A Green And Pleasant Land

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 120: Nicaea



December, 1311

​

Andronikos could feel the wear and tear in his body. They’d sailed and marched and marched and chased after the enemy for so long now that he wasn’t sure whether he’d actually be able to sit upright in his saddle when the time for battle finally came. John Phokas certainly knew how to avoid being captured, that much credit, Andronikos could give him at least. But now they’d finally caught up with him and the time for fighting was approaching.



“Report.” Andronikos barked.



“The enemy is encamped a mile to the east of here, they’ve dug ditches and fortified them with spikes.” John Tarchaneiotes said.



“How many men?” Andronikos asked.



“Roughly 12,000, Your Imperial Majesty.” John replied. “Divided into seven formations each with archers and cavalry mixed together.”



“Our strength?” Andronikos asked.



“Roughly the same, Your Imperial Majesty.” John answered. “Spread out across six formations.”



Andronikos nodded taking this on board. Phokas had managed to win any skirmishes and actual engagements that they’d engaged in before this, the man knew how to rally men to his side and get them to fight even when they’d normally be uncomfortable about doing so. A skill that Andronikos himself lacked, but which his son Michael had in abundance. “What’s the layout of the field before us?” He ended up asking.



Michael was the one who answered that. “Uneven. There are spots on the ground where we could take a stand and grind them down, but they are few and far between.”



“How many?” Andronikos asked.



“Roughly five or six.” Michael replied.



“Then we will need to draw them toward those patches.” Andronikos said. “It won’t be easy at all, but given Phokas knows he needs to win this battle to stay alive, it should be enough.”



“How will you give him that extra push?” Michael asked.



Andronikos took a deep breath then said. “You will command the vanguard. Once Phokas learns that you are in command there, he will have no choice but to commit for fear of looking weak otherwise. When he commits, we shall send in the left and right flanks and destroy his host.”



“He has more formations than we do though.” Michael pointed out.



“Indeed, which is why we will need go about this quickly.” Andronikos said.



“Quickly?” Michael asked.



“Quickly.” Andronikos confirmed. “The vanguard will strike fast, word will spread and then the right will engage within a moment or two of the vanguard committing, then the left will strike.”



“And you are sure that will bring Phokas to bear?” His son asked.



“Yes.” Andronikos replied. “Phokas needs a victory, and we’re going to make him think he’s got one.”

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 121: Phokas’ Grand Stand



December, 1311

​

All was quiet on the battlefield. Nobody said anything, nobody moved, all were looking right in front of them, to where the Emperor’s men were gathering. John had been tempted to order his men to attack at first light, but had decided against it. He wanted his victory to be honourable, not done with dirty tricks. As such, he’d ordered his men to form up, had a prayer said and then mounted his horse.



His son was in the left wing, away from him in the vanguard, he knew what he’d do if he were the Emperor, go for him and his heir, and as such he’d sought to neutralise that possibility. Their scouts had reported six formations for the Emperor compared to their seven, which meant one of the formations would be heavily loaded and thus more likely to break, that was the formation they would have to find if they were to win this battle.



A horn sounded in the distance, John turned to his captain and nodded, an order was barked and a horn sounded from their side as well. He urged his horse on, mentally preparing himself for what was to come. It would be a bloody battle, and either he would be alive at the end of it and on his way to Constantinople, or he would be dead and his son would have to flee. There was no two ways about it, it was all or nothing from here.



He hadn’t wanted it to be like this, he had proposed a negotiation at first, but then the Emperor had sent another assassin and that had been that. John knew when to fight and when to talk. It was fighting time now, and he’d not lost a single battle since he’d adopted that position, despite what some of his cousins may have felt. They were still unbeaten at this point and now they needed one more victory and that was that.



He urged his horse to increase its speed, his lance grasped firmly in his hand, the ground was disappearing before him in quick strides. His heart was thumping. As the distance shortened, his mind went black as it always did and all he saw was the enemy approaching. His lance hit someone on their horse with full power and knocked them down, somehow his lance remained in his hand and he continued onward.



Another rider appeared, their lances hit one another and bounced off, the rider moved on and John took a breath. A third rider appeared and this time when their lances hit, they broke apart, prompting John to draw his weapon. He swung and the enemy blocked, then they broke apart as the momentum of their horses carried them away from one another.



John didn’t meet any other combatants for a time, instead he rode through the fray, hitting enemies when their backs were turned to him and working chaos through that way. He didn’t see the Emperor or his son, the Prince Imperial, and therefore wondered if perhaps he’d misjudged what the Emperor would do. As a big brute of a man came hurtling toward him, John ducked his swing and hit him with the butt of his weapon. He didn’t stop to see what happened to the man instead, he moved on.



Dust was sprouting up from the ground as horses moved around, and as the living met the dying. John blinked, trying desperately to keep his vision clear. As he peered around the field he spotted him, a man with the wings of the Imperial Eagle on his helm at the back of the fray. John bellowed a challenge and rode toward him. His weapon cleaving a bloody path toward the imperial representative.



The man was before him in an instance. They exchanged blows, John’s arms shaking with the impact. As he swung one way, the man went the other, and vice versa. Backwards and forwards they danced until they became a blur of movement and concentration. John felt as though he was on fire. Finally, he had a worthy opponent, finally he was able to show what he was capable of.



The man swung his hammer and hit John on the arm, causing John to wince with pain. But it was only momentarily, John struck back, quicker than before. Swinging with rapid intensity in a movement designed to wreak havoc. The enemy was on the back foot, defending himself as best he could whilst John swung and swung.



Eventually, John found a gap and exploited it. He broke through the man’s defences and hit him once on the arm, once on the chest, and then a third time on the head. That third blow caused the man to slump in his horse. John bellowed triumphantly and moved to strike the killing blow, his weapon raised high, he thought about saying something, but all he could think of was ending it.



He swung his weapon down with all his might and broke through the chain defences, hearing a wet noise as steel met flesh, he pulled out and then swung again, and swung again and a third time, then stopped and admired his handiwork. He roared out a victory, and proceeded to move on.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 122: An Egyptian Quandary



March, 1312

​

“What word of the confrontations to our east?” Cyril asked.



“It appears that John Phokas has won the war against the Rhoman Emperor, Sire.” Alexander replied.



“He’s won it?” Cyril asked not sure why he was surprised, Phokas seemed far more capable than that idiot Andronikos.



“Yes, Sire.” Alexander stated. “It appears that he defeated the Rhoman Emperor’s host in battle in Nicaea.”



“Casualties?” Cyril asked.



“Both the Emperor and his eldest son are dead, Sire.” Alexander said.



“What of the Emperor’s second son?” Cyril asked.



“Wounded and most likely taken prisoner.” Alexander responded.



“So, Phokas is most likely going to declare himself Emperor then.” Cyril said.



“He could name Prince Constantine Emperor, Constantine was the one who seemed most opposed to targeting him, after all.” Alexander pointed out.



“I do not think so.” Cyril said. “He’s killed the man’s father and brother, if he leaves him alive, he’s a dead man walking. The only way to secure his freedom and his life is to declare himself Emperor.”



“So, what do we do then, Sire?” Joseph asked. “Do we recognise him as the Emperor or wait?”



“I think we must wait. We do not want to be premature.” Cyril replied. “If we recognise him as Emperor and then he declares for someone else, we will look strange.” And that was a strangeness they could not afford.



“That could cause concerns could it not? Especially with the situation on our western frontier, Sire.” Joseph asked.



“You mean in regards to the situation with the Hafsids and the Zayyanids?” Cyril replied.



“Yes, Sire.” Joseph said.



Cyril shifted, his brother Abraham had sent him detailed reports of the situation on their western frontier and about the so called alliance between the Hafsids and the Zayyanids, he was not sure whether to take them seriously or laugh at them. He cleared his throat and said. “There is certainly room to be concerned about their talks with one another. But their disputes over a border mean that they are unlikely to reach an agreement about an alliance any time soon.” Cyril stated.



“Is that a surety, Sire?” Joseph asked. “After all, we are standing in the way of their usual pilgrimage routes.”



Cyril looked at his cousin and said. “Nothing is a surety, but we can be prepared.”



His cousin seemed relieved at that, thus prompting Cyril to continue. “We shall send an extra two thousand men to man the forts on the western border. I shall instruct our brother Abraham to prepare for any activity from the west, and will also send emissaries to Constantinople to negotiate an alliance with the Empire, whoever may sit the throne.” He just hoped that that would be enough to stem any potential threat for the time being.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 123: Austrian Dances



July, 1312

​

“Once again the Duke of Bavaria makes a demand he knows that I cannot agree to.” Frederick, Duke of Austria grumbled.



“What’s he demanded this time?” His brother Leopold asked.



“He wants an agreement that in exchange for a payment of 200,000 Crowns, we will get the regency of his cousin Stephen.” Frederick said.



Leopold raised an eyebrow. “He cannot be serious. That sum of money would cost the treasury dearly and would definitely raise questions in Regensburg.”



“I know, which is why he’s demanded it.” Frederick said.



“So, what are you going to do?” Leopold asked.



“I can’t do anything about it. I have to refuse.” Frederick said.



“And refusing the offer will just strengthen his hand.” Leopold pointed out.



“I am aware.” Frederick replied. “But I will not bankrupt the realm simply to get the wardship of that damned child.”



“So, what next?” Leopold asked.



“Well, the only recourse we would have is appealing to the Emperor,” Frederick said. “after all, the nobility did ask that I take charge of Stephen following his father’s premature death, thus the request can be considered valid. However, the Duke of Bavaria is claiming the right of family as to why he should be the regent. The Emperor is the only one who can resolve this matter now.”



“Isn’t the Emperor busy trying to prevent the Italian states from killing one another?” Leopold asked.



“Yes, yes, he is.” Frederick acknowledged. “Which means he’s not going to be able to help us for some time.”



“So, we’re at a stalemate for the time being?” Leopold asked.



“Yes, the only other solution I can think of is getting you to start building up armaments on the border with Bavaria.” Frederick said.



“I could do that quite easily. I know the people on the border do not like Bavaria.” Leopold said, a glint in his eye.



“I am aware, but I also know that doing such a thing would basically be a declaration of war, and that is not something I want.” Frederick responded.



“So, what then?” Leopold asked.



“We will have to wait.” Frederick said.



“We can’t ask Rudolph to get involved?” Leopold asked referring to their older brother.



Frederick snorted. “Rudolph is too busy winning the Bohemian nobles over to his side to be of much use to us.” It was true, every time he got a letter from Prague, it was Rudolph talking about this noble or that, he barely asked about Vienna anymore.



Leopold sighed. “Fine.”



Frederick grinned at his brother. “Don’t worry things will work themselves out. They usually do for our family.” Of that he was sure.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 124: Hungarian Waltz



October, 1312

​

“The dispute with the King of Bohemia over the border towns has been resolved, Sire.” His cousin Andrew said.



“In whose favour?” Bela asked.



“Ours.” Andrew replied. “King Rudolph agreed that he had been building in the wrong spots along the Danube and thus has agreed to stop any and all work there.”



Bela was impressed, they’d been arguing this point for months now. “How did you get him to see sense?” He asked.



His cousin grinned. “I may or may not have reminded King Rudolph about how devastated Austria was after you got involved the last time the Austrians did something wrong.”



Bela laughed. “You didn’t?”



“I did. King Rudolph quickly realised that he was in the wrong.” Andrew said.



Bela snorted. “Well that’s certainly improved my morning.” His grandson and namesake had fallen ill and was quite unwell, there were fears that he might not make it through the upcoming winter if the fever persisted, so knowing that he wouldn’t have to put on his armour and ride into Bohemia was quite the relief.



His cousin nodded as if aware of this and added. “King Rudolph has also proposed reopening trade discussions.”



“At what level?” Bela asked. Before when the dispute had been raging they’d also been trying to sort out tariffs and the exchange of goods, that had gotten nowhere.



“He’s offering a tariff of 2.5%.” Andrew said.



“Too low.” Bela said. It was, if he went before the Estates and told them this they’d threaten to revolt.



“I propose raising it to 3%.” Andrew suggested.



“Still too low, the Estates will never be happy with that, especially given the conditions outside.” Bela replied. “I say we raise it to 3.5% and give a two month leeway for winter.”



His cousin remained silent for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought, then eventually he replied. “I think King Rudolph will agree to that.”



“Good.” Bela said. “When the storms have stopped, you are to attend another meeting with his emissary.”



“Yes, Sire.” Andrew replied.



A moment’s silence passed as they both considered that decision, then Bela spoke once more. “There’s a new Emperor in Constantinople. Someone named Phokas.”



“What happened with Emperor Andronikos?” Andrew asked.



“Dead, alongside his eldest son and heir. Killed in Nicaea it seems.” Bela said. “This Phokas fellow spent the past few months consolidating his hold over the mainland and smaller parts of the Rhoman Empire. He’s moving onto Morea and other areas now.”



“If Emperor Andronikos’ other sons are still alive he will face a difficult time of it surely?” Andrew asked.



“I doubt it. This new Emperor seems to have gotten support from the military and the bureaucracy. His cousins have taken over the latter, and the former were already on his side, according to our friends in the Eternal City.” Bela said.



“So, is Your Highness going to be sending an official emissary then?” Andrew asked.



“I think that would be the most sensible thing to do. Keep the Emperor on our side.” Bela said.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 125: The Bruce



February, 1313

​

“The King has named the Laird of Cadzow as the new Cofferer of the Household.” Robert said, reading through a letter sent by one of his friends at court.



“That’s an odd choice.” Robert’s brother Neil said. “Where would the King have heard about him? As far as I know the Laird doesn’t even leave his estate.”



“According to our friend at court, the Laird was recommended to the King by the Earl of Dunbar. It seems Dunbar and the King are getting along just fine now.” Robert said.



“Well, at least someone from the lowlands is in that position and not someone from a Comyn allied family.” Neil replied.



“Indeed, it seems the King has continued down his path of removing Comyn influence from court.” Robert said, reading through the letter once more. “He’s replaced one of his ushers of the chamber, the man apparently was a Comyn recommendation.”



“He really is making a point to kick the Comyns out.” Neil said.



“Yes, but he’s also not giving us any positions at court.” Robert replied. Indeed, the only person tied to the family who had any influence at court was the Earl of Mar, and that was because the man sat on the King’s moving war council.



“So, what are we to do?” Neil asked.



“What can we do?” Robert’s other brother Thomas asked. “If we protest this too much it will definitely look as though we’re trying to insert ourselves into the King’s favour, and that is never a good look.”



“Well, we could search for marriages for your children, Robert.” Alexander, his youngest brother said.



“Marriages?” Thomas asked. “Into the Royal Family?”



“No, into the families of those close to the King.” Alexander replied.



Robert looked at Alexander, intrigued. “Go on.”



“Well, we know the Earl of Fife is close to the King, Fife’s daughter is of an age with your son,” Alexander said. “A marriage there wouldn’t hurt. Nor would a tie between the Earl of Atholl’s son and Marjorie.”



Robert nodded. “Fife’s daughter to my Alexander would be a good marriage, but I won’t subject Marjorie to Atholl.” The Earl of Atholl was a lout what he was doing at court, Robert didn’t know.



“Then perhaps the Strathearns could be considered?” Alexander suggested. “I hear the Earl’s son is looking for another wife.”



“Perhaps.” Robert said, he’d heard Malise of Strathearn was biddable and was friendly with the Crown Prince.



“Alternatively, you could marry Marjorie to the Steward’s heir.” Neil suggested.



“Agreed.” Robert said latching onto that suggestion. “The Steward has always been a friend to our family.”



“It would also look as though it is just old friends marrying their children to one another and nothing political.” Neil said.



“Exactly.” Robert said, smiling appreciatively at Neil. “I shall write to the Steward on the morrow to discuss this.”

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 126: A Queenly Wife



June, 1313

​

“King Philip now seems desperate for his daughter to marry Edward.” Margaret said, referring to the letter that was placed in front of her husband. It had come earlier today, with great pomp, the King of France had performed a great many turns on the subject of his daughter’s marriage, at first he’d wanted her married at once when the betrothal had been agreed to three years ago, then he’d delayed saying she was still too young, and now it seemed he wanted it again.



“Indeed, it is quite odd.” Alphonso said.



His expression was such that Margaret felt compelled to ask. “You’re not thinking of breaking it, are you?” She knew her husband had a finite amount of patience for the French King at the best of times, and now, with the trouble with her brother by marriage, his patience might be running out.



Thankfully, Alphonso shook his head. “No, I don’t think I can afford to. Keeping the peace for Gascony is too important.”



“So, how are you going to reply?” Margaret asked.



“I’m going to insist that the girl come to London before the year’s end. I will write to Edward and tell him to go to Paris to serve as proxy for our son, and then he’s going to escort her back here, and the proper ceremony will happen.” Alphonso said.



Margaret nodded that was the wise choice, sending a Prince of the Blood to Paris meant that Philip could not insult him, without risking an incident. “Will Edward remain here then or return to Gascony?” She asked then.



Alphonso sighed. “I want him to return to Gascony, but I do not think that is a good idea. At least not until I have sent Despencer away.”



Hugh le Despencer, a troublesome young man had attached himself to her brother by marriage and had caused all sorts of problems for him. Be it insulting the proud Gascon Lords or if the allegations were true taking from the Gascon treasury. Her brother by marriage defended him of course, and had sent several pleading letters to Alphonso begging him to convince the Lords to back off. Alphonso had agreed until now. Margaret wasn’t quite sure what had changed, therefore she asked. “What’s convinced you that now is the right time to do this?”



“I got a letter from William Sandale a few days ago. He sent me a copy of the accounts.” Alphonso said.



“That was risky of him.” Margaret replied, if the letter had been intercepted by the French, who knew what havoc they would wreak.



“I know.” Alphonso replied. “Still, he sent me the accounts and they clearly show that someone has been fiddling with the books. Money is being spent but there’s no real account of where it’s going, not truly.”



“Do you think it’s Hugh?” Margaret asked.



“Yes.” Alphonso replied. “Edward’s not smart enough to do that, but this Despencer fellow is. I’ve had the treasury look into his father’s accounts and he uses the same method of accounting. They’re tricking us.”



“So, why not arrest him instead of sending him away?” Margaret asked confused.



“I need to get him somewhere where he’s running things independently, away from Edward. I arrest him when he’s still tied with Edward that will look bad for Edward. I arrest him when he’s say in Wales or in Ireland, then it’s sorted.” Alphonso said.



“So, are you going to name him Viceroy then?” Margaret asked, if she remembered correctly the current Viceroy was ailing and searching for a replacement.



“I think so. I think it would be worth the barest of grumblings from the nobles here to ensure that things are done properly so that he cannot continue destroying our brother.” Alphonso said.



Margaret nodded, she could see the sense in that. “So, if Edward is going to remain here, who are you sending in his place?”



“Our son Alphonso accompanied by Thomas.” Alphonso answered.



Margaret raised an eyebrow, their second son was smart, but he was young and Thomas, Thomas Earl of Lancaster was one step short of being an idiot. “Is that the right thing to do?”



“Yes, we need to keep the image of stability in Gascony and that is the way to do it.” Alphonso said.



Margaret sighed. “Very well, but can I at least speak with our son before he goes.” She knew their son and knew he’d be panicking and wondering if he’d done something wrong.



“Of course.” Alphonso replied.



“Thank you.” Margaret said smiling.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 127: Emperor’s New Shoes



October, 1313

​

“The former Emperor’s sons Constantine and John have now been captured and placed into cells awaiting their final judgement, Sire.” John heard his cousin Alexios say.



“Good, did they offer much resistance?” John asked.



“Constantine did, but his younger brother did not.” Alexios replied.



“Excellent, that will make it much easier to lead them to their fate.” John said. At first he had been reluctant to claim the purple, hoping that he might be able to convince the Emperor to abdicate, enabling his son to ascend the throne. But when both the Emperor and his heir had been killed during the Battle of Nicaea, he’d quickly realised that there was no other choice for him but to claim the throne, otherwise he risked being killed himself, alongside his family.



“The Emperor’s eldest son Michael’s sons have also been captured, Sire.” Alexios added.



“Where were they?” John asked, they’d been hunting for Andronikos the Younger and Manuel for months before this moment.



“Trying to board a ship that would take them toward their uncle in Montferrat, Sire.” Alexios said.



John snorted, of course they would have tried to do that. “They will naturally be facing the axe.” He said, it was far too risky to keep any member of Emperor Andronikos’ family alive if they were male, he knew what happened when such claimants were wandering around.



“Of course, Sire.” Alexios said.



“Though what are going to do with the Marquis himself?” His son Constantine asked.



“We cannot head to Italy, that would be in violation of several agreements that our predecessors have signed.” John replied.



“So, are we simply going to allow him to live and have issue, Sire?” Constantine asked.



“We shall wait to see what he does. If he makes any move to come to the Empire we shall deal with him accordingly.” John replied, he looked at Alexios then and said. “We want a writ issued declaring him a traitor though.” Alexios bowed his head in recognition.



He then turned to look at the manager of the Treasury, a man named Alexander and asked him. “What word do you have from the wider Empire on its financial state?” He was a soldier yes, but he also knew that the changes he wanted to bring could not come about without a solid financial base.



“Now that Andronikos’ sons and grandsons have been captured and imprisoned, the Empire is settling down, Sire. We shall soon get the accounts from the different provinces and I shall be able to give you a much more detailed picture.” The man said.



“Very well.” John said, he took a moment to think over what else he wanted to say, then added. “We shall agree to the trade treaty proposed by Hungary and also lower tariffs slightly on trade with the Kingdom of Jerusalem.”



Alexander nodded. “Very well, Sire.”

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 128: Alhambra



March, 1314

​

Alfonso drew his sword and bellowed a command. His horse and the horses of his commanders moved forward. This would be the final push, of that he was sure. He could see Alhambra, the fortress of the Nasrid dynasty before him, their army the only thing in the way. After years of fighting, this was finally going to happen. Alfonso bellowed out another command and the charge began.



His sword cut into a young man who was perhaps the same age as his son Juan, the young man grunted and fell. Alfonso pulled his sword out and then carried on his way. He swung right and left, bringing the weapon down in fits and spurts. Blood sometimes hit his armour, other times he got hit and winced with the pain.



His heart was racing, and energy coursed through his veins, so he kept going. He briefly glanced to his right and saw his son the Prince of Asturias swinging his hammer and carving a bloodied path through the Muhammadeans. His son had made a name for himself during this campaign, picking up the burden when Alfonso had come close to giving up.



And he had definitely come close to giving up a few times during the campaign. Especially when following the Battle of Alhama, he had learned of the death of his second son Luis. That had stung, and he had sworn an oath that he would not rest until he had taken Alhambra and avenged his son. As the enemy started to push back, he felt that he was close to achieving that goal.



The heat coming off of everyone was intense, had he not gotten used to it during the past few years, Alfonso knew that he’d have struggled. Thankfully, he was able to push through and keep driving. It was important that his men saw him pushing the boundaries and not slowing down. If he slowed down, then they would slow down and that was something he couldn’t afford.



His sword did most of the work, all he had to do was stop and think occasionally to get a sense of where things were and how they were progressing. Alfonso knew that at some point he would need to think of how he was going to pay off all the debt he had incurred during this conquest. The Cortes had raised taxes six times since the war had started and still that hadn’t been enough.



He’d had to take loans from Venice and elsewhere, and how he was going to pay them off he didn’t know. Eventually though, he would find a way. He always did. He winced slightly as someone hit his shoulder, he looked around for the brat but found nobody. Instead he saw the pathway leading up to Alhambra free.



Alfonso blinked twice, having to make sure that he wasn’t imagining this. The way up to the fortress that the Nasrids ruled from was open. One small push and he could gallop up there. He took a breath then bellowed as loudly as he could. “With me!” Without waiting he urged his horse on and galloped forwards, some of the enemy tried to stop him, and they were cut down as a result. He pushed through and then he was away.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 129: Prince of Wales



July, 1314

​

Edward lay back down on the bed and took a deep breath. He turned and looked at his wife, she was just beginning to show, and as such he knew that sooner or later they would need to stop doing what they had just done. He didn’t like the thought of that, but he knew it was necessary. He leaned over and brushed a stray bit of hair away from her face.



“What are you thinking?” He asked softly, in the French that he knew she’d understand.



“Just how different this place is to London.” Isabella replied turning to look at him.



“And how different is it?” Edward asked. He was fully aware of how different Caernarvon was to London, there was less hustle and bustle and the castle sometimes didn’t have everything you needed, but it was their home for now, and as such he wanted her to feel as comfortable as possible.



“It’s quieter, the people are nicer, and I think I prefer it here.” Isabella said.



Edward smiled. “So, do I.” It was true, London was so noisy and so filled with people that sometimes he found it hard to breathe.



“And the people here are so much more genuine. Every time I meet someone at court, I don’t know whether they’re being genuine with me or not.” Isabella said.



“Yes, there is something deeply refreshing about being here with people who will tell you what they think, regardless of whether or not it is polite.” Edward agreed, thinking of something he’d heard from Lord Grey of Powis. The man had not been happy with the way Edward had handled some legal dispute between Grey and his neighbour and had gone out of his way to say this to Edward. In London, the man would’ve had his tongue cut out for impertinence, but here? Here Edward was happy to allow it to understand just what the man was aiming for.



Isabella nodded, but then asked. “Do you think it will make us complacent?”



“How do you mean?” Edward asked, though he understood what his wife was asking.



“The longer we spend here, the more used to such frank talk we will become. How sure are we that when we return to court we won’t forget the protocols and the right way to talk?” Isabella asked her eyes wide.



Edward could understand the concern, but he did not think it was that pressing a concern. “I do not think we will forget. Trust me, it will become easier to adapt to the different settings the longer we are in one place.”



“You think so?” Isabella asked.



Edward took one of her hands in his and kissed it, then pulled back and said. “I know so.”



There was a brief pause as they moved closer to one another, Edward putting his arm around Isabella, then Isabella spoke. “I received a letter from my brother Robert today.”



“And what did it say?” Edward asked.



“It seems the King is growing nervous about the lack of male issue in Paris and is therefore searching for a bride for Robert.” Isabella said.



“I thought Robert was already married?” Edward asked.



“He was betrothed but that betrothal fell through.” Isabella said. “So naturally he’s asking me to help him choose a bride to present to our father.”



“And who would you recommend to him?” Edward asked intrigued.



“How would the King feel about marrying one of his daughters to France?” Isabella asked.



Edward raised an eyebrow. “He might consider it, but I know that he’s focused on Eleanor’s marriage right now, so, he may not consider it.”



“Well, I’ll keep that in mind then. The other option was a Scottish Princess.” Isabella said.



Edward nodded. “I think a Scottish Princess would make much more sense.” If he remembered correctly his cousin Alexander had a daughter of the same age as Prince Robert.



“Then that is what I shall suggest.” Isabella said. Edward smiled as he looked at her, wondering if they might go again, his wife clearly wondered the same for she looked at him and then they kissed.

 

[HortenseMancini]

What’s this, the she wolf of France happily married to an English Edward? Never thought I’d see the day...

 

[VVD0D95]

What’s this, the she wolf of France happily married to an English Edward? Never thought I’d see the day...

Well you know what they say

 

[Jonathan1997]

I am loving this story and time period I believe that my favourite stories to read is from 1154 to 1499 because I find the setting being far richer that any thing after 1499 because rulers stop leading from the front apart from few outliers such as Henry IV of France and Charles 12 of Sweden who I believe was the last eoropean monarch to be killed in battle. Wish you luck stay save.

 

[VVD0D95]

I am loving this story and time period I believe that my favourite stories to read is from 1154 to 1499 because I find the setting being far richer that any thing after 1499 because rulers stop leading from the front apart from few outliers such as Henry IV of France and Charles 12 of Sweden who I believe was the last eoropean monarch to be killed in battle. Wish you luck stay save.

Cheers . And indeed that’s the issue with guns and gun powder it took away the battle leaders

 

[Jonathan1997]

Cheers . And indeed that’s the issue with guns and gun powder it took away the battle leaders

Too true there will no longer be for For God Harry and st. George 😪

 

[VVD0D95]

Too true there will no longer be for For God Harry and st. George 😪

Not from the King anyway

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 130: Indian Shenanigans



October, 1314

​

Simhana, Emperor of Bharat took one look at the paper before him and sighed. “Our treasury is full but still there is disquiet.”



“Unfortunately so, Your Imperial Majesty.” Chanakya, his chief minister said.



“Why?” Simhana asked. “We have done our part to ensure proper roads, proper sanitation and actual development for our people.”



“It is not the people who are unhappy, Sire, it is the Princes of the Empire.” His chief minister replied. “They feel that not enough is being done to remind them of why the joined the Empire to begin with.”



Simhana snorted. “I have kept their tax rates relatively low, we have reduced the number of men stationed in various parts of their fiefdoms, and they did not join the Empire, we conquered them.”



“Indeed, that is true, Sire, but still there is a feeling amongst some of the Princes that more needs to be done.” Chanakya said.



“Such as?” Simhana asked, vaguely aware of how unfair he was being to his chief minister.



“Such as conquering the rest of the land. There are still Kingdoms in the South that remain untouched.” Chanakya said.



“And there is a reason for that.” Simhana said. “Our father did not wish to disturb those Kingdoms in the south that willingly paid tribute. We shall not break that agreement without a reason.”



“I know, Sire, everyone here knows, but there are some in the wider array of Princes who do not remember, or choose not to remember.” Chanakya said.



“And who are they led by?” Simhana asked.



“Sire?” Chanakya asked surprised.



“Who are they led by?” Simhana repeated. “They would not be doing this without a leader.”



“Vira-Virman, Sire.” Chanakya said.



“The King of the Chandelas?” Simhana’s son Krishna asked.



“Yes, Your Imperial Highness.” Chanakya said.



“What do we know about him?” Simhana asked.



“He ascended to his throne the same time that Your Imperial Majesty ascended to the throne. He is a young man, proud, stubborn and determined to exert his influence.” Chanakya said.



“Greatness?” Krishna snorted. “He rules a state that has lost power several times in the last fifty years.”



“He is a proud man, Your Imperial Highness.” Chanakya said.



“So, what can we do to neutralise him?” Simhana asked.



“He is the last of his dynasty, either he needs a bride or he needs to be removed.” Chanakya said.



“And which would be easier?” Simhana asked.



“Either, Your Imperial Majesty.” Chanakya said.



“Very well, let us look for a bride and consider how to remove him.” Simhana said, knowing that this was not a permanent solution, he’d still have to take the Chandela Kingdom if he removed the man. Still, it was progress.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 131: Death



January, 1315

​

The pain in his stomach was getting worse. Philippe knew he didn’t have long even if the doctors were telling him otherwise. He was a pragmatist, and he knew what needed to be done. He cleared his throat, winced at the pain and then said. “Louis.”



His son and heir Louis approached him. “I’m here, Sire.”



“I need you to listen carefully.” Philippe said.



“I am, Sire.” Louis replied.



“I have taught you all I can about being King, but there are two areas where I must give you one final piece of advice.” Philippe said, fighting back tears.



“Sire?” Louis asked.



“Firstly, as regards disruptive nobles, such as the Count of Artois, remember to always hold the threat of sanctions over their head. But do not mention it to them unless you plan on following through. No vassal will respond well to the same threat uttered more than twice.” Philippe said.



“Okay, Sire.” Louis replied.



“That is especially true in Artois’ case. The man is stubborn and boneheaded like his father and grandfather before him, but he is a useful man to have on your side.” Philippe said. Artois would be an issue for his son in the future, he could sense it.



“I will remember that, Sire.” His son said.



“Good.” Philippe replied. “The second matter concerns Gascony.”



“Sire?” Louis asked.



“You cannot allow it to become English.” Philippe said.



“But trying to get it into France would break the treaty.” His son protested.



“I know, therefore you must subtly encourage the Gascon nobles to force the hand of the King of England.” Philippe said.



“How?” Louis asked.



“With promises of fairer taxes, and much lighter sentences if necessary. With bribes as an absolute last resort.” Philippe said.



“Okay.” His son said not sounding convinced.



Philippe grabbed his sleeve and said. “You must do this, Louis. France cannot be considered safe until this is done!”



“I will do it, Sire, I promise.” Louis said desperately.



“Good.” Philippe let go of his son’s sleeve and sighed. “Now go, let me rest in peace.” He closed his eyes then, and took a shuddering breath. His time had come.

 

[Historymaster]

I think this will be a thorne in poor Louis side.

 

[VVD0D95]

I think this will be a thorne in poor Louis side.

Gascony?