A very different England: A Godwin AAR
- Thread starter RossN
- Start date
-
We have updated our Community Code of Conduct. Please read through the new rules for the forum that are an integral part of Paradox Interactive’s User Agreement.
Nikolai: Thank you. 
Watercress: Edmund was the heir presumptive until baby Earled was born. I made him (Edmund) Earl of Hereford in compensation so I'll have to work out something else for Prince Earled!
Sleight of Hand: Heh. Alas I don't have control over naming since he is a grandchild - I probably would have gone with Godwin as a tribute to his late father.
Tapscott: Thank you very much!
kaeim: Not if I have anything to say about it!
Watercress: Edmund was the heir presumptive until baby Earled was born. I made him (Edmund) Earl of Hereford in compensation so I'll have to work out something else for Prince Earled!
Sleight of Hand: Heh.
Alas I don't have control over naming since he is a grandchild - I probably would have gone with Godwin as a tribute to his late father. Tapscott: Thank you very much!
kaeim: Not if I have anything to say about it!
Volume One (continued)
Southern England, May to December 1067
However personally devasting the death of his eldest son was Harold still had a kingdom to secure. The 17-year old Prince Edmund found himself married to Princess Urraca of Navarre and granted his brother's Earldom. Lady Adela would stay at court in Winchester for the remainder of her pregnancy under the care of the Queen. It was to be an anxious few months: if Adela bore Prince Godwin's son that son would most likely become heir. Should she bring forth a daughter the chance of King Edmund would be a hell of a lot more plausible.
Meanwhile it was even odds either Edmund or Adela's child would have a throne to inherit. The Danes had been decisively beaten at Southampton but Harold could not win the war without beating Harald Hardråde on the field. The Norse king was willing to oblige; having ovverun much of Northumbria and sacking York he marched south at the head of an army still nearly eight thousand strong and compared with Harold's exhausted host much the fresher. Grimly Harold marshalled his forces and met the Norse King at Buckingham on the 16th of June, 1067.
The day was a gloomy one with the sky covered in grey cloud that promised rain but delivered only a cold drizzle. It might have been Summer but the sun stubbornly hid itself and the morning was so cold the Saxon's were forced to wrap winter cloaks around themselves going into battle. The night before the battle was one of unsettling omens. Across the Saxon camp fires refused to light all evening long and strange cries and calls were heard in the darkness. A Herefordshire thegn claimed to have been woken in the middle of the night by a woman wailing in grief. A Northumbrian Huscarl swore blind he had seen a mysterious coal black dog haunting the camp. And on the morning as the Saxons gathered for battle King Harold's speech was drowned out by a sudden peel of thunder from the slate coloured sky.
The battle was brutal, perhaps the bloodiest fought on English soil since Maldon. In six hours the pride of England was ground down by Harald's forces. The Norse suffered too of course and the huscarls made them pay step by bloody step but in the end numbers told and the Saxon lines broke. At first Harold, sword in hand, tried to stop the rout but by then the English were everywhere in flight and it was only with great difficulty that the men of Wessex – their ranks hideously thinned cut the way to freedom for themselves and their King. Behind them lay fully three quarters of Harold's army, dead or dying. For all intents and purposes the great Saxon host that had twice crushed the Normans had ceased to exist.
The months that followed were the bleakest for England since the days of Æthelred the Unready. York was in Norse hands, Harald was besieging St. Albans, the Danes once again threatened Winchester and England had been bled dry by a year of warfare. Harold had few troops left to raise and an untrained peasant with a spear was a poor match replacement for a battle hardened huscarl. He needed men and time – and he needed money.
On the 27th of July Harold reached London with the shattered remains of his army. There he found several foreigners waiting for him who had made the difficult journey from Winchester. The first was the Mayor of Laval – the Bastard's representative.
"His Grace deputises me to discuss terms," the Mayor said with grave dignity and suddenly Harold realised that William had no idea how desperate England's position had come. Safe across the stormy channel the Duke imagined a hurricane of huscarls sweeping across the water to Normandy.
"You may tell your master that he must recognise my throne – and pay for the damage he has done to my kingdom," Harold commanded regally.
There were more negotiations of course but Harold played the all conquering warlord to the hilt and in the end the wretched Normans signed a peace that left Harold much the richer. As it happened he already had something in mind to spend the Norman silver on.
The Emperor may have lost a brother-in-law but he kept his bargain and several hundred German soldiery had landed in England since the spring. Not strong enough to confront the Norse army Harold hurried them north to retake York, and he watched the ranks of foreigners with their outlandish banners and drinking songs a plan came to him. If England could not supply the needed troops mercenaries would have to do – as he reasoned grimly after everything what were more strangers on English soil?
Ironically the first mercnaries to answer his call were from England after all – the Saxon Band led by Sighere of York, a grizzled sellsword who claimed to have served the Emperor of the Greeks in fabled far off Constantinople. Frankly Harold didn't believe him but a warrior was a warrior and Sighere looked like a warrior to the bone. Along with him was hired an austere Catalan adventurer named Joan-Guerau. Between the two of them Harold now had three thousand mercenaries which he combined with the core of his old host. The Bastard's money wouldn't stretch much further but perhaps it would stretch enough.
While all this was going on the King had half his mind elsewhere, anxiously awaiting news from his capital. It would not come until Autumn but when it finally arrived it came as a great relief. On 11th of October Adela had given birth to a boy – Harold's first grandchild, the Emperor's nephew and (perhaps) the futher King of England.
Buckingham - the bloodiest battle of the war.
Southern England, May to December 1067
However personally devasting the death of his eldest son was Harold still had a kingdom to secure. The 17-year old Prince Edmund found himself married to Princess Urraca of Navarre and granted his brother's Earldom. Lady Adela would stay at court in Winchester for the remainder of her pregnancy under the care of the Queen. It was to be an anxious few months: if Adela bore Prince Godwin's son that son would most likely become heir. Should she bring forth a daughter the chance of King Edmund would be a hell of a lot more plausible.
Meanwhile it was even odds either Edmund or Adela's child would have a throne to inherit. The Danes had been decisively beaten at Southampton but Harold could not win the war without beating Harald Hardråde on the field. The Norse king was willing to oblige; having ovverun much of Northumbria and sacking York he marched south at the head of an army still nearly eight thousand strong and compared with Harold's exhausted host much the fresher. Grimly Harold marshalled his forces and met the Norse King at Buckingham on the 16th of June, 1067.
The day was a gloomy one with the sky covered in grey cloud that promised rain but delivered only a cold drizzle. It might have been Summer but the sun stubbornly hid itself and the morning was so cold the Saxon's were forced to wrap winter cloaks around themselves going into battle. The night before the battle was one of unsettling omens. Across the Saxon camp fires refused to light all evening long and strange cries and calls were heard in the darkness. A Herefordshire thegn claimed to have been woken in the middle of the night by a woman wailing in grief. A Northumbrian Huscarl swore blind he had seen a mysterious coal black dog haunting the camp. And on the morning as the Saxons gathered for battle King Harold's speech was drowned out by a sudden peel of thunder from the slate coloured sky.
The battle was brutal, perhaps the bloodiest fought on English soil since Maldon. In six hours the pride of England was ground down by Harald's forces. The Norse suffered too of course and the huscarls made them pay step by bloody step but in the end numbers told and the Saxon lines broke. At first Harold, sword in hand, tried to stop the rout but by then the English were everywhere in flight and it was only with great difficulty that the men of Wessex – their ranks hideously thinned cut the way to freedom for themselves and their King. Behind them lay fully three quarters of Harold's army, dead or dying. For all intents and purposes the great Saxon host that had twice crushed the Normans had ceased to exist.
The Battle of Buckingham, June 1067
The months that followed were the bleakest for England since the days of Æthelred the Unready. York was in Norse hands, Harald was besieging St. Albans, the Danes once again threatened Winchester and England had been bled dry by a year of warfare. Harold had few troops left to raise and an untrained peasant with a spear was a poor match replacement for a battle hardened huscarl. He needed men and time – and he needed money.
On the 27th of July Harold reached London with the shattered remains of his army. There he found several foreigners waiting for him who had made the difficult journey from Winchester. The first was the Mayor of Laval – the Bastard's representative.
"His Grace deputises me to discuss terms," the Mayor said with grave dignity and suddenly Harold realised that William had no idea how desperate England's position had come. Safe across the stormy channel the Duke imagined a hurricane of huscarls sweeping across the water to Normandy.
"You may tell your master that he must recognise my throne – and pay for the damage he has done to my kingdom," Harold commanded regally.
There were more negotiations of course but Harold played the all conquering warlord to the hilt and in the end the wretched Normans signed a peace that left Harold much the richer. As it happened he already had something in mind to spend the Norman silver on.
The Emperor may have lost a brother-in-law but he kept his bargain and several hundred German soldiery had landed in England since the spring. Not strong enough to confront the Norse army Harold hurried them north to retake York, and he watched the ranks of foreigners with their outlandish banners and drinking songs a plan came to him. If England could not supply the needed troops mercenaries would have to do – as he reasoned grimly after everything what were more strangers on English soil?
Ironically the first mercnaries to answer his call were from England after all – the Saxon Band led by Sighere of York, a grizzled sellsword who claimed to have served the Emperor of the Greeks in fabled far off Constantinople. Frankly Harold didn't believe him but a warrior was a warrior and Sighere looked like a warrior to the bone. Along with him was hired an austere Catalan adventurer named Joan-Guerau. Between the two of them Harold now had three thousand mercenaries which he combined with the core of his old host. The Bastard's money wouldn't stretch much further but perhaps it would stretch enough.
While all this was going on the King had half his mind elsewhere, anxiously awaiting news from his capital. It would not come until Autumn but when it finally arrived it came as a great relief. On 11th of October Adela had given birth to a boy – Harold's first grandchild, the Emperor's nephew and (perhaps) the futher King of England.
A new heir - and hope?
Nicely done so far! You have a knack for those battle-scenes and who could ever resist the charms of Saxon huscarls waving the Wyvern over their heads. Looking forward to see how the war ends and how the succession works out in the end.
Oh, and lest I forget,
GODWINSON HO!
Oh, and lest I forget,
GODWINSON HO!
Great AAR, RossN. Your descriptions really bring those battles to life! Just to nitpick a bit, though, the creature on your English coat of arms is (according to heraldic convention, anyway) a dragon, not a wyvern.
One war down and one to go. The Battle of Buckingham was not the result Saxon England wanted. The mercenaries lead by Sigh 'ere are likely Saxons who should have been fighting the Danes anyway. Harold needs Huscarls, not Fryd. How many Huscarls does Harold's estate provide? How long til he recruits back to maximum strength? Wilkl Hadrada give Harold the time he needs to rebuild his forces?
Mercs unfortunately are the only way to win if you don't get lucky and lob off a contenders head. It'll be fun to see what happens if the other guy wins this time.
Apelstav & eliphas8: Damn straight!
Herunaut: True, and thanks for spotting that. By Wyvern I mean the Wessex banner rather than the English one. The Dragon is the English banner as a whole, while the Wyvern is more for the Godwin's personal standard, since Godwin himself was Earl of Wessex. Harold's Huscarls carry the wyvern banner. I'll try and be clearer in future.
Nikolai: Probably relieved. Edmund isn't really up to the task of being king and knows it - he is a Tough Soldier and lacks the guile, charm and ambition to take the crown.
Chief Ragusa: I'll have to check after the war - Harold begins with a larger army than he can technically raise. For Harold's Huscarls I only count Heavy Infantry from his personal demense.
Estonianzulu: All too true!
Omen: Thanks, very glad you like it.
Herunaut: True, and thanks for spotting that. By Wyvern I mean the Wessex banner rather than the English one. The Dragon is the English banner as a whole, while the Wyvern is more for the Godwin's personal standard, since Godwin himself was Earl of Wessex. Harold's Huscarls carry the wyvern banner. I'll try and be clearer in future.
Nikolai: Probably relieved. Edmund isn't really up to the task of being king and knows it - he is a Tough Soldier and lacks the guile, charm and ambition to take the crown.
Chief Ragusa: I'll have to check after the war - Harold begins with a larger army than he can technically raise. For Harold's Huscarls I only count Heavy Infantry from his personal demense.
Estonianzulu: All too true!
Omen: Thanks, very glad you like it.
Volume One (continued)
Hertford - Harold's finest hour.
Hertford, February 1068
It was February and it was England which meant it was raining. Harold's army, camped on the banks of the River Lea was soaked to the bone at least the warriors sitting gloomily around sullen campfires knew the rain fell on the Norse too. The thin trickles of smoke that marked their camp could be seen over the tree tops across the valley. Hertford itself, a substantial burh1 was close by and the Norse army had been besieging it when the English arrived. Harald Hardrada had withdrawn to his camp and the two armies prepared for the morning - and the clash.
"This will be it," said Harold to his gathered captains. "Harald is overconfident. He had our measure at Buckingham so he think's he'll have it today."
"They say Harald is a great general, my lord." That was the Catalan captain Joan-Guerau in his languid tone and strange accent. The King turned to looked at him and grinned a vulpine grin.
"Aye, but the thing about being a great general is that you often think the other general is bad." The King's hazel eyes flicked to the door of the tent and - just visible - the trickles of smoke in the distance. "In fact I'm counting on him thinking that. Well you have your orders; we'll meet on the field and with God's grace we'll win. Not you Edmund."
Prince Edmund, Harold's second son and the new Earl of Hereford paused at the tent flap. A sixteen year old, he much resembled his late brother, though he was slightly taller and broader along the shoulder. More martial than Godwin but less intelligent, his father reflected. A fine soldier but little more.
"You will guard the camp, boy." Harold's voice brooked no arguement. Prince Edmund swallowed any objection and nodded his head. Harold looked on, his expression unmoved though he felt a shimmer of relief. One dead son at the hands of this war was more than enough.
***
The English army that fought at Hertford was not the army that had beaten William. The Huscarls surrounding Harold were far, far fewer - they would take years to replace. Beside them the fyrdsmen seemed to have suffered less but all too many were green shepards and farmers hastily drafted from the fields and villages and given spears and shields. As for the mercenaries... well who could tell how they would fight? Even the Saxon Band were near strangers in their homeland who had fought overseas for years. The Catalans might as well have been from Hyperborea so foreign and mysterious were they, olive skinned and with a lilt to their voices more exotic than even those of the Irish or Welsh. Who could feel truly comfortable with such allies?
The armies were near enough in size - four thousand, six hundred odd for the Saxons, a couple of hundred less for the Norse - that there was little room for manuver or reserves, just two great shieldwalls clashing. Longaxes shattered shield, sword slipped through woolen shirt, spear head scarred the flanks of horses. It was slaughter and after two hours it was clear the Saxons were slowly but surely losing ground.
"Hold the line!" roared Harold as his personal guard regrouped on a hillock. "Keep the banners flying!" The exhausted soldiers holding the golden wyvern of Wessex and the white Dragon of England rammed their standards into the grass, their arms too tired to hold them aloft. The King nodded his approval. Not another step back. His eyes lingered on the Dragon then passed to the horizon, searching... and then he saw it. The glitter of spearpoints in the distance. The vulpine smile emerged once more - his allies had arrived on time.
The first the Norse knew that Harold had reinforcements was when more than three thousand Germans fell upon their rear. Harald's line buckled in terror and confusion, and splintered in a dozen places as the were cut down by the fresh soldiers. The English to their front rallied and at Harold's command counter-attacked, driving back the distergrating Norse. Trapped between Saxon and German Harald Hardrada's invincible army routed. Less than a thousand would escape the carnage, Harald amongst them. Behind them they left near three and half thousand dead vikings. Buckingham had been avenged.
Victory!
Harold was so weary he nearly fell off his horse on his ride back to his camp but he aknowledged the cheers of his troops. Saxon cheers, German cheers, Catalan cheers. Everyone knew that though the fight was far from over he had just won the war. The King felt energy flowing back into his bruised limbs as he listened to those voices. It was the greatest day of his life, greater even than the day he had been crowned.
His son was waiting for him by the royal tent, and at first Harold was so glowing with victory he didn't notice how grave Prince Edmund looked. It was only as Harold wrapped an arm around the younger man's shoulder that the Prince was able to whisper: "We just heard from Winchester; the Queen died very suddenly." Edmund's voice cracked a little. She had been his stepmother.
The answer from the King was a sharp intake of breath but after a moment he whispered back: "Don't tell the soldiers. Not yet. This country needs at least one untainted victory."
And he turned back to aknowledge the cheers.
1. A fortified village or town.
Another fine victory marred by a death -this time of the Queen of England. Now pursue and capture Harald and force him to make peace. Then look around for another Queen. Thus far only the Scots and Welsh haven't invaded England. Not even Harold could be that unlucky!
As cruel as it is to say, its usually a good thing to get rid of a queen every now and then. If you're lucky, you'll be able to find a Queen or powerful Duchess who you can marry then if your lucky enough, inherit through your son. Unfortunately, if you went down that route you've got two inconvenient heirs in the way...
Of course, you could just try and get a decent alliance.
Of course, you could just try and get a decent alliance.
Allies proving useful. Who would have thought? Harold can't catch a break though. At first I thought something might have happened to Edmund until he appeared.
I'd partly come over here to tut at you absconding from your Vicky Irish AAR. However this is truly excellent stuff, a very bloody struggle and well written. I look forward to more, but remember Eire!
Chief Ragusa: Alas capturing Harald is easier said than done, but I did break the back of his invasion.
kaeim: There were not many suitable heiresses around and I have to admit I was reluctant to marry a wife of child bearing age considering Harold has four living sons, two daughters and one grandson. A bit of problem if I was trying to set up an inheritance situation. Besides I thought marrying the beautiful Ældgyth de Gaunt was rather romantic.
Omen: Happily my luck isn't quite that bad - yet.
Sleight of Hand & Jape: Glad you guys like it - and I haven't forgotten Eire Jape.
kaeim: There were not many suitable heiresses around and I have to admit I was reluctant to marry a wife of child bearing age considering Harold has four living sons, two daughters and one grandson. A bit of problem if I was trying to set up an inheritance situation. Besides I thought marrying the beautiful Ældgyth de Gaunt was rather romantic.
Omen: Happily my luck isn't quite that bad - yet.
Sleight of Hand & Jape: Glad you guys like it - and I haven't forgotten Eire Jape.
Interlude One - from E. Granger's ‘England Under the Godwins’.
The following is an expert from Granger, Edward ‘England Under the Godwins’, (1999 Winchester). Granger has been criticised for his partisan view of Harold and his haziness on economic matters but his work remain the decisive study of late 11th century England. For sake of clarity Granger's footnotes have been omitted.
The sudden death of Queen Ældgyth (1033 - 1068) was not just a personal tragedy for the King, it was a political catastrophe too. Ældgyth was the sister of the most powerful nobles in northern England - Morcar, Earl of Northumbria and Ēadwine, Earl of Mercia and it was this marriage alliance than had given Harold a great deal of sway in the Witan. Indeed had Harold not near simultaneously triumphed at the Battle of Buckingham he might have been forced to abdicate in short order and the throne offered to Ēadwine or perhaps Edgar the Ætheling, the young grandson of King Edmund Ironside. The fact that the Queen was so young and in rude health inevitably led later historians, and certain talented but irresponsible Renaissance playwrights to hint at something darker than natural causes...
[At this point Granger launches into a five page overview of the assassination theories (and the less popular but equally sensational sucide theory), and dismisses the main suspects pointing out the lack of evidence and the fact that for four centuries after her death no one doubted that Ældgyth had died from anything other than a sudden illness.]
The victory at Buckingham silenced for a while the intrigues of the Witan and the Prince Harold (generally known as Young Harold) and Prince Ulf, the two infant sons of Harold and Ældgyth gave some hope to keeping good relations with Morcar and Ēadwine. Nevertheless Harold could not remain a widower long. His choice of wife was less finely calculated than might have been expected but showed some of his finer qualities as a man. In March he married his former common low wife Ældgyth de Gaunt. This Ældgyth was far from young (she was seven years older than Harol's previous consort) and from no very great family but she was famously fair looking with chesnut hair and deep green eyes and she was mother of Harold's older children - and thus grandmother to the infant Earled. It seems that given the shocks his family had recently suffered the King wished to provide a warmer and more stable home for his family. Certainly she was a choice that even Harold's perpetually ungrateful and quarellsome Witan could find little fault with.
The death of Prince Godwin had broken the alliance with the Emperor, but fortunately Heinrich was sufficently honourable to continue with his aid in the war against the Norse and Danes. Yet when the war was over (assuming Harold won, a prospect which seemed much more likely after Buckingham) England would be left without a friend in Europe. Whatever Harold's plans can only be guessed at as Europe came looking for a friend first. At the beginning on 1069 Phillipe II, the young King of France asked for the hand of Harold's eldest daughter Gytha. Harold could not have hoped for a better offer. Phillipe had recently attained his majority and was looking for an ally to help with his own overpowerful barons, one of the foremost of whom was William the Bastard of Normandy. With Gytha as Queen Consort of France Harold could secure that no threat would come from across the Channel.
The English Princess and the young French King married at Rheims in on the 14th of March 1069. Amongst the guests were the Duke of Normandy and King Harold of England, meeting for the first time since the Battle of St Swithun two and half years before. History, sadly, does not record what if anything they said to each other.
[At this point Granger launches into a detailed digression of 11th century France and the state of Normandy that falls outside the scope of this story. We will return to his study later.]
The Witan & the King
The following is an expert from Granger, Edward ‘England Under the Godwins’, (1999 Winchester). Granger has been criticised for his partisan view of Harold and his haziness on economic matters but his work remain the decisive study of late 11th century England. For sake of clarity Granger's footnotes have been omitted.
The sudden death of Queen Ældgyth (1033 - 1068) was not just a personal tragedy for the King, it was a political catastrophe too. Ældgyth was the sister of the most powerful nobles in northern England - Morcar, Earl of Northumbria and Ēadwine, Earl of Mercia and it was this marriage alliance than had given Harold a great deal of sway in the Witan. Indeed had Harold not near simultaneously triumphed at the Battle of Buckingham he might have been forced to abdicate in short order and the throne offered to Ēadwine or perhaps Edgar the Ætheling, the young grandson of King Edmund Ironside. The fact that the Queen was so young and in rude health inevitably led later historians, and certain talented but irresponsible Renaissance playwrights to hint at something darker than natural causes...
[At this point Granger launches into a five page overview of the assassination theories (and the less popular but equally sensational sucide theory), and dismisses the main suspects pointing out the lack of evidence and the fact that for four centuries after her death no one doubted that Ældgyth had died from anything other than a sudden illness.]
Ældgyth de Gaunt
The victory at Buckingham silenced for a while the intrigues of the Witan and the Prince Harold (generally known as Young Harold) and Prince Ulf, the two infant sons of Harold and Ældgyth gave some hope to keeping good relations with Morcar and Ēadwine. Nevertheless Harold could not remain a widower long. His choice of wife was less finely calculated than might have been expected but showed some of his finer qualities as a man. In March he married his former common low wife Ældgyth de Gaunt. This Ældgyth was far from young (she was seven years older than Harol's previous consort) and from no very great family but she was famously fair looking with chesnut hair and deep green eyes and she was mother of Harold's older children - and thus grandmother to the infant Earled. It seems that given the shocks his family had recently suffered the King wished to provide a warmer and more stable home for his family. Certainly she was a choice that even Harold's perpetually ungrateful and quarellsome Witan could find little fault with.
The death of Prince Godwin had broken the alliance with the Emperor, but fortunately Heinrich was sufficently honourable to continue with his aid in the war against the Norse and Danes. Yet when the war was over (assuming Harold won, a prospect which seemed much more likely after Buckingham) England would be left without a friend in Europe. Whatever Harold's plans can only be guessed at as Europe came looking for a friend first. At the beginning on 1069 Phillipe II, the young King of France asked for the hand of Harold's eldest daughter Gytha. Harold could not have hoped for a better offer. Phillipe had recently attained his majority and was looking for an ally to help with his own overpowerful barons, one of the foremost of whom was William the Bastard of Normandy. With Gytha as Queen Consort of France Harold could secure that no threat would come from across the Channel.
Gytha as Queen Consort of France
The English Princess and the young French King married at Rheims in on the 14th of March 1069. Amongst the guests were the Duke of Normandy and King Harold of England, meeting for the first time since the Battle of St Swithun two and half years before. History, sadly, does not record what if anything they said to each other.
[At this point Granger launches into a detailed digression of 11th century France and the state of Normandy that falls outside the scope of this story. We will return to his study later.]
I bet Duke William was thrilled to get that wedding invitation!
I'm interested to see how Anglo-French relations will play out in this timeline, after all without the Norman connection there seems little to trigger war, and at least for the short-term England will be glad to see a strong France if it means Normandy gets a kicking.
I fear Scotland, Wales and Ireland will be receiving a fair bit more attention as time goes on.
I'm interested to see how Anglo-French relations will play out in this timeline, after all without the Norman connection there seems little to trigger war, and at least for the short-term England will be glad to see a strong France if it means Normandy gets a kicking.
I fear Scotland, Wales and Ireland will be receiving a fair bit more attention as time goes on.