Before Plantagenet - Chapter 260
June 1136 - Sutton, Kingdom of England
“Don’t let him sack it.”
Geoffrey stood in the lord’s chamber in the manor house in Sutton. Across from him stood Queen Ælfflæd, her face one of determination. But as Geoffrey met her gaze, staring into her eyes, he saw something else.
Fear.
“Look, you know how this goes,” Geoffrey told her. “They were offered a chance to surrender. They did not take it. When it falls, there will be repercussions.”
“I am aware,” Ælfflæd said. “Heavens know
I am aware of all that. But this is family. My aunt did nothing wrong. If anything, she hoped to win support for me. Not to mention she is Adelise’s mother.”
Geoffrey sighed. Ælfflæd had demanded he speak with her over the siege of Wareham, which was happening the next county over. There Duke Foulquesson, having arrived in England in January, was laying siege to the Duke of Somerset’s main keep. And talk had already spread that the Duke of Brittany had sacked the town, and let loose havoc on all who lived within its walls.
Rumor wasn’t always fact, however, and Geoffrey knew that the town had not fallen yet - at least from the duke’s last message this morning. News would be at least four days behind with even the fastest of riders, but Geoffrey was reasonably assured his uncle had yet to take the walls, let alone unleash anything on its inhabitants.
But Ælfflæd was nonetheless concerned, specifically for her Aunt Gunhilda, Duchess of Somerset, and her cousin, Hextilda, the 13-year-old daughter to the duke and duchess. And she had first demanded answers over the rumors and now assurances that they would not come to pass.
However, while Geoffrey could calm her over the former, he could make no guarantees over the latter.
“I realize you worry about your aunt and cousin,” Geoffrey said. “But if you have not noticed, I am here. Not there.”
“Then go there,” Ælfflæd said. “Or let me go there.”
Geoffrey nearly spit out his wine. “Let you go? Alone? Are you mad? My uncle would ride here immediately to challenge me to a duel for something he’d deem so insulting.”
“And you’re worried about that?” she asked.
“He’s a decaying husk,” Geoffrey said. “I have no doubt I’d defeat him. But then I’d have to kill him, because he could not take the humiliation of surrender. And trust me when I say, killing one of my prominent vassals, a blood uncle no less, is not something I need right now. Nor something you need, given your reliance on my armies.”
And Geoffrey had meant every word of that. Foulquesson was in even worse shape these days than when the war had begun.
Aside from the continued effects of his leprosy, the duke had been severely wounded while fighting with Ælfflæd’s uncle, Duke Osmund of Kent, on the mainland.
Osmund had attacked some of Duke Simon’s retinue to the southeast of Toulouse back in the fall, and Foulquesson, who’d heard reports the Duke of Kent was in the area and marched his men to intercept, joined the battle late on.
The result had been another resounding victory for Aquitaine, but Foulquesson had been struck by a lucky lance point during the encounter. It did not go deep, but caught the duke’s eye, which he had now lost.
That wound had not only been the reason Foulquesson had missed capturing Osmund, or so he had claimed, but had also left the duke in a fouler mood than usual. And so Geoffrey figured he might as well use that to his advantage, recalling him to England and sending him to Wareham to hopefully bring the Duke of Somerset to his knees.
With Cornwall falling quickly then, and now fully in Geoffrey’s grasp, Osmund left with scraps unable to do anything, breaking Somerset at Wareham might well be the push needed to finally end the war.
Only now he was having to deal with possibility he’d unleashed a rabid hound on a close relative to his wife, without any good means of getting the dog under control.
“I will see what I can do,” Geoffrey said. “Foulquesson is irritable these days. Even more so than usual since he lost his eye.”
“I don’t care the reason,” Ælfflæd said. “I just want my aunt and cousin safe. Lyford was bad enough. It will not make my life easier if I have to answer for your uncle inflicting horrors on a woman from one of the most prominent families of the realm, sister to a former queen, brother to a duke and mother to a pair of duchesses in their own right.”
It was an argument he could hear his father making. And so Geoffrey could not deny his wife any more than he could the old king.
Geoffrey made his way to the door and ordered the guards to find Alias or Duke Simon so he could have them send a message to Foulquesson to make certain Duchess Gunhilda and her daughter were spared.
“There,” Geoffrey said. “Happy?”
“I would prefer one of us go,” Ælfflæd said. “To make certain there are no mistakes.”
“I gave my uncle command of that siege,” Geoffrey said. “I do not plan to revoke it. If he violates my order, he will be punished. I will deny him any further command.”
Ælfflæd crossed her arms. “What of the town?”
“I will look to protect your aunt and cousin,” Geoffrey said. “That’s all I can do, even if I commanded the siege myself.”
That wasn’t entirely true - he’d been far more lenient to Axminster last year than most other towns, but he didn’t want this argument to continue.
There was a knock on the door and Duke Simon entered. Geoffrey was hoping for Alias, since he trusted his younger brother more than his cousin, but gave him the order anyway.
“And I want to make it clear,” Geoffrey said, “should anything happen to Duchess Gunhilda or young Hextilda, the duke will face a permanent loss of command. For Navarra, I’ll leave him in Brittany. Make sure he understands that.”
Simon nodded. “Shall I take it to him personally?”
Geoffrey glanced to Ælfflæd and given her stern glare, nodded as well. “Go with Knud.”
Simon’s eyes widened for a moment while his face grew pale. “Y..yes… cousin.”
He bowed and departed, leaving Geoffrey grin. He didn’t think Foulquesson plotted against him anymore, but he didn’t want to leave him alone with Simon. Knud being present was exactly the type of intimidation required for such a situation.
“Satisfied?” Geoffrey asked his wife.
“No,” Ælfflæd said. “But thank you for your efforts, nonetheless.”
“I hope you show such backbone with your new subjects,” Geoffrey told her. “They could use a ruler who does not cow before their every whim.”
He could see Ælfflæd furrow her brow and yet have her lips curl up for a little smirk. She didn’t want to like what he said, but she had.
“Anything else then?” he asked her.
“No,” Ælfflæd said. “I will recall my ladies and we can return to our tasks for the day.”
Geoffrey snapped his fingers. “That reminds me. Have you settled on your new chief lady in waiting?”
Just under a half year ago, Lady Helie had passed. She had fallen ill in the fall, and by the start of the new year could not rise from her bed. Days later, she passed in her sleep.
It was true she was an old woman - the last person he knew who had known and spoken to his grandmother Beatritz. She was well over seven decades, and had seen much sadness in her life, from the fall of her nephew in Burgundy, to the deaths of her two children, and eldest granddaughter, Eve de Semur, prematurely. She’d also outlived her husband by decades.
But as she had told Ælfflæd before, she had enjoyed many other things, including seeing her young great-granddaughter become Empress of the Romans in her own right. It had not always been easy, but Helie claimed she lived it to the fullest, and had few regrets.
Yet it was clear by the sudden sullen look in Ælfflæd’s eyes at her mention that her passing still strung, even though Helie had passed months ago. It was something, given he’d heard they did not get along well at all when Ælfflæd had first arrived.
“No,” Ælfflæd said. “I have yet to raise any of my other ladies. Why?”
“I think you should strongly consider Assalide for the role,” Geoffrey said.
“I should do
what?” Ælfflæd asked. “She is the newest among them. Benoite and Escarlemonde have been with me for longer.”
“Escarlemonde is a known harlot, given her bastards with my uncle Charles,” Geoffrey said.
“She’s been faithful to Knud!” Ælfflæd argued.
“For some that’s not much better,” Geoffrey said. “I don’t agree, of course, I just state what is.”
“So then Benoite,” Ælfflæd said.
“There are rumors about her as well,” Geoffrey said, neglecting to mention they involved his own father. “But more to the point, her husband is a foreign-born nothing. He served my father for a time, but was replaced. Whereas Assalide is the wife to my advisor - a council member.”
Ælfflæd rolled her eyes. “A landless brother to a count who only holds status due to his father. If Berard were not your friend, he would be nothing.”
“But he
is my friend,” Geoffrey said. “Which makes him something.”
“You are too much,” Ælfflæd said. “It is not enough that I must replace a woman I still mourn, but you do not even let me choose who I wish to take her place?”
“It is a helpful suggestion,” Geoffrey said. “Of all your ladies, Assalide has the most status from both her family and husband. And she is a proper woman, upholding of tradition and our ways.”
“Ah, so I do not revert back to my old ways when I rule England?” Ælfflæd asked. “If you even permit me to do that, given you won’t even let me pick my ladies?”
“You can scoff at me all you wish,” Geoffrey said. “But you remain Queen of Aquitaine. The expectations upon you will not change just because we have added England to our holdings.”
“Unless you are to discount the expectations of those new English subjects,” Ælfflæd replied.
“They will need to learn to adjust to us,” Geoffrey said. “It is not as if they come to us willingly.”
Ælfflæd narrowed her gaze. “I see. I suppose it will be good then, that I am their queen. They will need someone to guide them in how to humble themselves before one with an ego as grand as yours.”
“Your sympathy for those that would stab you in the back the first chance they got is something,” Geoffrey said. “Whether it is admirable or foolish, I haven’t decided.”
“They are my people,” Ælfflæd said. “That I have been queen of Aquitaine for going on a decade does not change who I am.”
No, that was Tunis, he thought. It was clear to him now that Ælfflæd’s own standing with her people was not what she wished it would be due to the years she had spent there. In truth, she spent almost half of her life away from England at this point, between Tunis and Aquitaine.
It meant that to some, Ælfflæd would never be a true English woman, Saxon woman or whatever they were calling themselves these days. But he’d wised up about telling her that - there was no point in breaking her confidence now when he wanted her at her best for when the nobles surrendered.
“In any case, I
could make you take Assalide as your chief lady,” Geoffrey said. “But I won’t. As I said, it is just helpful advice from someone who knows our court. You can do as you please.”
Ælfflæd crossed her arms, continuing to eye him. “I shall take it under consideration, husband. Have you anything else for me to consider?”
And while he had her, he did have another thought. “You know that I look for a wife for Alias. I was wondering if there were any women in England I should consider?”
Ælfflæd’s expression changed, from discontent to apparent surprise. She was left to shrug her shoulders.
“I have been away from here for nearly a decade,” Ælfflæd replied. “From what I know, all the duchesses, Adi, Aevis and Maud are still wed. There is Hextilda. She is the duke’s daughter. Currently she is his heiress.”
Geoffrey scratching his chin.
Alias could have Navarra and have a wife as a duchess? That might not be a bad way to keep him pleased...
“That could work,” Geoffrey said. “Do you know of anyone else?”
“Not at this time,” Ælfflæd said. “But I can have an emissary from Adi ask her to look into it.”
Relying on Adelise was never his preferred option, but the idea Alias could be used to help bind England’s prominent nobles to their house was a concept that had been growing on him of late.
Of course, even if Geoffrey had a preferred candidate, there was no guarantee they would be available for his brother. His early attempts at arranging a union between Alias and Princess Etiennette of the Franks had gone poorly. Far from arranging an alliance, Alphonse’s emissaries believed it would be a precursor for Geoffrey to attack the kingdom should Alphonse pass, as he had done with England.
The thought had crossed Geoffrey’s mind, though fully elevating his brother to a status equal to him in a foreign kingdom was not necessarily a wise decision. But the Franks would not be convinced, and Geoffrey knew now he must look elsewhere for a bride for his brother.
He’d briefly considered the Basilissa Markia of the Roman Empire, his late aunt Agnes’ granddaughter, given her status and the fact they were family, making potential negotiations easier.
But the girl was young at only four years of age. It would be a decade before she was old enough to marry, and there was no guarantee she would still be Empress then.
Of course, the idea that his brother would be emperor, consort or not, of the Roman Empire, was not something he could stomach. He wasn’t sure if his father would be annoyed for his son to be ruling over those “Greek pretenders” or proud his son ruled over the empire he idolized. Either way, Geoffrey wasn’t about to make it happen.
But he would get no further insight into the matter with Ælfflæd now, so he bid his wife farewell, and left the chamber, allowing her ladies to filter in behind him. Among them was a servant holding his chubby faced daughter Marguerite, who he now called Margo, now over two years old. He gave his daughter a wet kiss and decided he’d like to hold her, taking her from the servant.
“Would you like to go walking with dada, Margo?” Geoffrey asked her.
When Margo nodded, he kept her in his arms, stuck his head into Ælfflæd’s chambers and told her he was taking his daughter outside.
Once outside the manor, he ran around, with his daughter laughing with joy as the warm summer breeze blew through both his and Margo’s brown hair.
“Faster dada!” she exclaimed.
And so Geoffrey obliged, enjoying what he’d gotten to experience a bit more lately - being able to actually spend time with his family. It wasn’t something that hadn't concerned him much when Guilhem was young, but ever since he’d heard his daughter laugh for the first time, he’d been aiming to make it happen over and over again.
He succeeded on this day, as she giggled and cheered. But he was brought to a stop by the sight of his cousin Centolh approaching.
“Geoff, if I might have a word,” he said.
“You may,” Geoffrey said, keeping hold of his daughter’s legs around his neck.
“There is an emissary from the kingdom of Sicily who has arrived in the town,” Centolh said. “He’ll be staying here the night as he travels north to visit with the Duchess of Mercia. The Norman rulers look to find possible marriage candidates of Norman blood and Adelise is one of the most powerful remaining.”
“And you wish me to greet him for appearances?” Geoffrey asked.
“Well that, and… they have a princess available,” Centolh said. “Princess Alisce, sister to King Osbern.”
Geoffrey’s brow rose. He had mentioned to Centolh his desire to find Alias a wife. So that his cousin had already found a royal candidate was a pleasant surprise.
“Forgive me,” Geoffrey said. “I don’t know a great deal about princesses from kingdoms in Italy. How old is she?”
“The lady is 24 years,” Centolh said. “Recently widowed, but certainly not too old.”
“She is older than my wife was when I married her,” Geoffrey noted.
“True, but not much older,” Centolh said. “Especially since Alias is of age. And as your wife shows, that age is certainly no impediment to having children.”
“I’m uncertain,” Geoffrey said.
“Well, she is… third in line for the throne,” Centolh said. “That is higher than your wife was when she and you were wed.”
“I am not looking to war every realm to install my family as their rulers,” Geoffrey insisted. “England provided a unique opportunity - my wife and children had far more right to the throne than a usurper.”
“Of course,” Centolh said. “I merely speak of opportunity, should the Sicilian nobles also get any ideas.”
Geoffrey eyed his cousin, though what else could he say? His reputation was sealed. Every realm near to him would forever eye him with suspicion that he eyed their lands. And in some cases, like with the Franks, it probably was true. But it also would draw him the ire of places where he didn’t have a great deal of interest, like Sicily.
“So if they suspect me of wishing to install my brother on the Sicilian throne, why would they ever agree to the union?” Geoffrey asked.
“I’m not certain they would,” Centolh said. “But time is not on the princess’ side. And they come to deal with their Norman cousins, the most powerful of them already is ours in all but name. I’m sure Duchess Adelise could put in a good word for us, should we ask nicely.”
Geoffrey rolled his eyes. Adelise had held her men back from this conflict, but beyond that, she’d failed to deliver on practically everything she had promised over the years. Having to trust her once was bad enough. But twice?
“I have my doubts,” Geoffrey said. “Still it would be good practice for Alias. He’ll need to impress visitors if he is to rule his own lands.”
“Agreed,” Centolh said. “Shall I send for Alias?”
“Where is he?” Geoffrey asked. “I say we just get him.”
“If that is what you wish,” Centolh said.
However, a quick search around the manor home itself did not turn up Alias. So Geoffrey moved back outside, but much to Margo’s disappointment, without her.
“I want to come, dada,” Margo whined.
“Maybe later,” Geoffrey told her. “It’s important for me to find your uncle. And I don’t know where he is or what he’s up to. So stay with mama.”
Margo frowned as a servant girl and guard led her back toward the lord’s chambers, and Geoffrey felt a small twinge of guilt. But Margo had already complained during the search that she wanted Geoffrey to run around again and probably lacked the patience to stay with him.
The search continued. In the yard, Geoffrey saw Prince Guilhem, now eight years of age, playing with Berard’s son Savarics, the pair laughing as they swung wooden swords in the air. By the looks of things they were trying to impress Benoite’s de Bourges's nine-year-old daughter Toda, all under the watchful eye of Berard himself.
“Come to see how your son aims to impress ladies?” Berard asked.
“Not this time, though I’m certain he does well enough,” Geoffrey said. “I imagine he could give young Savarics pointers.”
“Given what the prince may have learned from you, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” Berard joked.
Geoffrey gave him a slight shove, but continued with his main reason for stopping.
“Have you seen my brother?” Geoffrey asked. “There is an emissary I wanted him to meet.”
“Last I saw, he was headed toward the stables,” Berard said.
“Ah, thank you then,” Geoffrey said. He paused and took a look back at Guilhem, smiling sweetly at Toda. Then he leaned in close to Berard. “Keep him from getting too close to her. You’ve heard the rumors of her parentage.”
Berard nodded and started over toward the children. Geoffrey didn’t like the talk that surrounded the girl - that she was secretly actually his half-sister, sired of an affair between Benoite and the late king years before. If it were true… Geoffrey did not want his son blindly walking himself into a potential scandal.
With that situation somewhat diffused, Geoffrey and Centolh made their way over to the stables, with a few others along the way confirming Alias had gone into them.
Yet when they arrived, there were a few horses in the stalls, but other than that, Geoffrey did not see anyone. Centolh even made a walk around the perimeter while Geoffrey stood at the entrance.
And that’s when Geoffrey heard the sounds.
It took a few moments, but the king soon recognized it for what it was. The heavy breathing, the muffled sound of whispered compliments…
Centolh returned and before he could say anything, Geoffrey motioned for his cousin to follow him from the stables. Once they had, Geoffrey looked back toward the entrance.
“He has a girl with him,” Geoffrey said. “I know those sounds anywhere.”
Centolh scratched his head. “Is that it? Are you sure? I have not seen him make eyes at any ladies.”
“It is probably some Saxon servant,” Geoffrey said. “Which is good. No one will care if he gets her pregnant. But… I want to have some fun with him.”
“What are you planning?” Centolh asked.
“I’m going to catch him in the act,” Geoffrey said. “What else?”
“Is that wise?” Centolh asked. “He’s your brother. And I would think he wishes for privacy.”
Geoffrey rolled his eyes. “Cen, far too often I just act as his king. For once, I want to treat him as my younger brother. Embarrass him a little, but compliment him after.”
The king crept along as quietly as he could. In his tunic, hose and boots, he could move somewhat quietly, though he had to hold his sword at his belt to prevent rustling. Tracing the sounds, he came upon a stall on the far corner, at the back of the stable. Creeping up to the door, Geoffrey motioned for Centolh to follow, which he did, slowly.
Then, once they were in place, Geoffrey threw open the door to the stall… and was left wide eyed at what he discovered.
Alias was seated on a couple of small bales of hay. As Geoffrey expected, there was someone with him, on their knees before him. But when that person picked up their head, Geoffrey could immediately see from the short cut of their hair, and the beginnings of a beard, that his brother was with no woman.
Meanwhile, both the man and Alias turned their gaze toward Geoffrey, with the color fading from their faces. A momentary stillness fell over the stable.
“What… in… what…” Geoffrey stammered. “What is the meaning of this?! What are you doing with…”
“Why did you come here?!” Alias shouted.
“To find you to discuss…” Geoffrey began. “No! This is not about
me! I was not caught coupling with… with… This is inexcusable! This is….”
“Get away!” Alias shouted back. “Get away now!”
“I am your brother and your king! You cannot command me to…” Geoffrey retorted.
“Cousins!” Centolh exclaimed as he moved in front of Geoffrey, but continued to face the king. “Now is not the time. The stables are within earshot of many things… and many people.”
Geoffrey glared at his cousin. He wanted to curse him for speaking of such concerns now. It would be what Adhemar would say. Or Geoffrey’s father.
But it wasn’t wrong.
Geoffrey tore the cloak off his back and threw it at Alias. “Cover yourself. Clean yourself,
alone. Then confess.”
He glared at the stable hand. “And you, if I ever catch sight of you near my brother again… I shall have you tossed into a river with weights tied around your ankles.”
Geoffrey stormed off from the stall, quickly moving from the stables and then pausing at a tree a few hundred feet away. His breathing was rushed, his heart racing and when he shut his eyes he could see the image again, his brother, the young man….
The king forced his eyes so wide open they nearly bulged from his head. His breathing remained rushed and he gripped tightly at his own tunic, at his chest.
I can’t believe what I just saw, he thought.
I never imagined my brother was…
He could not even bring himself to think it, let alone say it.
“Geoff.”
Geoffrey spun around to see Centolh before him. His hand was out, as if he wished to reach to comfort him, but it trembled as he hesitated.
“What?” Geoffrey snapped.
“Alias has redressed himself,” Centolh said. “And I can… escort him from the stables. Some heard the noise and came to investigate.”
Geoffrey’s heart skipped a beat.
“Be rid of them!” he ordered.
“I have,” Centolh said. “The best I could, anyway. I think no one suspects anything, for no one saw…”
“Except us,” Geoffrey said.
“Yes,” Centolh said. “I uh… there is I know it is not the best time… but the Sicilian emissary…”
Geoffrey grew wide-eyed and didn’t respond. Centolh, the color faded from his face, backed away slowly.
“I… I will say you and your brother are unable to see him at this time, but both send your regards and hopes for safe travel.”
There was no response, with Geoffrey just glaring at his cousin until Centolh hurried away.
And with that Geoffrey made the slow walk back to the manor home. He did so alone, with Berard being waved off as he came to check on Geoffrey during the journey.
Geoffrey walked into the manor, numb to the world around him - so much so that he simply barged into the lord’s chamber without knocking, even as Ælfflæd and her ladies sat around, sewing. He then plopped himself down on an empty chair, prompting the queen to hurry to him, as did Margo.
“Dada?” Margo asked. “Did you come to get me?”
Geoffrey didn’t respond to her tugging on his tunic, and Ælfflæd stared at him, her brow raised.
“Husband? What has happened? You look as if you have seen a ghost!” she said.
“I saw something I shouldn’t,” Geoffrey told her.
“Do you wish to speak of it with me?” Ælfflæd asked.
He just slowly shook his head. Ælfflæd’s brow raised, continued to eye him.
“Do you wish for me to take my ladies outside the chamber?” Ælfflæd asked.
Geoffrey again said nothing, just nodding quickly. So the queen looked to her ladies and motioned for them to depart the chamber. Ælfflæd, trailing behind them after scooping Margo into her arms, paused at the door.
“I shall be in the main hall if you wish to speak to me,” she replied.
Geoffrey nodded and Ælfflæd went to leave. But she stuck her head back into the chamber once more to ask: “You have received no news about your armies? Or the war? Is it something to do with our son?”
The king shook his head, and Ælfflæd’s expression remained perplexed. With a slight shrug she finally left him alone, the door closing behind her.
Geoffrey was silent as he sat in the chamber, still in disbelief, and struggled to make sense of it all.
Of all the possibilities Geoffrey had considered, this had only briefly crossed his mind. Far more likely, he thought, was Alias desired Ælfflæd or Ana. Maybe something more perverse, like a close relative such as one of Beatritz’s daughters, or a married woman like Sarrazine. But to be a sodomite?
True, it was far from unheard of among the whispers in the court. Uncle Guilhem was widely suspected of it, and Geoffrey, Alias and those within the royal family essentially knew it to be fact. There was also Alias’ namesake, the late count of Perigord, who Geoffrey never confirmed but based on what he’d heard, and the way Berard, Ana and Alberic reacted to such rumors, there was little question in his mind.
But his brother?
What if someone else had found him?
The shame would have been terrible, rivaling anything Geoffrey had ever done, even the Sarrazine disaster. And it would be at the worst time - right when neither he nor Ælfflæd needed anything to fuel resistance of English lords against them. It was easy to envision them holding up Alias as a symbol of the evil and sin that would follow Angevin rule over the island, especially when linked with the tales of what had happened to Ælfflæd in Tunis.
I need to find a wife for him immediately. Perhaps Ælfflæd’s cousin… no that is still a few years off…
Geoffrey shook his head. He tried to remember that he had discovered Alias, not anyone else. So it could have been a disaster, but for now… it was not.
For now, Geoffrey thought.
All that happens now is that it remains hidden. But that could change. One slip up. One mistake. One servant who sees something they shouldn’t… or a well placed spy who finds exactly what they need.
To say nothing of the sinful nature of it. Could he really allow his brother to venture down that road?
“
Be good to your brother.”
Geoffrey could hear his father’s voice clear enough, even now. It was among the final things he had told him. He did not remember everything about the rest of it… but he did remember asking: “I do not know what Alias shall want.”
His father had told him bluntly then:
“It will be your job to learn.”
What would you say now, father, Geoffrey wondered,
now that I know what Alias desires… and it is a sin. And what you no doubt would consider an embarrassment. What would you have me do?
He sat in silence, hoping something would come to him. Some sign, some voice… some memory, something to help guide him.
Far from nothing came. But it was too much. Too many thoughts, too many possibilities, too many memories and moments… simply too much.
Trying his best to shut it out, Geoffrey dropped to his knees, and prayed in silence.
….
Had they been in an army camp, Geoffrey wasn’t certain what he’d have done. But back at the manor in Sutton, he had more space to operate and could steer clear of his brother.
So he was able to think on the matter for some time on his own. Not that any easy answer was forthcoming.
On one hand, it was a sin, was it not? But why should he be surprised in a family that was awash in it? From his ancestor, who married the daughter of the devil, to his grandfather had murdered a man, married his wife and then years later, bedded her daughter. His father had consorted with heathens and had perhaps bedded his own sister.
And it was not as if his non-demonic side was any better. His mother had laid with a man who was not her husband, his grandmother helped murder his grandfather.
Bath in sin, one cannot be surprised that you end up soaked in it.
And his family had. Alias was a sodomite. Aines an attempted kinslayer. Of his full-blooded siblings, only Foulques seemed to be above it all. And as his mother so often said… perhaps God had called him to heaven as a result.
What did this bode for him? And his family? Would Prince Guilhem fall victim to vice as they had? Would his little Margo one day suffer?
If he wished to break the cycle perhaps it behooved him to take strong action on Alias. Demand he never venture down that path again. Threaten he would not receive Navarra if he was caught again. Surely that would force him to re-evaluate his choices.
But… he is my brother…
He had taken strong action against Aines, his sister, in the past. She’d been virtually exiled for the last few years. So it wasn’t as if he’d not punished blood before.
Yet, Aines had plotted the murder of his son. That was a far greater crime than sodomy, no matter how it was spun. Insult was far greater than injury.
And despite that crime, Aines was being slowly brought back. He had not stripped her of her betrothal to Duke Simon and that meant she was allowed to retain her status, dinged as her reputation was.
A temporary punishment was an option, but would it really be worth it given the nature of their offenses? Alias might have sinned, but he was loyal.
And for all his worry over how his father would have reacted, in some ways, Geoffrey had seen exactly how he had.
His father could have cast out Alias de Perigord. He could have moved against Duke Guilhem. He didn’t. Whether that was because they faked it well enough or not, Geoffrey did not know. But their private lives were not secret to the old king - of that much he was fairly certain.
And if his father would not force away his friend or bastard half-brother, could Geoffrey really be rid of his full-blooded younger brother who he had sworn to protect?
Maybe the old king had other reasons too. Perhaps having that over their heads made them less likely to betray him. And while Geoffrey had little interest in blackmailing his brother, it probably didn’t hurt to have that bit of extra reason for Alias to be appreciative.
But ultimately, every time he tried to bring himself to think of a punishment, he felt it was too harsh. From the threats, to other punishments besides a reprimand. How could he inflict worse upon Alias than any of his other family members had suffered for their transgressions?
And I just wanted to play with him, Geoffrey thought.
I wished to be his brother for once. And now… now because of that I’m to be his king and nothing more?
His mind was still uncertain about a week after the incident, even though he had summoned Alias to meet him in the chamber in the manor home in Sutton.
How would Alias act? Repentant? Obstinate? Would he even think to deny it, saying Geoffrey had misunderstood what he’d seen? The king himself had wondered, almost hoped, for that very thing over the past few days.
The first hint may have been that Alias did not enter the chamber with his head held high. He was sheepish, shoulders slumped, head down, as if he were trying to hide in plain sight. If he had any defiance, he hid it well.
And in that moment, Geoffrey’s lingering anger faded. Instead he felt a pity… a sadness, for the brother he’d hoped to provide for, the brother he’d hoped to groom properly as his father requested. And with it came an urge… to protect him.
Alias stood opposite Geoffrey, who sat in the chamber at a table. The prince did not even place his hands on the chair before him, so Geoffrey had to motion for him to sit. Nervously, Alias did as he was told.
“You… you wished to see me,” Alias said.
Geoffrey nodded. “We must discuss… the stables.”
Alias’ eyes fell away from the king. “I am sorry, brother. I know there is no excuse for such things.”
“I do not know if that is true,” Geoffrey said. “I have thought on it this past week and I wonder if you really are to blame. Father’s court has never been a bastion of piety. The opposite in fact. I mean, look for who you were named!”
Alias picked his gaze up and met his brother’s, with brow raised.
“What are you saying?” Alias asked.
“It is not your fault,” Geoffrey said. “Our family has brought such things upon us with their past. But we will move past it.”
He poured Alias a cup of wine and placed it in front of him. “We will find you a wife quickly. A woman who is of age, who you can marry by the end of the year. And then you will have a duty, and can start fulfilling it, siring children, as I have. It did not take me long and I suspect it will not take you long either.”
Alias picked up the cup and stared at it in silence. Unable to let the silence hang, Geoffrey continued.
“You made a mistake,” Geoffrey said. “But you are my brother. I will not turn my back on you. I shall make sure you never want for a woman again, so that you need never turn to… that… ever again.”
Alias’ brow suddenly furrowed, and his lips, quivering, frowned. Shaking his head he turned his gaze back to Geoffrey.
“You think it is because I lacked women?” Alias asked. “You think it is something that I can just ignore?”
Geoffrey’s mouth hung open. Try as he might, he could not find the words. For he had no idea what to say without sounding ignorant.
“If I could ignore it… I would have,” Alias said. “I cannot.”
“Have you tried?” Geoffrey blurted out.
“Of course I tried!” Alias exclaimed. “I have been trying for years! I tried confessing to the priests. I tried some of the solutions they offered. I prayed the feelings would leave me. I thought perhaps with age, I would find a lady or a girl pretty. I even went to the whore house in Sutton after I… before, when we returned from Cornwall. The best I could manage was with… she was nearly your size and perhaps stronger. But it didn’t… I couldn’t with her. I can’t with any woman.”
Geoffrey shook his head. “You
have to.”
“I can’t!” Alias shouted again, rising from his chair. But he grimaced and then fell back within it. Covering his face for a moment, he mumbled out: “Duke Guilhem. You know what they say of him. My namesake… Alias de Perigord as you point out. There are others too. I’m fairly certain our cousin Adhemar is too. I am not alone.”
“That is not my concern,” Geoffrey said. “I don’t care about them. There are expectations.
You are a prince.
You are expected to be married. To sire children. Can you imagine what mother would say? What father would do?”
“Father would hide me,” Alias said. “Or send me to Count Alias, if he lived, to figure out how to hide it. But mother… don’t tell mother. Please. She hates herself already. I don’t want to cause her grief.”
Geoffrey lowered his head. He knew that was true.
“We must… we must look to find you a wife,” Geoffrey said. “If the Sicilian emissary passes through here again on his way back south, perhaps we can have you meet him. Then a good word can be passed on to his liege.”
“What are you talking about?” Alias asked.
“A Norman emissary from the Kingdom of Sicily,” Geoffrey said. “Here in England to visit with the queen’s cousins and discuss marriage prospects. But the sister of the king is recently widowed and could be a fine match for you.”
“I don’t know,” Alias said.
“It doesn't matter,” Geoffrey told him. “I have been asking for your input for years now and I got nothing. I now know why and as you say, it hardly matters who I choose.”
Alias dropped his gaze and mumbled: “Yes, brother.”
The frown and sullen look in Alias’ eyes, now pinned to the wood of the table before him, brought back the feelings of guilt Geoffrey felt. If he did not blame Alias for this, why was he coming down on him so? Did his brother not deserve better? Was this awful feeling, this strained relationship what he wanted now? Or for the rest of their days?
Is this what their father, mother… or anyone else who cared for them wanted?
“Alias,” Geoffrey said. “I made an oath to father to see to it you were properly taken care of. Land, titles. As I have said before, I will fulfill that oath.”
“Thank you,” Alias said.
“I’m not finished,” Geoffrey said. He sighed. “You remain my brother. Short of betraying our family, that is always how it shall be. You will be Lord of Navarra. You will be one of my prominent lords. Your destiny… remains unchanged, even now. So I swear it.”
Alias picked up his gaze and met Geoffrey’s square. “Thank you, brother. I will not… I will not let you down.”
“I have never doubted you,” Geoffrey replied.
He was lying. He doubted Alias now. As much as he cared for his brother, he did. And he guessed Alias doubted him as well.
Eventually this would come out. Perhaps not directly, but indirectly, in the form of viscous rumors. They had dogged the Duke of Poitou. They had done so to the late Count of Perigord. Eventually, they would find their way to surround Alias as well.
What then? How would either of them know how to react?
There was no one word which could put them at ease. Maybe their father had that capability, but Geoffrey knew neither one of them possessed it.
So, the king took a deep breath and did something he did not do often - he spoke open and honestly.
“When I… when I found you, I heard you before I opened the stall,” Geoffrey admitted. “I knew you were with someone.”
Alias grew wide-eyed. “Then why?! Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?!”
Geoffrey lowered his gaze. “I wanted to have fun with you. For so much of our lives, I have been your king. In all of our conversations, all of our business. It is tiring. I haven’t been able to just be your brother in years. Maybe ever. I’ve seen Berard with Alberic, or Centolh and Rogier, that kinship. No politics. No titles. No land, promises or obligations. Just an older brother messing around with his younger brother. I thought it might have been nice to have such a moment with you.”
Alias shook his head. “And now… you never will.”
“No,” Geoffrey said. “For days, I have tried to let it change things. But I cannot fully shake the fact that I cannot bring myself to punish you. I don’t want you to resent me. I don’t want to resent you. We are brothers. Soon in arms, but always by blood. That is enough.”
“Even if I embarrass you?” Alias asked.
“I’m sure I have embarrassed you before,” Geoffrey said. “The Countess of Thouars, for example.”
Alias blushed and then began to grin, doing a poor job at trying to hide it.
“Yes, I know,” Geoffrey said. “I could see it on everyone’s faces.”
“Honestly, I kind of understood that one,” Alias said. “I just… the others...”
“Ana?” Geoffrey asked.
“No, she makes the most sense, even if I don’t think you should have,” Alias said. “It’s the scullery maid. The older, fat one who worked in the kitchens. That’s the one I never got. She’s old enough to be our mother.”
“How did
you know about that?” Geoffrey asked.
Alias smirked. “When you try to hide things… you get better at seeing who else is hiding something.”
Geoffrey had hidden quite a few lovers over the years and he hadn’t quite figured out Alias, so he wasn’t sure about that.
Feeling the heat in his face, Geoffrey did finally answer: “She is not that old. Maybe a few years or little more than my wife. And she had a look about her that I enjoyed. And you should not be judging.”
“I am just doing as brothers, do, Geoff,” Alias replied. “Is that not what you wanted?”
Geoffrey sighed. “Well, at least I need not worry about the stable boy growing heavy with child, as the scullery maid did.”
Alias chucked. “You probably would be happy if he did. So that you might pass him off as a woman.”
Geoffrey pointed at Alias. “Don’t make this worse.”
Alias nodded and fell silent for a moment. “Thank you, Geoff. I will do my best.”
“I know you will,” Geoffrey told him. “Just… be a little better at hiding them than I was with Sarrazine. Or Ana. Or the scullery maid.”
“So don’t be like you at all,” Alias said. “Understood.”
Geoffrey rolled his eyes but raised his cup toward his brother. Alias did the same. He did not know if it would be enough. But at the moment, he oddly felt it did not matter. In time they would get past it.
….
That time was not the next week however, as Geoffrey and Alias were still uneasy around each other. There wasn’t much the king could do about that - but he hoped it would fade in time.
At least Geoffrey was getting along with the rest of his family. He had finally fulfilled his promise to run around with Margo, having not been up to it after finding out about Alias. He’d joined Berard in watching Guilhem and Savarics play. And he was getting along fairly well with Ælfflæd, with the pair often coupling during the day, since at night they shared the chamber with their children.
And toward the end of that week, after one of their private times together in the morning, Centolh informed Geoffrey that they had a prominent visitor.
Geoffrey and Ælfflæd both were made to quickly make themselves as regal as possible, with the help of their servants. Once they were ready, they made their way to the main hall and took their seats upon the thrones Geoffrey had brought in.
A makeshift court was quickly put together for appearances, though it was little more than Geoffrey’s own commanders and household knights, Ælfflæd’s ladies, the children who had come with them all, along with some prominent individuals in the town to fill out the numbers - skilled artisans, traders and the like.
The doors opened and a man came forth at the head of a small group of armed men, though a cloaked girl, wearing plain clothing followed in behind. Dressed in mail and still wearing a helmet, Geoffrey did not recognize him on sight, nor even after he removed his helmet and dropped to a knee before the thrones, but was thankful Centolh had informed him before of his identity.
“King Geoffrey and Queen Ælfflæd,” Centolh began “May I present Duke Æthelsige of Somerset.”
“Uncle,” Ælfflæd said as she looked down upon him.
It was her aunt Gunhilda’s husband - the one who Ælfflæd had warned was perhaps a worse lecher than even Count Gui. Not someone Geoffrey wanted around any of his wife’s ladies, nor his wife, even if she had rejected his overtures before.
“Queen Ælfflæd,” Somerset said. Speaking in Frankish he added: “Thank you for receiving me.”
“Why are you here?” Ælfflæd demanded. “Where is my aunt? And is that my cousin behind you?”
“It is,” Somerset said. “Hextilda. Come forth and kneel before your queen.”
Geoffrey’s eyes widened as the words slowly processed in his mind. Your queen. Had he heard them right?
Somerset continued, still on a knee: “Your aunt heads north to Lancaster as we speak.”
“Forget about that,” Geoffrey said. “Did I hear you right? You have come to acknowledge my wife as your rightful queen? And me your rightful king?”
Somerset narrowed his gaze at Geoffrey. Speaking slowly he said: “I have… come to recognize my lovely niece as my rightful
queen, yes.”
“What of Wareham?” Ælfflæd asked. “Did Duke Foulquesson let you pass?”
“We escaped,” Somerset said. “I heard the man’s reputation and did not wish to place myself or my wife and daughter at his mercy. I arranged for the town’s surrender, once we were safely away.”
Coward, Geoffrey thought. But coward or not, he had abandoned the usurper. It could well be the dam was breaking.
“We accept your oaths,” Geoffrey told him. “What of your fellow lords?”
“As I was saying,” Somerset began, “My wife rides north to speak with her daughter Aevis. Duchess Adelise already makes her way south, as does Hlothere, the new Duke of Northumberland.”
“Æfrida has passed?” Ælfflæd asked.
“Aye, a little under a month ago,” Somerset said. “It is not common knowledge yet. But Hlothere has no desire to place his holdings at risk by fighting this war any longer.”
“If Aevis listens to auntie… that leaves just Maud and Sigeric,” Ælfflæd said.
“Maud is ready to talk,” Somerset replied. “She will not sacrifice herself for the girl. Sigeric… I think he already looks to you, my queen. For after his wife recently passed, rather than marrying a young girl, he has married my wife’s, and your late mother’s, youngest sister, Seaxburg of Kent.”
Ælfflæd’s eyes grew wide and she turned to Geoffrey. “They… they are…”
Geoffrey could not bring himself to say the words. But he knew it as well as she did. They had won.
He had a plan for when this happened, based on where it did. And who came first. They would have supped with Adelise. But Somerset was the enemy until moments ago - he could not be treated as well. Yet he could not be handled as a prisoner either - it had to be a middle ground.
“Duke of Somerset,” Geoffrey said as he stood. “My men will escort you and your daughter to the manor home in Plympton. Make no mistake, you will be treated with all honors a man of your station deserves.”
Somerset eyed Geoffrey as well as Ælfflæd. “Of course… King Geoffrey. Thank you and the queen for your generosity.”
The king then ordered Rogier and Alias to be the ones overseeing the escort, figuring a commander as well as the prince would be honorable enough. Plus it was a reminder to Alias that he was not punished for being caught in that compromising position.
Geoffrey smiled as he took the queen’s hand. She interlocked their fingers and squeezed tightly back.
