The Machiavellian Adventures of Princess Eleanor

**scooter_the_shooter** · 11-28-2004, 21:03

hay froggy this isnt complaining just a question. on redhand we would get 2 sometimes 3 updates a day. but now we get one or none are you to busy to post or just not as interested in this.

**frogbeastegg** · 11-28-2004, 21:22

Eleanor rode along in the middle of the column, at Trempwick’s side, ahead of Aveline and Juliana but behind four of Trempwick’s soldiers. The remaining soldier and Fulk brought up the rear. It was snowing lightly and had been all day. Everyone was coated in a dusting of snow, Eleanor more so than most. Brushing the accumulated snow off seemed like such an effort and she was so tired.

Looking at everyone else Eleanor knew it must be cold, her companions were wrapped up in their thick cloaks and still shivering, their faces pinched and reddened by the icy edge of the air, and yet she was baking. She was warmer then if it had been a summer’s day. The heat had even reached her eyes; they felt as though they were burning. Blinking did little to ease the unpleasant sensation, if anything it only made it worse.

Her mare had a good, even gait but she was still being jogged and jolted enough for her wounds to protest very loudly. Periodically throughout the day’s travelling she had felt blood trickling down her back, at least she assumed it was blood, not sweat. So hot.

Ireland. The thought loomed large in Fulk’s mind; Ireland. Whenever someone fled England they always went west and south, towards France and the other continental countries, seldom eastwards and across the sea to Ireland. Trempwick would have eyes in France or any of the other usual destinations, but maybe not Ireland. Even if he did have agents in Ireland it would be harder for him to act. In Ireland a runaway princess and her knight might be harder to find. They might be safe.

Would Eleanor want to leave, though? Granted she might not like this marriage but that did not mean she wanted to spend the rest of her life on the run, always fearing her past might catch up with her. It did not mean she wanted to tag along with some penniless knight travelling from place to place looking for a lord to serve. She might not be royal in the expensive, luxury consuming meaning of the word but that did not mean she would be content with such a hard life. It did not mean that he liked the idea either.

With a sigh Fulk put the idea from his mind; they would not be safe and the life they would have together would only have one merit amongst many downsides. They would be together. They would be homeless, penniless, starving, in danger, friendless, in a strange land …

Alright, forget that idea. Let’s go over the facts once again.

Eleanor had been forced into this betrothal and it was common knowledge. Forced betrothals, even forced marriages, were not binding. All it took was a trial before a court to prove that the contract had been made under duress and then it would be dissolved. Problem: Eleanor could not prosecute the case herself, she had to have a husband or male relative do it for her. Her father and brother were in favour of this match and Fulk couldn’t see Trempwick helping her.

Another angle: the contract was already null and void precisely because it was made under duress; Eleanor was free to enter a contract with someone else. That new husband could then push for the old contract to be torn up, arguing that it had never been binding. The problem there was twofold. Firstly Fulk wanted to marry Eleanor himself and he was not nearly powerful enough to take the king and his spymaster to court and win, assuming they bothered with the niceties and didn’t remove his head right at the beginning. That led to the second issue; namely that those in a position to pull the scheme off were every bit as problematic as Trempwick so nothing at all would be gained for a significant risk.

All the legal wrangling in the world meant nothing when someone kicked you around a room and told you to say your vows now or else; once the wedding had taken place it was notoriously tricky to get it dissolved, and that’s assuming your family is on your side. Heiresses and widows were frequently abducted and forced to marry their captors for this very reason. Fulk grinned down at his saddlebow; of course many enterprising ladies had arranged for someone they liked to abduct and marry them, a kind of elopement. Abduction allowed marriages between two people who would normally be considered too far apart on the social scale; it also allowed marriages unapproved of by the family. If Eleanor wasn’t enterprising then no one was.

They could elope and marry, either a simple church ceremony with only first names and no family mentioned, or a secret wedding. Two people who agreed that they were married, and then clung consistently to that statement were considered man and wife even if the marriage had not been witnessed by anyone, blessed by the church or consummated. If they picked their moment with extraordinary care they would even have a day or two lead on the spymaster. No, the only problem arose afterwards – royalty did not like bastard knights from the lowest part of the nobility swiping their daughters. His head would be on a spike faster than he cared to imagine. They wouldn’t even have to be subtle about it; Fulk had no family or friends to come to his aid. It would be unprecedented; a gap in rank so large had never been crossed in this way.

If he managed to marry Eleanor legally and without impending death to spoil things they’d be able to take advantage of those nice new manors she had been given. In this scenario they would not be sleeping under a hedge. Ah yes, if they did the impossible they could have quite a nice life. Wasn’t that always the case?

Fulk looked up and along the column so he could catch a glimpse of Eleanor. She was slumped in her saddle and swaying slightly. They should not be on the road; she was ill and anyone with eyes could see it. For a spymaster Trempwick was amazingly blind sometimes. Fulk battled his exasperation; he wanted nothing more than to ride up to her side and see how she was doing but he could not. Propriety. She had Trempwick to care for her, in addition to Aveline and Juliana. A posh wall of steel keeping them apart. Bodyguards are only allowed to be concerned if there is no one better suited present.

Still watching Eleanor Fulk turned his thoughts to a new tack. What if Trempwick died, either before or after the wedding? Before, well the king wanted his daughter married off but it appeared he also acknowledged that Trempwick was the only man likely to survive the experience, although Fulk liked to think he himself had a much better chance. William was not the kind to give up once his mind was settled; if Trempwick died either before or after the wedding William would find someone new for Eleanor. He wanted the claim to his throne tied up so none could use to against him or his heir, or so everybody had been saying. Trempwick was only his best bet; there was nothing much to be lost by trying a few other prospective husbands to see if they could handle being married to a grumpy assassin who hated their guts.

Fulk sobered, the wry smile vanishing from his lips. As funny as that sounded it was true, and as long as you were forewarned Eleanor would actually be quite easy to handle. You would just lock her away in a room under trusted guard, only visiting occasionally and for a few minutes at a time. You would never allow her anything that might be used as a weapon, nor would you ever give her even a hint of freedom. From time to time you’d trot her out in public, but with careful arrangements and guard that would not be so problematic. Trempwick had a head start and an existing knowledge of one of the king’s best kept secrets, nothing more.

Also there was one matter Fulk did not like to think about; Eleanor needed Trempwick. He hated that; his princess should not be dependant on the spymaster, but she was and that was that. Trempwick protected her, and without the spymaster to make use of her Eleanor’s agent skills became worthless, in turn making her next to worthless. Without Trempwick Eleanor had two small manors, a bodyguard and a very little bit of money. She had no friends, and her family would not truly help her. Someone would snatch her up for her stake on the throne, or she would be forced into a new marriage to suit her family’s needs, or they might simply kill her. That last was certainly believable to Fulk now; William had killed two of his sons already.

And so, for what must be the hundredth time, Fulk concluded there was nothing he could do except sit and watch as his love married someone else, someone she did not want. If he ever had the chance to have a word with whichever entity had decided this whole forbidden romance thing between him and Eleanor was a good idea he would have to have some very stiff words with them.

Small but I've been unexpectedly busy today.

I'll wait until you're awake then, Ludens.

Caesar, Red Hand was ... different to this. Each chapter of Red Hand was actually shorter than the average Eleanor chapter, something like 4 pages instead of the 5, 6 or even 7 that Eleanor usually totals. The writing was also of a far lower quality and I was restraining myself to keep to that very narrow, game based focus. Eleanor is written to book standards (well, as close as I can get without an editor to prod me along) and it has a book worthy plot - it is *much* more complicated in every possible way. That slows things down, but not nearly as much as it used to as I'm now far more at home and practised with this kind of writing. I'm also working on my book, the new Red Hand, and on the RTW beginner's guide. It's definitely not a lack of interest.