The Graaf Chronicles - Chapter Three - Johann Graaf, king
Saturday 22nd of July, 2000
New Year's Eve 1409-1410
The carriage and its fifty guards had arrived in midmorning. No fanfare announced the arrival of Lodewijk III, monarch of Hainaut. Unlike his father, he had tried salvaging whatever he could from the relations with Holland. But ultimately it had been too late.
Snow blanketed the countryside around Amsterdam, a white sheet hiding the remains of the recent fighting. There had been no consensus as to who should take the empty throne of Holland. Only a few hundred had perished and a clear victor had emerged.
Lodewijk III, monarch of Hainaut had come to Amsterdam to sign a humiliating treaty, ending the union between the Kingdom of Holland and his own. And to add insult to injury, the man who was waiting for his signature was no more than an upstart merchant, who had managed to act faster than the others who had wished Holland's throne.
Johann Graaf, or as he was called nowadays, Arnolf II smiled amidst his deep furs as the young man walked the long distance from the entrance of the castle hall to his throne. Making the ruler of Mons kneel would have been such a pleasure, but circumstances and etiquette declared that the other monarch be treated as an equal.
"We welcome you to Amsterdam, Lodewijk, King of Hainaut and Duke of Mons. It pleases our royal person greatly that contrary to your father you have decided to come visit our great city." Arnolf's royal crier went on and on, with a speech which had taken the royal advisors almost a week to write. Finally he finished, "...documents have been prepared for your signature. After the signing of the secession between the Kingdom of Holland and the Kingdom of Hainaut, our wise ruler, Arnolf II, King of Holland, Duke of Amsterdam and Baron of Zeeland wishes to invite you to a hunt, a gesture aimed at mending the strained relations between our kingdoms."
Spring 1415
"Do you, Johanna Graaf, of the house of Arnolf, Princess of Holland wish to marry Prince Eber of Friesland?"
The priest was an overly fat man, easily twice the size of the young woman.
"I do," she said in a soft voice.
---
"You may kiss the bride." The priest finally finished after a long sermon on the virtues of marriage. Nearly all the nobility of the two countries had gathered for this joining of their royal houses. King Arnolf positively beamed with pride. Not only had he managed to find a convenient marriage for his only daughter, it was a marriage from love, and one of the first diplomatic overtures which started cementing his house's position as the youngest royal house in Europe.
Fryske frijheid, his Frieslander counterpart, a fat man, already over sixty years of age, also couldn't hide a smile. He had managed to ally his country to one of the richest states of Europe, and a country twice the size of his own. A relationship which could be but beneficial for him and his small country.
The newlyweds led the dances, gracefully gliding across the meadow in which the wedding had been held. Behind them, in the valley, carts pulled by sturdy oxen approached, hauling the King's best ale for the ensuing feast.
---
April 1417
"
I will never forget.
L. "
Such were the words scribbled on the small piece of parchment. Count Louis Graaf, spymaster of Holland for the last five years turned the offending paper in his hands before closing a fist around it.
"You say this was in the bottle of wine my uncle had?"
"Yes my lord." The chamberlain couldn't help but cower against the wall, trying desperately to hide from the count's fury.
"Why wasn't the wine tasted before-"
The chamberlain cut him off hoping to gain respite from the relentless questions.
"The taster died just a few hours after our beloved king my lord. It was a slow acting poison. We couldn't have known!" He lifted his hands pleadingly towards the spymaster.
During his tenure, Louis Graaf had never given the impression of a kind man, nor was he one known for leniency.
"You should have done your job right, chamberlain." He spat at the man's feet. "Hang him in the morning."
Summer 1420
The bells had been ringing for much of the morning, announcing the second death of a ruler of Holland in three years. The slow funeral procession would leave two or three days later, carrying the aged body of the dead king back to his home in Friesland.
Fryske Frijheid had taken on the mantle of King of Holland only reluctantly. He had been an old man, ready for death, not for the challenge of ruling two kingdoms simultaneously. Yet even in age he had been wise, and he split his time between his two kingdoms. Unfortunately in his old age, his mind gave up on him and it was the consequences of a spring night spent on the castle parapets in nothing more than his undergarments that took the monarch to his grave.
Holland was in turmoil and nobody knew what would happen next. Prince Eber, soon to be crowned King of Friesland had already stated that he did not wish the throne of Holland, which he considered cursed. What the future could bring, no one yet knew.
