Before Plantagenet - Chapter 73
February 1092 - Anjou, France
“It could be worse.”
Geoffrey picked his head up from his cup of wine to stare at Aubry Karling, sitting across the small table. He scanned Aubry to see if he were joking. Aubry had a slight smirk as he sipped his own wine, but did not appear to be making a play at humor.
“I am exiled from my father’s council,” Geoffrey said. “The steward now rules Anjou in my father’s name. My sister sits in on their meetings, but I am not permitted. She has more say in the duchy than I do. I do not see how it could be much worse.”
“Your father could have thrown you in the dungeons,” Aubry said. “And he could have promised to aid Alberic. He did not.”
“He meets with him,” Geoffrey said. “I know not what he says to him.”
“If he wished for you to end your rebellion, he would have demanded it,” Aubry said. “Your father is not a subtle man.”
A good reassurance, Geoffrey thought, but he still felt unsure.
His abuse at the hands of his father did not prove to be the only insult Geoffrey had suffered. Losing all power in the duchy was another. And though Foulques did not indicate he would take action to stop the rebellion in Aquitaine, there was no guarantee he would not - if Alberic offered him a deal he could not refuse.
Geoffrey could not imagine what such a deal would be - but it did not stop him from dreading it.
There was a knock on the door, interrupting the conversation. Much to Geoffrey’s surprise, it was steward Guilhem. With him, was Agnes. Were they not in a meeting of the council?
Regardless, neither looked pleased. Guilhem frowned, while Agnes was very pale.
He had a chill run down his spine. What if they were concerned because they had to deliver the news Foulques had decided to act against the rebellion?
“What is it?” Geoffrey asked.
“News from Melun,” Guilhem said. “It involves your father.”
Involves, Geoffrey thought. Perhaps something had happened to his father?
That might mean…
Geoffrey held his breath.
“Your father appears to have undertaken a risky procedure,” Guilhem said. “I do not know why…”
“Because of his illness,” Agnes blurted out. “I know that is why.”
“Does he live?” Geoffrey demanded. “Does my father live?”
“Yes,” Guilhem said. “Or he did when the messenger left Melun. That is all we can go on.”
“What has happened to him then?” Geoffrey asked.
“They say the procedure has left him in a serious state,” Guilhem said. “Nothing is certain.”
“I wish to go see him,” Agnes said.
“I do not wish the lady go venture out by herself. She remains unmarried,” Guilhem said. “It puts her at risk.”
“Are… you asking me?” Geoffrey asked Guilhem.
“Your father has appointed me regent,” Guilhem said. “But if your father is near death, then I feel there is no point in leaving you from such a decision. You will need to make plenty of them.”
Geoffrey’s head was spinning. Was his father truly dying? Was he about to ascend to the duchy of Anjou? Was he about to be handed all of that power, and all of that responsibility?
“I… I need a moment to think of this,” Geoffrey said. “Leave us.”
Guilhem lowered his head and moved to leave. Agnes remained behind for a moment.
“Please let me see father, Geoffrey,” she said. “Amaury will lead us. It will not a be a problem.”
“I… I need a few moments,” he repeated.
Agnes frowned by now followed the steward out, leaving Geoffrey alone with Aubry.
“It appears fortune smiles upon you after all,” Aubry said.
“That is my father,” Geoffrey said. “Show some respect.”
Aubry raised an eyebrow. “You were just angry with him and worried he might destroy your only chance for power. Why is this anything but a blessing?”
“I am angry with him,” Geoffrey said. “I do not agree with much of what he does. But he is my father. I do not wish him dead.”
“Fine, I will not call it a blessing,” Aubry said. “But there is opportunity. If he dies, you could throw your full support behind the rebels in Aquitaine. Alberic will be crushed with ease.”
Geoffrey lowered his head. His hand shaking, he picked up his wine and slowly drank it. Opportunity for sure. But… the potential for much danger as well. And his father was not dead yet.
“I will let my sister go to Melun,” he told Aubry. “And I will accompany her.”
Aubry appeared wide-eyed. “You should be here, to consolidate power should your father pass.”
“Consolidate… from who exactly? The only ones of my father’s line here are myself, my sister and her little bastard. I doubt anyone will be rallying for her.”
“There is Aureade,” Aubry said.
“My aunt has no support here,” Geoffrey said. “If there were threats, they lay in Burgundy. And they would be further from here than I would be in Melun. Now consider if my father does not die. It is clear that I still support him - and I hope then, he would still support me.”
Aubry shrugged. “I see the logic in what you say. But I think it the wrong choice.”
“Then you should pray my father lives Aubry,” Geoffrey said. “Or else you will need to get used to my decision-making sooner, rather than later.”
That was met with a frown, but no argument from Aubry. Then Geoffrey put down his cup, took a deep breath and moved out to the hall to inform Agnes and Guilhem of his decision.
…..
Days later, Geoffrey and Agnes stood in the keep in Melun. It had been a few years since Geoffrey had been there, and never while the king was not present. It seemed… less lively now. There were fewer people, less bustle and the mood had darkened.
Perhaps it was the wars. The king’s war had slowed and fears over Boudewijn’s rebellion moving on Melun were whispered in the halls, even if the queen, who, greeted them warmly, tried to downplay it.
Queen Sybille had enough on her plate. In addition to performing some of the realm’s administration, she was great with child. Given her husband had been away at war for going on two years now, there naturally had been whispers. However, she had ventured south in the summer to visit him - so it was possible the child she carried was the king’s.
But as juicy as those rumors were, Geoffrey’s concerns were not those at the moment. Instead he focused his glare, and his ire at the king’s physician, Jaspert.
He had heard little of this man before meeting him. He expected a wise-looking, smooth talking individual, who had convinced his father to undertake this risky treatment.
Instead, he and Agnes were greeted by an dwarf. His facial hair was well kept, but that was it as he had sunken eyes, a crooked nose and a ragged face. Adalmode, who now was with Foulques, had called him a hideous creature, and Geoffrey did have to admit the dwarf was ugly.
Father must have been terrified of the future to accept treatment from him.
“You have concerns?” he asked them.
“Concerns? You are mad,” Agnes said. “You may have killed my father.”
“Instead, I have saved his life and his mind,” Jaspert said.
“He may still not survive!” Agnes exclaimed. “Adalmode…”
“I do not know why you have brought that woman here,” Jaspert said. “This is my domain.”
“She is a retainer of Duke Foulques,” Geoffrey said. “And she has served him faithfully for years. With his life in danger, he would rather no one else.”
“That is why he selected me to perform this procedure then,” Jaspert noted.
“You promised him some magical cure,” Agnes said. “No doubt some ill-gotten procedure borne of your heresy!”
“You would do wise to not insult what you do not understand,” Jaspert said. “Especially as it has saved your father’s life.”
Geoffrey was going to argue, but the door to the chamber opened and Adalmode exited. It had been a struggle to get her in to see Foulques in the first place - Jaspert has not been welcoming - but eventually they won out after threatening to go to the queen.
“How is he?” Geoffrey asked.
“I have cleaned his wounds,” Adalmode said. “And hopefully, removed anything that might have caused infection.”
She glared at Jaspert. “You are a butcher.”
“Did you find any trace of his illness?” Jaspert asked.
The nun glared at him. “I did not. But his face was diseased?”
“The pox affects the mind,” Jaspert said. “I believe it was necessary to prevent the spread to the brain. The Duke should be grateful. I have saved him and not harmed his manhood. You would have let him die slowly, as he grew mad.”
“
If he survives,” Adalmode said.
“May we see him?” Agnes asked.
“He is resting, but you can see him, yes,” Adalmode said.
Geoffrey and Agnes left the two physicians to their argument and entered. They saw Foulques on the table, his face bandaged heavily. Some blood appeared to have stained them. In a bin, there were many more used bandages, all blood soaked. Tools lay to the side, where bits of flesh appeared to be caught in them.
It caused Agnes to blanche, and she was not alone. Geoffrey felt his stomach lurch, though he managed not to vomit.
“Father?” Agnes asked.
There was no response. But Foulques’ chest rose up and down - he definitely lived.
“Do you think he will recover?” Agnes asked.
“I do not know,” Geoffrey said.
“What if it is as some have said?” she wondered. “A punishment from God?”
“I think people who whisper such things… do not know what they speak of,” Geoffrey said. “Father is wrong about many things, but… I think he is right when he questions people say God is punishing someone every time tragedy befalls them.”
“Then what do you think it is?” Agnes asked.
“I do not know,” Geoffrey said. “But I will not make something up just to assign blame.”
Geoffrey looked over his father. Arguably the most powerful duke in the realm when it was whole and certainly when it was fractured, he lay here weak and vulnerable. If he wished to, Geoffrey could likely suffocate him and no one would be the wiser.
All he had to do was stay behind after Agnes departed. It would be quick - just a few moments. The deed done - the serious wounds caused by this surgery would be blamed. And just like that Geoffrey would be Duke of Anjou. And in time, much more.
He looked to his sister, who gently stroked their father’s graying hair.
She was so loyal. So loyal she’d never forgive me if I did such a thing. But would she ever find out?
Geoffrey shook his head. If Foulques was found dead right after he left him, of course she’d suspect. She’d be a fool not to.
No, it was foolish to entertain the notion, Geoffrey realized. So he did his best to put it from his mind.
….
But he could not.
That night he dreamt himself as the master of the western portion of the realm - ruler of Anjou, Aquitaine and Poitou, with Marguerite the Duchess of Gascony. Their combined might made them capable of looking any which way to extend their influence, north, south, east, west. It was a power beyond even his father’s wildest dreams.
And yet, after waking, Geoffrey could not escape thoughts that, for him, the possibility was very real.
He would have Anjou. With it, he could have Aquitaine. In time Poitou. And then Gascony for Marguerite. Their child would have all four.
In the dark of night, with candle in hand, he moved from his room and to his father’s. It was unguarded as expected. His one fear was Agnes would stand vigil, but she did not.
Geoffrey slipped in quietly, and gently pushed the chamber door closed.
The flickering light revealed his sleeping father, face bandaged. He lived, but for how long?
“Everything could be mine,” Geoffrey said as he looked at him. “I could leave… something over your face. You would suffocate… the procedure would be blamed. And then it would all be mine. The duchy. And if Anjou was mine, Aquitaine would fall next - I could throw my backing to Alias and we would stand 10,000 strong against Alberic.”
He paused and looked back at his father, wondering if perhaps he would wake. But he did not.
“Then I would wait for the truce to expire. Or perhaps Alberic would be dealt with by someone else - he is hated after all,” Geoffrey reasoned. “Then I would take Poitou. Perhaps someone would do it for me. Or Gascony for Marguerite.”
He smiled. “Perhaps I could gain a claim over Berry and pay Gilles back for what he has done to Agnes. And… Alearde. Or Brittany? Finish what you started?”
He saw a pillow by the side of his father and grabbed it.
“I should,” Geoffrey continued. “It is what many would do. It is what I am certain you would do - you who fought a war to steal his brother’s inheritance and who murdered a man to have his wife.”
He closed his eyes and for a moment embraced the desire that would drive someone to those lengths, to turn on blood and commit the ultimate sin. He thought back to the times he thought of embracing his darkest thoughts… but found things much harder in the abstract.
He paused. This was not just murder. It was killing his father. Without him, Geoffrey would not exist.
“It is what you would do,” Geoffrey repeated.
And is that what you would do? Do you not hate him for that reason?
Geoffrey opened his eyes and moved the pillow toward his father's face. “It is what you deserve.”
And you are to judge? You sound very much like him, you know that.
Geoffrey thought back to when he and Foulques had it out here, in this very keep a few years ago. The argument in which Foulques laid the truth before him and told him in no uncertain terms that if Geoffrey wished to be his equal, he had to be willing to do whatever it took to achieve his desires.
For so many nights, Geoffrey lay awake arguing against it. He crafted the perfect arguments, the rationale why he should be different, no
would be different. And he justified why he did as he did in Aquitaine.
Yes, he moved to be the Duke of Aquitaine, at the expense of his cousin. But it was not his decision - not his forces that brought about that change. It was because Alberic had angered his counts to the point of rebellion.
And yes, he used his future wife’s claim to help bolster his own. But Marguerite would see benefits. She would be duchess of Aquitaine and in time, Anjou, which was more than she had ever been promised before.
Those perhaps were just rationalizations - reasons he told himself he was different than his father.
If you do this, you expose those reasons nothing more than a flimsy lie.
He looked down at his father - who now lay weak and wounded on just after the five year anniversary of his finest moment. He thought of King Philippe who, likewise, could lose all he had worked for in such a short time in the ascendancy.
And so too, he reflected on Alberic, who like Geoffrey stood to inherit much thanks to his father, but already squandered it by acting like a spoiled child who believed he should have all he desired, even against the wishes of others.
All men who stood unchecked in their desires. Or so they thought. But eventually, they overreached once too many times. And now they paid dearly.
“No one would know,” Geoffrey repeated.
Even so, this will not end here. You will think because you were successful here, you will be successful everywhere. And eventually, you will suffer their fate.
Geoffrey stepped back from his father’s bed. To kill Foulques would be to become him - Duke of Anjou… betrayer of families… selfish, unrepentant.
You would violate your own oaths, made to yourself.
He closed his eyes again. He had grand dreams. He could achieve those dreams, he could kill his father.
But if he wished to make sure they did not become nightmares, he could not.
I will be better. I will do this my own way.
“Your luck may have changed father,” Geoffrey said as he placed the pillow back beside his father. “But today you will be fortunate. If you can hear me, know that I could have killed you. But that I didn’t. And I will achieve my ambitions regardless.”
Geoffrey took one last look at his father and departed the room, not yet Duke of Anjou or Duke of Aquitaine.
Desire, desperation and fear had left his father in this pitiful state. Geoffrey would not be driven to those ends. He may never be Duke of Anjou or Aquitaine. But if he did succeed, he once more resolved it would be on his own terms.
