Stories Thread

[_Tristan_]

Absolution

St Thierry Abbey near Reims, 1100


Philippe walked the cloisters at a brisk pace. As anything in monastic life, nothing ever seemed to change. The only difference he could tell from the last time he was here was the missing bodies of the German prisoners and wounded.

“And to say that a war was started here” he mused.

The abbot who had been leading him since his arrival to the monastery finally stopped at the door of a small monk cell.

“He’s in there, Your Majesty… He wants to talk to you alone…” The abbot said with an insistent look to the bodyguard of Philippe.

Philippe nodded “Tancrède, stay here with the men… It is not as if I risk anything in there…”

The veteran saluted and began giving orders to the men.

Philippe hesitated for a moment, his hand resting on the door handle before finally reaching his decision and stepping into the room.

It was the stench that first told him of the state the man laying in the small cot was in… The room was dimly lit and he could not see clearly the face of the man, a wheezing breath coming out of his mouth.

Philippe grabbed a stool and sat near the bed.

Hadn’t he been told the identity of the man, lying in this sickbed, he wouldn’t have recognized him. But looking hard upon the gaunt face, it carried enough resemblance to the face of the friar he had met in that same monastery.

“Fra Matteo” Philippe called, in a low voice. The man stirred but did not wake up.

“Fra Matteo, it is me, Philippe”, the King called again. As if stung, the man sat upright in his bed, a feverish look in his eyes, looking hard at Philippe, before all strength went out of him and he slumped back on his pillow.

“It is truly you” Matteo said in a rasping voice “I didn’t truly believe you’d come… I have much to tell you and so little time…”

Philippe looked at the frail creature in front of him “What ails you, Matteo?”

“Death is stalking me… I have caught the Napolitan sickness as you French call it (OOC : syphilis)…I should have heeded my vows of chastity, one more proof of the omniscience of God… If you live by the sword, you’ll perish by the sword… And my sword was often out of its scabbard” Matteo was then wracked by a fit that could be best described as half-laugh, half cough… Philippe waited until he recovered, wincing “Suffice it to say that I will soon face St Peter but I fear he will send me to Hell for my sins, sins which I need to confess… Confess to you…”

“I am no priest, Matteo… I cannot hear your confession…”

“Oh, but you will, Philippe… For it is an earthly sin, I will not depart this earth without telling you about it… Come closer so I can tell you of my sins against you, against your Kingdom.”

Wrinkling his nose at the foul stench of the cot and the man, Philippe leaned towards the sick friar, lending him his ear.

“Do you remember our previous meeting here ?” Philippe nodded. “Have you ever wondered about the circumstances of the attack made upon you by that German captain ? Did you truly believe his story ? You’re no fool, Philippe… But you had no idea of the dark forces working against you… Dark forces led by my master, Gregory… May he rot in Hell for his own sins… I arranged for this attack, Philippe… I did it on orders from Gregory… He needed you at war with the Reich, to rid him of Heinrich, who wished to denounce him as a usurper…” A new fit of coughing had Matteo, twist in his soiled blankets, making Philippe, step away from the bed, overturning the stool, aghast both at the state of the man and the news he brought.

“Philippe !!” the man cried in anguish, whimpering “Stay by my side…”

Reluctantly, Philippe righted the stool and sat back by the bedside.

“Once you’d managed to rid him of Heinrich, he had foreseen to use the threat of excommunication to bring you to heel… Gregory didn’t want you to become too powerful at the expense of the Reich… he wanted things to be balanced, the better to reign over your Kingdoms…”

Matteo turned his face to Philippe, his feverish eyes looking deep into the King’s own. “I see you do not truly believe me… But these are not the ramblings of a sick and feverish man, this is the truth… And I have proof of it…”

At these last words, Philippe’s face lighted up. “Proof ? You truly have proof of these dealings ?”

“Ah… Now you’re prepared to believe… Yes, I have proof… We exchanged letters with Gregory, and they are yours if you promise me one thing : make Gregory pay for his sins… Force his hand to your own benefit… Make him see what it feels to be a puppet in somebody else’s hands… Make him suffer, make him beg…” Matteo stopped, out of breath, his chest heaving.

“Promise me…”

“You have my word as King, Matteo”

“I know you’ll honour it, My King” Matteo began speaking fast, babbling “Ask the abbot for my personal belongings… I’ve already asked him to release them to you, should you ask…”

Philippe could see the man was rapidly waning, the light in his eyes dimming by the second “Make him pay…” The last words were said in a whisper.

Matteo’s eyes closed and his lips parted one last time, whispering “Oh Lord, welcome me…” Then his breathing stopped and he lay still upon his cot.

Philippe drew the blanket upon his face and made the sign of the cross over the prone body of the monk. He then stood and opened the door, filling his lungs of the clean night air, needing to get rid of the fetor of the sickroom.

Tancrède watched as sad smile spread across the face of the King, torn between sympathy for the dead man and his guilt and his need for revenge on Gregory.

“Prepare the horses, Tancrede… God rides with us from this day on.” Philippe called, striding fast towards the rooms of the abbot.

[Cultured Drizzt fan]

Marseilles 1101, Let us hope for Sobriety

Yvon Rode into his manor in Marseilles, The town guards standing at attention, spears held at an angle. Yvon smirked slightly at that, Adam must have been drilling these peasants for months to get them disciplined enough to do even that! But the good mood did not hold long, not when darker thoughts weighed Yvons mind. The council….. He chose not to think of it, instead slipping into his manor and sat down to a fine meal. He was already eating when Adam and two of the manors personal guards marched into the room; Adam was holding an armful of papers and reports, his face grim. Yvon looked up, smiled briefly and motioned towards a chair.


“Newest reports and missives from the province are in my lord. And of course, tax reports are in… uuuggghhhh” Adam says, placing the papers in a pile on the table.


Yvon laughs and takes a swig of wine “That is the price of progress my friend, endless reports and figures. You know how to deal with them.”


Adam looks critically at Yvon “are you asking me to lower the taxes again? I realize you dislike taxing the citizens, but this is getting ridiculous….”


“It is not that Adam, I am just doing what I think is best for my territory. I am not good with the whole tax business… to be frank, just not the kind of thing I think a baron should be doing to the men and women under his protection….. But I am not here to talk business Adam, at least not right now” Yvon takes another swig, before going on “Have you heard the latest news? About the English?”


Adam shakes his head “Of course, every chapel in the land speaks of the excommunications of William and the Normans. And of course with tensions so high even a fool can see we will use this opportunity to take back what is ours. “


Yvon nods, his voice drips with bitter sarcasm “ Good, then you understand the basic set up of things. There is talk of a Crusade, to launch a glorious attack on London to free them from their blasphemy.” He gulps down the whole glass of wine and places his head in his palm,
“I am not sure if the course we are taking is truly His will Adam. They are still Catholics Adam. And to think we deem to attack a catholic nation under the pretense of a crusade when the heathens still rule in the holy land does not sit well on my shoulders. I want to kill the English as much as the next man does, and I plan to do as such. But I am not claiming God guides my blade as I butcher them. At the beginning I was neutral to the idea of this crusade…. Whatever gets the job done ehh? But now, it just leaves a sour taste in my mouth to bring God into this affair. I will not take up the cross against a fellow catholic. That I can not do.”

Adam sits back through the monologue, understanding that Yvon simply wanted someone to listen, not talk. After Yvon finished Adam opened his mouth, “ My friend, I am not going to say I disagree with you, your points are valid. But A crusade is a crusade, and is declared by only one man. The Pope, the voice of god on earth. If he declares as such then it must be His will.”
Adam nods his head vigorously, certain with himself. “But it is each mans decision to take up the cross. If it so displeases you then simply stay out of this crusade.”

“Perhaps you have a point Adam, although I have lost much faith in the pope in these past few years…. Hell, This crusade has not even been finalized, it is a possibility it will not even happen. But either way I have already decided what path I will take in the next few years.”
Yvon Smiles, grabbing a new glass of wine, “ we are going back to Spain my friend, The siege of Pamplona awaits!”

Adam cocks his head “What about Marseilles? Do you believe the city will be ok without your guidance? What of the guard?”


Yvon raises a hand, “Worry not, the city will be fine. My lord Prince Louis has already says he will keep an eye out for trouble, and the people will be fine with the professional guard gone. I have the utmost confidence the city will be fine while we go on campaign once again!” His eyes light up, a grin spreading on his face as he flourishes his wine glass,
“The English are going to regret sticking their fat noses into Iberia! That much I am sure of! Let us hope for a long and bloody campaign my friend! Let us hope for GLORY!” towards the last sentence, Yvon steps up on the table, wine flying from his glass.


Adam smirks “let us hope for Sobriety.”

[Braden]

*Royal Army encampment, Upper Rhine, Frankfurt crossing*

Henri had only recently joined the army formally, under the leadership of the Order of the Fleur-de-leys. He sat in the tent pouring over the recent documents the Royal courier had delivered that morning, for it was morning although it was gloomy and dark outside. Winter was here and the ground in the encampment varied from frozen solid areas to sticky-cold mud which even a horse would have difficulty negotiating.

Andreas, Henri’s former tutor and now constant companion and mentor worked hard behind him trying to breathe life into the small stove of the tent whilst readying a pan to make either a hot drink or hot food…when and if the stove co-operated of course! Henri cared neither way however and was intent on the letters and reports.

Andreas broke the silence.

“So, war starts finally against the English my Lord?”

Henri put down the documents and paused…of course, Andreas had read them already, he always did. He pinched the top of his nose and sighed, he was already tired this morning. Tired of the cold and inaction.

“Yes, though a formal declaration is still to be made but the war itself and a crusade against them is but a mere formality. Come on Andreas…has the war against the English ever really stopped?”

Andreas ignored the question, assuming it rhetorical.

“I hear you are not joining the rest of the Order when they ride West in the Spring. I must admit to being a little confused. I thought you keen for action.”

“And indeed I am but I am no fool also. A war and a crusade against the English changes everything, no longer is the nation and her lower nobility focused on the Germans and the West. They are happy to leave here and leave those they deem “lesser men” in charge…like myself.”

“So, the crusade leaves you with an army already? Fortune has favoured you my Lord”

“Oh cut the over formal nonsense Andreas…you know full well how this has come about.”

Henri pursed his fingers in a steeple and placed them to his lips, a smug look on his face before turning to regard Andreas…as expected Andreas had a wide beaming smile glaring back at Henri.

“Stop toying with me Andreas, we’ve been together to long for me to know that there is not much of my life, my intentions or indeed my supposed secret communications between my father and I, that does not escape you…me thinks your face is betraying you as well.”

Henri matched Andreas’ smile before continuing.

“Yes Andreas, of course this situation could not have turned out better even if we “had” known what my father was going to do. Now, is that pottage you have there or mulled wine? I declare that you are a most wise, honourable, loyal and skilled with a blade retainer but..truthfully, I fear your cooking will be the death of me and not the Germans.”

[Braden]

*Road East of Frankfurt – 1104*

The mercenary companies mixed freely in the evenings, eating, drinking, swapping stories and gossiping. Prince Henri rode past them and barely contained a sneer. He did not like “hired killers” like these, they were after all Germans, hired to kill their own brethren and it did not sit particularly well with him.

Two mercenaries stood by the fire and watched Henri ride past.

“So what do you think of this little Prince?”

They continued to watch Henri ride off into the dark towards his tent and the French trained companies.

“Hime not too sure as yet there. Honest truth is that he let them ‘ovr guys off the hook, just rode up to them and told them to leave. Not sure if them other lot would have done that.”

“Still, he’s driven us hard to get here. Rumour is that there’s a German army just down the road and quite a large one just Sou’East of here, bet we’ll have te do some fighting then huh?”

“Bah, you English never cease to annoy me eh? Wot you want eh? To get paid well but do no march’in and no fight’in? Well get it in do your head that we do wot we is told’er, he holds the coin so we follow heem huh.”

“Company life innit yea? I wonder if any of dem knobs realise what we’re thinkin or wantin.”

“Wot it matter to you eh English? If you die tomorrows, who cry for you eh? Not me that who. You fink too much English, me think that why you here an no at home wif a bed under ye back an a woman on your man huh?”

The English mercenary chucked to himself.

“Aye, be truth enough there cap’n. Still wonders where this little lad’ll take us huh?”

The German shook his head and sighed heavily before turning around and walking back to the fire muttering.

“Too much finking..bah..English finkers…”

The Englishman just stood there staring into the darkness where Prince Henri had gone…wondering…

[Braden]

Frankfurt to Steinbach-Hallenberg road – Winter 1105


“Andeas I have a tough choice ahead of me”

Henri and Andreas were in the command tent on the road just past Steinbach-Hallenberg, Henri sat at the camp table as usual dealing with the day to day documents running an army in the field required him to. They had passed the site of their previous battle a few days previously and now encamped awaiting a response from their request to Frankfurt for re-enforcements.

“What so my lord?” Andreas as was common now, was preparing something indescribable on the camp stove.

“Well, provided we get the expected spearmen from Frankfurt we are left with a significantly difficult road ahead of us. My scouts report at least one other large German army just outside Magdeburg and that the majority of the garrison from Hamberg has left to move West. If we march well we will still not reach Hamberg for another six months, besides its quite possible that the armies at Magdeburg may block our most direct route anyway. The other consideration I have is that we must besiege Hamberg and potentially for a season or more…it does not sit well with me to leave a large enemy army to my rear whilst we sit at a siege.”

“So, you defeat the German army at Magdeburg and then move on to Hamberg of course…but then you already know that, so what is the real problem my lord?”

Andreas looked at Henri, 18 years of age, in charge of an army and two difficult battles under his belt already…he looked older beyond his years.

“The problem I have is that when I defeat that army I would like to ransom them back. Save their lives as much as possible. IF, the ransom is accepted then what? I march on Hamberg with potentially still an enemy army behind me of those I released? Or siege and take Magdeburg which will be re-enforced by those same men? So…the other choice I have, in order to make sure the men under my command do not face the same forces twice, and potentially in a siege…is…well, that is the issue I am struggling with.”

It dawned on Andreas what his lord was dealing with…his conscience. To release the prisoners was the honourable and chivalric thing to do, but in doing so, he would significantly endanger his own men’s lives and potentially jeopardise the entire aims of his campaign.

He thought hard before answering

“My lord. You are a Prince of France, that you struggle with the choice ahead of you is display enough that you are both honourable and caring for those whom you command. I will remind you that you are not alone in this matter, although they are far away there are others you can turn to for council.”

“Fetch me some paper and a quill will you? I have an idea to buy some time.”

“What have you planned my lord?”

“We do neither action! I truly believe the spearmen from Frankfurt will be released to us, they will have already have marched a significant journey which means they will not be able to march much further. I am sending another letter to Frankfurt to urge that the spearmen be sent North and await our column marching West. We will meet them there and release a company of crossbowmen as was agreed to march back to Frankfurt. We will continue to follow the road thereafter West and then North West. From this more Northerly position…”

Henri stood, rummaged through the maps on the table and swiftly pointed to an area on one of them showing North East Europe to Andreas who watch on.

“…here, once we reach this point we will be able to strike due-East again more directly to Hamberg. We avoid the German armies, assuming they do not take the offensive. Ideally, they will follow us….away from Frankfurt and we will seize Hamberg castle before they reach us. We will then meet them in the field, defeat them, and THEN move South East, unopposed on Magdeburg. Edicts dictate that Hamberg will be pre-ratified and we will be able to raise more troops…God willing…before the main German armies converge on us. It’s a gamble but in our present strength, even with another company of spears we will be sorely pushed to take both Hamberg and Magdeburg AND defeat a large field army.”

“IF, your father agrees that is my lord.”

Henri looked disgruntled at this.

“Hmmm..my father. Ultimately, yes, but practically…I am in command but I will go where my Country needs me most. At least if we march North West we will not only buy time for the situation to develop more but also for our own forces to address themselves again.”

With that Andreas nodded. He’d never really commanded more than a company of men back on his fathers Italian estates so the concept of armies moving, vying for position on a continental scope was beyond him. He looked at the maps and understood it to a certain extent and realised the boy always was good at chess. His brother often commented on the sharpness of Henri’s mind, his swiftness of thought and he was seeing that in action now.

Henri returned to his letters and maps whilst Andreas thought, both of them were interrupted by the entrance of a messenger.

“My Lord…*pant*…message from Frankfurt.” The messenger was out of breath and clearly fresh from the road.

Andreas took the message and started to unfurl it for Henri

“Thank you, please ask the guards to find you some refreshment and wait outside.”

The messenger bowed slightly to both men, Henri halted him.

“Hold there friend…here!” he tossed him a silver florin which the messenger caught “Be sure to wait nearby but tend to your horse first.”

With that the messenger bowed again and left.

“Here” Andreas passed the open missive to Henri and he began to read

“Hmmmm…that may cause a problem” the Prince looked a little worried “It would appear that the garrison troops released from Hamberg have marched exactly due West and now immediately threaten to besiege Antwerp but in better news Frankfurts spears await us along the road.”

Henri thought for a moment and sighed

“No. This doesn’t change our immediate plans. It may mean we must march West to relieve Antwerp if others cannot be mustered to do so. Andreas?”

“Yes my lord?”

“Do you ever get the feeling we’re fighting fires during a thunderstorm? We may find ourselves facing a German army outside Antwerp only to dash back to face another near Hamberg or even Frankfurt and then to rush North for Hamberg castle all the while fighting the Kaisers men along the way.”

Andreas chuckled “Indeed it does, and there you were a few months ago complaining of inaction!”

Henri smiled “Tis so…and as such we shall not complain my friend! Rouse the army. We MARCH!”

[Braden]

Beatrix entered the quarters issued to her in the travel inn. The inn itself was well appointed being along the main routes to Frankfurt, Antwerp, Hamburg and other places if significance, trade and travel being frequent and the Royal household having paid for finer lodgings…as befitting a prospective bride for a Prince.

Prince Henri himself however, was absent when she arrived. Being well trained in the ways of court she took no slight in the matter as she had been well aware that the young Prince was still actively campaigning. She sighed to herself, she was young…only just 16…and had been told of the virtues of the young Prince’s earlier life but the reality was far closer to his boorish elder brother Louis, who’s own reputation was well known within the court. She had no impulsion to be “tethered” to such a man, young as he was, whilst more noble suitors might be found but her father was determined to ally himself with the Royal line and it was her duty to father and greater France perhaps.

So she waited in the well appointed surroundings for her fateful meeting with the man who, her father hoped, would be her husband.

Day’s passed with no messages or sign of the Royal and Beatrix started to resign herself to the fact that this man was just like Louis…a womaniser, warrior…aggressive and without tact! Not even the kindness to send any message to her as she waited.

On the fifth day, a messenger arrived. A retainer of Prince Henri announced as Andreas, who came fresh from the road to meet with her. Beatrix was ushered into a private room with two of her ladies to await the man.

Andreas entered soon after, he had clearly not bathed since his arrival or even changed clothing! Such a show was unfitting Beatrix felt for a first meeting but the man before her bowed deeply and announced his honourable intent before being asked to proceed.

Beatrix, demure and composed bid him to proceed “You may announce yourself and your intent Sir”

“Thank you m’lady” Andreas’ accent was lilting and awkward, his hair almost white in places, his face still grubby from the road but there was a youthful light behind his eyes “It is my honour to be his Royal Highness Prince Henri’s Retainer, he brings you news that he is still held outside Hamburg awaiting the Germans surrender. He has bidden me to ride to you and consult directly on his behalf.”

Again, Andreas bowed deeply and awaited composed for Beatrix to respond.

“Sir, you may address me more formally as The Lady Beatrix Capet and I must admit that I am not only shocked and upset by the Princes continued absence but also the..frankly…beshevelled appearance of his supposed favoured retainer!”

Andreas regarded Beatrix. She was small and slight of build, clearly only just what could be considered a woman. Beatrix for her part had said her piece and sat regally before him more intent on un-ruffling creases in her dress than actually holding a conversation with him.

“That is so The Lady Beatrix Capet, but the Prince is at the behest of his most noble enemy the Germans. If they saw fit to surrender before him instead of plying the folly of trying to actually fight him, well, I am certain the Prince would be here in person and much more appropriately attired than myself.”

The heavy sarcasm was completely lost on Beatrix.

“That is indeed so, well, perhaps he should impart my impatience and indignation to the people of Hamburg directly and make it known that a lady of good breeding is being kept waiting in a hovel due to their stubbornness!”

Andreas smiled a little “Why certainly Lady Beatrix Capet, I will make sure I pass the Prince a true level of your..erm..discomfort and anger so that he may impart such to the Germans personally. I am sure he will use your indignation to fuel his anger at them.”

“Indeed, and you will do this for me now Sir. Please ensure the Prince knows of me and my dire situation immediately.”

Clearly Beatrix had ended her conversation, such as it was, as she rose, nodded to Andreas before Imperiously leaving the room.


Prince Henri walked out of the Inn via the back door immediately making for the stables. Locating the nearest watering trough he dunked his head directly in to wash the chalk from his hair and the grim from his face. The icy waters seemed to slap him in the face but in truth he needed the cold shock to calm his temper down.

He was not known to have a temper of any sort, even in battle, but that child…for she was too petulant to be considered a woman…raised an anger within him he hadn’t known before.

Andreas stood nearby holding both horses.

“So my lord, how does she sit with you?”

“Not well Andreas, not well at all. She sets herself higher than even the status of the whole land, she does not please me, fair of face though she may be there is no inner core…no soul that I would like to be in company of that is certain.”

“Very well my lord, I shall inform her family to expect her back home shortly then?”

“Indeed you may Andreas for I would not be as complementary as you would be in such a letter.”

With that Henri and Andreas re-joined their bodyguard outside the Inn and rode back towards Hamburg.

[Northnovas]

Paris 1113

The mansion was packed with people for the social event of the season. Gauthier de Beauvis was one of the younger members in the crowd intermingling with the aristocratic guest. He was a very unique individual his origins blurred but had been raised an aristocrat with schooling in Rome and Paris. He had recently completed his military training and was ready to join the Chevalier of France. What made de Beauvis unique were his features, he was an individual who was asked if he hailed from a particular region or was he the father or brother of a noble because of the striking resemblance to members of the nobility. No one knew and he always replied that he was not but never explained where he came from……

“There he is by the window from here I would say he looks like the King Philip in his younger days.” whispered the man. His partner looked over and acknowledged his remark but disagreeing.
“No I don’t think so to me from up close I say he reminds me of the late Duke de Champagne god rest his soul.” then quickly downing the goblet of wine before pouring himself some more. The third quickly interjected on the gossip of the young nobles origins.
“Mmmm, could be Henri my friend, but from what I heard he was a bastard son of a high ranking clergy member, possible the Pope himself. He did spend a lot of his early childhood in Rome.” The other two looked at their friend with astonishment of the mentioning of the B word and fearing the young noble would hear them gossiping about him.“Oh come on you two! Stop with the antics! He is a fine man and if he had a legitimate father, that man surly would be speaking up and proudly announcing his son to the world. There is no one but a wealthy benefactor. The young man has been well looked after.”

The other two men agreed with their friend and then strategically moved about the crowd to participate in more gossip with the many guest.