Before Plantagenet - Chapter 121
February 1104 - Melun, France
Foulques sat in bed, as he often did after his time Ness, starting at his lover as she helped herself to a cup of wine.
Normally it would be a time where he would bask in her beauty. Perhaps it would be a reflection of how much she had changed - from the girl he had seduced into the woman who had borne him two sons. Or perhaps he would think about how with each passing day she became more like her mother, in body and mind.
Today was not normal.
No, most days he would be tired and exhausted as he admired her. Today he was frustrated by his inability to do anything with her.
It was not through lack of trying. He had done everything he could think of. She had done all of her old tricks to entice him. But nothing. His body refused to respond to her.
“I am certain you are just tired from your journey,” Ness told him.
“I have made the journey many times,” Foulques told her. Not to mention he had arrived yesterday.
“Yes but…”
Her voice trailed off. He knew what she meant to say, even as she thought better of it.
“But I am growing older? Is that what you did not have the courage to finish?” he demanded.
Ness lowered her head. “It is nothing to be ashamed of, husband.”
“And what would you know of it?” he asked.
“I…”
But she could find no other words. He was not surprised, as much as he wished to be.
A merciful knock on the door. Foulques was robed already - it was too cold not to be - and moved to answer it. Guilhem the steward waited on the other side of the door.
“Your son has arrived,” he said.
“I will be with him shortly,” Foulques said. “In the strategy hall.”
He closed the door behind him. Ness glanced at him, but did not maintain eye contact. There was a time where she’d demand he remain with her over Geoffrey. Now?
Foulques said nothing, instead adding his leathers to his outfit and grabbing his sword before going down to meet his son.
Geoffrey was also in leather armor, as he stood in the strategy hall. He did not wait, as he was not alone - he was with his son, Foulques the younger.
“The king complimented me on my swordplay,” the younger Foulques said.
“Did he?” Geoffrey asked. “Impressive. That makes… two kings whom you’ve impressed? Already making a name for yourself in the realm. Soon, you may be have more renown than me!”
The boy lowered his head, but it did little to hide his smile at the compliment as his father patted him on the shoulder.
“Will you see mother?” the younger Foulques asked.
Foulques saw the pleasure disappear from Geoffrey’s face. It was momentary - he was quite good at keeping up appearances, but the elder duke knew his son. And he knew it was a subject he did not wish to discuss.
“I will,” Geoffrey said. “I do not know for how long though.”
Foulques was surprised to hear it. But then, Geoffrey seemed to aim to please his son whenever he had the opportunity.
Geoffrey had noticed his father, but the younger Foulques, back turned to the door, had not. That changed when Foulques closed the distance, the shuffling of his feet enough to get the boy to turn around.
“Grandfather,” the boy said. “I was just talking to father.”
“And does he have anything interesting to say?” Foulques asked.
“He says he has a brought with him a stallion from Bordeaux for me!” the boy said. “I should like to ride it soon!”
“Perhaps you would like to now?” Foulques asked. “Tell Renaud about it. He should let you ride.”
“Can I?” the boy asked. “Thank you grandfather! And thank you father, for it.”
The boy hurried from the strategy hall. Geoffrey cocked his brow toward his father before pouring himself some wine.
“I was going to show him the beast myself,” he said.
“We have important matters to discuss,” Foulques said. “You can ride with him before the sun sets.”
“Which it shall, shortly,” Geoffrey said.
“Then we had best speak quickly,” Foulques replied.
Geoffrey shrugged. “I am uncertain why you summoned me here. You know the war with Uc has ended. Renaud would not have returned if business was unfinished.”
That was true - Geoffrey had won the war against the rebels and now could claim complete control over Poitou, as well as Aquitaine. But no, that was not the true reason for him being called here.
“You are angry at the king,” Foulques said.
“I do not find much love for him at the moment,” Geoffrey admitted. “I am sure you understand why.”
“I do,” Foulques said. “But you do yourself no favors. You back that fool Burgundy for the crown over him?”
Geoffrey rolled his eyes. “I have said I would not be opposed to the Duke of Burgundy as king. That is hardly full-throated support. It is he who promotes himself. If you have issues with it, you should go to him, not me.”
“And what of the group that demands increased council power in the realm?” Foulques asked. “Are you not their leader?”
Geoffrey smirked. “I am, yes. Our ranks grow. Champagne joins me.”
“I have heard whispers he did so to return a favor to you,” Foulques said.
“Yes,” Geoffrey said. “He got cold feet and then I reminded him he owed me for costing me my position.”
“So now you plot your revenge openly, and stupidly.”
“I would think you would agree with our position,” Geoffrey added. “Seeing how the king dismisses your sage advice on the war, and has it flounder as a result.”
“That king watches you intently and you give him reason to move against you by performing acts that could be considered treasonous,” Foulques said.
“The faction I lead believes the king’s council should have greater say in the affairs of the realm,” Geoffrey said. “It does not advocate the replacement or overthrow of the king. Asking for more say is hardly treason - any more than it is to disagree with him at all.”
“Your word games may make you feel smug, but it changes nothing should the king take issue with them,” Foulques said.
“Yes, Godfrey said as much to me,” Geoffrey said. “And here I did not expect you to take the king’s side father. The council seat means that much to you?”
Foulques sprang forward and shoved Geoffrey onto the large table in the center of the room, knocking over the wine pitcher. He held him down with his forearm across Geoffrey's neck. The surprise of the action actually rendered Geoffrey defenseless.
“Your arrogance will ruin us both,” Foulques warned. “You have the opportunity to one day wield power beyond any other in the realm and your impatience will see you thrown in the king’s dungeon and dispossessed of the lands you have worked so far to earn.”
Geoffrey’s eyes widened. “He would not dare… with your levy…”
“I tire of hearing you hide behind
my levy,” Foulques said. “I thought you had moved beyond that, but perhaps I have overestimated your maturity.”
Geoffrey pulled away and then adjusted his clothing to put it back into place. “I am ambitious. It is important to take risks to achieve one’s goals. You, of all people, should understand that.”
“Foolishness called ‘risk’ is still foolishness,” Foulques warned.
“They would have said it was foolish to attack the King of the Bretons,” Geoffrey said. “But you did. I would think you proud of my efforts. But I begin to wonder if perhaps you are the only man allowed to show such ambition.”
“Your tongue cannot allow you to escape this,” Foulques said. “At some point---”
The closing of the door to the hall interrupted him mid-sentence. The two men looked over to see Agnes approaching them. Geoffrey lowered his head as she approached, her head covered by a coif, her hands over her abdomen as she walked. Foulques decided to hold his tongue - at least for the moment.
“Do I interrupt anything?” she asked. “I thought I heard you two arguing.”
Geoffrey glanced at his father, then back to her. “It is… nothing. Father and I disagree. I am certain you are used to it by now.”
“I am never used to it brother,” Agnes replied. “It bothers me greatly that you two quarrel like enemies. I had thought you both past it!”
“You know why I am angry with him,” Foulques told her. “And I have said my piece. If he listens to it or not… is up to him.”
Agnes looked to Geoffrey, a frown on her pale face. “Please brother - father looks out for your interest, even if he does not articulate it well. Forming factions against the king is foolish. In time, you will have more than enough power to make yourself heard. Patience is a virtue.”
Geoffrey looked away for a moment and grunted before turning back to his sister, smile on his face.
“You are as wise as you are beautiful sister,” he said. “I shall rethink my decision to lead this faction against the king.”
“I am glad to hear you say such a thing brother,” Agnes said before lowering her head. “I should like to have you meet the child growing in my belly.”
Geoffrey grew wide-eyed. But he was not alone - Foulques joined him. He knew nothing of this from his daughter - at first he thought he had heard her wrong. But given his son’s expression, and the nervous smile on Agnes’ face, combined with the reddish complexion she was fast developing, told him he heard her words true.
“Are you certain?” Geoffrey asked.
“The Lady Adalmode has confirmed it,” Agnes said. “I am with child. I have been quiet for a few weeks to you father, even though I had told Etiennette and Alearde. But with Geoffrey here… I could not be silent any longer.”
Foulques smiled and embraced his daughter. Geoffrey did the same with her, though his expression seemed to be much less joyous.
Probably still bitter over who she married, Foulques realized.
“We will celebrate tonight,” Foulques said. “We were to have a fine meal anyway, but we shall make certain all have enough wine and enough to eat.”
“It is nice to know you were holding things in reserve for your son and his party,” Geoffrey replied.
“Quiet,” Foulques said. “I’ll not have you sully this moment.”
“Then you both should put this matter to rest,” Agnes said. “Father, Geoffrey said he will think on leaving the factions. I believe he will. And Geoffrey, father prepared a fine feast for you. He just wishes to make this moment feel special for me.”
Foulques looked at his son. The Duke of Aquitaine did not appear pleased. But again he turned to his sister and bowed.
“Once again your wisdom shines through,” he said. “Forgive my behavior sister. And to you, father.”
Foulques eyed his son who now bowed, ever so slightly. “You are forgiven, son.”
If Geoffrey expected more than that, he was not to receive it. But he clearly was restrained by his sister, and would say nothing else.
This had been unexpected, but Foulques made note for the future that he needed to keep her nearby whenever he and Geoffrey had to hash out some unpleasantness.
As the three walked to the main hall, chancellor Godfrey came upon them. His face seemed somewhat distressed as he looked the three over.
“What is the matter?” Foulques demanded. “Why do you look so sullen? Daughter, have you not told him?”
Agnes shook her head. But she smiled at him and then said: “I am with child chancellor. Your son is to become a father.”
Godfrey’s worried look faded for a moment, replaced with a wide grin of his own. “That is marvelous news, my dear! I must congratulate Henri this evening. I take it he was quite pleased.”
“He was surprised,” Agnes said. “But yes, very happy. It looked as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.”
“As it appears has been off yours, Godfrey,” Geoffrey noted. “What was the worry before?”
Again the chancellor appeared to grow apprehensive. But he spoke.
“I was debating whether to just tell your father in private, but given that… it is your family, I suppose you should know,” Godfrey said. “My lord, your brother Robert has sent a messenger. Your brother Simon is dead.”
Foulques did not respond. He did not care for his youngest half-brother. He was weak, ineffectual and a tool of others.
And yet, the idea that his younger brother was now dead… hit him harder than he expected. A punch in the gut - leaving him short of breath - so much so that it was Geoffrey who spoke.
“How?” Geoffrey wondered.
“He was murdered,” Godfrey said. “Found by the stables with his throat slit.”
Agnes’ eyes were wide and her hand covered her mouth. “Did they find who did it?” she wondered.
“No,” Godfrey said. “Robert says they search. But the ones who did it are probably long gone. I… I am sorry for your family, my lord, my lady, Duke Geoffrey.”
Foulques said nothing. Slowly, he tried to process it all.
My youngest brother… dead?
…..
Those words kept repeating in his mind throughout the feast.
Cheers went up for Agnes and Henri. Geoffrey delivered an eloquent speech that Foulques did not pay much attention to but made Agnes blush. Words were spoken to him, but he made them little mind.
His brother Simon kept returning to mind. His last image of him, sniveling, begging for his life at the hands of Philippe… who was also now dead over two years.
Who could have wanted him dead?
Foulques wondered if it was Robert, but then thought against it - he had nothing to gain as Simon’s older brother. The king, to remove a potential claimant? It seemed beyond Hugues to do that. Champagne had no reason… could it have been Burgundy?
Of course, he would likely never know who. It was just a fact now, as real as the sunrise every morning and sunset every night. Simon was dead. In an instant, his life was over.
Had he even seen it coming? Or did he just feel the pain at his neck, and then lie dumbfounded as his lifeblood drained away on the stable ground?
Foulques pondered that question after dinner, walking the halls. The thought made him edgy - he looked over his shoulders as he walked with a small torch through the dimly lit passageway.
A sound made him spin around.
No one was behind him, or to the side. He was alone.
But in the quiet he did hear something. It sounded muffled… not a person talking but… someone…
Curious, he tried to track the sound, which he could hear as he moved down the hall. He eventually traced it to a small room - one he’d often used before for secret meetings, either over spy-related matters or moments with his lovers over the years.
As it turned out, it was an old lover of his in the room - Etiennette. The Karling girl, now Karling woman, sat by herself as she had her face buried in her hands. She looked up though when Foulques entered, revealing her bloodshot eyes and tear soaked cheeks.
“My lord,” she said as she pulled herself upright, and then wiped her face on her sleeve.
“What is the matter?” he asked her.
“I do not wish to trouble you with my issues,” Etiennette replied.
“I asked you, did I not? What is the problem?” Foulques demanded.
“It is my eldest daughter,” Etiennette replied. “Ermengarde… she is dying.”
“Dying?” Foulques asked. His voice wavered for a moment. “How? Can Adalmode not aid her?”
“Adalmode says she has a type of wasting illness,” Etiennette said. “Her bones are brittle, she bruises easily… her cuts to do not heal quickly. And there is nothing she can do.”
Foulques did not know much about the girl, besides that she was the daughter Etiennette had borne Gilles, who the Duke of Berry refused to recognize. She was about the same age as his granddaughter, and her half-sister, Beatrice… and that was it.
But it was death. More death. Death that was unexpected - that should not be.
“I am sorry to hear that,” Foulques replied. “No one should lose their life that young.”
“It is not fair,” Etiennette moaned. “She has done nothing wrong. She is no different than Beatrice. But Beatrice is a lady to a queen. And… married. And my daughter… she will have none of those things. She…”
And Etiennette began to wail once more, sinking back to the stool she sat on, muffling her cries in her palms as she buried her face in them again.
It had been some time since Foulques had been with Etiennette - he used to keep her as a lover in Anjou when Ness was in Melun, but that had not been for some time. She was always, sweet, simple and willing - she required very little effort to please.
Now it appeared she needed help from him after all, especially since she was alone now. Her younger sister Margot had been shipped off, becoming the Duchess of Ostlandet. Offering comfort was something that did not come to him easily. But he closed the door, stood beside her and gently rubbed her back.
“I should not be troubling you with this my lord,” she said. “I spoil a happy night for your family. Agnes will have another child. You feast with your son once more. A joyous night.”
Foulques shook his head. “You spoil nothing. Fate already spoiled this evening long before I stumbled upon you, my dear.”
“What… what was the matter?” she asked.
He did not even hesitate. “My brother Simon is dead. Murdered.”
Etiennette’s eyes widened and she cupped her mouth with her hand. “My lord, I… I am sorry. I did not know he meant that much to you.”
“He did not,” Foulques said. “I thought him an embarrassment. Like my elder brother Geoffrey, but never fortunate to have something to squander. And yet… I cannot stop thinking about him.”
Etiennette shrugged. “He is your brother. Blood. That you think of him is how it should be.”
Foulques looked at her. “Do you think of your brother?”
She frowned and looked toward the ground. “Yes, at times. But I am grateful you showed him leniency. You and Duke Geoffrey. Other men… they would have not let him live.”
“He might be dead if not for you,” Foulques said as he touched her hair. “I cannot deny that your… presence in my life may have given him a chance he would not have had otherwise.”
Etiennette blushed. “I did not know that I had meant that much to you, my lord.”
He pulled her from her stool and toward into his grasp. She had never meant as much to him as Beatritz, Aines or even Ness. But she had been worth something to him. She was not exciting, but she was safe and simple.
And when he pulled her close, this time, unlike with Ness, his body responded.
