Death does not come to make her a coffee
Death does not come to make her a coffee
“Death does not come to make her a coffee. […] In my life I have assisted many dying. […] And all they wanted was to live one more day. You say it's less? But you see, when breathing stops, how important is a moment! The Divine Justice is framed by the great Divine Love, and He forgive us with a sigh. That made me to think that a moment can be a time and a sigh can be a prayer. […] God wants a sincere heart and not thousands of prayers. He wants our hearts. Nothing is more expensive than the time from God. He gave it to us to save ourselves.” Excerpt from “The teachings of Father Arsenie Papacioc” [1]
The year of the Lord 1290, Thursday, December 21, Lyon, Kingdom of Arles
It was well pass over the midnight and the still sleepy priest climbed the stairs in a hurry. It seems that the King’s health had deteriorated very quickly and they fear for the worst. The priest had left the King in good shape in the evening and he had retired to rest a little. As personal chaplain and confessor of the King he had spent all the last days and nights without rest, praying ceaselessly near the royal bed. But the last two days his health had improved significantly and the doctors had given the assurance that the worst had passed and he was on the healing process. Those dam doctors which believed that theirs leeches and mercury and herbs and infusions were more useful than the prayers! However, regardless which treatment worked better and to the relief of the court, the King’s recovery was seen now certain, being just a matter of time. However, several moments ago, a servant rushed in his room and announce him that he should come immediately in the King chamber.
Making the sign of the cross, the priest entered in that big room warmed by two big masonry build fireplaces and several small other improvised ones, spread around the central bed. All around the walls were hanging thick tapestries, while on the floor were stretched big fluffy Persian carpets. The king suffered from fever and chills so they tried to warm him by any measures, including putting naked young women in his bed. All in vain… It seemed that the Angel of Death had sharpened his scythe for too long and he was now impatient to claim another royal life.
The 62 years old King was tiered to live but he do not wanted to get up. Not yet! He was worried about his immortal soul, he was worried about his Kingdom, he was worried about his family, he was worried about France… Many thoughts invaded his head that late night. Oh, why do God not give him a better health? He could fix all the things… How history will remember him? Was he a good King, a good ruler? Was he a good father for his children or a good son in his turn? Or a good husband for his two wives? Poor Constance of Aragon... he has mistreat her so many times and she had remained loyal, understanding and loving up to her end, some four years ago. Then, instead searching for wisdom and forgiveness in chastity and prayer, he found pleasure in the arms and legs of a young and innocent women. Well, Guiraude de Foix was not so innocent and she definitely never love him. But how could he blame her for this? He was not young anymore, not attractive anymore but full of weaknesses and always had pains. He had lost his charms, somewhere on the roads between Lyon and Paris.
Paris, oh Paris! He loved that stinky filthy crowded city! He was the only Capetians in life which still loved Paris for more than the fact that it was a cash-cow and willy-nilly de facto and de jure capital of the Kingdom of France… He never stepped back in Paris since he had left it in 1284… He wondered how looks the stained glass he commissioned for the future chapel of future Saint Philip of France. He never managed to see it finished. They said that it’s the most beautiful in the entire world, displaying many of his acts as his defence of Rome and, of course, his martyring under the walls of Seville. Oh, dam with Pope Urban! He died before the promised sanctification of his father had being materialized. King Philip the Great remained in the beatification stage and was not sanctified. And the following Popes… we can say that they were less complying. Pope Alexander say that he had way too much blood on his hands and too many bastards to be a saint. But how he dares! His father was a truly defender of Christianity and he was thirsty for justice and truth! He had given his life for Christ and for saving the lives of those ungrateful infidels. His father was admired, respected and loved by everybody. But again, how he will be remember? Will be understood? During his life he was respected but it was more out of feared than admiration. And he was loved even less than admired. When he was young maybe he was loved by his peers but then this loved become intimidation when he start to manipulate and play everyone on his fingers… Now, he looked around him and he see only frighten faces. Was they were frighten that he might die or they were frighten that he was not dead yet? The priest had come back… Had he confessed all his sins? He do not remember anymore… Oh, only if he had more time! Just a little more! A day or two!
A violent cough followed by terrible stomach pains put an end to his thoughts. And so ended the several moments of lucidity. The end was near…
The priest approached to give him the rites. By miracle the moribund to not spill them out… God was merciful! The chills calmed for a little… The King’ eldest son Louis, himself crowned junior King of Arles, entered in the room uncovering his head. Sorrow and concern could be seen in his eyes. He loved his father… in his own way. Always intimidated by him, always in his shadow, always compared with him, Louis tried to match him as best as he could. Many years ago, Philip had crowned him Junior King and give him gradually, more and more power and autonomy. Now, he was King in full right, uncontested for many years. But he had failed in one and very important task. He do not had children. His younger brothers had many, but he has not a single one. He had several stillborn ones, or several which died very soon after their birth, but no one could survive more than several weeks. He blamed for this his wife, Marguerite of Provence, the daughter of one of the most powerful of his vassals. He wanted her repudiated and being sent to a monastery but how could he to put in jeopardy his power and his crown by outraging her very powerful and well connected family?
Louis throw a look to his 22 years old step mother, Guiraude de Foix… What a tragedy! Becoming a widow at 22! Her son, baptised last year with the name Jean, will never knew his father. That boy should have being born to him, not to his father! Louis was jealous now on his father! He realize and chastise himself for his toughs. How could he be jealous on his old and dying father? He was still young! He could still father a child to whom he will pass the crown of Arles. What was wrong with him, or with his wife? Are they cursed? Are they sick? His brothers fare better than him.
Beatrice of Merania had brought to his younger brother Philip, after several daughters, twins boys. His brother was now the most powerful of his vassals, being ruler not only over the lands his father had given to him, but after the death Duke Otto of Merania, his wife inherited form her grandfather the rich Palatine County of Burgundy as well as the vast Meranian hereditary lands in the Empire. But Otto was not only a rich man, but also a powerful one. He was Elector of the Burgundians in the Holy Empire and Philip claimed the title in Beatrice right. After years of struggles and diplomatic manoeuvres, backed by tons of money, Philip was finally recognised Elector of the Holy Empire in that summer. Now his power and influence was even greater than him. But the two boys have sworn to their father to respect each other and never challenge the powers and the rights of the other. While ambitious, Philip was a man of word and a man of honour. He knew that he will respect the memory of their father. And he will do so!
On the other hand, he feared for their younger brother, Henry the King of Aragon, Navarre and Valencia. He and Henry had never get together. He was and remained an ambitious stubborn spoiled boy, always unpredictable and never trustful. But Henry had a lot of headaches with his own holdings. He will not challenge him. That spoiled little man! How lucky was he. Not only he won a crown, but three. Not only he had a boy, but three! Three in a row and his low born Italian wife was pregnant again!
Louis was stopped from his thoughts when his father had recovered back his conscience and stretched his hand to grab his own. Louis took it with emotions and see that his father hand was cold. But alas, his lucidity only lasted a moment. Then the moribund tried to inspire air but he could not breathe. A sort of snorting which seems coming from the other world gives cold sines to everybody in the room but especially to Louis. Then the old king tried to breathe a last time and die. His hand was still clenched to Louis which was dead-white on his face. It seemed that his father tried to cling to life trough him…
The other people in the room kneeled. “The King is dead!” said someone. Louis looked who had spoken. It was the Great Chamberlain. “Long live the King!” continued the same man, followed by other members in the room. The former queen and now freshly widow, Guiraude de Foix, approached Louis and kneeled in front of him, saying with a trembling voice:
”My Lord King, I present you my homage to you. My life is now at your mercy.”
Louis received her homage with an absent look, offering his hand to her to be kissed, like for all the other members present there. Then In the room appeared Count Philip, the brother of the King, sweating. He was not in the palace, trusting the doctors that his father health was stable and he will recover. The two brothers embrace each other with grief.
“Mon Dieu, you are cold as the ice” said Philip to Louis.
“He is no more, Philip. He is no more... He do not even reached the Christmas.“
***
The year of the Lord 1292, Sunday April 20, Paris
The bells of the Cathedral Notre Dame de Paris ringed joyfully the end of the mess and the end of session of the Great Assemble. It was the third time it had gathered under the wise leadership of Simon de Montfort, Count of La Marche and Grand Chancellor of the Kingdom of France. A couple of thousands peoples were gathered in the Cathedral Square, waiting the departure of the King which had officially presided the last session of the Great Assemble. There were rumours that the King’s men will throw silver coins in the square when he will pass through, therefore most of the ones who gathered were poor or very poor people. However, the King had left the building on a side door immediately after the procession of closing the Assemble session, not participating to the mass, but the ones waiting for him do not knew it or still hoped for the coins. Some three hundred soldiers were lined up to keep the order and offers protection to the members os the Assemble.
The doors of the Cathedral opened large and the men present inside poured out of it in a hurry. They were a motley crowd formed by nobles, clergy and burgers, all dressed with their best cloths, all impatient to go home. The gathering was futile one, several good decisions being taken. Once such decision concerned the creation of great royal barns to store grain for a better fight against famines. Other one, was the creation of a new Grand Company, using the same structure as the other ones, therefore restoring the number of such units back to 10 as it was on the time of King Philip the Great. Sadly, after his death, both the number of the companies and the number of soldiers per company decreased, not even referring to the quality of training and discipline of those soldiers. But slowly, those companies were restored back to their strength and composition.
This unit will reside in Paris, as the one which was initially assigned to Paris was moved to Rouen in order to ensure a better protection for the King which live there for most of the time. For Paris, it was also decided to move the cemetery of the Saints Innocents six miles out of the city, clearing the place which will be used for new buildings. Of course, all these decisions were backed by the assignation of the appropriate funding sources which were the hardest debatable aspects.
Simon de Montfort was proud of his achievements. He was the strongest man in France. And England, as he held a great deal of power over the Channel, especially grace of his uncles and cousins, the counts of Leicester and Nottingham. Alas, he was the most powerful man in the world. His nemesis, Philip of Arles, the only man who could dare to challenge him (and could be successful) was dead and his power was absolute. The King, was his own puppy. He approved anything he decided. He backed him for anything. He put all his efforts working for the good of the Kingdom and for the People. He do not work for free. He was the richest man in the Kingdom, holding not only huge amount of land, forests, mills, ponds, mansions, castles and the lordships of the counties of La Marche and Montfort-Aumory, but also huge amounts of money invested in several businesses, including tapestries and cloth manufactures, commerce enterprises, banking activities, etc. Other great nobles despise him for his involvement in commercial businesses but screw them! They were jealous on his wealth. Simon also administrated the county of Champagne as, after the sudden disappearance of Count Theobald V, the county was inherited by his minor son, named also Theobald. Despite the protests of the Countess-mother Beatrix of Bourbon, supported by his family and a part of nobles, the King had entrusted Simon to be guardian of the young Theobald VI. The wardship of Champagne was tremendously profitable and Simon filed his pockets with the profits collected especially from the flourishing trade. Indeed, he had become one of the most powerful men in the Christendom!
Simon sorted from the Cathedral and inspired a good breath of Parisian air… “Something need to be done with this smell” he thought. He make several steps toward the crowd when he heard his name. Someone call him. He stopped and turned. A friendly face approached to him, smiling. But who was he? He do not recognise the man. Maybe he was one of the bourgeois. The man approached to him and say to him and put a hand on his shoulder, like he wanted to congratulate him for a good job.
“Greetings from the Queen!” whispered the stranger approaching his head to Montfort.
Then he step away and continued his road, disappearing into the crowd of men which sorted from the Cathedral. Simon do not understood what happens, but filled a terrible pain in the chest and on his left side. He put his hand and see that a trickle of blood was purring from a tiny wound. He look around him to find the man but he do not see it anymore. A terrible pain prevent him to breathe properly. Blood started to pour from his nose and the earth start turning. He could not speak anymore. He do not have enough air either. His hands do not listen to him anymore. Simon collapsed to the ground. Someone see him and yelled for help. It was too late. The stiletto blade that the stranger implanted between his ribs up to his hearth was not only sharpened and thin like a needle, but also dipped into a very powerful poison which cause paralysis. Simon was still conscious when his body functions start to collapse. He filled a terrible pain but he could not speak, not move. The death come rapidly but not swift. The most powerful man in France close his eyes for eternity several minutes later.
***
King Charles was informed by the death of his friend before even reaching Saint Denis. The 41 years old man had lost his only friend… He was now alone to face this dangerous world! And he do not even knew how dangerous the world could be. His days were numbered but he could not yet know. The Angel of Death was already in scouting mission.
Charles returned to the Royal Palace in the Cite where the rest of his family was already present: the Queen Christina of Norway and his two young boys: The 14 years old Philip, already invested two years ago as Duke of Aquitaine and Count of Poitiers, and the 9 years old Louis, who will become someday Count of something… maybe of Cornwall.
Soon after he entered in the palace, a servant approached to him holding a letter in his hands.
“Sire, we have news from Italy.”
“Call the captain of the militia. And the consuls. Call everybody! The assassin shall be found! He shall be found even if you will turn the entire city upside down!” yelled the king taking the letter.
“Call the captain of the militia. And the consuls. Call everybody! The assassin shall be found! He shall be found even if you will turn the entire city upside down!” yelled the king taking the letter.
Furiously, he opened it and start to read, while still continued to walk with heavy steps. Suddenly, he stopped. A sort of a smile make its apparition in the coin of his mouth but it was soon chased off.
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[1] Approximate translation from http://www.fericiticeiprigoniti.net...-din-invataturile-parintelui-arsenie-papacioc and from http://ziarullumina.ro/duhovnicesti-moartea-nu-vine-sa-i-faci-o-cafea-7605.html
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PS: I hope this chapter was not too grim... but this one I had it ready...
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