Arm of Iron: House de Hauteville AAR
- Thread starter High King Peredain
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True. Though if this union will be the start of a legacy (good or bad) or a "what could have been?" by later in-universe historians is yet to be seen. I found it was ripe for something a bit more interesting as we'll see in the chapter after the upcoming one.
Yeah. I figured out what worked best for the pictures for my tastes, and good to see it was a sound decision. Could always use refining but there's time for that. I'll be careful to make a clearer distinction in the future. Seems old writing habits die hard. Usually I try to denote the difference between perspective and exposition by the character's thoughts being in italics. Waimar's words in this chapter was to make a distinction from the POV character's thoughts.
As for this marriage, I'm hoping that the narrative will add a bit of spice to it, and prove for an interesting dynamic between the two. CK2 being CK2 and random, hopefully it can become cohesive and plausible. i will say that Alienora was too tempting to let go to waste on the sidelines, her lineage being one of several factors.
The Lombard perspective of the Normans serves some purpose. A glimpse outside of pro-Norman perspectives that may arise inside or outside the growing cast. Other than that, I've hopes to strike a neutral ground with the matter. Demonstrate what a group of opportunistic adventurers, most landless and some exiles, would realistically do if promised land for their service and seeing the opportunity to be their own lords and ladies, with a bit of their historical actions thrown into the mix. I'll leave it up to the readers to decide if the Normans are stabilizers or oppressors that took advantage of the disunity of South Italy, as well as beholden to avarice and ambition that knew no bounds.
With hope and some fervent prayers to the RNG deity, the AAR won't end prematurely, and it'll be a nice test of writing to see if I can do said perspective justice.
It may not be much, but it's home.
Osulf and Gerbert appear to be getting along famously
They'll make for a fun dynamic, I think, given their backgrounds. Plenty of characters in the court but these two stood out to me. Unfortunate that Osulf is a pretty poor diplomat, but that intrigue score can contribute to the narrative. Gerbert, however, is very much suited for his task on the council.
And one that shall make an appearance again, though with greater significance to the politics of South Italy.
Glad to have you. I admit I haven't done a deep search, but there are de Normandie AARs?
From the AARs I've kept up with or read through...they are usually getting thrashed or dethroned. Rarely on the center stage.
Glad to have you as well.
I mean if the recent Kings and Generals video on the Norman conquest is to be believed, they conducted themselves like a bunch of violent thugs. Yet in time Norman Sicily became one of the most prosperous and tolerant realms on the Mediterranean.
They kind of had to be. That region of Europe was one big melting pot/salad bowl during the time period. Maltese, for example, is the only European language that's based in Arabic.
Interested to see where this goes! I admit to not knowing the relevant history with these figures, but William's taking care to do the calculus before he flexes his Iron Arm which suggests to me he's one to watch. So I will!
@High King Peredain not sure if it counts but there was a visual AAR I saw on YT about the De Normandie’s from the perspective of William II (the son of William) but when he was a mere count. And then there was one I remember seeing on the forum a while back but I forgot what it was
I watched his video since I was curious. Only one I found was Civitate, and I would say it was a good summary of events of the battle. A bit rushed due to trying to fit in history prior to it, but good nonetheless. I'd say part of the reason Sicily did is because its location in the Mediterranean as well as the factors that made the kingdom unique. Roger II and his brother basically grew up in Palermo around the different culture and populace there. By the time he had come along, the conquests had been all but complete I'd say. Just a matter of consolidation between Sicily and Apulia into one realm.
Normans seemed really good at blending in with the locals. But yes, they certainly made themselves a scourge. Pope Leo was appalled by their actions...and that eventually led to Civitate.
Also this. Italy in general is fascinating because of its history, and at this point in time the political climate was highly unstable in the South, allowing for these Normans to come in. Melus practically granted them it. In this I see a bit of Vortigern and the Saxons if I'm not too off in this assessment. What followed doesn't really surprise me. Normandy at this time wasn't exactly rainbows as our beloved William the Conqueror can attest.
Interested to see where this goes! I admit to not knowing the relevant history with these figures, but William's taking care to do the calculus before he flexes his Iron Arm which suggests to me he's one to watch. So I will!
Glad to have you aboard. No need to worry about their historical details. William, Drogo, Humphrey usually are outshone by their brothers Robert and Roger I. William is indeed taking care. It does affect how well he can proceed.
I found one on Robert Curthose on YT. The Promised Crown I believe. Started as a count. I was impressed by the narrative storytelling done in a video, and Curthose was every bit as controversial as his traits depicted him to be, his life in OTL similar I suppose.
Next update incoming. I was tempted to add more to it, but I decided to cut it short since it can either be added later or used to augment something else in the future. We're introduced to a man that has made his own legacy in South Italy, as well as in the twilight of his years.
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Chapter 3~Early April (1043AD)
CHAPTER 3
Melfi, Apulia
Early April, 1043 AD
Melfi, Apulia
Early April, 1043 AD
For the first time in months, William was face-to-face with Count Ranulf as they were seated in his chambers.
Ranulf's hair was sparse and white; his beard thick and just as white. Crows-feet hung at the corner of his eyes, and his face, once beholden to handsome youth, was wrinkled.
Ranulf's hair was sparse and white; his beard thick and just as white. Crows-feet hung at the corner of his eyes, and his face, once beholden to handsome youth, was wrinkled.
A table with a flagon of wine was the only thing that separated them. "So we meet as equals once again," Ranulf said. "God favors the bold indeed."
William poured two cups, handed one to Ranulf, then kept his own. "So he does. I am my own man now, with my own army and my own title. Count."
"And can that one man last? Does he have what is required for the lasting of such splendor?" Ranulf sipped the wine.
"It took me years to be where I am, William. Patience, which oft is not beheld by men of your years, is the harvest of the wise man."
One could never have a simple conversation with Ranulf it seemed, and today was to be no different.
It is as though we are equals, despite men flocking to me, rather than him, in greater numbers.
But men were men, so he bit his tongue. "Speak plain, Ranulf. I've never been fond of your riddles, not even when me and my brothers served you."
At that Ranulf laughed. "Several victories, a title, and you aim higher! The blood of our forefathers runs thick indeed, though diluted by the Franks. "
He moved his cup to the side. "Speak plain I shall, young William. You are impetuous, eager to secure your gains and attain more while the iron is hot. Although one could say you placed too much trust in the words of a Lombard."
"I did not place much trust in him at all. I had...hoped he would be amenable given our past."
"So we are at lies now? We have not yet begun negotiations."
"I speak as true as ever. "
"Yet I am not so sure," Rainulf stroked his beard. "Else you would not have reached out to me for my daughter's hand. It reeks of a man of desperation. He that sees no other options before him."
For once William did not enjoy silence, least of all the one that permeated the room. Perhaps he should reconsider this union, find a match that did not entail him being mocked and belittled.
He would be hard-pressed to find an ally in the Papacy. In the employ of Pandulf of Capua—the "Wolf of the Abruzzi"—the Normans that served him had been instrumental in the torment of Monte Cassino and its monks for a grudge that dated back to Emperor Henry II's time in Italy.
William poured two cups, handed one to Ranulf, then kept his own. "So he does. I am my own man now, with my own army and my own title. Count."
"And can that one man last? Does he have what is required for the lasting of such splendor?" Ranulf sipped the wine.
"It took me years to be where I am, William. Patience, which oft is not beheld by men of your years, is the harvest of the wise man."
One could never have a simple conversation with Ranulf it seemed, and today was to be no different.
It is as though we are equals, despite men flocking to me, rather than him, in greater numbers.
But men were men, so he bit his tongue. "Speak plain, Ranulf. I've never been fond of your riddles, not even when me and my brothers served you."
At that Ranulf laughed. "Several victories, a title, and you aim higher! The blood of our forefathers runs thick indeed, though diluted by the Franks. "
He moved his cup to the side. "Speak plain I shall, young William. You are impetuous, eager to secure your gains and attain more while the iron is hot. Although one could say you placed too much trust in the words of a Lombard."
"I did not place much trust in him at all. I had...hoped he would be amenable given our past."
"So we are at lies now? We have not yet begun negotiations."
"I speak as true as ever. "
"Yet I am not so sure," Rainulf stroked his beard. "Else you would not have reached out to me for my daughter's hand. It reeks of a man of desperation. He that sees no other options before him."
For once William did not enjoy silence, least of all the one that permeated the room. Perhaps he should reconsider this union, find a match that did not entail him being mocked and belittled.
He would be hard-pressed to find an ally in the Papacy. In the employ of Pandulf of Capua—the "Wolf of the Abruzzi"—the Normans that served him had been instrumental in the torment of Monte Cassino and its monks for a grudge that dated back to Emperor Henry II's time in Italy.
William frowned. "Very well, Rainulf. In exchange for Alienora, what do you wish from me?"
By this time Rainulf had drained his wine. He raised a finger. "That you shall endeavor to aid my son when I am gone, against all enemies. If it happens to pass, Waimar himself."
The Iron Arm toyed with his cup, frowning. When he looked up from his cup he could see that Rainulf's smile perished. Thunder rumbled from his chest as his body shook.
William waited until the man wiped his mouth clean of spittle. "This...is the condition I lay upon you. All I ask. Swear an oath."
"I, William, son of Tancred, in the eyes of God, do swear this oath. I shall aid Robert, son of Rainulf, against all enemies."
Rainulf leaned over the table to extend a hand, but the younger lord did not reciprocate.
"In return, you shall swear an oath to me as well. That you or your son shall come to my aid in any future wars I may wage." William smiled.
It seems I have outplayed you for once, Rainulf.
He could not deny himself this chance to demonstrate his own diplomacy, nor the intrigue he had little love for. So when it came to him from Osulf that Rainulf's position of power in their dynamic was a show, William figured it best to reverse his fortunes.
The elder lord dropped his hand and sat, watching him. All was quiet. Two cups were filled again with wine from profitable Apulian vineyards. Younger and elder peered at the other, searching for a sign of weakness.
As William cursed Osulf for his faulty information, Rainulf's lips curled into a lupine smile.
"It would seem you have grown some since you left my employ. I, Rainulf, in the eyes of God, do swear this oath. I shall aid William, son of Tancred, in any future wars he may wage. If I am to perish before then, my son Robert shall do so in my stead."
They shook hands, and William felt at ease, for he had secured leverage in this situation.
"Perhaps you have heard," Rainulf continued. "That some of ours were slain? A church. Slaughtered them till the last man, these Lombards did. If a man cannot pray to God without fear for his life in such sacred ground, then who can he pray to?"
William set his cup aside, finding it no longer appealing. "They find our presence here appalling, so they whisper this dissent among themselves. It will not be long before they attempt to cast us from these lands, perhaps accept the Greeks again as their masters." the younger count offered.
Thunder rumbled again from Rainulf's chest, but it was laughter this time. "Not long ago they wished for us. You should have seen it, boy. How times change, yet men remain the same. So fickle these Lombards…"
William chose something else to discuss. He had little desire to concern himself with such dire matters. The less his mood soured the better.
"I shall host a feast, Rainulf. Before that, a hunt to take our minds off these disconcerting times we find ourselves in. Perhaps you would partake in it?"
"It would please me, but I shall decline. A decade earlier, and I would be all too eager."
The two counts made minor small talk, and William broached a subject he could no longer dance around.
"I have chanced upon your daughter several times in your employ. Each time has she been in fervent prayer." He said.
The elder count pursed his lips. "She believes strongly. In that I could ask for no finer daughter, and you no finer wife. She shall be no trouble to you, I think." And in that Rainulf seemed less than eager to continue the matter of his daughter.
"Then it is fine union between our families. I intend for this goodwill to continue."
Rainulf eyed him. "This meeting has been fine, boy, but there is one more condition I shall give you."
"I shall hear it."
There was that lupine smile.
"We shall recite these oaths before our vassals and guests when you wed my daughter. No oath in secret can be taken to be upheld seriously. I'm sure you would agree."
William's smile faded for the briefest of times. A moment later it was back again.
"I agree. It shall be held before my court to assuage all doubts of your...succession."
___
He sent for Gerbert afrer Rainulf's departure, so that the planning of this feast could be discussed, expenses and all. If it was to be a union of the two Norman powers, then it needed to be one that would be spoken of for years to come.
Gerbert arrived with a light rapping upon the door before letting himself in. Osulf claimed William was too lax with him, but there need be no words between lord and chancellor to know where their own relationship stood. Time would reveal if Osulf was his man or Rainulf's.
Gerbert picked up Rainulf's cup and drank some of the contents.
"Our coffers are not exactly full, William. I have spent most of it repairing the city or paying the men in your employ. This feast...would require halving their pay. Soldiers with halved pay do not make the most loyal nor the most effective "
"Then we shall give them an incentive. Many of them have returned with plunder from the countryside, have they not?"
"If the common people's whispers are true, yes, they have taken plunder from the countryside."
"As their lord I am free to confiscate such plunder, redistributing it as I see fit. In exchange for this cut, each man shall keep his plunder to do as he will with it. We shall look beyond their marauding, even those that have aided others rather than partake."
Gerbert had taken to rubbing his chin. "Such a risk. I shall negotiate this with them. So long as you expect the uproar this will cause among your people? They are looking for justice."
"I need my men more than I need these people," William said. "In this I see no future in which everyone wins. I lose my men or I lose the trust of my people. I chose my men, for they have elected me their count, and are more than loyal than these Lombards. They would rather our heads be severed and rotting than fresh and attached."
Gerbert swirled his remaining wine. "The things we do...it seems not long ago we were playing at being knights, us three. Me, Drogo, and you. Outside the castle and in the village at times. Now we are men grown, setting out to make grand legacies comparable to Richard the Fearless."
William shook the flagon. Empty. "Our futures were not in Normandy is all," he set it aside to clear the middle of the table. Outside a bird flew by.
"Then we should pray that our futures find a home here," Gerbert chuckled. "I would hate to move again."
William smiled at that. "So would I, old friend. Today, this land. Tomorrow? Perhaps Sicily itself. It is wealthy, both in land and the trade it beckons. I'd much prefer it, but our lands must expand first. Cast out these Romans."
"Sicily? The coin to be had there...The Moslems hold it strictly. If we could gain but a foothold…" Gerbert trailed off.
"Perhaps you should be marshal. To think Osulf called you craven. There is boldness in you yet." William's smile became a grin.
His friend rolled his eyes. "I would much prefer to count coin, but I see little reason to not acknowledge a great asset. But we shall be old men by the time Sicily is in our sights. There remains here and Calabria to carve out."
"And then there is the matter of our steadfast ally. If his war in Molise goes well, he shall grow stronger still. Enough to turn his eyes towards us."
"Then let it come not to pass," William said, and Gerbert concurred.
Day was soon to become dusk, and it was time for supper before rest. As William closed the door behind him, he thought a little more on his words. Perhaps Rainulf was right, but he couldn't rest on his laurels. Not whilst a realm of splendor was before his very eyes.
It would have to be the wonder of the world, the envy. In that realm no Lombard principalities existed.
By this time Rainulf had drained his wine. He raised a finger. "That you shall endeavor to aid my son when I am gone, against all enemies. If it happens to pass, Waimar himself."
The Iron Arm toyed with his cup, frowning. When he looked up from his cup he could see that Rainulf's smile perished. Thunder rumbled from his chest as his body shook.
William waited until the man wiped his mouth clean of spittle. "This...is the condition I lay upon you. All I ask. Swear an oath."
"I, William, son of Tancred, in the eyes of God, do swear this oath. I shall aid Robert, son of Rainulf, against all enemies."
Rainulf leaned over the table to extend a hand, but the younger lord did not reciprocate.
"In return, you shall swear an oath to me as well. That you or your son shall come to my aid in any future wars I may wage." William smiled.
It seems I have outplayed you for once, Rainulf.
He could not deny himself this chance to demonstrate his own diplomacy, nor the intrigue he had little love for. So when it came to him from Osulf that Rainulf's position of power in their dynamic was a show, William figured it best to reverse his fortunes.
The elder lord dropped his hand and sat, watching him. All was quiet. Two cups were filled again with wine from profitable Apulian vineyards. Younger and elder peered at the other, searching for a sign of weakness.
As William cursed Osulf for his faulty information, Rainulf's lips curled into a lupine smile.
"It would seem you have grown some since you left my employ. I, Rainulf, in the eyes of God, do swear this oath. I shall aid William, son of Tancred, in any future wars he may wage. If I am to perish before then, my son Robert shall do so in my stead."
They shook hands, and William felt at ease, for he had secured leverage in this situation.
"Perhaps you have heard," Rainulf continued. "That some of ours were slain? A church. Slaughtered them till the last man, these Lombards did. If a man cannot pray to God without fear for his life in such sacred ground, then who can he pray to?"
William set his cup aside, finding it no longer appealing. "They find our presence here appalling, so they whisper this dissent among themselves. It will not be long before they attempt to cast us from these lands, perhaps accept the Greeks again as their masters." the younger count offered.
Thunder rumbled again from Rainulf's chest, but it was laughter this time. "Not long ago they wished for us. You should have seen it, boy. How times change, yet men remain the same. So fickle these Lombards…"
William chose something else to discuss. He had little desire to concern himself with such dire matters. The less his mood soured the better.
"I shall host a feast, Rainulf. Before that, a hunt to take our minds off these disconcerting times we find ourselves in. Perhaps you would partake in it?"
"It would please me, but I shall decline. A decade earlier, and I would be all too eager."
The two counts made minor small talk, and William broached a subject he could no longer dance around.
"I have chanced upon your daughter several times in your employ. Each time has she been in fervent prayer." He said.
The elder count pursed his lips. "She believes strongly. In that I could ask for no finer daughter, and you no finer wife. She shall be no trouble to you, I think." And in that Rainulf seemed less than eager to continue the matter of his daughter.
"Then it is fine union between our families. I intend for this goodwill to continue."
Rainulf eyed him. "This meeting has been fine, boy, but there is one more condition I shall give you."
"I shall hear it."
There was that lupine smile.
"We shall recite these oaths before our vassals and guests when you wed my daughter. No oath in secret can be taken to be upheld seriously. I'm sure you would agree."
William's smile faded for the briefest of times. A moment later it was back again.
"I agree. It shall be held before my court to assuage all doubts of your...succession."
___
He sent for Gerbert afrer Rainulf's departure, so that the planning of this feast could be discussed, expenses and all. If it was to be a union of the two Norman powers, then it needed to be one that would be spoken of for years to come.
Gerbert arrived with a light rapping upon the door before letting himself in. Osulf claimed William was too lax with him, but there need be no words between lord and chancellor to know where their own relationship stood. Time would reveal if Osulf was his man or Rainulf's.
Gerbert picked up Rainulf's cup and drank some of the contents.
"Our coffers are not exactly full, William. I have spent most of it repairing the city or paying the men in your employ. This feast...would require halving their pay. Soldiers with halved pay do not make the most loyal nor the most effective "
"Then we shall give them an incentive. Many of them have returned with plunder from the countryside, have they not?"
"If the common people's whispers are true, yes, they have taken plunder from the countryside."
"As their lord I am free to confiscate such plunder, redistributing it as I see fit. In exchange for this cut, each man shall keep his plunder to do as he will with it. We shall look beyond their marauding, even those that have aided others rather than partake."
Gerbert had taken to rubbing his chin. "Such a risk. I shall negotiate this with them. So long as you expect the uproar this will cause among your people? They are looking for justice."
"I need my men more than I need these people," William said. "In this I see no future in which everyone wins. I lose my men or I lose the trust of my people. I chose my men, for they have elected me their count, and are more than loyal than these Lombards. They would rather our heads be severed and rotting than fresh and attached."
Gerbert swirled his remaining wine. "The things we do...it seems not long ago we were playing at being knights, us three. Me, Drogo, and you. Outside the castle and in the village at times. Now we are men grown, setting out to make grand legacies comparable to Richard the Fearless."
William shook the flagon. Empty. "Our futures were not in Normandy is all," he set it aside to clear the middle of the table. Outside a bird flew by.
"Then we should pray that our futures find a home here," Gerbert chuckled. "I would hate to move again."
William smiled at that. "So would I, old friend. Today, this land. Tomorrow? Perhaps Sicily itself. It is wealthy, both in land and the trade it beckons. I'd much prefer it, but our lands must expand first. Cast out these Romans."
"Sicily? The coin to be had there...The Moslems hold it strictly. If we could gain but a foothold…" Gerbert trailed off.
"Perhaps you should be marshal. To think Osulf called you craven. There is boldness in you yet." William's smile became a grin.
His friend rolled his eyes. "I would much prefer to count coin, but I see little reason to not acknowledge a great asset. But we shall be old men by the time Sicily is in our sights. There remains here and Calabria to carve out."
"And then there is the matter of our steadfast ally. If his war in Molise goes well, he shall grow stronger still. Enough to turn his eyes towards us."
"Then let it come not to pass," William said, and Gerbert concurred.
Day was soon to become dusk, and it was time for supper before rest. As William closed the door behind him, he thought a little more on his words. Perhaps Rainulf was right, but he couldn't rest on his laurels. Not whilst a realm of splendor was before his very eyes.
It would have to be the wonder of the world, the envy. In that realm no Lombard principalities existed.
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So the Normans are set to make a move on Sicily. Interesting. And William's new wife sounds quite pious. She might counsel, him to fight Muslims instead of his fellow Christians.
This AAR goes great hand in hand with that documentary about Normans in Southern Italy by HistoryTime youtube channel.
Time to start planning for taking Sicily. The Drengots could be useful allies for that endeavor.
There are some interesting developments for Sicily down the line, but as of now William has little interest in making a return there yet, though he does understand the value of said island. The campaign there was enough to pique his interest, and though they've been mentioned a lot now, the Romans of the East are very much a threat to everyone. Unfortunately there's no event that I know of that makes the Papacy eager to push them back, which was a concern during Henry II's (HRE) time when much of South Italy (save Sicily as the screenshot shows) switched their support to them after Melus' devastating defeat, making their influence that much closer to the Papacy. Keeps me on edge I suppose.
As far as Alienora goes...her introduction is in this upcoming chapter.
This AAR goes great hand in hand with that documentary about Normans in Southern Italy by HistoryTime youtube channel.
When I saw this comment, I went to search for it. He pretty much summed up the gist of things for much of the events that happened before Guiscard and Richard arrived on the scene proper. I wish he had went on to talk about Civitate. That was something else. Speaking of these two, I perused the courts of William and Rainulf. As far as Rainulf's court...it seems there's a de Normandie there, as well as another Norman that went with the Duke of Normandy in the 1066 Conquest when I clicked on his Wikipedia link.
Perhaps. Perhaps not. Rainulf seems to have other things in mind than Sicily...that being Waimar. Dominant power since the Prince of Benevento is more or less neutered. HIP adds a game rule and some mechanic changes and events to Holy Wars, so if anyone wished to war for it, they could, but keeping it is another matter altogether depending on what you pick. Rainulf's AI is rather rational, which complements his character I suppose. I'm positive he is within range to launch it. I know Waimar is, and in one of my games the latter did indeed go for it.
Aiming for the next update to be between tomorrow and Sunday if time permits, and hopefully the updates can be changed to two soon. Work can really drag down my writing time.
Count Rainulf is a man who has weathered many storms that would have broken lesser men. Perhaps he can be counted on as a stalwart ally -- assuming, of course, he isn't planning some secret treachery down the line.
Very good job so far, perhaps William will outdo many of his fellow Normans with the alliance that comes with his marriage, though of course it seems that the primary goal at the moment is crushing the Lombards and driving out the Byzantines. Of course even if things don't go well I can see William pledging loyalty to one side or the other to protect his position.
Rainulf has an experience that is valuable, considering he has been in Italy since 1017 or so, and was a great recruiter of Normans back home.
In many ways (IRL) as well, I believe he was part of the reason the Normans were successful. Part of the fun in writing him is that he can go whatever way he chooses.
He is, at the heart of things, an opportunist and politician.
Thank you. William starts in a harder position, but I could see Rainulf doing just as well because of his nature. His age is what holds him back.
This alliance and its implications are what many in South Italy will take notice of, mostly in regards to their own motivations.
William would tell you he has no intentions of swearing fealty to any side. However, that could always change, not necessarily having to be in his lifetime.
***
This next chapter was intended to be out yesterday, but it proved longer that I thought it would. I considered splitting it, but the marriage has been spread out as is, with it being built up do far
To delay it more, I figured, would drag out a plotline that is already somewhat long. That being said, these early years are rather peaceful, which isn't a bad thing for the characters, and there is the event here and there that fires.
Such in-game peace offers a lot of writing opportunities.
Chapter 4~April (1043 AD)
CHAPTER 4
Ceccano, Italy
April, 1043 AD
Ceccano, Italy
April, 1043 AD
Of all the things she took delight in, it was prayer. Whether it be in the morning or the evening, it remained a constant soother in her daily life. Throughout the day, the chapel within the walls had provided a stream of men and women out for prayer.
Mosaics adorned the walls, depicting the birth of Christ surrounded by the Three Wise Men; Christ walking on water, and a Christ healing a blind man.
A plethora of blue, white and brown for the depictions of these events, and a table at the farthest edge of the chapel, bearing that of the cross, comforted by unlit candles.
It was small as chapels went, with several pews in line behind another, left and right, leaving the aisle clear for the after-mentioned table.
So it was that Alienora found herself in prayer, as had been her habit since she was old enough to walk. There was nothing out of the ordinary to her, save that she had a guest this morning.
Her eyes opened.
Her father did not join her often. He either prayed alone during the quieter hours or attended to affairs of Ceccano and Fondi itself. Between the running of both counties, it was a miracle to see him at all.
Such was the life of the Drengot children, and while she could profess no great closeness to him, they were blood nonetheless.
"If you are done praying, stand,"
Alienora followed her father's command, dusting off the area surrounding her knees. She knew all too well what was to come next. Since her father's return from Melfi he had taken to informing her of the matter of her soon-to-be marriage to William de Hauteville.
Since his and his brothers' arrival in Italy, word filtered in of their deeds and accomplishments. Where once the actions her father took were the center of attention, it now belonged to them.
And her father claimed to have no issue with it, that it allowed him to do his work in peace, in fortifying his holdings and entrenching himself in his new homeland.
Of all their achievements, the brother William intrigued her the most. The man was said to be a giant with arms thick as tree trunks and a face marred by war. Yet the greatest warrior God had sent them to carve out a homeland. A Judea for Normans.
These whispers had been spoken by Normans that came to South Italy in a steady influx, and commonfolk that repeated what they heard from them, but twisting the story for their entertainment.
No, what intrigued her was the word that spread from Sicily through the rest of South Italy: that as the Emir of Syracuse sallied out with his men to repel the Greek expedition, that William met him in battle, and struck the infidel with a blow that split him in twain.
That the sight caused the Moslems to cast down their weapons, plea for mercy in their strange tongue, yet it would fall on deaf ears as the Iron Arm told them it was God's judgment he and the Greeks brought down upon them.
That was the tale she hoped proved true. He had been in her father's employ, but Rainulf was never one to let her linger among the menfolk, for fear she would be tempted with earthly pleasures and despoil herself before marriage as some women did..
"As all women were wont to do," a prelate once said.
As though it is our nature, she thought, and took her place beside him as they departed such holy ground. Outside she found respite from the warm chapel: a breeze that cooled the skin.
Her father turned left, and this path through the manor yard was known to her.
"Your mother shall counsel you," Rainulf spared her a quick glance. "So that you will not make a fool of yourself or our family."
"I shall not, Father," Alienora said. And that had been the last of their discourse before the Count of Ceccano and Fondi left her in the chambers of his second wife, her stepmother, mother to her half-brother Robert.
Regalia was a Lombard noblewoman of descent from one of the patrician families of Amalfi, Musco. The maritime republic had fallen into irrelevance following the budding prominence of the northern republics such as Venice and Pisa.
The patrician families had found their influence and wealth cut, and a Musco had taken the title of comes, marking an end to an era.
As she had entered, Regalia rose from her chair, dismissed her ladies, and moved to embrace her, planting a kiss upon each cheek. "Smile, daughter. A wedding is a joyous occasion,"
Alienora returned the embrace. "It is. I am anxious despite that. I've nothing more than rumor to go on for him."
"It shall pass. He is a man like any other. Hunt, war, play their games of power. In that I have met few that are different. Please him and you shall find your existence happy. Anger him, and you shall be ruined or brought to it."
But then she smiled, and Alienora, unnerved by her words, shook her head.
"I do not mean to frighten you. For some of us...a court is where we excel."
"How am I to know if I will excel?"
Regalia moved to her chair and sat, beckoning her stepdaughter to sit on her bed. "By the number of those that support you. Or those that feel threatened by you. Sometimes you merely do nothing and they feel threatened regardless,"
"Much like here and you," Alienora said. "You have little to worry about when I am gone. "
Regalia arched a thin brow. "My, you can be as spiteful as your father. I have little to worry about now. Robert shall succeed your father, and all will be well."
If they accept him. Father is getting on in years.
"I will pray for it to happen. Robert can continue his work," Alienora eyed her stepmother. Her brother Robert had little in the way of sibling competition, but that was not the case outside of that.
There remained her father's nephew, Asclettin, that could inherit if he wished to press a claim. Her brother was seven summers, so it would not be difficult to have him ousted if one wished.
But she did not, nor did she desire harm upon him.
"And I shall pray you do not invite your husband to take his lands when your father ascends to the hereafter,"
"Father told me they swore an oath. My...husband will not move upon my brother, and I will advise him not to."
Regalia let loose a sound of amusement. "Well, I have done as your father asked. We will discuss more after supper, then up until you wed. You must be a proper little trophy after all,'
"I am no trophy, stepmother," her jaw was set, eyes ablaze, face ruddy. "I am a person, not an item."
Regalia found fascination in the necklace wrapped around her own neck. "Sweet, sweet Alienora. You are whatever your role dictates you to be. Whether you agree or disagree matters very little. You will learn that soon."
She could tolerate the elder woman's presence no more, so she stormed from the room as fast as her feet could carry her.
God, I will pray you let my husband's court be different from this nest.
———
Supper was served in the common room after evening prayer in the Drengot manor. Servants held up flagons of water above basins, tilting it so that the liquid poured out and onto the hands of passing family and guests.
They would then rub their hands together before finding a seat.
Lord and lady at the center of the table, children seated to the left and right of them in the nearest chairs, and guests seated the farthest.
Alienora looked out across the table. And what esteemed guests did they have. She recognized Robert de Normandie and his wife, Beatrix, seated with their three children.
Supper was served before them, and discourse trailed behind, hoping to partake.
"Lord Rainulf, this has been an insightful journey," Robert said. "When I return to take the lordship of Eu from my father, I will be sure to encourage more of our young men to travel to Italy to bolster your numbers."
Her father placed some pork on his trencher (the equivalent of a plate made from a thick slice of bread). "Good. I do not hesitate to say that our position here is precarious. But the land is prosperous, full of history of a bygone era, and any man can make something of himself if he is competent enough,"
"Normandy can be much the same, what with these upstart lords after the Devil's death. Our young Duke of Normandy is little more than a puppet, my father tells me. He's attempted to intervene, but all that act as his ward are murdered, and he has little wish to ascend to the hereafter so soon."
Alienora turned her attention to another Robert. "Rob, do not eat your trencher. It's bad manners,"
Her brother looked at her and stuck out his tongue, small fingers in the process of ripping a piece of bread out. Most abhorrent was that he wiped his runny nose with the back of his hand.
"Rob! Head to the basin, wash your hands again."
Regalia pointed to where the servants remained, still as stone, seeming as if they ignored all that happened around them.
But soon the whole town shall know of young Rob, she thought.
Rob did not show a sign of his tongue this time. He walked himself over, threw out his small hands and said to the servants, "Pour!". And pour they did.
When the future lord took his seat, he encountered some trouble in hoisting himself up in the chair, and not long thereafter, Regalia hoisted him up.
To Alienora...Rob was a most peculiar child, often running into things, claiming that he did not see them, or that strange rashes appeared across his body at times. If not that then it was his fits, where he would flop on the floor like a fish.
That had been frightening to witness.
This was the average Drengot supper, tacking on guests this time.. After supper, all dispersed, some seeking the weather of the Mediterranean nights.
She was no exception. Ceccano was anything but devoid of life. At night it came alive for a few hours, then the people slept and woke with the rising sun.
Betwixt Rome and Monte Cassino, a good Christian's closest comfort in life, she thought.
But she could not dally in the town at this hour, nor ask to be escorted. Her escorts would report back to her father, and he would demand to know if she engaged in premarital affairs.
So the chapel sufficed, though she was not here for prayer, and far be it that she was the sole person there. Servants, household soldiers, these comprised the late visitors, most in prayer or loitering to take time off from their post.
She took her usual seat on the pew. She did not recall her long she sat there, when people filtered out, or when the candles were replaced for newer ones.
But when she ascended to her room that night, in bed, she found herself beset by an alertness that was unlike her. Ceccano was home. The people she understood, both in their Latium dialect and customs.
Try as she might, Alienora could find no peace. Thus she was doomed to her first restless night in her life.
———
The city of Melfi had been abuzz for some time since Rainulf's departure. One needed to look no further than the frequency of travel between those of the surrounding villages and hamlets to its gates since then.
Craftsmen, merchant, minor lord and robber lord, whores, all gathered for what was to be the union of two of the most prominent Norman families that had entrenched themselves following Melfi's acquisition by the Normans.
The craftsmen beheld this as a time where their usual customers would diversify, most of wealthier stock than the usual. Shoes were made, folks were fitted, jewelry was crafted, and the weapons of war found themselves perused in curiosity, having not yet found their use in this uneasy peace.
The merchant found a fresher audience to sell his relics to. Skulls, fingers, hands that belonged to saints. Other exotic items brought in from the maritime republics of the north in their own endeavors, much that the common person did not see often enough.
Whores that found themselves tired of the usual men found their pockets lined with an amount of coin that was oft rare when some of the unmarried lords entered the city.
Much was pocketed for personal use, and the other gathered later for profit when the steward Gerbert made his rounds for collection throughout the city.
Somehow it became a game to tempt him, but he always slithered off with a grin and a promise to return that was never upheld. So often was this that rumors arose.
He was either a godly man or one that found women unappealing.
For the old aristocracy, Lombard and Greek--the former far more prominent and numerous, they waited with bated breath to see what the ramifications of such a marriage would be to their status and influence within the city.
The new aristocracy comprised of robber lords and robber knights, approached Melfi with the utmost confidence. Many were Norman though not all. For them this union could mean the acquisition of further land and wealth, with the promise of more on the horizon if peace crumbled.
Their eyes were on lands under Greek control, much of what constituted unconquered Apulia. Calabria was less coveted, but land was land to those that had yet to receive it.
Then there remained another group, those that heard but were content to do as they always did: continue their raids throughout the land, as far as Calabria.
These marauders scoured the countryside of those far from legal protection, demanded their homes, daughters, what food they had left from the last harvest.
Churches found no safe haven from them by virtue of sacred ground.
They carried off their wealth and items that much of these places had spent their existence accumulating.
What respite came was when they ventured into Calabria, undermining the authority of the strategos that had assumed Exagustus' role. And yet these prelates traveled to Rome, in hopes their grievances would be listened to and a solution found.
This was the Melfi and surrounding area the Drengots would enter, followed by family guests and a large retinue that discouraged even the most foolhardy from engaging in harassment and thievery.
Alienora's eyes fell to the hilltop that overlooked the city. Perched upon it was a castle unlike many in its age.
The castle of Melfi was no mere motte-and-bailey built for hasty defense before its occupants moved on for further conquests, or meager residence. From this distance she could see that the exterior was stone, but little more than that.
From there its lord could see all that happened within and outside the city, reminding all that nothing went unnoticed. The approach of an enemy army would not come as a surprise to the inhabitants of the city.
He has wealth, she thought, tearing her gaze from the structure.
They were not halfway through the city before a rider approached them. He eased his rouncey into a slower walk to match their pace, and an exchange with her father yielded the name Gerbert.
"A pleasure as always to see you, Count Rainulf," Gerbert grinned. "Although our last meeting was not so distant. Melfi welcomes you again."
Her father acknowledged him, and turned atop his horse to gesture at his family, naming all of them save her.
This was her entrance, she reckoned.
"My lord," she bowed her head. "We are well met."
"So we are," Gerbert nodded. "But I am no lord of the realm. A humble steward to your husband in fact. My lord has urged me to receive you in his stead."
Her face felt hot for two reasons, one that made itself known thereafter. "He does not wish to meet me himself? Why?"
She could feel the eyes on her afterwards, and that made her face all the hotter.
Gerbert realized his mistake, and spoke before anyone else could contribute.
"That is to say he is occupied with matters of grave import, not that he thinks ill of you or your family, my lady. Court is lengthy, and there is no shortage of those that seek his attention."
She saw fit to follow his example. "O-of course...I have heard much about him, so it was my hope he would receive us...me, before the ceremony,"
That was not much for the bride to ask, was it?
"Please inform him I await eagerly."
"I shall," Gerbert said. "And you are not alone in feeling this. It is mutual."
———
The Drengots were given two rooms. One for the bride's parents and brother, and another for the bride herself, all situated on the middle floor, where another room (spacious) had been dedicated as the common hall for feasts and other merriment.
Alienora found herself attended by new ladies-in-waiting different from those in Ceccano. Whereas those had been Italians from the surrounding area, these women were Lombards, many of mixed heritage.
They spoke in their native tongue, sometimes in Greek, and unbeknownst to them, she understood much of what they said as they worked. They took joy in their humor, giggling among each other.
So she turned to them and spoke in Greek, and that made them wide-eyed. They ceased speaking, but continued their work on her hair and her attire, all without speaking.
Never had she felt so at home yet so alone.
The door opened, a head full of black hair in full sight. Fredesende de Hauteville.
Gerbert had been quick to introduce her to one of the sisters of William.
She, too, was to serve as one of her ladies. A direct companion as the steward had described it.
The younger woman's face lit up when she saw her. "Beautiful. A natural beauty. My brother shall love you so," the other ladies dispersed to the right side of the room, and Alienora rose to meet the impending embrace from a woman that was little more than a stranger.
"I hope so," Alienora said. "They tell me he judges fairly."
Fredesende proved fruitful in passing the time, bringing up life in Melfi, the rudimentary court that had sprung up, and other pursuits she occupy her time with so as to not grow bored of her new home.
The door opened again, swift and full. Gerbert was the culprit. "Count William is ready to receive you," He paused. "Your father too."
It was as if her heart stopped. Fredesende urged her on, and she found her feet carrying her first. Her father stood behind Gerbert, deep in thought until he saw her.
His eyes appraised her and he nodded his satisfaction.
Father and daughter found themselves following the steward's lead to the common hall. Nothing adorned the walls to make them stand out. It made for a drab sight.
Perhaps William had not troubled himself with making his castle grander than it was on the exterior. As they neared it, she saw it was not all stone. Much had wooden foundations here and there.
The common hall was not empty in any aspect...if one counted the servants moving about to finish their preparations for the great feast that was to take place that night.
There, in one of the two largest chairs in the hall, sat a man she would describe as average height. Hair that seemed sun-kissed, broad-shouldered, and dressed in clothing that was by no means modest for a Christian.
That was until he rose, and she came to note he towered over all in the room. Perhaps the stories held a grain of truth. He regarded the three of them with an easy smile.
So this was William Iron Arm, slayer of the Emir of Syracuse. She was to marry a man equal to her father; with the way he dressed, he appeared more king than count.
I hope he is not one to put on airs, she thought.
Rainulf said, "You dress like a Greek. The wealth of this land precedes you."
Her husband-to-be looked down at his attire and laughed. "I would be pleased if it did. Alas, this is but a gift from one of the lords of Melfi. They presented it to me as a gift for my wedding. I am told the greatest families of the Greeks wear this. This color...the emperor and his family wear this purple and no other,"
His eyes fell to her. "And this castle took no great effort. Much of it seemed to be in progress when we arrived. A fort, I suppose. I called upon skilled men of both Norman and Greek origin, and they finished its construction."
"This is Alienora?" he looked to her father.
She bowed her head to him. "I am her, my lord, "
"Fair indeed," he said. "I am happy to see you after much talk. Something to drink for my future wife and her father?"
Mosaics adorned the walls, depicting the birth of Christ surrounded by the Three Wise Men; Christ walking on water, and a Christ healing a blind man.
A plethora of blue, white and brown for the depictions of these events, and a table at the farthest edge of the chapel, bearing that of the cross, comforted by unlit candles.
It was small as chapels went, with several pews in line behind another, left and right, leaving the aisle clear for the after-mentioned table.
So it was that Alienora found herself in prayer, as had been her habit since she was old enough to walk. There was nothing out of the ordinary to her, save that she had a guest this morning.
Her eyes opened.
Her father did not join her often. He either prayed alone during the quieter hours or attended to affairs of Ceccano and Fondi itself. Between the running of both counties, it was a miracle to see him at all.
Such was the life of the Drengot children, and while she could profess no great closeness to him, they were blood nonetheless.
"If you are done praying, stand,"
Alienora followed her father's command, dusting off the area surrounding her knees. She knew all too well what was to come next. Since her father's return from Melfi he had taken to informing her of the matter of her soon-to-be marriage to William de Hauteville.
Since his and his brothers' arrival in Italy, word filtered in of their deeds and accomplishments. Where once the actions her father took were the center of attention, it now belonged to them.
And her father claimed to have no issue with it, that it allowed him to do his work in peace, in fortifying his holdings and entrenching himself in his new homeland.
Of all their achievements, the brother William intrigued her the most. The man was said to be a giant with arms thick as tree trunks and a face marred by war. Yet the greatest warrior God had sent them to carve out a homeland. A Judea for Normans.
These whispers had been spoken by Normans that came to South Italy in a steady influx, and commonfolk that repeated what they heard from them, but twisting the story for their entertainment.
No, what intrigued her was the word that spread from Sicily through the rest of South Italy: that as the Emir of Syracuse sallied out with his men to repel the Greek expedition, that William met him in battle, and struck the infidel with a blow that split him in twain.
That the sight caused the Moslems to cast down their weapons, plea for mercy in their strange tongue, yet it would fall on deaf ears as the Iron Arm told them it was God's judgment he and the Greeks brought down upon them.
That was the tale she hoped proved true. He had been in her father's employ, but Rainulf was never one to let her linger among the menfolk, for fear she would be tempted with earthly pleasures and despoil herself before marriage as some women did..
"As all women were wont to do," a prelate once said.
As though it is our nature, she thought, and took her place beside him as they departed such holy ground. Outside she found respite from the warm chapel: a breeze that cooled the skin.
Her father turned left, and this path through the manor yard was known to her.
"Your mother shall counsel you," Rainulf spared her a quick glance. "So that you will not make a fool of yourself or our family."
"I shall not, Father," Alienora said. And that had been the last of their discourse before the Count of Ceccano and Fondi left her in the chambers of his second wife, her stepmother, mother to her half-brother Robert.
Regalia was a Lombard noblewoman of descent from one of the patrician families of Amalfi, Musco. The maritime republic had fallen into irrelevance following the budding prominence of the northern republics such as Venice and Pisa.
The patrician families had found their influence and wealth cut, and a Musco had taken the title of comes, marking an end to an era.
As she had entered, Regalia rose from her chair, dismissed her ladies, and moved to embrace her, planting a kiss upon each cheek. "Smile, daughter. A wedding is a joyous occasion,"
Alienora returned the embrace. "It is. I am anxious despite that. I've nothing more than rumor to go on for him."
"It shall pass. He is a man like any other. Hunt, war, play their games of power. In that I have met few that are different. Please him and you shall find your existence happy. Anger him, and you shall be ruined or brought to it."
But then she smiled, and Alienora, unnerved by her words, shook her head.
"I do not mean to frighten you. For some of us...a court is where we excel."
"How am I to know if I will excel?"
Regalia moved to her chair and sat, beckoning her stepdaughter to sit on her bed. "By the number of those that support you. Or those that feel threatened by you. Sometimes you merely do nothing and they feel threatened regardless,"
"Much like here and you," Alienora said. "You have little to worry about when I am gone. "
Regalia arched a thin brow. "My, you can be as spiteful as your father. I have little to worry about now. Robert shall succeed your father, and all will be well."
If they accept him. Father is getting on in years.
"I will pray for it to happen. Robert can continue his work," Alienora eyed her stepmother. Her brother Robert had little in the way of sibling competition, but that was not the case outside of that.
There remained her father's nephew, Asclettin, that could inherit if he wished to press a claim. Her brother was seven summers, so it would not be difficult to have him ousted if one wished.
But she did not, nor did she desire harm upon him.
"And I shall pray you do not invite your husband to take his lands when your father ascends to the hereafter,"
"Father told me they swore an oath. My...husband will not move upon my brother, and I will advise him not to."
Regalia let loose a sound of amusement. "Well, I have done as your father asked. We will discuss more after supper, then up until you wed. You must be a proper little trophy after all,'
"I am no trophy, stepmother," her jaw was set, eyes ablaze, face ruddy. "I am a person, not an item."
Regalia found fascination in the necklace wrapped around her own neck. "Sweet, sweet Alienora. You are whatever your role dictates you to be. Whether you agree or disagree matters very little. You will learn that soon."
She could tolerate the elder woman's presence no more, so she stormed from the room as fast as her feet could carry her.
God, I will pray you let my husband's court be different from this nest.
———
Supper was served in the common room after evening prayer in the Drengot manor. Servants held up flagons of water above basins, tilting it so that the liquid poured out and onto the hands of passing family and guests.
They would then rub their hands together before finding a seat.
Lord and lady at the center of the table, children seated to the left and right of them in the nearest chairs, and guests seated the farthest.
Alienora looked out across the table. And what esteemed guests did they have. She recognized Robert de Normandie and his wife, Beatrix, seated with their three children.
Supper was served before them, and discourse trailed behind, hoping to partake.
"Lord Rainulf, this has been an insightful journey," Robert said. "When I return to take the lordship of Eu from my father, I will be sure to encourage more of our young men to travel to Italy to bolster your numbers."
Her father placed some pork on his trencher (the equivalent of a plate made from a thick slice of bread). "Good. I do not hesitate to say that our position here is precarious. But the land is prosperous, full of history of a bygone era, and any man can make something of himself if he is competent enough,"
"Normandy can be much the same, what with these upstart lords after the Devil's death. Our young Duke of Normandy is little more than a puppet, my father tells me. He's attempted to intervene, but all that act as his ward are murdered, and he has little wish to ascend to the hereafter so soon."
Alienora turned her attention to another Robert. "Rob, do not eat your trencher. It's bad manners,"
Her brother looked at her and stuck out his tongue, small fingers in the process of ripping a piece of bread out. Most abhorrent was that he wiped his runny nose with the back of his hand.
"Rob! Head to the basin, wash your hands again."
Regalia pointed to where the servants remained, still as stone, seeming as if they ignored all that happened around them.
But soon the whole town shall know of young Rob, she thought.
Rob did not show a sign of his tongue this time. He walked himself over, threw out his small hands and said to the servants, "Pour!". And pour they did.
When the future lord took his seat, he encountered some trouble in hoisting himself up in the chair, and not long thereafter, Regalia hoisted him up.
To Alienora...Rob was a most peculiar child, often running into things, claiming that he did not see them, or that strange rashes appeared across his body at times. If not that then it was his fits, where he would flop on the floor like a fish.
That had been frightening to witness.
This was the average Drengot supper, tacking on guests this time.. After supper, all dispersed, some seeking the weather of the Mediterranean nights.
She was no exception. Ceccano was anything but devoid of life. At night it came alive for a few hours, then the people slept and woke with the rising sun.
Betwixt Rome and Monte Cassino, a good Christian's closest comfort in life, she thought.
But she could not dally in the town at this hour, nor ask to be escorted. Her escorts would report back to her father, and he would demand to know if she engaged in premarital affairs.
So the chapel sufficed, though she was not here for prayer, and far be it that she was the sole person there. Servants, household soldiers, these comprised the late visitors, most in prayer or loitering to take time off from their post.
She took her usual seat on the pew. She did not recall her long she sat there, when people filtered out, or when the candles were replaced for newer ones.
But when she ascended to her room that night, in bed, she found herself beset by an alertness that was unlike her. Ceccano was home. The people she understood, both in their Latium dialect and customs.
Try as she might, Alienora could find no peace. Thus she was doomed to her first restless night in her life.
———
The city of Melfi had been abuzz for some time since Rainulf's departure. One needed to look no further than the frequency of travel between those of the surrounding villages and hamlets to its gates since then.
Craftsmen, merchant, minor lord and robber lord, whores, all gathered for what was to be the union of two of the most prominent Norman families that had entrenched themselves following Melfi's acquisition by the Normans.
The craftsmen beheld this as a time where their usual customers would diversify, most of wealthier stock than the usual. Shoes were made, folks were fitted, jewelry was crafted, and the weapons of war found themselves perused in curiosity, having not yet found their use in this uneasy peace.
The merchant found a fresher audience to sell his relics to. Skulls, fingers, hands that belonged to saints. Other exotic items brought in from the maritime republics of the north in their own endeavors, much that the common person did not see often enough.
Whores that found themselves tired of the usual men found their pockets lined with an amount of coin that was oft rare when some of the unmarried lords entered the city.
Much was pocketed for personal use, and the other gathered later for profit when the steward Gerbert made his rounds for collection throughout the city.
Somehow it became a game to tempt him, but he always slithered off with a grin and a promise to return that was never upheld. So often was this that rumors arose.
He was either a godly man or one that found women unappealing.
For the old aristocracy, Lombard and Greek--the former far more prominent and numerous, they waited with bated breath to see what the ramifications of such a marriage would be to their status and influence within the city.
The new aristocracy comprised of robber lords and robber knights, approached Melfi with the utmost confidence. Many were Norman though not all. For them this union could mean the acquisition of further land and wealth, with the promise of more on the horizon if peace crumbled.
Their eyes were on lands under Greek control, much of what constituted unconquered Apulia. Calabria was less coveted, but land was land to those that had yet to receive it.
Then there remained another group, those that heard but were content to do as they always did: continue their raids throughout the land, as far as Calabria.
These marauders scoured the countryside of those far from legal protection, demanded their homes, daughters, what food they had left from the last harvest.
Churches found no safe haven from them by virtue of sacred ground.
They carried off their wealth and items that much of these places had spent their existence accumulating.
What respite came was when they ventured into Calabria, undermining the authority of the strategos that had assumed Exagustus' role. And yet these prelates traveled to Rome, in hopes their grievances would be listened to and a solution found.
This was the Melfi and surrounding area the Drengots would enter, followed by family guests and a large retinue that discouraged even the most foolhardy from engaging in harassment and thievery.
Alienora's eyes fell to the hilltop that overlooked the city. Perched upon it was a castle unlike many in its age.
The castle of Melfi was no mere motte-and-bailey built for hasty defense before its occupants moved on for further conquests, or meager residence. From this distance she could see that the exterior was stone, but little more than that.
From there its lord could see all that happened within and outside the city, reminding all that nothing went unnoticed. The approach of an enemy army would not come as a surprise to the inhabitants of the city.
He has wealth, she thought, tearing her gaze from the structure.
They were not halfway through the city before a rider approached them. He eased his rouncey into a slower walk to match their pace, and an exchange with her father yielded the name Gerbert.
"A pleasure as always to see you, Count Rainulf," Gerbert grinned. "Although our last meeting was not so distant. Melfi welcomes you again."
Her father acknowledged him, and turned atop his horse to gesture at his family, naming all of them save her.
This was her entrance, she reckoned.
"My lord," she bowed her head. "We are well met."
"So we are," Gerbert nodded. "But I am no lord of the realm. A humble steward to your husband in fact. My lord has urged me to receive you in his stead."
Her face felt hot for two reasons, one that made itself known thereafter. "He does not wish to meet me himself? Why?"
She could feel the eyes on her afterwards, and that made her face all the hotter.
Gerbert realized his mistake, and spoke before anyone else could contribute.
"That is to say he is occupied with matters of grave import, not that he thinks ill of you or your family, my lady. Court is lengthy, and there is no shortage of those that seek his attention."
She saw fit to follow his example. "O-of course...I have heard much about him, so it was my hope he would receive us...me, before the ceremony,"
That was not much for the bride to ask, was it?
"Please inform him I await eagerly."
"I shall," Gerbert said. "And you are not alone in feeling this. It is mutual."
———
The Drengots were given two rooms. One for the bride's parents and brother, and another for the bride herself, all situated on the middle floor, where another room (spacious) had been dedicated as the common hall for feasts and other merriment.
Alienora found herself attended by new ladies-in-waiting different from those in Ceccano. Whereas those had been Italians from the surrounding area, these women were Lombards, many of mixed heritage.
They spoke in their native tongue, sometimes in Greek, and unbeknownst to them, she understood much of what they said as they worked. They took joy in their humor, giggling among each other.
So she turned to them and spoke in Greek, and that made them wide-eyed. They ceased speaking, but continued their work on her hair and her attire, all without speaking.
Never had she felt so at home yet so alone.
The door opened, a head full of black hair in full sight. Fredesende de Hauteville.
Gerbert had been quick to introduce her to one of the sisters of William.
She, too, was to serve as one of her ladies. A direct companion as the steward had described it.
The younger woman's face lit up when she saw her. "Beautiful. A natural beauty. My brother shall love you so," the other ladies dispersed to the right side of the room, and Alienora rose to meet the impending embrace from a woman that was little more than a stranger.
"I hope so," Alienora said. "They tell me he judges fairly."
Fredesende proved fruitful in passing the time, bringing up life in Melfi, the rudimentary court that had sprung up, and other pursuits she occupy her time with so as to not grow bored of her new home.
The door opened again, swift and full. Gerbert was the culprit. "Count William is ready to receive you," He paused. "Your father too."
It was as if her heart stopped. Fredesende urged her on, and she found her feet carrying her first. Her father stood behind Gerbert, deep in thought until he saw her.
His eyes appraised her and he nodded his satisfaction.
Father and daughter found themselves following the steward's lead to the common hall. Nothing adorned the walls to make them stand out. It made for a drab sight.
Perhaps William had not troubled himself with making his castle grander than it was on the exterior. As they neared it, she saw it was not all stone. Much had wooden foundations here and there.
The common hall was not empty in any aspect...if one counted the servants moving about to finish their preparations for the great feast that was to take place that night.
There, in one of the two largest chairs in the hall, sat a man she would describe as average height. Hair that seemed sun-kissed, broad-shouldered, and dressed in clothing that was by no means modest for a Christian.
That was until he rose, and she came to note he towered over all in the room. Perhaps the stories held a grain of truth. He regarded the three of them with an easy smile.
So this was William Iron Arm, slayer of the Emir of Syracuse. She was to marry a man equal to her father; with the way he dressed, he appeared more king than count.
I hope he is not one to put on airs, she thought.
Rainulf said, "You dress like a Greek. The wealth of this land precedes you."
Her husband-to-be looked down at his attire and laughed. "I would be pleased if it did. Alas, this is but a gift from one of the lords of Melfi. They presented it to me as a gift for my wedding. I am told the greatest families of the Greeks wear this. This color...the emperor and his family wear this purple and no other,"
His eyes fell to her. "And this castle took no great effort. Much of it seemed to be in progress when we arrived. A fort, I suppose. I called upon skilled men of both Norman and Greek origin, and they finished its construction."
"This is Alienora?" he looked to her father.
She bowed her head to him. "I am her, my lord, "
"Fair indeed," he said. "I am happy to see you after much talk. Something to drink for my future wife and her father?"
But the question need not be asked, for cups of good drinking water was given to them before they answered. In the process Gerbert maneuvered around the table to stand beside one of his oldest friends.
Alienora brought hers to her lip, wondering what she should say to him, how to best answer any questions directed at her.
The smell of food from the kitchens wafted in, and her stomach responded in kind.
"From Ceccano to Melfi, you've made quite a journey once again, Lord Rainulf. I wish to be as robust as you in my old age," William said.
Alienora brought hers to her lip, wondering what she should say to him, how to best answer any questions directed at her.
The smell of food from the kitchens wafted in, and her stomach responded in kind.
"From Ceccano to Melfi, you've made quite a journey once again, Lord Rainulf. I wish to be as robust as you in my old age," William said.
"On the contrary, Boy," Rainulf smirked. "I would rather be your age. The things I could do...but age and death come to us all, no matter how much we think ourselves immortal."
She saw William shrug afterwards and move to discuss other matters, such as that of gifts, the ceremony, and the hunt that would occur some time after its conclusion, offering her father a second chance to take part in it.
He acknowledged her a few times, divvying his attention between the two, leaving no side feeling as though they were neglected in favor of the other.
She saw William shrug afterwards and move to discuss other matters, such as that of gifts, the ceremony, and the hunt that would occur some time after its conclusion, offering her father a second chance to take part in it.
He acknowledged her a few times, divvying his attention between the two, leaving no side feeling as though they were neglected in favor of the other.
In that she found him proficient at conversation, listening and responding without delay. But all things came to an end, and this was no exception as the ceremony neared.
The wedding ceremony brought in the family of her husband: Humphrey de Hauteville and his sons (bastards but Fredesende advised her to treat them as legitimate), Geoffrey de Hauteville and his sons, as well as a newborn daughter (of which their mother had died some time ago, and none spoke her name for reasons unmentioned; she figured the daughter another bastard of the family), followed by Drogo and Mauger de Hauteville.
The latter said little, but the former was of the rambunctious sort in her eyes. Rough around the edges unlike William. Humphrey pinned her with stares that made her uncomfortable, and Geoffrey seemed to be the most decent of the lot other than Fredesende, speaking at length with her on theology after having heard of her.
The guests, she came to know, were of the nobility of both city and surrounding lands, taken under dubious means for the latter. She and William exchanged their vows before the bishop Nigel—a man of Norman stock, and in the eyes of man and God were wed.
The latter said little, but the former was of the rambunctious sort in her eyes. Rough around the edges unlike William. Humphrey pinned her with stares that made her uncomfortable, and Geoffrey seemed to be the most decent of the lot other than Fredesende, speaking at length with her on theology after having heard of her.
The guests, she came to know, were of the nobility of both city and surrounding lands, taken under dubious means for the latter. She and William exchanged their vows before the bishop Nigel—a man of Norman stock, and in the eyes of man and God were wed.
Her father had escorted her, signifying that his legal protection of her had been transferred to that of her husband.
Next came the exchange of gifts between bride and groom in place of a dowry. Following that was the gifts from vassal to liege, where William had them renew their oaths to him.
William for his part received them with smiles and gratitude for their gifts—stone-faced for oaths. It concluded with a public oath from son-by-marriage and father-by-marriage of what had been discussed upon the latter's last visit.
Now it was binding in the eyes of both God and men.
Next came the exchange of gifts between bride and groom in place of a dowry. Following that was the gifts from vassal to liege, where William had them renew their oaths to him.
William for his part received them with smiles and gratitude for their gifts—stone-faced for oaths. It concluded with a public oath from son-by-marriage and father-by-marriage of what had been discussed upon the latter's last visit.
Now it was binding in the eyes of both God and men.
At last the feast had arrived. The food proved as good as it smelled, though she was careful to avoid eating in excess.
In that regard Drogo was the opposite. The man had no qualms with eating in excess, asking others for their food if they appeared full, and quenched his thirst with much wine; she thought it enough to make him piss it if he continued.
All in all, he made for a poor table mate in her opinion. But he was one of her husband's numerous brothers, and it would be unbecoming to embarrass him in front of those that may be a future vassal of his.
All in all, he made for a poor table mate in her opinion. But he was one of her husband's numerous brothers, and it would be unbecoming to embarrass him in front of those that may be a future vassal of his.
So she held her tongue, seated at her husband's side, and did her best to appear enthusiastic. She looked right to see William eyed her, and as soon as their eyes met she turned away, focusing on her meal.
She could see him move to rise, and the boisterous hall quieted.
William cleared his throat.
"It has been a great honor to receive you! Many of you have traveled far to attend, and words alone cannot express my gratitude. It is with regret that I must leave the festivities, and my wife has expressed the same sentiment,"
William cleared his throat.
"It has been a great honor to receive you! Many of you have traveled far to attend, and words alone cannot express my gratitude. It is with regret that I must leave the festivities, and my wife has expressed the same sentiment,"
Her stomach became knots. All in the hall knew what was to come next.
Drogo raised his cup, not bothering to conceal his grin. He winked at her. She could feel the eyes of her father and stepmother on her, so she stood up, head high, forcing a smile.
"But I implore you all to continue in our stead. Feast until your hunger is satisfied, and drink well. For in the coming days, we scour the countryside for game. Let every lord demonstrate his martial prowess!"
He was met with roars of approval, and the hall burst into conversation.
Drogo raised his cup, not bothering to conceal his grin. He winked at her. She could feel the eyes of her father and stepmother on her, so she stood up, head high, forcing a smile.
"But I implore you all to continue in our stead. Feast until your hunger is satisfied, and drink well. For in the coming days, we scour the countryside for game. Let every lord demonstrate his martial prowess!"
He was met with roars of approval, and the hall burst into conversation.
The Drengots (sans Robert) and three of the Hautevilles moved to accompany the husband and wife, followed by Nigel trailing at their heels. A comfort that a man of God accompanied them, but it did little for Alienora's nerves.
All the way to the lord's chambers Drogo made bawdy remarks to Humphrey. The other brother for his part showed mirth, some manner of a smile dancing at the edge of his lips.
It felt like years, but the arrival at William's chambers was short. Fredesende offered her a smile of reassurance, but it did little as the door was cast open, and they were ushered in.
It closed behind them with a thump, and the shuffling of feet began. Whether they had left or not mattered little to her, for she was rigid and in her own world.
She expected William to release his restraint, but instead the man settled for the table, chin in palm.
She settled for the bed, hands clasped and in her lap.
"Do you know that you are shaking?"
She raised her head. "Yes,"
"Then I shall give you all the time you need," William said. "We are in no great rush."
Alone. The sound of feet had faded, but they could hear Drogo's distant voice; Nigel and Humphrey's joined him.
"Would you be frightened if I sat next to you?"
All the way to the lord's chambers Drogo made bawdy remarks to Humphrey. The other brother for his part showed mirth, some manner of a smile dancing at the edge of his lips.
It felt like years, but the arrival at William's chambers was short. Fredesende offered her a smile of reassurance, but it did little as the door was cast open, and they were ushered in.
It closed behind them with a thump, and the shuffling of feet began. Whether they had left or not mattered little to her, for she was rigid and in her own world.
She expected William to release his restraint, but instead the man settled for the table, chin in palm.
She settled for the bed, hands clasped and in her lap.
"Do you know that you are shaking?"
She raised her head. "Yes,"
"Then I shall give you all the time you need," William said. "We are in no great rush."
Alone. The sound of feet had faded, but they could hear Drogo's distant voice; Nigel and Humphrey's joined him.
"Would you be frightened if I sat next to you?"
"I do not think so..."
William kept a respectable distance; his shoulders were neither tense nor his face flushed.
"Your father says you can speak Greek. Is this so?"
"That is so. My mother thought it useful for me to know,"
"She was wise; there are many lords and common people that speak it. I've picked up some of it. Fit for war more than daily life I'm afraid,"
"She was. I do not think my father was the same man after her. I have prayed since then that God has made her an angel."
William kept a respectable distance; his shoulders were neither tense nor his face flushed.
"Your father says you can speak Greek. Is this so?"
"That is so. My mother thought it useful for me to know,"
"She was wise; there are many lords and common people that speak it. I've picked up some of it. Fit for war more than daily life I'm afraid,"
"She was. I do not think my father was the same man after her. I have prayed since then that God has made her an angel."
"I wished the same for my mother as a boy. We lost her in childbed fever. Our father remarried, and Fredesende and Geoffrey's mother bore us more siblings. We are truly a brood to be reckoned with."
"How many do you number?"
"Thirteen sons and three daughters," William chuckled.
She reeled.
"Your father was–"
"Virile? There is no questioning that. Of his faults, the craving of that earthly pleasure was great. But he kept it within the marital bed. And that I cannot decry."
She doubted she could birth one, let alone such a formidable number.
"Did you kill the Moslem ruler of Syracuse?"
"I killed him," William said. "But tales of such deeds can be exaggerated. Still, I acknowledge it with pride."
The world felt separate to her as they spoke. She found herself feeling comfortable, and in doing so, took his hand within hers.
William moved to kiss her.
Like many before and after them, they surrendered to their baser nature.
"Thirteen sons and three daughters," William chuckled.
She reeled.
"Your father was–"
"Virile? There is no questioning that. Of his faults, the craving of that earthly pleasure was great. But he kept it within the marital bed. And that I cannot decry."
She doubted she could birth one, let alone such a formidable number.
"Did you kill the Moslem ruler of Syracuse?"
"I killed him," William said. "But tales of such deeds can be exaggerated. Still, I acknowledge it with pride."
The world felt separate to her as they spoke. She found herself feeling comfortable, and in doing so, took his hand within hers.
William moved to kiss her.
Like many before and after them, they surrendered to their baser nature.
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Good chapter. Some of your languages was a bit too formal and seemed almost contemporary, like using the phrase "extramarital relation." You do a great job of setting up the world these characters inhabit, both in terms of setting, but also the inner world of cultural attitudes, ideology, and spirituality. This truly looks set to become one of the next generation of great AAR's on this forum, and it is fitting you were made WritAAR of the week.
Great chapter, I like it when authors sometimes switch around the point of view, it offers good insight to other characters wants, needs and thoughts. It also seems that this will be a promising start to the marriage, hopefully the two will find love with one another and have plenty of children.