The Rightful King
Gainsborough, England - May 1109
The King entered the privy council chamber and the four men already there stood and lowered their heads in a bow until he found his chair at the head of the table. He remained standing as he looked across to Bishop Cearl, “You may say your words, my Lord Bishop.”
The Court Chaplain offered a fine but quick prayer and then Eadgar looked to all present with some irritation in his eyes, “You may understand that our Lord Marshal is not present as he has taken his force across the channel to invest Brugge once again. I have sanctioned this action and let no man question it.”
As he sat and gestured for the others to do so, his son spoke up, “And let no man question your wisdom in this, Your Grace. I understand that Lord Skuli has found it difficult to match the Duke in Normandy even as he holds a clear advantage here in Wessex.”
Eadgar turned to him with no smile, “You would understand it well. How goes it with your small force? Any better?”
Eadward shook his head, “They are meager, no doubt. I only send them to scout, Your Grace. And to lend support to our great Marshal.”
“I told you I had little issue with it,” Eadgar waived a hand and moved to pour himself a drink of ale from the pitcher in front of him, “As long as you have little need of your force to the west, then this is good training for them. Lord Harold does his best to harass the areas around London and the rest of Middlesex but Lord Skuli is matched two to one in Normandy and Robert moves to attack his own brother in the Vexin.”
“It is surely frustrating,” Lord Brice spoke out with a nod of the head, “I am certain of that, Your Grace.”
Eadgar turned to the opposite side of the table to match his gaze and still found no smile, “Yes…it is.”
Duke Æthelmær, seated next to the Mayor, nodded his assent, “It has lowered the expected chance for yield in yet another year and our merchants in London are finding great hardship with this powerful conduit of trade so disrupted.”
Eadgar offered his Steward a slight smile as he looked to the rest, “So you may see why my mood this day is low, my Lords. I did never wish this to go so long and with our two tenacious Dukes, I fear it never ending. I have no issue with their quarrel until it hits us in the purse. It begins to do so now.”
Lord Brice tried to put a nice spin to the matter, “At least there was some success in Rouen recently, Your Grace.”
The King looked to his master of spies after taking a long pull of his drink, “And well on you for it, my Lord Mayor.”
Eadward already regretted his suggestion of this new master of spies and cut in to suggest, “Yet the taking of fifty gold pieces from some corrupt Mayor in Arques does not hit the Duke in Normandy as this affair does to His Grace.”
“It would cause him trouble in paying his fair share to his vassal Lord, methinks,” Brice smiled as he looked to the Prince. “That be no small thing.”
Duke Æthelmær sensed the mood and tried to play peacemaker, “It was no small thing indeed, but I believe the Prince to be right. What is most important is the King’s tax and this war goes on too long to keep it sound.”
The King raised his cup to the Steward as he nodded his head, “That is well said, my Lord Duke. This is my concern entirely.”
Eadgar looked to Lord Brice with some frustration, “It is well enough to take from a man, but he would still pay his due to his vassal Lord and find his own pocket empty. I would wish to see Lord Robert in hardship and not some low level Mayor…with all respect to you, my Lord.”
Brice offered a brief bow, “You are most correct, Your Grace. I shall be back to Rouen as soon as I am able in order to see this done. You may rest assured.”
“Very well,” Eadgar nodded with a frown and poured another cup.
“On a related note,” Lord Brice smiled across the table to the Prince, “We have made some great gains in your quest for Somerset, Your Grace.”
The King looked up with a raised brow, “Really? Pray tell what news?”
Eadward shot the master of spies an ill look, “This plot to revoke the county has produced one small courtier in Lord Cearl’s court, Your Grace.”
Lord Brice frowned at having his thunder stolen from him, “He be no small courtier, Your Grace. This Alexander suggests to me that he has many friends in the court of Duke Cearl and tells me that he may work hard to speak your truth to the people of Somerset.”
“I must say, my Lords…Your Grace…” Æthelmær looked to the King and then back to the others with a quizzical eye, “This be the first that this news comes to my hearing. What plan is this?”
Eadward shrugged, “Your work in Dover and elsewhere has kept you from us too long, my Lord Duke. It is no thing, as far as I am concerned. We have worked for some time to find a claim for His Grace in Somerset. It is believed that surely there is something that goes back many years and in asserting such will make certain that Lord Cearl is aware of the crown’s authority and will cease his attempts to befriend the Norman Duke.”
“What the Prince means…” Brice offered a pleasant smile to Eadward, “…is that he has tried this route and found it wanting. It is a valid thought, but one that has yet to produce a result. My effort has been somewhat different.”
The Prince was about to object but Eadgar held up his hand to stop him, “There be no need to squabble about the means, my Lords. My concern is the end of it.”
Duke Æthelmær looked to both the spymaster and the Prince and then back to the King, “So the desire is to strip Somerset from Lord Cearl?”
“His Grace has this wish…yes,” Brice nodded to the Steward.
“And your thinking in doing so goes?” Æthelmær returned the gaze with question.
Brice smiled, “To find some pretext in which no man may question His Grace should he revoke the county. He does not wish to be a harsh King, I think you would agree.”
The Steward turned to Eadgar, “You have blessed this, Your Grace?”
Eadgar nodded his assent and Eadward watched as Æthelmær processed this news. Finally the Steward suggested, “I have no great love for Lord Cearl and do think his works are poor at best. But I must wonder at the precedent it suggests, Your Grace.”
“Be still, my Lord Duke,” Eadgar looked to him with a kind eye, “I have no wish to go about and stealing rightly owned land from our great Lords. This be an act of punishment for Lord Cearl’s contempt in a manner that would not arouse the ire of the rest of you. Surely you understand. I have no desire to see this realm plunged back into a great struggle.”
Æthelmær considered it for a few more moments before replying, “Then I cannot see myself unsupportive, Your Grace. You may count on me as always.”
Eadgar offered a slight smile as he looked to his son, “That is fine to hear, my Lord. Would that all who know of this plot find their voice in it.”
“I do not lend a voice, Your Grace, because I think it a waste of time and energy,” Eadward returned his father’s smile. “And more, I would echo the concerns of Lord Æthelmær…it be a dangerous thing to let any man know you may come one day to take what is rightfully theirs. Surely you of all people may understand this.”
“His Grace has given me enough answer to assuage any doubt, my Prince,” Æthelmær suggested.
“Indeed, Prince Eadward,” Brice followed up, “You of all people may know that His Grace will have his prerogative. It does prove beneficial in all ways when won, does it not?”
Eadward sat back, unwilling to argue any further on the matter, “Proceed in all haste, my Lord. I will not stand in your way and much luck to you in the goal. I would have my father, the King, sound in every way.”
“Very good,” Eadgar nodded as he looked to his Steward, “And I thank you, my Lord, for your support in this.”
As Æthelmær gave a bow of his head in reply, the King moved to stand, “Unless there is more, sirs…”
Now Eadward smiled as he sat forward once again, “There is one other item, Your Grace…it concerns your grandson.”
“Oh?” Eadgar sat once more and moved to pour another cup of ale.
“Indeed, father…Your Grace…” Eadward grinned at the new master of spies, “…a letter from my brother tells me that young Oscytel has now come of age.”
Eadgar finally found a large smile, “That is excellent news! What are his pursuits?”
Eadward took advantage of his father’s attention, “It would appear that my brother was correct when Uhtræd suggested that the boy may be meant for the cloth.”
A frown came across the King’s face as he considered such a thing, “He could not do that! He is to be heir to this throne.”
The Prince shrugged, “I may only tell you what Uhtræd has told me, Your Grace. My brother and his wife share your concerns as the boy is also heir to the Duchy of Meissen…they have him to be married and soon to some girl from the south…a Dora Dandolo. She is sixteen and comely, Uhtræd suggests.”
“Well then…that is fine,” Eadgar smiled and took a drink.
“And yet…” Eadward placed a hand upon the table, “…he still has as his goal to speak his vows and become Court Chaplain to his mother’s realm.”
Eadgar looked immediately to Bishop Cearl with concern, “May he do both?”
The Bishop shook his head, “The tenets of the church would speak to no path that would allow such a thing, Your Grace. But this be Germany. I could not say what may be granted.”
“Then surely Uhtræd and Adela would not allow such a thing,” Eadgar looked back to his son.
“They have many children, father,” Eadward offered some sorrow in his eyes, “Their son Eadberht is naught but three years younger…”
“That boy I have not met,” Eadgar looked away as he pulled his drink to him.
Lord Brice attempted to counsel, “I be certain that any child of the Prince be useful as regards the succession, Your Grace.”
As the King shot the man a harsh look, Æthelmær placed his hand next to the master of spies, “You would do well not to concern yourself with His Grace’s family, my Lord.”
“I only meant…” Brice began to say but the King held up his hand to stop him.
“Uhtræd will know what to do,” Eadgar stated as a fact. “He knows more than all what this means and would not let his son break our chain. I would give him all of my trust.”
Eadward looked to his father with some pleading eyes, “Mayhap some words from you, Your Grace? We know not well these lands of Meissen and what is taught. The boy was a fine friend to us all when he visited some years past, but now…”
The King moved to take a large pull of his drink and then sat the cup down, “Uhtræd will know best. He needs not my thoughts on the matter. I would not burden him.”
The Prince smiled at Lord Brice before turning back to his father, “May I write to him and tell him of our concerns?”
Eadgar looked off into the distance as he answered, “You may if you are able, sir. But do not tell him that these words come from me. These be his children and I would not interfere.”