Before Plantagenet - Chapter 6
June 1067 - Angers, Anjou, France
Foulques d’Anjou stroked his goatee as he stared at the man before him.
He was not much younger than the count, and though his face was chiseled, he was rather rotund. But that face did not betray emotion, even though nothing had been said for a good minute.
That discipline would be useful to have, Foulques thought.
“Guillaume,” Foulques began, “Lady Beatritz says you will make a fine chancellor. Why should I believe her?”
The young man looked up at the count. “I am humbled by the countess’ praise, my lord. I cannot offer any guarantees – just that I will work to achieve your goals. I may not have a background in diplomacy, but I have other means of securing your aims.”
He was honest on that front.
“And why would you wish to serve me?” Foulques asked.
“An opportunity to do more than simply exist in a court,” Guillaume said. “And you do the Lord’s work – being willing to attack one’s blood if he violates the will of the church.”
Foulques was surprised to hear Guillaume speak of that – did he truly believe this war was over anything but titles and territory? If so the late Bernard de Brosse’s work would have greater impact than the count would have imagined.
Much to the count’s disappointment, Bernard had not recovered from his illness. His condition steadily declined over the weeks of sickness, and no treatment he sought seemed to help. Finally, he was bedridden with a high fever in mid-February, and did not rise again.
Beatritz had informed him that some suspected the Great Pox. Others still, to dark magic from Andre. In the end, it did not matter – Foulques was once more in need of a chancellor who could find him a claim on Vendome and still had no one in the county to fill the role.
So again Beatritz returned to the list. With Foulques laying siege to Angers, he allowed her to select the candidate she felt best, then send him to her husband to approval. Guillaume now stood before him, and Foulques was left to make a decision on the man’s merits.
At least he is not from the south, Foulques thought. Instead Guillaume was from the north, near Flanders. He likely also hoped, as Bernard likely had, to secure his own claim if he proved himself useful, but Foulques had begun to accept that was unavoidable.
The count’s half-brother Robert leaned in. “You would use a man as chancellor who was not educated in the ways of diplomacy?”
Told to observe by his father, the teen seemed compelled to also give his opinion. Not that it was a bad one in this case.
Still, Foulques was left without many options, and he was on campaign. Bernard had also lacked a proper education, though he had little time to prove whether it was a hindrance. He may as well put this man to work – every day someone was not working on the Vendome claim was another day lost.
“Unconventional does not mean he cannot do the job,” Foulques said. “We shall see how he does.”
Turning back to Guillaume, Foulques said: “Very well Guillaume de Guines, you may take up position in my court, and as my chancellor. Return to Tours and my steward, Mayor Guilhem, will explain your task and what your predecessors have left behind that can aid you. You can depart in the morn.”
“Thank you for your confidence my lord,” Guillaume said. “I shall not let you down.”
Guillaume bowed to Foulques and then headed off, mounting a horse and starting on his way back to the main camp. The young Robert shook his head.
“You should have found a man who was trained to be a diplomat,” Robert said.
“When you have a county of your own, brother,” Foulques said. “Then you may choose your own chancellor.”
Robert ‘s brow furrowed. Fouqlues knew his half-brother wasn’t in line to secure any land at the moment – he had two older brothers for the duchy of Burgundy and two older brothers for the duchy of Anjou.
Angry over that comment? Learn your place then, Foulques thought.
“Come, we should rejoin your father and Duke Guilhem,” Foulques said, throwing a pat on the back on the young Robert.
The two men untied their horses from their respective tree branches, mounted them and engaged in a gentle trot back to the main camp. They were about a half mile away from the army, which was now in its fifth month of laying siege to the keep at Angers.
The meeting’s distance from the main camp was no accident. While he had no qualms putting his half-brother in his place, Foulques had little desire to have to deal with comments from the two dukes, with whom the count had to be far more… delicate with in his responses.
Truth be told, Foulques was pleased to have his mind on something else for a few days. He was growing impatient with the progress of the siege. Bandits had raided the army’s camp, stealing supplies and killing small numbers of his men. Small units he’d sent to root out the troublemakers had not only failed, but actually cost him more men.
The count suspected the bandits weren’t quite acting independently either. While Geoffrey was probably not wise enough to organize them into anything useful, or coordinate them with the defenses of his keep, Foulques guessed the Baron of Cholet was.
Rather than wait any longer, Foulques desired to just storm the keep. The garrison numbered less than 1000 men, and the combined forces of the attackers sat near 8000. It would be bloody, but taking Angers would demoralize Geoffrey’s forces. It would also free up the army to crush the remnants of the opposition army, which had regrouped and now made camp in Vendome.
Naturally, the dukes were opposed to such a move.
“But Geoffrey may be in the keep!” Foulques had argued a week before at a strategy conference with the dukes, young Robert and commander Armaury. “We could take it, and if we fail to capture him, then turn our armies on the Geoffrey when he flees to his army in Vendome.”
“He baits you,” Guilhem said. “He knows he has no chance if we wait them out. So he hopes you either storm the keep and suffer heavy losses, or that you to raise the siege, allowing his garrison to resupply. So he presents the army as an attractive target. It’s simple.”
“And if we capture him,” Foulques said. “We win the war.”
“I do not think he would allow himself capture,” Guilhem said. “He did not present himself in either of your first encounters. I suspect he will be gone as soon as you make a move in either direction. You will not find him, and we will lose more men than necessary. ”
“Simple, and obvious, boy,” Duke Robert said. “He's desperate. The keep will fall by September. Yet you’d fall for his bait so easily? And here I thought you believed yourself the smarter of you two.”
Foulques wanted to snap at his stepfather’s snide comments. The elder Robert was not one to bite his tongue and the count was growing tired of it. He was arrogant and overconfident for someone that did nothing more than extort his own vassals.
Surprisingly though, Foulques did have an ally.
“We need not raise siege though,” the younger Robert said. “Let Foulques and I take the army of Tours and half of the Burgundy army. There will be more than enough to maintain the siege with you and Duke Guilhem. While you keep the garrison at Angers from resupplying, we crush Geoffrey’s army in Vendome.”
“I think the young Robert has the makings of a fine commander,” Foulques said. “I would be honored to have him alongside of me for this.”
The older Robert laughed as he stared his son down. “You think you command my armies, boy? Maybe one day, but not today. I brought you to learn, not to give orders.”
“But, is part of learning not also learning how to give orders?” the younger Robert pleaded.
The elder duke drank from his goblet of wine. “Yes, learning how to deliver my orders, boy.”
The teen was so frustrated after the exchange, he slammed a table and stormed out of the tent. While Foulques, Guilhem and Amaury were speechless, the old Robert just chuckled.
“Impatient boy,” he said. “He’ll learn his place in time.”
His ally lost, Foulques knew he had little chance of convincing the dukes to follow his plan at the meeting. Guihelm had no desire to put his troops into battle unnecessarily and the dukes seemed unwilling to continue the siege if Foulques departed.
And even if they were, the count wasn’t sure he could trust them not to blow up the alliance on their own squabbles. It was clear Robert and Guilhem did not care for one another – one being a member of the Capetian royal house and the other being from the very independent-minded south.
Thus, Foulques was left with little choice but to wait out Angers. He had shared drinks on a few evenings with Amaury and the younger Robert, who lamented the decisions of the older dukes. But none could do anything about it but drown their disappointments.
“I am the grandson of a king!” the teen said the evening after his outburst in the meeting. “Yet they look at me like I am some lowborn welp.”
Foulques gave a glance to Amaury, who was far from noble born. But the teen did not pay it any mind.
“Your father is the son of a king,” Foulques said. “So he thinks himself all of our rulers.”
“He also thinks himself a great commander,” Robert said. “But I bested him in our last two games. He’s an old fool.”
“Quite the accomplishment, brother,” Foulques said. Robert shook his head.
“Nay, everyone beats him,” Robert admitted. “If father was a skilled man on the battlefield, he is no longer.”
The teen’s sentiment gave Foulques confidence, should he ever need to deal with the old duke in battle, he would best him. It also made the count wonder if perhaps his half-brother might have a desire to remain in Angers when this conflict was over…
“I would avoid him,” Amaury said the next day. “The boy has talent, but also a claim to your lands. You would willingly invite a wolf into your henhouse?”
“He dislikes his father,” Foulques argued.
“Because his father rules the duchy,” Amaury said. “If he were to come to Tours, he would dislike you, because you rule. It is the way with him. He is ambitious, envious… he believes himself everyone’s better.”
“Some would say that of me,” Foulques said.
“Aye, and are they wrong?” Amaury asked.
To that the count did not respond. And he declined to offer Robert a place at his court later that day.
Foulques’ mind had admittedly returned to the thought as he and Robert talked with Guillaume. He believed the teen capable. But he could see Amaury was right – Robert did fancy himself a ruler without a title. In Tours, or Anjou, he would eventually chafe under Foulques.
The two men arrived back in camp and found a bit of a commotion. When the two dismounted, a red-headed, bearded courtier, Louis, rushed up to the count.
“My lords!” Louis said. “An emissary from the king awaits!”
“From King Philippe?” Foulques said. “Here to speak with one of the dukes?”
Given that Duke Robert was the king’s uncle, and Duke Guilhem was the king’s marshal, either would have made sense.
“Nay, my lord,” Louis said. “His message is for you.”
“For me?” Foulques said. “I wonder what it’s about?”
The young king was nearly of age, but had plenty to worry about when he took full control. Besides the Duke of Normandy attempting to seize control of England, there was the looming threat of the Emperor to the East. And of course, there was Robert, who always seemed to be angling for the crown.
But he'd never had business with Foulques. What could he want?
When they arrived at the tent, the emissary was within, waiting alongside dukes Robert and Guilhem.
“You wished to speak with me?” Foulques asked the man.
“I do,” the emissary said. “King Philippe has heard of your exploits in this quarrel with your brother the Duke. He is most impressed.”
"The boy-king can see talent when it shines brightly enough,” the older Robert said. “I suppose that gives him some advantage over his father.”
“You would do well to remember who our liege is, Robert,” Guilhem said.
“Philippe has as much royal blood in his veins as I do,” Robert said. He turned back to the emissary. “Get on with it. What does the boy want?”
The emissary glared at Robert before producing a parchment. “Our liege requests Lord Foulques take command of one of his armies.”
“So Philippe is looking for his dukes to lead his armies?” Robert said. “Even as we fight wars of our own?”
“Not dukes,” the emissary said. “Just the future Duke of Anjou, my good Duke of Burgundy.”
Robert turned to Guilhem. “Your doing, marshal? When you went Paris a few months ago?”
Guilhem nodded. “The king merely asked if I had seen anyone of promise thus far in this family squabble. I told him the count had shown promise and would be worth keeping an eye on.”
Foulques’ eyebrow rose. Guilhem was praising him to the king? That… was certainly a good thing.
Robert sneered. “As I’ve said, we are fighting our own war here. A king cannot expect a lord to abandon his men on a whim. Perhaps when Lord Foulques finishes his war, he will be better able to answer the king’s call.”
“I shall keep that in mind if the king ever asks whether you would be fit to be a commander,” Guilhem said, “In the meantime, I imagine the king would like to hear what Lord Foulques has to say.”
Foulques was speechless. How could he give an answer? It was an honor to be asked to become a commander for the king. And it came with recommendation of his brother in law, who obviously held influence in court.
Influence in the court of a king… who was weak. A king whom one of his closest allies, his stepfather, wanted to be rid of.
But a king nonetheless… a king who could bestow favor… territory… and perhaps aid against a strong William the Bastard of Normandy, whether or not he won his conquest of England.
“I…” Foulques stammered. “I… cannot.”
“You decline the call of your liege?” Guilhem demanded.
“Abandoning my men,” Foulques said. “Is not something I can do. Perhaps when this conflict is done. Please tell the king that I am honored and humbled by his call. And by your recommendation as well, Duke Guilhem. It is… just not possible at this time. I am needed here. But know, the king shall have the men requires, should he request them when I have become Duke of Anjou. I swear as such.”
“I see,” the emissary said. “I will pass this along to the king. I cannot imagine he will be pleased.”
“The boy-king must learn a crown does not mean you get everything you desire,” Robert said. “Now begone! We have a war to win.”
“The king shall hear of your insults Sir Duke,” the emissary said.
“And he must learn to have tougher skin,” Robert said. “I said worse to his father.”
The emissary shook his head and then stormed off, leaving the dukes, Foulques and the younger Robert alone.
“Lord,” Foulques said. “I turned down the king.”
Robert laughed. “My boy, the king of the Franks is not worth worrying about. There is a worthwhile one every 100 years. The rest cower in the Ile de France, hoping they keep their crown. And then every two hundred years, one doesn’t.”
“And if Philippe is the one in 100 years?” the younger Robert asked.
Robert laughed. “The welp will not last the decade. The buzzards circle. The Emperor, the Bastard, Toulouse, Flanders. He should be grateful if I took the crown from his head. He might live to a ripe old age if I did. I would not kill my nephew.”
Foulques raised an eyebrow. He doubted Robert’s sincerity there. His stepfather was not known for his kindness – and leaving the rightful king alive would hardly be prudent.
“And I truly hope I did not insult you by refusing,” Foulques said to Guilhem. “But while you could leave your men in this conflict, I cannot. It is not your war. It is, however, mine.”
Guilhem’s face did not betray any emotion. He merely sipped a cup of wine. “Understandable. I am not certain I share Duke Robert’s assessment of our young king’s capabilities, but I do know why you may not wish commit yourself to anything now.”
He took another sip. “But I would caution against putting too much stock in the words of a man who wishes to undermine the crown for his own gain whatever chance gets. Rest assured, listen to the wrong man, and you will not advance far in the realm.”
“Wrong man?” Robert asked. “You inherited your holdings because your brothers died. I have my land because I took it and would not let it go. When fortune does not smile upon you, Guilhem, what will you do then? I already know what I did.”
“I control the king’s armies,” Guilhem said. “You would be wise to remember that, lest they are directed at you.”
“My lords!” Foulques interrupted. “The decision was mine, and mine alone. If you are angry at anyone Duke Guilhem, focus your ire at me.”
A silence fell over the tent. Guilhem took a deep breath.
“As you say, my young count,” he started, “the decision is yours. I shall hope you reconsider once this conflict has ended. Now, if you will excuse me, I believe I shall retire to my tent for now. Good day.”
Once Guilhem was out of earshot, the younger Robert spoke up.
“Does he think himself king?” the teen asked. “He thinks he can dictate to you, brother, as if you are one of his vassals?”
“His knights make him confident,” the older Robert said. “If he had a claim to the throne, no doubt he would think himself capable of taking it. Alas, he does not. So he thinks he can make himself the man behind the throne.”
And he might be right, Foulques thought. The count sighed. “I think I also shall retire. Brother, my lord.”
Foulques took his time as he wandered back to his personal tent. The sun had begun to set on what had been an eventful day, though not in the way he had necessarily hoped.
The count stopped upon seeing Amaury addressing another soldier.
“My lord,” Amaury said. “Do you need something?”
Foulques paused. “Amaury, I have turned down a king. Is that mad?”
Amaury was silent for a moment. “Yes, for a man such as myself.”
“And for me?” Foulques asked.
“You are of noble birth, my lord,” Amaury said. “I cannot say. I would think if our liege values you, then you are in no danger. He will merely work harder to make you his.”
Foulques nodded. “Thank you, Amaury.”
“Whatever you need, my lord,” Amaury said.
As he returned to the tent, Foulques felt a little better of his choice. Or at the very least - he was less worried it would destroy his alliance with Duke Guilhem or draw the young king’s ire on a permanent basis.
He would have to be wary, however. As a mere count in Tours, Foulques was limited in who he dealt with as his own man, rather than someone who, directly or indirectly, represented his brother. As a duke, he would be his own man - dealing with men like Robert and Guilhem as equals and directly with kings like the young Philippe, without anyone to protect him. His decision today likely would not harm him, but if he made the wrong move in the future…
Foulques did not sleep well that night.