The Song of Wessex

[tpmcinty]

Arthur is off to a very good start. He learned his lessons well from his father on being a king. The Emperor on the other hand does no seem to learn anything. I am sure he will repeat his mistake and war with England again.

 

[Bullfilter]

Rousing words for the loyal vassals and then stern ones for the Kaiser. Two alpha males duking it (so to speak ) out! But in this case Arthur has the bragging rights, even if much was his father’s work. He can only play the game he has taken over. These two will undoubtedly come to know and hate each other very well.

 

[coz1]

Fb-fb:

I would not be at all surprised if England and Germany don't have another scrap at some point. That discussion mostly just seemed to confirm a mutual loathing between the two of them.

You are not wrong there, but the next time comes in a surprising way. No doubt, there is mutual loathing. Arthur blames Werner for his father's death and Werner is stinging in his defeat.

It is a shame CK2's peace system doesn't allow counter claims .

No doubt about it! 2 plus years of war and all I get out of it is some prestige, a little gold and the satisfaction of beating the biggest guy on the block. Would have been nice to take some land there.

Arthur is off to a very good start. He learned his lessons well from his father on being a king. The Emperor on the other hand does no seem to learn anything. I am sure he will repeat his mistake and war with England again.

Arthur is sort of feeling his way around in the dark here but indeed, his father showed him a good path to follow. As for Werner, his time may come sooner rather than later.

Rousing words for the loyal vassals and then stern ones for the Kaiser. Two alpha males duking it (so to speak ) out! But in this case Arthur has the bragging rights, even if much was his father’s work. He can only play the game he has taken over. These two will undoubtedly come to know and hate each other very well.

Two alpha males duking it out. Very good, sir. The bulk of the war was indeed Ælfstan's work, but Arthur was there at the front to finish it off. I decided to skip most of that since it was just beating and chasing little armies after 1294 and what really mattered was the eventual peace.

I am glad the speech came out well. I wanted him to sort of grow as it went along and end on a high note (while also getting out a little exposition) so it is good that it came across as rousing.


To all - Phew! That was one heck of a war! As mentioned when this began, part of why I wanted to tell this story was to relate this first encounter with the HRE. After a good many comments from previous works thinking that a confrontation would come, we finally see it and it went well. I am not sure what possessed the AI/Werner to think that he could win, but I pulled out every stop and went full force after him. Those big battles are really key. That dynamic may change in later iterations of the game, but battles are really what drive war score. I would have thought to see bigger armies from the HRE, but they just never could pull it together. Very satisfying even if I lost a King in the process, though he did not die in battle. In game, he actually died of depression of all things. His wife had died and he developed the trait (which is what I was hinting about before in the scene between Arthur and Nicholas) but I kept him on the front lines and even without a great martial stat, he was able to win every single time. Likely did not hurt that Amedee was there too and his 21 martial stat was quite nice!

So now Arthur gets down to the business of ruling and he certainly has his hands full. A Queen that likes him little, a number of areas in which he would like to expand, a vast realm to govern and all of the great Lords that come with it and the succession in France still somewhat dicey. I think that you will like what he accomplishes but it is not without its setbacks and morally questionable decisions. Hey...it would not be the House of Wessex without those, right?

Thanks as always for reading and giving comment! It is the best thing about writing AARs.

 

[coz1]

​

The Song of Wessex​

* * *

Hainaut, Germany - July 1351​

The old man stood and watched the flames in the distance without the satisfaction he thought it might bring. He had upheld the promise more times than he could count, yet somehow this latest showing did not remove the bitter taste from his mouth that had festered over all of these years. Memories from long ago seemed fresher to him than that which occurred just a fortnight previous, and the smirk held to that man’s face was etched in his mind’s eye like a rich Flemish tapestry created by expert weavers. Sew it did, that face...nearly every step taken since that fateful day. Yet each and every time...every conquest...every advancement...it never quenched the thirst. It could never wipe away that smirk and what all had been lost in this ever present quest.

So many things...a father...a wife...a son. Lost. Lost to single-mindedness. Lost to ambition. Lost to anger and jealousy. That twenty four year old boy...yes boy. He grew up fast and was never so content as he had been prior to the death of his father. A man may be called ‘The Just’ but where was justice in so many of his actions? There were needs...requirements. One can indeed play at Kings, but those that do will not go far. It requires a certain diligence...a ruthlessness. A show far grander than mere survival of the fittest. More powerful than simply the conquering hero. To go toe to toe with the beast, one must get down to their level and raise up to their height. It meant doing things never imagined. It meant quick thinking and far reaching strategy. And it caused so much else.

As the thick smoke plumed in the distant air, the acrid smell was clear. What does a man gain if he conquers the world and yet loses all else in the process? Stature? Age? Victory over a foe? There was no satisfaction in any of it. This old man was no genius...not like others. He was blessed with luck...with time...with energy. That was all. He had fulfilled his promise and yet could find no pride in it. It was simply a thing done. One more step. Every year of stretching time, it was put one foot in front of the other...learn...grow. Become. He had indeed become something else. Something different. Something unimaginable by that young boy.

“Majesty?” the voice of Lord Chancellor Edward spoke over his shoulder, “Should we not return to Melun? The young Prince will be in residence and we should tend to him.”

The old man hunched over his cane and sniffed the air once more with a grimace. He was eighty one years of age and was far more now than just a Prince...a King. Arthur was now a legend and somehow it brought him little satisfaction. With a slight turn of the head, he answered with a frown, “So be it.”

* * *

Westminster, England – January 1296​

It felt odd being in Westminster. When Arthur left for the continent, he was a Prince and Duke of Lancaster. Young, vibrant and alive. Two young children and married, even if he and his wife did not share a true love match. When he returned to England, he was changed. So was the entire realm. His father was dead and he was now King of England, France and Wales. At twenty five, it was no longer a question of when...it was upon him. Arthur had always been a preternaturally intelligent child and young man, but now a heavy weight hung over his head in the shape of a crown and even with his promises, he was unsure of what to do about them...about it...about the entire thing. The smirk from that Emperor...that scoundrel...was imprinted upon his mind and he vowed to himself and all others in earshot that he would someday wipe it clean from his face. Yet here he was, newly crowned King...and how to do it?

Arthur had returned to England by October of 1295 and declared a grand tourney to celebrate their achievements. It was to culminate in a lavish coronation ceremony held to Westminster true to his promise and every person present would never forget it. Queen Aveline had looked resplendent and never more beautiful or happy than she did that day. That would last for a fortnight. After that, she returned to Hereford and there she lived separate from her husband, the now anointed King. When Arthur was honest, and he was to his closest confidants, it did not bother him that much. Aveline had allowed her children to remain in Westminster with six year old Blæja and three year old Arthur giving the King much happiness.

And it was not as if he did not have duties to attend to. He was surely ready for them having been Lord Chancellor for his father prior to what everyone considered the premature death of King Ælfstan. Yet as Arthur paced the halls of Westminster, he could not help but be considerate of a former time...an easier time, or what he thought that might be. This was the palace built by Eadward the Confessor, a revered figure within not only the House of Wessex but so too England. The very Abbey in which he was God anointed held the old bones of Uhtræd the Bold and Anne the Great. It was here to Westminster where his grandfather, the first Ælfstan had moved the center of court and where his father had reigned as the wise King. The stories of old King Eadgar...of King Eadward the Fourth...of bloody Queen Mary...they seemed to seep from the walls with whispers and every one caused him to question. Once there was Wessex...then there was England...and now there were twenty great Lords throughout England, Wales and France all of which wished their due.

​

One after another of them had come to Arthur to bend the knee and pledge their fealty. Far ranging like Lord Martin of Lothian, son of the old Lord Chancellor Stephen, or the young Lord Jordan of Meath, called the third of his name and naught but ten. There was the old House of Godwin represented by Lord Adam of Flanders and Lord Philip of Kent, as well as House de Normandie represented by Lord Thomas, a most trusted soldier. York bowed down in the form of young Lord Lionel from House Belle-main and Gwynedd with Lady Amice of House Northall. The brothers de Laval, the same House as his Lord Marshal Duke Amedee of Bourbon, Lord Simon of Bedford and Lord Arnoul of Gloucester were soon to his side.

And then there was his kin, who were far reaching by this date. Lord Lionel of Northumberland was twenty four and wished to be fast friends. The Duchess of Deheubarth too was near age, and Lady Oriel was more than happy to spend time to court. Of course, Lady Emma was there from Anjou and Nicholas from Norfolk. Two of the closest friends held by this new King, but there was also the French contingent. Lady Alice of Orleans was without a doubt honest and true. Of House Rose, she was more English than French. But then there was Lord Ancel of Berry who was the very opposite of that even if he bent the knee.

Lord Theobald of Hereford had remained true if not greatly grieved over his part in the old King’s death and showed no signs of regret that he had been replaced as Lord Marshal. And then there was the one before him now. He was twenty and of House Jimena in Cornwall. Arthur found some slight amusement as he brought his attentions back to the young Lord when he considered the Iberian nature of such a Celtic region. And he smiled when the young Lord bent the knee before him.

“Your Grace...” Fadrique spoke with reverence, “...you were more than kind to allow my father to retire such was his disease. You will know that Cornwall is behind you...that I am behind you...at every step.”

Arthur moved from his great chair and stepped down to raise the young Duke, “Stand and we shall embrace, Lord Fadrigue. Your father was a good man and served me well in his short time. It saddens me that he has gone to God, yet we must remember that he gains his salvation at this time.”

With more than a few nerves, the Lord of Cornwall stood to his height and felt the great hug given to him by the King. When Arthur stretched out his arms to hold him, Fadrique could only answer, “We lose too much, Your Grace...but they are all in God’s arms now.”

“And in Christ’s love, my Lord,” Arthur stepped back, “Please stay to here in Westminster for a time. We are near to age and should find each other as fast friends, I hope.”

Lord Fadrique smiled, “I hope it so, Your Grace. You are most generous, Your Grace.”

“I am not my father,” Arthur showed him a forced grin, “Yet I aim to be.”

Before the Lord of Cornwall could say another word, the Duke of Burgundy stepped forward, “Your Grace...we shall make certain that our Lord finds his lodgings more than acceptable. Yet your son, Prince Arthur does require attention. He awaits you to the solar.”

Lord Fadrique wasted no time in giving yet another bow and backing from the hall and when he was gone, Arthur turned to his new Lord Chancellor, “That was rather rude, my Lord Payen. I wish Cornwall to be close as his father was good friend to me.”

“My apologies, Your Grace,” Lord Payen III of Burgundy gave a brief bow, “Yet it seemed that we had reached the end of that tether. I am new to the position, but we do things somewhat differently in France.”

The booming voice of Lord Amedee spoke from the side of the hall, “No doubt true, Your Grace. It will be a learning curve if you allow we French Lords to serve you here in this English court. That said...I think it went well.”

Arthur kept his eye to Lord Payen, “You will make a fine Chancellor, my Lord...a true heir to your father. Yet we must be mindful.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” the older French Lord gave bow.

Amedee grinned as he put an arm to Payen’s shoulder, “Now...if I might steal the King for but a moment...”

Lord Payen gave bow again and backed away. As he left the hall, Amedee looked to Arthur with certainty, “He will do you well if you give him chance. I know French Lords here may seem suspect, Your Grace...but he is not his father. He is better.”

“And I have told you, Amedee,” Arthur returned the certainty, “We know each other too well. Give me title when needs must, but when just we two...”

Amedee grinned and answered before the King could finish, “Arthur...I am your Lord Marshal, not your Chancellor. If you do not trust him, then choose another. Yet you will need one to give you advice.”

“I think you do well enough, monsieur,” Arthur moved to find his way to the solar, “We have with us an agreement and one I am happy with. Lords...Ladies...court...it is more than I wish.”

“And yet it is your fate,” Amedee answered as he followed, “This is the way of Kings and you will know it soon enough. I did not follow your father because it was inevitable. I did so because that was my desire.”

Arthur took the steps two at a time as he moved with purpose, “You are a brave man, Amedee. I need that. Few to trust...and every one with their train.”

“Lords travel in packs like wolves…Your Grace,” the Duke answered as they reached the top steps, “Be the biggest wolf and they will follow you like omega to alpha.”

Entering the solar, Arthur smiled as he saw his young son playing at blocks in front of the great hearth. The King went to him and raised him up to hold in the air and little Arthur offered a squeal of delight. With his cherubic laugh echoing in the solar, King Arthur looked back to his Lord of Bourbon, “It is right here to follow. How do we make it so?”

“Arthur...” Amedee grinned at the babe, “...you are a young man still. You have years ahead of you to make this your realm. Be the wolf...yes. But do not chew too harshly. Place yourself here and show them who you are. I can tell you...”

“I would tell you, my Lord...” Arthur handed his son off to the nursemaid as he looked back with surety, “...I’ve not the time or patience. This long train...they will turn eventually. I’ve read of it in the past and I know that it is there for the future if we do not act. My father never gave them chance.”

Amedee gave nod, “He was a busy man.”

“I can afford no less,” Arthur continued, “I have set down my goal. I have given my promise. Now...how do we achieve it? Lord Payen is well enough for a diplomat. What I require is a tactician...a strategist.”

“What exactly is it that you want?” Amedee asked as he moved to pour the King some ale.

“I’ve promised hellfire to this Werner...” Arthur answered quickly, “...that is a start.”

Amedee returned with a goblet and a grin, “Well deserved! Yet how to get it?”

“That is my question, sir,” the King replied as he accepted the cup with sure curiosity.

“Your son there...” Amedee lifted his chin to point, “...is that the future? Then plan for it now.”

Arthur was unsure, “He is three.”

“And someday will be twenty,” Amedee replied quickly, “Best start now. If you wish to best this Emperor...to keep the wolves at bay...you must think long. Is that not what you ask of me?”

“What do you see?” the King asked as he looked again to his young son.

Amedee stood taller in front of Arthur, “Your father had a grand scheme. He used his deceit...mayhap too much ambition...but was clear minded. Are you now King of France for any other reason, monsieur?”

“You know that I am not,” Arthur replied with a questioning brow.

“Then find your purpose, oh great King...” Amedee grinned, “...find your worth. You are surrounded...yet by what? Ireland? Scotland? Your forebears have made certain that you are ruler of these Isles. What will you do with that? What do you see?”

Arthur took a drink and then answered, “The island of Ireland is wild. The Scots to the north...in chaos. I have the entire might of the Holy Roman Empire ready to destroy me at any chance. I am certain that the Holy Father in Rome might allow it. What would you have me do?”

“Get creative, Arthur,” Amedee was certain, “Fight fire with fire and make your own. You are not a young boy anymore. You don’t have that choice. Grow up and choose life!”

The King heard him and remained silent for a time before answering, “I choose to destroy Werner.”

Amedee grinned again, “Then do so from strength. There is everything here for you. You’ve done it once. You can do so again. Make it count!”

“You make it sound so easy,” Arthur replied as sat near the fire.

The French Duke folded his arms and leaned to the stone hearth, “No thing in life is easy, lad. The simplest thing to do is fold your tent and die. Yet I know you better than that...know your true wishes, I think. That little boy just yon...he is your future just as once you were your father’s. Let Werner wait, I say. Let him stew in his own bile while you make greatness here. And then?”

Arthur turned to see the grin upon Amedee’s face, “I think father was not the only one to have the future mapped.”

“I did never betray France, Your Grace,” Amedee kept his grin, “I chose the better for our people...our future, and yours. Much can be won from war, I may attest. Yet what else may be won from words...from thought...from long plans made real?”

“An invasion from within?” Arthur questioned.

Amedee drained his cup and set it aside to stand behind the King, “You might say that. In a manner of speaking, it can be done. But look not to the empire, Arthur. That way is no thing but bother at the now. We are strong enough in France and Normandy...we shall hold him off. What you have now is an opportunity for so much more. Use this chance to build...to grow. And when next this Werner places his call, if he is man enough to do so...much the better you will be.”

The French Duke moved around the chair and made an ornate bow, “And now, Your Grace...I think to leave you for the evening. You have much to think about and a son just there that needs must find his rest.”

Arthur had indeed lost track of time and noticed that it was late. He gave nod to his Duke and then stood to go to his son. Smiling, he gave word to the nursemaid, “He should be well to sleep. Tuck him in tight and keep him safe as always.”

With a kiss from Arthur to his tiny head, the maid too left through the main solar door and left the King alone with his thoughts. It did not last long. From a rear door, Arthur’s squire Etienne de Pleshy entered with question, “Your Grace? I waited until it grew quiet.”

“You do well as always, Tienne,” Arthur sat once more, “Another long day. Has Sir Mark seen to our Cornish Duke?”

“He has, Your Grace,” Etienne gave quick nod, “And...she...would like to visit.”

Arthur stood and offered a wave, “Then see her to my chambers, sir. The usual drill.”

The squire was quick to remove himself and Arthur lingered only moments by the hearth. With another nod, he made his way from the solar to his chambers and when he entered, the room was brightly lit. Braziers burned as well as a fire and wine and cheese had been set out. His nightclothes were neatly draped over a chair and to his bed was a woman that he knew well. The Ladies of Nantwich had been part of court since their father died under the previous King. Three sisters, and all of them beautiful. This one was the eldest and at thirty nine was nearly twice the King’s age. Yet Mary had been his first...and his best. And tonight, her raven hair billowed over the pillow long and beautiful. She smiled and waited, only teasing a bit when she pulled some sheets away to invite Arthur to her. He did not need the invitation as he quickly stripped from his clothes and moved in beside her.

He did not embrace her but rather pulled the covers up tight. That was their way. Everything that his wife was not, this Lady gave him and it was comfort as much as it was passion. She grinned as she traced a finger down his neck and teased, “Your feet, sir, are cold.”

“Likely numb, as is my mind,” Arthur answered as he stared at the ceiling.

Mary offered a sweet kiss and answered, “I would warm them up, but first your thoughts?”

“Too many,” he replied with a sigh.

“Then a copper for one, good sir,” she kissed his cheek again.

He smiled to her and tried to calm his mind, “The future, Mary. The very future. I am in uncharted ground and though I trust my Lords, I know not if I trust myself.”

“Why would you doubt yourself, Arthur?” Mary asked as she snuggled into his neck, “You are young, handsome, bright...every bit of the future is yours when you want it.”

“Yet what do I want?” Arthur asked himself as much as her, “To provide for my son? To kill that bastard in Germany? To conquer the world?”

Mary turned and kissed him once more before offering a gentle grin, “Let us start with one problem at a time, my Lord. Your son is three and you have time to provide. You’ve just returned from war and found your crown fully. Can you not take some time to enjoy it?”

“I don’t think I have that luxury,” Arthur answered as he held a bit tighter, “Time seems to move a bit more quickly at the now.”

Mary leaned to an elbow, “And what do your men say?”

“Much and more,” Arthur turned to face her in the bed, “Lord Amedee seems to have some grand scheme to ruin from within this whoreson of Germany.”

“Is that what he said to you?” Mary asked.

Arthur squinted his eyes as he thought, “No...not quite. Perhaps it was more...or something other.”

With another kiss, Mary pulled closer, “Arthur...you know where I come from. My father was raised up by yours. I grew up with legends told to table about your great-grandmother...of your family. Every one of them spoke to the might of England. Not France. Not the continent. That was your father’s goal. It need not be yours.”

“Do you wish to sit on council as well?” Arthur teased.

“No,” she answered with a playful bop to the nose, “I am quite happy where I am at the now. Here...for you.”

Arthur sighed once more, “Then tell me what I needs must do for I know it not. I’m the bloody King of England now and the only thought to my mind is that bastard in Germany. He vexes me and I want him dead!”

“Understand I do, sweet love...” Mary inched closer, “...yet you have a realm here that requires a ruling. That is what your father did...what your grandfather did...what your great-grandmother did. I say look north to get your vengeance...or to Ireland. Your good armies will serve you better closer to home. And it will give them training.”

The young King turned with an amused face, “Now you think to be Lady Marshal?”

“I think your Lord Amedee well enough turned for that,” she answered with a grin, “Yet he may have a point.”

When Arthur offered a questioning eye, she moved in for a kiss and then answered again, “What could be more than conquering from within than to take the Scots throne? Your father did it with France. Why not you now...with Scotland?”

“What little spider’s web do you weave, my Lady?” Arthur asked with a kind eye.

Mary grinned, “No thing but knowledge...my Lord. The Scots Queen Helen has a granddaughter Maud. She is three, the same age as your son. Your Lady wife might not care for it, but where is she now to complain? Work the diplomacy, Arthur. You need not war in every battle.”

​

“You just want to keep me here,” Arthur teased as he lifted to give her a kiss.

When their lips parted, Mary looked lovingly into his eyes, “Yes, sweet love...I do. You are young and beautiful...and mine. King or no...you are my heart. Have you ever wondered why I never married? I have no need...as long as I have you.”

Arthur teased again, “I could make you a match. Easy.”

“I am certain that you could,” Mary replied as she kissed him again, “And still, sweet love...my heart would remain with you.”

 

[stnylan]

The Wessex line do lead complicated lives.

The old King looking back on his youthful self ... it feels like a dirge, and maybe even a curse. He seems a hollow sort, and one can perhaps see the start of it even now. A weight of responsibility and care.

 

[Bullfilter]

The crown may be heavy (I liked that reference at the start ) but it has its perks too. Some good advice there - enough to start a young man on a path of achievement, greatness even, albeit on a road that leads to an old man’s regret.

Looks like a bit of preparation and positioning first before another tilt at the German Dastard and Bastard! Now we’re off and running ...

 

[coz1]

Fb-fb:

The Wessex line do lead complicated lives.

The old King looking back on his youthful self ... it feels like a dirge, and maybe even a curse. He seems a hollow sort, and one can perhaps see the start of it even now. A weight of responsibility and care.

I admit that I hesitated including more from the older King as it might be too spoilery. I very nearly did not identify him as Arthur even though most can guess. Yet as I experimented with the time shift early on, I decided to keep that in small doses so it is not just one leap to another of conquest and warfare (of which there is a lot to come.) Definite victories but some personal defeats which by age 81 weigh on him heavily.

The crown may be heavy (I liked that reference at the start ) but it has its perks too. Some good advice there - enough to start a young man on a path of achievement, greatness even, albeit on a road that leads to an old man’s regret.

Looks like a bit of preparation and positioning first before another tilt at the German Dastard and Bastard! Now we’re off and running ...

Quite so. I used this scene to sort of get everything positioned after the first chapter and end of the HRE war that provides the spark of the work. With so many great Lords now, it was impossible to include all of them in a scene but I needed to set the table, as it were. It also provided a bit of a history lesson for anyone new that has not read the earlier works (and of course, I had to reference that. )


To all - Probably a lot to unpack from that scene (both scenes) as it sort of weaves in and out of different ones, but they were all important. Hopefully it shows a number of items:

- Where we go from here
- And what that possibly leads to when looking to the later time
- The listing of the Dukes and Duchesses
- The continuing strife between King and Queen and intro to the mistress
- Lord Amedee's continued importance as well as full intro to Lord Payen of Burgundy
- small intro of one of two important figures coming up when Etienne is included
- King Arthur's uncertainty and the weight of it all as has been remarked upon

There is more, but I will let you suss that out. I should also say, I hope folks don't mind that I am ignoring accents on names. I know it is important but it is also a pain to go searching for the right keys to get those into the document and use it every time. I will keep with Æ when required but otherwise, I have decided not to utilize them for my sanity.

Excellent reads by all and thank you for your comments! Look for the next scene (or set of scenes) tomorrow.

 

[tpmcinty]

Nice chapter to introduce his vassals. Do I sense a little tug of war between the English and French lords for the king's favor? I see Arthur is looking to the future with his son's betrothal.

 

[coz1]

Nice chapter to introduce his vassals. Do I sense a little tug of war between the English and French lords for the king's favor? I see Arthur is looking to the future with his son's betrothal.

Not just his son's betrothal but a bit more as well. Read on and see.

As for the tug of war between French and English, it may be there. It really just dawned on me as I was writing that up that most of the privy council is French. I hired the best and they had many to choose from.

 

[coz1]

​

The Song of Wessex​

* * *

Dublin, Ireland – February 1297​

The three men moved into the inner bailey at Dublin Castle with great speed, and the eldest was the first to jump from his mount, “Hah! See there, Tienne! I told you that I would win!”

Etienne reined in his courser to stop with a grin, “Does it count if I let you best me?”

“You were squarely beaten, Tienne,” the third and youngest man suggested as he too dismounted, “His Grace overtook you when we passed the black pool!”

Etienne grinned as he found his feet, “You are a mere squire, Anselm! You should hold your tongue. I will test my mettle against His Grace once more when we return to Downpatrick!”

“Do not listen to him, Ans!” Arthur too grinned as he handed his mount off to a groom, “He is bitter and he will sulk...at least until the two of you find your much needed respite here to Dublin.”

The two younger men did not have more chance to respond as the Earl descended the steps, “Your Grace! You arrive earlier than expected. Yet what a pleasure it be!”

“My good Earl Laurence!” Arthur turned with a smile and an arm extended, “Well met, we are! You will excuse my appearance for we have been in the muck of it to the north.”

Earl Laurence was portly and jovial and took the King’s arm in greeting, “How goes it against Ulster, Your Grace?”

“I should say winning, sir,” Arthur answered with a grin, “Trust that I will make good my promise to you and see your claim against this King Fergus a done thing!”

“I would never doubt you, Your Grace,” Earl Laurence gave bow.

Etienne was soon by the King’s side, “No man should, my Lord. Yet we travel hard and fast and soon must return...”

“Of course, Your Grace,” the Earl was quick to gesture to the castle, “I shall see to your horses. If you and your men would accompany me, I will find you fresh drink and clean clothes. My bed is yours, Your Grace, and I shall not hear word against it.”

Arthur placed a warm arm around him as they entered the hall, “You drive a hard bargain, my Lord Earl. Yet where be these guests that I am to meet? I have left Amedee and Thomas in the trenches and wish not to tarry long.”

“It is my great honor that you travel here yourself, Your Grace,” Earl Laurence led them to his solar, “Surely this Irish chieftain could be bested without your noble presence.”

“I would not send men to do my own work, my Lord,” Arthur answered, “It was my father’s way and it is mine.”

“Much to our displeasure,” Etienne added with humor behind them.

Arthur turned with a grin, “Oh come now, Tienne...you enjoy it as much as anyone. Is that not right, Ans?”

“I’ve no trouble with it, Your Grace,” Anselm proudly stated as he ribbed at Etienne, “A squire goes where his master goes.”

Etienne showed a squint towards Anselm, “You know that if you crawl too far up there, you might get stuck!”

The three laughed as they moved into the solar only to find no one there. The Earl gave bow once more, “There is good ale just yon, Your Grace. I shall fetch you a bath...and for your men. Tell me what you wish from the kitchens and I shall have it brought forth immediately.”

“Pray, my good Laurence...” Arthur questioned him, “...yet I understood that my Lord Chancellor had arrived with word. I do not see him.”

A voice called from the back of the room, “You would not for he has returned to home.”

King Arthur turned to spy his wife Aveline. She kept her arms folded into her dress and a sharp look to her eye, “There were matters to England and I suggested that he need not wait.”

“The Queen arrived three days ago, Your Grace,” Earl Laurence suggested in a whisper, “It was unexpected but I have made certain that she is cared for!”

Arthur kept his eye to Aveline, “My Lady...you take great risk. There is war to here and you are regent in my absence.”

“Fret not, Arthur,” Aveline raised her chin with a grin, “Our children are cared for. I imagine that Lady Mary has her hands full of them.”

“Tienne...Ans...” the King looked to his mates, “...why don’t you go and taste the local wares. I think to be safe enough with my wife. And many thanks to you, my Lord Earl. You are a more than gracious host.”

All three men gave bow and backed out of the solar leaving the King alone with Aveline as she kept her grin, “I like that new one...Anselm. Very handsome. A pretty face.”

“Why are you to here, Ava?” Arthur asked with a sigh as he moved to pour a goblet, “Our yearly meet is not for some months yet.”

The Queen stepped to him and brushed at his dirty cheek, “Can I not worry about my Lord husband?”

“You may worry to Hereford,” Arthur pulled away and held to his drink.

“Yet it is so far away,” she grinned, “And you call up my men for your exploits. I may wish to know how they fare?”

Arthur took a heavy pull before answering, “I think a letter to suffice. Yet you brave passage on the Irish Sea just to taunt me?”

“Say what you will, Arthur, but I remain your wife...” she offered a tepid smile, “...and love you in my own way.”

“That way is found wanting, my Lady,” Arthur moved to the fire and drank once more.

Aveline grinned once more, “So I have been told.”

“So why are you here and not Lord Payen?” Arthur asked again, “He was to keep me apprised of matters to the continent. You may see that I am well tasked and do not have time for your flights of fancy at the now.”

“Mayhap I wished to see Ireland...and my husband,” the Queen replied as she moved to take a seat close to him, “And I may tell you what transpires with your nemesis. He is once more at war.”

Arthur turned to her with some anger, “What do you know of it?”

“Surprise you it might, Arthur, but I keep great knowledge of events,” Aveline answered quickly, “It is, after all, my son that is heir.”

“You show that so much by how often you see him,” the King replied with bitterness.

Aveline offered a shrug, “He is a young boy. He is better off in your care, just as you were with your father. There is naught I may do for him but look to his future.”

“What about Blæja?” Arthur eyed her with more anger, “She is a girl and needs her mother.”

“Who would you rather, husband?” she asked plainly, “Me or your whore?”

Arthur stood taller, “You would not speak of Lady Mary in that...”

“Get me not wrong, sir,” Aveline cut him off, “She is a pretty thing...even if old. I think she does well and happy am I that she keeps your attention. I have my own life to Hereford and do not need you poking and prodding when it is unwanted.”

“If unwanted...” Arthur gave her a stern eye, “...then I ask thrice. Why are you here?!”

It was an uncanny thing that she could do, and it was rare, but Aveline held the power to change her face from cold harshness to warm and inviting in a blink. She did so now as she rose from her seat and moved to Arthur, “Soften, husband. I am still your Queen and want what is best for you. You wish to know of your man across the narrow sea? He remains to war with his brother...your brother by law. And now...he sees Sweden and Denmark as enemies too. Does that not give you cheer?”

“Happiness is a short lived thing...dear heart,” Arthur remained stern, “It is fleeting and in a glance, it is gone.”

Aveline kept her warmth and brushed again at his dirty cheek, “You do remain beautiful, Arthur. Even with this grime...you are hard to resist.”

“And you play at something,” the King answered with a softened but wise enough mind.

She kissed him gently and then took his cup to refill his ale, “I play at Queen because I am Queen. The Queen. My husband is away fighting his wars and bringing victory to England. I then must needs keep eye to what is important.”

“And what is that?” Arthur asked with some irritation.

She turned with a full cup and moved back to hand it over with a smile, “Your health and our future.”

“So you have just come to tend to my wounds?” he asked with raised brow.

Aveline moved to trace his arm and pulled his sleeve back to show one of them, “That one looks nasty...but no. Die in battle, sir, if you must. But we two have only the one son. Our yearly meet is not for some time, but if you are to put yourself in harm’s way, I need...we need...more.”

“So you have come here for carnal pleasures?” Arthur laughed, “Do you not find enough men at Hereford?”

“Not the man...” she answered as she moved close to his lips, “...no.”

Arthur kept a firm eye to her as their faces were nearly touching and he tried to resist her strange allure, but could not. A passionate kiss ensued and it was she that pulled them apart as she looked to him with a grin and held to his face, “See? You know how to fill my belly.”

“You are a snake, Ava,” Arthur answered without pulling away.

She kept her grin, “Yes...I am. Eat the apple, husband. It is rich.”

It happened rarely, but when it did it was passionate. The embraces turned to kisses. The kisses turned to caresses. The caresses turned to foreplay and then play turned to lovemaking. Right there in the solar of Dublin Castle, when anyone might enter, the two joined on the fur rug before the hearth. Breeches down and then dress torn aside, it was their connection. Angry, perhaps. Not violent, but in the moment. She was still pretty and he handsome and they two were a storm of hands and tongues...his member to hers...they two found the one thing they were good at with one another.

With sweat pouring over his body, Arthur lay back and took a deep breath before responding, “You will be my end!”

“I hope it not, husband,” Aveline rolled over and brushed at his naked chest, “I told you...we know how to make a child.”

Arthur tried to catch his breath, “You know that this changes nothing.”

She curled a chest hair in her fingers and grinned, “I hope that not either. But it was good, Arthur...it is good.”

“So this was your motive all along?” the King rested his head and wondered how he had fallen for it again.

“Never, my King,” Aveline found her feet and pulled Arthur’s discarded mantle to her shoulders. She moved to pour herself a cup of ale and then turned with a changed face, “We may yet see another Prince, but my mind remains on the one we have at the now.”

Arthur lay there in his nakedness and questioned her, “You speak of our son at this moment? I told you that you play at a game!”

“Find your breeches, Arthur,” she answered as she took a chair and pulled the mantle around her, “There are more important considerations...like his betrothal.”

The King sat up, refusing to take her charge, “Are you still sore at that?!”

“That is not a good look for you, sir...” Aveline grinned, “...cover yourself because you begin to wilt. And I am not sore, because I believe you to have made a fine choice...for once.”

Arthur pulled the rug to him and questioned again, “What are you speaking of now?”

“The Prince Gilbride of Scotland, husband...” Aveline answered quickly, “...he stands in the way.”

Moving to pull up his breeches, Arthur turned to her, “What has he to do with any of this?”

“Come now, Arthur...” she kept her grin, “...you are no fool. This Queen Helen has many children, but two sons of age and our own is to be married to the young Maud. Children still they both are, but Gilbride stands between his mother and his younger brother Radulf. You remove one and our son is one step closer. Was that not your goal? Or did your Lady Mary just give some idle pillow talk?”

The King found his shirt and began to tie the front, “This pillow talk is far removed from that.”

“You are no fool,” Aveline smiled and finished the rest of her drink, “It had to come to your thinking at least once. What does your Lord Amedee say...or your Mayor Andrew? I have spies just as much as you, and when you see a chance you take it. Is that not how your father won France?”

Arthur watched her as he moved to pour himself some ale. He drank it down quickly and then found her shift. Pulling his mantle from her shoulders, he tossed the garment to her and smiled in return, “You came here to ask me to kill a Prince of Scotland?”

With no dishonor in her nakedness, Aveline gave nod, “You want the Kaiser dead? Fine. Yet we have issues closer to home. What better way to prove our strength than to see our grandson as rightful King of Scotland?”

“You would murder your way through the entire House?”

Aveline stood and let her shift fall aside. She embraced him in her nudity and no shame at all, “Is that not what they do? Is that not what your father did in France? Tell me, husband...how are you different?”

​

 

[tpmcinty]

The Queen can certainly be ruthless and blunt when she wants something. With such a pairing as Arthur and Aveline you do not want to be in their way.

 

[stnylan]

Why is it I am left after reading this with the image of both of them imprisoned.

There might be something here that might have grown between them, but both imprisoned by their positions and their families ... little can grow on a concrete yard. As it is we get hints of might-have-beens, always clashing with the ever-present tension of the here and now.

 

[coz1]

Fb-fb:

The Queen can certainly be ruthless and blunt when she wants something. With such a pairing as Arthur and Aveline you do not want to be in their way.

This relationship is one of the largest reasons that I decided to go ahead with this latest book. After the love matches seen between the previous Kings and Queens (except for poor hapless Æthelric), this was definitely interesting. They just never got on but that did not stop her from wielding power (and other things as we see from the fact that they continue to have children) and eventually...well, I get ahead of myself. I don't really have a model for her but she is unlike any other female character I have written given her role and what she does with it.

Why is it I am left after reading this with the image of both of them imprisoned.

There might be something here that might have grown between them, but both imprisoned by their positions and their families ... little can grow on a concrete yard. As it is we get hints of might-have-beens, always clashing with the ever-present tension of the here and now.

That is a very interesting look at their dynamic. I suspect that if she never became Queen, theirs would have been a useless marriage in total. As it is, she has a power to play and she uses it. Arthur recognizes that and appreciates her role if not her person. Their back and forth is very interesting to write.


To all - Next update tomorrow. The new plots are starting to come into focus and you may begin to see where I am really headed here.

 

[Nikolai]

She is right you know, on an immoral, heartless way. And Arthur knows it. He is a weak king, yet strong, if that makes sense.

 

[Bullfilter]

Ah, the old Wessex game, but with a new murderer-by-marriage to help play it! Excellent. It seems a bit of a pity though for Gilbride, who seems to have a very high regard for Arthur, and likewise.

 

[coz1]

Fb-fb:

She is right you know, on an immoral, heartless way. And Arthur knows it. He is a weak king, yet strong, if that makes sense.

It makes perfect sense and I think that is right. He is strong but also new to the role. We could not expect him to become all-knowing and bloodthirsty right away. While I had do Arthur quite a lot during his reign, I did not like the idea that it all sprang from his mind alone. At times, he needed to be prodded. This is one of those times.

Ah, the old Wessex game, but with a new murderer-by-marriage to help play it! Excellent. It seems a bit of a pity though for Gilbride, who seems to have a very high regard for Arthur, and likewise.

High enough, but we all know that is fleeting in this game. A man takes chances when he can.


To all - next scene (or set of scenes) arrives in a moment. Thank you all for reading and your excellent comments!

 

[coz1]

​

The Song of Wessex​

* * *

Irish Sea - December 1297​

The icy sea spray misted over the sides and nearly froze on contact, but that did not stop King Arthur from standing near the bow of the cog awaiting sight of land. He was joined at his side by the trusted man Etienne de Pleshy and both shivered, though Arthur’s furs kept him a bit warmer than his former squire. If the younger wished to complain, it only showed in the chattering of his teeth, though a curse could be heard from time to time when he was splashed. After another dip in the waves, Etienne held tightly to the rail and caused the King to laugh.

“You may go below, Tienne,” Arthur grinned, “You need not stay here with me.”

Etienne did his best to halt his teeth with his answer, “I would stay with you, my liege. A sea going voyage at this time of year...who knows what may happen? I shall be there to protect you.”

“Little good it will do you if you have frozen to death, monsieur,” a voice called out from behind them and Lord Amedee moved next to the King, “If His Grace wishes to die in these God forsaken waters, there be no need for you to join him.”

Arthur turned to his Lord Marshal with a grin, “Yet here you be, my Lord. Care to wager which one of us drowns the first?”

Lord Amedee pulled his fur tight around his neck and returned the grin, “Your gold is no good with me, Your Grace. Besides...I would just waste it on some other folly.”

“You surprise me, Amedee,” Arthur laughed, “I had not thought you to be a hearty seafaring type.”

“I never was before,” the Duke replied, “Your channel taught me better. One gets used to it, yet do not tell that to Lord Thomas. He be below purging out his guts with the boy Anselm. I would not enter that tent were I you, Your Grace.”

Arthur smiled and looked ahead once more, “Tienne...why not go below and check on Ans and our good Lord Thomas? See which hell you like the better.”

Etienne was reticent to leave the King but made bow and did so. As the cog rocked on the waves, Lord Amedee moved closer, “So...what made you decide to risk this, my Lord King? The war is over with this so called King Fergus of Ulster and we might have held a ripe good time in Dublin with Earl Laurence. Wait out the winter and let these boys keep Irish beds warm.”

“Keep Irish lasses warm, you mean,” Arthur suggested with humor.

Amedee gave nod, “One and the same, monsieur. And I should freeze my baguette off here with you? You are a most gracious liege, sire...yet I value my piece as much as any man.”

“I received this just after meeting with Fergus,” Arthur produced a scroll from his sleeve, “It seems that my father was right. Many chances to fill a belly.”

​

Amedee was quick to read the scroll and handed it back with a simple question, “Dublin?”

“Where else?” Arthur said quickly, “I’ve not been back to England for over a year.”

“A delicate subject...” Amedee felt need to point out, “...yet are you sure that it is yours?”

Arthur showed a skewed brow, “I’ll know when I see him but entirely possible. My wife...Ava...she can be persuasive when she wants to be.”

“I’ve no doubt of that,” the French Duke gave nod, “And you didn’t know?”

“How could I?” the King answered, “We’ve been rather bloody minded over here, have we not? Been a bit tasked...and no letter came until now.”

Amedee shrugged, “Well...Eadward is a good name, at least. Keeps with your heritage. And no bad thing to have another son.”

“Sons...” Arthur replied and looked to the distance, “...now it is complicated.”

Pulling his furs tight, Amedee followed the King’s gaze, “You mean the succession.”

The King held tight to the rail with certainty, “Arthur will inherit France. We will figure that out. Yet now I have question both north and south.”

“You can always move back to elective,” Lord Amedee suggested, “Ancel would be trouble...always...but you have support in Bourbon and Dijon.”

“That is not my worry,” Arthur answered as he looked to his Duke, “My wife plays at something, and I...I’m not certain that I agree.”

Amedee returned the gaze with question, “You never did tell me what the two of you spoke of to Dublin. And she is but a Queen. What can she do?”

“Much and more, my Lord,” the King answered as he felt another cold spray hit his face, “Queen...the Duchess of Lancaster in her own right...now has control of my children since I have been gone. My Ava can find herself much mischief. She has the mind and the matter to make it so.”

The French Duke held a hand to Arthur’s arm, “What is it that she wants?”

“What doesn’t she want?” Arthur showed a slight grin, “Happy enough that I have been away...until she arrived. She cannot be happy that her cousin Mary finds failure against the Duke of Gloucester...”

“Is that still on?” Amedee asked.

Arthur shook his head, “Another letter...our Lord Payen tells me that Lord Arnoul won his struggle and revoked the lands from Countess Mary. A brief thing, and she is free of her jailer at the now...yet House Hayles is proud enough. My wife would take that personally.”

“So another reason to return to England,” Amedee agreed, “I suppose worth this.”

“Yet that is not all...” the King looked to the distance once more, “...I’m not nearly done. And I do not know if Ava is correct or no.”

Amedee grinned, “You mentioned north. You’re looking to Scotland, lad.”

“I suppose we both are,” Arthur gave nod, “My Prince is betrothed to the granddaughter of Queen Helen. And my wife...she has it in mind...”

When the King hesitated, Lord Amedee seemed to understand, “She is looking for a more permanent succession too, eh?”

“You’ve a keen mind, monsieur,” Arthur showed no grin.

“I helped your father,” Amedee was certain, “And I would follow you as well, lad. But it is a long line to go through. You have the Lord Marshal of Scotland, who has a son I believe...and then you’ve got the Prince Radulf. That is all assuming this match between little Arthur and his intended comes off without problem.”

Arthur kept his eye to the horizon, “I know how I got here, my Lord. I never thought I would have to make these decisions myself.”

“Mon dieu!” Amedee exclaimed, “What did you think being King meant? It is a cold world, Arthur. That means cold decisions. Harsh, but reality. I do not lose sleep over it. Neither should you. It is for the future...your future...your son’s.”

“You spoke of conquering from within...” Arthur looked to him with question, “...this is a way to do that. Yet what if I wish to conquer the right way?”

Amedee offered a laugh, “The right way? What is that? You win the battle or no. Honorably is desired, but...”

“You are a firm man, my Lord,” Arthur suggested with a stern eye.

“Oui!” Amedee only showed a grin, “And I survive because of it. That is why I serve you...and why you want me at the front of your armies. Tell me I am wrong.”

Arthur kept a keen eye to him for a time before answering, “You are not wrong. Yet...I think I could take Scotland for myself...the right way. This Queen Helen is up to her eyes with trouble. Moray...Galloway...The Isles. We’ve just been to Ireland and Connaught is right there for the taking!”

“There is no right way...” Amedee put a hand to his shoulder as the ship rocked, “...there is what works and what does not. I will follow you to hell, monsieur. Just make the right choice.”

​

* * *

Westminster, England – August 1298​

King Arthur listened with a smile as Lord Mayor Fulk went over the figures. Record numbers were pouring in from Bath and Stirling and the construction to both Melun and Westminster itself proceeded apace. The Lord Steward slammed his ledger shut with a thud and a grin as he finished, “There is not a one that complains, Your Grace and many fines gifts have been sent these last many months to congratulate you on the birth of young Prince Eadward.”

“That is all fine work, my Lord Mayor,” Arthur gave nod as he looked around the table, “For I think to use that good will in short time.”

“Your Grace,” Lord Payen questioned, “Do you mean to follow through with your plans for Connaught?”

Lord Amedee sat forward, “And why not, monsieur? The Scots Queen remains at war and though she makes some gains to Galloway, there remains trouble for her to her west.”

“Except, Your Grace...” the most recent Court Chaplain spoke up, “...there does remain the betrothal of young Prince Arthur to the Princess Maud.”

Arthur smiled to him, “They are not married yet, my Lord Bishop Gregory. Much can happen in the many years we wait. The girl may die...Queen Helen herself may break the agreement...we cannot know.”

Bishop Gregory sat tall with worry on his face, “Yet it is a promise made before God, Your Grace. Surely you do not mean...”

The Lord Mayor Andrew interrupted, “My spies tell me that trouble reigns supreme all over the north, my Lords...Your Grace. For all we know, this Scots Queen may be dead or dethroned within the year and the matter is rather moot.”

“Yet there were very few claims to be found in Strathearn at any rate, Your Grace,” Payen sat forward, “It is surely honorable to assist your man Dungal mac Congalach for his claim on Connaught, but his claim is tenuous at best and he remains lowborn.”

Arthur raised a brow at his Lord Chancellor, “I’ve no issue with a lowborn Earl as long as he serves me right and true.”

“Of course...” Lord Amedee suggested, “...there is the other fact that Moray has over seven thousand at siege in Connaught and they are not like to leave it over to us.”

The master of spies agreed, “Our Lord Marshal speaks it true, Your Grace. I am no martial man, but it is known that the highland chiefs of Moray are no friends to this Scots Queen. It would serve us naught to fight the both of them at once.”

“Growing squeamish on me, Lord Amedee,” Arthur grinned to his friend, “Disappointed that I sent Lord Theobald to deal with those rebels in Glamorgan?”

Amedee gently bowed his head, “Not at all, Your Grace. I have very much enjoyed my time to Stirling and the men there are ready for whatever it is that you wish. I was also overjoyed to hear that young Anslem earned his spurs in that battle. Perhaps a squire no more?”

“He begged and pleaded with me,” Arthur smiled, “I could not tell him no.”

Lord Payen was not amused with the close friendship between the King and the Lord Marshal and sat forward, “Yet we move off the point, Your Grace. If it is Ireland that you wish, I work tirelessly in Briefne. While cutting the island in half and blocking the Breton fools is a perfectly fine goal, the more we reduce these Irish chieftains, the more likely you are to gain your full and rightful prerogative over the entirety of Ireland.”

“You are not wrong, my Lord,” the King smiled as he looked to Payen before the others, “Which is why I have decided upon a different enemy at this time. The Lord Bishop may be pleased to know that it is Galloway and that breakaway Scots Duke that will feel our blades.”

Lord Mayor Fulk was no martial man either, but he put a finger to table, “Galloway is currently under siege by the very Scots, Your Grace. In truth, there are very few men of Duke Fergus left to fight their Queen. It is merely a revolt just as we have had to Glamorgan. If Queen Helen should win her struggle, does that not mean that our efforts are for no thing at all?”

“It is more than Glamorgan, my Lord Mayor,” Arthur suggested but conceded the fact, “Yet you speak it true enough. Which is why we shall have to fight lightening quick!”

“That is a very high risk, Your Grace,” the Lord Chancellor counseled.

Arthur allowed him a grin, “There is no reward without risk, my Lord Payen. My father took risks his entire life and looked what he achieved. Should I be any different?”

Not a man in the room was ready to say other even if they thought it and Lord Amedee quickly answered, “The men of Stirling are ready and willing, Your Grace. You need only give the word.”

“Good!” Arthur stood and looked to them, “And I do promise you all...we shall take Galloway within a year’s time. This Queen Helen cannot win her wars so quick as that and we shall take full advantage!”

As he bid them all good day, they stood and bowed. When they began to file from the room, one man remained seated and finally spoke when Lord Payen was himself ready to depart, “A word, my Lord?”

The Lord Chancellor turned to spy Mayor Andrew looking to him with curiosity. Holding tightly to his papers, he asked, “Is there something we missed in the meeting, my Lord Mayor?”

“Something unsaid...yes,” Andrew gave nod.

Payen skewed his brow, “Then you should speak up, for the King would hear it. We would all hear it.”

“I am unsure who knows of it,” Andrew stood and rounded his chair, “Do you Lord Chancellor?”

“As you are master of spies, I know you to be cagey, monsieur,” Payen frowned, “Yet I also care not for riddles so if you might speak plainly?”

Andrew looked down for a moment before looking back to him with a sure eye, “The plot...monsieur. What know you of that?”

“What plot?” Payen questioned.

“So he has not told you?” Andrew raised a brow, “That is a shame. It might have been beneficial for you to know when we speak of all things Scots within this chamber.”

Payen was growing irritated, “You have stopped me for a reason, Lord Mayor. Either speak it or allow me to be on my way!”

“I have indeed stopped you for a reason, my Lord,” Andrew showed a slight grin, “A thing that might benefit you greatly. You do not know it, but for some months now His Grace has instructed me on a plot against the Scottish royal House. One concerning the very Prince of Scotland...one Gilbride, son of Queen Helen.”

It was not terribly shocking, but Payen still showed anger at not knowing, “To what end?”

“His...my Lord,” Andrew stated plainly.

“I have some age on you, my Lord Mayor...” Payen offered a smugness, “...and you may not recall who was mon pere. Yet he was a Prince of France who, as rumor has it, assisted greatly with this House of Wessex in taking the throne of France. How it happened and why matters not terribly to me. That it happened makes me quite able to consider such another action. If our Prince Arthur is married to the daughter of the heir to Scotland...well, so much the better. You do not give me pause, monsieur.”

Andrew gave a gentle nod before offering reply, “It is not meant to...monsieur. I merely meant to gauge your interest.”

“So far, you have found it lacking,” Payen answered quickly.

“Ah!” Andrew now grinned, “But there is another piece to this puzzle. While a plot against Gilbride of Scotland is in the works, we both know that there is another that this King would rather see dead, do we not?”

“He wishes very few dead...” Payen answered with his curiosity now piqued, “...but yes. There is one.”

Andrew stepped closer, “And how much better would it be for you...for this crown...if this man found his last breath?”

“If I could find my way into Julich and do it myself, monsieur...I would!” Payen stated with no reservation.

“You may not need to,” Andrew offered a wider grin, “My ear grows hot from discontents and if true...”

“Why do you tell this to me, monsieur?” Payen questioned with impatience, “If it happens, excellent for His Grace. If it does not, then you have placed yourself too far to the edge.”

Andrew folded his arms into his robe, “I wish to make His Grace pleased. That is no doubt. Yet I am also Mayor of Compiegne and you are a great Lord of France. The King has had a young son named Eadward who, as it stands now, becomes King of France when this King dies. The loss of the Emperor creates great opportunity and I wish to give you fair warning. There is much that can be done. Let the King fight his Scottish wars...his Irish wars. I will be able to do little in Scotland while this happens. Yet elsewhere, I can do more...oh, so much more.”

Lord Payen stood back with a newfound respect, “I admit that you surprise me, my Lord Mayor. I had thought you a mere lackey. This, however, shows clear ambition.”

“I am nothing if not ambitious...my Lord,” Andrew showed a bow, “Shall I proceed?”

Payen offered a slight laugh, “You need not my permission. If you succeed, then you shall find your reward. If you fail...well...I would not be the one to punish you. Of that you can be assured. Bon chance, monsieur.”

As the Lord Chancellor moved from the chamber, the master of spies offered another bow and smiled. A war against Galloway was soon to begin and that should offer perfect chance for his plans. He was naught but a Lord Mayor from humble beginnings. It was a lot more fun to play with Kings and Emperors.

​

 

[Bullfilter]

The plotting heats up - even if the latest implied project is a little cryptic in its details. Just a technical question: you mention that young Edward is set to inherit France rather than Arthur - so how does that work? Is there still some form of gavelkind in operation, and how do the (currently three I think it is) kingdoms divide on succession?

 

[coz1]

The plotting heats up - even if the latest implied project is a little cryptic in its details. Just a technical question: you mention that young Edward is set to inherit France rather than Arthur - so how does that work? Is there still some form of gavelkind in operation, and how do the (currently three I think it is) kingdoms divide on succession?

A quick answer because it is important - England and Wales remain as they were with primogeniture. Prince Arthur inherits both.

France is more difficult because you may remember I moved to ultimogeniture in which the youngest inherits (though it is purely agnatic - only sons.) That switch was made to ensure that Arthur inherited France as well when Ælfstan died and while I have chance under Arthur to raise crown authority in France once more, it is still only to medium. I cannot move to primogeniture in France until I have high or above and Arthur cannot change those laws again. Thus, I am stuck with either Ultimo or back to Elective for the succession in France. This will become a bit of a subplot as we move forward. As it stand right now in the work, the new Prince Eadward is now in line for France should something happen to the King. Let's hope it doesn't (although the later year 1351 posts should give you a little hint.)

And yes, I kept the latest plotting a little cryptic. The plot on Gilbride is very much alive, but there does remain this other.

 

[tpmcinty]

Nice to see the age old Wessex tradition of plots and intrigue is alive and well and Scotland is in the crosshairs.