Before Plantagenet - Chapter 140
December 1109 - Fontevraud, France
Agnes stood, silent, looking over the linen-wrapped body before her.
The crypt was not quiet - Etiennette’s muffled sobs provided a little bit of noise. The Karling woman had come with her to the bishopric of Fontevraud, where Foulques was interred, waiting for burial. And now she knelt at the stone slab that held Foulques’ body, weeping as Agnes stood watch.
He could have been laid to rest days ago, but they waited for Geoffrey to arrive from the south. Though she would have been within her rights to not wait - the time between the messages being received and Geoffrey’s arrival would be nearly three weeks - she decided to do so.
She had been ensured the process used to preserve her father’s body would leave it in a proper condition for burial - methods that dated back to ancient societies, from thousands of years before.
Agnes knew little of the process itself, though his organs had been removed as she had been asked if they were to be buried with him or someplace else. As her father had left no orders for them to be buried separately, she kept her father together.
He had been wrapped in cloth and laid on the stone slab before her, which lay in the crypt under the church in Fontevraud, a town near the keep in Angers, Anjou. When Geoffrey arrived, the Iron Duke would come to rest in a stone sarcophagus - becoming the first prominent individual buried in the newly constructed abbey.
But now she waited. And she mourned, in more hushed tones than her friend. The presence of her father had long provided her with an odd comfort - something that she imagined few shared. But as long as Foulques was alive, her power was secure in Anjou. And more than that, her freedom was not curtailed.
With Geoffrey… she did not know. Her brother had long professed his desire to bed her, though he had refrained from such talk the last few times they had seen each other. She could only pray he had moved on from such things.
And whether he would allow her to maintain her authority was another matter. Geoffrey’s poor relationship with his wife Marguerite was well known, so Agnes doubted he would invest her with a great deal of power… but she did not know exactly what he might do.
Which ultimately, is what troubled her. She did not know anything of what was to come next. And unlike before, she had no Alearde to act as her eyes and ears. She did not have Godfrey as chancellor to come to her aid - not when his position was as lost as his mind. Nor did she have Guilhem, who she could always count on to stand behind her. And her husband… well given her brother’s opinion of him, he would be no help.
Her allies gone, and now her father - Agnes was alone. And it was terrifying.
The sound of the heavy door opening, following by a flickering of candles and a slight breeze that jostled the skirt of her dress caught Agnes’ attention. She knew Herve and Foulques the Younger were waiting above but when she glanced back, she noticed a trio of cloaked individual approaching. Walking almost in lockstep, amidst the flickering lights of the crypt, swords rustling at the sides of two of the men, they sent a chill down her spine.
She almost breathed a sigh of relief when the hood on the cloak of the leader was dropped to reveal her brother Geoffrey, while the other two turned out to be Alias of Perigord and Prince-Bishop Leonard.
His usual entourage, she noted. It was hardly a surprise to see them all here.
Perhaps he expected her to run to him for he paused for a moment before her. He did flash a smile however, and then closed the distance, embracing her tightly and kissing her on the forehead.
“I am glad to see you well sister,” he said.
“As am I,” Agnes said. “I was concerned at how long news would take to reach you… if it would reach you… and if the king would let you depart.”
“The king is ill,” Geoffrey said. “He may already no longer be with us. When I left, our brother by law, Prince Henri, was en route.”
“Do you not wish to be there if the king passes?” Agnes wondered.
“There is no question of legitimacy with Henri, and his child brother is hardly a threat,” Geoffrey said. “But if anything were to happen, the safest place to be would be in my lands, with my levy. And… the people of Anjou need to see their new duke.”
Agnes glanced beside her as she felt Etiennette clumsily brush up against her shoulder. Tears still on her cheeks, Etiennette looked to Geoffrey, then dropped to a knee before him.
“My lord,” she said. “Congratulations on your investment as Duke of Anjou. And… my condolences for your loss.”
“Thank you, my dear,” Geoffrey replied as he motioned for her to rise. Then he looked beyond them to Foulques. Geoffrey approached and took a long look at the long, linen-wrapped body.
“So here he is,” Geoffrey said. “The Iron Duke. My father.”
Alias lowered his head while Prince-Bishop Leonard did the same while uttering a prayer. All the while, Geoffrey stood silent, looking over the body, his breathing shallow.
“May I have a some time alone?” Geoffrey asked. “Just me, my father and my sister.”
Alias and Leonard obliged, each passing on their condolences to Agnes before their departure. Etiennette dawdled for a minute, taking another long gaze at her dead lover, before slowly shuffling her way out of the crypt with the others.
“This is clearly affecting her,” Geoffrey noted after the door closed.
“She loved him,” Agnes said.
“Our finest work then,” Geoffrey said. “Helping her become elevated to his mistress.”
“And ruining the life of Haldora in process,” Agnes noted.
“We did not ruin anything,” Geoffrey said. “Father never liked Haldora, for whatever reason. He would have taken a new lover eventually, as he did with Ness. We just steered him toward Etiennette for a time… and you cemented your place in the duchy as a result.”
She did not like the way Geoffrey talked so nonchalantly about their former stepmother’s dismissal. Agnes understood his point - their father never did care for Haldora - but part of her did wonder, had they done nothing, would perhaps somehow Foulques have eventually come around to her?
“How do you fare?” he asked her.
“I tried to prepare myself for this,” Agnes said. “Especially as father grew weak over the past few months. But… I thought perhaps he would fare as our aunt, Aureade, has. Weak, but still living, with a sharp mind. Instead…”
She held back tears of her own. Geoffrey may have been her brother… but she did not wish to show weakness in front of him. He must have sensed her struggles however, as he gently rubbed her back.
“I heard you suspect the nun of foul play?” he asked.
Agnes shook her head. “I do my due diligence. But no, I don’t truly suspect her. She has been too good to us to turn. I think it more likely she was an angel, sent to protect and guide father, than to serve him for four decades and then murder a weak, declining old man.”
She knew her brother tended to be skeptical of such things, so she added: “You think me mad for believing she was an angel.”
“You would not be the first to believe such things,” Geoffrey said. “Not of her… but that angels do sometimes walk among us.”
“But I did not say
others think me mad,” Agnes replied. “I said
you.”
Geoffrey smirked and gently stroked her cheek. “I have missed you sister.”
She pulled away once more and turned back to her father’s body.
“Regardless, it has not been easy,” Agnes admitted. “Father and I did not always agree, but he entrusted me with a great deal. Most men in his position would never have given me such power.”
Geoffrey rolled his eyes. “Many lords have women rule in their stead when they are away.”
“Their
wives, Geoffrey,” Agnes noted. “If they are young, then perhaps their mother. But almost never their daughters. Because an unmarried daughter old enough to rule… there must be a slight against her. Father overlooked mine.”
“He overlooked nothing,” Geoffrey said. “Father was not charitable. Your skill was clear, which is why he made you regent. If you were an imbecile, he never would have let you sniff power.”
“I do not doubt my abilities,” Agnes said as she looked back at him. “But I doubt my opportunities. You may say I was deserving, but that is often not nearly enough.”
“Sister,” Geoffrey began as he tilted her chin up so that her eyes met his, “You are one of the most beautiful, intelligent women in the realm. Anyone who would overlook you would be a fool, undeserving of their title.”
That uneasy feeling she had around Geoffrey returned, so she quickly turned from him. A change of subject was quickly needed. And there was one readily available.
“What of you, brother?” Agnes asked. “How do you fare, now that father has died?”
“I did not think he would ever die,” Geoffrey admitted. “Even with his infirmity, I thought somehow… he would continue to hold on. As you believed. But now he is gone. And…”
His voice trailed off. Agnes turned back to him. “And?”
“And… that is it. He is gone,” Geoffrey said.
“That cannot be it,” Agnes insisted. “He was our father, like it or not. And he had a large influence on our lives.”
“Perhaps it affects you more than me,” Geoffrey said. “He always thought better of you.”
Her brow rose, and she could hear the bitterness in his voice. While she wanted him to speak the truth about his feelings toward her father, she did not want him thinking ill of her for it. That could prove disastrous for her.
“He did care for you Geoffrey,” Agnes told him, taking hold of his gloved hand as she did so.
“No, he cared that I did not do as he,” Geoffrey said. “Even as I went from a man with not one knight to my name to a lord of two of the realm’s most prosperous duchies. All he could do was belittle my efforts because they were not what he thought they should be.”
“He did support you,” Agnes said. “Even if you two did not see eye to eye.”
“Support?” Geoffrey scoffed. “He offered more support to my son than he ever did to me. Not once did he look me in the eye and tell me that he thought my accomplishments impressive. Not once did he admit that I had done well. I conquered two duchies and told the king’s council that I still needed to learn to walk!”
Geoffrey slammed his fist down, resulting in a large crack that echoed through the crypt. When the pair looked down, they saw that Geoffrey had made contact with their father’s leg, down by the ankle. Based on it’s now awkward angled position, it was clear the blow had broken or dislocated the bone.
Agnes stood, mouth open before slowly covering it. Geoffrey’s cheeks reddened and he lowered his head - she wanted to believe in shame over his actions and not guilt over reveling in it.
“I…. I will have Alias find someone here who can… reposition father correctly,” he said. “And I do so out of obligation to him, and to save face, which are the
only reasons he ever helped me.”
With that he turned quickly, his cloak billowing in the small gust of wind his spin had created, and walked quickly from the crypt, his footsteps heavy enough to make a sound. When he reached the stairs, he turned back to Agnes.
“This never happened,” he told her. “Father’s leg was not broken by my hand and my feelings toward him are nothing but complementary, especially here, in Anjou. Do you understand?”
His tone surprised her. Geoffrey was always sweet to her, overly complimentary and inviting. It made sense, since he desired to bed her despite their blood. Or because of it.
But here, he was not sweet. There was no honey in his question. It was venom, spit with a voice that reminded her of the man who lay, now broken, beside her.
“Of… of course brother,” Agnes replied.
He did not thank her, instead marching up the stairs from the crypt before the opening door and slamming it behind him.
Agnes felt her stomach clench. She had feared for her safety before - that Geoffrey, when safe in power, would eventually feel confident enough that he would force himself on him.
She did not know if he would, even now. The tales she heard from Bordeaux told the story of a kind, charitable man, who made his vassals feel valued, and could charm practically anyone, even those with reason to hate him.
But the look on his face, and the sound of his voice she knew one thing - if someone crossed him they would suffer.
It would be no different than if they had crossed the Iron Duke himself.
......
Note: Finding good stuff on medieval burial practices is hard! I read spent far too much of my last week searching for info and read much too much of the, shall we say, "stinky" way William the Conquerer went out.
Also the game presents Fontevraud as a town at the 1066 start, but it looks like it was actually created about 1100 with the Abbey constructed around 1110. I decided to speed things up a little there for this to make sense, since as I said, it exists in the game at this time.
No wonder he’s such a terrible King. And they called Foulques “Ill Ruler”! 
