Before Plantagenet - Chapter 200
February 1123 - Bordeaux, Kingdom of Aquitaine
She was her usual stunning self.
Geoffrey would hardly expect anything less from the Duchess of Toulouse. Even as he’d heard that she’d grown heavier since the birth of her first child, she still remained a figure of tremendous beauty as she stood before him.
But then, it was the court of the king - a place for a grand show. And Essa loved show as much as he did.
Called forth by Alias, the duchess left the side of Agnes and approached the dais, wearing a tighter bliaut than the other women in court sported, along with jewels on her fingers and golden earrings that just peaked out from her coif, as did some strands of her reddish hair.
There was no holding back - Essa wished to show off her power and wealth. It was not a display for just Geoffrey, but also her husband, the other counts present, as well as a tale that would make its way back to her lords in Toulouse.
But despite her extravagant appearance, she naturally took a humble approach upon reaching the dais, dropping to one knee and lowering her head. Geoffrey took a glance toward his frowning half-brother Guilhem, smirked, then motioned for the duchess to rise.
“It is good to be once more among you, my liege,” Essa said. “Given the perils we have each faced, it was no sure thing.”
“Perils?” Geoffrey asked.
“You, fighting for the Count Herve’s rightful claim in Charolais,” Essa said. “Myself, after birthing your nephew, and personally leading my levy against those of the rebellious men of Narbonne - a battle hard won.”
Geoffrey had heard about Essa’s presence while leading her men in sieges - though it came mostly through Guilhem’s complaints over her decision to do so.
“She is a duchess,” Geoffrey told him in response to his frustration. “She has a duty to the men she calls to fight for her, does she not?”
“They know she is a woman,” Guilhem said. “And therefore, that it is not her place.”
“So perhaps they respect her all the more for it,” Agnes interrupted. “I know I won many the admirers when I entered the fray against the Duke of Champagne.”
Guilhem shook his head. “You are a poor influence on her.”
“I influence very few these days,” Agnes said. “I am but an old woman who spouts wisdom. Your lady wife thinks she already knows everything there is to know.”
Even if Agnes was underplaying her role in Essa’s life, Geoffrey knew Guilhem could not argue, since he believed Essa truly did think herself the wisest person, let alone woman, in the realm.
But the duchess was artful in humbling herself when necessary. And so she did here, as she lowered her head and again dropped to a knee.
“My king,” she spoke, “I come to you on this day to speak on my action in Narbonne. I know some in my lands believe me a tyrant for acting as I have. And thus I come to seek your judgment - for a tyrant bends to no one, and I wish to show all that I am fair and just in my rule.”
“Fair and just… but where is the Count of Narbonne?” Geoffrey asked.
“Present as well,” Essa noted. She stood up and motioned for the teen to be brought forth.
The young man was pushed forward by some armed guards. The young Matias was not shackled - that would make a mockery of it all - but he was very much held hostage by his duchess.
“My boy,” Geoffrey began. “The duchess claims you acted against her. That you were part of a plot to overthrow her, and murder her son. My nephew.”
“I know nothing of this,” the teen replied. “It is an excuse she uses to steal my family’s lands.”
Geoffrey looked to Essa. “Have you proof, my lady?”
The duchess smiled and nodded. She again motioned for someone to come forth, and a hooded, hunchback of a man emerged from the gallery. He bowed before the dais and presented himself as the Alias, Mayor of Beziers, and chancellor to the Count of Narbonne, a claim the teen did not contest.
“The count… was unaware of such plots,” the mayor said. “But they existed.”
“You were his chancellor,” Geoffrey said. “You did not bring them to his attention.”
“The boy was young,” the chancellor said. “Those among the court were concerned he might meddle in things he did not fully understand.”
“You see?!” the teen pleaded. “I knew nothing of this!”
“I do see,” Geoffrey said. “A difficult decision. My boy, had these plots been successful, and the duchess and her son murdered, it would have been scant consolation that you were unaware… especially if you stood to benefit.”
The teen lowered his head. “So I am to be punished for what I had no knowledge of?”
“It is your court,” Geoffrey said. “And you are responsible for what happens in it, yes, as we all are. Now, I am not cruel - given your age and the situation, I think the best solution is the forfeiture of your lands, and your exile from Toulouse. But you shall live, and you shall not be imprisoned.”
The teen scowled, but nodded, slightly and slowly. Meanwhile, Essa managed a small smile.
“Your judgment is wise,” Essa said. “And fair, my liege.”
It was also expected. Geoffrey had already communicated to Guilhem how he would rule when this was proposed to him. The show would only slightly mitigate the anger toward Essa’s actions, but it would remind those who plotted against her that she held the favor of her king… for however long he lived.
“Is there any other business?” Alias asked once Essa had returned to her place in the gallery.
A few emissaries stepped forward. The first was from Flanders, where Geoffrey’s relationship with Arnulf remained in tatters.
However, Agnes’ efforts had afforded him favor with his sister Ermengarde - who sometimes sent word to them now. One of those words was that she was pregnant once more, and in September had birthed another son to Arnulf.
And now she sent word of something else.
“Duke Arnulf moves against his deceitful cousin in Melun,” the emissary said.
“So he turns the struggle between Alphonse and Henri into a three-way affair?” Geoffrey asked. “An interesting decision at this time.”
“Your lady sister hopes she shall remain in your prayers,” the emissary said. “And that while at this time, you and her husband struggle to find common ground, that your hearts shall be open to one another once more in the future.”
Geoffrey smirked. He had been impressed with Ermengarde before. At first he thought perhaps it was because she was skilled despite being a dwarf, and then perhaps because he thought her face rather pretty. But she did remind him a bit of Agnes - she knew the game far better than she let on. It was perhaps why she had survived as he did, given the dislike she naturally found given her dwarfism.
“That falls to her husband,” Geoffrey said. “But her family here does not forget her, or her children.”
The emissary thanked Geoffrey, then returned to the gallery.
Another stepped forward. He introduced himself as an emissary from the “Most Serene” Republic of Pisa, which existed on the western coast of Italy, north of Rome.
“And what does your Doge Ferrucci wish with me?” Geoffrey asked, intrigued.
“He sends a bit of news you might wish to hear,” the man said. “Aubry Karling is dead.”
Geoffrey’s eyes widened. His former friend… a man he would have made a knight and possibly a lord… the man who betrayed his trust by siring two bastards with Marguerite… the man who Geoffrey could not stomach to deal with personally, so he allowed his father Foulques to exile him… that man was no more?
He should have felt joy. A betrayal… not repaid… but it was over.
Yet he did not feel that way. There was frustration, anger… but little relief.
His head turned to Marguerite, who sat with her hand cupped around her mouth. But catching Geoffrey’s gaze, she quickly swallowed and then moved her hand away, attempting to appear stoic to the news. It would be poor form to express sadness in front of him… and in front of a court that knew well of her previous affair.
“Of what?” she managed to asked the emissary. “What killed him?”
“Smallpox,” the man said. “He had been staying with Lord Giovanni of Piombino, but was cast out. Lord Ferrucci wished no part of him, and turned him aside. He was found dead a few days later.”
It hit him harder than Geoffrey expected. But the king did not know what he felt more at the moment - anger, sadness, or pity over his first true friend dying in such a state, alone.
So he would tolerate none of it.
“That news,” Geoffrey said. “It is not news that anyone here cares for.”
He realized as he said it that Etiennette, Aubry’s sister, was present. But ultimately, she did not matter enough for him to stop, and Geoffrey continued.
“He is a man who never lived in Bordeaux, was banished from my father’s lands,” Geoffrey said. “He is nothing. Whether he lives or whether he is dead, it is meaningless to those here.”
“I see,” the man said. “In any case, my lord hopes the news finds you well.”
He bowed before Geoffrey and then returned to the gallery. No other emissaries followed.
Business of court then continued as usual. But Geoffrey was far from it, as the words of those brought before him simply went into one ear and out the other.
….
The screams were loud enough to echo through the keep.
They had been going on for hours. Before, they were tolerable - only coming through when it had grown real quiet. But now the shrieks were enough that even while speaking they could pierce conversation.
Geoffrey had heard enough births from a distance to know their origin. He wondered if it were an indication of any troubles, as even if none of the noble women who had birthed a child in Bordeaux had died, some of the lowborn women had not been as fortunate.
Of course, Esclarmonde de Cholet was something of an in between situation - the granddaughter of the Iron Duke’s old friend Andre of Cholet. Her family’s lands had come under Geoffrey’s hands after her father, also Andre, had died without a male heir. And Geoffrey had granted her a place in the court, where she served among Marguerite’s ladies.
So naturally, when her belly began to swell a half year before, there were eyes cast to the king. Surely yet another Angevin bastard was on its way into the world was the whisper.
The whispers were not wholly wrong. But this time, the responsibility was not Geoffrey’s.
The king’s eyes had been on his wine, but the latest shriek draw them up toward heaven, and then back down, square on his teenage brother Charles.
The youngest child of the Iron Duke, Charles was the bastard son of Foulques and Etiennette Karling. He had grown up out of the limelight, though he had shown a mind for bureaucracy, and Geoffrey had put him to work aiding Alias.
Alias was not present here, but Guilhem was, as Geoffrey met his brother.
“Your handiwork,” Geoffrey said. “Surprising, given your age and hers. She is old enough to be your mother.”
“Not surprising, given as his mother is hardly known for her virtue,” Guilhem noted. “And of course, to say little for his uncle.”
Charles’ eyed his half-brother. “Yes, let us look instead to the bastion of chastity that is your mother… children by three different men?”
That drew a smirk from Geoffrey but a stern glare from Guilhem.
“Brothers, please,” Geoffrey said. “As amusing as your insults toward one another are, we get off topic. The child that is soon to be born.”
“What of it?” Charles asked. “A bastard. There are plenty of them in Anjou. What’s one more?”
“What it is, is unwanted attention that I do not seek,” Geoffrey said. “Most believe I am the reason for Escarlmonde’s pregnancy. Even the queen thought so - only my spymaster was able to convince her otherwise. I have my own problems to deal with - I have little need of being made to face yours.”
“The people think what they wish about all manner of things,” Charles said. “I cannot be responsible for them.”
To that Geoffrey’s eyes widened and he felt a surge of energy. He fixed his gaze on his youngest brother and pointed: “I will not stand for people thinking children I have not sired are mine! And if I know the identity of the true father, I shall see they are made to pay if it continues, do you understand?!”
Charles lowered his head. “I am sorry, brother. I did not mean for you to… be put in such a situation.”
“I have my doubts,” Geoffrey admitted. “But what’s done is done. Now, we need to fix this. And we will do that, by you publicly announcing that you have sired the child. You are to do this whether it is girl or boy, or whether it lives or dies. And you shall make it plain, that the lady is your lover. I wish for you to give her all the trappings as if she is your wife.”
“I am to marry her?!” Charles shouted. “She is twice my age!”
“She already births you children,” Geoffrey noted. “But no, I did not say you are to marry her. I said you are to treat her as if she were your wife… for now. I still have hopes of finding you a wife… a landed woman, as I have your half-brothers.”
“You could have married me to the Duchess of Albany,” Charles replied. “I do not know why you chose our nephew instead. He is not even of our house!”
“Our sister has earned that for her children,” Geoffrey said. “She has served Anjou for longer than you have lived. Keep that in mind.”
Charles nodded. “So I am to acknowledge the child, as live with Esclarmonde as my wife, even if we are not wed.”
“Yes,” Geoffrey said. “And do not try to make this out to be some harsh punishment. I know the night you sired the bastard she births now was not the last time you have bedded her. Thomas tells me before she came to the midwife, complaining of the pains of childbirth, she had been with you.”
Charles again lowered his head. “We are… already sinning.”
Geoffrey eyed him. “And I give permission to sin some more. Just make it clear you and not me, are doing the sinning.”
Charles nodded and, allowed to depart, bowed his head and left his brothers alone in Geoffrey’s chamber. After the door closed, Guilhem shook his head.
“He needs to learn respect,” the Duke of Poitou noted.
Geoffrey eyed his brother for a moment before turning his eyes to his drink. “The amount of complaints I hear from my brothers of knowing their place… I would think you all kings. Funny that, given your mothers.”
Guilhem’s eyes dropped to the floor. “I mean more his age, than who his mother is.”
“So you say,” Geoffrey replied. “But you think I would let him get by? That was the point to all of this. He learns some today. And he will learn more in the future.”
Guilhem nodded. “Of course, I should not have doubted you.”
Geoffrey smiled. “How has your reunion with the duchess been?”
Guilhem shrugged. “She thinks much of herself now, given her success. And you do little to change that.”
Geoffrey pointed to himself. “Am I to? You did not wish me coming down on her.”
“I did not wish you to stop her,” Guilhem said. “But perhaps reprimand her? She oversteps her bounds.”
A grin formed on Geoffrey’s lips. “Knowing her place, you say?”
Guilhem rolled his eyes. “You heard her. She put herself at risk, leading her levy. I think she should not be, given our child is but a babe.”
“Well, should something happen, young Simon has you,” Geoffrey said. “And your levy to protect him.”
“I am no mother,” Guilhem replied.
Geoffrey chuckled. “Do not worry yourself, brother. Few doubt your martial capabilities. I do not have you as the marshal of Aquitaine for nothing.”
“Well, now that you do mention my martial… expertise,” Guilhem began, “I wished to offer my services to you in another fashion.”
“Commanding men on the field?” Geoffrey asked.
“I would not say no to that,” Guilhem said. “But what I was going to suggest is lending my services to train your sons, especially the young Geoffrey. I think he could do well with a martial focus to his studies.”
“As my eldest son had?” Geoffrey asked.
“Tragic as that was, your experience, often at war, surely shows the value,” Guilhem noted. “Regardless of your preparations, he will be challenged. And he must be prepared to fight.”
Geoffrey rapped his fingers on the table. He had similar thoughts independently of his brother. Among his council, the prince had good men to learn from, even if Geoffrey had to make certain those lessons were heavily scrutinized.
But unlike with the prince’s other instructors, Geoffrey knew a choice of Guilhem was more than a simple trust issue. He had competition for the role.
Foulquesson, despite his illness, would likely wonder why he was not considered or outrightly given the chance to tutor his nephew.
“You have a point,” Geoffrey noted. “He may well need to know these things. And I would do well to find him a teacher.”
“You… do not… wish for me?” Guilhem asked. “I am his uncle, am I not? And your marshal?”
“You are both,” Geoffrey replied. “But he has another uncle who is quite skilled in the ways of combat… and among my most important lords.”
“Foulquesson,” Guilhem said. “You choose him over me?”
“No, I wish to choose neither of you, because I value both of you equally,” Geoffrey said. “It would be unfair of me to choose one of my beloved brothers over the others. I shall have Alias search for suitable tutors.”
“I see,” Guilhem said. “I am… disappointed to hear of it.”
“Don’t be,” Geoffrey replied. “You are his uncle. He will still look to you at times. And you have experiences as marshal which can guide him. I would expect you to do so.”
“Of course brother,” Guilhem said. “I would not have it any other way.”
….
Geoffrey learned the next day that he was a new uncle to a boy, whom Esclarmonde de Cholet had already wished to name Bouchard. She, apparently was thrilled over becoming a mother, as at her age, it was considered unlikely.
He heard all this second hand, of course. Given that he had worked to make certain his youngest brother took the proper blame for this bastard, Geoffrey had as little to do with that birth as possible.
Instead, he sat by himself in his chamber, drinking alone and reflecting. Reflecting on days long past, friendships lost… betrayals that should be buried, but remained stubbornly ever present in his mind.
A knock on the door. His eyes moved to it, with it opening to reveal a girl in the form of his daughter, Aines.
“Father,” she said as she bowed. “Mother wishes to know if you would be supping with your councilors again tonight.”
Geoffrey took a sip of his drink. He had not eaten with Marguerite since the day at court. It was odd, since the lord normally ate with his wife and children. But Geoffrey claimed meetings with his council, permitted the others to eat, and then would take his meal after.
It was rather naked in its intent. Though the reason for it was less obvious, since there was no recent strife between the two.
Nothing recent, Geoffrey thought. Nothing recent.
“I am uncertain,” he told his daughter. “There has been much to do lately.”
“It is not the same without you father,” Aines said. “Supper has been much quieter. Sullen.”
Good practice then, he thought. For it shall be that way soon enough.
“I am sorry to sadden you, my dear,” Geoffrey said. “It is not my intent for my children to suffer as a result of my actions.”
Aines walked over to him, coming to the small table he sat at. “Mother is worried. Does something trouble you father?”
Geoffrey took a drink. “She sends you to find that out?”
“She sent me to see if you would be coming tonight,” Aines said. “But… it is unlike you. That is all.”
He had his doubts that his daughter of nearly 11 years would be so perceptive. No, this was Marguerite.
But… unlike Beatritz, Aines was actually his daughter. That he was certain of. She actually reminded him quite a bit of his sister Agnes… or how he remembered her when she was young. So he would not come down hard on her.
“You are sweet to care,” Geoffrey said. “I shall see if council business concludes at a more… reasonable time today.”
He motioned for her to come close, and he kissed her forehead. To his surprise, she gave him a tight squeeze. After all, he was not close with her… or any of his children, really. As had long been the case.
Always chasing after something, he thought, as I did with Foulques. Why did I name him that?
He poured himself another drink after Aines left and then he remembered.
Because before I’d have named him… after him… Geoffrey thought. Before he betrayed me.
Geoffrey eased back in his chair and let the warmth of his drink wash over him. He was frustrated, angry… and had been for days. But he resisted releasing it, for he had not found a deserving outlet. So perhaps he could drink himself into a stupor.
Another knock on the door. This one more urgent than Aines before. And it was not a child this time - it was Guilhem, a look of worry on his face.
“Brother, come to join me for a drink?” Geoffrey asked. “You look as though you need it.”
“I bring bad news,” Guilhem said. “Unexpected to be honest.”
“Who is not respecting their place today?” Geoffrey asked. “Charles? Our sister? Your wife?”
“The Duke of Orleans,” Guilhem replied.
Geoffrey’s brow arched. “What has the Duke of Orleans done? Has he insulted us?”
“No, he has attacked us,” Guilhem said.
Geoffrey’s eyes widened. “An attack? What form of attack?”
“One thousand men from Orleans and Berry have assaulted the men we had gathered near Souvigny,” Guilhem said. “An act of war and Count Roger sends word they prepare to lay siege to his keep in Bourbon.”
Geoffrey could scarcely believe his ears. “Berry? Our cousin? Is he mad?”
“That is what they say,” Guilhem noted.
Another knock on the door. This time it was Alias and Adhemar, both trying to barge into Geoffrey’s chamber at once.
“It is my duty, I am chancellor!” Adhemar said.
“I heard the news, and as steward, it is a matter for me to inform him,” Alias said.
“Enough!” Geoffrey shouted. “What is going on? What is this matter, Alias?”
Alias smirked at Adhemar before looking to Geoffrey once more. “Duke Foulques of Orleans has informed us of his demands that we surrender your keep in Angouleme to his landless brother… and says he will go to war to get it.”
“On what grounds?” Guilhem asked.
“His grandfather was the lord of Angouleme… before our cousin, Alberic, stripped it from him three decades ago in war,” Adhemar said. “Well, your cousin, my uncle.”
“This seems like madness. Does he act with the assistance of Henri?” Geoffrey asked. “And the whole Frankish kingdom?”
“No,” Adhemar said. “He is allied with your cousin, Gilles, in Berry. And they already coordinate moves against you. We received word from Count Roger in Bourbon…”
“Under siege, correct?” Geoffrey asked. Adhemar nodded. “Guilhem informed me of that.”
“I do not understand this action,” Alias admitted. “Even combined with the forces of Berry, we can muster a far greater force than Orleans can.”
“Maybe they think Henri will come to their aid, eventually,” Guilhem speculated.
“While at war with Alphonse and Arnulf?” Adhemar scoffed. “Never. He is likely furious they divert their own resources to this conflict.”
Geoffrey stroked his chin in thought. He remembered his sister Bella mentioned Orleans had attempted to force himself upon her, only to be beaten by Henri as a response. Perhaps this lack of cohesion was the result of that.
“We should watch for Simon,” Geoffrey said. “My other cousin. While he has no love of Gilles, I am uncertain his affinity with Orleans. Perhaps they sought a grand alliance to resist me.”
“There have been no rumblings of that,” Adhemar replied. “But we shall remain vigilant.”
Geoffrey rapped his fingers on his table. Then he picked up his wine and turned away from his councilors, taking a sip of his drink.
“He thinks me weak,” Geoffrey said. “We clearly have not done enough to remind these lords that Aquitaine can force them to a knee if we choose.”
“Then we shall make an example of them,” Guilhem said.
“Adhemar, summon my brother in Brittany,” Geoffrey said. “See if he is well enough to take part. Herve in Charolais should already be aware, given how close he is to Bourbon.”
“What of me brother?” Guilhem asked. “I will gladly ride to take command of the forces.”
“No,” Geoffrey said. “I wish you here, as has been custom. My council must be on hand to aid Marguerite as she oversees the kingdom in my absence.”
“Your absence?” Alias asked. “You surely are not going to lead the army again! Geoffrey… my king… you fight your illness well, but campaign will only tax you further.”
“They wish to test me,” Geoffrey said. “Josselin was not enough. So I shall personally show them that I am not finished yet.”
“As you wish, brother,” Guilhem said. “I shall begin the preparations with you.”
“And I shall send word to Foulquesson and Lord Herve,” Adhemar said.
Adhemar bowed and left the room. But Alias did not depart, and asked if he might have a word with Geoffrey. The king obliged, telling Guilhem he would summon him when this conversation was done.
“Why?” Alias demanded. “Why are you putting yourself in harm’s way, again?”
“It is as I said,” Geoffrey replied. “I think this will help restore the fear we should inspire. If these fools attack us with a third of our number, then we clearly do not have the presence we should.”
“Our forces razing Orleans and Berry will do that sufficiently,” Alias said. “You need not be there.”
“There is… one other factor,” Geoffrey conceded. “My cousin, Gilles.”
“What of him?” Alias said.
“He has long insulted my family,” Geoffrey said. “His actions disgraced my sister for a time - something I have never forgotten. My father did not either - he long sought his vengeance upon him. Adhemar has even spoken about how he hoped to secure claim over Berry toward the end of his life. I may not be able to take Berry from him directly… but I can inflict the humiliating defeat on him my father never did.”
Alias shook his head. “You endanger your life… for some petty competition with a man over a decade dead, who you have long since eclipsed!”
“I do not expect you to understand,” Geoffrey said. “But you wanted the truth… and now you have it.”
“There is more to this,” Alias said. “I know it.”
“Perhaps there is,” Geoffrey admitted. “Regardless, I shall go. And I will need you to take up your role - more importantly than ever, since I need to see how the queen handles the council… and how much favor she bestows upon Adhemar.”
“A concern,” Alias admitted.
“I have advised Agnes against it,” Geoffrey said. “But you will have an easier time swaying the queen than she will. Do not push too hard, of course, but work to convince her you are the better man to listen to - as in, do not do what you did here with Adhemar before.”
Alias lowered his head. “My apologies for that.”
“Do not apologize,” Geoffrey said. “Do better. I do not need to remind you what is at stake.”
“You need not worry on that,” Alias said. “You can trust me to handle these matters.”
“Trust… yes,” Geoffrey said.
Alias eyed him. “You… lack trust? In me?”
Geoffrey shook his head. “No… I have trust in you. It’s nothing.”
“Are we to do this again?” Alias asked.
Geoffrey glared at him for a moment before looking away for a bit. Then he returned his gaze to the Count of Perigord. “You are not the first person I trusted, you know. And my belief was misplaced.”
Alias sat down again, across from him. “Aubry Karling. His death haunts you.”
“It does not haunt me,” Geoffrey said. “That he is dead is simply a reminder of mistakes made, pain suffered… and debts not paid.”
“What debt is there to pay?” Alias asked. “You forged a kingdom, and are respected and feared by even the German Kaiser. He died in obscurity after being cast out by some Lombard merchant. I can think of not greater symbol of the rise in fortunes you brought your house… and the ruin he inflicted upon the remains of his.”
Geoffrey’s fingers went to his temple. “It is not that. Success… I dreamt of success even then. And he was to share in it with me.”
The king took his cup and downed its contents before pouring himself some more.
“I trusted him,” Geoffrey said, followed with a sigh. “Before you, it was him. We were inseparable. He was to be my right hand when I inherited Anjou. I would have given him a fief to govern. But then… then he threw it all away. He threw our friendship away.”
Geoffrey took another long drink before standing from his chair and pacing the room. “I had seen him look at women. My sister, especially. But it was to be expected I thought… he was a man and at his age. I was no better, either. It was the way of things.”
A shake of the head came next from the king. “But then he laid with Marguerite. Any other woman in the duchy and I could have forgiven him. Even had it been Agnes! But not my wife. Not the woman I had just married. The insult, the foolishness… the brazenness of it all. No, there could be no coming back from that.”
“Given your father would not have taken kindly to it, I’m certain you could have had him killed,” Alias replied. Geoffrey nodded.
“Probably both of them,” Geoffrey said. “I have heard… my father did consider doing that. He would have found another bride for me… perhaps Ness. Perhaps Philippe’s daughter Princess Adalmode. I do not know… and honestly I do not care. I could not bring myself to that anyway. I preferred to shun them all… Aubry, Marguerite, my father… I only laid with Marguerite long enough to conceive my son Foulques because I had to prove myself capable. Ironic, since I have had little problem since.”
Alias shook his head. “It is a crime, what you suffered. I am glad he is dead.”
“And yet it brings me no solace,” Geoffrey admitted. “So he is dead. His memory lives on. His bastard son lives in my keeps, his bastard daughter masquerades as my own, married to my brother, and I am forced to protect her as if she were my own. And my wife… the less said of her the better.”
“You think she still cared for him?” Alias asked.
“She will mourn him,” Geoffrey said. “I could see it on her face.”
“And will you do something about it?” Alias asked.
Geoffrey lowered his head. “I wish to. When I was younger… I would have demanded she stop. I would have taken from her as well to make certain if she did… so she would suffer. To make her feel the pain I do… for that betrayal.”
“But now?” Alias asked.
Geoffrey sighed. “Now… Now I feel it pointless. To have her hate me, for what? It is as I said… he is nothing. He should be nothing. And if I treat him as more, then he has won.”
Alias met Geoffrey’s gaze. “And so you leave? Go on campaign and leave her to her business, and the kingdom with it?”
“I go to fight a war in protection of that kingdom,” Geoffrey said. “Nothing more, nothing less.”
“It seems as you do as you once did,” Alias said. “It may not be necessary. Times have changed.”
“They have,” Geoffrey said. “I am not a young whelp who has to entrench himself in Aquitaine… I am a dying king, who must entrench his son instead. Inflicting a severe defeat on yet another overambitious cousin… it will do nicely.”
“Why must you do this to yourself?” Alias asked.
“Because I can see no other way,” Geoffrey said. “So I ask of you, and trust in you, as I always have, to safeguard my kingdom, come what may.”
Alias frowned and shook his head, not responding at first. Eventually, he replied: “You know I shall not let you down.”
“Good,” Geoffrey said. “Not that I had any doubt. You are not him. Even if I sometimes have to remind myself of that fact… through no fault of your own.”
The king sat back down. “Now then, I have another two matters to attend to. Or rather, I have need of you to attend to. It has come to my attention that my son needs a proper martial tutor… and I do not wish to have my brothers fight for that honor. So I need you to find someone who will fit that role.”
“Should not be too hard,” Alias noted. “There are plenty who would jump at the opportunity to serve here. And the chance to gain favor with a future king. What is the second matter?”
“Talking down my half-brother,” Geoffrey said. “You always seem capable of reaching Guilhem… in ways I cannot.”
Alias eyes widened. “I uh… well it will be done to the best of my abilities.”
Geoffrey smirked. “Thank you.”
He stood up. “Now then, I have a war to plan properly. Send for Guilhem to meet me in the strategy hall.”
Geoffrey took a few steps then added: “Oh... I will be rather… busy with that tonight. So… please inform the queen that I shall be likely unable to sup with her tonight. My apologies, of course, to her, my children, and the duchess, as I’m afraid I shall keep her husband from her another night.”
He saw Alias’ frown, but Geoffrey said nothing. His mind was made up. To battle he would go, to achieve what his father had not, and if he left his troubles behind in the process, so be it.
They would have to start growing used to it anyway.
February 1123 - Bordeaux, Kingdom of Aquitaine
She was her usual stunning self.
Geoffrey would hardly expect anything less from the Duchess of Toulouse. Even as he’d heard that she’d grown heavier since the birth of her first child, she still remained a figure of tremendous beauty as she stood before him.
But then, it was the court of the king - a place for a grand show. And Essa loved show as much as he did.
Called forth by Alias, the duchess left the side of Agnes and approached the dais, wearing a tighter bliaut than the other women in court sported, along with jewels on her fingers and golden earrings that just peaked out from her coif, as did some strands of her reddish hair.
There was no holding back - Essa wished to show off her power and wealth. It was not a display for just Geoffrey, but also her husband, the other counts present, as well as a tale that would make its way back to her lords in Toulouse.
But despite her extravagant appearance, she naturally took a humble approach upon reaching the dais, dropping to one knee and lowering her head. Geoffrey took a glance toward his frowning half-brother Guilhem, smirked, then motioned for the duchess to rise.
“It is good to be once more among you, my liege,” Essa said. “Given the perils we have each faced, it was no sure thing.”
“Perils?” Geoffrey asked.
“You, fighting for the Count Herve’s rightful claim in Charolais,” Essa said. “Myself, after birthing your nephew, and personally leading my levy against those of the rebellious men of Narbonne - a battle hard won.”
Geoffrey had heard about Essa’s presence while leading her men in sieges - though it came mostly through Guilhem’s complaints over her decision to do so.
“She is a duchess,” Geoffrey told him in response to his frustration. “She has a duty to the men she calls to fight for her, does she not?”
“They know she is a woman,” Guilhem said. “And therefore, that it is not her place.”
“So perhaps they respect her all the more for it,” Agnes interrupted. “I know I won many the admirers when I entered the fray against the Duke of Champagne.”
Guilhem shook his head. “You are a poor influence on her.”
“I influence very few these days,” Agnes said. “I am but an old woman who spouts wisdom. Your lady wife thinks she already knows everything there is to know.”
Even if Agnes was underplaying her role in Essa’s life, Geoffrey knew Guilhem could not argue, since he believed Essa truly did think herself the wisest person, let alone woman, in the realm.
But the duchess was artful in humbling herself when necessary. And so she did here, as she lowered her head and again dropped to a knee.
“My king,” she spoke, “I come to you on this day to speak on my action in Narbonne. I know some in my lands believe me a tyrant for acting as I have. And thus I come to seek your judgment - for a tyrant bends to no one, and I wish to show all that I am fair and just in my rule.”
“Fair and just… but where is the Count of Narbonne?” Geoffrey asked.
“Present as well,” Essa noted. She stood up and motioned for the teen to be brought forth.
The young man was pushed forward by some armed guards. The young Matias was not shackled - that would make a mockery of it all - but he was very much held hostage by his duchess.
“My boy,” Geoffrey began. “The duchess claims you acted against her. That you were part of a plot to overthrow her, and murder her son. My nephew.”
“I know nothing of this,” the teen replied. “It is an excuse she uses to steal my family’s lands.”
Geoffrey looked to Essa. “Have you proof, my lady?”
The duchess smiled and nodded. She again motioned for someone to come forth, and a hooded, hunchback of a man emerged from the gallery. He bowed before the dais and presented himself as the Alias, Mayor of Beziers, and chancellor to the Count of Narbonne, a claim the teen did not contest.
“The count… was unaware of such plots,” the mayor said. “But they existed.”
“You were his chancellor,” Geoffrey said. “You did not bring them to his attention.”
“The boy was young,” the chancellor said. “Those among the court were concerned he might meddle in things he did not fully understand.”
“You see?!” the teen pleaded. “I knew nothing of this!”
“I do see,” Geoffrey said. “A difficult decision. My boy, had these plots been successful, and the duchess and her son murdered, it would have been scant consolation that you were unaware… especially if you stood to benefit.”
The teen lowered his head. “So I am to be punished for what I had no knowledge of?”
“It is your court,” Geoffrey said. “And you are responsible for what happens in it, yes, as we all are. Now, I am not cruel - given your age and the situation, I think the best solution is the forfeiture of your lands, and your exile from Toulouse. But you shall live, and you shall not be imprisoned.”
The teen scowled, but nodded, slightly and slowly. Meanwhile, Essa managed a small smile.
“Your judgment is wise,” Essa said. “And fair, my liege.”
It was also expected. Geoffrey had already communicated to Guilhem how he would rule when this was proposed to him. The show would only slightly mitigate the anger toward Essa’s actions, but it would remind those who plotted against her that she held the favor of her king… for however long he lived.
“Is there any other business?” Alias asked once Essa had returned to her place in the gallery.
A few emissaries stepped forward. The first was from Flanders, where Geoffrey’s relationship with Arnulf remained in tatters.
However, Agnes’ efforts had afforded him favor with his sister Ermengarde - who sometimes sent word to them now. One of those words was that she was pregnant once more, and in September had birthed another son to Arnulf.
And now she sent word of something else.
“Duke Arnulf moves against his deceitful cousin in Melun,” the emissary said.
“So he turns the struggle between Alphonse and Henri into a three-way affair?” Geoffrey asked. “An interesting decision at this time.”
“Your lady sister hopes she shall remain in your prayers,” the emissary said. “And that while at this time, you and her husband struggle to find common ground, that your hearts shall be open to one another once more in the future.”
Geoffrey smirked. He had been impressed with Ermengarde before. At first he thought perhaps it was because she was skilled despite being a dwarf, and then perhaps because he thought her face rather pretty. But she did remind him a bit of Agnes - she knew the game far better than she let on. It was perhaps why she had survived as he did, given the dislike she naturally found given her dwarfism.
“That falls to her husband,” Geoffrey said. “But her family here does not forget her, or her children.”
The emissary thanked Geoffrey, then returned to the gallery.
Another stepped forward. He introduced himself as an emissary from the “Most Serene” Republic of Pisa, which existed on the western coast of Italy, north of Rome.
“And what does your Doge Ferrucci wish with me?” Geoffrey asked, intrigued.
“He sends a bit of news you might wish to hear,” the man said. “Aubry Karling is dead.”
Geoffrey’s eyes widened. His former friend… a man he would have made a knight and possibly a lord… the man who betrayed his trust by siring two bastards with Marguerite… the man who Geoffrey could not stomach to deal with personally, so he allowed his father Foulques to exile him… that man was no more?
He should have felt joy. A betrayal… not repaid… but it was over.
Yet he did not feel that way. There was frustration, anger… but little relief.
His head turned to Marguerite, who sat with her hand cupped around her mouth. But catching Geoffrey’s gaze, she quickly swallowed and then moved her hand away, attempting to appear stoic to the news. It would be poor form to express sadness in front of him… and in front of a court that knew well of her previous affair.
“Of what?” she managed to asked the emissary. “What killed him?”
“Smallpox,” the man said. “He had been staying with Lord Giovanni of Piombino, but was cast out. Lord Ferrucci wished no part of him, and turned him aside. He was found dead a few days later.”
It hit him harder than Geoffrey expected. But the king did not know what he felt more at the moment - anger, sadness, or pity over his first true friend dying in such a state, alone.
So he would tolerate none of it.
“That news,” Geoffrey said. “It is not news that anyone here cares for.”
He realized as he said it that Etiennette, Aubry’s sister, was present. But ultimately, she did not matter enough for him to stop, and Geoffrey continued.
“He is a man who never lived in Bordeaux, was banished from my father’s lands,” Geoffrey said. “He is nothing. Whether he lives or whether he is dead, it is meaningless to those here.”
“I see,” the man said. “In any case, my lord hopes the news finds you well.”
He bowed before Geoffrey and then returned to the gallery. No other emissaries followed.
Business of court then continued as usual. But Geoffrey was far from it, as the words of those brought before him simply went into one ear and out the other.
….
The screams were loud enough to echo through the keep.
They had been going on for hours. Before, they were tolerable - only coming through when it had grown real quiet. But now the shrieks were enough that even while speaking they could pierce conversation.
Geoffrey had heard enough births from a distance to know their origin. He wondered if it were an indication of any troubles, as even if none of the noble women who had birthed a child in Bordeaux had died, some of the lowborn women had not been as fortunate.
Of course, Esclarmonde de Cholet was something of an in between situation - the granddaughter of the Iron Duke’s old friend Andre of Cholet. Her family’s lands had come under Geoffrey’s hands after her father, also Andre, had died without a male heir. And Geoffrey had granted her a place in the court, where she served among Marguerite’s ladies.
So naturally, when her belly began to swell a half year before, there were eyes cast to the king. Surely yet another Angevin bastard was on its way into the world was the whisper.
The whispers were not wholly wrong. But this time, the responsibility was not Geoffrey’s.
The king’s eyes had been on his wine, but the latest shriek draw them up toward heaven, and then back down, square on his teenage brother Charles.
The youngest child of the Iron Duke, Charles was the bastard son of Foulques and Etiennette Karling. He had grown up out of the limelight, though he had shown a mind for bureaucracy, and Geoffrey had put him to work aiding Alias.
Alias was not present here, but Guilhem was, as Geoffrey met his brother.
“Your handiwork,” Geoffrey said. “Surprising, given your age and hers. She is old enough to be your mother.”
“Not surprising, given as his mother is hardly known for her virtue,” Guilhem noted. “And of course, to say little for his uncle.”
Charles’ eyed his half-brother. “Yes, let us look instead to the bastion of chastity that is your mother… children by three different men?”
That drew a smirk from Geoffrey but a stern glare from Guilhem.
“Brothers, please,” Geoffrey said. “As amusing as your insults toward one another are, we get off topic. The child that is soon to be born.”
“What of it?” Charles asked. “A bastard. There are plenty of them in Anjou. What’s one more?”
“What it is, is unwanted attention that I do not seek,” Geoffrey said. “Most believe I am the reason for Escarlmonde’s pregnancy. Even the queen thought so - only my spymaster was able to convince her otherwise. I have my own problems to deal with - I have little need of being made to face yours.”
“The people think what they wish about all manner of things,” Charles said. “I cannot be responsible for them.”
To that Geoffrey’s eyes widened and he felt a surge of energy. He fixed his gaze on his youngest brother and pointed: “I will not stand for people thinking children I have not sired are mine! And if I know the identity of the true father, I shall see they are made to pay if it continues, do you understand?!”
Charles lowered his head. “I am sorry, brother. I did not mean for you to… be put in such a situation.”
“I have my doubts,” Geoffrey admitted. “But what’s done is done. Now, we need to fix this. And we will do that, by you publicly announcing that you have sired the child. You are to do this whether it is girl or boy, or whether it lives or dies. And you shall make it plain, that the lady is your lover. I wish for you to give her all the trappings as if she is your wife.”
“I am to marry her?!” Charles shouted. “She is twice my age!”
“She already births you children,” Geoffrey noted. “But no, I did not say you are to marry her. I said you are to treat her as if she were your wife… for now. I still have hopes of finding you a wife… a landed woman, as I have your half-brothers.”
“You could have married me to the Duchess of Albany,” Charles replied. “I do not know why you chose our nephew instead. He is not even of our house!”
“Our sister has earned that for her children,” Geoffrey said. “She has served Anjou for longer than you have lived. Keep that in mind.”
Charles nodded. “So I am to acknowledge the child, as live with Esclarmonde as my wife, even if we are not wed.”
“Yes,” Geoffrey said. “And do not try to make this out to be some harsh punishment. I know the night you sired the bastard she births now was not the last time you have bedded her. Thomas tells me before she came to the midwife, complaining of the pains of childbirth, she had been with you.”
Charles again lowered his head. “We are… already sinning.”
Geoffrey eyed him. “And I give permission to sin some more. Just make it clear you and not me, are doing the sinning.”
Charles nodded and, allowed to depart, bowed his head and left his brothers alone in Geoffrey’s chamber. After the door closed, Guilhem shook his head.
“He needs to learn respect,” the Duke of Poitou noted.
Geoffrey eyed his brother for a moment before turning his eyes to his drink. “The amount of complaints I hear from my brothers of knowing their place… I would think you all kings. Funny that, given your mothers.”
Guilhem’s eyes dropped to the floor. “I mean more his age, than who his mother is.”
“So you say,” Geoffrey replied. “But you think I would let him get by? That was the point to all of this. He learns some today. And he will learn more in the future.”
Guilhem nodded. “Of course, I should not have doubted you.”
Geoffrey smiled. “How has your reunion with the duchess been?”
Guilhem shrugged. “She thinks much of herself now, given her success. And you do little to change that.”
Geoffrey pointed to himself. “Am I to? You did not wish me coming down on her.”
“I did not wish you to stop her,” Guilhem said. “But perhaps reprimand her? She oversteps her bounds.”
A grin formed on Geoffrey’s lips. “Knowing her place, you say?”
Guilhem rolled his eyes. “You heard her. She put herself at risk, leading her levy. I think she should not be, given our child is but a babe.”
“Well, should something happen, young Simon has you,” Geoffrey said. “And your levy to protect him.”
“I am no mother,” Guilhem replied.
Geoffrey chuckled. “Do not worry yourself, brother. Few doubt your martial capabilities. I do not have you as the marshal of Aquitaine for nothing.”
“Well, now that you do mention my martial… expertise,” Guilhem began, “I wished to offer my services to you in another fashion.”
“Commanding men on the field?” Geoffrey asked.
“I would not say no to that,” Guilhem said. “But what I was going to suggest is lending my services to train your sons, especially the young Geoffrey. I think he could do well with a martial focus to his studies.”
“As my eldest son had?” Geoffrey asked.
“Tragic as that was, your experience, often at war, surely shows the value,” Guilhem noted. “Regardless of your preparations, he will be challenged. And he must be prepared to fight.”
Geoffrey rapped his fingers on the table. He had similar thoughts independently of his brother. Among his council, the prince had good men to learn from, even if Geoffrey had to make certain those lessons were heavily scrutinized.
But unlike with the prince’s other instructors, Geoffrey knew a choice of Guilhem was more than a simple trust issue. He had competition for the role.
Foulquesson, despite his illness, would likely wonder why he was not considered or outrightly given the chance to tutor his nephew.
“You have a point,” Geoffrey noted. “He may well need to know these things. And I would do well to find him a teacher.”
“You… do not… wish for me?” Guilhem asked. “I am his uncle, am I not? And your marshal?”
“You are both,” Geoffrey replied. “But he has another uncle who is quite skilled in the ways of combat… and among my most important lords.”
“Foulquesson,” Guilhem said. “You choose him over me?”
“No, I wish to choose neither of you, because I value both of you equally,” Geoffrey said. “It would be unfair of me to choose one of my beloved brothers over the others. I shall have Alias search for suitable tutors.”
“I see,” Guilhem said. “I am… disappointed to hear of it.”
“Don’t be,” Geoffrey replied. “You are his uncle. He will still look to you at times. And you have experiences as marshal which can guide him. I would expect you to do so.”
“Of course brother,” Guilhem said. “I would not have it any other way.”
….
Geoffrey learned the next day that he was a new uncle to a boy, whom Esclarmonde de Cholet had already wished to name Bouchard. She, apparently was thrilled over becoming a mother, as at her age, it was considered unlikely.
He heard all this second hand, of course. Given that he had worked to make certain his youngest brother took the proper blame for this bastard, Geoffrey had as little to do with that birth as possible.
Instead, he sat by himself in his chamber, drinking alone and reflecting. Reflecting on days long past, friendships lost… betrayals that should be buried, but remained stubbornly ever present in his mind.
A knock on the door. His eyes moved to it, with it opening to reveal a girl in the form of his daughter, Aines.
“Father,” she said as she bowed. “Mother wishes to know if you would be supping with your councilors again tonight.”
Geoffrey took a sip of his drink. He had not eaten with Marguerite since the day at court. It was odd, since the lord normally ate with his wife and children. But Geoffrey claimed meetings with his council, permitted the others to eat, and then would take his meal after.
It was rather naked in its intent. Though the reason for it was less obvious, since there was no recent strife between the two.
Nothing recent, Geoffrey thought. Nothing recent.
“I am uncertain,” he told his daughter. “There has been much to do lately.”
“It is not the same without you father,” Aines said. “Supper has been much quieter. Sullen.”
Good practice then, he thought. For it shall be that way soon enough.
“I am sorry to sadden you, my dear,” Geoffrey said. “It is not my intent for my children to suffer as a result of my actions.”
Aines walked over to him, coming to the small table he sat at. “Mother is worried. Does something trouble you father?”
Geoffrey took a drink. “She sends you to find that out?”
“She sent me to see if you would be coming tonight,” Aines said. “But… it is unlike you. That is all.”
He had his doubts that his daughter of nearly 11 years would be so perceptive. No, this was Marguerite.
But… unlike Beatritz, Aines was actually his daughter. That he was certain of. She actually reminded him quite a bit of his sister Agnes… or how he remembered her when she was young. So he would not come down hard on her.
“You are sweet to care,” Geoffrey said. “I shall see if council business concludes at a more… reasonable time today.”
He motioned for her to come close, and he kissed her forehead. To his surprise, she gave him a tight squeeze. After all, he was not close with her… or any of his children, really. As had long been the case.
Always chasing after something, he thought, as I did with Foulques. Why did I name him that?
He poured himself another drink after Aines left and then he remembered.
Because before I’d have named him… after him… Geoffrey thought. Before he betrayed me.
Geoffrey eased back in his chair and let the warmth of his drink wash over him. He was frustrated, angry… and had been for days. But he resisted releasing it, for he had not found a deserving outlet. So perhaps he could drink himself into a stupor.
Another knock on the door. This one more urgent than Aines before. And it was not a child this time - it was Guilhem, a look of worry on his face.
“Brother, come to join me for a drink?” Geoffrey asked. “You look as though you need it.”
“I bring bad news,” Guilhem said. “Unexpected to be honest.”
“Who is not respecting their place today?” Geoffrey asked. “Charles? Our sister? Your wife?”
“The Duke of Orleans,” Guilhem replied.
Geoffrey’s brow arched. “What has the Duke of Orleans done? Has he insulted us?”
“No, he has attacked us,” Guilhem said.
Geoffrey’s eyes widened. “An attack? What form of attack?”
“One thousand men from Orleans and Berry have assaulted the men we had gathered near Souvigny,” Guilhem said. “An act of war and Count Roger sends word they prepare to lay siege to his keep in Bourbon.”
Geoffrey could scarcely believe his ears. “Berry? Our cousin? Is he mad?”
“That is what they say,” Guilhem noted.
Another knock on the door. This time it was Alias and Adhemar, both trying to barge into Geoffrey’s chamber at once.
“It is my duty, I am chancellor!” Adhemar said.
“I heard the news, and as steward, it is a matter for me to inform him,” Alias said.
“Enough!” Geoffrey shouted. “What is going on? What is this matter, Alias?”
Alias smirked at Adhemar before looking to Geoffrey once more. “Duke Foulques of Orleans has informed us of his demands that we surrender your keep in Angouleme to his landless brother… and says he will go to war to get it.”
“On what grounds?” Guilhem asked.
“His grandfather was the lord of Angouleme… before our cousin, Alberic, stripped it from him three decades ago in war,” Adhemar said. “Well, your cousin, my uncle.”
“This seems like madness. Does he act with the assistance of Henri?” Geoffrey asked. “And the whole Frankish kingdom?”
“No,” Adhemar said. “He is allied with your cousin, Gilles, in Berry. And they already coordinate moves against you. We received word from Count Roger in Bourbon…”
“Under siege, correct?” Geoffrey asked. Adhemar nodded. “Guilhem informed me of that.”
“I do not understand this action,” Alias admitted. “Even combined with the forces of Berry, we can muster a far greater force than Orleans can.”
“Maybe they think Henri will come to their aid, eventually,” Guilhem speculated.
“While at war with Alphonse and Arnulf?” Adhemar scoffed. “Never. He is likely furious they divert their own resources to this conflict.”
Geoffrey stroked his chin in thought. He remembered his sister Bella mentioned Orleans had attempted to force himself upon her, only to be beaten by Henri as a response. Perhaps this lack of cohesion was the result of that.
“We should watch for Simon,” Geoffrey said. “My other cousin. While he has no love of Gilles, I am uncertain his affinity with Orleans. Perhaps they sought a grand alliance to resist me.”
“There have been no rumblings of that,” Adhemar replied. “But we shall remain vigilant.”
Geoffrey rapped his fingers on his table. Then he picked up his wine and turned away from his councilors, taking a sip of his drink.
“He thinks me weak,” Geoffrey said. “We clearly have not done enough to remind these lords that Aquitaine can force them to a knee if we choose.”
“Then we shall make an example of them,” Guilhem said.
“Adhemar, summon my brother in Brittany,” Geoffrey said. “See if he is well enough to take part. Herve in Charolais should already be aware, given how close he is to Bourbon.”
“What of me brother?” Guilhem asked. “I will gladly ride to take command of the forces.”
“No,” Geoffrey said. “I wish you here, as has been custom. My council must be on hand to aid Marguerite as she oversees the kingdom in my absence.”
“Your absence?” Alias asked. “You surely are not going to lead the army again! Geoffrey… my king… you fight your illness well, but campaign will only tax you further.”
“They wish to test me,” Geoffrey said. “Josselin was not enough. So I shall personally show them that I am not finished yet.”
“As you wish, brother,” Guilhem said. “I shall begin the preparations with you.”
“And I shall send word to Foulquesson and Lord Herve,” Adhemar said.
Adhemar bowed and left the room. But Alias did not depart, and asked if he might have a word with Geoffrey. The king obliged, telling Guilhem he would summon him when this conversation was done.
“Why?” Alias demanded. “Why are you putting yourself in harm’s way, again?”
“It is as I said,” Geoffrey replied. “I think this will help restore the fear we should inspire. If these fools attack us with a third of our number, then we clearly do not have the presence we should.”
“Our forces razing Orleans and Berry will do that sufficiently,” Alias said. “You need not be there.”
“There is… one other factor,” Geoffrey conceded. “My cousin, Gilles.”
“What of him?” Alias said.
“He has long insulted my family,” Geoffrey said. “His actions disgraced my sister for a time - something I have never forgotten. My father did not either - he long sought his vengeance upon him. Adhemar has even spoken about how he hoped to secure claim over Berry toward the end of his life. I may not be able to take Berry from him directly… but I can inflict the humiliating defeat on him my father never did.”
Alias shook his head. “You endanger your life… for some petty competition with a man over a decade dead, who you have long since eclipsed!”
“I do not expect you to understand,” Geoffrey said. “But you wanted the truth… and now you have it.”
“There is more to this,” Alias said. “I know it.”
“Perhaps there is,” Geoffrey admitted. “Regardless, I shall go. And I will need you to take up your role - more importantly than ever, since I need to see how the queen handles the council… and how much favor she bestows upon Adhemar.”
“A concern,” Alias admitted.
“I have advised Agnes against it,” Geoffrey said. “But you will have an easier time swaying the queen than she will. Do not push too hard, of course, but work to convince her you are the better man to listen to - as in, do not do what you did here with Adhemar before.”
Alias lowered his head. “My apologies for that.”
“Do not apologize,” Geoffrey said. “Do better. I do not need to remind you what is at stake.”
“You need not worry on that,” Alias said. “You can trust me to handle these matters.”
“Trust… yes,” Geoffrey said.
Alias eyed him. “You… lack trust? In me?”
Geoffrey shook his head. “No… I have trust in you. It’s nothing.”
“Are we to do this again?” Alias asked.
Geoffrey glared at him for a moment before looking away for a bit. Then he returned his gaze to the Count of Perigord. “You are not the first person I trusted, you know. And my belief was misplaced.”
Alias sat down again, across from him. “Aubry Karling. His death haunts you.”
“It does not haunt me,” Geoffrey said. “That he is dead is simply a reminder of mistakes made, pain suffered… and debts not paid.”
“What debt is there to pay?” Alias asked. “You forged a kingdom, and are respected and feared by even the German Kaiser. He died in obscurity after being cast out by some Lombard merchant. I can think of not greater symbol of the rise in fortunes you brought your house… and the ruin he inflicted upon the remains of his.”
Geoffrey’s fingers went to his temple. “It is not that. Success… I dreamt of success even then. And he was to share in it with me.”
The king took his cup and downed its contents before pouring himself some more.
“I trusted him,” Geoffrey said, followed with a sigh. “Before you, it was him. We were inseparable. He was to be my right hand when I inherited Anjou. I would have given him a fief to govern. But then… then he threw it all away. He threw our friendship away.”
Geoffrey took another long drink before standing from his chair and pacing the room. “I had seen him look at women. My sister, especially. But it was to be expected I thought… he was a man and at his age. I was no better, either. It was the way of things.”
A shake of the head came next from the king. “But then he laid with Marguerite. Any other woman in the duchy and I could have forgiven him. Even had it been Agnes! But not my wife. Not the woman I had just married. The insult, the foolishness… the brazenness of it all. No, there could be no coming back from that.”
“Given your father would not have taken kindly to it, I’m certain you could have had him killed,” Alias replied. Geoffrey nodded.
“Probably both of them,” Geoffrey said. “I have heard… my father did consider doing that. He would have found another bride for me… perhaps Ness. Perhaps Philippe’s daughter Princess Adalmode. I do not know… and honestly I do not care. I could not bring myself to that anyway. I preferred to shun them all… Aubry, Marguerite, my father… I only laid with Marguerite long enough to conceive my son Foulques because I had to prove myself capable. Ironic, since I have had little problem since.”
Alias shook his head. “It is a crime, what you suffered. I am glad he is dead.”
“And yet it brings me no solace,” Geoffrey admitted. “So he is dead. His memory lives on. His bastard son lives in my keeps, his bastard daughter masquerades as my own, married to my brother, and I am forced to protect her as if she were my own. And my wife… the less said of her the better.”
“You think she still cared for him?” Alias asked.
“She will mourn him,” Geoffrey said. “I could see it on her face.”
“And will you do something about it?” Alias asked.
Geoffrey lowered his head. “I wish to. When I was younger… I would have demanded she stop. I would have taken from her as well to make certain if she did… so she would suffer. To make her feel the pain I do… for that betrayal.”
“But now?” Alias asked.
Geoffrey sighed. “Now… Now I feel it pointless. To have her hate me, for what? It is as I said… he is nothing. He should be nothing. And if I treat him as more, then he has won.”
Alias met Geoffrey’s gaze. “And so you leave? Go on campaign and leave her to her business, and the kingdom with it?”
“I go to fight a war in protection of that kingdom,” Geoffrey said. “Nothing more, nothing less.”
“It seems as you do as you once did,” Alias said. “It may not be necessary. Times have changed.”
“They have,” Geoffrey said. “I am not a young whelp who has to entrench himself in Aquitaine… I am a dying king, who must entrench his son instead. Inflicting a severe defeat on yet another overambitious cousin… it will do nicely.”
“Why must you do this to yourself?” Alias asked.
“Because I can see no other way,” Geoffrey said. “So I ask of you, and trust in you, as I always have, to safeguard my kingdom, come what may.”
Alias frowned and shook his head, not responding at first. Eventually, he replied: “You know I shall not let you down.”
“Good,” Geoffrey said. “Not that I had any doubt. You are not him. Even if I sometimes have to remind myself of that fact… through no fault of your own.”
The king sat back down. “Now then, I have another two matters to attend to. Or rather, I have need of you to attend to. It has come to my attention that my son needs a proper martial tutor… and I do not wish to have my brothers fight for that honor. So I need you to find someone who will fit that role.”
“Should not be too hard,” Alias noted. “There are plenty who would jump at the opportunity to serve here. And the chance to gain favor with a future king. What is the second matter?”
“Talking down my half-brother,” Geoffrey said. “You always seem capable of reaching Guilhem… in ways I cannot.”
Alias eyes widened. “I uh… well it will be done to the best of my abilities.”
Geoffrey smirked. “Thank you.”
He stood up. “Now then, I have a war to plan properly. Send for Guilhem to meet me in the strategy hall.”
Geoffrey took a few steps then added: “Oh... I will be rather… busy with that tonight. So… please inform the queen that I shall be likely unable to sup with her tonight. My apologies, of course, to her, my children, and the duchess, as I’m afraid I shall keep her husband from her another night.”
He saw Alias’ frown, but Geoffrey said nothing. His mind was made up. To battle he would go, to achieve what his father had not, and if he left his troubles behind in the process, so be it.
They would have to start growing used to it anyway.
- 1
