Before Plantagenet - Chapter 136
October 1108 - Melun, France
“They found him this morning.”
Foulques heard the words of his son, Geoffrey, but he could barely process them. Not now, not as he stood near motionless in the stables as he looked over the horse-drawn cart where his steward Guilhem lay. Eyes closed, body still, lifeless and cold…
It was not how Foulques last saw him a few days before, when he had dispatched his oldest friend to Paris. He appeared spry and fit - not at all looking his 73 years. Sent to the city to collect taxes, something Foulques did not have the energy or patience to deal with, there had been no sign of any problems upon his departure.
But now Guilhem lay dead in a cart. Foulques saw no evidence of struggle or discomfort. It was like Alearde. Peaceful.
And upsetting.
“There was no evidence of foul play?” Foulques managed to get out, even if he already knew the answer.
Rogier de Bourges shook his head. One of Duke Gilles' many bastards, who was also Foulques courtier, replied: “None my lord. I was awaiting him to waken for our morning duties. When he did not, I had the inn’s staff check on him. They found him like this.”
Geoffrey shook his head. “At his age… it isn’t surprising. But… it is not any easier.”
“Of course you would say that,” Foulques told Geoffrey.
“I mean it,” Geoffrey said. “There are few people I have known my whole life. You, Agnes, Adalmode and steward Guilhem. I count the man a friend, even if I had not spoken to him much since my departure for Aquitaine.”
“I knew him for nearly 50 years,” Foulques said as he leaned on the railing of the cart. “I met him not long after I ascended in Tours. He was with me when I decided to unseat my brother... I had to bribe him in fact. But then… then he never abandoned me. He was always there… always keeping the coffers of Anjou growing. And now he is not.”
“Rogier…” Geoffrey said. “Send word to my sister in Anjou. He is to be buried by the chapel in Ambroise, his birthplace. She will see it arranged.”
Foulques looked toward Geoffrey. It was not his responsibility to see to these arrangements - nor did he have the right to order those who were not his courtiers to do anything.
And yet when Rogier gave a glance to Foulques, as if to look for confirmation, the duke just meekly nodded and waved him off. The young man bowed and then left father and son alone.
“We can escort the body,” Geoffrey suggested.
“
You?”
“Alongside you,” Geoffrey said. “As I said, I consider Guilhem an important figure in my life. I came for Alearde’s burial, did I not?”
Foulques could not help but view it all with suspicion. Geoffrey was always looking for an angle… an opportunity. Perhaps he just wished to slowly win over courtiers to his eventual rule.
Foulques knew that wasn’t technically a bad thing. But something about it all felt so unseemly…
I am not dead yet, boy, he thought.
The duke pushed himself off the cart… only to have his legs give out from under him. He awkwardly stumbled, reaching for the rail again, but just brushing the wood with his fingertips as he collapsed to the ground.
“Father!” Geoffrey said as he reached down to aid him. Foulques swatted at him.
“Away! I do not need your help!” Foulques exclaimed.
“You will draw attention to yourself,” Geoffrey noted. “Let me help you back to your feet.”
“I can get myself back to my feet,” Foulques insisted. He reached up for the cart, but there was little he could grab onto. And a few awkward pushes off the ground with his arms did not make the situation any better.
Geoffrey took hold of his arms and again Foulques thrashed to force him to let go.
“Fine,” Geoffrey said. “Lay out here until the rats taken you. It matters little to me.”
Geoffrey stomped off and Foulques watched him go, his stomach clenching, a mix of anger, fear and resentment. But less toward Geoffrey and more toward circumstance. He did not think he feared death… no he feared everything that came before. Laying a helpless invalid like Aureade while all those around him passed away. His sister still lived... but what kind of life was that?
Then he noticed Geoffrey stop in the distance while his shoulders slumped. The younger duke turned back toward Foulques and marched on over.
“I should leave you here,” Geoffrey told him. “You who are too stubborn to admit you need my assistance for once. But I would not abandon a stranger who cannot stand on their own, so I certainly cannot do so to my own father.”
Geoffrey offered his arm. Foulques grunted and stared at it for a moment, before he took it.
A few attempts later, Geoffrey had Foulques back on his feet, the duke again leaning against the cart for balance. Breathing heavily, Foulques looked around. The good news is that the stable was largely empty. Few, if any, saw that moment of weakness… even if Geoffrey had.
“That did not happen,” Foulques said. “Do you understand?”
Geoffrey shook his head. “I do not know who you seek to fool. I have seen your infirmity ever since your return here a few months ago. Herve notices as well - he is concerned after seeing what has happened to his mother, Aunt Aureade.”
“I am not her,” Foulques insisted. “She is weak. I am not.”
“It is not about weakness,” Geoffrey said. “It is God’s will.”
“Now you speak of such nonsense,” Foulques said. “You say it is God’s will to have my body crumble? To force me to watch as everyone I know dies?”
“What else do you believe it to be?” Geoffrey asked. “If not God?”
Foulques frowned. He did not have an answer.
“I do not understand your obstinance,” Geoffrey said. “I seek to help you and you look at as an insult… yet you speak on how I should be grateful and aid you in other matters.”
“I… I do not wish for help,” Foulques said. “Yours or anyone but your sister’s.”
“I will never understand why you think Agnes is acceptable but I am not,” Geoffrey said. “Regardless… I can help you in this and other matters.”
“What other matters?” Foulques asked.
“After Guilhem… you will want new help with your duties here,” Geoffrey said. “Rogier will probably be best served fulfilling duties in Anjou. But my chancellor Alias has some contacts. We can scrounge something together to do a passable job. And alleviate the pressure on you.”
Foulques did not love the idea of putting his job in the hands of Geoffrey, and by proxy his chancellor. But the elder duke also had little patience for these matters, and had no energy for it.
“Do it,” Foulques said.
Geoffrey nodded. He took a step forward then looked back to Foulques. The duke of Anjou knew what he was waiting for. So he pushed himself off the cart and took a foot forward. Then a second.
Foulques held his head high and walked past his son, and out of the stables.
….
That evening, Foulques heard the door to his chambers creak as he poured himself his wine. He expected the ghosts at this point - how could they not come to revel in yet another loss?
“Here to taunt me once more, sister?” he asked.
“Sister? Grandfather… I do not understand,” Foulques the younger said as he stood by the door.
Foulques’ eyes widened at the sound of his grandson’s voice. He took a moment to collect himself before turning to the boy.
“Excuse me, I thought a sister from the nearby convent was present,” Foulques said. “What do you need boy?”
The teen closed the door and approached. Foulques looked him over - he was nearly a man grown. And he looked quite a bit like his father at that age, tall, thin, with plenty of brown hair on his head, but precious little on his face.
“Father tells me the king may be preparing to attack the heathens in Iberia,” the teen said.
That was true. In the council meeting earlier that day, King Hugues voiced his displeasure at the decision of the church to declare a crusade for the Holy Lands, when so many Christians suffered under heathen oppressors in Europe.
So the king informed the council of his decision to prepare to take up arms against the Emirate of Barcelona - much to the silent consternation of Toulouse after his failure there - a failure which had a large part to do with the king. There would be no war declared yet, but once the levy was ready and proper support secured, the Franks would again venture south, where they had met defeat in their last two adventures.
“The king will have his war,” Foulques said. “Likely in the spring.”
“Father also told me that the king may take him to help command his armies there,” the teen added.
Foulques was unaware of that. Geoffrey as commander? That seemed… inadvisable. Geoffrey had precious little experience in such a role, and his victories against his cousins came with odds overwhelmingly in his favor. It appeared as if the king was dooming himself to repeat the mistakes he made when he made his cousin, the former Duke of Burgundy, as commander of his last Iberian adventure.
And Foulques’ first instinct was to grow frustrated the king had not selected him. But the duke quickly realized the foolishness of it. He might be able to direct men. But he could not lead them anymore - not from the front - and that was the only way he knew how.
“Is father truly going to Iberia?” the teen asked.
Foulques shook his head. “I don’t know. He has not told me. But… I do not think he would lie to you.”
The teen frowned. Seeing that, Foulques poured him a cup of wine and offered it to him. The offer did break the boy’s frown for a moment, but it soon returned.
“What is it?” Foulques demanded.
“I fear for father,” the teen said. “He is not the leader of men that you are. And should something happen to him…”
“He may learn something,” Foulques said. “It will be good for him.”
“But what if he does not return?” the teen asked.
“Then you will be invested as Duke of Aquitaine and Poitou,” Foulques said. He sighed as he looked at his own trembling hand. “And perhaps soon, Duke of Anjou as well.”
The teen grew wide-eyed and stiffened up. “I… I… that cannot happen.”
“But it will happen,” Foulques said. He paused to correct himself. “Should something happen to your father. But that may not.”
“But if it does?”
“Then you will do as you must,” Foulques said. “I have no doubt you will be a fine knight - you remind me much of me when I was your age. And have I not ascended in the realm?”
“You… you are a great man,” the teen said. “I do not know if I am cut from the same cloth.”
“Drink that cup of wine, boy,” Foulques ordered. Wide-eyed once more, the teen sipped it. “No, I mean drink it fast. Now.”
The boy hesitated for a moment and then chugged it down. It was not very strong, but he likely did not have much experience in drinking wine that quickly, and grimaced as he sought to hold back spitting it out.
“There. Even if you did not realize it, you have the stomach for it,” Foulques said. “In our blood runs greatness. I see it in you, even more than I have in your father. In time, you will be one of the greatest men in our realm. Should the fates dictate it, that time will start sooner rather than later. And if it does, you shall not run from it. You shall face it, as I would. Or my uncle did.”
The teen straightened up, and held his head high, even as his lips quivered and his body trembled. “I will not be afraid, grandfather. I will… never feel fear.”
Foulques shook his head. He did not understand. And that lack of understanding, and that desire to prove himself could prove a fatal combination.
“Then you will be foolish. Fear is natural. All men have it - and should not run from it or pretend that it does not exist.”
“But… does that not make you craven?” the boy asked. “Not you, grandfather but…”
“Surrendering to fear - letting it control your life,” Foulques said. “That is what makes a man craven. But fear, no, fear is not in itself bad. It is a natural thing - necessary for a man to remember that he is mortal. One must fear at times for his life, or that of his family. But he must not be held by it - he must use it to drive himself when necessary.”
“You have been afraid?” the boy asked.
“Yes,” Foulques said. “Many times. But I never let it control me. Even now, as I look to the future, and do not know what it holds. But I trust in you, boy… to continue what I have started… and that is enough.”
The teen looked to the ground and then back at him. “Thank you grandfather… but what of father? Do you not trust him to continue your legacy?”
Foulques closed his eyes for a moment and released a long sigh.
“Your father… your father has not become the son I wished him to be,” Foulques said. “He is not forceful enough for my tastes. But… he has done well for himself… with me at his ear. When I am gone, it will fall on you to be his steel, boy. That way, you shall have a strong duchy to rule when it is your time. And you will know that you are ready for it.”
The teen nodded. “I will, grandfather. Thank you.”
The teen bowed before his grandfather and turned to leave. But Foulques called him back.
“Sit,” Foulques instructed.
The boy followed instructions. Foulques then sat down across from him and poured him some more wine.
“I have told you about Rouen,” Foulques said as he handed him the cup once more. “
Everyone knows about Rouen. But there were other days. Other battles in my life. From each, I gained a lesson.”
“What lessons were those, grandfather?” the teen asked.
Foulques smiled. He’d long wished to have someone to regale these tales with for years. Herve, for all his martial skills, was not quite sharp enough to fully grasp them. But in his grandson, Foulques saw curious eyes, and a mind ready to understand the world around him.
He will be a fine knight, and a great lord. Perhaps… even better than me.
And so Foulques took a sip of his wine and started from the beginning, at Saintonge.
“You lost?” the teen asked.
“Yes, to your great-grandfather,” Foulques said. “But I learned my most important lesson.”
“What was that?”
Foulques smirked. “I did not like the bitter taste of defeat. I grew to fear it.”
The teen appeared perplexed. “You were afraid of defeat?”
“I have long been,” Foulques said.
“How did you defeat the fear?” the teen wondered.
“I made a vow to myself, that would never experience defeat again,” Foulques said. “In anything that I do.”
The old duke took a long drink from his cup, then slammed it down on the table. “I haven’t lost since,” Foulques said.
Then he met his grandson’s gaze with a wide grin. “And I never will.”
