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Armchair General w/ cupholder
May 14, 2002
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Late Winter of, 1188 A.D, the writings of Geoffrey Angevin...
The old and great days of fighting pagans and converting wicked it seemed had passed and now entered a new age of Kings and their Empires. Truly, across Europe over the last decades it was none other than my father whom had with my mother carved out an Empire from what there was ne're before. It was he who fought and vanquished the Welsh brigands, the Irish barbarians, made the lands more powerful and prosperous than ever in years before. And so as I write this from the torch lit halls of my great fortress at York I come to the catharsis - the realization, moreso. My father is a great King, a powerful man, and the most respected warrior perhaps in all of Christendom - yet I must confess in earnesty and truth that I do hate him.

It had been King Louis VII of France whom had been pious and peaceful, yet my father had ensured support to rebellions in Tolouse. And when Louis found an ally in the churchman Thomas Beckett, my father had him cut down for his defiance all the same. Whilest those whom see my father as a saint and revere him for his bloody conquests defend him in this regard I know the man well and can attest it was he whom might have struck down the churchman himself in that regard. And still Louis VII's heir Phillippe Capet was no less of a fighter - and he himself challenged my father again and again.

It had been different in those times, and we were a family united, powerful and growing more by the day. Yet my father had changed with power which had corrupted him beyond measure I believe.


In his disdain for my mother whom I can remember when he was more man than monster he had once loved dearly as he loved his children, and in his disdain for her most favoured son my elder brother Richard, my father tried to strip Richard of his title Duke of Bordeaux and when I told my father of my own disapprovals he had me exiled here to the north, in a castle no better than a monastery. I wonder perhaps if I disagree again might I face the same fate of Beckett, his son or not?

It seemed the realm was on the verge of a great war. My mother, Eleanore of Aquitaine was also sent into exile by my father, although I know not where. My brother the proud and haughty Richard raised a great army in the south of France and with the support of the King of France he threatened a great war which might destroy the terrible and bloody hold the man that my father had become held on all the kingdoms and his family. Even John, our youngest brother in Ireland whom was once our father's favourite now raised arms against him - it seemed King Henry would have yet his greatest war ever upon his hands, and that all of England, Ireland, France and Brittany would in one way or another be laid waste to.
Yet, God it seems works in mysterious ways. Until this day I had lost my faith... and yet now again it seems renewed, though I shame myself as to how this came to be. It was seemingly a sure sign from God, and left all of Christendom shocked as the news arrived.
My father, the King of England and ruler of Ireland, hammer of the Welsh and contender of all France...
My father whom had used people like pawns in a game of chess and tossed them aside, whom played grand games with the monarchs of Europe.
My father, who's soul had been damned and reaffirmed by churchmen the world over... the man I hated and despised now beyond reason, the man whom was responsible for my exile to this miserable place.
Yet the news...

... My father is now dead.

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The Angevin Empire on the Death of Henry II:


~ Music ~


"Requiem æternam dona eis, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis. Te decet hymnus Deus, in Sion, et tibi reddetur votum in Ierusalem. Exaudi orationem meam; ad te omnis caro veniet. Requiem æternam dona eis, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis..."

The Archbishop spoke in his hymn like voice, his words echoing within the near silent room as many heads were lowered in respect in the midst of this funeral for a King. And what a king this funeral was for, Henry II Angevin, unequalled by any Prince in Christendom. A warrior, a statesman, whom fought and crushed countless enemies without avail, even if those enemies were his own family. And now he was dead, a corpse, lying before much of that family.
Sitting foremost amidst the crowd was none other than Queen Eleanore, aged by years yet sharper within sound mind than ever before in her life. She was finally free of Henry, the man whom had imprisoned her in his castle in Northampton almost a decade before under the flimsy pretence of sending her into 'retirement'.


Remembering, Elearnore sneered at the word. Yet now after all these years, it was she whom was looking over he whom was now expired. She had won the game, and it was her Richard and not his John whom would rule. From being in a jail with no power or influence to having her pride and joy, her son Richard on the most powerful throne in the west, truly she was in a sense pleased, even if for the first time in years.

To her right was Richard, the next King of England and ruler of the realms. A well built man she had shaped him and moulded him in every way, obsessively over the years, to hate his father. Hate his power, hate his reign - and now it was Richard whom would take his place. And of course Richard was not without enemies or opposition - he had promised King Phillippe of France land and titles in exchange for his support against King Henry in this war, and now it was for naught. And there was the Duke of Tolouse, whom had claims within Richard's own lands in the south of France and would fight bloody wars to ensure them.

Apart from the south Richard had to contend with ensuring the totality of his father's most recent conquest, that of the title Duke of Brittany. The nobles there were hateful of the Angevins and would never foreget their old loyalities to the Penthievre family and their old Frankish ties. And of course, neither would the vengeful King Phillippe Capet.


Sitting across from the Dowager Queen and the new King was his two brothers, Geoffrey the newly made Archbishop and John, called Lackland by many for his youth in the succession line amongst other reasons. Geoffrey had always been most like his mother in the family - perhaps that was why Eleanore dismissed him so in favour of Richard. It was once discussed that Henry had planned to honour his second son with the title Duke of Brittany, he boasted, after he had conquered that land.

Yet Geoffrey was a schemer, a plotter, and Eleanore whispered into Richard's ear the same thing she did Henry when the old deceased King once trusted her, never to give such a scheming man an army. If Geoffrey were to maintain power in England, he would be in a respective non secular position where he might not harm the throne in her mind, but aid it. Staring at his mother with as much hate as his father it was no wonder the Prince Geoffrey hated her so, as she used him to help groom Richard's Kingship as any other tool.


Geoffrey had powerful friends of course in England, and even now within the church from his new position of power. And he knew this. Richard knew he would have to appease Geoffrey's position and his allies in England if he wished peace to remain there. And heaven forbid without children if Richard passed away, Geoffrey a churchman or not would be next in line for the throne... this meant that the worst option was still an option for each other, in both their minds. The blade had achieved as much within the Angevin family as any other means, speaking louder as his latin funeral oration went on, the Archbishop might have noted the hate that each family member seemed to bring to this funeral.

And then of course there was John, and whom could forget him. It was John whom Henry discussed as his chosen heir, John whom he approved of over Richard, John whom the old King had used against his wife the Queen. After she had driven a great war against King Henry and she had been imprisoned, John it seemed was losing popularity amongst his father's supporters. When John cooperated with Richard against Henry it proved all too much though, and now many whispered it was young John's fault that the King had died of this shock. Yet now what was John left with? A powerful Prince and Duke in Ireland was little of an accomplishment in his mind, and he craved the throne he was so often promised by the now dead King, his father. In his mind Richard had no right to the throne that their father wished he would never have.


When John was a boy he landed in Ireland and his father's authority pushed to have him comission great castles and raise armies to crushed hosts of Irish barbarians. Yet still the greater north of the island remained independant and hostile to English rule and John's power there. If he was to contend with his brothers for the throne, John knew he would have to gain dominant power in Ireland.

The Archbishop finished speaking slowly, knowing few even listened,
"Domine, Jesu Christe, Rex gloriæ, libera animas omnium fidelium defunctorum de pœnis inferni et de profundo lacu. Libera eas de ore leonis, ne absorbeat eas tartarus, ne cadant in obscurum; sed signifer sanctus Michæl repræsentet eas in lucem sanctam, quam olim Abrahæ promisisti et semini ejus...."

As he finished he crossed himself, the family following suit. The funeral was almost over, and soon the beginning of something new. The reign of Henry was over - and now the reign of Richard, long or short, had begun. And the King to be, Richard, knew that his future was entirely in the hands of his family of enemies whom now stood around him now. After the Archbishop had arisen to lead the funeral procession they stared at each other in quiet silence. It was the first time the entire family, all of them had been together in the same place well over a decade. There they all stood....
Contenders for power, a lifetime of being enemies. Now it was time for them to be a single unit to rule this Empire left over to them....
Many were fearful of the future.

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The Second Brother:



Castle Chinon in Anjou, March 23rd 1188 A.D...
The great walls of the impressive fortress loomed over the land as a tribute of the magnus and power that the iron fist of Henry which once reigned supreme over this land. Within the grand castle Richard sat in a chair, eating from a chicken bone as servants refilled his wine goblet. He had not broken fast yet that day after and was starved, and was glad to finally have a chance to eat. He had spent days dealing with delegations of various nobles from the north of France and the Occitian barons of the south whom he secured their continued friendship and loyalties - if all else went bad in England Richard knew he had friends he might count on, in the end, in his base of power - his control over his mother's lands in the south of France. Silently drinking from his wine goblet, Richard said nothing as his mother sat across the table and watched him.

"He's gone, Richard.... still I cannot believe it." She stared nostalgically into the air for a moment, "... and still I cannot believe it. Yet still the harm your father cause is long from corrected..." Her voice was crisp as her attitude, sharp like the edge of a blade.

Breathing in the newly crowned King did not look up, "He is dead, what harm could the man do now...?" He swallowed and smirked, "I am King now."

"Don't be foolish." His mother Eleanore's voice snapped like the venomous bite of a snake, "John is the living will and testament of your father. His desires against you personified into whom was once my loving child..." She turned as her voice grew indifferent to Henry's favourite, "... now decrepit and a false claimant. Do not underestimate your brother John... much of Ireland is at his whim and rule far more than your own. There are nobles and barons across England whom hate us and would step forth on the field for John as your father would have wished in his utter ignorance..."

Listening, Richard took another bite of bread and dipping it into the heated red wine, tasted it between his teeth as he looked at her and swallowed a lump of the delicious meal. He knew his mother had become hard and cold after so many years of embittered struggle against their father, yet he also knew her only interest was his well being and his rule's success.

Then, a voice sounded outside, "His eminence Geoffrey, Archbishop of York has arrived!"

"What?!" Richard exclaimed, looking to his mother whom herself held wide eyes of surprise.

"Is this your doing?" He looked to Eleanore. She walked to the window to see the small entourage entering the limits of the castle walls, her son's banners waiving in the air. Surely it was him.
Turning back to Richard she shook her head, "No, I know nothing of this." Then sighing, she walked away from the window.

The King stood from his meal and exclaimed, "Then what in hell is he doing here?" Spitting out the last bit bone from the chicken, he immediately walked across the room where his thick and expensive robe was, placing it on. Within a few moments the doors of the chambers burst open hitting the walls as they did so,


Prince Geoffrey,
Plotter and Schemer Extraordinaire

"My dear brother your majesty...!" The illusive man entered the room stopping before his mother Eleanore, "... And mother, what a pleasant surprise. I've heard Richard is going to make you a Duchess, eh?" With a smirk he walked on, Eleanore nodding back in an indifferent way to her second son. Richard stepped forth, yet before he spoke Eleanore immediately inquisited,
"Why are you here?"

Geoffrey chuckled with sarcasm, "Why mother, I am an honest man of the church now, with no secular motives or political means except God." His voice was wracked with bitter sarcasm, "I am just here to see my dear brother." His smirk continuing, the wily Geoffrey Angevin allowed himself a chair and raising his legs to the table in an un-churchman like way he sat there and continued, "So then, now that father is dead, it is about time that dear old Prince Geoffrey was given what he deserves?"

"What you deserve...." Richard's face began to turn read at his brother's impudence as he reached for his blade and stepped forth, "... Might be coming unto you soon enough, brother...!"

Looking at Richard the Prince placed his hand into his sash to take hold of his dagger - "So apt to follow in father's footsteps Richard. Mother, is he not like dad hm? Cutting down an Archbishop like the old man?" Tsking and shaking his head Geoffrey looked warily at Richard, his voice pompous and rude.
Archbishop or not, Geoffrey was always armed.

His mother raised her hand and catching both their attentions it stopped them, realizing his better sense for the moment.
She and spoke firmly, "And what is it you think you deserve, Geoffrey?"

Hearing this, the Prince leaned back in his chair and chuckled again, reaching for Richard's wine goblet he took a drink, "Why, how long has it been since I have awaited to be asked that question... you know that?"

"What do you want, Geoffrey?" Richard as a King was in no mood for games, even those of his brother. The Prince was silent only for a moment before stating what they all knew was obvious;
"Why, Brittany, of course."

Richard laughed it off vainly, "Never."

Standing from the chair and approaching Eleanore Geoffrey seemed to begin to lose his temper, "It is just as well that the church and north of England find their loyalties alongside father's chosen John, hm?"


Eleanore of Antiquaine
Dowager Queen of England & Chancellor

Eleanore snapped in retort, "You would betray us all for a Duchy?"

"I was to be Duke of Brittany, and we all know it well. Instead father disfavoured me in favour of that arrogant little swine John and sent me to become a monk in the north." With hate growing in his voice he turned to Richard, "For years I have been treated thus. Always Richard or John to be King, but never has anyone spoken of Geoffrey, and why nay?!"

There was silence in the room for a moment before the Prince spoke on, "Always poor Geoffrey the monk and Richard the heir, or John the heir. Even young brother William has been made Duke of Oxford, and what shall mother be, Duchess Lincoln, or Cumberland? It is time I collected what has been owed to me."

His voice was indeed grave, for the sarcastic and wordy man he was.

"If you deny me this right then I will do all I can to ensure the future of England lies in neither John nor you Richard... and you both know I have a chance of it. And John is so daft he'd assist me over you two, seeing as you have treated him over the years..." With those final words he turned to their mother he looked at him without care on the matter.

Geoffrey's voice then changed, "But if you agree, I shall offer my support to you in all your affairs in the north of England and in France, you know I have no love for Phillip Capet or his minions. And a promise of loyalty... reign if you want, as long as I am satisfied I shall follow - And I will support you in any measure against John you might take. God knows how England would fare under Prince John's rule."

Eleanore's eyes shifted from Geoffrey to Richard, whom was looking back at her. This was a very interesting proposition, and they both knew it well. An alliance with Geoffrey's supporters would ensure John was politically outmaneuvered, and there would be a strong Angevin presence in Brittany if the King of France ever attempted to take advantage of their family quarrels and disputes. Geoffrey's loyalty would ensure John would be able to only gather few enemies within England if John turned against Richard's rule in defiance.


Richard breathed in for a moment and turned back to his brother the sly Geoffrey, "... And what of John?"

"What of him?" Geoffrey asked without care, "Send him to fight the Irish. He lives there, doesn't he? Perhaps if we're all lucky one of those shirtless barbarians will club him into a pulp on the field."

Eleanore shook her head at the image, "Truly a holy man my husband chose to be Archbishop of York..." She voiced the sarcastic opinion with a tone of disgust.

Reaching for the King's last leg of chicken Prince Geoffrey nodded and taking a bite he spoke, "Well thank you mother. You're not all bad yourself." With a laugh he turned away from her, who herself shook her head at his insolence, used to it well by now.

The King then asked in a more serious tone, "Are you sure you will be able to manage the rebellious Countess de Penthievre and her brigand lords?" Richard asked. Geoffrey answered in a laudable voice, "I can handle mother, can I not?"

Eleanore cared not for her son's antics or improper ways. But she knew he held his own amount of power and support, especially in England's north and in the church. She watched her son Richard to see how he would react, and he himself seemed to be listening to his brother Geoffrey and watching him with a keen eye.

Then taking another bite he stood and walked past Eleanore and Richard as he spoke with his mouth full, "Think on it." and then without asking leave he promptly walked out the door.
Richard and his mother looked at each other and already knew that they had little choice but to agree. It was an offer they could not refuse.

And so within a week and a fortnight King Richard had send his approval to his brother Geoffrey and with three militias sailed north for Dublin, Ireland, and the court of his greatest family rival, into the domain of his brother Prince John.


Preparations for an Irish campaign
as the newly crown King sets sail
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An interesting character (a fine soldier but otherwise useless, let's see you do something with him) and an interesting time to start.


Are you still continuing with the China AAR?


Funny you should mention knives:

"Of course he has a knife, he always has a knife, we all have knives! It's 1183 and we're barbarians!"

I loved that play.
RGB said:

An interesting character (a fine soldier but otherwise useless, let's see you do something with him) and an interesting time to start.


Are you still continuing with the China AAR?


Funny you should mention knives:

"Of course he has a knife, he always has a knife, we all have knives! It's 1183 and we're barbarians!"

I loved that play.

China AAR had the files on my old laptop, which is in repair :( Until I can access the hard drive, it is on a temporary hiatus.

Heheheh I saw the Lion in Winter over a year ago, but used their personalities for the inspiration of some of the characters in this storyline. Maybe Richard will have a host of kids eh? Wouldn't that be interesting.

Or we will see king Geoffrey the nasty sarcastic bastard? I always wanted to have some story of this era from Geoffrey's point of view and that's why he got to introduce the AAR in the first post :cool:

Who knows with Crusader Kings eh, what it will throw at us. But I hope to maintain the power and expand that of the Angevin Empire :D
jeffg006 said:
Maybe Richard will have a host of kids eh? Wouldn't that be interesting.

Close his eyes and think of England, that kind of thing?
Shades of the Lion in Winter.

What a lovely, happy, dysfunctional family the Angevins were.

A most excellent beginning, and some really fine pictures there.
So far so good. Will this Richard go crusading, I wonder, and if he does will he meet with better results? As for producing heirs, I suggest you get the King drunk first and then send him to do his royal duty. ;)
The Old Rival



Outside Prince John's Castle near Dublin, March July 3rd 1188 A.D...
The warm winds of the summer air blew past the rows upon rows of men standing ready before the walls of the fortress which loomed over the distant lands. It was his palace, his seat of power. His center of administration... and why the hell was Richard coming to invade it?

Sitting on his steed outside the city the Prince's eyebrow. The emissary he had recieved some weeks before confirmed that the King was coming to Ireland with an army. Was it to kill him? The terrible thought had indeed crossed John's mind on more than one occasion. Now that their father was gone and could not protect him from their plotting mother's interest, of which he knew his eldest brother had always been a pawn. Richard had always resented the fact that Father loved me best... Shaking his head John looked to the sky where a few clouds were forming, and then, to the east. He knew soon his eldest brother would be here, and at least John would be ready. With his army raised.
Yet Richard was no fool...

The peaceful banners followed by the King's own raised over the hills, and riding forth with his highest barons to meet the Prince he was followed by a great amassing of men at arms and even cavaliers from the southern shires of England. John turned to his own nobles and nodding, they raised their helms and lowered their weapons, following him forth to meet the King.

"Brother," Richard the King spoke with a gruff but menacing voice, "Long has it been since we have seen each other." His horse turning left and then right, the King sat high and proud on his horse, Henry's old battle banners gleaming anew on his chain mail vest. Prince John shook his head,
"- Too long. What brings you here, surely Geoffrey has sent his ill tidings your way. He has long abandoned my side..." The Prince was embittered as Richard said nothing in reply. John then smirked, "You can have him. I'd as soon cut him down where he stood if he dared come here."


John "Lackland",
Prince of England & Duke of Meath

The King ignored this, and riding forth John rode aside his brother for a moment, watching Richard cautiously. The rest of the nobles watched in silence on the field.

Removing his battle helm the King looked to the west, "You hold claims over Galway, do you not, John?"

The Prince looked at him with a queer eye, "That is my own affair, a title yet unclaimed. There is a delicate peace in this land that is undisturbed as of yet..."

Richard interrupted him, "Well it shall be interrupted. I hereby denounce their wronging of your claim, and I assert that tyrant of Connacht's title there forefeit unless given unto you."

John frowned, "This will mean nothing short of war with Conchobar O'Connor."


"Open your eyes brother, what is around you? My army, your army. We we going to make it so..."

John looked to the King with suspicious eyes. What was this...? Richard had never before supported him.
"... What's your game here Richard?" John had a slow and careful voice as he eyed Richard over. The King turned and answered gruffly,

"I trust you as much as I trust Geoffrey, John. But I know you want land, and so does he. So I will give it to you and hope it stops you two from tearing my kingdoms apart..." Richard paused then at his young brother's scornful look.

Your kingdoms were almost mine, the Prince thought bitterly. Richard knew what he was thinking, but neither of them said it. John then turned and looked west,

"You are using me... mother is using you of course. Yet we all benefit in some way or another.
Come then, let us ride, sire." The Prince spoke sarcastically as he kicked his steed and prepared his men for the march to Connacht.


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The Irish Campaign:



Connacht, Midsummer of 1188 A.D....
"Charge forward! Give the English no mercy!!" The blared battlecries of Conchobar O'Connor, Prince of Connacht and an heir in his own right to Kingship over the field of blood that morning. The lines of Englishmen were pushing forward still, their heavy shields and long swords were cutting clean through the light leather armours the Irishmen favoured, yet still the Irish had their battle spirit, and Conchobar prayed in his heart it would save the day for them.

His cousin Aed lead yet another regiment forth against the devilish English King's men at arms, and there was great slaughter on the field as arrows were let fly into the Irish ranks and the stampeding of cavalry charged, of which they had little. Worse yet, they had fewer men, and reinforcements from Galway nor Tir Connail had arrived yet...


The morning wore on and the battle raged into a bloodlust as the Irish were routed on a cavalry charge lead by the Prince himself. Many of the Irish fled, knowing there was little left to accomplish in wake of their defeat, and knew there was at least for now some safety in the north.

The first battle was nothing short of a slaughter as soon as it was finished, with Prince John overrunning the forces of the warrior Aed and his small host of perhaps seven hundred or less men. It was a small force in comparison to the heavily armed cavalry and men at arms the English King had brought from that land.


And so within the following weeks the fearful Irish Prince Conchobar of Connacht himself fled north as his cousin fell in battle to the forces of the English invaders, and making his way to Galway he found offers of support from his loyal clans and tribes there. He knew he had many loyal followers and there were those whom detested the English and Norman invaders above all else...

The King and Prince John remained in the deep south of Conchobar's realms razing the villages and opposing clans there, as well as establishing guards in the local ruling boroughs attacking the walled towns in the hills and forts which sometimes dotted the very wild region.

Yet the English King & Prince would have planned to march north as soon as possible upon the falling of these lands to their domination, yet it was the plotting and clever diplomacy of the Irish Prince Conchobar whom ensured a battle early in September neither Richard nor his brother Prince John would not soon forget.


The Irish armies came with fierce surprise from the north and west, and it was the Prince whom lead nearly the entirity of the cavaliers against the first oncoming northern force and was taken by surprise by the merciless onslaught of the second force. The King sat from his own steed worried, and watching his infantrymen fall back to these wild and savage Irishmen, he lead his own remaining horsemen forward to join what had become a bloody fray.

The lines of men were fighting fiercely, heavily clad Englishmen pushing and hacking at the hordes of Irish warriors whom with their deadly sharpened blades thrusted them forth into any crevasses or openings on the invader's bodies. It was a fierce struggle, many of these warriors having been burned out of their lands in the south and with literally nothing else to lose, they hurled themselves with ferocity at the English men at arms.

Seeing men being pulled of their horses and cut into pieces, hacked down by the Irish gallowglass warriors Prince John cried out to his men, "Retreat, fall back! In the name of God, fall back!"


Richard gave differing commands. The problems therein caused this terrible onslaught to continue, until John himself left the field with a train of wounded horsemen following, while it was Richard whom was left alone of the commanders to fight the Irish under Conchobar, and fight to the last he did.
As the evening sun rose in the sky over hundreds of bloodied corpses, all men standing knew whom held the day of victory in this battle which would decide the future of the land of Connacht...


And now Richard looks good and brave and John looks like he fled the field. John may have won a title but is now actually farther from the crown than before.

And those Irish are certainly to be respected, brave fighters.
RGB said:
And now Richard looks good and brave and John looks like he fled the field. John may have won a title but is now actually farther from the crown than before.

And those Irish are certainly to be respected, brave fighters.

The battle was pretty nuts. The Irish attacked from two provinces, and nearly defeated the armies. Nigel de Mowbray, Prince John, and some other dude fled the field facing only Conchobar and 600 men by that point. Richard alone held the field and after a long, hard battle in which for a few seconds Conchobar himself seemed to with superhuman powers fight the entire army (1 man :eek: ) he finally gave in and fled, and succumbed to handing over the titles :D
The Brotherly Vendetta:



Carlisle, October of 1188 A.D....
An old story goes that in the Spring and Summer of 1075, the old Anglo-Saxon Earls of Norfolk and Hereford were conspiring to seize England for themselves, and they enticed Waltheof to join in. He quickly changed his mind, and reconciled with the King, who treated the matter lightly, but at Christmas 1075, Waltheof was brought to trial, his wife, the King's niece, being a witness against him herself. Truly with his treacherous guilt establish, Waltheof was found guilty and duely beheaded on St. Giles's Hill in May, 1076.
Perhaps this treachery ran in the blood. It was his descendant whom had grown into a behemoth of a man, one Sir David Huntingdon, a powerful warrior and proud man of the north indeed. He presided over his own small council of nobles and barons, even old English theigns whom across the north saw him as master.
It was with this man that Geoffrey Angevin, Prince of England & Archbishop of York decided he would plot with in vengeance against his brother and mother.

For months he had awaited again in his monastery, the very word made him cringe, the place their father had exiled him to. They had promised him Brittany, and he thought that the prospect of Arthur de Penthievre rising to power in that region in absence of a Duke would be convincing enough.
But no, not Richard. He despised me even too much to trust me with that. He knew that there were many English barons, especially in the north, whom wanted greater independence, and none stood a greater and closer change of departing from the English Kingdom than that of Northumberland...


Geoffrey Angevin,
a powerful man indeed within the north of England

Prince Geoffrey was indeed bitter, and if Richard and his mother would not take him seriously, he would have to else wise prove to them of the threat that he could be. And would be.

As the Autumn drew to an early and cool winter the Archbishop-Prince Geoffrey Angevin rode north with a small entourage north past Durham to the realm of Sir David, Earl of Huntingdon, whom was last in line before his realm passed into the hands of the King of Scotland. Within some hours Geoffrey had convinced the man that Richard held little power, and with his Irish and French affairs to stop the ceding of the county of Northumberland to independance before it moved to Scottish inheritance. He promised David that this would not only grant him sizeable powers in the north with his own private realm, but also it would ensure many English nobles would watch with wary eyes to see how the King dealt with the situation.

And most of all, Geoffrey assured the powerful northern Earl that he would not lift a finger to aid the King against him, and he would ensure that the Church acted in the same manner...

In Dublin, Richard and John stood on the final day before the King's departure to France. The Prince shook his head and then banged his fist hard upon the oak table before them,
"I care not what we have earned through the blood of my own men in this war, I will not rot away here in Ireland...!"

Richard turned around and looked upon his brother harshly, "Such greed... I have given you Galway, and forget we might both be upon that field if I had not ended your moronic charge into the Irishmen's trap... you almost lost the field." He spat with disgust. John lowered his head, but his face grew nearly red with anger as he then slowly looked up,


"Vexin and Arques..." John spoke what he desired. Richard's eyes narrowed as the Prince then added,
".. and Normandy. Duke of Normandy. It is the least I deserve..."

Richard hardly found the irony in how much John sounded like that vile scum Geoffrey. The King was in no way convinced and told John so, "That is more than you could ever have brother and you know well. Normandy will go to my son when he is born..."

John stood and was about to push forth his threats when Richard spoke firmly, "Arques and Vexin... are a possibility. On the condition, of course, that you promise to support me against Geoffrey if ever I require it, or in France." Richard spoke warily. This was a gamble and he knew it, he could trust John less than he could trust his other siblings, yet at least it was John of all of them whom was most easily controlled. This Elearnore had reminded Richard to no end over the years...


It was then that an emissary arrived with a sealed letter of dire importance. Indeed Geoffrey's plotting had been more than successful in England and now it was bearing it's deadly fruits.
Before his brother's eyes Richard, the King of England unrolled it and reading it over his eyes grew wide. He paused for a moment before he then handed the letter to the curious Prince John whom took it and looked it over.
They both knew well whom was behind this all...


Uh oh.... this pesky Northumberland Earl has brought up two dangerous words. Realm Duress.

:wacko: Looks like the Angevins are in for quite a ride.
Gotta love Realm Duress.

And John...Arques and Vexin are more than he deserves, really, but Geoffery must be dealt with first.

And this is some quick updating....
Bah, all this hatred for John.

stnylan said:
Bah, all this hatred for John.


It's the easy thing to do.

Plus he really was a bit goofy in the play, remember? Vexin AND Arques my foot.
You have to admit John has a lot of gall demanding those titles when he couldn't even win his own land in Ireland. Unless a brother or two should die off England promises to remain turbulent.
John's an idiot. If he plays his cards right he might well become master of Ireland and use that to propel himself back into power in England, but no...he has to whine and complain about Normandy instead.

And that after almost getting his brother killed through cowardice.