I finally caught up with this whole story! It is amazing!
Just wanted to let you know that. Looking forward to the next instalment!
Just wanted to let you know that. Looking forward to the next instalment!
- 1
Before Plantagenet – A House d’Anjou AAR
- Thread starter JabberJock14
- Start date
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After much delay, responses to your excellent comments!
Foulques will never be clever enough to evade traps like that. He's gained something from years of experience, but his solution is still heavily based being an imposing figure at the head of an army. He used to have people to help him with the non-military stuff, specifically Beatritz and Aines, but... yeah.
Champagne is trying to seize upon his advantage. It actually is what a human player might do - already got 60% warscore. Take his capital and really turn the heat on.
Yeah, Philippe just doesn't have the manpower to overwhelm them. And that's a problem, even if he has better leaders (and he does) for reasons that may become clear in this next chapter.
Given their respective ages and the turmoil around them, I can't fault you for feeling that way. Though I wonder how you'll feel about them after this next update.
Ha! I always expect something like that. But you're right in that the luck won't last forever, though forever is a long time. It could run out in a year, or 10...
The AI played this better than I would have expected. But this war is a bit of a slog, much like the last one. However, more interesting things happen around the realm during it (and I made a big decision as well) which hopefully makes for a story that doesn't drag.
You got that right. This war is going to have it's ups and downs. Heck, you'll see both in the next update!
The king likes to use his commanders in battles. I don't know why he stopped using Foulques at that point, but... it is what it is. At least he didn't get sent to Spain.
I was absolutely ready for Geoffrey to take over at this point. And events in the near future made me even more ready for it to happen. But, did the game listen to my wishes? You'll see!
Thanks! (I tried to imagine being caught in a cold wind, not hard the last few days!)
Champagne is far from finished - he's proven to be very hard to corner. As for what they may do to reclaim the initiative? Well... I'll say that things change - the next update will show that.
As you'll see in the update, they'll make it to Paris. But this war over the long haul is not going to go quite as others have before.
But Foulques does not fully realize that. He's still confident but unsatisfied - so he looks to another conquest of sorts. More on that in the next update.
The next update will show whether you are right with this prediction or not.
Thanks! I'm glad you have enjoyed it and that you've soldiered on through with that much reading! (And well, enjoy more reading because the next update is long) I hope you continue to enjoy the ride and I appreciate you taking the time to drop that comment!
So, thanks for your patience guys and gals. A busy five days did not leave me with a ton of time to write, and when it did, I oddly had great ideas for the next chapter, not this one. Bad news is this one took forever. The good news, the next one is almost done!
As for this chapter, it was difficult because I felt compelled to cover a lot here. I envisioned "a day in the life of Foulques" situation here, but it got long. And I struggled how to make one event in this story feel believable. Whether I succeeded or not is for you guys to decide. It is long though, so it almost works as a double update.
Like I said, thanks for your patience and double thanks to all your superb comments!
Foulques will never be clever enough to evade traps like that. He's gained something from years of experience, but his solution is still heavily based being an imposing figure at the head of an army. He used to have people to help him with the non-military stuff, specifically Beatritz and Aines, but... yeah.
Champagne is trying to seize upon his advantage. It actually is what a human player might do - already got 60% warscore. Take his capital and really turn the heat on.
Yeah, Philippe just doesn't have the manpower to overwhelm them. And that's a problem, even if he has better leaders (and he does) for reasons that may become clear in this next chapter.
Given their respective ages and the turmoil around them, I can't fault you for feeling that way. Though I wonder how you'll feel about them after this next update.
So many escapes from death, their luck, both of them, must run out some time. And it's CKII, so it'll probably be just after they end the war in their favour too
Ha! I always expect something like that. But you're right in that the luck won't last forever, though forever is a long time. It could run out in a year, or 10...
The AI played this better than I would have expected. But this war is a bit of a slog, much like the last one. However, more interesting things happen around the realm during it (and I made a big decision as well) which hopefully makes for a story that doesn't drag.
You got that right. This war is going to have it's ups and downs. Heck, you'll see both in the next update!
The king likes to use his commanders in battles. I don't know why he stopped using Foulques at that point, but... it is what it is. At least he didn't get sent to Spain.
I was absolutely ready for Geoffrey to take over at this point. And events in the near future made me even more ready for it to happen. But, did the game listen to my wishes? You'll see!
Thanks! (I tried to imagine being caught in a cold wind, not hard the last few days!)
Champagne is far from finished - he's proven to be very hard to corner. As for what they may do to reclaim the initiative? Well... I'll say that things change - the next update will show that.
As you'll see in the update, they'll make it to Paris. But this war over the long haul is not going to go quite as others have before.
But Foulques does not fully realize that. He's still confident but unsatisfied - so he looks to another conquest of sorts. More on that in the next update.
The next update will show whether you are right with this prediction or not.
I finally caught up with this whole story! It is amazing!
Just wanted to let you know that. Looking forward to the next instalment!
Thanks! I'm glad you have enjoyed it and that you've soldiered on through with that much reading! (And well, enjoy more reading because the next update is long) I hope you continue to enjoy the ride and I appreciate you taking the time to drop that comment!
So, thanks for your patience guys and gals. A busy five days did not leave me with a ton of time to write, and when it did, I oddly had great ideas for the next chapter, not this one. Bad news is this one took forever. The good news, the next one is almost done!
As for this chapter, it was difficult because I felt compelled to cover a lot here. I envisioned "a day in the life of Foulques" situation here, but it got long. And I struggled how to make one event in this story feel believable. Whether I succeeded or not is for you guys to decide. It is long though, so it almost works as a double update.
Like I said, thanks for your patience and double thanks to all your superb comments!
- 1
Chapter 95 - February 1098
Before Plantagenet - Chapter 95
February 1098 - Paris, France
Foulques looked out from one of the towers on the Ile de la Cite, staring out eastward. He could see the distant fires on the horizon.
The army of Champagne.
He should be grateful. The fires previously had burned around Paris. Now they were mainly focused to the east.
Rumors said Mayor Odo had swung his army north around toward Meaux, a holding to the east of Paris which had been in the hands of the family of Blois for over a generation. Foulques guessed Odo planned to push on Champagne’s forces from there, and deny them an easy place to retreat to.
Judging by the movement of Champagne’s army, it appeared Odo was successful in drawing the majority of the force away. A skeleton force remained however, preventing any escape from the city.
But what lay beyond the horizon was a mystery. Foulques could hardly muster a great deal of care about this war, but a battle that their fates may hinge on… it felt wrong not being there.
After a sigh he moved past the watchmen on the tower and walked down the staircase. There was only so much he could take, even if staring out at the world around him was one of the few distractions available these days.
For all of his sieging in his life, Foulques was not used to being on the receiving end of one. He had thought orchestrating one was dull. This was even worse, but with the added spectre of being starved out as well hanging over their heads.
The duke felt confident it would not come to that - they had been trapped inside the walls for a few months but he doubted this would last much longer. He knew that despite the speed at which the king’s forces gathered, or lack thereof, they outnumbered Champagne. And he held little respect for Philipp’s capabilities as a commander in the field. Odo would win this engagement, when it happened, and that would be the end of their imprisonment.
However, it appeared others lacked his confidence.
The queen moved past him in the hall. Her face carried a permanent frown these days. When he dined with the her, the king and the Duke of Burgundy, she was usually short with them all, but especially her husband.
And she was not the only woman who seemed to be angry at a man in her presence.
Ness had not said a word to him in nearly a month. Of that, he should not have been surprised - not after that conversation.
He had approached her in the hallway one evening, hoping to flirt with her. It had not gone far - she apparently had been listening to her sister when it came to stories of her parents relationship and Foulques’ part in it.
“You desired my mother,” Ness had told him. “So you convinced her to go along with a plot to murder my father.”
Foulques could not resist laughing. The response, however, drew a familiar scowl from the girl.
“You think it funny?” she demanded.
“Do you think that? Or is that what your sister has told you?” Foulques asked.
“I think it clear,” Ness replied.
“Then it is not clear, at all,” Foulques said. “It was she who approached me. She despised him. And with good reason. He was cruel to her - beat her. He was a thoroughly unlikable man. Have you ever heard anyone in Anjou speak well of his memory?”
Ness looked down, the scowl gone and replaced by a simple frown. “Because if they did… you would be angry and punish them.”
Foulques chuckled. “My dear, you may not wish to hear this, but I shall tell you it anyway. I do not care what anyone says about your father. He has long since stopped being a concern of mine. They could praise him if they chose. That they do not… speaks for itself.”
Ness weakly shook her head. “Perhaps they… did not know him. His death was nearly 10 years ago.”
“Ask the king if you think me a liar. Or the queen,” Foulques said. “Both met the man - your mother was well-known to them. Talk to those who served your grandfather in Aquitaine. Speak to anyone, they will tell you the same.”
Ness had run off from him, swearing she would. But nothing since.
He wondered if she did ask. There was little doubt in his mind she would hear nothing favorable. But if she were like Marguerite, it would hardly matter.
He did not know what he hoped to gain from this.
No, that was untrue.
He knew what he wanted - Ness as a lover. He did not know how he could achieve this goal, given the real fact he had murdered her father and married her mother. Either one could leave her cold to him… but both?
“My lord.”
Foulques was snapped from thought. A young man stood before him - a teen he had seen around the halls. The duke did not remember his name.
“What is it?”
“The Duke of Burgundy wishes to see you, my lord,” he said. “He says he has news.”
Foulques raised his brow. News? What news could filter in here?
Some had come early on, before a proper siege could be set up. One piece of gossip said the Duke of Toulouse was in fact delayed because he was mourning the loss of his lover. The lady Margot, who was also his brother’s wife, had died in childbirth. The child’s paternity was unknown, with the younger brother of the duke insisting he had bedded her it was his.
Toulouse did not confirm or deny it, but Foulques knew his friend had not stopped seeing Margot - so it was possible.
Regardless, Toulouse was not here, though rumors did persist he has travelled north and linked up with Odo’s forces.
His presence would have made this stay far more entertaining, Foulques thought.
As it was, he was left with a king who kept to himself much more lately while the only other prominent noble present was Burgundy.
And the younger duke was fairly miserable himself these days.
He also was alone - his wife Duchess Adelaide was in Dijon. Mother to Philipp of Champagne and aunt to Raoul of Vexin - who made up much of the strength of Gilles' revolt - left her in a precarious position.
Like Foulques, Burgundy lacked acquaintances here. Then again, he wasn’t sure if the man had any to begin with these days.
Burgundy was in the strategy room by himself. A cup of wine in hand, he looked down at the map before him.
“I hear rumors of news?” Foulques asked him.
“I would think you glad,” Burgundy replied. “This is unbearable.”
“I survive,” Foulques said. “You do not?”
Burgundy looked at him. “My lands are eaten away by that overzealous countess who thinks herself a man.”
“Ah the Lady Almodis,” Foulques said. “A charming woman when I met her during the last war.”
“I hear saving one’s life can be charming,” Burgundy replied.
Foulques eyed his counterpart. “Now she rebels once more. And there is little you can do to stop her.”
Burgundy sighed. “My wife does all she can. While I miss her, I cannot help but wonder if perhaps it is better that we are apart for that reason.”
The younger duke cursed under his breath.
“Locked on an island, unable to properly deal with the revolt that slowly sweeps across my duchy,” Burgundy said. “A revolt I think the king takes pleasure in.”
Perhaps, Foulques thought. After all, the king had hinted as much when returning the Countess Almodis as a vassal to Burgundy. Though it was likely more meant as a check on the duke, more than anything else. A rebellion now, as had happened, was not in Philippe’s best interest.
“I doubt he wishes your attention diverted,” Foulques said. “He is probably… disappointed… in your inability to keep your vassals in check.”
“Yet he makes Alberic his regent?” Burgundy scoffed. “And you would be wise to keep your gloating to yourself on these matters. It is not becoming of a man of your status.”
Foulques raised his brow. “As opposed to attempting to see me killed in battle?”
“That is to be expected,” Burgundy replied. “And I did not wish you dead. Captured would have suited nicely.”
Foulques stared him down. But Burgundy was unmoved.
“Do not ask surprised. You have been in this game longer than me,” he replied. “If you are a not a man worth taking down, then you are not worth much of anything. Every duke in the realm wishes your influence curbed. That includes your friend Toulouse.”
Foulques grunted, but did not reply. He disliked Burgundy and never had a good feeling toward him - even when he first inherited his land from his grandfather. But what he said here was truth. It just a painful thing to admit - a reminder he had few friends outside of Anjou.
“What is this news?” Foulques demanded, preferring to think of something else.
“Odo moves against Champagne,” Burgundy said. “The battle may already be under way.”
“Champagne still has some of his forces here,” Foulques said.
“They are disorganized,” Burgundy said. “That is why Odo strikes. He is confident.”
“You don’t look it,” Foulques said.
“Because I look past this and see what?” Burgundy asked. “The realm decays around us. We slow the inevitable. Nothing more.”
Foulques shook his head. “The king is aware of this news?”
“The king did not wish to see me,” Burgundy said. “I summoned you because you he will see. That is how it always his. You remain his favorite pet.”
Foulques rolled his eyes. Burgundy did not change. But the Duke of Anjou did not need to remain with him any longer. After hearing the king was in his chambers, Foulques left his counterpart and made his way there.
When Foulques arrived, the guards blocked him off. The duke made his reason for coming known and after a few moments where one of the guards ducked into the room, Foulques was allowed entry.
A servant was exiting with a pitcher of wine, likely empty, on a tray. Yet beside the king, who sat in solitude in the flickering candlelight, was a fresh one.
His head was down. His beard long and mis-shappen. The gray had begun to overtake the reddish-brown. The lines on his face seemed more pronounced now, even as he was at rest.
He looked over to take his latest cup of wine, likely poured by the servant before departing. But his eyes must have caught Foulques, because he looked up at the marshal.
“What?” was all he mustered.
“Messengers bring word that Mayor Odo has engaged the forces of Champagne near Meaux,” Foulques replied.
“Has he fallen too?” Philippe asked.
“We have no word yet,” Foulques said. “I imagine we shall hear something in the late hours.”
The king drank down his cup in one gulp. He poured himself another, with some of the contents missing the cup, and splashing onto his hand. As he brought the cup up toward his mouth Philippe sucked on his hand, as if not to let even a drop go wasted.
“You realize, it is already decided,” Philippe said. “And we just wait for word. Our fates decided. We simply are unaware of it.”
A chilling thought, Foulques realized. He found himself reminded of the rare uncomfortable feeling of having fate outside of his hands.
He did not like one bit.
“They shall emerge victorious,” Foulques said. “The forces of Champagne have guile but they do not stand well in battle - in that they reflect their leader well.”
Philippe laughed. “And yet he slowly eats away at all I have built. All I have worked for. Three decades. And it lay in ruin.”
“The war is not yet lost,” Foulques said. “We have faced difficulties before. We triumphed all the same.”
Philippe shook his head, his pale face appearing nearly ghoulish in the candlelight. “Rouen is a distant memory. One of a more pleasant time. One that is long gone.”
“We have the mettle to repeat such feats,” Foulques said.
“Do we?” Philippe asked. “Do we really? It was not much over a decade ago. And yet, look at us! I sit here without an eye, hair turning white, my respect across the realm dwindling. My wife once saw me as a conquering hero. Now she scoffs at nothing more than a prideful fool.”
“My king…”
“And you, friend,” Philippe continued. “Where is your fat but feisty lady?”
“I… what do you ask?” Foulques asked.
“The Duchess Beatritz!” Philippe said. “She was a good woman. I did not speak with her often, but when I did, I enjoyed her wit. Her death has left a void.”
“With you?”
“Yes, but only through you,” Philippe said. “She made you whole. And you have never been the same since she passed.”
Another chill. Foulques did not believe that to be true. Beatritz was a great loss. He did miss her - no woman ever provided him with as much insight into the world around him. But he had managed. And…
“I had Aines,” Foulques said.
“And she is gone too!” Philippe said. “Much too soon!”
He laughed, a maniacal cackle that sent another shiver down Foulques’ spine. “You were right all those years ago. I should have made Aines my wife. She had a good head on her shoulders. Better than my lowborn queen. She would be respectful at least…”
Foulques lowered his head. He doubted that. If Aines were here, her words could cut deeper than Queen Sybille’s ever could.
“But things work out for a reason,” Philippe said. “I did not marry Aines. That fool Adhemar did. And then you killed him to take her yourself. Then you lost her and now seek to replace her with her daughter.”
Foulques did not provide a response.
“If she refuses you, will you force yourself upon her?” Philippe asked. “You need not lie to me. I will not punish you if you do.”
“No, I could not,” Foulques said. “She reminds me too much of her mother. They all do.”
Philippe smiled again. “I see it now.”
“That they look similar?”
“No, I see now that Rouen is not alone,” Philippe said. “You… you wish for what you have lost. But you shall not have it again. You may lay with that girl. Perhaps you will even repeat your actions as you did then - dispose of your duchess to make Ness your wife. Perhaps she shall bear your children. But… it will never be the same.”
Foulques narrowed his gaze. “You think me pathetic?”
“I think you a man who wishes to replicate his past glory,” Philippe said. “But is it as pathetic as a king who sits powerless as his family wastes away in a dungeon? A king who must choose between their lives and his crown and their inheritance? A king who fancied himself a true heir to Charlemagne only to learn the only heir who he was truly worthy of was his own father, who left him with nearly nothing? No, Duke Foulques - that is a pathetic man. A sad, pathetic man.”
“You... “ Foulques began reflectively. But he did not know what to say next.
“I wish for you to succeed in your attempts to reclaim your old glories,” Philippe said. “For in turn, they will become, in a small way, my own. You can cannot fill your void, but I need you to be the best you can be. Take the girl if it makes you feel like you have found your Aines again. Or Beatritz.”
Drunk, uninhibited, depressed. All three had combined to make Philippe an unpleasant figure tonight.
“If you have no other business for me, my king,” Foulques began, “I shall leave you to your… business.”
Philippe said nothing and Foulques turned to leave after a bow. But after a few steps, he heard the king’s voice speak words that once more sent his stomach into knots.
“The treasury is empty, Duke Foulques,” Philippe said.
The duke turned back. “You mean our resources run low?”
“No, I mean I have no money to may my men,” the king replied. “The years of warfare have left us destitute.”
Foulques’ mouth hung open, his gaze never leaving the king as he slowly shook his head. “How could this have happened? Did you not see coming when you restarted the war in Valencia?”
“I… we needed victory,” Philippe said. “And now we will bring ruin.”
“You will bring ruin!” Foulques shouted and pointed at the king. “No wonder the queen thinks ill of you!”
Philippe looked at Foulques. He did not appear angry at his duke’s outburst. Instead, after that brief gaze, he hung his head.
“My kingdom teetering, my children in danger… I am as you say, as she says, and as I say,” Philippe said. “Pathetic.”
Foulques wished to be angry with him. But… the duke felt nothing but contempt for him. A man he respected fallen so far… so broken. That he dragged all around him down as well seemed almost secondary to it all.
It wasn’t of course. For Foulques, for the other dukes of the realm, this could bring further turmoil and greater upheaval. It was good for no one but the rebels.
The duke looked at the king, whose eyes were bloodshot. Was it from the liquor or tears? Did it matter?
The situation was unchanged regardless. Their straights were dire. And Foulques had little desire to look at the king any longer.
He said nothing, just turning and leaving the room without bowing before his departure.
…..
As the evening arrived, Foulques also sat alone. He could not even enjoy his wine, the image of his destitute, drunken, sad sack of a king still playing in his mind.
He sat, almost numb, knowing there was little he could do. He had no desire to be anywhere near his lecherous nephew .Champagne would likely accept him, but he could not bring himself to actually finally betray the king, especially for someone he could not fully trust. And perhaps... he could not stand to admit he had made a mistake this time.
He strangely found himself sympathetic to the Duke of Burgundy. Though Foulques did not think of it as hell - more of purgatory he felt trapped within… perhaps a sense that they were caught in between two fates. Eventually they would find their way to one but… it did not seem it would come of their choices. Which frustrated him.
He briefly considered raising his levies, but his anger at Philippe’s stupidity in Valencia prevented him. Why should he waste more Angevin lives to save the king from this mess?
A sip of the wine. Still bitter.
There was a knock on the door. Despite the despair that lurked, Foulques still felt a rise within him. Could this be news of Odo’s fate? A victory and they may well persevere. A loss? And the king may as well give himself over to Champagne. Perhaps that would be the merciful thing to do anyway.
But it was no messenger. A fully cloaked Ness slipped into the room upon him opening the door. Once it was closed once more, she lowered her hood.
“Does the queen require something of me?” Foulques asked. “To scrape her husband off the floor of his chambers, perhaps?”
Ness raised her brow for a moment. “I… do not understand my lord.”
“Yes you do,” Foulques said. “I’m certain she speaks of it.”
Ness lowered her head. “The queen… the queen is unhappy. But she is careful what she says around us.”
Foulques was surprised to hear that. It appeared Ness was telling the truth. The queen more open with the dukes than her own ladies? Why?
He shook it off. Ness would not know. But if she did not come on the queen’s business, why was she here?
“I wished to… tell you I spoke to the queen… and king about my father,” Ness told him. “And… they were kind. But I could see the truth in their faces. It is the same look I have seen when his name is mentioned in Anjou. They thought ill of him.”
Foulques resisted a smile. He knew it was painful for the girl to admit. In fact, he was surprised that she did.
“I did not expect to hear from you again on this,” Foulques said.
“I… I knew you knew how they felt,” Ness replied. “I thought it best to admit what I had learned.”
“You are mature beyond your years,” Foulques said. “I know many men who stand as dukes of this realm who would not admit such a thing.”
“You flatter me, my lord,” Ness said.
“I do that a great deal lately,” Foulques admitted. “Perhaps… I should stop.”
“That is for you to decide, my lord,” Ness said. “It is your choice.”
Foulques approached and touched her hair, then slide his hand under her chin, to tilt her head upward, toward him. “If you are deserving of praise, and I think you should receive it.”
She did not flinch. But she did eye him with the same stare her mother used to give him - a hint of curiosity yet knowing full well what he desired.
And like her mother, she asked the question anyway.
“What do you wish of me, my lord?” Ness asked. “You have a wife already. And a lover.”
“And yet, I want more,” Foulques told her.
“Because I think me her,” Ness replied.
“You are similar,” Foulques said. “But I do not know if you are the same. I knew little of her when she was your age. She was already more experienced - hardened by circumstance. Driven by a desire for more.”
“You… think me soft?” Ness asked.
“It is the nature of things,” Foulques said. “You are inexperienced. There is no shame in it.”
Ness scowled. “You speak as if I were a little girl. I am a woman grown. I am no… weakling. I too have backbone, as she did! And desires as well!”
“And what are those desires?” Foulques asked. “She wished to be duchess - to wield power and command respect. She could not be queen, but she wanted to be at the epicenter of the realm. And for a time, a brief happy time, she was.”
Ness was wide-eyed. She bit her lip.
Foulques leaned in close and whispered: “I cannot promise you that I can do for you as I did her. But I can make give you all the trappings of it.”
“A duchess?”
“You will feel like one.”
…..
The sound of banging on the door awoke Foulques several hours later.
The room was better lit than normal - the duke had wanted to see his lovely young conquest and both had fallen asleep quickly after. Ness remained, wrapped up in linens but naked underneath, while he held her.
The knocking did not disturb her, but that Foulques left her to see what this was about did. A slight moan escaped her lips before she pulled the sheets closer to her body in order to keep what heat was left.
Just seeing her made a smile form on his lips. She was not her mother, not yet anyway. She was inexperienced and naive - Aines was experienced and worldly. But Ness had plenty of fire - there was potential there.
Feeling the cold now, he threw on a long shirt quickly and opened the door. Burgundy, also in a night shirt, was on the other side.
“A rider has just arrived to tell us Odo defeated Champagne,” he said. “The rebel forces retreat. Our time in this hell is at an end, it would appear.”
Foulques smirked. Champagne remained the master schemer, but ever the poor commander. “Has the king been informed?”
“He has been informed, yes,” Burgundy said. “I doubt he hears me - as he is in a pathetic state. The queen has men to watch over him to ensure he does not choke on his own vomit.”
“We should all be so lucky to have a wife such as that,” Foulques said.
Burgundy raised a brow and tilted his head toward Foulques’ chambers. “Some of us do.”
Foulques narrowed his gaze and Burgundy smirked, knowing he had landed a shot. The older duke closed the door in his face, with enough noise to finally stir Ness from her slumber.
“What was that?” she wondered.
“The king’s forces are triumphant,” Foulques said. “Champagne’s forces retreat.”
“We will be able to return to Melun?” Ness asked.
Foulques nodded. He knew the truth was more complicated of course - the king’s poor financial status made long-term success cloudy. But she did not need to know that.
All she needed to know was that he was now awake. And just seeing her in the candlelight made only stirred him further.
Their fates remained uncertain. But he would enjoy what he had now.
February 1098 - Paris, France
Foulques looked out from one of the towers on the Ile de la Cite, staring out eastward. He could see the distant fires on the horizon.
The army of Champagne.
He should be grateful. The fires previously had burned around Paris. Now they were mainly focused to the east.
Rumors said Mayor Odo had swung his army north around toward Meaux, a holding to the east of Paris which had been in the hands of the family of Blois for over a generation. Foulques guessed Odo planned to push on Champagne’s forces from there, and deny them an easy place to retreat to.
Judging by the movement of Champagne’s army, it appeared Odo was successful in drawing the majority of the force away. A skeleton force remained however, preventing any escape from the city.
But what lay beyond the horizon was a mystery. Foulques could hardly muster a great deal of care about this war, but a battle that their fates may hinge on… it felt wrong not being there.
After a sigh he moved past the watchmen on the tower and walked down the staircase. There was only so much he could take, even if staring out at the world around him was one of the few distractions available these days.
For all of his sieging in his life, Foulques was not used to being on the receiving end of one. He had thought orchestrating one was dull. This was even worse, but with the added spectre of being starved out as well hanging over their heads.
The duke felt confident it would not come to that - they had been trapped inside the walls for a few months but he doubted this would last much longer. He knew that despite the speed at which the king’s forces gathered, or lack thereof, they outnumbered Champagne. And he held little respect for Philipp’s capabilities as a commander in the field. Odo would win this engagement, when it happened, and that would be the end of their imprisonment.
However, it appeared others lacked his confidence.
The queen moved past him in the hall. Her face carried a permanent frown these days. When he dined with the her, the king and the Duke of Burgundy, she was usually short with them all, but especially her husband.
And she was not the only woman who seemed to be angry at a man in her presence.
Ness had not said a word to him in nearly a month. Of that, he should not have been surprised - not after that conversation.
He had approached her in the hallway one evening, hoping to flirt with her. It had not gone far - she apparently had been listening to her sister when it came to stories of her parents relationship and Foulques’ part in it.
“You desired my mother,” Ness had told him. “So you convinced her to go along with a plot to murder my father.”
Foulques could not resist laughing. The response, however, drew a familiar scowl from the girl.
“You think it funny?” she demanded.
“Do you think that? Or is that what your sister has told you?” Foulques asked.
“I think it clear,” Ness replied.
“Then it is not clear, at all,” Foulques said. “It was she who approached me. She despised him. And with good reason. He was cruel to her - beat her. He was a thoroughly unlikable man. Have you ever heard anyone in Anjou speak well of his memory?”
Ness looked down, the scowl gone and replaced by a simple frown. “Because if they did… you would be angry and punish them.”
Foulques chuckled. “My dear, you may not wish to hear this, but I shall tell you it anyway. I do not care what anyone says about your father. He has long since stopped being a concern of mine. They could praise him if they chose. That they do not… speaks for itself.”
Ness weakly shook her head. “Perhaps they… did not know him. His death was nearly 10 years ago.”
“Ask the king if you think me a liar. Or the queen,” Foulques said. “Both met the man - your mother was well-known to them. Talk to those who served your grandfather in Aquitaine. Speak to anyone, they will tell you the same.”
Ness had run off from him, swearing she would. But nothing since.
He wondered if she did ask. There was little doubt in his mind she would hear nothing favorable. But if she were like Marguerite, it would hardly matter.
He did not know what he hoped to gain from this.
No, that was untrue.
He knew what he wanted - Ness as a lover. He did not know how he could achieve this goal, given the real fact he had murdered her father and married her mother. Either one could leave her cold to him… but both?
“My lord.”
Foulques was snapped from thought. A young man stood before him - a teen he had seen around the halls. The duke did not remember his name.
“What is it?”
“The Duke of Burgundy wishes to see you, my lord,” he said. “He says he has news.”
Foulques raised his brow. News? What news could filter in here?
Some had come early on, before a proper siege could be set up. One piece of gossip said the Duke of Toulouse was in fact delayed because he was mourning the loss of his lover. The lady Margot, who was also his brother’s wife, had died in childbirth. The child’s paternity was unknown, with the younger brother of the duke insisting he had bedded her it was his.
Toulouse did not confirm or deny it, but Foulques knew his friend had not stopped seeing Margot - so it was possible.
Regardless, Toulouse was not here, though rumors did persist he has travelled north and linked up with Odo’s forces.
His presence would have made this stay far more entertaining, Foulques thought.
As it was, he was left with a king who kept to himself much more lately while the only other prominent noble present was Burgundy.
And the younger duke was fairly miserable himself these days.
He also was alone - his wife Duchess Adelaide was in Dijon. Mother to Philipp of Champagne and aunt to Raoul of Vexin - who made up much of the strength of Gilles' revolt - left her in a precarious position.
Like Foulques, Burgundy lacked acquaintances here. Then again, he wasn’t sure if the man had any to begin with these days.
Burgundy was in the strategy room by himself. A cup of wine in hand, he looked down at the map before him.
“I hear rumors of news?” Foulques asked him.
“I would think you glad,” Burgundy replied. “This is unbearable.”
“I survive,” Foulques said. “You do not?”
Burgundy looked at him. “My lands are eaten away by that overzealous countess who thinks herself a man.”
“Ah the Lady Almodis,” Foulques said. “A charming woman when I met her during the last war.”
“I hear saving one’s life can be charming,” Burgundy replied.
Foulques eyed his counterpart. “Now she rebels once more. And there is little you can do to stop her.”
Burgundy sighed. “My wife does all she can. While I miss her, I cannot help but wonder if perhaps it is better that we are apart for that reason.”
The younger duke cursed under his breath.
“Locked on an island, unable to properly deal with the revolt that slowly sweeps across my duchy,” Burgundy said. “A revolt I think the king takes pleasure in.”
Perhaps, Foulques thought. After all, the king had hinted as much when returning the Countess Almodis as a vassal to Burgundy. Though it was likely more meant as a check on the duke, more than anything else. A rebellion now, as had happened, was not in Philippe’s best interest.
“I doubt he wishes your attention diverted,” Foulques said. “He is probably… disappointed… in your inability to keep your vassals in check.”
“Yet he makes Alberic his regent?” Burgundy scoffed. “And you would be wise to keep your gloating to yourself on these matters. It is not becoming of a man of your status.”
Foulques raised his brow. “As opposed to attempting to see me killed in battle?”
“That is to be expected,” Burgundy replied. “And I did not wish you dead. Captured would have suited nicely.”
Foulques stared him down. But Burgundy was unmoved.
“Do not ask surprised. You have been in this game longer than me,” he replied. “If you are a not a man worth taking down, then you are not worth much of anything. Every duke in the realm wishes your influence curbed. That includes your friend Toulouse.”
Foulques grunted, but did not reply. He disliked Burgundy and never had a good feeling toward him - even when he first inherited his land from his grandfather. But what he said here was truth. It just a painful thing to admit - a reminder he had few friends outside of Anjou.
“What is this news?” Foulques demanded, preferring to think of something else.
“Odo moves against Champagne,” Burgundy said. “The battle may already be under way.”
“Champagne still has some of his forces here,” Foulques said.
“They are disorganized,” Burgundy said. “That is why Odo strikes. He is confident.”
“You don’t look it,” Foulques said.
“Because I look past this and see what?” Burgundy asked. “The realm decays around us. We slow the inevitable. Nothing more.”
Foulques shook his head. “The king is aware of this news?”
“The king did not wish to see me,” Burgundy said. “I summoned you because you he will see. That is how it always his. You remain his favorite pet.”
Foulques rolled his eyes. Burgundy did not change. But the Duke of Anjou did not need to remain with him any longer. After hearing the king was in his chambers, Foulques left his counterpart and made his way there.
When Foulques arrived, the guards blocked him off. The duke made his reason for coming known and after a few moments where one of the guards ducked into the room, Foulques was allowed entry.
A servant was exiting with a pitcher of wine, likely empty, on a tray. Yet beside the king, who sat in solitude in the flickering candlelight, was a fresh one.
His head was down. His beard long and mis-shappen. The gray had begun to overtake the reddish-brown. The lines on his face seemed more pronounced now, even as he was at rest.
He looked over to take his latest cup of wine, likely poured by the servant before departing. But his eyes must have caught Foulques, because he looked up at the marshal.
“What?” was all he mustered.
“Messengers bring word that Mayor Odo has engaged the forces of Champagne near Meaux,” Foulques replied.
“Has he fallen too?” Philippe asked.
“We have no word yet,” Foulques said. “I imagine we shall hear something in the late hours.”
The king drank down his cup in one gulp. He poured himself another, with some of the contents missing the cup, and splashing onto his hand. As he brought the cup up toward his mouth Philippe sucked on his hand, as if not to let even a drop go wasted.
“You realize, it is already decided,” Philippe said. “And we just wait for word. Our fates decided. We simply are unaware of it.”
A chilling thought, Foulques realized. He found himself reminded of the rare uncomfortable feeling of having fate outside of his hands.
He did not like one bit.
“They shall emerge victorious,” Foulques said. “The forces of Champagne have guile but they do not stand well in battle - in that they reflect their leader well.”
Philippe laughed. “And yet he slowly eats away at all I have built. All I have worked for. Three decades. And it lay in ruin.”
“The war is not yet lost,” Foulques said. “We have faced difficulties before. We triumphed all the same.”
Philippe shook his head, his pale face appearing nearly ghoulish in the candlelight. “Rouen is a distant memory. One of a more pleasant time. One that is long gone.”
“We have the mettle to repeat such feats,” Foulques said.
“Do we?” Philippe asked. “Do we really? It was not much over a decade ago. And yet, look at us! I sit here without an eye, hair turning white, my respect across the realm dwindling. My wife once saw me as a conquering hero. Now she scoffs at nothing more than a prideful fool.”
“My king…”
“And you, friend,” Philippe continued. “Where is your fat but feisty lady?”
“I… what do you ask?” Foulques asked.
“The Duchess Beatritz!” Philippe said. “She was a good woman. I did not speak with her often, but when I did, I enjoyed her wit. Her death has left a void.”
“With you?”
“Yes, but only through you,” Philippe said. “She made you whole. And you have never been the same since she passed.”
Another chill. Foulques did not believe that to be true. Beatritz was a great loss. He did miss her - no woman ever provided him with as much insight into the world around him. But he had managed. And…
“I had Aines,” Foulques said.
“And she is gone too!” Philippe said. “Much too soon!”
He laughed, a maniacal cackle that sent another shiver down Foulques’ spine. “You were right all those years ago. I should have made Aines my wife. She had a good head on her shoulders. Better than my lowborn queen. She would be respectful at least…”
Foulques lowered his head. He doubted that. If Aines were here, her words could cut deeper than Queen Sybille’s ever could.
“But things work out for a reason,” Philippe said. “I did not marry Aines. That fool Adhemar did. And then you killed him to take her yourself. Then you lost her and now seek to replace her with her daughter.”
Foulques did not provide a response.
“If she refuses you, will you force yourself upon her?” Philippe asked. “You need not lie to me. I will not punish you if you do.”
“No, I could not,” Foulques said. “She reminds me too much of her mother. They all do.”
Philippe smiled again. “I see it now.”
“That they look similar?”
“No, I see now that Rouen is not alone,” Philippe said. “You… you wish for what you have lost. But you shall not have it again. You may lay with that girl. Perhaps you will even repeat your actions as you did then - dispose of your duchess to make Ness your wife. Perhaps she shall bear your children. But… it will never be the same.”
Foulques narrowed his gaze. “You think me pathetic?”
“I think you a man who wishes to replicate his past glory,” Philippe said. “But is it as pathetic as a king who sits powerless as his family wastes away in a dungeon? A king who must choose between their lives and his crown and their inheritance? A king who fancied himself a true heir to Charlemagne only to learn the only heir who he was truly worthy of was his own father, who left him with nearly nothing? No, Duke Foulques - that is a pathetic man. A sad, pathetic man.”
“You... “ Foulques began reflectively. But he did not know what to say next.
“I wish for you to succeed in your attempts to reclaim your old glories,” Philippe said. “For in turn, they will become, in a small way, my own. You can cannot fill your void, but I need you to be the best you can be. Take the girl if it makes you feel like you have found your Aines again. Or Beatritz.”
Drunk, uninhibited, depressed. All three had combined to make Philippe an unpleasant figure tonight.
“If you have no other business for me, my king,” Foulques began, “I shall leave you to your… business.”
Philippe said nothing and Foulques turned to leave after a bow. But after a few steps, he heard the king’s voice speak words that once more sent his stomach into knots.
“The treasury is empty, Duke Foulques,” Philippe said.
The duke turned back. “You mean our resources run low?”
“No, I mean I have no money to may my men,” the king replied. “The years of warfare have left us destitute.”
Foulques’ mouth hung open, his gaze never leaving the king as he slowly shook his head. “How could this have happened? Did you not see coming when you restarted the war in Valencia?”
“I… we needed victory,” Philippe said. “And now we will bring ruin.”
“You will bring ruin!” Foulques shouted and pointed at the king. “No wonder the queen thinks ill of you!”
Philippe looked at Foulques. He did not appear angry at his duke’s outburst. Instead, after that brief gaze, he hung his head.
“My kingdom teetering, my children in danger… I am as you say, as she says, and as I say,” Philippe said. “Pathetic.”
Foulques wished to be angry with him. But… the duke felt nothing but contempt for him. A man he respected fallen so far… so broken. That he dragged all around him down as well seemed almost secondary to it all.
It wasn’t of course. For Foulques, for the other dukes of the realm, this could bring further turmoil and greater upheaval. It was good for no one but the rebels.
The duke looked at the king, whose eyes were bloodshot. Was it from the liquor or tears? Did it matter?
The situation was unchanged regardless. Their straights were dire. And Foulques had little desire to look at the king any longer.
He said nothing, just turning and leaving the room without bowing before his departure.
…..
As the evening arrived, Foulques also sat alone. He could not even enjoy his wine, the image of his destitute, drunken, sad sack of a king still playing in his mind.
He sat, almost numb, knowing there was little he could do. He had no desire to be anywhere near his lecherous nephew .Champagne would likely accept him, but he could not bring himself to actually finally betray the king, especially for someone he could not fully trust. And perhaps... he could not stand to admit he had made a mistake this time.
He strangely found himself sympathetic to the Duke of Burgundy. Though Foulques did not think of it as hell - more of purgatory he felt trapped within… perhaps a sense that they were caught in between two fates. Eventually they would find their way to one but… it did not seem it would come of their choices. Which frustrated him.
He briefly considered raising his levies, but his anger at Philippe’s stupidity in Valencia prevented him. Why should he waste more Angevin lives to save the king from this mess?
A sip of the wine. Still bitter.
There was a knock on the door. Despite the despair that lurked, Foulques still felt a rise within him. Could this be news of Odo’s fate? A victory and they may well persevere. A loss? And the king may as well give himself over to Champagne. Perhaps that would be the merciful thing to do anyway.
But it was no messenger. A fully cloaked Ness slipped into the room upon him opening the door. Once it was closed once more, she lowered her hood.
“Does the queen require something of me?” Foulques asked. “To scrape her husband off the floor of his chambers, perhaps?”
Ness raised her brow for a moment. “I… do not understand my lord.”
“Yes you do,” Foulques said. “I’m certain she speaks of it.”
Ness lowered her head. “The queen… the queen is unhappy. But she is careful what she says around us.”
Foulques was surprised to hear that. It appeared Ness was telling the truth. The queen more open with the dukes than her own ladies? Why?
He shook it off. Ness would not know. But if she did not come on the queen’s business, why was she here?
“I wished to… tell you I spoke to the queen… and king about my father,” Ness told him. “And… they were kind. But I could see the truth in their faces. It is the same look I have seen when his name is mentioned in Anjou. They thought ill of him.”
Foulques resisted a smile. He knew it was painful for the girl to admit. In fact, he was surprised that she did.
“I did not expect to hear from you again on this,” Foulques said.
“I… I knew you knew how they felt,” Ness replied. “I thought it best to admit what I had learned.”
“You are mature beyond your years,” Foulques said. “I know many men who stand as dukes of this realm who would not admit such a thing.”
“You flatter me, my lord,” Ness said.
“I do that a great deal lately,” Foulques admitted. “Perhaps… I should stop.”
“That is for you to decide, my lord,” Ness said. “It is your choice.”
Foulques approached and touched her hair, then slide his hand under her chin, to tilt her head upward, toward him. “If you are deserving of praise, and I think you should receive it.”
She did not flinch. But she did eye him with the same stare her mother used to give him - a hint of curiosity yet knowing full well what he desired.
And like her mother, she asked the question anyway.
“What do you wish of me, my lord?” Ness asked. “You have a wife already. And a lover.”
“And yet, I want more,” Foulques told her.
“Because I think me her,” Ness replied.
“You are similar,” Foulques said. “But I do not know if you are the same. I knew little of her when she was your age. She was already more experienced - hardened by circumstance. Driven by a desire for more.”
“You… think me soft?” Ness asked.
“It is the nature of things,” Foulques said. “You are inexperienced. There is no shame in it.”
Ness scowled. “You speak as if I were a little girl. I am a woman grown. I am no… weakling. I too have backbone, as she did! And desires as well!”
“And what are those desires?” Foulques asked. “She wished to be duchess - to wield power and command respect. She could not be queen, but she wanted to be at the epicenter of the realm. And for a time, a brief happy time, she was.”
Ness was wide-eyed. She bit her lip.
Foulques leaned in close and whispered: “I cannot promise you that I can do for you as I did her. But I can make give you all the trappings of it.”
“A duchess?”
“You will feel like one.”
…..
The sound of banging on the door awoke Foulques several hours later.
The room was better lit than normal - the duke had wanted to see his lovely young conquest and both had fallen asleep quickly after. Ness remained, wrapped up in linens but naked underneath, while he held her.
The knocking did not disturb her, but that Foulques left her to see what this was about did. A slight moan escaped her lips before she pulled the sheets closer to her body in order to keep what heat was left.
Just seeing her made a smile form on his lips. She was not her mother, not yet anyway. She was inexperienced and naive - Aines was experienced and worldly. But Ness had plenty of fire - there was potential there.
Feeling the cold now, he threw on a long shirt quickly and opened the door. Burgundy, also in a night shirt, was on the other side.
“A rider has just arrived to tell us Odo defeated Champagne,” he said. “The rebel forces retreat. Our time in this hell is at an end, it would appear.”
Foulques smirked. Champagne remained the master schemer, but ever the poor commander. “Has the king been informed?”
“He has been informed, yes,” Burgundy said. “I doubt he hears me - as he is in a pathetic state. The queen has men to watch over him to ensure he does not choke on his own vomit.”
“We should all be so lucky to have a wife such as that,” Foulques said.
Burgundy raised a brow and tilted his head toward Foulques’ chambers. “Some of us do.”
Foulques narrowed his gaze and Burgundy smirked, knowing he had landed a shot. The older duke closed the door in his face, with enough noise to finally stir Ness from her slumber.
“What was that?” she wondered.
“The king’s forces are triumphant,” Foulques said. “Champagne’s forces retreat.”
“We will be able to return to Melun?” Ness asked.
Foulques nodded. He knew the truth was more complicated of course - the king’s poor financial status made long-term success cloudy. But she did not need to know that.
All she needed to know was that he was now awake. And just seeing her in the candlelight made only stirred him further.
Their fates remained uncertain. But he would enjoy what he had now.
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Foulques you randy old dog you. Then again, he's still better than Gilles.
So how tempted were you during this run to raise your own levies and just smash the rebellion down? I'm sure with one of the most stable and larger duchies in the land Foulques can probably sweep through both royal and rebel armies alike and seat himself as King quite nicely.
Then again, let that be his son's temptation to bear.
So how tempted were you during this run to raise your own levies and just smash the rebellion down? I'm sure with one of the most stable and larger duchies in the land Foulques can probably sweep through both royal and rebel armies alike and seat himself as King quite nicely.
Then again, let that be his son's temptation to bear.
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Both lover and rival, that's quite the dynamic relationship Foulques has got there with little Ness. I wonder if their affair will have consequences for Marguerite's behaviour, either toward Foulques or his son. She can't get much worse save for plotting to kill someone...
Really liked this chapter. How has our King of the Franks let his coffers go empty? No wonder his wife thinks him pathetic. Though I did find it interesting that she speaks more freely to the dukes than her ladies. Does she suspect the king of laying with another?
Really liked this chapter. How has our King of the Franks let his coffers go empty? No wonder his wife thinks him pathetic. Though I did find it interesting that she speaks more freely to the dukes than her ladies. Does she suspect the king of laying with another?
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Surely the low point in the life and times of Duke Foulques. I'd have been sorely tempted to use the chaos to my advantage, but Foulques is too loyal a dog to do that, at least according to Burgundy. The fact that he considered it shows just how poor the situation was.
One sword wet and the other yet to be blooded. (Really? Give the poor guy a rest and go hunting lol) While I realize the advantage of having sons with claims, lying with a woman that hates you is a pretty risky proposition, especially if they break up. Not an event I'd envisioned passing, but "giving" her to the Queen is a good setup for bedding her during the siege. Although I suppose she could have slept with you just to spite your daughter, too - she still hates her.
And yes - Foulques is just as bad as Gilles at this point. He's got far more refined taste than that indiscriminate lecher, and far fewer known bastards, but still just as bad regardless.
One sword wet and the other yet to be blooded. (Really? Give the poor guy a rest and go hunting lol) While I realize the advantage of having sons with claims, lying with a woman that hates you is a pretty risky proposition, especially if they break up. Not an event I'd envisioned passing, but "giving" her to the Queen is a good setup for bedding her during the siege. Although I suppose she could have slept with you just to spite your daughter, too - she still hates her.
And yes - Foulques is just as bad as Gilles at this point. He's got far more refined taste than that indiscriminate lecher, and far fewer known bastards, but still just as bad regardless.
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I nearly spat my drink out right there at the end. Lovers and rivals? Perfect. And it came through in the writing as well. That relationship is going places.
Interesting that Foulques is really just the same old Foulques only with self-awareness now. Maybe that will be enough for a few more wins. As I suspected a few chapters ago, though, Foulques and Phillipe are done clearly Foulques is not quite ready to fully betray him, but right on the verge just needs something to tip him over the edge...
Can't wait for the next chapter!
Interesting that Foulques is really just the same old Foulques only with self-awareness now. Maybe that will be enough for a few more wins. As I suspected a few chapters ago, though, Foulques and Phillipe are done clearly Foulques is not quite ready to fully betray him, but right on the verge just needs something to tip him over the edge...
Can't wait for the next chapter!
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Constantly being at war for what feels like an eternity does tend to empty one's treasury. I wonder if Philippe manages to pick himself up again.
Luckily Foulques doesn't have any powerful vassal himself, though it would have been interesting to see him trying to do well on that front.
Luckily Foulques doesn't have any powerful vassal himself, though it would have been interesting to see him trying to do well on that front
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House on fire, with the realm collapsing about them? Sounds like fun.
Actually this update makes both Phillippe and Foulques seem very human indeed. There is a depth of honesty to both ... a precious thing I doubt they even recognise. I do pity the King.
But Foulques, well he has always been a man of passion, both warlike and amorous, and quite capable of being sordid. But the King is right, this is an echo, it is like Foulques is replaying a favourite tune of old.
Actually this update makes both Phillippe and Foulques seem very human indeed. There is a depth of honesty to both ... a precious thing I doubt they even recognise. I do pity the King.
But Foulques, well he has always been a man of passion, both warlike and amorous, and quite capable of being sordid. But the King is right, this is an echo, it is like Foulques is replaying a favourite tune of old.
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I'm leaning towards going after an independent crown now. Foulques has once again seen how broken france is and how it would take three generations of hard work to fix. He just wants to do his own thing at this point, to have his own glory again. He's get that as king of Brittany or England. I think he should speak to Geoffrey about this, even out of pure pragmatism. His heir has to be warned about France...and maybe, his son needs to be shown a better path than mingling in self-destructive French politics
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Ah, a lecherous old leopard whose spots it seems will never change! Better his approach than Philippe’s! I think a hint came through there when Foulques briefly considered raising his levies but decided against it. Had he wanted to end things more quickly, he could have attempted to do just that.
He allows the king to cling to the rope and does not - or cannot bring himself to - cut the rope and let the dead weight fall. Perhaps he fears the consequences. Nor is he willing to waste his own strength hauling the dead weight back up the cliff to safety.
While the rest of the kingdom wastes and weakens itself in civil war, Anjou remains out of it, prosperous and with strong levies. Once the curtain falls on this latest sorry episode, which Duke is best placed then? Whether that will fall to him or his heir, perhaps Foulques’ grip on grand strategy is better than his appreciation of politics and intrigue.
And Ness may not be Rouen, but another battle won by a famed Cocksman of the Apocalypse! Bravo to the inglorious old predator. He waited and won. A metaphor for the greater game?
He allows the king to cling to the rope and does not - or cannot bring himself to - cut the rope and let the dead weight fall. Perhaps he fears the consequences. Nor is he willing to waste his own strength hauling the dead weight back up the cliff to safety.
While the rest of the kingdom wastes and weakens itself in civil war, Anjou remains out of it, prosperous and with strong levies. Once the curtain falls on this latest sorry episode, which Duke is best placed then? Whether that will fall to him or his heir, perhaps Foulques’ grip on grand strategy is better than his appreciation of politics and intrigue.
And Ness may not be Rouen, but another battle won by a famed Cocksman of the Apocalypse! Bravo to the inglorious old predator. He waited and won. A metaphor for the greater game?
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Along the lines of what others are saying, I really think that Foulques, for all he doesn't care to admit it, sees the writing on the wall for France -- or at least for Philippe. He remains loyal to his king as he always has been, but I sense that it's as much out of habit and inertia as anything else, especially after seeing Philippe in that broken state. He doesn't want to be the one propping up a drunken fool who wastes the treasury on foreign boondoggles, which is why he hasn't called his own levies into the fight. Yet, at the same time, that same nostalgic streak Philippe discussed means that he can't bear to turn traitor himself, not as long as he still remembers Philippe as the man he once was and holds out hope that things can go back to being "just like old times."
Of course, Foulques is an old man himself, well-worn by his wounds and his exertions. He has become a genuine wreck, physically, morally, and now even emotionally. He no longer seeks to pursue new glories and conquests, traveling in the well-worn tracks of custom and habit rather than spend his limited reserves of vitality on blazing new and uncertain trails. He is, one might say, "all used up." I suspect that we're witnessing the beginnings of the curtain's final descent on the story of his life in this chapter.
On a tangential note: I can't be the only one hoping that Almodis actually succeeds with her revolt
Of course, Foulques is an old man himself, well-worn by his wounds and his exertions. He has become a genuine wreck, physically, morally, and now even emotionally. He no longer seeks to pursue new glories and conquests, traveling in the well-worn tracks of custom and habit rather than spend his limited reserves of vitality on blazing new and uncertain trails. He is, one might say, "all used up." I suspect that we're witnessing the beginnings of the curtain's final descent on the story of his life in this chapter.
On a tangential note: I can't be the only one hoping that Almodis actually succeeds with her revolt
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He's better than Gilles by the barest of minimums. He doesn't dispose of the women after they have his bastards. But there are similarities.
How tempted was I to raise my levies and smash the rebellion? Very. And, well, that plays into the next two updates.
Thanks! I don't know if you (or anyone else on here) played Dragon Age 2. The romance feature in that game featured a situation where a character who completely disagreed with your actions to romance you - rivalmance as it were. I feel like that's what this is. I will try to highlight Ness relationship with others in the coming chapters. One such relationship will be a big part in a couple of a chapters.
I think 7+ years of warfare ultimately dragged down the economy. I feel like that's why the AI never ransomed the princes. As for the queen, I left it somewhat ambiguous but I think it's because she wishes for the dukes to essentially drag the king from his mess. The ladies won't do that, but perhaps one of those around Philippe could. But so far, they have not.
Surely the low point in the life and times of Duke Foulques. I'd have been sorely tempted to use the chaos to my advantage, but Foulques is too loyal a dog to do that, at least according to Burgundy. The fact that he considered it shows just how poor the situation was.
One sword wet and the other yet to be blooded. (Really? Give the poor guy a rest and go hunting lol) While I realize the advantage of having sons with claims, lying with a woman that hates you is a pretty risky proposition, especially if they break up. Not an event I'd envisioned passing, but "giving" her to the Queen is a good setup for bedding her during the siege. Although I suppose she could have slept with you just to spite your daughter, too - she still hates her.
And yes - Foulques is just as bad as Gilles at this point. He's got far more refined taste than that indiscriminate lecher, and far fewer known bastards, but still just as bad regardless.
Honestly, I kept Foulques loyal because I've had too many French kings target Angevin lands when I've played the family in the past. Keep up good friendship, and it usually doesn't happen. I couldn't trust another king not to do it. And Foulques' reasoning is largely that - he knows the king will not do anything toward him and will basically let him do as he pleases. So why change? But yeah, that doesn't mean he is in a good place right now.
Oh you as a veteran CK2 player see through my reasoning! Yes, I looked at Ness' sweet claims and could not resist. I did not expect it to work, I figured it wouldn't happen with rivals. I was wrong though. And... funny you should mention spiting Agnes. That's going to be a rather big part of an upcoming chapter.
I largely agree with your Foulques = Gilles thought. Gilles has refused to acknowledge multiple bastards, which Foulques has never done, but he is a lecher and horrid to the women in his life (with the exception of Aines). I know this well, and it's a point that will come up in the very near future.
Admittedly, I'm still in the feeling out process of Foulques/Ness. There is going to be a temptation to go drama-heavy with these two (and stupid drama) mainly because while she's shrewd, I imagine Ness as being immature. She's relatively young and has a lot of pent up feelings - I feel like she wouldn't handle it in the best. Understandable of course - she's been through a lot.
As for Philippe and Foulques - stay tuned.
Constantly being at war for what feels like an eternity does tend to empty one's treasury. I wonder if Philippe manages to pick himself up again.
Luckily Foulques doesn't have any powerful vassal himself, though it would have been interesting to see him trying to do well on that front
Yep, it's been war for nearly a decade, and only three years after another decade long war. That has an effect on things.
Also, you pretty much nailed your prediction in the last part. Bravo!
Burgundy sees it. Foulques does not - he thinks himself insulated. Is he right? Time will tell.
I figure Philippe's lowered inhibitions made his tongue looser here with someone he trusts. Perhaps he hoped a warrior would understand the loss of the treasury after so much war... but given the king is in this mess because he refused to compromise with Champagne and continued his war in Valencia... he wasn't going to get sympathy there. And Foulques is comfortable enough to tell him that.
And yep, Foulques chases old glories. It is a strange thing, knowing that he can't replicate it but still thinking that with enough time and effort, somehow he can create a reasonable alternative. Foolish, but Foulques is a flawed and at times, foolish man.
That's certainly a path I have considered taking. (I've found Independence can be tricky to maintain in the past, however) I do look toward both Brittany and England, albeit for different reasons. But things remain in flux. And future generations will find themselves in a different place.
Foulques' change? Nope! There was one point where he may have - had Aines lived or had he chosen Alearde. There his lust and love were close enough intertwined where he may have avoided affairs. But once those avenues were closed off, that possibility ended.
Well, right now the two strongest dukes in the realm are Foulques and Toulouse. Both men aren't involved in conflict (beyond the civil war at this point) and the war avoids their lands. So both will be well positioned for action, if they wish it. And circumstances may well offer them a chance for it.
A conquest for certain. And in some ways more impressive than Aines, who clearly wished for it whereas Ness truly was a victory against the odds! But is it as rewarding? We shall see.
Oh I do! It's hilarious in how the impossible is possible, for some reason.
Along the lines of what others are saying, I really think that Foulques, for all he doesn't care to admit it, sees the writing on the wall for France -- or at least for Philippe. He remains loyal to his king as he always has been, but I sense that it's as much out of habit and inertia as anything else, especially after seeing Philippe in that broken state. He doesn't want to be the one propping up a drunken fool who wastes the treasury on foreign boondoggles, which is why he hasn't called his own levies into the fight. Yet, at the same time, that same nostalgic streak Philippe discussed means that he can't bear to turn traitor himself, not as long as he still remembers Philippe as the man he once was and holds out hope that things can go back to being "just like old times."
Of course, Foulques is an old man himself, well-worn by his wounds and his exertions. He has become a genuine wreck, physically, morally, and now even emotionally. He no longer seeks to pursue new glories and conquests, traveling in the well-worn tracks of custom and habit rather than spend his limited reserves of vitality on blazing new and uncertain trails. He is, one might say, "all used up." I suspect that we're witnessing the beginnings of the curtain's final descent on the story of his life in this chapter.
On a tangential note: I can't be the only one hoping that Almodis actually succeeds with her revolt
I largely agree - though I think perhaps the idea of "France" at this point is still tied into a king and a king's personality. Philippe's descent makes him hard to support. As you say, it is very much inertia and comfort which keeps Foulques loyal. But he isn't trying hard to save the king. He could - both Gilles and Champagne are much, much weaker than Foulques. But why bother? He's got other desires he can fulfill and deep down, he does not think any new king will stop him.
That said, just because he thinks it, doesn't mean others won't disagree.
Agreed on your assessment of Foulques as well. He chases old comforts, in hope of recapturing the happiness he lost. I think at the end of the last war (even during) he was faced with the emptiness of his life. The last time he was happy in his home life was Aines. So he makes a rather desperate play for that.
I wouldn't mind Hugues being humbled. He always seemed to try to influence things far more than a man of his stature should.
As noted before, the next chapter is mostly done and will, barring an unforeseen situation, go up Thursday. Also working heavily on the part after that. Both are a little different than what we've seen, but the events here will play a role in those next two parts.
Thanks as always for your comments and feedback! I enjoyed your responses to the start of this potentially crazy relationship!
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Agree! There’s not a lot to like or respect in Hugues of Burgundy as he features in this story. Though her victory would spell potential problems for either the sadly fallen and dissolute Phillippe or whoever succeeds him. With someone competent and decisive in charge of Burgundy - what are her bloodlines again?On a tangential note: I can't be the only one hoping that Almodis actually succeeds with her revolt
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Looks like everything falling apart around Foulques. The king is a drunken waste, a shell of his former self. Foulques is trying to recapture what he has lost; the king is correct in that. The wars are taking a toll on everyone and the kingdom as a whole. Beginning to wonder if they are winning the battles but losing the war. Sounds like it may be getting close to that time where it is every man for himself and Foulques needs to protect what he has gained in the past.
And of course as the world burns around him Foulques finds time for pleasure. Somethings never change.
And of course as the world burns around him Foulques finds time for pleasure. Somethings never change.
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I smell decay and despair in the air and it’s not good. Lover and rival? Only CK2 eh?
A question: why does the king not borrow from the Jews?
Foulques still has some zest left in him...or his member does anyway! Let’s hope the king can bring this interminable war to a close before the ruination of all his dreams. The question will be that, should this happen, will Foulques grasp for the crown or go down with him?
A question: why does the king not borrow from the Jews?
Foulques still has some zest left in him...or his member does anyway! Let’s hope the king can bring this interminable war to a close before the ruination of all his dreams. The question will be that, should this happen, will Foulques grasp for the crown or go down with him?
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I'm still learning things all the time. But then, going after those claims has been your MO since the opening post of the AAR
Yeah, I wouldn't have been able to resist an unmarried 16 year old with 3 duchy claims basking about my court either.I've been wondering that too.
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Agree! There’s not a lot to like or respect in Hugues of Burgundy as he features in this story. Though her victory would spell potential problems for either the sadly fallen and dissolute Phillippe or whoever succeeds him. With someone competent and decisive in charge of Burgundy - what are her bloodlines again?
Countess Almodis is of the de Semur line. She's actually Herve's cousin. (Though I believe she's like 3rd or fourth cousin) If I remember correctly, her father was the Count of Charolais - the same one who was a bit of a puppet in story to the Duke of Burgundy and who definitely murdered the last Duke of Toulouse. Troublemakers, that family. Thankfully, Herve seems to have turned out alright.
Yep, the more things change, the more things stay the same.
Or do they? The next chapter will shine some light on a potential reality - the world may be passing Foulques and Philippe by, but the world is not just those two. Others have interests and goals that can affect the realm as well.
Decay and despair? Why it must be CK2 France - where chaos is only a bad event away. (And there always is a bad event eventually - in my Angevin games the descendants of Philippe never seem to last a generation or two on the throne. Ironic given how incredibly stable the actual Capetians were in terms of dynastic succession.)
The king's... member... certainly as some zest remaining, as you'll see in the upcoming chapters. As for the war, who needs a king to lead? (You'll see what I mean in the next few chapters)
As for the king's monetary lending habits, stay tuned.
I'm still learning things all the time. But then, going after those claims has been your MO since the opening post of the AAR
I've been wondering that too.
Those claims just sat there... taunting me. I was thinking... "well before Reapers Due there'd be no point. But now... I've lost multiple sons before. Just in case..."
Originally I figured I'd post this update tomorrow, but since it's Thanksgiving in the U.S., I don't know how much time I'd have. So I'll put it out tonight.
This update is a bit different than the last, as you'll see. We take a little jump forward (almost a year - not much happened in 1098) But it follows a similar pattern to the last one in structure. And it starts a mini-arc of sorts for a character that I suspect will last two parts - and possibly three. But we'll see how that goes.
Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. As always, thanks for the comments and feedback!
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Chapter 96 - December 1098
Before Plantagenet - Chapter 96
December 1098 - Anjou, France
The morning sun filtered in through a window. It warm - warmer than waited outside. But not as comfortable as what remained for her in bed.
The heat from her lover, arms wrapped around her, had done the trick during the cold night, long after the fires within the room had burnt out.
But this too, like that flames, had to come to an end. At least for now.
Agnes d’Anjou slipped from Cedric’s normally strong grip, lax now because he blissfully dreamed. Of her, she wondered?
She smirked. Who else would he dream of?
However, outside his embrace brought an immediate reminder of the world cold realities - literally in this case as Agnes nearly yelped as her bare feet hit the floor. Frigid.
She scrambled to grab her dress and get it on quickly. A simple thing, specifically so she would not attract extra eyes upon her, would not be enough on it’s own, but once she got her cloak on and started moving, she would be all right.
“In a rush?”
Agnes slid her dress over her head and pulled it down before looking toward the young, strapping man in the bed.
“It is cold,” Agnes said.
“I know. That is why I woke when you no longer kept me warm,” he replied.
“Then you would be wise to find your clothes,” she said.
“I would rather other ways to stay warm,” he told her, his lips forming a sly smile.
Agnes rolled her eyes. But she could not resist a smile in reply.
Cedric was eager - hardly a shock. He had the energies of a stallion and perhaps the strength of one. He was, after all, the barrell-chested son of a blacksmith. And he was still relatively young - only nearing his 20th summer.
Hard in body, but boyish in face - a perfect lover, she thought.
Feeling the cold, yet a certain heat from elsewhere, she smiled at him and tossed off her dress once more, before rejoining him in bed. The feeling of warmth from his breath on his neck was followed by his lips on her skin, working their way down...
The door suddenly flung open. Agnes jumped and scrambled to cover herself with her sheet. Cedric nearly fell out of the bed entirely.
Alearde, stone-faced as she stood by the the now-closed door behind her, looked to her: “My lady. You have a busy day ahead. We must go.”
Agnes relaxed. It was always unlikely to be anyone else. After all, they were in this room because of Alearde - she had set this up so that Agnes could see her lover discreetly - away from the prying eyes of those in the keep.
In fact, this whole relationship would not exist without her.
Still unmarried, Agnes had attempted to simply deny her own needs since her disastrous affair with her cousin Gilles. She could not, and would not, dare risk another illicit affair and the potential for another bastard.
But that had grown increasingly difficult. Alearde told her it was not uncommon for women her age to have an increase in their desires, and that if necessary, she could instruct her on how to have a relationship while minimizing the risks involved.
At first, Agnes had resisted. But a chance meeting when she toured the castle town in Angers had introduced her to Cedric, and she found herself unable to think of anything else but him for days. When she confided in Alearde, the older woman had told her the young son of the blacksmith would make for a perfect lover - one who would be grateful for the attention and unlikely to grow too bold in his demands.
That was over a year ago. And it had been as Alearde had predicted - Cedric was quite devoted, and quite fun. And the concoctions she had given Agnes to lower the chances of a child being conceived, combined with Agnes rarely ever allowing Cedric to finish his business inside of her, had done the trick.
It was a good thing too - the stress of handling the affairs of the duchy left her needing of relief, and distraction.
Alearde’s stern gaze, reflective of an older sister, reminded Agnes the time for that was now past and it was time to return to the real world of the keep. An important council meeting was to take place in the afternoon, and Agnes needed to look and be at her best.
Cedric knew not to argue with Alearde either. He frowned, but did not protest further.
Agnes gave him a deep kiss, then pulled away once more and was handed her dress by Alearde. Within minutes she had herself fully dressed, cloaked, for secrecy and warmth, and bid her frowning lover goodbye with a blown kiss.
The villagers were out already, which wasn’t surprising. There was less light to do tasks, and everything had to be condensed. The two women kept their profile low, which was easier to do on a cold day since it was not out of the ordinary for people to be covered to stay warm and to move quickly in their tasks.
As was usually the case on this trip back to the keep, Alearde explained the business of the day.
“The servants are preparing your bath already,” Alearde said. “It should be ready for when you arrive.”
Just the thought of the warm water against her skin made Agnes feel momentary relief, until the realities of the air around her made her pace quicken further.
The bath would be the start though. She had to look and feel her best for this meeting today. Her proposition was bold, and some would say inappropriate for her to suggest. But she knew it was necessary for her family’s security.
“Is everything being prepared for today?” Agnes asked.
“Most should be ready,” Alearde said. “Etiennette needs a strong hand to guide her, but once pushed in the right direction, does her job well enough.”
“Good,” Agnes replied. “Is there anything else I should know?”
“There is one more thing,” Alearde said. “You will have a guest joining you for your bath.”
……
She was stunning.
It amazed Agnes that Haldora could be so pretty given her situation. The weariness of Anjou had drained her energies, but the only sign of blemish on her body was the marks left behind by the two children she had carried.
And if anything, the cold enhanced her pale features, bringing a rosiness to her cheeks and providing contrast to her short, blonde hair and blue eyes.
For the life of her, Agnes did not understand how her father did not find the duchess desirable, but it was clear he did not, given he usually bedded Etiennette over her. And he did not take her with him to Melun this time either.
Of course, that her stepmother was younger than she was also may have played a factor in the insecurity Agnes felt around her.
Thankfully, there really was not anyone present to see it. Since the two wooden tubs had been filled already, each woman had been accompanied by just one other - Alearde for Agnes and Helie, Chancellor Godfrey’s wife, for Haldora.
Haldora stepped into the tub and sank her body beneath the steaming waters of the tub with some hesitation as she adjusted to the temperature, but eventually submerged herself completely, before bobbing her head out and eventually propping herself against the wood.
She faced Agnes, who had already been in the water for a few minutes when the duchess arrived.
“Where I am from, they have springs that are this warm,” Haldora said. “You do not need to heat the water like here. It is just… there.”
“Even in the winter?” Agnes asked.
“It is very nice in the winter,” Haldora said with a small smile. “There can be snow on the ground the water is hot like this.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Agnes cooed. “I would like to see it, one day.”
“You say that until you learn you will because you have been given to a northman as a wife,” Haldora said.
Agnes raised a brow. She was uncertain of Haldora said it in jest, a vague threat or if it was a roundabout way of complaining about her own situation, being torn from her life and sent here. The duchess only gave a slight smile to follow up.
“I was surprised you wished to speak with me, my lady,” Agnes said. “And that it was of import.”
“Why are you surprised?” Haldora asked. “And you need not pretend to as if you do not rule over me here, even as your father sits in Melun. It is no secret he has let you oversee this place over his lawful wife.”
Agnes was somewhat surprised by the frankness by with the lady spoke. Perhaps it was her Norse blood - the Vikings from the tales were rather direct with their demands. Or perhaps she just lacked command of the language to be eloquent.
“You still command respect, my lady,” Agnes replied.
Haldora rolled her eyes. “You need not call me lady. Your father respects me by acknowledging that he sired a bastard with your lady. And then does so further by parading around Melun with his teenage whore, whose belly is great with child. And he does this despite me doing all that a wife should, and giving him a healthy son as our first child together. Respect.”
She dipped her head into the water and appeared to shout something. Agnes could not make out the sound, but a torrent of bubbles floated to the surface.
When Haldora’s head again emerged, Agnes looked to her. “Regardless of my father’s… actions, you are the duchess. And a princess to your people.”
“My father is dead, and my brothers likely look at me with suspicion that I eye their lands, though I do not,” Haldora said. “And I am duchess in name. But it is you who rules Anjou now, not me.”
Agnes replied with a slight nod. She did not know how to do anything beyond that. Haldora was right - she held little say over anything in the duchy.
And of course, that had been by design. Agnes and Geoffrey had worked hard to secure her place. Etiennette’s placement as Foulques’ lover had been more of that effort to gain influence - though her friend was more than happy to take part, as she believed herself to have poor marriage prospects prior.
That it had affected Haldora this much… was something Agnes had preferred not to think about.
Of course, she had no say over her father’s choice of lovers in Melun. She would have preferred he didn’t begin this rumoured affair with Ness. The girl hated her as much as her sister Marguerite did. The last thing Agnes needed was for her to gain influence.
Still, that she helped encourage her father to take Etiennette over Haldora had perhaps started this mess. And it left her feeling a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“What do you need of me then?” Agnes asked.
“I asked your father… the last time I saw him, if he still slept with your lady,” Haldora said. “He told me he did not. Do you know if he lies to me?”
He did. And Agnes knew it, since Etiennette had told her as much. But she dared not say anything here.
“I… I cannot say, my lady,” Agnes said.
“I told you DO NOT CALL ME MY LADY!” Haldora snapped. “It is as much a lie as what spews from your father’s mouth!”
Haldora suddenly grimaced and turned away from Agnes for a moment. When she turned back to Agnes, her face appeared remorseful.
“Forgive my outburst,” Haldora said. “You only mean… respect.”
“It is forgiven, my… my…” Agnes stammered. She had no idea what exactly to call her. “Princess? You are still that.”
“But I am not your princess,” Haldora said. “I am to my people, but not you, or yours.”
“Then I shall not call you ‘my princess’ but simply ‘princess,’” Agnes said. “It is true regardless of where you are.”
Haldora was silent for a moment, but eventually replied with a nod and slight smile.
“That will do fine,” she said.
“Good. Then princess, what do you need my help with?” Agnes asked.
“I need someone to speak to your father on my behalf,” Haldora said. “Someone who will… help him understand that I am doing all that I can as a wife. And that he hurts me by choosing to continue his affairs like this.”
“Why… why do you come to me with this?” Agnes asked.
“Because, I do not think a man will understand,” Haldora said. “But you… I know you suffered once as well. Not by him, but by… your cousin, is it?”
Agnes nodded. “Yes… but what do you think I can do?”
“I do not know if your father respects any woman he beds,” Haldora admitted. “Me, his two whore lovers. Or any other woman for that matter. But… you, you are the one exception.”
“I… I do not know if that is true,” Agnes said.
“It is true,” Haldora said. “You sit where you are now because it is true.”
“You flatter me, my… excuse me, princess,” Agnes said.
“I do not know if you play dumb to appear humble,” Haldora said. “Or if you do it because you do not truly believe you have much sway with him. It does not matter. I ask this of you because… because I would hope you understand my plight. And there are few others here who would, and may care.”
Agnes’s gaze fell away from her stepmother.
Part of her wished to admit the truth - that she had aided in limiting Haldora’s influence. Another part wished to climb out of her tub and hop into Haldora’s to console her. And another just felt helpless - her father might respect her, but on matters like this she doubted he would listen.
“I will do what I can,” Agnes replied.
“Thank you for that,” Haldora said.
The Princess of Norway leaned back against the wood of her tub once, more closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.
“This, these smells, the scent of flowers in the water, this is the one thing that we do not have in our springs,” she said as a smile came to her face.
Agnes did not reply. She just closed her eyes, embraced the warmth of the water around her and tried to relax herself once more.
….
A few hours later, Agnes stood in the strategy hall, knowing there would no soothing her nerves now.
Her dress, like her, had been washed in scented water. Her hair had been tied up neatly - as she remembered her mother doing for important council meetings she would attend by herself.
In fact much of how she told herself how to look and behave came from those memories. Beatritz was not the most aggressive woman - nor was she one to forget her place. But she knew how to oversee, and she knew how to manage.
Agnes knew how to talk. She hoped that with her mother’s appearance and her own words, it would be enough.
She looked to Marshal Nominoe, the Breton who had been selected to replace Leon, after the old marshal had finally succumbed to age.
“Marshal,” Agnes began, “What news do you bring on the conflict?”
The chancellor pointed to the map on the large table they all stood around. He pointed Anjou.
“The good news, my lady, is the fighting all takes place away from the lands of Anjou,” he said. “The rebel armies focus their efforts on Normandy, Gilles in Rouen and Champagne in Evreux. Meanwhile, the rebellion against Alberic continues, but to the east, near Bourbon.”
“Then we have been spared once more it appears,” Bishop Hildebert said. “Thank God.”
“What are the strengths of the armies?” Agnes asked.
“Champagne’s forces remain below 2000,” the marshal said. “But Gilles looks to be around 4000 as they terrorize the king’s territories in Normandy.”
Agnes looked toward the map. She scanned around the room before saying. “Duke Gilles gains an upper hand. Does the king bring his forces back from Mallorca?”
Nominoe shook his head. “If he does, it will be news to me.”
Agnes rolled her eyes. Her father had complained of this strategy when he visited Anjou in the summer. The king wished to strike at Mallorca, which provided a third of Gilles’ forces, while it was unguarded. Foulques had wished for them to remain close at hand, raiding Berry, even if they lacked the strength to fully face Gilles’ forces in battle.
In the end, Foulques had not won out. But at least, he reasoned, he was not being sent to Mallorca with them - that fell to Mayor Odo.
While it was strange to hear her father be relieved at not being asked to lead an army, she understood not wishing to be sent to a small island in the Mediterranean. Though she also heard it was because her father had found other means to distract himself - his new lover.
But her father’s distraction and the king’s foolishness did not change the reality - Gilles appeared to be on the verge of seizing the northern part of the realm for himself. Doing so would go a long way toward tilting the balance of the conflict in his favor.
An unacceptable outcome.
“We cannot allow my cousin to win his war,” Agnes told the council.
“My lady,” the marshal began, “is that not the king’s problem more than ours?”
“It is both of our problems,” Agnes said. “Champagne has been a friend of my father. I do not worry much if he wins.
“But Duke Gilles has long been an adversary of this family. He desires Tours, and believes my father has wronged him. Should he win, he would place on the throne my uncle, who believes he has claim to Anjou over my father through my grandmother.”
The marshal and the bishop did not appear convinced.
“Do you find fault with what I say?” Agnes asked.
“My lady… while I understand your concern,” the bishop began, “the duke has made no aggressive stance toward us. He speaks merely of wishing change to the realm over tyranny. And… he does have a point.”
“I see,” Agnes said. “Is that all?”
“You are hardly an unbiased party either,” the bishop added. “Given your past indiscretions.”
“My past indiscretions give me unique light into how my cousin plays,” Agnes said. “He speaks of love and peace, only to turn on you when he has gotten what he needs. You may ask any number of women in this realm - or their lordly fathers or husbands - of that fact.”
“This is different,” the bishop said.
“No, I assure you, it is not,” Agnes said. “The man seeks to turn over the realm with another man who holds claims to my father’s lands. And you insist that is benign? I wonder, what would my father say to that?”
“And I wonder what would your father say to you declaring war in his name?” the bishop replied. “And the lives that may be lost so you may have revenge for your indiscretions.”
“I declare no such war,” Agnes said. “But I will take this to him, and argue it before him in Melun. I wish to do so with the council behind me.”
“You ask a great deal,” the bishop said.
“I ask that you see the situation, and understand the danger it poses to Anjou,” Agnes replied. “And understand that I risk lives now of knights sworn to fight for my father’s honor, rather than sacrifice the lives of the people of Anjou when the war to seize the duchy from my father comes here.”
“You fear-monger,” the bishop said.
“Do you wish to stake the lives of the people of Anjou to that, father?” Agnes demanded.
The bishop was silent. Agnes turned to Mayor Guilhem, her father’s longest-serving advisor.
“Mayor Guilhem, will you support my call to raise our levies to fight against Duke Gilles rebellion?”
The old steward gave a look around the room before lowering his head. “I have always defended your father. From our time in Tours when he was but a count, to now. I will not abandon his family now. You have my support, my lady.”
Agnes restrained her smile, responding with a nod. She looked to the chancellor. “Chancellor Godfrey, what say you?”
“You are a woman,” Godfrey said. Then he too lowered his head. “And you do have personal stake in such matter. A bias.”
He paused, then picked his head up.
“But your bias may not be misplaced. I have heard firsthand of Gilles’ actions across the realm. He is not to be trusted. And if Simon were to become king, while I do not think he would be capable of pursuing his claim against us, Gilles will do so for him. And there will be enough dukes in the realm who see the gains the House of Anjou have made and wish to see it weakened. Therefore, I agree with your call, my lady. Take it to your father with my support as well.”
Agnes could not resist the smile this time. She was surprised at how good the chancellor’s speech sounded.
She turned to the spymaster, Julian of Guerande. “What say you?”
“I do not trust Duke Gilles,” he said. “It is not your place to make this decision, however.”
“Then I will tell my father that,” Agnes said. “My first priority is Anjou. My reputation is nothing compared to that.”
“How will I know this will be made clear to him?” Julien demanded.
“The chancellor will accompany me,” Agnes said. “You too, if you wish.”
“My duties keep me here,” Julien said. “But if my concerns are heard, then I have no objections.”
Annoying, but acceptable, she reasoned. “What of you, marshal?”
“I too, have issues with how this was raised,” the marshal said. “But I will go along with it, as Mayor Julien has, if those concerns are made clear to the duke.”
“And what of you, father?” Agnes asked the bishop.
“I do not approve,” the bishop said. “I think you overstep your bounds and do this for your own base desires.”
Agnes pursed her lips. She wished to chastise Hildebert. But she knew she could not. She had to be humble and accept this. In the end, he would likely be the man her father listened to the least. She had Guilhem and Godfrey on her side - that would be enough.
“You are entitled to your opinion,” Agnes said. “The chancellor will make it clear to my father you feel this way.”
“I…” the bishop began.
“Yes?”
He shook his head and fell silent. Agnes then looked to the rest of the council.
“Then it is agreed,” she said. “The council supports action against Duke Gilles, though there are objections based on… that it was I who brought it forward.”
There was no response.
“If that is all the business for the day,” Agnes said. “Then this meeting is adjourned.”
The council members vacated the room with Agnes being the last to depart. However when she returned to her chambers, Godfrey and Guilhem were present. That was no surprise - there were already four cups laid out for wine with the men holding two of them.
“Well done, my lady,” Guilhem said as he handed Agnes hers.
Agnes smiled and sighed. “My stomach is just now beginning to settle. It was a close run there. I did not know if the Marshal Nominoe and our spymaster would go along with it. Your speech helped, chancellor.”
“Some do not see the idea what it is,” Godfrey said. “Rather, they see who it comes from. It was necessary to allay those concerns. We all played our parts well.”
“Then there is nothing more to do than take this to my father,” Agnes said. “Have you started the preparations, Guilhem?”
“I have, my lady,” Guilhem said. “Herve prepares the knights for the journey. And I have others preparing horses and materials for you and your ladies.”
“Excellent,” Agnes said. “I thank you for your assistance in this matter, sir. In all of these matters.”
“It is my pleasure, my dear,” Guilhem said. “You do your father proud.”
Agnes blushed. Guilhem was like an old uncle at this point. He had not been directly involved in her life like Alearde had been, but she had known him for as long as she could remember. The man, never married, always did his part for her father, and when asked, her brother and now her. Quietly, and often behind the scenes, but none of them could have made it this far without him.
“And thank you as well chancellor,” Agnes said. “I’m certain your presence with me will only help further our cause.”
Godfrey nodded. “Your father will listen to you regardless my lady. But if it helps things move along, it is my pleasure.”
“Thank you gentlemen,” Agnes said. “We will speak again before setting out.”
The pair bowed before her and exited the chamber. In their place Alearde slipped in, along with Beatrice.
Agnes’ daughter was now past 11 summers. She was fast becoming a young woman herself. A girl who many said looked just like her mother, Agnes was beginning to see it now.
However, she saw less of Beatrice than she used to. The girl needed to learn how to become a proper lady and Alearde was better at showing such tasks. Beatritz would have been disappointed to know her daughter wasn’t as capable as passing those habits on, but at least after years of practice, Agnes had gotten better at it. Or, at least, she had grown competent enough to fake it.
In addition to being taught by Alearde, Beatrice had also begun to work among Duchess Haldora’s ladies. Haldora seemed to approve of it, though Agnes suspected it was because, as Foulques granddaughter, Beatrice would never be the target of his affections.
“Did I hear that right, mother?” she asked. “Are you going on a journey?”
Agnes raised her brow, then looked toward Alearde. “The door was closed.”
Alearde placed her hand on Beatrice’s shoulder. “When you listen into a conversation, you must be much better at directing where you want the ensuing talk to go. Even with your mother.”
Beatrice blushed. “I’m sorry Alearde.”
“No, you must apologize to your mother for snooping,” Alearde replied.
“Sorry mother,” Beatrice said.
Alearde chuckled and gave her daughter a hug.
“May I come, mother?” Beatrice asked. “I would like to meet the king and queen.”
Agnes shook her head. “Perhaps if it were summer. But it is too dangerous now in winter.”
“But… you go,” Beatrice said.
“Yes, because your grandfather has entrusted me with a duty,” Agnes said. “One I must fulfill. And you have duties now too - did you even ask the duchess if you could leave?”
Beatrice lowered her head. “No, mother.”
“Not this time, my dear,” Agnes said. “Perhaps if I must go again.”
Beatrice sighed. “Is Bella going?”
Bella - Agnes’ bastard sister by Alearde. The girl was just a little older than Beatrice and the two seemed to hate one another, despite technically being aunt and niece and the best efforts of Agnes and Alearde. And, with Bella being integrated into Agnes’ ladies, she would be going as well. Predictably, Beatrice did not like that.
“It’s not fair!” she moaned.
“She is a member of my ladies,” Agnes said. “If the duchess goes to Melun, then I imagine you will go.”
“The duchess is never going to go to Melun,” Beatrice said.
Agnes glanced at Alearde. Both women knew she was likely correct in that assessment.
“It is the way of things,” Alearde said. “Now, it is rude to question your mother. Apologize.”
Beatrice frowned and said sheepishly: “Sorry mother.”
“Go find Etiennette and she that she is readying herself for this journey,” Alearde ordered.
Beatrice nodded and shuffled out of the room, her shoulders slumped. Agnes shook her head as she poured Alearde some wine in the empty cup remaining.
“She has quite the defiant streak in her,” Agnes said.
“No more so than you,” Alearde said as she took the cup. “Or do I need you to remind you of this morning?”
“You mean finding me in the room you arranged?” Agnes asked.
Alearde smirked. “Because I know better than to fight a defiant lady. I guide you where I can.”
Agnes chuckled. “And I am quite thankful for that. Without you, I do not think any of this would have been possible.”
“As I said, I guide,” Alearde said. “Your talents make this possible. Both you and your brother - you both are quite good with people. All you require is confidence, and focus.”
“Which is to say, all we needed was our older sister to aid us,” Agnes said.
“My lady, your lordly brother would object most fiercely if you were to call me your sister in his presence,” Alearde said.
She began to chuckle, and Agnes joined her with a full-on laugh. The two clanged their cups together and drank.
December 1098 - Anjou, France
The morning sun filtered in through a window. It warm - warmer than waited outside. But not as comfortable as what remained for her in bed.
The heat from her lover, arms wrapped around her, had done the trick during the cold night, long after the fires within the room had burnt out.
But this too, like that flames, had to come to an end. At least for now.
Agnes d’Anjou slipped from Cedric’s normally strong grip, lax now because he blissfully dreamed. Of her, she wondered?
She smirked. Who else would he dream of?
However, outside his embrace brought an immediate reminder of the world cold realities - literally in this case as Agnes nearly yelped as her bare feet hit the floor. Frigid.
She scrambled to grab her dress and get it on quickly. A simple thing, specifically so she would not attract extra eyes upon her, would not be enough on it’s own, but once she got her cloak on and started moving, she would be all right.
“In a rush?”
Agnes slid her dress over her head and pulled it down before looking toward the young, strapping man in the bed.
“It is cold,” Agnes said.
“I know. That is why I woke when you no longer kept me warm,” he replied.
“Then you would be wise to find your clothes,” she said.
“I would rather other ways to stay warm,” he told her, his lips forming a sly smile.
Agnes rolled her eyes. But she could not resist a smile in reply.
Cedric was eager - hardly a shock. He had the energies of a stallion and perhaps the strength of one. He was, after all, the barrell-chested son of a blacksmith. And he was still relatively young - only nearing his 20th summer.
Hard in body, but boyish in face - a perfect lover, she thought.
Feeling the cold, yet a certain heat from elsewhere, she smiled at him and tossed off her dress once more, before rejoining him in bed. The feeling of warmth from his breath on his neck was followed by his lips on her skin, working their way down...
The door suddenly flung open. Agnes jumped and scrambled to cover herself with her sheet. Cedric nearly fell out of the bed entirely.
Alearde, stone-faced as she stood by the the now-closed door behind her, looked to her: “My lady. You have a busy day ahead. We must go.”
Agnes relaxed. It was always unlikely to be anyone else. After all, they were in this room because of Alearde - she had set this up so that Agnes could see her lover discreetly - away from the prying eyes of those in the keep.
In fact, this whole relationship would not exist without her.
Still unmarried, Agnes had attempted to simply deny her own needs since her disastrous affair with her cousin Gilles. She could not, and would not, dare risk another illicit affair and the potential for another bastard.
But that had grown increasingly difficult. Alearde told her it was not uncommon for women her age to have an increase in their desires, and that if necessary, she could instruct her on how to have a relationship while minimizing the risks involved.
At first, Agnes had resisted. But a chance meeting when she toured the castle town in Angers had introduced her to Cedric, and she found herself unable to think of anything else but him for days. When she confided in Alearde, the older woman had told her the young son of the blacksmith would make for a perfect lover - one who would be grateful for the attention and unlikely to grow too bold in his demands.
That was over a year ago. And it had been as Alearde had predicted - Cedric was quite devoted, and quite fun. And the concoctions she had given Agnes to lower the chances of a child being conceived, combined with Agnes rarely ever allowing Cedric to finish his business inside of her, had done the trick.
It was a good thing too - the stress of handling the affairs of the duchy left her needing of relief, and distraction.
Alearde’s stern gaze, reflective of an older sister, reminded Agnes the time for that was now past and it was time to return to the real world of the keep. An important council meeting was to take place in the afternoon, and Agnes needed to look and be at her best.
Cedric knew not to argue with Alearde either. He frowned, but did not protest further.
Agnes gave him a deep kiss, then pulled away once more and was handed her dress by Alearde. Within minutes she had herself fully dressed, cloaked, for secrecy and warmth, and bid her frowning lover goodbye with a blown kiss.
The villagers were out already, which wasn’t surprising. There was less light to do tasks, and everything had to be condensed. The two women kept their profile low, which was easier to do on a cold day since it was not out of the ordinary for people to be covered to stay warm and to move quickly in their tasks.
As was usually the case on this trip back to the keep, Alearde explained the business of the day.
“The servants are preparing your bath already,” Alearde said. “It should be ready for when you arrive.”
Just the thought of the warm water against her skin made Agnes feel momentary relief, until the realities of the air around her made her pace quicken further.
The bath would be the start though. She had to look and feel her best for this meeting today. Her proposition was bold, and some would say inappropriate for her to suggest. But she knew it was necessary for her family’s security.
“Is everything being prepared for today?” Agnes asked.
“Most should be ready,” Alearde said. “Etiennette needs a strong hand to guide her, but once pushed in the right direction, does her job well enough.”
“Good,” Agnes replied. “Is there anything else I should know?”
“There is one more thing,” Alearde said. “You will have a guest joining you for your bath.”
……
She was stunning.
It amazed Agnes that Haldora could be so pretty given her situation. The weariness of Anjou had drained her energies, but the only sign of blemish on her body was the marks left behind by the two children she had carried.
And if anything, the cold enhanced her pale features, bringing a rosiness to her cheeks and providing contrast to her short, blonde hair and blue eyes.
For the life of her, Agnes did not understand how her father did not find the duchess desirable, but it was clear he did not, given he usually bedded Etiennette over her. And he did not take her with him to Melun this time either.
Of course, that her stepmother was younger than she was also may have played a factor in the insecurity Agnes felt around her.
Thankfully, there really was not anyone present to see it. Since the two wooden tubs had been filled already, each woman had been accompanied by just one other - Alearde for Agnes and Helie, Chancellor Godfrey’s wife, for Haldora.
Haldora stepped into the tub and sank her body beneath the steaming waters of the tub with some hesitation as she adjusted to the temperature, but eventually submerged herself completely, before bobbing her head out and eventually propping herself against the wood.
She faced Agnes, who had already been in the water for a few minutes when the duchess arrived.
“Where I am from, they have springs that are this warm,” Haldora said. “You do not need to heat the water like here. It is just… there.”
“Even in the winter?” Agnes asked.
“It is very nice in the winter,” Haldora said with a small smile. “There can be snow on the ground the water is hot like this.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Agnes cooed. “I would like to see it, one day.”
“You say that until you learn you will because you have been given to a northman as a wife,” Haldora said.
Agnes raised a brow. She was uncertain of Haldora said it in jest, a vague threat or if it was a roundabout way of complaining about her own situation, being torn from her life and sent here. The duchess only gave a slight smile to follow up.
“I was surprised you wished to speak with me, my lady,” Agnes said. “And that it was of import.”
“Why are you surprised?” Haldora asked. “And you need not pretend to as if you do not rule over me here, even as your father sits in Melun. It is no secret he has let you oversee this place over his lawful wife.”
Agnes was somewhat surprised by the frankness by with the lady spoke. Perhaps it was her Norse blood - the Vikings from the tales were rather direct with their demands. Or perhaps she just lacked command of the language to be eloquent.
“You still command respect, my lady,” Agnes replied.
Haldora rolled her eyes. “You need not call me lady. Your father respects me by acknowledging that he sired a bastard with your lady. And then does so further by parading around Melun with his teenage whore, whose belly is great with child. And he does this despite me doing all that a wife should, and giving him a healthy son as our first child together. Respect.”
She dipped her head into the water and appeared to shout something. Agnes could not make out the sound, but a torrent of bubbles floated to the surface.
When Haldora’s head again emerged, Agnes looked to her. “Regardless of my father’s… actions, you are the duchess. And a princess to your people.”
“My father is dead, and my brothers likely look at me with suspicion that I eye their lands, though I do not,” Haldora said. “And I am duchess in name. But it is you who rules Anjou now, not me.”
Agnes replied with a slight nod. She did not know how to do anything beyond that. Haldora was right - she held little say over anything in the duchy.
And of course, that had been by design. Agnes and Geoffrey had worked hard to secure her place. Etiennette’s placement as Foulques’ lover had been more of that effort to gain influence - though her friend was more than happy to take part, as she believed herself to have poor marriage prospects prior.
That it had affected Haldora this much… was something Agnes had preferred not to think about.
Of course, she had no say over her father’s choice of lovers in Melun. She would have preferred he didn’t begin this rumoured affair with Ness. The girl hated her as much as her sister Marguerite did. The last thing Agnes needed was for her to gain influence.
Still, that she helped encourage her father to take Etiennette over Haldora had perhaps started this mess. And it left her feeling a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“What do you need of me then?” Agnes asked.
“I asked your father… the last time I saw him, if he still slept with your lady,” Haldora said. “He told me he did not. Do you know if he lies to me?”
He did. And Agnes knew it, since Etiennette had told her as much. But she dared not say anything here.
“I… I cannot say, my lady,” Agnes said.
“I told you DO NOT CALL ME MY LADY!” Haldora snapped. “It is as much a lie as what spews from your father’s mouth!”
Haldora suddenly grimaced and turned away from Agnes for a moment. When she turned back to Agnes, her face appeared remorseful.
“Forgive my outburst,” Haldora said. “You only mean… respect.”
“It is forgiven, my… my…” Agnes stammered. She had no idea what exactly to call her. “Princess? You are still that.”
“But I am not your princess,” Haldora said. “I am to my people, but not you, or yours.”
“Then I shall not call you ‘my princess’ but simply ‘princess,’” Agnes said. “It is true regardless of where you are.”
Haldora was silent for a moment, but eventually replied with a nod and slight smile.
“That will do fine,” she said.
“Good. Then princess, what do you need my help with?” Agnes asked.
“I need someone to speak to your father on my behalf,” Haldora said. “Someone who will… help him understand that I am doing all that I can as a wife. And that he hurts me by choosing to continue his affairs like this.”
“Why… why do you come to me with this?” Agnes asked.
“Because, I do not think a man will understand,” Haldora said. “But you… I know you suffered once as well. Not by him, but by… your cousin, is it?”
Agnes nodded. “Yes… but what do you think I can do?”
“I do not know if your father respects any woman he beds,” Haldora admitted. “Me, his two whore lovers. Or any other woman for that matter. But… you, you are the one exception.”
“I… I do not know if that is true,” Agnes said.
“It is true,” Haldora said. “You sit where you are now because it is true.”
“You flatter me, my… excuse me, princess,” Agnes said.
“I do not know if you play dumb to appear humble,” Haldora said. “Or if you do it because you do not truly believe you have much sway with him. It does not matter. I ask this of you because… because I would hope you understand my plight. And there are few others here who would, and may care.”
Agnes’s gaze fell away from her stepmother.
Part of her wished to admit the truth - that she had aided in limiting Haldora’s influence. Another part wished to climb out of her tub and hop into Haldora’s to console her. And another just felt helpless - her father might respect her, but on matters like this she doubted he would listen.
“I will do what I can,” Agnes replied.
“Thank you for that,” Haldora said.
The Princess of Norway leaned back against the wood of her tub once, more closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.
“This, these smells, the scent of flowers in the water, this is the one thing that we do not have in our springs,” she said as a smile came to her face.
Agnes did not reply. She just closed her eyes, embraced the warmth of the water around her and tried to relax herself once more.
….
A few hours later, Agnes stood in the strategy hall, knowing there would no soothing her nerves now.
Her dress, like her, had been washed in scented water. Her hair had been tied up neatly - as she remembered her mother doing for important council meetings she would attend by herself.
In fact much of how she told herself how to look and behave came from those memories. Beatritz was not the most aggressive woman - nor was she one to forget her place. But she knew how to oversee, and she knew how to manage.
Agnes knew how to talk. She hoped that with her mother’s appearance and her own words, it would be enough.
She looked to Marshal Nominoe, the Breton who had been selected to replace Leon, after the old marshal had finally succumbed to age.
“Marshal,” Agnes began, “What news do you bring on the conflict?”
The chancellor pointed to the map on the large table they all stood around. He pointed Anjou.
“The good news, my lady, is the fighting all takes place away from the lands of Anjou,” he said. “The rebel armies focus their efforts on Normandy, Gilles in Rouen and Champagne in Evreux. Meanwhile, the rebellion against Alberic continues, but to the east, near Bourbon.”
“Then we have been spared once more it appears,” Bishop Hildebert said. “Thank God.”
“What are the strengths of the armies?” Agnes asked.
“Champagne’s forces remain below 2000,” the marshal said. “But Gilles looks to be around 4000 as they terrorize the king’s territories in Normandy.”
Agnes looked toward the map. She scanned around the room before saying. “Duke Gilles gains an upper hand. Does the king bring his forces back from Mallorca?”
Nominoe shook his head. “If he does, it will be news to me.”
Agnes rolled her eyes. Her father had complained of this strategy when he visited Anjou in the summer. The king wished to strike at Mallorca, which provided a third of Gilles’ forces, while it was unguarded. Foulques had wished for them to remain close at hand, raiding Berry, even if they lacked the strength to fully face Gilles’ forces in battle.
In the end, Foulques had not won out. But at least, he reasoned, he was not being sent to Mallorca with them - that fell to Mayor Odo.
While it was strange to hear her father be relieved at not being asked to lead an army, she understood not wishing to be sent to a small island in the Mediterranean. Though she also heard it was because her father had found other means to distract himself - his new lover.
But her father’s distraction and the king’s foolishness did not change the reality - Gilles appeared to be on the verge of seizing the northern part of the realm for himself. Doing so would go a long way toward tilting the balance of the conflict in his favor.
An unacceptable outcome.
“We cannot allow my cousin to win his war,” Agnes told the council.
“My lady,” the marshal began, “is that not the king’s problem more than ours?”
“It is both of our problems,” Agnes said. “Champagne has been a friend of my father. I do not worry much if he wins.
“But Duke Gilles has long been an adversary of this family. He desires Tours, and believes my father has wronged him. Should he win, he would place on the throne my uncle, who believes he has claim to Anjou over my father through my grandmother.”
The marshal and the bishop did not appear convinced.
“Do you find fault with what I say?” Agnes asked.
“My lady… while I understand your concern,” the bishop began, “the duke has made no aggressive stance toward us. He speaks merely of wishing change to the realm over tyranny. And… he does have a point.”
“I see,” Agnes said. “Is that all?”
“You are hardly an unbiased party either,” the bishop added. “Given your past indiscretions.”
“My past indiscretions give me unique light into how my cousin plays,” Agnes said. “He speaks of love and peace, only to turn on you when he has gotten what he needs. You may ask any number of women in this realm - or their lordly fathers or husbands - of that fact.”
“This is different,” the bishop said.
“No, I assure you, it is not,” Agnes said. “The man seeks to turn over the realm with another man who holds claims to my father’s lands. And you insist that is benign? I wonder, what would my father say to that?”
“And I wonder what would your father say to you declaring war in his name?” the bishop replied. “And the lives that may be lost so you may have revenge for your indiscretions.”
“I declare no such war,” Agnes said. “But I will take this to him, and argue it before him in Melun. I wish to do so with the council behind me.”
“You ask a great deal,” the bishop said.
“I ask that you see the situation, and understand the danger it poses to Anjou,” Agnes replied. “And understand that I risk lives now of knights sworn to fight for my father’s honor, rather than sacrifice the lives of the people of Anjou when the war to seize the duchy from my father comes here.”
“You fear-monger,” the bishop said.
“Do you wish to stake the lives of the people of Anjou to that, father?” Agnes demanded.
The bishop was silent. Agnes turned to Mayor Guilhem, her father’s longest-serving advisor.
“Mayor Guilhem, will you support my call to raise our levies to fight against Duke Gilles rebellion?”
The old steward gave a look around the room before lowering his head. “I have always defended your father. From our time in Tours when he was but a count, to now. I will not abandon his family now. You have my support, my lady.”
Agnes restrained her smile, responding with a nod. She looked to the chancellor. “Chancellor Godfrey, what say you?”
“You are a woman,” Godfrey said. Then he too lowered his head. “And you do have personal stake in such matter. A bias.”
He paused, then picked his head up.
“But your bias may not be misplaced. I have heard firsthand of Gilles’ actions across the realm. He is not to be trusted. And if Simon were to become king, while I do not think he would be capable of pursuing his claim against us, Gilles will do so for him. And there will be enough dukes in the realm who see the gains the House of Anjou have made and wish to see it weakened. Therefore, I agree with your call, my lady. Take it to your father with my support as well.”
Agnes could not resist the smile this time. She was surprised at how good the chancellor’s speech sounded.
She turned to the spymaster, Julian of Guerande. “What say you?”
“I do not trust Duke Gilles,” he said. “It is not your place to make this decision, however.”
“Then I will tell my father that,” Agnes said. “My first priority is Anjou. My reputation is nothing compared to that.”
“How will I know this will be made clear to him?” Julien demanded.
“The chancellor will accompany me,” Agnes said. “You too, if you wish.”
“My duties keep me here,” Julien said. “But if my concerns are heard, then I have no objections.”
Annoying, but acceptable, she reasoned. “What of you, marshal?”
“I too, have issues with how this was raised,” the marshal said. “But I will go along with it, as Mayor Julien has, if those concerns are made clear to the duke.”
“And what of you, father?” Agnes asked the bishop.
“I do not approve,” the bishop said. “I think you overstep your bounds and do this for your own base desires.”
Agnes pursed her lips. She wished to chastise Hildebert. But she knew she could not. She had to be humble and accept this. In the end, he would likely be the man her father listened to the least. She had Guilhem and Godfrey on her side - that would be enough.
“You are entitled to your opinion,” Agnes said. “The chancellor will make it clear to my father you feel this way.”
“I…” the bishop began.
“Yes?”
He shook his head and fell silent. Agnes then looked to the rest of the council.
“Then it is agreed,” she said. “The council supports action against Duke Gilles, though there are objections based on… that it was I who brought it forward.”
There was no response.
“If that is all the business for the day,” Agnes said. “Then this meeting is adjourned.”
The council members vacated the room with Agnes being the last to depart. However when she returned to her chambers, Godfrey and Guilhem were present. That was no surprise - there were already four cups laid out for wine with the men holding two of them.
“Well done, my lady,” Guilhem said as he handed Agnes hers.
Agnes smiled and sighed. “My stomach is just now beginning to settle. It was a close run there. I did not know if the Marshal Nominoe and our spymaster would go along with it. Your speech helped, chancellor.”
“Some do not see the idea what it is,” Godfrey said. “Rather, they see who it comes from. It was necessary to allay those concerns. We all played our parts well.”
“Then there is nothing more to do than take this to my father,” Agnes said. “Have you started the preparations, Guilhem?”
“I have, my lady,” Guilhem said. “Herve prepares the knights for the journey. And I have others preparing horses and materials for you and your ladies.”
“Excellent,” Agnes said. “I thank you for your assistance in this matter, sir. In all of these matters.”
“It is my pleasure, my dear,” Guilhem said. “You do your father proud.”
Agnes blushed. Guilhem was like an old uncle at this point. He had not been directly involved in her life like Alearde had been, but she had known him for as long as she could remember. The man, never married, always did his part for her father, and when asked, her brother and now her. Quietly, and often behind the scenes, but none of them could have made it this far without him.
“And thank you as well chancellor,” Agnes said. “I’m certain your presence with me will only help further our cause.”
Godfrey nodded. “Your father will listen to you regardless my lady. But if it helps things move along, it is my pleasure.”
“Thank you gentlemen,” Agnes said. “We will speak again before setting out.”
The pair bowed before her and exited the chamber. In their place Alearde slipped in, along with Beatrice.
Agnes’ daughter was now past 11 summers. She was fast becoming a young woman herself. A girl who many said looked just like her mother, Agnes was beginning to see it now.
However, she saw less of Beatrice than she used to. The girl needed to learn how to become a proper lady and Alearde was better at showing such tasks. Beatritz would have been disappointed to know her daughter wasn’t as capable as passing those habits on, but at least after years of practice, Agnes had gotten better at it. Or, at least, she had grown competent enough to fake it.
In addition to being taught by Alearde, Beatrice had also begun to work among Duchess Haldora’s ladies. Haldora seemed to approve of it, though Agnes suspected it was because, as Foulques granddaughter, Beatrice would never be the target of his affections.
“Did I hear that right, mother?” she asked. “Are you going on a journey?”
Agnes raised her brow, then looked toward Alearde. “The door was closed.”
Alearde placed her hand on Beatrice’s shoulder. “When you listen into a conversation, you must be much better at directing where you want the ensuing talk to go. Even with your mother.”
Beatrice blushed. “I’m sorry Alearde.”
“No, you must apologize to your mother for snooping,” Alearde replied.
“Sorry mother,” Beatrice said.
Alearde chuckled and gave her daughter a hug.
“May I come, mother?” Beatrice asked. “I would like to meet the king and queen.”
Agnes shook her head. “Perhaps if it were summer. But it is too dangerous now in winter.”
“But… you go,” Beatrice said.
“Yes, because your grandfather has entrusted me with a duty,” Agnes said. “One I must fulfill. And you have duties now too - did you even ask the duchess if you could leave?”
Beatrice lowered her head. “No, mother.”
“Not this time, my dear,” Agnes said. “Perhaps if I must go again.”
Beatrice sighed. “Is Bella going?”
Bella - Agnes’ bastard sister by Alearde. The girl was just a little older than Beatrice and the two seemed to hate one another, despite technically being aunt and niece and the best efforts of Agnes and Alearde. And, with Bella being integrated into Agnes’ ladies, she would be going as well. Predictably, Beatrice did not like that.
“It’s not fair!” she moaned.
“She is a member of my ladies,” Agnes said. “If the duchess goes to Melun, then I imagine you will go.”
“The duchess is never going to go to Melun,” Beatrice said.
Agnes glanced at Alearde. Both women knew she was likely correct in that assessment.
“It is the way of things,” Alearde said. “Now, it is rude to question your mother. Apologize.”
Beatrice frowned and said sheepishly: “Sorry mother.”
“Go find Etiennette and she that she is readying herself for this journey,” Alearde ordered.
Beatrice nodded and shuffled out of the room, her shoulders slumped. Agnes shook her head as she poured Alearde some wine in the empty cup remaining.
“She has quite the defiant streak in her,” Agnes said.
“No more so than you,” Alearde said as she took the cup. “Or do I need you to remind you of this morning?”
“You mean finding me in the room you arranged?” Agnes asked.
Alearde smirked. “Because I know better than to fight a defiant lady. I guide you where I can.”
Agnes chuckled. “And I am quite thankful for that. Without you, I do not think any of this would have been possible.”
“As I said, I guide,” Alearde said. “Your talents make this possible. Both you and your brother - you both are quite good with people. All you require is confidence, and focus.”
“Which is to say, all we needed was our older sister to aid us,” Agnes said.
“My lady, your lordly brother would object most fiercely if you were to call me your sister in his presence,” Alearde said.
She began to chuckle, and Agnes joined her with a full-on laugh. The two clanged their cups together and drank.
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