The Lady of York does not learn and Eadward appears to know that. I too get the feeling deep down he is enjoying toying with her. He doesn't care if he makes an enemy of her as long as he gets his lesson across as to who is ad will be king.
The Heavy Crown [Book the Third on the House of Wessex]
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Eadward's dealing with the previous Lady of York color the situation with this one. Cyn is insolent because inherited young and ultimately missed out on learning how dangerous Eadward truly is. And she inherited young because... Eadward dealt with her mother... which she likely hears whispers about, coloring her actions further.
I laughed, mainly because it's her naivete on display. Of course not - Eadward hates his nephew - irrationally I might add. In fact, had Eadweald shown a quarter of the insolence Cyn has, he'd already be dead.
While she could get knocked up while in an actual dungeon, her husband I doubt her husband would stand that type of confinement. And Eadward is somewhat limited in the actions he can take with her, so long as she is married to the crown prince. She'll be watched and kept around until she gets pregnant.
But her concern should be that - if Eadward grows tired of her and she has no child, that she could be replaced. In real life, they'd probably find some long-lost cousin they share to claim consanguinity, but in this game, he'll just remove her the way he took out her mother.
I laughed, mainly because it's her naivete on display. Of course not - Eadward hates his nephew - irrationally I might add. In fact, had Eadweald shown a quarter of the insolence Cyn has, he'd already be dead.
While she could get knocked up while in an actual dungeon, her husband I doubt her husband would stand that type of confinement. And Eadward is somewhat limited in the actions he can take with her, so long as she is married to the crown prince. She'll be watched and kept around until she gets pregnant.
But her concern should be that - if Eadward grows tired of her and she has no child, that she could be replaced. In real life, they'd probably find some long-lost cousin they share to claim consanguinity, but in this game, he'll just remove her the way he took out her mother.
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To all - Bit short on time this morning so I cannot go deep into the background of the scene but great reactions! The next follow along and keeps us moving in that direction. Thank you for your words and eyes, certainly!
Æthelric hopes so too but it is difficult when he cannot get with his wife.Another good and interesting chapter. I like discussions of king with his son and his daughter-in-law
Perhaps the episode with Eadweald has him feeling confident. Maybe too confident.
I think that is a fair analogy. Not wanting to kill it, but stun if for a time.
Heh! True, he is not getting younger and maybe can afford a few enemies at this time when he could not when younger.Agreed. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong forebears!
Eadward is making enemies like there’s no tomorrow ... oh, wait!
There is no doubt that Cynethryth is not quite aware exactly how far this King will go even after hearing certain rumors. She was really too young to remember it in real time. Really pleased the chapter was so well received because it was an important one.On the latest chapter ... one of your best, sir! Some very direct and snappy dialogue and a clever ploy by the king as it’s basis. The Lion in Winter can still roar! If Cyn will not submit or not conceive, she may justly fear an ‘annulment with extreme prejudice’!
“Just like her mother” and “a remedy when I find such insolence”!? She should be very afraid to hear those words: and the truth is as bad or worse than she suspects. An asp under the coverlet, a slightly off-tasting cup of wine, a collapsing balcony? Perhaps even an exploding tavern!?
Eadward has already been to the heart of darkness and returned, with the Boy Scout badge to prove it. We’ve seen he will do almost anything to secure the realm and Wessexian rule over it. Cyn, your smirk will do you no good if it becomes a grinning rictus instead.
Thank you, sir, and one again sorry for putting up so many in such quick succession. Still on target for an end of the year finish, however.
Quite true. He is certain that he can convince her of her duty one way or the other, and if not? Well, there are other avenues...
That is very true. In fact, part of that is played out in the next scene. Still more to go with the Lady of York so keep watch of this space.
To all - Bit short on time this morning so I cannot go deep into the background of the scene but great reactions! The next follow along and keeps us moving in that direction. Thank you for your words and eyes, certainly!
The Heavy Crown
Bath, England - June 1154
It was a pleasant summer afternoon in Bath and the King was holding a gathering in the gardens attended by his wife and children, though not by his daughter by law even if she now resided for the time at the keep. Queen Margaret was just starting to show with her fourth pregnancy, such was her slim frame, and her youngest son Ælfstan was fascinated by the transformation, “There is truly another inside of you, mama?”
“Of course, my sweet dear...” she laughed and touched kindly to his face, “...just as at one time so too were you.”
Ælfstan showed wide eyes, “I cannot believe it, madame?!”
“Believe it, Ælf,” Eadgar suggested with a grin and he gave his youngest brother a slight shove, “There are mysteries that occur between a man and a woman and even a little runt like you might be called forth from such a union.”
Margaret offered chastisement with her eyes but the King laughed as he stood from his shaded chair and held hands to Eadgar’s shoulders, “You reach all of twelve summers and think to know everything in the world, eh lad?”
Cedric, who had been recalled from Westmoreland the moment Margaret found out about his movements sat in the shade next to his mother, “He is not wrong, father. Little Ælf should know the truth of it.”
“Ahh...” Eadward grinned at him, “...and you reach a mighty half a score and think to know twice as much?”
Young Cedric sat taller in answer with some pride, “My tutors have shared with me the matters of anatomy, father. The way that the humors do flow and all manner of things in between.”
“Your Yorkist tutors?” Margaret asked him as she looked to her husband with some concern, “They already share these things with you at such an age?”
Eadward kept his grin, “Try to be still, dear Meg. He has reached his tenth summer and he should know of these things. He be no young boy at the now.”
“I knew that at eight,” Eadgar suggested as he chased one of the dogs around the tented yard.
Cedric started after him, “You never did!”
“Boys!” Margaret called after them, “Calm yourself for your father the King. You know that he cannot chase after you and I am in no condition myself.”
“Indeed, Cedric...” Eadward gestured for him to return with question in his eyes, “...I do have wonder. What else do these tutors of York teach you?”
Cedric was reticent at first as he watched the King pour a fresh cup of summer ale and then finally stood tall, “The martial arts, of course. Some mathematics and geography...to be certain history...”
“History, eh?” Eadward turned with a wry grin, “Yet what history, I do wonder? Saxon history? The tales of the Danes? Or mayhap Wessex history?”
“All of that, and...” Cedric began to answer but stopped when he spied Prince Æthelric return to the party with his sisters.
Hereswith was all smiles as usual as she stepped to her toes to give the King a quick kiss, “What a glorious afternoon, father! We have just been down to the lake and I do swear that the swans get larger every season!”
“You may have your brother to thank for that, sweet Hera,” Margaret grinned at the Prince.
Æthelric allowed a slight bow of the head in response, “Hardly a difficult task, my Lady Queen, when His Grace holds so many fine gamekeepers to his land.”
“Yes...” Eadward showed pride in his eldest son, “...yet you do help procure them, do you not? A finer eye I think to not see.”
“Most gracious, father,” Æthelric gave nod before looking to his younger brothers, “Yet what do we do here at the now, young sirs? Why are you not out playing in the sun? You could not have kept me to the keep on such a fine day as this when I was your age.”
Hereswith grinned, “Me neither!”
“Father was just quizzing Cedric on his education to York,” Eadgar shifted around a steady pole of the tent and teasingly tugged at his brother’s tunic.
“Was he?” Æthelric looked from the King to his younger brother with curiosity, “And what was indeed said in response?”
Cedric suddenly seemed shy, “No thing, Æthelric. I merely suggested that your Lady wife has been quite kind to me.”
“I know not if that was all...” Eadgar started to say but his mother shot him another glare.
“You would leave your little brother alone!” she chided and then looked to Æthelric with some sadness, “Yet where is the Lady Cynethryth this day? Does she not enjoy the fair weather?”
Æthelric was somewhat spiteful in his honesty, “I dare say that she finds the fair weather to Bath rather foul, my Lady.”
“Oh, Æth!” Hereswith held to his arm with care, “You should be kinder to Cyn. She is such a pretty girl and holds such stress upon her what with the troubles to York. I be certain that she is merely resting as she should. I should go and visit with her before supper.”
Æthelric showed a brief nod, “Of course. You are right, Hera. She would like that, I be sure.”
“And you, dear Wynny...” Margaret looked to the eldest of Eadward’s children, “You are so quiet today. What has you so troubled? Is it your husband?”
Eadward returned to his seat with fresh ale and looked apologetically at Wynnflæd, “Of course it is her husband and I am likely to blame.”
“I do not blame you, father,” Wynnflæd finally spoke, “It was a great honor that you did give to him. Yet he has never led an army before, and...I do worry.”
Margaret made shift to stand with some little difficulty and put her arm around Wynnflæd, “There is no shame in that, dear Princess. A wife would always worry towards her husband. And he shows such bravery.”
“The Queen is right, Wynny,” Hereswith too went to her side in comfort, “Cousin Thurfrith spoke quite highly of Eadræd after the war in Dorset and this rabble to York...my Harold says that they are no thing to worry over at all. Mere children playing at trouble and such children should be spanked! And right hard at that!”
Eadward raised his head at that, “Dear girl...do not tell me that you raise your hand to your own children in such manner!”
“I have no cause to, father,” Hereswith showed some pride, “My Blanche is the sweetest angel and Hugh would never go to such lengths as to be needed.”
Prince Eadgar rolled his eyes but said not a word when the King gave reply, “I should hope not! I never felt cause with you lot, and you especially were most impish!”
“Our mother might tell a different tale, father,” Wynnflæd answered with the briefest of smiles.
“Indeed!” Hereswith followed, “Jerked a great knot in my head one day, she did! All I did was wander down to the ferry to pick some lovely flowers by the river. It was naught but dusk when I returned and you might have thought that I been gone for days from her fury!”
Æthelric laughed out loud, “Your time and mother’s might be counted in different hours, Hera. I do recall that day. I do not think to have seen mother so mad in my life.”
“I could tell you all stories,” Eadward leaned back in his chair and smiled at his eldest children, “Cared for you she did...and would brook no quarter.”
Margaret still held tight to Wynnflæd and held an arm towards Hereswith and Æthelric, “And what fine children she did raise. A mother should be so proud and I know that she is.”
Eadward beamed still until he saw his youngest fidgeting and spied Eadgar looking restless. He leaned forward and shot them both a heavy grin, “Well go and play, then! We have all the afternoon and the lake does look inviting. Why not go and have a swim?”
Little Ælfstan stood quickly but then stopped as he looked back to the King, “Would you come with us, father?”
Margaret was quick to answer, “He will not. There remains a chill to the water that is fine enough for you good lads but not for our great King. Let him his rest. And Eadgar? See to your brothers!”
Eadgar kicked the dirt at first but soon sped off with the other two running behind. Margaret smiled and looked back to Eadward’s elder children, “Was it like this for your mother? Good Lord above! I do think they may run me ragged...and now another? I know not how I may do it.”
“You may do it by finding your seat once more, little dove,” Eadward gestured towards her chair, “It remains a very hot day and you should take a care.”
“Eadward...” she looked to the King with a smirk, “...I am barely with child and the worst is yet to come. Allow me my pleasures while I still may have them.”
She shared a grin with Wynnflæd and Hereswith but they were all caused to turn when Eadward stood and spied his Lord Chancellor moving down the hill. Lord Harold was flanked by Eadræd of Rose and Wynnflæd wasted no chance as she ran for her husband and gave him a deep embrace.
“Good Eadræd...my Lord Harold...” Eadward moved out into the sun, “What good news do you bring to me?”
Harold gave bow, “The efforts to York, Your Grace...”
“Yes, Your Grace...” Eadræd did his best to untangle from his wife as he too gave bow, “...the Battle of Richmond was a resounding one in your favor and this Prince Bishop is returned to Durham like a dog with his tail between his legs.”
The King was quick to his son by law’s side, “Wondrous news, good sir! Well done!”
“It is more than that, Your Grace,” Harold smiled, “It would seem that your success has had a profound effect upon the Archbishop of York. He now wishes no thing other than our Lady to be returned and hold court once more.”
“Yes!” Eadward grinned and looked to the Prince, “I think it time your Lady did hear this news. Why not go and fetch her?”
Æthelric took a moment to respond but finally gave a curt nod, “Of course.”
“Naught but sixty of the men lost, Your Grace,” Eadræd showed pride, “And I should tell you that the Lord of Kent did fight well and was no thing but praising in his words for you.”
Eadward grinned, “He should damn well be! He does know who it is that is your wife, sir!”
“But, sir...” Margaret moved to him and looked on with concern, “...you hold the grime of it all still upon you. We must fetch you a bath.”
“I felt need to tell His Grace of this moment as soon as I could,” Eadræd showed her a kind bow.
Eadward agreed, “Yet she is right, sir. Wynny...go and take your husband. Find him cleaned and given fresh wares. We shall have a feast this night, I think.”
“A splendid idea, father!” Hereswith went to her husband and smiled at him, “Do you not think, Harry?”
Lord Harold gave nod, “Indeed, Your Grace...an excellent suggestion to celebrate this terrific victory. Shall I call forth Lord Berold?”
Eadward held his eye to the distance as he watched his first daughter leave with her husband and then his first son return with his wife, “No. I think there be enough to fill the hall at the now.”
“Your Grace?” Lady Cynethryth spoke as she reached the pavilion, “I was told that you requested my presence.”
“Did you tell her, lad?” the King looked to the Prince.
Æthelric stood back and shook his head, “I would leave that to you, father.”
“Well then, my Lady...” Eadward showed grin, “...I would tell you that your lands are restored. The menace is no more and you are requested home.”
With a coldness that by now all were used to, the Lady of York merely gave nod, “Then I shall make plans for my progress as soon as my ladies can pack...Your Grace.”
“What?” Æthelric now stepped forward and forgot his decorum, “No ‘thank you’? No show of appreciation for what your king has done for you?!”
“My Lord Prince...” Margaret moved next to them, “...I be certain that the Lady is thankful yet she does have much upon her mind...”
Margaret did not finish her thought as she held briefly to her stomach and winced. Eadward was the first to her side, “Are you unwell?”
“No...no...” the Queen answered with a smile, “...it is just the heat. Mayhap you are right. I should sit and rest for the now.”
Hereswith too went to her and helped Margaret to a chair as she looked to her brother, “Be kind to Lady Cynethryth, Æth. She has been through much these last many months.”
“Yes...husband,” Cynethryth offered him a sharp eye with a grin, “Be kind to your wife.”
Unsure of what to do, Lord Harold felt need to bring the King from his concern, “So now that we have found this great victory, Your Grace...should we not return the levies to their homes?”
Eadward was still looking over his wife, “Are you certain that you be well?”
“Yes...yes...” Margaret waved him away with a smile, “Go and do, husband. I shall be fine.”
The King hesitated leaving Harold to ask again, “The levies, Your Grace?”
Eadward finally turned and adjusted with a smile of his own as he looked to the Lady of York, “Indeed...the levies. Nearly five thousand of them...and all to your rescue, my Lady. I will be certain to have words with my son and heir...your future King and your Lord husband...he should know not to treat his Lady wife with such harsh words...in public company.”
“Yet in private...Your Grace?” Cynethryth answered as if she were taunting Eadward.
“In private, my Lady...” Eadward refused to take the bait having met too many women like this, “...he will do what he needs must. And he will know that his father frowns on such displays.”
Cynethryth grinned and gave bow, “Then I will begin arrangements for a return to York, Your Grace, so that we should not see such displays in future.”
“No...” Eadward countered as he backed her into the sunlight, “...I do not think that you will. We have so enjoyed the pleasure of your company over this time, we think that you should stay on for awhile. Keep your pleasures to Bath, my Lady. It is a wonderful land as you may see. Mayhap you and the Prince may find your time together just as pleasing and see a way past your...misgivings.”
Æthelric joined his wife with question in his eyes, “Father...she is asked to York. I am certain that my Lady is required to there.”
“I be certain that she is as well,” Eadward kept his eye to the Lady, “Yet I do require her to here at the now...and so do you.”
“Eadward...” Margaret muttered in the distance but the King was in his pique.
“No, my Lady...” Eadward kept on, “...I think that your time to Bath has been beneficial for us all. It does bring you closer with your husband. Closer with me. And it does serve a great purpose for the realm over.”
Lord Harold was unsure of where the King was going and held to his question, “Your Grace...the levies?”
The King turned to his Lord Chancellor with some irritation, “Yes, Lord Harold...I did hear you the first time.”
“Shall we call them home?”
“I do not think so,” Eadward turned back to the Lady of York, “For this adventure has proved to me a great boon. There remain rebellion in Normandy...in Germany. These be our lands...lands of England. I have shown to you that you have need of my protection...though you may scoff at that at the now...but what was your face naught but two moons ago, my Lady?”
Margaret called out again, “Eadward...”
“I have proved to you and all other Lords of this land that you are in need of my protection and can do what you cannot...” Eadward kept on and was enjoying it, “...which I shall do for my subjects in Normandy...and in Weimar. A great English army such that defeated your foes to the north shall travel and prove to any and all that England does not countenance rebellion or heresy...and indeed...will not tolerate insolence!”
“Eadward!!!” Margaret finally screamed out and finally pulled him from his tirade.
Æthelric too saw it and moved to turn the King, “Father...it is Meg!”
When he spun, Eadward was immediately changed as he watched in horror. His daughter was helping Margaret as both held to her legs and blood trickled forth from between her thighs. Her dress was stained red and her face was in pure shock. Margaret tried to stand but Hereswith held her to her seat and looked to the King with great worry, “Papa?!”
“My God!” Eadward cried out and went to her side with all others forgotten. He held to her face with true worry, “What has happened?!”
Margaret looked into his eyes with confusion, “I...I do not know.”
“I shall fetch the physician!” Æthelric took off in a run and Lord Harold followed quickly behind.
Eadward kept hold of her hand and tried to calm her, “You will be well, sweet dove. I do promise it!”
“Oh yes, sweet Meg...” Hereswith agreed, “...it is but a complication. The doctors will keep you sound.”
It was left for the Lady Cynethryth of York, still standing in the sunlight, to offer a diagnosis, “I fear that my cousin the Queen has lost her child...Your Grace. I am young but a woman still. We do know of these things.”
Eadward did not wish to hear her voice and shouted, “You would silence yourself!”
“Eadward...” Margaret held to his aged face and tried to smile in her sorrow, “...do not be so harsh for I fear it to be true. It is not her fault.”
Cynethryth finally let go of her spite for a moment and moved to the Queen, pushing Eadward out of the way, “We do learn some arts in York. I may not be blessed, but I do know how it is done. Go and fetch the physician as I be sure that my husband is lost. We shall staunch the bleeding as she loses too much of her humors. Yet she will need bed rest...and for a time.”
“She is right, father,” Hereswith looked up with pain on her face, “It was too much activity and she must not exert herself at the now. But she will be well. I promise it.”
“Meg?” Eadward stood back and looked into her still youthful eyes, “Are they true?!”
Margaret was in tears but tried to smile, “Oh, Eadward...I am sorry...”
“Never! It is no fault of yours! It is mine own!”
“Eadward...” Margaret reached out her hand to touch at his face, “...you are not to blame. It is God’s plan. Yet...I do think to need my bed.”
At nearly seventy two years of age, Eadward never ran so fast in his life.
Another good and interesting chapter. All seems a happy family at beginning. Losing a unborn child is tragic for King and Queen I feel sad for Queen, losing her will be ultimate end for Eadward
I feel sad for Queen, losing her will be ultimate end for Eadward
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Your last few chapters have foreshadowed something of this sort, and I do worry it is worse than the characters think. But maybe all will end well.
This does not bode well for Eadweard. Losing the child will be devastating for the king, losing his wife could be the end of Eadward.
I agree with @Idhrendur, this is worrying. Either a worse complication, or perhaps it was not even a pregnancy at all but something far worse - even a tumour. There is historical precedent.
Still, a final rebel cleansing tour sounds like a good outing, given the vassals seem unable to handle things themselves: even if the rebel rabble don’t seem numerous enough to actually press their sieges. They remain a blot on the landscape.
There is historical precedent. Still, a final rebel cleansing tour sounds like a good outing, given the vassals seem unable to handle things themselves: even if the rebel rabble don’t seem numerous enough to actually press their sieges. They remain a blot on the landscape.
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To all - This scene was prelude to the next which is the culmination of this line of plot. One particular plate comes crashing down from the air in almost spectacular fashion (and I mean that in the worst way.) So brace yourself...
That was indeed my attempt. I wanted to start things sunny and cheery before hitting that last note with a worrisome tone.Another good and interesting chapter. All seems a happy family at beginning. Losing a unborn child is tragic for King and Queen
Queen Margaret has indeed been a bright ray of light for the King and given his old age a spark.
Your instincts are not wrong and it may be worse than you readers think as well.
The death of the Queen would no doubt alter his view of life and all around.
On the rebels, that was my thought. I was sick and tired of my vassals not handling them and while I had the army together, I figured why not? I did not expect this other and more than Eadward.I agree with @Idhrendur, this is worrying. Either a worse complication, or perhaps it was not even a pregnancy at all but something far worse - even a tumour.
Still, a final rebel cleansing tour sounds like a good outing, given the vassals seem unable to handle things themselves: even if the rebel rabble don’t seem numerous enough to actually press their sieges. They remain a blot on the landscape.
To all - This scene was prelude to the next which is the culmination of this line of plot. One particular plate comes crashing down from the air in almost spectacular fashion (and I mean that in the worst way.) So brace yourself...
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The Heavy Crown
Bath, England - August 1154
It was a somber day in Bath and unnaturally cold to match the tempers of most in attendance. Twice in their lifetime, they had lost a Queen. One most beloved by the people but especially by the King. A chance miscarriage of their last child had left Margaret of Lancaster, Queen of England perilously low of blood and she did waste away within a matter of weeks. Dead within only thirty summers of her life, she had left a lifetime of memories, three young boys, a court in disbelief and a King as inconsolable as he had ever been during his seventy and two years.
A royal party had followed the cortege from Wells Cathedral to the Abbey at Bath where the Queen was to be interred. It was where Eadward planned to find his final resting place, and though his first wife was buried in Norfolk, no one blamed this King for wishing to reside for all eternity next to the beautiful and youthful sweet Queen Meg. Æthelsige, the Bishop of Wells and Bath had preached a most eloquent and moving sermon that overflowed with words of honor and grace towards a Lady that gave the reign of the aged King Eadward a vernal freshness that the autumn of his years would otherwise suggest. Hers was a memory of lightness...of spirit...and all the young in the land who mourned their Queen as if she were their very own mother or sister. Queen Judith had been revered. Queen Margaret had been loved.
Every respected noble in the realm had made progress as swiftly as possible to be seen and to see the final smile left to this precious young Lady of Lancaster. Prince Eadgar of Wessex had made travel from his land in Gelre where he was Earl. The Duchess Hextilda had crossed the channel to stand by her husband Lord Berold as they looked on with solemnity. The Earl of Kildare made progress from Ireland and stood in silence while the wife of this King was given her final sermon. And a young Alan of Lancaster, Lord and Duke...her nephew...was given place of prominence and himself spoke of her with only glowing words. There were many tears and none more so than the King himself. In other times and with other men, these tears might appear unseemly from a King such as he. Yet all knew how much he adored his young bride and none would judge him as being unmanly in his grief. It was felt by all.
As her body was laid to rest, the royal party dispersed to go and grieve in their own way. Lord Harold stayed close to his wife and she in turn remained by her father’s side. Princess Wynnflæd held the unenviable task of seeing to the three young and confused Princes, especially as her husband was once again charged with ending rebellion. This time across the channel. No matter the severity of the moment, King Eadward did not plan to change his manner. In truth, he let it all go with his council. They could make the decisions while he found a way to understand what had occurred. Much as he did at the death of his first wife, he held few words of wisdom for his sons as he had so few for himself. It was a tragedy...a travesty...a most unjust world.
Lord Berold hosted his nephew Baldwin of Flanders at his manor in Bath. While grief was seen from his Lady wife Hextilda, the Norman Duke was one of only few that saw no poor thing from the passing of this Queen. He showed his King sad eyes and even more sharp ones to his young nephew, but Berold was content to wait out the moment and regain his importance within council and in the realm. His counterpart, Lord Thurfrith understood only too well. A young wife lost to him and then his brother, Thurfrith of Wessex remained almost stoic in the moment. With kind words said to his uncle the King, the Lord of Deheubarth made plans to return to Wales with his extended family leaving little time to share in the darkness of the court. His cousin, the Earl Eadgar, did plan to stay for a time. Not only did he have wish to thank his revered uncle for his kindness in the offer to put down the long standing rebellion in Weimar but so too to counsel with him over what to do with his brother Oscytel in Meissen. The two had not said a word together in years owing to the first son of Uhtræd’s ill planned Papal adventure and he wished to know if the King had advice. Not only was it not forthcoming from the King, but the Earl and still Prince held other adversaries at court. Most especially, the heir apparent...Prince Æthelric.
As the sour glow of the day passed into night, the Prince found himself alone. His father the King had shut himself away in Margaret’s chamber and held no words to speak. Æthelric did not wish to be with his sisters nor to be with his wife. For as much grief as his father was feeling, so too did the Prince mourn. Margaret had been much more than a step-mother to him. She was, at times, a friend...a confident...a would be lover without ever crossing such a boundary...an equal that understood both youth and power. Even his friend Sir Giles had remarked that the Queen was without doubt the Prince’s best advocate at court...his most trusted ally. In all, Æthelric considered Margaret as the beautiful and loving Lady that she was. The wife that he would never know. His own swan of Lancaster.
And then his swan of York entered…
“Husband...you do keep to yourself.”
Æthelric sat near to the low fire and did not turn, “What else should I do?”
“You may allow me a return to my lands...” Cynethryth suggested, “...with your father in his grief.”
“Is that all that you care about?” the Prince stood and turned with anger, “She was your cousin, you know!”
Cynethryth held her hands tight to her dress, “A distant cousin. Fair...but not of Hwicce.”
“She be more Hwicce than you!” Æthelric shouted.
“Ahh...sweet lovers,” Cynethryth teased with scorn, “Tis a pity to lose one so young.”
Æthelric did not wish to take her bait and moved to pour a cup of ale, “Would that you would finally hold your tongue, my Lady. None that gathered here today find celebration. You should do no other.”
“I do not celebrate it,” Cynethryth offered as she kept a firm eye to her husband, “Yet it is telling. Your father is untold in his grief. There be no way to match it...except that you do.”
The Prince turned with anger, “You wish to be back to York? Then go back to York and leave me be, you harpy!”
Cynethryth showed a grin, “Finer words I have not heard. Yet they do come from my Lord husband who would send me away yet again.”
“You would wipe that silly smile from your face!” Æthelric stepped to her, “And you would cease suggesting that we are anything but married! Poor chance that it be that we are locked into this lot, but you have no more wish to be with me than I do with you!”
“There it is,” Cynethryth held firm before him, “I do get your dander up, do I not? You would rather be with the cold, dead Margaret and yet all you have is me to feel your rage. Then go forth and do...my Lord Prince!”
Æthelric raised his hand but stopped short, “Do not tempt me, Cyn! It is not my pleasure to strike you.”
“Yet that does not stop you,” she grinned and stepped closer, “It is no trouble for Wessex to strike York...or Lancaster. Why stop now?”
With a swift backhand, Æthelric sent his wife reeling to the floor. Cynethryth laid there for a moment and felt at her now bloody lip, but then turned with a grin remaining, “Now we see the future, my Lord. A strong King to put the realm in its place.”
The Prince retreated such was his shame, but he did not relent, “You did ask for it and now I have given it to you. I say again...go back to York! I need you not!”
“Don’t you?” Cynethryth suggested as she slowly stood and held to her cheek, “A realm in peril...bereft of their Queen. A king that is no more than a mewling babe at the now since he no longer holds his cream and milk? Do you not need me...my Lord Prince Æthelric? I thought I was to hold a child in my belly. I thought that I was to be your Queen.”
Æthelric shifted towards the trestle table and moved to pour another cup of ale with nervous hands, “You are no man’s Queen. A pretty thing you are, but only in your looks. Beneath it all is a snake such that Eve never knew. Only Adam would be tempted and I am not he!”
“Well you are certainly no father of men!” Cynethryth teased once more as she approached him, “Or women. Difficult to do when my womb should never quicken when you lust after another!”
“You are a spiteful witch!” Æthelric shouted to her over the table, “I have heard stories about your mother but even she was no danger as you prove to me!”
Cynethryth held her hands firm to the table as she looked to her husband with scorn, “Ahh...my mother. These ladies of the realm. We who are so revered and yet gain no respect. It is so easy to silence us because we are women, yet you cannot silence the memory...the future.”
“I would silence you!” Æthelric shouted in return, “You have no thing to speak but sinister thoughts and I would not hear them!”
“Yet you would hear them...Æthelric of Wessex!” she countered as she moved around the trestle table and held close to his face, “You are no King to me! You are no husband! A lifetime have I grown up in this court...to see your father be tyrant...to see a King filled in his glory and wish no thing more than his wealth and prestige! You think to follow him? And with me?! My mother would spit upon you and so do I!”
Æthelric pulled away as she followed through with her threat and wiped the spittle from his face with an evil eye, “I will be King and you would never do that again or you shall feel my wrath!”
“Then let me feel your wrath, sir!” Cynethryth taunted him as she held close with rage in her eyes, “Let me see your best for all I see is none but your worst!”
He struck her again and this time she fell hard. Æthelric stood over her with true anger, “I tell you that you will be silent, woman! I have no need of your pestilence this day!”
From the rushes, Cynethryth rolled over and grinned, “There we see it again...the rule of Wessex. York ground to a nub and all others in between!”
“We do not speak of a kingdom!” the Prince raised his fist once more, “We speak of ourselves! You wish to know if I loved Margaret of Lancaster? Yes! Yes, I did! She was a far better Lady than you in every way and would that it were you in the ground rather than she!!”
“I knew it!” Cynethryth pushed from the floor to stand before her husband, “I knew that you loved her...my cousin. And now she is gone! What will you do? What will your father do? There will be no more Princes to be seen...my Lord. Oh no...for that vessel is gone!”
Without thinking, Æthelric put his hands to her slender neck, “You will be silent! I tell you...you will cease!!”
“I will not!” Cynethryth answered as she struggled, “I will tell you...what is true!”
A red rage colored the Prince’s face as he held to Cynethryth’s neck and squeezed, “You will be silent!! I would hear no more!!!”
Her own face began to turn blue as she said little else but, “...Æth...”
Finally, she went limp in his hands and fell to the floor as he backed away. She was silenced but Æthelric was worried. As quick as he stepped back, he moved to kneel and felt to her face, “Cyn?! Cyn!!”
There was no response.
He shook her, “My Lady! I did not mean...”
She still did not move.
“Albert!!!” Æthelric shouted and his squire was quick into the chamber.
“My Lord Prince...” Albert answered as he moved swiftly to the prone body without a question asked, “...I heard a row, but I did not wish to disturb.”
“She...” the Prince backed away but looked to the body, “...she hit her head.”
Albert felt to her head and saw no blood before looking back to the Prince, “Her head, my Lord? She shows no signs.”
“Is she...” Æthelric kept to his distance, “...is she well?”
“My Lord Prince...” Albert felt to her again and then looked back to Æthelric, “...I fear that she is gone.”
Æthelric pulled himself from the floor and backed to the wall, “You cannot mean...”
“All is well, my Lord Prince!” Albert stood and held to his Lord, “It was an accident and you are not to be blamed.”
“She is...” Æthelric still did not understand.
Albert kept hold of him and led him from the chamber, “She is gone, my Lord Prince, but you will be well. I do promise. We shall see to it. Naught but an accident. A terrible time...but an accident.”
Æthelric looked over his shoulder to the body on the floor, “My Lady wife...”
“An accident, my Lord!” Albert was quick to answer as he pushed the Prince from the chamber, “Go and seek your father for he will know what to do!”
Da da duuuuummmm! Whoa - that’s how it’s done when there isn’t a vat of malmsey wine to be had! Whether the game did it or a coincidence, that was certainly dramatic. Well written, if hard to read. That really does open things up. That last little ‘Aeth’ was a sad and poignant touch.
So I guess now the search is on for a better wife for the Prince - with a better attitude.
So I guess now the search is on for a better wife for the Prince - with a better attitude.
Another good, well-written and interesting chapter. Both King and Prince are widowed, but York remains without a lady again because Aethelric become crazy as a wild beast and kill his pretty but arrogant wife. All seems as taken from tragedies of Shakespeare. Life in middle ages is often short, hard and full of violence and intrigue. Aethelric need a good and wise young lady as wife for avenge his strange romantic past
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Bloody hellfire. I knew things were troubled, but I never expected this, or something like this so soon.
I almost dread Eadward's reaction. And Aethelric ... this is not a good sign for the future of the realm.
I almost dread Eadward's reaction. And Aethelric ... this is not a good sign for the future of the realm.
Fb-fb:
To all - So now you all see what I have been building towards for some time (at least since 1152) and especially why the tight plotting of 1153 leading into this year. In game, it was simply a coincidence that first Cynethryth died an unexpected death (just a shock ailment, I suppose) and then Margaret died within the same month of another unexplained illness. I was not sure how I was going to explain this but I knew it had to be more than just a coincidence in the story. It was not my intention to set this up back when I was spreading the Margaret/ Æthelric rumors nor was it initially my goal when I first started discussing the marital troubles of the Prince and Cynethryth, however when it came time to figure this particular bit out, I went back and decided to use those previous bits and turn it into this. At one point, I considered having Berold orchestrate a plot to kill the Queen such was their issue but decided that two murders was one too many. Margaret's miscarriage is completely fabricated for the story knowing that she would soon pass. Then knowing how much Æthelric cared for her, it would be a simple thing to have him grieving and prone to being pushed over the edge. Having established a bit of a violent streak with them, it was just a matter of getting the Lady of York to Bath for the event. Thankfully, a well timed rebellion in York provided the backdrop to get Cynethryth away from her keep and in the vicinity when the Queen died and hey presto...there she is to drive Æthelric to murder.
While it may seem out of character for him, I hope it is not too much and it does play into events later in his life (yet another reason I decided to go down this route.) My first thought was always that it was an accidental killing. There was never to be any premeditation about it. I also considered it having it be a true accident such as they were fighting and she really did fall and hit her head but I decided I liked this way more. I think you will also appreciate the explanation for it that will come out in the next few posts. In all, it was just too much of an interesting game event that compelled me to do more with it than just one died and then the other as coincidence. It certainly changes the entire game and the players within and we shall see that coming up as well.
We are rather close to the ending but there remain quite a few bits to get through before we arrive there. I am terribly excited about it and hope that you are as well. It has been quite a pleasure to craft this work for you good folks over these last two years and as I have said in the past, there is simply no way I would have been able to do it without you. Thank you!
And now, for the next scene...
I will discuss it in more detail below, but indeed - this is one method to rid the Prince and King of their troublesome vassal.
Quite a compliment to be compared to Shakespeare. Not sure I am entirely worthy of that, but I thank you.
Very much the type of reaction I was going for.
And no doubt it will color Æthelric as he moves forward both as Prince and as King.
I told you all that I did not think you would guess the final bits with Cynethryth. Turns out I was right.
To all - So now you all see what I have been building towards for some time (at least since 1152) and especially why the tight plotting of 1153 leading into this year. In game, it was simply a coincidence that first Cynethryth died an unexpected death (just a shock ailment, I suppose) and then Margaret died within the same month of another unexplained illness. I was not sure how I was going to explain this but I knew it had to be more than just a coincidence in the story. It was not my intention to set this up back when I was spreading the Margaret/ Æthelric rumors nor was it initially my goal when I first started discussing the marital troubles of the Prince and Cynethryth, however when it came time to figure this particular bit out, I went back and decided to use those previous bits and turn it into this. At one point, I considered having Berold orchestrate a plot to kill the Queen such was their issue but decided that two murders was one too many. Margaret's miscarriage is completely fabricated for the story knowing that she would soon pass. Then knowing how much Æthelric cared for her, it would be a simple thing to have him grieving and prone to being pushed over the edge. Having established a bit of a violent streak with them, it was just a matter of getting the Lady of York to Bath for the event. Thankfully, a well timed rebellion in York provided the backdrop to get Cynethryth away from her keep and in the vicinity when the Queen died and hey presto...there she is to drive Æthelric to murder.
While it may seem out of character for him, I hope it is not too much and it does play into events later in his life (yet another reason I decided to go down this route.) My first thought was always that it was an accidental killing. There was never to be any premeditation about it. I also considered it having it be a true accident such as they were fighting and she really did fall and hit her head but I decided I liked this way more. I think you will also appreciate the explanation for it that will come out in the next few posts. In all, it was just too much of an interesting game event that compelled me to do more with it than just one died and then the other as coincidence. It certainly changes the entire game and the players within and we shall see that coming up as well.
We are rather close to the ending but there remain quite a few bits to get through before we arrive there. I am terribly excited about it and hope that you are as well. It has been quite a pleasure to craft this work for you good folks over these last two years and as I have said in the past, there is simply no way I would have been able to do it without you. Thank you!
And now, for the next scene...
The Heavy Crown
Bath, England - October 1154
After the events of the summer, to many at court the King appeared a changed man. More distant, more in his own thoughts...some even thought he might be going senile such was his mood at times. He did seem more forgetful and often spoke as if there might be some other in the room, yet Eadward at seventy and two was never more with his wits about him. He simply lacked the passion that he once held. The Lords Harold and Berold had been required far more after the sad passing of the Queen and the King sat and listened to them in the privy council chamber with only half an ear at attention.
“And so, Your Grace...” Harold droned on as he pointed to the maps before the King, “...after their departure from Kent, your son by law and Lord Eadric do land in Eu and I am assured that they will arrive in Rouen at any day.”
Eadward sat crooked in his chair looking off in the distance towards the window and allowed a slight laugh, “A wily man, that one.”
Lord Berold held a concerned eye to Harold as he asked the King, “Pray pardon, Your Grace? Which man is that?”
“He would not remember,” Eadward kept his eye to the window before turning to his Norman Duke, “Of course you would not. Too long ago, my Lord. Yet this business to Normandy...that is all well and good.”
“And...” Lord Harold began to suggest with some reluctance, “...the Prince does ride with them as proposed.”
Lord Berold followed knowing that it was a tricky subject, “Indeed...Prince Æthelric had little issue in raising enough vessels along with Lord Eadric to ferry these men across. I be certain that it will be a well earned education to earn his spurs, as it were.”
“And the wife?” Eadward suddenly seemed quite interested.
Harold gave question, “Wife, Your Grace? Whose wife?”
Eadward showed him a sharp glare, “The Prince’s Lady wife, you dolt! What of her?”
“You Grace?” Berold asked with some worry, “The Lady Cynethryth...she is...”
“I know well that she is deceased...yes, thank you!” The King grew irritable and stood to fetch a cup of ale as he looked again to the window before turning back to the Norman Duke, “Yes...I need not be told, my Lord Berold. I ask of you what is said of her?”
“You speak of the inquiry, Your Grace?” Berold questioned.
Eadward moved to pour his ale and answered with exasperation, “I believe that it was well done...very thorough. The both of you should be commended for your efforts. Yet I be certain that a question does remain from many.”
“There be no question, Your Grace,” Berold answered with certainty, “All do know that the Lady suffered a grievous accident...taking a great blow to the head in a terrible fall. It proved to be a mortal wound and all that investigate it see no flaw in such judgment.”
Harold followed, “Indeed, Your Grace...even her sister the Lady Philippa has been quite receptive and appreciative of our efforts...your efforts. She does know that all was done that could be done...had your son’s squire not come to fetch Lord Berold...well, it could have been far more gruesome. The loss of blood was simply too much and the wound too deep. All know that every effort was made to try and save her.”
“And the Prince, Your Grace...” Berold continued, “...was most shaken by the incident and all did see his suffering...his sure grief. Especially coming so soon after...your own.”
Eadward looked to the window with drink in hand, “Much the reason I did send him on. Yes...you are right.”
The two Dukes exchanged a glance before Harold suggested, “Quite right, Your Grace. Send him on to earn some bit of glory and keep his mind from such a tragedy.”
“To keep him from prying eyes,” Eadward replied as he moved back to his chair and sat with a sigh, “His grief is sure but none should witness it too closely.”
“All of our grief is sure, Your Grace,” Harold answered quickly, “This past year has seen too much pain and yours surely is the greatest of them all.”
Eadward looked past his Chancellor and showed a slim smile but sorrow in his eyes, “He is right, you know. To lose one wife seems misfortune, yet to lose two?”
“The entire realm mourns, sire,” Berold assured the King, “Most especially in the north. The young Lord Alan in Lancaster has kept in constant contact and does assure that he is by your side...and that of your son. A bright lad, it would seem. He comes into his own earlier than thought.”
Harold gave nod, “And as I say, Your Grace...the Lady Philippa in York is accepted and loved well by the people there. She is greatly assisted, as well, by the efforts of her Lord husband. As sad as the event was, there remains a fine tie between York and your son’s lands in East Anglia and Essex, for Earl William is the Prince’s chancellor and great champion.”
“Not what we planned, is it?” Eadward asked as he again looked past Harold.
“Indeed no, Your Grace...” Harold ignored the King’s seeming wandering mind and worked to pull him back, “...yet who might have guessed the worst? Yet I do promise...we shall find the Prince a great match and it will be one that honors both you and he.”
Eadward turned and looked to them both with question in his eyes, “All of our plans, my Lords...they have turned to naught. How did it go so wrong?”
“One cannot see the future, Your Grace,” Berold offered with sympathy, “There was no way to know that such misfortune might follow. You did everything that you could...and you have three fine boys!”
“Four...” Eadward showed a sharp eye, “...four fine boys.”
“Of course,” Berold gave nod, “I take the Prince Æthelric as a given. I merely mean that your efforts were not without pride for there shall always be something to remember her by...”
Eadward slid his cup to him and peered at it with sadness, “All of them...now motherless.”
“It need not be, Your Grace,” Harold suggested, “You remain hale and hearty. Why do we not find you another fine match?”
“He jests,” the King looked past Harold once more with a grin, “There can be no one to replace what was. And it is not carelessness!”
Berold was unsure why the King turned to look at the window once again but answered for himself, “I believe it a fine suggestion, Your Grace. The realm does need a Queen, sadly...and your children do require a mother.”
“That one...” Eadward looked to the end of the large table with a slim smile, “...dancing so lithely...so pretty. And you...so strong. Even now...your words in my ears. Always forgiving...always a stalwart.”
Harold too looked to the end of the table and then gave the King a skewed brow, “Your Grace?”
“It is my Judith,” Eadward turned to him with a glimmer in his eyes, “I can see her now...still youthful...caring. Her back stronger than mine...her will filled with sureness about us both.”
“Her memory too, Your Grace...” Berold offered, “...it is kept alive by so many...”
Eadward moved his hand to rest atop Lord Berold’s and the King held to it with firmness, “My Lord...I have many memories and they are so clear to me at the now. I can see my father...his rude face...his stern brow. Always questioning...demanding...but firm. And my brothers...oh...those two! Bold and bright...men that I shall never be. Even the evil ones...they are the worst and yet they remain so evident such that you cannot remove their faces from your vision.”
“You have held a long life, sire,” Berold gave nod, “It is only natural to find these past memories return to you.”
Eadward let go of his hand and found his drink, “And there are so many of them. It is almost as if they do haunt me, yet...I do cherish them all.”
“The realm remains with great fortune, Your Grace,” Harold added, “To have seen you outlast all of their enemies...yours. You are our guiding star and have been so for as long as anyone might remember. We are all fortunate...”
“It is a lifetime...” Eadward showed a smile filled with wistful thoughts, “...and yet but a second. I should fear for the future but at the now...I can only recall the past.”
Harold allowed the King his moment of thought but placed a ginger finger to the table with care, “In that...Your Grace...I wonder if I might not bring up another consideration?”
“What other is there, sir?” Eadward asked with sorrow once more.
The Lord Chancellor did not wish to say it but felt compelled, “Your...nephew, Your Grace.”
“Thurfrith?” Eadward was pulled from his thoughts with question, “What of him? He has planned this adventure to Normandy well. He holds his time between his home and Lincoln. What words are to be said about him?”
“Your...other nephew, Your Grace,” Berold attempted to assist the Lord Chancellor.
Eadward suddenly showed some of his old fire when he looked to them both, “I do hope that the two of you do not speak of that wastrel that names Cornwall as his home!”
“I am sad to say it, Your Grace...” Harold kept a careful tone, “...but this is the very one. He does languish in your prison for some time at the now and...mayhap a show of generosity might be welcomed by your vassals...by the people?”
Eadward showed a firm eye, “Why should I show him any generosity? What worth does that serve?”
“With all of the poor feeling of late...in great times as this...” Harold kept a care to his words, “...such a showing may do much to pull us all from this seeming torpor. A gift to him...may be seen as a mercy granted by your generous nature and take away some of this pain felt by so many.”
“What is done is done!” Eadward stood again with some slowness but shifted towards the window, “I cannot bring my wife back to me. Neither one! Nor can my son. A bed is made and one must sleep upon the sheets prepared. The time for choosing was over long ago and that one? No! If we must suffer then so shall he!”
Berold offered his old friend an eye that suggested ‘I told you so’ but then he looked to the King with assurance, “It was merely a thought, Your Grace, and your firmness on the matter remains well considered by all. What is needed is a healing and I believe that you show that by your efforts across the realm. Rouen will cheer you when they are freed as will any other that sees your kind hand upon their lives as you have done for all of yours.”
“To be sure, Your Grace...” Harold followed, “...it is no care for your nephew that causes me to make this suggestion. He should forever regret the many injuries that he provided to you. He did make his plea and I have brought it to council. None else need be said about it.”
Eadward showed a spiteful laugh as he looked out the window, “As if you would be more lenient!”
“I would not, Your Grace,” Harold answered and the King turned to him with a sharp eye once more.
“Not you, my Lord!” Eadward replied before downing his ale, “You would keep your mind to York and what occurs to there. And you, my Lord Berold...you would travel to your lands and make certain that my son does return safe to me.”
Berold gave a quick nod, “Of course, sire. It has been too long since I have seen my native land and I will be sure to acquaint all of the nobles in Normandy with the great presence of the Prince and their future King.”
“Good!” Eadward waved a finger at them both as he moved to leave the chamber, “And make certain that rumor is not spread. We need it not. He needs it not. I will rid you of your pestilence to Rouen and the two of you will see to it that no more comes to mine. So good day to you, my Lords.”
As the King left, the two Dukes shared a look. Plans indeed had changed and their assumptions with it. It was a new landscape and Eadward of Wessex remained the ultimate gardener. Two dead wives...the King seeing his past...a Prince clouded in scandal...new decisions to be made. It was not what they bargained for but the two old friends shared in a pact. To serve their King was to serve themselves and they had not spent the better part of their life doing anything other. They would not change that at the now.
Another good and interesting chapter. Eadward is obsessed by his past, by his two wives - Judith and Margaret, but he hates present because all has become ugly and dark, he not want to remarrying which means as he love so much Margaret, sounds as Arthur devastated as Guinevere left him for Lancelot. His house is in a delicate situation because his son is clouded in scandal due to killing a young lady, but three sons of second marriage remains motherless, poor boys, I feel sad to them
. Eadward is obsessed by his past, by his two wives - Judith and Margaret, but he hates present because all has become ugly and dark, he not want to remarrying which means as he love so much Margaret, sounds as Arthur devastated as Guinevere left him for Lancelot. His house is in a delicate situation because his son is clouded in scandal due to killing a young lady, but three sons of second marriage remains motherless, poor boys, I feel sad to them
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You get the sense of Eadward almost slipping out of hte present, as if one foot is no longer well grounded but drifting to times past. Also, a sense of great tiredness, of being somehow done.