Stories Thread

[_Tristan_]

Calais, 1093

The inn was not among the most renowned of the city. It catered mostly to merchants and craftsmen. Most sat huddled at tables discussing the rising prices of wool or copper, gulping down large tankards of ale. But the establishment was also cozy and clean, two criteria that had made him the choice of the men sitting at a table in the back of the room. If the folks assembled in the tavern had known who those men were, the content of their conversation would have been very different.

For sitting at the corner table were Guillaume, called the Conqueror, King of England, and Philippe, King of France, his cousin and rival. Their apparel didn’t distinguish them from any well-off merchants and nobody had taken any notice of them, as they knew they would.

Guillaume was just off his ship, having crossed from Folkestone and braving the fierce winds of October to be at this meeting. Philippe had ridden hard from the German border, leaving the siege in the capable hands of Tancrède, a veteran of many campaigns.

The two kings shared a bottle of fine Burgundy wine, while their escorts discreetly scanned the room for any threats.

Philippe raised his glass for a toast. “Here’s to you, cousin… May your line reign on Albion forever…And Albion alone, I may add…”

“And yours be faithful to the dream of Charlemagne, Philippe” answered Guillaume, raising his glass and drinking it in one gulp. “A thing which is well underway if I’m to believe the reports from my “scouts”… The Kaiser will soon bow under the French yoke if you continue like this…”

“If only… The man must rather be a direct descendant of the Goths that conquered Rome than an heir to Caesar to go to war with the Pope… It’s a conduct France and her King cannot condone… Do you believe he even stooped so low as to abduct my daughter? While she was under Papal protection?”

“I do not contest your right, Philippe… But it seems you bit more than you can chew… Staufen lost, Antwerp under threat… You badly outnumbered at Frankfurt… Heinrich may be the one to fulfill the dream of Charlemagne in your place…”

“Never!!” Philippe cried out, drawing glances from some of the other patrons. Those quickly returned to their talks and drinks under the glare of the sovereign’s escorts.

“God will never let this happen… And you talking of overextension reminds of the purpose of this secret meeting.”

“Indeed, why the need for secrecy? What do you wish to propose that cannot be said in public? I would much rather be in one of my castles than an inn, however cozy it might be… I would regale you with food and drinks, with girls… I would tell you about the disgusting customs of the Scots… I would take you to hunt fox and boar… All things that make life bearable as a king…”

“I may well call you up on that, Guillaume… But what I wish to propose is not for all ears and should we not agree on it, I think it best left unheard, as it may cause some tension between our Royaumes.”

“Hmm… I must admit, Philippe, that you’ve whetted my appetite for more…

“I came here to propose an alliance between our Kingdoms. We are brethren us Franks and Normans, we share the same heritage… We even share the same lands, much to my dismay, I’ll admit…”

“An alliance? And what of the Scots? You’re allied with them as well? What if they decide that our presence is unbearable? Who will you support?” Guillaume asked seriously.

“I will make everything in my power to prevent such a war from happening… The Scots will not be able to win against you without France’s supporting them, so it seems that point is moot.”

“So allies, we may be but I feel you’ve not told me everything, no?”

“True, I told you that we share our heritage and our lands… Right now, we hold each other by the throat… You hold lands in France, so much so that it looks sometimes as you’re its true sovereign. But I know hold Wales and threaten to take Dublin, providing our Scottish allies do not take before us… Then all avenues of expansion will be closed to you... And you’ll be cornered… South and West by France, North and West by Scotland, with territories easily cut off from Albion and then left to their own devices.”

“You paint a grim picture, Philippe… But I assure you that should it come to war, you’d find us much more resilient than your Imperial neighbours.”

“Who talks of war? We both have something the other wants… So why not trade? I thought.”

“Trade? Trade what?”

“Here’s what I propose: you abandon your claims to Angers and Caen and I’ll hand Caernavon to you.”

“Seems like a lopsided deal to me” Guillaume answered, somewhat puzzled.

“Let me finish… I know of your expansion from Aquitaine through the Pyrenees in Spain. Valencia could make also a fine addition to your Spanish holdings and I’m willing to give it to you as well.”

“And Zaragoza?” asked Guillaume, a greedy look in his eyes.

“No, Zaragoza will remain French for now… But it could still be open to further negotiations… Once we’ve begun, there’s nothing from stopping us… We may even set an example that will help us come to terms with the Germans.”

Guillaume drew another large swallow from his glass, considering the offer that had been made.

“I may agree to the deal on principle…” began Guillaume.

“But?”

“But I’ve incurred costs garrisoning those castles, building barracks, improving the port in Caen… I’ll incur more costs yet when I’ll need to bring my men back to England. Rufus, my son, is still in Angers and I can tell you that knowing him his baggage train will require an entire fleet.”

“So how much are we talking about?” Philippe inquired, not at all surprised by Guillaume’s true nature coming to the front.

“Let me count…” said Guillaume, beginning to mumble and count upon his fingers. “Let’s see: which would you prefer full payment or regular tribute?”

“Tribute, of course… We’re at war and our coffers are not as full as I would wish them to be…”

“Tribute, then… My estimate would be for a payment of 1400 florins of gold for the next 14 years…”

“What?” a nonplussed Philippe exclaimed “Do you think that French chickens lay golden eggs? My treasury could never afford such a burden for so long… I’m not Croesus.”

“Well… Since you’re my cousin, I’m willing to make a gesture for family’s sake… I’ll halve it down… Say 800 florins for the next 10 years… Is that good enough for you? I’m losing an arm in this deal…” Guillaume said with a wily smile.

“Acceptable” Philippe said grudgingly.

“My, my… Acceptable, only… You almost hold me at ransom here, Philippe… So do we have a deal or not?” Guillaume asked, extending his hand over the table, having spit on it in merchants’ fashion.

“Deal” answered Philippe, spitting in his hand and taking the proffered hand. “I’ll have my Senechal draw up a treaty which will be then sent to receive your royal seal. Now let’s drink to our Kingdoms.”

Philippe raised his glass, imitated by Guillaume and they both emptied them in one gulp, before refilling them.