The Rise of House Rothwell -- A Cornish AAR
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Chapter 17: Births, Marriages and Death
Prince Gwain --- The Royal House of Tintagel, Cornwall, 8th of August 788 AD
“Glory be brother!” the young Princess was beaming with joy as she strode toward Elfwine, with wide open arms, ‘A Princess! My sister has given you another daughter to grace our home!’ They embraced warmly. Mari turned to the door she had just come through, ‘Mother says you can go in now’ suddenly she turned sharp, catching sight of her elder brother as he moved to go with Elfwine, ‘NOT YOU!’ her hand flew up, ‘Just Elfwine’ she hissed, ‘it is his wife and child, brother!’ Mari had not yet reached her majority but over recent months she had become bold increasingl, acting older than her years and following ever in her mother, the Queens shadow, using her power to strengthen her own.
One day little lady, I will have you put over a Bishops knee and you will be taught a very valued lesson!
Gwain bowed smoothly, ‘Quite right, yes’ he turned to a guard at the door, ‘Send word to my father, a Princess is born to our house!’ The man nodded and instantly went to leave, Theodan was at the border with Wessex, at the invitation of the Regent, to discuss matters of state and so had missed the birth. ‘WAIT!’ he called suddenly, turning back to his sister, ‘Does Morgana have a name?’
Mari looked suddenly irritated but let it pass, ‘Berthaldis, she is to be called Berthaldis!’ And with that she flew quickly behind Elfwine as he passed into the room beyond. Gwain nodded to the guard to continue with his duties.
Lady Leofgifu sat quietly on a stool beside the Princess, ever the silent witness of the families story, she smiled at the Prince noting his obvious irritation, ‘Let it go Gwain’ her closeness letting her forgo the need for titles, ‘Mari never has had manners’ her smile broadening, ‘but she will learn in time.’
‘It is no matter’ he bowed to the Mistress of Spies, ‘no matter at all!’ He had no great fondness for his younger sibling, and as the years went by, he had found it increasingly tiresome, fighting the good fight against her and her brother, Theodan’s constant gibes. ‘Do you have any news for me good lady?’ he had a matter of his own that he wished for details on and Leofgifu was dealing with it personally.
‘Everything is in readiness my Prince’ she assured him, ‘the King, your father is putting the last details into place whilst he is in Wessex and then we will be ready.’ Gwain was reaching his majority, and Theodan had decided to honour the betrothal that had been agreed between Cornwall and Warwick years earlier; Offa had spared the life the late Earls daughter, though she had been sent into exile in Oxford far from her home. Now plans were being laid to spring her from her confinement and smuggler her out of the country, when she would then be brought to Cornwall and wed to the young Prince.
Princess Ecgfrida – The River Brue, South Western Englaland, 8th September 788AD
Her lips pressed softly on the brow of the poor old man, his skin already going cold as death came up to meet him. “Rest easy my friend” tears poured down her cheeks as a servant covered the dead Earls face with a blanket. ‘Bring the horses’ she snapped suddenly, ‘we can not linger here for much longer, it is not safe!’ One off her retinue running off to the tree-line where the horses were tied.
‘We can not just leave him’ the young maid implored, ‘it is not right!’ Water welling in the young girls eyes.
Ecgrida rose up from her knee’s, her face hard, a lifetime of struggle and the ruin off her family having toughened her resolve, ‘Offa will have men on the road’ she reasoned allowed, ‘it may not be seemly to leave a corpse on the roadside, but we have little choice!’ The Earl of Oxford had given his life to defy King Offa and set Ecgfrida free from her captivity, if they were caught then the former Earl of Warwick and Worcester’s, daughter new all to well the fate that awaited them; assault, rape and a long rope from a tall tree.
Whincing suddenly, the soon to be Countess clutched at her leg, it had been sliced open days before, when Offa’s men had caught them up and ambushed them along the road. Five of their number had been slain too three of the Kings, but nevertheless they had escaped, and the West Saxon border was insight. Plans laid by her soon to be father-in-law had promised, that should the cross into Wessex then the soldiers of King Elfsige would be waiting to escort them the rest of the way.
‘Good bye Cuthbert!’ the lady whispered, as she strode toward the approaching soldier and the horses he led.
Prince Gwain – The Kings Hall, Tintagel, Cornwall, 26th September 788 AD
“We are glad to have you good lady, very glad indeed!” Gwain beamed at her with open arms, his broad muscular frame tense with nerves, sensing her discomfort he instantly changed tone, his voice dropping, ‘We are sorry for the loss of Earl Cuthbert.’
‘I have lost a father and a brother on the long road here, what is one more death at the hands of King Offa?’ she sounded sharp, critical and unforgiving, but her face instantly softened, ‘I thank you for your thoughts!’ Having lost all off her father and her elder brother, in part for Theodans unwillingness to act her anger was understandable. The door off the hall suddenly flew open and the Anglo-saxon lady jumped almost clear out of her skin, until she realised the entrants were friends; a life under fear of execution no doubt had done some damage.
‘My brothers Theodan and Bryn, my sister Mari’ Gwain offered by way off reassurance, as the three bowed in unison to the newcomer and then to their father and mother sat atop the dais, enthroned. ‘My father would speak to you later in private’ his voice falling lower, ‘I think he means to apologies.’
‘None is needed’ she answered wistfully, ‘what has been done cannot be undone.’
I would not act the same fair lady, I promise you I would not. Gwain hoped his father’s inaction would not sour their coming marriage before it had even begun. The Prince turned to his mother and father, ‘May I present to you my parents, Theodan, King of Cornwall and my Lady-Mother, Queen Elesbed’ pride at his lineage obvious by the smile on his face, no thought for the pain he may have unintentionally caused.
Standing tall and proud, with fiery red hair tied up high and in a fine shift, Ecgfrida was a handsome woman and the whole court peered closer as she took a deep courtesy before the throne, ‘I am honoured to be received by you’ she went lower, smiling to Gwain, ‘this homecoming is long overdue.’
I do hope you mean that, I hope you will feel at home here. Darkness is behind you and the years ahead maybe long.
Suddenly pulling himself up tall and proud, Gwain placed a hand gently on her shoulder, a momentary flinch showing she was still uneasy, ‘We will stay here for the harvest, then we will visit my new house in Kembre and then we shall return in time for Christmas.’
Two more figures entered the chamber and the courtiers parted as Princess Morgana and her husband came at stride into the chamber. Morganna gave no heed to formality or ritual, instead rushing up to Ecgfrida with outstretched arms, embracing her and kissing her cheek, ‘Sister’ she squeezed the suddenly uncomfortable noblewoman without pause, the Princesses hair wild and unkept, ‘So long has my little brother waited to meet you’ she turned smiling at him, ‘pretty isn’t she? And her so lucky to being marrying a man as handsome as you!’ Both blushed, suddenly all to aware that they hardly new each other and yet their lives were about to be bound together.
Theodan and Elesbed looked on cautiously, neither of them spoke though they forced a smile and accepted the weary nods of the court; together they had condemned this ladies family to oblivion and now they welcomed her as a daughter. Stood behind Morgana, her husband Elfwine stood were Ecgfrida’s brother had supposed to be.
King Theodan – Cardiff, South Wales, 11th May 789 AD
“YOU DO NOT GET TO SIMPLY TEAR UP THE MAP AS YOU SEE FIT!” Theodan roared across the room, Countess Braustudd sitting unmoved in a chair by the fire. ‘These things’ his voice dropping, ‘are not as simple as that!’ He moved toward her, his gaze fixed hard as he scowled down at her, behind him the Lady Gwenn sat silent in another chair. His lover and his former Mistress eyeing each other warily. Theodan placed his hands on either arm of the chair, in which Braustudd sat, effectively pinning her to the seat, ‘You will stay your hand or else you may ruin us all!’
She smiled at him falsely, forcing the smirk across her lips, ‘You do not get to speak to me like this’ she hissed, ‘from the moment you took that child’ her eyes flicking sharply at Gwen, ‘to bed, you forfeited any right to do that!’
‘THIS ISN’T A GAME!’ he suddenly burst, spittle flying from his mouth. ‘Offa will measure your move and weigh it against his own design’ he calmed, ‘if you have overstepped his markers he will make you pay for it!’
She scowled at him, her mind calm and sharp, ‘You are so scared of Offa that I think you have turned him into something he is not’ she sounded coolly, ‘fear has driven you to stupidity, you and the rest’ meaning the other Kings of Briton, ‘he lops off the head off one of his own and suddenly you all cower and bend your knees, but what threat has he truly offered you? When has he ever demanded you bow to him?’
‘You are a stupid woman’ he spat at her, ‘you have risen from nothing!’ he sought to wound her but he could see already his blow had flown wide.
‘And now I am something!’ she shot back, ‘I was nothing and now I am a Countess, three times over and one day I shall be a Queen, regardless off your fish wives fears…’ she took a breath, ‘Offa will not cower me into submission like he has the rest of you.’
In recent months Braustudd had laid claim to yet more lands, not only Bluith but other lands within Wales heart and she sort to bring Ros, Anglesey and more under her sway.
Prince Theodan – Dunbar, Northumbria, 1ST April 790 AD
Is this the glorious marriage my father had in mind? These people are barbarians, what an utter shithole to be sent to! Hopkin lied through his arse if he thinks God wanted me to end up in a cesspit like this!
Prince Theodan took a deep breath, gagging on the stench off beasts thick in the smoky chamber. Dark, dreary and without light, the low ceilings of the hall felt like a cattle pen rather than a nobles house. All along the shadow covered Hall, bedraggled, scruffy men with filth stained faces and tatty close, eyed him warily. No one spoke a single word that he could understand, the bestial, gritty sound of the Northumbrian tongue slipping sickly toward his ears; he was repulsed.
Ahead of him, through the grey fumes of the hearth fire he could make out the figure of his future wife, huddled beneath a heavy fur cloak, two other shadowy figures standing close by. A grizzled, scar-faced warrior directed the young Prince around the fire to the makeshift dais, animal dung under his feet. On one low stool off to the side, an old crone sat, she must be Hungifu, wife of the late lord.
Chieftess Beorhtwaru, sat straight backed upon the throne before him, an iron circlet on her head denoting her rank. Her long blonde hair cascading down her shoulders and gathering at her ample bosom. This may not be as much of a mess as it seems, I would kill for a squeeze with her, the little crease!
She smiled at him softly, forcing her best latin out so that they could communicate “Welcome, Husband to Dunbar!”
Theodan was not great sage, not gifted in learning nor blessed with political acumen, but he did know a scheme when he saw one. Perhaps what he had at first felt was a form of exile, was a fabulous opportunity. “Hello, dear wife!” he smirked, serpentine.
King Theodan--- The Kings Private Rooms, Tintagel, Cornwall, 1st of January 791 AD
Theodan put quill to parchment and signed his name in the proper place, leaning back in his chair to hand the quill to Bishop Hopkin almost instantly, the Bishop would sign as witness to the declaration. “You will I am sure make a fine Earl” the document before the King transferring Devon into the hands of Elfwine and Morgana, ‘If you are to represent me abroad, then it is only right you have a title of your own’ he smiled to Morgana, who looked ecstatic, ‘Simply being the husband of my daughter is not enough!’
‘Thank you, father! Thank you so much!’ she beamed at him, for weeks Morgana had been arguing for her husband to be given a title, one that would allow him to stand shoulder to shoulder with her as an equal of sorts and to be given Devon was an honour she had not aimed to achieve.
The King raised his hand gently to silence her, ‘There is no need’ he to was smiling, ‘you are a lovely pair, your future is bright’ pondering a moment, ‘it is only right that you have a home off your own and independence from my house, so you can blossom! Perhaps a house off your own will more swiftly bring you a son?’
‘Oh I hope so!’ she declared with a grin. The two were very much in love and Elfwine himself, though silent was obviously happy to finally have a more solid position at court.
Queen Eadburh – The Bedchamber of King Offa, Leicester, Mercia, 3rd September 791 AD
“For heaven’s sake stop crying, you silly girl!” Eadburh snapped, rounding on her, fingers pointing to the chamber door, ‘If you do not compose yourself you will be out on your ear!’
You do not cry for my father’s death but for your own future, and rightly so! You are nothing to no one and you will return to nothing before the day is out!
Laid out on the bed, cold and stiff the body off King Offa was growing chill. The fiersome dragon had finally gone to his rest, snatched from the world after weeks and weeks nursing a festering wound, the scar along his stomach now covered, though underneath the blanket the black skin and putrid blood no doubt could still be found.
Eadburh turned to the chanting monk at the end of the bed, ‘And you can be quiet also!’ she snapped, the poor man instantly struck dumb, ‘My father was a curse on this land! God will greet him not kindly but with fire and flame or else there is no god!’
Prince Gwain --- The Royal House of Tintagel, Cornwall, 8th of August 788 AD
“Glory be brother!” the young Princess was beaming with joy as she strode toward Elfwine, with wide open arms, ‘A Princess! My sister has given you another daughter to grace our home!’ They embraced warmly. Mari turned to the door she had just come through, ‘Mother says you can go in now’ suddenly she turned sharp, catching sight of her elder brother as he moved to go with Elfwine, ‘NOT YOU!’ her hand flew up, ‘Just Elfwine’ she hissed, ‘it is his wife and child, brother!’ Mari had not yet reached her majority but over recent months she had become bold increasingl, acting older than her years and following ever in her mother, the Queens shadow, using her power to strengthen her own.
One day little lady, I will have you put over a Bishops knee and you will be taught a very valued lesson!
Gwain bowed smoothly, ‘Quite right, yes’ he turned to a guard at the door, ‘Send word to my father, a Princess is born to our house!’ The man nodded and instantly went to leave, Theodan was at the border with Wessex, at the invitation of the Regent, to discuss matters of state and so had missed the birth. ‘WAIT!’ he called suddenly, turning back to his sister, ‘Does Morgana have a name?’
Mari looked suddenly irritated but let it pass, ‘Berthaldis, she is to be called Berthaldis!’ And with that she flew quickly behind Elfwine as he passed into the room beyond. Gwain nodded to the guard to continue with his duties.
Lady Leofgifu sat quietly on a stool beside the Princess, ever the silent witness of the families story, she smiled at the Prince noting his obvious irritation, ‘Let it go Gwain’ her closeness letting her forgo the need for titles, ‘Mari never has had manners’ her smile broadening, ‘but she will learn in time.’
‘It is no matter’ he bowed to the Mistress of Spies, ‘no matter at all!’ He had no great fondness for his younger sibling, and as the years went by, he had found it increasingly tiresome, fighting the good fight against her and her brother, Theodan’s constant gibes. ‘Do you have any news for me good lady?’ he had a matter of his own that he wished for details on and Leofgifu was dealing with it personally.
‘Everything is in readiness my Prince’ she assured him, ‘the King, your father is putting the last details into place whilst he is in Wessex and then we will be ready.’ Gwain was reaching his majority, and Theodan had decided to honour the betrothal that had been agreed between Cornwall and Warwick years earlier; Offa had spared the life the late Earls daughter, though she had been sent into exile in Oxford far from her home. Now plans were being laid to spring her from her confinement and smuggler her out of the country, when she would then be brought to Cornwall and wed to the young Prince.
Princess Ecgfrida – The River Brue, South Western Englaland, 8th September 788AD
Her lips pressed softly on the brow of the poor old man, his skin already going cold as death came up to meet him. “Rest easy my friend” tears poured down her cheeks as a servant covered the dead Earls face with a blanket. ‘Bring the horses’ she snapped suddenly, ‘we can not linger here for much longer, it is not safe!’ One off her retinue running off to the tree-line where the horses were tied.
‘We can not just leave him’ the young maid implored, ‘it is not right!’ Water welling in the young girls eyes.
Ecgrida rose up from her knee’s, her face hard, a lifetime of struggle and the ruin off her family having toughened her resolve, ‘Offa will have men on the road’ she reasoned allowed, ‘it may not be seemly to leave a corpse on the roadside, but we have little choice!’ The Earl of Oxford had given his life to defy King Offa and set Ecgfrida free from her captivity, if they were caught then the former Earl of Warwick and Worcester’s, daughter new all to well the fate that awaited them; assault, rape and a long rope from a tall tree.
Whincing suddenly, the soon to be Countess clutched at her leg, it had been sliced open days before, when Offa’s men had caught them up and ambushed them along the road. Five of their number had been slain too three of the Kings, but nevertheless they had escaped, and the West Saxon border was insight. Plans laid by her soon to be father-in-law had promised, that should the cross into Wessex then the soldiers of King Elfsige would be waiting to escort them the rest of the way.
‘Good bye Cuthbert!’ the lady whispered, as she strode toward the approaching soldier and the horses he led.
Prince Gwain – The Kings Hall, Tintagel, Cornwall, 26th September 788 AD
“We are glad to have you good lady, very glad indeed!” Gwain beamed at her with open arms, his broad muscular frame tense with nerves, sensing her discomfort he instantly changed tone, his voice dropping, ‘We are sorry for the loss of Earl Cuthbert.’
‘I have lost a father and a brother on the long road here, what is one more death at the hands of King Offa?’ she sounded sharp, critical and unforgiving, but her face instantly softened, ‘I thank you for your thoughts!’ Having lost all off her father and her elder brother, in part for Theodans unwillingness to act her anger was understandable. The door off the hall suddenly flew open and the Anglo-saxon lady jumped almost clear out of her skin, until she realised the entrants were friends; a life under fear of execution no doubt had done some damage.
‘My brothers Theodan and Bryn, my sister Mari’ Gwain offered by way off reassurance, as the three bowed in unison to the newcomer and then to their father and mother sat atop the dais, enthroned. ‘My father would speak to you later in private’ his voice falling lower, ‘I think he means to apologies.’
‘None is needed’ she answered wistfully, ‘what has been done cannot be undone.’
I would not act the same fair lady, I promise you I would not. Gwain hoped his father’s inaction would not sour their coming marriage before it had even begun. The Prince turned to his mother and father, ‘May I present to you my parents, Theodan, King of Cornwall and my Lady-Mother, Queen Elesbed’ pride at his lineage obvious by the smile on his face, no thought for the pain he may have unintentionally caused.
Standing tall and proud, with fiery red hair tied up high and in a fine shift, Ecgfrida was a handsome woman and the whole court peered closer as she took a deep courtesy before the throne, ‘I am honoured to be received by you’ she went lower, smiling to Gwain, ‘this homecoming is long overdue.’
I do hope you mean that, I hope you will feel at home here. Darkness is behind you and the years ahead maybe long.
Suddenly pulling himself up tall and proud, Gwain placed a hand gently on her shoulder, a momentary flinch showing she was still uneasy, ‘We will stay here for the harvest, then we will visit my new house in Kembre and then we shall return in time for Christmas.’
Two more figures entered the chamber and the courtiers parted as Princess Morgana and her husband came at stride into the chamber. Morganna gave no heed to formality or ritual, instead rushing up to Ecgfrida with outstretched arms, embracing her and kissing her cheek, ‘Sister’ she squeezed the suddenly uncomfortable noblewoman without pause, the Princesses hair wild and unkept, ‘So long has my little brother waited to meet you’ she turned smiling at him, ‘pretty isn’t she? And her so lucky to being marrying a man as handsome as you!’ Both blushed, suddenly all to aware that they hardly new each other and yet their lives were about to be bound together.
Theodan and Elesbed looked on cautiously, neither of them spoke though they forced a smile and accepted the weary nods of the court; together they had condemned this ladies family to oblivion and now they welcomed her as a daughter. Stood behind Morgana, her husband Elfwine stood were Ecgfrida’s brother had supposed to be.
King Theodan – Cardiff, South Wales, 11th May 789 AD
“YOU DO NOT GET TO SIMPLY TEAR UP THE MAP AS YOU SEE FIT!” Theodan roared across the room, Countess Braustudd sitting unmoved in a chair by the fire. ‘These things’ his voice dropping, ‘are not as simple as that!’ He moved toward her, his gaze fixed hard as he scowled down at her, behind him the Lady Gwenn sat silent in another chair. His lover and his former Mistress eyeing each other warily. Theodan placed his hands on either arm of the chair, in which Braustudd sat, effectively pinning her to the seat, ‘You will stay your hand or else you may ruin us all!’
She smiled at him falsely, forcing the smirk across her lips, ‘You do not get to speak to me like this’ she hissed, ‘from the moment you took that child’ her eyes flicking sharply at Gwen, ‘to bed, you forfeited any right to do that!’
‘THIS ISN’T A GAME!’ he suddenly burst, spittle flying from his mouth. ‘Offa will measure your move and weigh it against his own design’ he calmed, ‘if you have overstepped his markers he will make you pay for it!’
She scowled at him, her mind calm and sharp, ‘You are so scared of Offa that I think you have turned him into something he is not’ she sounded coolly, ‘fear has driven you to stupidity, you and the rest’ meaning the other Kings of Briton, ‘he lops off the head off one of his own and suddenly you all cower and bend your knees, but what threat has he truly offered you? When has he ever demanded you bow to him?’
‘You are a stupid woman’ he spat at her, ‘you have risen from nothing!’ he sought to wound her but he could see already his blow had flown wide.
‘And now I am something!’ she shot back, ‘I was nothing and now I am a Countess, three times over and one day I shall be a Queen, regardless off your fish wives fears…’ she took a breath, ‘Offa will not cower me into submission like he has the rest of you.’
In recent months Braustudd had laid claim to yet more lands, not only Bluith but other lands within Wales heart and she sort to bring Ros, Anglesey and more under her sway.
Prince Theodan – Dunbar, Northumbria, 1ST April 790 AD
Is this the glorious marriage my father had in mind? These people are barbarians, what an utter shithole to be sent to! Hopkin lied through his arse if he thinks God wanted me to end up in a cesspit like this!
Prince Theodan took a deep breath, gagging on the stench off beasts thick in the smoky chamber. Dark, dreary and without light, the low ceilings of the hall felt like a cattle pen rather than a nobles house. All along the shadow covered Hall, bedraggled, scruffy men with filth stained faces and tatty close, eyed him warily. No one spoke a single word that he could understand, the bestial, gritty sound of the Northumbrian tongue slipping sickly toward his ears; he was repulsed.
Ahead of him, through the grey fumes of the hearth fire he could make out the figure of his future wife, huddled beneath a heavy fur cloak, two other shadowy figures standing close by. A grizzled, scar-faced warrior directed the young Prince around the fire to the makeshift dais, animal dung under his feet. On one low stool off to the side, an old crone sat, she must be Hungifu, wife of the late lord.
Chieftess Beorhtwaru, sat straight backed upon the throne before him, an iron circlet on her head denoting her rank. Her long blonde hair cascading down her shoulders and gathering at her ample bosom. This may not be as much of a mess as it seems, I would kill for a squeeze with her, the little crease!
She smiled at him softly, forcing her best latin out so that they could communicate “Welcome, Husband to Dunbar!”
Theodan was not great sage, not gifted in learning nor blessed with political acumen, but he did know a scheme when he saw one. Perhaps what he had at first felt was a form of exile, was a fabulous opportunity. “Hello, dear wife!” he smirked, serpentine.
King Theodan--- The Kings Private Rooms, Tintagel, Cornwall, 1st of January 791 AD
Theodan put quill to parchment and signed his name in the proper place, leaning back in his chair to hand the quill to Bishop Hopkin almost instantly, the Bishop would sign as witness to the declaration. “You will I am sure make a fine Earl” the document before the King transferring Devon into the hands of Elfwine and Morgana, ‘If you are to represent me abroad, then it is only right you have a title of your own’ he smiled to Morgana, who looked ecstatic, ‘Simply being the husband of my daughter is not enough!’
‘Thank you, father! Thank you so much!’ she beamed at him, for weeks Morgana had been arguing for her husband to be given a title, one that would allow him to stand shoulder to shoulder with her as an equal of sorts and to be given Devon was an honour she had not aimed to achieve.
The King raised his hand gently to silence her, ‘There is no need’ he to was smiling, ‘you are a lovely pair, your future is bright’ pondering a moment, ‘it is only right that you have a home off your own and independence from my house, so you can blossom! Perhaps a house off your own will more swiftly bring you a son?’
‘Oh I hope so!’ she declared with a grin. The two were very much in love and Elfwine himself, though silent was obviously happy to finally have a more solid position at court.
Queen Eadburh – The Bedchamber of King Offa, Leicester, Mercia, 3rd September 791 AD
“For heaven’s sake stop crying, you silly girl!” Eadburh snapped, rounding on her, fingers pointing to the chamber door, ‘If you do not compose yourself you will be out on your ear!’
You do not cry for my father’s death but for your own future, and rightly so! You are nothing to no one and you will return to nothing before the day is out!
Laid out on the bed, cold and stiff the body off King Offa was growing chill. The fiersome dragon had finally gone to his rest, snatched from the world after weeks and weeks nursing a festering wound, the scar along his stomach now covered, though underneath the blanket the black skin and putrid blood no doubt could still be found.
Eadburh turned to the chanting monk at the end of the bed, ‘And you can be quiet also!’ she snapped, the poor man instantly struck dumb, ‘My father was a curse on this land! God will greet him not kindly but with fire and flame or else there is no god!’
From what I have played ahead, things are for Englaland at large about to become "complex"
Chapter 18: Travelling Crowns
King Elfsige – The River Thames, London, Middlesex, 14th September 791 AD
The banks of the river lay silent, no great crowds had come, the gentle lapping of the water and the slow break of the oars being the only applause to greet the young King on his entry to the jewel of Englaland. At seventeen years old Elfsige was on his way to the heart of Englalands greatest city, sitting calmly aboard the royal barge ready to don the crown that would make him Lord off all the southern lands from the mouth of the Severn in the West to the Thames in the East, from the wide sweeping moorland off Dorset being joined with the mighty cliffs of Dover.
Had my father ever dreamed such glory would befall me, my grandfather too, even he could not have imagined that Wessex would rise to such high estate. With Offa dead and buried, that lame legged woman on the throne of Mercia, what glory will be mine! Petty Kings with petty squabbles will bow before me and then when East Anglia and Cornwall join me, Mercia and Northumbria await.
He was not an overly ambitious man, he had never wished for a great Kingdom but his uncle and one time regent Arnulf had sparked a war with the Eastern Kingdoms that had seen Wessex rise to glory and now Elfsige could not help but dream.
“She will have to go!” the soft, silky voice of his uncle suddenly intruding on his thoughts, he was referring to the young maid-servant who for the moment was Elfsige’s bedfellow. ‘A common whore may be good sport my young nephew, but she will not be a Queen and the people of London will not wear her!’ he spoke bluntly, ‘they will be expecting you to take a wife from amongst the noble houses of their own city? Or perhaps a Princess born?’
‘I know’ he sighed, his eyes fixed on the back off the buxom young maid sat at the boats edge, watching the waters pass beneath them. He turned to his uncle, ‘You have someone in mind? I would appreciate your council as always uncle!’ In winning the war against Kent and Essex, Elfsige was not the only one who had found his power magnified, as uncle to the third greatest ruler in the land, Arnulf was now a powerful man with the ability to shape the destiny of all Britons.
‘I will think on it my King’ he lied, for Arnulf already had ideas in mind. A Queen of similar age to Elfsige right now would offer a challenge to his own position and so his mind had already wandered toward finding a more extended betrothal. ‘Let us get your coronation out of the way and put things to rights here first and then we shall discuss the matter privately.’
Concern suddenly registered on Elfsige’s face, ‘She will not be harmed, will she? Mildrith I mean!’ he looked alarmed, ‘I don’t want her harmed uncle! She is to be set at her liberty and given a decent life!’
‘Off course!’ he lied again, if rumours were true and this former milk-maid really did have a babe in her womb, she would be at the bottom of the Thames before the month was out. No milk-maids bastard would ever sit upon the throne of Wessex.
King Theodan – The Kings Hall, Tintagel, Cornwall, 8th December 791 AD
“There must be some mistake surely?” Theodan was dumbstruck, the joy of recent weeks fading into grey like a stone into water. ‘You are certain off this? There are no mistakes? No chance off it?’ he waved the piece of paper wildly at Leofgifu, who stood with her eyes cast to the floor in modesty, her Kings anger rising.
We must do something, her whole future will be cast adrift! To be married to a nobody! Upon the parchment where the details of his daughter, Mari’s husbands estate. Civil unrest had broken out across Mumu, the largest and supposedly most stable of the Irish Kingdoms. With the former Queen usurped in a coup, her family were now being purged through banishment, exile, execution and disinheritance; his son-in-law, Condla Mac Aed finding himself victim of the latter, thus in turn Mari was now married to a nobody.
‘We could raise an army and invade?’ Leofgifu offered, though she knew the option was as ridiculous as it sounded, ‘Place Condla and Mari on the throne of Mumu?’ she tried not to laugh.
Elesbed scowled at her long time friend, understanding her humour but not in the slightest bit amused by it, ‘Do you have any more sensible suggestions?’ her tone cold. ‘We will have to simply bare the loss or else we could appeal to the Pope for a divorce?’ Elesbed made it sound easy, ‘Mari will not be happy at having lost out on a title, but we can find a way around it’ trying to sound reasonable.
‘We can not go to war’ Theodan understood that clearly, ‘Neither of them are suited’ meaning they were not suited to be rulers of a great realm. Mari was petty minded, and her husband was no bright spark, Theodan had hoped a simple life as a Countess would have suited her well. ‘I will not go begging for a divorce and shame my daughter in the process.’ The King thought a long moment, ‘We will give her lands in Kembre, the Breton word for Wales, ‘she will enjoy lording it over her husband with a title off her own.’ Theodans eyes suddenly raised from the parchment, fixing themselves coldly on Leofgifu ‘Why did you not see this coming?’
The Mistress of Spies looked suddenly dumbfounded, ‘How was I to know their would be a rebellion of this size? Mumu has grown steadily for years and years without interruption, no one could have seen this coming!’ she was angry suddenly.
‘I pay you and keep you to see exactly that! What is moving below the surface!’ His anger rising, ‘You saw the fall of Ku the Wise well enough? You plotted and schemed to help him keep council with his friends’ he turned to the Queen, ‘And my lady wife! Into banishment I sent him and you all have defied me on that, yet you do not see the ruin of my daughter.’
‘Don’t be such an arse Theodan’ her reply coming quiet without thought, ‘You have run mad if you blame me for this!’
He rose from his chair in a jolt, ‘Leave us!’
‘Theodan!’ Elesbed suddenly interrupted, ‘think what you are saying, this is not her fault.’
It is sure as hell not my fault, I do not pay her for smart remarks or to ferry letters to dishonourable men! She is to protect me and mine from what others would do and she has failed wholeheartedly in that!
‘Get out Leofgifu….NOW!’ his hands shaking as shock set in, he would have to pick up the pieces of his spymasters error.
‘Fool off a man!’ she spun, her gown sweeping out behind her, ‘utter bloody fool!’
Queen Elesbed – The Kings Private Rooms, Tintagel, Cornwall, 30th January 792 AD
“HOW DARE YOU!” Elesbed surged into the chamber, the doors flying wide open, the guard frantically trying to grab her arm, though she shook it off, ‘HOW BLOODY DARE YOU BRING THAT BITCH HERE!’ Her chest was heaving as her anger burst its banks like a great river, ‘AND YOUR BASTARD!’ her voice dropped to a vile hiss, ‘Do you despise me so much?’
‘Calm yourself’ Theodan looked up calmly, ‘you forget yourself!’ He placed his quill gently down on the table, handing the papers to Sister Engletraud stood to his left, ‘You may go sister, thank you!’ he smiled to her. The Sister-Stewardess nodded quietly, her eyes downcast, pretending she had no opinion on the suddenly family disturbance.
Elesbed was not for holding back her temper now, ‘You have sent my friend away and in her place you bring a whore to live in my house’ her voice dropped, sharp and cutting. ‘Send her back to Wales you dog’ hissing and spitting as she spoke.
‘I did not send Leofgifu away, she left off her own volition’ Theodan stated simply, watching the door off the chamber close behind the Sister rather than lock eyes with his wife. ‘She asked for my permission to leave and I granted it, that is all there is to it’ he stated flatly. Having failed to keep abreast of events in Ireland and not wishing to damage her reputation further, Leofgifu had decided it were better to step down. ‘It is not ideal I know’ Theodan tried to sound compassionate to his wife’s concern, ‘but Gwen is a gifted organiser and I trust her to serve our interests well.’
‘She is your lover!’ Elesbed drove the point, ‘an mother of a bastard!’ meaning Theodan and Gwens daughter, Bianca. ‘It is not just me you shame in this! You must see that? Gwain and Morganna will be damaged by this!’
‘And Mari? Bryn or Theodan? They will be damaged too? But you mention them not!’ Theodan mused on the omission.
Elesbed’s temper was ebbing, not a woman given to anger, ‘You know what I mean! Two lines of succession is questionable enough without adding a third to the mix!’
‘Bianca has no claim!’ he dismissed off-handily, ‘As you say she is a bastard, no one will favour her above our own children’ he tried to ease the Queens fear. Theodan had decided with the loss of Leofgifu, that Gwen and her daughter would be safer at court, an with his lover in a position of some authority she would be safer still.
Prince Gwain – Tintagel, Cornwall, 24th April 792 AD
“If Engletraud can make the funds available” the Princes eyes falling on the Sister-Stewardess, ‘then we could set to work immediately! It is a sound investment and I have viewed the plans myself!’ Gwain stated proudly.
Not a lord in all of Englaland has yet invested in such a venture, we could be the envy five Kingdoms and nock East Anglia from its perch.
Engletraud frowned as she looked at the papers scattered across the travel table, ‘If we are planning on going to war then I am certain I can find the money, but such as it is no one has yet mentioned that too me’ she threw back and the young man, though he did not flinch. ‘I see the sense in it make no mistake, but there are other buildings that need repairing before you start investing.’ The Chapel roof in Tintagel needed new beams, three towers needed their legs repairing and several storehouses could have done with being rethatched.
Theodan thought carefully over the plans and looked between his son and his Stewardess, ‘Perhaps these are a little ambitious?’ he hesitated, ‘the stone alone is nearly a year’s revenue!’ Gwain had drawn up plans to have the whole of Tintagel, Exeter and Axminster ringed by half-wood and half-stone walls and the cost was steep.
‘How many years taxes will we pay in tribute if Elfsige ever sets his sights in our direction?’ the point hitting home. ‘He owns the whole of Southern Englaland, what is to stop him now?’
We have not the men or the weapons to fight off an West Saxon invasion, but better defences at least may deter them. If we are not an easy taking, then perhaps they will not try at all…..surely that is a saving and not an expense.
‘We both see your point my Prince’ the Sister-Stewardess smirked, ‘but such as it is your fears are not yet realised and thus it would be foolish to near bankrupt ourselves, when we have lenders to pay.’ Theodan stilled owed Jewish money lenders a small fortune, for funds borrowed previously and they would not take kindly to any default on the money.
Theodan sat on his small stool, itching his beard, his greying hair blowing gently on the spring breeze, ‘Mayhap we just restrict the improvements to Tintagel itself?’ he tried to compromise, ‘one solid stronghold is worth three petty forts.’
King Elfsige – The River Thames, London, Middlesex, 14th September 791 AD
The banks of the river lay silent, no great crowds had come, the gentle lapping of the water and the slow break of the oars being the only applause to greet the young King on his entry to the jewel of Englaland. At seventeen years old Elfsige was on his way to the heart of Englalands greatest city, sitting calmly aboard the royal barge ready to don the crown that would make him Lord off all the southern lands from the mouth of the Severn in the West to the Thames in the East, from the wide sweeping moorland off Dorset being joined with the mighty cliffs of Dover.
Had my father ever dreamed such glory would befall me, my grandfather too, even he could not have imagined that Wessex would rise to such high estate. With Offa dead and buried, that lame legged woman on the throne of Mercia, what glory will be mine! Petty Kings with petty squabbles will bow before me and then when East Anglia and Cornwall join me, Mercia and Northumbria await.
He was not an overly ambitious man, he had never wished for a great Kingdom but his uncle and one time regent Arnulf had sparked a war with the Eastern Kingdoms that had seen Wessex rise to glory and now Elfsige could not help but dream.
“She will have to go!” the soft, silky voice of his uncle suddenly intruding on his thoughts, he was referring to the young maid-servant who for the moment was Elfsige’s bedfellow. ‘A common whore may be good sport my young nephew, but she will not be a Queen and the people of London will not wear her!’ he spoke bluntly, ‘they will be expecting you to take a wife from amongst the noble houses of their own city? Or perhaps a Princess born?’
‘I know’ he sighed, his eyes fixed on the back off the buxom young maid sat at the boats edge, watching the waters pass beneath them. He turned to his uncle, ‘You have someone in mind? I would appreciate your council as always uncle!’ In winning the war against Kent and Essex, Elfsige was not the only one who had found his power magnified, as uncle to the third greatest ruler in the land, Arnulf was now a powerful man with the ability to shape the destiny of all Britons.
‘I will think on it my King’ he lied, for Arnulf already had ideas in mind. A Queen of similar age to Elfsige right now would offer a challenge to his own position and so his mind had already wandered toward finding a more extended betrothal. ‘Let us get your coronation out of the way and put things to rights here first and then we shall discuss the matter privately.’
Concern suddenly registered on Elfsige’s face, ‘She will not be harmed, will she? Mildrith I mean!’ he looked alarmed, ‘I don’t want her harmed uncle! She is to be set at her liberty and given a decent life!’
‘Off course!’ he lied again, if rumours were true and this former milk-maid really did have a babe in her womb, she would be at the bottom of the Thames before the month was out. No milk-maids bastard would ever sit upon the throne of Wessex.
King Theodan – The Kings Hall, Tintagel, Cornwall, 8th December 791 AD
“There must be some mistake surely?” Theodan was dumbstruck, the joy of recent weeks fading into grey like a stone into water. ‘You are certain off this? There are no mistakes? No chance off it?’ he waved the piece of paper wildly at Leofgifu, who stood with her eyes cast to the floor in modesty, her Kings anger rising.
We must do something, her whole future will be cast adrift! To be married to a nobody! Upon the parchment where the details of his daughter, Mari’s husbands estate. Civil unrest had broken out across Mumu, the largest and supposedly most stable of the Irish Kingdoms. With the former Queen usurped in a coup, her family were now being purged through banishment, exile, execution and disinheritance; his son-in-law, Condla Mac Aed finding himself victim of the latter, thus in turn Mari was now married to a nobody.
‘We could raise an army and invade?’ Leofgifu offered, though she knew the option was as ridiculous as it sounded, ‘Place Condla and Mari on the throne of Mumu?’ she tried not to laugh.
Elesbed scowled at her long time friend, understanding her humour but not in the slightest bit amused by it, ‘Do you have any more sensible suggestions?’ her tone cold. ‘We will have to simply bare the loss or else we could appeal to the Pope for a divorce?’ Elesbed made it sound easy, ‘Mari will not be happy at having lost out on a title, but we can find a way around it’ trying to sound reasonable.
‘We can not go to war’ Theodan understood that clearly, ‘Neither of them are suited’ meaning they were not suited to be rulers of a great realm. Mari was petty minded, and her husband was no bright spark, Theodan had hoped a simple life as a Countess would have suited her well. ‘I will not go begging for a divorce and shame my daughter in the process.’ The King thought a long moment, ‘We will give her lands in Kembre, the Breton word for Wales, ‘she will enjoy lording it over her husband with a title off her own.’ Theodans eyes suddenly raised from the parchment, fixing themselves coldly on Leofgifu ‘Why did you not see this coming?’
The Mistress of Spies looked suddenly dumbfounded, ‘How was I to know their would be a rebellion of this size? Mumu has grown steadily for years and years without interruption, no one could have seen this coming!’ she was angry suddenly.
‘I pay you and keep you to see exactly that! What is moving below the surface!’ His anger rising, ‘You saw the fall of Ku the Wise well enough? You plotted and schemed to help him keep council with his friends’ he turned to the Queen, ‘And my lady wife! Into banishment I sent him and you all have defied me on that, yet you do not see the ruin of my daughter.’
‘Don’t be such an arse Theodan’ her reply coming quiet without thought, ‘You have run mad if you blame me for this!’
He rose from his chair in a jolt, ‘Leave us!’
‘Theodan!’ Elesbed suddenly interrupted, ‘think what you are saying, this is not her fault.’
It is sure as hell not my fault, I do not pay her for smart remarks or to ferry letters to dishonourable men! She is to protect me and mine from what others would do and she has failed wholeheartedly in that!
‘Get out Leofgifu….NOW!’ his hands shaking as shock set in, he would have to pick up the pieces of his spymasters error.
‘Fool off a man!’ she spun, her gown sweeping out behind her, ‘utter bloody fool!’
Queen Elesbed – The Kings Private Rooms, Tintagel, Cornwall, 30th January 792 AD
“HOW DARE YOU!” Elesbed surged into the chamber, the doors flying wide open, the guard frantically trying to grab her arm, though she shook it off, ‘HOW BLOODY DARE YOU BRING THAT BITCH HERE!’ Her chest was heaving as her anger burst its banks like a great river, ‘AND YOUR BASTARD!’ her voice dropped to a vile hiss, ‘Do you despise me so much?’
‘Calm yourself’ Theodan looked up calmly, ‘you forget yourself!’ He placed his quill gently down on the table, handing the papers to Sister Engletraud stood to his left, ‘You may go sister, thank you!’ he smiled to her. The Sister-Stewardess nodded quietly, her eyes downcast, pretending she had no opinion on the suddenly family disturbance.
Elesbed was not for holding back her temper now, ‘You have sent my friend away and in her place you bring a whore to live in my house’ her voice dropped, sharp and cutting. ‘Send her back to Wales you dog’ hissing and spitting as she spoke.
‘I did not send Leofgifu away, she left off her own volition’ Theodan stated simply, watching the door off the chamber close behind the Sister rather than lock eyes with his wife. ‘She asked for my permission to leave and I granted it, that is all there is to it’ he stated flatly. Having failed to keep abreast of events in Ireland and not wishing to damage her reputation further, Leofgifu had decided it were better to step down. ‘It is not ideal I know’ Theodan tried to sound compassionate to his wife’s concern, ‘but Gwen is a gifted organiser and I trust her to serve our interests well.’
‘She is your lover!’ Elesbed drove the point, ‘an mother of a bastard!’ meaning Theodan and Gwens daughter, Bianca. ‘It is not just me you shame in this! You must see that? Gwain and Morganna will be damaged by this!’
‘And Mari? Bryn or Theodan? They will be damaged too? But you mention them not!’ Theodan mused on the omission.
Elesbed’s temper was ebbing, not a woman given to anger, ‘You know what I mean! Two lines of succession is questionable enough without adding a third to the mix!’
‘Bianca has no claim!’ he dismissed off-handily, ‘As you say she is a bastard, no one will favour her above our own children’ he tried to ease the Queens fear. Theodan had decided with the loss of Leofgifu, that Gwen and her daughter would be safer at court, an with his lover in a position of some authority she would be safer still.
Prince Gwain – Tintagel, Cornwall, 24th April 792 AD
“If Engletraud can make the funds available” the Princes eyes falling on the Sister-Stewardess, ‘then we could set to work immediately! It is a sound investment and I have viewed the plans myself!’ Gwain stated proudly.
Not a lord in all of Englaland has yet invested in such a venture, we could be the envy five Kingdoms and nock East Anglia from its perch.
Engletraud frowned as she looked at the papers scattered across the travel table, ‘If we are planning on going to war then I am certain I can find the money, but such as it is no one has yet mentioned that too me’ she threw back and the young man, though he did not flinch. ‘I see the sense in it make no mistake, but there are other buildings that need repairing before you start investing.’ The Chapel roof in Tintagel needed new beams, three towers needed their legs repairing and several storehouses could have done with being rethatched.
Theodan thought carefully over the plans and looked between his son and his Stewardess, ‘Perhaps these are a little ambitious?’ he hesitated, ‘the stone alone is nearly a year’s revenue!’ Gwain had drawn up plans to have the whole of Tintagel, Exeter and Axminster ringed by half-wood and half-stone walls and the cost was steep.
‘How many years taxes will we pay in tribute if Elfsige ever sets his sights in our direction?’ the point hitting home. ‘He owns the whole of Southern Englaland, what is to stop him now?’
We have not the men or the weapons to fight off an West Saxon invasion, but better defences at least may deter them. If we are not an easy taking, then perhaps they will not try at all…..surely that is a saving and not an expense.
‘We both see your point my Prince’ the Sister-Stewardess smirked, ‘but such as it is your fears are not yet realised and thus it would be foolish to near bankrupt ourselves, when we have lenders to pay.’ Theodan stilled owed Jewish money lenders a small fortune, for funds borrowed previously and they would not take kindly to any default on the money.
Theodan sat on his small stool, itching his beard, his greying hair blowing gently on the spring breeze, ‘Mayhap we just restrict the improvements to Tintagel itself?’ he tried to compromise, ‘one solid stronghold is worth three petty forts.’
Theodan is being - and I have to say this - entirely belieavably a "superior" male, easy to assign blame and not caring one whit about the opinions of others. Very appropriate for the time period, of course.