Before Plantagenet - Chapter 139
December 1109 - Rosello, Catalonia
Geoffrey, Duke of Aquitaine and Poitou, laid on his cot, cursing his luck.
He had spent so much of his life trying to avoid conflict and battle. At the very least, if he was going to have to don his mail, he wanted it to be for something in his own interests.
This? This was a waste of his time.
He was in Rosello, the walls of Perpinya near enough he felt he could hit them by throwing a rock - an exaggeration, but still underlined the closeness they were to their target. But closeness had no bearing on the actual completion of their task - the walls stubbornly held.
And for what? A king that may not even live to see his success.
King Hugues lay in his own cot, in the command tent. His disease had flared, and his physician had bled him. It looked to be a mistake.
When Geoffrey had seen the king earlier in the day, he looked pale as a ghost - so weak he could barely lift his hand, let alone his head or rise from bed. Geoffrey's brother by law, Prince Henri, was likely en route from the north as messengers had been sent to notify him of his father’s declining condition. It certainly appeared there would be a new king of the Franks soon enough.
The king’s weakness left Geoffrey commanding, and feeling imprisoned by, a siege camp that was filled with its usual stench of waste, animal and human, not to mention of the animal carcasses they were hurling at the walls of Perpinya.
A better knight might have figured out a way to make it go faster. A braver knight might have just stormed the walls. But Geoffrey was not about to throw his life away on account of a king who was too out of his depth to pick proper leaders.
This should be Toulouse, he mused. After all, it was Toulouse who wished this land for himself. It was Toulouse who had fought the war to claim it, only to have it disrupted by the king’s foolishness. And it should be Toulouse who sat here, in this miserable, wretched camp, deciding whether to endure the wait to starve out the heathen defenders or risk his life by challenging the walls and those on them.
Geoffrey pushed himself up from the cot and moved to pour himself some wine. It was weak, but it’s purpose was not to get him drunk - rather, it was to cleanse his palate for a moment of the vile odors that surrounded him. The sweet liquid provided but a temporary reprieve.
Of course, he had no one to share it with. He kept his chancellor, Count Alias of Perigord, in Melun, aiding Geoffrey’s father Foulques and keeping an eye on things there. Prince-Bishop Leonard was in Bordeaux, administering the duchy as steward. And Gerard of Thouars was overseeing the levy reinforcement there as well.
And he could not even bring a lover - not in the king’s presence. Normally he had tolerated King Hugues abhorrence of adultery, but the situation was so miserable, it was yet another grievance for Geoffrey to hold against him.
Not that he needed any more complications. He had sired three secret bastards in the last few years - two by the piggish Helvis de Bethune, and one by Melisenda, the sister of his late friend, Ide of La Marche. None had been revealed to be his, but even Alias had warned he should probably ease off such encounters, lest he want to have the reputation of his lecher cousin Gilles, a man so prolific in his bastard-making, there was talk his virility had spawned him a child with a rose bush!
Swirling the wine in his cup, Geoffrey walked to the edge of his tent and peered out. At least it was not cold here, and it was usually much brighter outside than even Bordeaux this time of year… and it certainly was far better than Anjou.
He sighed. It was nearly time to tour the camp and make his inspections.
But as Geoffrey was fitting on his hauberk over his leather armor, a guard entered his tent, informing him he had visitors in the form of Alias and Adhemar de Limoges, the chancellor of Anjou.
What does my father want this time, Geoffrey wondered. Though, it was odd Alias and Adhemar both arrived at the same time.
If this is a request, it could have been sent through Alias.
The pair entered his tent and, to his surprise, they both dropped to a knee... even stranger given Alias rarely ever did so, and Adhemar wasn’t his courtier or vassal. And then it occurred to him.
No… no, I can’t believe it. The old man could not have…
“My lord,” Alias said. “Adhemar brings news from Anjou.”
Impossible...
Adhemar picked his head up. “My lord, I travel from Anjou to tell you, your father has passed.”
Geoffrey heard the words. He knew what they meant. But he did not believe his ears.
He had often thought of this day - what it would look like, where he would be, how he’d react. He’d usually imagined himself in Bordeaux. Perhaps in Anjou… had he been given advanced warning his father was ill - similar to how it was when his mother Beatritz had passed.
This wasn’t what he expected.
“What… what took him?” Geoffrey managed to ask.
“It looks to have just been his time,” Adhemar said. “However, the nun, Adalmode, is nowhere to be found. Your sister, the Lady Agnes, finds it suspicious, and searches for her.”
“The nun killed my father?” Geoffrey asked. “She served him for decades. I can hardly believe that.”
“Your lady sister just finds it suspicious, my lord,” Adhemar said. “But there were no signs of struggle or anything odd with his death. He had grown weak over the last few months and could barely rise from his bed.”
Geoffrey stroked his chin. He didn’t think his sister was wrong to investigate… but he also thought it unlikely anyone murdered Foulques. He was old, his body was failing. Sometimes, there was nothing to it - people just died.
And he also wanted no part of any murder talk - such things could easily be rumored to be his doing, regardless of the truth.
But now there was the matter of the duchy - rightfully his but he had many siblings - two legitimate and three other bastard brothers. His father had changed ducal law to ensure Geoffrey’s succession decades ago - but that was before he had brothers. And before he had Aquitaine and Poitou. Now, someone might try to ensure he did not take Anjou, and with it, bring a third of the realm under his control.
“I must… I must return Anjou,” Geoffrey thought aloud. “To take my place as its ruler.”
“Agreed,” Alias said as he stood up. Then he leaned in close: “Will the king allow you to depart?”
“The king may well be dying,” Geoffrey whispered back. “He has little power to stop me. Make sure my horse is prepared and get my personal knights ready to depart.”
Alias nodded and started off. Then Geoffrey motioned for Adhemar to rise. “Brother, I must speak with the king. Come with me, and tell him of the need for the people of Anjou to see their new duke.”
“Of course, my lord,” Adhemar said.
Geoffrey made his way down to the command tent with Adhemar in tow. There were guards posted but they allowed him access. An attendant of the king was by his side, applying cool, wet cloths to his head to bring down his fever.
Geoffrey knew he could not wait to confirm his investment as the Duke of Anjou. The king might die. Then it would be delayed until Prince Henri arrived. Henri might even wait until he was crowned before officially taking any oaths of vassalage.
No, I need this resolved now.
“My lord,” Geoffrey said as he dropped to a knee. Adhemar followed suit.
“Duke Geoffrey…” the king began, his raspy voice weak and not very audible. “Have you come to tell me the town has surrendered?”
“I have not,” Geoffrey said. “They still hold out against the inevitable. However… my father does not. He has passed. Adhemar, his chancellor, can confirm it.”
Geoffrey stood up and motioned for Adhemar to approach. The king eyed him. “You are Peronelle’s brother?”
“Nephew, my king,” Adhemar replied. “I am the brother to Duke Geoffrey’s wife, the Duchess Marguerite, grandson of the late Duke Guilhem of Aquitaine.”
“What do you have to tell me?” the king asked.
“Duke Foulques has passed,” Adhemar said. “I had just arrived back to report to him the status of my mission in Bourges… and I learned of the news. Duke Geoffrey’s sister, the Lady Agnes, dispatched me to inform her brother of the tragic news.”
“The Lady Agnes,” the king said as he closed his eyes. “In a different world, she would be my wife.”
Adhemar’s brow rose and he glanced at Geoffrey, who motioned for him to not ask about it. The king had heard the rumors of his wife’s infidelity but had proven nothing. Still, he longed for a “wiser, more mature woman” who would not fall victim to her passions so easily. Geoffrey never said anything to that.
“A great man has passed,” the king said. “The realm mourns with you, Duke Geoffrey.”
“Thank you my king,” Geoffrey said. “And now, I need to return to my father’s lands. I will make my presence known and speak to the barons and mayors. As such, I request that you allow me leave. I am hardly needed here, in a siege, with yourself present.”
“I cannot rise from my cot,” the king said. “I am in no position to lead.”
“Prince Henri will arrive soon,” Geoffrey replied. “He is a far better suited to this task than me.”
“My king, if I may,” Adhemar said. “The people have known no other lord than Duke Foulques in over four decades. They are uncertain, and concerned. Hearing the words of Duke Geoffrey is important for Anjou… and its productivity to the realm.”
“So you will abandon me?” the king asked.
“I will not abandon you, should you truly need of me,” Geoffrey said. “But I have a responsibility to my charges. I do not wish to shirk it.”
“They are not
your charges yet,” the king noted. “I have not yet invested you, have I?”
“No, you have not,” Geoffrey said. “But is there any reason you would not? I may withdraw myself and my personal guard to venture north, but my levy, and what was my father’s, shall remain…”
And suddenly an idea came to him and a small grin formed on his lips.
“My father’s levy will remain, should they be told to remain,” Geoffrey noted. “Right now, they have no lord to tell them to stay. Invest me now, and my first order will to ensure there is no question among the men of Anjou of where their place is.”
“Their loyalty should be with the crown,” the king muttered.
“But we know ‘what should be’ and ‘what is’, often are at odds,” Geoffrey said. “Uncertainty at home will only weaken their resolve.”
“Then inspire them,” the king said.
“They are not yet
my charges, as you so aptly put to me,” Geoffrey said. “Tell them I am their lord and there will be no issue.”
The king continued to grumble, but his words were inaudible. Finally he raised his trembling hand and spoke, in a raspy, shaking voice, “kneel Duke Geoffrey.”
…
“Deftly handled, my lord,” Adhemar said as they walked from the command tent.
“And you as well… brother,” Geoffrey said. “I have heard your skill complimented. But it is another to see it in action. I am impressed.”
“It was what you wished of me,” Adhemar said. “And… I believe it is what is necessary for Anjou.”
There is a world larger than Anjou, Geoffrey thought. But he would not say that aloud, not to Adhemar. Not yet. Not before he could properly trust him.
After all, Adhemar had a claim on Aquitaine and Poitou. And rebels fought in his name in Gascony.
But he is skilled, Geoffrey realized.
I can use him.
Now invested as the Duke of Anjou, Geoffrey quickly found the Angevin knight captain. After Adhemar broke the news to him of Foulques’ death, the knight captain knelt and swore his oaths to Geoffrey as his liege lord. In turn, Geoffrey instructed him to remain here with the king until he returned from Anjou.
Then Geoffrey gathered his things quickly. He did not want to wait around for the king to change his mind and try to hold him here.
He then hurried down to his horse, which had been prepared by Alias’ orders. He mounted the beast, and at the head of his bodyguard, he ordered them north, back toward the realm of the Franks… back toward Anjou.
As the pungent odors of the siege camp faded into unpleasant memory, Geoffrey smiled.
It was time to claim what was his. And Anjou was only the beginning.
