VVD0D95
Banned
Sorry for the wait! Been mulling over where to go, and finally found the right direction. And indeed he does, he'll try and broker a peace though someway or the other.
A Green And Pleasant Land
- Thread starter VVD0D95
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Sorry for the wait! Been mulling over where to go, and finally found the right direction. And indeed he does, he'll try and broker a peace though someway or the other.
Chapter 72: A New Age
VVD0D95
Banned
Chapter 72: A New Age
August, 1300
August, 1300
Alexander walked up the steps to the hill, Moot Hill, the place where all Kings of Scots since Kenneth the Conqueror had been crowned. His wife Sancha was at his side and their children followed close behind. They stopped before the chair, the stone of Scone, which legend had it, St Columba had brought on his voyage to Scotland many hundreds of years ago. Alexander nodded to it, turned and sat down. Sancha stood to his right with their children standing next to her. The gathered nobles fell quiet then. As they waited for the Earl of Fife to come and place the crown atop his head, Alexander thought briefly on his father. King Alexander had recovered from what it was that had ailed him, only to suffer a stroke two weeks ago, which had cut him down during the middle of a council meeting. For two weeks Alexander, had fought grief and relief. Grief that his father had died, and relief that he no longer had to suffer.
The appearance of the Earl of Fife took him from his thoughts. Duncan, Earl of Fife was a young man, the same age as Alexander’s son David, but he was tall where David was small. His voice was in the process of breaking as well, as he spoke it altered. “We are here today, to crown a new King. His Majesty King Alexander died two weeks ago, as the sun rose to its highest point. Now with the sun at its highest point once more, we crown a new King. Prince Alexander, Earl of Gairoch and Lord of Mann, do you know the oaths?”
The oaths which King Kenneth had created all those years ago, which his ancestor King David had changed only slightly. Alexander had learned them as a child, ready for the day he would be crowned. He had ensured his son Alexander had also learned them. He took a moment and then said. “Aye, I do.”
“Then let us begin.” The Earl of Fife said.
There would be no questions, Alexander would need to recite the entire oath himself, without prompting. He took a breath and then began. “I, Alexander, son of Alexander, Prince of Scots, Earl of Gairoch and Lord of Mann, do hereby swear to uphold the laws of the Kingdom of Scotland, I swear to protect the innocent from the wrong, and to defend the good from the evil. I swear to protect the land with my arms and with my mind. I swear to listen to good counsel and to ignore the bad. Before the nobles of my realm and before God, I do hereby swear to uphold the liberties of Scotland.”
The Earl of Fife nodded and then said. “Bring forth the land of this Kingdom.”
Five men hurried forward they placed the pot with the soil of Scotland before Alexander. He removed his shoes, and placed his feet inside the soil. It had been considered right that the next part of the oath be said with his feet firmly in Scottish land. “I, Alexander, son of Alexander, do hereby recognise the laws of this land, and swear as my God given duty, the right to protect them, to ensure a fair and free trial for those who demand it. I swear to protect all as I would my own wife and children, and to not give into temptation. To deliver the Kingdom from evil, and to ensure God’s power and glory.”
With his feet kept firmly in the soil, the Earl of Fife moved forward toward him, taking the great sword that had belonged to King Kenneth, and with great carefulness, tapping him on the shoulder, first the right and then the left. As he finished, Fife proclaimed. “With the power invested in me, by the Lord God, I do hereby proclaim you, Alexander, to be Alexander, fourth of that name, King of Scotland, by right of God and birth.” He handed the sword back to the helpers, and stepped back as the Bishops consecrated him with the oils, when they were done, Fife stepped forward again, placed the iron crown of King Kenneth atop his head, and helped him stand. “Here is our King!” Fife proclaimed. “Long Live the King!”
“Long Live the King!” came the answering cry. The next hour passed with nobles coming to swear fealty to him, first his wife and their children, then the great lords, Bruce, Comyn, Stewart, and others. Eventually, it was done, and he put his shoes back on and led the procession back to Scone Abbey where the great feast was to be had.
They entered the Abbey, and not for the first time, Alexander marvelled at just how beautiful it was. There were stained glass windows depicting Christ in his glory, and tapestries depicting the dynasty Alexander hailed from. He nodded appreciatingly. He then reached the long table, and sat down in the throne like chair. He gestured for others to sit down. As they did so, they all looked at him expectantly. He knew why. Ever since King Kenneth had taken the crown, every King had been expected to give a speech, stating what they were going to do in their reign. When the King had been a child, their regent had given it for them. Alexander cleared his throat and then said. “My lords and ladies, I thank you all for coming today. My father, was a great man who worked throughout his life for the betterment of Scotland, as a consequence, we have enjoyed peace for forty years, a full treasury and great relations with our neighbours.” He paused to allow applause then. When that was done, he continued.
“I learned a lot from my father, he was a great man. I intend to keep the peace within Scotland and with our allies. Already we are negotiating a new peace treaty with Norway, and shall soon have a new trade agreement with England.” He paused to allow a smattering of applause, then raised his hand for silence. “With my wife and Queen’s help, we have negotiated another treaty with Portugal, to bring an alliance closer together. With these alliances and agreements, I shall work tirelessly, with the aid of my councillors to bring greatness to Scotland. There shall be roads developed and maintained, there shall be a better system of delivery for messages developed, and we shall continue to bring greatness to our ancestors.”
There was a roar of approval then, led by the Earl of Buchan. Alexander smiled, he let it go on for a time, and then raised his hand once more for silence. “Finally, I have one final announcement. When I came of age, my father named me Earl of Gairoch and Lord of Mann. Today, I shall confirm my son and your Prince, Alexander, as Earl of Gairoch and Lord of Mann and declare that these titles shall from this day be made compulsory for the heir apparent to the throne.” There were cheers then, and his son stepped forward and bowed before taking his seat again. Alexander had considered naming his son as Duke of Gairoch, but had been convinced that it sounded too foreign.
Someone’s stomach rumbled. Alexander smiled. “Clearly a sign that we should begin eating.” Everybody laughed. “Well, let us not delay. Eat!” And with that the feast began, Alexander turned and smiled at his wife, it had been she who had convinced him and the council that he should become King of Scotland, to show he was just as powerful as his uncle in England, and the council had surprisingly agreed. She would be a fabulous Queen.
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Good update.
I do have a couple of nit-picks though*.
* Sorry - though I only nit-pick on stories I'm otherwise enjoying, so you can take it as a compliment!
I do have a couple of nit-picks though*.
I assume by 'chair' you mean the Stone of Scone. The legend was (is) that it was brought to Scotland by St. Columba - not St. Andrew. There was never a legend about St. Andrew visiting Scotland. He was crucified at Patras, Greece. A monk of Patras, St. Rule (aka St. Regulus) was taking some of his bones to 'the ends of the earth' and was shipwrecked at Kilrymont, Fife, which later became known as St. Andrews because the relics were then kept there.
If I understand this correctly, you're having the king no longer be King of Scots (the people) but King of Scotland (the land)? That's a huge change and I'm not sure it would go through as smoothly as you suggest, no matter how persuasive his wife was.
* Sorry - though I only nit-pick on stories I'm otherwise enjoying, so you can take it as a compliment!
VVD0D95
Banned
Ah thank you for that! I'd had a complete brain fart at the time of writing the chapter re the Stone, which is embarrassing to me given how much I read up on it as a child,so thanks for pointing that out!
And oh interesting, why do you think it wouldn't go qutie as smoothly?
Chapter 73: Phokas
VVD0D95
Banned
Chapter 73: Phokas
August, 1300
August, 1300
“Come on you fools, row harder!” John roared at his sailors. He was stood on the deck of his galley the Maria, the first ship he had ever owned and named after his first love. Thankfully, his wife was named Maria as well otherwise that would have been awkward. The Venetians were firing off their arrows at an alarming rate, but John was not worried. He knew they were panicking. They’d already lost their outposts in the Peloponnesian region, with John and his men having taken it for the Emperor. Now they would take Crete and ensure that it too flew the standard of the Empire.
The ship moved quickly, and he saw the ship commanded by his brother Andrew slam right into the Venetian squadron leader ship. He nodded to himself. That was good, Andrew was following the plan at least. Last time he’d gone off on some random sailing manoeuvre which had nearly resulted in his death. John had had to use every bit of his will power to not go after his brother, and instead focus on slaying the enemy before him. This time it would not be the same. Eventually, they got close to the Venetian ship that had been firing at them. John took one look at their commander, saw that he was a young man, and he knew then what he needed to do. “Fire on the left!” he roared. The archers took up their positions and then unleashed at his signal.
The commander went down quickly and the sailors that were left began panicking. “Smash into them!” John roared. He wanted to end this fight now, before the weather changed. One look at the sky told him it would likely start raining soon, causing all sorts of chaos. Chaos he did not need. The ship got closer to the enemy ship, and the moment he could, John jumped onto it. He shook slightly, and then drew his sword and began the carnage. One swing this way, and then another to the right. He took a turn, took a wound and then pushed through.
These Venetians were definitely not used to fighting. They were the green beards, sent to defend a region that the Venetians clearly considered secondary to other areas. They would learn soon enough that they were wrong to do that. John pushed through, as his men joined him, they unleashed a bloodbath on the galley, eventually leaving the ship vacant of bodies, apart from one boy, who was curled in on himself.
He looked at the boy, saw the slightly tanned skin on him and then tried out something in a vague combination of Latin and Greek. “How many other ships are there, do you know?”
The boy looked at him in confusion. He said something that was clearly a question. John sighed and tried again, the boy still did not answer, therefore, John picked him up and handed him to his cousin Stephen, he would know what to do with him. He turned around and looked at his ship, it was fine. He got back onto it, as did the rest of his men. “We move for the island.” He barked. His men got to it.
They met some resistance as they progressed, but the Venetians had just met the rest of the Rhoman fleet which had decided to join them. He still didn’t understand the hesitancy with which the Empire’s officers acted in. there seemed to be some sort of fear around them, as if they were scared of acting on their natural instincts. It confused him. they were at war, so why did they not just act and then deal with things as they happened? That was how he had handled his entire naval career.
He watched from his ship as the Venetians were brought to bear, occasionally he would be required and so he would plunge into battle. His sword drenched in blood, by the end of the fight. He would watch with happiness as the Venetians slunk away or surrendered. The island before them was one that had always belonged to the Empire, and it would again by the time he was done. No politician would get in the way of that. Of that he was certain.
As the island came into view, he prepared himself for any resistance on the island. He knew how these Venetians were. They’d act demure and then become back to bite you in the arse. This time it would not happen to him. the ship pulled in and was anchored. He jumped down, dusted himself off, and then waited. After a few moments he walked forward, his steps leaving imprints on the sand. He felt the familiar rush and as he heard the horns, he knew battle was coming. He smiled to himself and ran forward.
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Chapter 74: Celebrations
VVD0D95
Banned
Chapter 74: Celebrations
November, 1300
Andronikos smiled as he saw his courtiers drink and make revelry. It had been a long summer and the Autumn had just finished, with winter fast approaching this was what they needed. A celebration, which he had declared throughout the Empire, to ensure that the people knew that they were on the rise again. It made him happy to see such a thing and to know that as Emperor it would be accredited to him was a small relief. He turned to look at his son Michael, and asked him.
“You are not going to join in the revelry today?” His son usually had a drink or two during such feasts as there were, but in the past few weeks Andronikos had noted that his son had stopped drinking all together.
“Not today, Your Imperial Majesty. I think I would rather remain awake to enjoy what happens.” Michael responded.
Andronikos shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He called for another cup of wine and as he waited, he said. “I’ve not seen the court act like this in years. The last time I can remember it like this was when we drove the Latins out completely.”
Michael smiled at that. “It is a great victory, Sire, one that is sure to resonate for a long time yet.”
“Indeed, that Phokas truly knows what he’s about.” Andronikos said, pushing down the slight unease he felt at the thought of how much power and credibility the man had gotten from this. “Where to next though? The Venetians will not lose or bow down so easily. They will try to regain that which they have lost.”
As the music began to play, Andronikos saw his son Constantine lead some woman out for a dance, he knew then that he’d need to ensure his son was not doing anything inappropriate with the girl, for as he looked closer he saw that it was the daughter of his chief financer, and that man had a temper. He spent a moment looking at the two of them, they were dancing awfully close to one another, perhaps he should go and speak with Constantine. Before he could so much as rise, Michael spoke. “I am confident that Phokas will be able to repel the Venetians should they attempt anything else.”
“Indeed.” Andronikos said, turning his full attention to his son and heir, Constantine was a grown man, he could handle his own issues.
“And of course with the way things are going in Egypt, there might be a chance for us to gain something in the Holy Land.” Michael suggested.
Andronikos shook his head. “No, we will not get involved in the chaos there. Let the Copts fight their own battles and let the Mongols deal with things there. We have other objectives in mind. The Aegean Islands must become ours.”
His son said nothing then, but when his chief minister Theodore approached the dais and bowed, Andronikos wondered what it might be. “Yes?” Andronikos asked gesturing for the man to approach closer.
Theodore walked up the steps and whispered into his ear. “Sire, the Doge has been murdered.”
Theodore leant back and Andronikos looked at him surprised. “You are sure?”
“Yes, Sire!” Theodore said. “Our spies at the Doge’s court saw him dragged from his rooms by a mob which had overrun the palace, he was tried for incompetence and then beheaded.”
Andronikos looked at his son and then at Theodore. “Excellent news. However, that does not mean they will look for peace. It does mean they will try all the harder to regain the lands they have lost. We must take the Aegean Islands as soon as can be. Send word to Phokas to send his men there.”
“Sire.” Theodore said with a bow.
Andronikos took a deep breath then, for he knew the time had come for him to give his speech. The music stopped and the court all looked at him. He stood up, with his glass in hand and began. “My lords and ladies, honourable people of Rome, today we celebrate defeating our ancient rival, Venice.” There was a cheer then, it subsided somewhat. “Now, we know that there is still some work left to do, but there is added good cheer. The Venetians are fighting themselves, the Doge is dead.” A loud cheer went up then at that, and Andronikos said loudly. “To Rome!”
“To Rome!” came the answering cry.
Chapter 75: Gaelic Lands
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Chapter 75: Gaelic Lands
January, 1301
January, 1301
Aonghas Óg, Lord of Islay shifted in his chair. He wanted to get this meeting over and done with and proceed to the plan. But as with everything that involved Alexander of Argyll it needed long discussion and meticulous planning, it was beginning to frustrate him. Still, he pushed the irritation down and began focusing on what was at hand. “The King has taken the title King of Scotland to his head. He now claims the right to decide on matters of land ownership where previously his writ did not extend there.” Aonghas said in reference to a recent case involving a member of Clan Hamilton and Clan Campbell which had been resolved by the King claiming the land for himself.
“Indeed, and yet the judges are ruling in his favour.” Alexander pointed out. “And men like Buchan, Badenoch, Carrick, Annandale and Galloway and Fife are finding in his favour.”
“Only because they know that doing so wins them favour with him. And they are not from these lands originally, they are encouraging this English sort of tyranny.” Aonghas said. “The King’s father understood the need for a balanced system, but this boy does not.”
“SO, what do you suggest?” Alexander asked.
Aonghas looked at Alexander, the man was powerful, being Lord of Argyll gave him access to resources beyond compare, it also made him a potential rival, but he had sided with Aonghas here, and that meant Aonghas trusted him. “I say we rally together those of a like mind to us, and we begin protesting the King, and we resist any attempts at crushing us.”
“You want to rebel?” Alexander asked.
“You sound surprised?” Aonghas shot back. “Rebellion is the only natural course of action that we can have to this imposition of foreign customs on our proud heritage.”
“Rebellion will also put more power into our hands.” Lachlan, Aonghas’ cousin said. “It will make the King have to think twice about who he can and cannot trust.”
“So, what do you want?” Alexander Argyll asked. “Do you want to make the King bend to our demands, or do you want to separate?”
Aonghas knew that Alexander would eventually get to the heart of the matter, that was why he said. “I want to make the King see sense. I want him to see that by doing this English method of Kingship he is making the relations within Scotland fracture. I want him to step away from the darkness.”
“And if he does not?” Alexander asked.
Aonghas looked at the man and then at his cousin who nodded. “Then we shall break away and bring back the Kingdom of the Isles.”
Alexander of Argyll whistled at that. “A bold move. I have a suggestion, if I may?”
Aonghas nodded. “Go ahead.”
“I would recommend that we target those in the King’s employ that reside on the isles first. They are mostly from the Norman families that came with King David. Target them and we send a clear message. From there we can raid the western coast and target those from the Norman families who were of the King’s alliance in this matter.” Alexander said.
“By doing so we would be sending as strong a message as if we were directly engaging.” Aonghas admitted.
“And it would give the King a moment of pause. For some of those we would be targeting would not be within his immediate sphere.” Lachlan added.
“Would we be looking to take Mann as well?” Aonghas asked then thinking on it, the isle had once belonged to his family before Alexander II had taken it.
“No, that would be outright treason. This method is safer.” Alexander Argyll said.
“Very well.” Aonghas said. He clapped his hands and a door opened, his guards came in bringing a man with them. Aonghas took a dagger as the man was placed before him. “This man is the King’s man; he’s been pressuring me to do something that violates the old way. Today we end him.” he pressed his dagger to the man’s throat and then slit it in one smooth motion.
Chapter 76: Another One
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Chapter 76: Another One
April, 1301
April, 1301
Alphonso wanted to tear his hair out. He’d been in Ireland for a long time now, longer than he thought he would be. All because the damned rebels wouldn’t engage in fair play. And now he was missing his wife and their children with a deep ache in his heart. His patience was beginning to snap, but he needed to maintain control. He was Prince of Wales, not a chieftain in the Isles of Scotland.
He cleared his throat and held up a piece of paper that had come from their scouts. “It seems that the King of Tir Eoghan has died.” The man had been old, and had outlived two of his chosen successors. “His new successor is a green boy, who is related to the King of Tyrconnell through marriage. That gives us an opening does it not?” He directed the question to Ulster.
The man had been remarkably patient, though Alphonso could tell his patience was beginning to fade, just like Alphonso’s. “Yes, my Prince. Tyrconnell got the marriage out of the previous King as part of their agreement to keep peace for the time being. However, it seems there has been a change in mood.”
Alphonso raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” He did not think Ulster respected him. He respected his rank, but not him as a person or a commander, and he was beginning to think the man held back information.
“My sources report that Tyrconnell and Connaught are gathering together to stage a raiding campaign along our southern flank, and that they will do this before the summer months begin.” Ulster said.
Alphonso leaned forward. “Then this is the opportunity we have been waiting for.” He paused, looked around him and then continued. “If they are going to get together for a raiding mission then they must know they are running out of time. Their alliance is one of convenience. It is not a natural alliance. We can break them together.”
“How so?” Ulster asked, though Alphonso could tell the man had already worked it out.
“We use our spies within their ranks to sow discord between Connaught and Tyrconnell, and we also use our men in the land to force them out into battle.” Alphonso said. “You yourself have said that Tyrconnell is the sort of man who would take not responding to a challenge as an insult to his honour.”
“That is true, my Prince.” Ulster said.
John Wogan, Justiciar of Ireland spoke then. “My Prince, I would be cautious of doing anything too dangerous. Yes, Tyrconnell and Connaught are now engaging in raids, or supposed raids, but we do not know when they will do this exactly, and it could be a trap.”
Ulster bristled at that and Alphonso wondered whether this was completely personal for the man. “Are you suggesting my spies are wrong?”
Sir John held out a hand. “Not at all, my lord. I am merely urging caution.”
Alphonso spoke before Ulster could interject. “I thank you for that, John. I shall keep that in mind when the time comes. For now, though we must start planning.” He looked at Ulster. “Make sure you get complete information; I do not want to rush into this blindly.”
“Of course, my prince.” Ulster said.
Alphonso got up then and dismissed Wogan and Ulster. He poured himself a cup of wine and thought of Margaret, and how much he wished to see her. he wondered what she was doing, and he wondered just when he would get to see his wife and children again. He missed them terribly.
Chapter 77: Gascon
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Chapter 77: Gascon
June, 1301
Edward looked through the papers on his desk, the letter from Alphonso was concerning, but he was confident that his son could handle the matter, the boy had proved himself after all. He put those concerns to the side and looked at his commanders. They were getting closer to the final battle, he knew, and thus he wanted to be sure of what was coming.
“How many men do the French have?” He asked.
“Our sources put them at fifteen thousand, Sire.” John De Warenne, Earl of Surrey said.
“Quite the decrease from their last offensive.” Edward remarked which drew a laugh from his commanders. The last battle they’d fought had been a bloody one, but it had seen a French retreat and a English advance.
“Quite, Sire.” Surrey said. “We’ve got reason to believe that this will be the last proper offensive that King Philippe will launch, as the alliance with Flanders seems to have worked and the man is now rebelling.”
Edward nodded, he’d had to offer an arm and what felt like a leg to get the Count of Flanders to agree to rebel against the King of France. “Excellent. That should give him concern for some time as well as his brother. Is the King present at this battlefield?” One thing he had to say was that this new King of France was much more reluctant to command his troops in person, or at least from the front, unlike his father and grandfather, both of whom had commanded from the front.
“He is, Sire.” Surrey replied. “Our scouts report that he intends to command from the front.”
“That is quite the change.” Edward commented, he wondered what had inspired such a change in heart, then he remembered. “Where is the Count of Valois then?” His son by marriage had done a great job in commanding in a previous battle, and it seemed the rumour Edward had had his spies spread in the French camp had worked.
“He is being tasked with commanding the baggage, Sire.” Surrey said.
Edward looked at his brother Edmund, Earl of Lancaster and the man nodded. “Our scouts report seeing Valois standard flying over the baggage. Sooner or later this was bound to happen.”
“Indeed.” Edward said. “However, it does make one wonder if the King will be more defensive now, without his best commander in the field right next to him.”
Henry de Lacy, his close friend and Earl of Lincoln spoke then. “Not necessarily. If anything, by changing the order of command around, King Philippe has shown that the words you have used have had an effect on him, Sire. That would mean he will try and be bolder, and as such he might do something rash.”
“Lord Lincoln is right, Sire.” Surrey said. “King Philippe is not known for aggression, but if he has decided to remove his brother from the front command, he will need to be aggressive, as tactics dictate. That will mean he will make mistakes.”
Edward nodded, that made sense. It did make him wonder if he should change his order of command as well, but he decided against it. The order had worked previously, and so he saw no need to change it now. “Very well, and how is the morale of our own troops?”
Roger Bigod, Earl of Norfolk and Earl Marshal and a man who had extracted much from this campaign spoke then. “The troops are positive, Sire. They know that the chance of victory completely looms.”
Edward smiled. “Excellent. Well then gentlemen, the commands shall be as before.” With that he rose, nodded to his men, watched as they bowed, straightened and then left. He called for his squires and then waited as they fixed his armour on him. He knew the challenges that lay ahead. He also knew that victory today could end this business.
Once he was armoured, he walked out of the tent and got onto his horse, he took a breath and then moved his horse forward, soon others joined him and they were riding away from the campsite and toward a site where battle could be given. The ground was flat, but the sun was shining the other way, meaning it would be in the French soldiers’ faces. His men had dug some pits and kept them hidden, for when the initial charge came, and rendered the French insipid.
As the lines began to form up, the priests came and prayers were said, he hoped to live through this battle to go home and see Eleanor again and then see Alphonso and tell him just how proud he was of him. He took a moment and then the horns sounded and the battle was about to begin. He steeled himself and said a word to God, and then they were off.
Chapter 78: Bela's New World
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Chapter 78: Bela’s New World
October, 1301
“I’ve had a look through the accounts, Sire, and I must say, we’re growing quite nicely.” Stephen Ákos, his finance minister said. “It was a wise decision to incorporate the traitor’s lands into the crown dominion.”
Bela nodded. “It was the only thing to do. We could hardly allow the man’s lands to sit idle now could we, not with so many competing claims rolling around.”
“You are not worried about those competing claims being put forward, Sire?” his cousin Prince Andrew, Duke of Slavonia asked.
Bela shook his head. “No. If they were going to put their claims forward, they would have done so already. They have not, therefore I am not.” He knew it sounded silly and naïve, but he had an inkling that any attempt at rebellion would not get off the ground. He had made sure of that when the war had ended.
“So, what do you plan on doing with all of these funds that are sat within the treasury, Sire?” Ákos asked.
Bela smiled. “What any good King would do, I shall develop Hungary. Roads, schools and buildings shall be created, we shall ensure that the people do not go without knowledge or without the ability to come and go. We shall ensure that commerce flourishes. Not all at once you understand, I am not a dreamer, but a realist. We cannot survive as we were.” That was the truth he’d seen the accounts when he’d ascended the throne and they had been dire. Hungary could not afford such a thing.
“And what of Poland, Sire?” Andrew asked. “After all, we are aligned with the King.”
It was true, Bela had decided to ally with Przemsyl II of Poland a few years ago, whilst the Frenchman had been ravaging his lands, and now it was time to make good on that alliance. “The way I see it, gentlemen, is that we have two choices. Either we use our funds to buy men who can intimidate Wenceslaus out of Poland, or we make it seem as if we are going to do so.”
“The former might be more effective immediately, but the latter would have greater long term success.” Andrew pointed out.
“Exactly,” Bela said. “We already have the writers and the singers prepared, all we need to do now is give them the funds and send them on their way.”
Ákos looked concerned at this. “You are sure about this, Sire?”
“Yes. We have tried the normal route, now it is time we employed the will of the people against him.” Bela replied. He was serious on this occasion, knowing that a threat was not good enough unless followed through.
“Then I shall prepare the amounts needed and send them as needs be.” Ákos said.
Bela then looked at his cousin and said. “There is a matter for which I want you to prepare for, cousin.”
“Sire?” Andrew asked, the man had straightened by this point.
“The Venetians are on their knees, it seems the Romans have found some fight, that means Dalmatia is on the line for them. The time is ripe for us to move and take back what once belonged to us. I want you to command a host and retake those lands.” Bela said.
He had thought there might be hesitancy, there would have been from a lesser man, but Andrew was not such a man, instead he nodded and said. “Yes, Sire.”
There was one more thing Bela wished to discuss with his two main advisors before he retired for the afternoon. “I want your thoughts on the Anjou girl, and whether it is still worth the hassle of arranging that marriage.” The girl was sweet and she and his son Géza got along nicely, however, there were other choices out there.
“I think it is the best way of securing peace, and besides the King of Naples has requested the marriage go through as a way of honouring his son, Sire.” Andrew said, referring to what the King of Naples had said in his letter as regards his son’s last will and testimony before he had died in battle all those years ago.
“And the Prince and the Princess do get along very well, Sire. It would do wonders for ensuring trade for us as well.” Ákos said.
Bela thought on it for a moment and then said. “Very well, for the time being the betrothal shall remain.” But if a better opportunity arose he would seize it. His son deserved the best after all.