You know, I believe historical Phillipe actually added Bourges to his own demesne. I don't see him handing it over to Foulques in this timeline either.
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Before Plantagenet – A House d’Anjou AAR
- Thread starter JabberJock14
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Just posting to once again express my undying love for this AAR! It completes me
What I’m really looking forward to at this point is the way in which Agnes & Geoffrey sort out Anjou on Foulques death. Going to be some excellent dialogue there methinks!
I also echo calls for some Crusade action but I’d love to hear more from across the channel...
What I’m really looking forward to at this point is the way in which Agnes & Geoffrey sort out Anjou on Foulques death. Going to be some excellent dialogue there methinks!
I also echo calls for some Crusade action but I’d love to hear more from across the channel...
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@Badesumofu - Yes, I looked that up and it actually happened around 1100 in real life as well. Of course that Philippe didn't have Normandy (and wasn't friendly with Foulques, given that he had seduced Foulques' wife) so, you'll see if history follows a similar course or goes in a different direction.
High praise which brings a smile to my face. Thank you very much!
Funny you should mention Agnes and Geoffrey. Their relationship is going to be a rather important point in the very near future. Originally it was going to be next chapter, but since I had to split this one into two, it will be the the chapter after next.
Hmm, what the English/Normans are up to? That might be a while, just because we're at a key point in France. But we'll see in the future - they will be making an appearance before the end of Foulques' time as Duke of Anjou.
The update should follow in a moment. There's an off chance it doesn't as once again my image hosting service is having some issues (it worked when I just tested it, but it's been hit or miss).
I'll throw in this teaser though, for fun and the off chance it is delayed: As the king and queen visit Anjou, Foulques returns to his home to find the promise of new life - surrounded by a specter of death.
High praise which brings a smile to my face.
Thank you very much!Funny you should mention Agnes and Geoffrey. Their relationship is going to be a rather important point in the very near future. Originally it was going to be next chapter, but since I had to split this one into two, it will be the the chapter after next.
Hmm, what the English/Normans are up to? That might be a while, just because we're at a key point in France. But we'll see in the future - they will be making an appearance before the end of Foulques' time as Duke of Anjou.
The update should follow in a moment. There's an off chance it doesn't as once again my image hosting service is having some issues (it worked when I just tested it, but it's been hit or miss).
I'll throw in this teaser though, for fun and the off chance it is delayed: As the king and queen visit Anjou, Foulques returns to his home to find the promise of new life - surrounded by a specter of death.
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Chapter 105 - November 1100
Before Plantagenet - Chapter 105
November 1100- Anjou, France
Her pale face was flush in anger. Her ruby red lips trembled with rage. Her eyes refused to release him… not that he wished to be released.
So much anger. So much passion.
To Foulques, Haldora never looked so beautiful.
“I do not know why you bring her here!” she shouted. “Have I not suffered enough shame?”
Foulques eyed the duchess as he sat in his chamber in Anjou, sipping wine. Her anger had been held when he had returned with the king, but she had not hesitated to voice her discontent now, in private.
But was not mad. He could barely resist showing his pleasure, with a sly grin.
“Ness is but one of the queen’s ladies,” Foulques replied. “As the queen is here with the king, so is she.”
“She was also here with you in August and September,” Haldora said. “And unless she was well-hidden, the queen was not in Anjou.”
“I received dispensation then,” Foulques said. “She was useful in negotiations with my son.”
“Seeking unnerve him by showing off your whore?” Haldora spat. “You are a disgrace. No wonder he thinks ill of you.”
“And he is wise enough not to voice things in that way, seeing as he remains reliant on me,” Foulques said. “A lesson others could learn.”
Haldora turned an even deeper shade of red.
“I do not fear you,” she said. “You may embarrass me by bedding that whore in my home, but you shall not intimidate me to stay silent.”
Foulques could not resist a smirk. If she showed this passion in our love-making, I would have no need of Ness.
“You have made your point,” Foulques said as he stood up. He approached her and touched her hair, causing her to pull away. “I will not lay with her while in Anjou. It shall be you, my lovely wife, who shall receive all my attention.”
Haldora shook her head. “You shall not touch me.”
Foulques grabbed her arm and pulled her close. “You are my wife. And if I say you will lay with me, then you will.”
Haldora shifted his hand down to her midsection, which had a surprising firmness to it.
“A child grows in my belly,” she said. “Much to my disappointment. Your visit in August was enough, despite my prayers to God to not allow it.”
“You would admit such a thing?” Foulques asked.
“As I have said, I do not fear you,” Haldora replied. “What greater punishment could I receive that what I already have, cast aside like I am nothing, replaced by that de Poitou whore and knowing the child I carry will fall behind her bastard in succession.”
“I could throw you in the dungeon,” Foulques noted. “The way you speak, I wonder if you would hurt the child you carry.”
Haldora gritted her teeth and tried to pull away but Foulques held her close. “I would never harm my children. They are innocent - and I shall make certain that they are not you.”
“We will see about that,” Foulques replied. “I’ve found children are quite likely to do the opposite of what their parents desire.”
Haldora said nothing, though slowly she tried to again slip from Foulques’ grasp. But he just pulled her tighter.
Though she did not usually excite him, he could not deny she had grown into quite the woman. It was impressive how she’d gained a command of the language over her decade in Anjou. It was almost cute the way she spoke it, through her thick accent.
He felt his manhood press against her backside - a much larger one than when she had arrived in Anjou. But two children, a rich life as a duchess, and a relatively slothful existence would do that. She was certainly not Beatritz, who had grown quite fat as she grew old, but Haldora was no waif.
“Why must you hold me?” she demanded.
“Because I have never desired you as much as I do now,” Foulques said. “After 10 years, it would be foolish to let this moment go to waste.”
“But… I am with child,” Haldora pleaded.
“I have bedded women who were much larger than you are now,” Foulques said. “I think I shall manage.”
“But it is a sin!” Haldora exclaimed.
“I have sinned before,” Foulques said. “And will sin again. This, comparatively, is minor.”
Haldora narrowed her gaze. “You are a monster.”
Foulques said nothing, with the only reply the sound of Haldora’s dress hitting the ground.
….
“How is he?”
Chancellor Godfrey’s face did not appear to be one of certainty. His lip quivered and he rubbed his hands together, seemingly out of nervousness.
“He appears in decent spirits my lord,” Godfrey said. “I know not when he saw the nun. Nor do I know what she said. But there have been no reports of the king in ill-temper. He was in fact quite courteous to some as he went to the yard.”
“A good sign then,” Foulques noted as the two walked the halls. “I doubt he would be pleased if Adalmode had given him poor news.”
“One would think not, my lord,” Godfrey said.
Foulques had instructed Adalmode to see the king and examine him as soon as possible. As was her usual fashion, the nun was unfazed by the serious tone she was greeted with and told Foulques she would see Philippe when she had the opportunity - a severe flu was making its way around the town and keep and was busy treating those stricken.
But it was the King of the Franks - there was only so long he could be kept waiting. So, having arrived yesterday afternoon, Foulques doubted Philippe had not been seen at this point. That Adalmode had not given him news that left him distraught, sullen, and seeking the comfort of wine was a positive.
“What of the queen?” Foulques asked.
“Lady Agnes tends to her,” Godfrey said. “Today they ride, along the Maine as it is quite warm for this time of year.”
“Good,” Foulques replied. “The queen’s affection for my daughter is another thing in our favor. I hardly doubt she would raise an objection to the king looking favorably on our family… Did the duchess attend as I requested?”
Haldora’s passion drawn Foulques in, but her love-making the night before was as limp as usual. Still, that he even wanted her was an improvement, so he felt a reward was warranted.
“Yes, she attended,” Godfrey said. “And… Ness was left behind among the king’s ladies. She was not pleased.”
Foulques rolled his eyes. “To be expected. The only question is whether she blames myself, my daughter, or the duchess.”
“I suspect it may well be all three depending on mood,” Godfrey said. “She was also displeased to be denied the opportunity to see her older sister.”
“I do not need her mind being poisoned,” Foulques said. He sighed. “Send a man to Saumur and order a bracelet made for Ness. I will present it to her when it is ready.”
“As you wish my lord,” Godfrey said.
“Now, if you have need of me, I am headed to the yard to meet with the king,” Foulques said. “Only interrupt if it is of the utmost importance.”
“Of course,” Godfrey said.
Foulques left the chancellor behind and continued his way to the yard. Along the way he noticed Alearde walking about the hallway, and caught himself again admiring her seeming ever-lasting beauty, even as she passed 45 summers.
But then another thought occurred to him - why was Alearde not with Agnes?
The two were near inseparable. Agnes would have no problem taking her on a ride which also had ladies from queen and duchess present.
He thought of asking, but she was gone quickly, nearly ghosting away.
Foulques frowned but continued on to the king, who stood by himself in the yard, bow in hand with an arrow pulled back as he took aim at a target.
His shot was good, as he hit the inner ring of the circular straw target.
“Come to admire my aim, Duke Foulques?” Philippe asked without turning.
“I did not know you could see me, my king,” Foulques said as he approached.
“I spotted you out of the corner of my eye,” Philippe replied. “But I try to focus myself to ignore such distractions when aiming. I shall not catch many stags if I can not.”
“Stag? An old man’s type of hunt,” Foulques said.
“And what are we but old men?” Philippe asked. “When is the last time you hunted boar?”
In truth, it had been some time. He had slowed in that since joining the king in Melun as his marshal - and he could not remember the last time he took an active role in one.
“How is your aim, old friend?” Philippe asked.
He offered Foulques his bow and an arrow. The Duke took them and lined up his shot. His first arrow hit the outer ring of the target.
Philippe offered a second arrow. Foulques took it without hesitation and aimed once more. His shot hit the outer part of the target, but missed the two rings.
“It appears there is something in the ways of war that I can best you in,” Philippe said. “A proud moment for me.”
Foulques frowned. “A poor day for me. I am out of practice.”
“Of course,” Philippe replied with a sly smile. “I think I shall organize a hunt in the summer. Plenty of time for you to improve in that time.”
Foulques did not smile. “Did Adalmode see you?”
“Beg your pardon?” Philippe asked.
“The nun, Adalmode,” Foulques replied.
“Oh, my apologies,” Philippe said. “When you say that name I think of my daughter, the Princess, off with that Prince of the Danes.”
“How is she?”
“She given birth to a son,” Philippe said. “Other than that, I am uncertain. I have heard rumors she spends much company around the ladies of court. But little else.”
“I had not heard of your grandson,” Foulques said as he handed the bow back to the king. “My congratulations.”
“Not much has been heard because he is far away from succession,” Philippe said. “I doubt I shall ever see him. And oddly it does not trouble me.”
“I am surprised to hear that,” Foulques said.
“I have never known him,” Philippe said as he took aim. “And I am not close with my eldest daughter as you are with yours. Her mother was saddened when Adalmode left. I felt little. I’ve wondered at times if that makes me a poor father… but it is the least of my sins to my children.”
Philippe fired an arrow nearly dead-center, narrowly missing the bullseye.
“You speak wistfully,” Foulques said. “Have you seen Adalm-- the nun?”
“I have not,” Philippe replied.
“What? I told her see you,” Foulques said. “It was not a mere suggestion.”
“She was dealing with a sick child,” Philippe said as he took aim at the target. “I could not bring myself to pull her away. I am dying, but not that quickly.”
“You are the king,” Foulques said. “She should not keep you waiting, especially as I told her to examine you.”
“It is alright,” Philippe replied. “As I have said it is a child’s life. Such things are precious.”
“Reflecting again?” Foulques asked.
“No…” Philippe replied. “It is not common knowledge but… my youngest daughter has passed while being held by Champagne. He claimed it was not intentional but…”
Foulques shook his head. That was poor news. And it was a reminder of what a precarious situation the royals found themselves in.
“Are you alright? Foulques asked.
“I am dying, the daughter I never got the chance to meet is dead, and my sons and younger daughters are in the clutches of my enemy,” Philippe said. He sighed. “I have been better.”
They fell silent. Foulques was never the best at small talk, and a situation like this was even harder. How could one console the king?
“You should know, by the way,” Philippe began, “we have company.”
Foulques looked around. While people moved about in the yard, there was no one close by.
“I do not see anyone,” Foulques said.
“Because your grandson hides well,” Philippe said. “But your king has seen you boy. You may come out.”
Foulques looked around. And then from behind a barrel, the young boy with brown hair slipped out.
Now six summers, Foulques had heard his grandson had shown great interest in knights and combat, often wanting to play fight with weapons. Such talk pleased the elder duke, providing hope the will to be a great knight had merely skipped a generation with Geoffrey.
“I am sorry for snooping grandfather, my king,” the younger Foulques whimpered, his head down.
“It is hardly snooping if I knew you present the whole time,” Philippe replied as he patted the boy on the shoulder.
“But you said nothing?” the older Foulques asked.
“Nothing wrong with a child taking an interest in archery,” Philippe said. “And what would my host, the great hero of Rouen, say if I were to discourage his grandson from knightly activities?”
The younger Foulques’ eyes lit up - though the duke was uncertain it was over the king having no problem with his snooping or if it was because he spoke of Rouen, which the boy had spoken of emulating with pride in his play.
“I have heard good things of you lad,” Philippe said to him. “When this rebellion is over and the prince returns, I shall see to it you two meet. Just as your father has served me well, my son will have need of good and loyal knights and lords when it is his time to take my place.”
The younger Foulques kept his head down, leaving the duke to nudge him.
“The king compliments you,” he said. “Speak up boy.”
“T--thank you my king,” the younger Foulques replied.
“Why don’t you go get your sword?” Philippe said. “I would like to see your form.”
The boy nodded with a smile and hurried off.
“You truly wish to see him?” Foulques asked.
Philippe shrugged before readying his next shot. “He is a boy. It does not matter his form now. But… my son will need loyal knights if he is to be more successful than me. And the boy who shall one day rule over Anjou, Aquitaine and possibly quite Poitou and Gascony is one worth securing the friendship of.”
“A man who has that much may well wish for more,” Foulques noted.
“A king who did not love you as I did, would not like talk such as that,” Philippe said as he took aim. “But only a fool would not see the situation before him. A man who holds that much could well seek a bit more. But I wonder… perhaps the hand of a princess would satiate that ambition?”
Foulques smiled as Philippe’s shot struck the target dead-center.
….
That evening, Foulques sat alone, sipping on some wine. He was disappointed the king still had not seen Adalmode, but at least it was clear his interest remained attempting to placate his family as much as possible. It was strangely reassuring to know his grandson was already a person of great importance in the realm.
Geoffrey will have to deal with a son who is more important than he. We shall see how he handles it.
A knock on the door drew his gaze. A cloaked Agnes crept in and closed the door behind her, before lowering her cloak.
“Father,” Agnes said as she bowed before him.
“How was your day with the queen?” Foulques asked.
“Lovely,” Agnes replied. “She enjoyed the sites along the river. And she spoke well of our treatment of her and the king.”
“Excellent,” Foulques said. “You do your job well.”
“Did you expect anything else?” Agnes asked.
Foulques smirked. “No. Or I would not have had you host. How was the Duchess?”
Agnes’ smile faded quickly. “I come to speak you about her, father. Distressing news.”
Foulques pulled himself upright. “Has something happened to the child she carries?”
“No,” Agnes said.
Foulques narrowed his gaze. “Does this concern the child?”
If the child is not mine…
“No, father,” Agnes said. “She… I have information from Alearde.”
“Alearde? She normally brings me things such as this herself,” Foulques said.
“She is unable to at the moment,” Agnes said. “And given its urgency, we thought it best if I spoke to you about it, in private of course.”
Foulques took a drink of his wine. “Then what is it?”
“As you know, uncle Geoffrey continues to spend his days trying to bring your death,” Agnes said. “He has men looking for those sympathetic to his call.”
“I am aware,” Foulques said. “My spymaster looks for plotters. Few are foolish enough to dare.”
Foulques paused before adding: “She has not.”
“She listens to those,” Agnes said. “The one she spoke with, Alearde learned of through some of the maids. I can give you his name, where to find him…”
“Haldora…” Foulques said. “She took part in the plot?”
“There was no… plot,” Agnes said. “Not yet. It was to find those who would plot. She was willing to listen.”
Foulques slammed the table, causing the wine to spill from his cup. “She is a traitor! I will send her to the headsman.”
“She is with child,” Agnes said. “Your child. You will kill your wife in that state?”
“She will not be with child forever,” Foulques said. “I will lock her away, and when the child is born, I shall give it to a wet nurse, then have her killed.”
“Father, please,” Agnes pleased. “There is no need for this.”
“No need?” Foulques asked. “No NEED?!”
He slammed the table once more. “She plots to take my life and you think there is no need?! Let someone threaten your life, or that of your child and see if you feel there is no need!”
Agnes nodded. “I understand father… but... she is distraught. And angry. She feels slighted, embarrassed… worthless to you.”
“I will make her feel worse,” Foulques said.
“It will reflect poorly upon you,” Agnes said.
“Enough!” Foulques shouted. “I cannot believe you side with a woman who wishes me dead.”
“I do not side with her,” Agnes said. “If I sided with her, I would have mentioned nothing of this to you. I ask you for mercy for her, because I know what it is like to feel scorned and tossed aside.”
“And yet you did not plot your cousin’s death,” Foulques said.
“I never had the chance to,” Agnes replied.
Foulques eyed her. She did not understand. She cannot understand. She is a woman… they lack the steel to do what is necessary.
He needed to know more. And for that, he needed to go to the source.
“Where is Alearde?” Foulques demanded.
“She is busy,” Agnes replied. “I will inform her you wish to see her and when she has time.”
“I am the DUKE OF ANJOU!” Foulques exclaimed. “I will see her now!”
Agnes did not flinch. But she did close her eyes and sigh before muttering something.
“What did you say?!”
“Adalmode’s chambers,” Agnes said. “You should not go.”
“Why?” Foulques demanded. “Is she ill?”
“No,” Agnes said. “But---”
“But nothing,” Foulques said as he stormed past her and out into the hall.
He was seething. His thoughts even wondered if he should go to Haldora’s chambers and choke the life out of her himself. Few would begrudge him for that over such a betrayal… though they would not be aware of it until afterward. And given that word had already spread about the child she carried…
He did not even knock when reached the nun’s chambers. Instead, he just shoved open the door, slamming it against the wall with enough force to chip some of the wood.
There was no Adalmode however - just Alearde, kneeling beside. Her head shot up, her eyes widened at the shock of Foulques’ sudden arrival no doubt.
But as he approached, he noticed something - her eyes were bloodshot. Her cheeks were moist - tears had been running down them.
And then he saw the boy.
It was Alearde’s son, Roubaud. The boy was nine summers - a bastard courtesy of Duke Gilles. Despite that he was well mannered, handsome and well-spoken. The ladies found him a perfect gentlemen and the men of the court never said a bad word of him.
But he was motionless now, the color gone from his face. His eyes were glazed over - Foulques could see now the life was gone from them.
“My lord…” Alearde whimpered. She cleared her throat, but did not rise from her kneeling position. Stronger now, she asked: “Do you look for Adalmode?”
“No,” Foulques said. “I look for you. Agnes… I demanded Agnes tell me where you were.”
“Oh…” Alearde said. “You have need of me?”
The sight of his first love, her face flush, her eyes bloodshot, her hair out of place… made his anger from before dissipate. He went to her side.
“What… what happened?” Foulques asked.
“An illness,” Alearde said. “He had fever… a cough. It was high… and… then last night he collapsed. Adalmode has been watching over him… but a little while ago… he… he…”
Alearde buried her face into the bed as she began to tremble and sob. Foulques gently rubbed her back.
“I am sorry,” was all he could think to say.
“I know he was just the bastard son of your wretched nephew to you,” Alearde whimpered. “But he was my child. My sweet, sweet boy.”
In truth, Foulques had long left behind any real animosity toward Alearde’s two bastards by Gilles. He rarely saw them as he was in Melun, his own relationship with Alearde had improved and he had secured his revenge on Gilles. And he found little time to think of them at all, let alone hate them.
“He was your son,” Foulques said. “That is all that matters.”
“It is kind of you to say that,” Alearde said.
“I mean it,” Foulques said. “He was well-liked by everyone here, from what I understand. It speaks well of him.”
Alearde tried to smile but instead she just began to sob once more. Foulques pulled her close and soon felt the wetness of her tears soaking his shirt.
“You deserve better than this tragedy,” he said as he stroked her hair.
She pulled her head back and looked up at him. “Tragedy by its nature is undeserved. I am not special.”
“You are to me,” Foulques said.
Alearde sniffled before squeezing Foulques tightly. But her head soon returned to his chest and the tears flowed once more.
Nothing he said seemed to matter… it was a rare situation that he saw her so distraught. A few times came to mind… with Lithuaise… when he married Aines… but this was perhaps worse than them all.
Yet he felt compelled to keep trying.
“He shall have full rites,” Foulques said. “He… he may have been a bastard. But he was the grandson to my sister. She would expect me to treat him with honor and dignity.”
“That is kind of you,” Alearde said.
“What more can I do for you?” Foulques asked. “Name it and you shall have it.”
Alearde looked at him. She shook her head slowly.
“You cannot bring my son back,” Alearde replied. “I do not mean to seem ungrateful. But… that is all I want. I wish I did not have to tell his sisters that he has been lost to us. I do not want to hear people wish me their condolences. I just want to hear him speak… to laugh… I want to see him grow up to serve you, or Lord Geoffrey… I want to see him with a wife of his own. I want to meet his children… I want… what I want, you cannot give me. No one can.”
Those words cut deeper than any he had heard in some time. The realization that there was nothing he could do to mend the situation…
It never felt that way. Even in this rebellion, Foulques felt all he would have to do to end it, if he so chose, would be to raise his levy and attack Champagne. Resistance would fall away as it did with Gilles.
Geoffrey? He persisted because in the end Foulques allowed him to. If the Duke of Anjou wished, he could dissolve their alliance and Geoffrey would flounder and likely fail.
But he could not bring life to the dead. She wished for something he could not provide. Something he could never provide.
And it left him feeling hollow.
“Do you wish for me to leave you alone?” Foulques asked.
Alearde pulled her head away from his chest once more. Her bloodshot eyes watered, and tears streamed down them.
“No,” she said as she squeezed him. “I do not wish for that either.”
“Then I shall remain as long as you need me,” Foulques replied.
And he did, staying with her for the rest of the night, as she fell asleep, crying, in his arms.
November 1100- Anjou, France
Her pale face was flush in anger. Her ruby red lips trembled with rage. Her eyes refused to release him… not that he wished to be released.
So much anger. So much passion.
To Foulques, Haldora never looked so beautiful.
“I do not know why you bring her here!” she shouted. “Have I not suffered enough shame?”
Foulques eyed the duchess as he sat in his chamber in Anjou, sipping wine. Her anger had been held when he had returned with the king, but she had not hesitated to voice her discontent now, in private.
But was not mad. He could barely resist showing his pleasure, with a sly grin.
“Ness is but one of the queen’s ladies,” Foulques replied. “As the queen is here with the king, so is she.”
“She was also here with you in August and September,” Haldora said. “And unless she was well-hidden, the queen was not in Anjou.”
“I received dispensation then,” Foulques said. “She was useful in negotiations with my son.”
“Seeking unnerve him by showing off your whore?” Haldora spat. “You are a disgrace. No wonder he thinks ill of you.”
“And he is wise enough not to voice things in that way, seeing as he remains reliant on me,” Foulques said. “A lesson others could learn.”
Haldora turned an even deeper shade of red.
“I do not fear you,” she said. “You may embarrass me by bedding that whore in my home, but you shall not intimidate me to stay silent.”
Foulques could not resist a smirk. If she showed this passion in our love-making, I would have no need of Ness.
“You have made your point,” Foulques said as he stood up. He approached her and touched her hair, causing her to pull away. “I will not lay with her while in Anjou. It shall be you, my lovely wife, who shall receive all my attention.”
Haldora shook her head. “You shall not touch me.”
Foulques grabbed her arm and pulled her close. “You are my wife. And if I say you will lay with me, then you will.”
Haldora shifted his hand down to her midsection, which had a surprising firmness to it.
“A child grows in my belly,” she said. “Much to my disappointment. Your visit in August was enough, despite my prayers to God to not allow it.”
“You would admit such a thing?” Foulques asked.
“As I have said, I do not fear you,” Haldora replied. “What greater punishment could I receive that what I already have, cast aside like I am nothing, replaced by that de Poitou whore and knowing the child I carry will fall behind her bastard in succession.”
“I could throw you in the dungeon,” Foulques noted. “The way you speak, I wonder if you would hurt the child you carry.”
Haldora gritted her teeth and tried to pull away but Foulques held her close. “I would never harm my children. They are innocent - and I shall make certain that they are not you.”
“We will see about that,” Foulques replied. “I’ve found children are quite likely to do the opposite of what their parents desire.”
Haldora said nothing, though slowly she tried to again slip from Foulques’ grasp. But he just pulled her tighter.
Though she did not usually excite him, he could not deny she had grown into quite the woman. It was impressive how she’d gained a command of the language over her decade in Anjou. It was almost cute the way she spoke it, through her thick accent.
He felt his manhood press against her backside - a much larger one than when she had arrived in Anjou. But two children, a rich life as a duchess, and a relatively slothful existence would do that. She was certainly not Beatritz, who had grown quite fat as she grew old, but Haldora was no waif.
“Why must you hold me?” she demanded.
“Because I have never desired you as much as I do now,” Foulques said. “After 10 years, it would be foolish to let this moment go to waste.”
“But… I am with child,” Haldora pleaded.
“I have bedded women who were much larger than you are now,” Foulques said. “I think I shall manage.”
“But it is a sin!” Haldora exclaimed.
“I have sinned before,” Foulques said. “And will sin again. This, comparatively, is minor.”
Haldora narrowed her gaze. “You are a monster.”
Foulques said nothing, with the only reply the sound of Haldora’s dress hitting the ground.
….
“How is he?”
Chancellor Godfrey’s face did not appear to be one of certainty. His lip quivered and he rubbed his hands together, seemingly out of nervousness.
“He appears in decent spirits my lord,” Godfrey said. “I know not when he saw the nun. Nor do I know what she said. But there have been no reports of the king in ill-temper. He was in fact quite courteous to some as he went to the yard.”
“A good sign then,” Foulques noted as the two walked the halls. “I doubt he would be pleased if Adalmode had given him poor news.”
“One would think not, my lord,” Godfrey said.
Foulques had instructed Adalmode to see the king and examine him as soon as possible. As was her usual fashion, the nun was unfazed by the serious tone she was greeted with and told Foulques she would see Philippe when she had the opportunity - a severe flu was making its way around the town and keep and was busy treating those stricken.
But it was the King of the Franks - there was only so long he could be kept waiting. So, having arrived yesterday afternoon, Foulques doubted Philippe had not been seen at this point. That Adalmode had not given him news that left him distraught, sullen, and seeking the comfort of wine was a positive.
“What of the queen?” Foulques asked.
“Lady Agnes tends to her,” Godfrey said. “Today they ride, along the Maine as it is quite warm for this time of year.”
“Good,” Foulques replied. “The queen’s affection for my daughter is another thing in our favor. I hardly doubt she would raise an objection to the king looking favorably on our family… Did the duchess attend as I requested?”
Haldora’s passion drawn Foulques in, but her love-making the night before was as limp as usual. Still, that he even wanted her was an improvement, so he felt a reward was warranted.
“Yes, she attended,” Godfrey said. “And… Ness was left behind among the king’s ladies. She was not pleased.”
Foulques rolled his eyes. “To be expected. The only question is whether she blames myself, my daughter, or the duchess.”
“I suspect it may well be all three depending on mood,” Godfrey said. “She was also displeased to be denied the opportunity to see her older sister.”
“I do not need her mind being poisoned,” Foulques said. He sighed. “Send a man to Saumur and order a bracelet made for Ness. I will present it to her when it is ready.”
“As you wish my lord,” Godfrey said.
“Now, if you have need of me, I am headed to the yard to meet with the king,” Foulques said. “Only interrupt if it is of the utmost importance.”
“Of course,” Godfrey said.
Foulques left the chancellor behind and continued his way to the yard. Along the way he noticed Alearde walking about the hallway, and caught himself again admiring her seeming ever-lasting beauty, even as she passed 45 summers.
But then another thought occurred to him - why was Alearde not with Agnes?
The two were near inseparable. Agnes would have no problem taking her on a ride which also had ladies from queen and duchess present.
He thought of asking, but she was gone quickly, nearly ghosting away.
Foulques frowned but continued on to the king, who stood by himself in the yard, bow in hand with an arrow pulled back as he took aim at a target.
His shot was good, as he hit the inner ring of the circular straw target.
“Come to admire my aim, Duke Foulques?” Philippe asked without turning.
“I did not know you could see me, my king,” Foulques said as he approached.
“I spotted you out of the corner of my eye,” Philippe replied. “But I try to focus myself to ignore such distractions when aiming. I shall not catch many stags if I can not.”
“Stag? An old man’s type of hunt,” Foulques said.
“And what are we but old men?” Philippe asked. “When is the last time you hunted boar?”
In truth, it had been some time. He had slowed in that since joining the king in Melun as his marshal - and he could not remember the last time he took an active role in one.
“How is your aim, old friend?” Philippe asked.
He offered Foulques his bow and an arrow. The Duke took them and lined up his shot. His first arrow hit the outer ring of the target.
Philippe offered a second arrow. Foulques took it without hesitation and aimed once more. His shot hit the outer part of the target, but missed the two rings.
“It appears there is something in the ways of war that I can best you in,” Philippe said. “A proud moment for me.”
Foulques frowned. “A poor day for me. I am out of practice.”
“Of course,” Philippe replied with a sly smile. “I think I shall organize a hunt in the summer. Plenty of time for you to improve in that time.”
Foulques did not smile. “Did Adalmode see you?”
“Beg your pardon?” Philippe asked.
“The nun, Adalmode,” Foulques replied.
“Oh, my apologies,” Philippe said. “When you say that name I think of my daughter, the Princess, off with that Prince of the Danes.”
“How is she?”
“She given birth to a son,” Philippe said. “Other than that, I am uncertain. I have heard rumors she spends much company around the ladies of court. But little else.”
“I had not heard of your grandson,” Foulques said as he handed the bow back to the king. “My congratulations.”
“Not much has been heard because he is far away from succession,” Philippe said. “I doubt I shall ever see him. And oddly it does not trouble me.”
“I am surprised to hear that,” Foulques said.
“I have never known him,” Philippe said as he took aim. “And I am not close with my eldest daughter as you are with yours. Her mother was saddened when Adalmode left. I felt little. I’ve wondered at times if that makes me a poor father… but it is the least of my sins to my children.”
Philippe fired an arrow nearly dead-center, narrowly missing the bullseye.
“You speak wistfully,” Foulques said. “Have you seen Adalm-- the nun?”
“I have not,” Philippe replied.
“What? I told her see you,” Foulques said. “It was not a mere suggestion.”
“She was dealing with a sick child,” Philippe said as he took aim at the target. “I could not bring myself to pull her away. I am dying, but not that quickly.”
“You are the king,” Foulques said. “She should not keep you waiting, especially as I told her to examine you.”
“It is alright,” Philippe replied. “As I have said it is a child’s life. Such things are precious.”
“Reflecting again?” Foulques asked.
“No…” Philippe replied. “It is not common knowledge but… my youngest daughter has passed while being held by Champagne. He claimed it was not intentional but…”
Foulques shook his head. That was poor news. And it was a reminder of what a precarious situation the royals found themselves in.
“Are you alright? Foulques asked.
“I am dying, the daughter I never got the chance to meet is dead, and my sons and younger daughters are in the clutches of my enemy,” Philippe said. He sighed. “I have been better.”
They fell silent. Foulques was never the best at small talk, and a situation like this was even harder. How could one console the king?
“You should know, by the way,” Philippe began, “we have company.”
Foulques looked around. While people moved about in the yard, there was no one close by.
“I do not see anyone,” Foulques said.
“Because your grandson hides well,” Philippe said. “But your king has seen you boy. You may come out.”
Foulques looked around. And then from behind a barrel, the young boy with brown hair slipped out.
Now six summers, Foulques had heard his grandson had shown great interest in knights and combat, often wanting to play fight with weapons. Such talk pleased the elder duke, providing hope the will to be a great knight had merely skipped a generation with Geoffrey.
“I am sorry for snooping grandfather, my king,” the younger Foulques whimpered, his head down.
“It is hardly snooping if I knew you present the whole time,” Philippe replied as he patted the boy on the shoulder.
“But you said nothing?” the older Foulques asked.
“Nothing wrong with a child taking an interest in archery,” Philippe said. “And what would my host, the great hero of Rouen, say if I were to discourage his grandson from knightly activities?”
The younger Foulques’ eyes lit up - though the duke was uncertain it was over the king having no problem with his snooping or if it was because he spoke of Rouen, which the boy had spoken of emulating with pride in his play.
“I have heard good things of you lad,” Philippe said to him. “When this rebellion is over and the prince returns, I shall see to it you two meet. Just as your father has served me well, my son will have need of good and loyal knights and lords when it is his time to take my place.”
The younger Foulques kept his head down, leaving the duke to nudge him.
“The king compliments you,” he said. “Speak up boy.”
“T--thank you my king,” the younger Foulques replied.
“Why don’t you go get your sword?” Philippe said. “I would like to see your form.”
The boy nodded with a smile and hurried off.
“You truly wish to see him?” Foulques asked.
Philippe shrugged before readying his next shot. “He is a boy. It does not matter his form now. But… my son will need loyal knights if he is to be more successful than me. And the boy who shall one day rule over Anjou, Aquitaine and possibly quite Poitou and Gascony is one worth securing the friendship of.”
“A man who has that much may well wish for more,” Foulques noted.
“A king who did not love you as I did, would not like talk such as that,” Philippe said as he took aim. “But only a fool would not see the situation before him. A man who holds that much could well seek a bit more. But I wonder… perhaps the hand of a princess would satiate that ambition?”
Foulques smiled as Philippe’s shot struck the target dead-center.
….
That evening, Foulques sat alone, sipping on some wine. He was disappointed the king still had not seen Adalmode, but at least it was clear his interest remained attempting to placate his family as much as possible. It was strangely reassuring to know his grandson was already a person of great importance in the realm.
Geoffrey will have to deal with a son who is more important than he. We shall see how he handles it.
A knock on the door drew his gaze. A cloaked Agnes crept in and closed the door behind her, before lowering her cloak.
“Father,” Agnes said as she bowed before him.
“How was your day with the queen?” Foulques asked.
“Lovely,” Agnes replied. “She enjoyed the sites along the river. And she spoke well of our treatment of her and the king.”
“Excellent,” Foulques said. “You do your job well.”
“Did you expect anything else?” Agnes asked.
Foulques smirked. “No. Or I would not have had you host. How was the Duchess?”
Agnes’ smile faded quickly. “I come to speak you about her, father. Distressing news.”
Foulques pulled himself upright. “Has something happened to the child she carries?”
“No,” Agnes said.
Foulques narrowed his gaze. “Does this concern the child?”
If the child is not mine…
“No, father,” Agnes said. “She… I have information from Alearde.”
“Alearde? She normally brings me things such as this herself,” Foulques said.
“She is unable to at the moment,” Agnes said. “And given its urgency, we thought it best if I spoke to you about it, in private of course.”
Foulques took a drink of his wine. “Then what is it?”
“As you know, uncle Geoffrey continues to spend his days trying to bring your death,” Agnes said. “He has men looking for those sympathetic to his call.”
“I am aware,” Foulques said. “My spymaster looks for plotters. Few are foolish enough to dare.”
Foulques paused before adding: “She has not.”
“She listens to those,” Agnes said. “The one she spoke with, Alearde learned of through some of the maids. I can give you his name, where to find him…”
“Haldora…” Foulques said. “She took part in the plot?”
“There was no… plot,” Agnes said. “Not yet. It was to find those who would plot. She was willing to listen.”
Foulques slammed the table, causing the wine to spill from his cup. “She is a traitor! I will send her to the headsman.”
“She is with child,” Agnes said. “Your child. You will kill your wife in that state?”
“She will not be with child forever,” Foulques said. “I will lock her away, and when the child is born, I shall give it to a wet nurse, then have her killed.”
“Father, please,” Agnes pleased. “There is no need for this.”
“No need?” Foulques asked. “No NEED?!”
He slammed the table once more. “She plots to take my life and you think there is no need?! Let someone threaten your life, or that of your child and see if you feel there is no need!”
Agnes nodded. “I understand father… but... she is distraught. And angry. She feels slighted, embarrassed… worthless to you.”
“I will make her feel worse,” Foulques said.
“It will reflect poorly upon you,” Agnes said.
“Enough!” Foulques shouted. “I cannot believe you side with a woman who wishes me dead.”
“I do not side with her,” Agnes said. “If I sided with her, I would have mentioned nothing of this to you. I ask you for mercy for her, because I know what it is like to feel scorned and tossed aside.”
“And yet you did not plot your cousin’s death,” Foulques said.
“I never had the chance to,” Agnes replied.
Foulques eyed her. She did not understand. She cannot understand. She is a woman… they lack the steel to do what is necessary.
He needed to know more. And for that, he needed to go to the source.
“Where is Alearde?” Foulques demanded.
“She is busy,” Agnes replied. “I will inform her you wish to see her and when she has time.”
“I am the DUKE OF ANJOU!” Foulques exclaimed. “I will see her now!”
Agnes did not flinch. But she did close her eyes and sigh before muttering something.
“What did you say?!”
“Adalmode’s chambers,” Agnes said. “You should not go.”
“Why?” Foulques demanded. “Is she ill?”
“No,” Agnes said. “But---”
“But nothing,” Foulques said as he stormed past her and out into the hall.
He was seething. His thoughts even wondered if he should go to Haldora’s chambers and choke the life out of her himself. Few would begrudge him for that over such a betrayal… though they would not be aware of it until afterward. And given that word had already spread about the child she carried…
He did not even knock when reached the nun’s chambers. Instead, he just shoved open the door, slamming it against the wall with enough force to chip some of the wood.
There was no Adalmode however - just Alearde, kneeling beside. Her head shot up, her eyes widened at the shock of Foulques’ sudden arrival no doubt.
But as he approached, he noticed something - her eyes were bloodshot. Her cheeks were moist - tears had been running down them.
And then he saw the boy.
It was Alearde’s son, Roubaud. The boy was nine summers - a bastard courtesy of Duke Gilles. Despite that he was well mannered, handsome and well-spoken. The ladies found him a perfect gentlemen and the men of the court never said a bad word of him.
But he was motionless now, the color gone from his face. His eyes were glazed over - Foulques could see now the life was gone from them.
“My lord…” Alearde whimpered. She cleared her throat, but did not rise from her kneeling position. Stronger now, she asked: “Do you look for Adalmode?”
“No,” Foulques said. “I look for you. Agnes… I demanded Agnes tell me where you were.”
“Oh…” Alearde said. “You have need of me?”
The sight of his first love, her face flush, her eyes bloodshot, her hair out of place… made his anger from before dissipate. He went to her side.
“What… what happened?” Foulques asked.
“An illness,” Alearde said. “He had fever… a cough. It was high… and… then last night he collapsed. Adalmode has been watching over him… but a little while ago… he… he…”
Alearde buried her face into the bed as she began to tremble and sob. Foulques gently rubbed her back.
“I am sorry,” was all he could think to say.
“I know he was just the bastard son of your wretched nephew to you,” Alearde whimpered. “But he was my child. My sweet, sweet boy.”
In truth, Foulques had long left behind any real animosity toward Alearde’s two bastards by Gilles. He rarely saw them as he was in Melun, his own relationship with Alearde had improved and he had secured his revenge on Gilles. And he found little time to think of them at all, let alone hate them.
“He was your son,” Foulques said. “That is all that matters.”
“It is kind of you to say that,” Alearde said.
“I mean it,” Foulques said. “He was well-liked by everyone here, from what I understand. It speaks well of him.”
Alearde tried to smile but instead she just began to sob once more. Foulques pulled her close and soon felt the wetness of her tears soaking his shirt.
“You deserve better than this tragedy,” he said as he stroked her hair.
She pulled her head back and looked up at him. “Tragedy by its nature is undeserved. I am not special.”
“You are to me,” Foulques said.
Alearde sniffled before squeezing Foulques tightly. But her head soon returned to his chest and the tears flowed once more.
Nothing he said seemed to matter… it was a rare situation that he saw her so distraught. A few times came to mind… with Lithuaise… when he married Aines… but this was perhaps worse than them all.
Yet he felt compelled to keep trying.
“He shall have full rites,” Foulques said. “He… he may have been a bastard. But he was the grandson to my sister. She would expect me to treat him with honor and dignity.”
“That is kind of you,” Alearde said.
“What more can I do for you?” Foulques asked. “Name it and you shall have it.”
Alearde looked at him. She shook her head slowly.
“You cannot bring my son back,” Alearde replied. “I do not mean to seem ungrateful. But… that is all I want. I wish I did not have to tell his sisters that he has been lost to us. I do not want to hear people wish me their condolences. I just want to hear him speak… to laugh… I want to see him grow up to serve you, or Lord Geoffrey… I want to see him with a wife of his own. I want to meet his children… I want… what I want, you cannot give me. No one can.”
Those words cut deeper than any he had heard in some time. The realization that there was nothing he could do to mend the situation…
It never felt that way. Even in this rebellion, Foulques felt all he would have to do to end it, if he so chose, would be to raise his levy and attack Champagne. Resistance would fall away as it did with Gilles.
Geoffrey? He persisted because in the end Foulques allowed him to. If the Duke of Anjou wished, he could dissolve their alliance and Geoffrey would flounder and likely fail.
But he could not bring life to the dead. She wished for something he could not provide. Something he could never provide.
And it left him feeling hollow.
“Do you wish for me to leave you alone?” Foulques asked.
Alearde pulled her head away from his chest once more. Her bloodshot eyes watered, and tears streamed down them.
“No,” she said as she squeezed him. “I do not wish for that either.”
“Then I shall remain as long as you need me,” Foulques replied.
And he did, staying with her for the rest of the night, as she fell asleep, crying, in his arms.
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I am not sure if it is is deliberate but in the first portions of this post Foulques is the one in control - violently so in the case with Haldora, and more deliberately in the discussion with Godfrey. However, in the meeting with the King, with Agnes, and then with Alearde he loses that control step by step, until at the end he is impotent. The progression ... I find it a very good illustration of how Foulques is, in some things very close and dear to him, utterly powerless.
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The king confuse to plan ahead for the future, this time he's trying to add layers to the nobility of France. There's the king and all his duke vassals at the moment, but past experience has shown that duchies coalesce together and five powerful dukes are hard to control. So he wants the Anjou family to be France's second house, almost like an old duke of Aquitaine or John of Gaunt. Kingmakers, close to the ruling family and very loyal, that rule in the west so the king can watch all the other (very dangerous) borders he has with the rest of Europe.
I don't know whether this will work. It might for a while or even a long time. There are advantages for all parties for this sort of system to be in place. For the king, it ensures the balance and succession of power is stable and in his favour. For the other dukes and the Church, this allows for greater ease of diplomacy between all parties and the realm isn't going to fall to civil war upon every succession. The only people that would be against such a plan after a few decades of this relationship working well would be powerful dukes wanting to usurp Anjou or the king, and perhaps the king and anjou if their relationship sours.
It has problems and solutions, basically.
I don't know whether this will work. It might for a while or even a long time. There are advantages for all parties for this sort of system to be in place. For the king, it ensures the balance and succession of power is stable and in his favour. For the other dukes and the Church, this allows for greater ease of diplomacy between all parties and the realm isn't going to fall to civil war upon every succession. The only people that would be against such a plan after a few decades of this relationship working well would be powerful dukes wanting to usurp Anjou or the king, and perhaps the king and anjou if their relationship sours.
It has problems and solutions, basically.
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An eventful and emotionally charged instalment! And well done with Foulques - it would be easy to fall into making him one dimensional, but that trap was skilfully avoided. And the King really needs to get his surviving children back - that has dragged on intolerably. Is the rebellion anywhere near being resolved by now? Philippe seems to be getting beyond desperate and into resigned melancholy by now.
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Nice. Chickens coming home to roost; I half expected Adalmode to sermonize about Galatians 6:7-9. Of course, Fouques would likely see a betrothal into the royal family as reaping what he has sown, not the death of a child or plots against his person. Haldora is right about him. Of course, she and Geoffrey aren't the only ones plotting in regards to Foulques; I barely saw a plot by a fellow Duke on Foulques right below but I couldn't make out who it was. But then, I'm not very up to date on the nobility of the realm at the moment. There's been a bit of turnover since we started
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Well done chapter! Foulques is strong and in command in the beginning. After the king mentions about a royal marriage he begins to scheme. Once he finds out about the plot, however everything changes. His impulsiveness takes over and he does not heed the advice of others and charges in. This time he faces a cold hard slap of reality that he despite his stature and his position in the kingdom he is truly powerless to give those he cares about what they truly want or need.
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Im loving the offer by the king of House Anjou being the right hand to the monarchy. Much like the Stewards (later Stewart’s) of Scotland. Cleverly done since, if accepted, it allows that family to be sufficiently strong to resist affords by other Duke’s to nibble away at its lands and simultaneously lets the crown focus on internal and external threats having removed the biggest. Masterful and mutually beneficial.
A nice addition re Alearde and her son’s death: a reminder that death’s feathery touch can alight anywhere. Well done.
A nice addition re Alearde and her son’s death: a reminder that death’s feathery touch can alight anywhere. Well done.
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I like to strike some balance in how I write Foulques. He was, by my book, nasty to Haldora in the opening section, so I wanted him to not appear nearly as powerful in the later parts. Having little weaknesses, like Philippe being better at archery, I feel are important to keep him human and to show he's not good at everything. And Alearde... she causes a different response from him. That difference in their relationship compared to the other women is a small point in the next chapter as well.
I'll also concede, keeping Foulques grounded (even if he doesn't necessarily realize it), helps keep him relate-able. He's a jerk, but I hope he's less detestable when he's not (always) getting his way.
You outline the king's strategy well. I'd say the problem with it is reliant on many parties to keep it working. John of Gaunt is a good example - his death left it to Richard and Henry to continue with that sort of arrangement - which didn't work out well for Richard or the Plantagenets for that matter. Arguably Henry IV's overthrow of Richard laid the seeds of their downfall.
In CK2... I'm not sure if it's easy or harder to keep those arrangements in place. I can usually do it if I'm king... but I also tend to have a massive army too. If I'm not king... eventually someone usually gets too big for their breeches and decides to plot against me. So we'll see if it works (or if it even gets off the ground).
Thanks! I do try to keep him consistent, but also to keep some suspense.
I agree on the king's children. The problem for the rebellion ultimately is the crazy warscore Champagne gets from holding the royals. Basically, you have to completely siege him down to win, or capture him. If I were in control? Troyes would already fallen. But the AI doesn't always play it smart, even if Philippe's AI did an admirable job overall this AAR. I debated jumping in, but something came up - as you'll see in the next chapter that made me hesitate. But he has a singular focus now with Gilles defeated, and Champagne has a paltry army.
Nice. Chickens coming home to roost; I half expected Adalmode to sermonize about Galatians 6:7-9. Of course, Fouques would likely see a betrothal into the royal family as reaping what he has sown, not the death of a child or plots against his person. Haldora is right about him. Of course, she and Geoffrey aren't the only ones plotting in regards to Foulques; I barely saw a plot by a fellow Duke on Foulques right below but I couldn't make out who it was. But then, I'm not very up to date on the nobility of the realm at the moment. There's been a bit of turnover since we started
I feel so much sympathy for Haldora, so I tend to let her be right in her criticisms of Foulques. (You'll see more of that next chapter)
You are right. The Duke of Orleans plots to fabricate a claim on Vendome. I have been wondering when to give it mention - it is more of an aside than major plot point. What is the Duke of Orleans, with an army a quarter of the size of Foulques, going to do to take Vendome? But he is kind of funny - so like I said, it's something you may see in the future.
Thanks! I needed a moment to disarm Foulques, and Roubaud's death was it. He doesn't care about the boy, but he does about Alearde, and his failure to be able to truly help her (along with his failure to win her back) brings him down. And it also wasn't easy combining all of these events together, but the differing tone of these situations worked to shift Foulques from one place to another quickly.
Yep. Whether it's another duke, the king or the father time, eventually all men are humbled.
Thanks! That non-aggression pact, I've found, is very useful to avoid Kings from plotting to revoke lands. That honestly, is Foulques only threat at this point. And it does tie me in to the monarchy, since I don't necessarily want to see the family fall (which renders those pacts worthless). Basically, it's free reign to expand where I want, both in the realm and outside of it - while also offering the potential of the throne of France down the road if opportunity permits.
I made special note of poor Roubaud's death a long time ago too. Alearde was too important a character not to get a scene. She often has been the do-it-all adviser/lover. We see a different side of her here. It's just a small glimpse, but I hope it came through.
I hope that's a good "wow"!
The next chapter follows. It is the second part of this - as noted before this was meant as one part but ballooned into two. And looking ahead, I suspect these next chapters may have something similar. Originally, I had three chapters planned left in this section, with the last one being the grand finale of this period following Boudewijn's death. But I am considering adding one more chapter, since it features an event for one important (and popular) character that I think deserves at least a short chapter of its own.
I also have begun to think about the future of this AAR beyond Foulques. And I wonder if perhaps doing as @coz1 did, in splitting the Rightful King from the Bold Prince, is the right strategy. I did not originally plan to separate for rulers - "Before Plantagenet" was meant to (hopefully) get a future Angevin to kingship. But given the length of this work... perhaps a fresh start that isn't so intimidating to a new reader would be for the best. I even have a working title - "Angevin Ambition" which came to me today as I thought about it. Of course, feedback is always appreciated.
As always thanks for the comments, and feedback. You guys are, also as always, a big help and inspiration!
Chapter 106 - November 1100
Before Plantagenet - Chapter 106
November 1100 - Anjou, France
Foulques sat in silence, one hand covering the other, balled into a tight fist, over his lips.
He would feel the fist clench tighter, then the other hand follow suit. He would bring them closer to his mouth to keep himself quiet.
It was all he could do to maintain his composure.
Haldora stood before him in his chambers. She had come alone, as per his instructions - Helie left outside the door.
As usual, she seemed aggrieved to even be here. Her bow was quick and short, her lips formed a frown and her gaze intimidating.
At a different time, Foulques might have remarked on how, when she wished it, her fierce northern blood bubbled to the surface. But today he was doing all he could to keep from choking the life out of her himself.
It may have been wiser to have someone here - Godfrey, Guilhem, Agnes - but he could not allow that. He suspected she would be defiant, if not outright disrespectful.
The others could not see that.
Foulques had calmed a bit from his anger the evening before. Alearde’s loss and her emotion over it had left him hesitant to just simply kill Haldora for her decision to listen to plans to murder him.
He would at least give her a chance to recant.
“A distressing piece of news has come to my attention, wife,” Foulques said.
If she was worried at that ominous beginning, she did not show it - her reaction was unchanged.
“What news is that?” she asked.
“That you met with a man who is in league with my exiled brother,” Foulques said. “The exiled brother who wishes to take my life.”
Haldora’s eyes did widen for a moment. But she did not respond.
“What have you to say for yourself?” he demanded.
“I do not deny I have met with this man,” Haldora said.
“So you admit to conspiring against my life,” Foulques said as he stood from his chair.
“There were no actual plans discussed,” Haldora replied. “He spoke of a way to have revenge for all the humiliation you have done to me. I said I would listen. He had nothing more to tell me - that when it was time, I would hear from him.”
“But you knew of this plot and told me nothing,” Foulques said.
“You know of this plot already,” Haldora said. “I would not have told you anything new. I do not know who this man is. I could not tell who he is, where is is from, or where he hides.”
“You would have aided him in my death!” Foulques exclaimed as he pounded the table.
“I had not decided on that yet,” Haldora said.
“You lie to me?” Foulques demanded.
“I do not,” Haldora said. “If I thought the plan foolish, I would not have bothered.”
Foulques glared at her. His breathing was heavy, almost a wheeze as he tried to maintain his composure. He did not know if she merely defended herself, or if she sought a rise from him, like Marguerite would.
“You do yourself no favors,” Foulques said. “Your words will only harshen your sentence.”
Haldora narrowed her gaze. “You have already shamed me. You flaunt your lover as if she were your wife. You recognize her children as if they were those birthed by your lawful wife. I hold no say in Anjou, beside what your daughter gifts me as a token show of respect - something that I have learned was not the case with your previous wives. So what is left?”
“What is left is your life,” Foulques replied. “It will be forfeit.”
“Death might be a relief,” Haldora said.
“You say that, but I do not think you realize what it entails,” Foulques said. “I will not simply execute you. After our child is born, you will be put on trial. Your reputation will be destroyed. By the end of it, your own children will be ashamed to look at you.”
Haldora, wide-eyed, shook her head. “You couldn’t. They would not…”
“I have seen first hand the betrayal a child feels when they learn one parent tries to kill another,” Foulques said. “If you doubt me, perhaps I should have you speak to my daughter-by-law. She despises her mother as much as she does me. And her mother never wished anything but the best for her.”
Haldora fell silent for a moment. But then she did something Foulques did not expect.
She began to weep.
“Why do you do this to me?” she shouted as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Why do you seek to make every part of my life miserable? It is not enough that you have embarrassed me? You would destroy my relationship with my children too? Why? Why?”
“You plot against my life,” Foulques said.
“I listened to someone who offered to free me from the misery I have suffered for 10 years!” Haldora exclaimed. Her accent was thicker now - perhaps driven by her emotion. “10 years! 10 years I have been loyal wife, given you a son and a daughter and suffered in silence as you took multiple lovers! And you have never given me anything. Not love, not respect, not appreciation! WHY?!!”
“Because you… you…”
Because she was not a good lover… was such a poor and vapid response that Foulques could not bring himself to say it. He had not always appreciated Beatritz, nor treated her as he should, but he had elevated her in time. He had done the opposite with Haldora diminishing her entirely.
“Because what?” Haldora demanded. “Tell me!”
Foulques lowered his head. “I have not enjoyed you as I did my previous wives. You seemed to find our time together a chore. It is insulting.”
Haldora was silent for a moment, before shaking her head. “I was a girl of 18, thrown from my homeland into a foreign land where I knew not a word of how you speak. I was raised to think limited desire of the flesh was a virtue. Did you not once consider what I might have to say? To think? Or was I just to bend to your every whim and need, even as you said nothing of those desires, and instead just bedded whore after whore.”
“You were to do as… a wife should,” Foulques said.
“And what did I do that a wife should not?” Haldora demanded.
To that Foulques had no answer.
“I see,” Haldora said. “Your silence speaks louder than anything you have ever said to me. I suppose I should be grateful you are not beyond shame.”
“That does not justify your plots to end my life,” Foulques said. “Especially, for a woman of ‘virtue.’”
“No, it does not,” Haldora said. “So far you have driven me where I would consider condemning my own soul to damnation to escape the hell you have put me in.”
Foulques sighed and sat back down. “The church teaches forgiveness. And so should I also forgive. Provided you do not venture down this path again.”
“You do not leave me with much choice,” Haldora said. “I will forget I heard of your brother’s schemes.”
She bowed before him, dropping to one knee. Symbolic, perhaps, but after her actions earlier, Foulques could not be anything but convinced she was sincere.
“Then we shall consider this matter forgotten,” Foulques said. “Do not forget the kindness I have shown you.”
The drew a glare from Haldora as she looked up at him. Her hands trembled and her pale face reddened once more as she stood up.
He expected another snide remark. What he got was a request.
“Will you stop with her?” Haldora asked. “Will you treat me as your wife, and not simply a vessel to birth your children?”
Foulques enjoyed finally seeing her passion. But stop with Ness? He knew that it was unlikely - he enjoyed her far too much for that.
“I will… I may lessen how she is displayed,” Foulques said.
“Lessen… but you will not stop?” Haldora asked.
“It is not for you to question,” Foulques said. “Know your place.”
Haldora sniffled. “I know my place. I know it all too well.”
The Duchess of Anjou turned and stormed from the chamber. She slammed the door with such ferocity, the furniture in the room shook.
Foulques shook his head. He enjoyed that passion. But he strongly suspected this would not be the last time he would be forced to deal with it.
….
That evening, Foulques’ presence was requested in the king’s chambers.
The duke found it somewhat suspicious - after all they had all eaten together not long before. But that had been a meal with the queen, the duchess, Agnes, and the councilors of Anjou - perhaps it was something he wished to discuss in private.
And that, Foulques assumed, could only be what the nun Adalmode had found.
He was fairly certain she had seen him now - as cold as it was, Roubaud’s death meant that the pressing matter for Adalmode was no more. He would never dare say such a thing to Alearde of course - quite the opposite - he was having Bishop Hildebert prepare a funeral worthy of a minor lord.
All this for my worthless nephew’s bastard… she had better appreciate this.
Though Foulques did not know what would qualify appreciation from Alearde any more. He did not expect her to lay with him, no matter how he desired it. She meant too much to him to demand such of her. And beyond that… what could she offer him?
But that would be a matter for another day. For now he had to concern himself with matters of the king.
If the nun had given him good news, Bourges might be his. If not… this entire trip home may have been a waste.
Though if Adalmode had given Philippe bad news, he did not show it. He sat alone in his guest chambers, cup of wine in hand, reading by the candlelight. The door opening did catch his attention though, and he greeted Foulques with a smile.
“Ah, you come,” Philippe said. “I was uncertain if you would tend to other affairs this evening.”
“What other affairs are more important than a request of the king?” Foulques asked.
“You have a wife and two lovers in this keep,” Philippe replied with a sly grin. “Far lesser temptations have kept my lords from fulfilling my requests of them.”
Foulques smirked and took a seat across from the king. “What do you read?”
“Your son suggests to me that I look to the past to see what comes in the future,” Philippe said. “But I think rather than chasing ghosts of Romans, I look to my ancestors - Charles the Hammer… Charlamagne… One a mayor of the palace. One a king.”
Listening to Geoffrey is a fool's errand, Foulques thought. But he had to be more diplomatic to Philippe.
“And what do you learn?” Foulques asked.
Philippe sighed. “Not enough I am afraid. Perhaps these men are more suited for you, my marshal. Though I should be careful - you may start fancying kingship.”
“I have watched you for going on three decades,” Foulques said. “Perhaps if I were young, and foolish. But I am old, and do not wish to bother myself with the problems you face.”
“I believe you, but I do not think it is you my son will have to be concerned with,” Philippe said.
Foulques raised his brow. “My son?”
“You said it, not I,” Philippe said with a slight smirk. He offered Foulques a cup of wine.
“I would expect you to be in a fouler mood over such a thought,” Foulques replied.
“I hope the marriage of his son to my daughter, once she is freed, would satiate him,” Philippe said. “But in truth, it is a problem I should hope to have. It would mean I am alive, and Champagne is defeated.”
“You shall be,” Foulques said as he raised his cup to him. “And he shall be.”
“I do not know about the former,” Philippe said. “But I have hope for the latter.”
“Have you seen the nun?” Foulques asked.
“Yes,” Philippe said. “It is part of the reason I think I can defeat him.”
Foulques smiled. “You received good news then?”
“I received news,” Philippe said. “News that this ailment was not a mystery to your lady physician. When I described the symptoms, and she examined me, she told me she had actually seen it before.”
“She is truly a blessing,” Foulques said. “Then she has given you treatment?”
“She will,” Philippe said. He looked toward his wine. “She tells me she once administered it to your wife, the Lady Beatritz, under similar circumstances. And it gave her three years, was it?”
“Three years?” Foulques asked.
The words were slow in hitting home. But he felt them impact like a punch to his gut.
Like Beatritz?
“A cancer?” Foulques asked.
Philippe nodded. “There is… nothing that she can do to cure it. Just give me things to keep me functioning, as she did your poor wife.”
Foulques shook his head. “No… perhaps Jaspert can…”
Philippe’s brow rose. “You wish for Jaspert to treat me? You must truly not wish for me to pass.”
“He did manage to cure me of the Great Pox,” Foulques said. “A supposedly incurable illness.”
“And cost you your face,” Philippe said. “And nearly killed you. A risk that might be worth taking under certain circumstances. But not these. I cannot die now. I need time. If your nun gives me as much time as she did your late duchess… then I will crush Champagne and free my son. Once he is free and properly installed as King of the Franks, I will be able to leave the realm, content I have done my duty.”
Foulques closed his eyes. He remembered Beatritz surviving, but not thriving. She slowly wasted away over that time… and suffered greatly in the end.
Yet she still managed to handle the affairs of the duchy as well as anyone had - perhaps even Foulques himself…
But another thought struck him. In the past he had seen the king despondent over poor news, drinking himself into a stupor, and wallowing in self-pity.
Yet here, Philippe almost seemed serene. He was relaxed - at peace?
“You take this news… much better than I would have expected,” Foulques said.
“In some ways, it is freeing,” Philippe replied. “To know one’s fate… and to meet it head on. I have my task, my goal, and I shall devote what strength I have left to succeed in it. We must defeat Champagne. It is my final task. Once I have completed it, I shall be able to rest - I shall meet Saint Peter with a smile on my face.”
A thought that was oddly comforting to Foulques - enough that it elicited a smile from him.
“Shall we move the forces to Troyes?” Foulques asked.
“I hope to draw him into battle,” Philippe said. “But I doubt he will engage. He was not only weakened by your nephew’s triumph over his forces, but he lost more men in a skirmish with Gilles’ levy over the summer.”
“Then what?”
“We shall move to retake the keeps he has secured in Normandy,” Philippe said. “Once that is taken care of, he likely will lack the strength to siege any others, and we can move on Troyes.”
“As you command, my liege,” Foulques said.
“And one more thing, Duke Foulques,” Philippe said. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“This trip… it has been enjoyable,” Philippe said. “For myself, and the queen. Such moments have been few and far between this last ten years. I am grateful for them when they come, and who brings them to me.”
“It was nothing,” Foulques said.
“It has never been nothing,” Philippe said. “It is always something - whether out of kindness or selfish desire. But I am not in position to complain about it, so long as the result is good.”
Philippe raised his cup.
“To our victory!” he said. “And with it, my son’s long, and prosperous reign.”
The poor boy would probably be better off if he never were king, Foulques thought. Champagne will not be the last of this trouble.
But that was not the concern of Foulques. He, Geoffrey, and eventually the younger Foulques could decide on their own whether the Prince Alphonse was worth backing.
Until then, Foulques saw no harm in raising his cup along with the king’s once more.
…..
A week later, Foulques sat in his familiar chair in his chambers, alone after a busy day.
The king and queen had departed a few days before - both with smiles on their faces. A good trip for certain, though Foulques was no closer to securing Bourges. Still, the potential union of his grandson to a princess was nothing to be scoffed at. And the king swore to Foulques that the treatment the nun had given him already had him feeling better than he had in sometime.
With the royals gone, today’s business was the burial for Roubaud. Bishop Hildebert had conducted the ceremony himself in the chapel in the keep. He had then been laid to rest in the church cemetary in the town, wrapped in a shroud and buried with his practice sword - no small means, but Foulques had paid for it all himself.
Alearde had been a mess of tears, wailing as the boy was committed to the earth. It was to be expected, and she was comforted by Agnes, Bella, Beatrice, Etiennette and Aureade. Agnes and Bella had helped her walk during the proceedings - it had been that difficult for her.
But when they returned to the keep, she had managed a “thank you” to Foulques - and a smile. It was not quite what she used to manage in her times of happiness, but it was beautiful to him nonetheless, as she let it form through her tears, and squeezed him tightly.
So small, so simple, yet he could not have asked for a better feeling in return.
Thus he sat in his chambers, sipping his wine, and slight grin on his face. He felt good - so good something he had been thinking about since talking to the king began to seem more appealing.
The talk of Geoffrey’s suggestion to Philippe, and the king’s decision to read about the great men of the Franks, had begun to make Foulques wonder whether he should consider do something of equal measure for himself.
He had commissioned a priest to write his family annals in the past, but plenty of other noblemen in the realm had priests do that. He didn’t just want his family annals - he wanted a true history.
A book by which others, in Anjou and beyond, could read on his exploits - how he went from a simple count to the most powerful man in the realm, his triumph over the English king at Rouen, his defeat of both the Kings of Navarre and Brittany, of his friendship with the king… he wished it to be a work equal to his legacy.
He wondered if perhaps it was too vain, but Alearde’s tearful thankful reminded him he was both benevolent as well as a successful duke. It was essential things such as that were known as well - a great man in war, a great man in politics, and yes, a great man to his subjects.
His thoughts were interrupted, however, by a knock on the door. Chancellor Godfrey entered, and Foulques greeted him with excitement, even rising from his chair to grab him by the shoulders and escort him into the room.
“It is good you have come my friend,” Foulques said.
“I seem to have caught you at a good time, my lord,” Godfrey replied.
“You have,” Foulques said. “I have been thinking on a matter and I have decided I wish for it to happen. I want an annals of my rule in Anjou to be cataloged. We shall have the family history that priest put together for us years ago as a base. I want for you to find the best men from the local monastery for this task.”
“Of… course, my lord,” Godfrey said. He paused before saying: “Men? You wish for more than one?”
“Yes,” Foulques said. “I wish to see it completed in my lifetime. I plan to write some of it myself, but I will need at least two others to assist me.”
“An ambitious project,” Godfrey said.
“Then it is suitable for a man such as myself,” Foulques said.
Godfrey smirked. “Very true, my lord.”
Foulques offered him a cup of wine and returned to his chair. “So what did you come to see me about?”
“It concerns Poitou, my lord,” Godfrey said. “Another rebellion.”
Foulques smile faded. He sighed. “In Geoffrey’s name?”
“No, my lord,” Godfrey said. “Uc of Lusignan strikes his banner for another.”
Foulques chuckled. “So Geoffrey will have to fend off another claimant. Someone who is as much a schemer as he.”
Godfrey shook his head. “I… I do not think she has schemed with Count Uc, my lord. That would be near impossible.”
“She?” Foulques asked. “Who… who is this rebellion in the name of?”
Godfrey lowered his head. “Your daughter-by-law, my lord - the Duchess Marguerite.”
November 1100 - Anjou, France
Foulques sat in silence, one hand covering the other, balled into a tight fist, over his lips.
He would feel the fist clench tighter, then the other hand follow suit. He would bring them closer to his mouth to keep himself quiet.
It was all he could do to maintain his composure.
Haldora stood before him in his chambers. She had come alone, as per his instructions - Helie left outside the door.
As usual, she seemed aggrieved to even be here. Her bow was quick and short, her lips formed a frown and her gaze intimidating.
At a different time, Foulques might have remarked on how, when she wished it, her fierce northern blood bubbled to the surface. But today he was doing all he could to keep from choking the life out of her himself.
It may have been wiser to have someone here - Godfrey, Guilhem, Agnes - but he could not allow that. He suspected she would be defiant, if not outright disrespectful.
The others could not see that.
Foulques had calmed a bit from his anger the evening before. Alearde’s loss and her emotion over it had left him hesitant to just simply kill Haldora for her decision to listen to plans to murder him.
He would at least give her a chance to recant.
“A distressing piece of news has come to my attention, wife,” Foulques said.
If she was worried at that ominous beginning, she did not show it - her reaction was unchanged.
“What news is that?” she asked.
“That you met with a man who is in league with my exiled brother,” Foulques said. “The exiled brother who wishes to take my life.”
Haldora’s eyes did widen for a moment. But she did not respond.
“What have you to say for yourself?” he demanded.
“I do not deny I have met with this man,” Haldora said.
“So you admit to conspiring against my life,” Foulques said as he stood from his chair.
“There were no actual plans discussed,” Haldora replied. “He spoke of a way to have revenge for all the humiliation you have done to me. I said I would listen. He had nothing more to tell me - that when it was time, I would hear from him.”
“But you knew of this plot and told me nothing,” Foulques said.
“You know of this plot already,” Haldora said. “I would not have told you anything new. I do not know who this man is. I could not tell who he is, where is is from, or where he hides.”
“You would have aided him in my death!” Foulques exclaimed as he pounded the table.
“I had not decided on that yet,” Haldora said.
“You lie to me?” Foulques demanded.
“I do not,” Haldora said. “If I thought the plan foolish, I would not have bothered.”
Foulques glared at her. His breathing was heavy, almost a wheeze as he tried to maintain his composure. He did not know if she merely defended herself, or if she sought a rise from him, like Marguerite would.
“You do yourself no favors,” Foulques said. “Your words will only harshen your sentence.”
Haldora narrowed her gaze. “You have already shamed me. You flaunt your lover as if she were your wife. You recognize her children as if they were those birthed by your lawful wife. I hold no say in Anjou, beside what your daughter gifts me as a token show of respect - something that I have learned was not the case with your previous wives. So what is left?”
“What is left is your life,” Foulques replied. “It will be forfeit.”
“Death might be a relief,” Haldora said.
“You say that, but I do not think you realize what it entails,” Foulques said. “I will not simply execute you. After our child is born, you will be put on trial. Your reputation will be destroyed. By the end of it, your own children will be ashamed to look at you.”
Haldora, wide-eyed, shook her head. “You couldn’t. They would not…”
“I have seen first hand the betrayal a child feels when they learn one parent tries to kill another,” Foulques said. “If you doubt me, perhaps I should have you speak to my daughter-by-law. She despises her mother as much as she does me. And her mother never wished anything but the best for her.”
Haldora fell silent for a moment. But then she did something Foulques did not expect.
She began to weep.
“Why do you do this to me?” she shouted as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Why do you seek to make every part of my life miserable? It is not enough that you have embarrassed me? You would destroy my relationship with my children too? Why? Why?”
“You plot against my life,” Foulques said.
“I listened to someone who offered to free me from the misery I have suffered for 10 years!” Haldora exclaimed. Her accent was thicker now - perhaps driven by her emotion. “10 years! 10 years I have been loyal wife, given you a son and a daughter and suffered in silence as you took multiple lovers! And you have never given me anything. Not love, not respect, not appreciation! WHY?!!”
“Because you… you…”
Because she was not a good lover… was such a poor and vapid response that Foulques could not bring himself to say it. He had not always appreciated Beatritz, nor treated her as he should, but he had elevated her in time. He had done the opposite with Haldora diminishing her entirely.
“Because what?” Haldora demanded. “Tell me!”
Foulques lowered his head. “I have not enjoyed you as I did my previous wives. You seemed to find our time together a chore. It is insulting.”
Haldora was silent for a moment, before shaking her head. “I was a girl of 18, thrown from my homeland into a foreign land where I knew not a word of how you speak. I was raised to think limited desire of the flesh was a virtue. Did you not once consider what I might have to say? To think? Or was I just to bend to your every whim and need, even as you said nothing of those desires, and instead just bedded whore after whore.”
“You were to do as… a wife should,” Foulques said.
“And what did I do that a wife should not?” Haldora demanded.
To that Foulques had no answer.
“I see,” Haldora said. “Your silence speaks louder than anything you have ever said to me. I suppose I should be grateful you are not beyond shame.”
“That does not justify your plots to end my life,” Foulques said. “Especially, for a woman of ‘virtue.’”
“No, it does not,” Haldora said. “So far you have driven me where I would consider condemning my own soul to damnation to escape the hell you have put me in.”
Foulques sighed and sat back down. “The church teaches forgiveness. And so should I also forgive. Provided you do not venture down this path again.”
“You do not leave me with much choice,” Haldora said. “I will forget I heard of your brother’s schemes.”
She bowed before him, dropping to one knee. Symbolic, perhaps, but after her actions earlier, Foulques could not be anything but convinced she was sincere.
“Then we shall consider this matter forgotten,” Foulques said. “Do not forget the kindness I have shown you.”
The drew a glare from Haldora as she looked up at him. Her hands trembled and her pale face reddened once more as she stood up.
He expected another snide remark. What he got was a request.
“Will you stop with her?” Haldora asked. “Will you treat me as your wife, and not simply a vessel to birth your children?”
Foulques enjoyed finally seeing her passion. But stop with Ness? He knew that it was unlikely - he enjoyed her far too much for that.
“I will… I may lessen how she is displayed,” Foulques said.
“Lessen… but you will not stop?” Haldora asked.
“It is not for you to question,” Foulques said. “Know your place.”
Haldora sniffled. “I know my place. I know it all too well.”
The Duchess of Anjou turned and stormed from the chamber. She slammed the door with such ferocity, the furniture in the room shook.
Foulques shook his head. He enjoyed that passion. But he strongly suspected this would not be the last time he would be forced to deal with it.
….
That evening, Foulques’ presence was requested in the king’s chambers.
The duke found it somewhat suspicious - after all they had all eaten together not long before. But that had been a meal with the queen, the duchess, Agnes, and the councilors of Anjou - perhaps it was something he wished to discuss in private.
And that, Foulques assumed, could only be what the nun Adalmode had found.
He was fairly certain she had seen him now - as cold as it was, Roubaud’s death meant that the pressing matter for Adalmode was no more. He would never dare say such a thing to Alearde of course - quite the opposite - he was having Bishop Hildebert prepare a funeral worthy of a minor lord.
All this for my worthless nephew’s bastard… she had better appreciate this.
Though Foulques did not know what would qualify appreciation from Alearde any more. He did not expect her to lay with him, no matter how he desired it. She meant too much to him to demand such of her. And beyond that… what could she offer him?
But that would be a matter for another day. For now he had to concern himself with matters of the king.
If the nun had given him good news, Bourges might be his. If not… this entire trip home may have been a waste.
Though if Adalmode had given Philippe bad news, he did not show it. He sat alone in his guest chambers, cup of wine in hand, reading by the candlelight. The door opening did catch his attention though, and he greeted Foulques with a smile.
“Ah, you come,” Philippe said. “I was uncertain if you would tend to other affairs this evening.”
“What other affairs are more important than a request of the king?” Foulques asked.
“You have a wife and two lovers in this keep,” Philippe replied with a sly grin. “Far lesser temptations have kept my lords from fulfilling my requests of them.”
Foulques smirked and took a seat across from the king. “What do you read?”
“Your son suggests to me that I look to the past to see what comes in the future,” Philippe said. “But I think rather than chasing ghosts of Romans, I look to my ancestors - Charles the Hammer… Charlamagne… One a mayor of the palace. One a king.”
Listening to Geoffrey is a fool's errand, Foulques thought. But he had to be more diplomatic to Philippe.
“And what do you learn?” Foulques asked.
Philippe sighed. “Not enough I am afraid. Perhaps these men are more suited for you, my marshal. Though I should be careful - you may start fancying kingship.”
“I have watched you for going on three decades,” Foulques said. “Perhaps if I were young, and foolish. But I am old, and do not wish to bother myself with the problems you face.”
“I believe you, but I do not think it is you my son will have to be concerned with,” Philippe said.
Foulques raised his brow. “My son?”
“You said it, not I,” Philippe said with a slight smirk. He offered Foulques a cup of wine.
“I would expect you to be in a fouler mood over such a thought,” Foulques replied.
“I hope the marriage of his son to my daughter, once she is freed, would satiate him,” Philippe said. “But in truth, it is a problem I should hope to have. It would mean I am alive, and Champagne is defeated.”
“You shall be,” Foulques said as he raised his cup to him. “And he shall be.”
“I do not know about the former,” Philippe said. “But I have hope for the latter.”
“Have you seen the nun?” Foulques asked.
“Yes,” Philippe said. “It is part of the reason I think I can defeat him.”
Foulques smiled. “You received good news then?”
“I received news,” Philippe said. “News that this ailment was not a mystery to your lady physician. When I described the symptoms, and she examined me, she told me she had actually seen it before.”
“She is truly a blessing,” Foulques said. “Then she has given you treatment?”
“She will,” Philippe said. He looked toward his wine. “She tells me she once administered it to your wife, the Lady Beatritz, under similar circumstances. And it gave her three years, was it?”
“Three years?” Foulques asked.
The words were slow in hitting home. But he felt them impact like a punch to his gut.
Like Beatritz?
“A cancer?” Foulques asked.
Philippe nodded. “There is… nothing that she can do to cure it. Just give me things to keep me functioning, as she did your poor wife.”
Foulques shook his head. “No… perhaps Jaspert can…”
Philippe’s brow rose. “You wish for Jaspert to treat me? You must truly not wish for me to pass.”
“He did manage to cure me of the Great Pox,” Foulques said. “A supposedly incurable illness.”
“And cost you your face,” Philippe said. “And nearly killed you. A risk that might be worth taking under certain circumstances. But not these. I cannot die now. I need time. If your nun gives me as much time as she did your late duchess… then I will crush Champagne and free my son. Once he is free and properly installed as King of the Franks, I will be able to leave the realm, content I have done my duty.”
Foulques closed his eyes. He remembered Beatritz surviving, but not thriving. She slowly wasted away over that time… and suffered greatly in the end.
Yet she still managed to handle the affairs of the duchy as well as anyone had - perhaps even Foulques himself…
But another thought struck him. In the past he had seen the king despondent over poor news, drinking himself into a stupor, and wallowing in self-pity.
Yet here, Philippe almost seemed serene. He was relaxed - at peace?
“You take this news… much better than I would have expected,” Foulques said.
“In some ways, it is freeing,” Philippe replied. “To know one’s fate… and to meet it head on. I have my task, my goal, and I shall devote what strength I have left to succeed in it. We must defeat Champagne. It is my final task. Once I have completed it, I shall be able to rest - I shall meet Saint Peter with a smile on my face.”
A thought that was oddly comforting to Foulques - enough that it elicited a smile from him.
“Shall we move the forces to Troyes?” Foulques asked.
“I hope to draw him into battle,” Philippe said. “But I doubt he will engage. He was not only weakened by your nephew’s triumph over his forces, but he lost more men in a skirmish with Gilles’ levy over the summer.”
“Then what?”
“We shall move to retake the keeps he has secured in Normandy,” Philippe said. “Once that is taken care of, he likely will lack the strength to siege any others, and we can move on Troyes.”
“As you command, my liege,” Foulques said.
“And one more thing, Duke Foulques,” Philippe said. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“This trip… it has been enjoyable,” Philippe said. “For myself, and the queen. Such moments have been few and far between this last ten years. I am grateful for them when they come, and who brings them to me.”
“It was nothing,” Foulques said.
“It has never been nothing,” Philippe said. “It is always something - whether out of kindness or selfish desire. But I am not in position to complain about it, so long as the result is good.”
Philippe raised his cup.
“To our victory!” he said. “And with it, my son’s long, and prosperous reign.”
The poor boy would probably be better off if he never were king, Foulques thought. Champagne will not be the last of this trouble.
But that was not the concern of Foulques. He, Geoffrey, and eventually the younger Foulques could decide on their own whether the Prince Alphonse was worth backing.
Until then, Foulques saw no harm in raising his cup along with the king’s once more.
…..
A week later, Foulques sat in his familiar chair in his chambers, alone after a busy day.
The king and queen had departed a few days before - both with smiles on their faces. A good trip for certain, though Foulques was no closer to securing Bourges. Still, the potential union of his grandson to a princess was nothing to be scoffed at. And the king swore to Foulques that the treatment the nun had given him already had him feeling better than he had in sometime.
With the royals gone, today’s business was the burial for Roubaud. Bishop Hildebert had conducted the ceremony himself in the chapel in the keep. He had then been laid to rest in the church cemetary in the town, wrapped in a shroud and buried with his practice sword - no small means, but Foulques had paid for it all himself.
Alearde had been a mess of tears, wailing as the boy was committed to the earth. It was to be expected, and she was comforted by Agnes, Bella, Beatrice, Etiennette and Aureade. Agnes and Bella had helped her walk during the proceedings - it had been that difficult for her.
But when they returned to the keep, she had managed a “thank you” to Foulques - and a smile. It was not quite what she used to manage in her times of happiness, but it was beautiful to him nonetheless, as she let it form through her tears, and squeezed him tightly.
So small, so simple, yet he could not have asked for a better feeling in return.
Thus he sat in his chambers, sipping his wine, and slight grin on his face. He felt good - so good something he had been thinking about since talking to the king began to seem more appealing.
The talk of Geoffrey’s suggestion to Philippe, and the king’s decision to read about the great men of the Franks, had begun to make Foulques wonder whether he should consider do something of equal measure for himself.
He had commissioned a priest to write his family annals in the past, but plenty of other noblemen in the realm had priests do that. He didn’t just want his family annals - he wanted a true history.
A book by which others, in Anjou and beyond, could read on his exploits - how he went from a simple count to the most powerful man in the realm, his triumph over the English king at Rouen, his defeat of both the Kings of Navarre and Brittany, of his friendship with the king… he wished it to be a work equal to his legacy.
He wondered if perhaps it was too vain, but Alearde’s tearful thankful reminded him he was both benevolent as well as a successful duke. It was essential things such as that were known as well - a great man in war, a great man in politics, and yes, a great man to his subjects.
His thoughts were interrupted, however, by a knock on the door. Chancellor Godfrey entered, and Foulques greeted him with excitement, even rising from his chair to grab him by the shoulders and escort him into the room.
“It is good you have come my friend,” Foulques said.
“I seem to have caught you at a good time, my lord,” Godfrey replied.
“You have,” Foulques said. “I have been thinking on a matter and I have decided I wish for it to happen. I want an annals of my rule in Anjou to be cataloged. We shall have the family history that priest put together for us years ago as a base. I want for you to find the best men from the local monastery for this task.”
“Of… course, my lord,” Godfrey said. He paused before saying: “Men? You wish for more than one?”
“Yes,” Foulques said. “I wish to see it completed in my lifetime. I plan to write some of it myself, but I will need at least two others to assist me.”
“An ambitious project,” Godfrey said.
“Then it is suitable for a man such as myself,” Foulques said.
Godfrey smirked. “Very true, my lord.”
Foulques offered him a cup of wine and returned to his chair. “So what did you come to see me about?”
“It concerns Poitou, my lord,” Godfrey said. “Another rebellion.”
Foulques smile faded. He sighed. “In Geoffrey’s name?”
“No, my lord,” Godfrey said. “Uc of Lusignan strikes his banner for another.”
Foulques chuckled. “So Geoffrey will have to fend off another claimant. Someone who is as much a schemer as he.”
Godfrey shook his head. “I… I do not think she has schemed with Count Uc, my lord. That would be near impossible.”
“She?” Foulques asked. “Who… who is this rebellion in the name of?”
Godfrey lowered his head. “Your daughter-by-law, my lord - the Duchess Marguerite.”
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So, so much going on in these two chapters. Something the just strikes me - in the first scene of the duology we see Foulques aroused by his wife for the first time and feel that it would be a missed opportunity to not take her - without caring how she would feel. We see Haldora ask him more than once to set Ness aside. We see Foulques with Alearde - we see him simply comfort her. Then we see him muse that Alearde means too much to him for him to even pressure her into sex. This illustration of the way he sees these women in his life is quite something. And the irony that Haldora is really jealous of the wrong woman is significant - so little do this husband and wife share.
And then that twist at the end! Truly a fantastic pair of chapters. I do think they worked best as two, there is just so much going on. I like that it was set back in Anjou as well, literalyl and figuratively brought everything back home.
As to whether to start a new AAR for Geoffrey (or whomever follows Foulques) - I'd lean towards yes. It'll really be a new story, although clearly a continuation of this one as well. So a sequel makes sense. Frankly I'll just be happy as long as you keep writing. This is seriously good stuff.
And then that twist at the end! Truly a fantastic pair of chapters. I do think they worked best as two, there is just so much going on. I like that it was set back in Anjou as well, literalyl and figuratively brought everything back home.
As to whether to start a new AAR for Geoffrey (or whomever follows Foulques) - I'd lean towards yes. It'll really be a new story, although clearly a continuation of this one as well. So a sequel makes sense. Frankly I'll just be happy as long as you keep writing. This is seriously good stuff.
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The second comma makes the subject of the sentence uncertain. Foulques is not the kings son nor do they have that kind of relationship. I do not think it is you my son will have to be concerned with, is more correct.
So...the king is dying. And I'll be honest, the bit where he thanks the duke for a nice time in Anjou touched my heart a little. These men, these horrible, disgusting vermin who have cheated, lied, murdered, raped and pillaged across France actually had a fair bit of genuine companionship over the decades. They've changed the face of this kingdom between them. And when the king dies, it will be a herlad of the beginning of the end of foulques' era and the start of a new one under a new generation. The world goes on. Hopefully, it gets better.
Hopefully.
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Just a word on what comes next: whether it is a new AAR or a continuation herein, I think the style you've given us so far is excellent and id be reticent to leave that!
But as said above, keep writing and I'll be happy!
But as said above, keep writing and I'll be happy!
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I have no real opinion one way or another on splitting the continuation into another thread -- I'll remain an eager follower regardless
Cancer claims another victim. It does seem to be rather widespread in this story... or perhaps I'm just forgetting how lethal Reaper's Due is, given it's been a fair while since I've had time to sit down and settle in for a good session.
A related thought: Philippe and Alearde are basically Foulques's last links to the familiar world of his past. It seems appropriate that they should get so much attention together in these past few chapters. Philippe and Foulques were never very close personally, but they share a particular sort of bond that comes with long familiarity, one that will probably be impossible to replace. It only makes sense that Foulques would respond to the loss of one such relationship by trying to cling on to another as much as he can while he still can.
And on that note, in a way you could make a case at this point that Alearde and Philippe are effectively co-protagonists along with Foulques. Our "good" Duke is, of course, the main focus character and the one who gets most of the attention, but this story has been as much about their triumphs and struggles as it has been about Foulques's own. They've been there since the beginning, or nearly so, and on looking back it seems as though the fates of all three have been closely intertwined. About the only character who even comes close to that level of significance in terms of overall importance is probably Beatriz, and she made her exit so long ago...
Cancer claims another victim. It does seem to be rather widespread in this story... or perhaps I'm just forgetting how lethal Reaper's Due is, given it's been a fair while since I've had time to sit down and settle in for a good session.
A related thought: Philippe and Alearde are basically Foulques's last links to the familiar world of his past. It seems appropriate that they should get so much attention together in these past few chapters. Philippe and Foulques were never very close personally, but they share a particular sort of bond that comes with long familiarity, one that will probably be impossible to replace. It only makes sense that Foulques would respond to the loss of one such relationship by trying to cling on to another as much as he can while he still can.
And on that note, in a way you could make a case at this point that Alearde and Philippe are effectively co-protagonists along with Foulques. Our "good" Duke is, of course, the main focus character and the one who gets most of the attention, but this story has been as much about their triumphs and struggles as it has been about Foulques's own. They've been there since the beginning, or nearly so, and on looking back it seems as though the fates of all three have been closely intertwined. About the only character who even comes close to that level of significance in terms of overall importance is probably Beatriz, and she made her exit so long ago...
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I wonder if we shall see a ghost of the old Philippe now he is "freed" by his diagnosis, as he says. There is a greater sense of energy about him in this post, less depressed.
This is not the first time Foulques has had a confrontation with a woman who has made a retort for which he has no answer. One would think he would learn, but then he is so consumed of himself he probably can't be that self-reflective.
I wonder what he will think of this new rebellion now he knows the source...
This is not the first time Foulques has had a confrontation with a woman who has made a retort for which he has no answer. One would think he would learn, but then he is so consumed of himself he probably can't be that self-reflective.
I wonder what he will think of this new rebellion now he knows the source...
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That wow was a positive one, sorry for being unclear. Anyways, another great chapter, i like how you are portraying Haldora and when Foulques lacked any words to justify his adultery, it was just perfect.
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