The Throne of Kings

[Desiderata]

Thank you for your comments and Ill try and get the next part done over the next 2 to 4 days. The style does change and this really reflects the emotional state of the Throne twoards that which he is reflecting on - homely and less formal when speaking about the forest and it's making; increasingly formal and pompose as the story develops in the Throneroom.

Ludens - thanks for the advice about tense and grammar; Im not going to get too hung up about it as our spoken and thought style is rarelt grammatically perfect. For example, Steve Redgrave's autobiography contains many speling mistakes - he is dsylexic after all.

I also have to say mea culpa - the approach isn't unique cf CS Lewis's book The Gun

[Desiderata]

In those first few years I saw a world quite unlike that of the Forest, where its inhabitants had two main preoccupations; finding food to eat and making sure that they weren’t food for some other animal. The King and his Chamberlain were very concerned in the security of the kingdom; he had only come to the Throne recently and his father had left a land that needed to be able to bring it’s disparate parts together, to secure its borders and defend itself. But all this took money and that was one thing that they did not have in abundance. The first King was an impatient man more comfortable on the battlefield than in the Throne Room, the Chamberlain was an intensely loyal person who had been a captain in the old King’s army. As a look back on my time, I can now understand that these two men whilst not particularly astute when it came to money knew enough that they could not build castles without it.

“Well let’s put up the taxes across the Kingdom?” suggested the King.

“We could do My Lord; however, there are at least two provincial governors who I wouldn’t trust. They could well see them use the excuse to declare independence and set up their own fiefdom.” said the Chamberlain.

Both men were sat at a large table below me, on the table was spread a map of the kingdom with rivers, seas and mountains. The map was held down by two tankards of mead that the men were drinking from, a dagger in one corner and a stone in another. It was a bright morning early in the year, I could feel the sap rising ready for the new growth that would never now come and the wind through the high open windows had a freshness to it. The Chamberlain was dressed (as he always was) in his finest clothes, wearing his chain of office and his face was a study of concentration. The King was dressed in a more simple style, his crown lying on the map absently discarded with a toss of the wrist. They had been discussing how to raise the money for the buildings that they wanted in each province, but so far the total money for these improvements, with the cost of training new garrisons and the upkeep of the existing army meant that the Exchequer would be borrowing money. Not a situation that pleased the King or Chamberlain, as the nobles from whom they normally borrowed were not possessed of bottomless purses.

“Hmm, I agree but what else could we do? We could try and encourage local trade by building ports in the most prosperous regions, but I would trust the governors of the regions only so far as I could kick the rotting corpse of my enemy. They would either fleece me or sell out to my enemy. We could try and build up the farming in the other regions, but I am told that the money raised year on year would not match the cost of the improvements for some years. Bugger” ruminated the King. A frown of concentration was building on his forehead, as he rubbed his head with his free hand and lifted the mead to his lips with the other.

“Well, if I maybe so bold as to offer advice your Sire” began the Chamberlain only to be cut-off by a swift cutting motion of the Kings free hand.

“Look George, you above all I trust. You were a good advisor to my father and an able general. Speak man; clearly, honestly and openly.” The King said with warm affection and authority.

“Certainly Sire. We are both fighting men; I was given this position by your father, may he rest in peace, because I proved myself in many battles bringing rebels together under the crown and because I am very good at working out what a person really means when they are speaking. I wasn’t given this position because I knew about finances.” began the Chamberlain, “But I know one man, whose ability with money and numbers is as good as mine is in reading people.”

“So who is this paragon of counting?” quipped the King

“It is Hugh D’ Gascoigne, my liege” said the Chamberlain.

“That man is the least loyal of all my Governors; he’s mother was a French whore who beguiled an honest Norman.” spat the King “Give me one good reason why I should have anything to do with that snake?”

“I’ll give you more than one reason Sire. One, if he’s here he can hardly cause trouble in his province; a case of keeping your friends closer by your enemies closer still. Two, his mother was a cousin to the crown and he has contacts in to the French court that could prove useful, if he can be controlled. Three, the man is intensely loyal, but only to two things – Hugh D’ Gascoigne and money; to really be able to build his personal wealth, he must be in a position where money flows in and out – looking after the Exchequer would be a very appropriate place for him. Four, aside from his penchant with figures, Hugh also has a voracious appetite for sex and has a leaning towards young squires. It is one of the controls that I have over him that has bought his loyalty over the years. He dare not have this made public, otherwise he would lose all credibility and could well end up very much the worse.” explained the Chamberlain.

The King was stunned, a smile crept across his face and soon his body was shaking with laughter, “You old rogue, I’d swear that half the time this kingdom is kept together only by threat of violence or blackmail!”

“Only half the time Sire?” said the Chamberlain quietly “But what of the suggestion?”

The King began to compose himself and as his laughter subsided he stood and stretched. The powerful muscles of his legs and arms stretched taunt like a cat.

“Let me think on it for awhile; I know that a decision has to be made, but I need to weigh up the idea in my mind” said the King.

“Of course my liege. There are some other affairs we need to address Sire and they are delicate.” said the Chamberlain, the last part more timidly than he had spoken all morning.

“I know; a wife. The need for an heir is pressing, alliances through marriage are very useful and the company at night can be diverting blah blah blah – Look George, I know all this; but who? The French? They are arrogant and think that all of Europe is their personal property. The Danes? Upstart descendents from the Vikings, with no influence and even poorer than we are. The Italians? About as trustworthy and dependable as Judas; although I have heard that one princess Maigret is a complete knockout. The Aragonese? They have designs on our lands in the south but are less useful to use than the Danes are. The Spanish? Who have beautiful daughters who pray all night and make you insane with desire? Or a princess from the Holy Roman Empire? Have you seen the daughter that the Holy Roman Emperor has produced? You know, she was skulking around here earlier this year. Oh what’s her name? Princess Ingar!! She turned milk sour and scared the children of the court. I’d far rather sleep with a goat!”

“Sire, please think of this marriage not in terms of attraction, but of state-hood. Marriage with the right royal line, can lead to useful things and bolster our position. Anyway, Princess Ingar was not that unattractive; she had an air about her that said something I though” mused the Chamberlain.

“Damn right it did – my mother was an ogre and my father was drunk” said the King warming to his diatribe.

The Chamberlain remained quiet as the King chortled and muttered another obscenity under his breath. Soon he looked up and peered at the very quiet Chamberlain.

“George, what have you done?”

The Chamberlain shifted and squirmed in his seat “The affairs of state cannot allow the affairs of the heart or the eyes to dominate Sire”

“George, what have you done?” repeated the King.

“It is for the good of the realm Sire” as the Chamberlain spoke it was as though he was trying to disappear in to his seat to avoid the gaze and building fury of his master.

“George, what the blue blazes have you done?” said the King quietly but menacingly.

“I agreed an alliance with the Holy Roman Emperor as you directed and also agreed to the marriage of Princess Ingar to the King, with a dowry of 2000 florins with the blessing of the Holy Father the Pope that the crown of the Holy Roman Empire and the crown of England may be forever forged together in peace and brotherly love” blurted the Chamberlain in one quick sentence.

The King sat and his shoulders sagged “Oh. Bugger. The Pope’s blessing you say? Bugger. Couldn’t you at least’ve tried for that dark Italian filly, damn she’s a knockout from what I’ve heard. Oh sod it. Look George I knew you were up to something, I’m not a complete fool. A marriage to the Holy Roman Empire is a good thing; it will hold France check and their women have a tendency to be able to produce sprogs every time they lift their petticoats. Old friend, I am not angry. Let’s get this marriage thing done, pop out a few heirs or two and then I can get back to other things, like hunting and feasting.”

The attitude of the King and the Chamberlain was not so far removed from that I had seen displayed by the animals in the Forest. What marriage was I didn’t know then, but the idea of having offspring was one I had seen before; where the strongest and fittest got to mate with the most fertile, here it was writ large. Kingdoms mating with kingdoms. It was the beginning of my education in statehood.

[Ludens]

Ludens - thanks for the advice about tense and grammar; Im not going to get too hung up about it as our spoken and thought style is rarelt grammatically perfect. For example, Steve Redgrave's autobiography contains many speling mistakes - he is dsylexic after all.

Did you do this on purpose?

[Desiderata]

Did you do this on purpose?

oops sorry If I offended anyone reading my post, I apologise unreservedly.

[Ludens]

oops sorry If I offended anyone reading my post, I apologise unreservedly.

I am not offended, and in fact I agree wholeheartedly with the sentiment that good dialogue does not have to agree with the rules of grammar, but if you have three spelling errors in once sentence it seems more a case of laziness.

Put it like this: if you do not think your post worth the effort of giving it a quick spelling and grammar check, why should others think it worth the effort of replying?

Anyway, good to see you doing your best on the story, and looking forward to part three.


Edit: D'oh! Laziness, not lazyness :embarrassed :

[frogbeastegg]

Princess Ingar sounds delightful

The topic of spelling and grammar has arisen several times, perhaps it would make a good addition to your technical topic, Ludens? Then it would be stored safely in one place and new writers could look at the various viewpoints with less difficulty. It was certainly a topic that intimidated me waaaay back when I started writing a year ago.

I always try to get spelling and grammar spot on; I consider it a real achievement if I do. I'm dyslexic and it has been a year long struggle to get even the basics right; only now am I beginning to feel comfortable with bending the rules when it suits my work.

[Desiderata]

I think that I often rely too heavily on MS Word to point out my spelling and grammatical mistakes - The Throne is written in that package and its having a complete field day with slang!!!

[Desiderata]

The wedding was agreed to by the Holy Roman Emperor and so the planning and preparations began, including a new throne to be placed on the dais next to me. The preparations took many months and as I had never witnessed nor indeed knew exactly what a wedding was, I was particularly interested. My initial thoughts were, that a wedding was some kind of agreement between two countries as there were endless discussions about money, what was agreeable and what was not, who would get what title and so on. It all seemed very clinical.

One month before the wedding day, Princess Inga arrived in the castle with her handmaidens; although calling some ‘maidens’ was pushing that definition to breaking point. Of the twelve that accompanied her, at least eight were by far the most mature looking maidens I had seen in my short time in the court. In fact, two looked as they had been felling trees their entire lives so broad were the shoulders and large their hands. Their arrival was marked with a celebratory feast that lasted seven days! Such was the importance placed by the Chamberlain on making sure that the event was marked appropriately; but in doing so the preparations sent the Chamberlain in to an apoplexy of hand wringing, whilst the King sat blithely by, hunting, carousing and generally letting the whole affair blow over him. Whilst the Chamberlain was concerned that everything was “just so”, the King was completely underwhelmed by the whole affair. A typical exchange went something like this:

“Now my Liege, for the main feast when the Princess arrives we will have roast quail, turtledoves and partridge, goose, venison, roasted boar, gilded and slivered calves' heads, fish, roasted peacock, mutton, cheeses, walnuts, fresh fruits, oysters steamed in almond milk, ale-flavored bread, stewed cabbage, tarts and custards, fresh fruit preserves and spicy mulled wine. Will that suffice or do you think we should have some other meats as well?” mused the Chamberlain.

The King lazily scratched his throat and grunted. The Chamberlain’s looked up from his parchment that he was squinting at. It was obvious that the King was bored and uninterested.

“Sire, perhaps we should include some other roast meats?” asked the Chamberlain, hoping to elicit a response from the King, who was staring in to space and did not respond.

“Sire?” pleaded the Chamberlain.

The King shifted his position on the cushion and swung a leg over my arm, “You know old friend, that forest by Adney’s old castle is chock full of deer – I might go up and visit him and hunt for a few days.”

The Chamberlain’s bottom lip parted company with it’s partner as his chin fell, “My Lord, do we not have the tiny detail of wedding to arrange?” he pleaded.

“Pish George. You have a wedding to arrange; that’s the easy part. I’m the poor bugger that has to consummate it on the night.” the King stated devilishly.

“My Liege is making fun of me. To consummate the marriage with the fair Princess Inga, twil be a pleasure surely Sire? Does she not have hair like golden strands? Skin of the purest ivory?”

“Aye; and shoulders like a ox, eyes like a stagnant mill pond and teeth that would grace any castle wall!” said the King, cutting in on the Chamberlain “Sorry, you muttering something about the feast – now that does interest me. So what do we have planned?”

The Chamberlain hurriedly picked up his parchment and squinted at it once again “We have the Princess arriving in two days time. Her arrival will be marked with a feast that evening and the celebrations will go on for seven days. We have lots of different roasted meats, fish and fowl, fruits, wines and delicacies from around the world”

“Good; let’s hope that she knows in which hand to hold her knife then” said the King “Now back to Alney’s forest.” the Chamberlains shoulders sagged and he had the look of a man who realised that he had had his two minutes of the King’s attention.

So the day of the Princess’s arrival came. The Throne Room was full of the great and the good of the Kingdom. Every provincial governor was in attendance, whispering in corners, moving around the crowd and speaking behind hands. There were nobles from every part of the kingdom, visiting emissaries from other Kingdoms with expressionless faces but eyes that drank in information, traders who had grown richer under the hand of Hugh D’ Gascoigne and the Chamberlain, a picture of nervous energy; darting between groups, checking last minute details, waving to old friends, nodding at old enemies, a fireball of motion. Flags for every province were lazily moving in the breeze, attached to the poles set in to the walls near the ceiling. The servants had spent the morning washing and polishing the tiles until a look would slide off them. I was dressed with the finest cushions and a new smaller throne sat beside me on the dais, also bedecked with cushions. An expectant air hung in the room like mist. Then there was a movement by the Kings door, the trumpets blared and in strode the King. He was dressed in his finest ermine, his hands bedecked with rings and jewels and on his head the crown. It was an astonishingly simple affair; made with Welsh gold and studded with only a few jewels to signify the different parts of his kingdom. The nobles, governors and all dropped to one knee until the King lazily waved a hand and they rose to resume their quiet conversations. The Chamberlain extracted himself from what ever group he had been with and scurried over to the dais.

“Sire, the Princess has arrived, bathed and will be here shortly,” said the Chamberlain “and if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I must speak a word or two to the emissary from Doge Vitalle?” The King flicked his hand and the Chamberlain hurried off.

After a little while, he returned “So where on earth has this woman got to?” demanded the King, quite bored now with the whole charade.

“Unfortunately Sire, it is quite common for ladies of the continent to increase the anticipation of their menfolk, by arriving a little late. It may be a case of hurry up and wait Sire” said the Chamberlain apologetically.

The King grunted, “Then you could at least get me a cup of wine”

The Chamberlain gestured to a servant and the cup appeared in the King’s hand almost by magic. Time passed slowly with the King getting increasingly irritated and the Chamberlain more anxious.

Suddenly, there was a fanfare and the double doors to the Throne Room were opened. As they did, the crowd parted and respectfully bowed or curtsied. The King remained in his seat, but I’m sure I could hear him whisper under his breathe “Suck it in Will, remember you’re a king not a knight on the battlefield”.

The Princess and her retinue arrived at the foot of the dais and curtsied. The Princess stood apart and was wearing a gown of blue, interlaced with yellow and white trimmings and veil that hid her face. Her hands were clasped in front of her and even I could see they were shaking from where I was. The King stood and bowed. Pleasantries were exchanged in fluent French; on the journey, the state of the Emperor’s health and on the suitability of the apartments for the Princess.

The King stepped down from the dais and gallantly said “Let me take you by the hand and help you to your throne, so that you can see everyone and everyone can bask in your beauty.”

The Princess offered her hand and the King gently grasped it, guiding her to the other throne he asked, “My court would be blessed if you would lift your veil; so that they may catch a glimpse of their future queen.”

“Of course my Lord” said the Queen-to-be. And indicating with her hand, one of her maidens came forward (if I remember correctly, Lumberjack number 1) and lifted off the veil. The Princess shyly turned to look at the King and as she did so, I felt the King stiffen and then sit straighter.

“Ah. Yes. Well. Ah. Um. Ah you see I’m a little confused; sorry, are you not Princess Inga?” asked the King clearly confused, for sat beside and slightly below him, was a young women unlike the Princess Inga that had visited earlier that year. This woman had golden hair, eyes the colour of the summer sky at midday, a small and delicate chin and lips that curved languidly with the slightest hint of a pout. She bore no resemblance to the Princess that had visited from the Holy Roman Empire earlier that year.

“I am my Lord. But my name often causes confusion as I share it with my elder sister. Although the pronunciation is different; my name is pronounced ‘in-gah’ whilst my sister’s name is pronounced ‘en-ger’.” Explained the Princess.

“However, we are very rarely confused by sight my Lord.” She added with the suggestion of a smile.

“I should coco” said the King breezily and waved his hand for the festivities to begin. Seven days of feasting, with food, wines, cheeses and fruit. Contortionists, jugglers, musicians and troubadours played each evening. It was my first experience of a feast and it was lively, especially as the Queen-to-be was able to match the King cup for cup in wine drinking.

Throughout it all, servants cleaned, scrubbed, cooked and served just as the ants in the Forest, whilst the nobles and emissaries like wolves and foxes prowled the Throne Room and the Chamberlain watched and noted, often sharing a look with the King. I came to understand that this Chamberlain was not the fool everyone thought he was and that the festivities gave him an opportunity to watch people whilst their defences became impaired. That there was more to this man than just an able general.