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The purpose of all war is peace.
- St Augustine
The Arbiter of Europe, part VI
The Cast,
Piers Calvet, A Frenchman
Jeanne, A Frenchwoman
Captain William Jackson, An Englishman
The odd pair walked for a time down muddy roads walled by towering foliage. The grey skies threatened rain, but had yet to deliver. Piers was now almost unrecognisable as a British soldier, his distinctive Black coat was lying soaked in a ditch several miles from here, his breeches were muddied and discoloured as was his white shirt and waist coat. All that was left were his pouches and his Huntingdon musket, a little damp, but hopefully, it would fire. Piers’ eyes were constantly flitting across the pale landscape, checking every corner, every crevice, his fingers absent-mindedly stroking his Huntingdon.
Jeanne, still stormed ahead, in sharp contrast to Piers, the slapping of her shoes against the wet mud of the roads seemed to call out across the field. The mud had stained her dress and turned it an interesting mix of dull colour. Neither had spoken a word since they had stood outside the church hours ago. The years in the British army had taught Piers to persevere, and had equipped him with a hardy constitution, he was used to marching all day, but Jeanne was not, it had soon become clear in the way she moved, in the way she breathed and the way her shoulders were pushed forward in an effort to push herself further. It was only then that Piers had realised that he was watching her intently, his eyes darting across her figure.
Piers quickly looked away and cleared his throat; it was the closest either had come to speaking and Jeanne stopped in her tracks and swiftly turned to face him.
“What?” Jeanne demanded,
“Well, I just was wondering if you would like to rest a while” Piers offered pointing to a small clump of trees by the roadside.
“I’m not tired” She lied, her legs ached, and she was beginning to feel lost
“Well I am Jeanne, besides, I have some food with me, come on” Piers didn’t wait for an answer and walked over to the side of the road. Under Jeanne’s watchful eye he pulled out a stiff loaf of brown bread and some salted pork and sat down against the tree. Jeanne watched him for a while, quietly taking in as much air as possible. Piers tore off a chunk of bread and offered it to Jeanne who still stood motionless in the middle of the crossroads. Piers kept his hand held out.
“Its only bread” He teased.
“I’m not hungry” She snapped “And I’m not tired” With that, she marched onwards down the road, Piers groaned and bit off a piece of bread before stuffing the rest into his rations sack and scrambling after Jeanne.
The village didn’t burn quite right, the damp air and wet buildings were not advantageous to sending out a message to the Separatists. Instead it smouldered and sent grey stacks of smoke billowing into the cloudy sky. A young British Officer sat perched, back straight on his horse, he thumbed open a golden pocket watch and checked the time, five o’clock, high time to go home, Jackson thought, wouldn’t do much good to tramp back to the barracks with twenty prisoners in the dark. Jackson put away his watch and tucked it back into his red jacket. The air was filled with thick smoke from the fired thatch; it made his eyes water and his throat dry. Under these conditions, fieldwork was unacceptable; he resolved to inform Lord Liverpool of that on his return to the Silent Room, damn his petty quibbling.
Jackson suddenly felt a drop of cold spatter upon his cheek and he craned his neck towards the sky.
“Rain… that’s it, I bloody well give up” Jackson cursed and turned his head towards the prisoners.
“Sergeant! Get these rebels moving!” Jackson shouted out, the Sergeant gave his affirmation and started the line moving, the French rebels were tied to one another by thick lengths of rope tied around each others necks, the British soldiers were slightly fewer in number, being made up of five cavalrymen and ten Blackcoats. Each soldier eyed the rebels warily, though it comprised of many old men and women. Jackson had lead the operation perfectly, not a soul was harmed on either side, the rebels had surrendered once the Blackcoats had made themselves known, and the soldiers in return had acted like proper gentlemen, there would be no massacre on his hands, he vowed it. Several of the Cavalrymen held children that resided in the village. Jackson took particular care to make sure the children were in good hands and were not too separated from their mothers. The British army were here to restore order, not to crush a rebellion. Some of the French women cried and sobbed, some had not stopped since their children were taken from them, but it was for the good of the Empire, they had to understand that, harbouring rebels was detrimental to everyone involved.
Jackson sat, his eyes staring into the grey horizon; his horse carried him back to the Barracks and his soldiers followed. It all seemed final, until the noisy splashing of boots against wet mud broke him from his reverie and he focused on the pair just yards away from him.
Jeanne had stormed round the corner, and Piers, hungry and content with dreamily watching the girl in front had turned straight after her. Jeanne stood; mouth and eyes open wide at the spectacle in front of her, the Red coated Officer’s shock was painfully apparent, as if jolted awake from a nightmare, Piers acted in perfect timing with the Redcoat, as the Englishman pulled out his Flintlock pistol and levelled it at the pair, Piers had jumped in front of Jeanne and pulled his Musket off of his shoulder.
“Bloody hell is that you Piers?” The Officer asked, his pistol still aimed directly for them.
“It is I, Captain Jackson” Piers said with obvious tension and in accented English
“You noticed, Piers, I knew you were the soldiering type” Jackson smiled, his tone was cordial, even friendly, but still his pistol stayed drawn
“What is he saying?” Jeanne asked impatiently, Piers ignored her and kept his eyes on Captain Jackson, some of the Blackcoats had broken away from the prisoners and kept their muskets on Piers and Jeanne.
“I have conducted this operation personally Piers, no one has come to harm, I want to continue thusly” Jackson withdrew his flintlock and tucked it into his Golden Officers Sash.
“You are a deserter Piers, as an Officer of his Most Catholic Majesty’s British army, I must prosecute the law to its fullest extent, and you know what that means don’t you Piers?” Jackson gripped the reins, his white gloves tightening.
Piers nodded, there was nothing that needed to be said.
“What is he saying?” Jeanne demanded, her voice was full of anger, and tinged with fear, the British soldiers stood statue still, as if waiting for an invisible cue.
“Join the villagers Jeanne, Captain Jackson is an Officer and a Gentleman, no harm will come to you if we surrender now” Piers replied calmly as he stretched out his arm and offered his Musket to a nearby Blackcoat, the soldier stepped in and took the weapon off of Piers.
“I know his sort of Gentleman, I saw it at Domremy” Jeanne shouted and bolted for the corner.
“Stop her!” Jackson ordered,
A blackcoat ran forward and lifted his musket; Jackson threw himself to the side and knocked the musket to the ground as it discharged its shot. Jackson fell from the floor and he splashed onto the muddy road.
“Don’t kill her you clumsy fool!” Jackson coughed, Piers was already running after her, sprinting as fast as he could, the waterlogged road splashed around his feet and kicked cold water up along his breeches and shirt.
“Captain? I can take him” One of the Blackcoats called out, his rifle pointed straight at Piers.
“No, I won’t have innocent blood on my hands” Jackson pushed himself out of the water and pulled off his gloves.
Jeanne was running hard, but she was already tired, and her speed and stamina were running thin, she was so full of adrenalin that her body trembled as she ran, weakening her further, she drew ragged breaths and ran down the road, there had been no more shots since the first, maybe they had given up, but the sound of thudding boots steadily grew nearer, she kept running. It might be the French boy, it might be another Blackcoat, she kept running, but she could take the uncertainty no longer. She turned her head to see the French boy tearing down on her, his hair was dishevelled from running and his pigtail had burst and his auburn locks streamed in the wind. Jeanne tripped and tumbled, her body thumping against the wet grass before sinking into a waterlogged ditch, she collapsed and half drowned as the adrenalin poured from her body and fatigue took its place. Her limp wrist was grabbed and she was hauled from the freezing water.
Piers pulled her toward him and enveloped her with his arms; her body was soaked and cold to the touch.
“Captain Jackson is an honourable man” He repeated and held her close, her head rested against his heaving chest and she gripped his back gasping for air.
Jeanne opened her mouth to speak, but could find no words, instead she began to cry, silently at first and then as Piers held her tighter she sobbed louder. One of the Blackcoats had ran down the road after them, he had stopped halfway between Piers and Captain Jackson, Jackson himself waited at the end of the road, his redcoat covered in mud, he now looked more akin to the Black coated infantry. Piers let go of Jeanne and smiled at her, despite the tears she tried to smile, but more tears flowed. Piers bent over and swept her legs up with one arm and hefted her with his arms.
“I don’t even know your name” She whispered, it was true, he had forgotten to introduce himself
“I am Piers Calvet” He replied. Swirling the words around his mouth as he spoke them. Jeanne said nothing, and rested her head against his shoulder.
Captain Jackson was waiting for them at the end of the road, the prisoners and other soldiers had gone on without them, a palpable silence had descended upon the road, no birds, no rustling of trees, only the faint tapping of the rain and the slosh of Piers’ boots. When Piers and Jackson met, the Frenchman slowly set Jeanne upright and folded his hand around hers, Jeanne shivered in the cold and Jackson unclipped his heavy grey cloak and wrapped it round the girl, then in perfect French he spoke to her gently;
“I am Captain William Jackson, at your service m’am” He gave a slight bow and held out his hand.
“I would not see a beauty such as you walk my dear” Jackson smiled, Piers kept his eyes on the Captain. Jeanne sniffed and wiped her reddened eyes. Piers unclasped his hand from Jeanne’s and gently touched her back, urging her forward, slowly, she took then Captain’s hand and he helped her up onto his grey gelding.
“I trust you will need no bindings Sergeant Calvet?” Jackson asked
“I will not” Piers replied in an instant
“Good, I would not have it any other way” Jackson took the horses reins and led it on down the road, Piers followed, you could not escape fate, his conscience told him.
***
The summer days are over, thought Piers as he walked the wet wooden steps of the scaffold, his white shirt billowed in the cold wind which blew his hair across his face, the Blackcoats stood still despite the icy winds, at the top, a priest stood, a bible in hand waiting for the condemned. Piers life had taken a dramatic turn over the past three days and now it had come to this. The Priest began to speak but Piers did not hear him, instead he stood motionless as the executioner put the thick noose round his neck. The drummers began their roll and Officers read the list of charges, and then the black hooded soldier jerked the lever and the trapdoor opened, and Piers fell.
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WHAT ?! Piers ! Honourable to return like that and face responsibility .. but ... BUT ! darnit =( .
canonized said:
Haha well you know, Military law and all that
....where's the flipping evil smiley?
Just wanted to let you know that I have been reading. Just finished Pax Britannia.
One of the things that I really like about this is the way you put it together. It reminds me in some ways of my most referenced and thumbed through book in my house, "The Encyclopedia of Military History", which in my opinion is one of the greatest historical handbooks (handbook ha! the damn thing is bigger than...well...it's big) ever put together.
Like canonized's work, I will eventually get caught up, until then keep up the good work.
BTW when I discussed an HOI2 "Imperial Britannia" story to canonized, he poopooed it because he always thought of Britain as "Royal" vs "Imperial".
One of the things that I really like about this is the way you put it together. It reminds me in some ways of my most referenced and thumbed through book in my house, "The Encyclopedia of Military History", which in my opinion is one of the greatest historical handbooks (handbook ha! the damn thing is bigger than...well...it's big) ever put together.
Like canonized's work, I will eventually get caught up, until then keep up the good work.
BTW when I discussed an HOI2 "Imperial Britannia" story to canonized, he poopooed it because he always thought of Britain as "Royal" vs "Imperial".
grayghost said:Just wanted to let you know that I have been reading. Just finished Pax Britannia.
One of the things that I really like about this is the way you put it together. It reminds me in some ways of my most referenced and thumbed through book in my house, "The Encyclopedia of Military History", which in my opinion is one of the greatest historical handbooks (handbook ha! the damn thing is bigger than...well...it's big) ever put together.
Like canonized's work, I will eventually get caught up, until then keep up the good work.
BTW when I discussed an HOI2 "Imperial Britannia" story to canonized, he poopooed it because he always thought of Britain as "Royal" vs "Imperial".
BAH ! It IS Royal ! But that's because it's in the WW2 setting . If it were pre-WW2 I'd see it better ! =P
Grayghost - Great to have you on board! I'm glad you like it!
Canonized - Haha! Well, The British Empire is Royal, hence the royal title, but India was an Imperial title, so the British Empire is both!
Nikolai - Don't worry, theres a purpose to it all!
Canonized - Haha! Well, The British Empire is Royal, hence the royal title, but India was an Imperial title, so the British Empire is both!
Nikolai - Don't worry, theres a purpose to it all!
Well that was sad, dammit! Here I thought Piers might have found a love and you go and hang the bastard. While I applaud the dramatics, I hate the outcome. The man deserved better.
Still and all - a gripping scene.
The man deserved better.Still and all - a gripping scene.
coz1 said:Well that was sad, dammit! Here I thought Piers might have found a love and you go and hang the bastard. While I applaud the dramatics, I hate the outcome.
Still and all - a gripping scene.
Well, while I'm very happy you liked the dramatics, I do feel bad for hanging young Piers, I shall endeavour to write an update to rectify the situation!
Poor Piers. I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, but maybe he did the right thing in the end.
Maybe this is a fake death like the one in the Midekimia series I forget which one.
Otherwise DAMN!
Otherwise DAMN!
Nikolai - You'll get the answer tonight! Along with more of Jeanne, Captain Jackson and Lord Cutler-Beckett!
Trondheim - I think so, at some point every man must face up to his responsibilities
BBBD316 - It could well be, although I am unfamiliar with the Midekimia series
Trondheim - I think so, at some point every man must face up to his responsibilities
BBBD316 - It could well be, although I am unfamiliar with the Midekimia series
"Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster...for when you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you."
-Friedrich Nietzsche
The Arbiter of Europe, Part VII
The Cast
Captain Jackson, An Officer and a Gentleman
Piers Calvet, A French deserter
Jeanne, A French woman
Captain Ximenez, An Officer
The Lord Colonel Swann, A Peer and an Officer
Lord Cutler-Beckett, A Peer and the Kings confidante
The icy wind blustered round the small courtyard, Captain Jackson leant against one of the many brickwork arches so to shelter himself from the cold. In the centre stood the Scaffolding, dark and menacing, the wood was cold and swollen with the incessant rain. Jackson pulled his watch from his waist jacket and anxiously watched the hands circle. The Blackcoats stood immobile against the howling wind, winter had come early thought Jackson. A huge oaken door opened opposite Jackson and the Captain saw Sergeant Calvet led out into the courtyard, escorted by two grim soldiers. Calvet’s face was ashen and downcast, yet Jackson could see there an unswerving resolve deep in his eyes, but beyond, he seemed nothing more than a dead man walking. The executioner pulled down on the noose, testing its weight, as Piers walked the steps. The Priest began to speak in Latin, the words piercing the air and echoing round the courtyard. Jackson clumsily shoved his watch back in between the buttons of his waistcoat and kept his eyes on Piers. The condemned soldier’s eyes were closed gently, the executioner gathered the noose and placed it around Piers’ neck. Jackson stepped from out of the red brick columns and swallowed hard. The lever was pulled and Piers’ body dropped, the soldier kicked, still suspended from the scaffold. Jackson couldn’t bear to watch, but timing was critical at this point and he forced himself to watch. Finally Piers’ stopped moving and the Blackcoats moved towards the soldier.
“Come on chaps, quickly now” Jackson encouraged.
The executioner slashed the rope and Piers’ limp body fell down into the arms of two waiting soldiers who then laid him upon the ground. Jackson ran over to Calvet and was accompanied by another Blackcoat that quickly produced a bottle of Scotch. Jackson grabbed Piers by the shoulders and pulled him up into a sitting position, the Blackcoat knelt by the lifeless body and lifted the bottle to Piers lips pouring the contents down his throat.
“Come on Piers!” Jackson slapped his cheek, there was no response “Surgeon!”
The surgeon, dressed simply, most strikingly in a leather apron ran over to the group and shoved the soldiers out the way. He knelt down to Piers, still held by Jackson and another Blackcoat soldier. The surgeon checked the body, placing his head against the Frenchman’s chest and then gently touching then mans neck and wrist.
“Well?” Jackson pressed the surgeon
“As I expected he is quite alive, though deprived of air, he is merely unconscious, he will need rest to recover,” The Surgeon answered, still checking Piers’ over.
“Good, right, Sergeant, put Mr Calvet in the west wing, keep a guard and inform me when he wakes,” Jackson motioned to the soldiers
“Very good sir” The Sergeant answered in affirmative and Piers’ limp body was carried away.
Jackson felt a welcome wave of relief and of success, no one had died because of his actions, and soon the French rebels would be resettled in the colonies, no one would be harmed on his conscience. Despite his victory, he longed to be back in the simple world of artillery. That was the profession he was meant for, his mathematical prowess had helped him greatly during his tenure in the 97th Artillery Company, now picked up and recruited into the shadow filled silent room, his life was filled with contradictory orders and suspicious sources, in fact here came one now.
This one was dressed in the Black garb of the Infantry; he stormed towards Captain Jackson, his gloved hand placed firmly upon his sabre. The Officer stepped forward and briskly clicked his heels and saluted.
“Captain Jackson, I am Captain Iago Ximenez” The Captains dark eyes bored straight into Jackson’s blue.
“Your servant sir” Jackson gently touched the tip of his Tricorner.
“The Colonel has received your report Captain, why did you not carry out your orders as commanded?” Ximenez demanded.
“Unfortunately Sir, I am not at liberty to discuss such details with your good self, Mr…”
“Ximenez, Sir I have the Silent Room’s authority” The Captain replied impatiently.
“Yes indeed, but I’m afraid I must deliver this information in person” Jackson remembered the Captains name, but his mood was so considerably lightened, that playing with the man seemed like a jolly idea.
“If you’ll excuse me Captain Ximenez” Jackson turned and left, Ximenez did nothing to stop him, instead, he turned about and stalked across the wet flagstones of the courtyard. Jackson pushed open the weighty doors of the courtyard and marched down the cold corridors of the barracks. The Silent Room was a horse ride away, but Captain Jackson had a prior destination.
France will never be what you want it to be; Captain Jacksons words clouded her mind ever since he spoke them so tenderly only that morning. It was on that morning that Jeanne had sold herself, her morals, her beliefs and her hope of a French France, she had accepted his hospitality and his promise of a better life in New France, she racked her brains on his reasoning behind furnishing her with new dresses and with a purse full enough to live comfortably in the colonies, part of it continued to fuel her belief that the English were a nation driven by wealth, and that every Englishman had a purse of crowns hidden away, while the French struggled on. But Jeanne also knew that wasn’t true, many Frenchmen grew rich and fat on the back of English profiteers, she wondered if they ever gave a thought to France, rather than their own purses. She thought of Piers, at first she discarded him as a Blackcoat, but in the space of a day she had changed her mind about the young soldier, he had risked being shot to bring her back to Captain Jackson, and though the point of such an act was not immediately clear, she later understood. France was no longer safe for a lone woman, not with the roving bands of rebels and Blackcoats, she was lucky that Captain Jackson was a Gentleman, and that Piers had some history with him.
What was there for her in France? Her family were killed at Domremy, as were her friends, and any chance of a livelihood, their fields ruined and burnt, their houses torn down. Jackson had told her of New France, and the sugar fields, there anyone could make a new life. Hot tears fell from her blue eyes and she realised this would be the last she saw of France, an unnaturally cold August and the windswept fields of Lorraine. There is a time when everyone must leave his or her old life behind, she thought. She repeated it to herself time and again as she left the cold battlements of the fort and descended the stone steps. As she walked out onto the parade ground she noticed Captain Jackson saddling his horse, she wondered about calling out to him, she felt obliged after the kind treatment he had shown her, but as he mounted his horse and rode for the gate, she found no words. Instead she walked into the barrack halls and made her way to her room.
The Silent Room was an organisation charged with protecting Britain’s security, its members were shrouded with secrecy as were its operations. Founded with vows of protection for the Empires rulers and the Woodhouse Dynasty itself, the Silent Room was often at the forefront, though nobody would know it. Ironically, the Silent Rooms, where the Operatives would meet, where by most standards quite lavish, this meeting itself was held in one of the many palaces of the Duke of Lorraine. Though the Duke was not in attendance, nor had he any idea this meeting was taking place.
The Drawing room was a typical baroque example of splendour, high decorated ceilings, elaborate furniture brushed with gold, its floors an attractive marble, expansive windows flooded the rooms with light and gave the occupants a splendid view of the opulent gardens. Jackson waited for Captain Ximenez while sitting on a cushioned seat in front of the window, the old Colonel, fattening and balding sat at the round table thumbing through maps of the area, annotating points of interest. Jackson sat in silence, idly sipping at the Sherry and smiling inwardly, that fat old Colonel would get what was coming to him, Ximenez may have been a slavering fool, ready to obey every order no matter what, but there was no substitute to an Oxford education and years in the Officers mess. Jackson glanced over to the Colonel, he was still scratching away on the maps, absorbed in his silly work.
The sound of gravel underfoot widened Jackson’s eyes and butterflies flitted around in his stomach. He downed the rest of the Sherry and looked out of the window, sure enough, there he was. Captain Ximenez, dragged indignantly across the gardens towards the Palace, Jackson flicked his eyes over to the Colonel, he was too absorbed to notice. Curiously, Ximenez was silent and without protest, maybe he got that out of the way earlier mused Jackson, the sense of triumph welling up inside him. The Blackcoats opened the Palace doors and walked into the drawing room, Ximenez followed soon after, pulled along by the arms, then in walked Jackson’s saviour, and most likely, the Empire’s saviour, he was not a tall man, but despite this, he carried with him an air of power, an inescapable presence, that Jackson was only too glad to bask in.
“What in God’s name is going on!?” The Colonel shouted now standing at the table,
The newcomer turned around to face the Colonel and pulled his cloak, which was taken by his aide.
“Cutler-Beckett?” The Colonel sounded surprised
“Yes, its Lord actually” Lord Cutler-Beckett replied, he had become the complete opposite of the Colonel.
“Well, Lord or not, you have no right to arrest that man”
“Oh I think you’ll find I do” Lord Cutler-Beckett said casually, his aide stepped forward and opened a leather satchel, a wide piece of parchment was taken out by the Gentleman and then handed to the Colonel. “An arrest warrant for one Iago Ximenez”
The Colonel took in every detail of the warrant, his face turned ash grey.
“But this arrest warrant is for me, Colonel Swann” The Colonel stammered
“Oh, my mistake, annoying, Seize him” Cutler-Beckett pointed at the Colonel and two spare Blackcoats rushed in and grabbed the Colonel’s arms, he then reached into the satchel and took out another warrant, this time he checked the name and presented it to the Colonel.
“Ah here we are” The Lord whispered triumphantly.
Colonel Swann struggled for words, “But Jackson! What about Jackson?”
“Him?” Cutler-Beckett asked in a rhetorical sense “He was just a tool in your downfall, if you want to find the grand architect, then look no further than above that fireplace”
The Colonel’s sweat began to drip down his fat, wrinkled face, his nervous eyes glanced to the portrait above the fireplace, and he knew the answer already, King Augustus.
“But we serve the King and Britain!” It was a final, false plea from Swann.
“Oh? I’m sure the King would have approved of your vicious reprisals against the French people, the bribery of certain French notables, and the fomentation of a French rebellion” Cutler-Beckett kept a straight face and a calm voice, he signalled to his aide who walked over carrying the leather satchel and Cutler-Beckett pulled out a pile of letters, bound together with a piece of string. The Colonels face paled, Lord Cutler-Beckett waved them in front of his face before throwing them upon the luxurious table.
“Treason and Sedition Swann, and you had the good sense to record it” Cutler-Beckett smiled. The Blackcoats took the cue and dragged the two traitors from the palace and out into the garden.
“Well Captain, you have done your part well” Cutler-Beckett turned to Captain Jackson who now stood in the presence of Cutler-Beckett. The Lord dismissed the remaining guards from the room and only Cutler-Beckett, his aide, and Captain Jackson remained. Cutler-Beckett circled the table running his fingers along the edge and stopped at Colonel Swann’s piles of maps.
“Will you require them as evidence sir?” Jackson enquired
“No, that’s all a formality now” He replied idly moving the maps across the table.
“What will become of the Silent Room?”
“Exactly as the King asks, for years, the ideals of the Silent Room were corrupted by Swann for his own purposes” Cutler-Beckett sat down and once again signalled his aide.
“But why France? Why a rebellion?”
“Are you that naïve Major Jackson?” Cutler-Beckett smiled ever so slightly as he pulled out yet another piece of parchment from the satchel.
“Major?” Jackson looked astonished
“It was greed Jackson, simple greed, the Saxons paid him the marks, and he would engineer a rebellion in France, you’ll find, Jackson, the King rewards those loyal to him, he’s not all cards and drink” Cutler-Beckett handed Jackson the parchment and then began to leave.
“This Silent Room is closed, I shall call you again, when another is opened, Major” Cutler-Beckett left and Jackson stood at the window, staring out at the grey skies, but despite the weather, he could have sworn it was the brightest day he had seen.
Piers coughed and jerked awake, he sat up quickly, coughing violently. There was a scattering of footsteps and Piers looked towards the door, he then realised where he was. His eyes wandered over the bleak wet stone in the cell, over his rickety wooden bed and the small table next to him, a clay jug of water and a tin cup upon it. Piers ignored the cup and went straight for the jug gulping down as much water as he could. He drank so fast that water spilled over his stubble covered chin and onto his bare chest, he coughed and spluttered when he choked on the water and threw himself back on the bed gasping for air. His arm rubbed his throat still sore from the hanging, the rope must have snapped he thought, and not a moment too soon.
The footsteps returned, this time much more ordered than before, perhaps they were going to finish the job. Piers pushed himself up onto his elbows and watched the door cautiously. It burst open and Captain Jackson walked into the room, he had been promoted, Piers noted.
“Major” Piers voice crackled
“I’m sorry it had to happen Piers, but justice must be played out.” Jackson took off his tricorner and stood at the end of Piers’ bed
“What will happen now?”
“Whatever you wish, Sergeant Calvet has been hanged” Jackson turned his face to the grilled window at the top of the cell “Jeanne, will be leaving for New France within the week, I had hoped you would join her” Major Jackson threw a small purse onto Piers’ lap and began to walk from the room.
“Why are you doing this?” Piers asked
“Because, I believe in this Empire, I may have been born in England and you in France, but under this Empire, we are brothers you and I, we both owed our loyalty to the crown once, I hope you will not forget. That money, is your backpay, Goodbye Piers” Jackson walked from the room and Piers could hear his boots clicking against the cold flagstones of the Barracks floor.
Jeanne is still here, he thought. And he leapt from his bed.
The short lived but violent French rebellion came to an end in late 1707 and resulted with many of the rebellious subjects being shipped to the American Colonies. Recent theories have stated that the rebellion came from inside the Governmental structure of France, rather than as a purely anti-taxation movement. Some historians link this to Lord Colonel Weatherby Swann’s fall from grace and the rise of Lord Cutler-Beckett as the Kings Aide-de-France. Lord Swann died soon after, allegedly of poisoning, though this is likely the result of the high arsenic content within his retirement home in New England. Nevertheless, with the rebellion at home securely settled, King Augustus was free to place his concentration on the looming war in India, started by an insignificant Allied state of Britain in India, it served as yet another reason to annex more regions of the wealth subcontinent. Thanks to the progressive measures of exile and pardon, the French rebellion quietened and disappeared, the armies on the Saxon border returned to full strength and Britain emerged from its short time of troubles, back to its position of the Arbiter of Europe.
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This will be linked from the front page, so I can save room
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The House of Lancaster
Bevan Epee de Dieu.....................1177 - 1237 (Duke of Lancaster, Lord of Jerusalem)
Bevan I.....................1201 - 1254 (King of England, Lord of Jerusalem)
Henry III.....................1235 - 1266 (King of England, Lord of Jerusalem)
Bevan II.....................1252 - 1312 (King of England, Wales, Scotland, Ireland, France and Jerusalem)
Bevan III.....................1275 - 1346 (King of England, France, Spain, Italy, Jerusalem)
Henry IV "Lackland".....................1312 - 1350 (King of England and France)
Henry V.....................1331 - 1370 (King of England and France)
Edward I.....................1358 - 1392 (King of England and France)
Richard II.....................1385 - 1453 (King of England and France)
Bevan IV.....................1434 - 1472 (King of England and France)
Bevan V.....................1460 - 1483 (King of England and France)
Anne I.....................1471 - 1518 (Queen of Britannia)
The House of York-Lancaster
Henry VI.....................1502 - 1530 (King of Britannia)
Henry VII.....................1517 - 1539 (King of Britannia)
Bevan VI.....................1518 - 1555 (Bevanius Augustus Britannicus Gallias Romanus Rex Imperator)
Eleanor I.....................1539 - 1583 (Eleanoria Augustia Britannia Gallia Romania Regina Imperatrix)
The House of York
Richard III.....................1560 - 1590 (King of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and France)
Michael I.....................1578 - 1616 (King of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and France)
Henry VIII.....................1594 - 1638 (King of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and France)
Edward II.....................1610 - 1661 (King of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and France, Holy Roman Emperor, King of Jerusalem, Lord of New England, Defender of the Faith)
George I.....................1634 - 1669 (King of the United Kingdoms of Great Britain and France, Holy Roman Emperor, King of Jerusalem, Lord of New England)
Henry IX.....................1651 - 1692 (King of the United Kingdoms of Great Britain and France, King of Jerusalem, and Holy Roman Emperor)
Augustus I.....................1692 - 1714 (King of the United Kingdoms of Great Britain and France, King of Jerusalem, and Holy Roman Emperor)
Edward III.....................1714 - 1735 (King of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and France, King of Jerusalem, Lord of New England, Holy Roman Emperor)
Robert I.....................1735 - 1762 (King of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and France, King of Jerusalem, Lord of New England, Holy Roman Emperor)
Bevan VII.....................1762 - 1787 (Emperor, King of the United Kingdoms of Great Britain and France, King of Jerusalem, Lord of New England and his Empire across the globe, Defender of the Faith, By the Grace of God, Holy Roman Emperor)
Henry X.....................1762 -
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The House of Lancaster
Bevan Epee de Dieu.....................1177 - 1237 (Duke of Lancaster, Lord of Jerusalem)
Bevan I.....................1201 - 1254 (King of England, Lord of Jerusalem)
Henry III.....................1235 - 1266 (King of England, Lord of Jerusalem)
Bevan II.....................1252 - 1312 (King of England, Wales, Scotland, Ireland, France and Jerusalem)
Bevan III.....................1275 - 1346 (King of England, France, Spain, Italy, Jerusalem)
Henry IV "Lackland".....................1312 - 1350 (King of England and France)
Henry V.....................1331 - 1370 (King of England and France)
Edward I.....................1358 - 1392 (King of England and France)
Richard II.....................1385 - 1453 (King of England and France)
Bevan IV.....................1434 - 1472 (King of England and France)
Bevan V.....................1460 - 1483 (King of England and France)
Anne I.....................1471 - 1518 (Queen of Britannia)
The House of York-Lancaster
Henry VI.....................1502 - 1530 (King of Britannia)
Henry VII.....................1517 - 1539 (King of Britannia)
Bevan VI.....................1518 - 1555 (Bevanius Augustus Britannicus Gallias Romanus Rex Imperator)
Eleanor I.....................1539 - 1583 (Eleanoria Augustia Britannia Gallia Romania Regina Imperatrix)
The House of York
Richard III.....................1560 - 1590 (King of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and France)
Michael I.....................1578 - 1616 (King of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and France)
Henry VIII.....................1594 - 1638 (King of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and France)
Edward II.....................1610 - 1661 (King of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and France, Holy Roman Emperor, King of Jerusalem, Lord of New England, Defender of the Faith)
George I.....................1634 - 1669 (King of the United Kingdoms of Great Britain and France, Holy Roman Emperor, King of Jerusalem, Lord of New England)
Henry IX.....................1651 - 1692 (King of the United Kingdoms of Great Britain and France, King of Jerusalem, and Holy Roman Emperor)
Augustus I.....................1692 - 1714 (King of the United Kingdoms of Great Britain and France, King of Jerusalem, and Holy Roman Emperor)
Edward III.....................1714 - 1735 (King of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and France, King of Jerusalem, Lord of New England, Holy Roman Emperor)
Robert I.....................1735 - 1762 (King of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and France, King of Jerusalem, Lord of New England, Holy Roman Emperor)
Bevan VII.....................1762 - 1787 (Emperor, King of the United Kingdoms of Great Britain and France, King of Jerusalem, Lord of New England and his Empire across the globe, Defender of the Faith, By the Grace of God, Holy Roman Emperor)
Henry X.....................1762 -
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