The Song of Wessex

[Tyler96]

Something of an odd decision by the HRE there, going for Zaragoza, but with the borders as hopelessly tangled as they are I suppose you can't hope for optimal decision making from the AI.

 

[stnylan]

So it is to be war at last. A war the King has been waiting for - no wonder he seems in such good humour at the end of the most recent update.

But wars have uncertain outcomes, and this one makes me wary. Death has stalked the companions of the King very close these last few years, and in war Death no longer has that need. Now can stride forth openly about his sepulchral task. We know he does not yet claim the King, but whose else shall feel themselves obeying the thanatalogical call

 

[coz1]

Fb-fb:

Something of an odd decision by the HRE there, going for Zaragoza, but with the borders as hopelessly tangled as they are I suppose you can't hope for optimal decision making from the AI.

That and this HRE is as bad or worse than most at tactical thinking. Worse even than France before I took them over. What they DO have going for them is numbers but they are pretty hopeless using them smartly most of the time.

So it is to be war at last. A war the King has been waiting for - no wonder he seems in such good humour at the end of the most recent update.

But wars have uncertain outcomes, and this one makes me wary. Death has stalked the companions of the King very close these last few years, and in war Death no longer has that need. Now can stride forth openly about his sepulchral task. We know he does not yet claim the King, but whose else shall feel themselves obeying the thanatalogical call

I think it is a near certainty that even if Arthur wins, he will still lose something of value. And I will give the HRE some credit here - they do a lot of bending but not quite breaking throughout that makes this no cake walk. But indeed, both the King and I have been waiting and wishing for this for years.


To all - There is quite a lot that happens throughout the war so many of the next updates will see multiple scenes within. Most are right next to each other or happening at the same time. Expect the next one presently and thank you to all that are reading and giving comment. I am so excited to finally get to this point!

 

[coz1]

​

The Song of Wessex​

* * *

Chatillon, Champagne – November 1332​

It had taken them only a month. Just as the King had foretold, Duke Jordan had first entered the Duchy of Champagne and took the bridge over the Marne leading to the huge fortress at Chatillon. Holding only long enough for the King’s army to descend into the valley, the Lord Marshal swung north into Vermandois while King Arthur rode up behind with his eleven thousand and put the place under siege. It was a marvel of planning and logistics. The largest war ever fought by these great powers, even greater than that of his father against the Empire some thirty years before. Runners were in and out of the King’s tent constantly as he sent and received letters from Westminster and the Lord Chancellor, from Bordeaux and Duke Richard and now from Lord Jordan who had advanced into Germany and was heading to Julich where the Emperor had removed himself.

That was in August. Now, three months later, the situation had changed. As it always does in war. The Duke of Norfolk had found it both exhilarating and not a little bit daunting to be in the presence of the King as this occurred. Never had he seen such in his life. Never particularly close as they grew up, both Lord Nicholas and the Prince were very near the same age and soon found a fast friendship as their fathers had done in their youth. Inspecting the siege, Prince Arthur and his distant cousin walked together and spoke on it.

“I don’t understand why he called up Wales and Cornwall,” Nicholas suggested, “I understood him to wish them in reserve.”

The Prince showed a brief smile, “My father never does anything by half measures, cousin. We gained the early advantage with the Empire’s slow build and he wished to press. Lord Richard is soon to Bordeaux to meet with the other army there and that is where these additional soldiers are sent.”

“Two fine armies to the north...” Nicholas began to understand, “...and he wishes a third to the south.”

​

“That is it precisely,” Prince Arthur gave nod, “The Lord of Cornwall is soon to arrive there with another five thousand men. I believe father to wish a fight with the besiegers of Zaragoza.”

Nicholas showed a wide eye, “They are certainly to be beleaguered...the garrison at Zaragoza. From near the beginning, twelve thousand surround them. It is a wonder they hold out as long as they do.”

“Belief in my father holds them up, cousin,” Prince Arthur answered as he peered in the distance as another shot was fired to the walls of Chatillon, “And I’ve learned that we receive some luck. It would appear that the Emperor’s forces are fighting themselves as much as we. To Gascogne...a rather fierce fight. Who knows why? I don’t think father cares. Let them kill each other, he says. We shall clean up their remains.”

“Yet where is the Emperor and his larger force?” Nicholas asked with wonder, “Surely they hold more than twelve thousand in Germany.”

The Prince gave nod once more, “That is the reason for the Lord Marshal’s journey to Julich. If they will not come out to play, father intends to force them.”

“Cousin?” Nicholas stopped and asked with some worry to his face, “Are you frightened?”

“If you are not fearful, cousin...” the Prince answered earnestly, “...you will soon be dead. You are gaining a trial by fire here and I must admit...I wished it not. Not for me...nor you. Not for my father. Yet we hold cause and if any man can gain victory against this Empire, it is the King.”

“He’s done it before,” Nicholas replied.

The Prince did not smile as he answered, “As his father did before him. Even with death all around...my father never loses.”

They were interrupted by the shouting voice of Lord Robert as he approached, “Your Grace! My Lord of Norfolk! You must come straightaway. His Grace the King has received urgent news!”

Neither wasted time and quickly followed the Norman Duke to King Arthur’s tent. They were nearly bowled over by a courier as they entered and found the King looking intently at a map, “...a forced march should get us there...Ahh! Arturo...just in time!”

When his father looked up with a huge smile, Prince Arthur was caused to ask, “What happens?”

“The enemy finally presents himself!” King Arthur grinned as he approached his son, “The sneaky bastard. I know not where he found them, but over fourteen thousand land in Flanders.”

“Are you thinking of leaving off the siege?” the Prince questioned.

King Arthur returned to his maps, “Of course! You know I detest this tedium when real battle is at hand. There is time enough to take this place once Luitpold has been defeated in the field. I’ve just called for Lord Jordan to meet us in Liege within a fortnight. Yet we must move quick. I’m told the enemy is headed for Ghent and I aim to put our full force on them.”

“The winter is soon upon us, father,” Prince Arthur counseled.

“Battle waits not for the season, Arturo,” King Arthur looked to him with a stern eye, “You press and then you press some more. Cold or hot...it matters not.”

Lord Robert stepped forward, “I shall begin preparations, Your Grace.”

“Very good,” the King gave nod and then turned to Lord Nicholas with a gleeful smile, “And you, sir...will soon find your baptism.”

​

* * *

Kortrijk, Flanders - January 1333​

It was Christmas Day when they first arrived. To King Arthur, no better gift could be presented. The armies of both Lord Jordan and King Arthur had met to Liege and made quick time and now stood facing a massive Imperial army across the river Leie. “Let them cross,” the King had said, “It will give us chance.” And that it did. Now he stood to a pavilion erected upon the sloped hill and discussed the situation with his commanders.

“I like not that their knights outnumber us five to one, my Lords,” the King peered to the distance with a frown.

Lord Robert stood behind and answered, “Yet Norman knights, Your Grace...we are most formidable.”

“And also why I have had my men digging trenches over the field, sire,” Lord Jordan followed, “That should slow them down.”

The King gave nod but kept a pursed brow, “Hidden or no, they will find a way to traverse. Nay, my Lords...I think this one to be fought on foot. Our men at arms...archers and crossbowmen...they will be a key. The true key will be each of us. I see no colors of the Emperor there. Lessor men, my Lords. And we’ve no time to waste. I hold report suggesting that another seven thousand have landed to Normandy and will be to here soon enough.”

The Prince stood next to him and tried to suggest, “We need not engage them, father. Try to move around them and come to their rear with the keep to our backs.”

“Never!” King Arthur found the glimmer of a smile, “I’m itching for a fight, Arturo. And with the river to their backs? Our strong men are more than theirs...and besides...I don’t think they have it in them.”

Lord Baudouin of Bourbon stood behind and added, “I believe His Grace to be correct. We are twenty two against fourteen. Take it to them today before this other comes into play.”

“I’m pleased that you think so, my Lord,” King Arthur turned to him, “I have traversed these lands with your father when I was a young man. I can think of no better than you to lead my flank.”

The Duke of Bourbon gave bow, “It would be my honor, Your Grace.”

“And you, Nicolaus...” the King turned to his kin, “...as I require my Lord Marshal to myself, I will hold you responsible for the right. Go with my son and protect your King.”

The Prince held up a hand, “Father...Nicholas is not tested! I will hold the right!”

King Arthur ignored him, “Keep your King safe, cousin. Lord Robert will be there with you.”

​

Thus the Battle of Kortrijk began. Holding the low ground, the Germans sent out their archers first and found reply in an instant. On both sides, arrows rained down and many men fell to their deadly intent. The King left his great destrier behind and strode out onto the field of battle as seven thousand joined him with Lord Jordan close by. The lure of the King of England, France, Wales and Ireland was too much for the leaders of the Imperial forces and they soon began a cavalry charge across the field. The ditches dug did little good. The ground was too cold and even the slight streams caused had frozen over. Hundreds of knights and their retinues swarmed upon the battlefield with the cry of “Forward!”

Lord Baudouin held the vanguard and kept to his mount with some few others and he held his men back, “Wait!”

To the right, both Lord Nicholas and Lord Robert did all they could to keep the Prince from rushing the field. The preparations had not caused what was intended but many a German knight still fell from their horses as they moved forward and the mass of men to meet them were well up to their task. In deeply stacked lines nearly forming a square, they marched forward with pike men at their front. When the crush finally hit, it was a melee and no rout.

Even with his age, King Arthur remained a warrior at heart and was first in line to greet them. On foot and armed well, he was able to take three knights down almost immediately. His sword flew and heads rolled. The younger Lord Jordan was by his side the entire time and between them and their men, the first wave was fought off. Yet they kept coming.

​

Fierce hand to hand fighting continued when the Germans sent their last wave in and it was then that Lord Baudouin moved to the field. He was unhorsed almost immediately, but taking a cue from the King, he wasted no time to toss his lance and pulled his sword. He and Lord Theobald of Hereford pushed the flank and caused the battle to remain at center.

King Arthur remained in the thick of it and Lord Jordan stood near and shouted, “Your Grace! Call for your son! It may be over soon with all hands!”

With a downward cut, the King answered strongly, “We’ve pushed them back! Not yet needed!”

And they had. The Imperial forces were not yet in retreat, but were forming to the King’s right. Many knights had been cut down but they remained firm in their stance and would not quit the field of battle.

​

That is when they reformed together and rushed the right with what they had left. Lord Nicholas was young and untried as the Prince had suggested and he could not resist placing his forces. Soon there is where the most fighting ensued. Both the Prince and Lord Robert rushed to join him as battle ceased in other areas and it quickly encompassed Nicholas and his men.

“To the Prince! To the Prince!!” the cry went out with others shouting, “To the King! To the King!!”

Mass confusion took over as King Arthur held to his own in the center, but once he saw his son in peril, he allowed the attack to turn back and to their side. The Germans left to the center took initiative at his but Lord Baudouin was quick to greet them. It was the Prince and Lord Nicholas that found the heaviest fighting.

Prince Arthur was never as skilled as his father in martial arts and neither was Nicholas of Norfolk, but they held firm and fought off all that came at them. Blow after blow was greeted with a return reply until the King’s forces busted the German charge and the Imperial soldiers began to scatter. From right to left, the soldiers of King Arthur pursued as the Imperials fled. Many to their deaths in the river and many more to over-eager men at arms with blood lust in their hearts.

When it was all done, King Arthur brushed the blood from his face as he finally found his son, “Ireland was never like this, lad! Gain your feet!”

“Your Grace?!” a call came from the distance, “Cousin?!”

The Prince was quick to rise after pushing a body from his torso, “Father...it is Nicholas!”

They both found the Lord of Norfolk buried under a pile of bodies and the Duke found a smile, “I am sorry, sire...cousin...yet I seem to be stuck.”

He was quickly removed and as Nicholas looked out over the field, he was astonished, “So many...dead, Your Grace.”

“It is well that war is so terrible, cousin...” the King sheathed his sword as he too looked out with a grin, “...for otherwise...we may grow too fond of it.”

Prince Arthur said not a word as he looked to his father and then helped their cousin from the field. Lord Jordan was soon to the King’s side, “I am told that half of their knights are gone, Your Grace. We won’t have the full figures until the morrow. Yet a well fought battle. One of your best.”

The King looked after his son and Lord Nicholas for a time before turning to his Lord Marshal, “We have yet to begin, sir. Another seven await us...and so does this Emperor. I’ll not quit until he finds my greeting. This was mere formality.”

​

 

[Nikolai]

Intense. For a moment I expected you to surprise us with the kids being wounded. Thankfully not.

 

[stnylan]

A bloody affray, and I too am slightly surprised that a notable character or two did not pass because of it. Still there is much of the war left.

It is rather nice to see the King in his element here, all other troubles wiped away. There is an almost elementalism in him here.

 

[coz1]

Fb-fb:

Intense. For a moment I expected you to surprise us with the kids being wounded. Thankfully not.

This won't be the last intense battle, I assure you. And given all of the figures involved, it is indeed surprising that someone didn't get gravely hurt.

A bloody affray, and I too am slightly surprised that a notable character or two did not pass because of it. Still there is much of the war left.

It is rather nice to see the King in his element here, all other troubles wiped away. There is an almost elementalism in him here.

An extremely bloody affair which many of these huge battles turn out to be. I lost half of my 100 knights but so did they lose half of their 400+. It was their archers that really took it in the teeth! And of course Arthur is in his element. Nothing feels calm to him like battle. I suppose that's what makes him so good at it. It's the more personal things in life that cause him troubles.


To all - So first blood is drawn and England wins. Still no sign of the Emperor. But a lot of the cream of the HRE get involved. I'm telling you - do not miss this war as it goes along! It is rather action packed.

Thanks for reading and commenting, folks! Notice about 100 views since I posted yesterday. I'd love to hear from a few of those others reading. Look for the next scene tomorrow.

 

[coz1]

​

The Song of Wessex​

* * *

Zaragoza, Iberia – February 1333​

It was an unlikely pairing that brought these Dukes together, but the final words by the Lord Chancellor to Lord Rodrigo of Cornwall was “Keep one eye on Bedford and Leinster as the other looks to the Germans.” Landing in Bordeaux just as word came of the glorious victory in Kortrijk, the three Dukes were instructed to head south and finally take battle to the Imperial troops holding siege in Zaragoza. A forced march up and over the western Pyrenees took the army of eighteen thousand through Breton Navarre where they finally ended up face to face with the eleven thousand remaining at siege.

The defenders of Zaragoza had attempted several unsuccessful raids against the besiegers and had taken heavy losses each time. It was a huge stroke of luck that the Lords of Leinster, Bedford and Cornwall arrived when they did. The Emperor’s army was led by a disparate group including the Duke of Ferrara, the Duke of Lorraine and Duke Berengar of Meissen who was ironically a man of Wessex. Descended from the line of King Uhtræd the Bold, this Meissen Lord held none of the martial spirit possessed by his auspicious ancestor.

Still, this large imperial army was battled tested and hardened from years fighting in both Iberia and Sardinia against the infidel. Taking only slight rest as they moved through the foothills of the mountains behind them, Lord Richard of Leinster led the way as they formed up opposite the enemy. Once more outnumbered by German knights, the English maintained clear superiority with archers and lighter horse and at the beginning of February, the Battle for Zaragoza was begun...

​

* * *

Sluys, Flanders – February 1333​

“The fool!” King Arthur shouted as he looked to the harbor, “The fire ships have done their work! They’ll not be harassing us now. Lord Jordan...let us go!”

Having chased the last of the Imperial forces from Kortrijk, nearly another two thousand had died at the hand of this King in Zierikzee and when it was sure to be close to the shore, King Arthur sent word to his fleet anchored off the coast. The Emperor had long utilized galleys for movement around the Mediterranean and Baltic seas and the German sailors were practiced. The English, meanwhile, had a slim navy and mainly used cogs meant for merchants and their trade. It was Duke Jordan of Kent that had the idea of transforming these ships into war machines by adding forecastles and aftcastles along with a crow’s nest at the masthead. Their displacement was more than the galley but their high freeboard, especially after the additions, made them superior to oared vessels in close combat where they could fire missiles or throw stones on the enemy craft.

When the Germans landed in Flanders, they had held their ships to harbor and chained them together while awaiting what was assumed a great victory in Ghent. When that did not happen, the Captains argued as to what to do next. King Arthur’s quick movement after Kortrijk surprised them and they had barely found chance to unlink before the nascent navy of the King descended upon them at Sluys. Coming in at high tide with the sun behind them, the English vessels were able to take advantage of the wind and a rainstorm that had blown these Imperial ships to the east.

As they separated, they soon became entangled as they attempted to drive west once more. They were against the wind and the tide as the English cogs moved in with units of three. Two held archers and the other men at arms and as they came close, a barrage of arrows rained down making boarding easy. The German galleys were held close to the harbor and could not escape. As the day drew on and an English victory appeared clear, the rear line of ships attempted an escape. Damaged cogs were then used to prevent this. Set ablaze, they were steered close and into this last remaining holdout before the sailors dove for safety into an already bloodied water.

Victory on land at first, and now victory at sea...King Arthur smiled as his combined army now went forth to meet the Germans that no longer held chance for escape…

​

* * *

Zaragoza, Iberia – February 1333​

“To the line! To the line!” Lord Simon of Bedford shouted to his archers as the center broke for the Germans and everything seemed to shift to the other side of the battlefield.

With the keep and the Ebro river to their backs, the Imperial soldiers had nowhere to run and attempted to flee past Lord Rodrigo of Cornwall. The Cornish Duke was evenly matched by the Duke of Lorraine and the Germans very nearly made it before both Leinster and Bedford fell on them. Fierce hand to hand fighting ensued and no matter the superiority of the German knights, the sheer number of men at arms and archers overwhelmed them.

Fighting lasted all through the night and into the next day but by the time it was over, one hundred and forty five of the proud knights of the Empire lay dead alongside seven thousand more Imperial soldiers. English casualties were only a thousand to compare. And the greatest prize belonged to the Lord of Cornwall himself as he cornered and then captured Duke Bruno of Ferrara.

“You are now prisoner of His Grace King Arthur of England, France, Ireland and Wales!” the Cornish Duke crowed with pleasure and the Lord of Ferrara dropped his sword in defeat. What was left of the defeated army did their best to flee south under the leadership of Duke Berengar of Meissen and Lord Richard was able to proudly write to his King that the Imperial threat to Zaragoza and Navarre existed no more.

​

* * *

Sluys, Flanders – February 1333​

It was the Norman knight and English archer that proved the difference in the land battle at Sluys. Still outnumbered by heavy horse, it would matter not. Archers rained down what would later be called “like hail in winter” and after taking a heavy toll, Norman knights drove fast and quick to clear any action. It was nearly over before it ever began as the Germans were clearly disorganized after seeing their fleet destroyed. Lord Baudouin made quick work of the van and was soon to the King’s aid in the center.

Once again, it was Lord Nicholas on the right that found the heaviest casualties. The Duke of Norfolk was no martial man and the enemy knew it. Once it was clear that the Germans held no great hope, their best leader concentrated all of their forces in an attempt to break out. A cavalry charge towards the King himself kept the Lord of Bourbon from coming to the rescue and it was left to Nicholas and the Prince to hold their own. This they did with the help of Lord Robert and his knights.

Attempting a fighting retreat, the Norman Duke called for a charge with lances that cut down many of the German men at arms. Those that attempted to flee were cut to pieces by the barrage of arrows from the superior English archers and an old fashioned wall of pikemen with shields that blocked their path. When the battle was finally over, half of the German knights were dead along with two thousand men at arms, five hundred pikemen, nearly fifteen hundred archers and five hundred light horse. In total, the Emperor lost over six thousand men that day to only fifteen hundred English and French.

It was, in short, another rout.

​

* * *

Sluys, Flanders – March 1333​

King Arthur had allowed a massive celebration to break out after the masterful Flemish campaign against the Empire. He knew his men were weary after such speedy movement and hard fighting so the ale flowed for a short time. Sitting to a stool outside his tent, he smiled as he watched his soldiers enjoy themselves and take pride in what they had done. He considered long ago days and a wistful notion came to his mind. Would it not be grand if Amedee were here? Or Tienne and Ans?

“Father?” a voice asked softly as the Prince approached.

“Ahh...Arturo...” the King turned and spied his son, “...I was off in thought.”

The Prince bent to a knee and watched the men alongside his father, “I can imagine where. As they might have asked...where to next?”

“Give them chance to find cheer away from the blood and gore,” King Arthur suggested as he sipped at some ale, “We move soon enough.”

“I am told what is left of the Germans head to Zeeland again,” Prince Arthur answered.

The King gave nod, “I’m not sure their Baron is much of a leader.”

“You are disappointed that Luitpold does not lead them, aren’t you?” the Prince suggested.

King Arthur shook his head, “It matters not who leads them. When I defeat them, I defeat him. Every time.”

“Then you will like this,” Prince Arthur handed his father a note, “It just arrived. Lord Richard finds victory to Navarre and is headed south to put paid to the enemy...what is left of them.”

The King held his head high and looked to the sky, “I promised you, father. Victory in all things and revenge to the man that holds the Imperial seat!”

“A grand score of victories indeed,” the Prince suggested as he sat cross legged, “And I imagine we are soon back to Reims.”

“We are...” King Arthur looked back to his men, “...but not you.”

The Prince sat taller in question, “What mean you, father?”

“I know it will be difficult on young Nicolaus,” the King answered as he turned to his son, “Yet he will have Lord Robert with him. You? I need you to the south. I wish to harry Aquitaine and do not trust Lord Richard or Lord Simon if given too much freedom. Rodrigo of Cornwall is not enough.”

“I will gladly do so...but where will you go?” the Prince asked.

“As you say...” the King answered, “...back to Reims. Lord Jordan can handle this last rabble and we needs must press the issue. Victories are well and good but Luitpold will not be brought to the table without true gains. I told you, Arturo...I mean to make the boy cry. By God...we are well on our way!”

​

 

[Nikolai]

Splitting up. Probably a good idea if the enemy is as defeated as it seems. If.

 

[Bullfilter]

I am back from my month-long trip and catching up again - which is taking quite some time! Up to May 1328 at the now. Poor Eddy. Will comment again when ‘current’.

PS: just got to the fishing accident - oh no! It was indeed momentous and did take me by surprise. You hid it well all that time. Onwards to the next no doubt victorious and tragic denouement.

 

[tpmcinty]

King Arthur always seems to be in good spirits after giving the HRE a good beating.

 

[coz1]

Fb-fb:

Splitting up. Probably a good idea if the enemy is as defeated as it seems. If.

Some quite glorious victories so far, but you are right to suspect that the HRE is hardly finished. I'm taking a few liberties with where the Prince is right now for he has need to be elsewhere. You will see why soon enough.

I am back from my month-long trip and catching up again - which is taking quite some time! Up to May 1328 at the now. Poor Eddy. Will comment again when ‘current’.

PS: just got to the fishing accident - oh no! It was indeed momentous and did take me by surprise. You hid it well all that time. Onwards to the next no doubt victorious and tragic denouement.

Great to hear that you are catching up. You've missed quite a bit. And Anselm's fate was huge among that.

King Arthur always seems to be in good spirits after giving the HRE a good beating.

Of course he is. A life long goal...every time. It's as if each deadly thrust of his sword gains one more piece of revenge. And yet...


To all - The next scene follows and it stands alone for good reason. For King Arthur, it is always this way.

Thank you to all reading and especially those giving comment!

 

[coz1]

​

The Song of Wessex​

* * *

Poitiers, Aquitaine – April 1333​

The Prince had taken a small force with him as his father instructed and stopped only for a short while in Melun to gain correspondence. From there, they traveled south and west until they reached Angevin lands. Though at war, the Duke of Poitou had yet to raise his banners and as Prince Arthur crossed the Loire, he received word that his sister wished to see him. Lord Sigismund of Poitou was now thirty and seven. Close enough in age with the Prince, they might have got on well except the Duke was too gregarious meant to hide his cruel streak. Prince Arthur found him greedy and perhaps even craven as he had yet to lift a finger for the Emperor. Yet it allowed him chance to see his sister Nell.

He was shocked when he finally put eyes to her. Eleanor of Wessex lay to her sickbed with a yellow-green tint to her skin. She was with child and the belly showed it already. A daughter sat next to her and held closely to her mother’s hand. The child was naught but six, but as it was told to him, she would not leave.

“Sarrazine is deeply worried about her mother,” Lord Sigismund explained, “Our Nell has been put low for some time now...and she does not look to get better.”

Prince Arthur stared at his youngest sister with disbelief, “Why do you not have physicians tend to her?”

“I do, my Lord Prince...Your Grace,” Sigismund attempted to say, “Yet...”

“Yet he finds me no better, Arty,” Eleanor spoke with a soft voice as she opened her eyes and saw him.

“I did not think...” the Prince started to say as he moved to her bed but she held to his hand.

“You could not have known. When I heard that you were near...I had to see you,” she smiled as best she could and held her other hand to her daughter, “Please meet your niece, brother. Soon to be seven and a wonder.”

Prince Arthur bent to kiss the child and said hello, but then looked back to his sister, “What brings you low, Nell? Do you have complications?”

Eleanor squeezed her daughter’s hand, “Sweet girl...go with your father and allow me some time with my kin. Yet do not be long. I cherish our time together.”

The little girl reached and hugged her mother tightly before standing to take the Duke’s hand. Lord Sigismund looked on with a forlorn eye, “I am sorry that it must be like this, sir. With all that happens...”

“I understand,” Prince Arthur replied as he kept an eye to Nell.

“Your father…” Sigismund attempted to say before choking up.

The Prince turned with a sharp eye, “Will not be here. Thank you, my Lord.”

The Duke took his daughter and they left the siblings alone as Arthur turned back to Nell, “How many months are you?”

“I missed my moon five months ago,” Eleanor answered with a smile, “I hold hope that it will be a boy. I have wish to name him Arthur.”

“Then you honor our father,” the Prince replied as he held to her hand, “He will be most pleased.”

She looked to him with worry in her eyes, “Yet I think never to see this child, Arty. I am diseased.”

Her sallow skin and pale face showed it. Arthur held more tightly, “Why does your husband not do more?!”

“He cannot, brother,” Eleanor answered, “There is naught else to do. Besides...he risks already as the Emperor calls him forth. Sigs is an unhappy man...vainglorious without chance to make it so. I believe he loves me...to a point. Yet not enough to find our father’s protection.”

“Have you been hurt?” Arthur asked with concern.

Eleanor showed a smile, “He’s not that cruel. Mean...but not cruel. And I was ready for it. Blæja let me know what to expect. We have our girl...and mayhap a boy. I’m only sad that father has not seen her or me...nor I him.”

“He’s to Reims at the now,” Arthur replied, “Knee deep in his war against the Empire. I’m supposed to be to the south...meet up with the Lords of Leinster and Bedford. I am caused to make pause because these Germans keep fighting themselves...and for you.”

Eleanor showed another smile, “I am glad that you are held up, brother. I’ve not seen you in so many years. I hear about you all the time. Four children now...and your wife...the Queen. I was sad to miss your coronation. I wished to be there.”

“I would have liked you to be there,” Arthur answered her quickly, “Blæja too.”

“Her troubles are worse than mine,” Eleanor suggested, “And besides...it was your day. We’ve lost so much, you and I. Our brothers...our mother such as she was. All we have left is papa...and you.”

The Prince held to her hand, “I will write to him, Nell. He will come if he knows.”

“No...he won’t,” she answered, “He couldn’t be bothered when Eddy died. Why would he waste a thought upon me?”

“You are his daughter!” Arthur replied with certainty.

Eleanor smiled again, “Held too close and then too far. I need not papa at the now, Arty. I only need the breath that God gives to me...and the peace that you are now here.”

“I will stay as long as I needs must!” Prince Arthur suggested with force.

“You cannot,” she replied, “Our father...and this war need you elsewhere. Blæja was right.”

He questioned, “What did she say?”

“That my heart will always belong to England,” Eleanor answered happily, “That no matter what...I will always hold true to that,”

“Sweet Nell...” Arthur pressed to her hands, “...I am heart sick at this!”

Eleanor found a serious eye in her pain, “No more than your wife, I am certain. Your children...so many leagues from here. Arty...papa has his goal. What is yours?”

“Father wins,” the Prince answered his sister quickly, “Lord Richard moved on the Imperial soldiers to Aragon and found victory. They move north at the now. I am to join them. Lord Jordan found victory at Vlissingen and Breda...and moves on Julich as we speak, to be sure.”

​

She peered into his eyes, “You do not answer the question, brother.”

“Jordan is sure to Aachen and...I am told Adela of York now finds her support for me,” the Prince suggested.

Eleanor shifted in the bed with a stern eye shared by the family, “You speak so much, brother...and yet you speak none at all. What is your wish? You are King of England now. Your son is to be King himself...of so much. Do you blindly follow papa? He has his goal. What is yours?”

“My goal is to Bordeaux,” he answered firmly, “Father raises another six thousand to bring to this conflict...and I aim to be there when they arrive.”

She held to his hand, “And you should be...but again you do not answer. You have ten years on me Arty and mayhap you are the wiser for it. Eddy died at twenty and five. Ned at sixteen. There is now just we three and maman is no more. All that is left is us and our father. Will you follow him into hell?”

“It is not hell to protect the realm,” Arthur suggested.

Eleanor showed a brief smile, “No. But it may be to protect his goal. I see it in your eyes, brother. I know that I was young and we two don’t know each other well...but you are haunted. As I have always been. A maman that wished me not and a father that held me as victory. I have lived a very sad life, Arty. Yet I am but a Duchess...if that. Called Princess...it means no thing to me. I’ve had time to find my place and it runs out. At least I found a daughter...a future. You, Arty? You have a wife...a Queen. Four children...and I see your reticence.”

“I’ve never told a soul, Nell...” Arthur answered his sister, “...not all of this. Yet I have had dreams. Poor dreams that suggest terrible things. My life ending. My son’s life ending. Your life...ending.”

“They’re just dreams, Arty,” she answered with care.

He held a serious eye, “Yet they come true. It was said that I would have a daughter...and I did. It was said that I would be alone amongst us...”

“And I will die,” she followed with sureness, “Yet Blæja is still there. You are not totally alone.”

“You’ll not die, Nell!” he exclaimed, “I won’t see it happen!”

“There is nothing you can do about it, brother,” she rested her head in peace, “And you still don’t answer. You are older and wiser and have much on your shoulders...and I seek comfort at the now. I think not that papa brings it to you...nor your English crown. It is in your children...your wife. You should not be here, Arty...not with me. You should be with them.”

Prince Arthur moved to hug his sister, “I am sorry that you have been so sad, Nell!”

She appreciated the tenderness and held close to him, “Not as sorry as I, brother. I once thought that my lot was tragic. I now know that someone else holds that burden. Stay safe, Arty. The realm...and papa...depend upon it.”

Eleanor was growing tired and Arthur saw it as he helped her to rest, “Find your comfort, dear sister. I’ll not leave until I know you are well.”

“Go and seek my husband...and find your duty,” Eleanor answered with a sleepy eye, “And send my daughter back to me. Sara enjoys her cuddles and so do I.”

The Prince was true to his word. He did not leave Poitou until he found his sister safe and healthy. Sadly, that lasted less than a fortnight. Eleanor of Wessex, the youngest child of King Arthur and Queen Aveline, died at age twenty seven. Her unborn child did not ever find life and all that was left of her journey was little Sarrazine. Duke Sigismund showed a rare point of weakness in his grief and Prince Arthur was forced to leave to the south. A sad letter to write to his father and a war that remained.

He would write another letter to his wife.

​

 

[Nikolai]

The men of Wessex, they are no match to their female kin. It seems to me the women have what their male counterparts do not - clearness of sight.

 

[tpmcinty]

Again King Arthur loses another child tragically. I wonder if Prince Arthur will heed his sister's words about following their father down the same path.

 

[stnylan]

It is said that those closer to the Veil sometimes have the clearest sight, and so it seems now. Also, the youngest oftimes has more opportunities to observe. She certainly knows her own brother and father well enough, or knew as the case may be.

One can almost see how the Prince is getting weighed down at almost every turn, how the chains and burdens that he bears accumulate. His father will, I am sure, be the death of him one way or another.

 

[coz1]

Fb-fb:

The men of Wessex, they are no match to their female kin. It seems to me the women have what their male counterparts do not - clearness of sight.

There is some truth to that (unless one considers the old Queen Mary.) Eleanor in particular had an interesting vantage point. She was born just as the relationship with Aveline had finally deteriorated beyond repair and in some respects grew up much as a child of divorced parents might grow up - tossed between each one which often causes independence at an early age. As well, she is not in the thick of it like the King and Prince. She can afford to stand back and watch.

Again King Arthur loses another child tragically. I wonder if Prince Arthur will heed his sister's words about following their father down the same path.

It was quite something as I played to watch Arthur's children die, one by one. All the while, he just kept going. It is said that it is a terrible thing for a child to die before the parent, but in this case it goes to the extreme.

It is said that those closer to the Veil sometimes have the clearest sight, and so it seems now. Also, the youngest oftimes has more opportunities to observe. She certainly knows her own brother and father well enough, or knew as the case may be.

One can almost see how the Prince is getting weighed down at almost every turn, how the chains and burdens that he bears accumulate. His father will, I am sure, be the death of him one way or another.

Eleanor was always tragic to me. The way she was born and how she grew up. Aveline never trusted her after being stolen away at birth and Arthur really only used her as a cudgel to his wife. Sure, he fawned over her at first, but then he was often gone to fight his many wars. By the time Nell was sent to Poitou for marriage, Aveline was dead and Arthur was off in Ireland (and still grieving over Eadgar.) Knowing this would eventually happen, I tried to give her some scenes throughout to make this more powerful. Hopefully it worked.

As for the Prince and your thought...I can only say to read on.


To all - Not much I can add to the above other than I chose that last shot because it so clearly shows so much of what Arthur has lost over the years. Father dead, obviously. So too his wife. Now 3 of his 5 children. Here he is in the most epic battle of his life, and yet personal grief will always find him. Is the God of death satisfied from this war? Likely not.

The next scenes follow. Thanks to all those reading and giving comment.

 

[coz1]

​

The Song of Wessex​

* * *

Bordeaux, Aquitaine – June 1333​

“I was sorry to hear about the Princess, Your Grace,” Lord Simon of Bedford stood next to Prince Arthur and looked out over the massive Garonne river.

The Prince was silent for a time before answering, “Not half as sorry as my father, I expect.”

“Should you not then go to him?” the Duke asked.

“He sent me to here,” Prince Arthur replied, “And at least I was afforded one last chance to see her.”

Lord Simon gave nod, “That is some solace, I imagine. Tis a pity that we must now put Poitou to siege.”

“It is war, my Lord Simon,” Lord Richard of Leinster walked up behind them, “It waits for no man and is filled with grief.”

The Duke of Bedford turned with a sharp eye, “I see you have recovered, sir. I was certain that your last charge was to be your end.”

“May we not bicker, my Lords?” the Prince suggested, “It was a spectacular battle in all ways and I commend you both.”

​

“That much is true, Your Grace,” Simon answered him, “Of their knights, only three survive and they will be taken care of soon enough.”

Lord Richard agreed with a side eye to the Lord of Bedford, “So much so that I hardly think it worth your time to stay here with us, Your Grace. Surely the King is needing you to Reims. As you can see, we require no wet nurse.”

“You astonish me, my Lord Richard,” Prince Arthur showed a raised brow, “Much of this is your fault and yet here you are to gain your glory.”

“I know not what you mean?” the Duke of Leinster feigned shock.

The Prince narrowed his eyes, “Come now, my Lord...it is rather common knowledge that you look to your place in Ireland. Mayhap more than that. Do you think it happenstance that my father called for you but not your soldiers?”

When the Duke still showed surprise, the Lord of Bedford added, “I believe His Grace is trying to say that you are suspect, my Lord.”

“I need not this affront to my person!” Lord Richard replied with anger, “I have shown victory to Zaragoza...down into Aragon...and now here to Bordeaux. If I be not loyal, then please explain why so many Germans lay dead in my path!”

Prince Arthur’s emotions were running high, “Then you are no instrument for the Emperor nor the Pope. That does not mean that you do not look to yourself. I counseled against this war...and for you, I might add. Yet now I see that you gain everything that you desire.”

“I desire to be at my home to Leinster...my Lord Prince,” the Irish Duke answered in anger, “And it be not my fault that the young Lady of York sought my favor. I did not compel her to do so. In truth, I hardly know her. If you are looking for a villain, then look no further than our Lord here.”

It was Lord Simon’s turn to take affront, “Now we are to the meat of the matter, eh? You make play to Ireland as you accuse my uncle of being untrue!”

“We both know what this is about!” Lord Richard stood taller, “France and no more! Day by day, the King thinks himself an Emperor just as Luitpold in Julich. More concerned with electors to France than his people of England or Ireland. Yes I gain some glory...and for your father, my Lord Prince. Though distant, we hold some kin, so do not mistake my actions as anything other than what they are. I hold forth for the realm. That is the end of it!”

The Irish Duke stormed off leaving Lord Simon to whisper in the Prince’s ear, “His feathers are ruffled, Your Grace...and rightly so. Still...”

“I might have handled that differently,” Prince Arthur admitted.

Lord Simon buried a smile, “I should not like to counsel when unwanted, Your Grace...but yes. As much as I dislike Lord Richard, he has proven his worth in battle. His star is raised. Your father needs a man like that. You need a man like that.”

“He is arrogant,” the Prince watched the Irish Duke as he descended the hill below, “Vainglorious and thinks himself more than he is.”

“All true,” Simon allowed, “Yet a success. And your father requires success.”

The Prince turned to Lord Simon, “My father requires loyalty. That is why he began this adventure. This stinking, rotten mess! If I am ever home to my wife...my children...”

“Your Grace...” Lord Simon replied with sincerity, “...I too would wish to be home with my Matilda. It is a bond we share...a name and she is of Wessex. Yet you remain at grief. The sad passing of your sister in the midst of this war...I say again. Should you not be back to your father the King?”

Arthur looked back to the river, “Mayhap you are right, my Lord. If I am turned by this event, I can only imagine my father’s trouble. First Ned and then Eddy. Now it is Nell. Why must he always lose when he wins so much?”

Lord Simon lowered his head, “He’s not the only one that has lost, Your Grace. I revere your father, despite what Lord Richard might suggest. I’ve known no other King in my lifetime, saving you of course. The history of Bedford is littered with some poor creatures, but I and my uncle remain true and my Lady wife and I remain loyal in all ways. She is missing of me and I am missing of her. I expect that you are missing of your Queen. The sooner we end this...the sooner we may return to our homes. Lord Richard may enjoy this adventure. I merely do so out of duty. And will do until your father finds his peace.”

“I think not that he will be pleased to see me,” the Prince replied, “He does not find grief well met.”

“And yet, Your Grace...” Lord Simon made suggestion, “...he likely needs you all the same. I know that Lord Rodrigo was sent to keep an eye on Richard and myself and I hold no argument with it. That is the King’s prerogative. Yet I assure you...we’ve Aquitaine well in hand. The Lord Mayors have moved to Poitou and here is Bordeaux under siege. Your father likely stews with impatience at his own siege to Reims. And now this news? Again...if I may give counsel...you should go to him.”

“I think you are right,” the Prince gave nod and turned to the Duke, “And I shall not forget you, my Lord. I know your uncle to be true as Gloucester has been for many years. And your wife...my cousin...Northumberland is safe in her hands. So too is Bedford in yours. Yet keep watch of Leinster, sir. I’ll let my father choose his commanders, but I will look to you.”

Lord Simon bowed, “I am ever in your service, Your Grace. Now and when this war is over. And someday...when you are well and truly King of it all.”

​

* * *

Chatillon, Champagne – September 1333​

“Where is he?!” King Arthur shouted to Lord Nicholas, “His letter said he would be to here soon!”

The Duke of Norfolk stood nervously and tried to answer, “Your Grace...cousin...do you not recall? Your son suggested that he would travel with the Lord Mayor Eric to Burgundy. The siege at Poitou was lifted so they might meet with three thousand coming west.”

​

Poitou. The word itself hurt the King. The memory of it...the heartbreak. Ava did not help him in his dreams and he was burning hot, “We have no time for these setbacks! I am told that reinforcements arrive for Lord Jordan to Julich yet this blasted fortress will not fall! I need my son!”

“Cousin...” Nicholas held a cloth to the King’s head, “...you are fraught with fever. You needs must rest. The siege continues and there is little to do about it. I beg of you, sire...find a pillow and gain some sleep.”

King Arthur pushed his hand away, “I’ve no time for sleep. Chatillon will not fall and forces mass over the Rhine! I needs must hear that Cluny is won for only then will my son return to me.”

“You’ve not stopped for days on end, sire,” Nicholas suggested, “The Prince will return. You sent him south to see to it and he has done so. Lay down. Take a rest. The war cannot be won in an instant.”

“I am sorry, Nicolaus...” the King turned to his young Duke, “...I promised your father that I would protect you.”

Nicholas smiled as he helped King Arthur to a cot, “And you have done so, cousin. It is my extreme honor to serve you at this time. I think my father to be proud of me and I have learned so much. Yet let me assist you.”

“He was too young...your father,” Arthur insisted as he found a comforted place on the bed, “Never a martial mind...but a good friend. Always sharp in class...and uncle Geoffrey...he could be a taskmaster.”

“Father did mention it,” Nicholas answered as he sat by the bed and wiped the King’s head with a cold cloth.

King Arthur allowed his eyes to close as he remembered, “My father’s uncle, actually. Stern but honest. Raised me as much as my parents...and your father too.”

“The late Bishop of Lincoln is honored, sire,” Nicholas brushed the cold cloth again, “A revered figure. Son of the great Queen Anne...brother to your grandfather. The last of her children and the one that kept memory alive. It was taught to me...taught to many.”

“Nico would be sure of that,” Arthur opened his eyes and stared at his young Duke, “And now...what have I left? A poor daughter in Norway and a son far away.”

Nicholas held to his hand, “I am sorry about Eleanor, cousin. I know that you hurt. But at least your son was there.”

“But not me,” King Arthur closed his eyes again, “Sweet Nell...that precious apple of my eye. I think to have failed her...and now...she is no more.”

“You could not have known,” Nicholas suggested as he pulled a blanket over the King, “Death comes in many guises...and I have now seen that. I doubt that my father ever knew as much.”

King Arthur opened his eyes again and held to his cousin’s hand, “Little Nico...I didn’t wish for this.”

“Of course not, cousin,” Nicholas answered as he helped the King find drink, “Events find you and sometimes very poor. We shall be victors and only because of you.”

“I promised that I would protect you,” Arthur held a hand to the young Duke’s face.

Nicholas punched a pillow and gently placed it under King Arthur’s head, “It is too sad what happens to you, cousin. Yet I am sure that the Prince returns and safe. Gain your rest. You will be better for it on the morrow.”

 

[stnylan]

I have a dread feeling in my stomact. "I am sure that the Prince returns safe and well" - those words written to close this episode ... either you are signalling something my good friend or you are tweaking my (our) expectations somewhat

 

[Nikolai]

I have a dread feeling in my stomact. "I am sure that the Prince returns safe and well" - those words written to close this episode ... either you are signalling something my good friend or you are tweaking my (our) expectations somewhat

My thoughts too. Also, this scene reminds me of the scenes in the fifthies. Is the old king getting frail? Or is it at least the first signs of what to come? Or, is it just the fever. For now?