A Green And Pleasant Land

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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.

 

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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.

 

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Chapter 79: Ram Ram



January, 1302​

Age was catching up with him, Ramachandra could feel it in his bones. He knew sooner or later something would happen and that would be it. That would be his time. If he were being honest, he did not mind that too much, Simhana, his son and heir was a good man, and had sons to succeed him as well. The Empire was in good hands. But the issue was the outer areas of the Empire were under fire, or rather those lands not yet under his control were on fire, and they needed to be dealt with.


“What news from Sindh?” He asked.


Yuzvendra, his master of secrets who had come from Devagiri spoke then in the Sanskrit which he had made the language of the court. “It is a tumultuous situation, Sire. The governor writes that he is facing trouble from the current Muslim nobles who are trying to test him and the laws that we have instituted. However, my sources tell me that he is the one testing the laws, and is using the Muslims as an escape route.”


Ramachandra raised an eyebrow. The way Yuzvendra was able to gather information like this was somewhat frightening. “What do you mean?” He asked.


“He is issuing laws, the laws that Your Imperial Majesty asks him to, but then he is changing the wording slightly after the fact and then provoking the Muslim nobles into acting.” Yuzvendra said. “He is doing all of this deliberately.”


Simhana spoke then. “Why would he do such a thing? What is trying to achieve?”


“Chaos, Your Royal Highness.” Yuzvendra said. “He wants to provoke an uprising and act as the man who can protect Sindh from the outrages of the capital.”


“Is he working with someone?” Simhana demanded.


“No, Your Royal Highness.” Yuzvendra said. “But I would not be surprised if he started working with someone.”


Ramachandra was silent then, it was at times like these that he missed Bhima, his former chief advisor. The man had died a few months ago, and his calm and measured tones were things that Ramachandra deeply wished he had now. Instead, he could feel a turmoil inside him, on the one hand he wanted to raise an army and march right for Sindh and take this governor and destroy him. on the other he knew how destructive such a thing would and could be. Instead, he focused on a middle way. “Very well, issue a fake order. Something that seems real but is actually not. Something that will provoke him and get him to reveal his hand.”


Simhana, whose duty it was to write down the orders nodded. “I will get right to it Your Imperial Majesty.”


Ramachandra raised a hand. “Not yet, speak with Yuzvendra, learn what you can about this man and then do it.” Simhana reluctantly put down his quill. Ramachandra then focused on Yuzvendra and asked. “And what of Bengal?” Bengal the richest region outside his empire and the one which he desperately wanted.


“The civil war there has intensified, Sire.” Yuzvendra said. “It seems that neither claimant quite knows what they are fighting for anymore.”


“Forget that,” Simhana said impatiently. “There are people fleeing Bengal in great numbers and they are coming into the Empire, and trying to find somewhere to stay. The Kings and Princes are writing in almost every day complaining about this.”


Ramachandra looked at his son, he knew there was sense to the complaint but at the same time… “It is our sacred duty to help those in need. Be they Hindu, Muslim or Buddhist. We cannot turn them away.”


“Then we must find some way of accommodating them or we must stop the fighting in Bengal.” Simhana said.



This was where Ramachandra began feeling his age, and uncertainty. Before he would have had the answers ready right from the get go, now however, he did not know. “Who is the better candidate?” He asked.


“That depends on what you’re defining as better, Sire.” Yuzvendra said.


“Who will bring stability to the region?” Ramachandra asked.


“Firoz Shah.” Yuzvendra said. “He has shown a willingness to work with us, and has also shown a tolerance that his predecessor lacks.”


“Then provide the necessary financial aid to him.” Ramachandra said.

 

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Chapter 80: Lines of Secession



April, 1302
​

John Comyn, Lord of Badenoch could feel his age in his bones. He was not so old that he could no longer fight, but he was old enough to know that when he fought, the next morning the aches and pains would be a lot worse. And of course, being a trusted lieutenant for the King had meant that he had been brought to fight for the King against the Islanders on the west coast. They’d made camp some forty miles from Argyll, and John could tell the King was getting frustrated.


Taking a liberty here, John spoke. “Sire, the war has been raging for some time now, we’ve achieved victories but have continued to lose men. Indeed, my own brother by marriage Lord Balliol died fighting against these islanders. Perhaps the time has come to talk with them.”


The King looked at him and in his gaze, John could see not just the King, but also the King’s grandfather, he’d met the man once before, when he was a child, and he vaguely remembered being terrified of him. “What would you have me discuss with them, Lord Comyn?”


John knew he had to phrase his next few words carefully, otherwise he was like to lose his influence. “I would recommend offering them some autonomy, Sire. Allow them to use the Gaelic customs and traditions, in exchange for recognising you as their sovereign.”


The King snorted. “Those are things they already have. They rebelled a few months after the change in my title from King of Scots to King of Scotland, a change that the Lord of Islay’s own brother agreed to. Why should I sit down with them and discuss something that they already have?”


John hesitated here, if he were being truthful with himself he did not know what he could say to the King to convince him, after all he barely believed it himself. Indeed, he was somewhat surprised when his own son John spoke then. “Sire, I think that the reasoning must be that the lives that both sides are losing are not worth the cost. After all, if their rebellion is truly about wanting their traditional rights respected, then they will not object to sitting down and discussing things over a strong mug of ale.” There was a laugh there, John was impressed with his son, the boy was beginning to display some social awareness which he had lacked before. “Furthermore, I think they will want to sit down and negotiate. They might hold the isles, but they do not have enough supplies to continue fighting.”


John saw the King consider this, he stroked his beard and then replied. “What you say is true young John, however, there remains the issue of if I sit down to talk with them, then what will I say to the men and women whose sons, brothers and fathers went and fought and died for me? I will not turn around and tell them that their men died for nothing.”


John knew his son would not be able to answer that, therefore he himself said. “In that regard, Sire, I think the answer is simple. They have experienced the pain, you have tried your best to defeat them through conventional means, and are now instead resorting to the other method of defeating the enemy.”


“Is it defeating the enemy, if they are getting what they already have?” the King demanded.


John could see a bit of the King’s father’s stubbornness in the man, and therefore knew where to approach him from. “The islanders are a confused lot, Sire. They do not know quite what they want, only that the things that they believe they have are not enough. Offer them this and then you can tell the people of Scotland that you have fought a war against turbulent vassals and brought them to see sense. The war knocked the stuffing out of them and you, being the glorious father of the nation, made them see reason.”


John could tell the King found what he had said appealing by the way he didn’t fiddle with anything, he simply looked at him and then when the decision was reached, the King said. “Very well. Send an emissary out to seek a discussion, but have the men prepared in case these fools decide against it.”


John nodded. “Of course, Sire.”


The King then dismissed everyone else, apart from John by letting him to know to stay with a single nod. Once the others were gone, the King looked at him and asked. “How would you feel about a betrothal between your grandson and my daughter Eleanor?”


John was completely surprised by this, but felt honoured. Bruce hadn’t been given such an honour at all, indeed, John knew that this would likely anger Bruce even more, which was why he said. “I would be honoured, Sire.” The King smiled and led him out of the tent.

 

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Chapter 81: Somerset Falls



July, 1302​

It had taken months of negotiations after the battle for them to reach this point. Charles, King of the Romans and Count of Valois was sat opposite his wife’s uncle Edmund Crouchback, Earl of Lancaster, to discuss the final terms of the peace agreement between their two brothers.


Crouchback spoke first. “His Majesty King Edward’s demands are simple, Your Majesty. He wishes to King Philipp to recognise English sovereignty over the Duchy of Gascony, and he wishes for the rebel lords from the Gascon province who sided with King Philip to be handed over to him for judgement. Finally, he wishes for King Philipp to pay 100,000 marks in reparations for the damage done by the French troops to Gascony and to the Gascon people. In return for his agreement to that, King Edward shall release King Philipp and those prisoners he had taken.”


Charles said nothing for a moment. He knew that these terms were humiliating for France, but he also knew that they were the best terms that they were likely to get. “As His Majesty’s regent during this time, I agree to the terms on his behalf.”


“Excellent.” Crouchback said, he extended a hand. Charles took it and they shook. They then let go.


Charles clapped his hands, and two pages came forward with the documents of the treaty. “We might as well make this official.” Charles said. He took a quill as did Crouchback, and there was silence for a moment as they both signed their names, and fixed their seals to the documents. Then when that was done, Charles said. “Copies will be made for both Kings’ records.”


“Naturally.” Edmund replied.


As the documents were taken away for copying, Charles gestured for servants to bring wine. “You are going to be staying for a while are you not, Lord Lancaster?”


“For a time, certainly. Though not longer than a day, I must return to Gascony to present the treaty to His Majesty.” Edmund Crouchback replied.


“Very well.” Charles said. The cups of wine were poured and Charles took a sip from his, whilst Crouchback looked around the room, his eyes fixing on a tapestry.


“That is a tapestry from the Conquest is it not?” Edmund Crouchback asked, pointing to the thing that hung above the window.


“Yes, His Majesty the King has a strange fascination with the conquest of England.” Charles remarked.


Crouchback laughed. “It is not strange at all. The Conquest of England was one of the finest moments in history. As such, it is understandable as to why King Philipp would wish to have it on his wall. His Majesty also has something similar on his.”

Charles said nothing though he noticed how Edmund Crouchback was not touching his wine. He was about to mention that, when Crouchback spoke once more. “So, are you to remain within France indefinitely then?”


Charles was slightly caught out by that question, he had not thought Crouchback would ask him anything to do with the Empire, but then he supposed he should have expected it. “I will remain here until His Majesty has returned, then I shall venture back home.”


“And how are Joan and the children doing?” Crouchback asked.


“They are well, thank you. Joan always speaks fondly of you.” Charles said. It was true, Joan had always commented on how friendly her famous uncle was, and how he acted as a nice change to her overbearing father.


Crouchback nodded. “That is good to hear. Remember that we are always going to look out for our family.”


Charles wasn’t sure what to say to that, nor was he quite sure what the other man was implying, so he merely said. “I shall.”


They sat in silence for a little while longer, drinking their wine, and occasionally commenting on something else such as the weather or the use of horses for jousting, when the servants returned to announce that the copies of the treaty had been completed. The documents were handed back to them both, Crouchback rose and said. “Thank you for your hospitable service. I shall write to the King and let him know of the events that have transpired here and from there let us hope we can maintain a friendly relationship.”


“Agreed.” Was all Charles could reply with.

 

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Chapter 82: Irish Woes



September, 1302
​

“My Prince, the towns around the castle are being burned and sacked at liberty, by the King of Tyrconnell and his followers. There are stories coming through that some of the native Irish are joining him simply to escape his punishment.” John Fitzgerald Lord of Offaly said.


“And what of our commanders and the garrisons?” Alphonso asked. “Have they not been able to do anything to stem the tide?”


“They’ve killed some of Tyrconnell leading supporters, but the tension remains there, my Prince.” Offaly said.


Alphonso wanted to scream. He had come to Ireland expecting to be able to finish this matter off within a matter of months. Now it was approaching multiple years, and he wasn’t sure if they were any closer to settling this matter. “And Tyrconnell and his followers continue to refuse to engage in open combat?”


“Yes, my Prince. They are raiding and pillaging.” Offaly said.


Alphonso felt something in him break then. “They are raiding and pillaging their own lands and they claim to be fighting for the Irish?” He wanted to break things but he knew that was not how a royal acted. Instead he simply took a deep breath and continued. “And have we managed to portray this to the common folk?”


“We have, my Prince.” Offaly said. “But some are heading toward Tyrconnell anyway due to the fact that if they do so they avoid getting their homes burned. We do not have enough men to cover every bit of territory.”


Alphonso nodded he understood that, he understood that very well. That did not mean he agreed with just leaving vast swathes of his father’s land to burn. Deciding to focus on something he might be able to control he asked. “How is the Earl of Ulster doing?” The man had been badly wounded during a fight with some of Tyrconnell’s bands.


“He getting on well enough, my Prince. He will soon be back into fighting shape.” Offaly said.


Alphonso then fixed Sir John Wogan with his gaze and said. “I want the men prepared for another bout of fighting before the campaign season ends.”


“My Prince?” Wogan asked sounding concerned.


“If Tyrconnell will not come out to fight of his own accord, we will make him come out and fight.” Alphonso replied. “We shall find his allies and we shall burn their lands, we will destroy their homes and their families, and when the pressure gets too much for him, we will fight him and kill him.”


Wogan looked as if he might be slightly perturbed by this, all he said was. “That might bring more risks than reward, my Prince.”

“Perhaps, but it is the only viable solution to the problem that we are facing now. If we continue to do nothing, Tyrconnell will find his way to power unblocked. He is a traitor, and it is time we treated his allies as such.” Alphonso said.


Wogan looked as if he might protest, but then he merely nodded. “Very well, my Prince.”


“Good, now unless there is anything else you may leave.” Alphonso replied waving his hand dismissively. The two men got up and departed, leaving Alphonso to sit there by himself and wonder where it had all gone wrong, and whether he would ever emerge from this chaotic nightmare.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 83: Offaly



December, 1302
​

This was not normal campaign weather. It was bitterly cold and James would not be surprised if it started snowing soon. But, the King of Tyrconnell had ventured out from his hiding place to give battle, after a two-month campaign in which the Prince of Wales had burned the lands of Tyrconnell and his supporters, and so here they were. Out in a field in the middle of winter, where it was already quite dark, despite the early hour. James held his teeth together though inside he was freezing.


The Prince didn’t seem bothered by the cold, indeed it seemed to have brought him to life. “Ulster’s forces seem to be doing quite well.” The Prince said, nodding to the scene many miles ahead of them where the Earl of Ulster’s vanguard was ripping Tyrconnell’s men to shreds.


“Indeed, my Prince. Though I would be cautious about thinking that this will continue. The ground is frozen here, but there it seems to be made of mud and slime. See how the infantry continue to slip.” James said, and almost as if on cue a man carrying the banner of some petty Irish lord slipped and his men almost fell about him.


The Prince of Wales nodded. “This is true. What would you recommend we do then? We cannot go for a full-scale cavalry charge, that would lead to the horses being slipped up on the mud.”


James paused for a moment and then said. “I think perhaps dismounting from the horses and then leading the way into battle would do it. Unless, my Prince wishes to go for the shock of the charge.”


Had he asked the Prince this question even four months ago, he knew that the Prince would have made a choice there and then. Now however, the Prince took time to think through his choices. James did not know if that was a sign of growth or a sign of hesitancy. Still, when the Prince replied, it was with a surety that could only be had of someone born to rule. “We shall dismount and fight the enemy.”


“Of course, my Prince.” James replied, he barked the order out and soon scores of knights were dismounting and following the Prince as he walked to the point where they were supposed to be, to wait for the signal.


“Ulster’s got them pinned to the back end, my Prince.” One knight said. James noticed how the Prince didn’t even bother replying, he simply took his helm from his squire and put it on. James followed suit, knowing as he did so that he would have only a slim opportunity to allow for what he had planned with Tyrconnell.


A horn sounded in the distance. “It begins.” The Prince said. He drew his sword, barked out a command and then charged. James charged with him, but knew to keep a distance between himself and the Prince to allow for the plan to work. As he encountered the enemy he allowed his blood lust to take over.


The enemy came before him and it seemed as if they were willingly throwing their lives away on the back of his hammer. He pushed forward, feeling the mud and the grime beneath his feet, knowing that he would either be seen as a hero or a traitor at the end of this battle. His reasoning for doing as he had was simple. Ireland was in chaos, and the Prince didn’t seem to have a handle on it. Tyrconnell should never have been allowed to get as powerful as he had. And yet, here they were. And James knew he needed to do what was necessary to protect his family.


He took a blow to the chest; the wind began to leave his sails after that. He fought back, knocking the perpetrator back to the ground, twisting around the next man who came after him and bringing the hammer down on a third man. There was a genuine sense within him though that perhaps Tyrconnell was right and Ireland would be better off away from the English yoke. The man had promised that those Norman lords who sided with him would keep their lands and their titles. They’d also be given high positions at his court, if he was chosen as High King of Ireland.


James knew that the man had a son who was of an age with his daughter, and he intended to arrange their marriage. He wanted his descendants to rule over Ireland. He could almost see it now. A dynasty spanning generations, which would rule over the entire Irish Kingdom and bring about a golden age. Another blow to his chest and he felt as though he might keel over. He was getting too old for this. Truly. He needed to find the Prince and see whether this could be finished now, as he was getting the sense that the Irish forces under Tyrconnell were about to be destroyed.


As if the Almighty could read his thoughts, James stumbled upon a scene that would have horrified him in any other circumstance. He saw Prince Alphonso fighting Tyrconnell. It was just the two of them with everyone else fighting around them. He watched as the Prince cut Tyrconnell, he watched as the other man did the same back to the Prince. Back and forth it went. It was like some sort of puppet show, neither one of them was gaining any ground until the Prince tripped and fell backwards.


Tyrconnell loomed over him, his sword coming down. James couldn’t explain why given what he had agreed with the man, but he couldn’t let him kill the Prince. Instead he found himself hurling himself toward Tyrconnell, using his hammer to knock Tyrconnell down to the ground, his hammer raised he kept bringing it down on Tyrconnell until the man stopped struggling. Until there was no sign of movement left. He took a shuddering breath, felt a hand on his shoulder, turned around and saw the Prince looking at him.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 84: Peace At Last



February, 1303
​

Aonghas, Lord of Islay scratched the skin above his empty eye socket and looked at the man before him. King Alexander of Scotland was a tall man, with blonde hair, and a blonde beard, he looked like he could have come from the islands to the north of here. Aonghas knew that the terms he would be forced to agree to would no doubt humiliate him, but he had no energy left to fight. His brothers had died, as had their sons. He had lost an eye for all of this, and he did not know if it had been worthwhile.


As the silence continued, Aonghas knew he had to speak before he snapped. “I rebelled to protect the laws of the Isles and to ensure that the Crown did not forget that. I am no traitor.”


There was a smattering of laughter from the other side of the table. The King’s face remained impassive. “By its very nature, rebelling is treason.” John Comyn, Lord of Badenoch and the King’s closest advisor said.


“Not if you are rebelling against an overmighty hand.” Aonghas snapped back.


“An overmighty hand would have destroyed the isles the moment the rebellion began, His Majesty did not do that.” Comyn responded.


Aonghas was about to reply to point out the number of lives lost during this conflict, but before he could, the King spoke. “What is done, is done. Now we must put the realm back together.”


There was an authority to the King’s voice that Aonghas had noticed before, during the battles they had fought, it seemed the man commanded absolute respect. “Very well.”


“What terms are you willing to agree to?” The King asked. Aonghas was surprised by this, he had thought the King would impose the terms on him, not offer him a chance.


Aonghas knew exactly what he wanted. “A recognition of the ancient rights and privileges of the Isles as granted to us by King Alexander II, and the repealing of the laws and strictures imposed since Your Majesty’s coronation.”


“Your rights were never taken away. The strictures however can be removed.” The King said.


“And the laws? They are in violation of the charters that Your Majesty’s father and grandfather granted us.” Aonghas pointed out.


The King smiled. “Those charters have been updated.”


Aonghas wanted to snap with frustration, but he knew the man spoke truly. By agreeing to this meeting Aonghas had inadvertently weakened his own position. “Fine. The charters are updated, what else?”


“Your son and heir John, and your daughter must return with us to Stirling, where your son shall be fostered and your daughter shall serve as a lady in waiting to the Queen.” The King said.


Aonghas wanted to deny this request. He wanted to say that the King had gone too far, but a small voice in the back of his head whispered to him that there was opportunity to be had here. A chance for his daughter to become Queen if she met the King’s own heir at court. And so, he said. “Very well, I agree.”


The King clapped his hands and two pages brought forward two sheets of paper. “The treaty for us to sign and end this business once and for all.” The King said.


Aonghas looked at the man and sighed, he took a quill offered to him by one of the pages, dipped it into the ink pot and then signed the document. Once he was done the King signed the document and then smiled. “Now we move forward.”

 

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Chapter 85: Brotherly Squabbles



May, 1303​

Charles took a sip of wine and fixed his brother, King Philippe, with a firm look. A look he hoped conveyed just how annoyed he was by his brother’s continued avoidance of him. Ever since the man had returned from Bordeaux, the King had busied himself with other activities, and had not even stopped to discuss anything with Charles. He was sick and tired of it. His brother eventually turned to look at him.


“Are you quite alright, Charles? You look as though you might burst.” The King said.


“I am not okay.” Charles replied. “I want to know why you have been avoiding me.”


The King laughed. “Avoiding you? Dearest brother, I have done nothing of the sort.”


“But you have.” Charles retorted. “You don’t include me in council meetings, you don’t talk to me at meal times, you don’t talk to me during the hunt. You are avoiding me. Why?”


“I am a King, brother. I cannot simply give up everything I am doing to reassure you against your insecurities. Something you’d know if you spent less time galivanting around and actually ruling the lands the Emperor has given you.” Philippe replied.


Charles could sense his brother was about to give him the real explanation, so he just had to push ever so slightly. “I came to help you deal with the English. You know that.”


“And you have remained here long past the date when the matter with the English was resolved. That is your own fault, not mine.” The King replied.


“So, I am free to leave?” Charles asked.


“Why would you not be free to leave? I have not ordered you to stay.” The King said.


Charles felt his patience disappear then. “Philippe, enough! Enough of this foolish game. If I have done something wrong, please just tell me!”


His brother’s face turned from a grin into a cold snarl. “You know exactly what you did. You negotiated a treaty with the English that has humiliated me, has humiliated our family and more importantly has humiliated France.”


Charles looked at his brother and asked. “What was I supposed to do? Simply let them keep you a prisoner? That would have humiliated France even more.”


“Rather that than agree to their demands.” Philippe replied.


“So, what do you want from me? An apology? I won’t apologise, brother, we both know I did the right thing.” Charles snapped.


“I want you to leave.” Philippe replied.


“Leave?” Charles exclaimed.


“Yes. I want you to leave and never come back.” Philippe said. “If you so much as step foot in France whilst I am alive, I will have you arrested for treason. You can keep your estates, but you can’t visit them again.”


Charles looked at his brother, trying to decide if he could protest this or not, eventually he decided it wasn’t worth the hassle and simply nodded. “Fine. I shall leave today.” With that he rose, bowed to his brother, straightened, then turned and walked out of the room, his heart hammering.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 86: Cairo



August, 1303
​

“For seven years we have waged war against the Mamluk. For seven years, we have reduced every ounce of their resistance to dust. Today, we have only one object standing between us and our reconquest of home. Cairo.” Cyril said pointing to the towering city walls in the distance. The sun beat down on him and his men and he took a breath. “We all know what happens if we succeed, we all know what happens if we fail. We hold Alexandria, we hold Luxor and Aswan, we hold the cities that made our Kingdom great before they came. Now we must make the final leap and take this city.”


“A siege would take far too long.” Joseph pointed out. “Not only do we not have the right equipment for it, but I have heard that the Mamluk Sultan sent someone out to get aid from the Arab lands.”


“You did not think to stop him?” Cyrus, one of Cyril’s cousins asked.


“He snuck through the patrols.” Joseph replied defensively.


“How many men do you think that man could realistically bring back with him?” Cyril asked, determined to avoid another argument.


“I do not know. It would not be more than two hundred. The Arabs are not strong anymore. They are losing ground to the Mongols.” Joseph said.


“Then it is of no matter.” Cyril said dismissively. “You are right though, Joseph, we cannot lay siege to Cairo.” Despite the way their campaign had developed, they still didn’t have enough machinery to bring about a proper and successful siege. Instead they had depended on hit and run and the loyalty of the citizens within places like Alexandria.


“So, what are we going to do?” Joseph asked.


Cyril looked at Alexander then, who spoke. “We’ve got people on the inside who have found a way to bring small sections of our army into the city, from which we could then open the gates and allow the rest in.”


“How secure do you think this plan is?” Joseph asked.


“As secure as anything else we’ve tried.” Alexander said.


“I still think we should just try and sack Cairo. It is a Muslim city, not one that is anything of value to us.” Cyrus grumbled.


Cyril looked at his cousin and snapped. “If we had done that then we would be no better than the Muslims.” He still remembered the bodies they’d found in the villages on the way from Luxor. The bodies of women and children tied to trees with their entrails hanging out of them.


“So, who is to lead this attempt into the city, and when are we going in?” Cyrus asked.


Cyril looked at his cousin and then at his advisors and said. “I will lead it.”


“But Sire!” Alexander protested.


“I am the Pharaoh; I am not going to ask my men to do something that I am not willing to do myself. I shall lead the attempt myself. And will open the gates.” Cyril said. He looked at Alexander and asked. “You have told your sources what time we are going to make this attempt?”


“Yes, Sire. When the sun begins to dip.” Alexander replied.


“Good. We should all get some rest. We will need all the energy we have.” Cyril said, rising, and nodding to his men before walking back to his tent. Tonight, would be the most important night of his life.

 

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Chapter 87: A Lasting Peace



December, 1303
​

“With Egypt having fallen to this Cyril, there is a room for opportunity here, Your Imperial Majesty.” Charles, King of the Romans and Count of Valois said.


Albert, Holy Roman Emperor looked at the man and said. “What sort of opportunity?”


“The chance to reclaim the Holy Land. The Muslims have been pushed out of Egypt and are now facing an enemy on both sides in what remains to them. We could use this to our advantage.” Charles said.


Albert took a deep breath and then replied. “What you say is true, Charles, but there remains one issue.”


“His Holiness.” Charles said simply.


“Exactly. His Holiness has shown no interest in remaining within the spiritual, and his constant meddling in temporal affairs has not only affected us, but also your brother, King Philippe. So, you will forgive me if I do not think it is likely such a thing could happen.” Albert said.


The King of the Romans was not dissuaded though. “I disagree, Sire. I think that with the fall of Egypt to Christian forces, His Holiness would be a foolish man to be dissuaded from the chance of a renewed presence within the Holy Land.”


“And how would you propose we sway him towards our goal?” Albert asked.


“Allow me to go to Rome, Sire. Allow me to speak with His Holiness, I am sure that I can convince him to see our point of view.” Charles replied.


Albert considered this. “Well, you were successful in getting the Badens and the Palatinate to avoid joining this league your brother was considering forming. And you have ensured Carinthia doesn’t try anything foolish.” Albert deliberately paused then, wanting to see how Valois would respond, as expected he spoke.


“Exactly, Sire. Which is why I think I should be able to convince His Holiness to the needs of this crusade.”


Albert looked at the man, Charles was someone he liked, he knew the man would be his successor, at the same time the ability the man had to charm others was somewhat concerning. Still, if Charles was in Rome, Albert would have the time to sort out affairs for his own children. With that decided he said. “Very well, you may go. We shall have a letter written for you to explain your purpose.”


Charles bowed. “Thank you, Sire. I will ensure His Holiness sees sense.”

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 88: Cerda’s Problems



March, 1304

​

“What issue has Diego brought before us now?” Alfonso asked, he could feel the strain of the past few months pushing down on him, but he did not know how he might be able to stand against it.



“He is claiming that his niece and her husband have gone against the feudal contract, Sire.” His great uncle Henry said. “He claims that by increasing the number of men kept in garrisons within the Lordship they are violating an old agreement that the Lords of Biscay have held with their tenants since the beginning of the Lordship.”



Alfonso wanted to snap and break something, instead he simply asked. “And is the man telling the truth?”



Gonzalo, Archbishop of Toledo and Chancellor of Castile spoke then. “From what I have been able to find, Sire, there exists no actual record of this agreement that Sir Diego is claiming.”



“So, he is making it up then?” Alfonso guessed.



“It would seem so. However, there is some disgruntlement amongst the tenants of Biscay. They are unhappy with the increase in soldiers being stationed in garrisons.” The Archbishop said.



“Then perhaps they should have done more to help stop the banditry.” Alfonso snapped, he took a breath and then said. “But you are right, we shall summon both Diego and Infante Juan and his wife to court to resolve this matter.”



“That would be for the best, Sire.” The Archbishop said.



“And it would certainly prevent Diego from joining those who still hold a flame for Your Majesty’s deceased cousin.” Infante Henry said.



“Ah, yes, those lot.” Alfonso said, the cult that had developed around his bastard cousin had continued to be a pain in his rear, despite all the efforts he’d made through singers and poets to show how mad his aunt had been. It hadn’t worked, though the cult was small it was a constant presence and thorn in his side. “What are they saying now?”



“The same as always, Sire. That Your Majesty had a hand in poisoning and killing Ferdinand de Molina and his mother. That you usurped the throne and all this other nonsense. They are losing supporters though, as things improve within the Kingdom.” Infante Henry said.



“But they are still there, are they not?” Alfonso asked. “They will never retreat.”



“Unfortunately not, Sire. They will likely always be there, at least until the last member is dead.” His great uncle replied.



“Very well.” Alfonso replied. He then focused on a matter that he could actually influence and said. “At least the Portuguese have finally agreed to the marriage between our daughter and their heir.”



“Indeed, Sire. And with the dowry that was agreed on by Infante Ferdinand, we are not going to be facing too much of an economic loss.” The Archbishop said.



“Indeed.” Alfonso agreed. “Perhaps now, we can finally have peace within these lands.”



“If there is peace here, perhaps we might embark on a crusade to the Holy Land, Sire?” Infante Henry asked. “Egypt has been consolidated by their new ruler, and the Muhammadeans have been driven into the Holy Land. Word has come that The King of the Romans is meeting with His Holiness to discuss a possible crusade. We could benefit from that.”



Alfonso considered this, he did want to venture into the Holy Land and deal with the heretics that were there, but at the same time, he knew that the situation with the Emirate to his south was precarious. He could not leave them to their own devices. “Perhaps. We shall see what His Holiness has to say.” Was all he said for the moment, though, if His Holiness called a Crusade, he might well encourage his uncle Infante Juan to go, alongside Infante Henry, deal with two old remnants of a regime not fit for purpose and finally shape things to his preference.

 

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Chapter 89: A Meeting With St Peter



May, 1304

​

Charles had waited months for this moment. He’d ventured from Vienna to Rome and arrived sometime ago, but the bureaucracy of the Papacy had meant he’d not had the chance to speak with the Pope yet. Until now. Now he found himself sat opposite the most powerful man in Christendom, St Peter’s heir, and he found himself momentarily lost for words.



It was the Pope who spoke first. “You have come a long way, my child, do you think what you have come for is a valid mission?”



Charles nodded. “I do, Your Holiness.”



“And what is it that you have come for?” The Pope asked.



“I have come to request a crusade, Your Holiness.” Charles said. “Egypt has fallen to the Copts, and the Muhammadeans are now in the Holy Land only, they are facing an enemy from two sides. We have a chance to retake the Holy Land and make it safe again.”



The Pope said nothing for a time, his face was filled with lines, perhaps the conflict he was having with Charles’ brother King Philippe was taking its toll. “You believe there is enough support for such a venture?”



“Yes, Your Holiness. The Emperor supports it, as do the Princes of the Empire. I know the Kings of England and Scotland support it. Castile and Aragon will always support it.” Charles said quickly.



“And France?” The Pope asked.



Here, Charles paused, he did not know what his brother would think. He did not want to lie to the Pope, but he also didn’t want to betray his brother, so he said. “I know that France will do what is best for Christendom, Your Holiness.”



The Pope snorted and then said. “We have our concerns. Mainly that we would need a lot of funding for such a venture, secondly that the Greek Emperor would want to control passage and thirdly about any alliance with the Mongols.”



Charles had an answer for the first issue the Pope had. “Each ruler who wishes to take the Cross can raise their own funds, as has been done before. Those who are truly committed will raise more.”



“Indeed, that is wise.” The Pope said.



“As to the Mongols, one need not worry about them, Your Holiness. They have expressed no interest in taking the Holy Land and I believe their newest ruler is a worshipper of the religion of India.” Charles said, hoping he was right.



“And what of the others?” The Pope asked.

“They can get involved or face the laughter of the rest of Christianity, Your Holiness.” Charles answered.



The Pope laughed. “You make a convincing argument, King Charles.”



Charles smiled, and remained silent waiting to hear from the Pope’s mouth whether he would agree or not. A long silence spread over them then, and Charles began fidgeting worried that he might have misjudged things, then suddenly the Pope spoke. “We might not be happy with your brother, but we see no reason not to support this effort. The Holy Land must be protected and we do not think there will be a better time to do it than now. Therefore, we shall support this effort for a Crusade.”



Charles smiled. “Thank you, Your Holiness.”



“We shall have our secretaries write up the letters for Crusade, you may wait here whilst we do so.” The Pope replied. He extended his hand which Charles kissed and then walked away.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 90: Aragon



August, 1304

​

Eleanor read the letter which had come from Rome, she digested the information and then looked at her husband. “So, His Holiness has called a crusade.”



Her husband, King Alfonso III nodded. “Indeed he has. It seems King Charles managed to convince him of the benefits.”



Eleanor nodded. “You know that gives you a chance to handle the situation with James.”



“How so?” Her husband asked.



“He has been desperate to do something more, he has not found anything that he finds comfortable. And now there is the perfect opportunity for him.” Eleanor pointed out.



“You cannot be serious!” Alfonso replied. “You want me to put him charge of the forces we send to the Holy Land?”



“I am serious.” Eleanor countered. “You have issues you need to attend to here, let James go off and fight and play the good Knight. He’ll take the more troublesome nobles with him in the bargain and there will be less hassle for everyone.”



Her husband looked as if he were seriously considering this, but then he said. “The King of Castile has taken the cross, your own father has taken the cross. I cannot remain here whilst they go.”



Eleanor sighed, her husband was smart but sometimes he could be truly stupid. “My father has Alphonso to rule the Kingdom in his name, the King of Castile won’t actually leave, not whilst his son hasn’t had a son yet, and with Granada likely to play up if he leaves.”



Alfonso was silent for a time, and Eleanor could tell he was seriously considering this. Eventually he said. “Very well, James can go, but he will be accompanied by Frederick.”



“Yes, that makes sense. Frederick can keep an eye on him.” Eleanor said agreeing with her husband. Her husband’s younger brother, Frederick was a serious man who was fanatically loyal to Alfonso, so him being there to keep an eye on James made sense.



“That does leave us with the issue of a marriage for our son. Our daughter is married to Castile now, but where does our son go?” Alfonso asked.



Eleanor considered this, there were a few places she could suggest, but none of them would suit their immediate needs. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to test the waters. “Maria of Naples.”



“Possibly, if we are looking to consolidate and recreate a French alliance.” Alfonso said.



“If a French alliance is what you want, then we can always go for Joan of Valois, daughter of the King of the Romans.” Eleanor suggested.

Alfonso nodded. “Possible, though the ties of kinship would perhaps prevent the Pope from agreeing to it.”



“There is always another option.” Eleanor said, and here she knew that she would need to be cautious.



“Who?” Alfonso asked.



“Constance of Portugal.” Eleanor said.



She expected hostility from her husband to this proposal, for her husband hated King Denis of Portugal. Therefore, she was surprised when he said. “I think that might be a good idea.”



“You do?” Eleanor asked, trying to keep her surprise from her voice.



“I do.” Alfonso said. “I think we need to ensure Portugal is on our side. We must prevent Castile from gaining all the power in this land.”



Eleanor nodded, she agreed with her husband. “So Constance of Portugal it is then.”

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 91: Alexander, The Match Maker.



October, 1304

​

“His Holiness has called for a crusade and King Edward and King Philip and the Emperor have all departed off on this crusading venture.” Alexander said, looking at his wife, Sancha. “The only thing that gives me comfort is the fact that your brother hasn’t, nor have the Kings of Castile and Aragon.”



His wife took his hand then and replied in perfect Gaelic. “I know you wanted to go, my love, but we both know that there are important things here. And it takes time to venture from Scotland to the Holy Land. You’ve got Lord Badenoch and the Earl of Carrick representing you and a contingent of knights and men from Scotland fighting in the Holy Land.”



Alexander sighed. “I know, but still, a part of me feels as though I am missing out on something.”



“And what might that be?” Sancha asked. “Do you truly think that much progress will be made in the Holy Land?”



Alexander looked at his wife in surprise. “The Copts have driven out the Muhammadeans from Egypt and have crowned a new Pharaoh, the first native born Pharaoh since Alexander the Great. The Muhammadeans are now facing assaults on two fronts, from the forces of the Mongols in the East, and from the forces of the Crusaders to the north. I do not know whether they can hold it together.”



“And the last time this happened an Emperor died, and the whole thing collapsed in on itself.” Sancha pointed out. “Unless there is going to be significant movement of people from here to the Holy Land, this is going to be a constant struggle.”



Alexander looked at his wife and smirked. “You are awfully pessimistic, my love.”



Sancha sighed. “Not pessimistic, simply realistic. I do not think that we should be sending so many young men to die for something that might not hold.”



Alexander kissed his wife’s hand and said. “Well, at least then we’re not going on such a venture.” He took a moment to compose himself and then said. “We have time now to focus on two important issues, the marriages of our eldest son and daughter.”



“I think that we would be foolish not to renew the alliance with Portugal.” Sancha said.



“With who?” Alexander asked. “Your niece is betrothed to the heir of Aragon, and your nephew is too young to marry our daughter. No, we need to look elsewhere.”



“France then?” Sancha suggested. “King Philip has a son who is three years younger than Margaret, or he also has a daughter who is roughly three years younger than Alexander. Both could make good marriages.”



“I think marrying either to the French would limit our choices. The English would not look kindly to it, and I cannot see a benefit to it.” Alexander said.



“Then who?” Sancha asked. “The Swedes? Would that not antagonise the Norwegians?”



“The Norwegians need us to keep the peace between them and their subjects who are closer to us. I think that would make sense. The King of Sweden has a daughter of the right age for Alexander.” Alexander said.



“And what about Margaret?” Sancha asked. “Who will she marry?”



“The eldest son of the Duke of Burgundy.” Alexander said. “The man is handsome by all accounts, and is a member of a family that has solid trading links with most of the continent.”



“So, our son gets a Princess, and our daughter the son of a Duke?” Sancha asked.



“Well, what more do you think I can do?” Alexander asked slightly frustrated. “Not everyone who wears a crown has a son of the right age.”



Sancha eventually sighed and said. “You are right.”



Alexander kissed her hand again and said. “Good, now, let us focus on more pleasant matters.” He knew that this issue would come back again, no doubt in the form of the Lord of Islay protesting about his daughter. But, he had never intended for his son to marry the man’s daughter. Never, he’d not insult his son that way.

 

[VVD0D95]

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 92: Crusades



January, 1305

​

Just when he thought the chance of another crusade had ended, the call had come from His Holiness. Edward was never one to turn down the opportunity to serve Christ and so he had taken the Cross, and with Eleanor accompanying him alongside their son Edward, and a few thousand men from England and Gascony, they had set sail first to northern Italy, where the Genoese had provided them with more ships and they had put up with the French Presence, and then from there to Egypt. To the lands of the Pharaohs and Alexander the Great. The new Egyptian Pharaoh Cyril had met them and given them some five hundred men and then they’d ridden off toward the Holy Land. And now here they were.



Edward looked at the map before them and said. “We defeated the remnants of the Muhammadeans horde at Rafah, we know from our spies and scouts that they are regrouping with a bigger force at Ascalon. Therefore, it makes sense for us to advance there. Once we defeat them at Ascalon, they will know that we are here to stay.”



“How many men do they have?” King Philippe of France asked. They were speaking in French for the body of this army all spoke it, rather than the German of the forces that had accompanied the Emperor.



Edward looked at his trusted companion, Henry de Lacy and the man said. “Some three thousand men, all foot. Their horse is protecting Jerusalem itself.”



The French King smiled. “Then we have the advantage and should be the ones to dictate where the battle happens.”



Edward was for some reason worried about the way his younger French counterpart had phrased that statement and so asked. “What are you thinking?”



“I think we should send out an advance party toward the village of Hiribya, a sight that they will know as a victorious one for their cause. We should station archers in the main buildings and send some of the foot there as well, and then when they come charging toward us, we shoot them down with our arrows.” Philippe said.



Edward looked at the man, he was politically smart that much had been obvious by how he had negotiated the alliances for this crusade, but militarily he sounded like an idiot. “You assume that just because the Muhammadeans won a battle there a hundred years ago that they will come running the moment they hear we have a force there?” He shook his head. “They are heretics not idiots. They will not simply send men off to die, not if they know our force is greater than theirs.”



“So, what do you suggest we do then?” The French King shot back.



“I would recommend we take Hiribya as a place to rest on our march, and to take stock of what stands before us. I would then suggest we advance on the enemy at Ascalon.” Edward said.



“And you do not think they will call for reinforcements from Jerusalem should they know the true size of our army?” The French King demanded.



“We would still have the element of surprise. After all we ensured that those dregs that fled northwards would not know what had hit them.” Edward said, that had been the King of Naples suggestion, a rare good suggestion from the Anjou King.



The French King said nothing for a moment and then replied. “Very well, and assuming we have won at Ascalon what then? Do we head straight for Jerusalem or not?”



Edward shook his head. “I would not recommend that no. We must ensure that we take Acre and Haifa to secure the ports and potential supply routes. I do not like leaving Jerusalem to our rear but it is the sensible choice. They will expect us to come for them directly if we win at Ascalon.”



There was some muttering at that, but eventually the King of France said. “You are right of course. We must secure those areas that are nearest to the sea, otherwise who knows what happens.”



“Indeed.” Edward said.



“Now, unless there is anything else, I suggest we all retire. We shall have a long march tomorrow.” Charles of Naples said.



With that they all rose and left the command tent, Edward said nothing as he made his way back to his tent, he knew he was getting on in years, but still there was the thrill of the chase, the thought that they might soon be approaching Jerusalem, it was far too much excitement. He entered the tent and saw Eleanor reading something or the other. He came and stood before her and asked.



“What are you reading?”



Eleanor looked up and smiled at him, and that smile after all these years still made his heart do funny things. “A letter from Alphonso. He says that Edward’s wife has given birth to a girl.”



Edward nodded. “I shall have to let Henry know.”



Eleanor hummed and then asked him. “How was the meeting?”



Edward sat down next to Eleanor and took her hand in his. “It went well enough. The King of France still acts as though we are in France and not in the Holy Land though.”



“He’s not thinking straight is he?” Eleanor asked.



Edward laughed. “Not at all. I do not know what to do to make him see sense. At least he agreed with the plan after Ascalon.”



“I don’t think there is much you can do to get him to change, my love.” Eleanor said. “You’re just going to have to keep your head.”



Edward laughed again. “So, it seems.”

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 93: The Eagle Rises



April, 1305

​

“The Turks have removed themselves to Domanic, Sire.” Phokas said. Andronikos was not sure what to make of the man. He was a man who Andronikos admired for his role in destroying the Venetians. But he was also crass and vulgar in some aspects of his manner, and he had no head for court. But he was a great commander.



“And their leader?” Andronikos asked. Osman Ghazi had been badly wounded during the battle Inegol and Andronikos desperately hoped the man was dead.



“Our spies report that he has not been seen openly by their army since the battle, but that orders are being issued in his name. The most likely course is that his eldest son is the one actually in charge now.” Phokas replied.



“And his eldest son is experiencing his first campaign now, and is thus likely to be inexperienced and nervous.” Andronikos’ eldest son and heir, Michael said.



“Exactly, Your Imperial and Royal Highness.” Phokas said.



“So, we have a choice then.” Andronikos said. “We either move onto Domanic directly and challenge Osman Ghazi and his men, or we move onto Sogut and Eskisehir, take both of those cities and then move onto Domanic.”



“The former option would perhaps give us the chance to deal with the threat of Osman and his men once and for all, however, it would leave us with the risk that the Beylik of Candar could march directly to Goynuk and take it for their own.” Phokas said. “The latter option would allow us to consolidate the army and allow the people of this region to see Your Imperial Majesty as a saviour.”



Michael spoke then. “Phokas is right, Sire. The latter option is the most sensible course of action. We have sufficient men to take Sogut and Eskisehir, but we do not know whether we could stand with those two cities to our back.”



Syrgiannes Palaiologos, a distant commander and a high-ranking officer in the army spoke then. “I disagree, Your Imperial Majesty. I think that we would expend unnecessary man power trying to take the two cities, when we could end the threat immediately by fighting and defeating Osman Ghazi and his son.” There were some murmurs of agreement around the table, which emboldened the man to continue. “Furthermore, if we move to Sogut we need to march eastward, whereas Domanic is south of here. We would be reducing the time needed.”



“Taking Sogut and Eskisehir is the strategically smart thing to do. It would ensure that Osman does not have the chance to get reserves from those two cities before we get to him.” Phokas said.



“I’m simply saying that I think that we must cut the head off the snake.” Syrgiannes said.



Andronikos could see Phokas biting his tongue and decided he’d heard enough for now. “Thank you for that Syrgiannes, we shall go with what Phokas has to say. We shall march on Sogut and take it and then move from there. With God on our side this Turkish menace will be done.” With that he waved a hand and dismissed his officers, however, his son Michael remained behind.



“You have something more to say?” Andronikos asked tiredly.



“Only that there has been word from the Holy Land.” Michael replied.



“And?” Andronikos asked.



“The crusaders defeated an army at Ascalon. They’re marching northwards to meet with Albert of Austria.” Michael said.



Andronikos nodded. “Very well.” He wondered if this would make his life easier or worse.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 94: Tripoli



August, 1305

​

“The Muhammadeans have retreated to Masyaf following their defeat at Tortosa.” Albert, Holy Roman Emperor said. “Consequently our hold over the County of Tripoli has strengthened. My son Rudolph sent word that he had managed to take Margat, thus completing the securing of the last Muhammadean stronghold.”



There were murmurs of approval at that, and Albert himself had to admit that he was somewhat surprised at how quickly they had managed to take the advantage. He’d expected the Muhammadeans to be harder to beat, but he supposed the loss of Egypt had completely dented their confidence. The fact that the Mongols were also hounding them from the East probably meant that they were not getting any respite.



Charles, King of the Romans and a hero of the First Battle of Tripoli spoke then. “That is excellent news, Sire. With Tripoli, securely in our hands we have the perfect base from which to ensure that the crusade continues successfully.”



“Indeed,” Albert said nodding in agreement. “Eberhard, you said you had word from the south?”



Eberhard, Count of Wurttemberg nodded. “I do, Your Imperial Majesty. The forces under King Edward of England’s command defeated an army at Ascalon and are now planning to march on Acre and Jaffa.”



“Is that wise?” Herman, Margrave of Brandenburg asked. “Surely it would make more sense to go straight for Jerusalem, especially as the Muhammadeans are now completely on the back foot.”



There was some murmuring of agreement there, but the King of the Romans spoke. “I think the plan makes sense. They need to secure the sea routes, for more supplies and for anyone else who decides to join our noble venture, such as the Knights Hospitaller and the Knights Templar.” An odd smile crossed the King of the Romans face then, and Albert knew it was because of the word they had received a few days ago that a member of the hated Knights Templar-at least in Paris- had saved the life of the King of France. “I think once they have secured Acre and Jaffa that they will then move on Jerusalem, and once they do that, we can join them.”



“What would we do until then?” Herman asked, looking at Albert now.



“We would ensure that the Muhammadeans cannot return to strength. The Mongols have said they will continue barricading the remnants of the Muhammadean army in Masyaf, but we must prepare Tripoli in case they try something. We must strengthen the county, and begin settling the place.” Albert said, referring to the number of peasants, and second or third sons who had accompanied the crusaders on their way to the Holy Land.



“A wise suggestion, Sire.” Charles said. “And one that will give us time to rebuild our strength. After the battles that have been fought in the County we have suffered from some casualties.” That was no doubt in reference to the young King of Bohemia who was currently lying in a bed somewhere in the fortress, either dying or close to it.



“Indeed.” Albert replied. “Though of course, we will eventually need to discuss Antioch and how best to protect it from any further incursions from the north. The Beyliks are no doubt eyeing it with concern.” During their journey southwards, Albert had received word from the Eastern Roman Emperor, who advised him to be cautious due to the efforts of the Turks, who were threatening Antioch now that the Mamluks had fallen. Thankfully, they had managed to defeat their attempts and the Principality had all but thrown its gates open to the former rulers in the form of the Lord and Lady of Tyre.



“Antioch should not be an issue, Sire.” John of Cyprus said. “Our cousin, the Lady Margaret has reported that the locals have been in strong support of her measures, and the Templars have done everything within their power to help keep her in power.”



Albert nodded. “Still, one cannot be too careful.” He was mindful that if everything went according to plan, the Mongols might still demand vassalage from these states and that was not something he wanted.



King Henry of Cyprus, who was also technically King of Jerusalem spoke then. “I think these are all reasonable sentiments, I pray for the day when we can fly the flag over Jerusalem’s walls once more.” His German had improved with time, though it still sounded rough.



“As do I, Sir. As do I.” Albert responded in kind.

 

[VVD0D95]

Chapter 95: Wales In Need



November, 1305

​

“The Lieutenant of Ireland has written once more, my Prince, stating that the lords of the Lordship are struggling to keep to the terms of the agreement.” Walter Langton, Bishop of Coventry and Lichfield said.



Alphonso wanted to groan, this was the seventh such letter that had been sent. “What are they struggling with now?” He asked.



Langton took a look at the document and then said. “It seems they feel the borders agreed with the native Kings are too restrictive, and that the native Kings are not actually abiding by the terms of the agreement.”



Alphonso repressed a sigh and asked. “Is this true?” He hoped it wasn’t, he didn’t want to have to go back to Ireland. He’d had enough of the place to last him a lifetime.



Langton didn’t reply, instead he looked at the Earl of Ulster who had come from Ireland several months ago at King Edward’s request and was serving as an advisor on the council. Ulster spoke calmly. “Whilst it is true that there are some who feel the native Kings are not agreeing to the terms of the agreement, many of the lords simply want a fair hand to do as they wish in their domains. Something that King Edward promised them they would receive.”



You mean something he had to promise because I let that rebellion get out of hand. Alphonso thought bitterly. His father had never said it to his face, but he got the feeling disappointment over his handling of the Irish affair had made his father feel the need to increase the regency council instead of keeping it to the normal five or so members. Alphonso took a breath, knowing what he knew, there was no point in sulking over it, he had to sort this matter out. “Very well.” He said. “Send word to the lords who are complaining and tell them they are welcome to present their case before the throne.”



“You are sure, my Prince?” Ulster asked.



“I am.” Alphonso said. “This is an issue that needs to be resolved.”



“Very well, I shall send the letters myself.” Ulster said.



Langton then cleared his throat and said. “There is another matter that needs urgent attention, my Prince. Mainly that some of the nobles of this Kingdom have begun voicing complaints about the high rate of taxation they are having to pay.”



This time Alphonso laughed. “They do not wish to have their souls ascend into heaven, due to the King’s good crusade?”



Langton blushed. “It is not that, my prince. I think it is simply that they feel they are paying a lot of money and are not getting their concerns fairly heard.”



“And what concerns are those?” Alphonso asked, though he suspected he knew what they might be.



“Mainly that they are paying so much but they are not being able to fairly criticise the administration as they see it.” Langton said.



Alphonso spread his arms out and replied. “They have the right to come to London to petition, as do all subjects of the King. If they were willing to leave their lands for a moment to actually do that, they would find a receptive ear.” He knew that he could not call a Great Council, his father had warned him against doing so, so this was the next best thing.



“Many are unwilling to do so, due to local rivalries. The marcher lords might all be on crusade, my Prince, but their heirs are still there and they have the same grudges.” Langton replied.



Alphonso wanted to ask Langton what he recommended the solution should be, but he knew the man would simply defer to his judgement. Therefore, he said. “Very well, in the new year we shall venture out on a progress. Meeting with those lords who have concerns, and we shall ensure that their concerns are addressed fairly.”



He expected protests, but was surprised when Langton merely said. “A wise choice, my Prince.”



“Good,” Alphonso said. “Now is there anything else?”



“Only that word has come from the King, Acre has fallen to the crusaders.” Langton said.



Alphonso smiled. “Excellent.”