Before Plantagenet - Chapter 108
March 1101 - Anjou, France
Geoffrey awoke to a pounding headache.
The room was, thankfully, dimly lit as he came to in an unfamiliar bed. A rub of his temples later, he looked down to see he was shirtless. And wearing nothing below either. And alone in the bed.
His memories were somewhat hazy. He remembered… his attempt to convince Agnes to join him. But he also remembered his failure there.
Then he recalled where he went to relieve his frustration - and finally spied Marguerite sitting at a small table not far from the bed.
She sipped from a cup, a linen sheet acting as a makeshift dress. Upon their eyes locking, she raised her brow.
“You awaken husband,” she said. “Did you have sweet dreams of my sister?”
“Your sister?”
“Yes, you called her name the second time we coupled last night,” Marguerite replied.
Geoffrey squinted as he tried to remember.
Ness? He called her name?
His eyes widened.
No, not that Agnes…
“My apologies,” he said. Geoffrey immediately regretted saying that. It was not as if Marguerite deserved it in his mind, after all she had done.
He looked to his wife, who appeared she had something to say. Though she refrained, he could not sate his curiosity.
“What is it?” he demanded.
“I would prefer not to say,” she replied.
“Out with it,” he ordered.
“You recently acknowledge a bastard,” Marguerite began. “And you fantasize about laying with yet another woman who is not your wife. One who is bedded by your father in fact. That is… something.”
“Something you should not speak of,” Geoffrey replied. “Given your sordid history.”
“I agree,” Marguerite replied. “Which is why I would have said nothing of it - had you not insisted otherwise.”
“For a woman who claims to wish her way back into my good graces to return with me to Aquitaine, you do yourself no favors,” Geoffrey said.
“I do not know that it will make a difference,” Marguerite said. “You will accept me in your bed if you find nothing else better. You can feign politeness for a few minutes when speaking to me before you grow frustrated. Is that enough?”
“I have no idea what you seek,” Geoffrey told her. “You wish to escape here because of my father.”
“A compelling reason, I would think,” Marguerite said. “One you would understand.”
“Is that all?” Geoffrey asked.
“Confinement? I see our children but a few times in a week, and our son less and less,” Marguerite said. “I am lonely - and subject to your father’s whims. You know he once nearly forced himself upon me.”
“Truly?” Geoffrey asked.
“Yes,” Marguerite said. “He told me at least he would know the blood of any child sired.”
Geoffrey closed his eyes. The unpleasant image came to mind.
“How did you stop him?” Geoffrey asked.
“I reminded him I would not be silent on the matter,” she said. “And it would embarrass him, and you.”
Geoffrey looked down. “I hate him.”
“Something we share,” Marguerite said.
“But what I do not know is whether you share a similar hatred toward me,” Geoffrey noted.
Marguerite frowned before standing up and grabbing two cups - hers and another. She climbed back into bed, underneath the linens beside him and handed him a cup.
“Water?” he asked.
“It will help with your headache, husband,” she replied.
He sipped it, unable to completely shed his mistrust.
“No, I do not hate you,” she said. “I am frustrated by you, but I do not hate you.”
“Frustrated?” Geoffrey asked. “You, who have betrayed me?”
“I did not say I could not understand why you have done what you have done,” Marguerite said. “I just cannot help but feel this way.”
“The feeling is mutual,” Geoffrey replied.
“And yet we cannot escape each other,” she noted. “If you could have an annulment, you would have it. So what are we to do?”
To that Geoffrey had no answer. He did not want to be with her. But he did not know if he could ever be rid of her, either. When his father died - he would return to Anjou. She would be there. What then? Send her away? Doing so would risk angering the church - and make him an easy target. A target that others would aim for, given how powerful he would be.
Perhaps he had no other option but to, at least on the surface, reconcile. And if that was the case, why wait, when he could have his son returned to him in the process?
Still he could commit to nothing. Not now. Not while he had negotiations with his father to deal with.
“We will see,” Geoffrey said.
She wrapped her arms around him. “If it helps, was it not nice to enjoy the company of another without feeling guilt, for once?”
Geoffrey chuckled.
I called for my sister…
“Yes,” he replied.
…..
Geoffrey did not know why he brought Alias to Anjou.
His chancellor would take part in no talks or negotiations. Neither did his father’s chancellor, Godfrey. It was always going to be Geoffrey and his father. Alone. Matching wits. Or trying to get the other to back down.
So they stood, across from other another in Foulques’ strategy room - one on each side of the table on which the map of the realm sat.
Geoffrey’s holdings in Aquitaine looked so small compared to his father’s. He held but one county and a barony - while Foulques held territory from Tours to Vannes.
It will all be mine one day, he told himself.
A scant consolation at the moment though.
He pointed to Poitou and then met his father’s gaze. “You wished for direct intervention. Now I wish to take it.”
“I wished for direct intervention months ago,” Foulques said. “You insisted your way would allow victory without any Angevin blood spilled. And now you insist on spilling Angevin blood.”
“I did not anticipate a rebellion for my wife, who sits locked away in this keep,” Geoffrey said.
“The duchy is in chaos,” Foulques said. “All the counts seek to increase their stature. What better way than using someone who would be completely reliant upon them if installed?”
Geoffrey remembered that is what his father had warned him about in Aquitaine years before. “You take another shot at me?”
“No,” Foulques said. “It is clear you were not reliant on Alias. For one, he is dead. And two, we both know you always planned to be reliant on me.”
“I do not wish to be reliant on anyone,” Geoffrey insisted.
“And yet, here we are,” Foulques replied.
“Do you wish for me to beg for your assistance?” Geoffrey asked. “Is this about humbling myself before you?”
“It is about how difficult you make things,” Foulques said. “As I have said before.”
“You acting as a shield for me?” Geoffrey questioned.
Foulques nodded. “There is quite a bit of support for at least the rebellion for your wife in Poitou among the dukes of the realm. They would prefer Marguerite to be duchess over you duke.”
“We will be duke and duchess regardless,” Geoffrey noted.
Foulques smirked. “Your attempts to play with words are undermined by your own actions. If there is no difference, why are you here, begging for my aid?”
“Sometimes I question it myself,” Geoffrey replied. “You do not seem interested in helping me, even though it ultimately helps House d’Anjou.”
Foulques chuckled. “From where I stand, House d’Anjou is helped either way.”
“Marguerite becoming Duchess in Poitou and Gascony helps us?” Geoffrey asked. “I fail to see how a woman who despises us ascending aids us.”
“Because Marguerite shall be a figurehead,” Foulques said. “The real power is in your son. Your son who remains here. Or with you. The way I see it, young Foulques’ path toward becoming Duke of Poitou and, in time, Gascony is clear no matter the result.”
“But we do not know how she will try to subvert us in the meantime!” Geoffrey pleaded.
“I do not think she will act against her son,” Foulques replied. “If there is one thing she seems to care for, it is your children.”
“
Child,” Geoffrey corrected. “The girl is not mine.”
“So you say,” Foulques said.
“So everyone knows!” Geoffrey exclaimed.
“Regardless,” Foulques continued, “The boy will be well-positioned no matter what. And this will lessen the pressure upon us from outside. They plot against us, you know. The Duke of Orleans schemes to gain claim on Vendome.”
“You jest,” Geoffrey said.
“I do not,” Foulques replied. “He gains support…”
“No, you jest in that it is an
actual concern,” Geoffrey replied. “Orleans is the weakest duke in the realm aside from my cousin Gilles, and that is only because Gilles has lost his rebellion.”
Geoffrey shook his head.
“You search for any excuse,” he said. “Why?”
“I will not be used for your own ends,” Foulques said. “Do what you wish with your levy. But your hands will remain off mine. They may be yours one day. But they are not yet.”
Geoffrey lowered his head and looked toward the map. He could feel the anger building and with it something else - despair? Fear?
Did he dare risk himself directly by declaring against Patricia openly? All of his plans had involved someone else taking the majority of risk in his stead. This is the first time he would be called upon into action… to lead troops. To put himself into harm’s way…
“Is there nothing I say that can get you to see reason?” he asked.
“Reason?” Foulques asked. He scowled and met Geoffrey’s gaze. “Win your duchy yourself.”
And with that Foulques pushed himself off the table and left the strategy hall. Geoffrey watched him go and after the door closed, slapped hard at the map, dislodging some of the pins.
The smug satisfaction he received at ruining the perfection of the map was fleeting. It did not gain him his father’s levy. It did not change his situation with Marguerite. It did nothing.
Geoffrey could only sigh.
….
Be better than this.
His conscience was again acting up. He knew this was wrong. But he could not see any other way around it. Someone was to suffer. And it was better her than him.
The day following the meeting with his father had been frustrating. He had tried to see Agnes, but she refused him. He was a little surprised - both that she was so adamant in her decision and how much it stung him. He did not want to go away from Anjou without seeing her again - even if he gained nothing but a memory to take with him.
It was somewhat concerning too that he may have damaged his goodwill with her - he might have lost someone to advocate for him to his father. But then again, it was unlikely he could count on anyone to change his father’s mind.
The other thing he had done was something he did not wish to do, but felt it required - he visited his wife’s bastard, whom she had the audacity to same Aubry. He did it to see how the boy looked so that he might get a better idea of whether Beatritz was in fact, his own daughter. And he got the answer he needed.
The girl was with her mother when he arrived at Marguerite’s chambers. Another look at her…
a nose like her bastard brother. Brow, lips… there was no doubt.
And it infuriated him.
“You wish to speak with me, husband?” Marguerite asked.
Geoffrey looked squarely at Beatritz. “Go. Your mother and I have to speak on something.”
His face must have been showing anger, because the girl retreated first to her mother, and gripped her hand tightly. Marguerite eased her by rubbing her back before kneeling to get closer to eye level.
“Go find Margot,” Marguerite instructed. “You can have her bring you back here in a bit.”
Beatritz nodded and slowly walked to the door. She peeked a look at Geoffrey and quickened her pace.
“You send her to Aubry’s sister,” Geoffrey noted. “Curious.”
Marguerite shook her head. “She is one of the few in this keep who do not treat me like a leper. I am grateful for anyone who is kind to me.”
He did not believe her.
“I have come to a decision,” Geoffrey said. “On whether you will come with me back to Aquitaine.”
“And what have you decided?” she asked.
“You may come,” Geoffrey said. “On two conditions. The first - you must denounce the rebellion in your name in Poitou, and say you recognize my claim as the rightful one.”
Marguerite nodded. “It shall be done. What is the second demand?”
“Your daughter stays behind,” Geoffrey said.
Her eyes widened. “You would abandon our daughter here, without her parents?”
“She is not
our daughter!” Geoffrey exclaimed. “She is Aubry’s bastard, just as your first child is.”
“You know not what you speak of,” Marguerite insisted.
“I know all too well,” Geoffrey replied. “I looked at the boy yesterday. And I can the resemblance clear as day. She looks far more like him than to the young Foulques, my son.”
“You believe this lie so you will see what you wish,” Marguerite told him. “Beatritz is your daughter.”
“Do not call her by that name in my presence!” Geoffrey shouted. “It is bad enough you became pregnant with a child that is not mine, but then you have the audacity to name her after my mother!”
Marguerite narrowed her gaze. “What do you want?”
“I told you what I want,” Geoffrey said. “Her to remain here. If she does, you can leave this keep and take your proper role as my wife, Duchess of Aquitaine, and in time, Poitou. Perhaps even Gascony, if you prove trustworthy.”
Marguerite shook her head while glaring at him. “You are a monster. No different than your father!”
“If I were a monster like him you would not be speaking,” Geoffrey said. “You would be on the ground, a bloodied mess for lying to me over and over again. The entire court knows the child is not mine. You are the only one to insist differently.”
Marguerite’s lips trembled as her face reddened. Tears began to well in her eyes.
“She may not be yours,” she managed to get out. “I did lay with Aubry around when she formed in my belly. But I laid with you as well.”
“After your blood had stopped,” Geoffrey said.
She lowered her eyes. “That does not mean you are not---”
“LIAR!” Geoffrey exclaimed.
“You will not believe anything else…” she muttered.
“Even now you cling to it,” Geoffrey said.
“I don’t want her to pay for my mistake!” Marguerite shouted, the tears flowing down her cheeks. “You think your father will treat her well here? Her brother and I are all she has! If we leave her…”
“Tell her aunts to take care of her,” Geoffrey said. “They treat you better than you deserve anyway.”
“You do not wish for me to come with you,” Marguerite said. “That much is clear. You just make a request I cannot follow to make yourself feel better. And to hurt me.”
“As you did to me,” Geoffrey said. “Repeatedly.”
“So now, you would place our son in the middle of this battle between us,” Marguerite said. “Leave him to the care of the father you despise to get back at me.”
“I know my father thinks highly of my son,” Geoffrey said. “And if he remains in Anjou, his aunt will look after him as well. I am about to go to war - he will end up solely in your care during that time. Perhaps…”
Geoffrey looked away. “It is best if he remains here.”
Marguerite shook her head. Her eyes were bloodshot now from the tears, which still streamed. “Go then. Know that you have hurt me, if that is what is what you wanted above all else. But when your son thinks as little of you as your father does, I hope you find it was all worth it.”
It was a blow… that Geoffrey did not expect to land as hard as it did. It sent a chill down his spine… he wished to be angry… but he also suspected she might be right.
One of them is going to get what they want. Either I back down and let the bastard come, or I risk my son being raised to think I am a weak, scheming fool.
And as Geoffrey left the room, he made his decision.
It would be his father who won.
……
“How are we looking Alias?” he asked his chancellor a few hours later.
“The preparations are nearly complete, my lord,” Alias replied. “We should be ready to depart shortly.”
Geoffrey nodded. The sooner they were out of Anjou the better.
This trip had been all but complete disaster. His father refused to back him in Poitou. His son would remain here. He and his wife hated each other more than ever before. And he had potentially ruined his relationship with the one person he cared about.
The only way it could have been worse was if Foulques had decided to back one of the Poitou sisters claim over his… which he indirectly was doing with Marguerite anyway.
Yes, a total disaster.
Footsteps approaching caused him to turn. He saw it was Alearde.
Her smile did still warm his heart, though he knew that was a dream that would never be realized. Her touch was such that even now it would still give him goosebumps.
“Lord Geoffrey,” she said. “The Lady Agnes would like to speak with you before you depart. In private.”
Geoffrey’s brow rose.
In private? Could she…
He quickly put it from his mind as Alearde led him to Agnes’ chambers. Such thoughts would lead to disappointment.
Alearde announced him when he arrived and Agnes thanked her. The door closed behind him.
His sister was dressed in simple clothing with a cloak around her shoulders, covering her chest completely. Today, she had chosen to wear a coif as well, which covered her hair completely with nothing but a few bangs slipping out. She did not greet him with a hug, choosing to remain across the room from him.
“I am pleased you would see me,” Geoffrey said. “I was concerned the other night had ruined things between us.”
Agnes sighed. “You remain my brother, Geoffrey. I would not shun you, not for stating your desire, as wrong as it is. If you tried to force yourself upon me… then…”
“I would never,” Geoffrey swore. “It would cheapen the moment for it to not be mutual.”
Agnes closed her eyes and seemed to shudder. “Put it out of your mind. Forever.”
“Why did you wish to see me?” Geoffrey wondered. “If not for that…”
“Because I wished you to know that I still care for you, and will continue to fight on your behalf,” she said. “That I will speak to father and urge him to assist you should you go to war in Poitou…”
She paused for a moment before taking a few steps toward him. “Do you go to war in Poitou?”
“I plan to, yes,” Geoffrey said.
Agnes frowned and rushed forward. He caught hold of her and she squeezed him enough to force the air from his lungs.
When she released her grip, it was only to touch a hand to his cheek. She had tears in her eyes.
“My sweet little brother,” she said. “Please, please take care.”
“Do you worry as much over father?” Geoffrey asked as he pulled her close.
“Father lives for war,” Agnes said. “You do not. I think you capable, but I worry nonetheless.”
“I will be fine sister,” he said.
Her scent was intoxicating.
Flowers? She must have just come from a bath.
Part of him did wonder if perhaps the alcohol had influenced his desires with her. But he had none now, and his urges to throw her onto her bed were as strong, if not stronger, than before.
He realized his body was signaling it quite clearly. But if Agnes noticed, she did not let on.
“You must take care,” she said. “You will be Duke of Anjou. I do not wish to be regent for my nephew. He is a good boy, but… he will need your guidance too.”
“I would not trust anyone to lead at his side more than you,” Geoffrey told her. “But worry not. I do not go to war to seek glory. I do it to claim what is rightfully mine. What is rightfully ours, through mother. And I intend to rule it, once I have won it.”
“I will hold you to that,” Agnes said.
They gave each other one more gaze. Unable to resist, Geoffrey leaned in. Agnes leaned… out of the way, and Geoffrey’s lips met her palm. He embraced it regardless.
“No,” she whispered. “Do not make this goodbye any more… difficult... than it needs to be.”
“Difficult?” Geoffrey asked. “So you do---”
“No,” Agnes said. “I do not. But I do not wish for you to leave here on poor terms with me. For I do not know when I will see you again.”
Geoffrey sighed. “As you wish, dear sister.”
He bowed before her. She did the same toward him.
He turned to leave though he heard her voice once more as he opened the door.
“I mean it! You keep yourself safe!” she shouted.
A small smile came to his lips.
It still feels good that she cares so much.
