Before Plantagenet - Chapter 273
December 1139 - Bordeaux, Kingdom of Aquitaine
I knew I was right.
Ælfflæd stood solemnly in the front row of pews in the cathedral in Bordeaux, her hands on the shoulders of her daughter Margo. And Ælfflæd’s eyes were on the dais where Cardinal Emmanuel stood… and her husband Geoffrey knelt.
In the clergyman's hands was a sword. It didn’t look like anything important at first glance. But it apparently held a special significance.
“This sword was that of Odo the Great, Duke of Aquitaine,” Emmanuel spoke in Occitan, having completed his sermon. “Odo, 400 years ago, inflicted the first great victory of Christendom against the heathen invaders when he defeated them at Toulouse.”
And failed at keeping them out, Ælfflæd thought. She had heard the story from Adelise a few days before - Odo’s victory had been temporary. A few years later, the heathens had returned and sacked Bordeaux, forcing Odo to turn to Charles Martel for aid. Charles had answered the call, permanently turning back the heathens at Tours.
Emmanuel, naturally, cleaned this up a bit.
“Though the heathens would return,” the cardinal continued, “And Bordeaux would suffer, Odo was not deterred, joining forces with Charles the Hammer, and forever banishing them from north of the Pyrenees with their victory at Tours!”
Ælfflæd bowed her head, as many others did, in a show of respect toward the man.
Emmanuel continued: “A few years later, Odo would surrender his titles, and live out the remainder of his days in a monastery. There he left his sword when he died, where it would await another man to pick it up and cut a swath through the heathens once again. And now, that day has surely come.”
Emmanuel turned to Geoffrey. “King Geoffrey, your victory at Lydford against those who would strike against England, besting the Caliphate of Egypt. Having saved the island, as Odo once did for Toulouse and Aquitaine, no man has proven more deserving of wielding the great his sword.”
To that, Ælfflæd had to resist rolling her eyes.
My father reclaimed the Holy Lands for Christendom, and now Geoffrey is the most deserving Christian in 400 years, she asked herself. It was true that her father had lost much of those victories, but Geoffrey had not won this war yet either - nor did he intend to.
After all, Geoffrey had already told both Prince Guilhem and Ælfflæd herself that he would not be taking the war to the Holy Lands, letting England’s forces stand on their own, come what may.
“Is that truly honoring your ancestor?” Ælfflæd had snapped at Geoffrey a few days before.
Geoffrey had simply smirked. “Odo didn’t go into Iberia either. And he wasn’t
my ancestor.”
And that was that. This whole thing was a show to further raise her husband’s reputation in the eyes of Aquitaine, England and Christendom. Which is exactly what she had promised him when she had gone down this path, without his consent.
That Ælfflæd had been proven right proved a small consolation, since Geoffrey didn’t appear to see it, believing his brilliance to be the reason for the success at Lydford. Nor did he feel his responsibilities in receiving this honor meant he was required to do anything beyond it.
Still, even Ælfflæd couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride in the whole thing - this was indirectly
her doing, and he was
her husband. The cathedral was filled to the brim with nobles from both Aquitaine and England, along with knights, merchants and whoever could squeeze in. That wasn’t a huge surprise - it was Christmas Day after all.
Geoffrey had timed their return to Bordeaux to correspond with one of the holiest days of the year. No it wasn’t Easter, but it was a day that had been a special one for kings. Charlemagne had been proclaimed Roman Emperor in Rome on Christmas Day. William the Bastard had been crowned King of England on Christmas Day as well.
And Geoffrey nearly had been crowned too.
Originally, her husband wanted to be crowned King of England. Naturally, the English clergy refused, which didn’t exactly shock Ælfflæd. But Geoffrey simply turned to Emmanuel and requested he do it, in Bordeaux, claiming he didn’t need be crowned in England - he was king of two realms after all.
The talk made Ælfflæd blanche - he refused to allow such things for her, but prepared to do it himself?
However, Emmanuel talked him out of it, claiming it would look as if he were trying to seize power over the English clergy by doing so. Instead, a Christmas Day honoring of Geoffrey by proclaiming him Christendom’s next great hero was floated as a compromise. Geoffrey eagerly accepted.
And here they were, Geoffrey taking the sword, rising and vowing to defeat the enemies of Christendom, at home and abroad. It was rousing enough that Ælfflæd struggled to hold back a smile, and had to hold Margo in place after their daughter had begun to jump up and down in excitement.
And in truth, Ælfflæd was a mix of emotions and part of it was a bit of excitement of her own. A hope that perhaps it might spur Geoffrey to further action.
Maybe… maybe, despite his protests, he will think again about going to the Holy Lands, Ælfflæd thought.
Maybe…
Was it likely? No. But she had to believe it, for it was one of the few bits of good news she had these days.
While Geoffrey had defeated the heathens in Lydford, the remnants of their army remained on English shores. They were limited to raiding areas that were not well protected by thick walls or castles, but it was still an annoyance for her lords, who believed Geoffrey left the heathens alone to keep them pacified. None had the stomach to actually voice such an opinion to Geoffrey, so they complained privately to Ælfflæd, and then whined further that she had been unable to spur her husband to finish the job.
As much as she was annoyed herself at Geoffrey’s unwillingness to go to the Holy Lands, she felt angry on his behalf that these lords had been protected by her husband all while offering little else to assist.
And yet, if the lords felt Geoffrey wasn’t protecting their interest, then why would they back him and Ælfflæd? Why wouldn’t they rebel?
To make matters worse, neither the heathens nor her discontented lords were among the most pressing of problems.
That came from her cousin. This time it wasn’t Adelise or Aevis - instead it was Ælfflæd’s first cousin, Beorhtfirth, son of her father’s late brother.
Having been residing in Wiltshire, in the court of Ælfflæd’s nephew, King Æthelfirth of Jerusalem, Beorhtfirth had begun to raise a group of men for the purpose of taking the English crown for himself.
Why Æthelfirth was willing to let his cousin do this, since the King of Jerusalem likely wanted to reclaim England himself, Ælfflæd wasn’t sure. Perhaps he hoped for the two sides to weaken each other so he might swoop in.
Or maybe he distrusted Beorhtfirth and figured Ælfflæd and Geoffrey would crush him, removing him permanently. Either way, Beorhtfirth was coming, even if he had yet to publicly declare his intent- Ælfflæd only finding out through the work of her spies.
As of now, her spymaster, Bishop Cytelbearn, had approximated around 5,000 men would stand with her cousin. That would roughly equal what Ælfflæd could call upon… under normal circumstances. But with her men mostly in the Holy Lands, Ælfflæd was essentially undefended in England.
That meant Ælfflæd could either stall for time or go to Geoffrey and ask for aid once more - an ask that might well turn to a beg quickly.
“Or you could deal with him in other means,” Adelise had said. “Surely there are men in your nephew’s court that would like Beorhtfirth gone. I think we should make use of that.”
It was something that made Ælfflæd’s stomach retch. She had turned to murder before, with Burgheard. But that was to protect her son. And that wasn’t against her own family, even if Ed had been a friend once.
And yet, Ælfflæd found herself struggling to think of alternatives. She wanted to be a true queen. The legacy of Boudica. The legacy of Æthelflæd, Lady of the Mercians. And she wanted to honor her father and grandfather. But it was one thing to want to do those things… it was another to actually succeed.
But whatever Ælfflæd chose, she knew it would have to be orchestrated from Bordeaux - where she was likely to be staying for the foreseeable future.
…..
The reason for her extended stay in Bordeaux was revealed at the feast not long after the sermon and ceremony at the cathedral.
Geoffrey hosted a feast at the palace to commemorate his victory as well as Christmas itself. And there he was able to announce to his court and England’s that Ælfflæd was pregnant once more.
The queen had suspected she was with child in the late summer, but did not tell Geoffrey until about a month ago. She feared he’d immediately force her from England the moment he learned of it though ultimately it did not matter - for Geoffrey was planning on them heading to Bordeaux for Christmas anyway.
Geoffrey took a slow route south, which was to both make certain he arrived on Christmas and to make shows of honoring his family. He stopped at Fontevraud Abbey near Angers, where Geoffrey paid respects to his grandparents, Foulques IV of Anjou and Beatritz de Poitou, along with his Angevin ancestors.
Once he crossed the Loire and into Poitou, Geoffrey paid respects to Duke Guilhem V and Guilhem VIII, his great-great and great-grandfather respectively.
And tonight, Geoffrey honored his father and mother, all by donations of money and land to the church, and then transitioned from his family’s past to its future by announcing Ælfflæd’s pregnancy.
Those announcements were always a strange feeling for her. While Ælfflæd was proud of having three children, and her ability to have more, the fact Geoffrey would make her stand and show off the small swell that was their potential child was always unnerving.
Like I more a trophy than anything else - to be shown off like a boar’s head or stag, she thought, though the cheers they received still felt like a much needed affirmation of her value.
Unstated was the fact Ælfflæd would be remaining in Bordeaux for the duration of her pregnancy but everyone who gave it any thought likely realized what was to come. And she couldn’t really argue it as much as she wanted to - her near capture by the Fatimids and her experience while pregnant during the war against England left her wary of being anywhere that was not heavily protected.
After that announcement, a few minor ones were made, including a brief tribute to King Alphonse of the Franks, who had passed earlier in the year. She knew her husband had long plotted to seize land from Alphonse, but his death meant he was no longer an adversary.
Instead, Geoffrey honored Alphonse as a man who was a close ally to his father, and aided Aquitaine in their fight against a mad, tyrannical king. He also saluted Alphonse as a fellow Christian king, who had battled the heathens in Iberia.
There was a brief prayer made for Alphonse’s lone son - the child king Arnault of the Franks - but Ælfflæd was left wondering if the boy’s fate might already be sealed by the one offering the prayer.
Then after a few more minor tributes, the many guests were allowed to eat and drink. Food was plentiful, as to be expected, though not as much was presented as a normal feast. Geoffrey had been counseled by Emmanuel to make a large show of giving much of his prepared food to the citizens of Bordeaux and the outlying areas and listened to the advice.
Still, Ælfflæd was quite hungry due to her pregnancy and eagerly gorged herself on boar and fish. What she couldn’t do was indulge much in ale, for it unsettled her stomach too easily. The warmth it brought her would have been nice, but being left to vomit all night would not have been.
Besides, she did not plan to retire early. Instead, she hoped to spend the evening after the feast with her family - or at least, the closest family she had.
That did not include any of her siblings. For starters, she doubted her half-siblings, who were children younger than her son, wanted anything to do with her anyway.
Her elder sister Æthelraeda might not have either, given Ælfflæd had vaulted past her claims to take the throne. She had sent her an invitation, but it had been declined, as she was helping her son, now the child Duke of Swabia, with his Christmas celebrations.
She also had invited her eldest son, Prince Guilhem, to join her. But he had asked out - admitting he did not feel comfortable around Duchess Aevis. Ælfflæd was tempted to force him to come anyway - he would have to learn how to deal with plotting vassals eventually - but something about the unease on his face just left her wanting to hug and protect him, rather than force him forward.
So instead, Ælfflæd sat with her cousins, Adelise and Aevis, along with their half-sister Hextilda, and their mother, and her aunt, Duchess Gunhilda of Somerset. Also with them Gunhilda’s youngest brother, Duke Osmund of Kent, along with Osmund’s son and Hextilda’s promised, Ælfsige of Kent.
It may not have been her siblings, but Ælfflæd still was happy to be with them. They had been those she had grown up around, at least before Tunis, and she could feel a greater ease among them, despite difficulties in the past.
And they could freely speak Saxon in Bordeaux. That was always a welcome relief.
“It was a lovely feast,” Osmund said. “It struck the balance of opulence and restraint well.”
Ælfflæd had to agree. The food not only sated her hunger, but also a bit of the frustration with her situation.
“It’s true,” Gunhilda said. “If your husband can provide for us like that when he is in England, then our lords and ladies will be too stuffed to complain of his rule.”
“My rule,” Ælfflæd said.
Gunhilda smirked. “Of course, Elf.”
Ælfflæd rolled her eyes. She decided not to go at her aunt for it, since there was a still a matter of respect from the woman. Gunhilda had known her since she was a babe. And unlike Osmund, who himself was an older child when Ælfflæd was born, Gunhilda was a woman grown. It just commanded a different level of deference.
And besides the smell of wine on her indicated she was already rather drunk.
“I do think this whole thing will provide some measure of confidence for the nobility,” Osmund said. “Those that attended in any case.”
Ælfflæd nodded, given Sigeric of Essex and Duchess Ecgwyn were notable absences. Aevis had revealed to the queen that both feared they might not be permitted to leave Bordeaux if they entered, which Ælfflæd thought was madness, until she considered her husband’s dislike of the English lords and ladies.
Osmund meanwhile was surprisingly coherent, but Adelise had to the queen she had learned he had refrained from indulging in drink during the festivities. And unlike his sister, he did not reek of alcohol.
The others had all indulged to varying degrees. Adelise might have had the most of the group, but aside from her mother, she also weighed the most, so likely handled it better. Hextilda seemed to be the tipiest beside her mother, nearly stumbling while heading to her seat earlier.
“Duke Sigeric and Duchess Ecgwyn do not know what they have missed,” Ælfsige said. “These Occitans know how to feast!”
“Their lands are peaceful,” Adelise said. “Not torn up by years of war. It is little wonder they can produce such bounties.”
“And who’s fault is it that England cannot produce such things?” Aevis wondered.
Ælfflæd frowned.
My father and grandfather - and myself. The price of ambition… and devotion.
“Do you blame the queen’s family for that?” Adelise asked.
“I seem to remember it was your great-grandfather who started such things,” Osmund said.
“Did he bring forth Cnut?” Aevis snapped. “Did he bring the Ragnarssons? No, it is the way of things. England is a beautiful, fertile land. And greedy plunderers see it ripe to be raped.”
It was a rather dower perspective, Ælfflæd had to admit to herself. But she wasn’t sure if it was wrong, even if the lands of Aquitaine were capable of rivaling England in most things. Yet from that, she could offer inspiration.
“These lands were not all that different once,” Ælfflæd said. “As the cardinal said today, Bordeaux was sacked 400 years ago. And there was fighting for this duchy a generation ago. Now? As you say, the lands produce an impressive bounty. That too can be England, in time.”
“Ah yes, we shall see England turned into Aquitaine,” Hextilda said. “A joyous time that will be indeed.”
Ælfflæd glared at her cousin. She had not spoken that much with Hextilda, and assumed her to be supportive of her. But it appeared she might have held her father Somerset’s opinions.
“England will be England, Aquitaine will be Aquitaine,” Adelise said. “And together we will see a greater prosperity than any of us have… seen before.”
Hextilda rolled her eyes. But Adelise kept at her.
“What? Have you a problem with what I say?” the Duchess of Mercia demanded.
“I have said too much,” Hextilda said. “I do not wish to insult my cousin. She does what she can.”
“What I can…” Ælfflæd said. She could feel the accusation - that try as she might, she could not stop Geoffrey from turning England into his fief.
“She does much,” Aevis said, drawing a raise of the brow from both Ælfflæd and Adelise. “I know for a fact she teaches Prince Guilhem in our ways, so that he would not forget his people.”
“Guilhem is not our people,” Ælfsige grunted. “He is Occitan. If he learns manners from his father, there is hope, but he is not Saxon.”
“Manners from his father?!” Ælfflæd snapped. But she caught herself. She had to be careful in how she denigrated her husband to others - especially a young man who would likely inherit Kent one day. If he had a good opinion of her husband, he was likely to have a better opinion of them all in general.
She took a deep breath and looked at Ælfsige squarely. “Yes, let us pray he does. But know that my son knows our ways and customs. Your cousins can vouch for how long he has spoken our language.”
“Since he was a small boy,” Adelise said.
“So I shall have no further questioning of your future king, cousin,” Ælfflæd warned. “Just because you lost a melee against him.”
Ælfsige’s eyes widened. “I did not lose fairl--”
“Ælfsige!” Osmund exclaimed. “We have been over this. It is done.”
Ælfsige frowned. “Yes, father. It is done.”
Meanwhile, Gunhilda simply laughed. “Oh my. Nephew, you lie as poorly as our queen does!”
“Excuse me?” Ælfflæd demanded.
“Oh, my dear,” Gunhilda said as she grabbed Ælfflæd’s hand. “It has always been adorable is all.”
Aevis turned her wide-eyed gaze to her. “Mother, please.”
“What?” Gunhilda asked. “She has always been a terrible liar. Even when she was a girl.”
She looked at Ælfflæd, a semi-glazed look in her eyes. “Your mother would ask if you stole sweet pies and you’d give a terribly unconvincing ‘no’ with the crust and filling still on your face. It was adorable - your mother could not even find it in her heart to be mad at you.”
She didn’t remember the time, but Gunhilda’s story brought back memories of her mother before Tunis. When she was vibrant, cheerful, smiling… regal. Which, these days, despite actual power, Ælfflæd felt less than she had since arriving in Bordeaux.
It was rare that Adelise and Aevis were unified in anything, but they both shared a horror in their eyes as the color drained from their faces. And Ælfflæd was struggling to find the words to put her drunken aunt, who she wanted to respect, in her place.
Gunhilda continued: “Wulfie loved you so much. She loved all three of her surviving children, to be sure. But Rae was doted on by your father and as prince Ulf always was around the men. You, you were hers, Elf. Wulfie could never stop talking about you.”
And just like that, Ælfflæd felt her eyes burn and soon she could not hold back a sob. She missed her mother… and who she had been. Though she still questioned whether she would be proud of her now.
Yet Gunhilda’s continuation almost seemed to sense Ælfflæd’s question.
“Your mother and I both knew the pain of losing a son. But she can look down and smile upon you. A queen in her own right… who continues her family’s legacy.”
Through the tears, a smile broke through on Ælfflæd’s face, which was met by Adelise, who was gently rubbing her back.
However, Gunhilda was not done.
“I am sad to say that I am left envious of my dead sister, for at least she has a child worth a damn,” Gunhilda said.
Ælfflæd’s stomach dropped and her eyes went to her female cousins, who each blanched and stared at their mother, horrified. But Gunhilda still was not finished.
“Mother?” Hextilda asked. “You… do not mean that.”
“How can I not?” Gunhilda demanded. “I have one daughter who thinks herself fit to be a queen but is too stupid to realize England will never stomach a Norman to ruling again. And she will never be considered a worthwhile wife to the king or the prince.”
“Mother!” Aevis exclaimed.
“Hush up!” Gunhilda told her. “You don’t have your cousin’s husband to make you queen. No matter how much you desire it and complain to me of the union I was left to arrange!”
Adelise smirked but her mother simply turned her gaze on her.
“And you, plotting to take your sister’s lands,” Gunhilda said. “I could scarcely believe such a thing, but then you let my husband bed you, and grew fat with his babe. So why wouldn't you betray family?”
Adelise swallowed hard, and grew red in the face, though Ælfflæd was not certain it was out of anger or embarrassment. Meanwhile, Hextilda came to her mother’s side.
“Mother, I think you are tired,” she said. “Let me take you to your chambers.”
Gunhilda simply placed her hand on her youngest child’s face, pushing her away. “My sweet girl. I am sorry over what has happened to you. I should have had you marry the king’s brother. Then when your worthless lecher of a father disinherited you, Prince Alias could have simply taken Somerset for you!”
“Sister,” Osmund said. “I think Hextilda is right and you should rest.”
“My younger brother,” Gunhilda said. “Come Ozzy. Take me away like you tried to our queen. If I find success after, will you then come and cow in hopes of gaining forgiveness?”
Osmund blushed and then pulled his older sister up and started to yank her from the room. Gunhilda wasn’t the smallest of women these days, so Osmund needed some help, with Ælfdige coming to his aid. The pair dragged Gunhilda, with Hextilda following them out and leaving the queen and her eldest cousins alone.
“Well that was…” Aevis began.
She did not finish. But none of the women had the strength to. Ælfflæd herself could not find the words. Her aunt had confirmed many of her worst fears over Aevis’ plotting and Adelise’s untrustworthiness. Not that she didn’t know of these plots… but it was a reminder of how much this whole thing was a façade. And a flimsy one at that. No matter how much she wished otherwise.
“What she said,” Aevis eventually got out. “I was just complaining about my husband and used Geoffrey as a comparison. It didn’t have to be Geoffrey. I mean there could have been Alias…”
“You were wed before Prince Alias would have been an option, sister?” Adelise noted.
“Well I… again just bring him up because… because….” Aevis stammered. Again her voice trailed off. Then her eyes fixated on Adelise. “What of you? Laying with our stepfather! And of course, plotting to violate father’s wishes by taking Lancaster from me.”
Adelsie pulled back and muttered: “It is not true. Just vile rumors.”
“You would say that, as you have no defense for it,” Aevis said.
“My defense to Lancaster is that you plot against our queen and that I would defend her by dealing with you!” Adelise shouted.
Aevis grew wide-eyed. “You see?! You see, Ælfflæd? She wants my inheritance! She wants to take my lands from me. From my children! I worry about what shall happen to me when the wolves of England and Aquitaine have at me but the most vile of wolves is my own sister! She would do it to you too. She waits, and waits and then she shall come for you.”
“You seek to turn me into you, Aevis,” Adelise said. “It is not me who thought you would be a queen in your own right, displacing Ælfflæd.”
“You… mother does not know what she speaks of,” Aevis said.
“But Hlothere does,” Adelise said. “He’s far too stupid to think of something that clever.”
“I… no,” Aevis said. “They… he… misunderstands. I do want to be a queen, yes. But to the prince! I would be his wife. I would help him, as a good queen does. I would give him sons… and then Lancaster and…”
“Lies,” Adelise said. “We know. We know what you hide. We…”
“ADI!” Ælfflæd shouted. “Enough!”
Adelise stopped and, upon meeting Ælfflæd’s glare, seemed to shrink a bit in the face of her diminutive cousin. “I… my apologies, my queen.”
“I have had enough of this!” Ælfflæd exclaimed. “The two of you fighting as if you are mortal enemies and not sisters! Can you two not see that you would be better off working together? That we all would be better off working together?! We could be strong enough to beat the heathens. To best my cousin. To keep England a realm worthy of standing alongside Aquitaine! Like my grandfather did. Like my father did, for a time. But I need you two to stand with me and not against each other!”
Ælfflæd, breathing heavy, glared at the two of them. Aevis was pale in the face, Adelise red. Both Norman sisters were motionless, like a pair of statues.
“Well?” Ælfflæd demanded.
Aevis looked at her sister. “Will you admit you scheme to take Lancaster, and swear an oath not to?”
Adelise narrowed her gaze. “Do you swear on your daughters’ lives that you do not plot to steal the queen’s birthright?”
“I… I… I sw..” Aevis began.
“Your daughters lives, remember,” Adelise said. “And if that is not enough, remember, the queen knows the truth. If you lie…”
“Do you?” Aevis asked.
It must have been an instinctual ask, for Aevis appeared fearful as she spoke the words. And Ælfflæd did know… her spies had ferreted out the truth a few months before. But she wasn’t sure how much she wanted Aevis to know - she also wasn’t sure Adelise’s line of attack was what she wished to pursue.
But any color left in Aevis’ face drained away. Trembling, she muttered: “I… must go.”
“Aevis,” Ælfflæd said. “I knew, but there are plots abound. We can still work things out.”
“You knew all of it… and never said a word to me,” Aevis said. “Your husband… he must…”
Her eyes nearly bulged from her head and she rushed out the chamber. Ælfflæd followed, but could not figure out what to say. She wanted to tell her that she had not said a word of it to Geoffrey, but she also suspected Geoffrey knew more about what was happening in England than he let on.
By the time Ælfflæd had figured out what to say, Aevis was gone and the queen felt her stomach twist.
If Aevis feels threatened… she may run to Sigeric and Ecgwyn. If they rebel… with Beorhtfirth and the war in the Holy Lands...
It was too much too quickly - everything felt as if it were spiraling out of control. Ælfflæd held the wall for a moment, and then made her way back into the chamber, plopping herself down on the chair.
“Elf,” Adelise said as she came to her. “She’s a traitor. The sooner we are done with her the better.”
The tenor and tone of the duchess of Mercia made Ælfflæd’s heart race. “Mind your words cousin. You often seem to forget who is queen here.”
“I just speak the truth,” Adelise said. “She will betray you.”
“They
all want to betray me,” Ælfflæd said. “If it gets them what they want. You just speak of her because you think it will get you what you want - Lancaster!”
“I do this for you,” Adelise said. “With her gone, and my forces stronger, the malcontent lords will think better than to challenge you.”
“Stop it,” Ælfflæd snapped. “Stop trying to tell me your ambition in Lancaster is for me. It’s for you, all for you. And when the lords and ladies of this realm look down upon me for letting you steal your sister’s inheritance, you will not care. And if I do order you to stop… will your turn on me then as you have Aevis? Will you claim the crown as she does?”
“How can you say that?” Adelise demanded.
“You laid with your step-father,” Ælfflæd said. “I’m not even sure my husband would stoop so low.”
Adelise grew wide-eyed and red in the face. “You have some nerve… I have defended you from the beginning. I stood by you all while she would betray you, while my mother for all her sweet words would not back you… and then to stand there and accuse me…”
“Accuse you of what? Looking out for yourself?” Ælfflæd retorted. “Of making enemies of your mother and sister? Or to say you do as my husband does and use me as a shield for your ambition? But you are not my husband. You are supposed to be my family. My ‘sister.’ But then, I see how you treat your sister.”
Adelise said nothing to that. She stood, as still as Aevis had, but she was not pale. She was red - redder than Ælfflæd ever had seen her before. It almost made the queen regret her choice of words.
Almost.
“If that is how you feel,” Adelise said.
“Leave me,” Ælfflæd said. “I will summon you when I have need of your… services.”
Adelise stormed off and Ælfflæd was alone.
But she knew she could not remain that way. And she knew there was, ultimately, only one place she could go.
Her walk to her husband’s chambers was slow. There was a sense of dread with each step, rivaling what she had felt before seeing him after fleeing the heathens. Knowing that she was coming because she had no one else she could turn… no one else she could truly trust not to kill her, at least for now.
In time, she believed her son could be the one she needed. But he was only a boy of 11 and a half years. He would be a great king one day, she believed. All of her children would be fine leaders - she would make sure of it.
But that was tomorrow, not today. Today, Geoffrey offered a security… a security in that he did not want his useful tool and vessel for his progeny damaged.
It was not comforting. But it was reassuring.
Ælfflæd still was uneasy. For starters, she half expected to find him between the legs of his whore Ana. Given she knew she had birthed him a bastard while he was in Iberia, and there was nothing to indicate that relationship was over, Ælfflæd knew he probably ran back to her arms.
Especially since I am now with child, Ælfflæd thought.
There were a few extra guards posted outside his chamber - not a surprise since Geoffrey was always on extra guard when the English lords and ladies gathered. And at the moment, that was not something Ælfflæd could fault him for.
The guards did not stop her until she reached the door. At that point she looked up to the pair who blocked the door and said forcefully: “I want to see my husband.”
The guards looked at each other, before one entered the chamber and closed the door behind.
He’s with the whore, Ælfflæd thought. Why did I come here? Being stabbed in the back is preferable to constant humiliation…
The guard then re-emerged and said: “The king will see you, my queen.”
They all bowed before her, and, feeling a touch more secure in herself, Ælfflæd entered the chamber with her head held high.
Geoffrey stood in the candlelight, holding a cup of wine. His brow was arched as he watched Ælfflæd enter. She could see he was curious as to why she had come to him, unprompted.
The door closed behind her, and with it a shift in the air that caused flames of the candles on the table to bend. Her eyes met her husband’s.
“Well, this is a surprise,” Geoffrey said. “For what do I owe the honor?”
My family is a disaster, Ælfflæd thought. But she did not want to say it.
“I have news of something,” she said. “My cousin moves against me.”
“Aevis couldn’t wait any longer?” Geoffrey replied.
The words sent a chill down her spine. But she quickly shook her head.
“Not her,” Ælfflæd said. “A paternal cousin, my uncle’s son. A man by the name of Beorhtfirth. He seeks to claim the throne from me. From us.”
“Paternal uncle,” Geoffrey said. “I only know of one… the one who escorted you to Bordeaux when we were wed.”
Ælfflæd nodded and Geoffrey shook his head.
“I never liked him,” Geoffrey said. “Where is he now?”
“He’s passed,” Ælfflæd said. “His children are residing in Wiltshire - in my nephew’s court.”
“Your nephew still thinks he should be king of England, does he not?” Geoffrey asked. “Why would he tolerate his cousin trying to build support for someone other than him?”
“I’m not certain,” Ælfflæd said. “Perhaps he wishes for us to simply fight so that he might swoop in once we have exhausted ourselves.”
Geoffrey grimaced. It was clear he didn’t like that thought.
“How many does your cousin bring?” Geoffrey asked.
“Bishop Cytelbearn says he has around 5,000,” Ælfflæd replied.
Geoffrey’s brow rose. “Is that all?”
“Is that not troublesome?” Ælfflæd asked. “It is more than I can call, and all of my men are in the Holy Lands.”
“I already have more than that available to me in Brittany,” Geoffrey said. “I would probably wish to call up more men, but my personal levy could handle this usurper.”
Ælfflæd’s brow rose. Did she hear him correctly? “You will fight him?”
“I have not endured this headache the last few years only to let your cousin take the crown from us,” Geoffrey said. “That said, I see no reason to rush forth to meet him.”
“You don’t?” Ælfflæd asked. “If he were to take Lydford…”
“I will not let him do that,” Geoffrey said. “But it is one thing to organize an expedition. It is another thing to actually fight it. The last few years have taught me that.”
“So what will you do?” Ælfflæd asked.
“I will let him be, for now,” Geoffrey said. “While my men rest and recuperate further, in friendly lands. I would hope, though not expect, your lords to fight him. But perhaps he will fight the heathens for us, clearing them out.”
“Stealing our victory,” Ælfflæd said. “Would that not endear him to the church and my lords?”
“He will have mopped up what I have already broken,” Geoffrey said. “And you still have your fight in the Holy Lands to prove your worth. No, I just hope they weaken or destroy each other.”
“Because you don’t wish to fight,” Ælfflæd said.
“Should I want to?” Geoffrey asked. “A glorious fight interests me. Putting down your annoying cousins is not exactly glorious. At least if I fought your nephew, there would be a potential crown at the end of it.”
“I… I never said I had interest in dethroning my nephew,” Ælfflæd said as she felt a pang of guilt.
“Please, you never thought about it?” Geoffrey demanded. “You, you who cloaks yourself in the legacy of your father and grandfather and fights heathens in the Holy Lands?”
“He does too,” Ælfflæd noted.
Geoffrey rolled his eyes. “He fights for his life. Survival is the basest of causes, but hardly noble. In any case, the thought has crossed your mind. That you could be a better heir to that legacy. And at the very least, that your son, with control of England and Aquitaine, would fulfil it far better than your nephew ever could.”
Ælfflæd glanced away for a moment, but then met his gaze squarely.. “I don’t wish to betray family.”
“Then they will betray you, my dear,” Geoffrey said. “Unless… you are too powerful for them to dream of such a thing.”
“I am not,” Ælfflæd said. “We both know that.”
“If they come to take the crown from you, then they are fools for not realizing that I am,” Geoffrey said. “And if they are too dull for such thoughts, then I will make them realize it.”
“There are lines I do not wish to cross,” Ælfflæd said. “Adelise sometimes makes suggestions… but… I will not become a kinslayer.”
Geoffrey eyed her. “She suggests killing?”
“She does,” Ælfflæd said. “She says we should consider killing my cousin.”
“Which one?” Geoffrey asked.
Ælfflæd grimaced. “Beorhtfirth.”
“And he is the one who raises the host against you?” Geoffrey asked.
Ælfflæd glared at him. “Yes. In any case, it is easy for her to say, for it is not her who shall take the blame. And he is not her cousin - as it is my father’s nephew.”
“Typical,” Geoffrey said. “Sometimes I don’t know why you keep her around. She is always looking to stick a knife into someone’s back.”
“Sometimes I wonder myself,” Ælfflæd admitted. “Then I remember I don’t want it to be my back she sticks it in.”
Geoffrey grinned. “Fair enough.”
Ælfflæd sighed and plopped herself down. “And yet she is furious with me now.”
“What happened?” Geoffrey asked.
“My auntie, her mother, got drunk,” Ælfflæd explained. “She accused Adelise and Aevis of the plots we know of. And it… spiraled out of control. I tried to get both sisters to calm down but… it could not be saved. Adelise made it worse though… she practically told Aevis how much we know of her plots.”
Geoffrey rolled his eyes. “I’m sick of both of them. I’ll be honest, I have half a mind to take the entirety of the realm’s armies and destroy both of them, then give Lancaster and Mercia to our children.”
“The rest of the lords would rebel,” Ælfflæd said. “That is the problem. If we make enemies of both, we will make enemies with all of England.”
“I defeated all of England before,” Geoffrey reminded her.
“At a great cost to the southeast,” Ælfflæd noted. “And with Adelise largely remaining out of it. I don’t… doubt you can defeat them all. But I worry there will be nothing left for our family when it is done.”
She realized he likely didn’t care, given his face showed no fear or guilt at such a thought. So she changed her rationale quickly.
“It would make life more difficult for our son, if he has to rebuild the whole of England while enemies around here look to weaken Aquitaine,” she said.
Geoffrey nodded to that. “So, you seek to keep England from rebelling as a whole.”
“I do,” Ælfflæd said. “Ecgwyn and Sigeric of Essex are lost causes. But I think I can keep the sisters. They both have much to lose should it come to fighting.”
“You are too optimistic,” Geoffrey told her.
“If it comes to it… then I will do what needs to be done,” Ælfflæd swore. “But I do not want it to come to that and will work as hard as I can to prevent it.”
Geoffrey eyed her. “You’re fighting a pointless battle. You will be forced to deal with one of them, if not both.”
Ælfflæd shook her head. “My auntie… before she went on her rant… she said my mother would be proud of me. And… I believe her. But I want to keep it that way. I want my mother to be proud of the England I leave behind. There are things I cannot do… because if I did, she would not be proud of me.”
She expected the lecture - that such sentimentalities were not acceptable when ruling. That she had to be cold if she was to leave a kingdom worth anything to their son.
“They’re dead,” Geoffrey said. “What does it matter?”
“Do you not think your parents look down upon you?” Ælfflæd asked. “Do you not care what they would think of you?”
“They likely look up at me,” Geoffrey said. “So no. At least I try to be a good Christian king.”
Ælfflæd’s brow rose. “Do you hate your parents?”
Geoffrey sighed. “No. They just… I do not think they have any right to judge, based on what they did. God will judge me. And Him alone.”
Ælfflæd rarely heard Geoffrey discuss his parents, besides his occasional contempt for his mother when she lived. There was far more venom and bitterness there than she expected.
And then there was the belief that only God could judge him. It sent a chill down her spine… with the idea that no one on earth could deter him. There was praying for God’s love and protection… and then there was this…
Regardless, she could not do as Geoffrey did. She did believe others judged her. Her late mother, her father. Her children. Her ancestors. To do wrong by them… to shame them… it was not something she could stomach.
She poured herself a cup of wine and then took a sip. It was weak, but she knew her stomach would thank her later. Speaking of that, it was grumbling and she spied a piece of bread by her husband.
He must have noticed for he eyed her and said: “Go ahead. You are eating for two.”
Ælfflæd smirked and quickly devoured it, getting out a “thank you” as she chewed.
Geoffrey chuckled and shook his head. Raising his cup to her, he said: “A happy Christmas, to you, my dear wife.”
Unexpectedly, a smile came to her face. “And to you, husband.”
…..
The next day, Geoffrey was again sitting in his chamber. But this time, it was not Ælfflæd with him.
Berard stood behind him as the pair waited for a guest. It was a guest Geoffrey did not expect he would need to meet with. But given the conversation with Ælfflæd, he felt that had changed.
And it was best to do so without her knowledge.
The door to the chamber opened, and a guard entered, escorting Adelise of Mercia with him. After she was announced, the guard departed and the duchess came forward to the table.
“You wished to see me, my king?” Adelise asked.
“I did,” Geoffrey said. “Sit.”
He was not sure whether she was still angry from her argument with Ælfflæd, or whether such feelings applied to him anyway. But at the moment, he did not sense any hostility from her.
“What is it you need of me?” Adelise asked.
“The queen tells me she has another troublesome cousin who has raised a host against her,” Geoffrey said.
“Yes,” Adelise said. “The son of her paternal uncle Osmund, not to be confused with our mutual uncle, Osmund, Duke of Kent.”
“Yes, the oaf who escorted her to Bordeaux,” Geoffrey said. “I had little love for him. And it appears I will have even less for his son. What is this fool claiming as his right to the throne?”
“Has Ælfflæd not spoken of it?” Adelise asked.
“She told me some things,” Geoffrey said. “I wish to know more from a person more removed from the situation - someone who is not related to the usurper.”
Adelise nodded. “He says that by Æthelfirth of Jerusalem’s abdication, his brothers and sisters are also removed from the line of succession. He also claims the queen’s half-siblings are illegitimate, as they were born of a suspected heathen.”
“And the queen’s oldest sister?” Geoffrey asked.
“That the throne should bypass her and her children, for she is a woman. Where as he has an unbroken male line from King Ælfmaer, he and Ælfflæd’s grandfather.”
Geoffrey frowned. “Well…. That won’t do at all.”
“My thoughts exactly, my king,” Adelise said.
“I heard you had other thoughts as well,” Geoffrey said. “Thoughts my wife did not necessarily agree with… since they would make her a kinslayer.”
Adelise blanched. “Well… I… er… I just thought it was prudent, my king. We already fight another war, and I have heard that those with him might be bought and given that he threatens the queen and her family…”
Geoffrey shook his head. “You are as bloodthirsty as a leech. It is unbecoming of a lord, and even looks worse on a lady.”
Adelise met his gaze and frowned. “I do what I must for the queen. For your family. Even if neither of you see it.”
“But you would make her a kinslayer, if it were discovered,” Geoffrey said.
“If it were discovered,” Adelise said. “There is no certainty.”
“It is a risk that she cannot take,” Geoffrey said. “She already takes too much on. At least she had the sense to not listen to you on this..”
“My advice is why you rule England, my king,” Adelise said, her face reddening. “I suggested we deal with Burgheard. If we did not, he would be king still… and who knows what might have happened when he plotted against your family.”
Geoffrey eyed her. She had a point. And it was why he did not like her.
“You do not seem to understand,” Geoffrey said. “Whatever risk you think is necessary, when it involves the queen’s, and my, reputation, it is not your decision to make. Do you understand?”
Adelise frowned. “I have…”
“It is a yes or no question,” Geoffrey told her. “All I wish to hear is ‘yes’ or ‘no.’”
Adelise remained red in the face. “Yes.”
“There,” Geoffrey said. “I am glad we have an understanding.”
“Is that all, my king?” Adelise asked.
“No,” Geoffrey said. “I had one more thing to discuss with this… Beoth… whatever his name is.”
“Beorhtfirth,” Adelise said.
“I don’t need to learn his name,” Geoffrey said. “He attacks a woman engaged in protecting Christendom. To further his ambition as she defends the cross. If that is not a crime punishable by death, I do not know what is.”
Adelise cocked her brow. “What… what do you get at my king?”
“I think I have said enough, my lady,” Geoffrey said. “Just know that not only are the queen’s advisors not to have anything to do with this… the queen is not to know either. I told her it will be handled. That is enough.”
Adelise’s face lost its red coloring and her lips formed a small grin. “Of course, my king. And we are forever grateful for your protection.”
She bowed and then left the room. The door closed and Berard sighed.
“She truly is something,” Berard said. “You were not wrong about that.”
“You may not wish to hear it,” Geoffrey began, “But the more I speak with her, the more I am reminded of stories I heard about another close advisor to a monarch.”
Berard’s eyes widened. “You do not believe such tales about my father.”
The king could not resist a grin. “I don’t see why my aunt Agnes and uncle Adhemar would lie - especially my aunt, who thought your father quite able in his role.”
Berard sighed. “My father’s loyalty was never in question. You routinely doubt Adelise’s.”
“I did not say they were the exact same,” Geoffrey said. “But their methods… well in any case, I do think there is merit in it. We acted against Burgheard for threatening my family. That this Beorhtfirth would attack my wife to take her crown while she fights against heathens… shows he has no scruples. He would stop at nothing to maintain his power, if he is allowed to win it.”
“I am not sure I like going down this road,” Berard admitted. “But… the alternative is more fighting in England. Given the threat of rebellion, and our likely involvement in the church’s possible Crusade in Egypt… I fear it may be the only way to prevent us from exhausting the realm’s resources.”
Geoffrey nodded. “So I can trust you to handle this?”
“I will speak with Count Douard,” Berard said. “As well as Adhemar.”
“Have my cousin Centolh involved as well,” Geoffrey said. “And Berard, you shall have whatever gold you need to make this problem go away.”
Berard nodded. “It will be done, Geoff.”
“One more thing,” Geoffrey said. “Don’t say a word of this to your wife. The queen cannot know of our involvement. She would stop it at best… and be implicated at worst. And we cannot be associated with a kinslayer. At least not now.”
“Understood,” Berard said.
Geoffrey didn’t like this. Nothing in England itself was a major threat, but these annoyances could add up. Pricked and cut until he was too weak to defend England and Aquitaine... and if not him, then that fate could befall his children.
I will not let that happen to me, nor my son, Geoffrey thought.
Even if I must smoke out all the snakes from England, by force, intrigue or politics… I will prevent it.
And he would not be bound as Ælfflæd was. He was true in what he said. He didn’t care what his parents thought of him.
God would understand why he took this course. Why it was necessary to defend his family, and to be strong enough to lead a Crusade.
Yes, He will understand, Geoffrey thought.
And that will be enough.
