One war, two wars... And clearly the first lasted four around four years. Must have been a hard fought one, I wager. And this lad, which lad...hmmmmm? 
The Song of Wessex
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I always maintained that Ava and Arthur were, in many respects, made for each other - and that whilst Ava was ever her own person Arthur had the greater responsibility. A little give on his part ... well, "bad" as Arthur has been for the realm's neighbours, on those rare moments they operated as a team they were downright terrifying to any who opposed them. Again, some hint here that Arthur, on some level, knows this.
But the shade is right: it some respects he too is now a shrunken thing.
But the shade is right: it some respects he too is now a shrunken thing.
That was a large leap forward in the story. Is it permanent, or will there be flashbacks to the intervening period? If not, then I suppose not too much of importance must have happened other than the war being won. And I trust Arthur did not personally lose any battles.
He will carry some nagging ambivalence about Ava to the grave - and it will be a fiery meeting afterwards!
He will carry some nagging ambivalence about Ava to the grave - and it will be a fiery meeting afterwards!
We’ve had these leaps several times. Slowly we’re getting there, but I’m sure there’s much to tell about the years inbetween first.That was a large leap forward in the story. Is it permanent, or will there be flashbacks to the intervening period? If not, then I suppose not too much of importance must have happened other than the war being won. And I trust Arthur did not personally lose any battles.
Hope so, but you never know ...We’ve had these leaps several times. Slowly we’re getting there, but I’m sure there’s much to tell about the years inbetween first.
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And yes, that meeting in the afterlife will be something.
To all - Look for the next scene to follow and we move into this chapter fully. So much still to follow and the story is far from over. In truth, these last portions were what caused me to want to write this in the first place so I hope that it is enjoyed. Thanks for the comments and always reading!
We know Arthur has little else on his mind but fight the HRE and we know he still has some time left to do so, even if he starts to feel the pressure. I can't yet say how it goes, but the Emperor does not tend to lose (in battle at least.) As for the lad...I purposely left that vague.One war, two wars... And clearly the first lasted four around four years. Must have been a hard fought one, I wager. And this lad, which lad...hmmmmm?
I truly enjoyed writing that scene between Arthur and Ava. I miss her as a character precisely because of what you mention. She was good at what she did and was beneficial to Arthur's ultimate goal even if Arthur did not see it. Rather the irony of his taking her head way back when. It's part of why she has never left him because you're right. In some respects, he gets it now. Far too late, but...
Not a leap as much as the story starting to converge between the now and the future (or past, if you will.) The later portions have always been from 1351 and we are pretty close to that. I specifically wanted to introduce the young Letitia that has been a character for some time, even if sparingly.That was a large leap forward in the story. Is it permanent, or will there be flashbacks to the intervening period? If not, then I suppose not too much of importance must have happened other than the war being won. And I trust Arthur did not personally lose any battles.
He will carry some nagging ambivalence about Ava to the grave - and it will be a fiery meeting afterwards!
And yes, that meeting in the afterlife will be something.
We’ve had these leaps several times. Slowly we’re getting there, but I’m sure there’s much to tell about the years inbetween first.
Indeed, I tell all about what happens between now and 1351. And it's a lot!Hope so, but you never know ...
To all - Look for the next scene to follow and we move into this chapter fully. So much still to follow and the story is far from over. In truth, these last portions were what caused me to want to write this in the first place so I hope that it is enjoyed. Thanks for the comments and always reading!
The Song of Wessex
* * *
Melun Castle – February 1346
Melun Castle – February 1346
“Little Nico!!” Emperor Arthur shouted with glee when he spied his younger cousin of Norfolk, “I have been so missing of you and cannot say enough how pleased am I that you are before me at the now!”
Lord Nicholas gave bow and then a smile, “Majesty...I could never refuse such a promising invitation.”
“It is cousin, sir,” Arthur corrected with a warm voice, “You know you need not go so far as the others.”
“And yet you deserve it...cousin,” Nicholas bowed once more.
Beckoning him into the solar, Arthur was quick to pour them both a goblet of ale, “I’d say that you have had a hard journey to cross the channel, but I think you to already be to France.”
Nicholas looked slightly sheepish, “Tis true, cousin. I would have written, but I understood you in poor shape of late and held no wish to further your pain.”
With a wink, Arthur sat close to the fire and gestured for Nicholas to join him, “Don’t play the coy fox with me, cousin. I know you to be at odds with our Welsh brethren at the now. You’ve got some fine forces down to Poitou and Aquitaine at the now. You’ve taken a side and our cousin to Deheubarth has another. And all over Saintogne?”
“The Duchess Almodis in Poitou is our kin, cousin,” Nicholas suggested, “Closer to you than myself, to be sure. She traces her lineage back to our Queen Mary as do you.”
A wistful eye towards the flames caused the Emperor to a sad tone, “Things have certainly changed there since my daughter ruled alongside her husband.”
“That they have, Majesty...and while the Lady of Poitou is ruled by the man in Germany, familial connection caused me to their aid.”
Arthur skewed an eye, “Tis that and not your distaste of our Welsh cousin?”
“Mayhap,” Nicholas showed a smile, “As you well know...never let an opportunity pass.”
Looking back to the fire, the Emperor took a long drink and then sat his cup aside as he turned to Nicholas once more, “In that...I am afraid that I shall have to disappoint you, sir. While I treasure you, and promised your dear father that I would see to your welfare at all times...”
“You wish another round with the German Luitpold, don’t you?” Nicholas questioned already knowing the answer.
“In short...I do,” Arthur was quick to reply.
Lord Nicholas took a healthy pull of his ale and then smiled, “Majesty...cousin...I am fifty and two now. I have been no thing but cared for by you...and by your son when he was alive. I could no more refuse you anything than I could mine own father were he alive today.”
The Emperor stood and moved to a table of maps, “Pleased am I to hear it for it means more than simply a disruption of your adventures to the south. Aquitaine and Gascogne are broken from Luitpold. So too Ancona. And these spirited Dukes find a winning in their gamble. It is more opportunity than I could wish for. The treaty is done and I shall have free reign. I grow no younger, so it must be now.”
“What says your privy council on this, cousin?” Nicholas asked as he joined the Emperor by the table.
Arthur looked up with a grin, “Think you that I care? I’m the bloody Emperor and I can do as I please. They all know that I detest the man in Germany...nearly any and all of them, save mayhap our cousins to there. I will have my full satisfaction, sir. I promised mine own father many years ago...Hainaut will be burned to the ground. And now...it is in my sights. So too Poitou. I hold claim on each and intend to reach for them both. In truth, the letter has already been sent.”
Nicholas stood back with an appreciative eye, “You are nothing if not bold, cousin. A rival to our illustrious ancestor the great Uhtræd.”
“So you do not object?” Arthur questioned.
“How could I?” the Duke replied with a smile, “I was given life and promise by your last war. I would do all of my part in this.”
Arthur returned the smile as he pointed to a map, “Most excellent, for I shall need you. I’ve already sent word to the French Lords. Over twelve thousand are called. Shaky commands, but I shall trust in the Lords Raynaud and Amedee of Bourbon. Lord Eric is sent for and will arrive soon.”
“Would you wish me to lead the English contingent, cousin?” Nicholas asked with some eager anticipation.
With a curt shake of the head, Arthur was quick to reply, “I fear that I must give Lord Simon of Bedford that honor. His House is strong and that he is so closely connected to ours, it would be a slight. Yet I do need you, Nico. The Lord Marshal has received my word and Jordy will arrive with Lord Simon fourteen thousand strong. It is to you that I require assistance.”
“You need my ships?” Nicholas answered quickly.
Arthur gave nod, “That I do, sir. And not a moment too soon. There has already been a brief connection in Deols. Three hundred poor men...a massacre.”
“Then all the ships in Norfolk are at your disposal, cousin,” Nicholas replied without hesitation.
Arthur held a kind hand to his shoulder, “Trust me, Nico...there will be further part for you to play in this. Yet I promised your father.”
“As father to son...” Nicholas looked on with a curious eye, “...what of your son’s Arthur? What part will he play, cousin?”
Immediately, the Emperor stiffened and looked away, “What part can he play? He is cut off from Holy church.”
“Cut off from you?” Nicholas questioned.
Arthur turned back with a stern eye, “Away from all that he should hold dear. The lad would never learn. Aye, I’ve called up his men from Champagne. Yet not him...never him. In truth, Nico...I know not what to do with him. Every promise he shows...he finds way to step two back and scuttle all that he might have gained. He is my heir...and yet I am disgusted by him.”
Lord Nicholas looked on with both agreement and worry, “A short, sharp shock some years ago might be why, cousin.”
“It’s not that,” the Emperor waved that away, “It is another. Where Arturo could bring one to his side, this one find all ways to push them away. The French throne depends upon it and he finds every way to disappoint all. I am at wits end, sir. And all of my promise is caught tight in his weasily little hands.”
“He now has a son,” Nicholas countered.
Arthur showed no sign of interest when he looked up, “Indeed...named Anselm. Yet another cut.”
“It’s a fine name, cousin...” Nicholas offered, “...an honored name.”
“Ans was a fine man, Nico...yet he should have honored his father,” Arthur moved to finish his drink and then returned to pour another, “Instead, it is done out of spite. I know it. And he is now so low, that he calls his own mother to me. One that would sooner slit my throat than be to my presence. I tell you, Nico...I miss the days when Maud and I fought...when my son and I fought. At least then, I knew the enemy.”
Nicholas attempted to counsel, “The Prince is not the enemy now, Majesty. Your enemy is the German. Allow me...if you would...to play friends with your grandson. Take such things from your mind while you focus on so much more. I would go so far as to travel to Rome to plead his case...and yours...in front of the Holy Father.”
“Nay,” Arthur answered quickly as he turned with a sure face, “I’ve told you. I need your ships. His will be sorted out soon enough. Amedee told me years ago...fight the battle before you. Mine? I am past my biblical age, sir. Yet I will lead one more time...and find my satisfaction. And then?”
Nicholas stepped into the pause, “Then, Majesty? Cousin?”
“Then I will take care for my grandson,” Arthur kept his stern eye, “For once and for all.”
If not fate takes care of him before that. I mean, Arthur has a thing with fate and heirs.
Now pleasant to have a familial conversation not so underlaced with lethal threat. It is important to remember there are some - perhaps even many - that regard the Emperor with a great deal of affection.
Nicholas' words are really true, and I hope Arthur really listened to them (it seems so, but with him you never know). It is not the first time (if I'm not mistaken) the former give good advice.
True in a direct sense - though there seems to be lethal threat in the third person for young Arthur!
There are going to be some big battles here ... but Britain has the interior lines in France. The numbers from England will be welcome, but presumably the German heartland will be providing the same. My money would be on Arthur here of course - even without the flash-forwards.
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To all - Again, great comments all. Thank you as always! Look for the next scene tomorrow and please remember there is little time left to vote for the Year End AwAARds. Most of you have ventured there, but anyone that has not, please consider offering your voice for those works that you have enjoyed this past year. Just follow this link:
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There is that and a good read. I obviously cannot say what happens but I am already foreshadowing something.If not fate takes care of him before that. I mean, Arthur has a thing with fate and heirs.
This Nicholas is an important character for a number of reasons. Of course, he is the living reminder of Arthur's old friend and cousin. And he's the one person that he's actually taken care of over the years. He will play into the next years which is why I keep him as a character and indeed, theirs is one relationship that seems fit. THat may not always last (and could have gone sideways here.)
Little Nico has indeed given good advice to both Arthur and his now deceased son. However, we pretty much know that Arthur won't listen to anyone but himself.
It's a pretty big war with some surprises along the way. We know he wins (from the beginning scenes) but it's how we get there that is interesting. As for the threat, I hesitated including that. I can explain later, but it means something but maybe not what is expected.True in a direct sense - though there seems to be lethal threat in the third person for young Arthur!
There are going to be some big battles here ... but Britain has the interior lines in France. The numbers from England will be welcome, but presumably the German heartland will be providing the same. My money would be on Arthur here of course - even without the flash-forwards.
To all - Again, great comments all. Thank you as always! Look for the next scene tomorrow and please remember there is little time left to vote for the Year End AwAARds. Most of you have ventured there, but anyone that has not, please consider offering your voice for those works that you have enjoyed this past year. Just follow this link:
Please feel free to copy and paste into your own work to spread the word. And as I always say, you need not vote for this work (though it is always appreciated) but please do find your support for those hard working writAARs we all love at this place.
The Song of Wessex
* * *
Chatillon, France – September 1346
Chatillon, France – September 1346
The two Dukes were escorted to the Prince’s solar and gave bow once in his presence. Yet when they looked to him, the youngest Arthur showed a pallid face and great sunken eyes. The Prince was cordial but held the air of one defeated as he offered them both drinks.
“You take some risk being seen to me, my Lords,” he suggested as he sunk into a chair by the fire.
Duke Jordan looked first to Duke Simon before turning back to the Prince, “His Majesty would not fault us for looking in on the heir to the Empire, my Prince. We have been to the continent since March and as we pass through Reims, we could not fail to see you.”
“Hainaut and Poitou...yes?” the Prince kept his eye to the flames.
Lord Simon stood tall, “Indeed, my Prince. The Lord Mayor Eric holds siege at Poitiers as we speak and Lord Jordan and I are tasked with running down these twelve thousand Germans that track south.”
With a sigh, Prince Arthur finally turned, “Know it well, I do. Last seen passing through Troyes, I believe. Yet where is my illustrious grand-papa?”
“His Majesty is due to meet us to Druyes,” Lord Jordan answered with confidence, “What he lacks in youth is more than made up for with his continued vigor.”
“Quite...” the Prince sighed once more, “...His Majesty is surely brave and diligent in his pursuits towards the German. Less so with those that make up his household.”
Lord Simon looked to his peer before questioning, “No word yet from Rome, my Prince?”
Gesturing towards his rather bare solar, the Prince answered, “Does it look like it, my Lord? Do you see my wife around? My children?”
“I understood the Lady Maud to take refuge at Melun,” Lord Jordan replied, “Surely a precaution...for the safety of your heirs.”
“Because that is all that matters,” Arthur suggested with resigned certainty, “I am now fully out. Burgundy convinces Holy Church that I am unworthy of God’s love and protection and so my grand-papa is happy to take advantage. It took nearly ten years, but he has finally got his revenge upon me. Are you certain that his hand was not on it?”
“You should not speak of His Majesty in such ways, my Prince,” Jordan was quick to reply, “He holds love for you as you are his promise.”
Arthur questioned, “For what?”
“For everything,” Simon followed.
The Prince shrugged before taking down the rest of his drink and then stood to pour another, “Grand-papa’s promise died years ago, my Lords. Make no mistake, for I do not. The death of my father left us all wanting and I have failed to fill that void. My mother is left to her struggles...the Lords of France wish me not. The two of you are left in quite good form...to Kent...in Bedford and elsewhere...yet I am alone, sirs. All I have left to offer anymore is my young son...who is now to Melun.”
“You find disease of the mind, my Prince,” Jordan suggested, “You must not allow it. Anathema cannot last as His Majesty is the most powerful man in the world. All that is suffered will be made right once the Holy Father is given right convincing. We would not be here now if His Majesty forbid it. And he has not.”
Arthur turned with a sad smile, “It’s because you don’t know...do you? You are uncertain.”
“Uncertain, my Prince?” Simon asked quickly.
“You don’t know if I will become Emperor or not,” Arthur replied with ill humor, “Best hedge your bets, yes? Make a good scene and then go your way to conquer as was your bidding. Hope that I may be as forgiving as His Majesty.”
Lord Jordan stood taller, “You are not invited to war because it would not look well to the eyes of Rome. It is His Majesty’s war and not yours. Your pursuits are better spent at petitioning the Holy Father and bringing round these Lords of France. His Majesty will protect your wife...your children. Even your mother to Scotland. You, my Lord Prince...you are left alone to make it right for yourself.”
“And the two of you would follow me?” Arthur questioned as he moved to the window, “Would bow when the time does come?”
Lord Simon skewed an eye but was certain in response, “We bow at the now, sir. For your station and your House. I am connected to Wessex through my Lady wife and my Lord of Kent has served honorably for these long many years. What has gone on in the past is now done and the future is in you, my Prince. His Majesty would see the field one last time...and then...some day...your time will come. You must be at the ready.”
“Grand-papa will never die,” Arthur allowed a slight laugh as he turned to them, “Not in my lifetime at the least. He will become Methuselah yet never as wise. I was haughty when young...thought the world my plaything. Everything in front of me. Now? I am soon to a score and ten and what do I have to show for it? My father is gone, my mother is lonely and my grand-papa hates me. And that is merely my family, my Lords. Your words are meant to help, I am certain. Yet you waste your time to here when you should be to the south. I am honored that you show to me. Fine respect. Yet little else is required, my Lords. You may go.”
The Prince did not give them time to leave as he retired himself. When they were alone, Simon and Jordan looked to each other in disbelief. The Lord Marshal was the first to speak, “He is truly well gone. Not out...but gone.”
“His actions...on the whole...do not speak well of him, my Lord,” Simon replied, “And his demeanor...his countenance...do not either.”
“He is the heir, sir!” Jordan was quick to say.
Lord Simon finished his drink and placed his cup to the table, “There are others, my Lord. His son. His brother. His cousin. Thanks God...even his sister to Lancaster. If His Majesty is so certain to lead at Druyes...then we must consider what comes next. This one? We’ve had this conversation before.”
“Even at his age, His Majesty is hale and hearty,” Jordan suggested as he too finished his drink, “And besides...we’ve nearly twice what the German calls forth when we catch them. His Majesty will not fight. He will merely boost morale and we shall win. I fear not the Germans nor His Majesty’s mortality. I fear that Prince’s mind.”
Simon made to leave the solar, “I tell you, my Lord Jordan...there are others. Kent...Bedford...all round...will be made better by seeking the alternative. This one? A man of Wessex he may be...but at what cost?”
“That is for His Majesty to decide,” the Lord Marshal was certain.
“And decide he will when we are finished,” the Lord of Bedford answered, “That is for his mind. For all that it is worth, my Lord...I will then choose mine own.”
* * *
Druyes, France – October 1346
Druyes, France – October 1346
The Chateau de Druyes was a small thing compared to other castles within France, but the hall was filled with merriment as all held forth for the Emperor. Arthur took it in with an almost child-like glee as he joined in as best he could. Sitting at center of the high table, he drank as well as any man and was flanked by his commanders, Lord Jordan of Kent and Lord Simon of Bedford.
“I tell you, my good sirs...my Lords...” Arthur offered another toast, “...I’ve been out of saddle too long! Some of you try to best me! More to you!”
The senior Barons and Earls waved a hand and tried to diminish their accomplishments compared to the Emperor but he would have none of it, “Nay, my friends! We moved to Druyes and saw nearly ten thousand wiped from the field due to your good work! It has been many long years since I have felt such a rush, and every one of you should be proud of what you have accomplished. This Luitpold...this child...he knows not what he faces. And he has already seen us before!!”
All laughed along with the Emperor and Lord Jordan leaned in, “You were very brave, sire…but as I have suggested, mayhap not another charge like yesterday?”
“Hah!” Arthur guffawed before everyone, “My Lord Marshal is concerned that I take too much risk. Yet when have I ever not done so, my Lords...good men?”
“Never!!!” came the cry from the proud soldiers.
Arthur used a wary hand to lift from the table and stand, “That’s as always! I have marched the length of these Germans and would always know when they are ready...and when they are not! And they are not yet ready for us, sirs!!”
Lord Simon stood with him and helped the Emperor back to his chair, “Steady, Majesty. Be within your cups and not without.”
Another chuckle escaped Arthur’s lips as he announced to all, “And my Lord Simon thinks me drunk, sirs. Well why not? Another campaign. Another victory. Is that not what we drink to, I ask?!”
The hall erupted into another cheer and Lord Jordan leaned in once more, “It was well fought, sire, but more is ahead of us. This was but the first strike...the first true meeting.”
“Indeed, Majesty...” Lord Simon followed, “...we shall not have your great worth with us all the way and will need to keep pace. There remains more where that came from and...”
“More?!” Arthur allowed a huge laugh, “More of these that tested us now? By God, man...what was left found their issue to Bourges...where we find revolt! Some disgruntled peasants against the best that Luitpold may put forth? They lose, my Lord! They lose!”
Simon stood and bowed, “They do, Majesty...yet you know the Empire.”
“Know them I do, sir,” Arthur turned to him with a suddenly stern face, “And if this may be their best...then we shall beat them with hardly a scratch. Think you not?”
The Lord of Bedford bowed once more as he made to leave the feast, “Of course, sire. And I am soon returned to Hainaut to prove it to them.”
Arthur watched him go and then appreciated the fun going on below before leaning back to Lord Jordan, “He seems out of sorts, Jordy.”
“A serious man, sire...for a serious bit of work,” Jordan replied as he cut at his trencher, “An important man...with an important sense of what is ahead.”
“Tell me he is not upset that I leave the lad out, my Lord?” Arthur skewed a brow with question.
Jordan shook his head, “Nay, sire. He is concerned for your safety.”
“Jordy!” Arthur sat back with a sated stomach, “I’m not yet four score. I’ve fight left in me!”
The Duke of Kent gave nod, “Know it we do, Majesty...yet are we not capable men? Would you not trust us to see this through and assist you?”
“I would trust you until the ends of the earth, Jordy,” Arthur looked back to where Simon had left and then returned his gaze, “Yet that one? He holds much power at the now. Much gold and worth. I could not refuse his command and I like it not. What is his concern? Surely it is not me. I’ve been around too long to know better. It’s the lad, isn’t it?”
Lord Jordan was soft in his answer, “We did see the Prince on our way to here, Majesty.”
“Know it well I do, sir,” Arthur replied before taking down his drink and giving stern eye to his Lord Marshal.
“Lord Simon...” Jordan hesitated, “...and I...noticed an illness to the Prince, sire. A disease of the mind, as it were. A lack of vigor and perhaps...too much...disappointment. In himself? In you? I cannot say. Yet it was...”
Arthur showed a frown as he poured himself more ale, “He is disappointed because I do not give him command. He is displeased that I hold his wife and young children to me for safekeeping as he is unable to do so for himself. He is displaced because the Holy Father will not lift his excommunication and what does he do for himself? Not a thing, sir. Not one damn thing but pout.”
Lord Jordan looked out over the merry crowd before giving whisper, “He did not look well, sire. Lord Simon was concerned...and so am I.”
“Then I shall have to send some word,” Arthur seemed unconcerned as he pointed to the arches of the hall, “Do you know who built this place, my Lord?”
“I must confess...” Jordan answered, “...I do not.”
Arthur showed a brief smile, “It was my Lady Emma...Em. When Auxerre was given to Anjou. She spent few days here, but she made it count. Sadly, her son’s wife spent most of the time...but Emma was the one. She made it work. Built a great thing, don’t you think?”
“It is indeed a fine castle, sire,” Jordan admitted.
“Lady Emma...” Arthur sat back once more and held his cup close as he thought of the past, “...a true beauty.”
The Duke gave nod, “Your cousin...and friend, I believe?”
“A great friend, Jordy,” Arthur held a wistful eye to the crowd, “Perhaps...the love of my life.”
Lord Jordan was astonished, “Truly, Majesty?”
“Tis a long story, to be sure...” Arthur suggested as he considered it, “...and one like to bore you. Yet indeed...I’ve had my affairs and found my wife, such as she was...but none was the equal to Em.”
“Were you not matched due to your close affinity?” the Lord Marshal questioned with true curiosity.
Arthur took a slow pull of his drink before giving reply, “She was older...already matched herself when it came time for my father to find me a bride. She might have been a better get than the daughter of an Earl and Countess in her own right when we married...yet as you well know, we seldom get to choose our loves. Besides, we held held some fine times when I was young...back when the court of the French King remained a thing. We danced and laughed...”
The Emperor seem to trail off and Jordan pursued his curiosity, “I know that she was cousin to you, sire, and very close as friend and confident. Yet what was the actual connection? The heritage of Wessex goes back a long way and without consulting the books at Lincoln Cathedral, I am hard pressed to recall it.”
“There are a lot of Thurfriths to get through,” Arthur grinned, “As many as we have seen Mauds and Arthurs, Jordy. As you may well know, the great Prince Beorhtmær, son of our King Eadgar, held two sons of his own. The first was awarded Deheubarth some long time ago when his father passed. That Thurfrith found issue as well and named his son after his father. Beorhtmær II, Lord of Deheubarth then named his son after his father in turn and that man...that Lord...was my great-great grandfather King Thurfrith that married Queen Mary. And here is where it gets confusing as no one could fault that branch of Wessex for being creative. Our original Thurfrith, son of Prince Beohrtmær held a second son named after himself. That man would have a son named Andrew who would marry the Lady Edith of Normandy. Quite a nice get at the time. And they found two children. One son was eventually named Lord of Norfolk. His grandson was my good friend Nico...Nicholas II of Norfolk, though sadly long since passed. The younger son was also named Thurfrith and was granted Anjou. And he found a daughter...an only child. And her name would be Emma...my cousin...my friend...my love.”
The Lord of Kent showed a smile, “I suspect that you still miss her, Majesty? I wonder...is that why you have never remarried? As tragic as the death of the Prince and King Arthur, as well as your other sons, another wife might prove healthy male issue for the future.”
The pleasant grin left the Emperor’s face immediately as he looked over the crowd, “One does not replace Aveline the Wicked...and one does not find the equal of Emma of Wessex.”
Duly chastened, Lord Jordan spied a familiar figure in the crowd, “Ah, sire...here comes our Earl Robert fresh from the north.”
“Your Majesty,” the Earl bowed before the high table.
“Good of you to make it on time, my Lord,” Arthur gestured for him to rise, “You come at just the right moment. I would see you join the Lord Marshal as the Germans move away from Bourges. Track them closely and never let them from your sights. I shall see this band destroyed before the year is out.”
The Earl bowed once more and Lord Jordan stood to take his leave, “I suspect you are returning to Melun, Majesty?”
“For a time,” Arthur agreed with a pursed brow, “Though I had rather visit the Lord Mayor to Poitiers and see how he goes on there.”
Jordan gave bow before replying, “Perhaps in the spring, sire...when the weather is better for your health. You know a siege...slow going and all that.”
“I suppose,” Arthur answered without pleasure. Yet when the Lord Marshal was gone, the Emperor turned and beckoned over a man.
The man was familiar to those of court but held disguise so far into France. As he knelt to a knee by the Emperor, he pulled down his cowl and presented the face of the Earl of Glamorgan, Lord Alfred de Vere, “Majesty?”
“You have spoken to the Earl of Gwynedd, I presume?” Arthur questioned.
Alfred de Vere gave a firm nod, “I have, sire.”
Arthur leaned in closer with a whisper, “And you hold no qualms over what he and I ask of you?”
“Never, Your Majesty,” Alfred was quick in reply.
“You are very close to my grandson the Prince, are you not?” Arthur asked with a raised brow.
The Earl did not hesitate, “The Prince is my benefactor in every way, sire, but I serve only you for you are my Lord and master at all times.”
Arthur turned back to the court with a terse word and a wave of his hand, “Then see to it and inform Lord John when it is complete.”
The Earl merely stood with a bow and disappeared back into the shadows and Arthur once more found his smile. The war was going well and one more issue may finally be decided once and for all. It was turning into a very good year indeed.
Uh oh. He is going that route, isn't he. May he not be discovered. Or perhaps he is so well entrenched he will cope well even if discovered. Of course, all this is based on me not being sent off track by your excellent done vagueness, sir.
As for Em, Arthur would never admit it, but I think she'd be disgusted with him and what he has become.
As for Em, Arthur would never admit it, but I think she'd be disgusted with him and what he has become.
I can't help but feel as though Arthur 2.5's days are numbered. But I don't think Old Arthur's ordering an assassination at the end.
Murdering kin outright is just a bridge too far for even his rationalizations. And since Arthur had held on to a dream of Wessex holding the whole of the Isles (Scotland) there remains no better candidate to make that happen than Arthur 2.5. (And while Arthur claims other rationale, the lack of an heir who gets the Kingdom of Scotland as well is probably the real reason he never tried for more heirs)
Yes long-term, Anselm would be better but he's too young and Arthur can't count on living long enough groom him properly. Half-done is better than completely raw.
But Arthur 2.5's already beaten and destroyed. He's convinced he has no real allies, no real friends. His power feels fleeting. He's at his end.
So, while I don't think Arthur's plan is to off his grandson, I do think whatever his plan is will ultimately result in Arthur 2.5's end. And it will drive another cleaver through Arthur's relations, and at this point, he's kind of run out of people to blame besides himself. (Maybe Maud, I guess?)
*Countdown to where Arthur is actually planning to off his grandson and I've managed to somehow give him too much credit.*
Murdering kin outright is just a bridge too far for even his rationalizations. And since Arthur had held on to a dream of Wessex holding the whole of the Isles (Scotland) there remains no better candidate to make that happen than Arthur 2.5. (And while Arthur claims other rationale, the lack of an heir who gets the Kingdom of Scotland as well is probably the real reason he never tried for more heirs)
Yes long-term, Anselm would be better but he's too young and Arthur can't count on living long enough groom him properly. Half-done is better than completely raw.
But Arthur 2.5's already beaten and destroyed. He's convinced he has no real allies, no real friends. His power feels fleeting. He's at his end.
So, while I don't think Arthur's plan is to off his grandson, I do think whatever his plan is will ultimately result in Arthur 2.5's end. And it will drive another cleaver through Arthur's relations, and at this point, he's kind of run out of people to blame besides himself. (Maybe Maud, I guess?)
*Countdown to where Arthur is actually planning to off his grandson and I've managed to somehow give him too much credit.*
Mm. Rotten is the house of wessex. This is the sort of thing that leads to several splits in a widening family and civil war in two centuries. Then again, there might not be an empire then. There certainly doesn't seem to be a replacement emperor available now.
Often the heirs in ckii are in a state of can't do shit until you take them over and start using their stars properly. So using that in universe makes sense, if a bit cruel because a 30 age heir can become a 60 age great conqueror fairly easily. But everyone, including the prince himself, seems determined that this shall not come to pass.
I'm still fairly mellow towards old Arthur though. The only thing you can really question of him was his decision to maintain his lands in England and France when he inherited them. That therefore required becoming an empire, lots of war, some tough love with vassals and gutting his familial relations down to those who wouldn't get in the way. I think outside of personal relations with family and lovers, he's done an astounding job of empire consolidating and building. The only thing outsiders contemporary to him would fault with his reign was the loss of his heir and even then, it was in battle and so perfectly alright way to go. I suspect his personal prestige is pretty high in Europe, even in Rome and the hre (direct competitors). He's turned england from a slowly developing regional power constantly at risk of civil war to the greatest power in Europe. And unlike the HRE which conceivably could be beaten conventionally, to defeat Britannia you not only have to defeat a huge French army commanded by very good generals but build a fleet and invade england too. At this time, no one looks like they could try that let alone win.
So we come back to the heir, cos it's really the only threat to the empires existence right now.
Often the heirs in ckii are in a state of can't do shit until you take them over and start using their stars properly. So using that in universe makes sense, if a bit cruel because a 30 age heir can become a 60 age great conqueror fairly easily. But everyone, including the prince himself, seems determined that this shall not come to pass.
I'm still fairly mellow towards old Arthur though. The only thing you can really question of him was his decision to maintain his lands in England and France when he inherited them. That therefore required becoming an empire, lots of war, some tough love with vassals and gutting his familial relations down to those who wouldn't get in the way. I think outside of personal relations with family and lovers, he's done an astounding job of empire consolidating and building. The only thing outsiders contemporary to him would fault with his reign was the loss of his heir and even then, it was in battle and so perfectly alright way to go. I suspect his personal prestige is pretty high in Europe, even in Rome and the hre (direct competitors). He's turned england from a slowly developing regional power constantly at risk of civil war to the greatest power in Europe. And unlike the HRE which conceivably could be beaten conventionally, to defeat Britannia you not only have to defeat a huge French army commanded by very good generals but build a fleet and invade england too. At this time, no one looks like they could try that let alone win.
So we come back to the heir, cos it's really the only threat to the empires existence right now.
The House of Wessex won its throne through murder, and the stain of that has infected them ever since.
There is no depth that the Emperor is afraid to plumb, no crime too heinous. The young Arthur was outmatched from the start. He should of killed his grandfather with a dagger to the heart whilst the latter was ill.
And what will Maud make of this subtle work?
There is no depth that the Emperor is afraid to plumb, no crime too heinous. The young Arthur was outmatched from the start. He should of killed his grandfather with a dagger to the heart whilst the latter was ill.
And what will Maud make of this subtle work?
That was an ominous ending and can be interpreted many ways and most of those ways are not favorable for the Prince. I have come to the conclusion Arthur will do anything he feels he needs to do no matter who it hurts or the ultimate consequences.
Fb-fb:
You cast aspersions without the whole truth. It will out eventually, but we need to hit a few more speedbumps before we get there.
To all - So now we get into the meat of the final passages of this work. I figured it is close to the end so why not spin one more tangled web for all involved? It may be somewhat convoluted, but I do hope it all makes sense once we are through. There are some new characters involved. Some of them mentioned in the past and some of them not. And some older characters will continue to play, but as we wind down...or Arthur does...there remains some excitement to the tale, I hope. The next scene(s) follow and gets us even closer so please enjoy and thank you for your wonderful comments and constant readership! It is what makes writing this such a pleasure.
I am indeed being vague and hopefully for good reason. As for Emma, I think you answer that perfectly. She was already disgusted just before she died and to see what has happened since? Yes...Arthur's memory of her is not quite reality as far as her opinion of him.Uh oh. He is going that route, isn't he. May he not be discovered. Or perhaps he is so well entrenched he will cope well even if discovered. Of course, all this is based on me not being sent off track by your excellent done vagueness, sir.
As for Em, Arthur would never admit it, but I think she'd be disgusted with him and what he has become.
Obviously I still cannot say, but some very good points made above. It was crucial for one man to inherit the whole and while Emperor Arthur having more heirs would not change that as the heirs of Arthur 2.0 would, it gets too sticky for the kind of power the Emperor ultimately enjoys. He may protest and say that there are others (as many others do) but between them all, you are right - Arthur 2.5 is definitely the best gamble. Yet...I am not being shy with my foreshadowing.
One more reason I decided to write this final book on Wessex. I liked how the lands were slowly gathered and continually added to, but there was this final question. Who would be there to pass it off to? I (or others) have suggested in the past that I wanted to turn the Arthurian legend on its head, and in a way I have. This kingdom will last far better than the historically written Arthur, but in truth, they both end up in many of the same places. I have to admit that I don't write so much in themes as I do relationships, but if there is a theme to this whole work it is that age old problem...call it absolute power corrupts absolutely or you've conquered the world but never yourself. In the end, Arthur is left disappointed even with all that he has gained. To the rest of the world, that doesn't matter. But as I hope I've detailed, it certainly matters to Arthur even if he remains with blinders on to see it.
Careful now.
You cast aspersions without the whole truth. It will out eventually, but we need to hit a few more speedbumps before we get there. It is meant to be ominous as is the end to the next few scenes. You are not wrong. Arthur years ago decided that what mattered was not familial happiness or any sort of love except for him as ruler. He is indeed capable of anything. Yet will he go across this bridge too? As I said above...I left it vague for a reason.
To all - So now we get into the meat of the final passages of this work. I figured it is close to the end so why not spin one more tangled web for all involved? It may be somewhat convoluted, but I do hope it all makes sense once we are through. There are some new characters involved. Some of them mentioned in the past and some of them not. And some older characters will continue to play, but as we wind down...or Arthur does...there remains some excitement to the tale, I hope. The next scene(s) follow and gets us even closer so please enjoy and thank you for your wonderful comments and constant readership! It is what makes writing this such a pleasure.
The Song of Wessex
* * *
Chatillon, France - December 1346
Chatillon, France - December 1346
Earl Alfred de Vere of Glamorgan offered a heavy sigh as he closed the solar door behind him and stared straight ahead down the long stairs to the hall. Such promise...such friendship. A simple knight elevated by this Prince and given everything and more, yet it had come down to this. Prince Arthur was a broken man, bereft of both family and Holy Church. It was true, much of it had come from his own hands and mind, but the Earl still felt a great sorrow for his long-time man. As he considered it, he was surprised by the soft steps coming towards him.
“My Lord?” a voice called out, “Odd to see you here to Reims.”
Earl Alfred raised his eyes to spy the Bishop of Montargis, “I know not why? The Prince is both my friend and liege Lord.”
“He may be your liege...” Bishop Siegmund allowed with a wicked eye, “...yet he is also refused the Holy sacraments among...many other things.”
Alfred skewed his brow, “Which may be why it is doubly odd to see you here to Reims, my Lord Bishop. Does the Holy Father grant you some immunity from these things?”
“No odd thing about it, sir,” the Bishop folded his arms into his robe, “I merely come at the request of His Majesty to bring the Prince’s son to him for a short time prior to the Mass of Christ. The young Lord Anselm will need to be back to Melun by the season, yet His Majesty has a loving heart and would wish to see a father reunite with his son for just a moment in such a time as this.”
Alfred kept a wary eye, “I was not aware that the Prince’s son held a tutor as of yet. He is naught but four. And these are perilous times, my Lord Bishop. The German Emperor has men in and around France...all over, I am told.”
“You must have just arrived, my Lord,” Bishop Siegmund made gesture for them to walk for a bit, “Much and more occurs in both England and France. I am surprised that you were not aware of the uprising in Northumberland.”
“I did not say that I was unaware,” Alfred followed, “As I was leaving to cross the channel, I was told that His Majesty’s cousin, the Lord of Norfolk would see to it.”
The Bishop smiled, “And that he did, my Lord. Lord Nicholas cleared them away without issue and now takes ship for Flanders.”
“I am well aware that His Majesty would like a complete victory to here, so it surprises me not to see such a loyal Lord as the Duke of Norfolk entering the fray,” Alfred replied, “The Lord of Bedford is already returned to Hainaut to give siege and we have just bid adieu to the Earl of Gwent as he moves on to Liege. If you sit awhile, you may spy the Lord of Kent as well.”
“Ah yes...the Lord Marshal,” Bishop Siegmund grinned, “A fantastic victory to St. Aignan. The German Emperor’s large force is now greatly diminished to none. So you see, my Lord...I think to make progress with sure safety.”
Alfred did not return the grin, “So we two are a fount of gossip then, eh? We are in the know but then we are not, for I still do not know why a Bishop is tasked with traveling the young Lord Anselm when His Majesty might do it himself...or mayhap, the lad’s mother. My Lord the Prince would very much like to see his Lady wife.”
With mock sadness, the Bishop replied, “Sadly, neither is a possibility. The Lady Maud Hayles is now a very spiritual Lady and offers God all prayers for the birth of her son. It took some many years...as you know. With the Prince’s situation being what it is...well...it simply would not be proper.”
“And His Majesty?” Alfred questioned.
Bishop Siegmund offered a knowing eye, “Think you not to have the truth of it, sir? His Majesty fights a war and is soon off to Poitou. Also...”
“Also he holds less favor towards the Prince,” the Earl followed.
The Bishop allowed a grin, “Then you are wiser than you let on, my Lord. Of course, I had thought you to know that already. Are you not now in the employ of His Majesty?”
“He is my ultimate liege,” Alfred de Vere answered quickly, “I am always at his work whenever he should wish it.”
Bishop Siegmund stopped quickly and turned with a raised brow, “And what is your work...sir?”
“To see to the Prince’s health, surely,” the Earl replied with some affront, “Why ever else?”
Scratching at his tonsured head, Siegmund walked on, “Hmm. You are a good friend indeed, then. It is said that the Prince is greatly out of sorts and mayhap in need of...some good medicine if it can be had. Do you bring it, I wonder?”
“You seem to think more than you let on, my Lord Bishop,” Alfred clasped his hands tightly behind his back, “I am not a man to enjoy riddles. Nor am I unknowing of you, truth be told. You did study under a most pernicious sort in your early years...did you not?”
With a wily smile, the Bishop turned for a moment as he walked, “You speak of the Bishop of St. Andrews. Indeed. A long time ago...but yes...he was a tutor to me. Before his downfall of course...and all of that nasty business. Yet I did study at St. Andrews for a time.”
“And so I am left wonder...” the Earl followed quickly, “...if I am the one suspect or should it be you?”
Bishop Siegmund stopped once more with a kind eye, “Suspect of what, my Lord? I am made ward to the young Lord Anselm and bring him to his father and you are friend of the Prince come to give him aid and comfort in his trying time. What could be more honest and simple as that?”
“If you think all is honest and simple, my Lord Bishop, then you have not been paying attention to either your history or your scripture,” Alfred stood taller.
“What else is there, my Lord?” the Bishop asked.
“A Prince that is right out and all do know why,” Alfred kept his stance, “A thing forgiven that never was.”
Bishop Siegmund offered a sure eye, “That was a mother...never a son.”
“Yet a grandson,” Alfred suggested.
“Or a great-grandson...” the Bishop suggested, “...who is a charming little boy.”
Alfred raised a brow, “I’ve no doubt of it. Mayhap...we mean the same.”
“As I say, my Lord...all simple and honest,” Bishop Siegmund smiled, “Now...I really must be away. I am due to meet the Prince and say our goodbyes before young Lord Anselm is returned to Melun. You will be sure to stay on awhile. Keep Prince Arthur in good spirits. Every man requires a good friend.”
“I quite agree,” the Earl replied with certainty, even if he remained wary of the Bishop.
* * *
“My Lord Prince!” his valet shook Arthur as he slept.
The Prince slowly opened his eyes with question, “Guillaume?”
“Sir...” the valet showed a wide eye, “...my Lord Prince...it is the Earl of Glamorgan. He does not wake!”
“Alfred?” Prince Arthur questioned again in his state, “What happens?”
The valet kept his head low as he tried to explain, “The Earl, my Lord Prince...he retired in good spirits last night, but when they came to stoke his chambers early this morn...he was...he was not breathing. We fear...we fear that he is...”
With a tired eye and a weary head, the Prince waved his hand and grabbed for his robe. He shuffled his feet as he made his way to see about his friend and when he arrived, it was exactly as was said. Lord Alfred de Vere, the Earl of Glamorgan, was deceased. Seemingly died within his sleep. No rhyme, no reason. Merely dead.
Prince Arthur could only sigh before tasking his men, “See that word is sent to his Lady wife...he holds a young son. And a mass must be said for his soul...is the Bishop still in residence?”
“Nay, my Lord Prince,” one man suggested, “He left with your son in the early hours. Returned to Melun.”
Arthur found some spirit suddenly as his chest began to find some pain, “And you did not stop him?! That is my son! Mine own Prince!!”
“We did not know,” came the reply, “It was...”
Clutching at his chest, Arthur lost his breath, “You would...send riders after him. Now!!!”
They were hesitant to follow as they worried about their Prince, but Arthur finally held up a hand as he settled, “I am well enough. Just a touch of discomfort. Yet this be my friend, sirs! I would know all!”
His men would do as he said and follow but none were able to catch the Bishop as he made his way back to Melun. The war would continue and the Prince would never find out what happened to Alfred de Vere. The Prince was nearly thirty years old and yet, it seemed that all were out to get him. Friend or foe...family or not...he was utterly alone now. His wife gone. His son stolen once more in the night. His friend dead. No love from God or his grand-papa. Not even his mother in Scotland. Prince Arthur was heir to it all and a master of none. And he was in pain. Great pain.
