mambaman
05-21-2004, 01:28
Hi guys-new story running in conjunction with the latest campaign i have just started (Eng/Early/Expert)-intend to update every 10 years odd
Can this be transferred to the Mead Hall SubForum please?
Let me know what y'all think-lol
A HISTORY OF ENGLAND II FROM THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 1087
Background:
It is the year of our Lord 1087 and William I, sometimes known as the Conqueror, sometimes as The Bastard rules England and his associated French lands in Europe. The 2nd half of William’s father’s reign had been spent putting down one Saxon rebellion after another but by the early 1080s peace had at last broken out in England and the now, old King had at last begun to look to his dotage.
The young Prince William had not seen much of his father in those early years after the invasion, being kept, for the most part in the old Ancestral lands of Normandy under the overprotective care of his mother, Helene D’Anjou. He was summoned to his father’s side some 15 years ago-not long after he had come of age and from there had been sequestered with young Norman Lords of similar age free to indulge in young knightly pursuits such as jousting and hunting in the vast new Forest. His father had married him off young and he had also been able to raise a family of his own and was the proud father of 5 children, 3 daughters and 2 sons-the eldest daughter 17 and his eldest son (also named William), 13 years old. From his early 20s the Prince had been tasked with putting down some of the most serious Saxon Rebellions-those mainly in the North of England and this he had done with a grim ruthlessness that had earned him a reputation as one that brooked no dissent and made some of the prouder Norman Lords wonder what sort of King they were going to inherit-an autocratic one for certes.
The old King and his son had never been close and so it was with dry eye that he was summoned to London to witness the final act of the Conqueror’s bright and now fading star….
1087 The Tower of London:
As he rode into London it seemed to the Prince that London was particularly surly this day-mayhap the citizenry sensed the changes in the air he mused. He dismounted in the yard of the Tower and made his way to the King’s chambers-his friend, Lord Thomas Howard, Duke of Aquitaine, one of those Lords that William had grown up with and grown fond of-was at the stairs to greet him.
‘Ill met mayhap Will’ said Thomas a grim look on his youthful features-he was one of the most powerful Lords in the realm having inherited the Duchy of Aquitaine from his father at only 12 years of age-he was an able battle commander and more importantly he had a good head on his shoulders for managing the affairs of his extensive domains-not one to worry about when he was King mused William.
‘Good Morrow Tom’ the prince replied clasping him in a warm embrace-‘Gods’ wounds I never loved my father but it is a burdensome thing to take a crown-I shall miss him Tom-you understand?’
‘I do my friend-here is the King’s chamber-shall I wait for you? You should know The Duke of Normandy and the Earls of Mercia and Northumberland are in attendance already’
Prince William paused-the foremost Lords of the realm-there was not much time left for the King evidently. ‘No come in with me Thomas-I will need your support’
The 2 men were ushered into the King’s bedchamber by one of his men-in waiting-the chamber already smelt of death-a musky stale smell portentous in its meaning and one entirely consistent with the sight of the old King who lay propped, shrunken and frail in his bed of state. There were many men around the outsides of the bedchamber but in the spluttering torchlight William was hard pressed to see exactly who was there. The King beckoned him forward……
Afterwards William had remembered how the King’s bony hand had grasped his and how he had croaked his dying admonitions to his stranger son:
‘The French my son-look for the French-they are ever the snake in our bosom. The French King Philippe has regarded our holdings in France with envious eyes since my acquisition of this Kingdom …’ The old man’s eyes had a feverish intensity and brightness to them-the end was hastening near.
‘Strengthen what you have my son, build watch towers to control the population-they are restless still. Send out emissaries and marry your girls off but always my son, always watch for the French.’ The King coughed, bloody flecks appearing around his mouth. William took out a silk kerchief and tenderly wiped his father’s mouth. He could not still his beating heart or ignore the feeling of dread that rose in his gorge-he was going to miss his father for sure.
The King continued; ‘The German Holy Roman Emperor will be too busy trying to reacquire his Roman Empire to trouble us for now and to the South the Aragonese too busy fending off the advances of their neighbours in Castile. We must rise as a nation William and to do that we need trade. Build up our richest lands-appoint wise Lords to rule them and look to Flanders-we need her wealth and her Trade. What you cannot obtain with trade William you must snatch with a mailed fist-you understand?’
‘I do my Lord’
‘And the French William-look to their treachery and crush them-will you do this for me-will you?’
‘I will my Liege’ William dutifully replied thinking all the while that it would soon be others according him this title. The King’s grip tightened; there was more. He pulled William even closer, whispering into his ear-his last breaths whistling from his straining chest
‘Waste no time my son in subduing the unruly Celts in Wales and Scotland then as a United Land look to the French-there is a great destiny to this land William-I have started it-you must continue. Promise me Promise me’
‘Father you’re hurting me…father?’ The grip loosened-the King was dead. His priest stepped forward
‘The King is dead long live the King’
And with that the assembled Lords and courtiers stepped out of the shadows repeating the mantra so unfamiliar to William’s ears
‘The King is dead long live King William’
William rose from the old King’s bed and regarded the room with cold eyes-he had so few Lords he could call allies and so few men at arms that came as their retainers-still he was a man of vigour and purpose and one man at least he could trust with his life-Thomas Howard, Duke of Aquitaine-a man he was about to bestow with the title of Lord Great Chamberlain-a man who would ride to the gates of hell with him if called upon-a man who would be his strong arm in France-someone to watch over his lands there.
As the assembled chivalry bowed low he motioned Thomas up.
‘My Lord Duke, attend with me, we have much to do-and I fear not much time to do it in-the rest of you there is a Coronation to organise-come to your duties all’ and with that the King and his friend strode from the room.
Can this be transferred to the Mead Hall SubForum please?
Let me know what y'all think-lol
A HISTORY OF ENGLAND II FROM THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 1087
Background:
It is the year of our Lord 1087 and William I, sometimes known as the Conqueror, sometimes as The Bastard rules England and his associated French lands in Europe. The 2nd half of William’s father’s reign had been spent putting down one Saxon rebellion after another but by the early 1080s peace had at last broken out in England and the now, old King had at last begun to look to his dotage.
The young Prince William had not seen much of his father in those early years after the invasion, being kept, for the most part in the old Ancestral lands of Normandy under the overprotective care of his mother, Helene D’Anjou. He was summoned to his father’s side some 15 years ago-not long after he had come of age and from there had been sequestered with young Norman Lords of similar age free to indulge in young knightly pursuits such as jousting and hunting in the vast new Forest. His father had married him off young and he had also been able to raise a family of his own and was the proud father of 5 children, 3 daughters and 2 sons-the eldest daughter 17 and his eldest son (also named William), 13 years old. From his early 20s the Prince had been tasked with putting down some of the most serious Saxon Rebellions-those mainly in the North of England and this he had done with a grim ruthlessness that had earned him a reputation as one that brooked no dissent and made some of the prouder Norman Lords wonder what sort of King they were going to inherit-an autocratic one for certes.
The old King and his son had never been close and so it was with dry eye that he was summoned to London to witness the final act of the Conqueror’s bright and now fading star….
1087 The Tower of London:
As he rode into London it seemed to the Prince that London was particularly surly this day-mayhap the citizenry sensed the changes in the air he mused. He dismounted in the yard of the Tower and made his way to the King’s chambers-his friend, Lord Thomas Howard, Duke of Aquitaine, one of those Lords that William had grown up with and grown fond of-was at the stairs to greet him.
‘Ill met mayhap Will’ said Thomas a grim look on his youthful features-he was one of the most powerful Lords in the realm having inherited the Duchy of Aquitaine from his father at only 12 years of age-he was an able battle commander and more importantly he had a good head on his shoulders for managing the affairs of his extensive domains-not one to worry about when he was King mused William.
‘Good Morrow Tom’ the prince replied clasping him in a warm embrace-‘Gods’ wounds I never loved my father but it is a burdensome thing to take a crown-I shall miss him Tom-you understand?’
‘I do my friend-here is the King’s chamber-shall I wait for you? You should know The Duke of Normandy and the Earls of Mercia and Northumberland are in attendance already’
Prince William paused-the foremost Lords of the realm-there was not much time left for the King evidently. ‘No come in with me Thomas-I will need your support’
The 2 men were ushered into the King’s bedchamber by one of his men-in waiting-the chamber already smelt of death-a musky stale smell portentous in its meaning and one entirely consistent with the sight of the old King who lay propped, shrunken and frail in his bed of state. There were many men around the outsides of the bedchamber but in the spluttering torchlight William was hard pressed to see exactly who was there. The King beckoned him forward……
Afterwards William had remembered how the King’s bony hand had grasped his and how he had croaked his dying admonitions to his stranger son:
‘The French my son-look for the French-they are ever the snake in our bosom. The French King Philippe has regarded our holdings in France with envious eyes since my acquisition of this Kingdom …’ The old man’s eyes had a feverish intensity and brightness to them-the end was hastening near.
‘Strengthen what you have my son, build watch towers to control the population-they are restless still. Send out emissaries and marry your girls off but always my son, always watch for the French.’ The King coughed, bloody flecks appearing around his mouth. William took out a silk kerchief and tenderly wiped his father’s mouth. He could not still his beating heart or ignore the feeling of dread that rose in his gorge-he was going to miss his father for sure.
The King continued; ‘The German Holy Roman Emperor will be too busy trying to reacquire his Roman Empire to trouble us for now and to the South the Aragonese too busy fending off the advances of their neighbours in Castile. We must rise as a nation William and to do that we need trade. Build up our richest lands-appoint wise Lords to rule them and look to Flanders-we need her wealth and her Trade. What you cannot obtain with trade William you must snatch with a mailed fist-you understand?’
‘I do my Lord’
‘And the French William-look to their treachery and crush them-will you do this for me-will you?’
‘I will my Liege’ William dutifully replied thinking all the while that it would soon be others according him this title. The King’s grip tightened; there was more. He pulled William even closer, whispering into his ear-his last breaths whistling from his straining chest
‘Waste no time my son in subduing the unruly Celts in Wales and Scotland then as a United Land look to the French-there is a great destiny to this land William-I have started it-you must continue. Promise me Promise me’
‘Father you’re hurting me…father?’ The grip loosened-the King was dead. His priest stepped forward
‘The King is dead long live the King’
And with that the assembled Lords and courtiers stepped out of the shadows repeating the mantra so unfamiliar to William’s ears
‘The King is dead long live King William’
William rose from the old King’s bed and regarded the room with cold eyes-he had so few Lords he could call allies and so few men at arms that came as their retainers-still he was a man of vigour and purpose and one man at least he could trust with his life-Thomas Howard, Duke of Aquitaine-a man he was about to bestow with the title of Lord Great Chamberlain-a man who would ride to the gates of hell with him if called upon-a man who would be his strong arm in France-someone to watch over his lands there.
As the assembled chivalry bowed low he motioned Thomas up.
‘My Lord Duke, attend with me, we have much to do-and I fear not much time to do it in-the rest of you there is a Coronation to organise-come to your duties all’ and with that the King and his friend strode from the room.