Paris, 1080. One day before the tournament.
Prince Louis, sixth of that name, son of King Philip the Magnificent and heir to the legacy of Charlemagne belched loudly as he dismounted his horse, hurling his riding crop in the groomsman's face as the poor man struggled to get out of Louis' way and keep a good grip on the reins. Groomsmen had been flogged for tripping the Prince before, but much to Louis' amusement the latest chap assigned to him was wire thin and quick as a snake. Louis grinned into the air momentarily at the thought that the head groomsman was trying to keep the peace, then spun about and swung his arms wide to give his horse a start. The creature responded perfectly, jerking it's head into the air resulting in the diminutive groom being drawn right off his feet in his unwillingness to let go the reins.
The horse lowered it's head quickly to reduce the strain on it's neck but even before the groom's toes returned to the hay strewn floor Louis had barked out a laugh and turned to continue on his way. A servant soon arrived with a pitcher of cool spiced wine and took up station walking behind the Prince, but Louis' thoughts were far away. He'd been distracted during the hunt today and returned early with no game, leaving a scattering of royal huntsmen berated and abandoned in his wake. The English were what troubled him. Their Prince Rufus huddled at Anger and sent villains and robbers out to trouble the French countryside, leading to an atmosphere of lawlessness which persisted through much of France.
It was much to be borne, but the nobles of France were not yet unified or mighty enough to right the situation, and even at his young age the Prince had begun to wonder if they could ever manage to reverse that trend.
At least I'll be in time for dinner, Louis thought as he finally noticed the wine... and the serving girl who'd brought it. Louis drank deeply and eyed the girl as she gazed at the floor. Looking around he realized there was a wardrobe room just up the hall he'd used before. A glimpse at the shadows suggested he had enough time before the table was set. With a gleam in his eye the Prince took the girl by the arm and found that she came willingly enough.
A few minutes later the Prince entered the dining hall still wearing a wide smile and wiping his brow. The King had yet to arrive so Louis strode over to stand behind the chair to the right of Philip's seat.
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Perched on a balcony high above the courtyard, unseen to those below, King Philippe watched the arrival of his son and heir Louis. Watching his antics with the grooms, Philippe couldn't help but wonder where he had failed in the education of his son.
Sure, he was a fearsome fighter on the fields of battle but for the rest, the man was a boar, always wenching and looking for fights, taking out his anger on his lessers. People respected him more out of dread than awe.
Philippe knew that Louis longed to fight the English that encroached on French lands. Restraining him was becoming harder and harder by the day.
Philippe himself longed for such a fight. Day by day, the burden of bearing the Kingdom on his shoulders became heavier and heavier. Between quarrelsome nobles and marauding bands of soldiers, the French countryside was in shambles.
But kicking the English out of France was not the first priority. First, Philippe had to unify the nobles and create a feeling of belonging to the same destiny. That is why in the days to come he had summoned every single French nobleman to appear before the Conseil du Royaume.
This was a first, never before had the noblemen gathered at the same time, in the same place to decide with the King the fate of France.
Watching his son grab hold of a serving girl and leading her to a quiet corner, Philippe wondered how much he could achieve when working with men such as Louis.
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Henri looked up from his study books to peek at all the fuzz out on the courtyard. It was a bright, sunny day and birds were twittering to their hearts content. Henri wished he could share their enthusiasm.
He had reached the age of twelve, and thereby the end of his childhood.
He was now preparing himself for manhood, his current state a transition zone, where he was supposed to learn all the skills and knowledge that would make him a man. Glancing at his teacher, he doubted that knowledge alone could make a man a man. Watching his older brother Louis in the courtyard, he remarked that lack of knowledge surely didn't fail to make a man.
At first sight, Louis was everything a man and the heir of the Frankish king should be. He was tall and robust, a real warrior brave as they come. A lion on the battlefield, is what their father called him.
Though Henri had never heard his father say it, he somehow suspected that that sentence had another ending, somewhere near "..but a pig everywhere else".
Henri smiled with glee. Louis lacked refinery, lacked manners. If his behavior was any indication, the man would lack the subtlety, diplomacy and cunning that make a ruler.
Not that Henri dreamed of being picked as heir before his brother. Henri was a sober lad, and knew his place.
His place was between the oldest son, heir to the throne, and the youngest son, always a totting dads favorite.
To the outside world, of the three boys Henri always seemed the loner. He was always reserved, and always kept his own council. Surely he had friends, but he never did anything rash or foolish. He certainly earned the respect from the castle staff, as he never teased or bullied anyone.
To his teachers, he was a blessing. He picked up everything at first glance, from literature to mathematics to military history.
He was slender of build and average of height, so he lacked the brute strength that Louis had at his age. Everything about Henri seemed to be expressing speed. He was as quick with a blade as he was quick of thought. His raven black short hair and dark clothes made him seem gloomy - though those close to him knew he was not. Louis had called him a snake.
Snakes lie hidden in the grass, observing, learning. When they attack, it is lightning fast and they could vanish into nothing before you knew it.
What provoked the comment from Louis however, where the eyes.
Henri had eyes as dark as his hair, and his stare therefore unnerving, entrancing and never giving you the slightest clue of what went on beyond them.
Henri startled when his teacher snapped shut a book in front of his nose. He looked at him with his dark eyes and said not a word. Though used to the stare, his teacher nevertheless got uncomfortable and dismissed him for today.
With all the noblemen gathering, boys would be too restless to learn anyway.
Somewhat later, Henri crossed the courtyard which had settled down. He got friendly, respectful nods left and right, which he answered according to his status, a barely noticeable acknowledgment.
He did not radiate anything that provoked outright love in people, though his kindness and ability certainly earned him their respect. Which was fine by him.
Henri figured the main action would go down in the dining hall, and started heading in that direction.
A boy ran across the courtyard. Too young to bother himself with troubles of adults. He waved his wooden sword and occasionally yelling "en garde" when getting close to someone. Charles was loved by all and brought smile on everyone face. Dads little favorite...
Henri saw his brother running at him with a wooden sword, all soldierly-like.
"Au secours, Au secours!!" Henri called to some lowly onlookers, who grinned. "Will no one save me from this dangerous knight?!" he smiled at his younger brother.
"You know Charles, you should be getting ready for dinner"
As the young boy drew a disgusted face at the thought of getting all dressed up, Henri pointed out that today there were many great knights from all of France present, so they must do their best to look like princes.
The boy instantly cheered up and made way to his quarters. Henri himself continued onward.
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Postponing to the last possible moment the moment of presiding over the assembly of nobles, with the bickering, lick-spitting and downright obnoxious nobles that Philippe had rule over, he remained at the balcony a moment longer, taking in the last rays of the sun over the countryside, marveling at the beauty of God's creation.
"Dieu," he prayed "may you bless this day as the first of France' rebirth from her troubled times."
Watching fondly the playful games of his two younger sons, Charles the little soldier and Henri still young (just look at him play with his little brother) but already smart beyond his years.
"If only..." the thought didn't pass Philippe's lips.
Watching Charles chasing his brother with his sword reminded Philippe of the announcement he wanted to make before the "Seigneurs de France", "Pairs du Royaume". In the next few days, a tournament would be held on the fields around Paris, at a place called Vincennes. Already, the workers were hard at work, in secrecy, erecting the grandstands and constructing the lice.
Philippe had wanted to create this event so that bonds of friendship could be born among the nobles, who were so often at odds with each others. Fighting alongside or against their peers, Philippe hoped they would learn to respect their neighbors and would from then on fight the good of France rather than for their own selfish benefits... Though, in truth, he had scant hopes that this would come to pass...
Nevertheless, Philippe felt the burden of governance lift from his shoulders just thinking of the tourney. It brought him so many years back just after his "adoubement" as a knight, before his coronation... Ever since the idea had birthed in his head, the longing for the charge of the destrier, the shock of lances and the cries of the audience were always in his mind. Already, he had selected a grand prize for the winner of the day... Fervently wishing he wouldn't have to part with it, having proven his valor on the field by conquering all of his opponents. For he would ride into the fray, free of the crown and its burden... Or almost...
Lost in his thoughts, Philippe had not noticed that the night had begun to fall. After the heat of day, a brisk wind was rising, harbinger of a storm to come... A shiver ran down his spine and taking his hands of the stone of the battlements, Philippe crossed his arms on his chest, tightening the rich fur mantle that he had thrown on his shoulders. Beneath it, he wore a silken short tunic of a deep blue with lilies stitched in golden thread over white stockings and intricately-worked leather boots that reached up to his knees. A heavy belt of gold and precious stones tightened around his belt. All that was missing to mark him as the King of the Franks was the elaborate crown that his own father had had commissioned to the best goldsmiths of the Realm. "That will wait until the last moment" thought Philippe, already hating having to wear that heavy burden on his head.
As he was preparing to turn and go down the tower to his apartments and then the dining room, Philippe heard the noise of hooves on the portcullis and saw with a bit of annoyance that it was Constance, once more back from one of her forays into the wild. Once again, she seemed to have lost her escort. "There is boy's soul into that girl" muttered Philippe.
Too often, Philippe and his daughter had gotten into arguments of what was expected of a Royal Princess... Too often, Constance had made amends, asked forgiveness and pretended for a few days to have learned her lesson... Only to go marauding once again, as soon as she thought her father had forgotten about her or had other matters pressing on him...
"I'll have to talk to her once more" Philippe thought. He had plans for his daughter. Not marriage, though she was old enough for it but he knew in his deepest heart that if he forced marriage upon her, she would be lost to him forever. Nevertheless, she would have to accept that being a daughter of Royal blood meant more than being able to order her way around so that she could go gallivanting. She had wits and good looks and that could work wonder for what Philippe had in store for her.
Watching her cross the courtyard towards her rooms, Philippe turned and began his slow descent down the stairs to his own rooms, the men-at-arms that had stood as statues the whole time turning on their heels and following him down the stairs.
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It was already dusk when Constance dismounted her large chestnut stallion, leaving it in the capable hands of the stable master. At first she started to rush to room, but she halted mid step. Every moment she tarried would most certainly aggravate Louis' annoyance in regard to her already late hour of arrival. Then again, she did not wish to cause undue alarm or anger in her father and as such decided upon a brisk pace. Once in her quarters, she disrobed hastily, first removing her worn brown cloak and her cross-gartered soft leather stocking. Finally, she replaced her gray knee-lenght bliaud with something more fitting her station; a long white bliaud with finely embroidered trim and a double girdle of jeweled leather with silk ties circling the outfit.
Satisfied she was presentable, Constance then hurried to the dining room and without delay a servant announced her. As she stepped in the room, she realized she had forgotten something, but could not recall. Brushing off the thought, she took care to offer a pleasant smile to her father. Nevertheless, the first thing all present could notice was not her beauty, but the cuts and scrapes on her reddish cheeks and forehead, marring her features. Then there was her brown hair; tied in a hasty chignon and laced with a few twigs. Less noticeable but also present was the damp musky odor of the forest. She bowed lightly before addressing her father, the King of the Franks, in a respectful tone.
"My apologies father for my unwarranted tardiness."
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Striding into the dining hall into his full regalia (crown and scepter of worked gold and precious stones, Philippe noticed the presence of his eldest, Louis, standing behind the Throne.
Philippe loved his son, even with his failings. The man was cunning rather than intelligent, though his temper sometimes took precedence.
Noticing that no one had arrived yet and that only serving maids were in attendance, Philippe clasped a hand on Louis' shoulder before asking in a low voice "So how have your fighting and whoring been these days ?"
Without leaving time for an answer, Philippe sat upon the heavy wooden chair that presided over the table. He caught appetizing whiffs coming from the kitchens.
Little by little, noblemen from the French began filing in the dining hall. Philippe paid them little heed, acknowledging some with a little nod of the head or slight wave of the hand.
After a time, he noticed his daughter coming in, all prim and proper. Or the most prim and proper she could achieve... Her cheeks were still ruddy from the wind that lashed at them.
She bowed to him and saluted him in a respectful tone.
Philippe rose and took her to lead to the chair to his right next to her older brother Louis.
Queen Bertrade was still not present, certainly occupied with Henri and Charles.
As the King entered the room Prince Louis bowed his head in genuine respect for the one man in all the world whom he acknowledged as his superior. Philip had strode through the world like a lion during his rise to power, and had brought strength back to France despite the squabbling of petty nobles and the failings of the pathetic peasantry. Louis worked always to emulate the lessons he had taken from watching his father's work.
Despite that there was an essential difference between the two men, a difference of temperament and approach that Louis was too smart to miss, and at times all the family could feel the strain. The King and the Prince wanted the same things, worked towards the same ends for France, and yet simply were not much alike.
Still, when the King took him by the shoulder Louis felt a warm glow of love, and grinned broadly at Philips' jest. The fighting had been most unsatisfactory today, but the whoring had only just begun, and rather promisingly at that...
Louis' good mood was immediately spoiled by the late arrival of Constance. The girl did not comprehend her place. In fact Louis sometimes suspected she acted so merely to annoy him, but to truly think that would credit her with more intellect than he believed she had. Father would not show her the firm hand she so clearly required either. Well, if the King won't... though Louis before he spoke,
"Constance! You are late and you look frightful! Have you no regard for the reputation of France? No comprehension of the nature of the men we will meet this eve? One of them may be presented your hand in due course, and what would be said of France if a jumped up castle warden rejected our land's princess merely because you cannot understand promptness and propriety?"
Turning to the King, Louis continued,
"My King I have high hopes for some among this crop of nobles. We'll need this sort and their men to expand our control of the countryside. If they will but unify under your guidance France's potential is limitless."
Constance snickered all the while he elder brother addressed the king. When he was done, she executed an overly flippant bow and stared pointedly at Louis' hastily donned trousers, her blue gray eyes brimming with contempt. "I am sorry I cannot care for France's reputation the way you do."
Louis' face remained impassive on hearing his little sister's jibe, unable to believe she grasped it's full import, and replied in a stern tone,
"I am sorry you cannot as well. Perhaps dignity will come to you with age, though I suspect if we wait that long what charm your form possess will surely be eroded by those unladylike habits of yours."
Louis then paused to drink from his wine cup, his eyes following his now errant thoughts to the mousy little serving girl lined up with several other house servants along the wall.
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Charles sat on the bed and poked the floor with his wooden sword. He was bored. He wanted to be outside playing with his friends and doing stuff that is interesting. A dinner with all these nobles wasn't that at all!!
"Don't do that!" said Bertrade to him and took away his sword. "Let's go! Let's go! People are waiting!"
He stood up and they went through narrow corridors towards the dining hall. Seeing the Queen approaching servant opened the door and announced them.
Constance was relieved to hear her mother announced, giving her ample excuse to ignore Louis' latest comment. He was such a pig and a hypocrite, her mounting anger was unavoidable as she kept thinking about him; about what he had said. Did he really wanted her father to marry her off now? She certainly was of age, but her father had never shown much inclination to discuss a potential wedding. Would Louis sway him? For a moment she feared it was so. Was this very evening meant for giving her away to some noble she never had heard of? Anxiety settled in, her heart raced and her vision fluttered. Constance stumbled only for a step before calming herself with a deep breath. No matter what happened, she would not give any satisfaction to Louis, or at the very least, she would do her best to avoid disappointing her father.
Brushing unpleasant thoughts aside as she neared her mother, Constance bowed and smiled. Acknowledging her only by saying "Mother" before she moved to kneel in front of Charles. With a broad smile she placed her hands on his shoulders and held him at arm's length.
"How is my fearless knight doing today?" She queried in a playful manner.
"Things would be better if I could just go outside instead of coming here. All these weird looking men and women just can't get their hands off of my cheeks!! I'm not a little boy anymore!! I am a Knight!! Almost..." answered Charles putting his hands on his belt.
"If you left, who would protect me?" She teased him. Right then she heard Henri arrive. "Come on Charles, we should be getting to our seats."
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Henri's outfit was colored in his father's coat of arms. He wore a sword by his side, as instructed by his swordmaster. To get used to the feel and weight of the thing.
Henri's swordmaster was an odd fellow. He spoke with a funny accent and claimed to be an Italian, though when drunk swore like only a Frank could.
Yet the man was skilled with a blade. Besides learning how to wield various swords in various manners, the man seemed intent on learning Henri all sorts of protocol-like matters. Sometimes Henri suspected him of having been a noble himself. But the manner codes his swordmaster was teaching him, suited Henri's style, so he adhered to them.
Finally having reached the dining hall (he had delayed intentionally, just to be able to enter on his own instead of with his mother) he directed himself to the announcer.
After that, he strode into the dining hall, head high towards his father's seat.
There, he laid his right hand on the swords pommel, put his left foot back and bowed slightly. Then he waited for a nod of his father, to join his side.
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Philippe watched with a bemused smile tinged with irritation the exchange between Louis and Constance...
Louis acted just like he was Constance's father, and she, stubborn and free-minded couldn't bear her brother's constant reprimands about how a lady of royal blood should be like...
"Pity on her husband", thought Philippe, "he'll need either a strong hand or a strong heart"
But the bickering between his two eldest faded away as Bertrade, his queen, made her entrance with Charles, their youngest son... Although older than him, Philippe had grown fond of Bertrade through the years... She was loving, caring and had given him three beautiful and strong sons and a daughter that was equally strong and beautiful... Their first years of marriage had been somewhat awkward, Philippe was only seventeen and her already twenty-nine but the marriage had secured Brittany to France and they had both learned to respect the other and out of that respect love had grown between them.
Philippe rose from his seat to greet his lady, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek with a whispered compliment. He then dropped to his knees and tousled Charles' hair, smiling as he watched his son try to look older than his eight years and look all knightly.
Philippe then led Bertrade to her seat and resumed his place.
Surveying the dining hall, Philippe could see already that several of the lesser nobles were in attendance, most of the wealthier burghers were there as well, all conversing in low tones and casting towards the raised dais quick glances, trying to sound what was to happen tonight by watching the facial expressions of their King.
With a flick of his hand, Philippe summoned the head butler and ordered him to formally open the doors to the dining hall and announce the Pairs du Royaume that still had to make their entry.
"Now the wolves are let loose", Philippe mused "and France may well be their prey"
Watching as the first of the nobles made their apparition between the great gates of the hall, Philippe considered the choices he had made over the last years that had led to this very day and the few next...
Invariably, his thoughts returned to the tournament that would be held soon, hoping it would create a sense of unity among these men... Philippe imagined himself as a smith tried to match ill fitting pieces of armor together before going into battle.
"But that will be for tomorrow, now let's see how they make their "homage" to their King"
Re: Stories Thread
Originally Posted by Sasaki Kojiro
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