Well spotted. That shrug is a rather dead giveaway.That is neither a confirmation nor a dissuation of action, my good Arthur.
The Song of Wessex
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Uh oh - I thought a manure bomb was about to go off, or some thugs set to on Thomas.
An eavesdropper instead. Could have been worse.
In this case, Arthur wasn’t being actively perfidious for once! Still obsessed with his major goal, of course. Which in his case usually leads to someone else close or important to him meeting a tragic end!
Ground under the wheel of his implacable enmity for the German Emperor and his will to dominion.
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Of course not, even when he begins to it will always eventually rest upon another set of shoulders.And Arthur is ever thus - not even willing to admit to his own actions
Rather than going the full on Columbo route in describing the investigation, I've placed it behind the scenes until we get to the actual verdict. A sharp eye might be able to piece it together (or at least will when it is revealed.)Uh oh - I thought a manure bomb was about to go off, or some thugs set to on Thomas.
An eavesdropper instead. Could have been worse.
In this case, Arthur wasn’t being actively perfidious for once! Still obsessed with his major goal, of course. Which in his case usually leads to someone else close or important to him meeting a tragic end!
The Song of Wessex
* * *
Melun Castle – June 1350
Melun Castle – June 1350
Arthur sat to his throne in the great hall at Melun surrounded by many of his great and minor Lords. Even the Lords of Normandy and Norfolk made brief truce with one another to attend the court. One notable absence was the young Lord Anselm. He was still not quite eight, but Arthur did not wish to show any appearance of weakness on this day. He himself was frail but sat as tall as he might and never smiled. First the Lord Marshal of the Holy Roman Empire was presented before court as the prisoner that he was. Lord Michael was not in chains but two guards flanked him as he moved to stand to the Emperor’s left. Then the wide doors opened again and all eyes turned to spy the figure about to enter.
An audible gasp arose from the crowd and Arthur narrowed his eyes in anger as the Lord Chancellor for Luitpold was announced. Lord Arnold was no young man himself and also walked with a cane, but he made a proud walk before the throne and bowed with a flourish, “Your Majesty.”
“We are surprised at you, my Lord,” Arthur spoke tersely, “Both at your etiquette and by your visage.”
“I mean not to offend, Your Majesty,” the Austrian Duke suggested.
Arthur showed a stern eye, “And yet you do by speaking before we have given command. Mayhap things are done differently at the German court, sir...but not here.”
Lord Arnold bowed again to show apology before Arthur spoke again, “What is more, we must express how greatly disappointed we are that your master seems to still not regard us as an equal. Even though we have proved that point time and again. He is haughty and uncaring of his Imperial cousin.”
“No thing of the sort, Your Majesty,” the Duke tried to explain, “Mein Kaiser is merely plagued by unhealthy bowels at the now and was in now ways able to make progress.”
“That is an excuse,” Arthur frowned, “Yet one we may believe given the thrashing we have given to him these last years. Worry and fear do have that result.”
“Mayhap that is true, Your Majesty,” Arnold replied with a sniff.
Arthur slammed his cane to the stone floor, “It IS true! Villefranche-sur-Saone and Lyon just this summer, sir! There are fourteen thousand men of yours that will not be returning home because your master has been so stubborn with his refusal to concede a defeat that we have all known for months! Can you take pride in that? Will it be you that informs their wives and mothers, sir?!”
Lord Arnold lowered his head before raising it once more with a weary eye, “Tis the reason that I am here.”
“We know well why you are here, my Lord!” Arthur leaned forward with anger, “What is clear to the world is now clear to your master. You lose. He loses. One lucky shot, but all else has been the mighty against the weak. We have invested all of Poitou and are well on the way within Hainaut. And Luitpold sits his shitter and sends us a mere Duke to treat! We are deeply offended!”
“So you would not wish peace, Your Majesty?” the Duke showed a worried face.
Arthur sat back with a calmer mind, “We have always wished peace, my Lord. It is that we are so constantly provoked that we act. We are provoked at the now. You are a great Lord within your land...would you not do the same?”
“I...imagine that I would,” Lord Arnold swallowed hard.
Just a hint of a smile showed upon the Emperor’s face as he replied, “Then we are agreed. And as we are known as ‘the Just’ we may show our forgiveness at the now. Poitou and Hainaut are now forfeit as all knew before this conflict began. We will allow you to treat with our Lord Chancellor on the greater details...you may know him...the Earl of Westmorland?”
The slight was noticed by all and the court offered a small laughter as Lord Arnold made another bow before standing and pointing towards the Lord of Brabant, “One other item, Your Majesty...may we include the release of Mein Kaiser’s Lord Marshal?”
Emperor Arthur used his cane to slowly stand and shot the Duke a stern eye, “We shall dictate the peace, my Lord. And when we have ours back...you may have yours.”
At that, Arthur turned to leave and the entire court moved to bow. Lord Arnold was slow to follow but did so as well. Then it was to do his duty and return home so he might give his own Emperor the poor news. The long war with the Holy Roman Empire was finally done and Arthur’s life long dream was now realized. Few thought that he would be satisfied with that.
* * *
Melun Castle – August 1350
Melun Castle – August 1350
The Lord Chancellor knocked before entering the solar. With a bow, the Earl waited for the Emperor to speak. When Arthur was silent for a time, Lord Edward cleared his throat as he watched the Emperor lean to his cane by the window.
“I heard you, my Lord,” Arthur kept an eye to the outside, “Merely little to say.”
“Your Majesty...” the Lord Chancellor smiled, “...now that your war is complete and your prize there before you...would you not care to visit the site?”
Arthur did not turn, “I know what it looks like. Ever to my mind and never away. And my plans do not change. I simply don’t have the time for it right now.”
“Issues to the north,” Earl Edward replied knowing well the answer.
Finally the Emperor turned with a pained eye, “Have you word from Lord Mayor Eric yet? These rebels moved from Lothian to Stirling and I would see them put down.”
“Indeed I have, Majesty,” the Earl held up a note, “The Lord Mayor and Lord Amedee report that these rebels are no more. The border with Scotland is safe once again. And a wise move to send the Lord of Bourbon. It keeps him from his seat of power in France.”
With a slow move and his cane, Arthur shifted to pour some ale, “I’m so pleased to have your approval, my Lord.”
“I merely meant to congratulate you, sire,” the Earl offered a bow, “At your age, others may be slowed, but never you.”
Arthur turned with drink in hand and frowned, “Do I appear to be swift to you, sir? I turn to four score at the now and can barely walk without an assist. No longer able to lead my men...fight my wars. Can hardly find sleep at night without some demon haunting me. I know that I have lived, sir. Yet I do wonder...when shall I die?”
“One must hope never, Majesty,” the Lord Chancellor tried to smile, “Yet what brings this on? You’ve just found a fantastic victory against your most hated foe. The German Luitpold has never bested you. And even to Normandy, sire...while Lord Alan does well to hold his own, neither side has inflicted too much harm to one another. They are surely fearful of what you would do if they offended you.”
The Emperor took a slow drink and then sighed, “I will most certainly perish, my Lord. God may not allow me to live for too much longer. The question remains...what shall I do between then and now? That matters. And more? Will I be able to go to God quietly...die well? Shall I be afraid? Will I be beset by temptation?”
“These are matters spiritual, Majesty...” the Lord Chancellor replied with uncertainty, “...and I fear I am not the best to answer for them. I could summon the Archbishop of Paris, should you wish. I be certain that he may advise you...”
Arthur finished his drink and placed the goblet aside, “He cannot help me. No one can. I ask for myself and wonder if I shall find my answers before I am gone. The Holy Father himself could pray for me, yet I am sure to hell, my Lord. I think no other choice is before me.”
“Be not fearful, Your Majesty...” the Earl attempted to assure, “...for how may the Almighty punish a man...such a great Prince as yourself...that has remade the map of Europe from top to bottom? And all for the Grace of God, to be sure.”
“It’s not so changed as that,” Arthur turned once more to the window, “I’ve ruled for over fifty years and have done much. But I desired so much more.”
“You are not yet done, Majesty,” Earl Edward suggested, “As you mention, there is more to be done. Not least of which is carry out your wish to Hainaut. There remains chance to punish the German more so that he might see his Lord Marshal returned to him...and ours to us. The peace was harsh upon him...but may be harsher still. And the young Lord of Champagne, Majesty...still naught but eight in years. Lord Anselm requires your mind to teach him all that you do know.”
Arthur was silent for a time before finally giving sad reply over his shoulder, “Ars moriendi, my Lord. It is a danse macabre. It begins the day that you are born and never ceases until you do. I have done all that I might...and all else does what they can do as well. I hold my choice...and they hold theirs.”
* * *
Cupar, Scotland – September 1350
Cupar, Scotland – September 1350
Maud stood by the chamber door and softly placed her hand to it as a tear rolled down her cheek. She could not bring herself to open it and instead thought back to better years. A husband that she loved. The joy of finding their children together. His promises...fatefully unfilled...yet he always tried. Never lied to her and always made her stronger when he was around. Yet he had been gone for so long now...she could barely remember the day he died.
And then her children...the one named for herself died before Arthur ever left her alone. Then his own namesake. True illness...or something other? She would never know...but there was always HIM. HIS hand would always hover above it all. From Prince to King to Emperor...Arthur of Wessex had always found his way. Always found what he wanted. How could she stop it? She was but a ruler to a land that was far less than it once was. And a woman.
Slowly opening the chamber door, Maud entered to find her granddaughter sleeping softly and lit a candle as she sat to the bed. Matilda’s cover went up and down as she slept and Maud placed a soothing hand to the girl’s chest. She hated to do it, but finally offered a gentle shake. The young Lady slowly opened her eyes and then pushed back in bed when she saw the Queen’s face, “Grandmama? What is it?”
Maud did not hesitate as she felt another tear, “I am sorry, sweet girl...but it has happened.”
“What happens?!” Matilda asked with true worry.
“He has done it,” Maud felt a torrent of tears ready to follow and fought them back, “And now...we must hold to one another as never before.”
Suddenly Matilda understood and her eyes grew wide, “Uncle Reg?!”
Maud pulled her close and held tightly, “I could not protect him. I’ve no more sons. Reginald is gone and all I have left to me is you and your brother who is naught but eight.”
“And with the Emperor to Melun,” Matilda hugged just as tightly.
“I wish it not...” Maud did all that she could to keep herself calm and held the girl at arm’s reach with a stern eye, “...but I believe that you should return to Lancaster. Your Thomas is already here and will see you there safely. Scotland is not safe for you and your time with me no favor to your health. I know not if I shall ever see you again...but I place you forward for the future. I cannot deny your brother Scotland itself...but all will know who is my true heir. You may hold it better to the south.”
“I cannot leave you!” Matilda sobbed as she held to her grandmother once more, “You cannot be alone!”
Maud surprised herself as she found the glimmer of a smile and softly brushed at the girl’s hair with caring hands, “I shall never be alone, dear heart...for I hold close to me my husband...your father...and you.”
Never paid much attention on the map, but what in the earth's name is that green monstrosity in the east?
That, is the Ilkhanate. A dangerous foe. Mongols, they be dangerous.
That is indeed the Il Khanate that many years ago converted to Christianity and now finds some inroads by others via Rus and a few others. They be Mongols, but they ceased being dangerous many years ago. I'm certain Arthur considers himself the reason for it.
Petty to the last.
There is a saying that in victory you should always let your enemies leave with face - their honour - intact, but only that.
Arthur doesn't seem to agree.
Well of course he doesn't. But then we know his own concept of honour is somewhat ... lacking.
There is a saying that in victory you should always let your enemies leave with face - their honour - intact, but only that.
Arthur doesn't seem to agree.
Well of course he doesn't. But then we know his own concept of honour is somewhat ... lacking.
His lifelong excuse ... and no, he will never be satisfied. Still, a significant victory- payed for with a mountain of treasure and an ocean of blood.
And looking at his attributes, surprisingly few traits etc for one who has lived so long and done so much.
Well he’s right about that, to be sure. Unless he purchases a really large Papal Indulgence.
Dah-dah DAH! As the sinister chord fades, we wonder who was really behind it. And know that Arthur will be blamed, by many at least. And one in particular. It would be somewhat ironic if, after his four score plus, it was a murder plot that finally got him. There must be plenty who would wish it.
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To all - The last few updates have seen a few scenes placed together bu the next is alone for impact. It does suggest who was behind the plot (as have some of previous updates, but it is the rumor going forward that will only truly matter. I'm curious what you think once it comes out. Thanks so much for reading and giving comment when you can. We are getting ever closer to that merge date.
Arthur does indeed gloat in that scene. And yet, hopefully the following scene shows that this lifelong victory turned out to be rather hollow. While he was pursuing his vengeance, all else seemed to be falling apart around him.
It was a huge sacrifice for only two counties and some personal satisfaction of gaining that which he has always desired. As for his traits, you are right. I never really thought about it. He should have quite a lot more by this date. As for the plot, see below.His lifelong excuse ... and no, he will never be satisfied. Still, a significant victory- payed for with a mountain of treasure and an ocean of blood.
And looking at his attributes, surprisingly few traits etc for one who has lived so long and done so much.
Well he’s right about that, to be sure. Unless he purchases a really large Papal Indulgence.
Dah-dah DAH! As the sinister chord fades, we wonder who was really behind it. And know that Arthur will be blamed, by many at least. And one in particular. It would be somewhat ironic if, after his four score plus, it was a murder plot that finally got him. There must be plenty who would wish it.
To all - The last few updates have seen a few scenes placed together bu the next is alone for impact. It does suggest who was behind the plot (as have some of previous updates, but it is the rumor going forward that will only truly matter. I'm curious what you think once it comes out. Thanks so much for reading and giving comment when you can. We are getting ever closer to that merge date.
The Song of Wessex
* * *
Melun Castle – October 1350
Melun Castle – October 1350
Arthur sat to a table in his private chamber and flipped through renderings of eligible young girls throughout his Empire. Daughters of Dukes, sisters to Earls and even some already made Countess in their own right. It caused his mind to race back many years when he himself had wed a Lady who had already found her inheritance.
“Do you think that he will be any happier than we were?”
He waved a hand and frowned, “Be away from me this day, woman! Besides...this Blanche of Macon is said to be quite fetching and already grows into a woman.”
The voice replied with laughter and a question, “Thirteen is now a woman to you, eh? No wonder you haven’t remarried since me. No one wishes to betroth their young daughter to a lecher.”
“She is already named Countess of Macon through her father!” Arthur turned and shouted to the empty chamber, “The Earl of Nevers died young and left both of his daughters well set. The elder got Nevers and this one is named to Macon. The Duchess of Burgundy swears on the girl and I would take her word!”
“With whom do you wish to argue, Arthur?” the voice answered back, “Who is it that requires a convincing? Or do you merely feel guilty?”
The Emperor wished to stand as he shouted but his legs were weak, “This Blanche is great-granddaughter to the great Amedee himself! Time enough to join our Houses!”
The feminine voice seemed to lean in closer with a whisper, “And I am certain that young Anselm will be quite happy.”
A knock to his chamber door pulled him from his thoughts and Arthur muttered, “Bah! Come in!”
The Earl of Gwynedd entered and gave bow before standing with a sorrowful face, “It is done, Your Majesty. The Baron of Framlingham is no more and his head rests above the gates to Melun.”
“Good,” Arthur suggested as much to himself as he did to his Earl, “I’m certain the crowd was well entertained.”
“They do enjoy their blood lust,” Earl John agreed.
Arthur hesitated before standing slowly using his cane, “It saddens me that I must give them more of what they desire for it pleases me not.”
“I did not wish it to be this way either, Majesty...” John gave nod, “...yet that is where the trail led. It is most unfortunate.”
With a shaky hand, Arthur poured himself some ale, “I am called the Just. I must remain true to my moniker and hand out justice, no matter the result. And besides...if I did not, Maud...”
“As much as she may never forgive you, sire...” the Earl suggested when Arthur could not finish his thought, “...the end result remains. This plot has done you no favors, to be sure...yet it does place the young Lord of Champagne once more squarely in line for the throne of Scotland. The Scots Lords would never accept one of Anselm’s sisters or even Maud’s lone remaining daughter when a male presents itself. I think them to have had quite enough of a Queen.”
Arthur took a slow drink and then sat it aside, “I suppose I should be thankful that young Prince Reginald and his Lady wife of Tours never did find issue. One less bother to consider.”
“Your last few days have been quite troubled, Your Majesty,” the Earl replied with care, “I fear that I am to blame that this plot was not understood until too late. And coupled with...poor Lord Jordan.”
Arthur stepped slowly past his master of spies and clapped him gently to the shoulder as he did so, “Jordy returns to us...that is all that matters. He is...less of a man now. Riddled with disease...as well as his sure shame and guilt. If I had known that this was his treatment, I would have never agreed to trade prisoners with that swine Luitpold!”
“It is said that the German Emperor took hold of the Lord of Kent when we found Lord Michael our own prisoner, sire,” Earl John shook his head in disgust, “Shameful treatment and one he will regret when next you face him.”
The Emperor stepped to another table by the window and picked up a parchment, “If I ever face him again.”
“Surely...” John began to say but Arthur held up a hand.
“Must I...must I do this, my Lord?”
The master of spies stood taller with certainty, “You are His Majesty Arthur of Wessex, Emperor of Britain and King of four realms. You may do however you wish...whatever is your desire.”
Reading the document slowly once more, Arthur sighed, “She has always led a sad life. A disappointed one, surely. No great match and a poor association with York. It truly pains me.”
“I am sure that I speak for the entire privy council, sire...” the Earl replied, “...that we would follow whichever way that you decide. That is merely our suggestion to prove to one and all that you are just and right in all things. Without favorites...without factions.”
“And yet I do have favorites,” Arthur suggested as he stared at the parchment, “And we do hold factions...of a kind.”
The Earl gave nod, “Yet not as of old, Majesty. Today it is more France and then everyone else. Surely the Lord of Leinster considers himself more than he is, but his poor efforts to the last war have not shown him well to his peoples. And Lord Simon of Bedford...a powerful Lord if ever there was one...remains bedridden with a son that does well to hold onto Northumberland, much less all else should it come to that. This act, Majesty...this will prove to them all that you remain paramount in all ways. I like it not, either. Yet I hold that there is little choice as sad as it may be.”
“Then we had best get on with it,” Arthur bent to sign the document with gritted teeth, “Here is my mark and my word. Now lead on, my Lord.”
“You need not attend, sire,” the Earl accepted the parchment with a protest.
Arthur showed a stern eye, “I will not send the Lady to God without my presence, sir! I said to lead on!”
Earl John gave nod and led the Emperor to a balcony overlooking the yard where a scaffold had been erected. Blood still stained the wood from the execution of Baron Roger but the axman had been replaced with a swordsman befitting the station of the executioner’s next victim. When the Emperor appeared above, the crowd below grew quiet and when the noble Lady was lead forth, they grew even more silent. For here was a seventy two year old Duchess known as much for her loyalty to the crown and Arthur as she was for her place as the preeminent Lady of France.
Lady Adela of Orleans did not show any emotion. There were signs of tears, but now she held a stoic face and held her head high as her ladies removed her dress. Underneath, her fine white shift appeared to prove her innocence and when asked to speak her last words, Lady Adela remained adamant, “If I have done any thing to this life, it was ever to protect His Majesty from all harm and prove myself to God Almighty that both I and he are worthy of Christ’s love and saving. God save the Emperor!”
Her eyes looked straight to Arthur and he seemed to wilt at her gaze. Both the executioner and the crowd looked up as well to see if there might be a last moment reprieve. In response, Arthur held up a shaky hand and then brought it down fast. Lady Adela lowered her head in resignation and then proudly moved to take her position. After handing the swordsman a purse, she made the sign of the cross as she absolved the man for his coming sin. Then she knelt and placed her head to the block. She offered one more upturned eye towards Arthur before pulling her hair aside to show her slender neck. And then, with a swift cut, Lady Adela’s head was removed from her body.
It was clean for an execution and while the crowd below shouted from their blood lust, Arthur could only sigh. Earl John stood next to him with his own head lowered, “I am sorry, Your Majesty. I do know the she was loved by you.”
“And she loved me in return,” the Emperor stated sadly as he slowly turned to move back to his chambers.
“That much is true,” a feminine voice replied and both men shifted to eye Lady Isabella flanked on either side by the Bishops of Bayeux and Montargis.
Arthur pursed his brow at her sight, “I should think that you should have more respect for your grandmother this day, my Lady.”
Isabella showed no smile and affected a dour tone, “It is respect for Orleans, France and Your Majesty that I come before your presence at the now, sire.”
“Then you would bow and then take your place...” Arthur responded with a wave of the hand as he walked past her, “...for I have no more desire to hold an audience.”
She did as requested and watched the Emperor and his master of spies move back into the castle before turning to Bishop Siegmund, “See there, my Lord Bishop? I did tell you that I would find Orleans.”
“Pray pardon, my Lady...” the Bishop looked to her with a curious eye, “...yet at what cost?”
Isabella finally added a smile, “None for the young Lord Anselm, I presume. I find my place, and now perhaps he will find his.”
“In France, my Lady?” Bishop Siegmund questioned with seriousness.
“In time, my Lord Bishop,” she replied as she turned to walk away with the Bishop of Bayeux, “We shall see.”
For now, this is only good for the empire. Everyone wants the empire, everyone needs an emperor to control the two competing kingdoms, and the prestige of Wessex is higher due to the current ruler. However, if and when Germany fully retreats from France and the kingdom fully rebuilds, then we'll have a lopsided empire with two thirds of the people (if not far more) and most of the wealth in France. However, if England takes over/unions with Scotland and the Irish, that could balance it out. Indeed it would be the prudent move for the new emperor and his regency council to gain some cred of their own and establish a power base seperste from the French by conquering/bringing in the British isles into the empire.
Or rather, I predict the next 'good' emperor will be remembered for unifying the British isles, rather than establishing France properly.
A lecherous old fool
Not that he can help himself at this late date, and I do I detect his protestations ring hollow even in his own ears? A great echoing emptiness he long forgot how to fill - indeed I would say he made this chasm within himself the day he send Ava to the block.
Not that he can help himself at this late date, and I do I detect his protestations ring hollow even in his own ears? A great echoing emptiness he long forgot how to fill - indeed I would say he made this chasm within himself the day he send Ava to the block.
Arthur does resort to the headsman quite readily. He may have some regrets, but not enough to stop him. It seemed a rather precipitate action. Not sure how much it gains him, really. That would justify it, anyway. A lesser but still stern punishment might have sufficed, n’est pas?
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To all - So to go into the game itself, Lady Adela was really quite old and I was astonished that she was still around. Hopefully all know the backstory, but she was married early to Gerald of Anjou (son of Emma and a homosexual) and they had 2 daughters. One died young and the other married the Duke of York. These last also had two daughters and the younger Isabella had the elder sister killed. That left Guy of York as Duke very young and Isabella put out. Somehow she ended up in Bayeaux and had two children of her own without ever being married. Quite the controversy, I thought.
I'm still not sure why Guy of York did not inherit Orleans upon Adela's death, but that it was Isabella, I found I neat little sideline plot that worked within the larger one with Arthur. I also thought it a little bittersweet that he was forced to execute one he loved (and she him.) As mentioned above, that seemed in his nature by this late date. In truth, Adela just died and Isabella was the new Duchess. Given everything I've portrayed here, this action seemed far more natural.
(Plus - not enough executions shown from Arthur, IMHO, given the date. )
An example of taking what the game gives and folding it into the plot. I hope it worked and as stated, I'm not going to go into the details within the narrative. Just like the people of the time, it will continue to be guessed at and rumored about. That said, Isabella is a nasty git.
Much more to come before we are done, but getting closer. Thank you all for sticking with me as we get to that point and for reading this now many years. I've said it before, but I could not have done it without you!
In the over-all picture, that is likely correct. And while a good part of France has been Anglicized, there remains a large portion (population) that has not. The future of this realm post-CK era is fascinating to consider.
No more to say...no less.
I suppose there is a hollowness in his misgivings, but as I wrote him here he really didn't want to do it. And yet...he did it anyway. I won't deny that any of his actions were made easier to his mind after he put his own wife to death. In practice, at least. In memory? That's more difficult.
There are both story and game reasons I went this avenue, but I do not disagree in principle. I did like the idea that he was called 'the Just' when he's never shown that truly and so this is his manner of showing justice. Warped maybe, but true to his character. And not too terribly far away from how it might have happened in OTL. Henry VIII never met a headsman he didn't like.
To all - So to go into the game itself, Lady Adela was really quite old and I was astonished that she was still around. Hopefully all know the backstory, but she was married early to Gerald of Anjou (son of Emma and a homosexual) and they had 2 daughters. One died young and the other married the Duke of York. These last also had two daughters and the younger Isabella had the elder sister killed. That left Guy of York as Duke very young and Isabella put out. Somehow she ended up in Bayeaux and had two children of her own without ever being married. Quite the controversy, I thought.
I'm still not sure why Guy of York did not inherit Orleans upon Adela's death, but that it was Isabella, I found I neat little sideline plot that worked within the larger one with Arthur. I also thought it a little bittersweet that he was forced to execute one he loved (and she him.) As mentioned above, that seemed in his nature by this late date. In truth, Adela just died and Isabella was the new Duchess. Given everything I've portrayed here, this action seemed far more natural.
(Plus - not enough executions shown from Arthur, IMHO, given the date.
)An example of taking what the game gives and folding it into the plot. I hope it worked and as stated, I'm not going to go into the details within the narrative. Just like the people of the time, it will continue to be guessed at and rumored about. That said, Isabella is a nasty git.
Much more to come before we are done, but getting closer. Thank you all for sticking with me as we get to that point and for reading this now many years. I've said it before, but I could not have done it without you!
If the transfer of power is established through the emperors fairly well, I see no reason why this empire wont stick around. The cultures are similar enough to be melting potted together. The economics are great, the trade potential and military power also...
If the empire can be balanced by absorbing the rest of the islands, and secure France's border, then the only way is up for a long time I think. Chritantiy itself would have to go through a huge crisis or the plague would have to be really bad or simply a binge war or succession over realm inheritance...but history shows this is not often enough to actually destroy a nation. If the 'british' or rather the engleterres merge well enough, I think this could survive a very long time.
We'll have to wait until after the narrative to see how it all plays out, but your path above is close enough to how it happens at least before the CK timeline is up.
The Song of Wessex
* * *
Melun Castle – March 1351
Melun Castle – March 1351
When Letitia entered Arthur’s chamber, he seemed to be resting peacefully. She did not wish to wake him given his usual distress during the night, but there was good reason. “Majesty?” she whispered as she gently pushed at his shoulder. When he did not move, she pressed harder.
Arthur opened his eyes wide as if in shock and then turned them to his lover...nursemaid, “Eh? What is it, ma bella?”
“Mon Dieu!” she exclaimed with a sigh of relief, “You like to give me a fright, Majesty!”
“Think me to be gone?” he joked as he closed his eyes once more, “Well...not quite yet.”
“Ce n'est pas drôle!” Letitia put her hands to her hips, “And you must rise. You have a visitor.”
Arthur yawned, “I do not wish to leave my rest. Besides...my legs ache terribly. I could not walk this early on the morn even if I wished to. Who is it?”
“It is your grandson,” Letitia answered as she forced him to sit up in bed.
“Arthur?” he questioned as he struggled with her fussing, “He is gone to God, petite colombe.”
Letitia offered a playful frown, “Non, monsieur! Your other grandson. The Lord of Munster. He comes to pay his respects.”
“Eadgar?” he questioned again.
“Oui!” Letitia moved to hand him his robe, “And you had best present yourself in best light. Would you wish a bathing?”
Arthur tried to smile, “I think not. I’ve not seen the lad in years. Allow him to see his grandpapa in all of his glory.”
“Is that wise, Majesty?” she scolded.
“Stop messing about and bring us a plate,” Arthur held to her hand and kissed it, “I am too old to give a care. Mayhap some ale as well.”
She leaned down to kiss his forehead, “As you wish.”
It was not long after she departed that a knock came to the chamber door. Arthur answered to enter and so the Lord of Munster did with a quick bow, “Your Majesty...grandfather.”
“I see that you keep your tongue to the Irish,” Arthur jested with a grin, “When in France, m’lad.”
Eadgar showed a smile, “I’ve been to Ireland my entire life, grandfather. What else is a boy to do?”
“You’re no boy anymore,” Arthur replied as he gestured for Eadgar to come closer, “Let me look at you. This beard...well done, sir. Never been partial to one myself, but good on you!”
Eadgar sat to the bed and held to his grandfather’s chin, “These whiskers. A fine start for ya.”
“Letty...I won’t let her shave me,” he answered with another grin, “She gets mad at the smallest things...and I’ll not let her nick me.”
“She’s quite comely,” Eadgar suggested as he looked to the chamber door before turning back, “I’d hope to hold the same company when I reach your age.”
Arthur dropped his grin, “If you reach my age. And what brings you to me?”
“None but the love of my family...my House,” Eadgar answered.
“Nonsense! I am soon to eighty and one, lad...I do know better,” Arthur narrowed his eyes in response.
Eadgar did not waste a moment, “I know your trouble of late. My cousins...first Arthur...and then Reginald in Scotland. I met the former. Can’t say I ever met the latter. But tragedy for ya, I’m sure.”
“Yet not for you,” Arthur pushed to sit up higher in bed, “Such things place yourself not far from mine own perch.”
“Is that why you think I’m here?” Eadgar grinned.
Arthur could not help but follow with his own, “Yes. But I don’t blame you. We of Wessex don’t get by without good thought. And it has been too long. How does your mother?”
“She ages...as you,” he replied, “Soldiers on and is a help. Alas, poor Sir William...we lost him last year. Nearly to your age, as well.”
“A fine warrior,” Arthur gave nod, “Should have used him more over the years.”
Eadgar smiled, “Yet you’ve had yours. The Lord of Kent...and the current Lord Marshal Eric. When I sent mine out for your last war, I knew them to be well cared for.”
“You’re not upset that I did not call for you?” Arthur questioned.
“How could I be?” Eadgar answered, “I’m kept safe and on patrol to these Bretons to my south. And the Scots to my north.”
Arthur frowned, “One is more lethal than the other. You never knew your uncle and likely have never met Maud...”
“We’ve not yet had the pleasure, grandfather,” Eadgar allowed, “Yet I hope to at some day.”
“Be careful,” Arthur replied, “She’ll slit you up a treat.”
Letitia returned with ale for them both before Eadgar could respond, “Monsieurs...Your Majesty...my Lord.”
“Merci, ma belle,” Arthur took his gratefully, “And hold the plate. This should be enough.”
She bowed and looked to Eadgar, “You would see that His Majesty keeps himself well, my Lord. He has a tendency to go past his limit.”
He gave nod as she left the room and Arthur laughed, “She hovers over me like a wet nurse. I would complain, but why?”
“As you’ve never been known for your complaints,” Eadgar teased.
Arthur responded with a curious eye, “My God, lad...I suppose it skips a generation.”
“What is that, grandfather?” the young man asked.
‘Your father...my son,” Arthur kept his look, “He did not hold your wit...your countenance. Would that he did.”
Eadgar looked down before turning back to his grandfather, “I wouldn’t know. I was but a babe when he died. And now? I am at that same age.”
“I think you to last longer than Eddy,” Arthur answered before taking a healthy pull of his ale, “And what of the others? Tell me you have found issue.”
“Do ya not know?” Eadgar questioned, “I know you’ve been to France for some time, but surely you know of what happens across the Empire.”
Arthur looked up with a stern eye, “I may not be everywhere at once. I know that you married Earl Randolph’s daughter. I gave my sign. What happens since?”
“Forgive me, grandfather. I know that you’ve been well busy,” Eadgar replied with a grin, “I’ve now two daughters and a son.”
“How old?” Arthur asked, “What are their names?”
Eadgar took a drink and then answered, “My eldest is named for her great aunt...Eleanor. She’s now seven. My youngest...now three. And named after her great-grandmother.”
“Your Lady wife’s grandmother, I hope?” Arthur showed another stern eye.
“MY grandmother,” Eadgar smiled, “Aveline of Suffolk. Countess...Duchess...and then Queen? You may remember her.”
Smart lad.
Arthur tensed before taking another healthy pull, “You did not know her.”
“Nay...but mores the pity,” Eadgar replied.
“And what...what of the son?” Arthur questioned as he looked past his grandson.
Eadgar moved to refresh their cups, “I am sad to say that he is not named after you nor my father. My Lady wife was insistent. It was to be Randolph and no thing other. A spitfire at four and keeps us both well charged.”
Considering his former Lord Chancellor, Arthur gave quick nod, “There is no dishonor there. He was a good man...a good Earl. I may owe the man my life.”
“He said as much,” Eadgar grinned.
Arthur showed another frown, “Another scoundrel. I am plagued by them.”
“Be not too hard on my father by law,” Eadgar answered, “He was honored to sit council. He worked hard for ya until he was no longer able. And he gave me my Lady wife.”
The Emperor turned to his grandson with a serious gaze, “It is well and good to be happy in this life, lad. But my position...your position...there is little time for it. You’ve coasted all this time. I’m sorry to say, but there was no need for you. I set your father up as well as I might and you find his inheritance at the now. My son was weak...too weak. But I cannot dwell upon that. You? I think you to hold Ireland with some strength.”
“I don’t hold it all,” Eadgar was quick to answer.
Arthur replied just as quickly, “Nor shall you.”
“No...” Eadgar replied with no grin or smile, “...that is for Anselm. Son of my cousin Arthur. He that will inherit it all...Ireland, Wales, England...mayhap France. Scotland too. The entire Empire...and naught but eight in age.”
“You are jealous?” Arthur offered a sly look.
Eadgar allowed a grin once more, “Nay, grandfather. Merely suspicious. You’ve built so much. I’d hate to see it fail.”
“You’re a good lad, Eddy,” Arthur rested his eyes and patted his grandson to the leg, “I’m sad that we’ve not had more doings. Were I younger...were you older...mayhap we would have made a fine team. Yet when I leave you, you’ll be on your own. You’ll do what you do, but I can only ask you to stand with your cousin’s son. Don’t make trouble to Ireland. Support him for Scotland. Lend your strength to him within France.”
“Yet I’m not in France,” Eadgar suggested with another grin.
Arthur opened his eyes and did the same, “You are at the now, sir. And he is naught but a babe. Eight years...and my heir. That is how it should go. My son was to follow me...”
“And then he died like my father,” Eadgar was quick to answer.
“...and then his son was to follow after that,” Arthur ignored the suggestion, “Yet we cannot predict the future. You are indeed second in line, Eadgar of Wessex. You are named for the revered figure of our House. Should something terrible happen, I must trust in you.”
Eadgar was sure in response, “I’m at the ready.”
“Mayhap too ready?” Arthur questioned, “You know not what it entails. We’ve found revolt in Bourges because Lord Raynaud is such a poor Duke. It was handled, but at a cost. Our cousin to Norfolk remains at conflict with Normandy. Two powerful Lords...and neither can I refuse or do without. I’ve seen the death of far too many...friends...allies...family. It may not mean much to you, but it did to me as I was forced to see the Lady of Orleans put to death. She was an honorable Lady...until she wasn’t. It is no easy task.”
“I can say to you that I am at the ready...” Eadgar replied, “...more than my father, surely. I know not if he was weak, but from all my mother tells me, he was not fit to be King...nor Emperor. I’ve been more shrewd and think to know the cost.”
Arthur allowed a weary eye, “You won’t know it until it has been spent, lad. The cost is always tremendous and the heart...the mind...will always suffer. Be careful of that which you seek.”
“I seek none but my place,” Eadgar answered.
The Emperor closed his eyes once more, “And your place is to Ireland. The preeminent Lord there. Forget Richard in Leinster. The man is a parvenus. You represent Wessex in Ireland as my son was meant to do. And you do it well.”
“I am more than Ireland, grandfather,” Eadgar countered, “And I know that not all is well. I hold my own counsel at the now and there are still some not to be trusted.”
Arthur opened his eyes with fatigue, “Who now? Amedee of Bourbon? Simon of Bedford that remains to his sickbed? Raynaud of Bourges, whom I tried to tutor as a lad and now presents the worst Karling of all? I’ve seen them all, sir. Yes...the boy is young. But he is my heir.”
“Are you certain of his tutor?” Eadgar questioned.
“The Bishop of Montargis?” Arthur asked with a sleepy voice, “He is a nonentity to me. Barely here and besides...the lad has more than one. I hold Anselm to Melun...and think to give him more instruction every day.”
Eadgar gave nod, “I hope it so, grandfather. He would do well by your words.”
“As would you...grandson,” Arthur held a gentle hand to Eadgar’s face, “Now let me sleep and leave me with your knowledge that you will be made well for ever and always.”
“I suspected no less,” the young Lord answered, “Yet I wished to see you.”
Arthur offered a yawning voice, “And now you have done so. Maintain your place...and support the future.”
“I will,” Eadgar watched Arthur drift back to sleep, “All the future we have before us.”
