The Throne of Kings

[Desiderata]

Thanks to Tosa for setting up this post. Here is a story that I began yesterday; I would welcome your thoughts please and I hope you enjoy. Please note, this is my first attempt at a story and so its quite rough.

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I am the Throne of Kings.

I have seen an empire forged from the blood of men; I have seen plots, intrigue and deception on a grand scale, petty jealousies decide the fate of whole nations and then watched as unbridled ambition brought a once proud realm to its knees.

The fires from the Grand Banqueting Hall have spread to this Throne Room; bodies lie strewn across the floor, blood carpeting the tiles staining them crimson, tapestries that have not been stolen are ripped and crumpled. Soon this room and I will be engulfed. The threadbare cushions that lie on me are already becoming hot, as the furnace builds in its intensity. My owner headless body lies pinned against me; we will share the same fate. I can hear the screams of dying men, women and children, as the Moors that have laid this citadel to siege for 5 years run amok through its streets, stripping it of any wealth and jewels.

My story started many years ago as a tree. I was a tall oak in the forest, tended from a sapling by Nature, destined to become an Old Man of the Forest. My boughs spread wide giving refuge to birds and animals that sought shade from the non day sun, I brought forth food for the wild boar, watched deer be chased by men on horses. Then one day, three men with cattle with chain harnesses came, looked at my straight trunk and a brief word was passed:

"This will make a fine throne for our Lord." said the stockiest of them, with an air of authority "Once you have cut in down, take in to the carpenter - he has been told what is needed."

The other two men respectfully nodded and watched the receding back of the Chamberlain; looked at each other and laughed.

"Self-important idiot," quipped Jack "telling us something that we already know. Anyone could see that this tree is just right for what's needed"

"Yeah, like he's ever cut down anything other than vegetables in his entire life" said the other.

Jack and his friend were men made to cut down trees; their shoulders were broad, their hands easily gripped the shaft of the axe making them appear toys and the muscles of their back moved with an easy fluidity. They had the look of men who spent their lives outdoors; weather beaten faces, etched by winds and rain, brown faces and sun bleached hair. Swinging their axes high, the first struck sending a vicious shudder through my entire length and then the other fell. They beat out a slow steady beat, each blow cutting deeper, sending shards of wood spinning in the air. I could nothing but watch, as the sweat glistened on their arms and the splinters fell all around.

"Eh bugger, this is tough one Dave - like he's made out of stone" gasped Jack. His friend, put down his axe and laughed, "You getting old; come on Granddad, the exercise will do you good." Dave pulled back his axe and set to the task once again, the beat of the axes heard far and wide. I could feel that the weight of canopy was pulling me towards them; it would not be long and my dreams of becoming the Leviathan of the Forest would be no longer.
As another swing of the axe foretells a sickening cracking, I start to fall. That first moment seems to last an eternity, but as movement speeds up, the ground rushes up to greet me as the men shout. In a hearts' beat I have come to rest on the forest floor; there is a sudden stillness, as the forest takes a moment to mourn another felled tree. Soon, the normal sounds resume. As I am dragged from the forest by the cattle, with Jack and Dave urging them on, one though occupies my mind - what on earth is a throne?
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For months the carpenter shapes the once proud oak in to a glorified chair. Elaborate carvings adorn it from the lion's feet, to shields of the four provinces that make up the kingdom on its side, mythic creatures to emphasise the magic of divine kingship and a sword to remind all how this particular king came to power. The Chamberlain is a continual visitor, overseeing and supervising any and all parts of the Thrones construction; his complete lack of knowledge, skill or ability not proving an obstacle in this. The poor Master Joiner dreading the visits that mean another change, another helpful suggestion, another headache; a typical visit lasting three hours, meaning yet more intricate carvings and all on the same low priced demanded by the Chamberlain.

"Sir, I could carve dragon wings on the back on the Throne; if that is what you desire. But, wouldn't it, well be pointless?" asked the Master Joiner despairingly "After all, the only people who might see the back are the serving wenches, our King?s dogs and the back wall of the new Throne room"

The Chamberlain stopped in mid-thought and blinked "Do you not think that the majesty of our Kings should be reflected at every angle? Do you think he is not worthy of a Throne that would the envy of the civilised world"?

"Why but of course," the Master Joiner "but as dragons are the emblem of the Welsh and therefore, not particularly civilised, I would have thought that our King would have preferred something more regal. Perhaps an eagle?"
"A bird? Wait, you're a genius - of course, it will bring to mind the glory that was Rome, it will set our king amongst the pantheon of the empires of antiquity" beamed the Chamberlain.

"Yes sir it will do all that" said the Master Joiner, whilst thinking to himself that the Chamberlain used far too many long words that only he knew the meaning of and that if he agreed to whatever the Chamberlain was saying, would probably get the silly idiot out of his workshop so that he could get on with his work. Behind him, his apprentices sniggered amongst themselves at the obvious discomfort of their master. They had been running a book for the last two weeks on how many swear words the Master Joiner would use after each visit of the Chamberlain. So far the record was 36 and some words had to be checked as they weren't sure if the Old Man had made them up.

And so the Throne took shape, the Master Joiner and the Chamberlain were both pleased and it was handed over to Elijah Rosenberg. The old Jew produced without doubt the finest gilding and jewel encrusted pieces in the whole of Christendom; in fact, he wasn't averse to making a few bob on the side for the local monastery by knocking out the odd relic or two. Still, if another holy grail kept them happy, what the heck. Elijah started work in the winter of 1087, it took many hours of squinting, rubbing and gluing before the Throne was ready.
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I remember that the carving took only half as long as the work by Elijah and his hands were certainly more careful than those dull witted apprentices. I think of all the people I've known, Elijah has been on of the very few to speak to me. As he gilded me with gold, set in jewels and polished he would talk to me of the people in the town. The blacksmith who was appeared all man, but preferred all men; the Constable who solidly went about punishing those the Mayor said had committed crimes, but had really refused to bribe him; the Abbot who spoke of the fires of Hell and scared people in to believing and finally, of the King. A man who had brought his lands together by sheer force of will and of the sword; a relatively young man of 30 who spoke little, but when he did you made damn sure you listened. So it was to this person that I was brought in the Spring of 1088 by the Chamberlain. He had had the audacity of visiting Elijah once, only to find a man who didn't just think he was smart but knew he was as well. The poor Chamberlain left in such a confused state, not knowing if he had driven a good bargain or not and it had started out so well for him.

"I would of course like to pay you 250 florins for the chair straight away, but the Treasurer is a little tight after building all those watchtowers." stated the Chamberlain "So we'll have to agree to 100 florins now and 150 on delivery"

"You could of course my lord" Elijah said as he hunched over the workbench, working on another jewel "but there may be another way that could be cheaper for you"

Now the idea of saving money always brought out extra interest in the Chamberlain, who demurred, "Really, please do go on"

Elijah sighed, lay down the jewellers pick in his hand and stretched his back. I had seen this before and it was sign that the person who he was speaking to was just about to get fleeced and probably not know it.

"It works like this. I do all the gilding and jewellery on the Throne and then pass it on to you. I'll also make sure that any upkeep, maintenance or other work to keep it in tip top condition. For this, you pay me 25 florins now and then every year you pay me or my sons' 25 florins to maintain the Throne for the next 25 years. My sons will be taking over the business when I retire, which will be quite soon. My eyesight's failing and my hands aren't as steady." As if on cue, Elijah's hands started a mild tremor which was only stopped by thrusting them deep in his pockets.

"How does that work out cheaper?" enquired the Chamberlain. The idea seemed good enough; he could agree and then just have the old man bumped off.

"Well, imagine that this falls off," as he says this, Elijah points to a large ruby on the leg of the Throne "for me or my lads to come and fix that would normally cost upwards of 100 florins. This way, it wouldn't cost anything more than just the expenses of getting to the castle, say 20 shillings, food at say 2 shillings, our hourly rate of 10 shillings, materials, tools, equipment all at say 10 shillings. So you see, it's a lot cheaper my way, than your proposed method my Lord." As Elijah spoke he punctuated each point with stab of his finger in to the palm of his other hand. It was clear that the Chamberlain was lost, but didn't want to appear a fool in front of the old man, in which he failed miserably.

"So it's cheaper for me then, going your way?" asked the Chamberlain trying to fight his way through a fog of miscomprehension.

"Yes my lord, much cheaper" said Elijah in a way that reminded me of a fox tracking a squirrel.

"Ah but I have a problem with this, the acribes always demand immediate payment, so that the books can balance and they would not have a book in to which this would nicely fall." remarked the Chamberlain.

"Well, if it's a problem over a name for the purchase my Lord; why don't you call it something fancy and meaningless, that should satisfy them." said Elijah, sensing that he was near to sealing the issue.

With exasperation of countless years of dealing with pedantic scribes the Chamberlain sighed, "But what would suffice?"

"How about Private Finance Iniative, or PFI for short?" Elijah said.

"Excellent! Capital! Brilliant! They love acronyms and the more esoteric the better" said the Chamberlain happily.

And so the deal was done and after the Chamberlain left, Elijah let out a sigh and checked that he could not be overheard. Turning back to apply a large red ruby, he said "Well my old fancy chair, it will take some time for that putz to realise that he's been fleeced? Do you know chair there are so many ways to make money out this; replacing a red ruby here with blood glass, using donkey glue instead of finest horse glue and a viola, out pops a jewel for my sons to replace. Ahh, we shall grow rich and everyone will know the name of the Elijah Murdoch." And so Elijah worked on, day and night to create a seat for a king, that would give him and his sons lots of opportunity to make money.

Eventually the day arrived that Elijah passed me over to the Chamberlain or nincompoop as Elijah had lately called him; which on reflection was a great improvement on the profanities the Master Joiner would hurl at back the disappearing Chamberlain. I was taken from Elijah's workshop wrapped in blanket and guarded until arrived in the Throne Room. Apparently I was to be a surprise for the King; if I were, it was the worst planned operation of its day. Servants manhandled me throughout the castle, screaming "Make way for the Kings new Throne", soldiers bellowing for others to get out of the way and in the middle, the Chamberlain; thrilled with his gift, angry at the commotion, basking in the centre of attention. Eventually, I was placed on the dais and moved into position, which given the Chamberlain's tendency to have everything 'just so', meant a great deal of soft swearing and sweating by the servants. At last, I was in the right position and the Chamberlain felt he had timed it perfectly for the sun to be on me through the window just as the King would arrive and so he slinked off to get the King. Who apparently refused to come, as he was busy. The Chamberlain flounced like a petulant child, until the King finally demurred and came out of his Mistress's bedchamber - to much tittering from the servants.

Now let me set the scene for you. The Throne Room in the old castle was not as big as the Throne Room in the later citadel, but even the forest did not feel as tall or as wide as this room. Columns supported a vaulted ceiling, with gargoyles and statues, a few tapestries of local and imported cloth hung on the wall and in one corner, hung a particular tapestry that always reminded me of home. It was of battle scene, but to me that was incidental; on one side a forest was depicted. A proud, mature forest of oak and beech. A stag could be seen peering through the trees watching the battle unfolding before it. Seeing it always made me sad, but also happy. I was not to be Leviathan of the Forest, but perhaps an Emperor may rest his weary body on me in time.

So eventually, the King arrived with fanfares, bowing and curtsies. He was a tall man, broad with sandy hair, proud eyes and languid movements; a warrior with a supple and muscular body. He acknowledged the throng of people, said hello to old friends and grunted at the Chamberlain who brought up to the dais and had him sit down.

He sat for a very short time, then stood and said "It's too bloody uncomfortable - it needs cushions". The Chamberlain sagged as though a bladder of wine had been hit by an arrow. So this was to be my Lord and Master? A man who had come through battles only to be worried about the comfort of his rear end?

[zelda12]

Interesting, you describe the people and places well.

[Ludens]

This must be the most interesting point of view I have ever seen in a story in the Mead Hall. I really look forward to reading what a tree would think of petty human squabbles. Also nice that the tree focusses on things that are important to him (her?): the preference for a tapestry with a forest is a good start, I'd like to see more of that.

Unfortunatly, the story is marred by a number of grammatical errors. For example: at one point you switch from the past tense to the present one and back again. Also, the puntuaction of the dialogue is not correct. I have written a short guide on how to do this, perhaps you might find it useful: The Punctuation of Dialogue (https://forums.totalwar.org/vb/showthread.php?t=35723).

Also, in what style do you want to write it? The opening, about "plots, intrigue and deception on a grand scale, petty jealousies decide the fate of whole nations and unbridled ambition that brought a once proud realm to its knees" seems to be in a 'grand' style, but the rest of the story is pretty down-to-earth. Not that it is bad, but which style are you planning to use?

Anyway, good story, inventive point-of-view, I am looking forward to reading more.

[frogbeastegg]

I'm not much good at comments, so I'll just echo what the others have said; very good, with a unique POV.

[Desiderata]

Thank you for your comments and Ill try and get the next part done over the next 2 to 4 days. The style does change and this really reflects the emotional state of the Throne twoards that which he is reflecting on - homely and less formal when speaking about the forest and it's making; increasingly formal and pompose as the story develops in the Throneroom.

Ludens - thanks for the advice about tense and grammar; Im not going to get too hung up about it as our spoken and thought style is rarelt grammatically perfect. For example, Steve Redgrave's autobiography contains many speling mistakes - he is dsylexic after all.

I also have to say mea culpa - the approach isn't unique cf CS Lewis's book The Gun

[Desiderata]

In those first few years I saw a world quite unlike that of the Forest, where its inhabitants had two main preoccupations; finding food to eat and making sure that they weren’t food for some other animal. The King and his Chamberlain were very concerned in the security of the kingdom; he had only come to the Throne recently and his father had left a land that needed to be able to bring it’s disparate parts together, to secure its borders and defend itself. But all this took money and that was one thing that they did not have in abundance. The first King was an impatient man more comfortable on the battlefield than in the Throne Room, the Chamberlain was an intensely loyal person who had been a captain in the old King’s army. As a look back on my time, I can now understand that these two men whilst not particularly astute when it came to money knew enough that they could not build castles without it.

“Well let’s put up the taxes across the Kingdom?” suggested the King.

“We could do My Lord; however, there are at least two provincial governors who I wouldn’t trust. They could well see them use the excuse to declare independence and set up their own fiefdom.” said the Chamberlain.

Both men were sat at a large table below me, on the table was spread a map of the kingdom with rivers, seas and mountains. The map was held down by two tankards of mead that the men were drinking from, a dagger in one corner and a stone in another. It was a bright morning early in the year, I could feel the sap rising ready for the new growth that would never now come and the wind through the high open windows had a freshness to it. The Chamberlain was dressed (as he always was) in his finest clothes, wearing his chain of office and his face was a study of concentration. The King was dressed in a more simple style, his crown lying on the map absently discarded with a toss of the wrist. They had been discussing how to raise the money for the buildings that they wanted in each province, but so far the total money for these improvements, with the cost of training new garrisons and the upkeep of the existing army meant that the Exchequer would be borrowing money. Not a situation that pleased the King or Chamberlain, as the nobles from whom they normally borrowed were not possessed of bottomless purses.

“Hmm, I agree but what else could we do? We could try and encourage local trade by building ports in the most prosperous regions, but I would trust the governors of the regions only so far as I could kick the rotting corpse of my enemy. They would either fleece me or sell out to my enemy. We could try and build up the farming in the other regions, but I am told that the money raised year on year would not match the cost of the improvements for some years. Bugger” ruminated the King. A frown of concentration was building on his forehead, as he rubbed his head with his free hand and lifted the mead to his lips with the other.

“Well, if I maybe so bold as to offer advice your Sire” began the Chamberlain only to be cut-off by a swift cutting motion of the Kings free hand.

“Look George, you above all I trust. You were a good advisor to my father and an able general. Speak man; clearly, honestly and openly.” The King said with warm affection and authority.

“Certainly Sire. We are both fighting men; I was given this position by your father, may he rest in peace, because I proved myself in many battles bringing rebels together under the crown and because I am very good at working out what a person really means when they are speaking. I wasn’t given this position because I knew about finances.” began the Chamberlain, “But I know one man, whose ability with money and numbers is as good as mine is in reading people.”

“So who is this paragon of counting?” quipped the King

“It is Hugh D’ Gascoigne, my liege” said the Chamberlain.

“That man is the least loyal of all my Governors; he’s mother was a French whore who beguiled an honest Norman.” spat the King “Give me one good reason why I should have anything to do with that snake?”

“I’ll give you more than one reason Sire. One, if he’s here he can hardly cause trouble in his province; a case of keeping your friends closer by your enemies closer still. Two, his mother was a cousin to the crown and he has contacts in to the French court that could prove useful, if he can be controlled. Three, the man is intensely loyal, but only to two things – Hugh D’ Gascoigne and money; to really be able to build his personal wealth, he must be in a position where money flows in and out – looking after the Exchequer would be a very appropriate place for him. Four, aside from his penchant with figures, Hugh also has a voracious appetite for sex and has a leaning towards young squires. It is one of the controls that I have over him that has bought his loyalty over the years. He dare not have this made public, otherwise he would lose all credibility and could well end up very much the worse.” explained the Chamberlain.

The King was stunned, a smile crept across his face and soon his body was shaking with laughter, “You old rogue, I’d swear that half the time this kingdom is kept together only by threat of violence or blackmail!”

“Only half the time Sire?” said the Chamberlain quietly “But what of the suggestion?”

The King began to compose himself and as his laughter subsided he stood and stretched. The powerful muscles of his legs and arms stretched taunt like a cat.

“Let me think on it for awhile; I know that a decision has to be made, but I need to weigh up the idea in my mind” said the King.

“Of course my liege. There are some other affairs we need to address Sire and they are delicate.” said the Chamberlain, the last part more timidly than he had spoken all morning.

“I know; a wife. The need for an heir is pressing, alliances through marriage are very useful and the company at night can be diverting blah blah blah – Look George, I know all this; but who? The French? They are arrogant and think that all of Europe is their personal property. The Danes? Upstart descendents from the Vikings, with no influence and even poorer than we are. The Italians? About as trustworthy and dependable as Judas; although I have heard that one princess Maigret is a complete knockout. The Aragonese? They have designs on our lands in the south but are less useful to use than the Danes are. The Spanish? Who have beautiful daughters who pray all night and make you insane with desire? Or a princess from the Holy Roman Empire? Have you seen the daughter that the Holy Roman Emperor has produced? You know, she was skulking around here earlier this year. Oh what’s her name? Princess Ingar!! She turned milk sour and scared the children of the court. I’d far rather sleep with a goat!”

“Sire, please think of this marriage not in terms of attraction, but of state-hood. Marriage with the right royal line, can lead to useful things and bolster our position. Anyway, Princess Ingar was not that unattractive; she had an air about her that said something I though” mused the Chamberlain.

“Damn right it did – my mother was an ogre and my father was drunk” said the King warming to his diatribe.

The Chamberlain remained quiet as the King chortled and muttered another obscenity under his breath. Soon he looked up and peered at the very quiet Chamberlain.

“George, what have you done?”

The Chamberlain shifted and squirmed in his seat “The affairs of state cannot allow the affairs of the heart or the eyes to dominate Sire”

“George, what have you done?” repeated the King.

“It is for the good of the realm Sire” as the Chamberlain spoke it was as though he was trying to disappear in to his seat to avoid the gaze and building fury of his master.

“George, what the blue blazes have you done?” said the King quietly but menacingly.

“I agreed an alliance with the Holy Roman Emperor as you directed and also agreed to the marriage of Princess Ingar to the King, with a dowry of 2000 florins with the blessing of the Holy Father the Pope that the crown of the Holy Roman Empire and the crown of England may be forever forged together in peace and brotherly love” blurted the Chamberlain in one quick sentence.

The King sat and his shoulders sagged “Oh. Bugger. The Pope’s blessing you say? Bugger. Couldn’t you at least’ve tried for that dark Italian filly, damn she’s a knockout from what I’ve heard. Oh sod it. Look George I knew you were up to something, I’m not a complete fool. A marriage to the Holy Roman Empire is a good thing; it will hold France check and their women have a tendency to be able to produce sprogs every time they lift their petticoats. Old friend, I am not angry. Let’s get this marriage thing done, pop out a few heirs or two and then I can get back to other things, like hunting and feasting.”

The attitude of the King and the Chamberlain was not so far removed from that I had seen displayed by the animals in the Forest. What marriage was I didn’t know then, but the idea of having offspring was one I had seen before; where the strongest and fittest got to mate with the most fertile, here it was writ large. Kingdoms mating with kingdoms. It was the beginning of my education in statehood.

[Ludens]

Ludens - thanks for the advice about tense and grammar; Im not going to get too hung up about it as our spoken and thought style is rarelt grammatically perfect. For example, Steve Redgrave's autobiography contains many speling mistakes - he is dsylexic after all.
Did you do this on purpose?

[Desiderata]

Did you do this on purpose?

oops sorry ~:doh: If I offended anyone reading my post, I apologise unreservedly.

[Ludens]

oops sorry ~:doh: If I offended anyone reading my post, I apologise unreservedly.
I am not offended, and in fact I agree wholeheartedly with the sentiment that good dialogue does not have to agree with the rules of grammar, but if you have three spelling errors in once sentence it seems more a case of laziness.

Put it like this: if you do not think your post worth the effort of giving it a quick spelling and grammar check, why should others think it worth the effort of replying?

Anyway, good to see you doing your best on the story, and looking forward to part three.
~:wave:

Edit: D'oh! Laziness, not lazyness :embarrassed :

[frogbeastegg]

Princess Ingar sounds delightful :tongueg:

The topic of spelling and grammar has arisen several times, perhaps it would make a good addition to your technical topic, Ludens? Then it would be stored safely in one place and new writers could look at the various viewpoints with less difficulty. It was certainly a topic that intimidated me waaaay back when I started writing a year ago.

I always try to get spelling and grammar spot on; I consider it a real achievement if I do. I'm dyslexic and it has been a year long struggle to get even the basics right; only now am I beginning to feel comfortable with bending the rules when it suits my work.

[Desiderata]

I think that I often rely too heavily on MS Word to point out my spelling and grammatical mistakes - The Throne is written in that package and its having a complete field day with slang!!!

[Desiderata]

The wedding was agreed to by the Holy Roman Emperor and so the planning and preparations began, including a new throne to be placed on the dais next to me. The preparations took many months and as I had never witnessed nor indeed knew exactly what a wedding was, I was particularly interested. My initial thoughts were, that a wedding was some kind of agreement between two countries as there were endless discussions about money, what was agreeable and what was not, who would get what title and so on. It all seemed very clinical.

One month before the wedding day, Princess Inga arrived in the castle with her handmaidens; although calling some ‘maidens’ was pushing that definition to breaking point. Of the twelve that accompanied her, at least eight were by far the most mature looking maidens I had seen in my short time in the court. In fact, two looked as they had been felling trees their entire lives so broad were the shoulders and large their hands. Their arrival was marked with a celebratory feast that lasted seven days! Such was the importance placed by the Chamberlain on making sure that the event was marked appropriately; but in doing so the preparations sent the Chamberlain in to an apoplexy of hand wringing, whilst the King sat blithely by, hunting, carousing and generally letting the whole affair blow over him. Whilst the Chamberlain was concerned that everything was “just so”, the King was completely underwhelmed by the whole affair. A typical exchange went something like this:

“Now my Liege, for the main feast when the Princess arrives we will have roast quail, turtledoves and partridge, goose, venison, roasted boar, gilded and slivered calves' heads, fish, roasted peacock, mutton, cheeses, walnuts, fresh fruits, oysters steamed in almond milk, ale-flavored bread, stewed cabbage, tarts and custards, fresh fruit preserves and spicy mulled wine. Will that suffice or do you think we should have some other meats as well?” mused the Chamberlain.

The King lazily scratched his throat and grunted. The Chamberlain’s looked up from his parchment that he was squinting at. It was obvious that the King was bored and uninterested.

“Sire, perhaps we should include some other roast meats?” asked the Chamberlain, hoping to elicit a response from the King, who was staring in to space and did not respond.

“Sire?” pleaded the Chamberlain.

The King shifted his position on the cushion and swung a leg over my arm, “You know old friend, that forest by Adney’s old castle is chock full of deer – I might go up and visit him and hunt for a few days.”

The Chamberlain’s bottom lip parted company with it’s partner as his chin fell, “My Lord, do we not have the tiny detail of wedding to arrange?” he pleaded.

“Pish George. You have a wedding to arrange; that’s the easy part. I’m the poor bugger that has to consummate it on the night.” the King stated devilishly.

“My Liege is making fun of me. To consummate the marriage with the fair Princess Inga, twil be a pleasure surely Sire? Does she not have hair like golden strands? Skin of the purest ivory?”

“Aye; and shoulders like a ox, eyes like a stagnant mill pond and teeth that would grace any castle wall!” said the King, cutting in on the Chamberlain “Sorry, you muttering something about the feast – now that does interest me. So what do we have planned?”

The Chamberlain hurriedly picked up his parchment and squinted at it once again “We have the Princess arriving in two days time. Her arrival will be marked with a feast that evening and the celebrations will go on for seven days. We have lots of different roasted meats, fish and fowl, fruits, wines and delicacies from around the world”

“Good; let’s hope that she knows in which hand to hold her knife then” said the King “Now back to Alney’s forest.” the Chamberlains shoulders sagged and he had the look of a man who realised that he had had his two minutes of the King’s attention.

So the day of the Princess’s arrival came. The Throne Room was full of the great and the good of the Kingdom. Every provincial governor was in attendance, whispering in corners, moving around the crowd and speaking behind hands. There were nobles from every part of the kingdom, visiting emissaries from other Kingdoms with expressionless faces but eyes that drank in information, traders who had grown richer under the hand of Hugh D’ Gascoigne and the Chamberlain, a picture of nervous energy; darting between groups, checking last minute details, waving to old friends, nodding at old enemies, a fireball of motion. Flags for every province were lazily moving in the breeze, attached to the poles set in to the walls near the ceiling. The servants had spent the morning washing and polishing the tiles until a look would slide off them. I was dressed with the finest cushions and a new smaller throne sat beside me on the dais, also bedecked with cushions. An expectant air hung in the room like mist. Then there was a movement by the Kings door, the trumpets blared and in strode the King. He was dressed in his finest ermine, his hands bedecked with rings and jewels and on his head the crown. It was an astonishingly simple affair; made with Welsh gold and studded with only a few jewels to signify the different parts of his kingdom. The nobles, governors and all dropped to one knee until the King lazily waved a hand and they rose to resume their quiet conversations. The Chamberlain extracted himself from what ever group he had been with and scurried over to the dais.

“Sire, the Princess has arrived, bathed and will be here shortly,” said the Chamberlain “and if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I must speak a word or two to the emissary from Doge Vitalle?” The King flicked his hand and the Chamberlain hurried off.

After a little while, he returned “So where on earth has this woman got to?” demanded the King, quite bored now with the whole charade.

“Unfortunately Sire, it is quite common for ladies of the continent to increase the anticipation of their menfolk, by arriving a little late. It may be a case of hurry up and wait Sire” said the Chamberlain apologetically.

The King grunted, “Then you could at least get me a cup of wine”

The Chamberlain gestured to a servant and the cup appeared in the King’s hand almost by magic. Time passed slowly with the King getting increasingly irritated and the Chamberlain more anxious.

Suddenly, there was a fanfare and the double doors to the Throne Room were opened. As they did, the crowd parted and respectfully bowed or curtsied. The King remained in his seat, but I’m sure I could hear him whisper under his breathe “Suck it in Will, remember you’re a king not a knight on the battlefield”.

The Princess and her retinue arrived at the foot of the dais and curtsied. The Princess stood apart and was wearing a gown of blue, interlaced with yellow and white trimmings and veil that hid her face. Her hands were clasped in front of her and even I could see they were shaking from where I was. The King stood and bowed. Pleasantries were exchanged in fluent French; on the journey, the state of the Emperor’s health and on the suitability of the apartments for the Princess.

The King stepped down from the dais and gallantly said “Let me take you by the hand and help you to your throne, so that you can see everyone and everyone can bask in your beauty.”

The Princess offered her hand and the King gently grasped it, guiding her to the other throne he asked, “My court would be blessed if you would lift your veil; so that they may catch a glimpse of their future queen.”

“Of course my Lord” said the Queen-to-be. And indicating with her hand, one of her maidens came forward (if I remember correctly, Lumberjack number 1) and lifted off the veil. The Princess shyly turned to look at the King and as she did so, I felt the King stiffen and then sit straighter.

“Ah. Yes. Well. Ah. Um. Ah you see I’m a little confused; sorry, are you not Princess Inga?” asked the King clearly confused, for sat beside and slightly below him, was a young women unlike the Princess Inga that had visited earlier that year. This woman had golden hair, eyes the colour of the summer sky at midday, a small and delicate chin and lips that curved languidly with the slightest hint of a pout. She bore no resemblance to the Princess that had visited from the Holy Roman Empire earlier that year.

“I am my Lord. But my name often causes confusion as I share it with my elder sister. Although the pronunciation is different; my name is pronounced ‘in-gah’ whilst my sister’s name is pronounced ‘en-ger’.” Explained the Princess.

“However, we are very rarely confused by sight my Lord.” She added with the suggestion of a smile.

“I should coco” said the King breezily and waved his hand for the festivities to begin. Seven days of feasting, with food, wines, cheeses and fruit. Contortionists, jugglers, musicians and troubadours played each evening. It was my first experience of a feast and it was lively, especially as the Queen-to-be was able to match the King cup for cup in wine drinking.

Throughout it all, servants cleaned, scrubbed, cooked and served just as the ants in the Forest, whilst the nobles and emissaries like wolves and foxes prowled the Throne Room and the Chamberlain watched and noted, often sharing a look with the King. I came to understand that this Chamberlain was not the fool everyone thought he was and that the festivities gave him an opportunity to watch people whilst their defences became impaired. That there was more to this man than just an able general.

[zelda12]

Very good.

I would of liked, en-geh to have married the king. Nice to see a king that wakes in the morning and starts banging his head against the wall in his misery of a smart domineering women who demands his presense every night. ~:joker:

[Desiderata]

Very good.

I would of liked, en-geh to have married the king. Nice to see a king that wakes in the morning and starts banging his head against the wall in his misery of a smart domineering women who demands his presense every night. ~:joker:

Thank you for your thoughts - :bow: - I did think about that as a possibility, but I felt that having a beautiful and smart queen opens up other possibilities for the plot. In-gah is also a tribute to my partner - a beautiful and intelligent woman; ok, Im sloppy.

[DemonArchangel]

the King must have a beer belly

"Suck it in Will, suck it in"

[Desiderata]

the King must have a beer belly

"Suck it in Will, suck it in"

ha ha ha like it - a king gone to seed!! ~:joker:

[Desiderata]

I remember it was very late one evening when the King and the Chamberlain both came to the Throne Room. The King had been married for just over a month and the celebrations had lasted 2 weeks, which seemed an inordinately long time to drink and eat. During the whole time, the Chamberlain had watched over the court like an eagle.

“My Lord, thank you for agreeing to meet with me at a time, when I am sure you would rather by elsewhere.” said the Chamberlain softly.

“It’s fine George; but if we can get this over and done with as soon as possible. I have a warm bed waiting for me.” replied the King, yawning and stretching “What is it that demands that we meet at this ungodly time of night?”

“Of course Sire. We have a problem with Lord Gilbert.” announced the Chamberlain.

The King stopped in mid-stretch, his arms still high above his head and looked the Chamberlain straight in the face, “What kind of problem?”

“I have had him watched and I’ve personally observed him during the feasting. At night he had regular meetings with the emissary from Arragon, but during the day they hardly spoke a single word together.” explained the Chamberlain “This led me to wonder why they should act like this. So I did some checking around. Gilbert is badly in debt; he has gambling problem that he tries and fails to keep in check and this is becoming a problem. I’d like to call Hugh, he’s been doing some digging around in his returns and has uncovered something.”

“Hmmm, are you sure that Hugh can be trusted?” asked the King

The Chamberlain lent back in his chair and looked earnestly at the King, “Sire, as you know the Exchequer has grown well with Hugh’s guiding hand and he has shown himself to be a man whose loyalty to you and the Kingdom has become a matter of regard for other nobles.”

“This much is true; your counsel in choosing him for the post was wise old friend. Bring him in.”

The Chamberlain stood and moved over to the door, opening it slightly he whispered to a guard outside and in a short time the Chancellor came in carrying several very large ledgers, which he set down on the table after bowing deeply to the King.

The Chamberlain nodded to the Chancellor and indicated that he should speak.

The Chancellor opened the two ledgers in front of him with a flourish of his hands “My Liege, it would appear as though Lord Gilbert’s returns are mystical indeed. I have here the ledgers of money he has used and money he has received. The latter, his purchase ledger and the former his sales ledger. Now..”

“Hugh, spare me the minutiae of the exact names for this and that and save me from any long convoluted explanation of the monies. My brain is not equipped to deal with that; it was after all, why you were given the job.” cut in the King.

“As you command” the Chancellor bowed, almost scrapping his forehead on the table “But to have some understanding of the problem, a little explanation is required.”

“Oh god I though you might say that. Ok, but keep it simple and above all, short.” The King protested.

“Certainly Sire. As I was saying this red ledger here is for money received from taxes, tributes, etc for the province and this black ledger is for money spent on such things as improvements, wages, bribes to officials and so forth” the Chancellor was beginning to warm to his theme as the Chamberlain cut in.

“You mean we record bribes? Isn’t that, well, a bit bloody stupid?”

A benign smile slinked its way across the Chancellor’s face, “It would be George, if we wrote down ‘bribe to gatekeeper of Florence castle’, but of course we don’t. We record those as campaign expenses or some such. Now my Liege, we know who much money was in the treasurer of each province at the beginning of the year, we know how much money was spent and how much money was received and at the end of the year the books should balance.”

“And do they?” asked the King, clearly bored with the topic already.

“Yes Sire and that’s very unusual.” The Chancellor said with an air of finality.

The King and the Chamberlain looked blankly at each other, clearly bemused and befuddled.

“Why?” they asked in unison.

The Chancellor’s smile now threatened to split his head in two, “My Lords; the borders of our great country are secure, as are the towns within. However, there are many areas within where traders are loath to go. Lawlessness and crime are so high in some areas, that merchants use the services of private armies to protect their stock and wealth. Farmers continually underestimate the amount of stock that they have and how much their crops will yield in any given harvest. Dock workers are often bribed to underwrite the value of items going in and out of ships, to avoid taxes and duties. Traders and artisans are like bloated leeches on the body of the state, sucking money out and producing inferior goods all the time. A prime example Sire, if I may be so bold, is your throne.”

The King immediately sat straighter and the Chamberlain’s eyes nearly landed on his lap he was so surprised by the sheer audacity.

The Chancellor felt sufficiently emboldened to go, “The old Jew has basically screwed you. The Throne would have cost 250 florins had you paid straight away; however, we are committed to a contract that will last in perpetuity and likely as not cost many more times than that. It is symptomatic of corruption across the kingdom Sire and means that provincial ledgers rarely balance one year to the next. So to have a province with returns that do balance, indicates a governor clever enough to be able to take money, but not so clever as to make sure that his tracks are covered.”

The Chamberlain’s face had become crimson and thunderous clouds had gathered over the Kings head. The throne room fell quiet for some minutes, as each were lost in their thoughts; the King no doubt thinking through his best options for removing the embezzling Gilbert and the Chamberlain of various torture methods that could be used on the old jeweler.

“Options?” the King commanded in a voice laden with dread and portent.

It was Hugh D’ Gascoigne who spoke first, quietly and assertively “We have a number of options Sire. We could try the man for treason, have him met an accident, send him on a suicide mission against another country, for example the Almohad or we could bring him here for discussions over the exact nature of his embezzlement. Of course, his tongue would need to be loosened by judicious use of the rack. Each has option has its pros and cons. He is well respected and a trial would be difficult to find a case for treason, but it would send a clear message of the strength of the Crown. An accident would appear too convenient and may cause discontent within his province; his men are very loyal to him. A suicide mission opens the possibility of open conflict against a much stronger army, which we could neither afford to maintain an army required and would impact on our very profitable trade. A discussion here would prompt questions to be asked in the outlying provinces and the governors may decide that their fate would be better served within the purview of another nation Sire.”

“George, what are your thoughts?” the King asked the Chamberlain, who was still busy on devising more methods to exact revenge on Elijah.

The Chamberlain stroked his beard and nodded slowly, “I agree with your options Hugh and thoughts on the possibilities, but there are there are two further options Sire. We could bring him here with his family. Rather than stretch his neck, I have a quiet word in his ear. I will tell him that we know he has embezzled the kingdom and should he take any further stupid actions it will be his daughter that meets her fate and not him. Or we could strip him of his office. That could have the same effect as trying him for treason, except the bugger will still be alive and able to cause problems. I favour bringing him here Sire.”

Hugh D’ Gascoigne listened intently and bowed his head towards the Chamberlain, “Rather as you did with me, but without the threat George?” he said a quiet voice devoid of feeling.

“Correct” said the King with an air of finality “But in your case, you had valuable talents and these have saved your neck. Gilbert has none that I can see. Unfortunately, I was lumbered with him from my Father, who had a very very short list of potential governors. Thankful this list is growing, as we trade there are more people coming to the fore who are more able than others to govern. This is what we shall do. Bring Gilbert here; say that I wish to meet with him in secret to discuss ideas on how we may strengthen our alliance with our southern neighbors. At the same, let it slip to the Spanish emissary that Gilbert has been planning with the Arragonese, discussing how they may increase their holdings in the Catalan region. At the same time, let the emissary know that we are not best pleased with this and our alliance with them remains as strong as ever. Keep only a notional guard around Gilbert when he arrives; remember Gilbert is here to have covert discussions. If I know old Rodriguez, he will have had Gilbert followed and know as much as we do about his intrigue and should take the bait and have the problem removed for us during a hunting trip that Gilbert will take on his fourth day.”

The King stood, “ Now gentleman, if you don’t mind I have a wife to see about an heir. Oh and George, have a chat with the old Jew; in your own way and time. Good work Hugh, you are repaying me and the country well.”

The Chamberlain’s face lit up, he bowed his head with over mock formality and left after the King, the Chancellor stood and bowed from his waist but stayed behind. His face was a over boiled with two competing emotions; pride in a job well done and anger at having his suspicions about the King and the Chamberlain confirmed. For a long time he sat there, occasionally looking around and then staring at the ledgers, the table or at an undefined point of space. The rest of the castle was quiet, still and little could be heard; the soft sound of two people laughing that came from the Kings bedchamber, the intermittent sound of a guard patrolling the corridors. When the Chancellor did get up to leave, he did as though he had aged 30 years in that short meeting; his shoulders were slumped, his gait unsteady and body weary.

So this was how the fate of men could be decided; coldly and sandwiched between things of more importance. I well remember that King’s tone; final, cold and decisive. He was man who was used to orders being followed without questions, of sending men in to the thick of battle knowing that they could well die as a result. It chilled me to the core.
...

edit for typos ~:doh:

[Desiderata]

The doors to the Throne Room were thrown open and the King stomped in shouting obscenities, some so coarse and vulgar that my gilt started to curl at the sides. I had heard mutterings that he had a loud and violent temper, but had never seen it.

“Those bloody stupid f***ing ba*****d cr***ing Arragonese” he truly was in a foul temper. Relations with Arragon had grown frosty over the last two years, firstly with the assassination of Lord Gilbert and then the Kings’ refusal to enter in to an alliance with them. Now it would appear that they had upped the ante somehow and the King was hopping mad. In fact, it wasn’t so much hopping as jumping up and down on the Arragonese flag that had been presented to his father. Following behind the King at a safe distance was the Chamberlain, the Chancellor and bringing up the rear, the now heavily pregnant Queen Inga.

The King’s tirade increased in volume, swearing down Death and Destruction to all Arragonese, questioning the parenthood of their king and causing my gilt to lift just a little more. As he stamped around the room, his advisors sat at the table and his Queen sat in her throne beside me. After a time, the King’s voice subsided to a dull roar, but still a very large dark cloud was across his face.

“Come my King, sat here beside me and let us discuss what has happened.” the Queen soothed.

Grabbing a goblet of wine, the King stalked over to me and threw himself down. The others waited for him to cool down and talk, not wanting to be the subject of his anger by interrupting his thoughts. Eventually the King finished his wine and gestured for more from a cowering servant who was as white as fresh snow.

“George, please tell everyone what news has been received from Aquitaine.” said the King in high dudgeon.

“We have just received word that the Arragonese successfully bribed and then took possession of the province. Apparently, the cost of this treachery was 4000 florins paid to the new Governor. They invaded with a force of 500, King Sancho II leading his troops with his son, in to our towns.” The Chamberlain spoke quietly, holding his anger in check.

With this news the King launched in to another tirade and again, the others waited for him to settle before they spoke.

“We shall take Aquitaine back. Tell the nobles to mass an army from each of our provinces; longbows from Wales, billmen from Mercia, hobilars from Wessex and the royal company of shield will march there and put there lands to the sword.” spat the King. The Chamberlain and Chancellor looked at each other and reddened.

“What is wrong with that? Come on you two, spit it out” shouted the King, infuriated no doubt by the furtive glances.

“Sire, these are affairs of state and of war, perhaps our war council should be convened to discuss all the options?” asked the Chamberlain, whilst tilting his head to the Queen.

“War council? What f***ing War Council?” the King seethed with anger and then looked directly at his two advisors “Do you mean that we should discuss this privately? Without the Queen being here?”

The Chamberlain went scarlet and mumbled apologetically “Sire, may I say in all candour and with no taint of disrespect to the Queen, but she is with child and these affairs are perhaps not for her delicate constitution at this time.”

“Sir, I stood by my father’s side whilst matters of state were discussed. I will stay and there will be no more of that said.” The Queen’s words were said with an icy chill. She was reminding the others, that her father’s empire was three times the size of English crown.

The King nodded at her words “So let’s get this army together and bash some Arragonese heads then!”

The Queen turned to her husband, leant in and spoke quietly “That could be a problem, we cannot send an army to Arragon from her. To do so, we must cross the Channel and as yet, the ports which would receive our men are not yet completed.”

The King swore another oath “Bugger it then, we’ll muster an army in France and send it to fight the French. My idiot brother can go and get some exercise; fat lazy indolent drunken swine.”

The Chamberlain nodded his head passionately, “Sire, this we can do and we should”

The Chancellor looked meekly at his hands resting on the table, the King and Chamberlain looked at him for his support to the plan, but ended up looking at the balding top of the financiers head.

“Well Hugh, what is your counsel?” asked the King. The Chancellor looked even more sheepishly at his hands and shrugged his shoulders. I could feel the King begin to stiffen once again, as though he would leap across the room at the throat of Hugh D’ Gascoigne.

The Chancellor coughed slightly and spoke quietly “Sire, unfortunately our treasurer is not as wealthy as we had hoped, the grain harvests have been down, trade has suffered from the storms in the channel and the ports in Northumbria, Wales and Wessex are yet to be completed. The loans we had to take out for the wedding feast are due to be repaid this year as well Sire. We could try and retake Aquitaine, but to take Arragon could bankrupt you Sire.”

Not a word was said. The King and Chamberlain stared at the Chancellor in icy silence. The Queen eventually broke the spell, “It is just like Saxony” she said.

The stares shifted towards the Queen, the King was now frowning so intently that his eyebrows were in danger of copulating on the bridge of his nose.

“My dear, what on earth are you talking about?” the King eventually asked in a voice laden with sarcasm.

“My father faced a very similar situation about 10 years ago my beloved husband. The Danes decided to invade and take over the province of Saxony; a region that was full of promise of trade wealth. It was also one our provinces that formed a bridge between the North and the Baltic Sea’s. When the Danes invaded, my father’s advisors were full of plans to retake the province, then go on and smash through Denmark; all except one quiet voice of reason, his Chancellor, Lord Disbalt. He quite rightly showed that to retake a province would many florins and to invade Denmark would cost us even more, as the Danes would fight like tigers to keep their capital and not be snuffed out of existence. He argued that a war can be profitable and can be thought of as an investment; it can take many years for the investment returns the money to repay the initial outlay. To have retaken Saxony and then invade Denmark would have cost my father too much; it was better to accept the loss of Saxony for a while and then retake it later, then to have reacted straight away and invaded and lost all of his regions as they rebelled. Of course, there’s always the Rome question as well.”

“Sorry; what damn Rome question?” asked the King

“The imbecile Prince of Rome, Pope Urban II. He was and is a lover of the underdog; albeit that the Danes invaded us first, had we reacted and retaken Saxony, then we could well have been excommunicated. Not a personal problem for Father, but it would have been a problem for our more zealous regions.” explained the Queen.

The King’s frown was now even more intense, “So your advice, is not to try and retake Aquitaine at all? But your Father holds Saxony and also Denmark. I remember that the Danes rebelled against their King, skewered his head on a pike and gave it to him as a present.”

The Queen smiled, it was the look of a hunter who has trapped their prey “Absolutely, it was cheaper for Father to send spies and assassins to send Saxony and Denmark in to turmoil. The Danish King had been very lax about border security and they slipped across easily; three years in the brewing and a civil war broke out when the Danish heir met an accident when hunting. The people rose up and the Danes were accepted in to the Holy Roman Empire as brothers. So my advice darling is this; to retake Aquitaine would cost you dearly, Urban II would probably excommunicate you and the French would no doubt seize the moment to take Normandy. To lose one province, Sire, may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose your kingdom would be careless. This is statehood and real politik on a grand scale my love.”

The King’s face cleared of its frown, a smile crept up on him and jumped into it’s place, soon a chuckle burst from his lips and became a deep laugh. The Chancellor looked towards the Queen and bowed his head; the Chamberlain watched the exchange between the King and Queen and then smiled as he heard the Queen’s reasoning.

“So this is how I am to be taught statesmanship, by my wife, the daughter of the Holy Roman Emperor. Capital. My love, I follow your reasoning and I will follow your advice; but one day, Sancho’s head will adorn my castle walls, Aquitaine will be received back in to our fold and with it, Arragon.”
.........................

I may not be able to post an installment for about 6 days, as Im moving house soon. But when I do get my pc 'out to play', I'll add more then.:clown:

[Ludens]

The topic of spelling and grammar has arisen several times, perhaps it would make a good addition to your technical topic, Ludens? Then it would be stored safely in one place and new writers could look at the various viewpoints with less difficulty.
Et tu, Froggy? ~:(


Desiderata, I like the story, and I like Ingmar. However, I got a bit confused in the third chapter: chamberlain and chancellor? Those words a bit too much alike for easy reading. Also, you shouldn't use abbrevations. Contractions are fair game, but nobody uses etc. in normal speech. Same goes for Ok. Last thing: it's Aragon, not Arragon.

I was also a bit disappointed that you hardly use the throne-perspective: it seems more like 'third person omniscent' at times. Perhaps it was unreasonable, but I expected it would show that a throne was telling the story.

But otherwise, good story, waiting for part five.

P.s. what happened to the font?

[frogbeastegg]

Et tu, Froggy? ~:(
Me? :hides dagger behind back: No :looks innocent, tries not to step in the blood leaking for Ludens Caesar: ~:joker:

No, I'm not joining the people asking for a huge guide. I meant more a case of ... well, you started your topic on punctuation of dialogue and then mentioned the idea of a topic devoted to the discussion of technical aspects of writing. I thought spelling and grammer might make a good discussion for that topic. A discussion by whoever wants to join in, not a guide. ~:)


P.s. what happened to the font?
Highlight some text, then look above the white answer box. You should see a menu on the top left with in it. Click the down arrow and [FONT=Comic Sans MS]you can play with different fonts.

EDIT: Gah! So busy playing around with the quotes that I forgot to say good work! ~:doh:

[Desiderata]

Many thanks for your thoughts and input - house move tomorrow, so it'll be a few days b4 Im eady n able to do the next part.