Quite an interesting passage really - not for much for what we see of Foulques but the insight we gain from Ermengarde. To be a woman in this world, trying to keep her children alive. And such children.
No easy task.
No easy task.
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Before Plantagenet – A House d’Anjou AAR
- Thread starter JabberJock14
- Start date
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interesting the way you reflect characters traits and interactions with each other... I really like it
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Don't worry, it's not a big mistake.
So yes, Cholet is in the south. And rereading the quote of my post, I made a mistake myself. It's the Loire which is in the south of Angers, not the contrary (sometimes I must read my posts before I actually posted them
).If you want, the French wiki about Anjou and Maine-Et-Loire (the name of the department now) has maps. It's in French but you can recognize the cities with their names, it may help with the proper locations.
But once again, it's not really an important thing. I just corrected it since it's were I came from.
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Seconding @stnylan -- Ermengarde must have the patience of a saint and the tenacity of a mastiff to keep a family like the Plantagenets from tearing itself apart.
Also: Foulques, did you really think Geoffrey would just stand idly by and let you keep Anjou all to yourself?
Also: Foulques, did you really think Geoffrey would just stand idly by and let you keep Anjou all to yourself?
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Well, I am now to page 3. My time has been limited of late but I try to catch a scene here and there as best I can. And this day I come to read the taking of the Duchy from your brother. Huzzah! Excellent that!
I have really enjoyed the way you have written for the different members of the family so as to distinguish them. Well done. And I enjoyed the slight dream sequence at the beginning of scene 7 (I think.) It offers portends that may be fun to watch for going forward. (And you may guess I like a good dream sequence. )
Hope to be fully caught up soon.
My time has been limited of late but I try to catch a scene here and there as best I can. And this day I come to read the taking of the Duchy from your brother. Huzzah! Excellent that!I have really enjoyed the way you have written for the different members of the family so as to distinguish them. Well done. And I enjoyed the slight dream sequence at the beginning of scene 7 (I think.) It offers portends that may be fun to watch for going forward. (And you may guess I like a good dream sequence.
)Hope to be fully caught up soon.
Well, what else to expect from the sons of a kinslayer? Foulques seems entirely lost in a foreign castle - he should do better than that at home.
Definitely not easy, and quite possibly impossible. I can promise you Geoffrey plotting against Foulques will not be the last time one of the siblings scheme against another.
Thanks! I've had to go back and rewrite some scenes because I do want to get reflecting their traits properly in these situations, so it's good to see you are enjoying it.
Don't worry, it's not a big mistake.
So yes, Cholet is in the south. And rereading the quote of my post, I made a mistake myself. It's the Loire which is in the south of Angers, not the contrary (sometimes I must read my posts before I actually posted them
If you want, the French wiki about Anjou and Maine-Et-Loire (the name of the department now) has maps. It's in French but you can recognize the cities with their names, it may help with the proper locations.
But once again, it's not really an important thing. I just corrected it since it's were I came from.
No worries! Appreciate the feedback and that info since I want to get it right.
Seconding @stnylan -- Ermengarde must have the patience of a saint and the tenacity of a mastiff to keep a family like the Plantagenets from tearing itself apart.
Also: Foulques, did you really think Geoffrey would just stand idly by and let you keep Anjou all to yourself?
He probably thought his brother would just go around, trying to raise a host to win his claim. Or be grateful he kept his life and freedom. But it was wishful thinking from our new duke.
Well, I am now to page 3.
I have really enjoyed the way you have written for the different members of the family so as to distinguish them. Well done. And I enjoyed the slight dream sequence at the beginning of scene 7 (I think.) It offers portends that may be fun to watch for going forward. (And you may guess I like a good dream sequence.
Hope to be fully caught up soon.
I certainly understand the limited time- my busy midweek delayed the next update.
I appreciate that compliment on the different members of the family - it's not easy and will only get harder as other characters enter the fray. So hopefully I can keep the newcomers interesting while keeping the mainstays fresh and lively. And you, love a dream sequence? Seems highly unlikely
. I should note I did think of "The Rightful King" as I was playing based on some of the events which come to pass later on in England.
I can't help but agree. Someone killed Henri (his death was listed as suspicious) and I'm pretty sure one of his brothers did it. Of course, we can't prove it.
Interestingly enough, I don't plan the next two updates to be in Anjou, so Foulques will have to be uneasy a little while longer.
I was hoping to get the update out a little earlier, but I decided I wanted to give it another read-through. It's something a bit different - it's the first chapter which takes place from a perspective other than Foulques'- Beatritz's. So hopefully you all enjoy it when I post it, which should be tomorrow for me (or later today for these forums). As always, thanks for reading and commenting!
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Chapter 12 - June 1068
Before Plantagenet - Chapter 12
June 1068 - Bordeaux, France
It had been a long time since Beatritz sat at this table.
The last time it had been far more crowded. Her brother and his wife had been there. Beatritz’s niece, Aines, had joined them for supper. There had been a few of Guilhem’s knights and even Beatritz’s old friend Melisende and her husband had joined them. Candles lit the room. A large boar had been the main course. There had been music. Entertainment. It had been quite the feast.
This… was a bit different.
The room was dimly lit, so much so that Beatritz could barely make out her brother’s bearded face when it drifted from one of the few candles. It was also quiet - that was not surprising as she and Guilhem were the only ones present. And there was no grand meal -there was no food at all.
But then, this was not a celebratory dinner to say goodbye to her as she went off to be wedded to a count - this was her acting a representative of her husband.
She had travelled to Bordeaux along with her ladies and a small guard, led by Armaury. It had been a smooth trip, until the end, when they were forced to quicken their pace to avoid rain, making it just before the skies opened up.
Yet stormclouds they had narrowly avoided could not compare to ominous feeling Beatritz soon found herself having upon arriving.
To her surprise, Duke Guilhem was not there to greet her. Instead, his wife, Duchess Matheolde, and Aines were. The duchess, who was very heavy with child, apologized, saying the duke was in a strategy session and would see Beatritz once he was done.
Beatritz thought she would be entertained by Matheolde or spend some time with Aines. Instead, she was shown to her quarters. There she waited. And waited. And waited.
Finally, a courtier came and got Beatritz. He led her to a the dining hall. It was, at the time, empty. And once again Beatritz waited, and waited.
Guilhem arrived eventually, giving his sister a short embrace and a kiss on the cheek. Then he took a seat at the other end of the wooden table and poured himself a goblet of wine. Beatritz already had her own.
“I would have expected others to join us if we are to sup,” Beatritz said.
“We are not eating yet,” Guilhem said.
Beatritz felt her stomach tighten. Her hand shaking, she moved the goblet to her mouth and took a sip. Her brother said nothing, taking a large swig from his goblet.
The duchess awaited something more from her brother. But he remained silent, with just the cackle of the fire providing the only sound in the room.
“Are you feeling unwell brother?” Beatritz asked.
Guilhem lowered his goblet. “Shall we drop the formalities, sister? I know why you are here.”
“You do?”
“Your husband intends to dishonor our alliance,” Guilhem responded. “Why else would he not send an emissary informing me of his levy being raised or marching south, and instead send my sister to deliver a message?”
An uneasy feeling made Beatritz’s stomach clench tighter. She knew she had to respond. But she tried to remember her words…
“Well?” Guilhem said as he raised his voice. “Answer? Does he send you to tell me he betrays our agreement?”
Beatritz felt her brother’s gaze on her. He was not always the most diplomatic man, and his temper would often get the better of him. Still, she steeled herself in the knowledge that as another duke’s wife, he would not dare lay a finger on her. Though, her mind drifted of other unpleasant results from this conversation…
“My lord, the duke does not dishonor the alliance,” she said, her voice unsteady. She cleared her throat. “He has declared himself an enemy of your rebellious counts. He presents himself a target, and should they cross into Anjou, he will deal with them.”
Guilhem’s stern look melted away into a smile, then to full on laughter.
“Ah, so he thinks himself clever?” the duke said. “A turn of phrase. That if they come to Anjou, he will fight.”
“Fighting defensive is all he can manage at the moment,” Beatritz said. She steeled herself in the knowledge that she spoke the truth. “His levy has not recovered from the war with his brother. It has not even been a year since it ended.”
“I am aware,” Guilhem said. “His war weakened my numbers so that Count Hugues dreams of gaining more say in the duchies. You should remind Duke Foulques of the extra men I tossed away so he may end his conflict sooner.”
“He does not forget,” Beatritz said. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before adding: “And… would 200 knights have truly deterred these rebellious counts from striking?”
Guilhem paused a moment before chuckling. “He has counseled you on what to say.”
It was true. But Beatritz did not wish her brother to know that.
“I was to be my lord’s diplomat,” she said. “I asked for what you had given to him against his brother. That is all.”
Guilhem stroked his beard for a moment. But he remained in silence.
“He promises to aid you in time,” Beatritz said. “Once the levy recovers.”
Guilhem shook his head. “He eyes something else. Does he seek to reclaim Saintonge while I am weak? Do not lie to me. You may be his wife, but you were my sister first.”
A sister you would stick in a convent if this alliance dissolves, she thought.
“No,” Beatritz said. “He does not plot against you. If you must know… he seeks to take Vendome from his boy vassal, Bouchard. He hopes to secure a claim soon. And then, he plans to move against him.”
“So that is it,” Guilhem said. “He forsakes his alliance for his own selfish gains.”
“He forsakes nothing,” Beatritz said. “Brother, consider the circumstances. His desire to take Vendome hardly secret. If he moves to aid you with his levy understrength, the boy’s regent and advisors may take their opportunity to strike against us. And you would not be able to assist.”
“He has Robert.”
“Robert may also plot against him,” Beatritz said. “In favor of his children with my lord’s mother, Ermengarde. We cannot rely on him.”
Guilhem pushed himself away from the table and wandered over to the hearth. Poking the fire, he then turned to her. “You speak of valid reasons sister. But why should I care for them, while I fight against a dangerous foe without the assistance promised?”
“Why did you agree to marry me to him, brother?” Beatritz asked.
“His talent was evident when we clashed for Saintonge,” Guilhem said. “I believed I might gain a powerful ally.”
“And you have,” Beatritz said. “One who seeks to grow stronger, as you do. One, who, together with your forces, would be the start of a union that could challenge kings - not only here but outside the realm. You would toss that away for a war that you can win without his aid?”
Guilhem said nothing at first and continued to poke the fire instead. Finally he asked: “And should I not win?”
“You shall, brother,” Beatritz said. “The king has trusted you with his armies for a reason. You are one of the finest leaders in the realm. However, should luck not be with you, Anjou will come to your aid, once we have dealt with the matter in Vendome.”
“That matter could take years,” Guilhem said.
“I do not believe it will,” Beatritz said.
“You hope it will, you mean,” Guilhem said.
The duke returned to his seat. “He is lucky to have married you sister. You have stated your case well enough. I do not like it, but I shall trust what you say and not dissolve our alliance over this matter. And I shall accept the duke’s help, whenever he is able to provide it.”
Beatritz bowed her head. “You are most gracious, brother.”
“Yes,” Guilhem said. “See to it he does not forget it.”
Beatritz nodded.
“One more thing sister,” Guilhem said as he slouched a bit in his wooden chair. “Remember why he sends you here.”
“What… do you mean by that?”
“I mean, he sends you because he believes this alliance to be precious,” Guilhem said. “And you are the tie that binds us together. He cannot afford to lose you.”
“I… I am afraid I do not understand,” Beatritz said.
“You speak of him as if he stands above you,” Guilhem said. “Remember that he does not. You were the daughter and sister to multiple dukes before you were the wife of a count. And if not for you, he may still be a count, serving under his incompetent brother. He needs you. Always remember that in your dealings with him.”
Beatritz smiled and raised her drink to her brother. “Thank you. I shall.”
….
Early the next morning, with the weather cleared up, Beatritz was out in the castle town, by herself. Armauy had offered a guard, and suggested that she at least take one of her ladies with her. But the duchess declined - this had been her home for years. She felt perfectly safe making her short trip alone.
Besides, she prefered to keep this matter to herself.
Hood on, Beatritz made a short walk into the nearby town. There, she noticed the bustle of the early morning and smiled. It was as she remembered. She could easily slip in and out without anyone noticing.
The only question was whether Melisende was home.
Beatritz knocked on the door to a relatively small, hut toward the outskirts of the town. A young brunette dressed in clean linen who couldn’t have been 12 answered. She looked the duchess over and raised an eyebrow.
“May I help you?”
“I did not think myself disguised that well, Alearde,” Beatritz said.
The girl’s eyes lit up. “My lady!”
She gave Beatritz a tight hug before pulling back with a fearful look on her face.
“I am sorry my lady!” Alearde said. “That is not proper of me. You are a duchess now!”
She dropped to her knees. Beatritz smiled and offered her hand.
“It is fine dear,” Beatritz said, helping the girl back to her feet. “My, you have grown over the last two years!”
Alearde blushed. “Yes, mother thinks I’ll be a woman soon enough.”
“Speaking of your mother, is she home?”
“Aye,” Melisende said. “And if I was not, you were loud enough for me to hear halfway across the town, girl!”
Alearde lowered her head. “Sorry mother.”
“Leave us,” Melisende said. “I am certain the duchess has come to see me for important matters. Go to the baker, ask how his wife fares and bring home some bread.”
Alearde bowed her head and hurried out the door, leaving the duchess and Melisende alone. Beatritz looked over the greying woman before her for a reaction. Her expression betrayed nothing -that was hardly new however. Melisende was always one to keep her emotions in check -which was probably useful when dealing with women in childbirth.
“Would seeing an old friend not be enough?” Beatritz asked.
Finally, Melisende’s face gave way to a smile, followed by an embrace.
“It is good to see you, my lady,” Melisende said.
“It’s still Beatritz to you,” the duchess said. “Nothing has changed between us.”
“Nonsense,” Melisende said. “When we last met you were the sister of the duke. You became a countess and a duchess since! I would say that is a great deal of change.”
The two wandered over to a table where Melisende poured two cups of water, giving one to Beatritz. “How does life treat you?”
“Well,” Beatritz said. “As you say, I am now a duchess, here to help my husband keep his alliance with my brother. And I believe I have.”
“Perhaps I should have offered wine then,” Melisende said. “That is more proper for a diplomat.”
“That you are here to see me is celebration enough,” Beatritz said. “I confess, I was concerned you might be aiding in a birth.”
“The baker’s wife is close,” Melisende said. “But close is not ready.”
“As is my brother’s wife?” Beatritz asked.
“She is a little further off,” Melisende said. “But her time will come soon enough.”
Beatritz nodded. As a midwife, Melisende could easily be called away at any moment. But the duchess wouldn’t need much time to make her request.
“How is your husband?” Beatritz asked.
“Last I heard, alive,” Melisende said. “I pray he stays that way.”
“Aye, you have mine as well,” Beatritz said.
She did not feel comfortable saying much else. After all, Foulques had sent her here to excuse not taking part in the war when her friend’s husband was laying his life on the line as a soldier in it.
“I admit,” Melisende started as her eyes drifted away from the duchess, “when you left for for Tours, I did not expect to see you again, Beatritz.”
“Yet, you do not seem all that happy,” Beatritz said.
“I am… but…”
“But?”
“I have wished that you would return, so I might ask you a favor,” Melisende said. “But now that you are here, I wonder if it is right.”
“Why would it not be right?” Beatritz asked. “You’re my oldest friend. I have asked things of you, and you of me in the past. And… I was going to ask something of you as well.”
Melisende smirked. “So you did come for something.”
“I would have come regardless,” Beatritz said.
“What would you like?” Melisende asked.
“You first,” Beatritz said.
“My daughter,” Melisende began, “One of the stablehands has his eye on her.”
“Young love,” Beatritz said. “Is that a problem? Both you and I had the eyes of boys at her age.”
“She is not yet a woman,” Melisende said. “She is too young.”
Beatritz rolled her eyes. “She’ll be woman soon enough… which… I suspect is the problem.”
Melisende nodded. “I wish better for her than a stablehand. But she is young and naive. And the boy has the look of one who will not be denied.”
“You wish for me to speak with her?” Beatritz asked.
“No,” Melisende said. “I wish for you to take her with you.”
“Take her? To Anjou?”
Melisende nodded.
“If you could have her among your ladies,” Melisende said. “Watch over her. Make it so that if she marries, it is to a man in good standing. A knight perhaps…”
“Are you certain?” Beatritz asked. “She is your only child…”
“If she stays here, she will end up the wife of a poor man,” Melisende said.
“She could follow you as a midwife,” Beatritz said.
Melisende shook her head. “She follows orders well enough. But I do not think her smart enough to handle situations when the birth is difficult.”
“She is young,” Beatritz said. “In time…”
“In time, you will not be here,” Melisende said. “If she is unable to, she will not have a duchess to aid her as she does now... If you are willing to help me.”
Beatritz sighed. She did not feel particularly good about agreeing to this - she did not really wish to take Alearde from her mother and father, even at her request. Yet, how could she turn her friend down, especially given she had a request of her own?
“As you wish,” Beatritz said. “But now I must ask something of you.”
“Anything,” Melisende said.
“I need help… in making sure I give my husband a child,” Beatritz said. “I remember… you know of ways to help a man’s seed take root in his wife. Can you share them with me?”
Melisende nodded. She wandered over to a shelf, took a small box down and produced a small badge.
“It is of St. Anne’s,” Melisende said. “The saint’s blessings should help. So too will drinking the blood of a horse that carries a foal, mixed with cow’s milk.”
Beatritz nearly shuddered at the thought of drinking blood, even if it was mixed. But she knew she had little choice.
“I shall do it,” Beatritz said. “I will instruct… one of my ladies to prepare it.”
“Alearde has done it before,” Melisende said. “She will be able make it so that it will work.”
“It all works out then,” Beatritz said with a smile. “I shall wait here until she returns then.”
It wasn’t long until the girl returned with some bread and a meat pie.
“The baker says he was going to send for you,” Alearde said. “His says the pain in his wife’s belly and back come more frequently.”
“I will go soon,” Melisende said. “But first, gather your things. You are leaving with the duchess.”
Alearde’s eyes widened. “What? For how long?”
“Permanently, girl,” Melisende said. “The duchess is such a kind and gracious woman, she has offered her home to you. You are to serve among her ladies.”
Alearde looked to Beatritz. “Is this true, my lady?”
“Yes Alearde,” Beatritz said. “Your mother speaks… highly of you. She was kind enough to allow you to join me in Anjou. If you are willing, of course.”
Alearde dropped to her knees. “Of course my lady, I would be honored. So very honored.”
“Go,” Melisende said. “Get your things. The duchess does not like to be kept waiting.”
Alearde quickly pushed herself to her feet and hurried off to get her belongings. Melisende, with a wide smile, walked over the Beatritz and whispered: “You sold it well.”
“I suspected you wanted it to be my idea,” Beatritz said.
“As I said,” Melisende said, “She may not be the brightest but she follows orders. She will serve you well.”
“I’ve always known her to be a good girl,” Beatritz said. “She will do fine.”
Melisende hugged her tightly. “Thank you, my lady.”
“Thank you,” Beatritz said. “For the badge and advice. I will…”
She was going to say she would see her soon. But Beatritz knew that was unlikely. In fact, it was more likely than not that she would never see her friend again. Then again, one could have said the same thing when Beatritz left Aquitaine…
“I will see you again,” Beatritz said. Melisende responded with a smile.
“Of course, my lady,” Melisende replied. “One way, or another.”
June 1068 - Bordeaux, France
It had been a long time since Beatritz sat at this table.
The last time it had been far more crowded. Her brother and his wife had been there. Beatritz’s niece, Aines, had joined them for supper. There had been a few of Guilhem’s knights and even Beatritz’s old friend Melisende and her husband had joined them. Candles lit the room. A large boar had been the main course. There had been music. Entertainment. It had been quite the feast.
This… was a bit different.
The room was dimly lit, so much so that Beatritz could barely make out her brother’s bearded face when it drifted from one of the few candles. It was also quiet - that was not surprising as she and Guilhem were the only ones present. And there was no grand meal -there was no food at all.
But then, this was not a celebratory dinner to say goodbye to her as she went off to be wedded to a count - this was her acting a representative of her husband.
She had travelled to Bordeaux along with her ladies and a small guard, led by Armaury. It had been a smooth trip, until the end, when they were forced to quicken their pace to avoid rain, making it just before the skies opened up.
Yet stormclouds they had narrowly avoided could not compare to ominous feeling Beatritz soon found herself having upon arriving.
To her surprise, Duke Guilhem was not there to greet her. Instead, his wife, Duchess Matheolde, and Aines were. The duchess, who was very heavy with child, apologized, saying the duke was in a strategy session and would see Beatritz once he was done.
Beatritz thought she would be entertained by Matheolde or spend some time with Aines. Instead, she was shown to her quarters. There she waited. And waited. And waited.
Finally, a courtier came and got Beatritz. He led her to a the dining hall. It was, at the time, empty. And once again Beatritz waited, and waited.
Guilhem arrived eventually, giving his sister a short embrace and a kiss on the cheek. Then he took a seat at the other end of the wooden table and poured himself a goblet of wine. Beatritz already had her own.
“I would have expected others to join us if we are to sup,” Beatritz said.
“We are not eating yet,” Guilhem said.
Beatritz felt her stomach tighten. Her hand shaking, she moved the goblet to her mouth and took a sip. Her brother said nothing, taking a large swig from his goblet.
The duchess awaited something more from her brother. But he remained silent, with just the cackle of the fire providing the only sound in the room.
“Are you feeling unwell brother?” Beatritz asked.
Guilhem lowered his goblet. “Shall we drop the formalities, sister? I know why you are here.”
“You do?”
“Your husband intends to dishonor our alliance,” Guilhem responded. “Why else would he not send an emissary informing me of his levy being raised or marching south, and instead send my sister to deliver a message?”
An uneasy feeling made Beatritz’s stomach clench tighter. She knew she had to respond. But she tried to remember her words…
“Well?” Guilhem said as he raised his voice. “Answer? Does he send you to tell me he betrays our agreement?”
Beatritz felt her brother’s gaze on her. He was not always the most diplomatic man, and his temper would often get the better of him. Still, she steeled herself in the knowledge that as another duke’s wife, he would not dare lay a finger on her. Though, her mind drifted of other unpleasant results from this conversation…
“My lord, the duke does not dishonor the alliance,” she said, her voice unsteady. She cleared her throat. “He has declared himself an enemy of your rebellious counts. He presents himself a target, and should they cross into Anjou, he will deal with them.”
Guilhem’s stern look melted away into a smile, then to full on laughter.
“Ah, so he thinks himself clever?” the duke said. “A turn of phrase. That if they come to Anjou, he will fight.”
“Fighting defensive is all he can manage at the moment,” Beatritz said. She steeled herself in the knowledge that she spoke the truth. “His levy has not recovered from the war with his brother. It has not even been a year since it ended.”
“I am aware,” Guilhem said. “His war weakened my numbers so that Count Hugues dreams of gaining more say in the duchies. You should remind Duke Foulques of the extra men I tossed away so he may end his conflict sooner.”
“He does not forget,” Beatritz said. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before adding: “And… would 200 knights have truly deterred these rebellious counts from striking?”
Guilhem paused a moment before chuckling. “He has counseled you on what to say.”
It was true. But Beatritz did not wish her brother to know that.
“I was to be my lord’s diplomat,” she said. “I asked for what you had given to him against his brother. That is all.”
Guilhem stroked his beard for a moment. But he remained in silence.
“He promises to aid you in time,” Beatritz said. “Once the levy recovers.”
Guilhem shook his head. “He eyes something else. Does he seek to reclaim Saintonge while I am weak? Do not lie to me. You may be his wife, but you were my sister first.”
A sister you would stick in a convent if this alliance dissolves, she thought.
“No,” Beatritz said. “He does not plot against you. If you must know… he seeks to take Vendome from his boy vassal, Bouchard. He hopes to secure a claim soon. And then, he plans to move against him.”
“So that is it,” Guilhem said. “He forsakes his alliance for his own selfish gains.”
“He forsakes nothing,” Beatritz said. “Brother, consider the circumstances. His desire to take Vendome hardly secret. If he moves to aid you with his levy understrength, the boy’s regent and advisors may take their opportunity to strike against us. And you would not be able to assist.”
“He has Robert.”
“Robert may also plot against him,” Beatritz said. “In favor of his children with my lord’s mother, Ermengarde. We cannot rely on him.”
Guilhem pushed himself away from the table and wandered over to the hearth. Poking the fire, he then turned to her. “You speak of valid reasons sister. But why should I care for them, while I fight against a dangerous foe without the assistance promised?”
“Why did you agree to marry me to him, brother?” Beatritz asked.
“His talent was evident when we clashed for Saintonge,” Guilhem said. “I believed I might gain a powerful ally.”
“And you have,” Beatritz said. “One who seeks to grow stronger, as you do. One, who, together with your forces, would be the start of a union that could challenge kings - not only here but outside the realm. You would toss that away for a war that you can win without his aid?”
Guilhem said nothing at first and continued to poke the fire instead. Finally he asked: “And should I not win?”
“You shall, brother,” Beatritz said. “The king has trusted you with his armies for a reason. You are one of the finest leaders in the realm. However, should luck not be with you, Anjou will come to your aid, once we have dealt with the matter in Vendome.”
“That matter could take years,” Guilhem said.
“I do not believe it will,” Beatritz said.
“You hope it will, you mean,” Guilhem said.
The duke returned to his seat. “He is lucky to have married you sister. You have stated your case well enough. I do not like it, but I shall trust what you say and not dissolve our alliance over this matter. And I shall accept the duke’s help, whenever he is able to provide it.”
Beatritz bowed her head. “You are most gracious, brother.”
“Yes,” Guilhem said. “See to it he does not forget it.”
Beatritz nodded.
“One more thing sister,” Guilhem said as he slouched a bit in his wooden chair. “Remember why he sends you here.”
“What… do you mean by that?”
“I mean, he sends you because he believes this alliance to be precious,” Guilhem said. “And you are the tie that binds us together. He cannot afford to lose you.”
“I… I am afraid I do not understand,” Beatritz said.
“You speak of him as if he stands above you,” Guilhem said. “Remember that he does not. You were the daughter and sister to multiple dukes before you were the wife of a count. And if not for you, he may still be a count, serving under his incompetent brother. He needs you. Always remember that in your dealings with him.”
Beatritz smiled and raised her drink to her brother. “Thank you. I shall.”
….
Early the next morning, with the weather cleared up, Beatritz was out in the castle town, by herself. Armauy had offered a guard, and suggested that she at least take one of her ladies with her. But the duchess declined - this had been her home for years. She felt perfectly safe making her short trip alone.
Besides, she prefered to keep this matter to herself.
Hood on, Beatritz made a short walk into the nearby town. There, she noticed the bustle of the early morning and smiled. It was as she remembered. She could easily slip in and out without anyone noticing.
The only question was whether Melisende was home.
Beatritz knocked on the door to a relatively small, hut toward the outskirts of the town. A young brunette dressed in clean linen who couldn’t have been 12 answered. She looked the duchess over and raised an eyebrow.
“May I help you?”
“I did not think myself disguised that well, Alearde,” Beatritz said.
The girl’s eyes lit up. “My lady!”
She gave Beatritz a tight hug before pulling back with a fearful look on her face.
“I am sorry my lady!” Alearde said. “That is not proper of me. You are a duchess now!”
She dropped to her knees. Beatritz smiled and offered her hand.
“It is fine dear,” Beatritz said, helping the girl back to her feet. “My, you have grown over the last two years!”
Alearde blushed. “Yes, mother thinks I’ll be a woman soon enough.”
“Speaking of your mother, is she home?”
“Aye,” Melisende said. “And if I was not, you were loud enough for me to hear halfway across the town, girl!”
Alearde lowered her head. “Sorry mother.”
“Leave us,” Melisende said. “I am certain the duchess has come to see me for important matters. Go to the baker, ask how his wife fares and bring home some bread.”
Alearde bowed her head and hurried out the door, leaving the duchess and Melisende alone. Beatritz looked over the greying woman before her for a reaction. Her expression betrayed nothing -that was hardly new however. Melisende was always one to keep her emotions in check -which was probably useful when dealing with women in childbirth.
“Would seeing an old friend not be enough?” Beatritz asked.
Finally, Melisende’s face gave way to a smile, followed by an embrace.
“It is good to see you, my lady,” Melisende said.
“It’s still Beatritz to you,” the duchess said. “Nothing has changed between us.”
“Nonsense,” Melisende said. “When we last met you were the sister of the duke. You became a countess and a duchess since! I would say that is a great deal of change.”
The two wandered over to a table where Melisende poured two cups of water, giving one to Beatritz. “How does life treat you?”
“Well,” Beatritz said. “As you say, I am now a duchess, here to help my husband keep his alliance with my brother. And I believe I have.”
“Perhaps I should have offered wine then,” Melisende said. “That is more proper for a diplomat.”
“That you are here to see me is celebration enough,” Beatritz said. “I confess, I was concerned you might be aiding in a birth.”
“The baker’s wife is close,” Melisende said. “But close is not ready.”
“As is my brother’s wife?” Beatritz asked.
“She is a little further off,” Melisende said. “But her time will come soon enough.”
Beatritz nodded. As a midwife, Melisende could easily be called away at any moment. But the duchess wouldn’t need much time to make her request.
“How is your husband?” Beatritz asked.
“Last I heard, alive,” Melisende said. “I pray he stays that way.”
“Aye, you have mine as well,” Beatritz said.
She did not feel comfortable saying much else. After all, Foulques had sent her here to excuse not taking part in the war when her friend’s husband was laying his life on the line as a soldier in it.
“I admit,” Melisende started as her eyes drifted away from the duchess, “when you left for for Tours, I did not expect to see you again, Beatritz.”
“Yet, you do not seem all that happy,” Beatritz said.
“I am… but…”
“But?”
“I have wished that you would return, so I might ask you a favor,” Melisende said. “But now that you are here, I wonder if it is right.”
“Why would it not be right?” Beatritz asked. “You’re my oldest friend. I have asked things of you, and you of me in the past. And… I was going to ask something of you as well.”
Melisende smirked. “So you did come for something.”
“I would have come regardless,” Beatritz said.
“What would you like?” Melisende asked.
“You first,” Beatritz said.
“My daughter,” Melisende began, “One of the stablehands has his eye on her.”
“Young love,” Beatritz said. “Is that a problem? Both you and I had the eyes of boys at her age.”
“She is not yet a woman,” Melisende said. “She is too young.”
Beatritz rolled her eyes. “She’ll be woman soon enough… which… I suspect is the problem.”
Melisende nodded. “I wish better for her than a stablehand. But she is young and naive. And the boy has the look of one who will not be denied.”
“You wish for me to speak with her?” Beatritz asked.
“No,” Melisende said. “I wish for you to take her with you.”
“Take her? To Anjou?”
Melisende nodded.
“If you could have her among your ladies,” Melisende said. “Watch over her. Make it so that if she marries, it is to a man in good standing. A knight perhaps…”
“Are you certain?” Beatritz asked. “She is your only child…”
“If she stays here, she will end up the wife of a poor man,” Melisende said.
“She could follow you as a midwife,” Beatritz said.
Melisende shook her head. “She follows orders well enough. But I do not think her smart enough to handle situations when the birth is difficult.”
“She is young,” Beatritz said. “In time…”
“In time, you will not be here,” Melisende said. “If she is unable to, she will not have a duchess to aid her as she does now... If you are willing to help me.”
Beatritz sighed. She did not feel particularly good about agreeing to this - she did not really wish to take Alearde from her mother and father, even at her request. Yet, how could she turn her friend down, especially given she had a request of her own?
“As you wish,” Beatritz said. “But now I must ask something of you.”
“Anything,” Melisende said.
“I need help… in making sure I give my husband a child,” Beatritz said. “I remember… you know of ways to help a man’s seed take root in his wife. Can you share them with me?”
Melisende nodded. She wandered over to a shelf, took a small box down and produced a small badge.
“It is of St. Anne’s,” Melisende said. “The saint’s blessings should help. So too will drinking the blood of a horse that carries a foal, mixed with cow’s milk.”
Beatritz nearly shuddered at the thought of drinking blood, even if it was mixed. But she knew she had little choice.
“I shall do it,” Beatritz said. “I will instruct… one of my ladies to prepare it.”
“Alearde has done it before,” Melisende said. “She will be able make it so that it will work.”
“It all works out then,” Beatritz said with a smile. “I shall wait here until she returns then.”
It wasn’t long until the girl returned with some bread and a meat pie.
“The baker says he was going to send for you,” Alearde said. “His says the pain in his wife’s belly and back come more frequently.”
“I will go soon,” Melisende said. “But first, gather your things. You are leaving with the duchess.”
Alearde’s eyes widened. “What? For how long?”
“Permanently, girl,” Melisende said. “The duchess is such a kind and gracious woman, she has offered her home to you. You are to serve among her ladies.”
Alearde looked to Beatritz. “Is this true, my lady?”
“Yes Alearde,” Beatritz said. “Your mother speaks… highly of you. She was kind enough to allow you to join me in Anjou. If you are willing, of course.”
Alearde dropped to her knees. “Of course my lady, I would be honored. So very honored.”
“Go,” Melisende said. “Get your things. The duchess does not like to be kept waiting.”
Alearde quickly pushed herself to her feet and hurried off to get her belongings. Melisende, with a wide smile, walked over the Beatritz and whispered: “You sold it well.”
“I suspected you wanted it to be my idea,” Beatritz said.
“As I said,” Melisende said, “She may not be the brightest but she follows orders. She will serve you well.”
“I’ve always known her to be a good girl,” Beatritz said. “She will do fine.”
Melisende hugged her tightly. “Thank you, my lady.”
“Thank you,” Beatritz said. “For the badge and advice. I will…”
She was going to say she would see her soon. But Beatritz knew that was unlikely. In fact, it was more likely than not that she would never see her friend again. Then again, one could have said the same thing when Beatritz left Aquitaine…
“I will see you again,” Beatritz said. Melisende responded with a smile.
“Of course, my lady,” Melisende replied. “One way, or another.”
- 1
Desperate measures all around in this update. Speaking of trying to retain precious things.
- 1
That was definitely what I was trying to convey. Uncertainty surrounds the characters (though Guilhem's position is better than he lets on, it certainly threw me for a loop at how strong the rebels under Hugues were). But this chapter also acts as a bit of a set-up - some of the events here will play a role in the future.
Normally I would have another day break before posting the next chapter, but since I was late with the last update, I figured I'd get back on schedule with the next update, which is coming shortly.
- 1
Chapter 13 - October 1068
Before Plantagenet - Chapter 13
October, 1068 - Melun, France
“It’s about time boy.”
Foulques looked up at the top of the stairs, outside of the main entrance to the castle in Melun. The old figure of Duke Robert stared down at him, his smug sense of satisfaction plastered on his face.
After months of delay, Foulques had finally decided to make his journey to pay homage to the teenage King Philippe. Accompanying him were a small group of knights and Renaud, the mayor of Saumur. There were also a few servants, tasked with carrying and presenting the king with two casks of wine from Anjou.
“You took your time in arriving,” Robert said. “The king expected you months ago. He grows impatient.”
Foulques rolled his eyes at the old man. I delay a visit while you demean and plot against him, yet I am the villain, Foulques thought.
“Please beg my forgiveness of the king,” Foulques said. “I have been busy with cleaning up Geoffrey’s mess in Anjou.”
“We’ll see if the king is more tolerant of your excuses than I would be,” Robert said as he looked over Foulques’ party. “Ah, the mayor of Saumur. I hope you don’t hold any ill-will for the sacking. Business of war, you understand.”
Renaud narrowed his gaze. “I do, my lord.”
Robert snickered and turned back to Foulques. “I shall inform the king of your presence. He is holding court, but surely make time to finally see his wayward vassal.”
Foulques glared at his stepfather as he walked back into the hall. Incredibly, he seemed to have grown more pompous and arrogant as Philippe’s lap dog than he was as his troublesome vassal.
“You handled that well, Renaud,” Foulques said.
“And you as well,” Renaud said. “Duke Robert does not realize the times move forward. His star dims, while yours brightens.”
Foulques smiled at that thought, though he could not deny Robert’s alliance was still valuable. Duke Guilhem was the most powerful ally he could find in the realm. But if the situation turned sour, Foulques and Robert could potentially prove a match for him.
Foulques and his men followed Robert into the keep, where a large group had gathered as the king conducted his business. The crowd was large enough that Foulques could not get a view of Philippe. He soon heard him though.
“Throw him in the dungeons!”
The voice cracked as it delivered those words. Foulques was not surprised, given Philippe was just a young man of 16.
“Presenting Foulques, Duke of Anjou,” Robert called out soon afterward.
Foulques pushed his way through the crowd and finally got a view of the king. The handsome young man sat on a wooden throne, small metal crown around his head with his short brown hair falling just above his eyes. On his face, the makings of a beard had taken root, though it was still patchy in spots.
“The duke is here to pay homage to you, my king,” Robert said. “After much delay, for which he begs your forgiveness for.”
Foulques did his best to ignore Robert’s smirk. Instead, he stepped forward and at the base of the steps, dropped his knees, raised his hands and lowered his head. “I have come to pledge myself to you as your man, my king, from this day forward.”
Philippe rose up and stepped forward, with Foulques sneaking a peek at the young king. He was tall, perhaps even taller than the duke himself. However, he was thin, with his robes hanging loosely off him. The king clasped Foulques raised hands.
Foulques continued: “I swear to be good and faithful to you, and the faith, upholding its tenants as you would it, as I serve you, my king.”
Philippe then pulled him up, before giving him a kiss.
“I accept your pledge, Foulques of Anjou,” Philippe said. “I am honored you would serve me.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Foulques said. “And please accept this gift - wine from the duchy of Anjou.”
The servants hurried forward and brought forward the casks. Philippe gave a nod and then motioned for some of his servants to take it.
“Your kind gesture is most appreciated, Duke Foulques,” Philippe said. “Now, please, return to the others. I have more business to attend to, but I would like a word in private once the day’s business is done. It shall not be long.”
Foulques nodded and returned to the gallery. Renaud nudged him.
“A private word with the king,” the mayor of Saumur said. “Could be of great import.”
Arms crossed, Foulques wasn’t so sure. There were any number of ways this meeting could go. Given the choice, Foulques would have preferred to stay out of the king’s eye until he was stronger. But given both Robert and Guilhem’s conversations, that was perhaps a pointless dream. He was the Duke of Anjou now with the only man above him the King of the Franks - he had to be prepared for all that came with that.
…..
A short time later, Philippe and Foulques walked alone through the keep’s hallways. The king had conducted a few more matters, and then had ended court for the day. He summoned Foulques at once and the two had left those in the hall behind, with Robert looking a tad frustrated to be cut out of the loop.
“I am pleased to finally meet you,” Philippe said as they walked. “I admit, I was concerned you thought ill of me, with how long it took for you to arrive.”
Foulques lowered his head slightly. “Forgive me, my king. I have had much to deal with in Anjou. Administering a freshly conquered duchy takes more than I had expected.”
“I can sympathize,” Philippe said. “I have found the management of the kingdom no simple task.”
You manage a smaller demesne than I do in Anjou, Foulques thought.
“My lords,” Philippe said. “They are an independent bunch. All with their own interests and opinions. One even fancies himself a king!”
Philippe showed Foulques to a large room. Judging by the large map across a table, it was a strategy room. The king poured himself out a drink, and did the same for Foulques.
“A gift from that so-called king,” Philippe said. “Ale. He says it is all those Saxons ever drink.”
Foulques took the cup and looked the liquid over. “I should hope you have had a taster sample this, my lord. I would not trust the Bastard.”
“I appreciate your concern,” Philippe said. “I am young. But I am not stupid.”
The king raised his glass to Foulques, who responded in kind and took a drink.
“Yes, my taster only grew mildly ill,” Philippe said. “He did not die.”
Foulques’ stomach sank as a chill ran down his spine. The teenage king laughed.
“I jest, I jest!” Philippe said. “I assure you, it is perfectly fine.”
Foulques raised an eyebrow as his breathing slowly returned to normal.
“In truth,” Philippe said. “I am pleased you have come at this time. My uncle speaks highly of you, as does Duke Guilhem. As you might know, having them agree on anything is quite rare.”
Foulques had to smile at that. “Too well, my king.”
“They speak to your talent on the field of the battle,” Philippe said. “That you are an able leader of men and have a fine grasp of strategy.”
“I know not if that is true, my king,” Foulques said. “I merely did what I had to.”
“Modesty does not become you Duke Foulques,” Philippe said. “There is no need to be false with me. A good commander must believe himself equal to no man on the battlefield. Do you think Duke William of Normandy thinks any man can best him?”
“No,” Foulques said.
“Tell me, do you think you can best him?” Philippe asked.
“I… I do not know my king,” Foulques said. “But I would be honored to have the opportunity to test myself against him.”
Philippe smiled and raised his cup toward Foulques. “Now there is the truth of it. Most men say they wish they could face William. But few truly believe it. You, Foulques, you, I believe truly does wish to test yourself against him. Whether it is because you want glory, or simply Maine, I am not sure. But it does not matter, does it?”
Foulques did not respond. Either his stepfather or Duke Guilhem must have mentioned his desire to reclaim the county to the king. Possibly both. What else had they told him?
“I must… commend you on convincing your uncle to serve you,” Foulques said. “I was surprised when I learned of it. I thought he believed himself to be the proper king.”
“He still does,” Philippe said. “But my uncle is old. And most in the realm do not trust him. In truth, Robert has a claim. But that is all he has.”
Foulques smirked at that. He wondered what Robert would say to such things. Probably a profanity-laced tirade and liberal use of the word “boy”. But would he do much beyond that? Foulques was not sure. With Geoffrey gone, Robert, for all his bluster, might now have become the weakest Duke in the realm, at least when it came to the number of men he could raise.
“And Duke Guilhem?” Foulques asked.
Philippe laughed. “The Duke is a wise man. Why else would I have entrusted him to lead my armies? I am eagerly watching to see how this Count Hugues matches wits with he. I hear they trade victories as they lay siege to each other’s keeps. Speaking of which… I am surprised you are not there alongside your wife’s brother.”
“My levies require time to recover,” Foulques said. “I will join him in time. ”
“For selfish reasons, I am happy to hear you say such things,” the young king said. “I have a request to make of you, Duke Foulques.”
“What do you need of me, my king?” Foulques asked.
“I plan a war,” Philippe said. “I need commanders to lead that war.”
Foulques eyebrows rose. “You seek to reclaim Normandy?”
Philippe shook his head. “William is a tempting target. His Saxons chafe under his rule. But, no, I look to the south.”
His fingers scanned the map, stopping on the island Mallorca.
“The Muslims here are weak. We could seize the island, and it could be a launching point by which we move into Iberia, or Africa,” Philippe said. “And, unlike with William, I will not draw the attention of the Pope.”
Foulques did his best to withhold a sigh. He wanted a chance to clash with William. He thought for sure that’s what Philippe was building toward. Instead, a war in the Mediterranean? Where was the glory in that?
“I see, my king.”
“Duke Foulques, you have turned me down before because you led your men in a war of your own,” Philippe said. “I understood. But now, you sit in your keep. Come with me to the south. Together, we’ll lead our knights to glory in a holy war for the cross.”
Foulques ran his hands through his hair. This is not what he wanted. He desired to prepare for a war with Vendome. He also did not wish to leave Beatritz, as he knew his time to produce a son with her was running short.
But could he really refuse the king again? He had a viable excuse last time. He also was turning down a boy that technically was not fully king yet. Now, despite him being not much older, he was the King of the Franks. And he was also standing before him.
“I… am honored my lord,” Foulques said. “But I cannot.”
Philippe’s smile melted away. “You… cannot?”
“I plan a war myself, my king,” Foulques said. “And I would trust no one but myself to execute it.”
“You would refuse your king’s call?” Philippe said. “Remember the pledge which you just gave.”
“I remember it, my king,” Foulques said. “I will provide you with the levy that I am bound to. Perhaps a few more knights as well for how you have treated me. But I cannot join them, or you, at this time.”
“Being named a commander is a tremendous honor,” Philippe said. “I thought you a man seeking glory. Perhaps I was mistaken. Perhaps we all were.”
“I understand your anger, my king,” Foulques said. “But--”
“I am not angry, Duke Foulques,” Philippe said. “I am disappointed.”
The young king looked down at the map before him, then lifted his head. “But I am no tyrant. I will not force you to join me. If you wish to battle children instead of dangerous heathens, that is your choice.”
The dig stung. But what could Foulques really say in response?
“Thank you for your understanding, my king,” was all he could muster.
“Well then, Duke Foulques,” Philippe started, “I believe there are a few other matters that require my attention. I have to plan a war, and my Marshal has not yet arrived back from Aquitaine. I hope to have some ideas for him to see when he does. I had hoped to have your feedback, but, I can see it is not your concern.”
Foulques did not need to be told anymore. He got the hint.
“I pray for your success in this endeavor, my king,” Foulques said.
“And I pray for you, Duke Foulques,” Philippe said.
Foulques turned to leave.
“One more thing!” Philippe said. Foulques stopped. “Before I depart for the south, I plan to recognize the Duchy of Orleans. Are you aware the county of Vendome is considered, by some, to be part of that domain?”
Foulques felt a chill run down his spine.
“I was not,” Foulques said. “Do you declare intentions, my king?”
Philippe shrugged, but maintained a sly grin. “I have other intentions, as I have told you. But I cannot speak to what intentions in the future will bring.”
Arrogant little welp, Foulques thought.
“We shall see then, my king,” Foulques said. “I shall take my leave if there is nothing more.”
Philippe waved him out, leaving Foulques to wander the halls of the palace in a slight daze. The king seemed as knowledgeable as Duke Robert had said. There was potential in the young man - and being an enemy of a king, even a weak one, was not something Foulques desired.
But, the fact remained, he still was not strong. His demesne was little more than the Ile de France and Orleans. He relied on Duke Guilhem to keep his vassals at bay… and Foulques still maintained his alliance with Duke Guilhem and Robert...
“Gather the men,” Foulques told Renaud as he found him in the keep.
“My lord… we do not stay, at least the night?” Renaud asked.
“Nay, instead we will make quickly to Paris,” Foulques said. “There will be more for us in the city than there would be in this keep. We shall have an enjoyable night, then make for Anjou in the morn.”
Renaud nodded. “I will gather the men at once.”
Foulques sighed as he watched his man head off. He remembered Armauy’s words from the year before. Philippe did not make such offers out of charity. Nor did he make threats lightly. He wanted Fouqlues to serve him. That would not change.
But there would be backlash - even if Philippe himself was limited in what he could do.
The path remained clear. Foulques needed to continue to strengthen himself, anyway he could, as quickly as possible.
October, 1068 - Melun, France
“It’s about time boy.”
Foulques looked up at the top of the stairs, outside of the main entrance to the castle in Melun. The old figure of Duke Robert stared down at him, his smug sense of satisfaction plastered on his face.
After months of delay, Foulques had finally decided to make his journey to pay homage to the teenage King Philippe. Accompanying him were a small group of knights and Renaud, the mayor of Saumur. There were also a few servants, tasked with carrying and presenting the king with two casks of wine from Anjou.
“You took your time in arriving,” Robert said. “The king expected you months ago. He grows impatient.”
Foulques rolled his eyes at the old man. I delay a visit while you demean and plot against him, yet I am the villain, Foulques thought.
“Please beg my forgiveness of the king,” Foulques said. “I have been busy with cleaning up Geoffrey’s mess in Anjou.”
“We’ll see if the king is more tolerant of your excuses than I would be,” Robert said as he looked over Foulques’ party. “Ah, the mayor of Saumur. I hope you don’t hold any ill-will for the sacking. Business of war, you understand.”
Renaud narrowed his gaze. “I do, my lord.”
Robert snickered and turned back to Foulques. “I shall inform the king of your presence. He is holding court, but surely make time to finally see his wayward vassal.”
Foulques glared at his stepfather as he walked back into the hall. Incredibly, he seemed to have grown more pompous and arrogant as Philippe’s lap dog than he was as his troublesome vassal.
“You handled that well, Renaud,” Foulques said.
“And you as well,” Renaud said. “Duke Robert does not realize the times move forward. His star dims, while yours brightens.”
Foulques smiled at that thought, though he could not deny Robert’s alliance was still valuable. Duke Guilhem was the most powerful ally he could find in the realm. But if the situation turned sour, Foulques and Robert could potentially prove a match for him.
Foulques and his men followed Robert into the keep, where a large group had gathered as the king conducted his business. The crowd was large enough that Foulques could not get a view of Philippe. He soon heard him though.
“Throw him in the dungeons!”
The voice cracked as it delivered those words. Foulques was not surprised, given Philippe was just a young man of 16.
“Presenting Foulques, Duke of Anjou,” Robert called out soon afterward.
Foulques pushed his way through the crowd and finally got a view of the king. The handsome young man sat on a wooden throne, small metal crown around his head with his short brown hair falling just above his eyes. On his face, the makings of a beard had taken root, though it was still patchy in spots.
“The duke is here to pay homage to you, my king,” Robert said. “After much delay, for which he begs your forgiveness for.”
Foulques did his best to ignore Robert’s smirk. Instead, he stepped forward and at the base of the steps, dropped his knees, raised his hands and lowered his head. “I have come to pledge myself to you as your man, my king, from this day forward.”
Philippe rose up and stepped forward, with Foulques sneaking a peek at the young king. He was tall, perhaps even taller than the duke himself. However, he was thin, with his robes hanging loosely off him. The king clasped Foulques raised hands.
Foulques continued: “I swear to be good and faithful to you, and the faith, upholding its tenants as you would it, as I serve you, my king.”
Philippe then pulled him up, before giving him a kiss.
“I accept your pledge, Foulques of Anjou,” Philippe said. “I am honored you would serve me.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Foulques said. “And please accept this gift - wine from the duchy of Anjou.”
The servants hurried forward and brought forward the casks. Philippe gave a nod and then motioned for some of his servants to take it.
“Your kind gesture is most appreciated, Duke Foulques,” Philippe said. “Now, please, return to the others. I have more business to attend to, but I would like a word in private once the day’s business is done. It shall not be long.”
Foulques nodded and returned to the gallery. Renaud nudged him.
“A private word with the king,” the mayor of Saumur said. “Could be of great import.”
Arms crossed, Foulques wasn’t so sure. There were any number of ways this meeting could go. Given the choice, Foulques would have preferred to stay out of the king’s eye until he was stronger. But given both Robert and Guilhem’s conversations, that was perhaps a pointless dream. He was the Duke of Anjou now with the only man above him the King of the Franks - he had to be prepared for all that came with that.
…..
A short time later, Philippe and Foulques walked alone through the keep’s hallways. The king had conducted a few more matters, and then had ended court for the day. He summoned Foulques at once and the two had left those in the hall behind, with Robert looking a tad frustrated to be cut out of the loop.
“I am pleased to finally meet you,” Philippe said as they walked. “I admit, I was concerned you thought ill of me, with how long it took for you to arrive.”
Foulques lowered his head slightly. “Forgive me, my king. I have had much to deal with in Anjou. Administering a freshly conquered duchy takes more than I had expected.”
“I can sympathize,” Philippe said. “I have found the management of the kingdom no simple task.”
You manage a smaller demesne than I do in Anjou, Foulques thought.
“My lords,” Philippe said. “They are an independent bunch. All with their own interests and opinions. One even fancies himself a king!”
Philippe showed Foulques to a large room. Judging by the large map across a table, it was a strategy room. The king poured himself out a drink, and did the same for Foulques.
“A gift from that so-called king,” Philippe said. “Ale. He says it is all those Saxons ever drink.”
Foulques took the cup and looked the liquid over. “I should hope you have had a taster sample this, my lord. I would not trust the Bastard.”
“I appreciate your concern,” Philippe said. “I am young. But I am not stupid.”
The king raised his glass to Foulques, who responded in kind and took a drink.
“Yes, my taster only grew mildly ill,” Philippe said. “He did not die.”
Foulques’ stomach sank as a chill ran down his spine. The teenage king laughed.
“I jest, I jest!” Philippe said. “I assure you, it is perfectly fine.”
Foulques raised an eyebrow as his breathing slowly returned to normal.
“In truth,” Philippe said. “I am pleased you have come at this time. My uncle speaks highly of you, as does Duke Guilhem. As you might know, having them agree on anything is quite rare.”
Foulques had to smile at that. “Too well, my king.”
“They speak to your talent on the field of the battle,” Philippe said. “That you are an able leader of men and have a fine grasp of strategy.”
“I know not if that is true, my king,” Foulques said. “I merely did what I had to.”
“Modesty does not become you Duke Foulques,” Philippe said. “There is no need to be false with me. A good commander must believe himself equal to no man on the battlefield. Do you think Duke William of Normandy thinks any man can best him?”
“No,” Foulques said.
“Tell me, do you think you can best him?” Philippe asked.
“I… I do not know my king,” Foulques said. “But I would be honored to have the opportunity to test myself against him.”
Philippe smiled and raised his cup toward Foulques. “Now there is the truth of it. Most men say they wish they could face William. But few truly believe it. You, Foulques, you, I believe truly does wish to test yourself against him. Whether it is because you want glory, or simply Maine, I am not sure. But it does not matter, does it?”
Foulques did not respond. Either his stepfather or Duke Guilhem must have mentioned his desire to reclaim the county to the king. Possibly both. What else had they told him?
“I must… commend you on convincing your uncle to serve you,” Foulques said. “I was surprised when I learned of it. I thought he believed himself to be the proper king.”
“He still does,” Philippe said. “But my uncle is old. And most in the realm do not trust him. In truth, Robert has a claim. But that is all he has.”
Foulques smirked at that. He wondered what Robert would say to such things. Probably a profanity-laced tirade and liberal use of the word “boy”. But would he do much beyond that? Foulques was not sure. With Geoffrey gone, Robert, for all his bluster, might now have become the weakest Duke in the realm, at least when it came to the number of men he could raise.
“And Duke Guilhem?” Foulques asked.
Philippe laughed. “The Duke is a wise man. Why else would I have entrusted him to lead my armies? I am eagerly watching to see how this Count Hugues matches wits with he. I hear they trade victories as they lay siege to each other’s keeps. Speaking of which… I am surprised you are not there alongside your wife’s brother.”
“My levies require time to recover,” Foulques said. “I will join him in time. ”
“For selfish reasons, I am happy to hear you say such things,” the young king said. “I have a request to make of you, Duke Foulques.”
“What do you need of me, my king?” Foulques asked.
“I plan a war,” Philippe said. “I need commanders to lead that war.”
Foulques eyebrows rose. “You seek to reclaim Normandy?”
Philippe shook his head. “William is a tempting target. His Saxons chafe under his rule. But, no, I look to the south.”
His fingers scanned the map, stopping on the island Mallorca.
“The Muslims here are weak. We could seize the island, and it could be a launching point by which we move into Iberia, or Africa,” Philippe said. “And, unlike with William, I will not draw the attention of the Pope.”
Foulques did his best to withhold a sigh. He wanted a chance to clash with William. He thought for sure that’s what Philippe was building toward. Instead, a war in the Mediterranean? Where was the glory in that?
“I see, my king.”
“Duke Foulques, you have turned me down before because you led your men in a war of your own,” Philippe said. “I understood. But now, you sit in your keep. Come with me to the south. Together, we’ll lead our knights to glory in a holy war for the cross.”
Foulques ran his hands through his hair. This is not what he wanted. He desired to prepare for a war with Vendome. He also did not wish to leave Beatritz, as he knew his time to produce a son with her was running short.
But could he really refuse the king again? He had a viable excuse last time. He also was turning down a boy that technically was not fully king yet. Now, despite him being not much older, he was the King of the Franks. And he was also standing before him.
“I… am honored my lord,” Foulques said. “But I cannot.”
Philippe’s smile melted away. “You… cannot?”
“I plan a war myself, my king,” Foulques said. “And I would trust no one but myself to execute it.”
“You would refuse your king’s call?” Philippe said. “Remember the pledge which you just gave.”
“I remember it, my king,” Foulques said. “I will provide you with the levy that I am bound to. Perhaps a few more knights as well for how you have treated me. But I cannot join them, or you, at this time.”
“Being named a commander is a tremendous honor,” Philippe said. “I thought you a man seeking glory. Perhaps I was mistaken. Perhaps we all were.”
“I understand your anger, my king,” Foulques said. “But--”
“I am not angry, Duke Foulques,” Philippe said. “I am disappointed.”
The young king looked down at the map before him, then lifted his head. “But I am no tyrant. I will not force you to join me. If you wish to battle children instead of dangerous heathens, that is your choice.”
The dig stung. But what could Foulques really say in response?
“Thank you for your understanding, my king,” was all he could muster.
“Well then, Duke Foulques,” Philippe started, “I believe there are a few other matters that require my attention. I have to plan a war, and my Marshal has not yet arrived back from Aquitaine. I hope to have some ideas for him to see when he does. I had hoped to have your feedback, but, I can see it is not your concern.”
Foulques did not need to be told anymore. He got the hint.
“I pray for your success in this endeavor, my king,” Foulques said.
“And I pray for you, Duke Foulques,” Philippe said.
Foulques turned to leave.
“One more thing!” Philippe said. Foulques stopped. “Before I depart for the south, I plan to recognize the Duchy of Orleans. Are you aware the county of Vendome is considered, by some, to be part of that domain?”
Foulques felt a chill run down his spine.
“I was not,” Foulques said. “Do you declare intentions, my king?”
Philippe shrugged, but maintained a sly grin. “I have other intentions, as I have told you. But I cannot speak to what intentions in the future will bring.”
Arrogant little welp, Foulques thought.
“We shall see then, my king,” Foulques said. “I shall take my leave if there is nothing more.”
Philippe waved him out, leaving Foulques to wander the halls of the palace in a slight daze. The king seemed as knowledgeable as Duke Robert had said. There was potential in the young man - and being an enemy of a king, even a weak one, was not something Foulques desired.
But, the fact remained, he still was not strong. His demesne was little more than the Ile de France and Orleans. He relied on Duke Guilhem to keep his vassals at bay… and Foulques still maintained his alliance with Duke Guilhem and Robert...
“Gather the men,” Foulques told Renaud as he found him in the keep.
“My lord… we do not stay, at least the night?” Renaud asked.
“Nay, instead we will make quickly to Paris,” Foulques said. “There will be more for us in the city than there would be in this keep. We shall have an enjoyable night, then make for Anjou in the morn.”
Renaud nodded. “I will gather the men at once.”
Foulques sighed as he watched his man head off. He remembered Armauy’s words from the year before. Philippe did not make such offers out of charity. Nor did he make threats lightly. He wanted Fouqlues to serve him. That would not change.
But there would be backlash - even if Philippe himself was limited in what he could do.
The path remained clear. Foulques needed to continue to strengthen himself, anyway he could, as quickly as possible.
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Philippe seems to be willing and capable to hold on to his crown, even though the threats around him remain - let us hope the Muslims are truly as weak as he thinks them to be, or France might end up in chaos.
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Time will truly tell of the Capetian boy can hold on to that crown of his, I won't be surprised if the campaign in Spain ends in disaster should the local emirs there decide to aid their fellow emir, chaos might follow if Philippe makes a mistake, old Robert might finally make his move!
I am not sure that was the wisest of choices - but it seems Phillipe at the moment is not overly upset. But he is young, and he may yet look back on this moment with thoughts more dark than regret.
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Phillip can really make your time harder than it should be... maybe you should have accepted and get his gratitude
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A risky move, which is not far from a mistake or stupidity. I hope Foulque knows what he is doing (you, as a player, I am sure you know ). You can refuse a king once (well, depend on the king), but twice is dangerous.
Especially if the king is a capable one.
He seems really impetuous too. He is not duke for a long time (and the king is young, as he keeps on repeating) but he already want a fight with William.
). You can refuse a king once (well, depend on the king), but twice is dangerous.Especially if the king is a capable one.
He seems really impetuous too. He is not duke for a long time (and the king is young, as he keeps on repeating) but he already want a fight with William.
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Philippe has actually done a strong job at neutralizing threats early on - taking out Guilhem and Robert by putting them on the council really weakens factions against him. Plus William is gone now that he's king of England. Flanders is a threat though, especially if Toulouse and Foulques were to get involved. Overall, I'd say (with no event spoilers) Philippe has done plenty of good to hold the realm together, and also made some... questionable calls.
This is a good shout. As for whether it comes true (either here or eventually)... well, I can't say.
Philippe is persistent. He seems to know what he wants. He's also patient. So he can wait. Don't expect this to be the list time Foulques hears from him.
My experiences as a commander of the king are... lots of bad things happen with little gain. France can be especially bad, because you end up getting attacked with 8K by the HRE with 20K and well...
Though in this case, you probably are right. Foulques might have been better served taking the position, at least temporarily.
A risky move, which is not far from a mistake or stupidity. I hope Foulque knows what he is doing (you, as a player, I am sure you know
Especially if the king is a capable one.
He seems really impetuous too. He is not duke for a long time (and the king is young, as he keeps on repeating) but he already want a fight with William.
Ha, I should have been a done a little better in avoiding "young". Once or twice was enough.
Foulques wants Maine. But he's also got a very high Martial skill (You'll see in the next update), and actually might be close to a match with William (I'd give the King of England the edge based on Foulques not being a brilliant strategist), plus he's ambitious. I can't imagine him not wanting a shot at William to prove himself the best in the realm.
As for refusing the king, Foulques had plans. While it probably would have made sense for him to accept here, lots of things he wants are hinging on tight timelines, (Bouchard remaining in a regency leaving him weak, Beatritz needing to have a child) and at this time, the King of the Franks was historically weak. Whether Philippe can pull the Capetians to glory earlier here than in OTL - remains to be seen.
Next update will be forthcoming shortly. And I will say - it definitely is the most event-heavy update in a long while.
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Chapter 14 - May 1069
Before Plantagenet - Chapter 14
May 1069 - Anjou, France
As the keep in Angers came into view, Foulques looked back proudly at his haul – three dead boars.
This should suit nicely, the duke thought.
The hunt was not something he had planned to do. In fact, it had only come about as a result of a series of events, which left Foulques frustrated and in need to prove his worth.
It all had begun in February, when Guillaume had finally managed to secure the claim on Vendome. Though he did believe the levy had not yet recovered enough to attack, to celebrate, Foulques spent the night drinking with his council, during which feats of strength came up. The Baron de Cholet had mentioned in passing that Bishop Ebbon was one of the strongest men he’d ever met, to which the duke disagreed. Foulques was willing to wrestle the bishop then and there but instead, Ebbon suggested a spear-throwing contest.
Foulques acquiesced and organized the event. Men across the duchy took part and, much to the duke’s dismay, he did finish second behind the bishop.
Angry over the result, it took the combined efforts of the Baron de Cholet and Mayor Renaud to stop Foulques from both firing the bishop from the council and from issuing his demand to Count Bouchard to relinquish Vendome immediately.
Instead, the pair convinced Foulques there were other ways to display his strength - the best of which was organizing a hunt and going after wild boar. It was a dangerous beast, which made it all the more appealing to the duke.
So in the spring, Foulques had led a hunting party out. In the main party consisted of Baron de Cholet, Mayor Renaud, Bishop Ebbon and commanders Leon and Amaury. The group had successfully killed three boars, with the Duke delivering the coup de grace on two of them. Cholet had finished off the third – an honor he had earned with a desperate but effective attack.
Foulques and his party were chasing the boar down, and they thought it near weak enough to finish. However, the Duke slipped and fell and the boar had charged at him. The Baron had hurled his spear at the beast, and struck it. The Duke was able to scramble to safety as a result.
“They will be most impressed with your exploits, my lord,” the Baron said to Foulques.
“And I shall make sure they hear of yours,” Foulques said. “Your quick thinking may have saved my life.”
“I would have done the same for any man,” Cholet said.
“The duchess shall be very grateful,” Renaud said. “You will have delivered her husband safely back to her, and provided her with her favorite meal.”
Foulques smirked. Beatritz would be pleased. While she had not been pleased to learn Foulques was going on the hunt, she admitted she had dreamed of feasting on boar a great deal lately. He hoped it was a sign she was with child, but he tried to put such thoughts far from his mind. The previous times he had raised his hopes he had them dashed each time.
Upon arriving at the keep, the three dismounted and gave their steeds to the stable hands They did not get far before they were greeted by the steward, Mayor Guilhem, alongside a man Foulques did not recognize.
“My lord,” the steward said, “An emissary from Duke Robert.”
“This concerns?” Foulques said.
“Your mother, my Lord,” The emissary said.
Foulques looked toward Baron Cholet, Renaud and Amaury. There was no assurances from the men. Such messages were rarely good.
The duke looked over the words, which quickly hit as hard as any blow he’d been struck by in training.
“What does it say my lord.”
“My mother is dead.”
“I… I am sorry,” Renaud said.
“The poor woman,” Cholet said. Amaury nodded.
“There’s more,” Foulques said. “Robert has decided our alliance is over.”
“Surely it can be repaired?” Amaury asked.
Foulques turned back to the emissary. “See what the good duke would like to renew our friendship. I’m sure we can happily find some common ground, as we have in the past.”
The emissary nodded.
“I shall have my steward, Mayor Guilhem, draw up the letter,” Foulques said. “If you will stay the night, you will have it in the morn.”
“Of course my lord,” the emissary said.
Foulques directed the steward to find lodging for the emissary and to draft the letter. Then the duke slowly trudged to his quarters.
He had not spoken with his mother since the day of his sister’s wedding to the Count of Bourges with the last thing he said to her his promise to abide by her warning.
But despite not seeing him, Foulques knew she had been working for his benefit – he doubted the selfish Robert would have ever agreed to an alliance if not for Ermengarde’s assistance. And he doubted Robert would renew the alliance now that she was gone – though Foulques had to try.
He arrived at his quarters and fell onto a chair, still in thought. He wondered if his sister Hildegarde had been informed. The Duke grimaced. Just before departing on his hunt, he learned his sister was with child. At the time it just added to his own frustration. Now? He wondered if his mother had ever learned of the news that would surely have filled with joy – and was then saddened that she never saw any of her children produce a boy.
As for his brother… would he want to know? Foulques never did learn if Geoffrey had blamed their mother for Robert interfering in the conflict, but he couldn’t have taken it well given everything that had happened.
Foulques glanced up as he heard footsteps. A young servant carrying two goblets of wine approached alongside Beatritz, who was beaming.
“Husband, I am happy you have returned safely,” Beatritz said. “I hear it was a successful hunt! My ladies say they spotted you had three boars when you arrived! Truly joyous news. They will be perfect for our celebrations when I tell you my news.”
Foulques didn’t respond and Beatritz’s smile disappeared.
“Leave us Alearde,” she commanded. Alearde bowed before the duke and then swiftly exited the room. “What is the matter husband? You normally are quite pleased when you return from a hunt.”
“My mother is dead,” Foulques said. “An emissary from Robert told me when I arrived.”
“Oh my word,” Beatritz said. “What happened?”
“She had been ill… apparently,” Foulques said as he looked over the letter again. “She had been confined to her bed recently, barely able to lift her own head. And now she is gone.”
Beatritz bowed her head. “She is with God now. She no doubt has a place by his side in heaven.”
Foulques was not sure he believed all of that. But it was at least mildly comforting.
“You said you have news?” Foulques said. “Are you finally with child?”
The smile returned to Beatritz’s face before she nodded emphatically.
“Truly?” Foulques asked. “Are you certain?”
The duchess nodded again and before gently patting the small swell of her belly. Foulques followed suit – whereas before it had been somewhat soft, he felt a definite hardness there. He let loose a small chuckle.
“Perhaps my mother found it fitting to send me one gift before she passed,” Foulques said. “Or perhaps when she met God, she begged this of him. She did want her sons to have sons of their own.”
“Of that, I have no doubt my lord,” Beatritz said.
“Then we shall not waste this gift,” Foulques said. “I want you well-rested. You are not to be strained. If you have need of something, then you need but ask. Food, drink, blankets… whatever you desire, my wife.”
Beatritz bowed. “You are a most charitable man, my lord.”
“And you a dutiful wife,” Foulques said as he kissed her forehead. He picked up the goblets, handing one to his wife. “To my mother! May she watch over us, and our child, from heaven!”
Foulques cracked a smile as the sweet liquid hit his tongue. Fortune was with him now, he was sure of it. While he did not wish to lose his mother, nor the alliance with Robert, if he had to trade it for a son, he would gladly do so. And surely, that was God’s plan. Foulques knew he was walking a fine line with Beatritz age, but it looked like his gambit had now paid off in full.
He swallowed his drink.
If Beatritz delivered a boy.
….
That night Foulques expected to dream of happy things. It began well enough, with him laying with his wife, though as he was with her, her belly grew. For some reason, the physician Adalmode was present, where she told him that it was surely a boy, based on the shape of her belly.
Only when Foulques looked back, Beatritz was not there - his sister Hildegarde was. She admonished him for leaving her to go fight in war, for ignoring their mother’s words, and placing their child at risk for his own selfish gain, as he had with Geoffrey.
He wanted to argue, to validate himself to them all. He sought his mother, but she laid in a bed, weak, ill but just strong enough to raise her hand and plead for him to not forsake his family for his ambition. All the while King Philippe laughed behind him at his folly.
Foulques was powerless to shield himself from the teenager’s derision, but a more pressing concern was when he looked back to his mother, it was again Hildegarde. He held her hand as the strength left her, and she fell away…
...
The duke awoke in a cold sweat. He did not see his sister. He was alone in his chambers.
His breathing slowly returned to normal. A nightmare, nothing more.
There was no Philippe, nor was Adalmode present. Hildegarde was in Bourges. And his mother…
Foulques sank his face into his palm.
His mother had left him for good.
May 1069 - Anjou, France
As the keep in Angers came into view, Foulques looked back proudly at his haul – three dead boars.
This should suit nicely, the duke thought.
The hunt was not something he had planned to do. In fact, it had only come about as a result of a series of events, which left Foulques frustrated and in need to prove his worth.
It all had begun in February, when Guillaume had finally managed to secure the claim on Vendome. Though he did believe the levy had not yet recovered enough to attack, to celebrate, Foulques spent the night drinking with his council, during which feats of strength came up. The Baron de Cholet had mentioned in passing that Bishop Ebbon was one of the strongest men he’d ever met, to which the duke disagreed. Foulques was willing to wrestle the bishop then and there but instead, Ebbon suggested a spear-throwing contest.
Foulques acquiesced and organized the event. Men across the duchy took part and, much to the duke’s dismay, he did finish second behind the bishop.
Angry over the result, it took the combined efforts of the Baron de Cholet and Mayor Renaud to stop Foulques from both firing the bishop from the council and from issuing his demand to Count Bouchard to relinquish Vendome immediately.
Instead, the pair convinced Foulques there were other ways to display his strength - the best of which was organizing a hunt and going after wild boar. It was a dangerous beast, which made it all the more appealing to the duke.
So in the spring, Foulques had led a hunting party out. In the main party consisted of Baron de Cholet, Mayor Renaud, Bishop Ebbon and commanders Leon and Amaury. The group had successfully killed three boars, with the Duke delivering the coup de grace on two of them. Cholet had finished off the third – an honor he had earned with a desperate but effective attack.
Foulques and his party were chasing the boar down, and they thought it near weak enough to finish. However, the Duke slipped and fell and the boar had charged at him. The Baron had hurled his spear at the beast, and struck it. The Duke was able to scramble to safety as a result.
“They will be most impressed with your exploits, my lord,” the Baron said to Foulques.
“And I shall make sure they hear of yours,” Foulques said. “Your quick thinking may have saved my life.”
“I would have done the same for any man,” Cholet said.
“The duchess shall be very grateful,” Renaud said. “You will have delivered her husband safely back to her, and provided her with her favorite meal.”
Foulques smirked. Beatritz would be pleased. While she had not been pleased to learn Foulques was going on the hunt, she admitted she had dreamed of feasting on boar a great deal lately. He hoped it was a sign she was with child, but he tried to put such thoughts far from his mind. The previous times he had raised his hopes he had them dashed each time.
Upon arriving at the keep, the three dismounted and gave their steeds to the stable hands They did not get far before they were greeted by the steward, Mayor Guilhem, alongside a man Foulques did not recognize.
“My lord,” the steward said, “An emissary from Duke Robert.”
“This concerns?” Foulques said.
“Your mother, my Lord,” The emissary said.
Foulques looked toward Baron Cholet, Renaud and Amaury. There was no assurances from the men. Such messages were rarely good.
The duke looked over the words, which quickly hit as hard as any blow he’d been struck by in training.
“What does it say my lord.”
“My mother is dead.”
“I… I am sorry,” Renaud said.
“The poor woman,” Cholet said. Amaury nodded.
“There’s more,” Foulques said. “Robert has decided our alliance is over.”
“Surely it can be repaired?” Amaury asked.
Foulques turned back to the emissary. “See what the good duke would like to renew our friendship. I’m sure we can happily find some common ground, as we have in the past.”
The emissary nodded.
“I shall have my steward, Mayor Guilhem, draw up the letter,” Foulques said. “If you will stay the night, you will have it in the morn.”
“Of course my lord,” the emissary said.
Foulques directed the steward to find lodging for the emissary and to draft the letter. Then the duke slowly trudged to his quarters.
He had not spoken with his mother since the day of his sister’s wedding to the Count of Bourges with the last thing he said to her his promise to abide by her warning.
But despite not seeing him, Foulques knew she had been working for his benefit – he doubted the selfish Robert would have ever agreed to an alliance if not for Ermengarde’s assistance. And he doubted Robert would renew the alliance now that she was gone – though Foulques had to try.
He arrived at his quarters and fell onto a chair, still in thought. He wondered if his sister Hildegarde had been informed. The Duke grimaced. Just before departing on his hunt, he learned his sister was with child. At the time it just added to his own frustration. Now? He wondered if his mother had ever learned of the news that would surely have filled with joy – and was then saddened that she never saw any of her children produce a boy.
As for his brother… would he want to know? Foulques never did learn if Geoffrey had blamed their mother for Robert interfering in the conflict, but he couldn’t have taken it well given everything that had happened.
Foulques glanced up as he heard footsteps. A young servant carrying two goblets of wine approached alongside Beatritz, who was beaming.
“Husband, I am happy you have returned safely,” Beatritz said. “I hear it was a successful hunt! My ladies say they spotted you had three boars when you arrived! Truly joyous news. They will be perfect for our celebrations when I tell you my news.”
Foulques didn’t respond and Beatritz’s smile disappeared.
“Leave us Alearde,” she commanded. Alearde bowed before the duke and then swiftly exited the room. “What is the matter husband? You normally are quite pleased when you return from a hunt.”
“My mother is dead,” Foulques said. “An emissary from Robert told me when I arrived.”
“Oh my word,” Beatritz said. “What happened?”
“She had been ill… apparently,” Foulques said as he looked over the letter again. “She had been confined to her bed recently, barely able to lift her own head. And now she is gone.”
Beatritz bowed her head. “She is with God now. She no doubt has a place by his side in heaven.”
Foulques was not sure he believed all of that. But it was at least mildly comforting.
“You said you have news?” Foulques said. “Are you finally with child?”
The smile returned to Beatritz’s face before she nodded emphatically.
“Truly?” Foulques asked. “Are you certain?”
The duchess nodded again and before gently patting the small swell of her belly. Foulques followed suit – whereas before it had been somewhat soft, he felt a definite hardness there. He let loose a small chuckle.
“Perhaps my mother found it fitting to send me one gift before she passed,” Foulques said. “Or perhaps when she met God, she begged this of him. She did want her sons to have sons of their own.”
“Of that, I have no doubt my lord,” Beatritz said.
“Then we shall not waste this gift,” Foulques said. “I want you well-rested. You are not to be strained. If you have need of something, then you need but ask. Food, drink, blankets… whatever you desire, my wife.”
Beatritz bowed. “You are a most charitable man, my lord.”
“And you a dutiful wife,” Foulques said as he kissed her forehead. He picked up the goblets, handing one to his wife. “To my mother! May she watch over us, and our child, from heaven!”
Foulques cracked a smile as the sweet liquid hit his tongue. Fortune was with him now, he was sure of it. While he did not wish to lose his mother, nor the alliance with Robert, if he had to trade it for a son, he would gladly do so. And surely, that was God’s plan. Foulques knew he was walking a fine line with Beatritz age, but it looked like his gambit had now paid off in full.
He swallowed his drink.
If Beatritz delivered a boy.
….
That night Foulques expected to dream of happy things. It began well enough, with him laying with his wife, though as he was with her, her belly grew. For some reason, the physician Adalmode was present, where she told him that it was surely a boy, based on the shape of her belly.
Only when Foulques looked back, Beatritz was not there - his sister Hildegarde was. She admonished him for leaving her to go fight in war, for ignoring their mother’s words, and placing their child at risk for his own selfish gain, as he had with Geoffrey.
He wanted to argue, to validate himself to them all. He sought his mother, but she laid in a bed, weak, ill but just strong enough to raise her hand and plead for him to not forsake his family for his ambition. All the while King Philippe laughed behind him at his folly.
Foulques was powerless to shield himself from the teenager’s derision, but a more pressing concern was when he looked back to his mother, it was again Hildegarde. He held her hand as the strength left her, and she fell away…
...
The duke awoke in a cold sweat. He did not see his sister. He was alone in his chambers.
His breathing slowly returned to normal. A nightmare, nothing more.
There was no Philippe, nor was Adalmode present. Hildegarde was in Bourges. And his mother…
Foulques sank his face into his palm.
His mother had left him for good.
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what a nightmare he had... problem with ambition is that sometimes they have left a little remorses
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It would be very fitting if that nightmare led to a demon child - though I doubt it.
It certainly was a good decision to keep Cholet around, he's far more reasonable than Foulques and useful. And perhaps the duke is better off without the nefarious influence of the old kinslayer.
It certainly was a good decision to keep Cholet around, he's far more reasonable than Foulques and useful. And perhaps the duke is better off without the nefarious influence of the old kinslayer.
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