The Song of Wessex
* * *
Westminster, England - May 1339
Westminster, England - May 1339
Lord Jordan waited patiently in the privy council chamber. He was still rather astounded by how far he had risen at court. The Kentish Dukes had long since been passed over for other more powerful Lords. Long ago, the Lords of Kent had served successive Kings, but since that time, they were content with their building for which they were so well known. The Duke still missed the Prince and then King Arthur. The son of the Emperor had raised him up and gave him trust. The memory of his death still pained him. Yet Emperor Arthur trusted him as well. Jordan had proved himself time and again in battle and had provided excellent soldiers. At thirty and seven, he was no longer the youth of the council, but he marveled at how far the realm had come since his arrival to court.
When the Emperor finally entered, he was not in a good mood, “My Lord...I thought that I did give you leave to travel north. Pray tell why you are still here?”
“I had notion to keep you updated on Northumberland, Your Majesty,” Lord Jordan answered as he bowed.
Arthur never grew tired of waving his hand at his new title, “Speak plainly, Jordy. We’ve been through the wars together.”
“Then I will tell you that the Earl of Galloway has raised nearly two thousand for his quest on Northumberland,” Jordan answered.
“Two thousand, you say?” Arthur looked up clearly impressed.
The Duke gave nod, “I think him to have been planning his move for some time.”
Arthur moved to pour some ale, “Well...Lord Alan is the younger man even if the higher rank. I still think the claim is tenuous at best, but I was more than happy to send you with the others so it may be put down in a hurry.”
Lord Jordan thankfully accepted an offered cup, “Lord Rodrigo tarries to Cornwall, but Lord Simon has moved swiftly.”
“I should think so,” the Emperor replied as he sat at the head of the long table, “Lord Alan is his son.”
“I have my thirty three hundred ready to march north from Middlesex the moment I leave you, sire,” Jordan answered, “Between the four of us, we have nearly ten thousand against the Earl. Shouldn’t be too much of a trouble.”
Arthur ruminated as he drank, “I tell you, Jordy...I like this not. I do not need troubles to the north as I attempt to woo Queen Maud once again. How may she know that a mass of soldiers to her border are not meant for her? This trouble will likely spill over into her lands and that is the last thing that I need.”
“That is no doubt, sire,” Lord Jordan answered knowingly, “Yet I think the force we bring to bear will see this over before it has truly begun.”
“I’m trusting you to keep it so, sir,” Arthur offered a stern eye, “I know not well the young Duke of Northumberland but I know his father Lord Simon well enough...and the Lord of Cornwall. Loyal men, for the most part. Yet they do grow stronger by the day. Keep them honest, Jordy. Keep them true and away from the harsher aspects of war.”
“Indeed I will, sire,” the Duke replied, “I know well how important the lands of Northumbria are to the Empire. The people there need not see raping and pillaging.”
“Good,” Arthur gave nod as he moved to drink again.
Suddenly the chamber door opened and Earl Randolph entered with an ashen face, “Your Majesty...it is good that you are here.”
As Lord Jordan greeted him with a nod of the head, Arthur turned with concern, “What is it, my Lord? Tell me not some calamity with my grandson.”
“No, Majesty...” Randolph moved into the room and softly closed the door, “...it is the Lord of Gloucester. After these many years in pain...he has finally succumbed and passed on to God bedridden and infirm.”
All three men crossed themselves before Arthur spoke, “God save him. In my heart I am sad...but in my mind, I am of two opinions.”
“He was very ill for a long time,” Lord Jordan suggested.
The Emperor agreed, “That he was. And led a most tragic life at the end. To have lost not only his young daughter but so too his son that had come of age and seemed full of promise. I know well the meaning of that hurt. And more to that...to have been roped into these schemes from France. I had to dismiss him from council because of his failing health...but I cannot deny that his standing caused it as well.”
The Lord Chancellor gave nod, “I imagine that this is the promising sign of his sad passing, sire. One less pretender for the French crown. However...”
“You need not tell me, my Lord,” Arthur turned with quickness, “I may be approaching seventy, but my mind is as sharp as ever! Without living issue, the estates and title of Gloucester go to his nephew de Laval.”
Earl Randolph followed, “And at a stroke...Lord Simon of Bedford now rivals Normandy and York in prestige and power.”
“Then I will watch him even more carefully, sire,” Lord Jordan announced.
Arthur turned back to his drink and stared at it for a time before suggesting out loud, “And now I wonder if Alan in Northumberland might not need a spanking after all. If you attach his father’s holdings with his when all is said and done...”
Lord Randolph understood, “A base of power throughout England and well into Normandy and France.”
With a sigh, Arthur stood to refresh his drink, “You would think that being Emperor would solve these petty disputes and allow me to keep above it all. I have a fractured Brittany to settle. Issue still to Limousin to protect my realm and Barons. And the ever present ghost of the Germans to the East. Not to mention...Scotland and its progeny.”
“Lord Simon has always proved loyal, sire,” Jordan suggested, “Your son himself said so when he returned from Poitou. It has been some years, I know...and circumstances have changed since that time...yet I believe him to still honor you.”
The Lord Chancellor followed, “And on the final matter, Majesty...I am soon to Cupar in Scotland. Letters have been sent from Chatillon and your grandson and I think them received with good ear. I go to make certain of that.”
“And so you both go North and leave me to the pleasantries of the Lord Steward,” Arthur turned with a slight grin, “God help me! I swear...Lord Stephen trembles at my every word. When will Earl John return to me from Julich, I ask?”
Lord Jordan returned the grin, “Mayhap he will return with good news for you, sire. I’ve missed my time to that place and would love to see those sights once again.”
“The treaty, Jordy...” Arthur moved to the window, “...don’t forget the treaty. I’ll not stop digging up dirt on that little bastard boy, but I must have great cause to go in again.”
“I’m sure you will find it, Majesty,” Randolph suggested, “And until then...we work towards the current goal. The Queen of Scotland to the north and...”
“My grandson to Champagne,” Arthur gave nod without turning, “Take your men to Northumberland, Jordy. Make a good show of it.”
Lord Jordan gave bow before leaving, “I will, sire.”
When he was gone, Arthur finally shifted to look on his Lord Chancellor, “I know that I told you not to tell me...but...how did she take it?”
“Best not for me to say, Majesty...but her tears spoke volumes,” the Earl replied.
Arthur turned back to look out the window, “Poor Bella. Sweet Bella. I am cursed with lovers and she was simply the latest victim of it.”
“Yet it is certain to prove your point to Queen Maud,” Randolph answered.
“I hope it so, my Lord...” Arthur turned with a sad eye, “...for I have given up much. I do hope it so.”
* * *
Cupar, Scotland – October 1339
Cupar, Scotland – October 1339
The Scots court was far more slim than that of Emperor Arthur. The hall was large enough, but the realm was not. Yet at its head still sat Queen Maud. She was forty six and still held her beauty. Long auburn hair tied back tight with a crown upon her head, it was her eyes that kept her luster. Blue...almost piercing. She had gained wrinkles over time, but to any and all that looked upon her she remained the most fair in all of Scotland.
When the Lord Chancellor of Britain was announced and brought before her, she remained seated in her chair as any regal figure might do and it suited her. She had reigned for twenty years and had surely seen her struggles. Yet she had done as her father suggested...she had learned from the best. Sitting tall in her finest dress and robes, she used those piercing blue eyes to their best effect.
To her right sat her second son Reginald. He was nearly of age and caught enough of the likeness of his father. Not quite as much as her first son, but she liked that he might favor her as well. And to her left sat her youngest and now only daughter Margaret. She was almost fourteen and to many seemed Queen Maud’s twin. Behind her were the only two she had left. Both lowborn, but trusted as any man might be to Scotland. The priest and her confessor Hugh that was near to her age and James of Cupar that had served her uncle Duncan before her and was nearing seventy. The latter held a stutter but announced the Lord Chancellor anyway.
“M...my Lady...Que...Queen...” he presented, “...here is th...the Lord Chancellor...of...England.”
She held up a hand as the Earl of Gwent entered the hall and offered a very low bow in respect. Lord Randolph held it as she looked down upon him and did not rise until she spoke, “My Lord...as I remain unmarried and you seem to enjoy your visits to Cupar these last many months, I am afraid that people may begin to talk in rumor.”
“Only because of your great beauty, Your Grace,” Lord Randolph stood taller and smiled, “Any man not by your side is a fool and worse.”
Maud narrowed her eyes, “Would that include my late husband?”
“Never that, Your Grace,” Randolph attempted to correct.
She kept a firm gaze, “He has now been dead for nearly five years. Do you think that I have forgotten?”
“How could you?” Lord Randolph answered with care, “His spirit lives on within all of us...including His Majesty, his father.”
Maud sighed, “His letter of July pleased me much...yet you return again and again for I know not what. I have naught to give you, my Lord. Nor him. I’m uncertain which one of you attempts to woo me more?”
Lord Randolph smiled, “His Majesty merely attempts to find a peace with his long lost daughter.”
“As my father died many years ago...” Maud answered with sharpness, “...I know not what he means.”
“He asked me to say so, Your Grace,” Randolph replied, “His Majesty suggested that you would know what that meant.”
Maud looked to her youngest children and then back to the Lord Chancellor, “I hold a very keen memory, my Lord. Every slightest bit...every cut...every bite. I am not like to forget. Yet I am surprised at this. What has my favor to do with his worth in any way? Did Arthur of the English not declare himself Emperor? Did my husband’s father not imprison my son?”
“Your son the Prince does quite well...as I hope that he has said to you,” Randolph countered, “Holds his court to Chatillon with his wife and youngest daughter. All things are forgiven within the House of Wessex and as His Majesty thinks of you the same...he remains in his wish that there will be reconciliation.”
The Queen shifted in her chair and kept her hard stare, “I tried to kill him, sir. Is that to be forgotten? Forgiven?”
An audible gasp came from the slim crowd but neither Queen nor Chancellor paid attention as Randolph answered, “As in all families, there may be strife. It is not unknown to the House of Wessex nor is it to your own. Yet your children here...your son to Champagne...they remain his as well as yours. He wishes once again to be as one.”
“They are not his!” Maud replied strongly, “They remain to mine own body and that of my husband, may God rest his blessed soul. You may send letter after letter but what is forgiven by him is a thing that I shall never forget...never forgive.”
Randolph showed a grin, “And here I thought that we were making progress, Your Grace.”
“You’ve a way about you, my Lord,” Maud answered with her own grin, “A sharp mind, but I’m not certain that the tongue is as golden as you think.”
“It is true,” the Lord Chancellor replied, “I am not a natural diplomat. That was my father before me. Yet I do serve and I hope well. I may only provide the words that His Majesty desires.”
Maud found a smile, “Then you do so with some wanting, my Lord. My son and I are in agreement...if ever there was a vassal to do his King’s bidding, then it is you...and not very well.”
“An Emperor...Your Grace,” Randolph returned the smile, “And one that wishes the returned love of his most respected daughter.”
She shook her head as she looked out over her slim court and then turned back to Randolph, “I’m uncertain of what respect he means, but I am grateful that he has kept his latest troubles from my lands. I’m told that your issue to the south is resolved?”
“Indeed so,” Lord Randolph gave a polite nod, “The combined efforts of the southern Lords proved too much for this treacherous Earl of Galloway and he now finds himself prisoner to the Lord of Northumberland.”
Maud smiled again, “I imagine that the Duchess of Galloway had some hand in that, my Lord. Sought to revoke his land for her own. I would think that gave him some pause.”
“I believe that victory against the Earl gave him some pause, Your Grace,” the Earl responded, “Yet it is true...one more against him sealed his defeat.”
The Queen sat taller, “Then I am thankful that my southern border is once more at peace and no trouble to me.”
“No trouble to His Majesty either,” Randolph smiled, “Yet he is grateful to have once more assisted you.”
Maud pursed her brow, “I did not think to need his assistance. Only a chance to rule my realm without your petty squabbles.”
“On that note, Your Grace...” Randolph answered, “...may we all say how wonderful it is that you are now without threat.”
“You speak of my cousin to Albany,” Maud stared with her blue eyes, “It is true. Dead from a terrible disease. I think it not wonderful but a great sadness that she should find such pain even if she warred against me.”
Lord Randolph offered a short bow, “Then you hold a good heart, Your Grace.”
“What is a great sadness also is the matter of my other cousin,” the Queen showed him a stern eye, “Now to a nunnery to Clunie. The shame of it! Her husband...another cousin though bastard he may be…he will never know his wife again. Much like all else that Arthur of the English places his hands to...he defiles them all!”
“It was meant...” Randolph tried to explain, “...as a sign of good will.”
Maud sat forward in her chair, “Good will?! That he stole my cousin only to return her to me damaged? That he stole my husband and now my son?! Pray tell what good will he offers because if there is an honest answer, I would listen!”
“It is understandable...” Randolph attempted to answer but she cut him off again.
“No, my Lord!” Maud found her anger, “What is understandable is that this man has taken from me for my entire life! My grandmother! His actions killed my father! His actions killed my husband...his own son! What he holds to give me now is but a pittance for I would rather spit on his grave than allow his worth to infect my life ever again!”
Lord Randolph stood tall as she shouted and made no motion until she was finished. When she was done, he merely showed a pleasant smile, “So you would not like to hear his proposal, Your Grace?”
“If he has one to my liking, I will doubt it!” Maud replied with a stern eye.
“A Lady of Tours...” the Lord Chancellor suggested, “...daughter to the Earl of both Tours and Auxerre. Her name is Philippa and she is of Wessex. Granddaughter of the great Lady Emma of Anjou. Though she has been married before, her husband sadly died young. His Majesty offers this as match for your own. The Prince before us.”
Queen Maud was somewhat stunned and sat back in her chair. The priest Hugh and James of Cupar spoke into her ear as young Reginald looked to them all before she turned back to Randolph, “What makes you think that I wish to enter into Wessex once more, my Lord?”
“It has been a long road, Your Grace,” Lord Randolph answered with a respectful bow before standing tall once more, “Yet York and Anjou grow strong. His Majesty knows well that your son Prince Reginald is second in line for the throne and the Empire. All that he builds for Prince Arthur...so too does he build for this Prince here. I am told to say to you...no matter the cost or reasons of past efforts...they have been put into place for the surety of your sons. For the sons of King Arthur of England. Time is a fickle thing...as you well know, Your Grace. Would it not be best to set your second son up as well as the first?”
“I’ve not seen the woman!” Prince Reginald declared.
Maud shushed him, “No matter who she is...she is a Lady!”
“And a gift to you, Your Grace,” Randolph bowed once more.
The Scots Queen leaned in to hear another word from the priest Hugh but then turned back, “I remain skeptical, my Lord. Your Emperor has found me burned more than once. I am not like to give him another chance.”
Lord Randolph gave nod, “Your son in Chatillon has shown no issue with the match. In truth, he would like his brother to be well set. A match with Tours would help him in his quest for the crown of France and would help this young Prince for it comes with it a great dowry.”
“I do not trust him,” Maud replied with a stern eye.
The Lord Chancellor bowed once more before standing, “It is meant only as a gift, Your Grace. No thing more.”
I suspect it will be, but you never know.
