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Dead William

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A line of true Bastards. An a-historical England CK AAR

Lectori Salutem!

This will be my first ever AAR for any game whatsoever. I will be playing England from 1066 in 1.04.b17 march, with Solmyr’s events. (Which I hope won't go bust on me, you never know with Beta’s)

I have no particular goals in this game, except having fun.

Comments are appreciated. I hope you enjoy.




William, King of England. It had a nice ring to it. He had though it had a nice ring to it when he had still been duke of Normandy. To be completely fair, he had only conquered England to get rid of the soubriquet he was give, due to an unfortunate accident of birth: William the Bastard. Of course now he was William the Conqueror, that bastard. Still it was an improvement, somewhat.

Sighing he turned away from the window of his new-built fortress, the White Tower. Constructed from the white stone of Caen, it was the greatest fort in England. Regrettably William found that the work of ruling so many lands was more than he could handle. At Christmas he had been crowned and had handed out vast estates. Now, barely a few months later he had created one of his less moronic courtiers, Ralph (probably pronounced Reef or Reif, but William had never bothered to find out) to the rank of count of Devon. He had also granted his brother Robert the title of Duke of Cornwall, which meant he could go and see if he could get Ralph to do something useful for a change. At least his forestry program was going well.

William had barely settled down to some serious ruling when one of his other useless courtiers came knocking.

“My liege, I come bearing grave news! Guy de Flambard has met a great a boar in the woods and…..”


“Woah, time out there! Who is Guy de Flambard and why was he in the woods with the Duke of Cumberland?”

“Pardon? Sire, Guy de Flambard is one of your courtiers, a good and brave man! A fine hunter and a gallant swordsman!”

“Really? I thought my entire court was made up out of old women and overstuffed men. Where’s he been hiding then?”


“Sire, please, Sir Guy was killed in the woods by a great boar!!!”

“Oh, come on! I know Old Morc is not the world most exciting Guy but that is going a bit far!”


“No sire, he was gored to death! In the forest! While hunting! Alone!”

“Ah. So this courageous, brave, moronic knight whom I had never heard of, faced a wild boar alone? And was gored to death? And Morcar Leofricson was not in anyway involved? ”


The page sighed. “Yes, sire.”

“No great loss there then”


Two quiet years passed. William spent much of his time in improving his kingdom.
He also tortured some pets, fought some boars, listened at doors, dispensed justice and lorded it over his fellows. He also spend quite some time with his lustful wife Mathilde of Flanders, producing a few kids. His son Guy seemed to be quite promising, but he was way down the succession ladder.

William is seriously overloaded with traits at game start: Energetic, Just Cruel, Proud, Wise, Suspicious, Valorous. Oh, and bastard.


William felt bored and needed a change. Listening to conversations between some of his soldiers he learned of the fierce tribes of pagans living around the sea called Baltic. At first he considered invading Sweden or Norway, but decided that there must have been a damned good reason why his ancestors left for Normandy and the first place. So he decided to focus his attention on the wild tribes of the Mecklenburgers. William decided to lead l three chosen regiments to the Baltic. He marched to the seaside, fully confident to find the hundreds of ships he had constructed for his invasion of England lying peacefully on the beach.

“WHERE ARE MY SHIPS?”

The piles of driftwood did not answer. Neither did the ranks of grinning soldiery.

William called his marshal, Roger de Montgomery.

“Roj, tell me what is missing in this picture?”

“Eh, what?”

Roger de Montgomery, a valiant man and a good leader, was not chosen to be marshal for his brains.

William’s face turned and interesting mottled purple.

“Where are the ships we came here in Roger! What happened to my 900 bloody big boats!”

Roger patted his pockets. “I haven’t got them, sorry Will.”

William spun round at his sniggering regiments. “All right you lot, that’s enough! Now what happened to my ships!”



One man raised his hand, cautiously. The king was looking quite upset and he did carry a big axe after all. The one he had bought from the man who had killed Harold Godwinson with it.


“Yes, the man in the funny helmet, you’ve got something to say?”

The regiments snickered. “Uhm, I am not wearing my helmet sire.”

“You aren’t? Eeww. Please do. Now who are you and what have you got to say?”

“Thurcytel Bacon sire. One of your courtiers?” The man said somewhat accusingly.

“Uhm, are you the one who got killed by the great boar? No that would be quite difficult, sorry about that. So what is it then”


“I seem to recall sire, you gave the order that motte and bailey forts be build around the nation. I also seem to recall that you told your steward to use the wood from the ships in construction.”

“Ah, uhm, ah. Good, yes very good. Good memory, that man. Right people, sorry about that, will just go to the local fishermen and hire some boats then.”




The worst haircut in christendom....

Though it took the fishermen of Essex and London quite some time to ferry him and his army across, William did finally arrive in the lands of the Mecklenburgers. He engaged the enemy in fierce battles and with surprising ease captured the tribal lands of the Mecklenburgers. He then sought amongst his courtiers for the least useless to grant them the land he had just conquered. He finally settled on Roger de Vielles as duke and count of Mecklenburg, Roger’s son Roger de Beaumont as count of Werle, Ivo de Belesme as count of Rostock and Thurcytel Bacon as count of Lubeck, mostly to get rid of him. Then, wearily, he turned his ships homeward.




The kingdom of England 1069

There was a priest on the dock at London “Good day sir, are you William the Sceptical?”

William tried to scrape some fish scales of his clothes, till he remembered that it was his mail coat.

“Huh, I think I liked Bastard better. What do you want, priest?”

“Well your Majesty, the Pope has heard of your scepticism and invites you to one of three choices:
A) Pay him a lot of money or be declared a heretic. You will no longer be deemed sceptical as well.
B) Pay him slightly less money and run the risk of staying sceptical and becoming a heretic
C) Tell the Pope to convince you in which case you will remain sceptical and certainly become a heretic.



William looked at the three doors that had suddenly appeared next to the priest in some amazement, though truth be told that he mostly looked at the sparsely dressed young nun who had just appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

“Wow” William thought to himself. “wow, Mathilde may be lustful, but wow. Where are those ‘A pretty wench catches your eye events’ dad told me about when you need them?”

The priest seemed to be getting impatient. “Well, what will it be? A, B or C?

“Uhm, I’d go for A) but I haven’t got any money and the church is dead set against borrowing money and usury and stuff, so uhm, well, ummm….”

“No problem sire, just sign here on the dotted line and the Venetian Bankers will take care of all the money problems” Bye now have a nice day.

William was left bewildered with a small piece of paper in his hand. Then he sighed and trudged home.

Arriving home a letter awaited him

“Dear sir, hereby to let you know that I, the King of Leon, having barely enough lands to stand up in, have declared war on the entire Muslim world. Or at least the Sheikdom of Orania. I hereby call on you to fulfil the obligations of our alliance. Alfonso Jiminez.”


After some considerable searching it was found that king William, in a drunken stupor, had indeed signed an alliance with Leon. Seeing that the Entire Muslim world was quite a distance away, he decided to take a gamble and declare war on the one province Sheikdom of Orania.

Nothing much happened the next two years or so. Orania didn’t bother William, William certainly didn’t have the money to go bother them. When he finances started to get together again and he could finally eat something other than beet mash, a man appeared at the court

“Choot day. I am Jabir Abdullah, I am the ritefool hair to the Shaikdoom of Orania”

“Really? What are you doing here then? I have no daughters of marriageable age at the moment.”

“No, no, I am here to aid you in you conquest of Orania, so you may geeve iet to me onse you have concorded it”


“Right. Umm, yes, well I think you are somewhat misguided, but what the hey. You can stay here. There’s probably some beet mash left over.”

Some weeks after Jabir’s arrival in London William found out that the Duchy of Deheubarth in Wales had been conquered by the Kingdom of Zirid. After spending some fruitless days searching for said kingdom in the vicinity of England, say in Ireland or even Scotland, William found out the Kingdom of Zirid as a matter of fact was located in North Africa and had Tunis as its capital. Now it so happened that Tunis was the goal of the pope’s present Crusade, so William thought the understood. Obviously the duke of Deheubarth had been captured while on crusade and tortured until he had given up his rights to his nation. William decided to liberate him and his country. The fact that William could now conquer a bit of Wales without having to claim it first of course had nothing to do with it.

Regrettably the Kingdom of Zirid would not make peace with William even after he had conquered their Welsh possessions. But William could not administer so many lands and decided to find a good man for the job of ruling his Welsh possessions.


“Sire, the populace of Deheubarth will not agree.”

“Oh good grief, they can’t seriously think anyone can actually pronounce the name duke of Deheubarth? What’s wrong with the Duchy of New South Wales?”

William quickly named a knight errant, George de Fauconberg, a former tutor to his son William, to be the new Duke of (regrettably) Deheubarth.

So William was forced to go on an expensive crusade to Tunis. Despite the fact that seasickness took its toll on his men, William landed with a few selected regiments on the shores of Tunis and practically took the city by storm. The province of Bizerte fell into the hands of William’s men at the end of the same year. But poor William received a cruel shock.

“Sire, I come bearing grave news regarding your son William”

“What you again? He can’t have met a boar in the woods, I checked there isn’t any forestry here in Tunis.”


“No sire, he was found in a house of ill-repute”


Ah, so a pretty wench caught his eye, eh? Good for him! We could use a few bastards in the line might shake up my useless grandsons over in Normandie!”


No Sire. A pretty lad caught his eye.”

“what?”

“A young Arab named Achmed apparently, sire.”

“What?”

“It seems they were engaged in various acts forbidden by the church!”

William pulled himself together. “Well so is killing and usury, that doesn’t seem to stop them. Anyway, the boy is my son, he is my marshal and he is 6 foot eight and a dab hand with a two handed war axe and I am not as young as I was. Now let’s find the kid a wife to get his mind on other matters, eh?”

Your son likes other men event. I went with forgiveness since I conceived of burly William rather liking this son


After marrying William jr. to a suitable female, William decided to go and conquer the rest of Zirid.
He marched his troops into Mahdia, whe the king of the Zirids offered him the princely sum of 38 chests of gold. William accepted. Then he declared war on the Sheikdom of Medjerda at the behest of his old friend Alfonso Jiminez, now king of both Leon and Castilia (though still not in control of Orania). Since Medjerda was a vassal state of the Zirids, they declared war on England. Sighing William defeated their still understrength army and led sieges in Mahdia and Medjerda. After the capture of both these provinces, William quickly accepted a white peace and hurried home. Morcar Leofricson, the greatest bore in Christendom and duke of Cumberland had revolted against William’s rule…..




The new African possessions

Under the leadership of some of William’s less important courtiers the armies of Morc the Bore were defeated handily. The remaining 12 men decided to besiege the county of Oxford, before they were defeated by William’s army, returning from Africa and on their way to besiege Northumberland. The two survivors (Jean de Bersille and Godfrid Godfridson) then decided to go and lay siege to Glamorgan.

Morcar’s stronghold had fallen. The captive duke was led bound and shackled before his king.

“Well Morc, what have you go to say for yourself? Why did you revolt against me, your liege? What have I ever done to deserve this?”
`



The most boring man in England

Morc started droning in his uninflected voice

“You ask me that? You heretical unbeliever, you son of a whore, you bastard! You are worse then my aunt Edna, you know, the one I told you about, the one who knew someone back home in Svenskaborg, Yutte Greinhaur, the one with all the warts, the one who was excommunicated….”

When William woke up, Morcar had fled to the Kingdom of Scotland.

At this point I found out I was a heretic!! Having paid a ridiculous amount of money not to become a heretic, I was somewhat miffed. To say the least.

King William’s throne room, the White Tower, London, august 1083 . Enter three priests: The newly appointed Archbishop of Cumberland and York, William’s second son Richard, the aged Archbishop of Canterbury (Sussex) and a very nervous papal official. Giovanni della Bucca, papal nunzio to the Court of England (Not St James then)

“Ah, your majesty. It seems there was a slight mistake regarding your official status. Um. Yes.” The nunzio nervously eyed the huge, hulking man with the two-handed battle axe and the pink tights standing beside the throne.

“Ah, Monsignor. This is my son William, the apple of my eye. He likes impaling heathens. He’s very good at it” Will jr, fondled his axe and grinned at the priest.

“Yes the heroism of the Marshall of England is praised in Rome. My congratulations on successfully concluding this crusade. Um. When we first received your message we were of course amazed. Um Apparently the priest whom we sent absconded with the money you gave him and is living a life of luxury in Venice. Um. Now due to some church laws I regret that you will have to pay the Indulgence again, and actually a bit more for interest and expenses.”

William grinned evilly. “Hmm, maybe there is something in what you say. Tell me monsignor, do you know of any good inns in the neighbourhood of Rome? My son William Jr. here is thinking of going on a pilgrimage you see…”


I altered the save file. I have my limits
 
Last edited:

unmerged(36003)

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hahaha.

This William of Normandie is particularly likable. So is his gay son.

I could understand you wanting to change the savefile to make an event work as it should (or as you would like it to :D ).
 

Farquharson

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Nice work! I'm enjoying the tale. Can you manage screenshots, by the way? It's always nice to see what these old bores, strange sons, etc look like. ;) I had a hard time reading the brown and the dark green text btw - possible by selecting and highlighting it, though!
 

unmerged(31592)

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Pretty ironic thing that William Rufus had a gay event. Since his sexuality is questionable....

Very good so far, but could you keep with one font? Some are pretty hard to read.
 

Dead William

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Holdfast: The event should not have made me a heretic as I made my choice. It might be a bug or something. Luckily I caught it before all my vassals rebelled

Farquharson: Hope the text is easier to read now. I was experimenting with the colours to what they looked like in use and wanted to project the drabness of William's subjects :rolleyes: As for the screencaps, I'd love to, but I have no idea how to make screencaps.... :( I'll inquire though. I still have all the savegames so they can be grafted into this one too. What provider did you use for the pictures? I forget.

Sleepyiw Hope you can read them better now


Thanks for reading y'all!
 

stnylan

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Whereas my difficulty is the dark blue of Jabir. ;)

Good fun. As someone remarked, funny that William Rufus got that event.
 

Dead William

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Well as you can see there have been some changes. I hope all text is now legible and all pictures visible. Update should follow sometime tonight or tomorrow morning. Thanks for all the feedback.

I was quite amused by the William Rufus event myself. I don't think they would hard code something like that so.... :p
 

Dead William

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William, duke of more places than he cared to remember and king of England was not particularly happy. His eldest son Robert stood to inherit the title of King of England, as well as all the ducal titles William didn’t care to remember, and Robert stuttered, had the sword-arm of wet noodle and the ruling abilities of the dry one. Robert’s heir, Roger, was not much better. His second son, Richard, though more gifted, was only interested in his religious duties. The fact that he was married with several children had not stopped him from insisting he be ordained a priest. William had decided that if his son was going to be a priest he’d be a big one and had made Richard archbishop of Cumberland and York. Richard was progressing well on the route to the papacy. Which was something at least. His son William Rufus kept court with his wife Emma de Hauteville, but they seemed to be barely on speaking terms, let alone on any other. They had been married for years and hadn’t produced a single child. William Rufus also had found a friend in the Chévalier du Fée Rose, who had also set a whole new fashion in armour.









The three sons




The New Fashion

The rest of his family, all daughters, he had married of to various corners of Europe, both to increase his influence at foreign courts, increase the number of possible heirs and to get rid of the nagging little monsters. His eldest, Cecilia, he had fobbed off on the count of Penthièvre, who was more than thirty years her senior, Constance was married to Bohemond de Hauteville of Apulia and Agatha to Lampert Arpàd, count of Saris. His dynasty seemed to be flourishing. Nevertheless he was annoyed. He was rich, powerful, king of England, a successful crusader, and very, very annoyed.


One reason for his annoyance occurred late one night in September 1084 when he was awakened from a sound sleep by the noise of screaming children.

“What in the name of blazes is this confounded racket?”

A horde of frightened wide eyed children and a blonde woman looked at the king. Then looked down. Then looked up again, blushing. William strategically moved behind the throne.

“Quite. PAGE!! YO!! PAGE!! GET YOUR BUT OVER HERE!!”

The page arrived, somewhat breathless

“What are these people doing in my court at this time of night?”


“They are the family of Thurcytel Bacon, Sire. Formerly count of Lübeck, now stripped of his title by his liege Roger Duke of Meckelenburg. Having no other place to go and remembering your largesse Sir Thurcytel decided to throw himself upon your bounty.”


“I see. And why did the duke of Mecklenburg strip him of his estates?”

“Because he craved my land! The rotten stinking bastard just wanted my land for himself!”


Thurcytel Bacon himself had walked in, muddy from the stables.

“Uhuh.” ROBERT!! ROBERT!!! WAKE UP YOU LAZY GOOD FOR NOTHING B&^!%$#@&% OF A !*#&^$*(&^*.”

William suddenly noticed the shocked look of Bacon’s wife, who made the sign of the cross, and the interested look of the older boys, who seemed to be taking notes.

“Eheheh. Just a little joke between ol’ Rob and me there. Page, bring me a robe!”

Robert de Mowbray, William’s chancellor appeared. He was married to his daughter Adèle and they had two fine sons.
William put on the robe brought by his page and drew Robert aside.

“Rob, this guy has been put out of his fief by his liege. Two questions:

1) Do I have to take them in, they look like big eaters
2) Can I nick a man’s fief when I feel like it?



Robert de Mowbray was always meticulously dressed and coifed and even now he was a fine appearance. Especially next to his liege.




“Well sire, he was once in this court and he is your liegeman, so yes you have to take them in. As to the other, yes you can distrain anyone, or at least try to. They may refuse. Also your other vassals would be very unhappy if you did it. So my advice would be to not do it unless you really needed to.”


“Interesting. PAGE!!!”

The page, not three feet away, winced.

“Yes my liege?”

“Take these good people to some good rooms. Robert, bring me list of the wealthiest provinces of my realm tomorrow, first thing.”


The distraining of property never really got of the ground. William quickly realised he already owned most of the richest provinces in the realm. The Bacon Brood did make a lot of noise though, which increased his annoyance at the world in general considerably.



His annoyance was not alleviated when the pope sent a Grand Inquisitor to his court one day in 1085.


“Greetings William the Conqueror by the grace of God King of England and duke of Essex, Tunis,…. “

“Yes, yes, enough already. What do you want?”

“I am send by the Bishop of Rome to investigate the state of the faith in your court. I am the hand of God sent to punish the heathen, heretics and unbelievers.”

William quickly checked his piety score, pretty good after his successful crusade against Tunis.

“Umm. Is this going to cost me money?”

“No”

“Good. Anyone in particular whom you want to question?”

“It has come to the attention of His Holiness that an unbeliever lives at your court.”

“At my court? Who then?”

“One Jabir, who claims the lordship of Orania”

“He’s a heathen? Well that would explain why he walks around yelling “Death to the unbelievers” all the time. So, what’s the plan?”

“He must be brought to the true faith.”

“And how do you propose to do that?”

“Kill him, to bring him closer to God”

“Effective, if drastic. Why don’t we try something slightly less lethal first. I still have 90 barrels of beet mash left over from my days of poverty and Jabir’s the only one who will eat the stuff.”

“When I am finished it will be the only thing he can eat. I should also warn you that you are no longer as favoured by God through this leniency”

“William looked again at his piety, which had not significantly altered.

“Yah, whatever.”

William set about increasing the wealth of his provinces. One day a messenger arrived from Rome.

“Greetings William By the grace of God King of….”

“Yes, thank you, did you have anything to say?”

“Um, the pope has died.’”


“I think you want my son Richard. It’s still a ways from here, but he’s easy to find. He’s the only bishop around here with children.”

“No sire, the new pope has expressed a wish to be placed under you’re protection and guidance”


He did. Groovy




My very own pope...


William proceeded to excommunicate his three elder sons, only to find out somebody had already beaten him to excommunicating the Duke of Normandie. Apparently this last act of the dying pope had also precipitated his death, by defenestration, in a freak accident involving himself, his three mistresses, six cardinals, his bed and a team of oxen. On the way down to St Peter’s square he had called out a final crusade, this time to conquer the territory of Toledo.


Then William decided to focus his attention elsewhere, to wit the Kingdom of France. Officially William was still a vassal of the king of France since he was still, officially, the Duke of Normandie. In reality William paid as much attention to the demands of his “liege lord” as a castle paid attention to a wet sponge against its walls. To annoy the King of France, Philippe Capet, one of the innumerable Capets who seemed to be flooding France, William invited the papal nuncio to talk about Philippe’s excommunication.

“Ah your nuncioship. Come in, come in. Have some wine, have a seat. Some of this really fine chicken in wine sauce?”

The Nuncio was instantly wary at this warm and totally uncharacteristic welcome.

“Ye-es. Thank you Majesty. You wanted to see me on a matter of importance?”


“As a matter of fact I did. It has come to my attention that the King of France seldom goes to church and takes his dogs hunting on Sunday. I would think that is more than sufficient reason to have him excommunicated. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink.”

The nuncio hesitated with a drumstick halfway to his mouth.

“Ah. You see your majesty the excommunication of a king is a serious matter. It is greatly disturbing to the nation and leaves the title open to all sorts of claims.”

William carefully studied his fingernails, looked sideways at the nuncio, took out his very sharp Damascus steel dagger and started to clean his nails. “Your point being?”

The Nuncio placed the drumstick on the trencher carefully.
“Um. No, no I quite see how the behaviour of the king of France is disturbing to his neighbours. However the problem remains that His Holiness until very recently was only the bishop of a small German domain and is still finding his place with his power.”

“Well, excellent! You can assure his Holiness that he will have my full cooperation with the enactment of his will.”

Sweat was now pouring liberally of the nuncio.

“Ahahah. Very droll. I am afraid that if the pope at the current time tried to excommunicate the king of France he would not be taken seriously. The pope lacks the prestige to excommunicate a man of Philippe Capet’s standing. I am so sorry.”

“I see. Who could His Holiness excommunicate at his current level of prestige?”

“Possibly a minor count or some lesser courtiers. Dreadfully sorry Your majesty.”

“Oh, that’s quite allright your nuncioship. Have some beet mash….”

Despite the disappointment, William proceeded in laying claim to the title of the King of France, receiving a number of vituperous letters from Philippe Capet in return. To make his point clearer William excommunicated a couple of Philippe’s sons. Regrettably these actions brought William’s prestige in the eyes of the world to an all time low and he decide it would be wiser to withhold the more direct action he had planned for a later time.

King William was once again quietly ruling his nation. He was saving up money to attack Toledo and gain some more influence and glory. He was in good health, though he did feel he was living on borrowed time. The door slammed open. The Grand Inquisitor strode in.

“Gree…”

“You again? You were here what, barely four months ago?”

“It has come to the attention of the Pope that an unbeliever lives at your court!”

“Well, duh! I presume you told his Holiness that he’s hardly any danger what with having no teeth, no tongue, two broken legs and two broken arms? AND he’s hardly likely to procreate considering the …other thing you did. And that he’s not halfway through my stash of beet mash?”

“I told him he was a dangerous unbeliever who should be brought to GOD!”

“Dangerous. Yes. Someone please carry in Jabir”




Jabir after his first session with the Inquisition

“CONVERT! HEATHEN UNBELIEVER! SATANIC WORSHIPPEROF EVIL! CONVERT!”


“Uuuhhhnnnggg!”

“We think that means `No’, majesty”

“Really? Amazing. “

“Uuuhhhng!”

“No again?”

“No sire. `Please more beet mash.’”

“Ah. Jabir, old son of a heathen, I have decided to put you to death. By drowning you in beet mash. Sorry about that, but otherwise this man will break both your legs. Again.”

Jabir was buried in a large pit with 40 barrels of his beloved, past their sell-by, date beet mash.


William returned to ruling his nation. He build a number of improvements, then ran out of improvements to build and took up crocheting.




King William’s new crown


April 1088

“My liege, a letter has arrived from the King of Castile!”

The king looked up from his crocheting (a rather fetching throw rug for the throne)

“Don’t tell me. He has declared war on some heathen and wants me to join him. Toledo? Seville?”

“Actually sire, the Kingdom of Murabitids has declared war on him and he seeks our aid. “

“There’s a war in Iberia and he didn’t start it? Is he ill? William Rufus, get your but over here! We’re declaring war on Murabitids!”

“Who’s Mary Big Tits, dad? Some strumpet you met in the city?”

“Murabitids. Kingdom of heathens somewhere down south. We’ll go down there and nick their country. If you do your best you can have some of it.”

The war against the Kingdom of Al-Murabitids went surprisingly well and was over far to quickly. Wiliam had raised troops from his personal demesne and a few neighbouring vassals. After the capture of four of the four African provinces of the Murabitids peace was signed.

June 1089: The Coast of Morocco

“Bloody hell. This place is godforsaken awful. William Rufus, my son I am granting you the lordship of all four these piss-poor provinces and granting you the title of duke of Morocco. Congratulations. I am leaving.”

“Great. Thanks for nothing dad!”




The Duchy of Morocco

King William returned to his kingdom, and his crocheting. Luckily some new advances had been made in the kingdom, and he could exercise his stewardship in building. That was no reason to give up crocheting though.

“Sire, I come bearing grave news!”

“Just a minute, this is a very intricate bit. Right, done. Now what is it?”

“There is a famine in Bedford sire! The peasants ask you to alleviate their distress and the clergy urges you to do so.!”


William stood up to look out of the window to the large area of unhallowed ground that was the last resting place of Jabir and forty barrels of beet mash.

“Go get a few men with shovels, will you?”


William quietly governed on. Christmas came and went and his twenty-fifth year on the throne of England would be next year. He was crocheting a triple tier state crown as well as a sceptre cover.



“Sire, I come bearing grave news!”

“Hmm. Which of my courtiers has been gored to death by a great boar this time?”


“None sire.”

“Alfonso Jimenez has declared war?”

“No sire”

“The Pope has died?”

“No sire”

“The peasants of Bedford are suffering from the runs, food poisoning and are in open revolt?”

No sire”

“Really? That’s amazing. Ok. I’ll bite. What’s happened that’s so grave?”

“Your wife has died.”

“What Mathilde’s dead?”

“Yes sire”

“Humph. Well she bore me great sons and I am saddened by this news. Order a nice white grave stone and we will have a place set aside for her in Westminster Abbey.
Hand me that Almanac of Eligible Young Women I bought to marry of my sons, will you….”




The New Wife

William wasted no time getting to know his new wife.
:D


Still William was worried about the succession. Though his elder sons could no longer inherit, their sons could. Though Robert of Normandie’s son Roger had died, he had left a son, Walter. Walter was also nothing to write home about. So he had him excommunicated as well. However the fecundity of the line could not be gainsaid and they were turning out inappropriate heirs by the boatload. The most promising was Fulk, count of Dorset, but that worthy had married a brainless, unwashed nagging shrew and their children so far were monsters who haunted William’s worst nightmares.

“Get me my Chancelor”

The chancellor came in. He had been chancellor almost from the beginning of William’s realm, but because of the king’s hands on actions in matters of diplomacy had stood mostly in his master’s shadow.

“Robert, I am going to change the laws of succession. The most powerful noble will inherit my title and estates. Make a letter to that fact and have it send to my vassals immediately.”

“Um, sire that would put the duke of Norfolk on the throne, and though he is undoubtedly a worthy man, he is also not of your house. Nor, strictly speaking, well liked.”

“Uhuh. Also deliver this letter to my son Guy. I am creating him Duke of Salisbury and Hampshire and granting him the titles of count of Salisbury, Hampshire, Bristol, Bedford and Tunis.”

Robert the Mowbray bowed low to his king, a gleam in his eye.

“Yes, my king.”



The page had been knocking at the door for some time before the king came out, obviously naked underneath his crocheted dressing gown. The dressing gown had been an early effort and had quite few holes.

“Yes? This had better be very, very good or very, very important”

“A message from your son sire, William Rufus. He created his wife countess of Tharraset and she has revolted against him. He did manage to get his son out of her clutches.”

“Woah, time out! His son? Why didn’t anyone tell me I had a new grandson? And when did this amazing, probably immaculate conception take place?”

“Apparently some years ago sire.”

“Well that’s fine. He should be able to handle this by himself, I mean he should have three times her number of men right?”

“Wrong sire, more than five times.”

“So what’s the problem then?”

“The countess has 13 men under her command. Including her marshal. His grace the Duke of Morocco has already won a pitched battle, but he calculates it will take 136 years to capture Tharraset at the current rate of progress….”


“Oh, brother… Ah, very well, let’s go to war then.”


The war against Tharraset did not last long, but William felt tired and old when he returned. He hated interfering in family arguments. This one had ended with Emma returning to the court of her father, which was now ruled by her brother. Will Jr had indeed produced a son, a fine lad, but no more children would spring from that marriage and he had been unable to convince the pope to annull the marriage. Even worse his own seed seemed to be drying up, as the two last children he had planted had both died. Jocelyn was doing well, but still…. He had barely hung up his crown when a messenger came in.




“Um it’s Castile sire. They’re at war again”

William covered his eyes with his hand.

“Right. Just tell me. Do the heathens he is at war with currently control Toledo?”

“Yes sire”


“Very well. Call the regiments back, we are going to war”


To his most illustrious Majesty Guy, by the Grace of God King of England, Duke of Hampshire and Salisbury, etc, etc.

Sire,

As you can see from the address of this letter and from the face of your father’s loyal page that bears it to you, your father has died. We were besieging the province of Malaga, near the Pillars of Hercules when his majesty passed away quietly in the night. In the absence of a more fit commander I was forced to take command until the lord marshal arrived with the reinforcements from the North African possessions. The City of Malaga fell before the marshal arrived and I was of necessity obligated to take title there. I do most heartily apologize for this presumption. The heart having gone out of the army upon the death of his majesty, the lord marshal and I decided that the best thing would be to withdraw our troops since our Castilian allies have the war well under control. Your father’s body will be shipped in a barrel of salt to rest beside his beloved wife Mathilde, your mother. My king, please accept my heartfelt condolences. Robert de Mowbray, Count of Malaga.

P.S.if you would be so kind as to ship my wife, your sister, and the children over her asap, I would be very grateful.

P.P.S.Might I advise you appoint lady Adéla de Seagrave the new Chancellor? She served me and your father very well as vice-chancellor and is very capable

Robert
 
Last edited:

stnylan

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What an inconvient time for William to die. Oh well.

Good fun to read.
 

Dead William

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stnylan said:
What an inconvient time for William to die. Oh well.

Good fun to read.

Very inconvenient! I had been breeding the Mowbray with one of William´s daughters and some of those kids would have made wicked courtiers. :(
 

Dead William

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Farquharson Oh there will be plenty happening allright.... Actually Guy's stats arent truly exceptional, just stable. I primarily went with him because early in game Richard died of old age three times. I do have some crash problems on autosave with this beta, though it has been limited thankfully.
I hope to make one or two updates a week, work and weather permitting

Thanks all for the reading

BTW I should not use the colours Medium turquoise and cyan so close together I notice.
 

Dead William

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Focus on a small swirl of cloud in the Universe. Focus on an insignificant star. Move past the Zloqtan observation ship and the wreckage of the Zorthon observation satellites. Focus on the largest landmass. Focus on the tip of a large peninsula on the edge of an inland sea. Focus on a small city surrounded by a palisade. Focus on a small stone building covered in whitewash. Use the sensors on maximum magnification. Penetrate to the cellar. Focus on the heap of wrecked furniture and barrel staves. Focus on the hand protruding from under the heap. Focus.. Focus… The hand moves…..

William, by the grace of God King of England, duke of some places and count of some others and currently host to the greatest hangover since the Last Supper, groaned. He shook of a heap of tables, barrel staves and followers of Allah. His cloak was torn and his eyes were bloodshot. At least, the left was bloodshot; the right had been closed by some well performed Islamic fisticuffs. He limped to the remains of the bar and grabbed the remains of a bottle, drinking down the unspeakable dregs left inside. William looked around the cellar looking for something. He kicked one or two men and a heap of cloth, garbage and broken furniture. Then he yelled: “YOU IN THERE ROB?”” The heap cussed eloquently at him in Arabic, in at least three voices. He looked around again, found another heap. He limped over to this heap, lying in the corner. A boot protruded from one end. Loud snores notified the king that someone was sleeping inside it. He kicked the boot. The heap snorted, moved and continued snoring. William grabbed the boot and drew its bearer from his comfortable nest. Robert de Mowbray, chancellor of the Kingdom of England, glared at his king from puffy eyes, both bearing the marks of violence. A large bruise was visible on his jawbone. An empty wine jug was clasped firmly in his left hand. His hair was immaculately coifed.

King William: “Right. Rob, were getting out of here. We’ve got a war to win here.”


Robert de Mowbray: “Not to mention a bill to pay”


King William: “Not if we leave quickly enough. I thought the heathen’s religion forbade them alcohol?”

Robert: “Yeah, well ours forbids us to kill, tells us to honour our parents and forbids us to covet our neighbours wife or oxen.”


Both men contemplated the unreasonableness of religion. William reached down and helped his chancellor to his feet. Both men limped and stumbled up the stairs of the illegal booze-hole were they had run down the general commanding the fortress of Malaga.

In the stark light of day the two men saw pained and haggard Normans and quite cheerful looking Saxons making their way through the rubble of the street. A Norman captain looked up and saw the King. He started trembling violently.

“GHOST!! THE KING HAS RETURNED AS A GHOST!!! HELLLLUUPPP!!!!” Soldiers scattered in all directions. Some of the braver ones drew their arms and palely advanced to face this supernatural threat.

William looked at Robert. Robert looked at William. Through the haze of hangover and the remnants of alcoholic stupor both remembered what had seemed to be an excellent joke…

Robert de Mowbray “Uh-oh”

William the King “You can say that again!”

RdM “Uh-Oh”

William the King “Yup. We’re in trouble now. I wonder how long a lead that royal messenger has on us?”

Robert de Mowbray: “Depends on how long we were drinking”


William the King: “I’ll find out”

William reached out to one of the approaching soldiers. The man tried to chop him with his sword, but he was no match for the canny old warrior. As the soldier lay cringing on the ground with his eyes crossed and his hands in his groin, William bend forward. “All right son, the pain will go away in a while. Two or three days at the most. Maybe four if I punched too hard. What’s the day today? Monday or Tuesday?”
The man groaned.

William sighed and walked up to the next man. “You want to fight me?”

“Uhhm….. No?”


William the King “Good man. What’s today? Monday or Tuesday?”

“Monday sire”

The soldier had decided that even if the king was dead he still warranted his title because he was: a) The former king b) A right tough old bastard with a mean left hook, a swift elbow and a nasty kick.

William nodded in satisfaction. “Good, that means the messenger can’t have gotten very far.”

The soldier coughed politely. “It has been exactly one week since the news of your death was announced.”


William and Robert exchanged a long look.

WtK: “My son is going to be vastly annoyed with his old dad”


RdM: “Your son is going to hang me by my testicles from his castle gates and then will impale me once I’ve dropped off!!”

WtK: “Ah, shite, nothing to be done about it. Maybe if we conquer some more provinces he’ll be less inclined to yell at you. For your stupidity”

RdM: “It was your idea!”

WtK: “Yeah. Sometimes it is good to be king”

Under the inspiring leadership of their glorious ruler the English continued to beat up the Infidel. Then, one fine morning as they were besieging Sevilla, a messenger arrived from the pope.

A Messenger from the Pope: “greetings William King of England, Duke of…”

WtK: “New to this job aren’t ya? Just say what you’ve got to say, then scram”

A Messenger from the Pope: “Um Toledo has been conquered, the Crusade is over.”

WtK: “No it isn’t”

AMftP: Pardon?

WtK: I am the Papal controller. This crusade isn’t over until I say so.

AMftP: I am sorry Sire, the Crusade is over. You are, of course, quite allowed to continue to beat up the infidel if you want to.

WtK: Oh. OK then.



Cadiz and Niebla fell to King William’s forces in 1097. An army led by Guy duke of Salisbury laid siege to Biskra, which was amazingly without any fortification and were reinforced by some of King William’s men, commanded by the unremarkable, in fact darn near anonymous Fulk de Saint Nylan.

Sir Fulk de Saint-Nylan: Greetings your grace. I bear greetings from your father, William King of the English.

Guy, Duke of Salisbury, carefully filing the points from some blunt nails even blunter. “Yes?”

Sir Fulk de Saint-Nylan: He has send me with these fine men to aid you in your conquest of the province of Biskra.

Duke Guy: “I am surprised he didn’t show up himself to take over the siege in person so he could gain some more glory.”

Sir Fulk de Saint-Nylan: “His majesty thought you might want to keep the province of Biskra after capturing it form the infidel. He is also much engaged in Iberia. He probably will not be able to see you or quite some time.”


Duke Guy, stopped his filing, and carefully tested the bluntness of the nail. “Really? What a terrible pity…”

William King of England was sitting looking at the city of Algeciras, currently under siege by his forces. Robert de Mowbray approached carrying a sheaf of letters.

WtK: ”Yo Rob. Did ya find anything to drink?”

RdM: “Nope. Got this parcel of letters though. Two babes at the court have grown up and now everybody and his poor third cousin wants to marry them.”


William reached out for the stack of parchment. He read a few. “One of those babes is your daughter Cecilia. Oh look, this guy says he wants to marry her because of her vast…. Tracts of land. “


RdM: “But I don’t own any land!!”

William looked at the sky. “Hmm. Wonder what he meant then….”

Robert slowly looked at him, then turned a bright scarlet.

WtK: Anyway, refuse all these, none of them are worthy. And I really can’t be bothered.


Algeciras fell late in 1097 and news arrived that Guy had taken Biskra and had moved on to Beni Yanni. William shipped his army to the province of Infa where he engaged and defeated a multitude of unwashed infidels. (Actually a grand total of 53 men, all of whom were killed, mostly by the body odour of the crusaders)

As the siege commenced a messenger arrived.

A messenger, not from the pope: Sire, the heathen are divided! A White peace is possible!

WtK: Glad to hear it. Just a minute. ROBERT!!!!

RdM: Yes, Will?

WtK: What are my son’s feelings towards me at the moment?


RdM: He has engaged in dialogue with the Grand Master of the Assassins. And he has laid in a lot of stakes and very blunt nails. He has also sent to the pope for information on the church’s position on justifiable patricide.

WtK: No peace yet sonny, come back in a year or so.





A disturbing interest


Later in 1098 Infa fell. William marched his army into Fes, the last province belonging to the Emir of Valencia. Beni Yanni had been conquered by Guy of Salisbury. Before the end of march 1098 all of the Emirate of Sevilla had fallen.

WtK: Anyone left we’re at war with?

RdM: ”No”

WtK: No maidens need rescuing, grails recovering, that sort of stuff?

RdM: Not that I’ve heard.

WtK: Sod

RdM: Yup

WtK: Nothing left to kill some time?

RdM: Nothing left tokill, period You could grant William Rufus some of the useless desert we’ve just conquered?

WtK: Hmmm, nice one. Willy! WILLY! WILLLLLYYYYYY!!!!


William Rufus, duke of Morocco: Yes dad?

WtK: Willy I have decided to grant you some more land and titles. You can have these two really nice peaces of desert: Infa and Fes.


William Rufus: Gee, thanks dad!

RdM: You could have stretched that a bit. That really wasn’t much of a delay.

WtK: Awww, shucks, I forgot! Oh, what the hell. Let’s go home. I could use a beer.




Extent of Empire 1099

The armies of William arrived without too much trouble in the port of London. The city was clad in black bunting and black flags waved from the public buildings. William’s wife, Adela, was on the docks, dressed all in black too.

WtK: Hello Addie dear. What’s with all the black? Where are all the festive flags for a king’s homecoming?

Adela the Queen: Having spend all that money on flags and clothes for mourning it wouldn’t be economical not to use it now, would it? I as your steward decided this was perfect for your homecoming.


WtK: Eheheh. Why don’t we go to the castle where I can show you these really neat silks and jewellery I picked up in the lands of the Infidels just for you?


Some time after his arrival in London king William send for the Papal Nuncio. With some trepidation the Nuncio, a father Alvito Penny Cinquanta, approached the king as he was seated on his throne.

WtK: Ah your Nuncioship! All is well? The pope not dead yet?

Father Penny Cinquanta: His Holiness is in excellent health!


WtK: Good! Glad to hear it! How is his Holiness in the being accepted by the crowned heads of Europe department?

PC: He-e is quite respected and revered. Why do you ask?


WtK: It has come to my notice that the king of Germany has been remiss in his religious duties lately. I would greatly appreciate it if his Holiness saw fit to rebuke the poor man, that he may see the error of his ways.

PC: I will most certainly convey to his Holiness your displeasure at the King of Germany’s lack of zeal but you should realize that dealing with such a might monarch harshly would nearly exhaust the goodwill his holiness has accumulated over the past few years.

William bend forward slightly: Not dealing harshly with his Germanic majesty would exhaust my goodwill with his Holiness….completely

Father Penny Cinquanta paled. “I will carry your message to the pope in person sire! Prompt action will be taken, doubt me not!”





The excommunication of the King of germany


The king of Germany was excommunicated early in 1099. Seven days after the fact had been announced to the court of England, William King of England failed to wake up in the morning. He was found by his loyal page, who died of shock. A new page had to be found quickly to apprise the new King: Guy, duke of Salisbury.

A new page: Hoots mon! Wad you be the king of the Sassenachs, mon?


Duke Guy of Salisbury: What! You stupid Scott! I am the duke of Salisbury. You want my father!
The new page carefully studied a piece of parchment of which the seal had been broken.

Aye, Guy, Kong o’the stooped Sassenachs, Tha’d be ye then?

Duke Guy very carefully put down the knife he had been using to sharpen a pole.

What is your name, Scottsman?

A new page: Farquharson, yer Sassenachship

Guy the King: Well Farquharson, if the message you just brought me was not of exceeding delight to me you would even now be suffering the horrible agonies I have been meaning to inflict upon my idiot father for the past few years. Now get out!


The new page: Ach, mon! Dinna fash yersel”!!




King Guy of England


It was really quite annoying. I had not saved my game when Williaqm died since the autosave was so near. I hadn't played beyond William's death since I wanted to keep the occurences fresh in my mind for the AAr. Regrettably the autosave would not load so I had to go back to my last save, when William was still alive. Hence the resurrection of William.... Hope you can live with it.
 
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Farquharson

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Hoots mon, wid ye credit it? Ah'm a page the noo! :D Great update, although I'm not sure about the Scottish page referring to the Normans as Sassenachs - as far as I understand it, "sassenach" is the gaelic term for Saxon, which is guaranteed to leave Guy feeling really insulted! :D I thought you covered King William's faked death very niftily btw - I've also been having problems with savegames crashing on reload. :mad:
 

stnylan

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Good dealing with the death indeed.

Oh, and :D
 

Dead William

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Farquharson Yeah, I know. I'll be getting back to that a little later (in the next update... :) ) Those crashes really bug me :rolleyes: :mad: Sorry for the pun


stnylan :D


Thanks for the kind comments sirs! I had another crash just now, and I had just found a wife I thought good enough for Guy. I am rather pleased to have him as my second monarch, without any breeding all scores above 10 whew! Ah well, back to the laborious trawl through the courts of Europe.....
 

Dead William

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The table was long and polished oak. Great chairs stood around it. High windows let light into the council room in Windsor castle. Whereas William the Conqueror had preferred governing from the Great White Tower nearer London, Guy preferred this other of his father’s castles. Like all monarchs William had travelled extensively through his domains, adjudicating problems and settling differences. And battening upon the land, feeding like a cloud of locusts upon the bounty of the nation. But always he had returned to the Tower. Now the body of the Conqueror lay in state in Westminster Abbey, erected by Edward the Confessor, extended by William himself. He would be buried next to his wife Mathilde of Flanders and the Normans would weep at his grave and the Saxons would smile. Though few Saxon Barons remained in England those who did would rejoice at the death of the Butcher of English Liberties.

The tall, spare, ascetic looking man who stood glaring gloomily at the fire on the vast new-fangled hearth was not a reassuring sight to the counsellors who entered the great hall. Especially not to Robert de Mowbray, King William’s Lord Chancellor and best friend in his later days. A regrettable incident some years ago had soured the relationship between Robert and Guy considerably.

The Vice chancellor, Adéla de Seagrave, found the man strangely attractive, despite his grim demeanour. It was rumoured that Guy had not smiled since the death of his wife several years ago. No woman had managed to find her way into his graces to lay claim to the title of duchess of Salisbury and eventually, Queen of England. His penetrating glare shocked her out of her contemplation and she bowed, flustered.

Constance Fitzpatrick was Guy’s Spymaster, like she had been to his father. She had heard that the young man was sharp as a needle and utterly ruthless in the pursuit of his goal. Looking at his ice cold gaze and still, hawkish face she could believe all the rumours. That his harsh actions had driven his wife to suicide and that a dozen mistresses had been tested, found wanting and been discarded. Oh yes. She could believe that of this man.

Adèla D’Albret, dowager Queen of England and Steward of the Realm looked with interest at her step-son, who was several years older than she. Interest and barely concealed hostility. Despite all her urging William had refused to name one of the sons of his second marriage as his heir, contending they were too young. She had been formulating her own plan lately, to cement her position at the court, what better method to do so than to marry the new king….

Saexbald Bacon looked around the room in some discomfort. He was still very new to his position as Lord Marshall and was not yet 18 years of age. He was also saddened, far more than he had expected, by the death of William. He could still remember William, in his hand crocheted bathrobe and ridiculous crown cover. He could hear the amazing array of swearword for any occasion and he remembered with awe the king’s astonishing capacity for drink. The nights of carousing during the Iberian campaign were clear, well, dimly remembered, in his memory. From what he had heard there would be no more carousing under this new king.

Guy de Normandie looked critically at his most important advisors and counsellors. He waved them towards the table, striding to the great chair at the head.
Robert de Mowbray scurried to the seat furthest from Guy, but was arrested by a sharply cleared throat and a gesture. Robert moved carefully towards his king’s right hand. Sitting down he suddenly had a view out of the window. A sharpened pole rose up into his sight. Three objects lying under a piece of cloth looked remarkably like a hammer and some nails. Robert felt a shiver run down his spine and a cold sweat started upon his brow. There was no mercy in the eyes of the king. No feeling at all, no emotion. The soldierly warmth, the camaraderie of his father was completely missing. This was a man who could discuss the nature of charity while outside peasants lay dying of hunger, if the stories were true. Looking at those expressionless eyes, that grim line of a mouth, Robert could believe it. He knew the Guy had changed since his wife’s death, since he was raised to the duchy of Salisbury, but this ice-cold statue was very different from the warm, kind young man he had known. Robert looked at the pole again and knew fear. He would leave this hall only to march to his death.

A loud knocking came at the door, they were thrown wide. Robert de Normandie, fresh from his estates near Greenwich, strode in. Richard de Normandie, Archbisshop of York followed. William Rufus de Normandie, Duke of Morocco glided in last, his hand on the hilt of his sword, strutting in that peculiar peacock way of his.

Robert closed his eyes. Now there would be war. The elder brothers would never accept the younger’s rule. And Guy the Normandie awas too cold and too…remote, to win over his earthier brothers. He felt movement at his side, heard a swift footfall. Then a warm, cheerful voice, raised in greeting.

“Brothers, I welcome you to this, our father’s house. Know that as long as I live this is your house too, your counsel will be sought and you will be, I hope, be my true friends and advisors.”

Robert looked up, eyes wide. The three elder de Normandie’s were staring with some amazement at their younger brother. Robert was grasped into a firm hug and kissed on both cheeks. Archbishop Richard submitted meekly and apparently with good humour. William Rufus grinned and hugged back.
He also subtly moved his hands down a bit.

Guy broke his embrace, politely but swiftly.

“Of course you are all confirmed in your demesnes, as will be your lawful heirs. I will also see if we can get you somewhat more land Richard. There are some lands here in England I feel would do well under your guidance. Rufus, once we have conquered some few less desert like provinces in Africa, you, or your heirs will gain them. Robert, I have heard you need to extend the roads in your lands. Let me first gift you with sufficient funds to do so, and later we can discuss what provinces you can still rule.”

Guy sat down in his own great chair, waving his brothers into seats near him. Robert de Mowbray realised that war had been averted and that life, even if it would be short, might be quite interesting….

It was later that night. Robert de Mowbray had advised his king and done so quite well he thought. Especially with the vision of a large pole through a window. Or maybe because of it. He was walking the long gallery, joyful for being alive. As he rounded a corner he suddenly stood face to face with his king.

Guy the King: “Ah Robert. And how are you this fine evening? Not drunk, I see?”
RdM: “No my liege”

GtK: Good, good. Now first there is a matter of the gravest importance to discuss. And I do mean the gravest”

Robert could feel his heart sinking into his boots and at the same time rising into his throat. “Really my liege? What matter would that be?”

Guy looked out of the window at the large sharpened pole standing outside. Robert paled, feeling his heartbeat accelerate, his blood throbbing in his temples. Various guards were gathered around the pole, strolling and chatting.

GtK: My father owned a book wherein the eligible ladies of the Christian kingdoms are gathered. I need you to get me an updated copy and to find me a wife suitable to my rank and position.

Robert sagged with relief.

GtK: She must be healthy, brave, intelligent, trained in courtly affairs and diplomacy, wise in ruling and also pretty.

Robert looked doubtful. “ might manage most of them. But I think that if you want pretty you should find yourself a passing wench. Otherwise I would advise a cloth bag over your head”


Guy looked glum. “Hmph. Well get going at any rate. Oh, and Robert? “The king looked pointedly at the sharpened pole. “You had better be successful

Guy de Normandie was spending a pleasant evening with his collection of pressed beetles. He had seen of his Chancellor of three days earlier as the man prepared for a long, long journey through the christian courts of Europe. He spend some time cataloguing his coleoptera, then went to bed.

A page:“Your majesty”

GtK: wffstlll

A page: Your majesty, wake up please.

GtK: Not tonight dear, I have a headache

A page: YOUR MAJESTY, WAKE UP!!!!!

Guy shot up in his bed. “ What the Hell? This had better be very good”
A page: Lord de Mowbray has returned my liege.

GtK: What, already? Did the boat sink?

A Page: No my liege. He has, however, a young woman with him.

GtK: A young woman? Oh very well, I’ll come down.

As Guy entered his great hall he saw a small blue room standing in the middle of the room. Robert de Mowbray was standing next to it, together with a dazed looking young woman and a man with a ridiculous long scarf and a weird hairdo.
Robert looked tired and had obviously not shaved in several days.





What Guy saw



Guy waved him over. “Robert, who are these people and what are they doing in my great hall with a painted pigsty?”


RdM: I met them on the way my liege. The pigsty can travel very fast and even through time. He took me on a tour of the courts of Europe. I have updated the Almanack, hired enterprising young scribes at all courts to report on the members, and found you this attractive young woman, Blanche de Maçon, to be your wife. She’s from Besançon, a daughter of the late count.

GtK: I see. I don’t suppose I have anything to say in the matter?

RdM: Actually, the count has many daughters. You can have this one three months on trial.

GtK: Oh, all right. Why did you bring the weirdo inside then?

RdM: He has absolutely no taste in clothes sire. I thought we might give him some of your late father’s creations.

Guy thought about the chests and chests of crocheting filling the royal apartments. “Robert, this may just be the beginning of a beautiful friendship…. “



Blanche de Maçon

Edit:
I altered some of the colours, as some wouldn't load. Is anyone reading this Hellloooo!!!! ECHOOOO!!!!?
 
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Dead William

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Robert de Mowbray was sneaking through the halls of Windsor castle. The wedding was in full swing. King Guy had been impressed by the easy way his new wife spoke to people and the way she had massaged the egos of various nobles in attendance. He had appointed her Chancellor forthwith.


GtK: You go girl! Here, you can be chancellor instead of Robert!

Blanche de Maçon: Oooh, tank oo my leedle hubby-bubby!

Ubiquitous laughs

GtK I told you not to call me that in public!!!

After that touching scene Rob had quietly left and was now heading for his little cabin in the woods. He had so far managed to evade six patrols and nine unscheduled guard posts. He had the strange impression that they were looking for someone.

The final hurdle was the guard at the postern gate. The 5 man guard was rather excessive. Their being led by a belted knight was not normal either. Rob could feel the thrill of fear down his spine. It was Sir Adewin de Blunt Holdfast, a particularly unrelenting man, who had travelled with Guy from Salisbury. None of William’s guard captains were on duty tonight and Robert could already feel the pole. Robert considered athletically jumping over the guards and through the door. The problem being he would literally have to go through the door.
He did not think that was a good idea.




The Door


Sliding carefully into a shady corridor Robert considered his position.
De Blunt Holdfast never let go and never forgot a slight. His family was famous in having produced a knight so stubborn that he had fought on without arms and legs. Other, less charitable people declared that they could best be described with another word, also beginning with stu. Nevertheless the man was very dangerous. Just as he was wondering what ruse to use, De Blunt Holdfast approached.

De Blunt Holdfast: Er, you.

RdM: Who, me?

BdH: Ur yus der late chancellur of England?

RdM: Ummm. No?


Bdh: I wus jest wundering, as you seemed to be all ready to leave an’sech, an’the king said the late Chancellor culdn’t.

RdM: You don’t say. Umm. How did you know where I was, hidden in the shadow like this?

BdH: Yur spurs were gleaming and jangling. Youse is certin youse aren’t the late Chancellor?

RdM: Oh, yes very certain. I am very certain. Absolutely positively sure-fire certain. Actually I was sent by the king to see if the guards are on their toes. You passed. Well done. Now if you will excuse me, I have some other guard posts to check. Bye now





Blunt de Holdfast’s Arthurian epoch ancestor


Robert walked down the halls, looking for a convenient window, preferably one without a large armed guard. All the beautiful plans he had made with William were coming to naught. He was the only one privy to William’s deepest thoughts. Well, him and the papal Nuncio, Monsignor Alvito Penny Cinquanta, Old Fifty Pence as he was called by the servants. The only one privy to William’s secrets and he was never going to be constipated in the, hah, privy again, if Guy caught him. He glared up at one of the heavily barred windows. He was getting far too old to make daring escapes from castles, even those he had helped design. As he glared some more at the unhelpful window a soft voice spoke next to him.


GtK: What are you doing, Robert?

RdM: I am trying to remain unobserved until I can find a way to escape, my liege


Robert grew silent and pale as he contemplated the deeper shadow which had addressed him, as well as the words he had just spoken.

GtK: Escape what, Robert?

RdM: Could we get on with the impaling without the mental torture? I feel this lacks dignity somehow.

GtK: Robert! And here I thought you were a fastidious man who would not make bad jokes on his liege’s wedding night!

RdM: Huh?

GtK: I see no reason to impale you. The momentary joy of that moment would be nothing to the years of faithful loyal and excellent service I can gain from you in life.

RdM: I am no longer your chancellor, remember?

GtK: True. But you are wise in the ways of the world and have much experience in matters political my wife yet lacks. Also you have excellent dress sense.


RdM: Hmmm. Very well my liege, I will serve you to the best of my ability. My first piece of advice is that when you hurry away from your bedroom next time, you put on your own robe and not the one your father crocheted.

GtK: Eheheh. Never even noticed that….


The next morning a council was called of the Officers of State and the Royal Advisor.

GtK: Robert, you were definitely closest to my father near the end of his life. What were his plans for the future?

RdM: His strategy turned around the fact that both the kings of Germany and France have been cast out of the community of Christians. His plan was fivefold:

1)To observe the deterioration of both monarchs’ relationships with their vassals,
2) to choose a powerful vassal in both nations and form a secret alliance with them,
3) then come to their aid when war was declared between them.
4) To claim the throne of both nations


GtK: That sounds like a very workable plan. What are the military capabilities of Thibaut Capet and Heinrich von Franken combined to ours? Saexbald?

Saexbald Bacon, Marshall of England: If they called up their vassals they would crush us like a bug. Not a chance in hell of winning.

A deep sigh essayed from Robert de Mowbray.

RdM: Vassals who will become progressively more disloyal as time progresses. And therefore will hardly come running to their Liege’s aid if they can help it.

GtK: True. Very true. Who did my father have in mind as allies?


RdM: The Duchy of Poitou in France and the Duchy of Swabia in Germany my Liege.


GtK. Well lets keep a close eye on them then. Any other problems?


RdM: Well there is one: Heinrich von Franken unifies in his person the thrones of Germany, Italy and Burgundy. Though conquering his personal demesne shouldn’t be too much of a problem, but getting the international recognition to claim all three of his thrones will be difficult if not impossible.

GtK: Then we will take him down one title at a time my dear Robert, one at a time….
Oh, by the way, what was the fifth part of my father’s plan?


RdM: To, umm, crochet a crown fit for the greatest king in Christendom sire.

GtK: Oh, brother….