris. Besides word reached us of constant raids by the Norse all along the Flanders coasts and attacks as far inland as the Ile de France. To counter this, castles were springing up all over the countryside-I had ordered monies to be spent on fortifying the principle towns in Saintonge and Poitiers-we would at least be safe in the heart of my fiefs!
A fine example of a king!
Maybe the events of April 889 should have given me warning but when my lady wife informed me that her spies had discovered a plot hatched by Geoffrey of Thouars son Loup to murder Henri, the young heir apparent, I paid it no mind. The lad was summonsed to Saintes and told to cease and desist-there was no objection from that high minded young individual and I was minded to leave the matter at that for the sake of the love and affection that I knew Ramnulf had borne the lad but I do recall Belleassez’s words at that time:
Utter silliness
‘You will need to watch the whole family my lord else find a snake in your bosom…’
I had laughed the matter off-despite the indications from Mukhtar of an heir that was not shaping up to be what was expected-I could not believe that any would oppose my wishes where matters of succession were concerned.
In September of that year, at last the false war between East Francia and our own realm came to an end with the news that a large force of well over three and a half thousand men at arms and hard riding cavalry had invaded the kingdom. Thrusting in from Verdun, in the east, they made for Reims and our ancient holy place-the Cathedral thereof. Ready to meet it was our own army in Rouen-the problem: it only numbered two thousand seven hundred.
To arms!
‘Surely the King will summons his vassals now?’ I had asked one sultry afternoon of my Marshal, bemused, ‘who exactly advises him at this juncture?’
The swarthy Saracen was mute, as was his wont. We were practising swordplay in the yard-I was no mean fighter but when matched with this man of Arabia I was but an ingénue. I was soaked in sweat as I parried his subtle, yet vicious assaults-using all of my experience to fend him off. Moreover whilst I wielded my broadsword with no little skill and cunning and was o’ermatched against the curved weapon he called a ‘scimitar’-his was the greater expertise and it was only a matter of time before a swift counter thrust had me sprawling in the dust. It was as well that I was a man of humility and so could take such a lesson in good wise.
Bismillah!
At last when we had recovered ourselves the dark man spoke in his heavily accented Latin, ‘mayhap my lord the king trusts not his vassals and would rather rely on the armies of his cousin Lothair-‘
I snorted in derision, ‘that fat man-the King of Middle Francia as they call the place! I think not my Lord Marshall-I think not!’
If he was affronted by my rudeness he showed it not a whit, ‘they are in alliance though are they not my lord?’
I called for cooling wine and had to agree that they were but of any indication of the appearance of the armies of the Mid Franks there had been, as yet, no sign.
‘More to the point Mukhtar what of Henri-he will be sixteen in just a few days-what think you of his abilities?’
I asked with no great expectation for I had seen first hand that the lad was certainly no Ramnulf-if the blood of the De Poitou’s ran in his veins then it ran very thin indeed.
All I received in response from the stranger paladin was a shake of the head and a tightening of his jaw. Very well then my mind was made up-I had discussed the matter at length with my consort. ‘The boy’s younger brother will be your new ward Mukhtar-he shows much of the promise that Henri does not. Send him to see me as soon as you get home.’
‘As you wish my lord’ he rumbled and with a bow he was gone leaving me alone in the sun dappled exercise yard, my thoughts all a-jumble. I had promised my brother that Henri would succeed but I knew that for such to happen would spell disaster. The Duchies needed a firm hand at the tiller-Henri was weak, a misguided warrior and dreamer-he was not fit to take up the reins of power after me and I would ensure that he did not.
Oh dear oh dear...he will not do
The church bells had not long struck none when the lad at last appeared. By this time I was at repose in my solar. I beckoned the shy young man in.
‘Henri I am told that you have become enamoured of the holy orders…’
‘Uncle?’ A quizzical look crossed the boy’s face-he was dressed simply in tunic and braes-a gold circlet upon his upper right arm. He was a handsome lad-a pity-I had thought-he certainly looks the part-a shame he cannot play it…
‘I have been told that you have become wedded to the idea of taking vows Henri-I have heard it on the most compelling authority.’
I moved towards him clamping a firm hand upon his shoulder before wheeling him around to face two of my guards and an evil looking Priest clad in a dirty habit who had suddenly appeared in the doorway.
‘This is Prior Ignatius-he will escort you to your new home.’
Henri’s eyes now widened in horror as he finally ascertained what was happening-he made as if to bolt but was immediately hemmed in by both guards who literally marched him from my chambers.
‘Uncle? Uncle!!!’
It was ill done but it was no less than I had to do. Feeling a pang of remorse and guilt I called after the Prior, my voice steely: ‘make sure that the boy is well looked after-I will hold you personally responsible if he comes to any harm!’
The Prior bowed low in acquiescence.
So Aldebert, Henri’s younger brother of fourteen summers became my new heir-a lad of great promise in the art of diplomacy and no little skill at arms. I was content and if the boy was unhappy at the sudden removal of his brother from affairs of state he showed it not a jot.
Meanwhile I sent impatient letters north to Geoffrey, busy in Brittany. What news I demanded-why was his commission taking so long? His letters came back always courteous, always begging patience. Intelligence that old king Riwallon had recently died could potentially be portentous as his son, Alan III was a sickly man-not likely to last long upon his shaky throne.
Meanwhile it was to be a year before Louis finally committed his soldiery to battle with his cousin of East Francia-the clash coming in October 890 not far from the gates of Paris itself. The outcome was as predictable as it was dispiriting but this never-ending internecine war between the Carolingians was not over.
This is not a battle we will win Sire...just saying
The King’s other distant cousin, Lothair the fat of Middle Francia, now intervened, marching in the New Year to join battle with Karloman at Verdun: he won us a glorious victory there and harried the army of our enemies all the way back to his own lands. Word reached us that old Karloman had fallen in battle-he was succeeded by his forty one year old son, Arnulf, who immediately sued for peace. After eight long years the war was over at last.
Now did I, at last in the spring of 891 receive a summons to an audience with the King. It was fitting I suppose-I was the third most powerful magnate in the realm-the second, Duke Hugo of Anjou, was rotting in Louis’s dungeons which made me a force to be reckoned with. I gathered my wife, a small band of retainers and made the journey north on a chill April day-it was the Feast of Saint Walerics, the first of the month. There was a chill wind blowing and so we travelled warm, cloaks and mantles wrapped in ermine and sable even at this time of year-the trees rustling in protest at the brisk air.
I had never personally visited the Royal Palace at Melun so it was a spectacle indeed that greeted our arrival a few days later. By this time the weather had improved considerably and we marvelled at the high-banked buildings nestling hard up on the fast flowing river Seine. The Castle that flanked the palace was even more imposing-the towering motte of the imposing hill it sat atop and the ramparts and keep all on a bigger scale than anything we could envisage in our own lands.
Once at the Palace we were allowed to change out of our travelling accoutrements and then ordered to appear without delay in the royal presence. My wife and I gripped each others hands with some nerves-it was her first audience with our sovereign too. I recall vividly making our way through the great hall, courtiers and other lords eyeing us with some curiosity. At the end of the thoroughfare was a dais upon which sat the King flanked by his queen, the proud and haughty Adelaide. After bowing low in turn we were asked to rise and I at last surveyed this man whom my brother had loved as a son, at close quarters. He was a handsome man, of medium height, with a tanned, bearded face and kindly eyes. Those eyes were sad as he looked upon me.
‘You are well met my Lord of Aquitaine-we have these last few years been sorely missed of your noble brother Ramnulf…he was my friend.’
Simple words that, at once, conveyed all the pain of the loss that this young man must have felt at my brother’s untimely passing.
‘Thank you Sire’ was my equally sparse reply, ‘he always spoke very highly of you-he was honoured to serve such a king.’ At this Louis’ eyes lit up brightly and for an instance there was a glimpse of the boy that he had been. He was, of a sudden, all amiable chatter, wanting to know how fared my wife and my plans to continue my appropriation of Brittany-did I know that its King, Alan had recently died comatose in bed leaving an infant daughter to rule that benighted land? I did not but exalted, for Louis confirmed that the Breton Lords had risen in revolt effectively splitting the kingdom and ensuring that its scraps could more easily be picked at by its French neighbours-well I intended to be at the head of that table by the mass!
‘You have leave to continue your Breton adventuring my lord-you will, however, leave Mortain to me.’
It was a small price to pay for whilst Mortain was its largest and richest county there were another four to be consumed. The audience over, my lady wife, who had not taken to the Queen by any measure, begged my leave for a short while-she had her agents to meet. I was too wise to gainsay her and passed a pleasant afternoon in the palace grounds in parley with the King. One thing he wanted from me was my agreement to command the Vanguard of his armies whenever he should have need. I was of a mind to demur but how could I? There was something about him that made me want to serve. I could encompass now how and why my brother had been so tied to him. For his part he treated me affably enough but I soon understood that we could not have the same closeness of bond that he had enjoyed with my brother. At length my wife returned and we took our leave of the royal court, staying over at an Inn that had been recommended before making the journey home.
That summer Duke Hugo of Anjou died in the king’s dungeons leaving Bernat of Toulouse and myself as the preeminent lords of West Francia-it has been a never-ending source of bemusement to me that I was not summonsed to the King’s Council but much as I did look for it no summons ever came.
That autumn I fell ill with the sweating sickness and for many weeks resided in that nether region betwixt heaven and hell-I knew not friend from foe, my wife from the lowliest scullion or any of my councillors from the serfs that tilled their fields. I had fallen to illness when the heat of high summer scalded the air and the trees were green. By the time I came properly to my senses there was a cold chill without and the trees stripped of their canopy. From my sickbed I called for my wife with as much strength as I could muster. She had come running presently, not an action I could ever have attributed to her-I must have been in a perilous state-and embraced me, hot tears splashing down upon her face.
Please kill me now!
‘Good my lord-yours is a sight for sore eyes!’ She exclaimed smothering me with kisses. I had to break her grip and demanded to know the month
‘It is the tenth of November my darling.’
I cursed, ‘Gods blood! Have I been insensible for two whole months? What news my love? How fares Aldebert?’
Now you will do just fine lad!
‘Soft my sweet-all is well-I have been running your affairs in your absence. As for the boy there is something I need to speak of…’
She looked grim so I braced myself for bad tidings, ‘what is it my love? You said he was well-what has occurred?’
She remained silent as if weighing up how best to divulge this dread revelation. At last she steeled herself and looked me square in the eye. ‘You had best brace yourself my heart for there is no easy way to tell you this. It concerns the succession…’
An icy fear gripped my heart-I grabbed her by the shoulders ‘tell me!’
‘Your heir is no longer Aldebert my lord-as things do stand at present it is Geoffrey of Thouars who stands to inherit all.’
I heard her words and for an interminable time could not fathom what she had just told me but then it all started to fit into place: the law change for elective, my illness, a grasping and influential vassal-he had tilted for the moon-and why not? It was all too much for my overwrought and tired mind-bright lights danced in my vision as I slumped back in the bed and gave myself to a sweet and embracing darkness…
Gauzbert’s Story: The snake within
At last my beard looks neater!
The known world AD 888: as you can see I am quite the power in W Francia!
Four years later, as I sat in the Great Hall at Saintes, on a cold November’s night in 892, did I have cause to contemplate the reality of my original promise to my dear departed dead brother, for riding to meet me was a lord who had become the possible architect of the ruination of my succession plans.
In the dim torchlight I espied my lady wife, the Duchess Belleassez, approaching from the north transept, the guards snapping to attention with their lances, as she passed.
‘Good my lord-why do you tarry here? We shall be roused should he arrive this night.’
I surveyed her shifting form in the flickering light. Ours was a match of respect and duty-it had never really been one of passion such as my brother and his Navarrese Princess had enjoyed. She was, nonetheless a handsome woman even now at just shy of forty-two summers.
‘I just contemplate what is to be done my love-it sticks in the craw…’
She looked at me without emotion, ‘he has brought all upon himself Gauzbert-he knew yours and your brother’s wishes and has actively sought to o’erturn them. Harden your heart my lord-the dream of Aquitaine bows not to the capricious desires of one of its minor lords.’
Of course I could not gainsay her-but how had it come to this? Four years-four successful years in which I had advanced the affairs of my demesnes and one in which Aquitaine had flourished. When I had become Duke I had initially called a grand council of all my vassals. All had answered my summons and gathered at Saintes during that sweltering July. Of Counts I could number Geoffrey of Thouars, my brother Èbles of Nantes and Adalelme of Bordeaux as friends. Only the young Count of Angoulême esteemed me not, the reason; the judicial murder of his older brother ordered by Ramnulf some years previously. After these there were the Mayors of Royan, Niort, Châtellerault and Bergerac-again all supportive but all clamouring for a lessening in the taxes that I was now levying from their cities. They were all under pressure from their Burghers they moaned-I was not for vacillating, waving away their entreaties with a practised smile and the admonishment that we must all do our part for the advancement of our affairs. Finally there were my Bishops; Leonard of Saint Jean D’Angely, Ancel of Charroux, Osier of Chancelade and my chaplain Jaspert of Saint-Savin. All would pull towards the common weal, Jaspert had informed me-the lords spiritual of my demesnes were wholly in accord with my kind and humble nature, it would seem.
My Small Council was comprised Bishop Jaspert, Count Geoffrey, my wife, Raynaud de Loudon as Steward and the foreigner Mukhtar as my Lord Marshall and also Tutor to Henri as I wanted to impart some martial skill in the lad. Tidings from Reynaud that the treasury stood at over four hundred gold crowns-a small fortune-was welcome indeed. Finally of allies I could count on the same that my brother had done, namely Foucher of Toulouse, my sister’s husband, Bernat of Toulouse, his brother, Loup of Limousin, my cousin and Èbles. These were propitious times and I announced to my councillors that we would strive to increase our demesne at the expense of the fractious kingdom of Brittany-or Breizh as those Celts preferred to call it-no matter-we would continue to expand north and west: ‘set on it my Lord of Thouars!’ I had commanded.
I have surrounded myself with the great and the good
‘It shall be done your Grace’ was the expedient reply.
And what of the King? Ramnulf’s protégé. The lad-if such he could still be called at twenty-five summers, was now married to Adelaide of Burgundy-a Duchess in her own right and much in her sway-I received no summons to Paris. Besides word reached us of constant raids by the Norse all along the Flanders coasts and attacks as far inland as the Ile de France. To counter this, castles were springing up all over the countryside-I had ordered monies to be spent on fortifying the principle towns in Saintonge and Poitiers-we would at least be safe in the heart of my fiefs!
A fine example of a king!
Maybe the events of April 889 should have given me warning but when my lady wife informed me that her spies had discovered a plot hatched by Geoffrey of Thouars son Loup to murder Henri, the young heir apparent, I paid it no mind. The lad was summonsed to Saintes and told to cease and desist-there was no objection from that high minded young individual and I was minded to leave the matter at that for the sake of the love and affection that I knew Ramnulf had borne the lad but I do recall Belleassez’s words at that time:
Utter silliness
‘You will need to watch the whole family my lord else find a snake in your bosom…’
I had laughed the matter off-despite the indications from Mukhtar of an heir that was not shaping up to be what was expected-I could not believe that any would oppose my wishes where matters of succession were concerned.
In September of that year, at last the false war between East Francia and our own realm came to an end with the news that a large force of well over three and a half thousand men at arms and hard riding cavalry had invaded the kingdom. Thrusting in from Verdun, in the east, they made for Reims and our ancient holy place-the Cathedral thereof. Ready to meet it was our own army in Rouen-the problem: it only numbered two thousand seven hundred.
To arms!
‘Surely the King will summons his vassals now?’ I had asked one sultry afternoon of my Marshal, bemused, ‘who exactly advises him at this juncture?’
The swarthy Saracen was mute, as was his wont. We were practising swordplay in the yard-I was no mean fighter but when matched with this man of Arabia I was but an ingénue. I was soaked in sweat as I parried his subtle, yet vicious assaults-using all of my experience to fend him off. Moreover whilst I wielded my broadsword with no little skill and cunning and was o’ermatched against the curved weapon he called a ‘scimitar’-his was the greater expertise and it was only a matter of time before a swift counter thrust had me sprawling in the dust. It was as well that I was a man of humility and so could take such a lesson in good wise.
Bismillah!
At last when we had recovered ourselves the dark man spoke in his heavily accented Latin, ‘mayhap my lord the king trusts not his vassals and would rather rely on the armies of his cousin Lothair-‘
I snorted in derision, ‘that fat man-the King of Middle Francia as they call the place! I think not my Lord Marshall-I think not!’
If he was affronted by my rudeness he showed it not a whit, ‘they are in alliance though are they not my lord?’
I called for cooling wine and had to agree that they were but of any indication of the appearance of the armies of the Mid Franks there had been, as yet, no sign.
‘More to the point Mukhtar what of Henri-he will be sixteen in just a few days-what think you of his abilities?’
I asked with no great expectation for I had seen first hand that the lad was certainly no Ramnulf-if the blood of the De Poitou’s ran in his veins then it ran very thin indeed.
All I received in response from the stranger paladin was a shake of the head and a tightening of his jaw. Very well then my mind was made up-I had discussed the matter at length with my consort. ‘The boy’s younger brother will be your new ward Mukhtar-he shows much of the promise that Henri does not. Send him to see me as soon as you get home.’
‘As you wish my lord’ he rumbled and with a bow he was gone leaving me alone in the sun dappled exercise yard, my thoughts all a-jumble. I had promised my brother that Henri would succeed but I knew that for such to happen would spell disaster. The Duchies needed a firm hand at the tiller-Henri was weak, a misguided warrior and dreamer-he was not fit to take up the reins of power after me and I would ensure that he did not.
Oh dear oh dear...he will not do
The church bells had not long struck none when the lad at last appeared. By this time I was at repose in my solar. I beckoned the shy young man in.
‘Henri I am told that you have become enamoured of the holy orders…’
‘Uncle?’ A quizzical look crossed the boy’s face-he was dressed simply in tunic and braes-a gold circlet upon his upper right arm. He was a handsome lad-a pity-I had thought-he certainly looks the part-a shame he cannot play it…
‘I have been told that you have become wedded to the idea of taking vows Henri-I have heard it on the most compelling authority.’
I moved towards him clamping a firm hand upon his shoulder before wheeling him around to face two of my guards and an evil looking Priest clad in a dirty habit who had suddenly appeared in the doorway.
‘This is Prior Ignatius-he will escort you to your new home.’
Henri’s eyes now widened in horror as he finally ascertained what was happening-he made as if to bolt but was immediately hemmed in by both guards who literally marched him from my chambers.
‘Uncle? Uncle!!!’
It was ill done but it was no less than I had to do. Feeling a pang of remorse and guilt I called after the Prior, my voice steely: ‘make sure that the boy is well looked after-I will hold you personally responsible if he comes to any harm!’
The Prior bowed low in acquiescence.
So Aldebert, Henri’s younger brother of fourteen summers became my new heir-a lad of great promise in the art of diplomacy and no little skill at arms. I was content and if the boy was unhappy at the sudden removal of his brother from affairs of state he showed it not a jot.
Meanwhile I sent impatient letters north to Geoffrey, busy in Brittany. What news I demanded-why was his commission taking so long? His letters came back always courteous, always begging patience. Intelligence that old king Riwallon had recently died could potentially be portentous as his son, Alan III was a sickly man-not likely to last long upon his shaky throne.
Meanwhile it was to be a year before Louis finally committed his soldiery to battle with his cousin of East Francia-the clash coming in October 890 not far from the gates of Paris itself. The outcome was as predictable as it was dispiriting but this never-ending internecine war between the Carolingians was not over.
This is not a battle we will win Sire...just saying
The King’s other distant cousin, Lothair the fat of Middle Francia, now intervened, marching in the New Year to join battle with Karloman at Verdun: he won us a glorious victory there and harried the army of our enemies all the way back to his own lands. Word reached us that old Karloman had fallen in battle-he was succeeded by his forty one year old son, Arnulf, who immediately sued for peace. After eight long years the war was over at last.
Now did I, at last in the spring of 891 receive a summons to an audience with the King. It was fitting I suppose-I was the third most powerful magnate in the realm-the second, Duke Hugo of Anjou, was rotting in Louis’s dungeons which made me a force to be reckoned with. I gathered my wife, a small band of retainers and made the journey north on a chill April day-it was the Feast of Saint Walerics, the first of the month. There was a chill wind blowing and so we travelled warm, cloaks and mantles wrapped in ermine and sable even at this time of year-the trees rustling in protest at the brisk air.
I had never personally visited the Royal Palace at Melun so it was a spectacle indeed that greeted our arrival a few days later. By this time the weather had improved considerably and we marvelled at the high-banked buildings nestling hard up on the fast flowing river Seine. The Castle that flanked the palace was even more imposing-the towering motte of the imposing hill it sat atop and the ramparts and keep all on a bigger scale than anything we could envisage in our own lands.
Once at the Palace we were allowed to change out of our travelling accoutrements and then ordered to appear without delay in the royal presence. My wife and I gripped each others hands with some nerves-it was her first audience with our sovereign too. I recall vividly making our way through the great hall, courtiers and other lords eyeing us with some curiosity. At the end of the thoroughfare was a dais upon which sat the King flanked by his queen, the proud and haughty Adelaide. After bowing low in turn we were asked to rise and I at last surveyed this man whom my brother had loved as a son, at close quarters. He was a handsome man, of medium height, with a tanned, bearded face and kindly eyes. Those eyes were sad as he looked upon me.
‘You are well met my Lord of Aquitaine-we have these last few years been sorely missed of your noble brother Ramnulf…he was my friend.’
Simple words that, at once, conveyed all the pain of the loss that this young man must have felt at my brother’s untimely passing.
‘Thank you Sire’ was my equally sparse reply, ‘he always spoke very highly of you-he was honoured to serve such a king.’ At this Louis’ eyes lit up brightly and for an instance there was a glimpse of the boy that he had been. He was, of a sudden, all amiable chatter, wanting to know how fared my wife and my plans to continue my appropriation of Brittany-did I know that its King, Alan had recently died comatose in bed leaving an infant daughter to rule that benighted land? I did not but exalted, for Louis confirmed that the Breton Lords had risen in revolt effectively splitting the kingdom and ensuring that its scraps could more easily be picked at by its French neighbours-well I intended to be at the head of that table by the mass!
‘You have leave to continue your Breton adventuring my lord-you will, however, leave Mortain to me.’
It was a small price to pay for whilst Mortain was its largest and richest county there were another four to be consumed. The audience over, my lady wife, who had not taken to the Queen by any measure, begged my leave for a short while-she had her agents to meet. I was too wise to gainsay her and passed a pleasant afternoon in the palace grounds in parley with the King. One thing he wanted from me was my agreement to command the Vanguard of his armies whenever he should have need. I was of a mind to demur but how could I? There was something about him that made me want to serve. I could encompass now how and why my brother had been so tied to him. For his part he treated me affably enough but I soon understood that we could not have the same closeness of bond that he had enjoyed with my brother. At length my wife returned and we took our leave of the royal court, staying over at an Inn that had been recommended before making the journey home.
That summer Duke Hugo of Anjou died in the king’s dungeons leaving Bernat of Toulouse and myself as the preeminent lords of West Francia-it has been a never-ending source of bemusement to me that I was not summonsed to the King’s Council but much as I did look for it no summons ever came.
That autumn I fell ill with the sweating sickness and for many weeks resided in that nether region betwixt heaven and hell-I knew not friend from foe, my wife from the lowliest scullion or any of my councillors from the serfs that tilled their fields. I had fallen to illness when the heat of high summer scalded the air and the trees were green. By the time I came properly to my senses there was a cold chill without and the trees stripped of their canopy. From my sickbed I called for my wife with as much strength as I could muster. She had come running presently, not an action I could ever have attributed to her-I must have been in a perilous state-and embraced me, hot tears splashing down upon her face.
Please kill me now!
‘Good my lord-yours is a sight for sore eyes!’ She exclaimed smothering me with kisses. I had to break her grip and demanded to know the month
‘It is the tenth of November my darling.’
I cursed, ‘Gods blood! Have I been insensible for two whole months? What news my love? How fares Aldebert?’
Now you will do just fine lad!
‘Soft my sweet-all is well-I have been running your affairs in your absence. As for the boy there is something I need to speak of…’
She looked grim so I braced myself for bad tidings, ‘what is it my love? You said he was well-what has occurred?’
She remained silent as if weighing up how best to divulge this dread revelation. At last she steeled herself and looked me square in the eye. ‘You had best brace yourself my heart for there is no easy way to tell you this. It concerns the succession…’
An icy fear gripped my heart-I grabbed her by the shoulders ‘tell me!’
‘Your heir is no longer Aldebert my lord-as things do stand at present it is Geoffrey of Thouars who stands to inherit all.’
I heard her words and for an interminable time could not fathom what she had just told me but then it all started to fit into place: the law change for elective, my illness, a grasping and influential vassal-he had tilted for the moon-and why not? It was all too much for my overwrought and tired mind-bright lights danced in my vision as I slumped back in the bed and gave myself to a sweet and embracing darkness…
One could only imagine how his brother would response the treatment of Henri. I'm curious if Henri will be bitter about this and such actions might haunt the duke.
The change of succession laws have came suddenly. This might be the karma for his refusal to pick Henri as his heir. Aldebert appears quite promising but the recent development might not be beneficial to him.
Sounds like we are experiencing an uncertain future for the duchy. Things might get interesting from here onwards.
The change of succession laws have came suddenly. This might be the karma for his refusal to pick Henri as his heir. Aldebert appears quite promising but the recent development might not be beneficial to him.
Sounds like we are experiencing an uncertain future for the duchy. Things might get interesting from here onwards.
Well, that was a most shocking development indeed! All that scheming to secure the succession for the de Poitou line seems to have been for nought, and all because of the perfidious Geoffrey of Thouars!
Also, as bklizard noted, I can't imagine that Ramnulf would be too happy to see how Gauzbert has "honored" his promise to secure Henri's succession, though with stats like those I can see why it would be prudent to get him out of the way...
Also, as bklizard noted, I can't imagine that Ramnulf would be too happy to see how Gauzbert has "honored" his promise to secure Henri's succession, though with stats like those I can see why it would be prudent to get him out of the way...
Ah, the awful first hier and good second son senario. 
still perhapes a accident will befall Henri. Maybe a arrow to the chest? or perhapes a manure explosion? Geoffrey of Thouars has to die also to keep your lands in your family.
still perhapes a accident will befall Henri. Maybe a arrow to the chest? or perhapes a manure explosion? Geoffrey of Thouars has to die also to keep your lands in your family.
Indeed Blklizard-uncertain times is an understatement. Re Henri-it was the best way forward I thought short of arranging his murder, which really would have dishonoured the promise he made to Ramnulf...
Exactly Specialist-I really was annoyed when I saw who has marshalled the way in amongst the Electors as 1st choice-you will see how I 'deal' with this situation in the next update-watch this space
Ah, the awful first hier and good second son senario.
Thanks Saxon-Geoffrey of Thouars certainly has to be removed that's for sure! Stay tuned
Hi, Asantahene !
I have been watching this space, wanting to post something nice, congratulatory, clever, never finding the right words.... Still haven't, but I must say... that last update... that ghastly, shocking, horrible piece of news about the succession... the deviousness of all around you... gods, it must be FUN playing this scenario !!! :happy:
I have been watching this space, wanting to post something nice, congratulatory, clever, never finding the right words....
Still haven't, but I must say... that last update... that ghastly, shocking, horrible piece of news about the succession... the deviousness of all around you... gods, it must be FUN playing this scenario !!! :happy:
Hi, Asantahene !
I have been watching this space, wanting to post something nice, congratulatory, clever, never finding the right words....
Hey Fabio I'm absolutely loving both playing and writing about it! Thanks for your kind words. Means a lot
Have to say that I'm really loving your excellent story too
Chapter 8
Gauzbert’s Story: the right is mine-and mine alone!
I made Aldebert, who had come of age early in that year of our Lord 891, Count of Perigord that November-just as soon as I had properly recovered my strength. It was one of the ancient titles of our family and was not given lightly. I ordered my vassals to attend-it was a demonstration of my intent and as my lords gathered, all save the Prince Bishop of Agen who, though not a part of my demesne was nonetheless an Elector residing, as he did, in a region that was part of the de jure Duchy of Aquitaine. Such was the idiocy of this madcap system, I had fumed to my wife as she dressed me in fine robes, a gold hemmed purple tunic, silk leggings with hose, fine leather boots and a mantle of deepest scarlet-the same as that of the background for Aquitaine-let all note it!
My nephew and heir-Oh I am so proud!
‘We at least can exult in the fact that Thouars cannot take all from you my Lord-only Aquitaine will be his-the Duchy of Poitou is still yours to disperse as you do see fit.’ She had said evenly whilst adjusting on my brow the ducal coronet, ‘there mon duc you truly look every inch the stern overlord-and such a handsome man, particularly since you had that ridiculous beard trimmed.’
This at least brought a smile to my beetle browed countenance causing me to pinch her playfully around the hip-she dug me back in my ribs, then fell into my lap-most unlike us both to indulge in such youthful playfulness, particularly since ours had always been a more solemn marriage-one forged in the fires of expedience and respect rather than outright passion such as my older brother and his Navarrese consort. Before we could get carried away with our antics, however, there came a loud rap without and the voice of one of my pages, ‘Your Grace-all are assembled!’
I released my wife and signalled that we would be attending presently. We had, each, our tasks: myself to act the kind and generous...and trusting lord that all knew me to be-she to watch and scan and let her agents do their work amongst those who had sworn to obey me, ingratiating herself in the talk that perforce becomes much looser after the drinking of much wine, ale and mead.
After the investiture ceremony I surveilled the hall from the dais, nodding here and smiling there, whilst all the while I seethed internally. All my Counts were in attendance-the Electors of the Duchy of Aquitaine: Èbles whose vote I could rely on according to my lady wife, was the only one of the six of us who stood foursquare on my side of the fence. Apparently the Counts of Bordeaux and Angouleme-no surprises with the latter-and the Prince Bishop of Agen, a man who would always vote whichever way I did not, were all firmly in the camp of Geoffrey of Thouars.
‘How has this happened?’ I had demanded of Belleassez from my sickbed that November a year past.
‘I know not truly my love. Mayhap he has been tempted by the lure of power-mayhap they have no confidence in an untested beardless boy. For all his promise none do know what he might yet be capable of.’
I had slumped back, my anger receding like the breaking of a summer storm. ‘I still find it hard to fathom that Geoffrey of all men should defy me like this-he was Ramnulf’s closest friend and ally by the rood! What does he think my dear departed brother would make of this?’
My wife was at the window, drawing her fur lined mantle about herself as the wind whistled in through the open shutters, ‘of course there is the thought he may well be thinking it is you who have betrayed your brother….’
I could feel the old familiar anger returning ‘what say you? Why is it I that has betrayed-oh…’
The Duchess moved away from the window and sat down beside me, putting a hand to my forehead to check that the fever had not returned.
‘Henri still casts a long shadow my lord even from his monk’s cell.’
I nodded grimly, ‘some would have me put the lad to death but that I will not countenance however much easier it would make things. No, I need you to work out a way to get those lords back in the fold my dear-do whatever you must but I would rather not have Geoffrey come to harm either-he has been a good servant to Aquitaine over the years.’
My wife appraised me whether with a look of pity or condescension I will never know. She simply replied ‘I sometimes wonder whether you are too kind husband but, be patient and I will find a way.’
Throughout 892 I watched the boy Aldebert closely and was well pleased with what I surveyed: he was a skilled negotiator, silken tongued and emollient when he needed to be but samewise steely. He was very learned-he would have put his father to shame and like myself he could show a tendency to be kind hearted. Like me he was also prone to outbursts of temper that could brew up like a summer storm that bursts suddenly with great alarum and then just as quickly dissipates leaving the sun-dappled countenance that he more often gifted on the world. To my consternation, however, I was informed by Mukhtar that the boy was craven and no amount of cajoling or threats had been effective in removing such a blot from the lad’s character-no matter-life’s lesson and experience would mayhap see to that!
I also watched my vassals with growing paranoia during that year, ever demanding of my wife when she would be ready to spring the trap on my lord of Thouars.
‘Patience my dearest!’ Was always the admonishment, ‘all shall come to pass in its own time.’
It was insufferable but wait I must as summer’s heat turned to multi-hued autumn and the days grew shorter. I took to passing long, dusty afternoon’s sat in the relative cool of my solar perusing the various missives that came from my vassals and the Burghers of my towns, assessing my cash disbursements and debating with my Steward where next to apportion the Duchies funds. I also came across some dusty old tomes on engineering and took it upon myself to increase my knowledge on such matters, spending hour upon hour with my head in the books.
I am such a bookworm!
It was on one such occasion that, as Raymond was urging me to invest in civil rather than military enterprises, came a knock on the door and the breathless announcement of a herald from Count Geoffrey himself. The dust stained page knelt before me as I quickly scanned the Vellum scroll he had presented me with. A smile twitched the corners of my mouth as I appraised the news from the Breton County of Broërec and, not able to restrain myself any further, I clapped my startled Steward on the shoulder exclaiming; ‘By the Rood-the man and his army of lawyers have done it finally-and not before time!’
‘What news my lord?’
‘The continuation of my plans for Brittany,’ I smiled and triumphantly passed the epistle to him, as I got up and paced across the library to the open shutters.
‘The County of Vannes...why these are glad tidings indeed your Grace!’ Raymond de Loudon ejaculated grinning from ear to ear. ‘I take it that you will be wanting funds for soldiery, provisioning and the like?’
‘Very astute Raymond-very astute. Yes-see to it. You have good leave to leave me.’
No sooner was he departed than my good lady made her presence known-I swear she has the witching way about her-and she too was smiling triumphantly, ‘Good my love I too have glad tidings and they concern the self-same Lord of Thouars…’
‘Tell me my lady-pray God that it is what I have hoped?’
‘It is my love-I have spun my webs and now you are in a position where you can throw Geoffrey out of his lordship at no cost to yourself and with no chance of sympathetic barons siding with him.’
‘How?’ I was incredulous.
‘The “how” matters not my Lord-all you need be concerned with is the what. To whit-what happens next?’
I was staring open-mouthed like some village simpleton, ‘what is next? What do I do?’
She fixed me with that steely stare, an icy gaze that hinted at the shadow world in which she was so comfortable operating. ‘You summons him here my Lord without delay and despatch him without further ado.’
So that was how I came to be awaiting the arrival of my erstwhile ally and friend on that frigid November morning-I waited up half the night-eventually driven to my bed by the pervasive chill and the admonishments of my wife. I had slept but fitfully, my mind dreading what must perforce occur the following day.
I chose to receive him not in the Great Hall atop my Ducal throne but in one of the upstairs galleries-I didn’t want an audience to what must needs be done. I stood with my back to the great stairwell, two of my personal guard were secreted surreptitiously close at hand in case there should be an attempt at violence from my errant vassal. Finally a Herald below announced this puissant lord’s arrival. I turned, barely holding my rising anger in check as he climbed the stairs.
‘Well met my Lord Duke-methinks the only reason for such a peremptory summons would be to reward me for delivering up Vannes!’ Geoffrey cried, a broad beam lighting up his bearded features. He was dressed for travel: long riding boots-still mud spattered, leggings and hose and a silver lined tunic. His mantle was of simple black-like his heart, I remember thinking sourly.
‘Well met is it my Lord? I think not sir-I think not!’ I growled fixing him with a baleful stare. This was in nowise what he was expecting.
‘Your Grace?’
I know not whether it was the pretence at of amity or the feigned surprise that angered me more but I could not hold in check all the frustration and rage that I had suppressed these last twelve months.
‘Do NOT play me for a fool Sir! Well do you know of what I speak. Shall I remind you of your promise, solemnly given, to support me in my undertaking to ensure the heirs of Ramnulf succeed to the entirety of his inheritance!’
Thouars had backed away in the face of my rage, his hand instinctively dropping to his sword hilt.
‘By God sir give me one opportunity to cross swords with you and I will gut you like a fish!’ I had advanced menacingly until I had backed him to the edge of the stairwell itself. At the bottom he could see the two men at arms looking up expectantly their spears no longer in repose. His hand dropped away from the sword and across his mien flashed a range of conflicting emotions. My rage, however, had not abated, ‘Think you my lord that your writ stands in higher esteem than mine own? That you would set yourself up to steal Aldebert’s inheritance-over and above my own son? God’s blood this unspeakable perfidy will not stand you hellspawn! The right is mine and mine alone to encompass who succeeds me!’ And with that I backhanded him with such force that it snapped his head back violently.
As if the dam had broken this unexpected bit of violence had the effect of instantly sobering me. Gasping as if spent I was barely able to whisper ‘why, Geoffrey-why?’
For his part I could see an internal struggle continue to play across his features, ‘your grace I…I know not. Mayhap I was outraged on the part of Henri, mayhap my ambition has got the better part of me.’ He kneeled now in supplication-all attempts at resistance at an end, ‘My lord I beg forgiveness.’
I turned away disgusted. ‘It is too late for that mon seigneur,’ I said quietly.
Thouars had risen, uncertainty now etched on his face ‘what mean you to do? I will renounce any claim for the election. You have my word.’
‘Your word means nothing here Thouars! You should have considered that before setting yourself up as a snake within my nest. No the only sure way to see my wishes are fulfilled are to remove you as a vassal altogether.’
Now comprehension dawned and I could see that never in his darkest nightmares had Geoffrey of Thouars bethought that his vaunting ambition would lead him to such a pass.
‘Geoffrey of Thouars I do hereby revoke your Lordship, it is to be retained by myself until such time as I can find a leal lord who will serve to uphold my rule as Duke, not undermine it.’
‘Gauzbert no!’
‘You are hereby banished from the twin Duchies sir-you must be quit of my demesnes within the week on pain of instant death. That means you and all your family.’
Amidst the pain on Geoffrey’s face could now see cold calculation flit across his brow.
‘Of course you could return to your lands and raise your banners in revolt sir,’ menace now dripped from my voice, ‘mayhap you think to count on the support of those lords who threw their lot in with you for the election? Think again my lord. My wife has done her work well. There will be no succour for you there-it would be a very short war…’
I turned away from him for a final time, ‘now begone sirrah-I have done with you here.’
Thouars started to say something then stopped and I listened to his heavy, regretful steps down below and then without. It was done.
Such is the fate of those who conspire against me...
The news of Geoffrey of Thouars fall from grace hit the great and good like a hammer blow-for so mighty a lord to be laid low was indication indeed that I was not an overlord to be trifled with. Aldebert was promoted to my Council as the new Chancellor-none did contest my choice-he had recently married a Dutch noblewoman, Imagina Van Loon and as soon as the nuptials were done he was despatched to the Breton County of Léon to fabricate a claim there from its Count Devi: Brittany had long ceased to exist as a separate entity and so would be picked at piecemeal.
Meantime just after Yuletide in 892 and defying convention for warring in winter Mukhtar led our army into Broërec and conducted a lightning war of annihilation there against the outnumbered forces of Count Arc’hantael Who was only able to muster less than a thousand spears to meet our force of thirteen hundred. The Breton Lord desperately entreated his Celtic allies in Hibernia to join him but when his power was finally brought to bay early in January 893, of Irish levies amongst the Breton army there was little sign.
Have at thee Breton scum!
Lightning war
Let battle be joined!
In the ensuing battle of Gwened the superior battle tactics and numbers of the De Poitou army
was of critical import with Mukhtar only losing a little over one hundred men to the Bretons six hundred. The ragtag survivors were despatched at a ‘skirmish’ one month later. All that was left now was to siege and cow all the remaining holdfasts and keeps-my Marshal assured me that it would take about a year.
Breton berserkers attacking the disciplined Frankish lines in the battle of Gwened Jan 894
At last, on the feast of Saint Wigbert, the twelfth of April of 894, word reached me of the final Breton surrender: Broërec was conquered and I added the County of Vannes, to give it it’s Frankish name, to my holdings. I, at once, created my son, Jourdain, Count of Vannes and entrusted him with keeping the Bretons quiescent with Mukhtar’s help, of course. All things considered it had been a very successful year even if my heart was sometimes heavy at the thought of poor dispossessed Geoffrey of Thouars.
Whether my son has the wherewithal to hold Vannes is questionable I have to say...
Wheeee!
It was as I basked in the warm glow of these victories both foreign and closer to home that the long-looked for missive finally arrived from the King. I had been taking the air in the gardens of my principle manor in Saintes when the Royal emissary arrived. Bowing low this stiff-necked fellow held out the scroll saying simply, ‘your liege lord has need of you.’
I read the letter:
My noble lord of Aquitaine-word has reached us of your puissant deeds in Brittany and how you rule your demesnes with iron certitude that brooks no dissent. Bravo sir!
Your king has need of you, however, for we have become involved in an imbroglio to aid our new ally in East Francia against our erstwhile friend King Karl of Middle Francia. It is a tangled web but rest assured that we would fain have no more accomplished paladin leading our battles than yourself.
Tarry not sir! We shall expect to see you at the muster at Rouen before month end.
Ludovicus Rex
I gripped the scroll tightly in hand-this endless internecine warring between the Karlings: when would it end? But I had been called-duty perforce must have its way. I nodded to the herald, ‘tell the King that I will make all haste to join him, once I have settled affairs here.’
Dismissing him I then turned to my Chamberlain, ‘Henri fetch my wife back from her country residence and alert my household men at arms-I expect to be travelling within the next four days.’
I had avoided it for as long as I could, had been all but ignored by my sovereign these last two years but now, it seemed, I was needed-The Duke of Aquitaine was going to war...
Gauzbert’s Story: the right is mine-and mine alone!
I made Aldebert, who had come of age early in that year of our Lord 891, Count of Perigord that November-just as soon as I had properly recovered my strength. It was one of the ancient titles of our family and was not given lightly. I ordered my vassals to attend-it was a demonstration of my intent and as my lords gathered, all save the Prince Bishop of Agen who, though not a part of my demesne was nonetheless an Elector residing, as he did, in a region that was part of the de jure Duchy of Aquitaine. Such was the idiocy of this madcap system, I had fumed to my wife as she dressed me in fine robes, a gold hemmed purple tunic, silk leggings with hose, fine leather boots and a mantle of deepest scarlet-the same as that of the background for Aquitaine-let all note it!
My nephew and heir-Oh I am so proud!
‘We at least can exult in the fact that Thouars cannot take all from you my Lord-only Aquitaine will be his-the Duchy of Poitou is still yours to disperse as you do see fit.’ She had said evenly whilst adjusting on my brow the ducal coronet, ‘there mon duc you truly look every inch the stern overlord-and such a handsome man, particularly since you had that ridiculous beard trimmed.’
This at least brought a smile to my beetle browed countenance causing me to pinch her playfully around the hip-she dug me back in my ribs, then fell into my lap-most unlike us both to indulge in such youthful playfulness, particularly since ours had always been a more solemn marriage-one forged in the fires of expedience and respect rather than outright passion such as my older brother and his Navarrese consort. Before we could get carried away with our antics, however, there came a loud rap without and the voice of one of my pages, ‘Your Grace-all are assembled!’
I released my wife and signalled that we would be attending presently. We had, each, our tasks: myself to act the kind and generous...and trusting lord that all knew me to be-she to watch and scan and let her agents do their work amongst those who had sworn to obey me, ingratiating herself in the talk that perforce becomes much looser after the drinking of much wine, ale and mead.
After the investiture ceremony I surveilled the hall from the dais, nodding here and smiling there, whilst all the while I seethed internally. All my Counts were in attendance-the Electors of the Duchy of Aquitaine: Èbles whose vote I could rely on according to my lady wife, was the only one of the six of us who stood foursquare on my side of the fence. Apparently the Counts of Bordeaux and Angouleme-no surprises with the latter-and the Prince Bishop of Agen, a man who would always vote whichever way I did not, were all firmly in the camp of Geoffrey of Thouars.
‘How has this happened?’ I had demanded of Belleassez from my sickbed that November a year past.
‘I know not truly my love. Mayhap he has been tempted by the lure of power-mayhap they have no confidence in an untested beardless boy. For all his promise none do know what he might yet be capable of.’
I had slumped back, my anger receding like the breaking of a summer storm. ‘I still find it hard to fathom that Geoffrey of all men should defy me like this-he was Ramnulf’s closest friend and ally by the rood! What does he think my dear departed brother would make of this?’
My wife was at the window, drawing her fur lined mantle about herself as the wind whistled in through the open shutters, ‘of course there is the thought he may well be thinking it is you who have betrayed your brother….’
I could feel the old familiar anger returning ‘what say you? Why is it I that has betrayed-oh…’
The Duchess moved away from the window and sat down beside me, putting a hand to my forehead to check that the fever had not returned.
‘Henri still casts a long shadow my lord even from his monk’s cell.’
I nodded grimly, ‘some would have me put the lad to death but that I will not countenance however much easier it would make things. No, I need you to work out a way to get those lords back in the fold my dear-do whatever you must but I would rather not have Geoffrey come to harm either-he has been a good servant to Aquitaine over the years.’
My wife appraised me whether with a look of pity or condescension I will never know. She simply replied ‘I sometimes wonder whether you are too kind husband but, be patient and I will find a way.’
Throughout 892 I watched the boy Aldebert closely and was well pleased with what I surveyed: he was a skilled negotiator, silken tongued and emollient when he needed to be but samewise steely. He was very learned-he would have put his father to shame and like myself he could show a tendency to be kind hearted. Like me he was also prone to outbursts of temper that could brew up like a summer storm that bursts suddenly with great alarum and then just as quickly dissipates leaving the sun-dappled countenance that he more often gifted on the world. To my consternation, however, I was informed by Mukhtar that the boy was craven and no amount of cajoling or threats had been effective in removing such a blot from the lad’s character-no matter-life’s lesson and experience would mayhap see to that!
I also watched my vassals with growing paranoia during that year, ever demanding of my wife when she would be ready to spring the trap on my lord of Thouars.
‘Patience my dearest!’ Was always the admonishment, ‘all shall come to pass in its own time.’
It was insufferable but wait I must as summer’s heat turned to multi-hued autumn and the days grew shorter. I took to passing long, dusty afternoon’s sat in the relative cool of my solar perusing the various missives that came from my vassals and the Burghers of my towns, assessing my cash disbursements and debating with my Steward where next to apportion the Duchies funds. I also came across some dusty old tomes on engineering and took it upon myself to increase my knowledge on such matters, spending hour upon hour with my head in the books.
I am such a bookworm!
It was on one such occasion that, as Raymond was urging me to invest in civil rather than military enterprises, came a knock on the door and the breathless announcement of a herald from Count Geoffrey himself. The dust stained page knelt before me as I quickly scanned the Vellum scroll he had presented me with. A smile twitched the corners of my mouth as I appraised the news from the Breton County of Broërec and, not able to restrain myself any further, I clapped my startled Steward on the shoulder exclaiming; ‘By the Rood-the man and his army of lawyers have done it finally-and not before time!’
‘What news my lord?’
‘The continuation of my plans for Brittany,’ I smiled and triumphantly passed the epistle to him, as I got up and paced across the library to the open shutters.
‘The County of Vannes...why these are glad tidings indeed your Grace!’ Raymond de Loudon ejaculated grinning from ear to ear. ‘I take it that you will be wanting funds for soldiery, provisioning and the like?’
‘Very astute Raymond-very astute. Yes-see to it. You have good leave to leave me.’
No sooner was he departed than my good lady made her presence known-I swear she has the witching way about her-and she too was smiling triumphantly, ‘Good my love I too have glad tidings and they concern the self-same Lord of Thouars…’
‘Tell me my lady-pray God that it is what I have hoped?’
‘It is my love-I have spun my webs and now you are in a position where you can throw Geoffrey out of his lordship at no cost to yourself and with no chance of sympathetic barons siding with him.’
‘How?’ I was incredulous.
‘The “how” matters not my Lord-all you need be concerned with is the what. To whit-what happens next?’
I was staring open-mouthed like some village simpleton, ‘what is next? What do I do?’
She fixed me with that steely stare, an icy gaze that hinted at the shadow world in which she was so comfortable operating. ‘You summons him here my Lord without delay and despatch him without further ado.’
So that was how I came to be awaiting the arrival of my erstwhile ally and friend on that frigid November morning-I waited up half the night-eventually driven to my bed by the pervasive chill and the admonishments of my wife. I had slept but fitfully, my mind dreading what must perforce occur the following day.
I chose to receive him not in the Great Hall atop my Ducal throne but in one of the upstairs galleries-I didn’t want an audience to what must needs be done. I stood with my back to the great stairwell, two of my personal guard were secreted surreptitiously close at hand in case there should be an attempt at violence from my errant vassal. Finally a Herald below announced this puissant lord’s arrival. I turned, barely holding my rising anger in check as he climbed the stairs.
‘Well met my Lord Duke-methinks the only reason for such a peremptory summons would be to reward me for delivering up Vannes!’ Geoffrey cried, a broad beam lighting up his bearded features. He was dressed for travel: long riding boots-still mud spattered, leggings and hose and a silver lined tunic. His mantle was of simple black-like his heart, I remember thinking sourly.
‘Well met is it my Lord? I think not sir-I think not!’ I growled fixing him with a baleful stare. This was in nowise what he was expecting.
‘Your Grace?’
I know not whether it was the pretence at of amity or the feigned surprise that angered me more but I could not hold in check all the frustration and rage that I had suppressed these last twelve months.
‘Do NOT play me for a fool Sir! Well do you know of what I speak. Shall I remind you of your promise, solemnly given, to support me in my undertaking to ensure the heirs of Ramnulf succeed to the entirety of his inheritance!’
Thouars had backed away in the face of my rage, his hand instinctively dropping to his sword hilt.
‘By God sir give me one opportunity to cross swords with you and I will gut you like a fish!’ I had advanced menacingly until I had backed him to the edge of the stairwell itself. At the bottom he could see the two men at arms looking up expectantly their spears no longer in repose. His hand dropped away from the sword and across his mien flashed a range of conflicting emotions. My rage, however, had not abated, ‘Think you my lord that your writ stands in higher esteem than mine own? That you would set yourself up to steal Aldebert’s inheritance-over and above my own son? God’s blood this unspeakable perfidy will not stand you hellspawn! The right is mine and mine alone to encompass who succeeds me!’ And with that I backhanded him with such force that it snapped his head back violently.
As if the dam had broken this unexpected bit of violence had the effect of instantly sobering me. Gasping as if spent I was barely able to whisper ‘why, Geoffrey-why?’
For his part I could see an internal struggle continue to play across his features, ‘your grace I…I know not. Mayhap I was outraged on the part of Henri, mayhap my ambition has got the better part of me.’ He kneeled now in supplication-all attempts at resistance at an end, ‘My lord I beg forgiveness.’
I turned away disgusted. ‘It is too late for that mon seigneur,’ I said quietly.
Thouars had risen, uncertainty now etched on his face ‘what mean you to do? I will renounce any claim for the election. You have my word.’
‘Your word means nothing here Thouars! You should have considered that before setting yourself up as a snake within my nest. No the only sure way to see my wishes are fulfilled are to remove you as a vassal altogether.’
Now comprehension dawned and I could see that never in his darkest nightmares had Geoffrey of Thouars bethought that his vaunting ambition would lead him to such a pass.
‘Geoffrey of Thouars I do hereby revoke your Lordship, it is to be retained by myself until such time as I can find a leal lord who will serve to uphold my rule as Duke, not undermine it.’
‘Gauzbert no!’
‘You are hereby banished from the twin Duchies sir-you must be quit of my demesnes within the week on pain of instant death. That means you and all your family.’
Amidst the pain on Geoffrey’s face could now see cold calculation flit across his brow.
‘Of course you could return to your lands and raise your banners in revolt sir,’ menace now dripped from my voice, ‘mayhap you think to count on the support of those lords who threw their lot in with you for the election? Think again my lord. My wife has done her work well. There will be no succour for you there-it would be a very short war…’
I turned away from him for a final time, ‘now begone sirrah-I have done with you here.’
Thouars started to say something then stopped and I listened to his heavy, regretful steps down below and then without. It was done.
Such is the fate of those who conspire against me...
The news of Geoffrey of Thouars fall from grace hit the great and good like a hammer blow-for so mighty a lord to be laid low was indication indeed that I was not an overlord to be trifled with. Aldebert was promoted to my Council as the new Chancellor-none did contest my choice-he had recently married a Dutch noblewoman, Imagina Van Loon and as soon as the nuptials were done he was despatched to the Breton County of Léon to fabricate a claim there from its Count Devi: Brittany had long ceased to exist as a separate entity and so would be picked at piecemeal.
Meantime just after Yuletide in 892 and defying convention for warring in winter Mukhtar led our army into Broërec and conducted a lightning war of annihilation there against the outnumbered forces of Count Arc’hantael Who was only able to muster less than a thousand spears to meet our force of thirteen hundred. The Breton Lord desperately entreated his Celtic allies in Hibernia to join him but when his power was finally brought to bay early in January 893, of Irish levies amongst the Breton army there was little sign.
Have at thee Breton scum!
Lightning war
Let battle be joined!
In the ensuing battle of Gwened the superior battle tactics and numbers of the De Poitou army
was of critical import with Mukhtar only losing a little over one hundred men to the Bretons six hundred. The ragtag survivors were despatched at a ‘skirmish’ one month later. All that was left now was to siege and cow all the remaining holdfasts and keeps-my Marshal assured me that it would take about a year.
Breton berserkers attacking the disciplined Frankish lines in the battle of Gwened Jan 894
At last, on the feast of Saint Wigbert, the twelfth of April of 894, word reached me of the final Breton surrender: Broërec was conquered and I added the County of Vannes, to give it it’s Frankish name, to my holdings. I, at once, created my son, Jourdain, Count of Vannes and entrusted him with keeping the Bretons quiescent with Mukhtar’s help, of course. All things considered it had been a very successful year even if my heart was sometimes heavy at the thought of poor dispossessed Geoffrey of Thouars.
Whether my son has the wherewithal to hold Vannes is questionable I have to say...
Wheeee!
It was as I basked in the warm glow of these victories both foreign and closer to home that the long-looked for missive finally arrived from the King. I had been taking the air in the gardens of my principle manor in Saintes when the Royal emissary arrived. Bowing low this stiff-necked fellow held out the scroll saying simply, ‘your liege lord has need of you.’
I read the letter:
My noble lord of Aquitaine-word has reached us of your puissant deeds in Brittany and how you rule your demesnes with iron certitude that brooks no dissent. Bravo sir!
Your king has need of you, however, for we have become involved in an imbroglio to aid our new ally in East Francia against our erstwhile friend King Karl of Middle Francia. It is a tangled web but rest assured that we would fain have no more accomplished paladin leading our battles than yourself.
Tarry not sir! We shall expect to see you at the muster at Rouen before month end.
Ludovicus Rex
I gripped the scroll tightly in hand-this endless internecine warring between the Karlings: when would it end? But I had been called-duty perforce must have its way. I nodded to the herald, ‘tell the King that I will make all haste to join him, once I have settled affairs here.’
Dismissing him I then turned to my Chamberlain, ‘Henri fetch my wife back from her country residence and alert my household men at arms-I expect to be travelling within the next four days.’
I had avoided it for as long as I could, had been all but ignored by my sovereign these last two years but now, it seemed, I was needed-The Duke of Aquitaine was going to war...
Talk about surprising turn of events. The snake has been removed with the help of the wife. Let's hope he doesn't cross his wife since his end won't be pretty.
Some peace would do the Duke some good but, sadly, he had duties to attend to. With him leaving for war, I'm curious to see if any threats might arise to take advantage of his absence.
Some peace would do the Duke some good but, sadly, he had duties to attend to. With him leaving for war, I'm curious to see if any threats might arise to take advantage of his absence.
Watch this space my friend-as for Belleassez-she is a formidable Spymaster and not one to be crossed in any way shape or form :happy:
Chapter 9
Gauzbert’s Story: another spin of the whirligig
I remembered with great clarity letting the scroll drop from my fur-lined gauntlets just after reading about the death of my sovereign in February of the following year, the year of our Lord 895. I had been in the field for the better part of ten months, first harrying and besieging the Lotharingians in Thüringen over the course of dry, dusty summer months and then when that war was won supporting King Arnulf in his struggle against his own brother Prince Martin of East Francia-a war that commenced in a wet, cold November. The King had been ailing when he took his leave of the royal army as we camped before the walls of Aachen and though I had my worries for him I could not have envisaged that he would be taken so untimely from us. All this was notwithstanding the great affection that had grown between us as we had campaigned together. He always accorded me the most respect and the command in all of our battles of the centre-pride of place. And always after the many sieges and skirmishes he would seek out my counsel, mayhap finding in me the friend that he had lost in my brother.
Oh my poor King :'-(
So it was not without a deep sadness that I was informed that he had arrived home in Paris sickly and that over the course of December and January his condition had worsened until death’s feathery wings did alight upon him at last. He had only passed thirty two summers.
‘How long has he been dead?’ I asked, of the herald, inviting him inside my Pavilion where, at least, a brazier had been lit by my attentive page to provide some relief from the frigid air without.
‘My lord the King passed on the twenty third of February.’
Four days past. I wondered idly why I had received no warning of this from my wife whose spies were usually so meticulous in letting me know of matters both concerning West Francia and my own demesnes. It was true that she had been overly preoccupied with prosecuting my plan to marry our eldest daughter, Ermessinde, to King Ordoño II of Asturias, the heir also to the Kingdom of Castile. Belleassez was de facto regent of my Duchies in my absence and if any on my Council felt their pride bristle at being commanded by a woman, even one as formidable as the Duchess, none were unwise enough to say so openly.
Lovely jubbly!
The marriage of my daughter brought me a useful alliance and I was heartened, also, to learn that September that Aldebert had a successor, a son, who he named Ramnulf too after his late beloved father. I had also kept my wife and Reynaud busy with my plans for the building of a moat around the new castle at Saintes, a city guild hall in Royan and walls around the church at St Jean-d’Angély. It was important to keep holy church onside, something that my brother had not been quite so careful to do in his time.
Time to build!
‘And the succession?’
‘The King’s younger brothers succeed to the Kingdoms of West Francia and Aquitaine your grace.’ Was the smooth and instant response, ‘the war here is ended-King Carloman of West Francia has no quarrel with Prince Martin and nor does your new Liege Lord Charles.’
‘And this army? I have, under arms, some three thousand men. What of they?’
‘You are to return to West Francia my lord and disband the levies upon arrival there. King Charles has bid me instruct you from thence to return to your lands but not to make yourself too comfortable as he will soon have need of you.’
Charles Karling, youngest brother of the dead king-a twenty three year old stripling, as far as I could recall. I had met him only once, on the first occasion I had met Louis and my recollection did not paint a pretty picture: an arrogant, sly, cynical young man who was prone to fits of pique-he also had a stutter like his father Louis the Stammerer-it was inauspicious fare indeed…of his older brother, Carloman I knew even less.
Hmmmm these 2 are thick as thieves-good for intrigue but not much else!
I would fain best get to know exactly what sort of qualities these two new suzerains possessed, I thought, as I dismissed the Herald, commanding that he be given provisions and a warm tent for the night. Meanwhile I summonsed my captains and commanders-it was time to return home…
The break up of the realm...again!
No sooner had I arrived back at my manor, nestling within the walls of the new castle in Saintes and took in the latest comings and goings and happenstances-all supplied by my ever knowing wife- but that I was entreated by my new King to fetch myself back to Bellac in order to take up my new position of Chancellor of Aquitaine. I delayed my answer long enough to be sure that my interests were best served in this way.
Erm..how about piss off...on 2nd thoughts I'd love to Sire!
‘And why would they not be my lord? You get to do something you are good at, unlike your brother who was inexplicably asked to steward the realm when his powers of husbandry were no better than a mewling child’s!’
‘As always, love, you have such a way with words’ I said wryly surveying her with some amusement-it had become apparent to me that there had been some cooling in our ardour and though we still had a deep affection one for the other it was not as before.
‘You know me so well Beau Sire’ she intoned before returning to the subject of my appointment to the King’s Council and why it was imperative that I accept it. If I was honest it was the constant ache of being away from my own demesnes that I feared. I missed the rolling hills, sweet meadows and gentle rivers of my lands. As Chancellor I would, perforce, have to travel to far flung domains, sweet-talk recalcitrant lords and princes and bow and scrape on behalf of the King.
In the end I grew so tired of Belleassez’s nagging that as the weather, once more, turned warm and April became May I ordered my affairs, confirmed my wife once more as Suzerain of the Duchies, in my stead and set off to Bellac to take up my new post. I left her with stern words to see what my son Jourdain was doing in Vannes as troubling tales of lordly abuse and bad husbandry were reaching me. I had hoped his lowborn wife, Ermengarde, would teach him something or two as she had a gift for it but if rumours were to be believed then he was listening to no one’s counsel. Well he would listen to my wife’s by the mass!
Hmmmm not sure that appointing my son to look after Vannes was a good idea after all...
I had been well briefed by my Duchess on the personalities at the royal Aquitainian court. A few I was familiar with but most were, I had to confess, strangers. Of Dukes there was Duke Bernard of Toulouse, Master of the Hunt-an ally, myself then Duke Gartzia of Gascogne, Aquitaine’s Marshal, my brother’s erstwhile enemy and if my wife’s agents were to be believed something of a thorn in the new King’s side. Duke Bertaland of Auvergne was Steward and Master of the Horse whilst my wife’s son, my cousin Loup of Limousin was Spymaster. The Court Chaplain was Bishop Savary of Guéret.
‘Be particularly heedful of Gartzia husband.’ My wife had warned me and sure enough no sooner had I arrived at court but that I was summonsed to a private audience with my new master where the young king harangued me about the ‘faithless Gascon’ and demanded that I set off ‘with all haste’ for Gévaudan where I was to smooth matters with its Lord, Duke Bertaland of Auvergne who was beginning to show a ‘most mettlesome’ attitude to his liege. As Steward of the Realm the Duke had been tasked with a number of responsibilities and was failing to discharge them.
‘Besides’ the angry young man before me had spluttered still wroth, ‘I have heard from your cousin, Loup, that he is thick as thieves with none other than Gartzia himself! I have been King less than four months and already this is how my nobles esteem me?’
I took my leave of the king with as much respect as I could muster and immediately sought out my cousin who was also visiting the capitol on some secret business-he took his duties as master of the secrets of the realm, very seriously-no doubt a trait that he had learned assiduously from his mother, my wife!
‘Well met cousin or should I say father!’ The much younger man had greeted me with a mischievous gleam in his eye. I had met the lad a few times on account of Belleassez and he had always appeared to be of great promise. The fact that he was now the realm’s spymaster and Count of his own Limousin and his wife’s hilly County of Rouergue that bordered Toulouse on its eastern side was testament to his ambition if nothing else.
‘Well met indeed-and it’s cousinto you lad!’ I had replied smiling in acknowledgement of the fact that as son of my wife and my deceased uncle Geraud he was my cousin but that my subsequent marriage to his mother made our relationship a rather complicated one for certes, ‘damnable business this with Bertaland. What do you know?’
‘Come let’s find a bench in the palace grounds sir-there I will tell you all-indeed I am, myself, journeying to that place in a day or two as Auvergne is en route to Rouergue. Mayhap I can accompany you and we may work together whilst there?’
‘Good plan boy-come let’s talk!’ And so we passed an intriguing afternoon discussing the plots and plans that beset the new king and what we might both do to stymie them. Gartzia and Bertaland were the most immediate, particularly Bertaland and his demands for the king to relinquish some of his crown authority to which he had drawn in Gartzia who has his own Occitan ambitions for the total independence of his demesnes-utter folly! However with no less than five prosperous and large counties in his sway he was not the only lord who could challenge his sovereign if enough other barons could be swayed to his banner.
In the event my mission to improve relations with the Duke met with utter disaster-indeed so hostile was my reception that when I finally took it upon myself to leave some weeks later I was afeared that I had possibly done my liege more harm than good. I had met with Loup just before my departure and admitted miserably that my efforts had come to naught. We had ridden away from the sleepy town of Marvejols, where we had been billeted, in order not to attract the attention of prying eyes.
‘Do not despair cousin-I have ferreted out news that suggests that this was a doomed errand from the start. There will be no rapprochement with Bertaland-the King may as well start preparing for war-for war there will most assuredly be. I have sent a missive to Charles warning him. Will you reinforce that message?’
I assessed the boy with newfound respect. ‘That I will lad-that I will. Thank you-your mother would be proud.’
He smiled easily, ‘oh she is already Gauzbert-both of myself and you. You know that some do call you the noble duke now-the king included?’
‘Noble? Why? I deserve not such an epithet!’ I spluttered embarrassed
‘Whether you deserve it or no is of no import cousin-they call you it anyway and I, for one, do think it fitting. I give you good day and fare thee well until we next do meet!’ With that he wheeled his horse away and cantered off leaving me to mull over this turn of events. The ‘noble’ eh? I wondered just how I could put this approbation to the best usage in the court of Charles IV of Aquitaine. What I could not have envisaged is that this would be the last time I was to see this promising young man alive.
If the King was angered he showed it not-mayhap because there were more pressing matters to attend to as at the end of June of 895 a major rebellion broke out in the Kingdom of his brother where one of his most puissant lords, Boudewijn of Flanders had formed a faction demanding that he too limit his royal powers and had presented him with a humiliating Charter that set out new rules that would forever limit the power of the king and submit him to the will of the law and his nobles. It would not stand! Urgent letters begging Charles to come to his aid came in great despatch to the palace such that by July we were preparing to mobilise our levies.
At the same time it seemed that what was left of Brittany under Duke Berenger wanted its former county of Mortain back and this man, called ‘the Usurper’, had both seized the title of Petty King of Breizh back from its child Countess, Elsebed. This would not stand either, I vowed!
Breton scum!! I'll get you!
‘You will lead the vanguard my lord!’ The king had ordered in his usual peremptory fashion, ‘I cannot trust my own Lord Marshall since he continues to plot against me and your friend and ally Bernard of Toulouse lies abed gravely ill. What say you sir?’
I was finding it increasingly difficult to like this overbearing young man but how could I refuse-it was my leal duty. Besides with the sad tidings that Bernard was unlikely to live out the summer it left me as effectively the most powerful baron in Aquitaine-so be it!
So I rode at the head of the Royal Aquitainian army in the dusty heat of high summer-there were just under two thousand of us-a split of foot soldiery and our cavalry. My intention was to join with Carloman’s forces, reinforce them and march to engage the biggest power of the rebels in Flanders. My plans were executed just as I had instructed with all marvelling at my ability to move such an army so quickly across Francia. When we appeared before the walls of Paris there was initial alarm from the townsfolk and town guard within as they had not reckoned on my army’s arrival for some days yet.
I had been greeted like a long-lost brother by none other than the king himself-an initially shy man who never ceased to tell me during my short stay there how much more sensible it would have been if Francia had not been divided in the age-old custom. He was a greedy, envious man who I instantly misliked for it was one thing to hold such devious thoughts in your heart, quite another to voice them to the trusted adviser and commander of an army that your brother had sent to your aid. It seemed that Carloman was not of the warrior spirit and left me under the overall command of his own Marshall, Mayor Sebastian of Paris, but no sooner was he departed back to the safety of the city of Paris but I told the Marshall that, as an independent power we would be acting with autonomy during this war-I would, of course, inform the Mayor of our intentions and plans and where we could act in concert we would. I am not sure that this was what the he had expected but I had not given him time to countermand me, decamping the very next morning and force-marching my men northwards-I was damned if I was to suborn myself to a lowly Mayor, whatever his official title!
I'm not serving under an upstart Mayor-no way!
One year later we had met with mixed success and it was as I was besieging Boulogne in October of 896 that I received the news that I somehow been expecting for some while. It had come from my cousin:
Cousin. I will be brief as I am grievous ill and like to depart the world soon-it has been a test of strength just to dictate this letter. The Doctors say I have pneumonia…
Bertaland has issued a proclamation similar to that which has sent West Francia spiralling into revolt-you may be sure that the king will resist it. Gartzia has allied himself with the hellspawn and so there is a real threat to the weal of the realm.
You will, doubtless, soon receive letters from Charles recalling you to Aquitaine, there to lead the fight against these heartless rebels. If anyone can defeat them then it is you.
Fare thee well cousin-I have very much enjoyed acting in concert with you these many months.
Loup
Treachery shall be repaid in equal coin!
My sadness of hearing of Loup’s illness was matched with my anger at the rebellion. Very well: the game was, once more, afoot and I would prosecute it with all the anger of an avenging angel. It was time to return to the royal kingdom of Aquitaine…
Gauzbert’s Story: another spin of the whirligig
I remembered with great clarity letting the scroll drop from my fur-lined gauntlets just after reading about the death of my sovereign in February of the following year, the year of our Lord 895. I had been in the field for the better part of ten months, first harrying and besieging the Lotharingians in Thüringen over the course of dry, dusty summer months and then when that war was won supporting King Arnulf in his struggle against his own brother Prince Martin of East Francia-a war that commenced in a wet, cold November. The King had been ailing when he took his leave of the royal army as we camped before the walls of Aachen and though I had my worries for him I could not have envisaged that he would be taken so untimely from us. All this was notwithstanding the great affection that had grown between us as we had campaigned together. He always accorded me the most respect and the command in all of our battles of the centre-pride of place. And always after the many sieges and skirmishes he would seek out my counsel, mayhap finding in me the friend that he had lost in my brother.
Oh my poor King :'-(
So it was not without a deep sadness that I was informed that he had arrived home in Paris sickly and that over the course of December and January his condition had worsened until death’s feathery wings did alight upon him at last. He had only passed thirty two summers.
‘How long has he been dead?’ I asked, of the herald, inviting him inside my Pavilion where, at least, a brazier had been lit by my attentive page to provide some relief from the frigid air without.
‘My lord the King passed on the twenty third of February.’
Four days past. I wondered idly why I had received no warning of this from my wife whose spies were usually so meticulous in letting me know of matters both concerning West Francia and my own demesnes. It was true that she had been overly preoccupied with prosecuting my plan to marry our eldest daughter, Ermessinde, to King Ordoño II of Asturias, the heir also to the Kingdom of Castile. Belleassez was de facto regent of my Duchies in my absence and if any on my Council felt their pride bristle at being commanded by a woman, even one as formidable as the Duchess, none were unwise enough to say so openly.
Lovely jubbly!
The marriage of my daughter brought me a useful alliance and I was heartened, also, to learn that September that Aldebert had a successor, a son, who he named Ramnulf too after his late beloved father. I had also kept my wife and Reynaud busy with my plans for the building of a moat around the new castle at Saintes, a city guild hall in Royan and walls around the church at St Jean-d’Angély. It was important to keep holy church onside, something that my brother had not been quite so careful to do in his time.
Time to build!
‘And the succession?’
‘The King’s younger brothers succeed to the Kingdoms of West Francia and Aquitaine your grace.’ Was the smooth and instant response, ‘the war here is ended-King Carloman of West Francia has no quarrel with Prince Martin and nor does your new Liege Lord Charles.’
‘And this army? I have, under arms, some three thousand men. What of they?’
‘You are to return to West Francia my lord and disband the levies upon arrival there. King Charles has bid me instruct you from thence to return to your lands but not to make yourself too comfortable as he will soon have need of you.’
Charles Karling, youngest brother of the dead king-a twenty three year old stripling, as far as I could recall. I had met him only once, on the first occasion I had met Louis and my recollection did not paint a pretty picture: an arrogant, sly, cynical young man who was prone to fits of pique-he also had a stutter like his father Louis the Stammerer-it was inauspicious fare indeed…of his older brother, Carloman I knew even less.
Hmmmm these 2 are thick as thieves-good for intrigue but not much else!
I would fain best get to know exactly what sort of qualities these two new suzerains possessed, I thought, as I dismissed the Herald, commanding that he be given provisions and a warm tent for the night. Meanwhile I summonsed my captains and commanders-it was time to return home…
The break up of the realm...again!
No sooner had I arrived back at my manor, nestling within the walls of the new castle in Saintes and took in the latest comings and goings and happenstances-all supplied by my ever knowing wife- but that I was entreated by my new King to fetch myself back to Bellac in order to take up my new position of Chancellor of Aquitaine. I delayed my answer long enough to be sure that my interests were best served in this way.
Erm..how about piss off...on 2nd thoughts I'd love to Sire!
‘And why would they not be my lord? You get to do something you are good at, unlike your brother who was inexplicably asked to steward the realm when his powers of husbandry were no better than a mewling child’s!’
‘As always, love, you have such a way with words’ I said wryly surveying her with some amusement-it had become apparent to me that there had been some cooling in our ardour and though we still had a deep affection one for the other it was not as before.
‘You know me so well Beau Sire’ she intoned before returning to the subject of my appointment to the King’s Council and why it was imperative that I accept it. If I was honest it was the constant ache of being away from my own demesnes that I feared. I missed the rolling hills, sweet meadows and gentle rivers of my lands. As Chancellor I would, perforce, have to travel to far flung domains, sweet-talk recalcitrant lords and princes and bow and scrape on behalf of the King.
In the end I grew so tired of Belleassez’s nagging that as the weather, once more, turned warm and April became May I ordered my affairs, confirmed my wife once more as Suzerain of the Duchies, in my stead and set off to Bellac to take up my new post. I left her with stern words to see what my son Jourdain was doing in Vannes as troubling tales of lordly abuse and bad husbandry were reaching me. I had hoped his lowborn wife, Ermengarde, would teach him something or two as she had a gift for it but if rumours were to be believed then he was listening to no one’s counsel. Well he would listen to my wife’s by the mass!
Hmmmm not sure that appointing my son to look after Vannes was a good idea after all...
I had been well briefed by my Duchess on the personalities at the royal Aquitainian court. A few I was familiar with but most were, I had to confess, strangers. Of Dukes there was Duke Bernard of Toulouse, Master of the Hunt-an ally, myself then Duke Gartzia of Gascogne, Aquitaine’s Marshal, my brother’s erstwhile enemy and if my wife’s agents were to be believed something of a thorn in the new King’s side. Duke Bertaland of Auvergne was Steward and Master of the Horse whilst my wife’s son, my cousin Loup of Limousin was Spymaster. The Court Chaplain was Bishop Savary of Guéret.
‘Be particularly heedful of Gartzia husband.’ My wife had warned me and sure enough no sooner had I arrived at court but that I was summonsed to a private audience with my new master where the young king harangued me about the ‘faithless Gascon’ and demanded that I set off ‘with all haste’ for Gévaudan where I was to smooth matters with its Lord, Duke Bertaland of Auvergne who was beginning to show a ‘most mettlesome’ attitude to his liege. As Steward of the Realm the Duke had been tasked with a number of responsibilities and was failing to discharge them.
‘Besides’ the angry young man before me had spluttered still wroth, ‘I have heard from your cousin, Loup, that he is thick as thieves with none other than Gartzia himself! I have been King less than four months and already this is how my nobles esteem me?’
I took my leave of the king with as much respect as I could muster and immediately sought out my cousin who was also visiting the capitol on some secret business-he took his duties as master of the secrets of the realm, very seriously-no doubt a trait that he had learned assiduously from his mother, my wife!
‘Well met cousin or should I say father!’ The much younger man had greeted me with a mischievous gleam in his eye. I had met the lad a few times on account of Belleassez and he had always appeared to be of great promise. The fact that he was now the realm’s spymaster and Count of his own Limousin and his wife’s hilly County of Rouergue that bordered Toulouse on its eastern side was testament to his ambition if nothing else.
‘Well met indeed-and it’s cousinto you lad!’ I had replied smiling in acknowledgement of the fact that as son of my wife and my deceased uncle Geraud he was my cousin but that my subsequent marriage to his mother made our relationship a rather complicated one for certes, ‘damnable business this with Bertaland. What do you know?’
‘Come let’s find a bench in the palace grounds sir-there I will tell you all-indeed I am, myself, journeying to that place in a day or two as Auvergne is en route to Rouergue. Mayhap I can accompany you and we may work together whilst there?’
‘Good plan boy-come let’s talk!’ And so we passed an intriguing afternoon discussing the plots and plans that beset the new king and what we might both do to stymie them. Gartzia and Bertaland were the most immediate, particularly Bertaland and his demands for the king to relinquish some of his crown authority to which he had drawn in Gartzia who has his own Occitan ambitions for the total independence of his demesnes-utter folly! However with no less than five prosperous and large counties in his sway he was not the only lord who could challenge his sovereign if enough other barons could be swayed to his banner.
In the event my mission to improve relations with the Duke met with utter disaster-indeed so hostile was my reception that when I finally took it upon myself to leave some weeks later I was afeared that I had possibly done my liege more harm than good. I had met with Loup just before my departure and admitted miserably that my efforts had come to naught. We had ridden away from the sleepy town of Marvejols, where we had been billeted, in order not to attract the attention of prying eyes.
‘Do not despair cousin-I have ferreted out news that suggests that this was a doomed errand from the start. There will be no rapprochement with Bertaland-the King may as well start preparing for war-for war there will most assuredly be. I have sent a missive to Charles warning him. Will you reinforce that message?’
I assessed the boy with newfound respect. ‘That I will lad-that I will. Thank you-your mother would be proud.’
He smiled easily, ‘oh she is already Gauzbert-both of myself and you. You know that some do call you the noble duke now-the king included?’
‘Noble? Why? I deserve not such an epithet!’ I spluttered embarrassed
‘Whether you deserve it or no is of no import cousin-they call you it anyway and I, for one, do think it fitting. I give you good day and fare thee well until we next do meet!’ With that he wheeled his horse away and cantered off leaving me to mull over this turn of events. The ‘noble’ eh? I wondered just how I could put this approbation to the best usage in the court of Charles IV of Aquitaine. What I could not have envisaged is that this would be the last time I was to see this promising young man alive.
If the King was angered he showed it not-mayhap because there were more pressing matters to attend to as at the end of June of 895 a major rebellion broke out in the Kingdom of his brother where one of his most puissant lords, Boudewijn of Flanders had formed a faction demanding that he too limit his royal powers and had presented him with a humiliating Charter that set out new rules that would forever limit the power of the king and submit him to the will of the law and his nobles. It would not stand! Urgent letters begging Charles to come to his aid came in great despatch to the palace such that by July we were preparing to mobilise our levies.
At the same time it seemed that what was left of Brittany under Duke Berenger wanted its former county of Mortain back and this man, called ‘the Usurper’, had both seized the title of Petty King of Breizh back from its child Countess, Elsebed. This would not stand either, I vowed!
Breton scum!! I'll get you!
‘You will lead the vanguard my lord!’ The king had ordered in his usual peremptory fashion, ‘I cannot trust my own Lord Marshall since he continues to plot against me and your friend and ally Bernard of Toulouse lies abed gravely ill. What say you sir?’
I was finding it increasingly difficult to like this overbearing young man but how could I refuse-it was my leal duty. Besides with the sad tidings that Bernard was unlikely to live out the summer it left me as effectively the most powerful baron in Aquitaine-so be it!
So I rode at the head of the Royal Aquitainian army in the dusty heat of high summer-there were just under two thousand of us-a split of foot soldiery and our cavalry. My intention was to join with Carloman’s forces, reinforce them and march to engage the biggest power of the rebels in Flanders. My plans were executed just as I had instructed with all marvelling at my ability to move such an army so quickly across Francia. When we appeared before the walls of Paris there was initial alarm from the townsfolk and town guard within as they had not reckoned on my army’s arrival for some days yet.
I had been greeted like a long-lost brother by none other than the king himself-an initially shy man who never ceased to tell me during my short stay there how much more sensible it would have been if Francia had not been divided in the age-old custom. He was a greedy, envious man who I instantly misliked for it was one thing to hold such devious thoughts in your heart, quite another to voice them to the trusted adviser and commander of an army that your brother had sent to your aid. It seemed that Carloman was not of the warrior spirit and left me under the overall command of his own Marshall, Mayor Sebastian of Paris, but no sooner was he departed back to the safety of the city of Paris but I told the Marshall that, as an independent power we would be acting with autonomy during this war-I would, of course, inform the Mayor of our intentions and plans and where we could act in concert we would. I am not sure that this was what the he had expected but I had not given him time to countermand me, decamping the very next morning and force-marching my men northwards-I was damned if I was to suborn myself to a lowly Mayor, whatever his official title!
I'm not serving under an upstart Mayor-no way!
One year later we had met with mixed success and it was as I was besieging Boulogne in October of 896 that I received the news that I somehow been expecting for some while. It had come from my cousin:
Cousin. I will be brief as I am grievous ill and like to depart the world soon-it has been a test of strength just to dictate this letter. The Doctors say I have pneumonia…
Bertaland has issued a proclamation similar to that which has sent West Francia spiralling into revolt-you may be sure that the king will resist it. Gartzia has allied himself with the hellspawn and so there is a real threat to the weal of the realm.
You will, doubtless, soon receive letters from Charles recalling you to Aquitaine, there to lead the fight against these heartless rebels. If anyone can defeat them then it is you.
Fare thee well cousin-I have very much enjoyed acting in concert with you these many months.
Loup
Treachery shall be repaid in equal coin!
My sadness of hearing of Loup’s illness was matched with my anger at the rebellion. Very well: the game was, once more, afoot and I would prosecute it with all the anger of an avenging angel. It was time to return to the royal kingdom of Aquitaine…
Hey guys-not sure who's still with me but I am going to mix it up and slightly change the style for the next post so that I can cover more years in less writing as it were-it will be less narrative and more history style.
As always your feedback is invaluable so let me know what you think
Thanks
As always your feedback is invaluable so let me know what you think
Thanks
I wouldn't be averse to seeing how a change in style would work, myself. At any rate, I'm sure the coming years will hold scandal and intrigue aplenty to keep us interested and entertained.
In the immediate future, let's hope Berteland can be taken down a few pegs.
In the immediate future, let's hope Berteland can be taken down a few pegs.
Hey thanks mate-always good to know you're still with us hehe-hopefully will get that next post up tonight-watch this space