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A smile formed on Geoffrey’s lips. “Very well Knud. Lead well, and remind them of your ancestors at every turn.”
I thought Knud might have signed his own death warrant there, where he would meet his ancestors rather than remind the English of them, but he did survive after all.

A somewhat visceral and grim scene, bringing home the brutal realities of siege and assault warfare. The end could have been even more grisly - at least he isn’t taking the Mongol approach to cities that resist. :eek:

Quite an expensive endeavour, but taking the capital early should prove an important contribution.
 
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Brutal assault, but effective. I liked your note at the end that you adapted the tactics used by the historical Geoffrey Plantagenet in writing this chapter. Too bad the little usurper Queen managed to slip away.
 
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I have to disagree with JSB217118’s interpretation of Geoffrey. “He didn’t mean it” and “he was probably thinking something different” have been used for millennia to excuse people like him from his atrocious behavior.
If you boil Geoffrey down into three words, they would be “pretentious, whiny, jerk.”
He was not thinking about educating his son. He wanted to bring Junior on campaign with him so that he could see daddy kick ass against the English, order around big guys with swords and at regular intervals say, “wow, daddy! You are SO amazing!”
As for all his conversations with Ælfflæd, he meant every casual insult he tossed her way, but probably didn’t premeditate any of them... or even consider them insults. After all, why should she have a different perspective from him?
From his, perspective, Ælfflæd should look good on his arm, spread her legs as required, and want to do exactly what he tells her.
His shock when his strong, intelligent wife has other plans would be comical if only the game weren’t rigged in his favor. Consequently, whenever Ælfflæd wins, I let out a cheer. I hope she gives him Hell every time he tries to use England to his benefit without giving her the proper respect. It’s unfortunate that he probably won’t be murdered. It would be a glorious day for humanity, but probably a bad day for Anjou. After all, the guy actually can kick British ass quite handily.
 
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Great chapter, though it just goes to show that Geoffrey is the master of the incomplete vidtory. I still can't help but feel bad for the Saxon guards and their families though, to be forced to either kill or watch their families be killed must've been unbearable. Hopefully such sacrifices will not need to be repeated in the future...
 
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I have to disagree with JSB217118’s interpretation of Geoffrey. “He didn’t mean it” and “he was probably thinking something different” have been used for millennia to excuse people like him from his atrocious behavior.
If you boil Geoffrey down into three words, they would be “pretentious, whiny, jerk.”
He was not thinking about educating his son. He wanted to bring Junior on campaign with him so that he could see daddy kick ass against the English, order around big guys with swords and at regular intervals say, “wow, daddy! You are SO amazing!”
As for all his conversations with Ælfflæd, he meant every casual insult he tossed her way, but probably didn’t premeditate any of them... or even consider them insults. After all, why should she have a different perspective from him?
From his, perspective, Ælfflæd should look good on his arm, spread her legs as required, and want to do exactly what he tells her.
His shock when his strong, intelligent wife has other plans would be comical if only the game weren’t rigged in his favor. Consequently, whenever Ælfflæd wins, I let out a cheer. I hope she gives him Hell every time he tries to use England to his benefit without giving her the proper respect. It’s unfortunate that he probably won’t be murdered. It would be a glorious day for humanity, but probably a bad day for Anjou. After all, the guy actually can kick British ass quite handily.

I personally disagree with some of your assessment of Geoffrey II. While it is true that he is often pretentious and domineering towards people he is also a huge improvement over both his father and grandfather...
 
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The walls of Lydford stood unyielding.
For now anyways, in hindsight it may have been a mistake to put the capital so close to the place Aquitaine was most likely to land its army.

A light rain fell from the overcast sky, the liquid running down his helmet as some streams made their way to his face. It was cool but not cold, at least in his leathers and mail
English weather is English weather.

Geoffrey turned and headed back to his command tent, frustrated at his own frustration. Why should any of this have surprised him? He didn’t think taking the keep of the girl “queen” Ecgwyn would be easy, after all.
I mean this war has thus far been a cakewalk. If it were any easier it would be boring.

By the time he arrived at the walls of Ecgwyn’s capital, the town had closed off. He learned the Saxons had ample supplies - perhaps because they had been expecting this for some time. Harvest had been completed by the time Geoffrey had established his siege works around the city, and there was talk they could hold out for more than a year.
That CK2 siege mechanic being a bitch to you eh?

However, storming the city would not be easy. Geoffrey learned from the locals that Lydford had been fortified in the centuries before under the Saxon kings. Back then it was to provide protection from the rampaging Northmen who overran the isles, but it had gotten use since.
I'll bet.

In the years since, the late Burgheard had further reinforced it, turning it into a true keep, though he had yet to complete an inner wall. But it was also surrounded on three sides by a steep incline, and could not be assaulted that way.
Is this based on the actual fortifications of the place?

And perhaps, Geoffrey thought, I have a sign from God.
Of course, you do Geoffery. And I'm sure God will just love what you did to one of his most devoted worshipers. I am sure he is just smiling right now up on his cloud watching how you conduct yourself.

“Agreed,” Knud said. “But don’t send the Perigord boy. I would go. I have been itching to truly put these arrogant Saxons back in their place. My ancestors demand it.”
He is speaking for his Danish side, but the irony is this could also apply to King Phillipe, who after all spent the most successful years of his reign thrashing Saxons.

There was good news.
Yay

For starters, he learned
oh?

Knud had survived
Goddammit.

The earthworks must have extended some seven or eight feet high, and then gave way to an interior ditch, which dropped some 10 or so feet deep. Then they would have to scale their way back up to the ground where the keep stood, which was guarded by the palisade. Saxons were packed behind the wooden fence, some armed with bows and arrows, while others carried spears.
The more I read the more surprised I am about just how sophisticated mere "mounds of dirt" can be.

Then Geoffrey had another idea. “Yes, we can send the townspeople and the captured soldiers to do it. They will either surrender, or be forced to kill their own people. The men may refuse.”
Brilliant idea Geoffery. It is disturbing how quickly his mind came to that conclusion. You know for all the hatred the old bratty King got, I liked him. That King would never have agreed to something like this. Honestly, I still have trouble picturing Geoff doing it. I know his historical counterpart did something similar, and it's a nice shoutout but frankly, this feels a bit jarring. If nothing else Geoff wants to be seen as a hero, and heroes do not do things like this.

It was cold, but Geoffrey preferred throwing them at this problem then his own troops.

So Geoffrey ordered the pillaging and looting stopped. Then he had his soldiers round up the townspeople, near the main gate. There, Geoffrey made his way to the top of the gate, flanked by his guards and commanders.

“People of Lydford,” he began. “Your child lady and her handlers have been defeated. They run to their keep, abandoning you to your fate.”

He paused to let Knud shout the Saxon version to those gathered.

“But God has smiled upon you today, for your rightful king and queen have no desire to see their subjects slaughtered needlessly,” Geoffrey continued. “So I have told my men to refrain from any further looting and pillaging of your home… provided you provide me aid.”

He waited again as Knud barked out the translated version.

“You will gather rocks from the town and outside of the walls,” Geoffrey instructed. “And you shall fill the ditch between the town and the keep. Do this, and I shall consider the debt between this town and your king and queen paid.”

Over the next few hours, Geoffrey had the captured soldiers and the townspeople gather all the stones and rocks they could find in and around the town, under the watch of his men. It would not be enough to fill the ditch, that would likely take days, but this was more a statement of intent. Hopefully, he could scare the Saxons into submission.
It's a logical plan and it makes sense when considering both Geoff's relationship with his men and his need to conserve manpower overall. This whole scene really drove home how villainous Geoffery is being. I doubt Elf will be happy to hear of what he has done.

The king watched from the walls as townspeople fell, struck by arrow fire. They usually tumbled back down the earthwork, some moaning in pain from wounds. Others lay dead.
I'm sure God is real please with you right now, your grace.

The king turned away. Then looked back at his own men, who were interspersed in the town. And another idea formed.

“Tell my archers to form up at the edge of the clearing,” Geoffrey said. “We can provide cover for those laying the stones. And perhaps make the situation even more untenable for the Saxons.”

The archers were brought forth and returned fire to those both in the keep and those on the outside. Naturally, the townspeople had no desire to advance while the firefight was going on, but Geoffrey ordered his knights and heavy infantry to force them toward the ditch. He reasoned that while his own archers were providing cover, the Saxons could not focus their fire well on the townspeople.

His strategy appeared to work. Townspeople were still hit, but the Saxon archers seemed confused, wanting to fire at both the townspeople and the Aquitaine troops that had gathered. The knights grouped together in a tight formation shields up.
Again, another genius plan. Probably should have thought of that before commencing operation human shield, but you win some you loose some.

“They could at least fall forward, into the ditch,” Knud said. “Then at least they’d help with the stacking.”
Why won't you just shut the fuck up and die already.

But when they were almost ready, a few men appeared on the roof of the keep, waving a flag.

It was white.
Was this actually a symbol of surrender in medieval times?

“They might cut her hair and pass her off as a boy to sneak her away,” Geoffrey said. “I will take no chances.”
Real Arya energy.


He looked to Knud. The Dane moved forward and pulled forth his axe. Then, summoning a large swing where he bellowed at the top of his lungs, Knud drove his axe down at the throne, attempting to cleave it in two. It didn’t on the first swipe, but Knud hacked at it until he left the throne a mess of splinters.
A throne too good to be felled in one blow by the ax of a man like Knud.

“If they are lying, all these children will suffer the sword, except those of the parents who reveal the truth to me,” Geoffrey warned. “So, I repeat, are any of the children here Ecgwyn?”
Geoffery: "How dare you call my family the spawns of Satan now let me get back to threatening small children."

They could have been lying. But given everything that had happened, Geoffrey doubted that was the case. Just like the soldiers earlier, some of them would have broken.
I think he is underestimating how deep loyalty can go. Also, I don't think anybody has any reason to expect good faith from this man, given what he did to the Keep's people after they surrendered.

The king shook his head. Between the raids, the assault and everything in between, Geoffrey had lost around 750 men. While it didn’t sound like a great deal, it still represented around a tenth of what he brought with him to England. And he had not actually ended the war today, as Ecgwyn had escaped his grasp.
hahahahahahhaha I know Geoff is going to win both because he is the main character and because of the way the war's going, but oh my god I want him to get his teeth kicked in.

Medevil war was often quite cruel by our standards but, and this is coming purely from being a listener of the History fo the Crusades Podcast, strikes me as being excessively cruel even for the standards of the time, and with little cause. These weren't heretics, nor had the army suffered particularly brutal casualties. From my limited, perspective of medieval warfare, Geoff's two main crimes were ordering the peasants to fill the ditch and executing the garrison after they waved the white flag. There were of course rules saying you could do whatever you wanted if the enemy kept fighting after the walls fell, but the walls of the keep didn't fall. I think the protocol for such scenarios was the garrison was allowed to surrender. They will have to bring in new peasants to serve Elf if she intends to make this place her capital. The current ones will be too disposed to hate Aquitaine. I'm surprised Geoff didn't think of that. The phrase don't shit where you eat comes to mind.
 
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I think that I am caught up to the point (ready to read chapter 222) that my thoughts will not be completely outdated. WARNING! The following may be a) lengthy b) politically incorrect c) non canon view of some characters. I will not be surprised if I am asked to never comment again. When I read Foulques' death in Spain, I thought of Joe Kennedy Jr. (older brother of President Kennedy). Both killed in war at young age after being groomed by father and grandfather from a young age for greatness. My question was who would be JFK? I was thinking, that Geoff or Alias would be the answer to complete the parallel, but my answer is King Geoffrey. Both had high charisma and scaled new heights (founded Kingdom of Aquitane; first Irish Catholic president).
Advice to King Geoff: 1) Ship Ana far, far away (Sri Lanka?). Why? a) As a daughter of Alias with an intrigue over 20, she is scary, scary dangerous. b) She is Mommy Dearest's spy. c) If Queen Elf catches you, she will wash down a meal of mountain oysters with a tankard of bad ale. 2) Ship mommy dearest to your Karling brother's abbey as you are her least favorite child. Proof: a) Making you give the Karling bastard a holding on your first day in front of your father's siblings after she boycotted the funeral was ill advised. b) She prefers your bride's slut sister to your bride. c) She boycotts your wedding but attends the coronation. She probably thinks that if she lays with the pope that he will canonize her dear saintly dad. 3) Make babies with Queen Elf. 4) Listen to Aunt Agnes!
Advice to Queen Mother Marguerite: 1) GET OVER IT! Yes, your dear father was cut down like a rabid dog by the Tin Duke and person unknown. (I feel that Agnes is mis-ided, no way does Foulques and Alearad allow Agnes anywhere near the killer. Agnes is probably protecting Alearad, as she knows, that as the daughter of the duke her worst punishment would be a blow to her reputation, but the non noble born Alearad would surely hang if involved in the murder of a noble.) QM, your father was a first class south end of a north bound donkey. He was a blackmailer (how else do you explain how an untalented, unlanded member of a minor family marries the French bride of the decade (combine stats (stats geek, sue me) and claims), wife beater (canon per Jabber), and child molester (no innocent 15yo seduces her fiancé's best friend). Yes, King Geoffrey cheats but never with your sister or best friend (do you even have a real friend?). For those who compare the King to Gilles, he never denies a child which is a greater sin than the seduction. Gentlemen upset that your wives stray: Keep Them Happy! 2) Be very glad that Alias predeceased the king. With the disrespect shown to the King by boycotting the funeral and promoting your Karling whelp, Alias would measure your life expectancy in hours.
Great marriages that did not happen: 1) Geoffrey and one of the Norwegian princesses. Haldora's sister even had one of the big four genetic traits. Geoffrey never needed Marguerite's claims which was the sole reason for the marriage. It is ironic that Marguerite, who had the highest title, had the weakest stats of Aines' three daughters. 2) Toulouse and Agnes. Jabber, that demanding voice that you are hearing, is Essa saying "Make It Happen". 3) Pharoah Geoffrey and Pharoah Agnes. If Geoffrey read 3000 year old Egyptian history instead of 1000 year old Roman history, this would be the result. Can you imagine, the housekeeping that Pharoah Agnes and Chief Minister Alias could do while Pharoah Geoffrey was on campaign? Duchess Essa would proclaim herself the Pharoahs' spiritual child and heir.
Jabber: I am missing a chapter: the funeral of King Geoffrey. Possible viewpoints: 1) a farmer or a townsman watching the procession 2) a friend of Geoff or Aines 3) one of the King's brothers 4) Agnes 5) Alias. I thank anyone who read to the end.

Two personal notes: 1) Stnylan, I left a comment on your old Kanem Bornu EU4 AAR. 2) How reliable is using the day of birth month to determine paternity? If someone would PM me, I have a situation in my current game that I would love another viewpoint.
 
A very detailed siege - Geoffrey's element may be the battlefield, but assaulting is also something he's good at, making the hard choices and unconsciously avoiding what the Iron Duke dreaded the most. Though I'm sure if he had that much of an advantage that the cost mattered little, Foulques would have assaulted walls often and gladly.

Ecgwyn might have escaped, but it is only a delay - a delay which will only serve to cause more suffering to both Saxons and the Aquitain army.

Knud channeling his inner viking truly makes him work hard for his further redemption. Then again, I'm wondering who he's plotting to kill now. He's like a martial version of Alias (though unlike him he also lacks subtlety outside of private discussions with his liege :p), with the addition of being Geoffrey's mentor while not being his main friend and ally.
 
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The level of detail you put into the battle and siege scenes continues to impress :)

No matter the era, war is a brutal affair, and the commander on the scene must sometimes make some hard decisions to accomplish his goals with minimal casualties to his own side. The best outcome for all involved is for the enemy to surrender without a fight -- Sun Tzu once called the ability to win without fighting "the acme of excellence." In this case the conquest of Lydford wasn't entirely bloodless, but I think Geoffrey did well with the resources he had available on hand.

That said, even when done out of necessity, these sorts of choices take their toll on the ones making them, which comes out in Geoffrey as well. We see him ordering the destruction of villages and using civilians as "arrow fodder" for his own troops, and while his reasoning is sound from a military perspective and he's trying to limit the overall damage, it's interesting to notice how much more callous he seems about civilian casualties now compared to the young man who once lamented the death of a favored midwife in a siege all those years ago. Part of that might be down to exhaustion and frustration with the siege itself, and part of that might be down to the mores of the time, but I can't help but think that Geoffrey is starting to get a little desensitized here to the horror and cruelty of war.

That being said, he isn't completely far gone just yet. Showing mercy to the children is proof enough of that.

Thanks. It can be hard to do research on this just on the internet but I did the best I could with imagining how the Norman fort in Lydford would have looked like had it been turned into a keep.

I think you are seeing a hardening of Geoffrey for sure. It comes in small steps. I don't think he does this to Aquitaine civilians, but it was easier done because they were Saxons. Not his own people. They don't speak his language. He has to have Knud shout at them. He can't understand what they say back to him. There's a level of disconnect that allows this type of butchery.

So it all comes together negatively for the Saxon populace here.

Even the sparing of the children is... Geoffrey-like. He shows mercy to the children, but doesn't care about their parents, which will surely leave them with scars. Short-sighted in so much of what he does.

I thought Knud might have signed his own death warrant there, where he would meet his ancestors rather than remind the English of them, but he did survive after all.

A somewhat visceral and grim scene, bringing home the brutal realities of siege and assault warfare. The end could have been even more grisly - at least he isn’t taking the Mongol approach to cities that resist. :eek:

Quite an expensive endeavour, but taking the capital early should prove an important contribution.

Yeah, I would have probably preferred Knud died there, but CK2 never works that way, does it? ;)

As bad as this was, I think this was pre some of the updates that really allowed you sack cities. Later in this AAR, cities won't be nearly as lucky. But yeah, he didn't go Mongol or Roman style, decimating the populace. It was brutal, but as sackings, Wilshire might have actually been worse in total loss. This was just... brutal in other ways.

Yeah, as you might expect, seizing Lydford is pretty good for the war score. But had I grabbed Ecgwyn it would have been war over. So close, yet so far.

The cost of some 750 or so men doesn't seem like much, but when you think about an army of around 9,000, it's nearly 10%! That's nothing to sneeze at and since Geoffrey has plans to go at Navarra when he's subdued England, it is not insignificant!

Brutal assault, but effective. I liked your note at the end that you adapted the tactics used by the historical Geoffrey Plantagenet in writing this chapter. Too bad the little usurper Queen managed to slip away.

Thank you. I tried to work that in. Obviously, it didn't work as well and it was in some ways a smaller scale. But it was still fun to do. Who knows? Maybe the opportunity will come up to use it more effectively next time.

And yeah, I was disappointed for Ecgwyn to slip away. And annoyingly, there's no way to catch her after that. She's still "in Lydford" in the game, even if she's escaped.

I have to disagree with JSB217118’s interpretation of Geoffrey. “He didn’t mean it” and “he was probably thinking something different” have been used for millennia to excuse people like him from his atrocious behavior.
If you boil Geoffrey down into three words, they would be “pretentious, whiny, jerk.”
He was not thinking about educating his son. He wanted to bring Junior on campaign with him so that he could see daddy kick ass against the English, order around big guys with swords and at regular intervals say, “wow, daddy! You are SO amazing!”
As for all his conversations with Ælfflæd, he meant every casual insult he tossed her way, but probably didn’t premeditate any of them... or even consider them insults. After all, why should she have a different perspective from him?
From his, perspective, Ælfflæd should look good on his arm, spread her legs as required, and want to do exactly what he tells her.
His shock when his strong, intelligent wife has other plans would be comical if only the game weren’t rigged in his favor. Consequently, whenever Ælfflæd wins, I let out a cheer. I hope she gives him Hell every time he tries to use England to his benefit without giving her the proper respect. It’s unfortunate that he probably won’t be murdered. It would be a glorious day for humanity, but probably a bad day for Anjou. After all, the guy actually can kick British ass quite handily.

I do love character debate!

I think you strike at a key part of Geoffrey's character - he is selfish and self-involved and much of his problems is his failure to consider how people will react to actions. It's a trait he shares with his father. But Geoffrey II feels guilt over it more than his father ever did.

At the heart of it, I think you're right about what Geoffrey hopes and desires out of Ælfflæd. He likes her fire and will to a point, so long as it is not turned on him. But while he looks to project a certain image to her (and others, like his son), it is just that, an image. It's not the entirety of what there is, and Elf is learning exactly what Agnes and many other women have figured out - there are ways around Geoffrey. And it's not just coddling his ego.

So I can't fault your opinion of him. My wife would basically agree with you!

Great chapter, though it just goes to show that Geoffrey is the master of the incomplete vidtory. I still can't help but feel bad for the Saxon guards and their families though, to be forced to either kill or watch their families be killed must've been unbearable. Hopefully such sacrifices will not need to be repeated in the future...

Thanks. He had quite the luck initially - landing some high profile captures in his first few battles. But things have been less fortunate lately. Still successful, but as you say, incomplete.

It was torture, and meant to be so. Not Geoffrey's most redeemable moment, for sure. It's not the bloody part of it, since Medieval assaults tended to be cruel if the city/keep fell. It's the method that makes it worse.

I personally disagree with some of your assessment of Geoffrey II. While it is true that he is often pretentious and domineering towards people he is also a huge improvement over both his father and grandfather...

He certainly has more of a conscience than his father. Geoffrey I always appeared to be a more civilized, good man than his father, but he arguably was worse with his lack of remorse for 99% of the things he did. Even Foulques had some regrets. Geoffrey's only regret at the end was with his actions toward Marguerite, and his own foolishness in chasing down his father's shadow.

Geoffrey II has much more of a conscience than either man. I think he aims to be better, with his more religious personality, but part of his character is how he twists himself to justify actions either his father or grandfather would do.

For now anyways, in hindsight it may have been a mistake to put the capital so close to the place Aquitaine was most likely to land its army.


English weather is English weather.


I mean this war has thus far been a cakewalk. If it were any easier it would be boring.


That CK2 siege mechanic being a bitch to you eh?


I'll bet.


Is this based on the actual fortifications of the place?


Of course, you do Geoffery. And I'm sure God will just love what you did to one of his most devoted worshipers. I am sure he is just smiling right now up on his cloud watching how you conduct yourself.


He is speaking for his Danish side, but the irony is this could also apply to King Phillipe, who after all spent the most successful years of his reign thrashing Saxons.


Yay


oh?


Goddammit.


The more I read the more surprised I am about just how sophisticated mere "mounds of dirt" can be.


Brilliant idea Geoffery. It is disturbing how quickly his mind came to that conclusion. You know for all the hatred the old bratty King got, I liked him. That King would never have agreed to something like this. Honestly, I still have trouble picturing Geoff doing it. I know his historical counterpart did something similar, and it's a nice shoutout but frankly, this feels a bit jarring. If nothing else Geoff wants to be seen as a hero, and heroes do not do things like this.


It's a logical plan and it makes sense when considering both Geoff's relationship with his men and his need to conserve manpower overall. This whole scene really drove home how villainous Geoffery is being. I doubt Elf will be happy to hear of what he has done.


I'm sure God is real please with you right now, your grace.


Again, another genius plan. Probably should have thought of that before commencing operation human shield, but you win some you loose some.


Why won't you just shut the fuck up and die already.


Was this actually a symbol of surrender in medieval times?


Real Arya energy.



A throne too good to be felled in one blow by the ax of a man like Knud.


Geoffery: "How dare you call my family the spawns of Satan now let me get back to threatening small children."


I think he is underestimating how deep loyalty can go. Also, I don't think anybody has any reason to expect good faith from this man, given what he did to the Keep's people after they surrendered.


hahahahahahhaha I know Geoff is going to win both because he is the main character and because of the way the war's going, but oh my god I want him to get his teeth kicked in.

Medevil war was often quite cruel by our standards but, and this is coming purely from being a listener of the History fo the Crusades Podcast, strikes me as being excessively cruel even for the standards of the time, and with little cause. These weren't heretics, nor had the army suffered particularly brutal casualties. From my limited, perspective of medieval warfare, Geoff's two main crimes were ordering the peasants to fill the ditch and executing the garrison after they waved the white flag. There were of course rules saying you could do whatever you wanted if the enemy kept fighting after the walls fell, but the walls of the keep didn't fall. I think the protocol for such scenarios was the garrison was allowed to surrender. They will have to bring in new peasants to serve Elf if she intends to make this place her capital. The current ones will be too disposed to hate Aquitaine. I'm surprised Geoff didn't think of that. The phrase don't shit where you eat comes to mind.

In fairness to Ecgwyn, she doesn't have any other holdings BUT Devon. So there's no real option to avoid it for her. It's problem that every English lord would be forced to deal with in some way, with the exception of the Norman sisters, since Adelise and Aevis both have holdings well inland. Sigeric as well. But the other dukes are coastal.

Any easier and it would be boring? Well, guess what I'm forced not to focus on in the coming chapters. ;) Honestly, at this point the only thing that can stop Geoffrey is if something happened to Elf. Which it being CK2, is not out of the realm of possibility. But there's not a whole lot the English can do on their own. They require outside intervention, whether divine or otherwise, to salvage this.

On the fortifications, I tried to do my research online which can be hit or miss. I will look at any pictures I can find, and anything else. In this case, I found out Lydford was fortified in Saxon times (to prevent against Viking raiders). There was a castle in Lydford, but it was a later building during the reign of the Plantagenets. However, there was a "Norman Fort" in the southwest portion of the town built after William's conquest. It was not a keep - it probably served as a grainery that fell into disuse around the 1130s in real life. The defenses listed (steep inclines on three sides, earthworks, ditch, palisade) are from what I read.

The keep aspect was an addition for the story, but also because of the change of history in this timeline. Rather than falling into disuse, Burgheard's rise as a prominent lord made me think he'd actually use this as his primary defensive holding (along with him being William the Conquerer's grandson), so he'd convert it from grain storage to an actual keep. But his rise was more recent, so the full on keep defenses would not have been finished yet. Hence the in between we see here.

Hope that explains it. A mix of actual history as well as some liberties required by the story.

Good point on Knud's Frankish heritage. Irony in some sense - Knud and Geoffrey carrying on their grandfathers' legacy from Rouen against the Saxons once again. And Knud is a bit better fighter than the old king Philippe, who I'm pretty sure got the craven trait at Rouen.

On Geoffrey's actions... they are harsh. But I think part of Geoffrey's previous concerns tend to be... post disaster, after something happens to someone he cares about. He felt badly for the midwife and her daughter... after his actions got the former killed and latter raped. He felt terrible about not listening to Herve... after Herve got killed partially due to Geoffrey's recklessness in not taking his full levy to Brittany. He felt bad for Sarrazine.... after he ignored the warnings other gave him and engaged in a relationship with her (that one might not consider exactly equal in nature). Even with Agnes, he feels bad about dismissing her, as she lays on her deathbed.

In other words, Geoffrey feels sorry and has regret. But that almost always comes after the fact. He sees what he's wrought and he feels bad about it. In some cases, he resolves never to do it again (as with Herve and arguably Aurilliac). In some cases, he slips back into it eventually (his affairs). And here, he feels bad about it after watching what his actions wrought. It is a step above his father, who rarely felt bad for anything he did, and the potential benefit is that he doesn't do it again. But... it's a scant consolation to those who suffer before he learns his lesson.

And no, Elf's probably not going to like that, though I'd imagine what she hears will be toned down quite a bit initially. If she ends up ruling from Lydford... then she probably won't be happy what she hears.

I try to replicate actual surrender themes and my quick research on white flags is that it did exist (possibly dating back to Roman times). Of course, that's no guarantee - medieval Europe was both a big place and an extensive period of time (I mean some people would date it at over 1000 years - from the end of the Roman Empire's crisis of the second century and Diocletian's reforms which created things like serfdom and dukes to the 15th century, so...), so it might well be anachronistic.

I did think of the Arya scene there. :)

My descriptions must not have been good enough on that throne destroying scene. I meant to convey Knud didn't fell it in one blow. It took quite a few strikes for him to render it into kindling.

In Geoffrey's mind, he's always at war with his "demonic" side. Sometimes the demonic side wins the battle.

Chalk up his belief they couldn't hide her under threat due to his arrogance. He figures he's beaten and broken them. Doesn't mean he's right. (And maybe he's wrong - there's got to be some reason Ecgwyn escaped, after all)

Yeah, I mean the best I can say for the Saxons is that they've inflicted some temporary humiliations on him (besieging Bordeaux, killing nearly a tenth of his men during Lydford) but yeah, it's unlikely they're going to do much more than that. They're stalling it out, but they're on their last legs hoping some outside intervention.

On surrender: from what I've read, the peaceful exit of the garrison would be if they pre-arranged something. Basically, the commanders knew they couldn't surrender too quickly, but they didn't want to be starved out, so they would surrender after a certain point. In this case, the keep didn't fall to assault, but it fell because of battle and the city fell due to assault.

I would say the one thing Geoffrey has yet to do is to take anything for himself. He's taken holdings for Aquitaine, but he's never actually taken a keep or city he has kept and had to rule after sacking it. When Geoffrey I took Charolais, Herve specifically asked him to spare the populace the best he could. Geoffrey II just has not thought of that calculation. At this point, he's still more thinking along the lines of his father - make it look nice for his wife. Not make it actually livable for his wife.

But then Geoffrey also probably thinks he's going to have to put down the Saxons in one way or another (a point Elf chastised him for last chapter) in order to avoid a William situation... so maybe he might still risk a Roman style decimation, even knowing the consequences.

A very detailed siege - Geoffrey's element may be the battlefield, but assaulting is also something he's good at, making the hard choices and unconsciously avoiding what the Iron Duke dreaded the most. Though I'm sure if he had that much of an advantage that the cost mattered little, Foulques would have assaulted walls often and gladly.

Ecgwyn might have escaped, but it is only a delay - a delay which will only serve to cause more suffering to both Saxons and the Aquitain army.

Knud channeling his inner viking truly makes him work hard for his further redemption. Then again, I'm wondering who he's plotting to kill now. He's like a martial version of Alias (though unlike him he also lacks subtlety outside of private discussions with his liege :p), with the addition of being Geoffrey's mentor while not being his main friend and ally.

I hadn't really written an assault yet, so I decided to try my hand at it. I've mentioned before I like to write different battle scenes and not repeat things too much.

Agreed on Ecgwyn's escape. It would have been better for everyone had she been caught. But CK2 wanted to make me wait. I guess in fairness, I didn't have to wait long to off Burgheard, given the relatively low plot power. So CK2 giveth, CK2 taketh away.

Knud's always plotting to kill someone it seems, so yep, quite like Alias. But he also seems to choose higher profile targets than Alias, who liked to murder his family members. Kinslayer yes, but also never killing anyone landed (besides possibly, his father). So I'd say Knud is worse.

I don't know how you manage to write chapters this good in just a week. Especially since you have kids, a marriage, and a job.

It's not easy. Though I admit I don't currently have a job (I did when I started this, but got the ax somewhat recently), the kid aspect takes a lot of time, especially given the whole semi-home schooling situation the pandemic has caused. My wife is a help though - she makes my writing better. But she also tempts me with other things - she's been getting us into tabletop RPGing.

To all - the previous chapter was a chance for me to write an assault. I tend to like to do new things in each battle scene - otherwise, I feel they become stale. (It's part of the reason I dislike writing them at this point - I'm running low on ideas on how to make them interesting) But I had not really written an assault yet, so I figured it was a good chance for that. As noted, the filling of the ditch was something the real life Geoffrey Plantagenet did, though it was over a much larger area, and probably resulted in far less casualties (though the book I own which singled out the siege didn't specify).

The next chapter will drop tomorrow barring any unforeseen issues. It has been finished and tackles a very different subject than the England war thanks to a somewhat minor event for Geoffrey but a major one for another character. And it gave me the chance to bring back a few other characters for it, so hopefully you enjoy it as much as I did writing parts of it.

Thanks as always for your questions, commentary, feedback and readership. It remains extremely appreciated, especially your patience for reading through long chapters!
 
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And for @Midnite Duke

I think that I am caught up to the point (ready to read chapter 222) that my thoughts will not be completely outdated. WARNING! The following may be a) lengthy b) politically incorrect c) non canon view of some characters. I will not be surprised if I am asked to never comment again. When I read Foulques' death in Spain, I thought of Joe Kennedy Jr. (older brother of President Kennedy). Both killed in war at young age after being groomed by father and grandfather from a young age for greatness. My question was who would be JFK? I was thinking, that Geoff or Alias would be the answer to complete the parallel, but my answer is King Geoffrey. Both had high charisma and scaled new heights (founded Kingdom of Aquitane; first Irish Catholic president).
Advice to King Geoff: 1) Ship Ana far, far away (Sri Lanka?). Why? a) As a daughter of Alias with an intrigue over 20, she is scary, scary dangerous. b) She is Mommy Dearest's spy. c) If Queen Elf catches you, she will wash down a meal of mountain oysters with a tankard of bad ale. 2) Ship mommy dearest to your Karling brother's abbey as you are her least favorite child. Proof: a) Making you give the Karling bastard a holding on your first day in front of your father's siblings after she boycotted the funeral was ill advised. b) She prefers your bride's slut sister to your bride. c) She boycotts your wedding but attends the coronation. She probably thinks that if she lays with the pope that he will canonize her dear saintly dad. 3) Make babies with Queen Elf. 4) Listen to Aunt Agnes!
Advice to Queen Mother Marguerite: 1) GET OVER IT! Yes, your dear father was cut down like a rabid dog by the Tin Duke and person unknown. (I feel that Agnes is mis-ided, no way does Foulques and Alearad allow Agnes anywhere near the killer. Agnes is probably protecting Alearad, as she knows, that as the daughter of the duke her worst punishment would be a blow to her reputation, but the non noble born Alearad would surely hang if involved in the murder of a noble.) QM, your father was a first class south end of a north bound donkey. He was a blackmailer (how else do you explain how an untalented, unlanded member of a minor family marries the French bride of the decade (combine stats (stats geek, sue me) and claims), wife beater (canon per Jabber), and child molester (no innocent 15yo seduces her fiancé's best friend). Yes, King Geoffrey cheats but never with your sister or best friend (do you even have a real friend?). For those who compare the King to Gilles, he never denies a child which is a greater sin than the seduction. Gentlemen upset that your wives stray: Keep Them Happy! 2) Be very glad that Alias predeceased the king. With the disrespect shown to the King by boycotting the funeral and promoting your Karling whelp, Alias would measure your life expectancy in hours.
Great marriages that did not happen: 1) Geoffrey and one of the Norwegian princesses. Haldora's sister even had one of the big four genetic traits. Geoffrey never needed Marguerite's claims which was the sole reason for the marriage. It is ironic that Marguerite, who had the highest title, had the weakest stats of Aines' three daughters. 2) Toulouse and Agnes. Jabber, that demanding voice that you are hearing, is Essa saying "Make It Happen". 3) Pharoah Geoffrey and Pharoah Agnes. If Geoffrey read 3000 year old Egyptian history instead of 1000 year old Roman history, this would be the result. Can you imagine, the housekeeping that Pharoah Agnes and Chief Minister Alias could do while Pharoah Geoffrey was on campaign? Duchess Essa would proclaim herself the Pharoahs' spiritual child and heir.
Jabber: I am missing a chapter: the funeral of King Geoffrey. Possible viewpoints: 1) a farmer or a townsman watching the procession 2) a friend of Geoff or Aines 3) one of the King's brothers 4) Agnes 5) Alias. I thank anyone who read to the end.

Two personal notes: 1) Stnylan, I left a comment on your old Kanem Bornu EU4 AAR. 2) How reliable is using the day of birth month to determine paternity? If someone would PM me, I have a situation in my current game that I would love another viewpoint.

On the advice - there's certainly reason for Geoffrey to end his relationship with Ana. But that 20 intrigue is scary! Getting on her bad side is a problem, in theory. But you'll see why he's hesitant to end things with her in the future.

Your Marguerite comments - the next chapter I'm posting deals with a lot of this actually! I know you're still behind but hopefully you'll like how I approach some of this when you get there. Much of this is addressed and touched upon. I do suspect you'll enjoy it when you get there.

Geoffrey I actually did lament, at one point, that he didn't marry Haldora instead of Marguerite, since they are basically the same age. But Foulques couldn't know then that Geoffrey would end up getting a massive amount of support from those in Aquitaine and Poitou for his claim, so Marguerite made sense for her claims at the time. And he was pretty much eating out of Aines' hand by that point anyway.

Geoffrey I actually has a few marriage candidates that might have been interesting. Ide of La Marche is one. Any of his de Poitou cousins. A Norman girl, since there were more of them at that point. And to say nothing of some of the other daughters of some Frankish lords.

Toulouse/Agnes was another one that nearly might have happened but he was always hiding! So it was hard to time that correctly.

Geoffrey/Agnes was technically impossible, unless I somehow converted to pagan-ism and reformed it (and that was impossible while I played them, since Holy Fury had not yet been released). Oddly, I don't think there are extra penalties to an unmarried brother and sister having an affair. There *is* an extra penalty for married adulterers as I have recently learned with the Duchess of Dauphine, who picked up the "Incestuous Adulterer" modifier. But I think I'd have to do some creative playing to end up with Geoffrey/Agnes both unmarried at the same time.

I probably should have done a Geoffrey I funeral chapter, but I had a desire to move on to really get going with the next generation, introducing both Geoffrey II and Ælfflæd.

On birthdates - very reliable. You can use the console to check secret fathers, but if a husband is the father of his wife's child, that child will share the same monthly birth date as its full-blooded siblings. (So June 13, May 13, December 13th would all be full-blooded siblings). It's the easiest way to tell if there is a secret bastard mixed in, because the husband (if he's the father)'s children will always share the same birth date, even if there are bastards mixed in.

I don't think it works with bastards in that even if they have the same father and mother, they won't share the same birth date. It works only for husbands with their wives.
 
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I personally disagree with some of your assessment of Geoffrey II. While it is true that he is often pretentious and domineering towards people he is also a huge improvement over both his father and grandfather...
Oh, they’re all rotten. No doubt about that. I just think that we apologize for and underestimate the impact of a jerk like Geoffrey on the universe. Remember, this is the guy who thought that after defeating a countess in battle, he should be able to rape her... and that she would like it. He’s the same guy who thought that he could smooth over knocking up his mistress with his wife and that she would be totally cool with it because the idea that he owed his wife fidelity was completely foreign to him.
I will fully concede the point that Geoffrey I sleeping with his sister (and every other woman in France) is sleazy and disturbing. Foulques was a foul tyrant. Nobody apologizes for or attempts to explain away their bad behavior, though. It’s very interesting that Geoffrey II has slightly moderated versions of both his father and grandfather’s worst traits... which makes him his own special and unique kind of awful.

I do love character debate!
It is my privilege to oblige you! Your story is very entertaining. I detest your protagonists... but I like hoping that they drop dead in some kind of humiliating way. I enjoy the women in your stories who tend to be strong and deserve far more power and better men than they’re stuck with. If the character debate makes you happy, I am delighted to repay you for the gift of your story, which is something I think we all can agree on.
 
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Oh, they’re all rotten. No doubt about that. I just think that we apologize for and underestimate the impact of a jerk like Geoffrey on the universe. Remember, this is the guy who thought that after defeating a countess in battle, he should be able to rape her... and that she would like it. He’s the same guy who thought that he could smooth over knocking up his mistress with his wife and that she would be totally cool with it because the idea that he owed his wife fidelity was completely foreign to him.
I will fully concede the point that Geoffrey I sleeping with his sister (and every other woman in France) is sleazy and disturbing. Foulques was a foul tyrant. Nobody apologizes for or attempts to explain away their bad behavior, though. It’s very interesting that Geoffrey II has slightly moderated versions of both his father and grandfather’s worst traits... which makes him his own special and unique kind of awful.


It is my privilege to oblige you! Your story is very entertaining. I detest your protagonists... but I like hoping that they drop dead in some kind of humiliating way. I enjoy the women in your stories who tend to be strong and deserve far more power and better men than they’re stuck with. If the character debate makes you happy, I am delighted to repay you for the gift of your story, which is something I think we all can agree on.

Did my wife write this? :)

In all seriousness, your points are all fair. While Geoffrey is a different type of character to his father and grandfather, it doesn't make him better morally. It just makes him different.

I think that while he is different it is something that does draw from his father, who generally gave off an air of being better than his own father but would find ways to stick in terrible and in some cases abusive punishments at those who displeased him. He particularly was bad with Marguerite for obvious reasons.

Geoffrey II in the previous chapter with Elf started down very similar roads. The repeated the insult of the Saxon prisoner and taking Guilhem is very much Geoffrey I style of punishments, even if in the latter, he probably didn't fully grasp the nature of his actions.

The only redeeming quality of Geoffrey II is that he ultimately backed down. Which, perhaps, he would not have done as an 18 year old. But the lengths had to go to make him back down and the risks she was forced to take does not speak well to him, at all.

You should sell your AAR to HBO or something so we can have something to really enjoy after the debacle that was Game of Thrones

Thank you for that high praise! I would if I could! And I promise to finish the storyline so that the writers won't run out of ideas.

To all - the next chapter will be up shortly barring any unforeseen issues. Hope you enjoy.
 
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Chapter 258 - March 1135
Before Plantagenet - Chapter 258
March 1135 - Huelgoat, Brittany

1135-Marguerite.jpg


“How’s the wine?”

Marguerite looked at her sister Mascarose, who had her cup at her mouth. The former Countess of Charolais smiled.

“Sweet,” she said. “I confess, I like Bordeaux’s wines far more than Charolais or here. I’m glad you brought some for the feast.”

“Then I will need to send you some,” Marguerite replied.

Silence fell once more as they sat in the queen mother’s guest chambers at a manor near Huelgoat in Brittany. Small talk was never easy, even for someone as well versed in it as Marguerite.

Of course, one might argue small talk shouldn’t be necessary to converse with family. Mascarose was her youngest sister, but the pair were not so far apart in age that they had not grown together. And for years they lived in the same locales, Angers and later Bordeaux.

But Marguerite was in a different world for much of it. Virtually imprisoned after her affair with Aubry Karling, and the bastard son it produced, Marguerite did not see her sister much in Angers, even though they lived in the same locale.

Things were a bit better when Marguerite and the rest of the Angevin court moved to Bordeaux following the ascension of her husband, but Mascarose had her own duties by that time as a baroness and mother. They remained distant.

So even now, as they both could sit having shared so many experiences separately, they struggled to experience anything together. But they had been brought together once more for an impromptu family reunion that for once had not been because of tragedy.

The occasion was the wedding of Ancel d’Anjou, heir to the Duchy of Brittany, to the daughter of Mascarose and her late husband Count Herve of Charolais, Plaisance de Semur.

It was a large gathering with many of the prominent lords of Aquitaine present, since most were related to both the bride and groom.

Three of Geoffrey’s councilors, Duke Guilhem along with his wife Marguerite the younger, Duke Adhemar and his son by the same name, and Bishop Edouard, attended for that reason.

Foulquesson's two full siblings, Philippe of Thouars, consort to Countess Sarrazine, and the Duchess Ermengarde made their way to Huelgoat. Philippe came alone, without the Countess and their two daughters. So too did Ermengarde, as she made the trip without her new husband, the Duke of Transjurania.

The dwarf duchess was married to her husband, who was 19 years her junior, and ruled lands that bordered Aquitaine to the east near the alps, a few years before. The union had already produced a child, a son. But Marguerite had barely interacted with her, as she usually didn't speak much with the Angevin side of the family.

1135-Duchess-Ermengarde.jpg


Naturally Mascarose was present for her daughter’s wedding, as was her teenage son, Count Geoffrey of Charolais, who had the duty of giving away his sister.
One conspicuous absence, however, was King Geoffrey himself.

The king remained in England with his wife and children, sending Prince Alias in his stead. Alias claimed his brother “would have loved to attend, but feels compelled to continue his efforts to raise the queen to her rightful place on the English throne.”

It was an argument Marguerite didn’t fully buy, remembering her son’s fury at the marriage of Ancel’s sister Marguerite the Younger to Duke Guilhem. She suspected Geoffrey’s sometimes petty behavior reared its ugly head here, even if few could fault the king for continuing his war across the channel.

Geoffrey had released Duke Simon to go with Alias, however, as well as Rogier and Cenolth d’Uzes, with the latter two first cousins to Plaisance through Mascarose’s sister, the late Ness de Limoges.

The other big absence was Princess Aines, who was left in a keep near Saumur. But that was hardly surprising - she was being kept mostly out of sight after birthing her second bastard. Technically still promised to Duke Simon, who didn’t not appear in a rush to end the betrothal, she was nonetheless being left under guard to avoid any further embarrassments.

There was always a fear of that at these get togethers. And since one of the more recent large gatherings involving the realm, the funeral for Plaisance’s father Count Herve, had featured the embarrassing revelation of the affair between Geoffrey and Countess Sarrazine, Marguerite hoped things would go better for her sister’s family this time.

And it appeared to. The ceremony went off well, with husband and wife married at the steps of a church in Huelgoat, ironically, not far from where Herve fell.

“Your father watches over you from here,” Mascarose had told her daughter. “That is why God allowed all of this. He wishes him to look out for you, always.”

It was a sweet thought and Marguerite hoped it was true. She knew she had not been as fortunate with her parents, after all.

But Plaisance did not appear thrilled the morning after the ceremony and feast, as she was mostly silent and generally downtrodden as she ate with many of the other prominent ladies who had come to the wedding. And Marguerite figured she might as well see how Plaisance was faring - it was as good a conversation as any.

“How is Plaisance?” Marguerite asked. “She seemed a bit down after everything.”

Mascarose sighed. “I am not surprised. She was not looking forward to this union.”

The queen mother’s brow furrowed. “Is my grandson so unappealing to her?”

“It is not him,” Mascarose said. “She fears marriage to any man. I think she is just not the type to enjoy… the physical parts of a union. But rest assured, I have told her she must perform her duties, and I saw that she did on their wedding night.”

1135-Plaisance-de-Semur.jpg


Marguerite nodded - she had skipped out on that part of the evening as Ancel took his new wife to the marital bed to consummate their union. But Beatritz, Mascarose, Foulquesson and a few others had.

She did have some sympathy for the girl - it was never nice to be in a marriage that was miserable - but if her objection was to the institution itself, then she was out of luck. Given she was her brother’s only surviving sister - his elder half-sister Eve had passed over a year before after the birth of her second child - Plaisance’s duty would be found as a wife, not a nun.

“It is not a problem I expect with my little Fry,” Mascarose said. “Already he is sweet on girls.”

“Yes, I saw him making eyes at his new brother-by-law’s sister, Guillaumette,” Marguerite said. “Have you found a wife for him yet?”

“Not yet,” Mascarose said. “And I am hesitant to have him marry Guillaumette, given we already have a union with that family. I look to nearby lands, both in Aquitaine and beyond. But it is no rush - he cannot be wed for another few years anyway.”

1135-Count-Geoffroy.jpg


“It is not too early to tie him down,” Marguerite said. “He is a count, and first cousin to the king. Surely you have plenty of candidates.”

“As I said, I am in no rush,” Mascarose said. “Who knows? Perhaps more options will open up soon, if your son is successful in England.”

And on that, Geoffrey appeared to be. Word had come back of his success in taking Lydford, and he had moved on to Exeter. The English had yet to attack again either there or in Aquitaine with another army, which created a growing confidence it would only be a matter of time before they submitted.

“Besides,” Mascarose continued, “Fry may be sweet on some girls, but his real desire is to go to England with his cousins and join the king in his war. He was hurt being left out in the first place, with so many others going.”

“Geoffrey insisted Alias go,” Marguerite said. “As he demanded when he came here to Brittany. I could not stop him.”

“I did not mean him, but the prince and new princess?” Mascarose asked.

“I would have preferred the prince remained,” Marguerite said. “But Geoffrey wished it. As for the princess, once her mother decided to accompany the prince, I saw no reason for her not to go.”

“And Duke Simon?” Mascarose asked.

“That is a bit different,” Marguerite conceded.

“Because he is a duke and my son is just the count?” Mascarose asked.

Marguerite guessed it probably was that. And it might be difficult to stomach for the young count of Charolais, who was currently out riding with Alias, Simon and Adhemar the Younger. Of them, he was likely to be the one of least prominence for most of their lives. He would have to get used to that type of disappointment.

“Simon is more than a simple duke,” Marguerite said. “Our grandnephew stands to inherit nearly a third of the realm. And he will be my son-by-law, and Geoffrey’s brother-by-law. It is different - and there is no disrespect intended, sister. Just facts.”

Mascarose nodded. “I know. I am not naive. I just wish Geoffrey would have considered his cousin.”

“You speak to me as if I have some say over this,” Marguerite told her. “You might be better off speaking to Alias. He has more of his brother’s ear these days than me.”

Mascarose waved her off. “Nonsense. You are still his mother.”

“A mother he stopped listening to years ago,” Marguerite said. “Trust me.”

“You speak as if I do not have a son of my own,” Mascarose noted. “A son who is now feeling his oats and has been handed the responsibilities of a man in his father’s stead. But I make sure he always hears me, even if sometimes he does not listen.”

“A count is no king,” Marguerite said. “Not to disparage my nephew. It is just different. And he is younger than my sons.”

“Say what you will sister,” Mascarose replied. “But you are still a mother, and a former queen. Your words carry more weight than most.”

Marguerite remained unconvinced by her sister’s argument, but found an opportunity to drop the subject thanks to a knock at the door.

The guest turned out to be Bishop Edouard, their nephew, who bowed before his aunts, likely out of respect. After all, neither one of them held any official title anymore, though Mascarose was her son’s regent.

“Forgive my intrusion, auntie Mascarose, Lady Marguerite,” he said. “But I have an important message for Lady Marguerite.”

The queen mother’s brow rose. “Let us hear it then.”

Edouard frowned. “It would be best if you heard it in private, my lady.”

Marguerite and Mascarose traded glances, but the younger woman stood from her seat.

“As you wish, nephew,” she said. “I shall not go far, so just summon me when you are finished.”

Marguerite nodded but Edouard remained more stoic, making no expression toward Mascarose then, or when she departed. Once the door closed, Edouard slowly approached Marguerite.

His demeanor was nervous, almost fearful. And Marguerite grew concerned, for it was clear he had a message he did not want to deliver.

“What is this news you bring me, nephew?” Marguerite asked. “Has some embarrassment befallen Alias while he was out with his cousins?”

“Not Alias my lady,” Edouard said. “Though he will need to know as well.”

The bishop sighed. “It is your son. He is dead.”

Marguerite’s heart skipped a beat. “Geoffrey… Geoffrey is dead?!”

Edouard suddenly blanched. “No! No, my lady. Forgive me. I did not mean him. I just, I refer to Geoffrey as ‘the king.’ I… I forgive me.”

Marguerite was speechless, left to shake her head. It is not Geoffrey, came through. But if it wasn’t him…

“Your eldest son,” Edouard said. “Bishop Aubry. I am truly sorry, my lady.”

1135-Aubry-dies.jpg


Marguerite again remained unable to speak. Her eldest child, a bastard sired with Aubry Karling - the affair that had arguably ruined her life, and certainly did her marriage.

The boy had lived a life of exile from his half-siblings, moving to wherever Geoffrey I wasn’t. And upon her husband’s death, Marguerite attempted to do right by her son, getting Geoffrey II to grant him a bishopric.

It wasn’t ideal of course. She still would have no relationship with Aubry, as he became the bishop of Maulevrier, which was just south of Cholet, somewhat near Angers. And she had annoyed Geoffrey to do it, as he didn’t like the idea of granting his half-brother anything. But at least she had given Aubry a place after he lacked one for years.

She tried to check up on him. But it was always so difficult to do more than that. What could she say to him? She was his mother in name, but hardly in much else. For most of his life, he’d been away from her.

And now he would be away forever.

“When did this happen?” Marguerite finally managed.

“Four days ago,” Edouard said. “They sent word as quickly as they could.”

“I wish to be there,” Marguerite told him. “When he is laid to rest.”

Edouard looked down. “I fear he may have been already. While laymen often flout the church’s wishes of… using techniques to delay burial, most bishops respect our doctrine. He has likely been committed by now. Though if you would like to visit his resting place, and speak with those of the parish, I could arrange it. I could even come with you, if you wish.”

Marguerite could barely find the words. Her son was gone and now she could not even properly say goodbye?

“I… I… I would like to go, yes,” was what she managed.

Edouard nodded. “I will arrange it.”

He paused before adding: “My lady. Aunt, if there is anything I can do...”

Marguerite shook her head.

“If you wish, I can send your sister away,” Edouard said. “Or send her back if you wish company.”

“No…”Marguerite said. “Send her away. But tell her why.”

“I will, my lady,” Edouard said. “And, once more, my condolences.”

Edouard bowed and turned to leave. But Marguerite called for him to remain.

“Edouard… do you… do you think Geoffrey will do anything to honor him?” Marguerite asked. “He is… he was his brother. Half-brother… but…”

Edouard pursed his lips and then looked down. “I… I can’t know, my lady. He is preoccupied with England and…”

Marguerite shook her head. She got the message.

“Thank you, nephew,” she said. “I do wish to be alone now.”

Edouard bowed before her before departing.

When the door closed, a weakness overcame her, and Marguerite stumbled her way over to her bed. Her head swimming, it felt as if she were drowning.

My eldest… gone, she thought. Like his brother. My two boys. My sons. It can’t be. He was not old. He was not...

She fell onto bed, still struggling to breathe. Feeling ill, she began to dry heave, in between sobs as the tears began to stream down her cheeks.

…..

Despite having done this before, Marguerite was still not ready for what faced her in Maulevrier.

She had laid her son Foulques to rest nearly two decades prior. It was a thought that needed no help in remaining fresh in her memories, and this made it worse.
Kind words were spoken to her by all at the abbey. They spoke of Aubry’s devotion to the church and how pious he was.

“At time where so many of our brethren seek to exploit their flock for material gain, Bishop Aubry was a man of strong moral fiber and a blessed soul,” one of the priests told her. “You should be proud of the man he became, my lady.”

The words stung, for Marguerite felt she had little input in that. The monks and those who tended to him while she was kept away - they deserved the credit. All she had done was make his life difficult.

But those feelings of guilt were nothing compared to how she was overcome by emotion as she saw her son’s freshly dug grave. Marguerite fell to her knees in tears.
His final resting place was a simple grave, without even a hint of the illustrious blood that had flowed in his veins. A child of the Karlings and of the de Poitous, two of the most powerful families in Francia over the past few centuries… left to this. Obscurity. Swept away… soon to be forgotten by all.

What she would have given to have Aubry buried in a crypt. But she could not bring herself to even ask Geoffrey to place him with his half-brother Foulques, for she knew he would refuse. And he could not join his Karling ancestors - no bastard could ever dream of such a privilege.

She was not alone on the day. Mascarose had accompanied her to Maulevrier, citing she could never abandon her eldest sister. So too did Duchess Beatritz, perhaps out of respect to her one full-blooded sibling.

While it seemed as minor a thing as could be, it was not to be scoffed at - Marguerite’s brother Adhemar was nowhere to be found. She knew why - her youngest sibling would not risk having his presence being construed as an insult to the late king Geoffrey I, especially since Geoffrey II did not seem to care for his half-brother.

Of greater sting was Alias asking out of accompanying her. He claimed to have to return to Geoffrey in Exeter, having not been given leave for anything but the wedding. Marguerite could barely muster the strength to fight him, as she preferred Alias’ cowardice in this instance to Geoffrey’s potential coldness.

Still, despite the support from her sister and eldest daughter, Marguerite found herself unable to muster much conversation with either. The small talk she could normally manage was a bridge too far. She was silent on their journey, simply listening as Mascarose commented on the world around them, the words going into one ear and out the other. And at night she would remain alone, crying herself to sleep.

This night was no exception, as Marguerite was granted her own quarters. In a cruel sense of irony, it was Aubry’s, for a new bishop had yet to be appointed and Marguerite’s status as the queen mother meant she was above sleeping with the rest of her party, Mascarose and Beatritz included, in the abbey.

She could not sleep. Her eyes burned and her throat was raw. She wished to stop her tears. To stop her sobs. But she could not do that either.

At the table were multiple cups, surrounding a pitcher of wine. It had been set there by those at the abbey for her, assuming she would host her sister and daughter. Marguerite had not and the cups remained empty, while the pitcher was full.

With a small sigh, Marguerite plopped herself down in a chair at the table and poured herself a cup. She said nothing, but sipped, letting the tart red wine burn her throat as it went down. The pain almost felt good… a contrast to the rest of her body, which felt numb.

My first born, Marguerite thought as she put down the drink. My poor child.

“Care for some company? I could use a drink.”

Marguerite’s heart skipped a beat, for she had not heard the door open, nor footsteps approached. But opposite her, standing with her hands over the chair stood the thin figure of Agnes d’Anjou.

“You?!” Marguerite exclaimed. “Impossible! You’re dead!”

1131_Agnes_dies.jpg


“And yet still unable to escape the problems of this family,” Agnes lamented. “Truly, I suffer for my sins.”

“Of which there are a great many,” Marguerite said.

Agnes eased herself into the chair and let loose a sigh. “Well I never denied that, did I?”

Marguerite eyed her. She had long heard stories that ghosts might appear before a person before they died. And if that were the case here, she supposed it was fitting that Agnes would be the one to collect her.

Still, she wanted to know for certain: “What do you want? Why are you here? To take me to the hereafter?”

Agnes shook her head as she poured herself a drink, leaving Marguerite befuddled of her intentions.

“Then what?” she continued. “To gloat over my son’s death?”

“No,” Agnes said. “I know what it is like to lose a child before what should be their time. And a child who you feel your actions punished.”

“We are not alike,” Marguerite insisted. “You insult me to even suggest it.”

“In some ways no,” Agnes said as she poured wine into another cup and placed it to the side. “In this? Conceiving bastards right after our sixteenth birthdays, embarrassing our families, but managing to find a way for them to have some place in the world… only to have them die fairly young, without having ‘lived’ as we define it? I say we are quite the same.”

Marguerite pursed her lips and looked away. She hated when Agnes had a point.

“You did the best you could,” Agnes told her.

“I don’t need or want your pity,” Marguerite said.

“It is not pity to state fact,” Agnes said. “Given what could have happened to the boy, that he found himself a bishop is no small thing. You did that. His half-siblings never would have aided him so.”

“A small consolation for the life I forced upon him to begin with,” Marguerite said. “Growing up, alone. With no true family. Shuttled from drafty keep to drafty keep to stay out of my father-by-law’s way… then my husband’s… always knowing himself to be the cause of misery. Of discord… of regret…”

“Unavoidable,” Agnes said. “Sadly.”

“And that is my fault,” Marguerite said.

“You made a terrible mistake,” Agnes said. “As did I. But it could not be undone. The best you could do is make up for it. Which you did.”

“It is never enough,” Marguerite said. “Nothing I could do was enough. Others suffered… but in some way, they were responsible.”

“My brother?” Agnes asked.

Marguerite narrowed her gaze. “Not initially… but he paid me back and then some. My son… what could he do?”

“He lived his life,” Agnes said.

“I don’t even know how he did,” Marguerite said. “He was my own child… my first child. And I didn’t even know him. I had no idea he was ill. I had no idea he might pass. And he was buried so fast, I could not even witness it. Your daughter… you knew her. You could… care for her in whatever way you managed. You were her mother. I wasn’t even that.”

“You couldn’t be,” Agnes said. “Not if you were to be a mother to your other children. And they benefited.”

“So he was sacrificed for them?” Marguerite asked. “And for what? My poor Foulques is dead as well. Beatritz dislikes her younger siblings… and tolerates me because I am her best ally. Aines…”

Marguerite’s voice trailed off for a moment. Then she continued. “Alias already pulls away from me, as he should. And Geoffrey… he’s never needed me. He had you.”

“You sell yourself short,” Agnes said. “I could be his teacher. I could not be his mother.”

“That’s not what the rumors say,” Marguerite replied.

Her stomach twisted at her own words. Those hurtful tales… some of which she believed, some of which she didn’t. Why did she even voice it? Just to spite a specter?

“You don’t truly believe that,” Agnes said as she finished her wine. Looking into the cup she added: “Besides, it was such a foolish one. I was not even with child when he was born. Such stupidity.”

Then Agnes stood up and turned to leave. Marguerite reached her hand out toward her.

“Wait!” she said. “Where are you going?”

“Sadly nowhere,” Agnes said. “I am to wait… for how long? Your guess is as good as mine for when he shall come to me. But I shall endeavor to help until then, as I always have.”

“Like with your murderous father?” Marguerite demanded.

“And with your inexperienced son,” Agnes said. “But I have tried to aid you as well. Penance if you will - as paltry as it is.”

Marguerite shook her head. “Paltry is right. And besides… you cannot help me now.”

“True,” Agnes said. “Which is why I have brought her instead.”

“Her?” Marguerite asked.

And suddenly when Marguerite shifted her gaze to the side of the table, she caught sight of a youthful woman. Her black hair cascaded down to her shoulders freely, and her eyes met Marguerite’s with a piercing gaze.

It was a face Marguerite had not seen in decades - the face of Aines de Poitou.

1135-Aines-de-Poitou.jpg


“Mother?”

“So you do remember my face,” Aines said. "It has been a long time."

“I could never forget the woman who gave me life,” Marguerite said. “And who, in some ways, stole it as well.”

Aines rolled her eyes. “So dramatic. I hoped you would outgrow it, but here you are - with hair white as snow and still over embellishing the world around you.”

“You killed my father!” Marguerite shouted. “It is not over embellishing anything!”

“Yes,” Aines said. “I took his life. Not yours.”

The specter took a cup of wine from the table before her and sipped it. A scowl formed on her lips.

“These wines around the Loire never compared to what we have in Aquitaine,” Aines said. “Couldn’t you have told these priests to use one of the barrels you brought with you?”

“That is what you wish to talk about?” Marguerite demanded. “Not that you killed my father… your husband… and did not think I would be affected?”

“No, I did not think you would learn of it,” Aines said. “It is not as if I wanted the world to know Foulques killed him. Unfortunately, sometimes these things happen.”

“Yes, some sad note in the larger plan. That’s all I was.”

Marguerite’s eyes widened at the sound of a man’s voice. A man she had not seen or heard from in decades.

“Father?”

Emerging from the shadows, Adhemar de Limoges approached his daughter. He smiled as he looked down upon her. He leaned forward to kiss her, but Marguerite felt nothing upon her forehead.

1135-Adhemar-de-Limoges.jpg


“You have grown well,” he said. “Beautiful and wise.”

Marguerite shook her head. “Beautiful once, perhaps. Wise? Never.”

“You were a queen,” Adhemar said. “One who navigated many treacherous waters. A fool would have drown for sure.”

Aines smirked. “You would know.”

Adhemar turned and slapped Aines across the face. Holding her cheek she looked to Marguerite.

“You see how he treats me?” Aines asked. “You remember, don’t you? It was not as if he did not do this in front of you and your sisters.”

Marguerite lowered her eyes. She didn’t remember much of her childhood anymore, but sometimes when she closed her eyes, she would see it.

“You… you were never an easy wife,” Marguerite said.

“My thoughts exactly, daughter,” Adhemar said.

Aines shook her head. “Pathetic. You are so beholden to a false memory of this man that you would excuse for him what you would not for anyone else? Would you like it if I said you deserved all that you received from your husband and his family? You did lay with another, after all.”

Marguerite frowned. “I would not like it. But it would be true. What I have suffered… what I have endured, perhaps it is a penance of sorts.”

Tears came to her eyes again. “But for what? My poor son still suffered. Aubry… Foulques… both of them dead before their time. What has my suffering earned them?”

“They were not exactly paupers at their end,” Aines said. “But even so, they are not your only children, my dear.”

1135-Count-Foulques.jpg


“It is true,” Adhemar said. “Your son is king of a powerful realm and soon of two realms. It is something to be proud of. He could not have done it without you.”

“He could have,” Marguerite said. “All he needed was his father. And his aunt. I gave him life… but little else.”

Aines rolled her eyes. “You speak of it as if that is nothing. I have yet to meet a man, great or otherwise, who has managed something without living.”

“It was my duty,” Marguerite said.

“Had you simply given up, in those days when you were imprisoned in Angers,” Aines began, “then he would not exist. You struggled. You lived. Your resiliency is nothing to scoff at - for one can accomplish a great deal by simply… existing.”

“What would you know of that?” Adhemar asked. “You who did not see much past your 30th year.”

Aines turned her scowl to her husband. “It is one way. But it is not the only way - I packed much into my short life. Why, without my efforts, none of this would be possible.”

“Yes,” Adhemar said. “Our daughters would not have suffered so. Poor Ness forced to be that disfigured monster’s lover. Our eldest imprisoned, nearly raped, and certainly left to suffer.”

“Our youngest daughter,” Aines interrupted, “wife of one of the realm’s most respected lords, and mother to a count. Our youngest, the Duke of Gascony. To say nothing of our grandson, King of Aquitaine and soon to be King of England. Or one of our other grandsons, Duke of Poitou. Our great grandson, Duke of Toulouse and one day Poitou. Another shall have Brittany. And yet another, of course, Aquitaine and England.”

Adhemar’s frown suddenly became a small grin. “Yes… that is true. I have much to be proud of… my cousins - fools that they were, denied my greatness. And look now… my descendents will be the most powerful men in all of Christendom.”

Aines laughed. “Your cousins were not fools. You did none of this. You provided your seed. But any man could have done that. I carried our children. I gave them life. Then I provided for them. I made our eldest a future duchess, where she would one day be a queen. I placed Ness in the court of Angers, and then my memory is what drew Foulques to her… to sire in her the future Duke of Poitou and all that would follow. It was my efforts that would get Masacrose in the right position to become Countess of Charolais one day. And if not for the lust and desire I had nurtured in Foulques, our son would not be the Duke of Gascony today. I did it all… you did nothing.”

Adhemar slapped Aines again. “You lying, disrespectful bitch!”

Marguerite’s stomach twisted at the sight, as she could hear the smack ringing in her ears. But despite the blood from her lip, Aines simply smiled.

“My apologies… I speak falsely husband,” she admitted. “You did have the decency to die. But then, I suppose I initiated that as well.”

Adhemar went to strike her again, but this time Aines caught his hand. When Adhemar tried to wrench it free, he seemed unable to. He struggled, his arm shaking as Aines refused to release it from her grasp.

“Un...hand me!” he ordered.

“You do not rule over me,” Aines said. “Those days are long since past, husband.”

She pulled Adhemar down, twisting and turning his arm until he was on his knees before her. But even then she did not release him, squeezing and closing her fingers around his arm so much it caused him to scream.

“Mother!” Marguerite pleased. “Please! Release him!”

“You would show him mercy?” Aines snapped. “After you watched him hit me?”

“I… I…” Marguerite stammered.

Aines, scowling, turned her gaze back to her husband.

“You are nothing,” she spat. “A pathetic excuse for a man that my mad father forced upon me. You died as you live, sad, pathetic and forgotten.”

He welped loudly once more, before crumpling to the ground. Only then did Aines release him, as Adhemar laid motionless on the floor. When Marguerite peered over to him, she saw his eyes, lifeless and cold, his face frozen in horror.

As she had envisioned throughout her life, when she thought of what must have happened the moment he realized what was to befall him at the inn that night he died.

“How… how could you?” Marguerite demanded.

“It is not enough I had to endure him in life?” Aines asked. “Now you wish me to in death as well? Even our vows were not so demanding.”

“He was my father!” Marguerite shouted.

“Does that justify his actions?” Aines demanded. “That he sired you means I must deal with his insults, his abuse and his disgraceful actions, for eternity? You would have me suffer so?”

“He is your husband!” Marguerite shouted.

“He is not my God!” Aines exclaimed. “And you, of all people, should know better. You, who betrayed oaths to your husband right as you barely finished speaking them!”

“I honored him later,” Marguerite said.

“Ah yes, because that makes up for it,” Aines scoffed. “Here is an uncomfortable truth, my dear. Your father was scum. I hated him. And all those knew him - whether they were courtiers in Angers or his cousins… felt the same. And had he not been killed, you would have hated him too. He should thank me - I am the only reason anyone has a positive opinion of him.”

Marguerite, her eyes blurred by the tears in her eyes, simply shouted. “I hate you! You ruined everything! Everything!”

Aines rolled her eyes. “There again you go with the drama. I freed myself from a man who would be a tyrant if he had the talent. In the process, I saved my descendants from obscurity, and turned them into something so much more. Exactly what you desired with the bastard you sired, even if he nearly did ruin everything.”

“Do not speak of him in such a way!” Marguerite shouted.

“I shall speak of him however I please,” Aines said. “I am your mother, and nothing you can say will ever change that. And nothing you did ever changed what he was.”

Marguerite wanted to argue. She wanted to scream. But at what? A ghost? What would that do to someone long dead, beyond her reach?

Meanwhile, Aines sipped her drink and then met Marguerite’s gaze square. “You see my dear, that is the difference between you and me. When I didn’t like my situation, or that of my children, I worked to change it. You? You just wallow in it. And wallow in it you have… for decades now. Even as those who took part in your misery fall away, you remain, clinging to it tighter than you do your own children. Is it any wonder you feel a failure?”

Marguerite swallowed hard. Once more, her mother’s words cut deep. As they always did, even when she lived.

“It is more than a feeling,” Marguerite said. “My failure… it is real. You know it. You’ve said it.”

“I do not think you a failure,” Aines said. “I think you have failed, at times. But there is a difference. Everyone fails. It is how one recovers which proves their measure.”

“And I did not,” Marguerite said.

“You did enough to survive,” Aines said. “As I said, it is useful. But you did not thrive, as I would have. That is a shame, for you were capable.”

“I do not want to be like you,” Marguerite said. “I never wanted to be like you.”

“But your sons do,” Aines reminded her. “They wish for power. They wish for influence. So to, do your daughters. You cannot deny them this, any more than I can deny your feelings. You cannot hide from who you are, the blood in your veins, or theirs.”

Marguerite fell silent. She knew this. It was something she had long lamented, but knew she could not change. And it always left her depressed.

“You spend too much time looking back,” Aines said. “Focusing on past mistakes. Rarely an eye to the future. You did so with Geoffrey, out of fear. But regardless of your reason, it was to his benefit. Now you should do so again. Move on. Let Aubry go. Let Foulques go. They have their peace. You must find yours.”

“Should I forget what I have wrought on my poor sons?” Marguerite demanded. “Should I just forget how my actions harmed them?”

“If you refuse to learn from your mistakes?” Aines demanded. “Yes. It would be better for everyone if you simply ignore that suffering and move forward.”

“I cannot be a cold, heartless woman, like you,” Marguerite said.

“You have long been colder than me,” Aines said. “But if you wish to be different, then actually be different. Learn from your errors. As I said, you have other children.”

“There is little I can do for Geoffrey,” Marguerite said. “Nor Alias. Beatritz is a woman, long grown, with children of her own. My time is done.”

“I wonder,” Aines said. “Do you forget the other girl because she is named for me?”

“She tried to kill her own family,” Marguerite said. “Something even you would not have done.”

“And yet… she remains your daughter,” Aines said. “You simply… wish her to suffer in virtual exile as you have done, for what?”

“For her crimes,” Marguerite said. “They are legion, in my opinion.”

“What’s the point?” Aines asked. “If you wished to punish her, you should have killed her. Otherwise… this means nothing, except fostering hate within her.”

“Since when do you care for such things?” Marguerite demanded.

“Since it will do nothing for any of your children long-term,” Aines said. “If you could see past your anger for a moment, you would realize that.”

“What… do you mean?” Marguerite asked.

“The girl will always be a valuable piece, so long as she lives,” Aines said. “As is, she will become Duchess of Toulouse soon. But even if she doesn’t, she will have sway and power. Whether she is sent to a convent, or to the Christians in the Baltic, her blood will carry enough weight to be a threat to the rest of your family, no matter what is done.”

Marguerite felt her stomach twist. Her mother’s words rang true. Yet she felt powerless. What could she do now? Except...

“You wish for me to…” Marguerite started. But she could not bring herself to finish.

“That is one solution,” Aines said. “It would be the ultimate sacrifice… for you and her. But… perhaps it may not be necessary.”

“What do you mean?” Marguerite demanded.

“It is a funny thing… relationships between parents and children,” Aines said. “Sometimes we think our words do not matter. But they have a way of resonating… for years to follow. Look at you and me - even now you cannot forget what I have done and said. It shapes you even now.”

Aines paused for a moment and looked away.

“It is not just us, of course,” Aines said. “Your husband and his father. Your son and his father. Your son and you. Your daughter is no exception. What you say to her matters. I do not know if she can be salvaged. But… the way I see it, you must try.”

“I… she fills me with rage,” Marguerite said. “Frustration. I failed her as a mother. As I did Aubry. As I did Foulques. They did not harm others though. She wished to.”

“And your eldest sons are dead,” Aines said.

The words felt like a knife to her gut. And she was unable to speak. However, Aines did not release her from her gaze.

“But your daughter is not,” Aines reminded her. “So all is not lost. You may continue to wallow in your misery, lamenting your multitude of failures, or you may resolve to do better, so that she does not suffer the same fate… and drag your other children down with her. But it is your choice, my dear.”

“How can I save her?” Marguerite asked. “She will not listen.”

Aines shrugged. “Then cut the limb off. It is what I would do. But you are not me. So I would suggest using all the wits and resilience you used to outlive your many enemies, and focus them to the one thing left that you can save.”

Aines stood up. “I have made you listen, despite all that you hate me for. I would think your daughter, who wronged you, would be a much easier task.”

“But how?” Marguerite asked. “I thought you all were here to usher me to the beyond.”

Aines smiled. “No my dear. Your time will come soon enough. But not yet.”

Marguerite looked at her with wide eyes. Then, when she blinked, Aines was gone. The room was settled… as if no one had been there. The wine cups were empty… but perhaps they had always been so? Her father? Gone. Agnes as well.

And Marguerite’s eyes fell to the table before her. She felt empty. She felt worthless. She felt alone.

….

Days later, Marguerite sat alone once more in a small manor near the town of Saumur.

It was an area much smaller than she was used to these days, given she had spent the past few decades in a palace. This residence had but a main hall and a singular bedroom, which Marguerite had decided to share with her sister on this occasion, her daughter having gone back to Brittany.

But at this moment, Mascarose was down in the hall, as Marguerite awaited the guards to arrive with her guest. A guest, who was a resident of the nearby keep.

The door was opened and the guards entered. Unbound but still a virtual prisoner, Aines d’Anjou entered the chamber.

1135-Princess-Aines.jpg


The Princess of Aquitaine had been shifted from keep to keep, with an occasional manor mixed in, over the past few years. Between her murder plot, and embarrassing two out of wedlock children, it was considered best to keep her out of sight.

Even here, she was not given the greatest of conditions. She was not given this room in the manor. Instead, she was kept in the draft keep nearby, under close guard, with a few servants.

Aines was thinner than when Marguerite had last seen her. But that was hardly surprising - she wasn’t living the most glamorous of lives in a pseudo exile. In some ways, she had stumbled into Aubry’s life.

Though this is entirely her doing, Marguerite thought.

The guards left and Aines stood before her. Despite her suffering, Aines did not cow, standing defiant before her mother, scowling in a manner that was reflective of her namesake.

“You summoned me,” Aines said.

“You have done a great wrong,” Marguerite told her. “It is scheming as your grandmother would have done. So too your grandfather. Scoundrels that they were.”

“I have heard your disgust of me before, mother,” Aines said. She paused. “Am I permitted to call you that now? Or is it still forbidden?”

Marguerite frowned. Such hate. Such anger. Another failure.

The words came surprisingly naturally. “I am sorry, Aines.”

To that, Aines’ eyes grew wide. “You… you what?”

“I am sorry,” Marguerite repeated. “I failed you. As I failed all my children in some way or another. Aubry. Foulques. Beatritz. Even Geoffrey and Alias, but perhaps they had enough other people around them to salvage them. Or perhaps they are doomed as well. I do not know.”

Marguerite sank her face into her hands as her eyes stung. The thought of her eldest sons made her chest ache once more. But she knew she had to press forward.

“You did what I have done,” Marguerite said. “In bedding a man who was not your husband. But at least you did not do it while you were already married. I did not teach you to plot against kin - that was the others. But did not fight hard enough against it. Not like I tried with Geoffrey. Even Alias.”

Aines’ brow was raised as she seemed uncertain of what to make of any of this. Marguerite couldn’t blame her - she wasn’t certain what to make of this either.

“You… you came here to apologize for this?” Aines asked. “I… I do not know what to say.”

“I did not just come here to apologize,” Marguerite said. “I came to… to do what I failed to do first. That is… be a proper mother to you.”

“I think that is too late,” Aines said. “I wanted a proper mother and not an unfeeling ghoul years ago. There were times when I tried to speak to you. When I tried to ask about… the urges and thoughts I had. But it was never anything but dismissal and… and…”

“You’re right,” Marguerite said. “But it is never too late to start. For you need only look to me to see what not to do.”

The queen mother sighed. “Your eldest brother, Aubry is dead.”

Aines’ eyes widened. “I… I had not heard.”

Marguerite nodded. “I visited his grave. He died away from his blood. Isolated. Not forgotten by men, for he was a man of the cloth. But forgotten by his family. And afterthought to all. I failed him.”

“Now you understand why I wanted more for my children,” Aines said.

Marguerite shook her head. “You misunderstand. Aubry would not have been served by being a lord. Or a king. He would have been served in a world that cared and thought something of him. Your children need not be anything more than what they are to achieve that. But they need a mother who can do that. And if they only get a schemer, then they will be doomed to suffer the same fate as my eldest son.”

Aines eyed her. “I don’t understand.”

“Your fate does not end in that dusty keep,” Marguerite said. “You have another chance. Do it well enough and you will be Duchess of Toulouse and eventually Poitou. You will still be a princess, sister to a king. Your children will have a chance to be something in your brother’s court… if you do right by your family.”

“Geoffrey hates me,” Aines said. “I don’t blame him. But he does. He will never treat me as his blood again.”

“You are his sister,” Marguerite said. “He could have killed you. Or banished you. Or sent you to a convent. He instead allowed you to keep your union. Most people do not get such an opportunity after crimes such as yours. Make something of it. That is my mothering… advice to you.”

“And if I don’t listen?” Aines asked.

“Then your children will suffer,” Marguerite said. “As mine have. You included. If that is what you want, by all means, do as you do. For mark my words, it will happen. If you want something better for them, heed my warning instead.”

Marguerite stood up. “Now then, I have lost another son. But I have sworn I will not lose my daughter without a fight.”

“What do you mean?” Aines demanded.

“I have left my children to their own devices long enough,” Marguerite said. “You shall return with me to Bordeaux and take up residence in my chambers. And I shall truly watch you, and guide you… as I should have done before instead of letting you be.”

“Return?” Aines asked. “Has Geoffrey sanctioned it?”

“No,” Marguerite said. “But he is too busy to care. And his children are not in Bordeaux. Just yours… and I have not forgotten that promise, should you ever be caught plotting against your family again.”

Aines swallowed hard. “What if he sends me away again?”

“He will not,” Marguerite said. “So long as you keep your nose clean. And your legs closed.”

Aines blushed. “Mother… I…”

“If you are with child again, tell me now,” Marguerite demanded.

“I am not,” Aines said. “After Giselle’s birth, the guards told me they had license to skewer Count Gui if he came anywhere near me.”

She lowered her head and her voice. “Or anyone else who was caught in my bed.”

Marguerite wished to laugh, but it brought back uncomfortable memories. Instead she just looked at her daughter square.

“Then let us return to Bordeaux. It is time for you to finally learn how to be a true lady… and believe it or not, you will find few better teachers than myself.”

Aines just eyed her and Marguerite knew she didn’t believe it. And Marguerite didn’t know if she believed it herself.

But she had meant what she said. She did not know if she could truly save her daughter. But she owed it to all of her children to finally try.
 
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Tragic though Aubrey's death may be, it has at least prompted some soul searching in Margurerite. Hopefully she can make up for her failures by helping her youngest children as much as she can, they need it the most after all.. Excellent chapter, it was nice to see Marguertite try to move past the past....
 
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Did my wife write this? :)
As entertaining as it would be if your wife created a secret user account to comment on your stories, I’m afraid that I am not your wife. She sounds like a smart and insightful woman, much like my own wife. It was enjoyable to see Marguerite adding more dimension to the story in the last chapter. I wonder where this will go...
 
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Well, there's certainly a lot that can be unpacked here.

Loath as she may be to admit it to herself, Marguerite is very much her mother's daughter -- proud, ambitious, stubborn to a fault, and incredibly cold to those she feels have wronged her. At the same time, both are capable of demonstrating unwavering love and devotion to their family (if not, strictly speaking, to their husbands per se); in fact, I'd say that the one thing that has been a constant motivation for both of them -- at both their greatest heights and their basest lows -- is a desire to do right by their children. Aines the Elder murdered her husband to save her children from an abusive and petty thug, and so that she could secure for them (and herself) the favor and options that come with being tied to one of the most powerful lords in France; Marguerite may have initially lashed out at her husband out of pride and spite (to both her mother and her father-in-law), but they eventually came to an understanding based on, if not true love for each other, then at least the eventual realization that a broken marriage would benefit none of the children that they both did love.

It is, in a way, ironic that the one thing that Geoffrey the Elder and Marguerite had the most in common -- their drive to define themselves in contrast to a parent whose shadow they never could quite fully escape -- was also the one thing that seemed to always drive them apart. Of course, the circumstances that brought them together mean that that isn't exactly surprising, but still.
 
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Marguerite would rather idolize the abusive trash father she barely remembers than acknowledge the reason she hates her mother is because she reflects Marguerite's most hated qualities. What a woman, when the ghost of my mortal enemy suddenly appears before me I don't think I would go with the "insult as much as possible" tactic. I totally support her trying to redeem Aines and herself by taking her daughter under her wing, but I don't think returning to Bordeaux was the right move. Geoffrey will absolutely hit the roof when he returns with his only brother, only son, and newborn daughter only to be faced with someone who tried to murder them as one of Marguerite's ladies.

Also, how will he not throw a tantrum upon hearing his mother has decided the murderous daughter is salvageable, but not him? His petty will know no bounds.

I am curious how Aubrey felt about all of this. Marguerite feels guilty that he didn't get the trappings of royalty his siblings did, but wouldn't it be funny if he was grateful to be as many leagues away as possible from this family's crazy?
 
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It was a large gathering with many of the prominent lords of Aquitaine present, since most were related to both the bride and groom.
One of the benefits of inbreeding is that you have to remember fewer relatives.

Foulquesson's two full siblings, Philippe of Thouars, consort to Countess Sarrazine, and the Duchess Ermengarde made their way to Huelgoat. Philippe came alone, without the Countess and their two daughters. So too did Ermengarde, as she made the trip without her new husband, the Duke of Transjurania.

The dwarf duchess was married to her husband, who was 19 years her junior, and ruled lands that bordered Aquitaine to the east near the alps, a few years before. The union had already produced a child, a son. But Marguerite had barely interacted with her, as she usually didn't speak much with the Angevin side of the family.
It's not surprising that Sarazine and Phillipe are apart. Good to see Ermengarde is still alive and kicking. Hopefully, her new husband treats her better than her last one, though they already seem to have a low opinion of one another. It seems her son has lost his duchy, though he still remains a count. Interestingly it would seem one of the Angevin boys, most likely Charles is in prison. I assume that will be explained in a future update.

Geoffrey had released Duke Simon to go with Alias, however, as well as Rogier and Cenolth d’Uzes, with the latter two first cousins to Plaisance through Mascarose’s sister, the late Ness de Limoges.

The other big absence was Princess Aines, who was left in a keep near Saumur. But that was hardly surprising - she was being kept mostly out of sight after birthing her second bastard. Technically still promised to Duke Simon, who didn’t not appear in a rush to end the betrothal, she was nonetheless being left under guard to avoid any further embarrassments.
So that's not what they're calling them now, embarrassments. Curious that the d'Uzes have been released, seeing as the war is still ongoing. It also would appear Geoffery is feeling secure, or else he would not have allowed Simon to leave his sight.

But Plaisance did not appear thrilled the morning after the ceremony and feast, as she was mostly silent and generally downtrodden as she ate with many of the other prominent ladies who had come to the wedding. And Marguerite figured she might as well see how Plaisance was faring - it was as good a conversation as any.
Poor Plaisance. Well at least if she sleeps around the Angevinns won't be blessed by any more "embarrassments."

“Yes, I saw him making eyes at his new brother-by-law’s sister, Guillaumette,” Marguerite said. “Have you found a wife for him yet?”

“Not yet,” Mascarose said. “And I am hesitant to have him marry Guillaumette, given we already have a union with that family. I look to nearby lands, both in Aquitaine and beyond. But it is no rush - he cannot be wed for another few years anyway.”
I sense that in the future these two will create many "embarrassment" together.

Marguerite guessed it probably was that. And it might be difficult to stomach for the young count of Charolais, who was currently out riding with Alias, Simon and Adhemar the Younger. Of them, he was likely to be the one of least prominence for most of their lives. He would have to get used to that type of disappointment.
I have a strange feeling that the young Count is the character who surprised you by getting so far.

“Say what you will sister,” Mascarose replied. “But you are still a mother, and a former queen. Your words carry more weight than most.”
Very similar to the advice Marguerite gave Elf.

The guest turned out to be Bishop Edouard, their nephew, who bowed before his aunts, likely out of respect. After all, neither one of them held any official title anymore, though Mascarose was her son’s regent.
Isn't Marguerite still regent. Plus Queen Dowager is a tittle.

Marguerite nodded but Edouard remained more stoic, making no expression toward Mascarose then, or when she departed. Once the door closed, Edouard slowly approached Marguerite.

His demeanor was nervous, almost fearful. And Marguerite grew concerned, for it was clear he had a message he did not want to deliver.

“What is this news you bring me, nephew?” Marguerite asked. “Has some embarrassment befallen Alias while he was out with his cousins?”

“Not Alias my lady,” Edouard said. “Though he will need to know as well.”

The bishop sighed. “It is your son. He is dead.”
Wow I did not expect that to happen. Good on Doard for being so sensitive. I wonder if he knew Aubry. They were both embarrassments sent off to the Chuch. It would be odd if they never interacted.

She tried to check up on him. But it was always so difficult to do more than that. What could she say to him? She was his mother in name, but hardly in much else. For most of his life, he’d been away from her.

And now he would be away forever.


Marguerite could barely find the words. Her son was gone and now she could not even properly say goodbye?

“I… I… I would like to go, yes,” was what she managed.

Edouard nodded. “I will arrange it.”

He paused before adding: “My lady. Aunt, if there is anything I can do...”
Doard continues to be a good dude.

“Edouard… do you… do you think Geoffrey will do anything to honor him?” Marguerite asked. “He is… he was his brother. Half-brother… but…”

Edouard pursed his lips and then looked down. “I… I can’t know, my lady. He is preoccupied with England and…”
When the door closed, a weakness overcame her, and Marguerite stumbled her way over to her bed. Her head swimming, it felt as if she were drowning.

My eldest… gone, she thought. Like his brother. My two boys. My sons. It can’t be. He was not old. He was not...

She fell onto bed, still struggling to breathe. Feeling ill, she began to dry heave, in between sobs as the tears began to stream down her cheeks.
You are really good at writing this sort of sadness.



“At time where so many of our brethren seek to exploit their flock for material gain, Bishop Aubry was a man of strong moral fiber and a blessed soul,” one of the priests told her. “You should be proud of the man he became, my lady.”

The words stung, for Marguerite felt she had little input in that. The monks and those who tended to him while she was kept away - they deserved the credit. All she had done was make his life difficult.
To be fair I do remember her trying to protect him in his early years. And I guess in a roundabout way his origins are the reason he was raised by monks.


His final resting place was a simple grave, without even a hint of the illustrious blood that had flowed in his veins. A child of the Karlings and of the de Poitous, two of the most powerful families in Francia over the past few centuries… left to this. Obscurity. Swept away… soon to be forgotten by all.


She was not alone on the day. Mascarose had accompanied her to Maulevrier, citing she could never abandon her eldest sister. So too did Duchess Beatritz, perhaps out of respect to her one full-blooded sibling.
I keep forgetting that Beatriz is also Aubry's. Good on Maccorse for being so nice.

While it seemed as minor a thing as could be, it was not to be scoffed at - Marguerite’s brother Adhemar was nowhere to be found. She knew why - her youngest sibling would not risk having his presence being construed as an insult to the late king Geoffrey I, especially since Geoffrey II did not seem to care for his half-brother.

Of greater sting was Alias asking out of accompanying her. He claimed to have to return to Geoffrey in Exeter, having not been given leave for anything but the wedding. Marguerite could barely muster the strength to fight him, as she preferred Alias’ cowardice in this instance to Geoffrey’s potential coldness.
Adhemar was probably right to do so. The entire episode would also be an awkward reminder of his own sordid origins, and that of his son. I'm not surprised by Alias. Even if he cared, which all evidence indicates he does not, no teenager (I think he's over 12 now) wants to be dragged down a rainy row to see a humble grave of a man he barely knew while his mother and her kin sob. It would be just too depressing. Most likely he's gone to his room to draw a conspiracy web blaming all that is wrong in the world on the Periograds.

Marguerite’s heart skipped a beat, for she had not heard the door open, nor footsteps approached. But opposite her, standing with her hands over the chair stood the thin figure of Agnes d’Anjou.
Way to have a blast from the past.

“And yet still unable to escape the problems of this family,” Agnes lamented. “Truly, I suffer for my sins.”

“Of which there are a great many,” Marguerite said.

Agnes eased herself into the chair and let loose a sigh. “Well I never denied that, did I?”
They have had this conversation so many times.

“It is not pity to state fact,” Agnes said. “Given what could have happened to the boy, that he found himself a bishop is no small thing. You did that. His half-siblings never would have aided him so.”
It's true, It still amazes me Foulques didn't have him smashed to bits the day he was born.

“Sadly nowhere,” Agnes said. “I am to wait… for how long? Your guess is as good as mine for when he shall come to me. But I shall endeavor to help until then, as I always have.”
I assume he is god. So her punishment is to walk the earth for her sins. This is one for the ghosts being real, as Marguerite would probably have imagined Anges in hell.

It was a face Marguerite had not seen in decades - the face of Aines de Poitou.
Wow, you reached really far back for that one. For a minute I thought it was Ness.

“Yes,” Aines said. “I took his life. Not yours.”
True words.

Emerging from the shadows, Adhemar de Limoges approached his daughter. He smiled as he looked down upon her. He leaned forward to kiss her, but Marguerite felt nothing upon her forehead.
That sounded creepy.

Marguerite shook her head. “Beautiful once, perhaps. Wise? Never.”
Post that on this forum and you will get 500 likes.

Adhemar’s frown suddenly became a small grin. “Yes… that is true. I have much to be proud of… my cousins - fools that they were, denied my greatness. And look now… my descendents will be the most powerful men in all of Christendom.”
It is a true tragedy this man is considered so important.


“It is a funny thing… relationships between parents and children,” Aines said. “Sometimes we think our words do not matter. But they have a way of resonating… for years to follow. Look at you and me - even now you cannot forget what I have done and said. It shapes you even now.”
This seems to be a theme of this story. It's also a thing I've noticed. I've replayed things my parents said to me countless times, then I ask them about it and they say they have no memory of ever telling me such a thing.


And Marguerite’s eyes fell to the table before her. She felt empty. She felt worthless. She felt alone.
This is not an unusual feeling for Marguerite.

The door was opened and the guards entered. Unbound but still a virtual prisoner, Aines d’Anjou entered the chamber.
This feels a lot like how Marguerite was introduced in earlier chapters.

The Princess of Aquitaine had been shifted from keep to keep, with an occasional manor mixed in, over the past few years. Between her murder plot, and embarrassing two out of wedlock children, it was considered best to keep her out of sight.
Yet still ok to marry her to the most important Duke in the realm.

Aines was thinner than when Marguerite had last seen her. But that was hardly surprising - she wasn’t living the most glamorous of lives in a pseudo exile. In some ways, she had stumbled into Aubry’s life.

Though this is entirely her doing, Marguerite thought.
Indeed.

Marguerite shook her head. “You misunderstand. Aubry would not have been served by being a lord. Or a king. He would have been served in a world that cared and thought something of him. Your children need not be anything more than what they are to achieve that. But they need a mother who can do that. And if they only get a schemer, then they will be doomed to suffer the same fate as my eldest son.”
That's a very sweet thing to think, and a dire warning.

“I have left my children to their own devices long enough,” Marguerite said. “You shall return with me to Bordeaux and take up residence in my chambers. And I shall truly watch you, and guide you… as I should have done before instead of letting you be.”
It's curious that she decided to guide Anna de Periograd and Elf before her own daughter. Also, she seemed much more of a mentor to Beatriz than she was to Aines, I remember Geoffery 1 talking about how they spent a lot of time around one another, though perhaps that was just his blinkered perspective.

“I am not,” Aines said. “After Giselle’s birth, the guards told me they had license to skewer Count Gui if he came anywhere near me.”
They should have already done so. Frankly, considering the level of security Aines has been put under, it is remarkable that Count Gui managed to father another child with her.

Overall this was a really touching and emotional chapter. There were some characters I felt should have been featured or mentioned more but it's your story and you needed to keep it from getting bloated with mentions of minor characters. As always I wonder how much these ghosts are real or the figments of the character's imaginations. Agnes seemed real, as I said above Marguerite probably imagines her in hell and the Agnes she's held in her head for so long would probably laugh at her misfortune and make out with Geoffery. Likewise, with Adhemar, she seems to know deep down what kind of man he was. Aines however seem unusually cruel and cynical. On her deathbed, she tired her best to get her daughters to forgive her and lead good lives. Here she cavalierly writes off Ness, forgets about Marcorese and Adehmar, viewing reconciliation with Aines more as a means to a political end than any act of compassion, and is much harsher with Marguerite than she was when alive. Aines was cruel and prideful, but she was never cruel and unfeeling, as her daughter accuses her of being. Maybe she's just trying to play into Marguerite's perception of her, hoping that will be more likely to produce a positive outcome.
 
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